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korncest · 2 months ago

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FILL HER UP AND LEAVE HER DUMB!

SIREN IS TYPING! | FINALLY! PISS FIC IS OUT! i wanted to apologize for taking sosososo long for putting it out, ive been juggling college and writer’s block HORRIBLY >< i’ve written this like 101380203 times and i guess this one is the least mediocre one.. thank you to my babe pillsy & pups for proof reading this and dealing with the fact ive written this like a million times now.. 6.5k words!

WARNINGS! | NSFW! PISS! URINE! PEE! leon will be pissing while he’s balls deep so if you don’t fw piss do not read! don’t! torture! yourself! age gaps, leon isn’t like? the best person? gross, sleazy, i guess! damnation leon is in his mid thirties, reader is in her early twenties, dumbification, semi-public sex? bar bathroom drunk sex, sloppy fucking, creampie, mediocre orgasm cuz leon is gross and only really cared about himself, clit playing, etc etc idk

SYNOPSIS! | damnation! leon kennedy x bimbo! reader — bar hook ups are rare when you’re in your thirties and go to sport bars filled with men, but when a pretty face comes in wearing the sluttiest outfit and doesn’t have a thought in her brain, leon knew he needed to get in a quick fuck. but after a full night of nursing whiskey, he can’t help his bladder filling up mid fuck!

dim lights, chatter, and old men — that’s what this bar was.

so why were you here?

leon was surprised, pretty girls like you don’t come around to places like these often.

look at you! dressed in the sluttiest crop top and skirt you could find. were you stupid? coming to a bar filled with gross middle aged men dressed like that? it was like you were asking for trouble.

leon had been seated at the bar, staring down at his glass blankly, mind fuzzy and blurry while his face stayed void of emotion. he had been on autopilot, maybe if he was at another bar he would be doing something else— but that was empty wishful thinking, once a sip of alcohol enters his system his mind blanks. a way to cope, simply. that was the intention tonight. but that’s when you came in — practically skipping to the bar and taking the empty seat next to him.

he had glanced over at you, a thoughtless action, but when he saw you, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw.

you were cute, sitting up with perfect posture, your tits practically spilling out of your shirt while you stared at the bartender with sparkling eyes, and you were sitting next to him? god must’ve heard his prayers and thrown him a bone.

he kept a sly gaze on you while you ordered, watching you bat your eyelashes at the bartender while you ordered, biting your glossy lips in thought while you leaned against the counter. leon felt envious of the bartender, as he stood on the other side of the bar, he must be getting a nice look down your low-cut shirt. asshole.

as you ordered, leon expected to hear you order something fruity, a frozen piña colada or whatever younger girls like you liked, but leon’s eyebrows raised in amusement once he heard your order. “uhh, can i have a cola? thank you!” you said, sounding so eager, leon’s brain reeled, did you really just ask for a soda? at a bar? are you stupid? the bartender simply nodded and turned away from you. you smiled dumbly and shifted in your seat, pulling your denim skirt down to cover your thighs. barely. you pulled out your phone, a cute iphone 4s with a hot pink cover, it suited you.

moving to grip his glass, leon pulled it to his lips before he took a long swig of the drink, a small breath leaving his lips as he put the glass back.

“if you wanted a soda you could’ve gone to circle-k, you know?” leon said, turning his head to face you, a lazy smirk curling at his lips.

your head perked up, and looking over at him, you smiled dumbly. “yeah! but, like, i wanted an excuse to go out! but alcohol is so gross.” you replied, a small laugh leaving your lips as you turned your body to face him fully, leon let out a low hum. “so, you decided to get all dressed up and go to a bar.. just to get a soda? c’mon, at least get a drink.” leon pressed, glancing over at the bartender before looking back at you. “it’s part of the bar experience, sweetheart.” he said, waving his hand in a swift moment as he spoke, you squirmed in your seat, biting your bottom lip, “mmm, i don’t know.. what do you think i’d like?”

leaning back against his stool, leon let out a small laugh, “i don’t know, sweetheart. a strawberry margarita? you like strawberries, yeah? it’s a nice fruity drink, something you can handle.” he nodded, watching as the bartender slid over a glass of soda.

taking the glass, you moved it over to your lips, popping the red straw into your mouth before taking a sip. “are you gonna buy it for me?” you teased, batting your eyelashes up at him before you crossed your legs. huffing, leon let out a small laugh, “what’s in it for me?” did you really think you could drain his wallet and not give him anything in return? c’mon.

“uhm.. you’d make me, like, super happy,” you said, a smile curling on your lips as he stared at him.

“as pretty as your smile is i’m gonna need something more.” he said, you’re already smiling, why would he pay ten bucks to see you smile more? sure, he had the money, but did he want to give it? nah.

“aww,” you whined, “okay, you can get anything you want, mister!” you caved, voice high pitched and cheery. “but, like, as long as it’s not like, i don’t know..wanting my organs or something, i can totally give it to you!” you said, giving him a playful wink. were you being serious? anything? c’mon, that was just too easy, a small smirk curled on his lips at your words, anything?

letting out a breath through his nose, leon crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket squeaking at the movement.

“you’re way too eager, sweetheart. you’ll end up in the wrong hands if you continue like that.” he said, moving his head to the side and shifting in his seat, pushing his hips forward, his thighs spreading slightly. manspreading like any other guy at the bar, but your eager eyes flickered down to his pants, watching as the denim fabric curled on his lap.

a spark of thought hit you, your thighs clenched together as a small laugh left your lips, your head moved to the side and you waved his words off.

“c’mon, mister, i’m a big girl— i can toootally handle myself!” you giggled, moving your finger to curl around your hair.

leon let out a hum, not believing a word you said.

“yeah? you can?” he mused, he knew you didn’t.

you nodded though, perking up on your chair, arching your back slightly to keep your posture upright and your tits pushed out. leon took a glance, leopard print shirt that barely fit and a push up bra, your tits were squeezed together in a full display. were you good at tit jobs? with a rack like that, he sure hoped you were.

“well, duh! i’m like, super good at handling myself, mister!” you rebutted, putting your hands on your hips as you hit the power pose, trying to prove your point.

“leon,” he said, your head tilted to the side, “leon?” you asked stupidly.

“that’s my name.”

“ohh.”

you were real cute, but damn, you were real stupid too.

it didn’t take a scientist to figure it out, fuck, look at you.

you stared at leon like a puppy— a stupid puppy look. not a single worry behind your dumb little eyes, you believed the world was at the palm of your hand, and it probably was. from the stories you told him you were nothing more than daddy’s princess, one pout, and dear old dad was pulling out his checkbook and writing off a fat check with how much money you asked for. he was even paying for your apartment, you had it nice, no need to study or learn, daddy’s inheritance would cover any of your worries.

you reminded him of ashley, like a far memory, but ashley was a sweetheart. a smart girl, but you? you were just spoiled and stupid, he didn’t mind though, he could easily deal with you if he wanted to.

leon noticed how you stared at him when he spoke, wide doe eyes focused on him intently like he was the messiah while you were nothing more than an apostle, like the words that slipped from his tongue were the route to salvation. it was silly, he was just some guy in his thirties, buzzed, and in a bar— were you one of those girls that were into that? the cute bimbos that wanted nothing more than a taste of cock from guys over half their age? probably, he’s already caught you sneaking glances at his pants, each shift and adjustment had your eyes glued to his crotch, thinking you were being slick.

god, what a cock hungry whore.

he had noted that as he spoke, you would nod along to his words with such eagerness, it made him wonder if you were even listening to him.

c’mon, his mundane stories weren’t that interesting, maybe if he was honest about his job then he could understand why you seemed so interested, but he was sure if he uttered a single word about the undead the government would have his head. a red little glow dot resting against his forehead and that would be the end of leon scott kennedy.

the government blew up an entire city with the infected and innocents without care to preserve their image. after all, one more life wouldn’t worry them. well, maybe his, leon’s the president’s lap dog after all—

nonetheless, those were secrets he wasn’t going to share with a nice pair of tits. you probably wouldn’t even understand.

you spoke a lot, with a cute little valley girl accent, the words like and totally were practically engraved into your vocabulary. If leon took a shot everytime you said any of the words he would’ve died of alcohol poisoning.

the more you spoke, the more leon realized you didn’t have a sense of safety, it was almost funny. why did he know what high school you went to? what state were you born in? what your favorite doll growing up was? you had just met him and you were letting him in on all your secrets, like that one time you ran over the neighbor's mailbox and fled the scene immediately after, then playing the innocent angel card. or when you cheated on all your trigonometry tests in high school by writing the answers on your upper thigh and then wearing a skirt to have easy access to the answers. in your words, you never got caught because if the teacher asked you to lift your skirt he would be a sick perv!

he wasn’t complaining, your stories were entertaining at the very least, a nice distraction from his own world.

by now, leon had given in and gotten you that margarita, only one, sure he wasn’t a saint— he was a guy in his mid-thirties wanting to fuck a girl almost a decade younger than him— but he wasn’t horrible.

you, on the other hand, had no sense of how to drink alcohol, sipping down the juice like it was juice and the effects were beginning to become apparent by your tittering and giggling.

you were having a great time, getting looser and sloppier as you continued.

“y’know, leon? you’re like, totally hot! likeee, i haven’t met a guy your age that looks this good!” you babbled, giggling at your own words.

nodding, leon raised an eyebrow, “yeah?” he replied, he was getting force fed compliments by you, it was starting to get annoying, but he wouldn’t say that.

you were like a puppy, he already made that connection,

but you were definitely one of those overly clingy puppies, the ones that whimpered and whined when their owner wasn’t in the same room they were in. you’d probably do anything to please your hypothetical owner, you already offered to do anything for a margarita, god knows the skies the limit with bimbos like you.

he wondered if you would follow him out of the bar, like a puppy. where are we going? can i come with you? can you take me in?— okay, maybe not that last part, but he couldn’t be too sure.

you’d have some cute floppy ears as a pup, leon thinks, but that was enough of the puppy metaphors, you were still giggling and babbling stupidities.

after a bit of buttering up, leon decided that if he wanted to make a move on you, it was now more than ever.

you would be more than willing, that’s for sure.

taking out his wallet and calling over the bartender, leon fished out his black american express— sure, it was a silent brag, but he didn’t care.

“i’ll pay for the lady’s drinks too,” leon explained as he signaled over to his side, the man nodded and took his card before stepping away to finish the transaction. you stared at the older man with stars behind your eyes, sparkling under the dim yellow light, “you’re so sweet,” you began, leaning in against his arm, batting your eyelashes up at him.

your arms wrapped around him, hugging it, squeezing and feeling the muscle under the jacket that just so did a good job at hiding his build.

your brain was starting to melt as you squeezed his biceps, “can i make it up for you? i can pay you back,” you cooed, words slurred slightly as you nuzzled your head against his jacket. it smelled nice, he smelled nice. his cologne was almost sweet, and masculine, but not musky and gross, it was so nice, he was just so nice.

leon glanced down at you, taking back his credit card as he did so.

you were so fucking desperate to get fucked it was almost laughable.

“you can make it up to me,” he hummed, his arm slipping around your smaller waist, his hand coming to rest against your hip, squeezing the flesh.

“c’mon,” he nudged, patting your hip before he stood up from the stool and took hold of your hand, leading you away from the bar. it almost seemed like he was taking you to the back exit, was his car back there? you followed behind him, clinging onto his arm, you were nothing more than arm candy for him.

as the music got softer and the chatter died down, leon lead you down the small hallway in the back of the bar, by where the bathrooms were.

you assumed you would just walk past them and slip out through the back door, but instead, leon’s arm moved to rest behind your back, letting you walk in front of him before he pushed you into the men’s bathroom.

stumbling, your gaze moved around the new setting. “leon! you didn’t need to push!” you whined, fixing your skirt as you looked back at the older man. leon was by the door, his hand holding the door knob as he shut the door behind him and locked it. “sorry, sweetheart, couldn’t have anyone see you. you’re not supposed to be in here.” he said, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips as he moved to face you. “men’s,” he reminded, pointing over at the singular urinal by the toilet.

“oh, yeah,” you said, suddenly not seeing an issue with his actions.

“why are we here?” you asked curiously, leaning against the sink, the bathroom was small, just a single-person layout. “you said you wanted to make it up for me, right?” leon reminded, you nodded, your head tilting to the side. “well, you’re gonna make it up to me here, that’s not a problem, right? there’s no harm in a bit of thrill.” he waved off.

“wait, we’re gonna fuck here? but that’s like, totally gross!” you whined, your lips curling into a small pout, leon stepped closer, “it’s not that bad, it’s just a bathroom.” he shrugged, he’s been in worse situations. he’s ran through sewers, lived off scraps in spain, and didn’t have access to showers, he’s been covered in blood and zombie guts before— safe to say, a meek little bathroom at a bar was the least of his worries.

“but like, the floor is gross and sticky!” you whined, why couldn’t he take you back to his place? that’s so not cool!

leon hummed, moving to press your body against the porcelain sink of the bathroom, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips nicely. “i’m not gonna throw you against the floor, sweetheart, relax,” he said, a small breath leaving his lips as he moved one of his hands against your upper back, applying pressure and bending you over the sink. your manicured hands moved and gripped the sides of the sink as your head leaned up.

you locked eyes with leon through the mirror, he had the same brooding expression he’s been holding for most of the evening.

leon’s gaze moved from your back to your pretty face as he gazed at you through the mirror, icy blue eyes meeting your warmer ones. “i’m gonna keep you here, yeah? bent over and pretty, so relax.” he explained, his hands moving back down to your hips, sliding down to grip your ass. he squeezed the flesh of your ass before his hands slipped your denim skirt up.

“cute,” he complimented, tone coming out more monotone than he intended. you were wearing these cute literally lace panties, they were a cutesy little pastel pink.

did you always wear these out or were you wearing these just so any guy that wanted to fuck you saw?

your face heated up, your eyebrows furrowing up slightly at his words as you glanced at him. a small whine left your lips, “do you like them?” you asked softly, arching your back nicely, popping your ass out, the curve of it showing off the cute little panties like it was a lingerie ad. or screenshot of a porn video. “yeah,” leon replied, “who are you trying to impress, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing the curve of your ass idly.

you bit your bottom lip and swayed your hips twice to side in a slow motion, “you?” cheeky. leon let out a scoffing laugh as his hand moved away from your ass before it came back down, smacking your flesh, your body jolted in surprise. “leon!” ouch! what the fuck! “sorry, i couldn’t help it.” leon said from behind you, looking at the mirror, you noticed the lazy smirk on his lips.

“you’re mean, at least give me a warning.” you whined, “that would take away the fun, don’t be a baby.” leon grumbled.

pursing your lips, you let out a small huff, asshole!

leon’s hands moved to your panties, hooking his fingers around the waistband before he tugged them down unceremoniously. he was sloppy and drunk, besides, this was a quick bathroom fuck, he wasn’t going to play like the man of your dreams.

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you felt the bathroom breeze caress your exposed skin.

leon didn’t care enough to push your panties down to your ankles, deciding to just leave them by your mid-thigh.

his hands reached back up to your ass before he angled your hips up slightly and slipped down to his knees. “leon—?” you were just about to ask what he was doing before you were cut off by a gasp being ripped out of your lungs, feeling his warm tongue press against your puffy pussy.

leon’s lips were pressed against your cunt, one hand holding your thigh up as your weight rested on the porcelain sink, the edge of the sink still digging against your pelvis uncomfortably— but the attention to your pussy was making the discomfort a forgotten thought.

“leon!” you squeaked, your hand squeezing the sink as he sloppily licked and sucked on your cunt.

was it the best head you’ve ever gotten? no, but you didn’t care— given that it was an older man and hotter than any grimy guy your age, you didn’t really care!

huffing against your cunt, leon slipped his tongue between your folds, he wasn’t doing this to get you off either, but he didn’t have lube, so spit was the second-best option. with his eyes shut, his nails dug into your thighs, savoring the taste of your cunt.

you kept your back arched and your ass stuck out as small mewls and whines left your glossy lips, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as your breathing got shaky.

his licks were quick and sloppy, his own spit rolling down his chin, making his skin glossy before she pulled away from your cunt— a line of drool connecting his tongue and your cunt.

you let out a noise of displeasure, that was so quick and anti-climactic!

standing back up, leon huffed as he stared down at you, catching the pout on your lips. “what? did you want me to go in without prep?” he asked, letting out a small breathy laugh, “should’ve just told me.” he shrugged, his hands slipping down to his pants as he sloppily undid his belt, fumbling with the leather.

“what? no!” without prep? that would hurt!

“then stop pouting.” leon bit back.

slipping his cock out of his pants, he let out a shaky breath as his hand wrapped around it. beating his fist around his dick, leon huffed, feeling his cock come to life slowly— the whiskey was making it hard to keep his cock up, but eventually, he managed a semi.

good enough.

moving his cock against your slick cunt, leon nudged the tip against your warm pussy, teasing your folds. letting out a small breath through parted lips, your eyes shut, focusing on the feeling.

tilting his head to the side as his gaze stayed focused on your cunt, watching your spit covered folds spread as he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, slipping it under before he slapped his shaft against your puffy clit, watching your shoulders tense at the feeling:

“g’nna put it in,” leon mumbled, slurring his words slightly.

“o-okay.”

slipping his tip back against your slit, leon nudged his cock forward, his tip pushing apart your walls, they eagerly spread— warm and wet, welcoming his cock nicely.

sucking in a sharp breath, leon clenched his jaw as his lips pursed, fuck, was the only thought in his mind.

feeling his cock push past your pussy walls in a slow, savoring pace, your eyes fluttered as they rolled back, your lips parting as a shallow gasp left your lips. gripping the porcelain sink, you whined. “leon..” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip as you raised your gaze to look at him through the mirror.

“yeah?” he mused, his hips and thighs resting flat against your ass as he held your hips. meeting his gaze, his own eyes were lidded, face flushed pink, “i haven’t even started n’you’re already whimpered like a puppy.” he huffed, moving one hand to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he yanked it back— making your back arch almost painfully.

a sharp yelp left your lips at the movement, “..leave me alone,” you replied to his tease, your eyes shutting.

leon said nothing in reply, instead, he pulled his hips back, feeling your walls hug him snugly, a shuddering breath leaving his lips as he did so. you might be a fucking idiot, but your pussy was making his brain numb.

gasping out a moan, you felt his cock pull back before it slipped back inside your cunt, his cock nuzzling against your cervix. your pussy was practically a fleshlight if leon thought about it.

drunk bathroom sex wasn’t something out of a dream or a porno, it wasn’t meant to be meticulous and romantic, it was gross and sloppy— that’s what this was. leon’s cock stuffing in and out of your pretty pussy at an uneven pace, hard, fast, and sloppy.

“f—fuck—“ you choked out, your hand moving to rest against the mirror as you clung desperately onto something. your eyes were shut, lips parted into an ‘o’ shape as his cock bullied your pussy, “s-slow down!” you squeaked. leon groaned, “you can take it, relax.“ he muttered, hips snapping against yours, heavy balls slapping against your puffy clit.

letting out a drawn-out moan, you shook your head dumbly, your brain mushy, “no..” you mumbled. yes, you could take it, if anything, you wanted it, but what happened to having fun? leon let out a small grunt, gripping your hair and making you arch more— he leaned over slightly and pressed a small kiss on your forehead, “your pussy is telling me otherwise, sweetheart.” he cooed, letting go of your hair before he gripped your forearms and brought them to your back, keeping them flush against your back before using them as leverage to continue fucking your cunt.

your eyes rolled back as your body rested against the porcelain, fuck! you were so turned on it was hard to place it into words—! you couldn’t even speak.

guttural moans were leaving your lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, squeezing and gripping, sucking his cock back inside you greedily.

while leon fucked you, he realized how increasingly louder you were getting. your pretty moans were nothing but an ego boost, but he shouldn’t be fucking a twenty-something-year-old girl in a public bathroom, he doubts the shitty country music that played through the bar speakers was going to be able to drown out your noise if you continue, so he moved to grip your wrists in one hand before he reached out from behind you and clasped over your mouth.

your cunt squeezed, “shhh,” leon cooed, “can’t let people hear you, remember?” he reminded, making sure you kept quiet. nodding, you moaned into his hand and squirmed, cheek pressed against the porcelain.

mid-fuck, leon’s drunken mind realized something—

he needed to fucking piss.

he hasn’t realized it before, but now, his lower belly was aching, his full bladder making sure it’s known.

he tried to ignore it, he just wanted to cum, honestly— but as he continued to slip his cock in and out of your cunt, the more his bladder ached. the organ crying out at him, all that whiskey from earlier was now aching to come out.. how many drinks did he have before? he doesn’t even remember.

the pressure in his belly was increasing, he could feel his bladder tossle as he moved, if he pressed on his lower belly right now— right above his pubic bone— it would probably be hard. it was like a balloon, jesus.

letting out a small hiss, leon muttered an “oh, fuck,” moving his hand from your mouth back to your hip, gripping the fat of your hip tightly. his brow furrowing and jaw clenching as he shut his eyes.

he could pull out, sure, but he was already do fucking close— “..what happened?” you babbled after hearing the mutter coming from the older man after his hips stilled.

leon glanced over at your face through the mirror, you looked fucked out and faced, face of a fucking pornstar.

“i gotta take a piss.” he mumbled, his hips stilling, but his cock still nuzzled inside you. “huh?” you mumbled, peeking your head up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “i have to piss.” he repeated, his face was flushed, was it because was embarrassed? because he was in the middle of fucking? or because he was drunk? he didn’t know.

your mind wasn’t going— too stupid and fucked out to even think straight.

“then go pee—“ you mumbled, assuming he needed to pull out and take a piss before coming back.

leon stared down at your cunt, feeling your gummy walls squeeze him real nice, “how about i piss inside you?” he breathed, finding his words humorous, this seemed to bring you back to reality as your head perked up. “w-what?!” you squealed, “ew! don’t do that!” you argued, pee was gross already! and inside you? that’s worse!

leon let out an amused breath, “it’s just pee, sweetheart, why the fuzz?” he mumbled, sucking in a breath and feeling his bladder squeeze, making him shudder.

he already made up his mind.

leaning over you, leon pressed his body weight on your back, keeping you sandwiched over the sink. “everyone pees, don’t get all shy on me now.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder as you whimpered, your cunt squeezing him nicely. “no.. it’s so icky..” you mumbled, letting out a small breath.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his lips pressed against your skin, one of his hands slipping under your body and moving to press against your own lower belly, right above your pubic bone, he kept a firm pressure against your tummy.

“why lie to me?” he mused, “you’re practically choking my dick, if anything it’s like you want me to piss inside you.” he laughed, the alcohol in his system was staining his conscience in his moment. if he was sober, he wouldn’t have even thought about taking a piss inside of someone, but he wasn’t sober, and alcohol makes you do things you normally wouldn’t. so here he was.

you shook your head slightly, but your cunt stayed tight, fluttering around him, were you really getting turned on by the idea of this man pissing inside you? what happened to you? what would your best friends say if they found out you were letting an older guy fuck you in a gross bathroom and finding it hot he wants to piss inside you?

leon shuddered, okay— wait, it was getting harder to hold it in. becoming borderline painful. sucking in a breath, he shut his eyes, pressing his nose against your skin, he took in a deep breath— taking in the smell of your sickly sweet strawberry perfume, “i’m gonna piss.” he grunted out, a final warning for simple generosity.

he might be a creep for fucking a dumb girl in a bar bathroom, but he wasn’t fucking evil.

at least that’s what he tells himself.

keeping his body pressed against your own, his belly pressing against your curved back, keeping you trapped against the porcelain.

letting out a shaky breath, leon let himself go, a type of bliss he hadn’t felt in a while enveloped him as the pressure in his bladder released.

your eyes widened at the feeling, it was so weird! it was an icky full feeling, you could feel it slip out of you, staining your pretty pussy, thighs, panties, and floor. you winced, your eyes shutting, a small frown on your lips as you imagined who was going to clean this mess up. leon’s stream was long and hot, your shoulders were tense, feeling your pussy get filled with his warm piss— ew!

“s’gross..” you gasped, squirming.

“shh,” leon mumbled, keeping his hand firm against your lower tummy.

once he finished, leon let out a deep moan, pissing with a hard-on was fucking hard! but finally, his bladder didn’t feel like it was going to explode, he pressed his face against your shoulder, his body shivering as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you. he let out a panting breath, his hips resting flush against your ass, you let out a small breath, with his body pressing against you and forcing you against the sink it was making it hard to breathe.

“i can’t breathe—“ you gasped, clawing at the sink.

a small grunt left leon’s lips as he heard you, “shit, sorry.” he mumbled, pulling his body away from yours. moving your head up, you arched your back and took in a deep breath, feeling your pussy squelch, you swear there’s still some piss clogged up inside your cunt.

your face felt hot, you were about to ask what he was planning to do now, but he beat you to it, moving his hips tentatively, feeling your cunt squeeze and squelch. his hands moved to your hips, squeezing your ass, his dull nails digging into your skin as his thrusts picked up the speed— finding the same sloppy pace from before.

your brain was fuzzy, your head tilting to the side as a high pitched moan left her lips.

leon’s cock rubbed against your gummy walls, rubbing against the spongy little spot right by your tummy that had you gasping. you bit your bottom lip and then whined, you had to keep quiet, remember?

his balls kept slapping against your clit, kissing that bundle of nerves whenever his hips pressed against your ass. leon groaned— another sensation filling his lower belly, blossoming like a pretty flower as his balls swelled up. shutting his eyes, his pace started to get erratic, fucking into you like you were some sex doll, mumbling curses, he leaned his head back, his lips parting as he panted.

squealing as he bullied your cunt, you whimpered, your words getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t think, you could barely even breathe, your pussy hugging his cock.

“are you on the pill?” leon asked through gritted teeth as he fucked you— you couldn’t even process what he said, so you only moaned pathetically, “sweetheart,” he said, a little louder to bring you out of your brain fog, his hand moving to rest against the back of your head, “w—wha?” you babbled, “are you on the pill?” he repeated against, tugging at your hair, you whimpered and shook your head, birth control gave you ache! you quit it immediately!

letting out a small groan, leon nodded, mumbling a small, “okay.” before he let go of your hair.

your head fell downwards as his thrusts stayed rhythmless and sloppy, his balls felt like they were going to explode, but he didn’t want to pull out, fuck.

“cumming—“ he gasped, his cock twitching eagerly before his cum spurted out of his tip. moaning, he gave you a final thrust, nuzzling his cock inside your pretty pussy before his cum came out in small drools, filling you up nicely.

your lips quivered as your walls pulsed around his cock, leon stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the last bits of his orgasm before he pulled out of your pussy— watching as his cum leaked out of your cunt before he shuddered. he stepped back, giving the puddle of piss on the floor a glace as he scowled— post nut clarity hitting him.

oops.

he pulled his jeans back up and shoved his cock back inside his pants before letting out a small breath.

whining, you moved your hand to your pussy, nimble fingers finding your clit as you rubbed it, “m’leon..” you mumbled, sticking your ass up as your back arched. leon looked back at you, “mhm?” he hummed, “help me.” you whined, still toying with your clit.

oh yeah, you haven’t cum yet.

he typically wasn’t the type to stick around after a hookup, the magic dies after cumming, but he did piss inside you, the least he could do was get you off.

“yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.” he mumbled as he zipped his pants up and fumbled with his belt before he stepped closer.

he reached out, pulling you away from the sink, “c’mere,” he said as you finally got to stand up straight before he stumbled back and plopped down onto the toilet, sitting you on his lap before he spread your legs. he pulled you flush again his body, resting his head on your shoulder as his hands slipped down your tummy before finding your puffy clit.

once his fingertips pressed against the nub, you shuddered, biting your bottom lip while you grasped his other hand as it was wrapped around your waist.

leon was quiet as he rubbed your clit, feeling your squirm and twitch in his arms.

whimpering, your eyebrows furrowed upward as your head leaned back, your orgasm wasn’t too far at least, after a few minutes of moans and gasps, your body tensed. your pussy felt hot, full, and soppy, “leon,” you gasped, wishing his fingers worked faster!

he let out a small hum in reply, not really bothering to put effort — he was too drunk for that.

as the tight coil in your lower belly tightened and tightened, a sharp gasp left your lips as it snapped, your hips shuddered as you came.

your thighs clamped together, trapping leon’s hand between your plush thighs as you rode out your orgasm. your grip on his arm was still tight, your manicured nails digging into his leather jacket while you rolled your hips against his arm, practically humping his hand as you savored the friction against your cunt.

“there you go,” leon cooed, pressing a small kiss on the side of your neck before he fished out his hand from between your thighs, watching his fingers glisten from your slick.

your legs trembled as you took in a deep breath, leon pushed you up, making you stand. he fixed your skirt and glanced down at your piss-stained panties, “uh,” he began, “you can throw those away.” he said, feeling guilty for ruining such a cute pair. you frowned, “but they’re my favorite..” you whined, they were so cute! and sure, you could take them home and wash them, but you didn’t want to parade around town with pissy panties, getting pissed in was enough for tonight.

sighing heavily, leon scratched his chin, feeling his stubble scratch his skin before he dug into his jacket pocket and dug out his wallet, “here,” he said as he finished out some cash, “get yourself a new pair, sweetheart.” he said, see he wasn’t so bad. “get yourself a plan b while you’re at it.” he said, handing you the cash.

blinking dumbly at him, you took the money, “huh?”

leon stared back at you, god. fucking idiot.

“get yourself a new pair of those cute panties, yeah?” he began, you nodded, “and get a plan b too.” he repeated. the clueless look on your face was both making him want to bash his head against a wall while also wanting to shove his cock in your mouth. “do you wanna get pregnant?” he asked, his tone having a hint of frustration in it.

you shook your head, “exactly.” he sighed.

“a plan b will help you not do that.” he explained, finally, a look of realization hit your fucked out face, “ohhh.” you said softly as you fisted the cash.

“well—“ what the fuck does he say now? ‘thanks for letting me fuck you!’ no! that’s sounded stupid, fuck.

letting out an exhale, he took your arm and nudged you forward. “come on,” he said before he guided you out of the bathroom, his steps were sped up since he didn’t want to be seen leaving the bathroom with a fucked out girl.

once outside, leon noticed you were still following him like a lost puppy.

“what are you doing?” he asked, did you not have better things to do? you were practically attached to his hip, “what?” you asked as you blinked slowly, “why are you following me?” he asked, a bit perturbed by your clinginess.

you paused, “i don’t know.. i wanna go with you.”

leon chewed on the inside of his cheek. he should’ve known you would’ve wanted to stick around— he had that thought before, but he didn’t think you would actually want to stay at his side.

moving to rub his forehead, leon let out a breath.

c’mon, don’t pull on his heart strings like that. he couldn’t just leave you on the side of the road after a fuck like that. besides, you stared at him with those doe eyes of yours, you really looked like a lost puppy.

“fine, okay, c’mon.” he sighed as he lead you to his motorcycle.

what the fuck did he get himself into?

TAGS! @nilpill @rigorwhoring @dollivication @gor3-hound @v0lturiaq @withonly-sweetheart @pupsmoke @flutterylust @angelstargel @ghosty-the-doll @mydarlingclaudia @lolachannel @t1nyb0nes @mj_el2709 @kerredgraveblog @tr3nzit444s @lilbunnyelle @cigarett3wif3

#U・x・U | SIRENHUB!#tw.piss #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #damnation leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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shiny-jr · 8 months ago

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➸ damnation [ the raven retainer ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Epel Felmier, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit.

– Note: Hopefully everything transferred over okay from the quiz. Been holding off on this one because I know with the amount of Pomefiore and Vil admirers, posting this is like lighting up a firework by hand and having to run before it goes off.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Vizier's Vassal | The Raven Retainer | ?????

A dark robe. Wrapped around your shoulders was a black cloak, like wings folded in. Speaking of feathered appendages, there was a single shiny feather tucked behind your ear. You had felt it tickling your earlobe, leading you to pluck it out of your hair to examine it. It was long and black, huge in size, making you imagine it came from a beast of a raven. Slowly you looked up, confused to find yourself at a desk surrounded by books, bottles of odd colorful liquids, and there was even a cauldron in the corner of the stone wall!

Returning your attention back to the feather, you were perplexed but quite liked it so you placed it back behind your ear where you had originally discovered it. Upon standing from the wooden chair, you noticed your change of outfit. A simple white ruffled shirt and black pants, although nearly every inch of you was covered by the black cloak on your back that reached all the way to your ankle and draped around you like a curtain. Lifting up the cloak, you could feel a short sword strapped safely and securely in a hilt on your back hidden away from sight. What was this place…? Why were you dressed like this? Why did you have a sword? What was going on? Was this your punishment?

Just then, your eyes drifted over to a book stand where a heavy leather tome sat open to prying eyes. Your prying eyes, to be exact. Curiously you stepped toward it, your fingers ghosting over the crisp pages of the aged book as you squinted incredulously at the words printed on the surface in a large font, occasionally dotted with red ink. “Poison apple…?” Beside it was the painted image of a ripe red apple, and in its shining reflective skin was the distinct shape of a skull. “One taste of the poisoned apple and the victim’s eyes will close forever in the sleeping death.”

But that… that was from a fairytale! The story of Snow White and the Beautiful Queen! A page about a poisoned apple, the tome, this basement filled with ingredients and suspicious concoctions… So it was true, criminals were often sent to dangerous tales where they would perish. And you... you were a criminal and you were here, but... what role did you play? Lifting your hand up to your ear, you suddenly felt the familiar soft sensation of the black feather accessory and realization dawned on you. Didn’t the queen have a pet raven…? Could that explain why you were here in these strange but fancy clothes? Of all things, why did you have to be the raven?

How did the story go again? The Queen was vain and wicked, she wished to be the most beautiful of all. It was said that she consulted her magic mirror every day and would inquire as to who the fairest of them all was. Should the mirror ever reply with another’s name instead of hers, she would find a way to kill her rival and would only be satisfied once the mirror answered her name. So when her step-daughter, Snow White, grows to become the fairest of them all, the Queen goes mad with jealousy and has a huntsman attempt to kill her. When that fails, the Queen takes matters into her own hands, eventually turning herself ugly as a disguise and even causing her own untimely demise by falling off a cliff and being crushed by a boulder, her remains left as feed for hungry vultures. That was the Queen, but what about the raven? Well, it’s never disclosed as to what happens to the bird, at least to your knowledge. The last the raven is seen, it was being tormented by the wicked Queen as she was creating the poisoned apple. Actually, maybe being the raven wasn’t so bad afterall… At least it didn’t perish or receive some other horrible ending.

Knowing this brought you some much needed relief. At least you didn’t end up as the raven in that other story about a sleeping princess. That raven was turned to stone! You pity any poor sucker that might’ve ended up in that position. This outcome was adequate, for now. Perhaps it was best to venture outside, to attempt to find this beautiful queen. To be honest, it was a little exciting. You had always wondered how beautiful she was, since the novels always claimed they could never do her justice. But that's besides the point. Once meeting her, you then had to decide what your next move would be.

Keeping all that in mind, you climbed the spiraling stone staircases just barely lit by candles. You winced whenever you heard the squeak of a rat or spotted a rotting corpse of a forgotten prisoner still in chains. Quickening your pace until you reached a wooden door, and stepped into the sunlight. It was warm and delightful, the sun’s rays shining on your skin. You felt free. As of now, this was far from punishment. But knowing that you were sent here to be punished or even die, was what kept you from being completely at ease. You could almost just relax here in the calm and beauty of this garden–– key word, almost. Shrieking and many voices shattered your temporary peace, even scaring away the white doves that had flocked in the open courtyard.

Grumbling, you followed the sound of the commotion. It sounded like it was coming from over the high palace walls. There was one portion of the wall that was shorter than the rest, if you climbed onto the smooth edges of the railing by the stone steps, you could successfully scale onto the top of the wall where you decided to lounge about and spectate the action. On the other side of the wall, you could see a young man getting closer and closer, nervously waving at a large group giggling and following him. It was obvious that he was a little uncomfortable, and that he was trying to lose them without hurting their feelings by how he continued to smile even as he picked up the pace.

When his eyes landed on you, he appeared surprised, and as he walked the path he was getting closer and closer. Feeling pity for the lad, you sighed and stretched your arm down, to which he hesitated a moment before finally deciding to place his hand in yours. You heaved him up and slid down to the safe side of the wall, the palace side, just before his apparent fans could catch him. Their whining and complaining was amusing.

“Thank you…! You saved me!”

Oh, right, he was still here. You glanced over at the young man peering happily up at you with the brightest smile on his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed as you slowly began to notice his features. Hair black as ebony, skin white as snow, dressed head-to-toe in rags… No way––

“Ah, I know you!” He exclaimed, delighted as he took a step closer. “You’re my elder brother’s attendant! I’ve seen you around the palace countless times. You are always working so hard that I’ve never gotten a chance to properly meet you! Of course you may already know but my name is Neige, it’s truly so wonderful to finally talk like this with you!” He performed a small but polite bow. Such manners for a prince in rags. “I never knew you were so kind! Is there any way I can repay you?”

“Ah, no, there’s no need for that…” You studied his face, attempting to make sense of it all. If this Neige was Snow White, it did make total sense. His skin was flawless, it looked like a marshmallow, so pristine but soft. He was cherubic. His beauty was more of a one of innocence and cuteness, and it seemed the townsfolk noticed his looks judging by how they focused on his physical features instead of his worn and tattered attire. You force your gaze away. This was the prince who the Queen would try to kill. But there’s a chance it may be King in this version, because you’re fairly certain that Neige had just mentioned something about having an elder brother that you apparently worked for. “It was nothing.”

“Please, don’t be so modest! Your actions were selfless and heroic. Had it not been for you, I’m afraid I would’ve been stuck outside all day with no choice other than to interact with all those that followed me. And I couldn’t have that! I promised my brother that I would do my chores.” A sad frown appeared on his face as his gaze traveled back over to the wall, “Although I do regret having just left them without so much as a goodbye…”

So he was kind… Makes sense. Most princesses, or prince in this case, were kind-hearted souls that were far too naive or trusting and had the strangest ability to communicate with woodland creatures. However that last part worked, you weren’t entirely sure.

“The doves of the courtyard gathered by the well with me this morning! And we all made a wish! I, well… It's a bit embarrassing, but I wished for something truly special. And I believe that my wish may have come true!” A pretty pink blush made his cheeks rosy as he clasped his hands together, looking so truly content as he peered up at you.

“Is that so…?” Well, magical animal talking ability, check that off the list. He really was like the princess from the fairytale. But you didn’t like where this was going. You outgrew fairytales a long time ago, but when you read something so fantastical and magical in your innocent imaginative youth, it sticks with you. Perhaps that was a good thing, because even now you could recall the small details of the story.

In the beginning of the story, Snow White is cleaning the courtyard when she meets the doves at the well where she makes a wish to meet her true love. Not too long after, the prince appears on horseback, hearing the princess’ song that leads him to climb over the palace walls to get to her. When you got older, you quickly realized how creepy that actually was. The prince crept up on her, and essentially trespassed on private palace grounds. But that’s besides the point right now. The point is, Snow White made a wish to meet her true love which happened to be the prince. Well, right now, you have yet to see another so-called dashing prince or princess. There was just the courtyard and you were alone with Neige, and he was gazing up at you through his lashes and with a pretty smile that appeared too fondly. The Queen, or King, really needed to stop cooping up Prince Neige within the palace walls. It was dulling his sense towards social cues and common sense.

“Hey! What the hell are you doin’...?!”

Surprised at the sudden presence beside you, you looked to see another stranger. This one you couldn’t automatically connect to a role. It was a short young man with a cuteness that could possibly even rival the prince. He had such wide blue eyes and odd soft lavender curls that framed his face. Unlike you and Prince Neige, his outfit was of much finer detail which consisted of a white tunic and long dark blue sleeves from the shirt he wore underneath. A red cloak was draped over the shoulders of his small frame, the ends brushing against his simple pants and boots. But despite his fine clothing and adorable appearance, he spoke with such brashness, irked for whatever reason.

“Ah, you must be Epel! My brother speaks often about you! He says he sees great potential in you!” Neige interjected, oblivious to this Epel fellow’s irritation. Epel… the name didn’t ring a bell. You could accurately deduce what Neige’s role was based on his appearance and the fact that his name meant snow in French. But you still had no idea who Epel was supposed to be. Again, Neige bowed his head in polite greeting as he exclaimed, “Today must be my lucky day! Not only have I met you now, Epel, but I’ve also met–– Um…” He paused, turning to you and inquiring softly, “I’m sorry, I’m so excited that I’ve forgotten to ask your name.”

The lavender-haired boy quickly snatched your attention away from the prince, grabbing your cloak where your arm would be as he hissed in a whisper so as to not involve Neige. “Are you crazy? Talkin’ to the prince…! Vil is gonna fly off the handle!” Not-so-discreetly gesturing to the window right above them with his eyes darting to it and back to you, but not moving his head, so as to not alert the onlooker behind the glass.

You froze, not moving your head but your eyes moved up to where Epel had been glancing at. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could just barely make out a tall and thin figure in purple standing at the large window, holding the red curtains open with both hands. They were watching, and just as you moved your head the tiniest bit to get a better look, you only caught a glimpse of a deep angered frown before the curtains were abruptly shut, barring you from seeing anymore. That could’ve only been the beautiful royal, the monarch in charge that sees Prince Neige as a rival. When you looked back at Neige, he was still smiling at you with his hands folded in front of him, patiently awaiting an answer. Poor guy doesn’t know what’s coming.

“We gotta go, or Rook is gonna drag us back himself…!” Without even waiting for you to give Neige your name, Epel took your hand and ran like a bat out of hell. Making a beeline straight for an entrance to the palace, you attempted to keep up with him. He was surprisingly strong for someone so small.

Behind you, you heard, “W-Wait, I never got your name…!”

Well, that’s a crying shame. Focusing your attention on where you were heading, you began to lose track of all the twists and turns within these palace walls. Epel led you forward, he certainly knew where he was going. But you? You hadn’t a clue. That is, until after a few minutes, you arrived at a long hall where at the very end there were double doors already opened. The few soldiers standing guard paid no mind to you and the lavender-haired fellow, probably because in their eyes, you belonged here. And yet that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You felt so incredibly out of place as you stood on the lengthy blue carpet that stretched forward toward a small yet intricately designed throne of gold and jewels formed in the shape of a magnificent peacock with its feathers fanned out. But what was more entrancing than the priceless throne, was the person sitting atop it. Oh, how the novels did not lie, they truly could not do the monarch any justice in portraying their beauty. The King, who must’ve been Vil, could’ve been a world-famous model. His face looked like those perfect sculpted marble statues, it was the type of look that would incur the envious wrath of gods and goddesses in mythology. There was not a single blemish or flaw. Not even a single hair of his golden locks fading into lavender was out of place. The long purple robes under the longer black cloak flowing down his body, complimented the color of his amethyst eyes. Those eyes looked even more shiny than the golden crown perched atop his skull. You weren’t a simp but wow.

The King appeared less than pleased, it actually made you incredibly nervous when he bore a frown and silently beckoned you closer with a single curling movement of his index finger.

Walking past Epel who stood by the door, you took a deep breath as you recounted what knowledge you had on etiquette during this time period. Once you were a few feet in front of him, you began to kneel, when he spoke it caused you to freeze.

“Don’t.” Intense gaze glued to your form, he watched you carefully as he instructed, “Come closer.”

You slowly stepped forward, closer to him.

“Closer.”

Hesitating, you took another step so one foot was on the step in front of his throne.

“Closer.”

Pausing, you inched forward, now standing on the same elevation as the throne. Now you were just centimeters away from him, and it was putting you on edge. When he appeared seemingly satisfied, that’s when you finally kneeled in front of him. With a bowed head, a common sign of respect in customs with monarchies, you greeted simply, “Your Majesty.”

The King peered down at you, silent for a moment as you kept your head down and eyes glued to the ends of his purple robes and how his black cloak that matched yours, but his was much longer, pooled around his throne to look like a black void. After a few moments, you felt his hand at your chin, his slim fingers urging you to look up. When you did, he hummed, “Well, my lovely pet, have you had your fun with my little step-brother?” He gave a question, but it became obvious that he didn’t want an answer. At least not yet. This king must not be too fond of the prince. As his thumb stroked your chin and raised it so your head was almost at his knee, he continued slowly while gazing down at you, “You know that I loathe sharing, don’t you? So why would I share you with my step-brother, hm? Have you perhaps… begun to favor him over me?”

It struck you then that the royal must be an extremely envious person. Not only did they want to remain first in standing when it came to beauty, but he also wanted to monopolize people’s attention so that they may focus on him. Replying carefully, you spoke while keeping your eyes glued to his enchanting yet intimidating gaze, “Of course not, Your Majesty. It was merely a coincidence that I encountered him. I cannot be as easily swayed as the masses.” For a moment you hesitated, seeing that he seemed unconvinced as you proceeded, “... My loyalty to you cannot be broken by a prince in rags.”

After a few moments, the tension in the air evaporated as the king graced you with a smile that made your breath hitch. You had said the right thing. Tempted to glance at Epel for a possible clue on what to do next, you refrained and instead remained still as a statue when the king reached forward with his other hand to remove your hood. “Let me see your face, my retainer.” As soon as the hood was removed, he examined your face in the light. It took an incredible amount of calm to keep composed and not squirm in place under his intense scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he frowned and sighed, “I’ve been keeping you confined beneath the castle for far too long. You’re beginning to look ghastly, and I can’t be seen with someone beside me that’s less than appealing to look at.” Removing his hands from your face, he motioned for you to stand, which you did. “You’ve done enough. Getting rid of our guests and covering it up must’ve been challenging, especially for you to do it all on your own. This time, Rook will take over while you will be receiving enough sunlight to revitalize your complexion. Do not overdo it. Rook.”

Guests? Cover up? This wasn’t in the story. There wasn’t any time to fully process what you heard before you detected yet another voice just right beside your ear.

“Good day, petit corbeau!” You felt your soul leave your body for a single second when these words were said beside your ear by a voice, an extremely close and unfamiliar voice. When you jumped, startled, you noticed there was another young man literally only an inch behind you. When did he even get there? You didn’t even notice him until now! When you stepped to the side out of the way, you furrowed your eyebrows at his smile.

The young man was blonde, with hair styled into a ridiculous looking bob-cut but he somehow made it work as he wore a wide-brimmed brown hat with a black feather. Over his shoulders and back he wore a large hunter green cloth that wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf and extended over his back like a small cloak. Underneath, concealed by the cloth, was a dark tunic and black pants with a belt and knife at his hip. However, what unnerved you wasn’t the knife at his hip or the bow and quiver chock full of arrows on his back. It was his eyes.

His forest green eyes were glued to you, and he bore a wide and charming smile. “Ah, to see you without your hood and out of the undercroft, what a rare sight! Marvelous! I must thank you, Your Majesty, for making this possible! It is not everyday we see your dutiful, striking, mysterious little raven. It is truly a spectacle to behold! I will treasure this rare moment where I’ve not only heard you speak, but have seen your visage without being shrouded by shadows and concealed by your hood!”

You did not like this. The way he was looking at you as he spoke so dramatically made a shiver crawl up your spine. Yes, he spoke nothing but praise in such an honest tone and declaration, but there was something in his eyes. Something that placed you on edge as his smile turned slightly ominous and his eyes narrowed at you. There was a twinkle in his green eyes as he tilted his head at you inquisitively, as if sensing your unease without you even saying a word. This had to be the Rook fellow that Epel mentioned offhandedly, and now it made sense as to why he ran back so quickly just to avoid encountering him.

Much to your relief, Vil sighed and interjected without even standing from his throne. Furrowing his eyebrows, he scolded in an irked tone, “I didn’t summon you to pester my little retainer, Rook. Stress from you is not what my retainer needs right now. It causes wrinkles.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” Rook chuckled, obediently turning to fully face the royal as you stood stiffly beside him, keeping a safe distance between you two.

Behind you, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Epel quietly closing the doors once Vil gestured for him to do so. It seemed the king wanted privacy, he wished to say something not even the guards outside the thick wooden doors were allowed to hear. The only ones that would be witnesses to his words were you, Epel, and Rook. You had to wonder what was so secretive that he didn’t even want his soldiers stationed outside to hear, and why were you allowed to hear? Was it because you were supposedly in the role of his trusted retainer? Maybe it had something to do with that cover-up he mentioned just a short time ago.

The tension in the room was thick, it disturbed you and you can tell it bothered the short purple-haired young man too if his growing perturbed frown was anything to go by. Despite this, he took up the space beside you. The blonde with the bow, Rook, who you now were assuming to be a huntsman if his attire and weapons were any giveaway, continued to smile without much of a care. Rook was on the left, Epel was on the right, and you were in the center, and still on his throne was King Vil. With luck, you’ll be able to keep up this act. It wouldn’t do for a retainer to fail. It might cost you and be the slip-up that would put an end to this charade of survival.

“I’ve decided. Rook, the duties I normally give to my retainer will be passed onto you today. You’re much more suited for this job. It involves my little step-brother, Neige.” The way he said the prince’s name made it sound like it pained him just to utter it, like it burned his tongue just to mention him. But he continued. “It seems he’s been working hard at completing his chores, hm? He’s been begging for a day out, and he adores flowers so… Rook, you will take him far into the woods, a secluded meadow where he can pick as many wildflowers as his little heart desires.”

Once you processed his words, you froze. It dawned on you that it was happening, this was the moment in the story when the beautiful queen commanded her huntsman to murder the princess in the woods. Vil must’ve already consulted the magic mirror and was told that he was no longer the fairest in all the land. That title now officially belonged to Neige, but it wouldn’t for long if the king had anything to say about it.

The other two loyal and trusted by the king had no idea, as Epel appeared vaguely bored and disinterested while Rook seemed elated. “Of course! I’ll see to it that it is done, Your Majesty––!”

“I’m not finished.” Vil interrupted, frowning tersely as his gaze turned cold. Tapping his well-manicured nails against the armrest of his throne, his eyes narrowed and he leaned an inch forward while instructing, “There, you will kill him.”

The shock was immediately evident on the face of the two beside you. Epel, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, finally broke his silence with a small gasp as he moved to cover his mouth with one hand. But it was too late, everyone had already heard him and seen his stunned expression. And yet, no one seemed to really care. Everyone was far too engrossed in what was just said by the king.

Rook appeared just as confounded before disbelief took root, as if he didn’t even wish to believe his own two ears. Removing his hat, he held it to his chest and lowered his head respectfully as he placed a hesitant foot forward. “Your Majesty, our beautiful and lovely Vil, you can’t possibly mean–– our prince Neige…!”

“Silence!” Immediately standing from his seat, he scowled, the prince’s name only making his rage more bitter. And then, he said something unexpected, something off script and never in the story. Gesturing to you, he hissed, “My loyal retainer here could make six souls vanish without a trace, why can’t you do it with one mere prince? Must they do everything? Must I have to dirty my own hands? Hm?”

Lowering his head further, the huntsman replied quietly, somberly, his smile now gone. “Of course not, Your Majesty. Your delicate hands aren’t meant to be soiled…” It’s as you suspected. Rook stayed alive and was one of Vil’s closest servants because he was witty enough to think of something on the spot that was complimentary enough to appease the bitter royal. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the moment. For now, you were grateful you weren’t him. Some people who read the story of Snow White liked to theorize that the huntsman was murdered by the vicious queen for failing to assassinate the princess.

Vil was quiet, not completely calm judging by his sneer but he was composed enough not to say anything more. Standing tall, his gaze honed in on you and Epel, to which he spoke, “My loyal, diligent retainer, escort my successor out. I need to have a word with Rook, privately.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” You replied hastily with a slow bow. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Just from your few moments here, you can already tell that the king was frightening when vexed, and you did not want to stick around to see if that got worse when he spoke privately with his huntsman. And yet, as you turned tail to retreat back into the hallway past the closed doors, you knew the heir he mentioned could have only been the only other person in the room: Epel.

Epel, much like you, didn’t seem to have any desire to stick around longer than necessary. Once you and the heir were out and the doors were closed shut, simultaneously you both heaved a sigh of relief, although short and brief as the heavy weight of the king's command was still prominent. There must’ve been even more on the young heir’s mind, because his gaze flittered over to you and he began to eye you suspiciously. With a surprising amount of strength for someone of his short stature and delicate appearance, he grabbed your arm and began to drag you down the halls away from the throne room, soldiers standing guards, and anyone else. Until you were in a different setting, by one of the castle’s exits to a dark backside corner of the garden where there was just one big oak tree that provided shade underneath its huge branches. What was this about? Why did he bring you here?

Those questions were answered when he finally stopped underneath the tree and let go of your limb, only to whip his head back at you with such an angered expression that caught you off guard. The location now seemed like some place he could yell in frustration without being caught, because it was so quiet and isolated here. “That entire time, when that crazy old goon with that stupid metal crown basically kidnapped me from my home and brought me here for his little contest I wanted no part of, you knew he’d want the losers dead, didn’t you?! Hell, you helped him get rid of the bodies! I trustedyou, you big fat lying s––!”

Quickly clamping your right hand over his mouth to shut him up, you stared at him as he gazed at you wide-eyed, as if shocked you’d even try to stop him. It dawned on you then. “You don’t want to be here, do you?” Just then, you felt a sharp pain in your palm. Hissing, you immediately retracted your hand, shocked to see some broken skin and feel it sting. He just bit you––!

Epel spat onto the ground, infuriated as he yelled, “Are you daft? All that time in the undercroft made your brain rot or something?” An idea came to him. Still angry, but brightening up substantially, he lifted his head and glared at you. “Rook’s busy with Vil, and if I beat you there’d be no one to take me back to that stuffy prison of a room.” From his hip, he unsheathed a dagger and pointed it at you. “Out of my way, or I’ll make sure you join the rest of those duds you buried!”

Removing your own weapon, the short sword from your back, that you thankfully were still carrying and was larger than his own blade, you pointed it at him. “You were saying, Epel, was it?” Seeing his confident expression falter, you decided to add quickly just in case he tried to act recklessly and try attacking you with his dagger anyways. “I’ll tell you this because it seems we both want to live and I believe we might be able to help each other get what we want. So let’s get something straight, I am not the retainer you know.”

You gave him a moment to process what you said as you both lowered your weapons. In the quiet of the brief moment, you listened for any sign of prying ears but there was none. Upon seeing Epel’s confusion and suspicion with his guard still raised, you continued,

“It’s unbelievable, I know, but I’m not the same person. Where I come from, this place is a lot like a fairytale story but different. I was arrested back home and sent here as punishment. This means my punishment was to take the role of the pet or servant of the royal and face some unknown demise. Now, from what I’ve picked up, it sounds like you’re here against your will too. Both of us might end up dead if we’re not careful.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of Epel watching you closely and deciding on what to do, he lowered his dagger completely after he saw you lower yours. “That sounds like a load of crap but… the real retainer would know better than to talk to Neige of all people. You didn’t, which explains that.” Maybe he wasn’t entirely convinced by your narrative, because he proceeded to ask, “You said this was like some kid’s story you read once or somethin’? Tell me what happens to me.”

“That’s the issue. It’s an old story that doesn’t go into detail, you weren’t even a character and my role is just a raven.” Placing away your sword that you handled a bit awkwardly, since you really had no idea how to use it, but the heir didn’t seem to notice that as he placed away his own weapon. “From what I got, you were brought here against your will and there were others that are no longer here. Now, you’re the royal heir. Care to explain?”

Raising an eyebrow, Epel demanded, “If I tell you, you have to promise to tell me something. You know what’s gonna happen, don’t you?”

“I do.” Nodding at his words in confirmation, you then answered, “Of course I’ll tell you since we’re helping each other out.”

After a second, he sighed, “Fine. I’ll trust you, but only because you’re not really the retainer. Ya see, I’m from a small farming town near the borderlands. A few months ago, Vil gave a secret proclamation. He wanted the seven of the most beautiful candidates gathered at his castle, status or talent didn’t matter, as long as they were younger than him and had looks up to his high standards. Rook, you met him already, was in charge of finding these candidates and bringing them in whether they liked it or not, and you, or well… the old retainer, were in charge of taking the loser home whenever someone failed one of Vil’s challenges. At least, that’s what they told us. My guess is that the king doesn’t want his little brother to inherit the throne since he’s so jealous and all. All the candidates had a chance to become the next in line for the throne if they won all the challenges, and if they lost they got to go home. But no matter how hard I tried to lose, you kept me from losing so I guess I owe the old retainer for that because without them I’d be… probably lying face-down in a ditch somewhere.”

Slowly he shrugged, those words he uttered now being processed in his mind. It seemed to have struck him, because he became quiet.

“... I was the last one standing, even though I didn’t wanna be. Ever since then, I’ve been stuck here, forced to spend my days with strict lessons being taught by Vil. All my escape attempts were stopped by Rook, of course, that crazy loon…” Gazing up at you, he slowly regained his confidence and nodded, “But now, I’m gonna escape for sure this time and go back home! Screw the crown and these dumb silk clothes!”

“Easy, Epel, for now we just do as we’re told. I don’t want things to get too out of hand if it isn’t necessary. In the original story, the queen, king in this situation, causes his own death. As long as we avoid angering him AND avoid Neige, we should be fine. But…” You considered your next words carefully. What if something goes wrong? What if things had to change drastically in order to survive? Would you have a better chance at surviving if the protagonist, Neige, were to actually die and the antagonist, Vil, receive a good ending instead? You didn’t truly want to kill the prince, even if he was naive, he seemed like a truly good person. But if it was you or him… “I still need to see how things play out. If it comes down to it and things take a wrong turn, how far will you go to survive?”

Epel gave you a look before scoffing and taking out his dagger as a reminder, “I was about ready to stab ya just to escape and get back home. I’ll do anything to make it outta here alive, to make sure both of us live. But now since you’re helping me out, and I’m helping you out, we gotta stick together. Got it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

For your own safety, you deemed it better to do nothing in the meanwhile as you waited to see if the plot would progress as it did in the story. What you hadn’t taken into account was how long the wait would be. Apparently when Vil instructed Rook to escort Neige out to be discreetly killed, he didn’t mean right at that second. It was something he had planned to happen soon, but not quite yet. This gave you enough time to assess the situation.

One thing you were grateful for was the former retainer’s work ethic. The beautiful king had deemed you had done enough by assisting in his endeavors that included potion-brewing and murder, something you hadn’t actually done, at least not for him. So, your responsibilities included keeping Epel in check as a prince-in-training and staying out to receive enough sunlight as per Vil’s strict orders.

For the remainder of the first day and the following second day, you and Epel reviewed the lessons he loathed and quietly retreated to garden grooves to discuss possible plans of action including what to do afterwards when you had both gained your freedom. Additionally, you learned from the heir that you were not so different from the character you replaced. Even Epel admitted he was fooled until that one mistake you made of acknowledging Neige. So, all you would have to do was keep calm and be yourself, but also not yourself. You were technically playing the role of someone else that just happened to act like you.

Your superior had summoned you on the second night. When you arrived, you saw servants around the ballroom decorating the area with fine silk curtains and candelabras. Round tables set up in another section of the extensive room, tables set with sheets and porcelain. Vil stood at the edge of the room, noticing you out of the corner of his eyes as another attendant brought to his attention something about outfits.

As Vil began to strut towards another room, you could do nothing but follow as he commanded, “Hurry now, my retainer.”

You did as you were told, following and noting down the little details from the dark colors used in most of the decorations as well as the mention of flowers being prepared. Once in a private room with you and his entourage, he delicately removed his crown from his blonde tresses. “Epel is much more tame with you. I swear, that boy is giving me white hair.”

No, but you’re going to do that to yourself, you think as you recall the scene from the story where the beautiful queen turns herself into a ragged old hag. “He can be… a little troublesome, yes.” You stand closer to the door as the beautiful young man disappears behind an elegantly patterned dressing screen.

Judging by the servants there carefully handling various types of clothes, you could only assume he was trying on different outfits for whatever event he was preparing to host. During a review of Epel’s lessons, you were able to learn as well. Despite Vil being a person of great envy and cruelty, he was actually a fair leader that was beloved by most, so long as they didn’t incur his wrath. Reportedly, multiple nobles, knights, and other royals have vied for the beautiful king’s affection, but to no avail. All were turned down.

“Troublesome, hah, you’re being much too kind. That wouldn’t be my choice of word.” Vil scoffed as he changed behind the screen. Once he was seemingly satisfied with an outfit after throwing multiple aside, he emerged in a slightly long, dark, and exquisite dress-like garb with large sleeves. Snapping his fingers, he stood straight as his eyes lingered on you as he said simply, “Jewels.”

Picking up his meaning, you gingerly plucked the intricate golden necklace a nearby servant was carrying on a pillow and assisted him in placing it on. You steadied your breathing as you noticed that he was watching you carefully. Moving in front of him, you placed the detailed and sharp claw rings on his index finger and ring finger as he raised his hand.

“How is this?”

You took a step back and looked him over when you realized he was speaking to you, not anyone else in the room. You knew what he wanted to hear, but you couldn’t help but think that the evil king was indeed…. “Gorgeous.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he extended out his arm, the tip of the silver claw he wore on his finger at your neck as you instinctively lifted your chin at his gesture to avoid being poked. You weren’t really sure what he was thinking, and it was making you anxious. Had he seen through you as Epel had? Or perhaps he was cross? There were a million different ways to die in this story. There was a reason you were sent here and that was to meet a cruel end.

“You flatter me, my retainer. I know you don’t sugarcoat words.” Vil tilted his head, analyzing you from another angle as he smiled. Unexpectedly, his soft and pale hand was placed on your cheek. You felt your heart stop, whether from fear or something else, you couldn’t be sure. “You see, proper sunlight and sleep does work miracles. You no longer have those horrid eyebags.” Lowering his hand, his smile was gone as he seemed to recall something. “You’re the only competent and trustworthy person in this entire castle, my pet, besides myself, of course. What would I do without you? Always there for me, even before I ascended to the throne. Even when my father married that awful woman that brought the perfect lovely boy that became my brother and a stain in my life…”

After a moment of considering your response, you replied quietly, “You have always loathed Neige, haven’t you…?” The prince’s sweet words and shy smile instantly came to mind.

Upon detecting your words, you watched his expression sour as he instantly commanded everyone, who were too far and busy to hear anyways, to leave at once. All except you. Now, you remain alone with the king. It seems like you hit a nerve with your words, and you feared what he would do to you now that the two of you were alone.

Vil took a sharp breath before raising his head to meet your eyes. Under his intense gaze, you felt small but you merely swallowed your growing restlessness and kept your lips shut as he began, “I’ve always told you that I do not want you to ever utter his name. I lost the kingdom’s people to him, my friends left me for him, even my own father was beginning to favor him! I refuse to lose you too! If that boy takes one more thing away from me––”

“I’ve stayed this long.” You attempted, interjecting with words that you thought would fit this character you were playing.

“Because I demanded it.” His response caught you by surprise, but what was more unnerving was what came out of his lips next. “Father accepted my request for you to become my retainer, but the woman he married did not. And so, I concocted my very own poison, more lethal than cyanide, and slipped it into her wine. You are here because I wanted you here. Of course, I never revealed that to you until now.” You were given almost no time to process his words as he changed the subject, lifting his hand to admire his silver claw rings and painted nails. “I must admit, I was beginning to become a little concerned with you hardly leaving the undercroft in recent months. I was afraid you had become dull as I kept you to myself, and you know I don’t exactly like dull people by my side. I didn’t want to toss you aside after all we’ve been through together.”

Pursing your lips, reeling from this wave of new information, you murmured, albeit unsurely, “I don’t believe I’m dull… I like to think of myself as interesting.”

Amethyst eyes landed on you, the blonde man scrutinizing you as he gibed with a frown, “Was I asking your opinion or stating mine?”

Staring right at him, your snarky reply is already pouring out before you can even stop it. “Well, are you asking me my opinion…?” It’s silent as his cold gaze instantly lands on you. Shit. You instantly avert your eyes downward and bow your head in apology, knowing you fucked up. This was why you kept everything to yourself. This king poisoned his own step-mother for not giving him what he wanted, he ordered the former retainer to kill six innocent candidates for his competition to become heir, and he was willing to murder his very own brother who admired and loved him. What would he do to a raven with a sharp tongue? Just as possible scenarios begin flashing in your mind and you remain bowing, you clenched your fist, prepared to unsheath your hidden sword under your cloak and fight back if necessary–– when he laughed. Vil laughed.

It wasn’t a mocking one of ridicule, but rather an amused one. Lifting the back of his hand to his lips to partially cover his mouth, his laughing ceased. There was amusement, a wicked and eager look in his eyes as he hummed, “There’s that plucky side of you I missed so dearly!” Smiling, he reached forward, carefully tugging your hood down as he scolded lightly, “What have I said about wearing your hood around me? Especially indoors. Honestly, you never learn. I should strip you of that cloak you always stubbornly refuse to remove, that way you always show your face as you’re told.”

“I apologize, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again…” Unsurely you kept quiet, only offering to change the subject once the king had reached over to trail his fingers along the side of your face. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion? I wasn’t notified of these ongoing preparations.”

“A funeral.” Vil noticed how you went quiet and how your eyes widened. At your reaction, he chuckled, lowering his hand away from your face to tap his sharp finger against his chin. “Why so quiet? Don’t worry, it’s not for you. It’s merely… a preparation in advance.” Oh. You realized who it was for now. The thought of his rival dying seemed to bring the king joy as he smiled so cruelly. How morbid. Then, his attention returned back to you. It seemed he was thinking of something else now once his sights landed on some trashed envelopes in the bin, because his expression had turned to one of mild annoyance. “These suitors from afar are so bothersome. No matter how I refuse their advances, they continue with their gifts and letters filled with flattery, thinking that’ll be enough to win me over. How wrong they are. Love affairs are of no use or any interest to me…”

You gazed at the bin chock full of paper and shattered gifts. Your voice was quiet, but it carried in the silence of the room. “It must be difficult to be so admired…”

“Indeed it is.” Vil nodded, continuing to tap his chin thoughtfully. Those eyes on the trashed envelopes slowly made their way over to you, his slight frown morphing to an amused smile. “Although, perhaps I’ve changed my mind…” Extending his hand, you slowly and unsurely slid your left hand into his palm. Vil stepped closer, so close you could smell his sweet perfume and all you could see was him. You felt like a caged bird, cornered, as he leaned just a tad bit closer and continued to smile. However, now his smile was more teasing, but it felt wicked and dubious, “Once Neige is gone, all that time I spent being tormented and pestered by him, can now be dedicated to you. Lately, I’ve been watching you, and there’s something intriguing about you now. It’s as if you’re no longer so absorbed in your work, like you’re finally seeing me as something more than just your superior. You haven’t been brewing potions of passion in the undercroft, have you?”

By now your face was hot, burning at his implications, by his close proximity, by the look in his eyes that made you think he may genuinely be interested but the tiny voice of reason in the back of your head waving red flags at his notions. When he suspected you were even considering looking away from his intense gaze to avoid eye contact, he squeezed your hands in warning, his nail rings pricking your skin ever so slightly. So you were forced to meet his gaze and reply awkwardly, “Of course not… I’m not you.”

The king cackled, raising the back of his other hand to his lips again. With a tone of confidence, he did not even hesitate to respond, “Oh, you’re funny. My poor pet… I would say you’re bird-brained, but you’re not that.” He leaned his head right beside yours, until his painted lips lingered by your ear. The proximity was making you dizzy. His voice was like honey as he whispered, “I don’t need a potion to win you over––”

“Your Majesty, our wondrous Vil!”

Saved by the huntsman. You resisted the urge to heave a sigh of relief while Vil continued to grip your hands and slowly pull away, his head turned to glare at the one who dared to interrupt the moment he was so engrossed in. It seemed he wanted to say something, but he managed to control himself as he merely hissed, “Speak.”

During the pause, you were able to shift your gaze over to him. The huntsman was at the open window, one foot inside already and hands gripping the sides to heave himself up. Why didn’t he come through the door like a normal person? Wasn’t this room on the second floor?

“I have to remind you of your meeting with your precious heir apparent.” Rook smiled as he fully entered through the window, seemingly paying no heed to the scene he just stumbled upon or the vexation in the king’s tone.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Releasing his hold on your hand, he sent you one last chilling glance. When he leaned closer once again to whisper in your ear, your breath hitched as he purred, “Later.” Once he stepped away, he gave you one last mesmerizing look before exiting the room. Yes, you were thankful you didn’t have to deal with the king until next time, but now you pitied Epel for having to stand his presence for hours of lecturing and scolding.

Once the king was gone, you felt vulnerable. While he was pushing you on the edge with his advances and you knew any sign of rejection might tick him off, it was a different kind of unease now that you were alone with the huntsman who you eyed warily. By the time your eyes drifted back to him, you felt your heart rate spike as you noticed he was staring. Upon your gaze meeting his own, he merely smiled a little wider as he hummed.

There was no way you would willingly stick around to be alone with him.

As you slid your hood back on, prepared to take your leave as well, the huntsman’s sharp green eyes landed on the palm of your right hand that was lifted up to move your hood. For a moment, his narrowed gaze vanished and instead was replaced with a quizzical look and a curious smile. Stepping forward, he took your hand in his gloved grip, but he was careful as the tip of his finger traced the now fading injury caused by Epel’s bite. He gasped lightly.

“My, my, what kind of beast could have caused this damage that tarnished your skin? How dare they, for a creature as lovely as you to be wounded like this, why, it should be criminal!”

You hesitate, looking down at the mark that had partially healed on its own. It wasn’t that deep anyways. “Dog.”

Those watchful green eyes flickered up to your expression for a moment, before he chuckled and shook his head. His blonde hair swished back and forth a bit with his head movement, as he removed some gauze from his satchel. There was a hint of amusement that appeared in his smile, and while he wrapped the gauze around your hand, he spoke, “A dog? Ah, I see… But, dogs have much sharper canines that would have cut deeper into the flesh. I’ve hunted an untold amount of wildlife in my time, and encountered nearly every species in the animal kingdom. And this bite mark doesn’t match any creature that comes to mind. It’s truly odd, isn’t it? The shape of the wounds nearly looks like it was formed by something… human.”

He knows. He knows you were lying. You go completely still, allowing him to complete what he was doing. It felt like he was purposefully taking his time in wrapping the gauze securely, as if he were going slowly just to get some sort of reaction. What was his goal? Seeing his eyes on you as he finished the task was unnerving. Could he hear your rapidly increasing heart rate? Was he able to detect the growing alarm you felt?

At your silence, he merely shrugs and finally lowers your hand. That cursed gaze travels away as he says in a near-whisper, “Marks such as those aren’t meant for the hand, they’d do nicely elsewhere though.”

“What?”

“Ah, forgive me, I haven’t apologized for my sudden earlier intrusion between yourself and His Majesty.” Was he seriously going to gloss over what he said as if it were nothing? Now he was back to his positive demeanor. Although his smile was different now, it seemed more harmless, that didn’t do much to place you at ease in the slightest. “It wasn’t my intention to barge in! But I will admit, while the sight was exquisite and it was the very picture of romance, I did feel a twinge of jealousy.”

Did the huntsman like the king like that…? For a moment, your heartbeat steadied as you got a hold of your composure. Honestly, that moment with Vil is probably the first and last you’ll ever get to a romantic moment with a gorgeous person. “Oh, was it because of me?”

You were about to put out a quick and simple apology, but you didn’t get a verbal response. No. Rook only smiled with mirth, his eyes glimmering with amusement appeared to narrow again as he crossed his arms. At his lack of a reply, you feel right on the edge once again, your heart rate picking up immediately again.

“... You were jealous of the situation I was in with His Majesty, right…?”

There was no response yet again. However, the bridge of his nose crinkled slightly as his shoulders shook with the quiet laughter that came out of him. Much like before, he doesn’t answer. Instead, he continues to speak as if this were nothing but mere pleasant conversation. “I must admit, it is always a joy to see you. I must have done something favorable by lady luck, because our paths continue to cross much more frequently. Ah, I’d like to share with you something I experienced. Just a few hours ago, I happened across writing and I could not help but be reminded of your being which remains shrouded in mystery. I believe it went something like…” Rook cleared his throat as he recited somewhat dramatically, “This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing. To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core. Ah, those fiery eyes of yours are exactly what I envisioned in my mind as I read those poem’s lines…! To finally be the one who those focused eyes lay upon––” “Are you done? I’m busy.” You interject, managing to keep an even tone and stoic expression, but it was difficult considering that you just could not relax around the huntsman. You did not forget how he didn’t answer the question about jealousy, which made you nervous as you imagined the possibility that maybe he wasn’t jealous of you with Vil.

Not offended by the curt response, Rook only continued positively. Not only was his reaction, or rather lack of one, very slightly annoying, it was worrying. Most people would have been surprised and maybe even upset by the interruption, but he didn’t appear negatively affected in the slightest. You couldn’t predict his behavior, and that alone was cause for concern. “Forgive me, I’m simply thrilled to finally be holding a proper conversation with you! Normally by now you would have turned heel and walked away, which is why I currently think you are particularly bewitching these past few days. It’s as if the fog around you that you used to cloak your most private secrets and puzzling nature has passed but been replaced by a thicker cloud of fog. You’re an enigma. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

In that moment you held your breath and you felt your blood run cold. Automatically your mind drifted to the weight of the sword on your back. It was heavy, heavier than his dagger and more useful at this proximity than his bow. However, pulling out a sword against him was counterproductive when he was a vital part of the catalyst that sparked the sequence of events that would eventually lead to the story’s ending.

Considering your options, allowing the villains to live and perhaps even assisting them in the end would weigh in your favor. Afterall, you had yet to see any prince or princess for Neige, which meant things were already changing whether you liked it or not. Say a good ending was achieved where the pretty protagonist prince lived happily ever after. What would this get for you? It wouldn’t be the happy ending you knew in the fairytale if there was no royal on horseback to save Neige after he bites the poisoned apple. Should you somehow help him achieve a good ending, then what? Would he live with the seven dwarves in a cottage for the rest of his life or marry and inherit a crown? What could he offer you? On the other hand, Vil already had the crown, wealth, and power. These living conditions were quite nice when you didn’t have much to do, and if you ever felt threatened, running away with a bag stuffed with gold from the treasury would be easy.

Perhaps being the beautiful king’s raven wasn’t so bad, all things considered. This was a hell you may be able to adjust to and accept as your punishment.

“I like when people speak frankly, not in riddles.” You respond calmly, despite the racing of your heart. Responding was a risk, but ignoring his words wasn’t any safer. It made sense as to why he was a hunter, because at the moment you were cornered and he hadn’t so much as removed a single arrow from his quiver.

Rook, again, only smiled ominously. It didn’t feel like he had malicious intent, but you still felt like you were in danger, you still felt threatened. He could, metaphorically speaking, pull the trigger at any second and you would be dead. As if he saw through you and knew all your secrets. All he was doing now was baiting you for another word, another sentence, another phrase, any slightest sound or action that was a slip-up leading to more information falling into the palm of his hands. Maybe that’s why he didn’t respond. Either that, or you were thinking way too deeply and the paranoia was starting to consume your mind. You wanted to believe it was the former and you weren’t quite insane yet.

Finally, he chuckled, amused as he crossed his arms over his chest and peered at you with his forest green eyes. You could only imagine how terrifying he was when he was truly in his element, when he shed formalities and used the weapons strapped to him. “Your eyes speak a million words, and your actions paint a most curious story! Tell me, little raven, what words do you have for me?”

Were you seriously participating unwillingly in this dangerous dance with the very man that served Vil? Rook was his huntsman, he was to hide no secrets from His Majesty and carry out his will. And it felt like Rook knew everything he wasn’t supposed to know.

It could have been the adrenaline and fear you felt in this current moment underneath the composed facade that formed the words in your head. Clutching your wrapped hand to your chest, you took a breath. You really were just like a wounded animal he was seconds from ensnaring. Although you wouldn’t hesitate to lash out. Ravens were known for plucking out eyes. The answer came too fast, “You won’t be able to do it. You can’t kill the prince.”

Upon hearing your words, Rook appeared surprised, but it was only momentarily. Only a second or two of shock, before his bewilderment morphed into satisfaction. Like he had just won and caught the quarry. “Ah, how wonderful! So, you have decided to impart your knowledge upon me just as you have to Epel! I feel truly privileged!”

You froze in place. You never once mentioned anything to Rook about what you knew from the story, and you trusted that Epel would keep his mouth shut. So how did he know?

It’s like that piercing gaze of his could see directly into your mind, as if he could hear your very inner thoughts. As you remained stagnant in shock, waiting to see who would be the brave soul to make the first move, he spoke amicably, answering the question you never voiced. “Even the walls have ears. It is my duty to serve His Majesty in any way I can, so of course no whispers or rumors escape me.” Then, his smile turned sad and disappeared, that jovial tone diminished to a quiet whisper, “But, you are correct. I cannot do it.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, processing his confession. Seeing the huntsman with his head lowered toward you, was exactly like in storybook book pages that depicted a humble huntsman bowing before a princess to beg for forgiveness. It's possible that maybe the huntsman wasn’t evil, afterall, he would be the one to spare the innocent royal. Maybe he had a heart, a good one. But you didn’t.

“Why? You can hunt animals and drag seven innocent people here to involuntarily compete for the crown. And you knew six of those seven were to die, didn’t you?” You crossed your own arms after making sure the black hood was securely over your head.

Catching a glimpse of his somber frown, you knew his answer would remain unchanging. He did not have the guts to go forth and stain his hands red with the blood of an innocent prince. “I… I did not know they would perish. I truly thought they would be set free.”

You sigh, contemplating your next actions. You truly didn’t want to harm Neige either, even if Vil despised him with all his heart, mind, and soul. However, the highest chances of you avoiding a terrible fate and achieving some sort of wonderful life, could only be accomplished if the Evil King received a good ending. That could only happen if the prince was dead, as Vil would only be deemed the fairest one of all once his rivals were vanquished. “Fine then, if you cannot do it, I’ll do it myself.”

Rook, apparently temporarily shocked, was stunned by the resolve in your own words. He searched for any wavering determination before he tried to smile once more. For now he lowered his feathered hat to his chest as he spoke and stretched out an inviting hand, “Let’s not talk such dreary things. Please, there’s a lovely view at the top of the palace where you might perhaps tell me more about this story. I’m awfully curious, and it just might help me finally understand you better.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It became clear after that fateful evening that Rook knew every happening that occurred in the palace and in the nearby town. There was no possible way to keep it secret, so you told him the basics such as that this was a story and he was a character within the tale, but you decided it best to tell him no more than that. It would be optimal to give him no upper hand at all. It was then promised that he wouldn’t share this information, and you made doubly sure to emphasize the fact that you would make certain that he received a bad ending if he were to betray your trust. However, the eccentric huntsman only laughed in amusement at your threat. What a weirdo.

Well, at the very least, Rook was not the only one keeping tabs on happenings within the palace. That was what you had Epel for, he was useful in giving up information when it was needed. Even if he was formerly a peasant boy, he was no idiot. He never gave anything for free, it was a trade of knowledge which you didn’t entirely mind. There were lots of useless story details and scenes you could give up, such as the existence of the dwarves and the cottage in the woods. Besides, at the rate this story was shifting, those characters nor settings would no longer be necessary.

But one day, Epel brought a very interesting account that could potentially change everything.

Within the private training room where the king’s valued heir took fencing lessons, the door was abruptly slammed open, and there stood the said heir looking particularly ruffled. Manners tossed aside by how harshly he opened the door and flung it shut behind him, he ripped his cloak off his shoulders and chucked it aside as if it weren’t a carefully tailored cloth and instead a wash rag. Etiquette forgotten from his countless hours of learning it, he spoke naturally in his odd and difficult to understand dialect. “Vil’s pitchin’ a hissy fit with a tail on it! I was nearabout ready to come back, figured you’re way better than listening to all them uppity folk––”

You stopped, lowering the new lighter and sharper sword you exchanged for the old one you carried on your back. He spoke so quickly and said so many words that went completely over your head, you had to give him a look as you interrupted his talking, “English, Felmier.”

Freezing in his tracks, he groaned and repeated in a clearer, simpler manner, “Vil is mad. There. You happy?”

“Then say so.”

“I did!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. Epel continued, but thankfully not in his natural dialect. Although it was evident that he was still peeved about something. “There was some girl that showed up, a princess or something, and she asked for an audience with Vil! I happened to overhear, everyone was raving thinkin’ that it was just another princess asking for the king’s hand, but when she was talkin’ to Vil, she asked for Neige’s hand!”

The prince. It was the prince, now princess, that was originally supposed to be the one that Prince Neige fell in love with. The arrival of the princess would certainly throw a wrench in the plan. Why had it taken her so long to show up when you had already believed that they would no longer be involved within the tale?

The lavender-haired former farmer boy, paced back and forth in this wide training space. Usually he’d take an interest in the fencing equipment, it was one of the few lessons he actually enjoyed and took part in without so much stubborn complaints or begrudging behavior. But right now, he was far too troubled to even think about fencing. “When Vil summoned Neige to meet the princess, he turned her down! Said somethin’ about having feelings already for someone within the palace. Well, whoever it was, Vil must’ve known, because he nearly went haywire right then and there!” Stopping his steps, he turned to you and went on accusingly, “You know who it is, don’t you? Spit it out!”

“It’s me…” This could not be happening–– You never were supposed to gain the affection of that pure-hearted prince! Now, Vil likely figured out who his step-brother had eyes for, and this would not bide well with his envious nature.

Those big blue eyes of his widened in shock. “What?!”

Neige had to be gone and fast. But how could one make a prince disappear? It wasn’t as if he could be done with and escape the consequences. The royal was beloved by the citizens far too much, should they learn that he was murdered, things would quickly become problematic. There could be no raising a blade against him. Unless… an accident of sorts was staged.

Suddenly, you’re reminded of the image of a delicious red apple, a tool to the original plot that becomes the princess’ demise. Perhaps you didn’t have to stray too far from the plot after all. However, someone would have to take the blame once the deed was done. “Is the princess still here?”

Confused by the inquiry but nodding in response, Epel looked even more baffled than before. “Yeah, but why do you care? What’s she got to do with this? Don’t tell me she’s somebody important.”

If staying with Vil was the quickest and easiest route where a good ending for yourself was more certain, then you’d take it. No princess or prince would get in the way, and you would use Epel to help secure the ending. Even if some persuasion was needed, since you knew he didn’t have much of an appreciation for the current king. Lowering your blade on the table, you left it behind as you approached him, close enough to place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye. Close enough so he could hear the whisper that came from your lips, so quiet that not even a mouse in the walls could detect what was said, only he could hear these words. “We are going to assassinate Prince Neige.”

Epel gazed at you with pure disbelief, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth open a gape in bewilderment. “But that’s Rook’s––”

“Rook can’t be counted on.” You counter. At the moment, you were unsure if Rook could really go through and murder the prince with his own two hands. You’ve trusted him enough with your own secrets, but you certainly didn’t trust him with your fate.

The heir appeared to contemplate it. The atmosphere had turned somber, like he was seriously considering it. Not just anyone could stomach the knowledge, but he appeared to be processing it just fine. That is, until he suggested something that surprised even you. “Why not just, change the target to someone of higher power and just… you know.” He made a swift slicing motion over his neck. You knew exactly what he meant, and who he meant. “That way, we’d both be free.”

“It’s not guaranteed to work. Killing a king would be more difficult than killing a prince that the king wants dead anyways.” You point out that simple fact. There were constantly guards around the king like worker bees following their queen. However, here on palace grounds, most avoided the prince as they knew interacting with him was a quick and easy way to make the king bitter. This made Neige vulnerable.

A frown appeared on his lovely face, etched on like a pout. While his look may be an endearing one, his voice did not say the same. By his tone, he sounded unsure, maybe even a tad bit annoyed as he accused, “You forgot, I don’t give a damn about the crown! If that happened, it would mean that I’ll definitely end up taking Vil’s place one day.”

“I didn’t forget.” You reply instantly, using logic to convince him that this was the best option available. “You forget how vain his majesty is. Vil will never give up the crown willingly. The only time he’ll give it up, is when he’s old and gray and on his deathbed. By then, you’d either be long gone on to freedom, or have figured out some other way to handle the matter in whatever way you want. As for me, I don’t care who’s king, as long as I get to live and be happy.” You could visibly see the gears turning in his head as he heard your words. You add more to pressure him further and make him see reason. “Like it or not, you’re involved. In whatever way this ends, just remember, the citizens of this kingdom will likely not be so kind to you if word ever reached them that you were the chosen heir of the king, a king that abused the precious prince. Even if you didn’t participate directly, the fact still stands that you’re connected to Vil. If Neige receives his happily ever after, everything may end alright, or it may not, but I can’t guarantee your safety in that case. That’s why I suggest getting rid of him now, and placing the blame on someone else.”

“Someone else… They’ll never suspect us. This is insane, I mean, I don’t care for that guy but… me, you, us––” He slapped his hand over his mouth, moving it up towards his hair. The young man looked so stressed that he was about ready to pull out his lavender curls. And yet, there wasn’t really anger. Mild irritation maybe, but not anger, and something else was there. Something foreign to you. “I’d kill for you, you’d kill for me.”

Ah, maybe. Maybe not. It depended on the situation, but he didn’t need to know that. Although it was reassuring to hear that he was most definitely an ally that would help to achieve your goal.

His small hands remained on his scalp, tangled in his hair, gripping his own head as he raved, “Don’t tell me you’ve been learnin’ all that potions stuff from the king! It feels like I’m going crazy, havin’ these unnatural thoughts I never had before–– I’ve been imagining things. I want to get out of this dump, but I imagined runnin’ away with you, showing you my village, introducing you to my ma and everyone else back home! Then forgetting everyone else in this stupid place!”

Those big blue eyes gazed right at you, scanning your face that he’s come to actually grow fond of. Out of everyone in this hell, he actually liked your company, craved it even. There’s no one else here on palace grounds that he would willingly talk to without grumbling about it. Even if it began with the original retainer, his trust grew with you, the imposter.

“It’s all your damn fault…! But I’m not mad, I can’t be, even though I want to spit and punch you for this but at the same time I don’t wanna hurt you. Just, tell me right now, to my face. Tell me it’s stupid and I’m actin’ dumb so I quit it!”

You nod, a bit stunned by the outburst. However, you had other plans in mind. “Keep it up.”

By now maybe it was giving him false hope at an ending he dreamed of, but he was still useful to you. So for now, you ignored his look of shock and pink on his cheeks as you pried his hand off his head and he lowered his other hand to his side.

The plan was simple really, it would be far too easy if you could actually manage to pull it off. “I’m telling you this, because you will have to help me guide the princess in the right direction. Talk to her, steer the conversation to romance. If she’s smart, she’ll ask you for advice assuming you know Neige. Suggest giving a gift. Once everything is over, then we can think about your hometown.”

There was still shock on his face, as if he was still struggling a bit to process everything that was coming out of your mouth. It seemed like it was a lot, as one of his dainty hands held your hand tightly while his other hand gripped part of the cloth of his shirt, his knuckles turning white from the strength behind his grip. “I thought you were kinda cool. Not as annoying as Rook or Vil or anyone else, and I wanted to escape with you…! But this murder plan just makes it seem like you’re exactly like that old raven that you replaced, but for some stupid reason I still can’t not like you.”

“It will technically not be murder. In a way… It’s complicated.”

There were apple trees at the very corner of the royal grounds. A basket of fruit would be a sweet and kind gesture with unsuspecting maliciousness intertwined. All that was needed was to take the apple that would be picked, poison it as the beautiful queen did in the original tale, and place it back in the basket that the princess would offer to the prince. Poisoning it as it was done in the fairytale, wouldn’t truly kill Niege. It would merely place him under a death like sleep, with the chance that he may one day wake up several years in the future long after we are gone. Because really, Neige didn’t truly deserve death. However, even if he was to never wake up, at least he would be in a dream and avoid a brutal end by his jealous step-brother.

“But there’s only one person who can make the poison we need for this to succeed…”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The plan had to be enacted before Rook could take Neige to pick flowers. Luckily, or unluckily for you, a request for an audience with the king was not even needed. Before you could even search for him as you were rereading pages of the heavy tome in the undercroft, there was the creaking of the wooden door that signaled someone entering the dungeon beneath the palace.

Hardly anyone else ventured down here, and by the clicking of heels against the stone floors, it became obvious of who it was. Your theories were only confirmed true when you felt a presence behind you, peering over your shoulder as the delightfully familiar voice that filled you with unease greeted kindly, “My dear retainer.”

Instantly you felt your body stiff and rigid, feeling uncertain under his gaze. You were many things, but often fearful wasn’t one of them. This story was just filled with characters that made you tense, the king being the one that troubled you the most. Despite all this, you managed to remain polite, only turning your head to nod at him with respect. “Your Majesty. It’s a surprise to see you down here.”

“I could say the same. Didn’t I specifically instruct you to stay aboveground for the time being?” It sounded like a scolding, but it was nowhere near as harsh as one. In fact, it sounded more like gentle chastising. Not at all like the harsh criticism and stern reprimanding he gave to anyone else. Not another word came about that before his amethyst eyes landed on the pages you were reading. “Poison apple. You weren’t by chance planning to assassinate me with that, were you? That’s not nearly enough poison to eliminate me. Haven’t you heard of mithridatism?”

Mithridatism? Did he practice that? It’s a good thing that you ultimately did not choose the path of killing him, as he likely would have proven much more difficult than any other target. If you had attempted to take his life and it failed, you could only imagine how frightful the king would become in his rage at your betrayal. The mere thought made you shudder.

It wasn’t easy to focus when he was directly behind you, his chest practically against your back as he continued reading over your shoulder. “Not you… I was considering this for the prince. I believe that I’m the only one that can stomach handling this, not the huntsman.”

“Interesting… and why did you choose the poison apple?” To think that the beautiful man that currently had his chin on your shoulder, would probably be an wretched old peddler with wrinkled skin and hair white as snow, if the story had stayed on course. It was plausible that the beautiful queen turning herself ugly just to kill her rival was an analogy of sorts for the hideousness of her personality. And yet, when the king who was based on that very character was in your presence, yes he was vile and cruel but he was rather fair to you. Especially when he expressed a sort of tenderness in his smile and looked down at you through his long lashes.

“It’s a special sort of death.” Upon reading through most of the pages of the thick leather tome, you discovered that a huge majority of the deadly spells had antidotes and ways to be reversed. Many were easy to reverse, some were harder, but the most difficult antidote to receive was for those that ate the poisoned apple. It was no wonder the evil queen originally chose it, as it was only by chance that the prince awoke the princess with true love’s first kiss. “Not easy to find an antidote for.”

“Hm…” His head continued to linger on your shoulder, his lips and part of his nose buried by the cloth on your shoulder as his watchful gaze remained stuck on you through his half-lidded eyes. At such a close proximity with his face literally inches from yours, you didn’t dare turn your head, but in your peripheral vision you could make out the black mascara and smokey light eyeshadow that accentuated his fine features. Even without the use of makeup, he was sure to be stunning. “As expected, you dally away precious time. However, there’s a princess…”

“So I’ve heard.” Your response was careful, as this conversation was quickly approaching dangerous territory. From what was told to you by Epel, after the princess arrived, Vil summoned Neige to speak about it when the young oblivious prince admitted he loved someone within the palace. Vil knew who, you knew. As this conversation progressed, you would have to choose your words carefully. It would be like walking in a minefield.

It started, you realized, as his fond gaze slowly shifted to something a little more cold. While you couldn’t see his mouth due to the position he was in, you guessed he wasn’t smiling lightly in content and intrigue like before. “Then I assume you know of the prince’s… let’s call it, an insignificant crush.”

“Yes…” A crush may not be the term Neige would have preferred. The prince would have likely used flowery language akin to the type seen in romantic novels read in the middle ages. But you weren’t going to fret over the small details. Stoically you replied, “If you desire it done, I can be rid of both the prince and princess. An apple for the prince, and a jail cell for the princess.”

Vil raised a carefully plucked blonde eyebrow, his careful vigilance turning to astonished curiousness as he connected the dots with the clues given by your words. He seemed to understand, and take delight in your response as he nodded against your shoulder. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

Averting your gaze down to the parchment paper in the tome, you placed your palm against the surface and read off ingredients that were needed. None of which you understood. Not that you would even attempt making something so potent. In the middle of your reading, you felt arms snake around your waist, rendering you motionless as if being paralyzed by some other poison he could’ve used.

By your ear you felt his warm breath, and his arms were surprisingly strong as he held you tightly, preventing you from going anywhere. The words he spoke in his feathery voice felt like they tickled the side of your neck and caused a shiver to go down your spine. Was it fear or was it pleasure? “… You could finally use those funeral preparations you made in advance.”

“True… This type of poison could be made with ease by me, it merely requires patience as the brew seeps through the simmering apple. It will take some hours. There are many different poisons, but one of this caliber that requires magic is most lethal. And yet, it looks so delicious. Entrancing and deadly, my favorite combination.” One of his hands roamed up to your neck, his well-manicured nails and soft fingers casually resting on your throat. There was this creeping feeling that he wasn’t talking about the poisoned apple anymore. Externally you remained cool and level-headed, but internally you felt your breath still in that moment as your heart picked up speed. And it was like he saw all these signs on you, reading you like an open book. “The breath will still, the heart will beat rapidly in those final moments…”

You know he didn’t poison you, but it felt as if you were sick with something that was worse than poison. You shifted in place, keeping your breathing even. Never once have you prepared for a situation like this. Removing your hands from the tome, you lowered them over his knuckle, one of his own hands still around your waist like a belt. The intention was to attempt to pry off his hands, at least, that’s what you think you were trying to accomplish, but Vil took it as an invitation to continue.

A hum like a purr came from him as he moved his head closer, so his lips were practically at the exposed flesh of your neck. And yet, he didn’t move. You remained as still as a statue, while he murmured in a quiet and confident tone that slowly morphed into something pleading and desperate. “Nevermore will you, my previous retainer, have to stray from me again. Once he is gone, everything will be made right. There will be none left worthy of your companionship, except for me. I will be your sole companion. So do not leave…”

You felt a tremor throughout your body as he placed a lingering kiss against your neck, his soft lips by your jaw before he pulled away. Not even far enough so you could see his face, he only moved his head away an inch, as if even the thought of being physically apart right now was too much to bear.

His arms around your torso tightened, and your back was pressed flush against his chest. His voice was low and intoxicating, this was dangerous. “For now, you’ll assist me in making the poisoned apple. While we wait a few hours for it to simmer and absorb the toxic qualities in the cauldron, we’ll be spending some… quality time together, my pet.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning, you awoke slowly, feeling groggy and tired, until everything came rushing back and you sat upright in alarm. You were in the familiar bedroom that once belonged to the retainer you replaced. However, there was a slight warmth on the other half of the mattress, as if someone had just been laying beside you and left not too long ago.

On the wall as you sat up, you could see your reflection in the mirror, the messy bedhead and tired looking eyes, but also the slightest traces of red lipstick stains on your neck and across parts of your face.

You had zero time to process what had happened before you spotted the shiny red apple on the counter with a small note beside it. The note simply read, For your mission. Wash your face once you wake up.

It took almost no time at all to get dressed and prepared, and wash your face. By now, Epel should already be speaking to the princess, advising her to attempt to appeal to the prince by picking fruit from the garden and gifting it to the royal she loved. Your task now was to simply add the poisoned apple when no one was looking.

As you opened the door, you noticed a shadow and quickly hid the apple in a pocket of your long black cloak, just as familiar blonde locks and forest green eyes came into view. You closed the door behind you, as you were greeted by a welcoming smiling and that accented voice that bid good morning.

“Ah, petit corbeau! What a fine day, isn’t it?” Immediately your gaze went to his expression and his hands, your ears keenly listening to his tone of voice. It didn’t appear as if he were hiding anything. There was no somberness to his voice, no frown on his face, and no red staining his hands. Although, the good killers always washed their hands clean of the evidence.

For now, you don’t bother asking why he was outside of your room. Knowing Rook, he’d probably say some flattering words with an unsettling meaning hidden within his ornate speech. Right now, you would much rather not have to dwell on that for too long when a royal was to die soon. For now, all you do is remind him of your previous words towards him, “You couldn’t do it. So, knowing you somehow overheard what’s to happen today, is this your attempt to stop me?” You were quiet, making sure not to be overheard, only so he could hear your warning and see your cold gaze. “Know that if you try to stop me, that will be a form of treason against His Majesty.”

That smile turned into a more bleak one, as he struggled to keep up the corners of his lips. He knew what was to happen, of course he did. It was as he said, he knew everything that transpired within the palace grounds. “Ah, I would love to see the raven ruffled up.” He joked lightly before adding in a more serious tone, “Ravens are most commonly associated with bringing the unfortunate news of a passing. As much as I dream of seeing you in your element, I just wish it wasn’t… him. I’d much rather it be me than him, even if being the victim was the only way to catch a glimpse into your true nature and to have your attention solely focused on me.”

You leered at him, deciding not to take out your blade. Rook was a weirdo, but he most certainly wasn’t a killer. You couldn’t imagine him outright attacking you, even now as he knew that the beloved prince would die either way. “I’ll cut you down too if you get in my way.”

Unexpectedly, Rook removed his hat and held it to his chest. He gazed at you like how an artist would admire the treasured painting of the beautiful Mona Lisa, as he bowed his head to you, exposing the back of his neck as his blonde hair shifted with his movement. “From you? I would consider it the greatest honor bestowed on me.”

You merely moved around him, your cloak brushing past him. Even after Neige was dead, Rook would be cause for concern. But you would worry about him then, right now you had an apple in your cloak, a princess to frame, and a prince to assassinate.

As it turned out, planting the ripe red apple at the top of the basket was the easiest part. It was simple, when the princess had left the basket of freshly picked fruits unattended. Perhaps the worst part was waiting. Waiting to hear when it would happen, when the prince would take that bite that would seal his fate. Part of you wondered if he might dream of you. Afterall, he seemed to have this idealized version of you in his head. So it was possible, but it’s not like you would ever know.

For now, you appeared as you were told when you were later summoned by the king to the gardens where you emerged after exiting the undercroft on your first day here. Now, you were currently strolling through the private gardens of the palace grounds together, as if you hadn’t both planned murder. Any moment now, you expected a servant to come rushing, the palace would be overrun with commotion once the poisoned apple was consumed. If there were any remnants of the fruit left, you had instructed Epel to dispose of it in the midst of the chaos when no one would notice.

But right now, it was quiet. A peaceful tranquil quiet, where you could look up at the sky and sun and feel its warmth. One where you were free. Even if you could never return home, perhaps living in this world was better. Should you ever need to, you could always escape the beautiful king. But this was a plan you would keep to yourself.

Vil remained beside you, looking as elegant as ever with his robes and crown perched atop his skull. Like a peacock promenading in the yards of a private estate. There was one thing that confused you in this story. As angelic as Neige was, and as rotten as the king’s personality might have been, the mirror must’ve been blind if it insisted that Vil was not the fairest of them all.

The King looked over at you, a pretty smile adorning his face when he saw your eyes on him, just as he liked it. Keeping his hands folded in front of him, the pair stopped beside the well. Since he had dismissed his guards to be alone with you, there was no one else to hear or see what went on between you and him. Those amethyst eyes were no longer so chilling but still more than enough to put you on the edge. “Tell me, my dear, how long were you planning to keep me in the dark?”

You remained still, confused at his words. What was this about? He seemed content, but what did he mean by this? There was a sneaking suspicion and fear in the back of your mind, but you played it cool as you leaned on the well with your arms on the smooth rocky edge. “I’m not sure what you mean, Your Majesty.”

A brief chuckle came from him as he reached over, his thumb rubbing against your cheek and his fingers grazing along your jaw. “You’re amusing.” Abruptly, faster than you can anticipate it, you felt a sharp edge against your throat, not piercing flesh but close enough that you had to tilt your head upwards to avoid being cut. It was a knife.

Your breath hitched. You made no sudden movements, no reaching for your own blade or trying to grab his wrist, because in a single instance he could end you now and that would be the end to your story. Everything you did to get here and set up a decent life, would be utterly useless if you were dead. Taking a deep breath, you purse your lips before holding up your hands to show you had nothing to strike back. “What are you doing, Your Majesty? After everything I did to assist you?”

The knife was small, compact, decorated with small jewels as shiny as it was sharp. It was small enough to easily be hidden in his robes, but honed enough to easily end you here just as the judges intended for you to go out. “You were useful, but… when it’s just me and my retainer, my trusted retainer refers to me as Vil not Your Majesty.”

You felt your blood run cold. He knew, this entire time? From the moment you encountered him, did he realize by your use of formalities, or did he figure it out sometime afterward? You’d been played.

A knowing smile graced his lips once he took in your shock, one of the first clear expressions on your face in so long. Normally you were so composed, it felt like an accomplishment to break that poised demeanor, to see the horror dawn on your face as you were reminded of the judgment that had been cast, of the hell you were in that was veiled by gorgeous folk and the chance at a free life.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and winced, anticipating the feeling of the blade running through your throat, there was a shriek. A shrill shriek from a woman, the sound sent a chill running down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin. You anticipated the red spilling from your own neck, but there wasn’t a drop.

The knife was removed from your skin as Vil hummed, not really paying attention to the distant sound of servants scrambling to check on the source of the sound that must’ve come up from one of the upper floors of the palace. “It appears like it’s finally happened.”

There was no need for further explanation to understand what he meant. The scream must’ve come from the princess who witnessed Prince Neige collapse after taking a bite of the apple. In seconds, guards of the palace will arrive at the crime scene, they’ll see the beloved prince trapped in a sleeping death on the ground and the princess beside him will be the only culprit. It’s done… And yet now, you now had to grapple with Vil knowing you were not who you pretended to be this entire time.

“I didn’t know you were close.” The raven should’ve been apprehensive of the evil queen that tormented them. Were you wrong? Was their shared history different from the tale?

“I lied. Please, I’m no imbecile. I think it’s a bit rude that you never properly introduced yourself, but I forgive you considering the unique circumstances.” Expertly he twirled the dagger between his long fingers, while he didn’t even have to focus on his hand to do so. The entire time he stared at you, a smile on his curved lips. “Did you think me a fool that I could be so easily tricked? I had known them for several years, but I must admit, I like you better.” His left arm was crossed over his torso, propping up the right arm that held the knife and casually pointed it at you. “All they did in recent years was hole themself up in the undercroft, but you, you’re plucky, brave, funny too.”

You felt partially numb. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go–– Everything was going so perfect! Why did he have to know? Was it too late to escape? Could you try and run now that things were turning south, or was it worth staying? Judging by the look in the king’s eyes, staying was likely not the best idea. A caged raven was not a happy one.

“If you’re honest to me, I’m honest to you. I only tricked you, because you foolishly believed yourself to be playing me this entire time, hm? Don’t mistake my intentions though, because I am fond of you. All those sweet words, whispered promises, and love I gave you was all real.” The tip of the dagger was against your chin, and the beautiful blonde king peered down at you through his lashes. Raising the fingers of his freehand, he lightly traced his sharp nails over the side of your face. The next words came in a quiet voice, stern and serious, vaguely threatening but also with the promise of sweetness.

“However, I don’t appreciate the idea of you flying away. Fret not. You’ll be well taken care of, and loved more than any little prince with a crush could love you… You wanted him dead, isn’t that so? Well, we killed him. There is nothing more for you to be afraid of. So now, I want you to tell me about where you come from, why you wanted him dead, and what you wish for. No matter what you desire, I will see to it that you have it so long as you remain by my side permanently. Reintroduce yourself, from the top, my Darling Retainer.”

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