#ch; thaddeus

[falloutprime]

Titus vs Maximus FALLOUT (2024) S01E02: The Target and S01E03: The Head

[stromuprisahat]

The Hand sent her [Baela] back to her rooms, posting guards at her door to make certain she remained there until the regents could convene. Yet a day later, he discovered to his dismay that Baela had fled the castle by some secret means (later it was found she had climbed out a window, swapped clothes with a washerwoman, and walked out the front gate). By the time the hue and cry went up, she was halfway across Blackwater Bay, having hired a fisherman to carry her to Driftmark. There she sought out her cousin, the Lord of the Tides, and poured out her woes to him. A fortnight later, Alyn Velaryon and Baela Targaryen were married in the sept on Dragonstone. The bride was sixteen, the groom nearly seventeen. ... Thaddeus Rowan’s wounded pride was appeased by a betrothal to Floris Baratheon, a maid of fourteen years widely considered to be the prettiest of the “Four Storms,” as Lord Borros’s four daughters had become known. In her case, it was a misnomer. ... The stormy marriage would prove to be the one made on Dragonstone, as the years would prove.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

Now I want to read all about those marital storms!

[cyberneticfallout]

Chapter Four: Knight Titus

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: A chance encounter with the Brotherhood of Steel allows you to escape the gulper and continue your journey. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.4k

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“My lord! I’ve got you! Knight Titus!”

“I’m going in! I got you!”

Muffled shouts and piercing screams echo through the air as the gulper you've been trapped inside starts to emit a deep rumble. Suddenly, the creature violently regurgitates you, along with its stomach and its contents spilling out. Gasping and retching, you find yourself drenched in gulper bile.

"How the hell am I still alive?!" you shout, bewildered. "And why does it have so many damn fingers?!"

"Who are you?" a nervy man asks, clutching the head of the doctor.

"That's my head, give it back!" you demand, reaching for it, only to have your hand swatted away by another man. Looking up, you see a towering Knight of the Brotherhood standing over you.

"Oh, it's the flying garbage can," you remark nonchalantly, recognizing the distinctive power armor of the Brotherhood from the claw marks you had observed when the knight had soared above you a few days earlier.

"Do not show disrespect to my lord! This is Knight Titus of the Brotherhood of Steel! And I am his squire, Thaddeus!" the squire interjects, his voice filled with righteous indignation.

"Shut up, you little weasel," you retort.

"What's a weasel?" Thaddeus mutters to the knight, his confusion evident as he seeks clarification on the insult hurled his way. In response, the knight simply gives a shrug.

"Who are you, and how did you end up inside that gulper?" Knight Titus demands, his voice resonating with authority.

"I don't have time for you tin cans!" you dismissively huff, frustration evident in your voice as you lunge at Thaddeus, causing him to shriek in terror. The dog, miraculously still present, begins barking loudly at the commotion. Amidst the chaos, Knight Titus remains motionless, silently observing the scene.

“My lord! She’s feral!” Thaddeus cries out in fear, clinging to the head.

"Just give me the damn head! And stop squealing like that," you demand, your voice laced with irritation as you mindlessly slap Thaddeus in your disoriented state. As a seasoned bounty hunter, you are typically much more composed and intimidating, but the ordeal of being trapped inside a gulper's stomach has left your mind foggy and your actions uncharacteristically erratic.

You hear heavy footsteps approaching, unmistakably the sound of power armor. Knight Titus lifts you up by the collar of your shirt, leaving you suspended in the air while Thaddeus manages to stand up.

“Why are you so mean?” Thaddeus exclaims earnestly.

“She’s a bounty hunter,” Knight Titus confirms, his tone steady and authoritative as he presumably looks you over. It’s always so hard to tell what those damn Brotherhood Knights are thinking. Without warning, he offers a brief apology before delivering a powerful punch to your face, sending you spiraling into unconsciousness.

Head pounding, you gradually sit up and survey your surroundings, realizing that the two men and the head are nowhere to be seen. Even the dog has skipped out on you, leaving you alone. Luckily, your bag is still with you, and you begin to rummage through it in search of any meds. Upon finding the vials you used to bribe the ghoul, now broken and rendered useless, you let out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, he definitely wasn’t coming back for me," you mutter.

With a sense of relief, you salvage a single stimpak and a supply of rad-away from your bag and use both items. Covered in a grimy mixture of gulper bile, dirt, and dried blood, you realize that it's definitely time for wash. Seeing no signs of any creatures around, you determine you’re in the clear to safely wash.

Without bothering to shed your soiled clothes and armor, reasoning that they could use a good wash as well, you wade into the cool waters of the flooded ruins. The water envelops you, washing away the layers of grime and filth that cling to your skin and clothes. The coolness soothes your aching muscles and clears your mind.

After what feels like an eternity, you emerge from the water, feeling slightly refreshed. As you step out onto the dry soil, the sun begins to set, casting a warm glow over the wasteland. You begin to wonder where the ghoul could’ve gone. He obviously dragged the vault dweller with him and needs more of those vials. Unfortunately the few vials you had you scavenged off of feral ghouls you took down so you truly have no clue where one goes to purchase them.

Your boots squish with every step, a sensation you despise, but there's little you can do about it. Glancing down, you notice that your clothes are worse for wear, prompting you to make a mental note to buy something new, by wasteland standards, at the next settlement you come across. You sort through your bag, discarding any broken or unnecessary items. All that remains is some ammo, a canister of somewhat purified water, a small stash of caps, and the Pip-Boy you seldom use. I wonder if there's a Super Duper Mart nearby, you think to yourself.

Throwing the bag over your shoulder and ensuring your weapons are secure, you set out in search of a store to scavenge. Concerned that your weapons may be too soaked to function properly, you make sure you still have the large hunting knife strapped to your thigh. The darkness begins to descend, but you remain determined to press forward, keeping a watchful eye for anything dangerous.

As you navigate through the fading light, your eyes scan the horizon for any signs of civilization. The wasteland stretches out before you, a desolate expanse of ruins and decay. The only sound is the distant howling of the wind, carrying with it the haunting whispers of the forgotten world.

The landscape begins to change, the remnants of buildings becoming more frequent. You spot the crumbling remains of what was once a small town. You check each building cautiously but nothing of value is found. In one building, you come across a dead ghoul with a gunshot wound to the head and… whose ass cheeks have been stripped for meat. This world is unforgiving but the idea of resorting to cannibalism is something you simply cannot fathom and hope to never encounter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a decrepit stairwell and carefully head upstairs. At the top, a cozy setup greets you - a dirty mattress, an oil lamp, and a few old yum-yum deviled eggs. This must have been the makeshift home of the ghoul from below. Despite his grim fate, you're thankful for the somewhat snug spot to rest for the night. You aren’t too concerned about whatever cannibal stripped him of meat since they are most likely long gone by now. Settling down on the mattress, your eyes grow heavy and you swiftly fall asleep.

As you slowly awake to the morning light filtering through the boarded-up window, you feel a tugging sensation on your left leg. Startled, you look down to see a tiny radroach attempting to nibble on you. Reacting quickly with a loud shriek, you kick its face and draw your knife, stabbing it repeatedly until it stops moving. Taking a deep breath, you lean back against the wall and open the yum-yum deviled eggs. Chewing through them, you defiantly welcome the day with a loud “Good fucking morning to you, too, wasteland!”

After finishing the deviled eggs and taking a swig of water, you prepare for the day ahead. Double-checking the contents of your bag and inspecting your weapons that had gotten wet the day before, everything appears to be in working order. Satisfied, you descend the stairs and step out through the front door. The scorching heat of the day is already intense, with the sun's rays beating down on the sandy ground. Your attention is drawn to a trail of footprints, two distinct pairs, which prompts you to follow out of curiosity.

With each step, the trail of footprints becomes more defined, leading you closer to the ruins of a city. The skeletal remains of skyscrapers loom ahead of you, their shattered windows like hollow eyes, observing your progress. The trail winds its way through the eerie maze of desolation, navigating past rusted cars and collapsed structures. Before you know it, you hear a man and woman talking up ahead in front of a Super Duper Mart. You quickly hide behind a nearby building and peer around the corner

It’s that fucking ghoul and vault dweller.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123 @sunnexaltation

[derelict-heirs]

ilya: has an entire wing of his keep dedicated to a +300 year old library

maeve, dietrich, lysandra, thaddeus, probably multiple others:

[dailydcvillains]

MARK STRONG as THADDEUS SIVANA in SHAZAM! (2019)

[aceofwonders]

thaddeus, in vaughn’s castle seeing the mage’s immaculate shelf of books written by miss maeve sommers: oh you’re a fan of maeve’s work? vaughn: what no i- thaddeus: she’s a friend of mine you know vaughn: wait what? thaddeus, picking up one of the books: this one is about me vaughn:

[dcmultiverse]

”You know, I might be too young to gamble here... but this is one bet I can't lose.”

[comradc]

                           good things aren't made to last.                                          you make sure of it

thaddeus bailey. twenty-four. paris.

[kydrogendragon]

So, so sorry these took literally forever! But I'm finally getting around to clearing out my inbox now!

Also, I've no idea why Tumblr is breaking, but it refused to let me save more to the draft I had started, so I had to make a different post.

@undead-dante's request!

Pairing: Mammon x MC Rating: T Word Count: 7037 Warnings: Bodily Harm, Blood, Character Death, Spoilers up to Ch. 16-17~ Prompt: Damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all). Notes: The events mostly follow the actual plot, but some changes were made like the MC's ankle getting hurt rather than their wrist in the TSL contest. This also went a lot longer than I expected it to, but this prompt was just too good.

It all started with a paper cut.

It was just a week after the human was dumped on him and a whopping five days since they finagled a pact out of him. Poor Goldie, being held captive and used as ransom. It was cruel, unforgivable, but as much as he hated it, he was stuck on babysitting duty thanks to his dear older brother.

The pair sat in class - not together, of course. There was no way he was gonna have the human sit next to him during class as well. Having to share a near-identical schedule was torture enough. The professor droned on, reciting the intricacies of the Harpie Revolt of 612. Mammon slouched in his seat, opting to fiddle with his pen rather than spend his mental energy on some stupid war that he was alive for.

The demon next to him, Thaddeus, nudged him, tilting his phone screen under the desk to him. Mammon smirked at the overly cutesy emoji of Lucifer on a unicorn. He was glad that was getting around. In the back of his mind, he knew they were all gonna suffer for it once Lucifer got word of it, but by then, the damage would be done, and that was worth it.

Mammon flinched, swallowing the yelp that nearly escaped his lips. He looked down at his finger where the sudden pain came from, trying to figure out what the hell he did when a small line peaked through his skin. Mammon stared at the droplet of blood that pooled from the small break on the pad of his finger. His brows furrowed, watching as it slowly trailed down his skin, only reaching a knuckle down before running out of blood. His gaze flicked back up to find the cut now sealed as if it had never been there in the first place.

The demon grumbled, sticking his finger in his mouth, his tongue removing the offending liquid before wiping his hands on his pants. It had been ages since he'd gotten a paper cut, the last time being that the paper he touched was cursed to always give you paper cuts, no matter what. Demons were known for being tough and hard to injure, especially to the point of drawing blood. Yet here, in the middle of Devildom History, The Great Mammon got a paper cut!

He shook his head, his eyes finding their way to the human sitting across the room, next to the window upfront. They stared down at their own finger and cursed silently under their breath. Mammon could make out the spot of red on their own finger. He watched as they gently wiped their finger on the fabric of their jacket before continuing their work.

Huh.

The TSL tournament did not go as planned. Well, it did, technically. MC successfully got Levi caught up in his Sin, but Mammon forgot just how likely Levi was to attack the human for this. Mammon watched as Levi turned to the human, envy, and anger burning in his eyes as he shifted to his demon form. Mammon cursed as his younger brother stalked forward to the human, his tail lashing out behind him. Mammon heard the human cry out his name as Levi approached, their gaze snapping to him. Their eyes were wide with fear, and for a good reason.

Mammon jumped up from the table, prepared to pull them away from danger only to find himself face-planted on the ground, his ankle groaning in pain. He looked down at the puddle that filled the entire area by Beel and cursed. He struggled back to his feet, his heart racing as Levi closed in as he told his gluttonous brother off.

Mere seconds later, the sound of feathers rustling in the wind and Lucifer's voice bellowing through the room was heard. Mammon looked up and saw his elder brother standing between Levi and MC. Not long after, Levi scurried away, his demon form gone. Mammon got up, quickly making his way to MC's side. His eyes looked them over, noticing they favored one leg over the other. Lucifer lectured them briefly before dismissing them, ordering Mammon to see to the human's leg. Despite their protest, Mammon pulled them up in his arm and made his way to their room.

Mammon sat in front of them, their foot resting on his knee as he wrapped gauze around their ankle, muttering under his breath as he worked. Was it too loose? Too tight? He had no idea; humans were fickle. The human sat on the edge of their bed and watched, occasionally wincing as he worked.

"Sorry," they said, their voice not much louder than a whisper. Mammon looked up, his blue eyes finding theirs. He stared, his eyes flicking across their face, searching. MC's gaze drifted from his, finding the floor and the walls a much more exciting place to look. He huffed, head dropping back down to his work.

"Yeah, well, ya should be," he said, frowning as he unwrapped part of the gauze to redo it for the fourth time tonight. "Next time, your life's in danger, I'll be the one to save you, all right? Don't you forget that. "He growled as he unwrapped the section he just did and began wrapping it a bit tighter, his eyes glancing up to find any trace of pain in their face. Their hands fiddled with the sheets beneath them. They stayed silent but nodded their head. Mammon huffed again.

"And if I can't manage to save ya, then make sure you die, got it? I don't want no one else stepping in and saving you, all right? So it's me or no one, understand?"

The human chuckled. "All right, got it," the human said with a slight smile. Mammon could feel his cheeks warming. They were so quick to agree. He'd gotten so used to being dismissed, it was weird. He shuffled, ignoring the sensation the best he could.

"G-good," he stumbled as he finished tying the gauze up. "You should always just agree with me like that." They hummed, watching as Mammon stood back up with his hands on his hips. "Now, stop causing me all this trouble, or you'll regret it, got it?"

MC nodded, looking down at their not-so-neatly wrapped ankle. They gave it a slight wiggle and smiled, seemingly satisfied with the job. "Thanks, by the way," they said, looking back up at the demon in front of them. "You didn't have to do this."

Mammon glanced to the side, crossing his arms across his chest. "Yeah, well, I was feelin' generous was all, so appreciate it." He heard them laugh before speaking again.

"I do. Thank you, Mammon." The white-haired demon turned around, not wanting them to see his reddened face.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he grumbled out as he stepped out of their room. Mammon made his way down the hallways dark hallways, hands in his pockets. He could hear his brothers chatting in the living room as he made his way down the stairs to his own room. Closing the door behind him, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Stupid human," he muttered to himself. He made his way to his bed, collapsing into the plush mattress with a groan. His blue eyes stared up at the ceiling, his mind replaying Lucifer's rescue (his fail) in his mind. Mammon winced. His ankle twinged in pain. Mammon sat up, pulling his leg closer to him.

It didn't look bad, but it did hurt and looked like it was beginning to swell. Mammon sighed as he lay back down. It must have happened when he dripped over Beel's mess, but that shouldn't cause a sprained ankle. Maybe for a human, but for a demon?

Mammon groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Was he getting weaker? What the hell was going on with him lately?

Dialovo's dances were always a drag if you asked him. Too much small talk with too many nobles and Barbatos always managing to stop him before nabbing anything of value. Mammon sighed as he leaned up against the pillar, watching as the swaths of demons danced across the floor. He could make out Simeon and Luke towards the back near one of the food tables. Solomon was carried across the dance floor by Asmo, twirling each other around.

Mammon rolled his eyes as he fiddled with the hanging decor on his jacket. This weekend was driving him insane. First, they had that tour that led to them all getting chased by Levi's giant snake. Then, they had that stupid scavenger hunt today, and now he's stuck at this stupid dance. It was all a waste of his time, he could be out making millions of Grimm at the casino, or hell, even snag a win at the race track.

"Hey!" a voice called a few feet from him. Mammon jumped, his eyes snapping up to see MC walking towards him with a smile on their face.

"H-hey," he said, taking in their outfit. Asmo really did do a good job picking it out and getting them ready for the dance. Mammon wasn't sure of the last time he saw someone that took his breath away like this.

MC's gaze looked him up and down, taking in his demon form. "So," they said, meeting his eyes again. "This is quite the party. When Diavolo said we were going to have a dance tonight, I didn't expect anything this grand."

Mammon chuckled. "That's Diavolo for ya. Get used to his crazy ideas and giant parties. I doubt this'll be the last of 'em." MC moved to stand next to him, their eyes looking over the crowd. They smiled.

Mammon watched them, noticing how their gaze followed the dancing couples on the floor with eagerness.

"Hey, so, um. Like... you've gotta have weird tastes to ask a human-like you to dance. I'm guessin' no one here's gonna do that, huh?" Mammon laughed nervously. "So, y'know, as long as you don't have a partner, I guess I could maybe go ahead and pair up with you for a little bit." He glanced over to them. MC rolled their eyes and opened their mouth to speak when suddenly Lucifer appeared in front of the two of them out of nowhere.

"MC, come dance with me. Now."

"Hey!" Mammon exclaimed as Lucifer grabbed MC's hand and pulled them away and onto the dance floor. Mammon grumbled, slumping against the pillar as he watched his human be guided along by his older brother.

Wait. His human?

No. No, no, no, no, no. The human.

Mammon shook his head, ridding the thoughts from his brain. Then, with a sigh, he made his way for the refreshments table. Most of the food was gone at this point; only a pitiful amount of Demonus remained. Beel had been through here already, it seemed.

He grabbed a glass and downed it, something he should have done from the beginning. He set the empty glass down and grabbed another as he turned back to the main floor. His eyes quickly found MC and Lucifer in the crowd looking too close for comfort if you asked him.

MC's face winced, their eyes darting around like they were looking for something. "Ah!" Mammon cried out as he dropped his glass. His hand throbbed. It felt like some invisible force was squeezing him, crushing his hand. He held it up, trying to find the cause, when it suddenly stopped. Mammon blinked, turning his hand over and over. Was that glass cursed or something?

Internally shrugging, he looked back up only to see MC now dancing with Solomon of all people! Mammon groaned.

They had finally survived the weekend at the castle, and Mammon was ready to sit his ass in his room with a cup of noodles and play some online poker, something he's been deprived of for too long. Yet, here they were, unloading the car as Satan and Lucifer had to get into another fight. He tuned them out the best he could, just wanting to be done and relax when he heard MC's hesitant voice.

Mammon turned to the conversation, which now looked more like Satan grinning like the Cheshire cat at MC while Lucifer glared daggers into the pair of them. He leaned to Asmo, who, of course, was engrossed in the whole thing.

"Hey, what the hell's going on? What'd I miss?" Asmo rolled his eyes as he adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder. His younger brother leaned over, his gaze never leaving the trio just ahead of them.

"Satan asked MC for a pact. Lucifer wasn't keen on the idea." Mammon blinked. Satan? Wanted a pact? That was sudden. He could only guess he did it to piss Lucifer off, which, turns out, was the reasoning. Satan shouted some more, declared he was leaving this house and was moving out before storming through the doors of their home. Lucifer sighed as he grabbed his luggage and headed inside himself. Beel and Levi trailed in not long after. MC stood in the same spot, their gaze lingering at the doors to the HoL.

Mammon heaved his bags up higher on his shoulder and made his way over. They didn't move. With a sigh, he lifted his hand and flicked them in the forehead, earning him a groan and a curse. Mammon snickered.

"That's what ya get for not paying attention, human. C'mon, let's get inside, yeah? I, for one, can't wait to be home." MC hummed, grabbing their own things as they followed along behind him.

Dinner was oddly silent. Satan was absent, which left Lucifer quieter than usual and Asmo fretting over the possibility of him actually leaving. Beel commented that someone should bring him up some food before it got cold. MC pushed the food around on their plate, their mind clearly elsewhere. Mammon watched them from the corner of his eye. Not that he was overly concerned or anything; he just wanted to make sure they were gonna eat or whatever. That's what he told himself, anyway.

Moments later, MC pushed themselves away from the table and deposited their mostly full plate in front of Beel with a smile. Not hungry, they said. Mammon rolled his eyes. They were worried about Satan. The human with a heart too big, of course they'd be concerned about him. He sighed, lifting his glass to his lips. At Least Satan wanted a pact with them, right? So he'll be happy and they'll get that next pact they need. Win-win.

Dinner continued in quiet until a crash was heard from upstairs. Everyone looked up. A few moments passed when Mammon hissed in pain. He looked down at his arm and watched as a patch of blood began to seep through his shirt and run down his arm. Then MC screamed.

Lucifer rushed up the stairs. Mammon heard Asmo, Levi, and Beel talk amongst themselves, worried for MC, confused about what was going on. All Mammon could do was sit and stare at the trails of blood now running down his arm with wide eyes. Nothing had hit him. He'd been perfectly fine until…

Shit.

Mammon stood up and raced out of the room and up the stairs. He pressed down on the sudden wound on his arm with his hand as he made his way towards Satan's bedroom. He heard Lucifer's voice yelling alongside Satan's. Moments later, the trio stepped out, Lucifer looking oddly pleased, Satan looking exasperated, and MC looking dazed. Lucifer walked past Mammon with an uncannily happy smirk on his face. Satan sighed a sigh that sounded more like Lucifer than Mammon would ever mention to his face.

"Mammon, take MC and get them healed up. I need to talk with Satan," Satan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

What the fuck is happening today? Satan (?) walked past him, following after Lucifer. Mammon blinked.

"They swapped bodies," MC said, holding their arm in a very similar fashion to himself. "Some magic book or something."

"Ah." That's all he could say. Any other day and Mammon would have been on the floor laughing then scheming what he could get away with not long after. Not today, though. Today, a realization hit him that scared him more than Lucifer's punishments ever have, ever could. The thought had crossed his mind before, fleeting thoughts that he shooed out of his head before they could dare take root. But, it seems as though today the universe had different plans in mind. Instead, it took those ideas and forced a fully grown realization into his brain, then hit him with the intensity of a truck.

"C'mon, let's get you patched up, human," he said, pushing that thought to the far recesses of his mind. They were hurt. They needed him now. There wasn't time to dwell on it, on the possibility that they might just be his soulmate.

In hindsight, faking a horror (and somehow dating game?) where everyone but MC and Lucifer disappeared was a terrible way to get them to bond, yet here they were. Mammon and his brothers were all in his room talking as they hid from the pair. The white-haired demon leaned against the wall, his eyes staring at his watch. Sure, he wanted MC and Lucifer to get along. He might even be okay if, after all this, they made a pact. Not that he would ever say that aloud, but he did honestly want Lucifer to see just how great MC was.

"MC?" Mammon snapped his head up at Satan's words, his heart sinking as they walked through the door with a dazed look on their face. "What the hell are ya doing here?" Mammon scrambled, standing up straight as he pointed an accusatory finger at his younger blonde brother. "I thought ya said no one saw you come in here!" Satan grumbled, finger curled against his chin as he thought aloud.

"Well, I was certain no one had, but it seems that wasn't the case." He met MC's eyes with a curious smile. "It seems you're stealthier than I anticipated."

Asmo whined, resting his face in his hands. "So much for our plan. It's ruined now."

"Maybe not," Satan said, moving to MC's side. "Listen, this plan could still work. We were giving you and Lucifer time to yourselves. As long as you act as if you're still clueless about our location, it still works. Just get back out there before he begins to suspect anything!" Satan not so gently pushed MC towards the door.

"W-wait, I-" The door closed behind them before they could usher another word out. Levi sighed from the corner.

"Well, that's one way to do it."

Satan rolled his eyes. "It worked, did it not?"

Mammon let out a light chuckle. He supposed it did. Sure, now they know about it, but hey, that might just work in their favor, right? They can say they checked his room if Lucifer asks, so now they've less of a chance of getting caught! As long as they can keep up the act in front of him. Lucifer was always good at catching on to that sort of thing. A result of him and his brothers' constant games, he figured.

Mammon watched his brothers, taking back his spot against the wall as he played with the rings on his finger. He wasn't sure why, but he felt uneasy. The air felt heavy, like it was moments away from crushing them all. He hadn't felt like this earlier. Was it because MC saw them and figured it all out? Mammon didn't think so. He would have felt it the moment they opened his door, right? Then why did he feel this way?

Whatever it was, he hated it. Hated the way his stomach churned, the way no matter how he fidgeted, he never felt comfortable. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, opting to sit next to Beel on the couch. His younger brother tilted the comically large bag of chips to him. With a smile, Mammon reached in and grabbed a handful, hoping the feeling in his gut would fade.

It didn't.

Mammon watched the clock tick by painfully slow. His body itched, practically screaming at him to move, to do something, until he caved. Mammon lept to his feet with a growl.

"I can't take it any longer. I'm going down there!" His brothers crowded around him, telling him to just wait, that he'd just mess this whole operation up, but he could see the antsiness on their faces shine through. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered out of the room, making sure to keep his footsteps light. Glancing behind him, he could see a fluff of blonde hair followed by orange, purple, and strawberry blonde further behind. Mammon chuckled to himself as the line of demons made their way down the hall to the library where they could just barely make out two familiar voices.

As they were nearing the library, Mammon felt his neck tighten like an invisible force was clamping down on it. He couldn't breathe. Mammon fell to his knees as his hands clawed his neck, feeling nothing but his own skin. His brothers crowded around him, fear in their eyes at the fallen second-born. His vision began to waver, sounds muffled themselves as his body struggled to get any oxygen. He could make out Satan saying something about no magical cause and Levi saying Lucifer sounded angry.

MC.

Their name rang through his head, overriding his own fear. He didn't know why, but somehow, somewhere deep inside him, he knew they were in trouble. Mammon reached out his hand, grabbing someone's - he thinks it was Beel - wrist and coughed out their name. His vision was near black at this point as he watched the figure move away towards the library, followed by another. There was shouting, a crash, and suddenly the force around his throat released. Mammon coughed as he sucked in air like it was gold. His eyes watered, the blood rushing to his head. He bent over, palms flat against the ground as he recovered. His body felt like it was on fire as the oxygen rushed back through him. His body ached, his lungs burned. To top it all off, it felt like he'd just been run over by a truck. Asmo was knelt next to him, his voice slowly reaching his mind.

"What?" Mammon croaked out, his voice raw. Asmo's hand ran along his back, worry swirling in his eyes.

"Lucifer attacked MC."

In a flash, Mammon was on his feet and sprinting to the library as quick as his legs would carry him. Asmo followed behind him as the pair burst through the doors. Mammon felt as if his breath was stolen once more. MC sat on the floor, huddled against the bookshelf, the books scattered all across the floor. Levi and Beel stood in front of them, their arms out and in their demon forms. Satan was kneeling beside MC, his tail flicking across the floor as he tended to their wounds. Lucifer stood across from his brothers, his wings twitching in anger. The dark aura surrounding him was all but visible as he glared at MC through Levi and Beel.

Mammon rushed to MC's side, Satan moving to the side to allow him room. Tears unshed rested in their eyes. Bruises around their neck were beginning to bloom across their skin in the shape of hands, hands he knew well. His own hand snaked up to his neck, fingers grazing the skin underneath. Mammon swallowed, not wanting to give any attention to the thoughts running through his mind. Not now. He couldn't. Not when they're hurting, not when his older brother was moments away from tearing them apart if he could. How could one night go so wrong? What could have happened to lead to this?

"Well, hello there, brothers… I can't tell you how much I missed you."

Mammon froze. That was Belphie's voice. Slowly, he turned his head. There he stood, his youngest brother, a shit-eating grin resting on his face. Lucifer paled, the rage quickly replaced by confusion and fear.

Oh.

Mammon understood. That's how one night could go so wrong.

He hated this.

Mammon and his brothers were currently huddled around the few garden tables, waiting for Barbatos or Diavolo to tell them that MC was back from the past and that everything was fine. Everything had to be okay, right? They promised him it would be, that they'd come back to him. They wouldn't break their promise to their first man, would they?

The white-haired demon sat, leg bouncing at a pace that would make a rabbit ashamed. He glared at his brothers, all of whom seemed to be perfectly fine. Levi was gaming on his phone, as usual. Beel was snacking on the tray of treats Barbatos brought out. Asmo and Satan were conversing as if it was just any other day. The only one who seemed to be worried was Lucifer, and if anyone other than Mammon were to look at him, they'd think he was perfectly fine. Mammon knew better.

Lucifer always loved to put on an air of indifference. It made it easier for those around him, he told Mammon once after a few too many glasses of Demonus. After eons of living with him and learning to read his mood (partly so Mammon knew when to stop pushing his buttons), he'd gotten good at seeing the genuine emotions that lay beneath the surface. Lucifer was sitting, calmly enjoying a cup of tea, but his fingers worked the fabric of his coat roughly, his nails catching on the fibers. His eyes were lowered, finding the grass particularly pleasant to avoid eye contact. Mammon knew he was stressed, that he was worried. And how could he not?

Mammon nudged his chair closer to his older brother, his hands balled up, pushing against his legs as he stared at him. Lucifer stared straight ahead.

"Do you need something, Mammon?" He asked, his voice as neutral as ever. Mammon lifted his hand and rested it against his brother's shoulder, tilting his gaze down.

"They're gonna be fine," he said, his usually loud voice only just above a whisper. Mammon flashed Lucifer a smile, hoping to lift his brother's spirits as well as convince himself what he said was true. Lucifer let out an airy laugh as he turned his head to his younger brother.

"I'm sure they will be. They're too stubborn for their own good to let anything happen to them after all." He lifted the cup of tea and paused, his lips tightening. "Lord Diavolo wouldn't allow harm to befall them, not at the risk of the exchange program." Something told Mammon that Lucifer wasn't entirely convinced that was true.

It felt like hours had passed. Waiting was tedious to start with, but waiting for MC to return was downright torture. Mammon's elbows rested on his knees, hands woven through his hair. He just wanted to know how they were doing. Were they okay? Did they make it to the right part of time? Were they scared? He started to wonder if this was a delayed second punishment for rebelling because it felt like hell.

His chest and arms started aching, not unlike the times when Beel would all but crush him in a hug when they were younger. Mammon stood up and stretched. All this sitting must be making him sore, but the ache soon turned into a groaning pain. His muscles felt like they were being ripped away from each other, his bones beginning to creak under this invisible force as well. Mammon wrapped his arms around himself, pawing at the space around the pain, only to feel nothing. He fell to his knees. It was happening again.

MC.

MC's in danger.

His brothers crowded around him as he cried out in pain. It felt like someone was yanking on his scalp. His skin felt moments away from being broken off the top of his head. Mammon could hear Lucifer's voice laced with concern in front of him. He could feel his brother's gloved hands holding his face, asking him what was going on, but all Mammon could do was scream. Then, his entire body lit up in pain. Every inch of him felt like he was being crushed. He hadn't experienced pain like this since the Fall, and in a way, this was worse. Much worse. He Fell because he fought for what he knew was right, fought for his family, fought for those he loved. Here, though, here was stuck, feeling every ounce of pain that MC was feeling at that moment and he was powerless to help.

It was a notion Mammon didn't want to entertain. He was afraid too. To acknowledge what all those moments meant, what their shared pain meant would force him to confront the feelings he'd struggled to push down. He barely could admit to himself that he cared for the human placed in his care, let alone accept the undeniable fact that they were—

No. Mammon refused. They weren't soulmates. It couldn't be because if it was, then that meant that MC was suffering this and no one could help.

His voice was raw from screaming. He could feel the hands of his brothers, their voices calling out to him, searching for answers amongst themselves. He could hear Asmo mentioning the incident prior where he couldn't breathe. Mammon lifted his hand, grabbing Lucifer's tight in his grasp, his nails digging into his brother's skin. "MC…" he whispered, unable to speak much louder. The pain racked his body. Invisible hands pressed against his neck, pushing, squeezing.

A crack of bone echoed in his ears as the scene in front of him wavered, fading to black. He could hear his brothers crying his name. He could feel tears against his skin. Then, he felt nothing.

Mammon sat next to MC, their hand firmly in his grasp as everyone sat huddled in the living room. Barbatos was pouring cups of freshly brewed tea for the family as Diavolo explained the events that had just occurred. MC's limp body covered in blood flashed through his mind. Their skin, cold, their eyes glassed over, the shine he always sought out, gone.

He gave their hand a squeeze, his fingers inching down over their wrist. He could feel the gentle, steady thump of their pulse just under their skin. It was a feeling he never wanted to forget. Mammon saw them look over, giving him a gentle smile as they squeezed his hand back. They were alive. They were safe. They were here.

The timelines were merged. That's what Barbatos said. The two branches were brought together. The MC that died no longer existed, but their death was still too real for Mammon. Their heritage with Lilith was explained. Mammon would be lying if he said he wasn't excited to hear the news. He was. It meant his little sister got to live out her life, even if they weren't a part of it. She got to be happy and MC was living proof of it. He wanted to smile, to be as jovial as his brothers, but he could barely bring himself to smile.

Belphie reached out to them, curiosity and eagerness written clearly on his face. Before he realized what he was doing, Mammon slapped his brother's hand away, his arms shielding MC from him. His heart was racing; memories flooded his mind that were both his and not his. Flashes of sitting in the castle's garden, pain, his brothers crying above him, his body crushed, his voice raw. Fear. Helplessness. MC.

Mammon jumped to his feet, his hands quivering at his side. He couldn't breathe. It felt like he was underwater, each gasp only further forcing him deeper and deeper. Someone called out his name. He didn't move; he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. The memories played back again, looping, getting clearer and clearer each time.

He had died. He died as Mc died, both by his brother's own hands.

Mammon reached down and grabbed MC, pulling them out of the room that felt like it was shrinking by the minute. He drug them away, up the stairs, away from everyone, away from the memories. He drug them down the hallway and into his room, slamming the door behind them. Mammon's palms pressed flat again the door, his body shaking. MC's hand reached over, their thumb gently wiping away the tears from his eyes. When did he start crying?

"Mammon?" They whispered, voice low like he was a wild animal. The demon laughed. He didn't know why. There was nothing funny, but it was the only thing he could do. Anything else and he'd feel like he'd fall apart right here.

MC slid between him and the door, their hands cradling his face. Mammon stared down at them, taking each and every detail of them in, saving it, memorizing it. He never wanted to forget a single piece about them. Not in a million years. MC's eyes searched him, probably wondering what the hell was going on. He couldn't blame them. If the roles were reversed, he would be too. He'd pout and grumble about stealing The Great Mammon away from everyone, although he'd secretly be happy MC wanted him all to themselves.

"Mammon, what's wrong?" Their voice sounded like heaven, and he would know. They'd barely spoken at all tonight after everything happened, not that he blamed them. He barely said anything himself, but now he never wanted to hear their voice stop. He wanted them to keep talking, to drown out the painful memories that kept flashing themselves in his mind.

His shaky hands moved from the door to their shoulders, pulling the human, the fragile, breakable human, into his arms and held them as if they were made of glass. Mammon rested his head lightly on their shoulder, afraid any more pressure would leave them crumbled in his hands. He felt them wrap their arms around him, pulling him closer, tighter, unafraid, and he cried. Mammon cried, his tears staining their clothes, not caring of how it looked, how he looked. They were here. He was here. They both were alive.

MC held him, their hand rubbing gentle circles on his back, another running their fingers through his hair. They whispered calm and loving things into his ear, never letting the silence of his room take over. They were so strong, this human. They'd faced a terrible death alone, in a house full of demons, and yet they were comforting him. Then a thought crossed his mind.

Did they remember what happened?

Mammon's tears slowly faded, leaving only occasional sniffles in its place as he let out a shaky breath. He lifted his head, his eyes staring down, not meeting their gaze. MC's hands retracted but still kept him close as they rested on his forearms, their thumbs continuing the same soothing pattern their hands had done prior. They didn't speak. The pair stood in the quiet, both gathering themselves until Mammon spoke.

"You died," he said, his voice but a whisper. He wasn't even sure if MC heard him until he saw them nod slowly, with a grim smile.

"I did." Mammon's hands lifted up, capturing MC's, gripping them tight.

"Do you remember it?"

MC stared just past him as if they were watching something unseen. Their eyes glazed over. They swallowed. Mammon felt them squeeze his hands tight.

"I do."

The words felt heavy in the air. Of course, they did. He remembered his own after all; why would they be any different? He had hoped they didn't, that they'd be spared that terrible memory. He wished Barbatos had some way of pushing those memories out of their mind, but it seems that wasn't the case.

Mammon pulled them forward, resting his forehead against their own. His hands stroked MC's own, smiling at how warm they felt. He loved them. How could he not? The universe already decided he would the moment they were both born. He never knew if his father chose this intentionally or if each pair were random, but Mammon supposed it didn't really matter now. MC was here. And as much as he tried to deny it, to ignore it, they were his soulmate. They were cursed to be forever linked to him in body and soul.

"MC," he said, brows furrowed. He had to tell them. They deserved to know, but he was scared. How would they feel, knowing their soulmate was a damn demon of all things? Would they feel angry? Scared? He could handle those. He'd handled them before with others, but what he feared more was that they'd feel guilty. That MC would hate themselves for causing him the same pain they'd gone through. He smiled ruefully. They would feel that way, though, wouldn't they? That's just who they were, too kind and caring for their own good, and he loved them for it.

He paused for a moment, contemplating the option of never telling them. MC could go on living, be with whoever, enjoy a normal life. They would never have to know it was him, after all. But he was greedy. He wanted them to know, to want to have him just as he wanted to have them. And who was he to not give in to his greed?

"MC, I gotta tell ya something important, alright?" MC nodded, their eyes looking up at him eagerly and confused as well. If Mammon didn't know any better, he'd think his stomach had been infiltrated by bats with how jittery he felt. What was the human expression? Butterflies in their gut?

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I think we're soulmates." MC blinked, their brows pushing together in confusion. Mammon could see the gears turning in their head, replaying scenes in their mind's eye.

"But," they started, blinking more. "How? What— I died, that means that you'd have to—"

"Die?"

MC nodded. Mammon hummed, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked off to the side with a pained smile.

"The other timeline, the one Barbatos merged or erased or whatever the hell he did, the you that went back was the one that died, right?" MC nodded. "Yeah, well, that you died and so did that me." He heard them gasp moments before being pulled into a tight hug, their arms wrapped around his waist.

"Mammon, I—" Mammon shook his head, nesting his face into the crook of their neck.

"It's fine, I just— I thought you ought to know." Mammon moved his arms around MC's own waist, pinning the two of them together. He could feel their heartbeat against his chest. The steady thump-thump made him smile. "Sorry you got stuck with me." He felt tears on his shoulder. MC sniffled against his shirt.

"Shut up, don't say that," MC gently banged a fist against his chest, making Mammon chuckle. "You— But then with Belphegor…." MC pushed away, their eyes wide as they stared up at him. He could see the tears pooling at the edges, moments from spilling over again. They swallowed. "You would have felt it all, felt—" Mammon simply nodded. "Oh God… Mammon, I don't—"

Mammon laughed. "I doubt my father cares," he said with a smirk. MC looked up at him, fighting the smile on their lips. They shook their head, processing what this all meant. Mammon watched them, watched the expressions flicker across their face and yet he felt oddly calm. It was that same sort of calm one gets staring at a storm rolling in from the safety of their own house. The possible danger seemed far away, out of reach, but deep down, you knew it still posed a threat.

Mammon watched them lick their lips. "My soulmate, huh?" Mammon nodded. They smiled. "Guess that means you're stuck with me." He laughed.

"Guess so." He stared into their eyes, looking for any hint of remorse or disdain, but they were clear. Only happiness rested there. "You alright with that?" MC smiled.

"Definitely." Mammon reached a hand up, cupping their cheek. He tilted their face up as he leaned down. He noticed their eyes flutter close, their breath hitch as they leaned forward, angling their head into his palm. Mammon couldn't help but smile as he pressed his lips to theirs.

Soft. They felt so soft against him. They moved in tandem, dancing in perfect unison with one another as if they'd kissed a thousand times before. For the first time in a long time, Mammon felt genuinely complete. It was as if he could want for nothing but this moment to never end. No gold tasted so sweet as the taste of their lips; no jewels shone so brightly as their eyes as they parted. If he wasn't addicted to their mere presence before, he was now, and there was no way he could ever recover. Not that he wanted to, anyways. He wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world. It was priceless. A notion Mammon believed impossible until now. Everything could be bought, for the right amount, but not this. Never this.

MC rested their forehead against his with a contented sigh. "How long have you known?" They asked, their hands playing with the fabric of his shirt. Mammon bit his lip as he blushed.

"You got a paper cut in class that first week you were here. That's when I started to wonder. I didn't really know until Satan got your arm good that one time." MC laughed, the smile on their face genuine. Their laugh only grew as they processed his words. Mammon couldn't help but find himself smiling too.

"You're kidding me? A paper cut?"

Mammon nodded.

"Yeah, it all started with a paper cut."

[apoppyinthewind]

Thaddeus Dahl - Vampire

“What would you give to live forever?”

[falloutprime]

Aaron Moten as Maximus and Johnny Pemberton as Thaddeus in FALLOUT (2024), S01E03 - The Head. - requested by anonymous.

[stromuprisahat]

“Lord Thaddeus is my Hand,” Aegon insisted. “Lord Thaddeus sold your realm to Lys and must answer for it. I will serve as your Hand until such time as his guilt or innocence can be proved.” Ser Marston unsheathed his sword and went to one knee, saying, “I swear upon my sword in the sight of gods and men that none shall do you harm whilst I stand beside you.” If the Lord Commander believed those words would sway the king, he could not have been more wrong. “You stood beside me when the dragon ate my mother,” Aegon answered. “All you did was watch. I will not have you watch while they kill my brother’s wife.” Then he left the battlements, and no words of Marston Waters could induce him to return that day, or the next, or the next.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

BURN!

And Aegon doesn't even need a dragon for it!

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch 30

ALL THE EXPOSITION, FOLKS!

Alternative title for this chapter “In which the bastard gets a name and Keral yells at a hobo lady.” 

“The first time I ever met Thadeus was during a dedication ceremony in Silvaara. Some new conservatory or other, I don’t remember. He was there to represent Vhasshal on behalf of his father, the King. My official presentation to the court had been just the week prior so I was nervous as this would be my first official function under my full title. My dress was so tight and starched I could barely move without fear of tipping over. Which I did; I fell into a creek when I went to have a moment to myself away from all the madness of the festivities. Thadeus must’ve heard me go in, because he fished me out of the water before that damnable dress could drown me. We ended up talking for almost an hour and the guards had to come search for us when they realized we were missing.

“And then it came to pass that every time there was a reason for Vhasshal to come to Silvaara or Silvaara to go to Vhasshal, either he or I would go as part of the dignitary company. Just to speak to each other. He would give me little tricks and methods on how to stand the structured rigors of court and to not bow under the pressures our positions required of us, though mine wasn’t so great or heavy as to having one day rule an entire Kingdom. I was just a lonely girl and he was endlessly kind to me, far more than he should have been willing to bestow. One of the few people who did not see me a pawn to be played or won or lost.

“The day he learned that Rosanna of Ibronia was promised to him as his betrothed, I...found out that I had been promised to the eldest son of the Silvaaran royal adviser, a boy named Aidus. He was a cruel creature; selfish and too full of pride. I had always detested him, but he had always sought me out at court. When I was told I was to marry him...I did not receive the news well. His family was powerful and well connected. Anything he ever wanted he would get presented to him on a silver platter. Including me it seemed. But the one thing he nor his family had was a line to the throne. And though everyone kept telling me how smart a match we would be...

“...I did not want him.

“My heart belonged to another man; the Thorn Guard Captain’s son, Hayron. He had been one of the guards to come find me when Thadeus fetched me from the creek and he had often been apart of the guard entourage that escorted courtiers throughout the capitol. The three of us became friends after a time and I remember feeling like nothing that life could throw at me would be so insurmountable as long as he and Thadeus were beside me. I might even be able face my betrothal with dignity and grace as it was expected of me. But then I made a mistake. I...I fell pregnant.”

Oira laughed, a hallow false founding laugh without any humor. “I was so scared that I told Thadeus before I told Hayron. The Crown Prince of Vhasshal knew of my child before her father! Heh...he congratulated me, but he was still scared for my sake and that of my baby. He said that no matter what happened, he would make sure we would be taken care of and I absolutely believed him.

“I had just began to show when my father learned of my shame. I never found out who it was that told him or perhaps he just knew. In any case, I was dragged in front of the whole court and forced to confess everything. My father disowned me then and there and told me to leave. To leave Silvaara. That he would not allow...not allow a bastard to be born under his sigil. He had Master Barnabas erase my name from everything. The histories, our family tome...

“Hayron and I left and lived in the countryside for a time. I wrote to Thadeus and told him what had happened and he instructed us to remain there and that he would come and take us all back to Vhasshal. The night he came to get us...Aidus came as well. He told me that if I got rid the baby, he would overlook my unfaithful indiscretions and still marry me. I would not have my title, but I would share his and still be permitted to live in the place of my birth. I refused him. I told him he was not a man, but a selfish boy who thought he could buy and manipulate his way to power and to a royal title and a path to the throne. He...tried to cut Nenani from my belly. Thaddeus stepped in and...then there were guards everywhere, but they were...wrong. Their eyes were white as milk. Aidus had enchanted them, slipped some sort of potion into their food or drink so they obeyed every one of his words. It was a forbidden magic and I did not know how to snap them from their daze. Aidus had intended for them to kill Hayron, but he had not anticipated Thaedus being there.”

She paused, sucking in a fast breath as tears fell fast down her face. “They killed him. The Prince. He desperately tried to save us; Hayron and my baby and I. He told us to run and to not look back, but...I saw Aidus do it. The killing blow. A single stab through the heart. My dearest friend was dead and all I could do was run away as he bled to death in a foreign country and...I’ve been running ever since...”

Hands pressed to his lips, Keral’s green eyes seemed to stare out into nothing. His whole being was wound tight and looked almost feral with rage. Bitterly angry and sad. He took a deep breath that shuddered as it drew across his lips. “Thadeus was a fuckin’ idiot.”

Oira bristled, shaken from her tears and she snarled. “He was not! He was incredibly kind and selfless...”

“Incredibly stupid and inconsiderate!” Keral reiterated, staring daggers into the small woman. “He didn’t say a damn thing to us. Just up and left one night and got himself killed! All he had to fuckin’ do was tell us and we would’ve been there with ‘im. He was the fuckin’ Crown Prince fer fuck sake!”

Oira paused, her expression softened. “You...were friends with Thadeus?”

“Yes, I was!” Keral shouted, angrier than Nenani had ever seen him. Or Farris. He stood up and walked back and forth in a nervous line, running his hands through his hair and huffing through his nose looking for all the world like a man desperate to hit something. “Since I was a lad. He was my best mate fer years. Met ‘im after I became a squire.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“A’course that would be why he died. Puttin’ his neck out where it had no fuckin’ business and fer what? A damn woman who couldn’t keep her fuckin’ legs closed?”

“YOU GO TOO FAR, SIR!” Oira was on her feet as well now. “HE WAS MY FRIEND TOO!”

“AND YE GOT ‘IM KILLED!” Keral shouted back, the sheer volume echoed hauntingly through the forest. “AND A WHOLE LOT MORE PEOPLE TOO!”

Oira flinched as though his words were a physical blow and she shrank back. “Don’t you dare put that on me...”

“Go on then. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that the war would never have happened if you hadn’t begged him to come rescue ya from yer own fuck up. TELL ME!”

“I CAN’T!”

Keral starred at her with bristling hate. “He’s dead because of you.”

“I know he is,” Oira said, her head bowed and shaking. “I know...that I committed a horrible sin...”

“Ha. Don’t think so highly of yerself, woman,” Keral snorted distastefully. “What I want to know, is why didn’t ye come forward and tell us the truth? Why are ye out here skulking about the dark like some fuckin’ goblin?”

“By the time I would have been able to, the war had already started,” Oira said. “And...and you, Vhasshal that is...had started...started to...eat humans. Thadeus had died for my child. For me. For Hayron. I couldn’t throw it all away by risking it. And just as you showed me here, that was what I had expected from his father and so much worse. Tell me Keral, and tell me what you’re heart knows is the truth: would the Blood King have spared me or my infant child if I had told him the truth of his eldest son’s death? Or would he have killed and probably eaten us both and continued on with the war?” Keral didn’t say anything and Oira nodded. “So you understand me then a little at least...”

“Go on then,” he growled. “Tell us the rest of it. I know there’s more.”

“We hid in the woods with others for a long time, trying to wait out the war. Then one day you and your blue coats came and drove us all out to the Southlands. We made a life there somehow. We raised our daughter. And then I fell ill, but it wasn’t a sickness. The night I found out that I was with child again...Aidus found us for the second time. But he was not how I remembered him. He was twisted and so much crueler than before. He had fought in the war, but had started to learn some deviant magic and it had warped his mind and turned him into this...this monster of a man.” She paused and took a fortifying breath that wavered. “...he killed Hayron in front of me. With his own sword. My...my entire world bled out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. Just like Thadeus. All over again. I don’t remember anything of the next few months, but he had taken me away and...forced me to be what he always wanted me to be; His wife. Even though I could give him no way to the throne and there was no longer a throne to even be had.

“And for those years that was what I did. Languished in the crumbing halls of his keep and bide my time. I gave birth to my son and was able to convince him that Haiyer was of his blood, so he wouldn’t kill the only part of Hayron I still had. I called him by a different name around him, but in secret I would always call him Haiyer. But...almost a year ago now, he said that he was disappointed that Haiyer had not bloomed or showed any sign of being touched by magic. He said that if he did not show promise by summer...that he would kill my son and we would have to “try again”. I could not let that mad man take my son from me like he took everything else. So I ran away. I had tried so many times before, but this time I managed to get away and stay hidden. A cloaking spell I’d found in one of his books.” She ran her hand across her scalp and the shortened tendrils of hair. “Normally such a spell requires a great amount of energy and calls for the blood of a freshly slain sparrow, but some of my own blood and hair did well enough as a substitution to last a few days. If I allowed the cloak to fall for too long, his many eyes would find me.

“I wanted to go back to the Southlands. To get my daughter and Halden, Haryon’s brother. But when I finally made it back, I couldn’t find them anywhere. Someone told me that there had been a fire and that Halden had died, but...no one knew where Nenani had gone. I feared that Aidus had come and taken her. To manipulate me into returning to him. So I’ve been searching for her ever since, hoping somehow he had not found her.”

Keral nodded. “Aye, she was with us by then. But this Aidus fellow. Is he this Smoke Mage I’ve been chasin’ all ‘round creation?”

“Smoke Mage?” Oira made a face. “Smoke Mages are a fairy tales to scare children. Aidus is something much worse; A monster. He’s barely a person anymore. He has scores of Wyverns he’s enchanted or made deals with to do his bidding and the spells he uses...eat at him. Pieces of him flow into the beasts. It was why escaping him is so hard when he has hundreds of eyes. And his precious Dragon of course, but...that beast is gone now. Which will make hiding from him much easier. He put so much of himself into that creature to have it bend to his will. He’ll be weak for some time yet as he tries to pull himself back together.”

“Ye asked me to take yer lil’ uns with me. What about you?”

“It’s me he wants. If he has me he couldn’t care less about the children.”

Keral sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods piss on it, no wonder ye and Thadeus got along so well. Yer both fuckin’ idiots.”

“I don’t know what else to do! I have nothing left. Only them. I don’t care if I die, but they,” she said, pointing to Nenani and Haiyer, her voice frantic. “They have to live. For the memory of Silvaara, they have to live!”

Keral bent down suddenly and grabbed the woman up. She shrieked in fright as Keral brought her close to his face and her fire was doused by pure shock. She trembled and uselessly pushed against his hands. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

Nenani got to her feet, truly afraid now. She had listened to them yell and scream at each other for what seemed like forever, but despite the cruel things Keral had said, she did not think he would harm her mother. But he looked so angry, she was beginning to fear that he very well might. “Keral! Please!”

“I’m pretty damn good at smellin’ lies, girl,” he said to Oira, ignoring Nenani all together, and his voice was low with warning. “And I think yer tellin’ the truth. Or yer version of it anyway. But there’s one glarin’ omission in yer story.” Oira’s face was flushed and she was breathing hard. She was terrified. His eyes narrowed at her. “Just who the fuck are you, girl?”

She moved her mouth, but no sound came out. Keral snarled. “Try again, lass. I’m waitin’...”

“...my….my name is Oira Daelg. Wife to Hayron Daelg and mother to Nenani and Haiyer,” she said, voice shaking but firm in her convictions. As she spoke her next words however, her voice grew small and pained. Tears welled in her eyes. “But...but I was born Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara. Youngest daughter of King Haeral XVI.”

Keral’s narrowed eyes softened and he sighed heavily, all the ire and hate draining away like droplets of water. “Of course ye are,” he said and crouched back down and eased her back onto her feet. He stared at her for a moment. “Yer that little lass that would tag along with Thadeus whenever the Silvaaran diplomats visited.” He paused in contemplation, digging back through his own memories to pluck out a name he hadn’t spoken in over a decade. “...Annie.”

“...yes,” she said quietly. “That’s what he called me. Annie.”

Keral shook his head, laughing without humor and looking around in disbelief. “Of course ye are...”

“I’m sorry,” said the woman with clear emotion. “I’m so sorry for what Aidus did to Thadeus. And my part in it.”

“Strange I didn’t realize who ye were when me and the boys caught ye,” he pondered aloud. “Probably too pissed that ye left yer lil’ girl all on ‘er own to recognize ye in the dark like that.” Keral sat back down in the dirt with a heavy thud, leaning back against the tree and looking up. The stars were out and the only light was the bright moon above them. He was quiet for a long time. “He would have hated himself if he didn’t go to ya. Even if ya never sought his help. He’d have blamed himself for whatever happened to ya and yer babe. Fer the rest of his life. That’s how he was.”

Oira stared at Keral askance and said quietly, “But there wouldn’t have been a war.”

“Probably not,” Keral agreed tiredly. He tilted his head to regard her with shining green eyes. “But does it really matter anymore?”

Oira considered his words and then shook her head. “...I don’t know.”

Keral nodded and looked over to where Nenani was sitting with Haiyer in her lap. The little boy was asleep, but Nenani was awake and watching. Listening with anxious attention between the two of them. They were so different from one another, her mother and Keral. But a thin thread connected them and it seemed like they both were aware of it at all once; How small the world could be that the death of one person could have such an enormous toll on two people so different from each other. Keral was watching Nenani carefully, considering something. He sighed and said, “So them two lil’ uns there...”

Oria was staring at Keral as he watched her children. “They are the last of my father’s bloodline.”

“And you…?” Keral asked, eyeing her from the side with one gleaming eye. Oira frowned and shook her head.

“I was disowned by my father,” she said firmly, sensing where his thoughts had wandered. “I have no claim to the throne.”

Keral just shrugged off her denial. “Kinda hard to be Queen of a country that doesn’t exist anymore. But still. It’s not a small thing, lass. Warren will be wantin’ to speak with ya.”

“I’ve told you everything, Keral,” she said stiffly. “Please. Just make sure they’re taken care of.���

“That Aidus bastard’s attacked Vhasshal; five times now. Hurt my brother. Killed my King’s ward. We can’t just let that go. I won’t let that go. I loved that boy like he was my own flesh and blood and I want that damn Mage’s head fer it.” Keral reached out and tapped his finger against Oira’s head and she batted at him. “You and the lil’uns are all comin’ to Vhasshal with me and yer gonna tell the King all you’ve just told me. And then we’re gonna end this fuckin’ madness once and fer all.”

“I can’t go to Vhasshal,” Oira said, her face contorting in pain. “I can’t.”

Keral snorted distastefully. “Ye said ye were sorry fer what that bastard did to Thadeus. Then prove it. Hoist yer skirts up and face the consequences of what ye did. Warren deserves to know why his brother is dead. Ye ain’t the only one whose entire family was wiped out by the war. Far from it.”

“I...” She covered her face with her hands.

“If ye say you can’t one more time, I’m tossing ya in my pack and lockin’ ye in,” he growled. “There ain’t a scenario where this doesn’t end with all a’ us goin’. You’ll have about a day to figure out yer choice a’ words.”

Nenani carefully eased Haiyer off her lap and stood. She went to her mother’s side and reached out to put her hand into the crook of her arm. Oira flinched, looking at her daughter.

“It’s alright, Mama,” she told her trying to give her an encouraging smile. “There are a lot of really nice people there. They took care of me. Please, don’t be afraid.”

Keral spared Nenani a tired smile. “Well, it’s decided then. I need to go grab my pack from where I left it. Just sit here till I get back.” He paused, looking at the ground in consideration and then bent down to carefully scooped little Haiyer up and slipped him into the large breast pocket of his coat.

Oira bristled and made as though to charge at the ranger. “What are you doing?”

“Yer pup’s gonna be my insurance,” Keral replied with a smug grin. He gently patted the small lump that was the sleeping boy. “To make sure ya stay put till I get back.”

Her mother watched Keral disappear though the trees with her youngest child and Nenani could see that she was frightened and anxious.

“Keral won’t hurt him,” she told her mother. “He really is nice. I promise. Even though he’s been really mad, he really is a nice person.”

“Nenani,” Oira said quietly and taking her hands and looking into her daughter’s face. Here eyes were seeking, pleading. “Tell me truthfully. Have they...have they been good to you?”

Nenani nodded. “Yeah. I like living there. Farris is kind of grumpy and yells a lot, but he takes care of me. He’s even teaching me how to make tonics!”

Oira smiled at her daughter indulgently, but it was clearly forced and she kept glancing towards where Keral had left through the trees. “How to make tonics? Is he a healer or…?”

“Oh, no,” Nenani laughed. “He’s the kitchen master.”

The smile was gone from Oira’s face and she stared at her daughter in horror. “The...the kitchen master? The...they gave you to the cook?”

Nenani nodded, not considering the source of her mother’s misgivings. “He wasn’t gonna keep me at first. He said that he just wanted to scare me off of stealing and then send me to live with the Hill Tribes. But I got sick with the red reap.”

Oira’s breathe hitched. “No. You...you got the reap? How...”

“I remember the pain mostly,” Nenani said. “Everything hurt and I couldn’t breathe. But Farris gave me medicine and stayed with me all night. When I got better he decided to keep me.”

“But still...they gave you to the cook!”

“He doesn’t really cook anything himself. The others do that. He manages the spices and runs the kitchen. Yale’s his assistant and he’s been teaching me about plants and herbs. And then there’s Saen. He’s really funny and sneaks me treats when no one is looking. And Quinn and Kol bake the bread; its really good. And then Bart is the butcher and Avery is kind of his assistant. Bart looks scary and mean, but he’s a lot like Farris and is actually really nice. And then Herit and Gjerk are the youngest. They call them tenderfoots because they’re still learning. Gjerk helped me when the wyvern attacked and I almost got smashed by a table.

“And then there’s Lolly. She’s the matron and she made me these clothes and was really nice to me when I first came and yelled at Farris for scaring me and making me think they were gonna eat me. And then there’s Maevis. He’s a magician and makes really yummy tea. He watches over Barnaby same way Farris watches over me and...”

“Wait! Wait. Did you say Barnaby?” her mother asked, face as pale as milk.

“Yeah, he’s an archivist,” Nenani paused. “Did you know him from before…?”

“Yes,” Oira replied sadly. “I did know him. He...he erased my name from the archives when I was disowned.”

Nenani did not say anything and truthfully she did not know what she could say. She didn’t want to think about all that her mother and Keral had discussed. The way they yelled at one another and threw around their pain like weapons as though hurting the other would lessen the weight of their own burdens. All Nenan cared about was that her mother was finally there. She was alive and now she even had a brother. Above all, she wanted them to be safe. Her thoughts returned to Vhasshal and the assured destruction and pain they would be returning to. Her stomach roiled at the memory of Jae falling into nothing. It hurt so much to think about...

“Nenani,” Oira said gently, taking her face into her hands. “My sweet, you’re crying...”

“The smoke mage...” she said with a whimper. “He...he killed my friend.”

“The one the blue coat spoke of? The King’s ward?”

“Jae was human, but the King called him his son,” Nenani said, shivering. “The King...and Keral. They found him when he was little and he was all alone so the King kept him and raised him in the castle. He was my friend...”

“Warren...took a human boy as his ward?” Oira asked, a strange sort of longing pulling at her features. “That sounds like something Thadeus would have done.”

“Jae tried to protect me from him. Aidus. When he came. He...he had Papa’s sword. But he...threw him off the roof.”

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said and held her. Nenani sank into her mother’s arms and let herself go numb. She was so tired now and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was so tired of crying...

“Oi, Princess,” Keral’s voice broke through the thickening sorrow of Nenani’s mind and she raised her head as the ranger returned from beyond the trees. She could see the thick leather straps of his pack strapped to his back and in his hand he held Haiyer, now awake and red faced with distress. The little boy reached out his hands towards Oira and was calling for her. Keral shook his head in clear exasperation. “Yer pup’s makin’ a right racket.”

“Mama!”

“Is that all you’re able to do? Scare children?” she asked the giant ranger.

“What can I say?” Keral said as he let the little boy slide down from his palm and frantically run to his mother. “It’s a talent.”

Keral put his pack down onto the ground and began rummaging through it. He pulled a flask out and put it in his pocket and several other items as well. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked over to the three humans and gestured them over. “Come on then, let’s get goin’.”

“Now?” Oira asked reluctantly. “Shouldn’t we wait till morning light?”

“Too easy fer folks to spot me in the day,” Keral replied. “Harder to spot in the dark. That’s why our coat’s are blue, blends better in the dark. And the sooner all of ye are in Vhasshal, the better. We don’t know when yer Smoke Mage’ll show up again and I’d rather have a few hundred feet of stone walls and a couple hundred more men to work with than just some trees and a few squirrels.”

Keral looked to Oira and nodded to his open pack. “In with ya, Princess.”

“Please don’t call me that. Oira is my name. No titles,” she said, eyeing the open pack with suspicion and reluctance. “And must we…?”

“It’ll be the most comfortable way fer us all to just have ya stashed in here.” When she made no indication of complying, Keral sighed in frustration and reached out and grabbed her around the middle. Haiyer cried out as his mother left his side, little hands trying to catch her skirt.

“For the love of –! Don’t just grab me!” Oira snapped indignantly. “That’s rude!”

“Don’t have the time to be humorin’ yer misgiving’s, Princess –er, sorry. Oira,” Keral said to her as he slipped her into the pack. There was a wad of cloth down at the bottom cushioning her from the other items further down and making for a softer place to sit. Once he had their mother tucked away, Keral eyed the two children. “Okay, sweetling. Yer turn.” Nenani let him scoop her up without a fuss and set her next to her mother and then he turned his green eyes to the smaller and arguably weepier of the group. Haiyer was grabbing at his tunic nervously and glaring up at the ranger.

“Give her back!” he demanded with a frown; his little chin sticking out in a pout.

“Oh, aye? Ye givin’ me orders there lil’ princeling?” Keral asked in amusement. “And just what ye gonna be doin’ if I say no?”

“Leave him alone, he’s just a baby!” Oira told him, but in response, Keral flipped the pack’s lid closed and sat his hand on top.

“Quiet woman and let me have my fun,” he said and turned his attention back to Haiyer who had procured a rock and had it pulled back in his hand, ready to throw it. Keral laughed. “Oh, ye gonna hit me with a rock?”

“Give Mama back! And sister!”

“Hm. No, I think I’m gonna keep ‘em,” Keral replied with a grin, patting the top of the pack with his hand.  

“NO!” Haiyer yelled and threw the rock. It landed harmlessly about a foot away from Keral’s boot and the ranger looked at for a moment before flicking his gaze back to the boy who visibly flinched. The thin blanket of courage fell from the little boy’s shoulders and he began to shake and cry. “Please….please give them back.”

“Ye think I’m gonna hurt yer mum and sister do ye, son?”

“You’re a giant...giants eat people...” said the little boy with an oddly serious expression, but the way his bottom lip trembled gave him away.

“This one don’t,” Keral said simply, shaking his head. “Never have, never will. Besides. Ye lil’ fella’s all taste like dirt.”

Haiyer blinked, looking confused and then turned his eyes down to the ground and the dirt there and then back up at Keral; tilting his head. “...dirt?”

“Oh, aye. Just like mud,” he said, making a face of disgust. “Not very yummy. So I won’t be eatin’ ya or yer mum an’ sister.”

“...no?” the little boy said with a hopeful lilt.

“Nope.”

“...oh,” Haiyer said, blinking as he digested this revelation, his fear seemingly forgotten. He looked at the rock and the back up at Keral and seemed almost ashamed. “...I’m sorry I threw a rock at you. I thought you wanted to eat us.”

“No harm, lad,” he said with a grin. “Ye did good comin’ to yer family’s rescue like that. Very brave of ya.”

“...I was really scared.” he admitted.  

“And how about now?”

“...still scared.”

“Well, don’t be worryin’ about that none, my lil’ lad,” Keral said and laying his hand down in front of the boy. “I’m takin’ all of ye somewhere ye gonna be safe.”

“...safe? From Addis?” Haiyer asked, a little more hope brightening his face and looking at Keral’s open palm warily.

“Addis?” Keral asked, confused. “Aidus, ye mean?”  

“Yeah. The bad man,” the boy said. “He hurts me sometimes. And Mama. Makes her cry a lot.”

The amusement in Keral’s eyes softened and took a moment to properly look the little boy over. He could see marking on his bare legs and scratches on his arms and face. What would normally have been mistaken for the scrapes and scratched of a rambunctious child when pulled together with everything else painted a much bleaker picture and he found himself very angry.

“I’m not gonna let ‘im hurt yer mum, lad,” he said gently. “Or yer sister. Or you.”

Haiyer fidgeted, digging his toes into the dirt and thinking very hard. When he finally spoke, it was a small and anticipative question. “...you promise?”

“Promise,” Keral answered, making an X over his heart. “Cross m’heart an’ everythin’.”

“...Okay.” Haiyer replied with the smallest of smiles. Keral remained very still as the boy cautiously approached him, eyeing his open hand. Slowly and still shaking, Haiyer climbed into the ranger’s palm and sat down in the hallow of the gloved hand. Lifting the boy very carefully, Keral brought him over to his pack and opened it. A very nervous looking Oira was glaring up at him and the tips of her fingers were glowing.

Keral rolled his eyes at her.

“Settle down, lass. Yer pup’s fine,” Keral said as he lowered Haiyer inside and let him slip off from his hand and into his mother’s arms.

“Mama! Guess what?” Haiyer asked, suddenly very animated and excited. “He said we taste bad so he isn’t gonna eat us.”

“Well,” Oira grinned, suppressing a laugh and pressing her forehead to his. “That is good news.”

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Winner’s Curse Ch. 14

“Everyone calm down, everyone calm down, King Ben will be here soon.” Ben heard Evie warily shush into the microphone, trying to quiet the agitated crowd in the auditorium.

Ben hurriedly tried to straighten his collar which only got mussed further by his frantic hands, butterflies were alreayd beating furiously in his stomach at the thought of trying to convince this mob that there was no time to beat around the bush and bring Villain children four at time every year or so. They needed to bring them all over now. It was the right thing to do.

All without mentioning the current Coven situation on the Isle since it would only serve to panic everyone.

Not that he was already panicking himself. The commincators he had given them had suddenly cut off and though Carlos and Jane assured him that maybe it was just the climate messing with the technology and they shouldn’t jump to conclusions.. That was what he was doing. The last time they had contacted him, it was to say they had teamed up with Uma and now they mysteriously couldn’t be reached.

Uma could be holding them captive or worse. He knew all the girl wanted was to get the kids off the Isle so hopefully if he was able to pass this reform, he would be able to appease them. And hopefully Harry hadn’t hooked them first at of spite.

“Hey.” Ben felt Mal’s slender cold fingers stop his hands and felt her nuzzle against his neck, “You’re going to do great. You’re a good king.”

Ben couldn’t help but relax as Mal wrapped her arms around him. “Thanks.”

They had had a long talk after Cotillion. Mainly about the stresses they each had been dealing with and they had ignored each other. Miscommunication bred bad blood and they had promised to talk things out more and not hide it under the surface or erase it from his mind.

For Mal, he allowed her to cut back on some of her royal cosort duties and would start adding more responsibilities when she got the hang of it.

He couldn’t do such a thing being the King of the land, but Mal’s most important self-appointed duty was to help him relax and destress and provide moral support as he had helped her when she came to Auradon. He had told her over and over that she didn’t need to do it like an obligation but Mal was stubborn.

He loved that about her.

Ben turned and kissed her full on the lips enjoying the sweet strawberry taste and the slight bite she gave on his lips, “Now go out there.”

Ben knew a goofy smile was spreading on his face but he couldn’t help it. He always felt a little breathless and punchdrunk when he was in her presence. She was just so magnetic and wonderful and…

“You got to go out there now.” Mal gently but firmly pushed him in the direction of thepodium where Evie was waiting.

“Right. Right.” Ben smoothed down his face and approched. There none of the usual applause that accompined his entrence which spoke to how the people were feeling about Evie’s new idea.

The butterflies beat faster and Ben felt his knees buckle which he tried his best to hide by clutching the podium.

“Hello everyone. As I’m sure you’ve read from Evie’s recent email that we plan to bring over all the villain children from the Isle. Recent surveys of the land show it is not a fit enviroment for adults, even worse so for children.” He turned so Evie could take over as they practiced.

Evie smoothed down the paper she held and cleared her throat. “I put all the details within the document I sent all of you. But a quick overview.”

“Statistics show that every eyar at least 200 kids die on the Isle from lack of nutrition, dehydration, disease like..”   “We don’t need to know how they died. It’s good riddence!” Chad Charming shouted.

Evie’s mouth popped open and she shot a glare but her voice remained even, “No child deserves to die. No matter who their parents are.” “Sounds like someone’s a little bias.” Another voice heckled.

“Yeah, some villain kids are villain kids. Like Uma. She nearly destroyed us all!”

“She ruined my dress!” “I almost fell off the boat.” “And we’re going to let more of their kind come over?” “If.. if you all just look over to page 56 of the document, I detailed a plan for bringing them over and to prevent any incidents like Uma’s happening again. These kids just need guidence. And more importantly, food and shelter.” Evie tried to raise her voice but panic had overtaken the room and was getting to Ben too making the butterflies feel more like frantic bats scratching at his stomach.

It was happening again. Sweat began to drip down his neck and his trembling knees soon spread down the rest of his legs until he felt kike he was going to fall over. He couldn’t breath. He was losing control of the room and his body. Ben forced himself to breath through his nose though every one of his senses told him to run away while he still could.

Yet another feeling was rising beside the anxiety. The anger. The ferocious anger that made so many servants and even his mother fear his father. Why so many people still referred to him as the Beast.

The anger was unbecoming of a King but sometimes Ben clung to it. It was a strong force amid the tide of anxiety threatening to drown him. It made him feel in control, it helped him focus on getting everyone to shut up and listen!

“EVERYONE!” Ben bellowed into the microphone stunning the auditorium to silence.

“Everyone,” Ben repeated at a slightly lower volume but not bothering to hide the anger behind it, “It seems that no one here wants to act like the prince or princess they are and politely listen to Evie’s idea. Fine. You can all say whatever prejudiced arguments you want against the idea or why we should accept it. We will listen, we will take it under consideration. But I am King and I assure you, I plan to pass this law. It’s your choice if you want to read the document and understand all the facts and accept what is coming or you don’t have to. You can stew in your fear instead.”

No one seemed to know what to do or say and that loud silence was what snapped Ben back to his senses and realized what he had just done. He had lost control again. He acted immaturely and irrationally.

He acted like a little boy playing ruler instead of understanding the views and fears of the people he was serving. Even if he didn’t agree with some of them, he should have listened, not shut them down to get his own way.  

Now he really wished he could run away but all he could do was cling to the podium and ask, “Please state any concerns or wishes you have for the program. In a civilized manner.”

He heard a voice clear his throat and a dark skinned hand wave in the air.

“Yes, Prince Thaddeus Thatch Nedakh,” Ben called, proud of himself for being able to pronunce the tricky Atlantean name correctly.

“I read through your document and I find it very well thought out. It really is a detailed plan that I think is doable,” Thaddeus said more to the rest of the audience’s benefit than to compliment Evie but Evie still beamed, “However, I feel.. That maybe it is too much to do at once. I mean, it’s just, your Majesty. You still have several problems to deal with within Auradon. Like the rampant tourism that is destroying Atlantica,”

“Here, here!” one of the mermaid’s daughters called out.

“The Magic Ban that is affected almost half of the population. We, at Atlantis need magic as our life source. We can’t hide it away or surpress it for the sake of Auradonian progress. It is part of our culture and heritage. You’re trying to make everything uniform and have our kingdoms subsumed into one another, but it can’t work that way for us.” Thaddeus stated, nervously swishing his white bangs.

“If I may add to that,” Prince Pachacuti bounced up, non-too discreetly squeezing his boyfriend’s hand in a show of support, “While we at Kuzcotopia appreciate your cool things like tvs and video games and smoothies, we don’t like you trying to get all grabby grabby with our gold. That’s ours. Also-”

“What Pach is trying to say,” Thaddeus interrupted before Pachacuti could go off topic like he was wont to do, “While helping kids is noble, there are still some things we need to fix here in Auradon before we help others, and we should devote our resources to that instead.”

“Thank you.” Evie nodded, “Anyone else.” It seemed Thaddeus and Pachacuti broke the ice for more hands raised this time but before Evie could call on anyone, Chad shouted his opinion again.

“They’re right. Auradon should be considered first. Our kingdoms, our families!” “Some of those trapped on the Isle are part of our family. Like your cousin, Dizzy, is she not?” Herkakleides jumped up before turning to the crowd, “My extended family wish to free Hadie and possibly even Hades from the Isle. They are our family and holding grudges usually leads to worse consequences. Trust us, the gods know a thing or two about grudges backfiring.”

His younger sister, Madora, stood up next,“Also, Aunt Persephone would truly love to be reuinted with her husband. Yes, what he did to our parents was wrong, but we believe in taking the higher road and a greater cause. I’m not suggesting we let all the adult villains free. But the god of death and the underworld provides a certain balance to the world that is needed.”

“I have something to add.” An older voice called.

“Yes,” Evie pointed. It was clear she was happy with the people standing up for her idea.

A prim older woman with striking dark eyebrows stood up. Lady Waltham ie Clayton’s sister. She was one of the ones who were to be sent to the Isle but she had recieved a formal pardon from the Tarzan-Porter family. Ever since then, she and her daughter, Dame Rebecca, had been the most vocal activists against the Isle and she often showed up at events like these if it was out of her way.

“I, too, wish to be reunited with my nephew. I can’t speak to letting my brother free. He had made his own choices. But Clay was born there among those savages and criminals and I know he has done nothing to deserve it. If he has murdered anyone or thing while he was on the Isle, I’m sure it was because he had to. If he had been allowed to grow up here, he wouldn’t have. The difference in lifestyle and upbringing would have made all the difference. So though I did not get my nephew back then, I still wish for him to come now. He and all the other Isle children. They should be free.” Lady Waltham proclaimed to applause and quite a few hises and boos.

“I have a counterargument.” Another british voice piped up, Victoria, Tarzan and Jane’s eldest daughter, “While it’s true some villain kids wouldn’t be so evil if they had been raised correctly from the beginning, who says we can change them now. They have been raised by the same villains that have tried to kill our families. Some haven’t tried, some succeeded like when Clayton killed Kerchak. And you’re right about grudges because if those same villains still hold grudges against us, they would pass those grudges against their children.” 

“They raised them to be manipulative and decietful and evil. It’s merely a matter of security that we keep them at bay. Maybe we can’t help these children, but we can save their grandchildren. Taking those kids off the Isle now would be cruel to survivors. How would Queen Rapunzel like to deal with a little copy of her Mother dearest? Or Quasimoda and Esmeralda face another predatory figure in their life? No. No way! These kids should not be free.”

Jane stood up, the formerly shy fairy’s eyes were blazing, “How dare you say that when you know nothing about how they have been raised!”

Ben could see Evie tense up beside him and could imagine what she was thinking. And if he couldn’t imagine what Evie was thinking, he could see it plainly on Carlos’ harrowed face in the front row. Freddie Facilier looked ready to fight and Ben knew she was thinking about her own neglectful father while Ally patted her hand comfortingly. 

Some children had been raised and encouraged to be copies of their parents like Mal and Evie. But others were considered burdans. Punching bags. Abused and neglected and all other awful sorts of things. Just to ignore their plight because of a few bad apples, it made him want to go Beast all over again. Maybe then they would know what fear was like because that’s how Carlos felt whenever Cruella yelled at him.

He had wanted Carlos to come up to speak and share his experiences to garner sympathy for the plan but he knew he couldn’t ask the boy that. The trauma was still personal and raw to him and it would be cruel for him to talk about it if he wasn’t ready which Carlos told him he wasn’t when Evie asked.

He supposed he could ask Evie but her story of being pressured by her mother was too similar to other princesses in Auradon like Audrey who were used to conforming and plucking for beauty.

He had to admit, Evie, Mal, and Jay did have tough lives. But it sounded a bit better than most. Their parents cared enough to give them food and encourage them to be the worst. None of theirs was a story of being a burdenful orphan.

Probably because those orphans were dead.

Another voice clearing her throat snapped Ben out of his reverie.

“Yes, Esmeralda.” “Thank you, your Majesty.” Esmeralda stood up with her shoulders back and proud gaze, “I would thank Victoria Porter to keep her opinion based on the stories that she know and not use mine to construct her argument. It is not her story to tell. While I do not want Frollo strolling around Auradon hurting other my people, I am for the children being removed from the Isle. It is a type of oppression to segregate and despise these kids simply because of who they belong to. If you truly want to prevent more Claude Frollos than open your heart to people who are not like you. Do not judge them as monsters, do not be cruel to those who are most in need of your help. That is true justice.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Meow.” Zevon meowed.

“Well I’ll admit, it’s anticlimatic but it was the best I could do on such short notice.” Calix said as he, Uma and Ginny stared at the small purple cat with a fitting leather jacket that was formerly the teenager known as Zevon.

“You can change people into animals!” Ginny screeched, clutching her hair like she thought he was about to turn it into a bunch of snakes or somethhing. Though he did muse on the idea a bit. She had the same screechy hiss Medusa did.

“Yeah I can, magic works here on the Isle. I can also hyptonize with my singing. Part siren.” Calix puffed his chest proudly, “And I am….Son of Circe. Patent pending.”

That was all Ginny needed to know because she ran into the nearest room and with the click of a lock they knew she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

“Is he going to stay that way?” Uma asked reaching to pet Zevon but drew back when the kitten raised its hackles.

“Probably not since there are a bunch of people that can change him back here. But still… I thought it was poetic justice. Like a mother, like son.”

In more ways than one Calix mused to himself.

He remembered that changing people to animals was one of the firsy spells his mother taught. The one she was infamous for. Sort of his birthright.

Though what was more of a birthright was the right to have his mother with him. Wasn’t that the right of everyone in Auradon and on the Isle? Wasn’t that why Mother Gothel stealing Rapunzel was such a heinous crime. For the pain she caused King Fredric and Queen Arianna.

Did King Beast and his supporters think one second how it felt for Circe, a supposed villieness to have her son ripped away from her to live on this stinking wasteland. Or him, the innocent child, that had always depended on his mother to suddenly have the living with a family friend situation become permenant.

No.

It was all black and white for these guys. All or nothing. He always theorized that that was the reason why Auradonians were such prudes when it came to visiting Greece. The naked statues and stories of gods sleeping around and smiting was so scandalous and primitive to them. They didn’t get that there were shades of grey. Humans, gods, sorcerers, centaurs, whatever creature. They had their good and bad sides.

“Zevon what have we told you! No duels! We’re the ones in charge here!” A loud commanding voice called down the hallway, her shadow coming closer and closer and there was nowhere for them to hide without being heard or noticed.

The stunning yet imposing figure of Queen Nerissa appeared in front of them and for a moment. No one moved. She stared at them in shock then green fire burst from her mouth.

It was all so fast and the light blinded them that they could only see flashes of the fire that lit up the hallway, jumping from the torches and sparking on the bricks.

The flames licked their legs and Calix fell to the floor feeling the searing pain burn his pants only to feel more burns on his hands as he hit the floor.

He cautiously looked up to see that Queen Nerissa turned into a large purple dragon whose fangs came closer then he would have liked.

He raised his hand, a spell on his lips or a hypnotic song but his throat was closed. He couldn’t speak with the dry lump clogging his throat.

The dragon picked him up by the collar in a surprisingly gentle man compared to Uma who he heard a loud curse and looked behind to see her being picked up by the dragon’s tail uslessly throwing her captain hat out the window.

There was not much to do when Queen Nerissa literally had a big advantage over them but Calix did his best to memorize his surroundings if they ever escaped.

Instead of transforming back to a human at the door to the tower, Queen Nerissa unwisely stayed in her form, breaking the door’s frame as she squeezed her large body through it and lumbered down the stairs to the bottom floor. She broke through the iron door that led to the lowest floor which was the dungeon.

The room was damp, dark, mold growing on the brick walls. Standard dungeon aesthetic. Cells lining three walls of the room. It was surpriseingly full with what looked like corpses considering their opaque pallor but from the low, steady moaning and groaning it was clear that they were still alive prisoners. For now.

The sight made Calix feel queasy especially that of the cell he was staring directly in front of. It was a female form, he thought, under the shapeless bag of cloth. Her arms disjointed at odd angles and tied behind her head with iron chains connected to the wall. Her legs were not visible until he realized that there was a pool of blood where her legs must have been and made the connection of what must have happened.

The broken woman made Calix completely miss the two lone figure standing in the middle of the room. The tall, slender one was a man in a crisp new French Legion army outfit while the other was a teen boy, reaching up to the officer’s neck, in a silk white suit that seemed to sparkle against his combed ginger hair.

Both turned to witness Queen Nerissa’s entrence with them and smiled.

“New prisoners.” The general asked without much question in his voice. More like he was looking for confirmation to an obvious answer.

Queen Nerissa changed back to her human form, her jaws dropping Calix undignifedly to the ground with Uma.

“Possibly, Staquait. Their mothers will probably want to deal with them.” Queen Nerissa said and stalked out of the room.

There was no mistaking the groan of disappointment emitting from the ginger haired boy. It seemed out of place in this grim dungeon. Like he had just heard he wouldn’t get a new toy.

“Patience, Lars.” The officer glared at his charge, smacking the whip by his hip.

Uma growled under her breath at the name which brought the boy’s attention to them. Not a pleasent feeling.

He looked like an angry harpy to Calix. His eyes were cold like a bird of prey and full of crazed glee.

“Hello, Uma. Your friend Gil told me so much about you. Glowing compliments really. How brave you are, how smart you are. How strong and unbreakable ....” Calix waited for the inevitable “wham” line or classic villain threat. Quiet sadistic types like this guy always had some sort of line that was supposed to strike fear into their hearts.

It seemed Uma was waiting for the line too because she looked like she was surpressing a yawn. That earned a colder look in Lars’ eyes though his genial smile betrayed nothing that he was irrited by Uma’s lack of response.

“After hearing so much from Gil, I wondered. How strong and unbreakable are you? Physically, I mean. I’m sure you’re very emotionally tough dealing with the sea witch.”

“Tell me...How do you find the feel of a whip against your back?”

Uma made no response to Lars’ question, she stared straight ahead as if she hadn’t heard which Calix had a feeling wasn’t going to fly with Lars. He was going to continue prodding until Uma snapped or answered the question.

So he answered for him, as cheerful a voice as he could muster, “Strangely titilating.”

Staqauit who had wandered away from the tension between the three to obsserve some poor prisoner struggling with a heavy rock on his chest, came back to watch the proceedings that elicited such a strange response.

Lars’ eyes were truly expressive, Calix thought to himself. They showed everything the boy was thinking even when his face was frozen in a semi-permenant smile.

“Titilating?” “Yes. I’ve been experimenting with whip play with my partners. Usually I’ve been dominant but then I decided I would give it a try and It. Feels. Wonderful!” Staqauit and Lars looked at each other as if they weren’t sure what to make of his answer. If he was being genuine or lying his ass off.

Calix bit the inside of cheek to keep from smiling too much. That might make them think he was bluffing when he really wasn’t. Usually the titillation depended on whether the other person knew what he or she or they was doing. 

But it was certainly fun catching the villains off guard like this. He had always wondered about those wise cracking heroes. How they were always able to make a joke or insult their nemesis when their very lives were at stake.

Nos he understood why they did it. It was fun being a troll.

Sitting himself up in a cross-legged position Calix continued with his solo conversation, thinking of everything he usually did during his date nights. “I also enjoy the flogging. So if you’re going to do the flogging, I would like to be told ahead of time so I could whip up some oils for aftercare.”

“Where is he?” A breathless voice came from the doorway.

Calix and Uma turned simulatenously to see Circe and Ursula entering the room.

Calix’s heart lept into his throat and all thoughts of trolling and whipping and the Isle and danger faded away.

It was his mom!

Calix ran to her, ignoring the pain shooting up his legs, pressing his face against her shoulder to hide the tears that were forming. She smelled just the same. Of sea salt and magic sulfur from her potions. And she felt the same. Warm. Oh so warm. He hadn’t hugged her much, he thought he was too old for that, but it had been what he had missed most when she was gone. Hugging her, he felt safe and loved and he didn’t care if the castle burned to the ground around them or if Auradon was invaded. He had his mom again.

“Calix” Circe said that one name, but all the emotion behind it said everything he needed to know. She missed him too and the months apart had been unbearable.

“You’re certainly not punishing my son for coming over to join me as he should.” Circe announced, glaring at Staqauit who scowled in response to the sorceress.

“And why are you hanging about here? You should be at the Fish and Chip Shoppe taking orders.” Ursula barreled past Calix and his mom, poking her tentacles at Uma’s chest accusingly.

“While you’re here trying to get off of the Isle? Mom, this is what I’ve been trying to do all along. Get off the Isle. I should be a part of this.” Uma declared, smacking the tentacle away from her.

“That’s not what I’ve heard. Even after you failed at those Auradonian’s stupid Cotillion, and ran off, I’ve heard you’ve come back just to try to hire one of the mercenaries to infiltrate. Go against us. Care to explain?” Ursula cracked her neck, looking at her daughter knowingly.

Uma didn’t look like she was about to answer but she sighed, “I.. I want to help the children here. The Coven.. I know what you’re doing is good but you’re making things worse for the people who don’t have powers.” “She sounds like a sweet princess. All caring and nice.” Lars laughed earning him a slap for Ursula before she turned to her daughter, moving around her until the girl was firmly tangled in her mother’s many tentacles.

“Ah yes, I know you care about those poor unfortunate souls but that’s the way it is with some people. After all, we need someone to be our servants. They don’t have powers, what else are you going to do with their lives.” “By forcing them to work.” Uma retorted.

“Like I forced you to work.” Ursula stated, “That was a good thing. I made you strong. I made you a fighter because I made you do things on your own. Don’t act like it’s a bad thing.” “Yeah I worked. Cleaned your shop while you watched soaps.” Uma snapped.

“You ingrate!”

“Stop there, you wench!” A scottish brough shoved past Calix and Circe and menancingly pointed his hook at Ursula and throwing Uma’s captain hat back to her.

“We better get out of here.” Circe motioned but Calix stood still. Now that he was reunited with mom they all could really get to business and defeat the Coven. Starting with putting Ursula, Staqauit and Lars out of comission.” “Come on, let’s blast them while they’re distracted.” Calix urged seeing as Ursula was busy batting off Harry’s hook and Staqauit and Lars had turned to attend their prisoners. However, Circe pulled him back.

“We can’t do that. We’re working with them.” Circe hissed.

“Wait you’re actually working with them to take over Auradon? But I’m here with you now. You don’t have to act like the bad guy.” Calix protested.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I’ll explain it to you later. Let’s just go.” Circe said.

“But..”

“Everyone stop!” 

In strode Queen La, holding her shame-faced daughter by the wrist and two spears and staffs with the other hand. “It seems the children want to stop our plans. Well I made a deal with my daughter. A duel between us. If I win, you all submit to us. If Ranavalalona wins, we’ll let you go plot from afar but I really doubt you’d succeed in anything.”

“No! We all duel or nnothing!” Harry snarled, lunging to attack the Queen but Staqauit, Ursula and Lars teamed to subdue him and wrestled him to the ground, giving Calix a clear sight of the poor prisoner that had been struggling under the rock.

Though he couldn’t see his face, he recognized the black wavy hair. Aziz.

Calix wanted to move away like his mom was urging him. He wanted to fight like his brain was screaming at him.

But he couldn’t do anything but watch.

Lala and La took their places at opposite sides of the room and ran to attack each other. Kicks and jumps beat fast between them like a fatal dance, and sparks flew whenever their spears clashed against the other. The only sound being grunts and growls and the occasional cat like screech set the cage battle atmosphere.

They seemed evenly matched with whenever the older woman hit her daughter back, Lala would retaliate with a feigned right, swinging up to catch a rotting ceiling plank to kick her mother’s chest, sending the woman across the room.

Then everything went downhill.

Their spears had been broken and discarded and Lala had her mother pinned against the wall after almost knocking her out with a headbutt.

But the wooziness was faked for La straightened up and punched her daughter in the throat. Lala fell back, choking and La made her move.

Hitting again at the sensitive throat she grabbed Lala by the neck and threw her to the ground. Calix was sure that Lala’s neck would have snapped but the girl moved just in time to go along with the blow.

With Lala on her stomach, scrambling to get back to her feet, Queen La pounced on her back and pulled both of Lala’s arms back just as the jungle girl had done to him when they first encountered her.

He grimaced with sympathy pain remembering how she had pulled his muscle unmercifully from the joint that it was connected to.

“Mother!”

La stopped and Calix hung his head in defeat. It was official.

But La wasn’t done.

She let go of Lala’s arms and allowed her to turn to her back and proceed to press her foot against her daughter’s neck.

“Mot-ugh-Mo--Mercy. Please!” Lala wheezed, grabbing desperately at the ground and her mother’s leg but La just glared.

La crouched down, not removing her foot from her daughter’s neck and bent to whisper something. Then she finished her off by knocking her unconscious.

“Staqauit, the isolation cell is where?” Queen La asked, hefting her daughter on her back.  

“I’ll lead you to it.” Staqauit lended the jungle queen his arm and they walked off.

“Come you two. I have some plans for what you two can do for me.” Ursula said leading Harry and Uma away.

“Come on, Calix.” Circe whispered solomnly and Calix allowed himself to be moved away from the dungeon. The last sight being Lars’ smile.

[noxgold]

The Rogue Whaler - Ch.2  Of Cats and Whalers

The rattle of blood stained gold against the cold stone and the bite of a colder blade. Read on AO3. 

Corvo didn’t even try to fight the laughter that came bubbling out of his throat at the sight of the wanted poster pasted to the wall of the filthy alley he was hiding in, perched up on a rusted pipe out of the way. The poster was already a grimey off yellow despite being less than a day old yet Corvo had to fight the urge to tear it from the wall to keep and hang in his little attic above the Pub.

WANTED

FOR THE MURDER OF

HIGH OVERSEER THADDEUS CAMPBELL

As well as Crimes of Heresy

DAUD

Reward of 5,000 Coins For Capture or Death

Due to his original mask still being in a state of disrepair despite Piero’s promises, Corvo still wore the whalers clothes he had stolen from Holger’s Square. He had originally planned on ditching them for whatever castoffs he could find but the sight of the wanted poster now put him in a frame of mind to let himself be seen and have the Pendletons’ death pinned on Daud as well. Why put the guards on edge looking for another masked menace when they can focus on one that already exists?

A rough voice calling “Oi, did you hear that? Hey, is anybody down there?!” broke Corvo’s musing. Not in the mood to deal with whoever was coming, and with one last mirthful gaze at the wanted poster, Corvo blinked up to the pipes screwed to the wall then across to the balcony above him. Upon reaching his destination however, he almost fell back down to the alleyway in shock. Though to be fair, the whaler crouched in front of him seemed just as surprised to see him as Corvo was to see them.

The distortion of their mask didn’t do anything to hide the curiosity lacing their tone as the whaler stood and leant past Corvo to peer down into the street, one hand tightening around the hilt of their sword. “What are you doing up here? Did something happen?”

Mind reeling, off balance by the assassin so easily standing in front of him and seemingly waiting for an answer, Corvo ducked forward and caught the whaler around the neck to drag them backward away from the edge as he choked them. They flailed, rubber gloves scratching at his arms, but it didn't take him long to choke them out into unconsciousness.

Laying them gently down onto the floor, the back of his neck itched as if there was someone else watching them. A flash of dark vision showed a second whaler on the other side of the alley, face gazing in their direction but body relaxed as if they haven’t noticed their missing partner yet. A carefully aimed blink put Corvo behind them, watching his feet as he crept closer to drag them down as well.

The second Whaler didn’t fare much better against the strength of Corvo’s arms, going down with a muffled whimper, and soon he was lifting them over his shoulders before they could fall to the ground, eyeing the plague corpses wrapped in the corner. A quick blink took him back to the other balcony and he dropped the whaler beside the first one. Where the fuck were they all coming from?

A flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye made Corvo groan, arming his crossbow as he turned in time to watch a third whaler stalk along the rooftop above where the merchant Griff was smoking. Quietly, as not to alert Griff to their presence, Corvo loaded and shot a sleep dart into the whaler’s arm. He winced at the thump they made as they hit the roof but made no move to retrieve them, instead staring silently as the pair of assassins lying helpless at his feet.

He had made it a rule to spare guards whenever possible, men he understood were only doing their duty to the crown. But these men, they were paid killers loyal to the man who had killed his Empress and kidnapped their child. They were murderers, assassins… unconscious. The Heart, tucked carefully in his coat over his own chest, beat in time with his, Jessamine’s voice but a whisper in his ears. ‘Daud's men. Secrets so well kept - even I cannot discern the truth.’ No, what help was that? Corvo’s eyes burned, knuckles clenched white around the hilt of his blade as he stared down at the unconscious bodies. Would he leave them alive to tear more families apart? His foot inched forward, blade snapping out with a quiet hiss as he drowned in memories of a blood stained pavilion. Jessamine- ‘ When others might choose to draw blood, you find another way. This, I think, is my highest praise.’ Jessamine wouldn’t want this.

Cheeks wet and heart heavy with grief, Corvo almost threw himself out of the window in his haste to leave the men to sleep where he had stashed them. Dropping down onto the pipes then across to the roof where the third whaler was snoring, Corvo crept across to another set of pipes as not to wake them and followed it around the building. The Wall of Light presented a problem but some careful aim with his blink landed him in the room above, avoiding it altogether.

Corvo wasn’t pleased to see the watchtower either, though it was simple enough to disable with a well timed blink and the removal of the whale oil tank. A ruined house by the corner beckoned him with a whale’s song,The Heart drumming against his ribs. But this was neither the time or the place to deal with it’s magic just yet, so the rune Corvo swept off the table was tucked away for later use.

The entrance to the Golden Cat was poorly guarded, the guard on the third floor balcony almost asleep at his post. A frown tugged at Corvo’s eyes as he dragged the man down to the ground, knocking him out with a vicious punch. The man was meant to be protecting two members of Parliament and this was how he acted? Just because it made his job easier didn’t mean he couldn’t disapprove.

Slipping in through an open window, Corvo froze at the sound of the voices right below where he perched on the ledge, barely breathing as to not give away his position. “The Pendletons are here again. I need to get the men into position.”

“Lord Morgan is down in the Steam Room with Loulia and Lord Curtis is in the Gold Room with Voiletta upstairs.” A quick glance down confirmed that the voices belonged to a guard and what could only be the Madame of the House, since he doubted any of the courtesans would be dressed so garish. A gap in the decor let him creep above the next room and drop down behind the Madame as she left the guard behind and moved to unlock a door. Her rather sharp nails clawed at his sleeves as he strangled her, letting her unconscious body drop to the floor shamelessly to ruffle through the papers on her desk.

Lord Curtis Pendleton, with Voiletta in the Gold Room, third floor. Mister Bunting, with Betty in the Silver Room, second floor. Lord Morgan Pendleton, with Loulia in the Steam Room, downstairs.

A guest ledger confirmed the locations of his targets but it was a hastily written note left lying on a side table that gave him the information he sought. Rage curling through his veins, edged with pride, as he took how they had kept his daughter yet she still struggled to escape and defy them.

I know we're running low on beds, but I must have a room for the child. She's more important than you can guess, and recently she almost got away, using the VIP entrance. That's why I decided to keep the master key in my possession. This girl must be cared for, even if she's a brat, and I want her kept in a room to herself.

~ Madame Prudence

Corvo turned and unhooked the key off the Madame’s belt and tucked it into his. Emily first, he could come back for the Pendletons once he was sure she was safe. Leaving Prudence were she had fallen, Corvo padded up the staircase until he reached the top floor. He paused, waited for the courtesan to put her back to the open door to shoot her with a sleep dart, then slipped past to reach the room holding Emily.

Emily's head snapped upright at the sound of the door, dark hair whipping around her face. “Who-” she began, her voice hesitant before fear stole the colour from her face and the voice from her throat. It took her scream of “No! No, get away from me!” for the knowledge of exactly whose mask she was seeing hit him.

Dropping to his knees, Corvo tore at the straps holding the whaler's mask to his face and threw it to the ground carelessly, his voice torn from his throat in a low rasp, desperate to reassure and stricken with pain. “Emily, Emily, it’s me, it’s Corvo."

Emily took a hesitant step towards him, her voice smaller than he had ever heard it.  “Corvo…? Why are you wearing that? You’re… not apart of the group who killed mother, …are you?”

If someone had asked him at that moment, he would have sworn under oath that 6 months of torture in Coldridge had hurt less than that question. If he had known that this disguise would have led to this, he would have happily thrown the lot out the window and rescued her in his underclothes.  

Corvo swallowed his pain and offered his hand out, praying the he hadn't ruined everything.“It’s just a disguise, I swear. So people wouldn't know it was me doing these things. Please, Emily.”

His voice cracked on the last word but Emily seemed to accept his excuse and barreled towards him, small arms tangling around his neck as she buried her face into his chest. “They told me you were gone, head chopped off in prison, dead like mother."

Corvo buried his face in her hair, soothed by the knowledge that his daughter was now safe in his arms and no one would ever take her from him again. "I'm here, I'm here and I'll never leave you again.” She nodded slightly and let him press one last kiss to the top of her head before she pulled away reluctantly.

Corvo stood and hooked the whaler’s mask to his belt before he let Emily lead him down to the exit she knew of. He shot her a silent order to stay behind him as Corvo unlocked the VIP door and scanned the area behind it. The room itself was empty and the pathway lead out to the street boarded up. Content that it was a safe enough place for Emily to wait while he dealt with the Pendletons, Corvo turned back to Emily and knelt down to look her in the eyes, raising a hand to gently brush back a stray lock. “Wait here. If anything happens, run back into the building screaming.”

Emily nodded and wrapped both arms around his waist, giving him a brief squeeze then a light push back towards the staircase. “Don’t worry about me, Corvo. I’ll be fine.”

Corvo mock frowned down at the girl in front of him but took another few steps backwards at her urging. “Emily, it is quite literally my job to worry about you.” She just beamed back unrepentant and waved him on.

Corvo waited for Emily to crack open the door and slip through before reattaching the whaler mask. He turned and crept up the staircase until he reached the second floor where Courtesans flirted with patrons while guards made their rounds. At there, across the room, was a staircase leading down to the Steam Room.

A very helpful ring of decorative metal hung from the ceiling which gave him a nice platform to blink up to. As soon as no eyes were on the entrance, Corvo dropped down and crept down the stairs to where a pair of guards chatted with each other as they waited on Lord Pendleton. Not willing to risk one of the guards turning around while he was choking the other out, Corvo simply shot them both in the leg with a sleep dart and let them crash to the ground.

Ignoring Morgan’s nasally call of “What are you two buffoons doing out there?”, Corvo calmly unlocked the door with the Madame’s master key, kicked the door open and unloaded another sleep dart into Loulia’s back. At any other point in time, Morgan’s high pitched screams of “Guards! Guards!” would have been annoying, but with Morgan’s guards sleeping soundly thanks to his darts, Corvo just found it pitiful.

"You're one of Daud's men, aren't you? You cannot be thinking of harming me. I'm Lord Morgan Pendleton!" Morgan’s words stumbled across each other as he switched to bribery when his threats just rolled off Corvo. "I'm a rich man! Whatever you've been paid, I can double it! Triple it!" It finally seemed to sink in that Corvo had no plans of sparing him as he rolled his shoulders and flicked out his blade, causing Morgan to lunge for his own. Unfortunately for him, his executioner was one of the fastest swordsmen in the empire and Corvo’s sword sunk smooth and deep into Morgan’s stomach before Morgan’s hand even touched the hilt of his blade.  

Corvo’s gaze was flat as he turned on his heel and left the nobleman to die in a pool of his own blood. This wasn’t something he took pleasure in. But blood called for blood and he would see Jessamine’s death repaid. Thankfully, the noise from upstairs had covered any echoes of Morgan’s screams with no guards being the wiser. A blink to a higher balcony and a few well aimed sleep darts took care of the few guards doing their jobs, leaving the door to the Gold Room undefended.  

Corvo dropped gently to the ground, mouth set in a firm line. Aware that any loud noises would attract the attention of the guards on the floor below, Corvo pushed the door open with a gentle click, darting behind a painted screen. The Void swept through him as he let the sleep dart fly, shoving his blade up to the hilt in Curtis Pendleton’s neck.

Unwilling to leave Emily alone for any long, Corvo left the bodies where they fell and let a few short blinks carry him back to the top of the staircase leading down to the VIP entrance. The staircase was empty as he followed it down to the door where he had left his daughter. The feathery voice of the old lady waiting in the next room did very little to sooth the icy fear that clutched Corvo’s heart when he found no trace of Emily where he had left her. “This is no place to leave a young lady. But don’t worry about the little dearie, she’s safe and sound with your nice boatman.”

The groans and cries of Weepers added to his stress as he thanked Granny Rags and moved past her. Old lady or not, if anything had happened to Emily while he was gone, he was coming back and mounting her head on a pike. Using the pipes and rocks to blink up and over the weepers, Corvo landed on the rooftop next to where he had left the pair of unconscious whalers.The sight of yet another whaler waiting on the roof across the street, however, froze him in his tracks.  

Corvo carefully edged around the corner and studied the assassin perched on the opposite roof. Instead of the now familiar grey, the  new Whaler wore a deep blue coat. A different rank, perhaps? There was no way he could cross the street without the assassin seeing him. His only hope was that his disguise would hold up against this whaler as well. Making sure his crossbow was within easy reach, the last sleep dart safely loaded, Corvo blinked across to the support beam and waited for the assassin to see him.

It only took a moment for them to notice Corvo standing out in the open and appear in front of him in a cloud of ash. “Report. Are the others awake yet? What happened?” The thick gas mask did nothing to hide the air of command the other whaler carried or the way they studied Corvo, next words a more cautious drawl. “Where are your gloves?”

Oh fuck, the gloves. He still stood by his decision to leave the original Whalers gloves behind and there was no way he was going to put on those that belonged to the whalers he knocked out today, with their unused pin. That still didn’t help him as the assassin took a step towards him, staring at his hands. Unwilling to find out where this was going, Corvo drew up crossbow, aimed and fired his last sleep dart into the Whalers arm in a smooth motion. The assassin stumbled and tried to draw their sword before crashing to the tiles as the drug kicked in.

Grumbling to himself over the price of sleep darts and assassins that seemed to breed like rabbits, Corvo unhooked his mask and attached it to his belt, heading back towards Samuel’s boat leaving the whaler behind him to sleep off the dart. Next time he saw them, he was going to fucking rob them of their coin.

[aceofwonders]

crane witcher mans mini lore drop!

— Meredith of Bremervoord aka The Shrike [BOARD] — he’s Sinead’s first mate/right hand and helps her run the robin hood esque league of pirates (that i still need to name) — he’s fiercely loyal to his little found family group and takes his position as leader very seriously! can be pretty laidback and chill but only really around very close friends otherwise he can end up being a rude and tactless motherfucker lmao — i need to do more wiki diving but i wanna lean into some aquatic monster shit with his backstory