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kate-likes-this · 4 years ago

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Pedro for Variety (10-14/20)

By Adam B. Vary • Styling: Sean Knight • Grooming: Mira Chai Hyde Related: photoshoot / list of articles

When Pedro Pascal was roughly 4 years old, he and his family went to see the 1978 hit movie “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve. Pascal’s young parents had come to live in San Antonio after fleeing their native Chile during the rise of dictator Augusto Pinochet in the mid-1970s. Taking Pascal and his older sister to the movies — sometimes more than once a week — had become a kind of family ritual, a way to soak up as much American pop culture as possible. At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

Instead, Pascal wandered into a different theater (he thinks it was showing the 1979 domestic drama “Kramer vs. Kramer,” but, again, he was 4). In his shock and bewilderment at being lost, he curled up into an open seat and fell asleep. When he woke up, the movie was over, the theater was empty, and his parents were standing over him. To his surprise, they seemed rather calm, but another detail sticks out even more. “I know that they finished their movie,” he says, bending over in laughter. “My sister was trying to get a rise out of me by telling me, ‘This happened and that happened and then Superman did this and then, you know, the earthquake and spinning around the planet.'” In the face of such relentless sibling mockery, Pascal did the only logical thing: “I said, ‘All that happened in my movie too.'” He had no way of knowing it at the time, of course, but some 40 years later, Pascal would in fact get the chance to star in a movie alongside a DC Comics superhero — not to mention battle Stormtroopers and, er, face off against the most formidable warrior in Westeros. After his breakout on “Game of Thrones,” he became an instant get-me-that-guy sensation, mostly as headstrong, taciturn men of action — from chasing drug traffickers in Colombia for three seasons on Netflix’s “Narcos” to squaring off against Denzel Washington in The Equalizer 2.

This year, though, Pascal finds himself poised for the kind of marquee career he’s spent a lifetime dreaming about. On Oct. 30, he’ll return for Season 2 as the title star of “The Mandalorian,” Lucasfilm’s light-speed hit “Star Wars” series for Disney Plus that earned 15 Emmy nominations, including best drama, in its first season. And then on Dec. 25 — COVID-19 depending — he’ll play the slippery comic book villain Maxwell Lord opposite Gal Gadot, Chris Pine and Kristen Wiig in “Wonder Woman 1984.”

The roles are at once wildly divergent and the best showcase yet for Pascal’s elastic talents. In “The Mandalorian,” he must hide his face — and, in some episodes, his whole body — in a performance that pushes minimalism and restraint to an almost ascetic ideal. In “Wonder Woman 1984,” by stark contrast, he is delivering the kind of big, broad bad-guy character that populated the 1980s popcorn spectaculars of his youth.

“I continually am so surprised when everybody pegs him as such a serious guy,” says “Wonder Woman 1984” director Patty Jenkins. “I have to say, Pedro is one of the most appealing people I have known. He instantly becomes someone that everybody invites over and you want to have around and you want to talk to.”

Talk with Pascal for just five minutes — even when he’s stuck in his car because he ran out of time running errands before his flight to make it to the set of a Nicolas Cage movie in Budapest — and you get an immediate sense of what Jenkins is talking about. Before our interview really starts, Pascal points out, via Zoom, that my dog is licking his nether regions in the background. “Don’t stop him!” he says with an almost naughty reproach. “Let him live his life!”

Over our three such conversations, it’s also clear that Pascal’s great good humor and charm have been at once ballast for a number of striking hardships, and a bulwark that makes his hard-won success a challenge for him to fully accept.

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“He feels very much like a classic movie star in his charm and his delivery,” says Favreau. “And he’s somebody who takes his craft very seriously.” Favreau felt Pascal had the presence and skill essential to deliver a character — named Din Djarin, but mostly called Mando — who spends virtually every second of his time on screen wearing a helmet, part of the sacrosanct creed of the Mandalorian order.

Convincing any actor to hide their face for the run of a series can be as precarious as escaping a Sarlacc pit. To win Pascal over in their initial meeting, Favreau brought him behind the “Mandalorian” curtain, into a conference room papered with storyboards covering the arc of the first season. “When he walked in, it must have felt a little surreal,” Favreau says. “You know, most of your experiences as an actor, people are kicking the tires to see if it’s a good fit. But in this case, everything was locked and loaded.”

Needless to say, it worked. “I hope this doesn’t sound like me fashioning myself like I’m, you know, so smart, but I agreed to do this [show] because the impression I had when I had my first meeting was that this is the next big s—,” Pascal says with a laugh.

Favreau’s determination to cast Pascal, however, put the actor in a tricky situation: Pascal’s own commitments to make “Wonder Woman 1984” in London and to perform in a Broadway run of “King Lear” with Glenda Jackson barreled right into the production schedule for “The Mandalorian.” Some scenes on the show, and in at least one case a full episode, would need to lean on the anonymity of the title character more than anyone had quite planned, with two stunt performers — Brendan Wayne and Lateef Crowder — playing Mando on set and Pascal dubbing in the dialogue months later.

Pascal was already being asked to smother one of his best tools as an actor, extraordinarily uncommon for anyone shouldering the newest iteration of a global live-action franchise. (Imagine Robert Downey Jr. only playing Iron Man while wearing a mask — you can’t!) Now he had to hand over control of Mando’s body to other performers too. Some actors would have walked away. Pascal didn’t.

“If there were more than just a couple of pages of a one-on-one scene, I did feel uneasy about not, in some instances, being able to totally author that,” he says. “But it was so easy in such a sort of practical and unexciting way for it to be up to them. When you’re dealing with a franchise as large as this, you are such a passenger to however they’re going to carve it out. It’s just so specific. It’s ‘Star Wars.'” (For Season 2, Pascal says he was on the set far more, though he still sat out many of Mando’s stunts.)

“The Mandalorian” was indeed the next big s—, helping to catapult the launch of Disney Plus to 26.5 million subscribers in its first six weeks. With the “Star Wars” movies frozen in carbonite until 2023 (at least), I noted offhand that he’s now effectively the face of one of the biggest pop-culture franchises in the world. Pascal could barely suppress rolling his eyes.

“I mean, come on, there isn’t a face!” he says with a laugh that feels maybe a little forced. “If you want to say, ‘You’re the silhouette’ — which is also a team effort — then, yeah.” He pauses. “Can we just cut the s— and talk about the Child?”

Yes, of course, the Child — or, as the rest of the galaxy calls it, Baby Yoda. Pascal first saw the incandescently cute creature during his download of “Mandalorian” storyboards in that initial meeting with Favreau. “Literally, my eyes following left to right, up and down, and, boom, Baby Yoda close to the end of the first episode,” he says. “That was when I was like, ‘Oh, yep, that’s a winner!'”

Baby Yoda is undeniably the breakout star of “The Mandalorian,” inspiring infinite memes and apocryphal basketball game sightings. But the show wouldn’t work if audiences weren’t invested in Mando’s evolving emotional connection to the wee scene stealer, something Favreau says Pascal understood from the jump. “He’s tracking the arc of that relationship,” says the showrunner. “His insight has made us rethink moments over the course of the show.” (As with all things “Star Wars,” questions about specifics are deflected in deference to the all-powerful Galactic Order of Spoilers.)

Even if Pascal couldn’t always be inside Mando’s body, he never left the character’s head, always aware of how this orphaned bounty hunter who caroms from planet to planet would look askance at anything that felt too good (or too adorable) to be true.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

When Pascal was 4 months old, his parents had to leave him and his sister with their aunt, so they could go into hiding to avoid capture during Pinochet’s crackdown against his opposition. After six months, they finally managed to climb the walls of the Venezuelan embassy during a shift change and claim asylum; from there, the family relocated, first to Denmark, then to San Antonio, where Pascal’s father got a job as a physician.

Pascal was too young to remember any of this, and for a healthy stretch of his childhood, his complicated Chilean heritage sat in parallel to his life in the U.S. — separate tracks, equally important, never quite intersecting. By the time Pascal was 8, his family was able to take regular trips back to Chile to visit with his 34 first cousins. But he doesn’t remember really talking about any of his time there all that much with his American friends.

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

Besides, he loved his life in San Antonio. His father took him and his sister to Spurs basketball games during the week if their homework was done. He hoodwinked his mother into letting him see “Poltergeist” at the local multiplex. He watched just about anything on cable; the HBO special of Whoopi Goldberg’s one-woman Broadway show knocked him flat. He remembers seeing Henry Thomas in “E.T.” and Christian Bale in “Empire of the Sun” and wishing ardently, urgently, I want to live those stories too.

Then his father got a job in Orange County, Calif. After Pascal finished the fifth grade, they moved there. It was a shock. “There were two really, really rough years,” he says. “A lot of bullying.”

His mother found him a nascent performing arts high school in the area, and Pascal burrowed even further into his obsessions, devouring any play or movie he could get his hands on. His senior year, a friend of his mother’s gave Pascal her ticket to a long two-part play running in downtown Los Angeles that her bad back couldn’t withstand. He got out of school early to drive there by himself. It was the pre-Broadway run of “Angels in America.”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

After studying acting at NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, Pascal booked a succession of solid gigs, like MTV’s “Undressed” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” But the sudden death of his mother — who’d only just been permitted to move back to Chile a few years earlier — took the wind right from Pascal’s sails. He lost his agent, and his career stalled almost completely.

As a tribute to her, he decided to change his professional last name from Balmaceda, his father’s, to Pascal, his mother’s. “And also, because Americans had such a hard time pronouncing Balmaceda,” he says. “It was exhausting.”

Pascal even tried swapping out Pedro for Alexander (an homage to Ingmar Bergman’s “Fanny and Alexander,” one of the formative films of his youth). “I was willing to do absolutely anything to work more,” he says. “And that meant if people felt confused by who they were looking at in the casting room because his first name was Pedro, then I’ll change that. It didn’t work.”

It was a desperately lean time for Pascal. He booked an occasional “Law & Order” episode, but mostly he was pounding the pavement along with his other New York theater friends — like Oscar Isaac, who met Pascal doing an Off Broadway play. They became fast, lifelong friends, bonding over their shared passions and frustrations as actors.

“It’s gotten better, but at that point, it was so easy to be pigeonholed in very specific roles because we’re Latinos,” says Isaac. “It’s like, how many gang member roles am I going to be sent?” As with so many actors, the dream Pascal and Isaac shared to live the stories of their childhoods had been stripped down to its most basic utility. “The dream was to be able to pay rent,” says Isaac. “There wasn’t a strategy. We were just struggling. It was talking about how to do this thing that we both love but seems kind of insurmountable.”

As with so few actors, that dream was finally rekindled through sheer nerve and the luck of who you know, when another lifelong friend, actor Sarah Paulson, agreed to pass along Pascal’s audition for Oberyn Martell to her best friend Amanda Peet, who is married to “Game of Thrones” co-showrunner David Benioff.

“First of all, it was an iPhone selfie audition, which was unusual,” Benioff remembers over email. “And this wasn’t one of the new-fangled iPhones with the fancy cameras. It looked like s—; it was shot vertical; the whole thing was very amateurish. Except for the performance, which was intense and believable and just right.”

Before Pascal knew it, he found himself in Belfast, sitting inside the Great Hall of the Red Keep as one of the judges at Tyrion Lannister’s trial for the murder of King Joffrey. “I was between Charles Dance and Lena Headey, with a view of the entire f—ing set,” Pascal says, his eyes wide and astonished still at the memory. “I couldn’t believe I didn’t have an uncomfortable costume on. You know, I got to sit — and with this view.” He sighs. “It strangely aligned itself with the kind of thinking I was developing as a child that, at that point, I was convinced was not happening.”

And then it all started to happen.

In early 2018, while Pascal was in Hawaii preparing to make the Netflix thriller “Triple Frontier” — opposite his old friend Isaac — he got a call from the film’s producer Charles Roven, who told him Patty Jenkins wanted to meet with him in London to discuss a role in another film Roven was producing, “Wonder Woman 1984.”

“It was a f—ing offer,” Pascal says in an incredulous whisper. “I wasn’t really grasping that Patty wanted to talk to me about a part that I was going to play, not a part that I needed to get. I wasn’t able to totally accept that.”

Pascal had actually shot a TV pilot with Jenkins that wasn’t picked up, made right before his life-changing run on “Game of Thrones” aired. “I got to work with Patty for three days or something and then thought I’d never see her again,” he says. “I didn’t even know she remembered me from that.”

She did. “I worked with him, so I knew him,” she says. “I didn’t need him to prove anything for me. I just loved the idea of him, and I thought he would be kind of unexpected, because he doesn’t scream ‘villain.'”

In Jenkins’ vision, Max Lord — a longstanding DC Comics rogue who shares a particularly tangled history with Wonder Woman — is a slick, self-styled tycoon with a knack for manipulation and an undercurrent of genuine pathos. It was the kind of larger-than-life character Pascal had never been asked to tackle before, so he did something equally unorthodox: He transformed his script into a kind of pop-art scrapbook, filled with blown-up photocopies of Max Lord from the comic books that Pascal then manipulated through his lens on the character.

Even the few pages Pascal flashes to me over Zoom are quite revealing. One, featuring Max sporting a power suit and a smarmy grin, has several burned-out holes, including through the character’s eye. Another page features Max surrounded by text bubbles into which Pascal has written, over and over and over again in itty-bitty lettering, “You are a f—ing piece of s—.”

“I felt like I had wake myself up again in a big way,” he says. “This was just a practical way of, like, instead of going home tired and putting Netflix on, [I would] actually deal with this physical thing, doodle and think about it and run it.”

Jenkins is so bullish on Pascal’s performance that she thinks it could explode his career in the same way her 2003 film “Monster” forever changed how the industry saw Charlize Theron. “I would never cast him as just the stoic, quiet guy,” Jenkins says. “I almost think he’s unrecognizable from ‘Narcos’ to ‘Wonder Woman.’ Wouldn’t even know that was the same guy. But I think that may change.”

When people can see “Wonder Woman 1984” remains caught in the chaos the pandemic has wreaked on the industry; both Pascal and Jenkins are hopeful the Dec. 25 release date will stick, but neither is terribly sure it will. Perhaps it’s because of that uncertainty, perhaps it’s because he’s spent his life on the outside of a dream he’s now suddenly living, but Pascal does not share Jenkins’ optimism that his experience making “Wonder Woman 1984” will open doors to more opportunities like it.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

#Pedro Pascal #pp article #2020

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dornish-queen · 4 years ago

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Pedro Pascal on Fame and ‘The Mandalorian’: ‘Can We Cut the S— and Talk About the Child?’

By Adam B. Vary

Photographs by Beau Grealy

At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

“I know that they finished their movie,” he says, bending over in laughter. “My sister was trying to get a rise out of me by telling me, ‘This happened and that happened and then Superman did this and then, you know, the earthquake and spinning around the planet.'” In the face of such relentless sibling mockery, Pascal did the only logical thing: “I said, ‘All that happened in my movie too.'”

He had no way of knowing it at the time, of course, but some 40 years later, Pascal would in fact get the chance to star in a movie alongside a DC Comics superhero — not to mention battle Stormtroopers and, er, face off against the most formidable warrior in Westeros. After his breakout on “Game of Thrones,” he became an instant get-me-that-guy sensation, mostly as headstrong, taciturn men of action — from chasing drug traffickers in Colombia for three seasons on Netflix’s “Narcos” to squaring off against Denzel Washington in “The Equalizer 2.”

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

And then it all started to happen.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #variety magazine

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leepace71 · 4 years ago

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When Pedro Pascal was roughly 4 years old, he and his family went to see the 1978 hit movie “Superman,” starring Christopher Reeve. Pascal’s young parents had come to live in San Antonio after fleeing their native Chile during the rise of dictator Augusto Pinochet in the mid-1970s. Taking Pascal and his older sister to the movies — sometimes more than once a week — had become a kind of family ritual, a way to soak up as much American pop culture as possible.At some point during this particular visit, Pascal needed to go to the bathroom, and his parents let him go by himself. “I didn’t really know how to read yet,” Pascal says with the same Cheshire grin that dazzled “Game of Thrones” fans during his run as the wily (and doomed) Oberyn Martel. “I did not find my way back to ‘Superman.'”

Before Pascal knew anything about “The Mandalorian,” its showrunner and executive producer Jon Favreau knew he wanted Pascal to star in it.

“The transience is something that I’m incredibly familiar with, you know?” Pascal says. “Understanding the opportunity for complexity under all of the armor was not hard for me.”

“I remember at one point not even realizing that my parents had accents until a friend was like, ‘Why does your mom talk like that?'” Pascal says. “And I remember thinking, like what?”

“And it changed me,” he says with almost religious awe. “It changed me.”

And then it all started to happen.

“It will never happen again,” Pascal says, once more in that incredulous whisper. “It felt so special.”

After all he’s done in a few short years, why wouldn’t Pascal think more roles like this are on his horizon?

“I don’t know!” he finally says with a playful — and pointed — howl. “I’m protecting myself psychologically! It’s just all too good to be true! How dare I!”

#pedro pascal #variety #interview

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a-vintage-snake · 5 years ago

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Reap The Hate You’ve Sown

Pairing(s): Romantic Royality

First chapter - Previous chapter - Next chapter

Warnings: Choking, manipulation, villanous Deceit Characters: Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Remus Sanders,

Summary: Roman ventures out to rescue his brother

Word Count: 7585

People who were asked to be tagged: @avocados26, @fandoms-will-collide @nottoonormalme, @bihighandgivinghighfives, @atticusfinchthelegend, @hekking-happy-nonsense, @lockmcduckwoodchuck

If you want to be removed or added to the taglist, just ask!

Read on AO3

The storm howled as three figures made their way through the woods surrounding the castle. Branches pulled at Roman’s hair as he cleaved his way through the forest. It was pitch black aside from a small purple glowing orb Virgil had conjured to light their way. General Isolda closed the ranks, occasionally pulling Roman or Virgil to safety when an overhead branch swept dangerously low in the fierce wind.

“Where do we go?” General Isolda asked. “How do we know where the warlock keeps the prince?”

“We have to go to the eye of the storm,” Virgil said darkly. “It won’t be far. That’s where he’ll be waiting for us.”

A shudder crept over Roman’s spine, which had nothing to do with the relentless storm. He tried to remind himself he had done this countless times, he had fought monsters for years! It didn’t work. This was no mindless beast, just acting on a hungry belly. No, this demon was driven by a vastly different kind of hunger. Roman remembered the eyes that had rested on him for a few seconds… He couldn’t shake the feeling that the warlock wouldn’t stop until he devoured everyone in the castle.

The further they got into the woods, the quieter the wind became. When they finally stepped out into an open spot, it had become wind still. A perfect circle in the sky showed of the starlit sky. Roman looked up, gaping at the swirling clouds that raged just outside the circle, yet he felt not a single breeze.

“There he is.” The general said. Roman snapped his attention back to the open spot. In the middle clearing stood a large tree. Someone was tied to the trunk, strapped tightly in roots and branches.

“Remus…” Roman took off in a sprint towards the tree, ignoring the cursed out protests of his companions. “REMUS!!” He didn’t bother to check if the others followed behind him. All he could see was his brother’s pale face, his eyes closed and his head leaning limply against a branch.

A fire sprouted up just a few meters from the tree. Roman could stop just in time, the flames licking at his hands. He took a few steps back, his companions running up next to him.

“That’s far enough, dear.” A voice said. From the shadows of the tree stepped the warlock. A snap of his fingers and the fire extinguished itself. The general unsheathed her sword. Virgil bared his teeth in a hiss. Romeo the spider crawled out from the sorcerer’s cloak to sit protectively on Virgil’s head and joined in on the hissing. Roman only tried to swallow away his fear.

“Well, well, well, look who have come to play the knights in shining armour…” Deceit drawled. “The beloved crown prince,” He turned to Virgil, who glared daggers at him. “A sorcerer with secrets,” Lastly he turned to general Isolda. “And I have no idea who you are, so I’m just going to ignore you!”

“Unhand my brother, villain!” Roman said in a braver voice than he felt.

“Are these the only soldiers that Augusto could spare from his grand armies?” The warlock laughed softly as he strode to Remus in his wooden prison. “Pathetic, really. My expectations were low to begin with, but this?” He tutted and shook his head. “This is just sad.”

“I said, unhand my brother!” Roman tightened the hold on his sword to hide how his hands were shaking.

“I thought you were all too scared for your insignificant little lives to leave him at my mercy for so long,” Deceit said as he absentmindedly trailed a finger across Remus’ jawline. “But I guess it’s just plain indifference. A minor setback. If one son captured isn’t enough for that coward to face me, maybe…” Deceit tilted his head in thought. “Maybe I just need to capture his golden boy. What do you think, dear prince?” He turned to Roman. “Would your parents save you? Or would they leave you to rot, just like your brother?”

“Over my dead body!” Virgil growled. He stepped up next to Roman. His eyes had never been a more vivid purple. “If you want him, you have to go through me first, you lying scumbag!”

“Dear me, Virgil,” Deceit sighed. “Still as dramatic as ever, I see. I don’t know why I expected otherwise.”

Virgil stiffened. “Don’t!” He hissed at hooded man.

“What? I just meant you haven’t changed since I last saw you-”

“Don’t!”

“-When you abandoned me all alone in the mountains! That hurt, you know.”

“…Wait.” Roman looked between the two men, confusion mixing with fear. “You… know him, Virge?”

“…Oh dear,” The warlock delightedly said after a few seconds of tense silence. “What an awkward situation! You never shared that little fact with the class, did you? What’s wrong, stormcloud?” Virgil recoiled at the nickname, but Deceit gleefully continued on. “Ashamed of your old master? Well go ahead! Do tell your new friends who exactly taught you everything you know!”

“Old master…? You mean-?” Roman stared at his friend who hung his head, shame colouring his cheeks. “Tell me that’s not true! Tell me he’s lying!”

Roman desperately wanted Virgil to deny it, wanted his friend to grow angry, to spit and yell at the accusations. Instead Virgil only guiltily avoided Roman’s eyes.

“Oh he was such a diligent student,” Deceit continued. “Always ready to learn, so eager to follow my instructions. When I told him to apply for the job of court sorcerer, he readily agreed to be my spy! Didn’t you, stormcloud?”

“Your spy…?” Roman whispered.

“Shut up!” Virgil spat at the warlock. “I’m not the obedient little puppet you tried to make of me! I freed myself! Please Ro,” Virgil turned to Roman pleadingly. “I don’t work for him! I would never hurt you!”

“You are his spy?” Roman asked horrified.

“I’m not!”

“Yes you aaaaaare!” Deceit singsonged. “I mean, really, prince Roman! You can’t trust anyone these days!”

“I SAID SHUT UP!!” Virgil snapped before turning back to Roman. “Alright, maybe it started like that, but I had a change of heart very quickly! Please, I promise I’m not that person anymore! I changed, I swear!”

Roman said nothing. He could only back away from the man he considered his friend, betrayal nearly suffocating him. Hurt crossed Virgil’s face.

A hand grasped his shoulder, stopping him. Roman startled, looking up to general Isolda’s stern face.

“Know your enemies, my prince.” The general said solemnly.

“I… I don’t-” Roman stammered.

“You would distrust the one who dropped everything to help you, at the risk of angering the crown?” General Isolda continued. “Who has had every chance to hurt you in the past, but never did? Or do you want to believe the words of someone who tries to manipulate you to forsake your friend?” The woman glared at the warlock. “The one who has your brother in captivity, might I add?”

Roman tried to think of something to say, but every retort died on his lips. He glanced back at Virgil.

“I swear on my life, Ro…” Virgil pleaded. “I’m on your side.”

…...The general was right. What was he doing?

“I… I trust you, Virge,” Roman nodded, shamefully. “I’m sorry-!”

“Good,” The general released Roman’s shoulder. “Glad you have come to your senses, my prince.”

“Don’t worry,” Virgil assured. “You’re not the first to fall for his trickery,” With a growl he turned back to Deceit. “But I’ll make damn sure you’re the last!”

“You’re outnumbered,” The general said to the warlock. “Now unhand the prince.”

“I don’t like you.” Deceit scowled at her.

“Go back to ignoring me then,” She countered.

“Such a strong woman,” Deceit said. “I’m so impressed. I guess strength is the only worthwhile thing Augusto sees in you, doesn’t he? Don’t you wish you had-”

“Your tricks won’t work.” Roman interrupted, grinning when the warlock let out a low hiss in annoyance. “Release my brother, or we will get him back through force!”

“I’m positively quivering,” Deceit deadpanned, before he gave a resigned sigh. “Have it your way.”

It was the only warning they got.

Roman felt it before he saw it. An all-encompassing heat as his eyes violently had to adjust to a sudden burst of bright light. General Isolda dragged him to the side just in time as a comet of golden flames singed Roman’s hair. As abruptly as the light had started, a wall of purple sheened shadows extinguished the flames. Roman blinked away spots in his vision, never more glad for the dark.

“Very good, Virgil!” Deceit taunted. “You’re so… Evolved.”

“There’s more where that came from.” Virgil said, just a hint out of breath.

“Well then,” Deceit said. His eyes flared up like flames in the darkness. “Teacher versus student! Show me what you have learned!”

“Gladly.” Virgil spat. The shadows built in his hands, before Virgil flung them towards Deceit with an infuriated scream. Golden flames met them in the middle, colliding into each other. Roman watched as an inferno of purple and gold swirled up in a tornado of raw magic. When it vanished the two men attacked each other, snarling and snapping like animals, magic scorching the air. Deceit towered over the short sorcerer, but what Virgil lacked in physical stature and strength he made up with pure, relentless rage. Even so Roman saw his friend struggle.

“We have to help!” He said to the general. The woman nodded, determined. Side by side they threw themselves into battle with a drawn out war cry, falling in next to their friend.

It was three against one. To Roman it felt like he was fighting a small army. Spells slammed into cold metal, magic met swords. Any time he tried to get a hit in, the warlock disappeared and reappeared somewhere else. The warlock cast spells and vanished fluid and agile like a snake before any of them could counteract. Hits and spells meant for Deceit struck themselves or their companions. General Isolda would swing her sword only to meet thin air, missing Virgil by a hair. After a spell of sharp shadowed arrows just barely avoided Roman, Virgil was forced to go with less dangerous spells. Whenever either of them tried to get close to the tree they were driven back by energy blasts or flames. Virgil shouted a spell that Deceit countered easily. Purple shadows fiercely fought against golden light.

Eventually however they started to see through his tricks. A blade grazed Deceit’s hand, leaving an angry red line. Virgil’s spells met their target more often. They adapted, saw attacks better coming and jumped out of the way quicker. Roman could cheer when he finally saw the warlock falter in his steps, hope coming alive in his chest. They could actually do this!

An energy blast propelled Roman backwards, landing on his back a few meters away. He quickly scrambled up again and ran back towards the battle. The warlock shot him a look, then looked back at Virgil and general Isolda. Deceit slammed his fists together and yelled something incomprehensible. Mist whirled up around him, surrounding him and pulling him from sight. And it didn’t stop there. It grew and crept over the open spot at an alarming speed, until even the starlit sky was obscured from sight. Roman stopped. He whirled around, turning, turning, more frantic each time. There was nothing. Just mist. He couldn’t see an inch in front of his face.

“Virgil?” He shouted hesitantly. “General??”

“We’re here!” General Isolda’s voice answered, further away than what was reasonably possible.

“Where are you? I can’t see you!” Roman’s voice cracked on the last ‘you’. His heart raced in his throat.

“Stay put! We’ll find you!” Virgil answered, his voice even more distant than the general’s. Roman nodded, croaking out a shivery ‘okay’, as he tried to stay still. Part of him wanted to run and scream. Part of him wanted to curl up and cry. Where was his bravado now? Where was the courage that never failed him when he slayed monsters? He swallowed, inhaled deeply through his nose. Four seconds in, hold for seven, breathe out for eight. Four seconds in, hold for seven, breathe out for eight.

Everything would be okay. They would return safe and sound with his brother. He would have another chance. Everything would be okay. They would return safe and sound with his brother. He would have another chance. Everything would be okay, everything would be okay, everything would be okay-

He repeated the same mantra in his head over and over, hoping to calm his hammering heart and every instinct that screamed at him to run, run, run, run, run, RUN-!

A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Roman whirled around. Nothing there. A soft laugh echoed at the edge of his hearing. He leapt and swung his sword, but only cleaved through mist. Endless, endless mist.

“Over here.” A voice teasingly whispered behind him. Roman screamed and jumped around, once more swinging his sword and finding nothing. The voice laughed again, this time to the right of him.

“Princey??” Virgil yelled anxiously, still too far away.

“I’m here!” Roman choked out, a whisper more than anything. He attempted to yell louder, but his throat closed up painfully. A hissing sound made him spin on his heels. Roman caught a glimpse of something slither on the ground, something with yellow and black scales before it slinked back into the mist. He walked backwards, legs trembling underneath him.

“You fight so bravely, dear prince,” The voice hissed. “But in vain. You know you can’t win thissss…”

“I won’t stop fighting,” Roman answered wobbly. “I won’t!”

“Oh, of course you won’t,” The voice cooed, circling him. Roman tried to follow it, hoping to spot something other than mist. “You’ve fought all your life, haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Roman said. “I have defeated many foul beast before you, and you will be no different!”

“All those victories,” The voice hummed. “And yet none of those have ever truly satisfied you, haven’t they? Because you can’t fill your hollow heart with empty praises.”

Roman’s heart thumped in his throat. “I… I don’t know w-what you’re talking about!” He answered.

“It’s amazing what one spills when they’re in pain… What dark secrets your brother has told me about you.” The voice shifted, and suddenly Roman felt a solid presence behind him, hot breath tickling his skin as Deceit spoke directly into his ear. “I know your heart, Roman Alveraz.”

With a startled shout Roman spun on his feet, lurching his sword towards the other. It was blocked mid-air as Deceit grabbed the blade and held on tight. Roman was left staring into the piercing golden eyes that glowed from the darkness of the hood. He felt like prey trapped under a predator’s hungry glare.

“I know how you constantly fight for approval,” Deceit said. Blood trickled down his palm, but still he held the sword tight. “I know you fight for the love from your peers, while your ambitions rot at your feet.”

“Stop it…” Roman said shakily.

“I know how you follow in mommy and daddy’s footsteps like a good little marionette,” Deceit continued on mercilessly. “I know how you obediently dance every step they ask of you, until your feet are bleeding and raw. I know you hide behind that mask you call your true face.”

“Stop it!!”

“You must be so tired, dear prince… All those years fighting, and for what? For a crown you know very well you haven’t earned? For the shallow smiles of people who would stab you in the back at their first opportunity?”

“Don’t listen to him!!” Virgil’s voice sounded from across the mist.

“I can help you, you know,” Deceit said sweetly. “Your life is a balancing act above a raging wildfire, where even the smallest mistake burns you beyond repair. But I could douse the flames. You don’t have to fight anymore. I can make it all stop. No more fake smiles, no more pretending… I can take the pain away for you. Forever.”

“He’s lying!! Roman, don’t listen to him!” Virgil shouted, but Roman scarcely noticed. He was drowning. Deceit’s words pushed him down under in an ocean of honey, sweet and suffocating.

“You want that,” Deceit pressed on. “Don’t you?”

“Yes…” Roman whispered before he could stop himself. “Yes.”

“Of course you do,” Deceit said gently, ever so gently. “But if you want my help, you know what you’ll have to do first…”

“Invite you in…”

“Exactly!” Deceit’s voice shook in triumph. “Walk back into the castle, and invite me in.”

“…No.” Roman said in weak defiance. “No! You’ll hurt people-!”

Deceit growled, all gentleness leaving him. “What have they done for you? What do those mindless sheep mean to you? Nothing. You owe them nothing!”

The golden eyes flared up with every word, and Roman was helplessly pinned down under their gaze. A shiver started in his leg- Wait, his leg?

“You think anyone would miss them if their worthless lives ended?” Deceit went on, but Roman was a bit distracted by the tingle on his leg that startlingly enough moved up. The shiver crawled up and up, until it crawled onto Roman’s shoulder and down his arm. Roman only briefly saw a dark purple gleam and eight furry legs, before it leapt. With the tiniest yet fiercest war cry ever heard, Romeo the spider soared through the sky like an avenging angel and landed full on the warlock’s face.

Deceit gave an undignified screech as he released Roman’s sword and leapt back, flailing his arms around as he tried to smack the spider off. The mist surrounding them disappeared. Deceit’s concentration was broken.

“Get off, get off!!” The warlock shrieked, golden spells continuously just missing the purple blur that crawled over him with lightning speed.

“Good Romeo!!” Virgil yelled proudly as he ran to Roman to drag him away from the preoccupied warlock.

“He’s distracted!” General Isolda shouted. “Now is our chance!”

It was the only thing Roman needed to hear to shake away the hold that the honeyed words had on him. Virgil released him as Roman ran towards the tree, where general Isolda was already busy slashing away the roots that kept Remus prison. Roman and Virgil joined in her efforts, Roman using his sword and Virgil blasting small fire blasts to burn the wood. Roman’s breath quickened, his arms swinging frantically. Too slow, too slow, this was too slow-!!

“Keep working!” Roman yelled as he threw down his sword. The other two shouted in confusion, Roman ignored them. He wrapped his arms around Remus’ torso and pulled. He heard branches snapping as his brother was torn free from their grasp. Understanding his plan, Virgil and the general doubled their effort on the roots still wrapped around Remus. Roman kept pulling, throwing his whole body into it. He felt how the roots gave way bit-by-bit, until-

Abruptly all resistance fell away. Roman lost his balance and fell on his back, dragging his brother with him. The air was knocked out of his lungs by the limp body suddenly dropped on his chest. The weight was promptly removed when general Isolda lifted Remus up and threw him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“We got him!” She said as Roman staggered back onto his feet with Virgil’s help. “We have to get out of here now!”

“Not so fast.”

They turned. Deceit stood, slightly panting, but victoriously holding out a hand where Romeo squirmed and struggled to break free. Virgil paled.

“No,” Virgil pleaded. “Deceit, please no-!”

“So you do remember some of my lessons,” Deceit said with an unpleasant tone. “Good.”

Deceit tightened his hand and squeezed. Romeo let out pained squeaks at the same time as Virgil wailed, dropping onto his knees while clutching his chest.

“Virgil??” Roman kneeled next to his friend, whose face was pale with pain. He didn’t understand. What was happening??

“Deceit…” Virgil gasped. “Please, please stop-!!”

“You know what I want,” Deceit said a little shakily. His hand trembled as he gripped the spider even harder. Virgil cried out and the warlock looked away. “I never wished to hurt you, stormcloud, despite what you think of me…” He continued softly. “But I have to do this. I hope I can make you understand some day.”

“Whatever it is you want, it’s yours!” Roman yelled, even as Virgil weakly protested. “Just stop what it is you’re doing, just stop!”

Deceit relieved the pressure on Romeo. Virgil slumped against Roman who caught his friend. Virgil was pale as milk, yet his pained expression faded quickly, something else taking over entirely.

“Good,” Deceit said unsteadily. “Good... Well then, if we could come to an arrangement-”

A hurt and absolute livid scream tore itself from Virgil’s throat. Shadows shot from his hand like an oncoming tsunami, and hit the warlock square in the chest. Deceit was launched backward, made hard contact with the ground, rolled over a few times before coming to a stop on his stomach. He didn’t get up.

Roman stared at the unmoving body of the warlock, then at his friend. Virgil only frantically searched the open spot.

“Romeo…?” Virgil called out uncertainly. “Romeo??”

A soft rustle in the grass made Virgil hold his breath. A purple glimmer skittered over the ground as quick as it could towards Virgil.

“Romeo!!” Virgil cried out in relief as he held out his hands. He cradled the spider close to his chest as soon as Romeo crawled onto his palms. “Oh Romeo… I’m going to get you ten- No, twenty cherry crumble pies topped with the biggest, fattest flies when we get home! All for you, brave little buddy!” He kissed the spider on its furry body multiple times. Romeo wiggled under all the attention. The sight made Roman want to laugh and cry at the same time. He went with neither, as his eyes fell on the warlock, who still hadn’t moved. Roman determinedly rose, grabbing his sword from the ground. Time to finish the job.

A hand grabbed his wrist. “Leave him.” Virgil croaked.

“Wait, what?” Roman stared down at him incredulously. “But this is our chance, we could kill-”

“NO!” Virgil yelled. “Just leave him!”

“But-!”

“Please Roman,” Virgil stood up. Roman saw him wipe away a few stray tears. “Let’s go.”

Roman didn’t understand any of it, but he couldn’t ignore his friend’s pleas. So he nodded.

“Right… Let’s go.”

They ran. Virgil in front, conjuring a glowing orb, general Isolda with Remus thrown over her shoulders in the middle and Roman at the back, his sword still at the ready. As they ran out from the open spot and back into the woods, Roman turned one last time. Deceit slowly pushed himself up. Roman could swear he saw something float near the warlock’s head, but he didn’t stay to see what it was.

The storm still raged. As they ran through the forest, the wind even worsened. They struggled against its push. The soft purple orb was the only source of light they had, and it cast the forest with its swaying branches in haunting shadows. In every part of the pitch black darkness Roman’s imagination conjured up images of the warlock, ready to drag them back into the night. Roman knew they had to keep running, otherwise one of those images might prove to be the real one. Virgil, however, had other ideas. The sorcerer came to a halt as they reached a good distance from the open spot. General Isolda and Roman stopped too, puzzled.

“Why have we stopped?” The general asked.

Virgil turned. “Put him down,” He said as he pointed at Remus.

“Whatever for?” General Isolda questioned. “Need I remind you, we came here to rescue him!”

“Put him down!” Virgil said with such urgency that the general quickly lowered Remus onto the ground. “We can’t go back to the castle yet!”

“Why?? That monster is not going to stay down for long!” Roman asked as he threw down his sword and knelt down to pick Remus up again. “We have to keep moving, or-”

Hands shot up, closing around Roman’s throat. Roman’s yelp was cut off as the hands wrung his neck in a crushing grip. Remus sat up like a doll on strings. Roman wheezed and struggled, scratching and pulling at the sudden suffocating hold Remus had on him. Vaguely he saw how Remus’ face was distorted in a vicious snarl as he tightened his hands. Virgil and general Isolda yelled, but all Roman could focus on was the shadowed face of his brother. Remus’ eyes were feverishly bright. Too bright. “Rem…” Roman gasped, black spots appearing in his vision.

Virgil grabbed his shoulders and pulled, at the same time as general Isolda grabbed Remus in a headlock and yanked him back to disconnect the two. Roman gasped for air as he was released, taking in the air like a drowning man. Remus meanwhile shouted and shrilled violently, even continuing when the general covered his mouth with her hand.

“There’s your answer!” Virgil said as Roman caught his breath. “Look at his eyes, Ro!”

Roman looked up at his brother, who struggled and screamed in the general’s arms like a feral animal. Remus’ eyes were glowing a molten gold, the same colour that had glared at him from underneath a hood.

“He’s hypnotized! The second we set foot in the castle, he’ll invite the bastard in and it would all be for nothing!”

The general winced when Remus bit her hand with a fierce growl. “What do we do?” She asked.

Virgil got up, helping Roman to his feet as well. “Hold him down.” He said grimly. General Isolda didn’t question it, instead wrestled Remus to the ground and pressed him down by his shoulders. In order to do so, she had to release his mouth and Remus immediately screamed his lungs out again.

“Whatever you must do, do it quick!” The general yelled over Remus’ cries. “His screaming might attract that thing right to us!”

Remus struggled harder, furiously clawing at the general’s arms, but she managed to keep him pinned. Virgil knelt down next to Remus, shadows gathering in his hands and his eyes flashing purple. Remus immediately tried to scratch and bite at him, but Roman knelt down alongside the others and wrestled Remus’ arms to the ground. Virgil gave him a thankful nod, before he placed his hands on Remus’ chest, the shadows pulsing on his skin. Remus screamed louder.

“Get out of him,” Virgil said through gritted teeth. “Get out!”

Remus convulsed on the ground like lightning set his bones ablaze. His eyes rolled back in his head as two powers inside him fought. Virgil pushed and pushed his magic against the other, sweat forming on his brow.

“I said…” Virgil’s already gravely voice deepened, the veins on his hands darkening to a pitch black. “Get. OUT!!”

With a final push, Virgil forced all his magic into Remus, who’s back arched and mouth flew open in a soundless scream. A stream of golden light bled out from Remus’ open mouth. Under their bewildered gazes, the gold first pooled together, before shimmering and forming a tiny snake of light. It raised its little head and hissed at them.

“Quick! Grab it!” Virgil said.

Three pair of hands tried to swipe the snake off the ground. The snake hissed again and ducked under their hands before any of them could get a hold on it. It slithered back into the forest, lightning its path like a little beacon.

“Shit!” Virgil spat.

“What is it? What will it do?” General Isolda asked.

“Tell him where we are,” Virgil said. “We have to go. Now.”

The three of them jumped up. The general wanted to lift Remus back up, but Roman beat her to it. As he gathered Remus in his arms, his brother tilted his head to look at him.

“Roman…” Remus muttered.

“That’s right, Rem,” Roman laughed wobbly as he hauled his brother up and held him protectively against his chest. “I got you. I’m not letting go.”

Remus blinked tiredly at him, before his head fell on Roman’s shoulder and his eyes slipped shut. Unconscious, Roman thought.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Virgil urged as he swept Roman’s sword of the ground. Roman and the general followed Virgil and the small light orb through the dark as fast as they could. Roman had no idea how long they walked, but every minute felt like an eternity. The storm pushed at them ruthlessly. They couldn’t run as fast as they would have liked, lest they constantly trip over roots and holes in the ground, so progress felt like wading through syrup. He briefly thought how this might be his eternity, running through the woods with danger breathing hot down their necks, when-

“Just up ahead! We made it!” Virgil shouted. Roman wanted to cry out in happiness as he saw the edge of the woods, the castle’s lights shining through the branches. A lighthouse in the storm, guiding them home.

Bursting from the treeline they started to sprint towards the castle gates. Thankfully someone had left them open. Needles pricked in Roman’s lungs, his legs nearly collapsing under him but he didn’t dare to slow down. Almost there-!

Fire burst to life in front of them, stopping them meters away from the drawbridge. The flames circled them, until they were trapped. Roman didn’t need to look to know who had finally caught up to them, but he turned anyway.

Deceit was shrouded once more in mist, far closer to them than Roman had hoped. His eyes burned golden, promises of destruction flaring in them.

“Give him back!” Deceit snarled in a booming voice.

“RUN!!” General Isolda yelled.

Virgil doused the flames with his shadows so they could make their escape. Roman’s feet ached as he raced towards the castle. The extra weight of his brother threatened to drag them both down, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. Behind him Virgil shielded him from oncoming flames, the heat licking at the back of his neck. General Isolda dragged Virgil with her as the sorcerer cast protection spell after protection spell. Roman was almost at the drawbridge-!

His foot got stuck behind a rock just as he wanted to run in. He tripped, only preventing from falling on his brother by twisting his body just in time so they fell sideways on the wooden planks of the bridge instead. Virgil cursed and turned to run right towards the danger, hoping to distract Deceit from the others. The general however grabbed him by the collar, lifted him off the ground and practically hurled him towards the castle gates, where he landed next to Roman. General Isolda stood protectively before Roman and Virgil, her sword drawn as the warlock closed in, flames and mist surrounding him like a hellish entourage.

“If you want them,” General Isolda hissed. “You’ll have to get through me first!”

“With pleasure.” Deceit purred. His golden magic came to live in his hands. Roman braced for impact, shouting the general’s name as Deceit ran towards them-

A sound not unlike a tapping against thick glass was heard. The air pulsated and Deceit was thrown back, barely managing to stay on his feet. He shook his head, throwing himself towards them to attack them again. Once more, an invisible shield stopped him.

“…What’s happening?” The general asked, confused, as Deceit feverishly felt among the air, his palms flat like he was touching a wall rather than thin air. He slammed his fists, ripples like water forming wherever he hit, but it did not let him through.

“…We’ve made it onto castle grounds.” Roman realized. “He can’t enter!”

Roman’s disbelieving laugh was overpowered by Deceit’s furious outcry. The warlock called forth his magic, hitting the shield over and over with golden fire with enough force that the flames climbed up as high as the watchtower. Roman felt the heat on his face as the air rippled, but held steady. Deceit’s livid screams followed Roman and his friends as they got up and ran over the drawbridge to the safety of the castle walls. Above them the storm roared to life once more, lightning strikes following each other up closely. They reached the door as lightning struck down behind them.

“OPEN THE CASTLE DOORS!!” The general shouted as she pounded her fist against the heavy wood. No answer came. Virgil growled in impatience and pushed against the doors, his shadow magic pushing alongside him. The doors groaned and opened, allowing the three companions to stumble in.

Roman had never been more happy to see the castle’s entrance hall in his life. Then a sword was pointed at him. He stared up into the shocked face of colonel Bentley, along with a few dozen startled knights behind him.

“Prince Roman?” The man stammered. “Isolda?? You- You survived…” His eyes fell on Remus and they widened comically large. “You found the prince! How-??”

“Stand down, Bentley!” The general commanded. The man instantly drew back the sword and jumped into a salute. “Our princes went through enough tonight! They don’t need to your questioning on top of it!”

“Yes ma’am! Sorry ma’am!” The colonel barked automatically. But then he seemed to realize something as he dropped his hand. “Wait, no! You’re no general anymore! Our king and queen have dishonourably removed you from your position! You committed treason!”

Isolda nodded. “As I suspected.” She said before she addressed the rest of the knights in the hall like she hadn’t heard him. “Make yourself ready! We have a warlock to capture!”

“What??” Roman gasped.

“B-But general…” The colonel protested, the title still slipping from his tongue without thinking. “The king and queen said that you-”

“That man is a threat to the crown, colonel!” Isolda interrupted. “Surely you’ll do our king and queen a favour by capturing their enemy. Who knows, they might even handsomely reward you! They need a new general, after all. I’m sure they’d want a brave man such as yourself to fill the position.”

The colonel thought this over for a few seconds. Greed twinkled in his eyes.

“If you put it like that…” He finally said. “Very well! Knights! Like the lady said! Make yourself ready!”

“General, you can’t-!” Roman protested.

“Not a general anymore,” Isolda said. “But it doesn’t matter. If we have any chance of capturing him and bringing that man to justice, it’s now. We have to try! And this time…” She looked around the hall proudly, where the knights readied themselves to venture into the storm. “I’ll have more help.”

“We could come with you!” Virgil said. Roman nodded in agreement.

“You’re both very brave. But I think someone else needs your help more than I do,” Isolda said as she nodded at Remus. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman stared up at her, at a loss for words. “Thank you…” He said eventually. Isolda nodded at him, a smile playing on her lips, before she followed the colonel and the knights outside, leaving Roman and Virgil alone in the entrance hall.

It was only then, as the knights disappeared into the night and his brother safe and sound in his arms, that Roman truly realized that they had done it. Somehow, against all the odds, they had saved Remus. His brother was home. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, slightly delirious. Virgil gave him a funny stare, before his lips hesitantly quirked up and his breathless chuckles joined Roman’s.

“Did… Did we just do that? And win?” Roman asked an equally stunned Virgil.

“Yeah!” Virgil said. “What the shit…”

Roman snorted at that, relief tampering down the adrenaline still running through his veins. A glance down at his unconscious brother quickly sobered him up though.

“He needs healing.” Roman said. Virgil turned serious as well.

“I have everything for a proper healing in my workshop,” Virgil said. “But in order to get there we would have to cross the courtyard…” Both friends turned to the storm outside that only seemed to turn more violent by the minute, lightning strikes following each other up with barely a pause. “Yeah… We should probably avoid any more life threatening situations if we can.”

“But he needs help now!” Roman said.

“Relax, I can heal his most urgent injuries right away,” Virgil jumped when a thunderclap made the windows rattle. “We better get him somewhere safe though.”

“Right, yes,” Roman nodded, weary exhaustion and heaviness settling in on his shoulders. Damn, he needed- What he desperately wanted was… “Let’s go back the throne room for now.”

“The throne room?” Virgil frowned. “You sure that’s a good idea, princey? Your pa- I mean, the king and queen are there too!”

“I know,” Roman scowled at the idea of facing them, but his heart ached for the comfort of golden curls and blue eyes. “I just… I need to see Patton. He has to know we’re okay.”

Virgil still looked dubious, but he nodded in understanding. “Let’s go then.”

Their footsteps rang through the empty halls as they made their walked to the throne room. Occasionally lightning outside lit up their path. Roman threw his friend a few hesitant glances before he cleared his throat.

“Virgil… About what the warlock said…” Roman began carefully, but Virgil flinched even so.

“Look, I can explain!” Virgil said hastily. “I met him when I was young, and-”

“It’s okay.”

Roman would have laughed at the startled wide-eyed stare Virgil threw his way, if it hadn’t been for the sheer dread still present on his friend’s face. “No really,” He said sincerely. “It’s fine, Virge. I don’t care about your past. I mean, you saved my butt multiple times tonight! Screw what that guy said! You’re my friend now and that’s what matters.”

“I…” Virgil looked more than a little stunned. The darkness of the halls couldn’t quite hide his touched half smile though. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head to cover it up. “Princey, you sap.” He muttered as he gently bumped his fist against Roman’s arm.

“I’m serious!” Roman said.

“I know you are, you lovable idiot.”

“Good. Secret softie.”

“Oh shut up…”

“But Virge, if you ever do want to talk about it…?” Roman said.

Virgil groaned. “I think I’m gonna take a three day nap first.”

“Ha! You and me both!”” Roman adjusted his grip on Remus slightly. He was getting heavy, but Roman was not letting go. Luckily the throne room doors were just up ahead.

“But after that,” Virgil said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to-!”

“I know I don’t. I just… Think it would be nice to finally tell someone, you know? No more hiding.”

“No more hiding,” Roman said. “Sounds like a plan!”

The knights standing guard gaped at them when they approached, but they scrambled to open the throne room doors. Horrified gasps and astounded whispers rang around the throne room as Roman and Virgil walked in, the doors closing again behind them. Roman could not blame them. He knew what kind of picture they painted. Both him and Virgil exhausted and dirty, Virgil holding a bloodied sword, and him walking in with an unconscious Remus held protectively in his arms. The crowd parted to let them through, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Virgil?! ROMAN!!”

Pure joy swiftly coursed through when Roman saw Patton push people aside to run up to him, tears of relief streaming down his love’s face. Patton skidded to a halt however when he spotted Remus. Shocked he covered his mouth with trembling fingers.

“You… You found him,” Patton said with wide eyes. “A-And the warlock…?”

“Currently being hunted down by the general and her knights,” Virgil said as he led Roman further into the throne room. Patton followed. “He’s not a threat anymore.”

There stood a long console table to the wall, tastefully decorated with candelabras. Virgil dropped the sword against the wall and unceremoniously shoved the candelabras off the table so Roman could gently place Remus on the temporary sick bed. Patton hurriedly shrugged off his jacket, folded it up and placed it under Remus’ head as a makeshift pillow. A shuddery sigh left Roman as he carefully adjusted Remus in what he hoped was a somewhat comfortable position.

He would have his second chance. He only hoped Remus would give it to him.

Roman took a few steps back to give Virgil his space. The sorcerer’s eyes lit up once more in a purple gleam, as he moved his hands lightly over Remus’ chest. Virgil softly started chanting healing spells, a songlike quality to his voice. Did Roman’s eyes trick him, or did Remus immediately look a bit better?

“Roman…” A soft hand was placed on his arm. Tearing his gaze away from his brother, Roman looked at Patton. His fiancé stared up at him with wide tear-filled eyes. A broken sob left him as Patton threw his arms around Roman’s waist. Roman immediately returned the embrace, tightening his arms around the shorter man. He buried his face into the soft curls and pressed desperate kisses on his love’s head.

“I thought I lost you…” Patton sobbed into his chest. “I thought- I thought I would become a widower before we ever got married! I thought-!”

“I’m here, dear heart,” Roman murmured, tears forming in his own eyes as well. “I’m okay. I got back to you. I’m here.”

Patton nodded and happily blubbered out something Roman didn’t quite hear. It didn’t matter. For one brief, beautiful moment all was well.

But of course, of course, the moment had to be broken. Roman heard the breathless crowd hurriedly part and footsteps approaching. One glance away from the safe haven of his fiancé’s curls confirmed who said footsteps belonged to. With a snarl Roman pulled himself reluctantly out of Patton’s embrace.

“Don’t come near him!” Roman growled. His parents stopped in their tracks.

“I’m not allowed to go near my own son?” Queen Nadia asked with a tremor in her voice, one delicate tear gliding down her cheek.

“No! No you’re not!” Roman said with a humourless laugh. “Glad you understand it so quickly!”

“He’s our son!” King Augusto protested. “We haven’t seen him for nearly a year!”

“And whose fault is that exactly??” Roman bit out. “If you had actually done what you promised you would instead of, oh I don’t know, lying to me, maybe, just maybe, you would have seen him a little sooner! Just a thought!”

“We didn’t lie!” King Augusto said. “We never lie to you!”

“YES YOU DO!!” Roman pulled at his hair. “You’re lying to me right now!” He didn’t want to have this conversation right now. He was tired. So, so tired…

“Come now Roman,” His mother smiled and held her arms out, stepping up like she wanted to embrace him. “How about you we talk about this in the morning, after we all had a good night’s rest after such a terrible day?”

“Don’t touch me!” Roman stepped back, trembling. He wanted to grab his sword to make sure these people never touched him again.

“Roman, you’re obviously stressed,” His mother said in a sweet, yet admonishing tone. She kept advancing in on him. “You’re not thinking clearly. How about you calm down first-”

Roman recognized the shivery crawl that shot up his leg and back before he saw Romeo the spider take his place on his shoulder. Queen Nadia stumbled back with a high pitched shriek as the tarantula hissed angrily at her. Roman let out a crazed little giggle as Romeo protectively hunched, waiting to jump on the face of the first person stupid enough to get closer. Wow, since when was a spider the size of his fist less frightening than his own mother touching him?

“Thanks, little buddy…” He whispered gratefully. Romeo clicked his mandibles happily in response.

“What is that thing?” The king asked in disgust as he eyed the spider.

“His name is Romeo,” Roman said. “And he’s not a thing!”

“Damn right!” Virgil said, briefly interrupting his healing.

“Stay out of this!” The queen said before turning back to Roman. “Sweetheart, this is all a big misunderstanding-!”

“It’s a misunderstanding that you didn’t even CONSIDER to look for Remus??” Roman snapped. “Or didn’t want to send out soldiers WHEN HE WAS RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR???”

“Oh please forgive us for prioritising everyone else’s safety in this castle over one person!” The king barked. “Which that wasn’t an easy sacrifice to make!”

“Ohohohoho, that’s rich, coming from you!” Roman laughed bitterly. “You complete and absolute ASSHOLE-!!”

“Wait! Roman, sweetie! Stop!” Patton stepped in front of him, bravely ignoring Romeo in favour of smiling sweetly at Roman. “It’s okay! They’re right!”

Roman distinctly felt like someone kicked him in the stomach. “What…?” He whispered.

“They’re right! When you were gone, they explained everything to us! I promise you, it really was just a misunderstanding!” Patton said. “They can explain to you too, you just-”

“Pat-! Pat, NO. Not you too!” Roman grabbed him by the shoulders. “Don’t listen to them! This is what they do! They lie to your face and make themselves the victims! This is what they’ve always done!”

“But… But…” Patton stepped back, looking between Roman and his parents hesitantly. “They wouldn’t! It’s all just a big mistake, that’s all!”

“Patton, please!” Roman pleaded. Not him. Not his fiancé. “Listen to me!! I’ve lived- Or rather, survived- With them for years! They’re lying! Please believe me!!”

“He’s right, Pat.” Virgil said as he turned away from his healing to stand behind Roman for support. “They’re a bunch of liars. I can know, I have experience with those.”

Roman wanted to hug him, but kept his eyes focused on his love. Patton stared at him, chewing his bottom lip, again looking between him and the king and queen.

“But…” Patton said hesitantly. “I know them too! I thought-”

“It’s a façade, Pat!” Roman pressed on. “It’s not real!”

“Honey,” Queen Nadia said gently. “Maybe you should listen to your fiancé.”

“STAY OUT OF THIS!!” Roman screamed at her before looking at Patton. “Dear heart… Please.”

Patton looked around, first at Roman, then his parents, then at the crowd that stared and waited with bated breath, unconsciously loving the juicy gossip they were getting. Doubt tore him apart. He turned back to Roman. His fiancé, who looked torn up, hurt and scared. Patton’s tried to say something, anything, when his gaze flicked to a point behind Roman. His eyes widened. Roman frowned. What was-

“VIRGIL LOOK OUT!!” Patton screamed.

Roman heard a sickening whack. He whipped around in time to see Virgil tumble to the ground, blood trickling down his temple. The figure that loomed over him held a bloodied candelabra, which he had soundlessly picked up from the ground in the confusion. The figure chuckled.

“Whoopsies! That’s gotta hurt!” Remus giggled, swinging the candelabra around like a baton. Roman stood frozen to the ground. His eyes went from his knocked out friend, up to his brother who grinned and put a foot on Virgil’s back like he was prey he finally managed to kill. Romeo jumped down from Roman’s shoulder to run in panicked circles around his master, which were stopped when Remus kicked the spider away with another cackle. The spider smacked against a pillar, and didn’t move anymore when he fell down.

“You- Wait-!” Roman tried to make sense of what was happening, his mind flailing to catch up. He desperately searched for a hint of gold in his brother’s eyes, but they were the same dark brown as his own. “You were unconscious!” He finally blabbered out.

“Oh yeah… I was, wasn’t I?” Remus wiggled his shoulders mischievously. “Aren’t I a stinker?”

His mother caught on before Roman did. “GUARDS!!” She shouted. “GUARDS!!”

“Haha, nope!” Remus wagged a finger teasingly. “I don’t think so! This show is SOLD OUT!”

At the last word Remus’ eyes flared up in a bright green glow. One wave of his hand thrown towards the doors, and a current of green streams rushed itself through the crowd, webbing themselves over the door in an intricate glowing pattern. Barring anyone from coming in… And getting out.

“What the-?!” Roman gaped. “Remus, you-??”

“That’s right, bitches!!” Remus screeched. “I can do magic now!” He threw his arms wide, the green energy surging and pulsing around him and he laughed, a wild maniacal sound. Roman finally snapped out of his stupor.

“You-! But why-?!” He stammered.

“Why?” Remus looked Roman in the eyes. He barely recognized Remus in this crazed green-eyed creature. “To assist a very dear friend of mine, of course!”

“That thing in the mountains?! He tortured you!” Roman yelled.

“Oh, he definitely made me scream alright, but it was in a very different way than you think!” Remus giggled. He twisted his head, grinning at the sight of multiple guests running towards the doors and desperately trying to tear them open. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “Ah, the sweaty smell of sheer and utter panic… One of my favourites!” Remus giggled again, unable to hold back his mirth. “But not what I want right now! So everyone…” His eyes shot open, the green flashing even brighter. “LOOK. AT. ME!!”

His high-pitched scream overpowered the hysteria that had grabbed the crowd by their throats. All eyes turned to him in horrified silence. Remus shimmied under all the attention.

“Look at this!” Remus beamed. “What a reunion, huh?? And at such a killer party too! Although…” Remus made a show of looking around critically, caressing his moustache in exaggerated consideration. “I don’t know, I just feel like there’s missing something! Or should I say…” A big grin split his face in half as Remus’ eyes darkened with vengeful glee. “Someone.”

King Augusto’s face twisted in panic, which he in vain tried to cover up with anger. “Don’t you dare!” He screamed, fear lilting the edges of his voice as Remus only grinned wider. “You traitorous scum, don’t you dare-!!”

“DECEIT!!” Remus threw his head back and howled up at the sky. “Come on down here, you slippery snake! I OFFICIALLY INVITE YOU TO THIS PITY PARTY!!”

Thunder roared in triumphant response, so powerful that Roman felt it vibrate in his chest. The beautifully crafted glass stain windows cracked and shattered, dousing the screaming mass in splintered glass as they ducked for cover. Roman quickly grabbed Patton and pulled him towards the ground in a protective embrace, feeling the glass cut on his cheeks. Mist crept in through the shattered windows. The mist gathered itself on the steps that lead to the thrones, twisted, twirled in itself, before finally solidifying into an all too familiar cloaked figure.

The panicked cries of the crowd were interspersed by Remus’ cackle as he clapped his hands in delight. Deceit raised his head and took in the screaming people with disdain, before he reached up and snapped back his hood. Finally Roman saw the face of the warlock. He sucked in a breath. One word echoed through his head as Roman took in scales, furious two-toned eyes and fangs just barely visible in a loathing snarl.

Monster.

Before Roman could find his words, Remus ran and bounced up the steps with eager joy. He halted just one stair below Deceit.

“Did I do good, DeeDee?” Remus breathlessly asked. “Did I, did I??”

The warlock turned to Remus, and to Roman’s bewilderment his face immediately softened into something akin to tender fondness.

“Oh Remus,” Deceit cooed, as he gently caressed Remus’ face with one hand. “You did absolutely marvellous, my darling.”

Remus sighed happily as he melted into the contact with a soft moan, nuzzling his face into the hand and looking up at Deceit with what could only be described as lovesick adoration. Deceit smiled, then looked back at the huddled crowd. All softness in his face instantly died away.

“Now then,” Deceit said darkly. “What a day of reunions this is turning out to be.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #deceit sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts deceit #ts patton #ts virgil #ts remus #royality #romantic royality #the alternative chapter title: Romeo The Spider Finally Gets To Jump On Someone's Face

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cidraman · 8 years ago

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Power Trios.

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worldcakecakecake · 7 years ago

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The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

Chapter 8

“Now, are you sure you don’t want anyone accompanying you?” Augusto still insisted, coming close, making sure that Lovino was appropriately dressed, earlier making sure that he had packed all that he needed, even giving him some extra small weapons to keep in his pockets if anything.

“Nonno, stop worrying, I’ll be fine, I’ve done worst trips than this,” Lovino assured, coming close to the group of people saying goodbye as they waited for the bus doors to open in preparation to leave.

“Be safe still,” Feliciano worried just as much.

“There’s still the wave of werewolves in the area,” Augusto reminded.

“So? I’ve done my fair share of hunting already. I can take them,” he was confident, already tapping the pocket where he kept everything specifically for werewolves. That’s when the bus roared, when the doors opened and all the travelers began their ascend, wishing last goodbyes and hugs, one Lovino had to participate in, especially with worry warts as his grandfather and younger brother. Feliciano held the tightest and longest embrace, swaying and wanting to coax Lovino enough to staying.

“It’ll be only two weeks,” Lovino assured him.

“Still, I’ll miss you so badly,” Feliciano pouted on his shoulder.

“Oh come on, you’ve dealt with months without me, what is this going to be? Tell you what, I’ll bring you a gift, just like I used to, ask away and I’ll do what I can to bring it,” he promised with that rare pure smile and loving intent in his eyes. It spread over to Feliciano, excited over the millions of possibilities he could have, that he knew Lovino would give him. He stayed pensive as he jumped in his spot thinking, licking his lips and looking above as if his sure idea could fall from the sky.

“Flowers! Bring me the prettiest flowers you see in the trip, and I’ll make us both the most wonderful crowns,” he decided, excited already and many designs surely presented in his mind to create.

Lovino rolled his eyes at such a childish and calm idea, but nodded in sureness, one last embrace before he decided to move away, a last wave to his family as he boarded, the last member the driver was waiting for, once having him in, already settling off to the hidden road that would soon bring them back to the bustling of normal civilization away from the lives of the base and hunt. Augusto and Feliciano didn’t leave until they saw it disappear with the darkness of the hidden tunnel, gone and to deal with everything how Lovino could. All they could wish for was luck and their uttermost blessing.

No matter the personal turmoil, Feliciano was expected to go on with his usual daily lesson with Ludwig. Augusto himself had insisted and he decided on being obedient, down the usual routes of the base, into the building and up to his office, trying to erase the sadness from earlier with a blow and an opening into the room. To his surprise, he met Ludwig packing some things from his office into a small bag…which took his own seat, leaving him standing there awkwardly as he watched his instructor move about the room.

“Um…” he tried to get his attention wondering what he should do.

“Ah yes, Feliciano, about your lessons the next two weeks,” he worried about now as he brought his GPS to pack in a safe area, the last item in one of his pockets before he sealed it.

“Uh…are you leaving?” Feliciano wondered as much.

“Got assigned a mission in Lithuania."

“Lithuania? With all the werewolf sightings?”

“Exactly. They need some extra hands on defending some of the smaller villages and they decided on recruiting me on that brigade."

“So, you’re leaving?” Feliciano was startled and confused, Ludwig was not one to do his business so suddenly, especially when he was in the midst of dealing with instructing the leader’s grandson.

“Yes, in about,” he checked his watch, “thirty minutes. My rental should be arriving then and I would head off instantly.” He went to some cabinets at the other side of the room checking if there were some weapons he should bring from the ones there.

“For how long?” Feliciano followed him all throughout.

“I’ll try to make it a week and a half. I already told them I can’t stay longer, I should only really be focusing on your teachings.” Done, there was nothing else to pack, he could close his bag in finalization.

“And…what about my lessons then?” Feliciano wondered, a sudden excitement within him as he already celebrated some days of relaxation and freedom. He didn’t hide it enough as Ludwig glared and was already suspicious.

“I’m leaving you some work to do, already numbered and organized in that folder there.” He pointed to the sole item on the desk with even a pen and pencil for Feliciano to use.

“Really?”

“I want it all done by the time I return, with no excuses or failure. You have more than enough time and chances to get help,” he grimaced and pointed to him with insisting, command and anger, clear and absolute.

“Still, I won’t let you deal with all this just by yourself.” He opened the door and-

“Feli dearie!” Gilbert shouted in instant welcome, arms expanding in his self-explosion and presentation.

“Gilbert will be substituting in the meantime. He’ll make sure you’ll be working and knows more than enough to help answer any questions you might have,” Ludwig assured, ignorant to his brother’s sudden display.

“I’ll prove myself more than capable!” He shouted in determination, with a salute as he came between them. “…being less bossy too,” he whispered to Feliciano, who chuckled but Ludwig must have heard since he glared with annoyance.

“I have to pack some last things from my room, afterwards my rental should be here and I’ll settle off." He accommodated in his mind as he maintained continuous sight on his watch. “Gilbert, don’t be a nuisance and, Feliciano, be responsible with your work and have it all done for when I return."

“Will do,” Feliciano assured for now.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Gilbert winked and smiled, Ludwig trusting it enough to give a sigh of luck, a turn and away into the halls, into business and away from the base.

Gilbert and Feliciano smirked with all kinds of tricks and ideas.

With their recent time together, Feliciano found himself wishing for Gilbert to be his instructor. He was easier going, he laughed, he bolstered, he made constant jokes (although sometimes bad) and didn’t roll his eyes or groan whenever Feliciano did something wrong in his writings and reports. He would turn his chair towards him, point out easily and not have him start papers and drawings all over again. They enjoyed their working by balconies, with flourishing fauna, the fresh air and the liveliness of the people commuting in the base. Gilbert didn’t rush him, in fact, they spent most of their meetings trying to hurry up and finish whatever documents Ludwig had left for the day so they could each settle on other plans of leisure. Those starting three days had been wonderful, especially when Ludwig had left Feliciano to start a particular kind of lesson that he had been expecting for quite a while now.

Feliciano dropped the old large book on the pavement, enough of a force to shake, to resound and to arise dust into the new day fresh air, coughing it away, trying to catch his breath after having to carry it from Ludwig’s office. Kiku, in his moving form, came close and peeked, spotting on its cover a wolf symbol...a Venetian mark, the very same mark Feliciano had decorated on his hand.

“Is this…?” Kiku wondered.

“Yes! Michelangela’s compendium!” Feliciano was proud, letting his hand trace the old leather, wondered at how beautiful it was and how it stuck well together despite the decades.

“How did you get this? How were you even allowed?” Kiku was dumbstruck.

“Nonno made three copies after finding it, this is one of them, the original one in his private collection, one in America and the other in the Chinese base. Ludwig left me to do a reading from this book and it gave me permission to take it out,” he explained as he finally opened it, revealing the index, titled and ordered in an old Italian, but readable and Feliciano could easily learn from it, his fingers tracing as he alighted at every word, looking for numbers and turning the pages to see how it was beautifully decorated, in extravagant letters, drawings, symbols and diagrams to go on, never missing a touch of intricacy and whimsicality.

“It is as beautiful as it has been spoken about,” Kiku delighted, truly taken by even the paper that was used, leaning more in his watching over Feliciano’s shoulder.

They explored the book together, going through all kinds of explanations of spells, magic, even detailed drawings of different kinds of creatures. There were basilisks, vampires, fairies, of course werewolves, but only one part, only one section was Feliciano’s purpose and main interest. He was welcomed into it with an intricate web design, one of a tree of life, a great symbol for what lay in the next pages.

“What exactly did Ludwig tell you to do?” Kiku still questioned and wondered. This was not a book to be given to just anyone, especially a beginner like Feliciano.

“Just read, we’ll be starting on healing for when he returns and he said there’s a lot of things here that can make it easier for me for when I start."

“How much?”

“Just two pages, but…” he gave Kiku a teasing smirk, enough to let him know that Feliciano was not going to limit himself, not when this book held something that he had been craving for so long.

Anxious he was, he quickly read his part for Ludwig’s homework, enough for the testing that he should ask at some point from Gilbert, before discarding, going on with the pages, the words, the charts, step by step explanations, an amazing concentration that didn’t budge even as Kiku floated around him. It was rather odd, but exciting and a chance for Kiku to see a side of Feliciano others rarely saw. His side of dedication, intelligence and calculation that was best Kiku moved aside to not disturb a single line of his thoughts and learning.

Feliciano spent a good amount in the book’s hold, giving a tap here and there, a hum, an alight, until finally at one moment he laid it upon the floor, a new dedication and smile.

“What is it?” Kiku wondered, quite startled.

“I think I got it! I think I know how to properly life awaken!” He announced proudly.

Holding to the book, he stood up and chose from one of the many statues in the terrace, one of a young man, with long waved hair, a particular curl rising from his center forehead, more modern with the glasses and war uniform he wore.

Kiku followed behind him curious, “who is he?”

“It’s the newest of the statues, made after World War II. It was erected to honor a Canadian soldier that had helped the base greatly in being protected from an air raid. My great grandfather wrote many good things about him and there’s a very old picture of him with Nonno as a baby.”

“So you decided on choosing him long before?”

“Yes, he seems very kind and noble. I wonder what kind of person he could really be.” Feliciano gazed up, letting its form assure him yet again, before he kneeled, placing the book properly before him, reading the enchantment and spell well. With a breath of relief, with a centering, a focus, he got it.

“Feliciano…are you sure?” Kiku still questioned.

“I’ve been using my power long before getting here, Kiku, I know my limitations, I know what I can do,” Feliciano was sure, starting his release with his closed eyes, relaxed figure, lost still in himself.

“Yes…but you’ve been doing this without proper instruction and guidance.” It was one thing that worried Kiku ever since Feliciano started testing this back when he was eight years old, when he made him awaken. But as always, it was like he didn’t listen to his words, he continued on.

A light glowed from the palm of his hand, focusing it forward as he let it lay on the statue, releasing beads of magic unto it, brightening and brightening until everything in their vicinity was left blinded. It was sudden and harsh, it distracted Feliciano, and thinking he was done, he let himself stop, to settle, to try and find vision as the strong light subsided. Kiku was in the same state despite being a spirit, for the first time in a while having to shake himself and let his whole being make use to the darkening of this terrace once again. Once it was all gone, they met with the statue not standing on its pedestal by the small stairs, but lying face down on the floor, arms and legs splayed, for a moment both wondering if it had just fallen without any result. Suddenly there was a groan, a rising of the head, adjusting his new eyes to fluttering, to watching, with big questions and surprise surely. He moved about his head, his arms causing a rise, the rest of the body joining along in its standing, still analyzing, still letting his eyes explore. Feliciano reacted to this by shrilling, jumping and letting even his arms bounce in the air in his own congratulation.

“Look Kiku, I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!” He even hugged Kiku, spinning him in his delight, despite the huge shock that was in Kiku’s expression as if he had been shot.

Feliciano then quickly let go, deciding to offer his help for the now alive statue to stand, while Kiku composed himself, fixing his robe and trying to pretend nothing had happened.

“Oh, you look so good, and nice, and pretty, are you okay? Did the process hurt? I really tried my best and I’m so sorry if I did. Do you have any memories? Do you know your name? How are you feeling?” Feliciano pestered on as he examined, taking his arm to weigh, touching, spreading, so close that the now lively statue was feeling uncomfortable, especially when he was still examining everything anew, trying to find his own independent movements, even speech.

“Um…uh…” his gentile voice could only utter, looking around as if some obvious hint could speak for him.

“Feliciano, calm down, one thing at a time, he’s still adjusting,” Kiku commented, offering the statue a calming smile to assure there was nothing to worry about.

“Oh yes…yes, you’re right, I-I’m so sorry, may we first ask for your name please.” Feliciano moved away at Kiku’s signal, giving the statue just what he needed to…breathe he guessed.

These seconds gave him just enough peace and reaching, to present properly, for once with a friendly smile that showed the trust Feliciano had seem from the statue ever since he first spotted him here.

“He-hello, I suppose it’s a pleasure, as for name, it is-”

“Feliciano…Feliciano!” There came that distant interrupting call, surely from the halls that would lead to the terrace, an oncoming person that was unwanted to what Feliciano made here.

“Who is that?” Kiku showed his worry clear, his eyes searching for the pillar he would take as a refuge once whatever person came in.

“I…I don’t know.” He was sure it wasn’t Ludwig or Gilbert. He stayed as frozen, hoping it would be enough to hide his creation. Kiku doubted that this statue in its early birth could quickly learn such a skill.

“Feliciano!” Kiku reminded with a point, earning a gasp from the young brunet as he tried to find a quick way to hide the new statue. As the steps of the coming person became stronger, Feliciano had no other choice than to pull and push the new man into the hide of a wall, away from sudden sight, from the opening bang of the door, from the new dark eyes that settled, the statue given only but a glance from his giver begging for him to remain in his hiding.

“Ah, there you are!” The visitor greeted, taking readied strides down the steps until he stood closer to Feliciano.

“Keron, it’s great to see you!” Feliciano delighted.

“Likewise, my dear Feli, likewise,” he smiled, taking sitting in one of the pillars, settling himself for a long while and Feliciano had to try hard to hide a strain and a groan.

“I hope I’m not being rude, but what are you doing here? Did Gilbert sent you for me to do something? I was sure I didn’t have anything for today.”

“Oh no, no, no, I came here on my own accord,”

“Oh, is something the matter?”

“Oh definitely not, just wanted to see you,” he grinned uncomfortably, which made Feliciano question, tapping and leaning his foot as a show of urgency that Keron quickly caught on, deciding then to be quick about this before he lost the momentum.

“Feliciano, have you liked your time in the base?” He thought he could start.

“Um…I guess, I mean, I would have preferred to be somewhere else, but yes, it’s been nicer than what I expected. People are really kind, hardworking, so smart and with so much to-”

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s all very nice. How would you find that it would be better?” He smirked, leaning now much closer in a way that only made Feliciano move back, finding it odd.

“Um, I guess for me to leave or to just…not do all these things my grandfather wants me to do.” He was honest.

“Really? Do you really not believe that…you could…perhaps just have someone instead to make it much more interesting?” He smirked, he leaned closer, devilish and eager.

“Um…what kind of someone?” Feliciano was not following and Keron had to hold himself from smashing his head against one of the statues there.

“Perhaps…perhaps you need someone like me,” he finally reached.

“Someone like you? For what?”

“Why, for walks across the forest, for lonely nights with just us, for whatever you crave… we could even hunt and I could let you see me fight in one of my famed killings. Anyone in the base would envy you greatly if they knew you had such an opportunity,” he coaxed, he hoped Feliciano had understood enough.

“That um…that sounds really romantic, Keron.” Ah yes, this was going the directions he wanted. “All until…the killing and…hunting part that is.”

“I could make some adjustments.”

“That would be nice.”

“Do I take that as an acceptance?” He smiled, already sounding trumpets of victory in his mind, to take Feliciano to those instant words and have him be his.

“Keron, that is all…very kind and thoughtful of you, but I’m…doing quite well by myself and I don’t think I would need something like that to add to what I’m going through. I’m sure you could find somebody else to do all those fun things, maybe someone who likes to see you hunting,” Feliciano smiled sincerely, all while Keron’s demeanor began to fall.

“So…you’re denying me?”

Feliciano tried to think of something that wouldn’t sound so harsh or mean, but as he took a glance to the statue, who was surely nervous, peeking, close to a reveal, not to mention Kiku was also starting to stir from his position just as wondering about that interaction with this fellow, Feliciano realized he had to hurry.

“I’m really sorry, Keron, but I…don’t have that kind of interest in you and the kind of life you have here,” he revealed warily, dreading how mean he surely sounded, but he really had to hurry and he had to set straight his wishes when it came to others.

“I also would really like if you would leave me for now, I’m doing some…studies that really need my attention and I can’t have distractions…sorry,” he leaned in apology, an intent with a beautiful shine in his eyes that was enough to not have Keron punching him. He still slammed a fist against a marbled rail, surely cracking, making Feliciano worry over the statue that hid by its side.

“You’ll find yourself regretting this decision Feliciano Valenti, you made quite a loss today.” In a quick swish, in harshened steps, in a loud bang of the entrance door, he was gone, creating a nervous atmosphere in this place that Feliciano had liked to consider of peace.

Finding everything clear, Kiku materialized himself fully by Feliciano’s side, and the other statue began crawling back into the light, joining them as well.

“Who was that?” Kiku instantly questioned.

Feliciano sighed, “it’s…nobody you should concern much about, it’s my own dealing.” His gaze then returned to the new statue, his new presence enough to alight Feliciano with stupor and want again. “Sorry, now we can properly introduce ourselves. What is your name?”

The statue brimmed, “Mathew Williams.”

Lovino closed the trunk, all the items inside safe and ready for the new trip.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Toris asked him, his Lithuanian client to who Lovino had just brought the sword to the Baltic base.

“A lot of members would want these items quick and I still have other items to carve back at my own base. I want to get them done as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they can wait, if anything we can offer our own workshop.”

“I feel more comfortable in mine.” Lovino went forward to open the door to the driver seat of the car he was loaned.

“If you’re settled, then very well, but please be careful on the road, werewolf activity has been very high in these areas and we have already lost some of our men to them. We had to call members from your own base to deal with them, even Ludwig is here.”

Lovino rolled his eyes at the mentioning of his name, taking sitting and closing the door, adjusting himself before the wheel.

“Don’t underestimate me, I’m just as capable as that bastard,” Lovino addressed him as such without a care, dreading how people wouldn’t confide in him enough just because he hadn’t reached the levels and badges Ludwig did. Lovino has only been in the base for two years, Ludwig for five, of course he would have more time to get tittles and missions. He wished his grandfather wasn’t so paranoid and worried over his protection to give him some of the harder tests and missions.

“I wish you farewell and an immense amount of luck. Send us a text or a call letting us know you drove through Poland all right."

“Will do.”

It was their last exchange before Lovino turned the engine and Toris moved away, Lovino taking instant leaving into the route planned for him. A single wave and the Baltic base began to hide again in the deep forest that encircled it deeply in secrecy. It took a while for Lovino to reach a main road, and with the late hour, it was still as vacant as his thread through the forest. In his boredom he turned on the radio, messing with the satellite installed until he found some stations from Italy, jumping from some top 40’s station to the latest news about his favorite football teams. He would bang his hands on the wheel, let himself sing along without a care, the surroundings nonexistent as he let himself enjoy what would be many hours of driving to get back.

As he swore he was soon meeting with the Lithuanian-Polish border, all his sudden joyous swaying was interrupted by the all too familiar glow of his own wolf mark. His was the Neapolitan one, spinning around his arm, most of the time covered, but the glow enough to show through his darkened clothes. It was designed specifically for it to do as such.

He instantly stopped, the car halting in the very middle of the road. Whoever was behind could pass right through, Lovino didn’t care when he had other things to worry about. He slicked back his sleeve and saw clearly how his mark resounded in light, signaling the approach of the monsters his very line was born to hunt. He took a moment to breathe out any kind of fear, find his bravery, his hand reaching to the back, finding through the mess of weapons his riffle, his long thin sword, some freezing ponds as well as some net capturing ones. With all his items settled, he dared bring an opening to his door, weary from that very instant he met with the cold and fresh air, closing the door behind him, making anew his settlement to begin this mission, end it and bring forward a price to his base. Maybe then his grandfather will finally see, maybe then he would be granted some new level or badge.

There was a forest right before him, dark, foreboding, every sound haunting and hinting cries of what lay inside. He took no care, he came forward, knowing steps, his weapons already pointed and prepared, being careful as to not let any breaking branch or shell or item resound, eyes watching every space, every opening, rise, below, ducking, moving aside, even jumping and climbing trees to have a better upper watch. His glow kept blinking, which meant he or she was still far, still out of area and no matter how deep he came, no matter the small cliffs, the brooks, the boulders, the hikes up treacherous hills, nothing, in fact, his glow completely stopped, which meant it surely left, off into another forest, without hints, sites, a run or a capture. Lovino groaned as he jumped down the steep of a hill, decided on returning, on moving his weapons to lay in a hanging on his back, on defeat of nothing, murmuring curses all the way.

He knew how to return, he knew what signs to pinpoint as a lead, he wouldn’t get lost, he confided on returning. So focused he was on what he thought would be a hunt that he properly didn’t take the surroundings, the beautiful dark green under the crescent moonlight, the shines of the water, of how the rocks and boulders formed into nature’s own carved statues, into meadows, into spaces of freshness and wonder that Lovino let himself admire, let himself relax as words died out and he simply decided on wandering and watching.

As he could spot the road from a distance, as he thought he could finally leave, his eyes instead took a sudden light of color, one he couldn’t disobey, couldn’t ignore. When he gazed to the side he saw a patch of flowers, colorful, beautiful, telling him of softness and scents that moved him forward. He thought of Feliciano, knowing he would love these, knowing that this was the gift he asked, decided on his picking, leaning down and starting a bouquet with as much as he could bring.

As the form became much more divine, Lovino let himself grin at the smile Feliciano would surely wear once he saw this. He could already feel him jumping, shouts of excitement and crushing hugs that would refused to budge no matter his harshest threats. Was this enough? Were there enough colors? Should he pick from those others or settle with the nearest ones. Fuck it, take those white ones, the crazier Feliciano would get about it. It would add quite a heavenly touch that fitted him…also on himself, since he knew that Feliciano would surely make one of those stupid flower crowns for him too.

There, that should do it, now to get something to hold them, maybe even some water- his mark alighted sure, bright, intense, it was here. Growls, ferocity, lurking right behind him. Lovino pushed himself away before he was crushed by the massive black figure, by the claws, by the raging teeth that begged for a bite of this lone figure in the woods. Bruises with his roll against the floor and then a hit against a near tree, but nothing, he took out his weapons from his back and aimed, beginning his slash with his sword and the firing with his gun. It was big, probably one of the largest he had ever seen, a dark coat that didn’t suit him for his aim, for it helped it camouflaged well between the shadows. The only thing that made it stand out were the clear blue eyes, shinning quite beautifully even in its hunger, in its blinding, in its want of kill. Even if they were somehow lost, they were also targeted, keeping a heavy focus on the hunter, both spinning and avoiding in jumps, trying what they could for a slash, for a weakening that could give them a cut of harsh blood.

Hits, purpling, bits of blood flying about and coating the grass, the trees, heavy breaths, yet neither refused to back down, they continued in their clash, shouts, growls, but at one point one was to weaken, one was to fall. Lovino got a deep gush on his leg that kept oozing, slowly weakening him until it proved fatal to stand, until one push had him caged, the monster’s saliva, the blood from the cuts he managed to bring on the beast and huffs reigning down on him ready for a sweet feast, for a sated hunger. Nothing he could do had been enough, no matter some last trying kicks or punches. No, the beast held him down, baring his teeth, inching for his bite and Lovino had begun to accept.

He lost, he was gone and his last aching thoughts were that he let the flowers scatter into ruin on the ground.

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