#he could just as easily pull out a rapier

[armandposting]

anyway new idea daniel taunts armand with his old names one more time and armand is like oh you want to see amadeo? I'll show you amadeo. and whips out an axe

[spider-stark]

LITTLE DRAGON

Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader

Summary - Your elder brother, Jace, attempts to teach you how to wield a sword. Aegon, your new betrothed, interrupts.

Warnings - slight Jace x Reader but you can ignore that alright

Word Count - 3.8k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

“You aren’t tucking your elbows!”  

Jacaerys shouted from across the training yard, sparing your horrid fighting stance a half-moment’s glance before shifting his focus back to the weapons table laid before him, enamored by all the fresh steel he had to choose from.  

Sweat dripped from your hairline, trickling down your temples and giving your reddened cheeks a glossy sheen. The sun’s rays felt particularly relentless today, blistering down upon the yard and reminding you of just how much you hated summers spent in King’s Landing, already dreading the thought of being stuck here.   

You had grown accustomed to the cool, dampness of the island you had called home for the last several years. Dragonstone was almost always engulfed in a cover of clouds, and the soft breeze rolling-in from the Blackwater ensured that the warmer months were never quite as stifling as they were in King’s Landing.  

“I am tucking my elbows!” You howled at him, gritting your teeth against the growing pain in your biceps.  

The two of you had been out in the yard since sunrise, going over the basics of swordplay over and over and over again. By this point it felt like your brother’s instructions had been all but carved into your mind—plant your feet, square your shoulders, bend your knees, and tuck your elbows.  

Remembering the steps hadn’t been the hard part, however. The hard part was actually doing them—and doing them right.  

“No,” Jace grinned as he plucked a delicately forged rapier from the table. “You’re not.”  

You blew out a breath, frustrated as you dropped the faulty form all together and let your arms hang limp at your sides. The training sword hung heavy from your hand, the tip of its blunt blade digging into the dirt.  

“This is ridiculous,” you huffed, watching as your brother drew closer to you, admiring the nimble blade in his hand. “I’ve bent my elbows a thousand different ways—and none of them have been right!”  

“That’s the issue! You’re bending your elbows, not tucking them!” Jace reprimanded, though his voice remained gentle, as it oft was when speaking to you.  

Your patience was wearing thin as your frustration grew, aggravated by not only the sweltering heat and swordplay, but also yourself. Your brothers had mastered the basics of fighting when they were less than half your age—and yet you couldn’t even manage a half-decent defensive stance.  

Exasperated and nearly at the end of your rope, you knew that you probably looked as miserable as you sounded. “Are bending and tucking not the same thing?”  

“Bending your elbows is a subtle movement,” Jace started to explain, “it helps you maintain some degree of flexibility. But tucking your elbows is more rigid, making for a better defense mechanism. By keeping your elbows close to your body, you’re tightening your posture and making it harder for your enemies to land a blow.”  

Adjusting your grip on the training sword, you brought it back up into a ready position, both hands now clutching the hilt. “So all I need to do is pull my elbows in closer?”  

“Exactly!”  

Focusing on each of the movements, you slid one foot slightly ahead of the other, balancing yourself as he’d instructed earlier. You took care to keep your knees bent, just enough to ensure that you could easily dodge or leap out of the way of an incoming strike.  

Once you were confident that you had done those steps correctly, watching as Jace nodded along in silent approval, you lifted the sword so that the pommel fell just a few inches below your breastbone, the point rising high above your head.  

Then, finally, you tried tucking your elbows as close to your sides as you could, attempting to block as much of your torso as possible from incoming attacks.  

“Like this?” You asked him, gritting your teeth against the throbbing in your arms, still so unused to the weight of the weapon.  

Jace cocked his head, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well…”  

“Seven Hells, Jace!” You howled at him, trying to hold the position, “There are only so many ways to move your elbows!”  

“Yes, but now it’s not your elbows causing the problem!” He retaliated, extending his arm and using the tip of his rapier to point to your legs. “Standing like you are now, if you had to dodge your legs would probably lock up and slow you down. You need to drive your knees further apart!”  

You did as you were told, albeit a bit begrudgingly. 

“Better?” You hissed through your teeth, ignoring the way your legs trembled beneath you.  

Jace studied you, eyes narrowing as he scanned every inch of your form. “Push your shoulders further back,” he instructed, “and straighten your back out a little bit.”  

Again, you shifted into the new movements, adjusting and tweaking the positions to his liking. Your fingers hurt now, too, and painful blisters had already begun to form on your palms.  

“Straighter,” Jace snapped, still finding your posture to be sub-par. “And try to keep your toes pointed towards-”  

Your frustration finally peaked as you fell out of the intricate form, nearly doubling over as an exhausted groan ripped from your throat. Jace’s eyes widened at the sound, doubling back slightly.  

“And what next?!” You cried loudly, letting your sword fall to the ground. Throwing your aching arms out to the side in a dramatic display, you sneered at him, “Shall I hop on one-fucking-leg and shake my ass?”  

A sigh escaped your brother's parted lips, shaking his head as he leaned down to pick up your discarded weapon. Regret already seeped into your mind and dulled your anger as you began to prepare for the lecture that was surely about to leave his mouth—one that was no doubt about the level of discipline required for swordsmanship, and how you needed to maintain a level head.  

But, before he had the chance, another voice broke through.  

“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to try,” Aegon quipped from somewhere behind you, sounding far too amused with himself. “Go on,” he urged, “give it a shot. I for one would love to watch.”  

With clenched fists you spun around to face him, glaring into his lilac eyes, resenting the way they sparkled with something like delight. It wasn’t until his gaze traveled south that you lost your cool, however, noticing how he eyed the low neckline of your tunic, watching as sweat slipped between your breasts.  

But as soon as you took a step towards him, fully prepared to strike the arrogant Prince, Jace snatched your wrist and held you back. Level-headed enough to think for the both of you, he refused to let you do anything that would give Queen Alicent further reason to despise you—even if he would have loved to watch his sister beat Aegon’s ass.  

“You’re interrupting our training,” Jace told him, keeping his voice respectful despite the undeniable edge of frustration.  

“Am I?” Aegon pursed his lips, staring at the training sword that was still discarded on the ground, abandoned when Jace realized he would have to hold you back from your uncle. “Doesn’t seem like you’re doing a very good job, then. It’s easier to fight when the sword is in your hand-”  

Jace interrupted, “We should really get back to work,”  

“No need,” your uncle swiftly retorted, flashing a cocky smirk that only served to make your rage grow further. “I actually came here hoping for a moment alone with my niece,” he continued, pinning your brother with a stare, “you wouldn’t mind, would you?”  

You recognized the trap that he had set for your brother. If it were anyone other than Aegon, Jace would have wasted little time in telling them off, but this was different. Rejecting Aegon would create conflict—the one thing your mother had asked you and your siblings to avoid, if only to avoid upsetting the beast that was your step-grandmother, the Queen Alicent.  

“Now isn’t a good time,” Jace tried to protest, searching for some peaceful way to turn Aegon away. “You saw her just now, didn’t you? She’s clearly in need of more practice.”  

You were silent, primarily because you could feel Jace’s fingernails digging into your skin, a warning to stay silent. When it came to you, Jace wasn’t violent by any means, but he was more than willing to be assertive if it meant keeping you safe.  

Aegon drew a breath, still wearing that sly smile that made your skin crawl. “Very well,” he said, and you felt Jace’s grip on your wrist loosen at his assumed victory. “Then I’ll teach her myself.”  

Jace’s eyes grew wide, a muscle in his jaw feathering. Refusing to back down, his mouth fell open to speak, trying to form some other nonsense excuse to keep you from being alone with Aegon—but you stopped him.  

“It’s fine, Jace,” you told him, slipping your wrist from his grasp. “If Aegon believes himself capable of teaching me, then let him.”  

The look on Jace’s face stubbornly pleaded with you to take it back— to say that you were done with training for the day, to say anything that would keep you from being stuck with him.  

But you refused, steeling yourself and meeting his gaze with an equally unrelenting stubbornness. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to avoid Aegon forever, and you refused to let your uncle think that he had enough of an effect on you that you would resort to cowardly excuses to get out of being alone with him.  

Jace leaned closer to you and asked in a low voice, “Are you sure?”  

You grimaced at the question. “Yes,” you snapped, not wanting to appear as the image of a helpless little girl in front of your uncle. But then you saw the hurt flash in your brother’s dark, doe eyes and immediately felt guilty for it. “I’ll come and find you when I’m done,” you reached for his hand, squeezing it in yours, “I promise.”  

His brows furrowed, still unconvinced that it was a good idea to leave you alone with Aegon, but aware that he wouldn’t be able to change your mind. You smiled, a sweet and gentle kind of smile that was reserved only for your older brother.  

“You heard the woman, Jacaerys,” Aegon waved an impatient hand, sneering at Jace. “Leave me and my betrothed.”  

The word betrothed seemed to drip from his tongue like tar—a nasty and vile sort of sound that was used only to further antagonize Jace.  

Jace went rigid beside you, his cheeks growing red with anger. But his hand was still clasped in yours, and so you gave it another squeeze. “Go,” you told him, having switched roles with him and now being the one to counsel him in restraint. “I’ll be fine.”  

You knew that Jace didn’t fully believe you—not because he didn’t trust you, but because he didn’t trust Aegon. And while you were surrounded by a plethora of weapons that could be used in self-defense should Aegon try something, Jace also knew just how lousy you were at properly using them.  

Even so, he didn’t argue, biting his tongue and stifling his rage in favor of the peace your mother so desperately wanted.  

But even the prospect of peace wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling his hand from your grip and replacing it with the rapier he had chosen earlier, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned in, “If he tries something,” he whispered, “then shove the pointy end through his throat.”  

You held in a laugh, gripping the hilt tightly. “Got it.”  

With that, Jace stepped back and turned to take his leave, roughly knocking into your uncle’s shoulder as he pushed past him. Aegon cut his eyes, but you found it hard to tell whether it was because of Jace’s insolence or if it was because of how close you were with your brother.  

You didn’t care enough to ask.  

“Was there a need to provoke him?” You scoffed as soon as Jace was out of sight.  

Aegon feigned innocence. “Well, it’s not my fault that your brother is so easily provoked,” he said with a roguish grin. “He’s the one that’s so greedy with your time. I wouldn’t have to interrupt your pathetic sparring sessions if there was ever a time where Jace wasn’t stuck up your ass.”  

“Our betrothal was proposed five years ago,” you told him plainly, narrowing your eyes, “if you were that desperate to spend time with me, then I’m sure there were plenty of opportunities.”  

“You’ve been on Dragonstone.”  

“And you have a dragon,” you reminded him, fully aware that the flight to the island was quite short from King’s Landing.  

Aegon lifted one of his shoulders in a lazy gesture. “And you have a Jace. If I had been foolish enough to venture to Dragonstone these last few years, then I likely wouldn’t have left with my head.”  

A scowl etched onto your face at that, fully aware that he wasn’t entirely wrong for assuming that.  

While it had been five years since your betrothal to Aegon had been proposed by your mother, hoping that it might bridge the chasm that divided your family, it hadn’t been until this past month that the Queen Alicent had finally given way and consented to the match. And, if the rumors could be believed, then you had heard that her sudden change in heart was in part due to Aegon’s insistence. 

But regardless of any hearsay, you did know one thing for certain—Jace had always held onto the hope that the Queen would reject the proposal. You often told yourself that it was because he didn’t wish to see his little sister wed to your vile uncle, but many others—Aegon included, it seemed—believed that it was because your brother wished to have you for himself, as was the Targaryen way.  

You knew that there was merit to those claims, even if you sometimes didn’t want to admit it.  

“He wouldn’t have killed you,” you finally settled on an answer, your frustration mounting with each word. “Maimed, maybe, but Jace is no kinslayer.”  

Eyeing the rapier in your hand, Aegon asked, “And what about you?”  

You paused, glancing at the nimble blade of your weapon.  

It was thinner than the training sword you were using—and a lot sharper—but it was awkward to hold, all its weight concentrated towards the hilt rather than distributed throughout. Even if you did want to use it against Aegon, you were probably more likely to hurt yourself than him with how little experience you had and how poorly training with Jace had gone.  

After a moment, the corners of your mouth tilted upwards in a twisted imitation of a smile, flashing your teeth at him. “Let’s just say that I’m not my brother,” you answered, purposely vague.  

Aegon’s stare narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look intimidated by your declaration. “Then go ahead,” he responded coolly, spreading his arms out wide. “Give it your best shot.”  

Your eyes flickered around the yard, realizing for the first time that there were no guards around right now to witness your interaction. If you wanted to kill him, now would be as good a time as any—you could call it an accident, even if Queen Alicent would try to deny it. But due to your poor swordsmanship, it was a believable enough lie that you knew most would believe it; knew that your grandsire, King Viserys,  would believe it.  

If you killed Aegon now, then you wouldn’t be forced to marry him.  

If you killed him, then you knew your mother would sooner betroth you to Jace before ever even considering Aegon’s savage little brother, Aemond.  

And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? Jace was kind and pleasant and the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother would make you a Queen—a beloved Queen, at that.  

And yet…  

Aegon snorted a laugh, letting his hands fall when he saw your brow crease, your body unmoving as you refused to lunge for him. “You’re right, you’re not your brother. I might have little good to say about Jacaerys, but he’s undeniably Strong,” he quipped, the mischievous glint in his tone causing your blood to boil, “but not you—you’re just a coward.”  

Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, knuckles turning white as you gripped the hilt of the rapier tighter. Then, without Jace here to hold you back, a primal scream of frustration ripped from your throat as you launched yourself at Aegon.  

The rapier’s blade led the way, your movements fueled by a rush of adrenaline. But your arms were weak and your footwork clumsy and predictable, and Aegon easily side-stepped your attack with a smirk.  

Breathing heavily, you went to swing the awkward blade again, but Aegon had already made his next move—taking advantage of your lack of speed and coming up beside you, snatching the hilt from your inexperienced grip and disarming you, tossing the weapon a few feet away so that you couldn’t try and get it back from him.  

But with your nerves still lit by frustration and a refusal to accept defeat, you curled your fists and aimed for his jaw.  

Aegon caught you by the wrists before your knuckles collided with his face. He held fast even as you struggled against his grip—firm but not rough.  

“Your brother was right,” he taunted with a laugh when you finally wore yourself out, “you do need practice.”  

“Shut up-” you snarled, your breaths coming in ragged gasps.  

You weren’t used to this.  

You weren’t used to fighting, you weren’t used to the heat, and you weren’t used to Aegon—or, at least, you weren’t used to being this close to Aegon.  

It suddenly hit you just how intimate the position seemed. Your heaving chest bumped against his as he held you close, his grip on your wrists never loosening, even once you had stopped fighting and he had been able to lower your arms to your sides.  

You weren’t sure that you had ever been this close to Aegon—close enough that you could smell the faint trace of mulled wine on his breath—and you felt your pulse skip at the realization, fear settling deep within your bones.  

You weren’t afraid of him, you realized, but of the fact that you didn’t quite mind being held by Aegon—not as much as you should have minded it, at least.  

“I could help you, you know.” He offered, his lilac eyes flashing with some distant emotion that you couldn’t recognize. “I wasn’t just trying to get rid of your brother when I said that I would teach you how to fight.”  

Still pressed close to his chest, you tilted your head back to look up at him, his jaw tightening when you asked, “What do you know about swordplay?”  

“I was trained by the Kingsguard,” Aegon reminded you sharply, his offense evident by the sharp crease in his brow.  

You gave a dry laugh, thinking back on your childhood prior to moving to Dragonstone. “If memory serves me, you spent more time parading around with courtesan’s than training.”  

Your laughter was cut short, breath catching in your throat when you felt Aegon release his hold on your wrists just before one of his hands snapped upwards, his fingers curling around your jaw. His thumb brushed gently against your cheek, and you couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t something intoxicating about the way he held you—his lilac eyes seeming to admire every contour of your face. 

“Even so,” he began, his voice hardly a whisper as he ignored your claim, “I still know more than enough about swordplay to teach my helpless little dragon how to defend herself.”  

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as the pet name slipped his lips. It stirred a hunger within you that you hadn’t known existed, and certainly didn’t expect. Your muscles went slack, relaxing in his grip as your lips parted ever so slightly, your body suddenly urging you to lean in and taste the honey that seemed to drip from his tongue.  

But even as you began to oblige with your body’s urges, rising on your toes to meet Aegon’s sweet, wine-stained lips, you heard some familiar voice chime in the back of your mind—urging caution, reminding you of who was holding you right now.  

Your deviant uncle—the son of Queen Alicent, who was all but your sweet mother’s sworn enemy. She might have asked you to wed Aegon out of duty, but she certainly hadn’t expected or wanted you to like your uncle, did she? In some twisted way, it felt like a betrayal to her and your true family to allow yourself to find pleasure in this—and yet you couldn’t quite deny the warmth flooding in the pit of your stomach at the feel of his touch against your face. 

But, taking advantage of that swift moment of clarity, you forced yourself to take a step back and reclaim some sort of control over yourself. As his hand fell, Aegon stood frozen in the agony of his own perceived rejection as he watched you turn on your heel, walking away from him without so much as a single word.  

But to his surprise, instead of exiting the yard altogether, you leaned down and plucked the blunt training sword off the ground where it had been abandoned far earlier. You left the rapier where Aegon had tossed it when he disarmed you, thinking you had no use for a blade that could cause actual injury. 

“Alright,” you took a deep breath as you turned back around to face him, offering a weak smile as you swallowed your nerves and said, “If you’re so confident in your skill, then teach me.”  

It was Aegon’s turn to pause now, a flicker of doubt dancing in his lilac eyes as his own insecurities continued to bear down on him. While he hadn’t wanted you to walk away, he also hadn’t expected you to say yes.  

But here you were—standing in front of him, not rejecting him, and allowing him to help, regardless of how wrong it might have felt. 

He's to be my husband, you thought to yourself, biting back against your feelings and trying to rationalize your desire to spend a bit of time with him, I should at least learn to tolerate him.

“Okay,” Aegon eventually said, his voice more uncertain than you’d ever heard it sound before; but hopeful too, wearing the faintest hints of a smile. “Show me your form.”  

As you did as he instructed, clumsily moving through each of the movements that Jace had shown you and listening to him laugh and correct your failures, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as you started to think that being stuck in King’s Landing wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

And that, maybe, Aegon wasn’t so bad either.

a/n - had this sitting in my drafts for a bit cause i wasn't totally happy with it, but decided to polish it up and post it anyways cause why not lmao

[myfavlinkistwilight]

Okay, so I've been writing this fanfiction where the chain meets villain versions of themselves, and I I just love them so much, so here is my villainAU chain!!

Gloom/ Villain Twilight

As his name suggests he's a rather gloomy soul, serious, and vicious in combat. He's tall, with a mask that Feral gave him, and with heavier tattoos than Twilight, though not overboard. He's an assassin, though mostly working for Gen, as he's not one to be hired easily. He uses his wolf dorm quite a bit, as nobody would suspect him for any maulings, and he can get away faster. He despises Azure for hurting someone he cared about, and hopes to one day get his revenge on the man. He doesn't hate the royal family as much as most, having interacted the least with them, but still considers them dirt scum, and even assassinated one of the princesses. While Twilight is kind and steady, Gloom is cold and rude at times, however if he cares about someone, then there's nothing he wouldn't do to keep them safe. Most wanted ranking #3

Feral/ Villain Wild

Anybody would say if Wild were a villain, he'd be an arson, and thats very true in this case. He doesn't hate the royal family nearly as much as the others believe, and even might kinda like some of them... While some may break laws for survival, or for revenge, he does it for fun. His strange obsession with lighting things on fire usually ends up with mad dashes from forests so that the group doesn't burn with it, but usually he tries to resist. His redeeming trait is that he can cook, and quite well for their standards, though he burns almost every dish, and only really can make two dishes. With an illegally smuggled fire rod from Tetrad, his job became a lot easier, much to Glooms chagrin. While Wild is honest and brave, Feral is unreliable and shifty, though is good for a joke. Most wanted ranking #6

Tetrad/ Villain Four

Out of the whole group, along with Hyrule, he is the one who doesn't want to hurt people in his feud with the royal family. So, he smith's, and smuggles illegal items to sell on the black market. Often times he buys from Myth to resell stolen wares, though many things he creates himself and distributes. He extremely dislikes the royal family, and if anyone were to start a coup, you could bet he'd support it with his stocks. Very mature, and with a business mindset, he's likely also the least loyal to the rest of the villains, and is the least morally skewed. While Four has strong common sense and loyal, Tetrad can be a bit greedy, and if paid enough, maybe he'd be willing to switch sides... Most wanted ranking #8

Myth/ Villain Legend

He is one of the ones who hates the royal family the absolute most. After they cut off supplies to his home island, despite all the hero work he did for them, he grew resentful. Having to watch someone close to him slowly starve without being able to do much, he wanted to take away from the royal family. Deep down inside he was never blood thirsty or a killer, so he stole. From the two years, it's estimated he stole over seven million rupees worth of stuff from their armory, treasury, and general palace. Most of which he has stored up or sells to Tetrad or his friend Ravio. A master thief, he's high on the wanted list, and has never been seen stealing, except once by a certain hero... While Legend is sharp and good deep down, Myth is hardened with tribulations, and rather callous to others. Most wanted ranking #4

Realm/ Villain Hyrule

He holds almost no personal resentment for the royal family. But hearing the hardships from Myth, he questioned if he was on the wrong side. He decided to join Myth on his stealing ventures, helping pull off nearly impossible stunts, like stealing princess Dusk's rapier, and princess Flora's slate. Desperate to prove himself to his friend, he's willing to go to far lengths to prove his worth, as often times he feels he doesn't belong in their group. He eventually was good friends with Feral, and the two got into many scandals. He's by far the most trusting and innocent of the group, but not naive. While Hyrule is humble and reliable... so is Realm! *gasp* Most wanted ranking. N/A

Gen/ Villain Time

He holds the most resentment out of all of them for the royal family. Having been exploited and used for their purposes as an orphaned kid, they experimented with magic, trying to lasso time itself. Instead, he ended up as a kid in an adults body. The project was called off, and he was given a small fund of compensation. Fueled by a want of revenge, he plunged into the underworld, and with ruthless measures became a crime lord. Known from the petty thieves to the blood thirsty killers, his reach is everywhere. He has knowledge of much, and his plans involve over throwing the royal family, though that would come in due time... having pitied Twilight, he mentored him and occasion hires him to take out competition. While Time is mature and wise, Gen is rather immature, and manipulative. Most wanted ranking, #2

Azure/ Villain Sky

Likely the most different from his counterpart, Azure is a blood thirsty killer. Many said his heart died with princess Sun, which may as well be true as that triggered his first mass murder. Having no goals, instead to kill anyone he wanted, his sanity is questionable. On his figure he wears a torn bloodstained clothe around his neck like a cape, a gift from his lover. He hates Gloom with a loathing, and the two cannot be left alone or he may snap and attack the man. He hates the royal family for their lack of response for the death of his lover, and partially blames them for it. He's a talented musician though, his harp playing a soothing melody. While Sky is gentle and joyful, Azure is unstable and sadistic. Most wanted ranking #1

Legion/ Villain Warriors

Holding a large grudge against the royal family, his most famous move is the attempted coup of the royal family. It is said he managed to get the princesses at sword point, but was convinced by an old friend to spare them. He now considers it a moment of disgrace, and works as a mercenary, doing jobs for money. He eventually met Gust, taking to him like a younger brother, and funding the boy's pirate crew. He's intelligent and a genius in strategy, the main reason the group managed to evade the royal family for so long. He can kill very casually, and isn't afraid to get a job done. He was once revered as a military leader, he felt disposed of when the royal family forced him to retire after a war many considered to be his fault. While Warriors is prideful and charismatic, he's rather blunt, but still prideful lol. Most wanted ranking #5

Gust/ Villain Wind

Just a young lad, yet having been through as much as most of the other villains, he's a bit unhinged at time. He hates any and all authority, but will listen to Gen, as he looks up to and adores the man. Deeply tanned with scars that tell of his trials, and a hook he wears because he thinks it makes him look cool, his time of being a pirate have worn on him. While he travels with his friends, his friend Tetra watches their group. He doesn't despise most of the royal family, though thinks they are annoying. When his home island was in trouble he needed to save it himself by grouping with a pirate crew. After being chastised by the royal family, he decided to screw them and join a pirate crew. An absolute menace on the seas, he raids any royal ship, surprisingly successful often. He will raid villages if he needs food, but that's it. While Wind is outgoing and care-free, Gust is unhinged, but surprisingly thoughtful at times. Most wanted ranking #6

hehe, doubt anyone will see this, but I've been thinking about them alot...

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 10]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Body Horror, Monsters be destroying shit, Lots of Gore, Fires, Major Character Injury CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.9K

(10/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: HA I FINISHED IT Bi-annual update fr fr

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

Taking heavy breaths, you took your time to steady yourself. Your hands were beginning to cramp from how long you’d been holding your rapier, and your uniform had been singed and torn at the edges. You stood your ground, but barely, and before you the daemons were twice your size, maybe even more, but they were mutated so heavily that you couldn’t even tell what they used to be. If one thing was certain, it was that you’d never seen a monster like them before. The casualty count, although you didn’t know it specifically, was immense. Today, regardless of whether or not you made it out alive, is a huge loss for the Guard. 

“Captain! The S squadron has arrived!” You heard a voice shout. Reinforcements have just arrived at the nick of time, whilst more beasts wandered out of the woods and towards the ravaged town.

“You see the situation, if you find any living civilians they are your first priority to get to safety, we’ve determined the daemons’ weak points to be their underbellies, aim for that area first! The skin is loosest there,” you commanded. “This place is already razed down, I don’t understand why they keep coming,” you mumbled. An axe lodges on the ground next to you, just barely missing your side. “Nixon! Now’s not the time to get lazy!” You pulled the axe with one hand and flung it back towards him, something he easily caught while blocking off the daemon’s claws.

“Thanks, Cap!” You couldn’t respond, too busy dodging the swings from the daemon in front of you. Its movements were slow and heavy, but they hit hard. You could barely get in a good attack with the equipment you had. Turns out, and maybe you should’ve expected this, rapiers aren’t the best for large opponents. 

“Ugh, this is getting nowhere,” you mumbled just as you ducked below the beast’s arms. You jogged back, keeping your eyes on the monster, and you switched out your rapier for the rifle strapped to your back. You aimed quickly, precisely, and with a deep breath you fired. The bullet pierced the daemon’s skin, but, if anything, you just pissed it off more. “Fuck, well, we’re screwed. Is it just me or are these things getting taller?”

“Not just you, Captain! Not just you!” Evangeline scrambles up from the floor, casting a spell to knock away the hoard. The blonde runs next to her Captain, shaking slightly. Instinctively, you took a defensive stance in front of her while reloading your rifle. “Where are they all coming from?” Hints of French laced her panicked tone.

“No clue, but we’re going to be here for a very long time,” you grimaced. “Take deep breaths, Eve, if you can’t handle it we’ll switch to base-tactics,” you said

“There’s just so many of them,” Eve huffs. “Almost like… like they were waiting for us to get here,” she coughs. That struck a cord, you turned to her for a moment, but hearing the monsters roar, you refocused back on the situation, doing your best to push the daemons back. Could all of this have been an elaborate trap? Who was pulling the strings? Now that you had thought about it, it would make sense for this to be a trap. All of the Guard were here, high ranking military officials, Starspire was even a village well known for their exports, getting rid of this area would disrupt many industries. But the village was also far enough for it to still be somewhat controlled. Everything happening here, surely, had to be part of some elaborate plan.

‘Take a deep breath, (Y/N),’ Alex’s words echoed in your head. You looked around the field.

‘Where the hell did you go, asshole?’

‘Calling for backup. I don’t think we’re dealing with the natural world anymore, there must be some sort of magic involved.’ Despite your efforts, you couldn’t find Alex anywhere. ‘Don’t worry, I’m still as much a part of the fray as everyone else. But if my theory is correct then I know someone who could help us.’

‘Call them in, I’ll take anyone at this point, anyone who can get rid of these monsters,’ you replied.

‘Certainly, Captain, remain vigilant.’ Then, his side went silent while you pushed forward. Two magic circles appeared under Eve’s hands as the field became encased in a bright light. Half of the daemons, that had already been hacked away at, fell at the attack, while others trudged on.

“Gah, Eve, warn us before doing that!” Carter rubs his eyes harshly.

“Ay, if it’s getting more than half of these fuckers, hell, do it again, Eve,” Nixon shouts back.

“I’m sorry!” Eve apologizes despite it.

“Are there any more coming in?” You spoke after tapping your earpiece.

“All clear in the North, Captain,” one voice says.

“None coming in from the West either.”

“The East is clear.” You looked forward.

“The South is clear,” you said. “Focus on the remaining daemons, we’ll reconvene once they’ve all been killed,” you flicked the blood off your rapier. “And someone get me an actual sword.”

“Captain,” Carter addressed you curtly while offering his own sword. Regal in all rights, Carter’s sword, much like yours, was a gift from the Royal family. As was every weapon belonging to the Brigade, granted. However, Carter’s was a marvel to look at. A silver broadsword upon first glance, but to its wielder it becomes their greatest protection. You made the trade quickly and just in time, too, for what happened next was something you would have never expected and something you would’ve never wanted to happen.

The sounds of despair and destruction had been drowned out by an all too familiar cry. Cries, when you first ran into the burning village you heard them everywhere. Men, women, and children alike were screaming for help all around you. That was hours ago. To hear shouts that weren’t from your squadron only spelt trouble. You turned your head towards the voice, and saw a sight that was some sick twist of what you’d grown up fearing. Without any care for yourself, granted you had other things to worry about, you sprinted towards the young boy with the silver of the broadsword reflecting the flames. In a delicately crafted move, you felled the already wounded beast. You held your stance, your left arm blocking the one behind you, and your right arm holding the sword parallel to the ground. Then the beast slumped to the burnt earth, making no attempt at any further attacks, but your split decision move wasn’t without consequence. The sharp pain across your front side was enough to tell you that next time you should think more carefully before doing.

“Captain!” Eve was running towards you in seconds, but her actions were a second thought to you. No, you were more concerned about the boy behind you. The boy wearing a ripped uniform, mask half hanging from his face and half tied around his head, and with slight cuts and bruises to his face and hands. True, this was the least of the wounds you’d see him have, but the knowledge that he’d been here long enough to get those was what scared you the most. Once you were certain the beast was dead, you were quick to turn, pull your gloves off, and cradle your hands around Damian’s face.

“How… How did you get here,” you huffed, wavering slightly. You moved his face around to see if there were any bad cuts, and your thumb traced under a fresh, but shallow, one under his eye.

“(Y/N)…” Damian’s eyes widened. His eyes fall to the three large gashes that stretched across your hips and abdomen. “You’re hurt…”

“We don’t have time to worry about that, how did you get here?” You repeated despite the good many number of daemons on the field. You brushed off the sparks on his shoulders and offered to help him up.

“I was looking for you,” Damian took your hand and stood up slowly, you didn’t yet know if it was from shock or if he was hurt.

“Is that the whole story?” People don’t just drop out of the sky. And to enter this universe is something that should be incredibly hard, if not impossible.

“A man in a lab coat brought me here,” his voice was shaken. You didn’t fault him for that, the young boy was just dropped in the middle of a blazing battlefield with heaps of dead bodies sprawled across the ground. It was a sensory overload with the blinding flames and the heavy stench of iron. Not to mention the fact that you were covered in blood, your own, your comrades, and the monsters’ alike. Now wasn’t the time for answers, and you’d be damned if anything happened to Damian here, so, instead you strengthened your grip around his hand.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let go of my hand,” you said firmly, holding your conjoined hands up so he could see, if he didn’t already feel it, the tight hold you had around him. Damian nods, what else could he do in this situation? With your left hand holding Damian and the right brandishing the sword you charged across the battle field. It might be better to carry him at this rate, but then you’d be more susceptible to attacks. Hard to dodge when there’s more weight on your back or on your front. This would be best, if worse comes to worse, you’re sure Damian would forgive you for throwing him to safety. But if he kept lagging behind, then there might be a problem. “Keep up!”

“I’m trying!” Damian barks. It was now you noticed the way he moved his gaze from you to the ground in rapid succession, no doubt trying to keep his steps in align with yours. “If you want to go faster then just let—”

“No, Damian, if I let go of you it would only be seconds before one of those monsters picks you up and kills you, do you understand?” You stopped only for a brief moment before taking off again, seeing one of the daemons take notice of your little brother. “Shit, they’re everywhere,” you said with grit teeth.

“Is that a kid?!” Nixon shouts. He pulls his axe from the broken ground. Damian first noticed the red stains on his white uniform before the disgust directed at him. “Lose him, Cap! He’s slowing you down! He’s going to get us all killed!” You pulled Damian along before he could shout an argument back. One, you just need one building that’s at least a little intact to stash Damian in for the time being.

“Just stay focused, Nixon!” You deflected a piece of charred wood. Damian’s hand slips for a moment and you react with a vice grip. “Don’t let go, Damian!” You shouldn't have been upset, it wasn’t his fault, it was the blood between your hands that made it all the more slippery.

“Sorry!” Damian is taken aback for a moment before regaining his senses. You looked to the woods and watches more of the monsters emerge. Luckily, if there was any in this situation, they seemed to be smaller monsters compared to the daemons. If anything, they were probably scavenger beasts, the lot of them will turn tail and run once they see the daemons, while the braver ones will venture more inward. Though you had to be realistic. A monster is a monster, and that’s an added problem on your plate.

“Oh fuck me…” You shook your head. Then a small ray of light. Sure, the roof was on the verge of caving in, but a house is a house. “Eve!” You turned back for a second to make sure the blonde was still in ear shot and when she notices you running towards the house, she opened a warp portal next to her and slipped in, immediately appearing at the front door to open it, and allowing for you to run into a building and push Damian inside. You knelt to his level, and with a stern expression, instructed him. “Do not leave this building, I’m going to have Evangeline place a protection charm up, alright? I’ll come pick you up once I resolve this mess, then you have to tell me every single thing that happened to you before you came here.” Though you spoke clearly, you knew when words go through one ear and out the other. You’d have to trust Eve to explain the situation to him, but you didn’t know if Damian would trust her.

“I can help.” That’s definitely the last thing you wanted to hear. Typical of Damian, though, he was still young, and he still thinks he can do anything, still thinks that he has to. But not here, and not now. 

“No. You can’t.” You kept your words curt enough for him to not misinterpret them. “This world is very different than our old one. You’re not in Gotham anymore. Those things out there can crush your skull in less than a second, and I don’t need anymore deaths on my mind right now, let alone the death of my little brother. Got it?”

“Yeah…” Damian looks back to your abdomen. It was still bloody but the wound was gone. “What happened to—” That might be the hardest one to explain to him.

“No questions right now. I have to get back out there before any of my teammates die. You can trust Eve, she’s a good friend of mine. Now, please, stay here.” With that, you ran out, slamming the door behind you. Not a moment later, Evangeline ran in, her white and silver uniform singed around the edges. She closes the door and places her hand on it, a magic circle appearing between the two with words of an ancient language inside of it. She waves her hand in the air and the building is surrounded in a veil of blue. She eyes the singed hole in the roof, but pays no mind to it, instead looking to Damian.

“So you must be Damian Wayne, right?” She smiles through the tired breaths. Damian nods and looks out the window. Eve seats him on the ground and hands him a thermos. “The Captain has told me so much about you. I’m Evangeline Chandler, your sister and I are good friends,” Damian suspiciously eyes the thermos, but takes it anyways.

“Yeah?” He unscrews the top, seeing some kind of soup inside of it. Eve takes the thermos from him, placing the cup in his hands and pouring the soup into it.

“Yes! I owe her a great deal. She asked me to give this to you, it’s actually Nixon’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with you,” Eve grins. “You can trust it, Nixon is actually our resident healer. This soup should fix you right up,” she insists. “If you don’t believe me, I can drink it first,” she continues.

“That wouldn’t matter if you’d grown a tolerance to poison,” he gives her a pointed glance.

“Are you saying that the son of a vigilante and an assassin doesn’t have a well built tolerance?” She fires back.

“… touché,” he takes a tested sip of the soup, the immediate taste of a hearty vegetable broth greeting him. He could feel the warmth circle around his face, his chest, and his stomach.

“You don’t have to mind it, Nixon’s vegetarian too,” she chuckles, kneeling down next to him and dusting off her uniform.

“You know a lot about me,” was Damian’s next statement.

“That Captain tells me a lot about you,” she smiles. “Let’s see… you have a dog named Titus, your best friend’s name is Jon, for your tenth birthday you and the Captain went out to an arcade and ended up staying there for hours so you missed your celebration,” she counts the events on her hands, “oh! And how could I forget my favorite story? Whenever you had nightmares, the first place you’d go is to her—”

“I get it, woman,” Damian clears his throat and, again, Eve could only smile.

“And that is exactly how the Captain described you. She doesn’t talk about her family often, but her expression is always so kind when she does, especially when it comes to her siblings. Of course, this is only after a good number of drinks. Goodness, though, once she starts, she won’t stop, it’s a bit cute,” she rests her cheek on her hand. “I’m glad to see that you match her stories.” Damian could only look out the window as the screams got closer.

“What is going on out there?”

“There are quite a few of you correct?” Eve changes the subject and, with the wave of her hand, the voices deemed to dampen out into mumbles. “Two older brothers and two younger brothers, an older sister and two younger ones as well, if what she told me was right.”

“Yeah,” Damian caught on. She’s trying to distract him from the hell outside.

“Let’s see,” her eyes drift up in thought. “Barbara Gordon, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, (Y/N) Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Timothy Drake, and then there’s you,” Eve says.

“That’s all of us, but recently father brought in a new one, Duke Thomas,” Damian explains.

“Ah, yes, the Captain has explained that her father loved to take in children,” Eve crosses her arms. “But, and perhaps I’m biased, I must say that his biological children are just so adorable,” Eve coddles. “Are you still hungry? I always have something on me.” As much as her efforts to divert his attention were somewhat appreciated, she’s wasting her time on him.

“What exactly is your role?” Damian presses. Eve takes a deep breath in before sighing and shaking her head.

“I should’ve known that it would be a lost cause to try to distract you, you’re very much like your sister in that regard, but I’m keen on at least trying to follow orders. Allow me to introduce myself properly then. I’m Evangeline, Evangeline Chandler, and I am from Earth-78, born and raised in Versailles, France. I’m the magic dealer of this team, you can tell because of these silver linings here, see? However, I specialize in support, which is why my uniform is white,” she claps her hands. “Ah, the Captain, your sister, is a damage dealer, she specializes in up-close combat with blade-type weapons. She truly is amazing.”

“I see… I assume this is normal for you.”

“Not in the slightest, no. Oh, well, battle yes, but not these beasts. These monsters just started coming out of nowhere, actually,” Eve scooted away from Damian slightly and, with a few waves of her hand, an image constructed of light appeared between them, “come take a look. These are the variants we’ve been fighting for quite some time,” she invites him to move the image around. The base animal was a kind of wolf, that much was certain, but the creature had mutated the ability to support itself on its hind legs whilst also gaining articulate hands. It was as if it was some gruesome mix of human and wolf, a terror of nature, and a horror of nightmares.

“What are those?” Was all Damian could say.

“In truth… We have no idea.”

~

Alex stumbled behind a building, holding his phone close to his ear.

“Come on… connect, connect…” he plead. Finally, an answer.

“Alexander.”

“Remember when I told you to come tomorrow? Scratch that. We need you now.”

“What in the blazes is going on? Why do I hear fire?”

“Get over here and I’ll still be alive to tell you.”

“You really don’t take no for an answer, alright, hold out for a few more minutes.”

“Will do. I’ll take care of the stragglers, everyone else move inward!” Alex hangs up the phone, waits until everyone was out of earshot, and pivots on his heel, both hands flying out and several magic circles appearing in the ground in front of him. “Sanguis voragine.” In the slight wave of his hands, the circles began to rotate in on themselves before ultimately converging into a larger one. Spilled puddles and splatters of blood began to move in toward the centers of the circle.

‘Alex, don’t do anything you can’t handle,’ your voice had a warning tone.

‘No need to worry, I'd been saving my stamina for this moment,’ he reassures you before walking into the middle of the vortex. 

You, meanwhile, glanced behind you at the fortified safe house. You’d instructed Eve to keep your brother busy, but you didn’t know how long he’d sit still. You’d have to wrap this up quickly now, somehow, at least.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath yourself, steadying the sword in front of you such that you were facing the blade. “Infallible guard,” a magic circle surrounded the sword and, in moments, a clear barrier surrounded you.

‘Perhaps I should’ve said that to you.’

‘See you on the other side.’ You readied your blade for what you hoped to be the final time that night, and charged forth.

~

Eve looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Eyes wide and jaw tensed.

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked quietly, a now empty thermos in his hands. Eve, wordlessly, stumbled to the window and peered outside.

“They’re using artifacts,” she mumbles, she looks back at Damian. Your orders conflicted with her morals.

“What are those? Something bad?”

“Call it a last resort. It should be fine since it’s (Y/N) and Alex but…” her scarred fingertips rose to her mouth habitually and, before she could begin to lightly bite down on them, she answered, “they take a lot of stamina to use, some that I doubt those two still have,” she mutters. She takes a seat with Damian once more.

“Then leave me here, I can fend for myself well enough,” Damian insists.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, young sir,” she replies. “Even if I wanted to, the Captain benched me,” she shakes her head. “I’m unfit for battle at this moment,” she stretches her hands out, the cuts and tears on them, fresh and weeping, were enough to tell Damian all he needed to know. “What good’s an archmage with anxiety?” She laughs pathetically. “Plus, I do enjoy talking with you,” she nudges him softly. “You must be so confused, aren’t you? Scared, maybe, but too stubborn to admit it. I don’t blame you, we all were like that before as well,” Eve clasps her hands together. “You know, I had a brother around your age as well, Felix, I haven’t seen him in so long, he’s back home where he belongs though,” she rests her cheek on her hand.

Curse his sister, it wasn’t Eve on babysitter duty, it was him also.

Damian couldn’t help but glance out the window again, the flames had begun to die down, he could tell from the way the room slowly darkened.

“Your family must be worried,” Eve tries to strike a conversation yet again.

“They don’t care.”

“Or so you think,” she shoots back. Then, when someone bangs on the door, both people stood up in guarded stances. “Being unfit for battle means nothing in war,” she sighs. She picks up her gloves from their spot on the rugged table. Despite the state of herself and her uniform, the gloves were pristine. She slips them on.

“Could be one of your teammates.” The door started to strain against its hinges.

“They would’ve been able to open the door,” a magic circle appears in her palm, “your sister told me to keep you safe at all costs, please respect her wishes.”

“If she’s really my sister then she knows I won’t,” Damian stood next to her, ready.

“She told me that you’d say that too,” the door bursts down, one of the few remaining beasts stood tall at the doorframe. “Divina vocatio,” she chants. Veils of light surround the both of them. “Have faith, Damian, that I will keep you safe,” she says. The beast roars in a way neither of them had heard before. The magic circles in either of Eve’s palms begin to rotate counter to each other as she crosses her wrists in front of her. As soon as she broke the formation, multiple circles appeared in a cross pattern over the beast’s chest, effectively pushing the beast back, but not doing much to detain it, rather, it charged despite it.

What could he do in this situation? Think, Damian. He scanned the shack for anything he could use. The image that Eve showed him, something stood out to him, but he couldn’t quite put where he’d seen it from. Then, kicked under the bed, something gleamed against the dying flames. He dove toward it, holding it up and the beast stopped. Eve chanced a glance back.

“Crucifix…” she holds her hand out and Damian tosses it toward her. “Made of silver,” she weighs it in her palm. The beast takes a step back. It could only work as a repellant, but as a weapon it was hard pressed. Damian looked around again, something made of silver, anything. The cross in Eve’s hand was a likely choice, but he’d rather not chance the karma. Surely there’d be something else?

Well, fuck it. He ran toward Eve, hand outstretched to grab the one silver item in his sight. Then, blood, lots of it. He and Eve turned to the beast, who’d been cut clean in half. Its torso slid to the ground in front of them, while its legs fell backward. Nixon stood at the door, if anyone had never seen him before, they’d think his uniform to be naturally red. Without a word, he falls back, completely passed out.

“This fool,” Eve clicks her tongue. “Help me pull him in here, would you?” She asks.

“Sure,” they both grab one leg each and pull him in, Eve slamming the door shut and placing another charm on it.

“His axe is made of silver,” she says. “And his artifact is an imperial one of strength,” she explains it well enough but Damian still stared blankly at her. “Meaning he’ll be out for a while,” she shakes her head.

~

“Where’s that help you were talking about, Alex?” You shout, stumbling backward and just barely keeping your balance.

“On his way… hopefully,” Alex bumps into you, the magic circle under him flickering weakly.

“After all the damage has been done,” Carter backs against the two of you.

“Well… the good news is that there’s one left,” you handed the sword back to Carter and held your rifle instead.

“And the bad news is that it’s the biggest one,” Carter sighs. You spot your rapier sticking out of it’s shoulder blade.

“Well… your effort is appreciated, Carter,” you nudged him and Carter stumbled further from you. “We’ll need a miracle.” The beast groaned.

“We are called the miraculous trio,” Alex takes a step back, distancing himself from the beast to ready an attack. “Let’s live up to that title,” Alex bends down slowly, tapping the blood puddle beneath him.

“You think we’ll get a raise?” Carter asks.

“Nah,” you aimed your rifle. “Dead Shot,” you said under your breath. A magic circle appeared on the daemon’s body. “There,” you pulled the trigger and Alex focused a ring of magic circles on it. “Carter!” Carter slid in front of you and launched the sword forth, the tip barreling toward the beast before the sword impaled it. The beast staggered back, but it did not fall. Instead, it looked to you, directly at you, in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“W… W… Wayne,” the beast growled out. You held your hand up, stopping Alex from dealing the last hit. “I… know… you,” it fell forward, but still it’s gaze never wavered. “Do… know… me…?” It asked. You took a step forward.

“Hey,” Carter spoke up.

“It’s fine,” you reloaded your rifle. Soon, you were an arm’s length away from the beast. You spotted a hint of silver on it’s neck and, as if it were calling you, you pulled it out of it’s loose and tattered skin. It was an ID tag, one that every Knight received, hell, yours was around your neck right now. The name was almost entirely worn through, but you could still just barely read it.

Then… realization. You staggered back, suddenly feeling weak in every limb.

“Captain?” Carter’s voice behind you again.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. You looked around the battlefield, corpses of knights and beasts all around, and then to the one in front of you. You fell onto your knees and you placed your hand on the beast’s head. “You served well, Major Syke,” you said the name on the ID.

“Thank you,” the beast breathed it’s last before stilling. The field was quiet, quiet except for the sound of you pulling your rapier out of the Major’s shoulder. You turned your earpiece on and waited for it to connect.

“The field is clear, report the total number of casualties and damages to me whenever you can, we will regroup in the North delta base,” you turned the comm off and turned around to Carter and Alexander. “Don’t tell anyone this,” you whispered, “but… we’ve been killing people.”

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[cyten0]

A Symphony In Crimson

Act 1: A Movement in Black

Chapter 22

You stand next to your family, defending them. You don’t see a way out.

✸ “The fact is, I have a few ways to fix this! If you won't kill me then... Well, I can’t go back to Stardust if they're dead~”

Instantly, your family rounds about you, to defend you instead!?!

✸ “Oh dear? That devoted! Well then…”

Loop steps back and space folds in on itself, as you suddenly feel something behind you.

✸ “Let’s play~”

Loop grabs your arm, and you pull back, detaching it quickly before a surge of craft energy incinerates it. You regrow the arm back quickly and grab your dagger, as Mirabelle charges at Loop.

Loop easily sidesteps the attack without flinching, and then without even looking, grabs Isa’s fist when they try and attack from behind.

✸ “You’re going to have to try harder then that~”

Loop tosses Isa aside, and then fires another craft at you, as you dodge by mere inches!

Wait- You block the followup blow, as they closed the gap in the cover. Of course, you know that move!

You slash back at him, trying to hit him, but he dances just out of range. He knows your moves too.

Bonnie fires at him from behind, but he vanishes away into the shadows.

◆ “Fighting awfully hard for someone trying to die.”

✸ “If you can’t kill me, you won’t be ready when dear Stardust becomes a danger!”

▲ “Sif isn’t gonna do that.”

Loop appears from above, dive bombing Odile. Mira sets up a craft shield to block the blow, while Isa pulls her out the way.

✸ “HAHA!!!! But I’m proof they COULD!!!! And If you aren’t ready for that… Then I’d best remove that possibility~”

They fall into the earth, and you block the blow from your side. You knew it! They still fight like you somewhat! You snap your fingers to speed up Odile, who takes the opening to blast loop back into the tree.

✦̵ “Which is why you’re fighting like me, aren’t you?”

◉ “Wait, They are! Okay! We can work with that, circle up and protect each others openings!”

As the others close in around you, back to back, Loop begins to laugh, staring you down, perched in front of the tree.

✸ “Oh, think you Know me? YOU THINK I’M THE SAME AS DEAR LITTLE STARDUST???”

They pull their mask off their face.

✸ “Then I’d best change up my tune~ After all…”

Loop smashes the mask against the ground, and thousands of bright red, glowing flowers bloom around you all. Spider Lilies?

Loop plucks one from the earth.

✸ “I was made with a lot more then just Stardust~”

Loop crushes the flower in their hands, and their stance changes. They stand more straight, more calculating. A more serious, and uncannily familiar expression crosses their face. The bits of flower wither and transform into black crystal, slowly taking the vague form of a book.... Wait!

✦̵ “Mira, Shield!”

Mira crafts as quick as she can before a massive blast of craft energy slams into you all! Even with the shield, it knocks you all off your feet, and stings a bit.

Loop chuckles, in a voice not their own, their own voice only a faint echo behind their new, all too familiar voice.

◆ “Oh gems, I might have overdone it. Ah well.”✸

◆ “Right, That’s disconcerting.”

◆ “Well within Siffrin’s capabilities, I assure you. If only I’d stopped them when I had the chance…”✸

BANG

Loop narrowly blocks the shot with their book, as it starts to shatter. Isa runs around and tries to tackle them while their distracted, and Loop has to dive out of the way.

✿ “Don’t act like Dile! And Stop trying to hurt Frin!!! They’d never hurt us!”

BANG

Isa takes a hit in the shoulder, as Loop suddenly has a mimicry of a pistol in their hand, and an innocent yet terrified face.

✿ “But if Frin wouldn’t hurt us, How’d I end up like this?! It hurt so much! It hurt so much…”✸

Bonnie shakes hearing that. NO. That’s too far.

You charge at Loop, driving the dagger straight into the earth beside them, just managing to cut open their flank. They scramble to their feet, with another flower in hand.

Crystal forms into a rapier, as Loop heals themselves with craft. Their face is a familiar, determined look. Their stance unwavering.

◉ “Just stop it! We don’t want to hurt you!”

◉ “Neither did we! And we died for it! I won’t let you go the same way! We have to protect you!”✸

Mirabelle charges at Loop, who parries her attack. The two duel for a brief few seconds before Isa charges in the way, as Loop ducks under the blow.

They slide backwards, and grab another flower. Crushing it quickly, their hands become coated in crystal, and they charge at Mira, making several swings at her.

▲ “We might not like it, but that doesn’t make it better! We just gotta know you can handle it, please! I can’t let that happen to Sif again! We have to know you can stop it if it would!”✸

Isa jumps in, putting themselves between Mira and Loop, and holding back their blows.

▲ “Nobody is dying today, got it? If the worst happens, we’ll find a better way then this!”

You can’t take any more of this. Can’t take any more of hearing versions of them who died. Can’t take this fighting.

You unravel, and grab Loop while their preoccupied, and fling them against the favor tree, then leap towards them, and try to wear them down in a flurry of fangs and tendrils.

✦̵ “That’s enough! I’m not gonna let that happen, never again!”

✸ “… Then why. Are you BLINDING. HESITATING?!?!”

Loop grabs a limb and throws you back towards the party.

✸ “...I expected them to hesitate. They always did... But YOU?!?! YOU KNOW THE STAKES!!!!”

Loop vanishes, and the earth starts to shift. The world itself begins to tilt. Their voice seems to echo from everywhere at once.

✸ “hahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Even when face to face with the monster within, When you FINALLY have the chance to kill it for good, YOU CAN’T BLINDING DO IT?!?!?”

The ground keeps tilting, and you grab your family, bringing them to the tree before they lose their footing and fall into the sky. You all stand upon the branches of the tree, hoping they’ll hold you up.

✸ “MAYBE you need a REMINDER.”

As the world becomes completely flipped, the flowers begin to drip a dark red substance. But you can smell what it is…

✿ “What’s happening? What’s coming from the flowers?”

✦̵ “Blood. I-It smells like blood.”

Stars not this nightmare. Nonononono

Faces start to form in the dark abyss below, rising into view. Blood-formed images of your family. Thousands of them. Their eyes lifeless, their bodies mangled. Staring at you. Screaming in pain.

◆ “Gems alive!”

◉ “Change!”

✿ “No no no that's not okay!”

You can’t help but shake, and grip the tree for dear life.

▲ “S-Sif? You okay?”

✸ “Of course not, they’ve had this nightmare every other night for almost a blinding year now!!!! Because even if YOU all deny it, It never left THEIR mind!!!!!! THEY ALWAYS KNEW!!!! KNEW WHAT I AM COULD BECOME REAL!!!!”

✦̵ “Nonononononono I won’t hurt them I won’t hurt them I won’t hurt them I won’t hurt them”

You won’t hurt them you won’t hurt them you won’t hurt them It’s not real it can’t be real please don’t let it be real you wouldn’t you wouldn’t!!!!

◆ “Snap out of it Siffrin!”

▲ “We’re right here, just stay calm!”

✸ “That didn’t stop it before.”

Loop appears. But their stance. No. It’s all to familiar. Their stance is that of a feral beast. A horn of crystal forms on their head. A claw forms on one hand. And a dagger in the other. A cloak of shadows, barely visible. And the moment they open their mouth, the voices quiet, and harmonize with them.

✦̵ “We can’t let them die. We have. To stop. The monster.”✸

They let out a manic laugh. They lift their face. Their eyes are dark voids, as tears flow down their face, contorted into a twisted smile.

✸ “So it ends here. One way, or another.”✦̵

They charge right at you. You can barely breath, the blood is making it hard to think! Gotta.. Gotta..

Isa blocks the blow before it can reach you.

✸ “BLINDING KILL ME!!!!! KILL US BEFORE WE HURT YOU AGAIN!!!!!!”✦̵

▲ “No! We can find a better way!”

✸ “No You CAN’T!!! Even I struggled to pull Stardust from the brink! YOU’LL DIE IF YOU TRY!!!!”✦̵

◆ “Wait, What do you mean by that?”

Nonononononono please don’t tell them!!!!

Loop sees your expression, and their grin widens.

✸ “HAHAHA Oh I didn’t mention?!? The king was one CRUEL MONSTER!!!! By their hand, Stardust already has a taste for human!! I won’t say which one!!! But when they came back, well… It’s a good thing I had a corpse ready!!!”✦̵

You choke. The smell is sickening, the memory still in your mind, and the corpses of your family still stare you down. You can’t move you can’t breathe they're all horrified and you can’t move!

Loop tosses Isa aside, and continues to charge at you.

Odile slows them with craft, straining herself to bring them to a crawl.

◆ “Siffrin! Get it together!”

✦̵ “Blood. Can’t. Think.”

There’s so much and every breathe just brings in more, and you can’t, you can’t!!!

✸ “SEE??? EVEN NOW THEY HAVE TO FIGHT IT!!! Even with AGES WORTH of getting away from it, EVEN WHEN FRESHLY FED, they can BARELY handle it!!!! And TRUST ME, I’d be FAR WORSE!!!!”✦̵

◆ “Gems this is bad.”

Loop takes advantage of her distraction and throws their knife directly at her, hitting her hand and disrupting the slow. Mira throws a quick heal at Odile, and then crafts a shield to block Loop from you.

◉ “Siffrin! You can do this! Prove them wrong!”

Mira… You... You can’t let her down. You shakily try and get to your feet. You wrap a tendril around the other side of Mira’s shield, trying to grab Loop and restrain them. They break out with ease.

✸ “STOP HESITATING!!!! I THOUGHT YOU LEARNED YOUR LESSON WITH THE KING??? YOU. CAN’T. SPARE. MONSTERS!!!!”✦̵

They take their claw and smash through Mira’s shield, grabbing her by the throat and tossing her aside.

You can still barely move, you’re shaking too bad. Loop continues to charge and-

Stops. Because Bonnie. Put themselves in the way. Arms outstretched. Not defending themselves.

✸ “… Clever, Bonbon.”✦̵

✿ “Y-Yeah! You won’t hurt us!”

✸ “… I can’t lose you all again, that's true.... But you misunderstand.”✦̵

Loop grabs Bonnie and vanishes with them. They reappear, hovering in the air just beyond the branches, holding Bonnie up with one hand. A new crystalline knife in the other.

✸ “I won’t KILL you.”✦̵

They bring the knife up to Bonnie’s eye! NO!!

YOU WON’T LET THEM!!!!!!

You reach out with your tendrils and grab Loop, and then, with a single motion.

You dig a fang into their heart.

✸ “Ah!”✦̵

The distortion shatters like glass...... as the world suddenly returns to normal.

Your family drops to the ground, including Bonnie, with Loop having released their grip. You wrap yourself around the tree, Holding yourself up, and holding Loop in place, slowly turning them upright.

✸ “Do it, stardust. Please.”

✦̵ “...No. Not after everything.”

✸ “….”

✦̵ “Wasn’t the whole point to not hurt anyone again?”

Loop just stares at you silently...

✸ “… Why. Why did it have to go this way?”

You slowly lower the both of you back down to the ground. The others start to get up.

Bonnie walks up to Loop, as you let them go. Bonnie has a scratch on their cheek, but is otherwise unharmed. Loop’s heart is cracked a little. But otherwise fine. Tears run down Loops cheek.

Bonnie hugs Loop.

✿ “… Cause you’re both stupid crabs who don’t talk about stuff.”

✸ “...Hah. I guess we are?”

You meander towards the both of them. And just put a hand on Loop’s shoulder.

✦̵ “...Sorry I put you through that...”

✸ “Well. If I’m not dying here, I guess you might experience it anyways.”

◆ “...Loop. Care to get this Fool Arcana to chat?"

Odile smiles a bit.

◆ “… I still have a Coinflip to win, and might as well use it on something that matters.”

Loop thinks for a second. Then tosses Odile a silver coin. The same one you carry around.

✸ “… They say Heads, I go to Stardust, Tails, I go with them... And that they already know the result.”

Odile nods. And Holds the coin out. She takes a deep breath. And flips.

… You look at the coin, laying in the grass. Tails.

✸ “… Guess they haven't had enough of me yet…"

Odile chuckles to herself. Guess she got that wish.

✸ “...Thank you.”

Odile walks over to them, and puts a hand on their shoulder.

◆ “Of course... Heh, Such a drama queen, all this over nothing.”

◉ “D-Does that mean this is the last we see of you?”

Mirabelle sort of hovers, nervous.

✸ “… Maybe. Not that we have time for proper goodbyes~”

You look, and see Loop is fading away slowly already.

▲ “Then... If you get the chance, you better say Hi. I’m pretty sure you’re part of the group now!”

✸ “...Of course. I promise… But can you promise me one thing?”

You all nod. They look at your family members. Before closing their eyes. And in several voices, speak.

✸◆✿◉▲ “Take care of them for us, Okay?”

Everyone else is kind of taken aback for a second.

◉ “… We will.”

✿ “Can do!”

◆ “As if it was in doubt?”

▲ “No problem!”

You sit there for a second.

✦̵ “…I will too.”

✸ “...Good… You really are, frankly, quite helpless without them, Stardust!”

Loops body starts to fade away into nothing.

✸ “...Farewell.”

As their body finally dissipates into nothing, you see a small, red light appear on the ground where they sat. As a single, bright red Spider-Lily blooms in their place.

✦̵ “Sorry, to all of you. And… Thank you. Loop.”

You all take a moment of Silence. Just looking at this site.

▲ “...Let’s go. I think this has been a long day for all of us.”

You nod. You just lean up against Isa. Your family heads up to the house, to talk with Euphrasie, and clear up any last minute mess.

As the Morning sun shines down around you, with your family by your side. You feel content.

Your brain keeps telling you that things won’t go well but. You ignore it.

Because somehow. You know this will work out.

… The road is long. But. You know that, for the first time. In a long. LONG time. Really, truly, in every sense...

You are no longer alone.

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

In the light the sins are burned

From deepest black they have been turned

For family the monster lives

Nigredo past, To Hope they give

Yet can they withstand purification?

In Albedo they will find life. Or damnation.

[spectrechosts]

Better Off Alone - Chapter 9

Lunaeris takes a gamble, fate finally on her side.

This is the final chapter of the arc, and also long as hell. Did you know you can get the entire story as an ePub on my Itch? You can. I actually need to remake the ePub now because I've made edits while reuploading. Hopefully I remember to do that before this posts or I'll look very silly.

Full Series

Lunaeris could barely lift the sword, massive as it was. If this possibility had occurred to her she would have made a rapier, or a dagger, or something else suited for pathetic little wizard arms.

Instead she was stuck with a sword taller than her that she could barely hold off the ground, let alone swing.

"Lunaeris! What are you doing?!" Called her father.

"Yeah Lunaeris, what are you doing?" Echoed the Demon King. "You can't honestly mean to fight me."

"She's a princess. She's in need. I have the sword. It counts." She said, as if by saying it she could force it to be true.

The demon was on his last legs, she just had to not die.

Or get hit at all, because Kallie would die.

Simple.

The demon lunged at her, and she clumsily hefted the sword to parry, and the crowd went into an uproar. The demon dodged out of the way as crossbow bolts whizzed past him and guards leapt into the arena to aid her.

"They might not believe me that you're the Demon King," Lunaeris hissed, "But I'm still the Princess you dumb motherfucker. You think you can attack me, in broad daylight, in front of a crowd of royal guards?"

"A minor hurdle, I assure you." The demon sneered, flinging fireballs into the archers before engaging the swordsmen in melee. Lunaeris dropped the sword and knelt at her knight's side, fishing a potion out of her satchel and pouring it carefully down her throat.

She hadn't prepared for this specifically, but she had been expecting to interfere with the fight somehow. She had raided the storerooms in the night, and while she didn't have a suitable weapon, she could at least stabilize Kallie while the demon was distracted.

Distracted, not defeated, because he was handling the guards even injured as he was.

Lunaeris took up the sword again. The guards couldn't stop him, it had to be her.

She hefted it onto her shoulder and ran at him, screaming as she brought it down in an overhead swing. It clanged off his blade, and she stumbled back as the impact reverberated through her arms.

"Lunaeris, here's a free lesson in swordplay: You need to be unpredictable." The Demon King said.

"Fuck you!" She spat, throwing her whole body into a thrust that he danced right out of the way of.

"You can barely move holding that thing, every attack you make you have to spend forever winding up for it, it's embarrassing."

"You-" Lunaeris huffed with exertion, bringing the sword back around in a slow arc. "-ruined my life!"

"Well, I am trying to kill you." The demon said, blocking again.

"You and your gods damned PROPHECY-"

She swung in an upwards arc, and he batted the sword back into the ground effortlessly.

"-FORCING ME INTO THIS WHOLE FUCKING THING-"

Another clumsy, easily dodged slash.

"-AND JUST WHEN I THINK I'M GOING TO BE OKAY WITH IT-"

She hefted the sword onto her shoulder for another overhead swing.

"-YOU NEARLY-"

CLANG

"-KILL-"

CLANG

"-MY WIFE-"

CLANG

"-TWICE!!!!!"

She let the blade fall to the ground, panting hard.

"Is this a fight, or are we just airing our grievances?" The Demon King asked, bored.

"IT'S BOTH, YOU ABSOLUTE BASTARD!" Lunaeris screeched, a puff of flame accompanying her voice.

The Demon King's eyes widened.

"Oh shi-"

Lunaeris screamed, spewing a torrent of fire at him.

It wasn't any spell she knew how to cast on demand, but if she was just mad enough she could repeat her throne room performance, and he had given her more than enough time to work herself into a frenzy.

She advanced as the demon retreated, keeping him engulfed in the blistering roar until-

She stopped, feeling her body rapidly weaken. She fell to the ground and pulled a mana potion from her bag, chugging it down quickly.

The Demon King wasn't done. This wasn't another fake, it was his real body, born from the infernal fires of hell. She got back to her feet and let loose another terrible howl, reinvigorated and with plenty of rage to spare.

He stumbled backing away and fell to the ground, and she just kept unleashing white-hot flame upon him. She stopped for another mana potion and started again, incinerating him so thoroughly that not even a demon could survive.

She huffed and wheezed, throat seared by her repeated outbursts. She downed yet another mana potion to make sure she didn't faint, and slowly dragged the sword over to his body.

The acrid smoke of his corpse lingered, it coalesced in a thick cloud until she hefted the sword and drove it through his chest, and with a blinding light the demon king's soul itself was banished from the realm and the smoke was only smoke, dissipating in the wind.

It was over.

Her life was her own, not her father's, not the gods', not fate's.

She fell to her knees and roared her victory to the heavens, expending the last of her fury in a glorious beacon of fire.

~

Kallixenia stirred with a groan.

She had survived, again, and was in the healer's ward, again.

"The Princess, where-" She rasped, sitting up.

"Don't move too much!" The healer chided her, guiding her back down softly. "You need to rest so the magic can run it's course."

"But the Princess-"

"Princess Lunaeris is with her father." She explained. "Lyin' through her teeth that you two weren't gettin' frisky in secret, I presume. He's in a tizzy, her marryin' you out of nowhere."

Kallixenia went white.

"I-I would never-"

"Please." The healer scoffed. "She wouldn't leave your side for a second, last time you were in here. Lunaeris is nice to the help, but not that nice."

"Perhaps she was… moved, by my taking a mortal blow for her?" The knight offered helplessly.

"Perhaps I've known that girl since she was knee-high and she's not the type to appreciate people dyin' for her." The healer countered, hands on her hips. "Or did you think I couldn't hear her screamin' at you?"

"…Gods, I'm done for."

"Hah!" The healer cackled. "You'll be fine, I don't think anyone wants to piss her off right now, even his majesty. I'll go tell her you're awake."

The healer left, and Kallixenia was left alone with her thoughts.

She was alive, and Lunaeris was alive, and the two of them were in fact married, that wasn't just a dying fever dream.

And that left them….. somewhere. She was unclear where.

Was the Demon King-

"KALLIE!"

Lunaeris rushed into the room and practically tackled her, hugging her like her life depended on it.

"Oof." Kallixenia grunted, holding the princess with her good arm.

"Sorry!" Lunaeris squeaked, shifting her weight to not press on her injuries. "I'm just- I'm just so glad you're awake. Things have been hectic, my father is making a huge fuss over everything-"

"Princess-"

"-not to mention preparations for a proper wedding ceremony, having the rings made-"

"Princess." The knight repeated more firmly, stalling Lunaeris' rambling.

"I hardly think you need to call me Princess now-"

"Lunaeris. The demon king?"

"Dead."

"Dead?" Kallixenia repeated, dumbfounded. "By whose hand?"

"Mine!" The Princess announced proudly.

"Yours?"

"What, is that so unbelievable?" She said, pouting.

"No, of course not, but… the prophecy? The hero?"

"I'm the hero!"

"…But, who's the princess then?"

"…Kallie." She said, shooting her a look.

"What?"

"Kallie, we're married."

"Y-Yes, I recall." Kallixenia said, confused.

"Thank the gods for that, it would have been terribly embarrassing if you didn't." Lunaeris said, rolling her eyes. "Being married to a princess makes you a princess, Kallie."

"I'm the princess from the prophecy?!"

"Yes!"

"But- But that-" Kallixenia sputtered. "I'm not a princess! I don't even know the first thing about Elven politics!"

"So?"

"How will I fulfill my duties to the kingdom?!"

"By the gods Kallie, who caaaares?" Lunaeris groaned. "We're running away together after the wedding anyway."

"WE ARE?!"

"You said we would."

"I- Yeah, before! When our love was forbidden!"

This was a lot to take in, and Lunaeris was not giving her time to absorb any of it before launching into the next thing.

At least it was all good news.

Right?

"It's… It's not still forbidden, right? The healer said your father-"

"Oh he was pretty mad."

Great.

"But I think I've… mostly smoothed things over." Continued Lunaeris. "He agrees that this was fate, after all."

"And he's not aware of any… indiscretions?"

"Weeellllllll-"

"Oh gods-"

"Kallie relax. He can suspect all he wants, all he knows is I wanted you to be the hero, and that's only evidence of a one-sided crush and you being dedicated to keeping me safe." She said, smugly. "Besides: fate. Nothing anyone could have done differently."

They cuddled in silence, for a moment.

"…Do you think that's true?" Kallixenia asked thoughtfully.

"What? No. We went to great efforts to ensure this outcome." Lunaeris said.

"But we didn't, though. If I'm the princess, then the only way I was ever going to be the princess is-"

"I- No, because-" Lunaeris said, face red. "No! You- You're the princess because of my actions! I could have been the princess before! You don't know!"

"But-"

"But nothing!" She squeaked, enraged. "I bend destiny to my will, Kallie! I married you in defiance of fate! Because I wanted to!"

Kallixenia chuckled and pulled her in closer.

"Of course, my love."

"Damn right."

~

Elven royal weddings were, traditionally, very drawn-out affairs.

There were all the awful ballads, the dreadful speeches from every family member in attendance, the poetry- dear gods, the poetry. Each spouse was expected to write and perform a minimum of a hundred stanzas declaring their love, and gods help you if you actually adhered to the minimum. You write one-hundred couplets instead of one-hundred-thirty-something quatrains and you might as well just not go through with the wedding, in the eyes of the nobility.

This was all before the first of three intermissions.

Lunaeris was, thankfully, able to convince her father that since her and Kallixenia were already married they may as well just exchange rings and move on to the reception, with the concession that he and her sisters could still give speeches.

Brief speeches.

And so, after a quick three hour ceremony, it was time to exchange the rings.

"I… I wish for you to understand the gravity of this." Lunaeris said, quietly enough for only Kallixenia to hear. "These rings are the most substantial proof of my love I can give."

She picked Kallixenia's ring up, turning it over in her hands.

"They carry an enchantment that binds our lives together, not unlike your oath to me. They will reduce my lifespan by about one hundred years, and extend yours by about eight hundred."

She paused, struggling to find words, and Kallixenia waited silently for her to continue.

"I have dreaded this exchange for as long as I can remember, you understand? A tenth of my life as dowry for whatever political gain my father could scrape together. And- And I do this now willingly, for you, because when I imagine a millennium without you or nine hundred years together, the choice is so obvious it doesn't feel like a sacrifice at all."

She hadn't realized she was crying until Kallixenia reached out to wipe away her tears.

"I understand, Lunaeris."

Lunaeris sniffled, smiling.

"Well, let's get on with it then. I don't need all these people to watch me cry." She said, taking Kallie's hand and placing the ring upon her finger, then allowing her to do the same.

And then Kallixenia lifted her up and kissed her, and while Lunaeris also didn't need all of these people watching them kiss, it was nice to not need them not to see. Her knight was an extraordinary woman, she deserved to love her openly.

She dipped out, for a moment, to dry her eyes and fix her makeup while the festivities began. When she rejoined, she was immediately swarmed by her sisters, eager to discuss this new knight they were suddenly finding out about.

The twins got to her first, Ari flanking her on one side and Esta on the other, taking her by the hand and steering her into the rest of them.

"Oh, dear sister, we're so happy you finally found someone!" Ari cooed.

"So happy, dear sister!" Esta echoed. "You know we did always worry about you."

"We did, we worried. But this explains so much."

"Explains everything. Why didn't you say anything? We could have helped father find you a nice princess years ago!"

"I can't imagine why not." Lunaeris said tersely as she was wrangled into the other three.

"Lunaeris! Congratulations!" Said Soliana, raising her glass.

"Yeah, congrats!" "Congratulations!" Nithenoe and Tephysea said, joining her.

"Thank you." Lunaeris replied.

"Sooo, your bodyguard, huh?" Nithenoe said. "What happened to never wanting to get married?"

"Well, you know, it was fate." Lunaeris shrugged. "Besides, she's really very nice."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure nice is what did it." Tephysea giggled. "Ari, Esta, you're the romantic masterminds. Why didn't you just tell father to find her someone who was nice, huh?"

"She- I mean, there are other qualities, that I appreciate about her."

"I'll say." Nithenoe hummed, eying the group of Kallixenia's fellow paladins that had come to attend the wedding. "Look at the size of them all."

"They're like big statues of heroes." Esta said.

"Yes, statuesque." Said Ari.

"Makes you just wanna climb 'em."

"Wh- Tephysea!"

"What? You don't?" Tephysea said, waving at one of them.

"Your husband just died!" Said Soliana, mortified.

"It was a political marriage! He was a good man, and I miss him dearly, but we were never like that."

"Really?" Ari said, wide-eyed. "But you read such a beautiful poem for him!"

"Ari, you and Esta wrote that for me."

"Yes, and it was very beautiful!" Said Esta.

The half-giant she had waved to made her way to their group.

"Greetings, Princesses." She said, making a small bow. "Congratulations, Princess Lunaeris. I hope Kallixenia brings you joy for the rest of your days."

"I'm sure she will." Lunaeris said, stifling a giggle. "Would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Gladly. I am Achaia, paladin of the Seventh Monastery-"

"And I-" Tephysea interjected. "Am without anyone to dance with. Could you remedy this for me, fair knight?"

"Of course, Princess." She said, taking Tephysea's hand. "Lead the way."

"Oh sure, she can just go for it now that I cleared the way." Grumbled Lunaeris as the two of them walked off.

"And she is going for it, wow." Said Soliana.

"I'm learning so much about my sisters today." Said Esta, head tilted.

"So much. You really can never tell." Said Ari, head similarly tilted in the opposite direction.

"Wait- What do you mean cleared the way?" Nithenoe asked.

"Well, I wouldn't have been able to marry Kallixenia if not for the prophecy." Lunaeris said.

"Yeah, but why are you mad about it?"

"Uh, well-"

The twins lit up.

"You were crushing on her!"

"You had a crush!"

"Well, I mean, she's, she's very impressive!" Lunaeris said, red-faced. "How could I not find myself growing fond of her?"

"And you said you could never be happy in an arranged marriage." Said Nithenoe.

"I- That isn't what this is!"

"It was prophecised, that's practically arranged." Agreed Soliana.

"It's not! It's different!!!" Squeaked Lunaeris.

Before she could launch into a full rant on the many distinctions between the two situations, she was wrapped up in her wife's arms.

"I hope you aren't antagonizing my wife on her wedding day, Princesses." Kallixenia hummed.

"No!" Esta said.

"Of course not!" Agreed Ari.

"They would never." Seethed Lunaeris.

"Goood." Kallixenia cooed. "May I steal you away? My battle-sisters would like to meet you." She glanced to Tephysea, dancing with her partner. "Although I see Achaia already has."

"Yes, I'd love to meet them." Lunaeris said, glaring at her sisters. "I will explain to you all why you are wrong in detail, later."

"Can't wait!" Chirped Nithenoe.

Lunaeris sighed as they walked away.

"What do you need, beloved?"

"Acknowledgment that I married you of my own free will." She grumbled.

"Well, you did. This wedding proper was not covered by the prophecy even if it did play out as it always would have, and you very well could have just slit my throat while I recovered instead of choosing to share your life with me, had you wanted." Kallixenia said.

"Oh. Right." Lunaeris paused thoughtfully. "In that case I need wine and cake."

"And you shall have it, my love."

~

"EEEE!! Put me down, you giant oaf!" Lunaeris squealed, giggling as Kallixenia carried her over her shoulder down the halls to their room.

"Did you hear something?" Kallixenia asked a snickering guard as she passed them by, continuing on her way happily.

"You would treat your princess like this!?" Lunaeris said, kicking her legs in the air.

"I would treat my wife like this."

"The indignity! The betrayal!"

She giggled as they entered their room and Kallixenia dumped her onto the bed, sighing happily as she laid there.

"Have you packed everything you wish to take with you, Princess?" Her knight asked.

"You cannot keep calling me 'Princess' as a pet name, it's even sillier now than it already was." Lunaeris said, dodging the question.

"Why not? You're still a princess, and I'm still your knight, oathsworn or not."

"We're abdicating, Kallie."

"How wonderful then, to have a princess all my own."

Lunaeris' heart fluttered. Gods damn her she could make a title she hated sound nice.

"Have you packed?" Kallixenia asked again.

"Yes."

"Then shall we take our leave?"

"No."

Kallixenia frowned a little, confused.

"No?"

"Kaalliiiiiiie." Lunaeris said, a teasing lilt in her voice. "It's our wedding night."

The knight paused in her preparations.

"You were quite clear that you wanted to abscond as soon as the wedding was over."

"I changed my miiiiind, Kallie." She said, giggling again. "We can delay our plans just a little, don't you think?"

"Of course, Princess. Anything you want." Kallixenia said, joining her on the bed.

Lunaeris did want to leave. She was so excited to start her new life with Kallie, adventuring throughout the land.

But more than that, she wanted her wife to touch her. She was full of love and fire, and she wanted to feed them until they consumed her whole. She climbed atop her knight and kissed her, hooking her arm behind the half-giant's neck.

"I want you, Kallixenia." She murmured, between kisses.

"You have me, Lunaeris. I'm yours."

She hummed happily. "Miiiine. I like the sound of that."

"You can hear it whenever you like, Princess." Said Kallixenia. "May I undress you?"

It was strange.

They were truly equals now, Kallixenia was no longer a knight serving a princess, but now that those weren't roles they were forced into picking them back up felt…

Curiously hot?

"You may, my cherished knight." Lunaeris said, feeling it out. Her title had been restrictive before, robbed her of any agency she had. Being the Princess of the kingdom had been awful, but-

Her breath hitched as Kallixenia ran her hands up her hips and gingerly pulled down her silk panties.

She wasn't hesitant this time, no longer fearing divine punishment, but still just as lovingly gentle. She slowly ran a finger through Lunaeris' slick folds, lingering on her clit.

"That." Lunaeris said, her voice breathy. "Is not undressing."

"Forgive me, Princess. You're too beautiful to resist."

Gods damn it, she couldn't believe how well this worked on her. She looked at her knight's face, her big beautiful doe eyes, and she finally understood.

It had stopped being about Lunaeris actually being a princess months ago. It wouldn't have mattered if she was a complete nobody, this was simply how Kallixenia loved.

She wanted to serve her. Not out of obligation, but adoration. She needed a princess to devote herself to, she delighted in it.

Lunaeris could be that princess. Just hers, no one else's.

She kissed her knight again, moaning softly into her mouth as she kept stroking her, until-

"W-Wait." She gasped, breaking the kiss and pulling away from her fingers.

"You don't like it, Princess?" Kallixenia asked.

Quite the opposite. Lunaeris felt embarrassingly close already, it had been so long since the inn and she was so excited she just-

"I want you inside me."

"Of course, Princess." Kallixenia said, nodding and curling her fingers-

"Not your fingers." Lunaeris hissed, breathless.

"O-Oh." The half-giant said meekly. "Are, are you sure?"

"Very."

"I just-" She stammered. "I'm worried I might hurt you, Princess."

There was the hesitance she expected of her knight.

"Won't know if we don't try." Lunaeris said, raising up off of her. "Help me out of my dress, please."

She turned, and Kallixenia unlaced the back of her dress for her, pulling it off over her head.

"You're so beautiful…" She murmured, reverently.

Lunaeris blushed and felt her ears grow hot.

"You're too kind, my knight." She said.

She knew that she should say something equally romantic, watching Kallie get off the bed and slowly undress, but all that came out was-

"Gods you're so fucking hot."

Now it was her knight's turn to turn red.

"I-I mean-" Lunaeris stammered. "Sssexy?? Um- Handsome, you're an exquisitely handsome woman."

That sounded appropriately romantic.

"…Can I touch your abs?"

Kallixenia nodded bashfully.

Lunaeris placed her palm to her stomach. Her abs weren't visibly defined, but she could feel the dense muscle beneath her skin as she pressed into it. It flexed powerfully, the knight tensing up under her touch.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Kallie?" She asked softly.

Kallie shook her head, covering her blush with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The half-giant said shakily. "T-To be touched by my princess, is, is-"

"It's what you deserve, fair knight." Lunaeris said slowly, trying to play into Kallixenia's submissive streak. "For serving me so well."

"O-Oh, I, t-truly, um-" She mumbled, overwhelmed by the praise.

"You want to serve your princess' every need, don't you?" Lunaeris asked, lightly running a finger across the bulge in Kallixenia's underwear.

"Yes, Princess." She breathed.

Lunaeris slowly pulled the half-giant's underwear off, and realized that she wasn't exaggerating about being worried she might hurt her.

"Oh!" She squeaked.

"…Yeah."

"That's… big."

"Y-Yeah, well, half-giant." Kallixenia said, covering her face and blushing furiously. "We don't have to-"

"Oh we're gonna."

Lunaeris tried to close her hand around the giant's shaft, and found that she couldn't.

"Ah. Aha. Wow. Okay." She said nervously. "Why don't… Why don't you lay back down, and…" She swallowed hard. "I'll just. Get on top of you and, and go at my own pace."

"Of course, Princess." Kallixenia said, equally nervous. "Anything for you."

Their bodies thrummed with anticipation as Lunaeris straddled her, the tip of her knight's cock pressing gently against her dripping slit.

She was not nervous.

She was a hero. Fate was her bitch. Demons cowered at her might.

She was really horny.

She braced her hands on Kallixenia's shoulders and began to slowly lower her hips, both of them sharply drawing breath as the fat cockhead stretched her open.

"Princess…" Kallie sighed, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

It was tortuously slow going. Lunaeris could only lower her hips a little before reversing course until only the tip was inside her, and then dropping down again, just slightly further on each stroke.

"Gods, Princess, you're so tight-"

She had no intention of stopping, of course. Making Kallie say these things was immeasurably satisfying even before taking her own pleasure into account. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, shivering with delight.

"Fuck, Kallie, it's so much."

"T-Too much?" The knight asked worriedly.

"Not what I said."

She didn't say it, but she did think it. She gave a few more shallow thrusts and found herself unable to take any more of Kallie's cock inside her. She opened her eyes and swallowed hard seeing that there were still a good three or four inches between them.

"I… I think this is all I can fit." She huffed, breathless.

"Does it hurt?"

"N-No!" She lied through gritted teeth as she rose up again. "It's amazing, you're amazing." She sighed, shuddering as she came back down. "I, I think, I need you to start moving, my legs are, hhaaah-"

Her legs shook, and she struggled to make them move how she wanted. She was getting close again and her body stopped listening to her, signals drowned out by the screaming need in her belly.

Kalliexenia wrapped a strong arm around her backside and lifted her, moving her along her massive cock.

"O-Oh wow." Lunaeris gasped, amazed at the ease with which Kallie did this. "Y-Yes, just like that-"

Her knight brought her other hand to her abdomen and swirled her thumb across her clit, making her squeal and clench down on her dick. The knight groaned, low and rumbling in her chest.

"Fuck, Kalliiiiiieee!" She whined, her long ears twitching with pleasure.

"May I go faster, Princess?" Kallixenia husked.

"Yes fuck whatever you want gods-"

The whole princess/knight thing was completely gone from Lunaeris' mind, Kallie was her wife and she loved her so fucking much and she felt so completely overwhelmingly good as she fucked her harder, dragging her up and down her twitching shaft.

She lost track of time, mind focusing to a singular point as the fire inside her burned hotter and hotter. The painful stretch wasn't even uncomfortable anymore, it was just a different kind of pleasure her wife was lavishing her with, everything building to a final peak.

"I-I'm close, Princess." Kallixenia warned, strained.

"O-Oh! Good, me too!" Lunaeris replied dreamily, completely missing the point.

Kallixenia stifled a chuckle. "Lunaeris, we may be married, but I don't know if you're ready for-"

Oh right. Duh.

Lunaeris shook her head.

"Kallie, it's-" She tried to reassure her, before a wave of pleasure rocked through her and she decided to give her the short version. "I'm a fucking wizard it doesn't matter just cum in me fuck-"

"As you wish, Princess."

Lunaeris came first, the blissful stretch and her knight's attentions on her clit too much for her to resist. She shivered and drew Kallie into a kiss, her cunt spasming and tightening as she fucked her through her peak.

The knight grunted into her mouth and held her down with a desperate finality as her cock throbbed hard and she came as well. Lunaeris could feel her seed flooding her, painting her insides white.

Nothing would happen, she had cast contraceptive magic on herself before she had even started trying to fuck Kallie months ago.

But it felt amazing, the two of them moaning into each other as the half-giant's release overflowed and spilled down her thighs.

"Princess…"

"Kallie…"

They made out breathlessly, a sweaty tangle of limbs embracing one another until eventually, sleep took them.

~

"How romantic, to run away together on our wedding night." Lunaeris hummed, leaning against the stable wall.

"We were married three days ago, Princess." Kallixenia said, cocking an eyebrow.

"We were married a month ago, if you want to be pedantic. I didn't hear you complaining about how we spent our time."

"You did not." Kallixenia sighed happily, attaching a large pack to her horse's saddle. "You're sure you don't want to bring your horse with us?"

"Mmm, no." Lunaeris said, hopping off the wall and patting her horse's mane. "I'll miss her, but she deserves a life of nice treats and safe roads. I'd feel awful if anything happened to her."

"We'll find you a terrible warhorse, I'm sure of it. One that strikes fear into the hearts of men." Kallixenia said, mounting her steed and offering her hand to Lunaeris.

"Oh, I'd love that! One that bites people." The Princess said, taking her hand and sitting in front of her.

"I don't think trained horses are meant to bite-"

"One that kicks children!"

"Princess."

"The shittiest, meanest horse in the land! None will fuck with my horse!"

"Princess."

Lunaeris giggled and relaxed into her wife's chest.

"I love you so much. Let's get out of here."

"Of course, my love."

And the two of them rode away from the castle, never to return.

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 9: Missed Connection

"But what about your missed connection? I wouldn’t want to stand in your way if she turns up.”  Gale caught her by the wrist and guided her onto the dance floor, clasping one of her hands in his while the other rested upon her hip. Placing her free hand against his chest to steady herself, Florence let him lead the dance, her skin flushing as he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Would you like to know a secret, Florence?” “I do love secrets.”  As the music played, Gale waltzed with her casually, his hand sliding upward to fit perfectly at her waist. She could see heads turn, her peers gossiping. “You already know her quite well.”  She raised an eyebrow, leaning back suspiciously. “I thought it was obvious. I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party, but you always seem to be surrounded by friends or otherwise occupied. Or more recently, completely absent. You’ve been missing from classes, the dining hall…where have you been?” “I came down with a cold earlier in the week.” The lie came to her easily, just like every other time in her life.  “Nothing serious, I hope? Or contagious?” Gale leaned in close with a roguish grin, “Not that you aren’t worth the risk.” Florence halted, staring with her mouth agape. “Gale…I-” He took her hand again, pulling her against him a bit more firmly, but still loose enough that she had an out should she choose to take it.  “We’re just dancing, Florence. That’s all this is,” he reassured her playfully. His confidence seemed to falter ever so slightly, but the mask slipped back into place as she allowed him to resume the dance.  “Just dancing.” She echoed.

Summary: Florence runs into trouble at the goblin camp, takes a little nap, and dreams about a missed opportunity from her past with Gale. Ouch.

Pairing: Gale x Named Tav/OFC

Words: 4.3k

Warnings (please mind for this one, it gets hot and heavy, but also heavy-heavy): 18+, MDNI, violence, blood, depictions of self harm, references to incubus-related SA/deception, intrusive thoughts/distress from obsessive compulsive disorder, Astarion saying appalling things, and painful yearning.

Read on AO3

The following morning, Florence and her companions set out for the goblin camp Zevlor had told them about. As they wound through the woods, she did her best to step high over carrion and puddles of bloody rainwater that lined the path.

“Can’t we just side with the goblins? There’s so many of them. It’ll take hours to kill them all.” Astarion groaned.

Wyll trudged up a steep hill, hand on the rapier at his hip. “I’m going to let that question pass, because you had a bad night, Astarion.”

“It’s just-heroics aren’t really my thing-”

“I am running on little sleep and zero patience after being awakened by your teeth in my neck.” Gale growled. Florence’s gaze drifted to the scar lingering where Shadowheart had healed him from the bite. “Return to camp or come along. No one here cares, but please, will you shut up!”

The vampire raised his eyebrows and smirked, giving the wizard a wide breadth as he fell in step next to Florence, who scrambled for something to hold as she narrowly avoided face planting in the mud.

“Your wizard is testy today.” Astarion said, catching her by the elbow and dragging her uphill with him. He was surprisingly strong. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I am the only friend you have left here, Astarion. Don’t fuck it up.” She said, pulling her arm away. 

“I can probably win back Karlach.”

“By advocating for the slaying of her kinfolk?”

“I didn’t say we kill the Tieflings, just…remain neutral. Let nature take its course…”

“Are you serious?” Florence stopped in her tracks. “After all you’ve been through, do you actually think - agh!” 

Something like an ice pick stabbed at her brain, and she fell on her hands and knees in the dirt, clutching her skull. Astarion hissed through his teeth, and Shadowheart cried out, confirming she wasn’t the only one affected. 

Hear my voice. Obey my command. 

The words came from within her mind, rather outside her body, and she shook as the corners of her vision went black. She was drowning in nothingness, pulled to obey as three dark figures appeared in her mind’s eye. 

These are my chosen-

The voice was cut off by a vivid orange light, energy pulsing from behind her as Shadowheart thrust a metal object forward, somehow interrupting the Absolute’s command. The woods came back into view, and Florence heard birds singing in the distance again, the babble of the river downhill.  

“What-” Gale gritted out “-just happened?”

“Better question, what is that?” Astarion pointed at the artifact clenched in Shadowheart’s fist, and she brought it to her chest possessively, taking a defensive stance. 

“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t know what’s happening any more than you do!”

“Nice one, Shadowheart!” Karlach clapped her on the back. “I think that thing in your pocket saved our asses.”

“Yes, but what in the hells is it?” Astarion demanded, rising to his feet. “Have you been keeping that trinket to yourself this whole time knowing it’s the only thing between us and sprouting tentacles?”

“What Astarion meant to ask, Shadowheart, is whether you might be a tad more generous with your explanation?” Well interjected. 

She groaned and balanced the artifact between her fingertips. 

“I serve Lady Shar.” She let out a heavy exhale. “I was tasked with bringing this back to my cloister in Baldur’s Gate for her at any cost. My memories have been repressed, and this mission requires the utmost secrecy. If I reach my contact in the city, I’ll have my memories restored, but until then, I have to guard this thing with my life,” she said bitterly. “There. You have the truth, for all it’s worth.”

“It appears we do.” Astarion murmured, eyeing the artifact with interest. “Worshiping the Dark Lady, tsk. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I can say no more, only that I can’t afford to fail.”

“Then I suggest we keep moving. We are wasting time speculating.” Lae’zel growled, pressing forward. 

“Yes, let’s.” Wyll said. “We came here to save the tieflings. The rest of this will have to wait.”

“I would have to agree with Wyll.” Gale grumbled as he stood and brushed himself off. He extended a hand, tugging Florence her to her feet, his touch lingering a bit longer than necessary. His harsh expression softened, and he blushed, turning away and continuing on. 

After crossing a bridge with the constructive integrity of a tree branch poised to snap, Florence smelled the camp before she stepped foot in it. It reeked of beer and strange meat, - humanoid by her assessment of its size - as it roasted it over the fire. Inebriated goblins crowded their path, and as they made their way through, Shadowheart became distracted by an owlbear cub, taking out her coin purse and bargaining with a goblin for its freedom. 

“Those things grow teeth and claws first, you know,” Gale warned. 

“Just-keep going. I’ll meet you at camp later. I have no interest in exploring some Selûnite temple.” The word came off her tongue like a curse as she nodded at a crumbling statue of the Moonmaiden near the temple’s entrance.

“I will not allow you to leave my sight while you hold the key that keeps us from becoming thralls, istik!” Lae’zel snarled. “I will remain as well. My creche shall cleanse me of the tadpole. I have no need for side quests.” 

With a roll of his eyes but not a word of objection, Wyll waved everyone else on. 

Once inside, they divided up their objectives: Karlach would address the drow running the camp, Minthara, while Wyll would look for the druid Halsin. 

Astarion, Florence, and Gale were tasked with dispatching the goblin High Priestess - Gut, as she was so eloquently called - but not before investigating whether she might heal them. As they rounded the corner, however, they stumbled across a bard they’d met at the Grove, in a cage. 

“We can’t just leave him.” Gale hissed to Astarion, who was eager to keep moving. “That’s the Vollo.”

“If I recall, you warned him of what the goblins were likely to do to him.” 

“Go pick the lock, Astarion,” Florence commanded. “Gale and I will handle Gut.”

The vampire sulked, but broke off, muttering something about needing a skeleton key under his breath. 

“He listens to you. Impressive.” Gale said as they descended a short staircase. 

“Residual guilt from killing me.” Florence said and smirked. The potion vials in her pack clanked together, catching the attention of a goblin woman standing near a makeshift altar for the Absolute. 

“Now here’s somebody special!” As she approached, Florence noted that her feathered shoulder pads were matted with blood. “The Absolute has touched you, hasn’t she?”

“I ah, yes. Yes, she has!” Gale gave a slight bow. 

“In Her name.” Florence added.

“Indeed. Now, Priestess Gut needs to touch you, hold out your arm so I can mark your flesh.”

“That won’t be necessary, surely.“ Gale stepped in front of Florence as she recoiled. “We need not wear such a brand to prove our faith.”

The priestess’ brows furrowed and there was the slightest brush against Florence’s mind, the tadpole wriggling as she reached for it. Next to her, Gale stiffened, presumably experiencing the same sensation. 

“There is something more to you, isn’t there? You’ve got something swimmin’ about in your head, don’t you?” Gut stuck a gnarled fingernail in her ear, “Maybe I can help you with that. Us True Souls got to look out for one another.”

Gale breathed a sigh of relief. “Your assistance in this matter would be wonderful. Right, Florence?”

“Right.” She said warily.

“Let’s deal with this in my chapel. In private. Don’t want this lot interfering with True Soul business,” the goblin priestess suggested. “One at a time, though.” Her eyes flitted between them and she pointed at Florence.

“You first.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” Gale began, sensing her apprehension, “My companion and I would prefer to remain-”

“Do you want your ladyfriend to become a squiddie or not?” Gut snapped.

“She’s not-of course I-”

Florence set a hand on Gale’s wrist to silence him, and he nodded, eyes flicking between her and the priestess. 

“Right, of course. I’ll wait here.” A shadow of worry fell over his features and she gave his arm one final squeeze before following Gut to her chambers. The door slammed behind them and Florence flinched, concentrating on a shortlist of defensive spells. 

Priestess Gut picked a vial off a table and shoved it into Florence’s hands unceremoniously. 

“Drink this. It’ll cleanse you before the Absolute can touch ya.”

Florence sniffed at the elixir, picking up on the scent of werejackal blood. 

“This is a sleeping potion. Are you trying to trick-”

“No tricks! You want help or not?” Gut growled. 

Without arguing, Florence obediently removed the cap and downed the liquid. If she ended up dead, Withers could probably resurrect her again. Or maybe death would be a blessing in disguise.

Her consciousness drifted away, and her limbs felt lighter, weaker. With her remaining strength, she reached out to Gale through the tadpole, her mind as feeble as her legs beneath her, before she collapsed on the ground. 

Help.

Soon, she slipped into a sleep, and dreamt of a memory buried by grief, and the passing of time.

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

“Gale Dekarios, are you aware your Tressym is terrorizing partygoers on the balcony?”

He turned in response to Florence’s tap on his shoulder, eyebrows raised as he smiled in recognition. He was dressed nobly for the Blackstaff ball, a black, fine linen shirt with an indigo, slim-fitted waistcoat affixed over it. His matching trousers were expertly tailored, stopping at the ankle above a pair of embellished leather shoes. Florence couldn’t help but wonder what kind of money his family had.

A light dusting of snow melted on the shoulder of his thick wool dress coat, layered over the ensemble, suggesting he had recently come in from outside. She noticed he now donned a single charm featuring the Lady of Mystery’s symbol on his left ear. Not unusual, but new for the wizard. 

“Florence! I wasn’t sure I’d see you here.” He glanced around her curiously. “Where’s your date?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have one. I’ve decided to show up and see what happens.” 

“Strange for you to come unprepared.” Gale jested.

“I could say the same to you. I don’t see anyone on your arm.”

“There was someone I’d wanted to ask, but she’s…rather elusive.” He answered with a grin. 

“A shame. And you even changed out of your Academy robes for her! I’m not sure she deserves you, Gale.” Florence teased. 

“Don’t discredit her so soon,” He chuckled, before lowering his voice. “Florence, I don’t want to alarm you, but Pierson Wenzel is staring at you.”

She spared a glance and grimaced.

“I promised him a dance earlier to get out of a conversation.”

“That guy? He can barely cast a cantrip! You can do better, surely.”

“I don’t doubt your judgment, Gale, but wizards are notoriously pretentious, and the good ones are all spoken for. My options are limited.” she glanced at the other couples around the room. Not a wallflower in sight. 

With a small bow, Gale offered his hand, his eyes twinkling as he looked up at her.

“If I’m not too pompous for you, I’d love to escort you for the evening. Perhaps I’ll be weaseling you out of a regrettable arrangement.”

Florence laughed. 

“And what do I tell Pierson?”

“To piss off.” 

“Gale. I can’t be that cruel-“ 

“Why not? He doesn’t seem bothered.”

He nodded again and Florence turned to find Pierson flirting with Estee Sagedust, a petite High Elf barely in her twentieth year of life. She was a head shorter than Florence, with curly blonde hair that fell down her back, and bright blue eyes that bore into Pierson’s as his hand trailed down her arm. Estee was the kind of beautiful kings waged wars over, and Pierson Wenzel was, as Gale noted, nothing spectacular. 

“Well, that makes things easier,” Florence said, “But shouldn’t we rescue poor Estee?”

“I watched her dump wine on a drunk at a party once and light him on fire with a snap of her fingers. She’ll be just fine.” 

“Noted. But what about your missed connection? I wouldn’t want to stand in your way if she turns up.” 

Gale caught her by the wrist and guided her onto the dancefloor, clasping one of her hands in his while the other rested upon her hip. Placing her free hand against his chest to steady herself, Florence let him lead the dance, her skin flushing as he leaned down to murmur in her ear.

“Would you like to know a secret, Florence?”

“I do love secrets.” 

As the music played, Gale waltzed with her casually, his hand sliding upward to fit perfectly at her waist. She could see heads turn, her peers gossiping.

“You already know her quite well.” 

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back suspiciously.

“I thought it was obvious. I’ve been trying to talk to you since the party, but you always seem to be surrounded by friends or otherwise occupied. Or more recently, completely absent. You’ve been missing from classes, the dining hall…where have you been?”

Averting her eyes, she focused on a couple dancing a few steps away. The ballroom was exquisite. Marbled floors, walls and ceilings, embellished with gold accents and burgundy drapery. Blackstaff Tower could hardly compare, nor hold such a large gathering, so one of the local nobles had offered their place of residence, as was tradition. Who, Florence wasn’t certain. 

“I came down with a cold earlier in the week.” The lie came to her easily, just like every other time in her life. 

“Nothing serious, I hope? Or contagious?” Gale leaned in close with a roguish grin, “Not that you aren’t worth the risk.”

Florence halted, staring with her mouth agape. 

“Gale…I-”

He took her hand again, pulling her against him a bit more firmly, but still loose enough that she had an out should she choose to take it. 

“We’re just dancing, Florence. That’s all this is,” he reassured her playfully. His confidence seemed to falter ever so slightly, but the mask slipped back into place as she allowed him to resume the dance. 

“Just dancing.” She echoed. In this light, he was as handsome as she’d ever seen him, brown hair meticulously arranged in half bun, the rest cascading along his neck, just short of his shoulders. His beard was trimmed, little more than stubble, reminding her of how it scratched against her cheek when she kissed him the night of the party.

Florence swallowed hard. Admittedly, she’d been avoiding him, humiliated by her actions. She didn’t want a reputation for being messy, and had no desire for recklessness and impulsivity anymore. 

She’d learned her lesson when she’d opened that portal in her dorm room a week ago. 

Over the last seven days, she had been hiding in her room, claiming to be ill and letting friends leave food and books outside of her door. Truthfully, she was petrified to step foot in public, plagued with Haarlep’s use of her form over and over the first few nights, worried she’d be unable to stifle a moan, or worse, during classes. But loneliness was getting the better of her, and she had a tendency to unravel when she gave into her agoraphobia. Tonight was a challenge, an opportunity to test the waters after a week of what she’d hoped was the incubus losing interest.

“I’ve come on too strong, haven’t I?” Gale asked, disappointment evident in his tone.

“No!” Florence shook her head emphatically and curled her fingertips over the breast of his waistcoat. “Just…lost in thought.”

He stopped in place, still holding her hand between his thumb and forefinger, and inclined his head towards the balcony. 

“How about some fresh air? I believe Tara’s finally given up on her attempts at chaperoning.” 

“Air sounds lovely.” Florence beamed, letting him lead her from the dancefloor. “Is she always so…motherly, towards you?”

Gale snorted as he opened the glass-paned door for her, and she stepped into the chilled winter air. “Morena Dekarios is motherly enough. Tara is….loyal. And enthusiastic. But not without good cause. I summoned her when I was a boy as an act of defiance. I had seen a basket of kittens at the Waterdeep market one morning, and when my parents denied me one, I took matters into my own hands.” 

“Ambitious.” Florence responded, sitting on a nearby bench and adjusting her dress around her ankles. “Were you always such a precocious child?”

Gale removed his coat and threw it over her shoulders. “I’ve…been lucky to study magic at the caliber I have for a very long time.” He took a seat beside her with a grunt, leaving just enough space to rest his palm against the stone surface, leaning in closer. “What about you?”

Florence gathered the coat more tightly around her. “I started studying when I was twelve. I wasn’t summoning Tressyms, but I did singe my mother’s eyebrows once.” 

“Ha!” Gale rubbed his hands together, blowing into them to warm them. “Is your mother a spellcaster?”

“Not even a little. Her family teases her that for as much as she neglects her Elvish heritage, Angharradh should remove the tips of her ears. But she’s been more than supportive of my ambitions.”

“And your father? What’s his story?”

“He left.” Florence said. “When I was seven.”

“Apologies. I know that story all too well.” Gale said bitterly. After a moment of silence, he chuckled. 

“Well, this is hardly a lighthearted conversation.” He stood, offering Florence his hand, and led her to the edge of the balcony. She leaned out over the railing, letting the winter air cool her flushed cheeks. Underneath them on the lawn, snow capped trees swayed in the breeze, depositing a thin layer of white on the icy ground below. The moon rose high over silver clouds, shining through a dim fog and illuminating the faint creases around Gale’s eyes as he squinted at it. 

“I’d like to kiss you again sometime, if you’d let me.” He said, watching her from the corner of his eye. 

Florence inhaled slowly to disperse the butterflies that soared in her stomach. 

“Oh.” 

Gale shook his head, a huff of steam from his nose visible in the cold air as he stared at his feet. 

“That was too forward, wasn’t it? It’s just that…” he turned to her, bracing a palm against the railing and tilting his head to the side. “It’s a shame we weren’t sober for the last one.”

Florence studied him. “You’re being gentlemanly. I was the only one inebriated that evening.” She inched closer. “But I appreciate your chivalry.”  

Gale reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand, the other coming to her waist as he stooped down, giving her a chance to change her mind. 

“I failed to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

His lips parted, just inches from hers, the fog of their breath mingled in the air between them as he hesitated. 

“Gale?” Florence’s eyes darted over his shoulder.

“Yes?” He asked, his lips brushing against hers. 

“Someone wants your attention, I think,” she nodded towards an elderly gentleman, tapping his foot behind him. The man cleared his throat in agreement.

Florence pulled back, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, rubbing the side of her neck. Gale squeezed his eyes shut, vexed by the interruption.

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my evening, Elminster?”

Florence whirled back around. 

“I’m sorry, is that Elminster Aumar?” she hissed. 

The old man gave her an impassive look before addressing Gale. “I hate to interrupt, but she’d like a word, m’boy.”

Gale opened his mouth to speak, but was at a rare loss for words. His guilty expression settled on Florence.

“My most sincere apologies. I... have an urgent matter I must attend to.”

“He’s Mystra’s Chosen.” she mouthed. 

“I know.”

“Is he talking about…have you met her?”

Elminster cleared his throat again.

“Wait for me. I’ll find you later.” Gale tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile on his lips. “Keep the coat. It suits you.”

As he disappeared with the archmage back into the crowded ballroom, Florence felt a familiar warmth ignite in the base of her spine, warming her core, and rising in her throat like bile.

“No, no, no-”

She desperately clutched Gale’s coat to her form, and the notes of his cologne - a subtle mix of whiskey, cinnamon, and something woody - only worsened her unwanted arousal.

Florence rushed across the ballroom floor and down the spiral staircase, her heels clicking against marble and echoing through the corridor as she raced towards the exit. Mumbling fire incantations at the icy cobblestone streets of Waterdeep, she ran to her dorm, slamming the door behind her when she finally made it up the stairs and inside. 

She spent the evening writhing in her bed, and when Haarlep had finished, Florence didn’t go looking for Gale Dekarios. Instead, she drew a scalding hot bath and eased herself in, scrubbing her skin raw. Despite turning a bright shade of pink, it still didn’t feel clean.

She lost track of time, and when Gale knocked on her door and called out her name, she submerged herself under the water’s surface, waiting for the muffled sound of his voice to disappear. Once he was gone, she crawled out, and with a trembling hand, snatched a folded letter he’d slid under the door.

Her fingers traced over her name, and she hurled it into the fireplace with a heart-wrenching sob, watching the flames consume it, along with any hope that the incubus would ever grant her enough peace to form romantic connections.

How could she possibly admit to someone like Gale, Mystra’s next Chosen, how foolish she had been? She had been deceived, her body traded for the hollow confirmation that she would never see her father again. She didn’t even belong to herself anymore.

Erik Ashveil had sacrificed his freedom, only for his daughter to make her own body a prison.

Each evening that followed, Florence ritualistically scrubbed at her skin until the bathwater ran red. When that didn’t dispel the invisible filth on her body, the phantom touch of Haarlep’s lovers, she evoked flames to burn herself. She locked her door, refusing to eat, attend classes, or open it for anyone.

Even when Gale pleaded from the hall for three consecutive nights, she couldn’t bring herself to give him the courtesy of an explanation. On day four, his footsteps faded away, and he didn’t return. 

On day five, Blackstaff Safahr forcefully entered her room, gasping in horror at the sight before her.

On day six, for her own good, Florence was dismissed from her studies and sent home. 

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

“Wakey wakey! The Absolute wants to know all about that critter in your head. Start talking!” 

Florence roused after receiving a sharp kick in the ribs, her face plastered against the cold stone floor of the temple, wrists bound securely at her back. Blood dripped from her nose and over her lips, some fresh, some dried. She rose to her knees, glaring at the priestess as she tested her chains. To her dismay, they were far too secure to slip out of. 

“Have a nice nap?” The goblin struck her across the face so hard she saw stars. “How you haven’t turned into a squiddie by now, I don’t know, but you’ll make a tasty supper-”

Blood sprayed over the floor before her, and Florence jerked her head up to find Gale with a dagger in hand, the priestess’ throat slit as he panted over her. Gut gurgled desperately, clinging to life before going still. Gale turned pale and dropped the blade, letting it hit the floor with a clang.

“Are you alright?” He knelt behind her and muttered a spell of knock to free her from her restraints. 

“I’m fine.” Florence rubbed her wrists as the chains fell away. “A knife, Gale? Have you ever even…?”

“Killed someone by non-magical means? No. I’d not killed anyone until a ten-day ago. Unfortunately, I’m getting used to it.” He wiped his bloodied hands on his robes and shook his head. “With the orb the way it is, I’m trying to conceal magical energy. However, I don’t think my next calling will be as a rogue.” He said grimly, looking at the sloppy cut he’d made in the goblin’s throat. 

Florence shuddered, her mind flooded with intrusive thoughts as she remained kneeling on the floor. The cut inside her cheek and her skinned knees would be highly susceptible to infection, and the contusion to the side of her temple-

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Gale cocked his head and examined her.

Florence nodded. “Fine. Just a strange dream, that’s all.”

“Sleeping draughts are miserable. I usually end up in some stage of sleep paralysis.” He extended his hand and help her up. She stumbled into him and Gale caught her by the shoulders, steadying her, before crooking a finger under her chin, lifting it so their eyes met. His smile was a comfort, and for a moment, her mind went silent. She ached for that moment on the balcony, their lips only a breath from touching, to know what he’d written in that letter she’d discarded into the hearth…

Gale released her, opening the chamber door and waving her on. 

“Let’s get you out of here. The others can figure this goblin mess out.”

⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋅ . ⋆─⋆ . ⋅─ ✩ ─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅─⋆ . ⋅

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment/kudos on AO3 or a note here if you did!

[wordsarelife]

DAY 14: DECK THE HALLS

pairing: platonic!lockwood and co x reader

summary: decorating cookies at portland row

warnings: none

the light in the hallway was dim as you walked into portland row. you had a bag slung over your shoulder and gently pulled it off before you closed the door.

"guys?" you called, walking into hallway. you took off your shoes and put down your jacket, before you brought the big plastic bag filled with the contents of your shopping trip into the kitchen.

"hey" george and lucy, who had heard you calling, walked into the kitchen behind you. you turned around, smiling at them.

“look what i bought” you pointed to the bag and george emptied it across the table. it was filled with food colouring, sprinkles and other necessities for decorating along a few stance forms for cookies.

george and lucy smiled at it. “baking cookies huh?” lucy asked

“i thought we could all do it together” you nodded “it’s just fun, especially when you’re not alone”

“sure” george wasn’t really convinced

"where is lockwood?" you wondered. it wasn't normal to not see him when you came home, especially if you had went shopping. he was always eager to help.

"he's training" lucy pointed to the basement door

"alright" you walked down the steps and leaned against the wall, just waiting for lockwood to see you

"jeez! y/n" he exclaimed shocked, a hand pressing down on his heart "what are you doing here?"

"was trying to get you upstairs" you smiled "we're gonna bake and decorate cookies, thought you might want to join us"

"yeah" lockwood smiled and let the rapier fall into the holder. "of course" he followed you up the stairs.

lucy and george were already busy, taking out the dough of the fridge. you had made it yesterday evening, so all of you could decorate it now.

you and lockwood literred the table in pads, so you could roll the dough on that. then the four of you got to work. each one of you picked out a cookie stance. lucy had the mitten, george took the reindeeir, lockwood had the christmas tree and you took the angel, like always.

you worked in silence, while christmas music was playing from the radio. after you had finished the dough, lockwood and george put them into the oven.

"we need some of that" you pointed to the powdered sugar "and some of that" george grabbed milk and melted butter for you. then you started making the icing, while your friends watched how you did that easily, without a recipe. you just added whatever you thought was necessary and mixed it.

lucy took out a few bowls and you seperated the icing into them, so each one of you could color it.

lucy decided on blue, lockwood took red, which turned a bit pink and george picked yellow. you decided on a mix between blue and red, giving you a beautiful purple color.

after the cookies had finished baking, you took them out of the oven and got back to decorating. each of you glassed them in the icing, before you let the sprinkles fall over them, decorating them beautifully.

you smiled proudly when all of you were done. you let the cookies dry and finished cleaning the kitchen, before each of you sat down, a cookie in hand.

"delicious" complimented george and you looked at him in surprise "i might be the best cook, but you'll always be the best baker" he grinned and you shook his hand smiling.

"i agree" lockwood mumbled, a bit of crumbles falling out of his mouth.

"best cookies ever" lucy giggled.

you looked from one friend to the other and smiled brightly "merry christmas"

it was indeed, a very merry christmas.

[alphacrone]

11 for lockwood and lucy please!

11. picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face 

For once, the job going sideways was not their fault. 

The client had guaranteed the property had been properly vetted by safety inspectors during the day, but that had clearly been a lie. How could Lockwood tell? Well, the stairs he and Lucy had just climbed were now not much more than rotted scaffolding and a pile of rubbish on the floor, ten meters below.

“Well,” Lockwood breathed. “Shit.” 

Lucy cast him an exasperated look. “Let’s just find the source and worry about that after. I’m certain it’s up here.” 

“I trust you,” Lockwood said, glancing down at the hole in the floor where they’d just been. “Not sure I trust this house quite as much. Hope George hasn’t fallen into the basement or through a wall.” 

“We really could do with some better clients,” Lucy said, slowly moving across the room, testing each floorboard before putting her full weight on it. “A modern office building. A school built in our lifetime. A nice, level, totally intact car park. I’m not picky.” 

This made Lockwood chuckle. “I don’t even think Fittes gets jobs like that.” 

“Alas.” Lucy paused, whipping her head to the side, eyes sharp. “Did you hear that?” 

“No.” He rarely heard what Lucy and George did. “I’m seeing some fog in the corner, over by that armoire.” 

“Bet it’s in there,” Lucy said. “I can hear a door opening. Something clicking. Maybe a key in a lock.” 

“Great work.” Lockwood made his way closer to the armoire, rapier aloft. His steps weren’t as cautious as Lucy’s, but he had faith the floor would hold up long enough for him to find the source. “We’re looking for something that locks.”

“Or the key itself.” Lucy sped up her pace, trying to keep up. “Go slower, Lockwood, these floors aren’t stable.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Lockwood brushed her worries aside as the armoire drew near. “The fog’s getting thicker.” He flicked his rapier at it, dispersing the clouds only he could see. 

Lucy appeared at his shoulder, frowning. “There’s a sadness in there,” she said, cryptic as always. “It’s strong.” 

Lockwood gave her a reassuring grin. “That makes it easier to find. You open the doors, I’ll ward anything off.” 

“It’s George’s turn to open mysterious doors,” Lucy grumbled, tentatively placing her hands on the armoire’s knobs. “Ooh, that’s cold.” 

“Well, George is probably running around downstairs like a chicken with its head cut off,” Lockwood told her. “And we’re up here. So, your turn.” 

Lucy pouted and Lockwood’s heart skipped a beat. She always surprised him by how cute she could be, pouting like a child in a haunted house because it wasn’t her turn to do the horrible, dangerous thing. Lockwood licked his lips and shook away those thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. 

“On three,” he said and Lucy glanced sideways at him. “One…two…” 

“LOCKWOOD!” 

Before he could say three, Lucy was pulling him against her, the two of them stumbling back against the window. Something icy cold brushed past him, just missing contact, and Lockwood realized as they tumbled over that the ghost had snuck up behind them. 

Unfortunately, it seemed the windows of this God-forsaken house were as feeble as the floors. They crashed through the rotted wood frame and fractured glass as easily as though it were wet paper and then they were falling. Why was Lockwood always falling from great heights with Lucy? Why couldn’t their thing be walks in the park or sharing a pack of biscuits? 

The overgrown garden cushioned their landing, though it still knocked the wind from Lockwood’s lungs. He cradled Lucy close to his chest, hoping he took the brunt of the impact. 

“Fuck…” she groaned, breath hot through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Better clients, Lockwood. I’m serious.” 

“I’ll take it into consideration,” Lockwood managed to gasp out. His entire body vibrated like a tuning fork, an electric pain shaking him to his bones. Nothing felt broken, but he didn’t move, just in case. 

Slowly, carefully, Lucy pushed herself to her knees, extracating herself from Lockwood’s arms. She hovered over him, looking for any obvious signs of trauma. There were gashes in her shoulder from the glass and her eyes were a bit unfocused, but overall Lucy seemed alright. Her hair, however, had become a rat’s nest, tangled with leaves and twigs from the shrubbery they’d crashed through. 

Despite himself, Lockwood reached up to pick a half-crushed flower from her temple. He let his fingers brush across her cheek, tracing the curve of it to her jaw. He watched as she swallowed roughly, throat working just below the soft expanse of her neck. Then, with a grin, he presented the flower to her as if it were the greatest jewel in all the land. 

Lucy frowned in confusion, but took the flower nonetheless. Lockwood loved the way her brow furrowed, forming a little crease between her eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but his head was starting to spin, so he put his arm back down. 

“I…I think I might need a medic,” he admitted. “But at least we know where the source is. You and George can go back at dawn to contain it.” 

“You idiot,” she murmured fondly. “Forget the source. I’ll call an ambulance.” 

Lockwood could hear George shouting in the distance, and Lucy called back to him, but their words escaped him. All that mattered to Lockwood was that Lucy still held onto the flower. 

[truearchangel]

❝ ...Michael ? I think... I think I need a doctor... ❞ - emily !

𝑫𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑼𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

   SHE IS VERY LUCKY that the Archangels are capable of healing. This had been his idea, poorly. Not–in a bad way, really, just a lack of proper consideration before doing it. Emily was one of the Seraphim who were overly kind and happy, who spread warmth wherever she went and wanted to see the good in people. She was the type of person who saw the world as a star that burned brightly. And she was too naive. These are things that are easily noticed when watching her, and then underneath that when one gets to know her they see her determination and stubbornness. All combined could make for a dangerous and reckless person. 

   Considering she had made friends with Charlie, the oddly bubbly Princess of Hell, it was only a matter of time before he knew she wanted to go down there with him sometime. And, truthfully, he had considered taking her. Having another angel, a Seraphim he could bounce thoughts of, would actually have been useful. Someone would want to see the good, the virtues in people, and point them out. It would also allow her to see her friend. 

   However, he would not take her down there without proper defensive training. So she could protect herself, even a little bit, and he wouldn’t be so worried about her. His preferred style of fighting was fencing, and he actually thought it was a style that would suit her. So he offered, blindly and stupidly, to give her some training in it. To his surprise, especially with what was on the line (the chance to see her friend), Emily had quickly agreed. This was… fine, though at some point he almost wished she had said no. 

   He definitely wishes she had said no now. 

   “You’ll be fine.” He stated, soothed rather poorly, and looked to where his rapier was wedged into her hip. It’s not terribly deep, he had stopped when he realized she wasn’t going to block in time. They hadn’t used angelic steel, which was lucky for her, but it still was going to hurt of course. It was just going to heal quicker, better, and without the need of said doctor. This he could fix on his own, as long as she didn’t panic and move. “Take a deep breath, remember I’m an Archangel.” 

   Michael takes a step up her, his right hand still gripped tightly around the hilt of his sword. Winding his left arm around her waist he gripped her tightly and met her eyes. “Breathe out slowly, don’t move.” He gives her a minute to process the command and then in one quick motion removes the sword from her body. It twists instantly, wrapping around his wrist in the form of the bracelet again, and Michael frees his hand up to catch her. 

   Easing her down onto the ground he actually pulls Emily right into his lap and places his hand flat over the wound on her waist. “I’m going to heal you, you’ll be fine. Just do some breathing exercises. In for three and out for five.”

[talesfromeorzea]

Rescue

FFXivWrite2024 Day 17 Prompt: Sally

Eirunn was strolling through new Gridania contemplating what she was going to do today when she saw a white blur of a Moogle come charging up the path from White Wolf Gate. Upon seeing her it zoomed straight over and spun chattering. "Hero Kupo! Please help the Elderseedseer is in terrible danger Kupo! Her Serpentsworn are badly hurt and a terrifying beast intends to eat her. You must help Kupo!!!"

Eirunn nodded and growled softly, "Lead on little one,"

The Moogle bobbed in the air spun and flew as fast as its wings could carry it as Eirunn trotted after it as soon as they left the gate she pulled out her chocobo whistle and blew it and in a burst of feathers and aether her chocobo Dawn appeared. Mounting she rode after the Moogle keeping her gaze locked on it trusting the bird to easily find its way in the thick forest undergrowth.

The Moogle led them just before Haukke Manor when she saw what it had been talking about. A massive Voidsent was standing there on multiple limbs with black scales and an almost lizard like body. In front of it was the shimmering blue shell of a Protect spell with the Elderseedseer standing in the center and her usual pair of Serpent Sworn guards hurt. The Elezen Aldene was completly unconsion on the ground and the Hyur Oeric was kneeling bleeding hard and shouted, "Seedseer you must flee!"

Eirunn spurred Dawn into a sprint and reached into her belt pouch brushing her Red Mage soul stone in a burst of aether she switched classes and threw herself from the chocobo's back stabbing with her rapier at the beasts upraised claw. It pierced its wrist joint causing the beast to give a warbling eerie wail and then she darted underneath its massive form aiming for its knees with a similar blow. Once she ran free of the beast she whirled around as Dawn ran along side it kicking at the knees she had just injured. One gave in a sickening crunch causing the beast to wail again before fully facing her.

It then opened its eyes and a red hot beam of fell energies tore through her and the bird causing both to cry out. She felt the familiar warmth of healing wash over her and she called, "Worry about yer folks Kan-E I have this."

The beast then lumbered forward slightly hampered by the injured leg and began snapping as Dawn intercepted the chocobo harrying it distracting it from Eirunn who then began weaving jolt and veraero together before switching to jolt and verthunder. She kept this pattern as the beast focused on the chocobo the bird expertly dodging its snapping jaws.

As soon as she felt the energies primed in her blade she rushed forward with corps-a-corps and began the three most common enchanted blade strikes before fleeing with displacement and she felt the energies primed for Verholy. She unleashed it onto the beast causing it to give a wailing roar and then rush her she waited for it to open its maw wide ready to snap she drove her rapier home through the roof of its mouth and into its brain. It gave one last wail and she leapt back again with displacement as it fell to the ground before disappearing in a cloud of oily smoke.

As it disappeared Kan-E came forward along with her two Serpent Sworn guards saying, "Thank you dear friend I fear what would have happened had you not come when you did."

Eriunn gave a toothy smile and murmured, "Thank him he's the one who charged into the city to ask for help." She then pointed at the Moogle who was hovering not far away.

The Pajali then looked over at the Moogle and murumered, "Thank you old friend."

The Moogle simply bounced in response causing Kan-E to smile and then she turned to her guards, "I believe we found what was disturbing the Elementals pray let us return to Gridania."

They both nodded and gave a bow and Oeric asked softly, "Warrior of Light could we trouble you to travel with us as well. I dare say Aldene and I would feel the Elderseedseer would be alot safer with you along.

Eirunn simply nodded and looked at her bird calling, "Keep perimeter Dawn."

The chocobo kwehed and trotted off flanking the group as the four of them made their way back to the city proper.

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 20

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** You heard of Chekhov's gun, we had Chekhov's rapier, and now it's time for *checks notes* Chekhov's runepowder bomb. ***

“You may put that map away. We have no need for it anymore.”

Raphael’s voice rang out shortly after they set out for the day, as soon as Karlach pulled out the patched-up map of Avernus to have a look. As they all glanced over at him, he gestured for something before them. In the distance was the lake that they’d seen growing closer since the previous day, now a short enough trek away - and Raphael was now gesturing at something visible not far from it, something that looked much like… a hill?

“That’s where the Citadel is, near the shores of the Lake of Blood.”

“... Citadel? I see a hill.”

For a moment, Raphael stopped in his tracks and seemed to hesitate, as though part of him balked at the notion of giving up the information even now… but Durge caught his eye and finally, after a long breath, he nodded. He resumed walking and they followed, listening closely.

“Yes. By the lakeshore there is the aptly-named Bleeding Citadel. Surely you heard of Zariel’s assault on Avernus alongside the Hellriders, to try and end the Blood War?”

“The Ride,” Wyll said, nodding. “Yes, of course. More songs have been sung of that one ride than of any other battle the Hellriders ever took part in.”

Raphael waved a dismissive hand. “Considering how disastrously it ended, they probably would like otherwise - particularly with how mediocre most such songs are. The Blood War cannot be ended so easily, and taking on both demonic hordes and the legions of Hell was pure madness. The Ride failed, most Hellriders were slaughtered, and Zariel herself fell.”

“There was talk that Asmodeus had something to do with that defeat, as things went really wrong real fast,” Karlach muttered. “In the Flying Fortress, I mean - just a rumor that came up from time to time. Though no one brought it up where Zariel could hear it.”

“Yes, I heard of it,” Raphael said, nodding. “I could never find proof that is truly what happened, but it would not surprise me in the slightest. Either way, Zariel fell and instead of trampling her under his foot, Asmodeus had a different plan. He personally aided her recovery, and in the process-- well. The celestial she’d been was no more and the Zariel you know well rose in her place. If this had been planned by Asmodeus, then the gamble paid off. He had a new, vicious warrior he then made the new Archdevil of Avernus, demoting Lord Bel to an advisory role. Clearly, he decided that Avernus needed a more aggressive stance. Bel was a strategist, but Zariel is a warmonger the likes of which even the Hells have rarely seen.”

Astarion let out a hum. “This is all very fascinating, but what does it have to do with the sword, or a bleeding citadel?”

A sigh. “The lot of you,” Raphael lamented, “have no patience for the art of storytelling.”

“You just make tales boring, pet,” Haarlep replied, all sweetness and light. You take forever to get to the point. And yet, when it comes to action, it’s over so fas--”

“Shouldn’t you be flying overhead to make sure there are no more hordes in our path?”

“Say please.”

“Absolutely no--”

“If you please, Haarlep, we’d be very grateful.” Halsin spoke up, smiling. Haarlep paused for a moment, then grinned back. “Ah, only because you asked so nicely,” they declared, and took flight, leaving Raphael to scowl, muttering something about feeding them their own skin at the first occasion. He only stopped when Astarion patted his back, with a touch more strength than necessary. 

“There, the distraction is gone. Do go on - concisely, if you please.”

“Mph. Very well. Once it became clear that Zariel had turned archdevil, one of the surviving Hellrider generals stole the sword and fled alongside a hollyphant who was believed to have been Zariel’s war mount. They made it as far as the Lake of Blood before one of Yeenoghu’s demons caught up with them. I am not certain what they did, but a fortress sprang up, and neither the general nor the Sword of Zariel were seen again. It’s rather obvious that they’re inside, but the Citadel is inaccessible to fiends and, over time, it became… covered.”

Durge blinked. “Covered? In what?”

“Why, precisely in what you’re seeing - that is no hill. It is the Citadel, covered quite literally in a scab. Avernus itself grows it around it, as if on a wound - Hells and divine energy don’t mix well. You did stock up on explosives as I told you to, I hope?”

“Ah, that.” Durge laughed, and patted their bag of holding. “Not to worry. We have enough to blow up a Steel Watch foundry, if need be.”

Raphael raised an eyebrow. “That is curiously specific,” he pointed out. 

Durge grinned, all fangs, and said nothing.

***

“Lord Bel. Thank you for granting me an audience at such short noti--”

“Three legions of abishai, Tiamat has pledged,” Lord Bel spoke without so much looking up from the miniature armies moving across the map of Avernus. “Did the idiot you sent to relay your message speak true?”

Raphael nodded. Still reeling from Bele’s visit, he’d forgotten how eager he’d been to give the archduke the news himself, no more than an hour earlier. Now, all taste of that triumph was gone; he could only taste ashes and bile. “He did, my lord. It was a fruitful meeting.”

“The contract?”

A gesture from Raphael, a burst of flame, and the contract hovered in the air before lord Bel. He took a look, eyes scanning the writing and the signature at the bottom. Then, he bared his fangs in a smile. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose. You did obtain twice the troops we usually get from Maladomini, after they told us they’d be cutting them by half.” He glanced back. “I never asked, what did you write to Lord Beelzebul?”

“That there was no reason for concern and no need for apologies, as the troops sent by my lord father Mephistopheles were twice as many and would easily make up for the shortfall.”

Lord Bel stared for a moment before he threw back his head and laughed. “Hah! I never much cared for the political posturing going on between layers, but it seems I should have.” 

“You don’t need to, my lord. I’ll gladly continue to handle this for you, if it pleases you.”

“If it pleases me?” Another laugh. “Of course it pleases me. What’s with the modesty now? You’re an asset on the battlefield, yes, but this?” He gestured to the signed contract in which Tiamat pledged three further legions of abishai to join Bel’s forces. “This is where you shine.”

Praise from an archdevil was hard-won, and always a reason for pride. Still, the smile on Raphael’s face was forced, the taste of bile still in his throat, choking him.

“Ah, don’t you mind them. Your Infernal is already near perfect, and jealousy is one ugly beast,” Bele’s voice rang out in the back of his mind. He almost felt it again, the touch of pale fingers tilting up his chin. He was no ice devil, yet he felt so oddly cold. “Learning all about contracts already, aren’t you? It’s impressive - but then again your lord father is brilliant, too. You will shine here, I am sure. If you are in need of any clarifications on our laws, do feel free to seek me out.” 

“Thank you, magistrate.”

“... Thank you, my lord,” Raphael heard himself saying, as though from very far away. Something had to show, for the grin on Bel’s face faded, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“You are not here to discuss your successes.”

“No, my lord.”

“What did Justiciar Bele want of you?”

“He came to inform me that I am no longer barred from returning to Mephistar.”

“Ah, I see. And what did you tell him?”

“That it was very gracious of my lord father to remove my status as an exile. It is what I’d hoped for. However, I did let Justiciar Bele know that as the Lord of the Eighth did not specifically summon me and I have duties here, I am not at liberty to leave yet.”

“Oh?”

Raphael bowed his head. “Unless your lordship wishes to dismiss me.”

“But you’d rather I don’t,” was the reply. A statement, not a question. Bel was not interested in knowing why Raphael would choose not to return, after supposedly joining the Canian troops specifically to be allowed back one day. All he cared for was the end result; Raphael respected that, and he was in no small measure relieved to be spared overly personal questions.  He deepened his bow before he spoke again. 

“... If it pleases your lordship, I’ll continue to serve until the day my liege summons me.”

Bel was quiet for a few moments before he gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Ah, I see. It is true he may order you to return to Mephistar at any time, as things stand,” he said. They both knew there was one thing, and one thing only, that would stand in the way of that: an official role and title at Lord Bel’s court. Then Mephistopheles may yet summon him, yes, but not keep him - let alone harm him - without Bel’s approval. 

And Raphael had every intention to be too useful to Avernus for Bel to ever give that approval. He remained bowing as he spoke. 

“I know I am very young still, and that I have not served you long. I hope you don’t think I feel entitled to a position I have not earned. But if you’d be inclined to give me a chance--”

“Ah, enough,” Bel cut him off with a wave of his hand, and stood from the table. The small armies moving across it were forgotten, for the time being. “I like to think of myself as fair, but I certainly cannot be accused of being generous. I am not in the habit of surrendering assets to others - particularly those who failed to recognize their worth when they could. Lord Mephistopheles thinks me a fool, and I have no inclination to prove him right. You may not have served me long, but you have served me well. I expect you’ll be able to serve me better still, in time. Now stop bowing so low before you break your spine.”

Raphael breathed out, and straightened himself to meet lord Bel’s eyes. Keeping the depth of his relief from showing in his voice was no easy feat, but he managed to sound, at least, dignified. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Thank your good timing, not me. That, and the fact Shummrath finally pushed my patience too far in your absence.”

Raphael blinked. He was certainly not going to mourn whatever fate befell the general, but he hadn’t expected the news. “What has become of--” he started, only for Bel to cut him off with a gesture of his hand. 

“None of your concern. All you need to know is that you shall not see him again. Leanath has been promoted to take this place. That leaves her old position open, and no archduke should be without a steward. I trust you’ll at least pretend to be surprised when I offer you the position in a more official manner?”

“My lord, there are no words to express--”

“Then don’t speak,” Bel said, and turned back to the map, making it plain that the meeting was over. “You have time until tomorrow to rehearse a speech.”

“... Thank you, my lord.”

Raphael bowed once again before he left, but he did not head to his rooms right away. He stopped at a balcony - the same, he recalled, where he had met Lady Antilia on her last visit. He stood by the railing, where he’d stood last time - only that the spot next to him was empty.

You seem to have carved a place for yourself here. Why not reconsider whether you truly wish to return to Cania? 

I left as an exile. I don’t intend to let that stand.

Now he was no longer an exile, as he wished. And Antilia had been right, after all: whether or not his lord father truly saw his worth now, why should he return under his thumb? Avernus was where he could prove himself, and despite the neverending war and the chaos it brought, something about the layer made him feel more at home than the frigid wastes of Cania, with its icy winds and shimmering glaciers. He was, after all, a creature of fire.

And now he’d have an official role, one of prestige that he couldn’t ever hope to obtain in Mephistar. Raphael, steward of Avernus; it had a nice ring to it. 

Standing alone on the balcony, Raphael looked up at the red sky and let his lips curl in a smile.

It did not reach his eyes.

***

“Well, this is disgusting. You could have mentioned this earlier, devil!”

“I didn’t think the sight of some congealed blood would make you falter, spawn.”

“This is an entire hill of… of… I am not even certain what it is. Is it even a real scab? It’s like it’s alive.”

“Well, in a manner of speaking.”

While Astarion let out a few more noises of disgust Wyll groaned, reaching up to rub his forehead before looking back up at the mound of… something that indeed looked much like a scab, towering at least three hundred feet above them. There were chains anchored to the ground, going up the hill, attached to… a dome, yes, right on top of the growth. The only part of the Citadel not yet covered, although it was hard to tell for how long that would remain the case. “And by that you mean…?”

Raphael shrugged, arms crossed as he glanced up at the hill, at the chains. “There are bound to be demons inside. The Citadel allows no fiend to open its doors, but even so, Yeenoghu's demons carved tunnels through the scab itself. They have built a burrow of sorts in there, and there’s no telling quite how many are in there.”

“Ah, I see,” Durge muttered. “So that’s what the explosive is for - not just to clear a way, but to flush them out?”

“And kill as many as possible in the process, yes. If the explosives you have are as powerful as you say, of course. If not, they may collapse the tunnels without destroying the scab itself, and make reaching the entrance exponentially more difficult.”

“Hah! Don’t worry, I am confident enough the runepowder bomb can get the job done.”

“... Where in all the bleeding Hells did you find a runepowder--”

“It’s a long story,” Astarion cut him off, and let out a hum. “So, demons digging inside - why, though? You said the doors will not open to let fiends in,” he pointed out, only for Raphael to hum.

“To be honest, I don’t precisely know what all the digging is for. The only guess is that perhaps they’re delusional enough they think they can succeed in forcing the doors open. Or perhaps they’re looking for Crokek'toeck.”

“Bless you,” Wyll quipped, gaining himself a sideways glance and a long, weary sigh. 

“... Really?”

“Ah, my humor is wasted on you,” he muttered, and looked back at the scab. “All right, I’ll bite. Who’s… the thing you mentioned?”

“I’d describe it as hunger incarnate,” he said, because Hells forbid he ever spoke plain.

“... Perhaps a slightly more literal description?” Halsin asked, more politely than Wyll would have. Raphael did, at least, comply.

“Yeenoghu's pet demon. It was the one who chased the Hellrider up to this point. No one quite knows if it died that day or if it was trapped in the citadel, or within the scab. Think of it as one immense maw with legs, and you have a clear enough picture.”

“Sounds delightful,” Karlach muttered. She looked up a few more moments before rolling her head to both sides, cracking her neck. “So, if it pops out, we kill it?”

“That’s the gist of it. Should we encounter it, there would be no other option.”

“Are you sure? How big is this mouth, exa--”

“No, Haarlep.”

Haarlep sighed, just a touch dramatically. Wyll had to wonder if they always had a flair for dramatics, or if Raphael had rubbed off them in more ways than they knew. “My talents are destined to be wasted as well, I see.”

Raphael snorted. “Any demons we encounter here will only care for one thing and one thing only - slaughter. As your talents obviously do not lie in battle, you’d do well to keep well away--”

A crudely fashioned acid arrow whistled through the air and would have struck Raphael right in the neck, had Karlach not grasped him and pulled him towards her with lightning-quick reflexes Wyll could only admire. It caused Raphael to stumble, but she steadied him. 

“You good?” she asked, letting go of his blazer to grab her weapon. Raphael nodded, reaching for his lyre.

“Yes,” he replied, and looked over at Haarlep. “Ethereal Plane. Now.”

“Oh, come now. I’m not that helpless--”

Whatever they were about to say next was covered by a cacophony of shrieks and the clang of steel. Wyll had unsheathed his rapier and turned to see that apparently, the demons burrowing in the scab were doing more than just burrowing - they were sending out patrols. And one of them had just now returned.

“Oh, finally,” Astarion exclaimed, pulling out both hand crossbows while Durge and Halsin prepared to cast. “I was itching to finally hurt someone.”

“Poor fuckers,” Karlach cackled. “Bet you I can kill more than you,” she added, causing Raphael to blink.

“... Are you talking to me?”

“I’m talking to anyone who thinks they can do better,” Karlach grinned, and then cried out, charging forward with her blade in hand. It took Wyll some effort, really, to focus on the battle. 

Even as they tore through demons, he couldn’t help but wonder what may be the perfect spot to propose once they were back in Faerûn.

***

“So, you can take the form of anyone you sleep with, but you can only use it if you’re given permission?”

“Exactly. That covered Raphael’s form as long as he owned me - although those allowed in the boudoir made an exception to the rule, as you found out.”

“And that’s what that part about swearing my body was yours was all about? Giving you permission to use it?”

“Oh, you are clever. If a bit slow on the uptake.”

Durge snorted, going through the weapons on one of the demons they had just felled. The patrol had been a small enough horde to be manageable. Most of them had little worth taking, but this one had a healing potion on it, and they pocketed it before moving on to the next corpse.

“You neglected to mention that detail.”

“You neglected to ask,” Haarlep sing-sang. “Very unwise, that. But you were still clever enough to not give up your soul.”

Durge hummed, taking a ring off a dead devil’s finger. It seemed to have no magical properties, but the ruby in it shone and it may be good to hand over to Wyll. It was Astarion’s idea, to hand any and all rings they found to Wyll while Karlach wasn’t looking. It would give him a few options to pick from when he decided to propose as he certainly was planning to. That, and watching his embarrassment while trying to hide a growing pile of rings from Karlach was hilarious.

“What would have happened if I did offer you my soul?”

“I’d have devoured it and left your body as an empty husk for further use,” Haarlep replied, in the light tone of someone describing picking the pink shirt over the blue one in the morning. Durge raised an eyebrow.

“... Do I want to know what sort of use?”

“I am certain you can guess. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know it’s a detail easily missed, but I am a devil - more of a devil than Raphael himself, if we’re being pedantic. I couldn’t just not try to take your soul. And once the soul is gone, the husk is just meat. Still, I think it was a fair offer, as opposed to doing what I was supposed to do in case of intruders.”

“Which was…?”

“Kill on sight.”

“... Fair enough.”

“But as it was more of an expectation than a specific duty, I was able to find a way to work around it to our mutual satisfaction.”

Durge couldn’t say they were getting a lot of satisfaction out of it - on  one particularly memorable occasion, the sensation took over while they were trying to deal the killing blow on a powerful lich - but they chose not to raise the issue. It was much too late to do so, anyway: what was done was done. The main question on their mind was different. 

“Why did you help us out?” they asked instead, glancing over to the side. Raphael and Astarion were searching a few more bodies for loot, and for a moment they were pretty sure they saw Astarion slide a ring off a finger before showing it off to Raphael, grinning. “You were sworn to Raphael. Why work for his downfall?”

Turning over a corpse with a nudge of their foot, Haarlep shrugged. “Ah, but I didn’t. I was so very bored when you walked in, Raphael had hardly been home for weeks. It was all a bit of a game, and I had no idea the entire business would snowball into… well, whatever that was. No offense, but you killing him? It wasn't an outcome I'd envisioned. I was trying to give him a bit of a headache and maybe another stomach ulcer, that’s all. I thought you’d either make it out of there with the hammer, or he’d catch and kill you. Although I rather hoped you’d make it out. You were lovely in be--”

“Weren’t you worried about punishment if he found out you helped?”

This time, Haarlep laughed. “Oh, anyone else in the House of Hope would have been, and for good reason. But no, not me. He could rage, scream, make a bit of a show with fire… break some spines, perhaps, but certainly not mine. He does tend to throw tantrums every once in a while, but that’s about as far as he ever went with me.” The incubus bared their teeth in a grin. “He can’t punish me. He gave up pretending he ever could a long time ago.”

Durge picked up another potion and stood straight again, putting it in their bag. “I see. So it was a game of sorts?”

“More or less. Oh, I did think that the entire business with the Crown was not that bright an idea to begin with. Everyone knows Lord Mephistopheles covets Asmodeus’ throne. If that trinket alone was all that was needed to take it, he’d have used it himself - yet he didn’t, not for almost two thousand years, and he’s the archmage of the Hells. Which Raphael, to be honest, is not.” 

A hum. “I’ll admit, I would have expected Mephistopheles to use it, but it’s possible he had plans to do so at a later time. Something capable of turning a mortal into a god even for one moment is no trinket, and Raphael was no mortal. And a powerful enough sorcerer, too, bardic inclinations notwithstanding.”

“Ah, yes, that. Being a sorcerer was just not dramatic enough for him, I suppose.” Haarlep paused a moment before they shrugged and glanced over at Raphael, who was pocketing something he’d taken from a corpse. “He was powerful, no denying it, and the crown would have made him a force to be reckoned with. He may have taken over some layers, even most layers. But once he got to Nessus, things may have gone differently than he’d envisioned.”

Durge nodded. “Yes, I don’t imagine Asmodeus would have just let him win that easily. Raphael seemed rather confident in his odds, though. Perhaps, if he united the other eight layers first, he may have stood a chance.”

“Perhaps. Shame we’ll never know, huh?”

“You don’t seem particularly saddened.”

“Should I? Nessus is dreary, everyone knows that. I was not eager to move there. And I don’t think you fully appreciate how insufferable Raphael would have been as the archdevil supreme.”

This time, Durge had to laugh. There were worse things they thought Raphael would have been if his plan had worked, but to be fair insufferable seemed an accurate summary. “Yes, I suppose he would have been,” they conceded, and stood after making sure the last corpse of the batch had nothing of value. “I think we’re done here. We should keep moving.”

Further ahead, Halsin was doing a fairly good job keeping Karlach distracted while Astarion shoved any rings he’d found in the hands of a very flustered Wyll. Not as flustered as he’d been that morning, when Haarlep had loudly commented on how distracting the scent of the carnal desire they had for each other was and asked when they were going to do something about it, but pretty flustered nonetheless.

Had his complexion been lighter, Durge was rather sure they’d been able to see him blush furiously from a mile away. As for Karlach… well, she could be blushing the entire time and they wouldn’t know, but her flames had decidedly flared up before she’d muttered what was probably the most ill-advised ‘go fuck yourself’ in history. Leading to the predictable response that Raphael was not in the mood lately, but that they’d try again that night. 

“I’m not sure I’m clear on the ring part,” Haarlep was saying now, still looking over at Wyll like he was the most puzzling being in the world. “Is it something necessary in the Material Plane before two mortals can have sex?”

Durge cleared their throat. “Well-- not really, but some people--”

“Does he need to collect a set number? Is that why you’re giving him any you find?”

“No, that’s a jest.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“Romantic that he is, he probably wants to ask Karlach to marry him before they-- er. We do tend to use rings for that, so we’re giving him all the rings we find until he does.”

“Ah, I see. Does one need to give the other a ring every time they have sex? Because by that logic, Raphael would owe me about--”

“No, no. It’s one ring, just once,” Durge cut them off, praying whatever god was listening - well, possibly not Bhaal - that Haarlep would drop it. They didn’t. 

“That’s rather cheap,” they muttered. “I’m rather sure Mephistopheles paid a much higher price to buy me.”

“The ring is not to buy-- wait. Mephistopheles?” Durge stopped in their tracks, turning to glance back at the incubus. Who, in turn, shrugged. 

“Yes? He picked me as a gift to his naughty son, with the instructions to keep him distracted.”

Durge blinked. “What-- does Raphael know you were sent to spy on him?” 

Haarlep laughed. “Hah! Oh, you’re adorable,” they crooned. “Who said anything about spying? You spy on a threat, and the Lord of the Eighth never saw Raphael as any threat until very recently. He was an annoyance, and annoyances only need to be distracted. I was to keep him busy enough he wouldn’t make too much of a fool of himself. Believe it or not, there was a time when he didn’t only sleep with a mirror image of himself. Quite the opposite, to hear some tales.” A pause. “Do you want to hear--”

“No, thank you,” Durge replied, quickly. 

The incubus sighed. “Ah well. It’s in the past either way. My fault, really, for spoiling him. He showed some interest in your form, but when I offered--”

“You did wha-- ”

“It seemed only fair. You did ask for this form when given the option.”

Durge groaned, stopping mid-stride again to rub their forehead. A headache was building up; nothing new, but it probably had nothing to do with the improvised lobotomy that had mangled their brain matter, either. “Yes. Very well. It was only fair. Now, as I felt nothing, I can only assume he was not interested.”

Haarlep tilted their head. “That was the oddest thing. He was plenty interested, if you get what I mean--”

“Really wish I didn’t--”

“-- but he still said no. Unusual, that. I’m sure you can tell he was never one to deny himself his wants.”

Ah. Durge cleared their throat. For a moment they thought back of when Raphael had nearly collapsed mid-stride, shuddering in their arms while someone made use of Haarlep’s glamor of him and obviously hating every second of it. Had he decided to spare them that? If so, that was… surprisingly decent, they suppo--

“Hey, are you done? I think it’s about time we get moving!” Karlach called out, and to be honest it was a relief. That was neither the time nor place to go down that line of thought. 

“We’re coming,” Durge called out, and got walking again before Haarlep could say anything else, to hand the ring they had found to a very flustered Wyll. They did, at least, have the good sense to stop talking once within earshot of Raphael. Who was, at the moment, focused on something he’d looted from one of the fallen demons - a sheet of parchment, it seemed.

“... Well. This is as crude a map as one could make, but it should help,” he muttered. Durge approached to have a look; apparently, demons had indeed built a veritable burrow into the scab, with tunnels and chambers. They raised an eyebrow.

“That’s impressive digging work. This thing is hard as stone.”

Raphael hummed. “Not all of it. The further up you go, the more recent the growth is and the consistency is softer, much like an actual scab. Somewhat spongy, from what I’ve been told.” 

Karlach made a face. “Eugh,” she muttered, gaining herself a slight nod. 

“Very well put, yes. But we will have to go through that section…” Raphael’s finger traced the map, and his eyebrow went up. “... All the way down to here, it seems. They have successfully uncovered the doors - that’s unexpected. It is quite a feat, I have to admit. The scab is hardened as can be there. Perhaps we won’t need to make use of runepowder to clear the way, after all.”

Astarion sighed. “Ah, a shame. I’ve been itching to see it at work. That, and it seems a lot quicker than crawling through tunnels killing demons. Fun as killing demons is.”

Halsin didn’t look very happy either, but he nodded. “It does seem the more prudent option,” he conceded. “An explosion may have damaged the Citadel itself, perhaps?”

Raphael shook his head, folding the map. “Doubtful. It’s made of divine energy - not so easily destroyed even by the most powerful explosive.”

“The explosion in the scab may kill the demons prowling inside it, but it surely would attract every fiend, be it devil or demon, within miles,” Wyll pointed out. “There is no reason to risk it if the demons burrowed in there have so handily uncovered the doors for us. I say we wipe them out, and proceed to the entrance without attracting undue attention. Karlach?”

She nodded. “Yeah, works for me. A nice long rest, and we go in to wreak havoc. You guys agree?”

They did.

***

“It seems such a mockery, doesn’t it? All this blood right there, and I cannot sample it. It smells disgusting, ” Astarion sighed, tearing his gaze from the shores of the Lake of Blood and going back to sit down on his bedroll, leaning against Durge’s side. The cave they had found refuge in was more a hole on the side of a small hill than it was a cave, and they were packed quite tight. But it would do, especially as it was a good distance away from the scab and beneath a decent lookout point.

Durge, who’d also been staring at the lake for quite a while - did it remind them of their visions of Bhaal’s domain? Astarion couldn’t help but wonder - turned back, and chuckled. “You may drink from me as well as Halsin, if you’d like.”

“Ah, thank you, love. I may just take you up on your offer and let Wyll know I’ll keep his neck for tomorrow. Although I can think of someone who hasn’t yet offered to help sustain me.”

Sitting against the wall of the cave with the lyre on his knees, Raphael scoffed. “Absolutely not. I don’t see the tiefling contributing either.”

“Because hers burns. And don’t give me the line about yours burning hotter than wyvern whiskey, you’re technically human right now and I could drink your blood without ill effects."

"And?"

"And It would be really nice of you to contribute to our little Keep Astarion Happy blood bank, is all.”

“The answer is no. And if I wake up with your teeth in my neck--”

“Of course you won’t! What manner of creature do you take me for?”

“A vampire.”

“... I suppose I did walk into that one.”

At the back of the hole they were so generously calling a cave, Wyll laughed. “Well, maybe you can contribute with some music to lift our spirits while we finish setting up for the night?”

Raphael huffed. “Is acting as your guide not enough of a contribution?”

“No, it’s not,” Karlach replied. She was sitting against the wall as well, sharpening her greataxe. “You could stand pulling a bit more weight here.”

“Why should I, when you make such a perfect beast of burden?”

Karlach scoffed. “Careful there. Beasts cab bite as hard as vampires when you piss them off, and they don’t ask permission.”

“Threatening an artist is not precisely the best way to get art out of them.”

“Can’t see why not. Worked well enough with the painter possessed by a restless spirit bound to a cursed portrait.”

Raphael blinked. “... I could predict none of the words in that sentence.”

Still sharpening the blade, Karlach shrugged. “Long story. And a weird one too, to be honest. Don’t think you’d be interested.”

He stared for a few moments before he seemingly agreed. With a sigh, he leaned more comfortably against the wall and strummed the lyre. 

Wyll smiled. “Ah, thank--”

"High hearts and brilliant plans so bright Give many a gallant good cause to fight Yet never any lack of black-hearted knave Keeps heroes from waiting, yawning grave..."

Well, so much for lifting their spirits. It got the smile off Wyll’s face quickly. “... You know what, forget it. We’re good. No need for you to play.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I’m so glad we agree,” Raphael muttered, and put the lyre down to glance towards the entrance. He frowned. “What’s taking Haarlep so long?”

“They’re keeping an eye on things from above to make sure all is well outside,” Halsin replied. “They said that they don't need sleep, they’ll stay out and wake us when it’s time to head off.”

“And you let them? They’re obviously unsuited for battle!”

“He is not to engage, only to act as a lookout. I am certain we can trust them with it.”

“... Mph. We should hope they’re not foolish enough to get themself injured again,” Raphael muttered, his frown deepening. It didn’t escape Astarion how he kept staring at the cave’s entrance for a very, very long time.

***

Haarlep was keeping an eye on a few fireballs crossing the sky above, just to make sure none would come crashing down on them, when they felt the edge of a blade at their throat. They had a fraction of a second to consider whether to immediately seek refuge in the Ethereal Plane before a very familiar scoff reached their ears, along with an equally familiar voice.

“Hmph. You make as poor a sentinel as I expected,” Raphael muttered, pulling the dagger away and coming to sit by their side, dispelling the invisibility spell that, honestly, he hadn’t even needed. “The others should have known better than to entrust our safety to you.”

Ah, picking up some tricks from the vampire spawn, wasn’t he? Haarlep chuckled, unfolding one wing to invite Raphael to shift closer. And he did, clearly not thinking for a moment that a single beat of that wing would send him falling down the small cliff, to land by the entrance of the small cave with several broken bones and a vast array of internal injuries. 

It was tempting, Haarlep had to admit, at least a little bit… but they were probably not going to do it.

“That’s unkind of you, master,” they sighed, putting the usual hint of mockery in that last word. “I’m watching out for fireballs, hordes of demons, hellish legions… we have no reason to think an assassin may sneak in on us.”

“Excuses, as always. I’d rather be on the safe side and keep watch as well.” 

Haarlep frowned a little, looking at him. He was staring stubbornly ahead while sitting rigidly, close but not touching them. For a moment, Haarlep saw him as they’d seen him the previous day - looking down at them while trying to heal them, and crying out for the druid. 

Help me, he’d called out, not just heal them. Something about that choice of words stuck out to Haarlep just as much as the taste of his fear, but they couldn’t quite tell why. 

“Have you come to keep me safe, my little brat?” they asked, and Raphael scoffed. Again. 

“I am here for everyone's safety, if this is the extent of your abilities as a lookout. And speaking of safety, I thought we’d agreed that you should not wear my likeness in the open.”

“Oh come now, who’s going to notice? If anyone comes close enough to, then we’re going to kill them either way. Or are you asking for the Archduchess? I am afraid she wouldn’t quite scratch your itch without her usual tools. I don’t have chains, nothing to chain you to, and all your toys are back in the House of Hope. If they're still there. I don't know if the current owner found--”

“Enough,” Raphael snapped, but when Haarlep chucked and folded a wing to pull him against their side, he did not protest or move away. 

“Why are you here? Surely, I’d make an even poorer guard if I were to indulge your lust…”

“I am not tired, and I don’t trust you to keep watch. That is all.”

Haarlep almost rolled their eyes at that, but decided to play the idiot just a little longer. “If you’ve come to relieve me of my duties, I’ll head ba--”

“No.”

“You don’t own me anymore, little duke. You cannot command me to stay. Or, well. You may, but I don’t have to obey,” Haarlep pointed out. They grinned when the usual scowl appeared on Raphael’s face, that familiar scrunching of his nose. They chuckled, and leaned in to kiss that wrinkle. “If you want me to stay, say as much I’ll consider it.”

A pause, a long breath, and he leaned into the touch. “... Stay.”

“I’m missing a please, little brat.”

A scoff. “You truly enjoy seeing me brought low, don’t you?”

“No. Well-- yes. But Is asking me nicely really bringing you that low? Our traveling companions, perplexing as they are, thank one another over mundane things nearly every day.” Haarlep pointed out, but decided not to insist. Partly because they were rather distracted by the fact Raphael had reached to grasp their hand, and was pressing something small against their palm, still not looking at them. It took them a few moments to realize what it was. 

A ring.

“... I was given this after my duel with Yurgir. As they also handed me a ring of regeneration, it seems redundant - you may as well have this one. It helps ward off death for a time, if you’re downed. It should give us more time to heal you, next time you're inclined do something as idiotic as attacking a balor with your bare hands.”

Haarlep blinked down at the ring, taken aback, then they laughed and slipped it at their finger. It was a simple but pretty thing, gold with light blue stones. Haarlep could sense the magic humming within. “Oh, it’s very pretty. But you know it will cost you more than this to buy me back, right?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I do so like it when you beg.”

“What got into your mind now? Am I expected to guess? Because--” he trailed off when Haarlep turned their head and lifted up his chin to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth. A bit of a shame that they couldn’t kiss him properly without the side effects of their spittle getting in the way. Even they knew this was not the moment for either of them to get in an amorous mood. 

“I’m going to miss this human Raphael when you’re you again,” they sighed, and for a moment Raphael went quiet. For… several moments, really. He looked down and seemed to fiddle with another ring on his left hand. One Haarlep recognized quite easily, as they’d put its twin at the finger of a rather unfortunate harvester devil to pull their little swapping trick on Mephistopheles.

Any and all magic in it was gone alongside with the other half of the set, but Raphael had still put it back at his finger. They almost asked why before they recalled who had given him the ring. “... I think she’d like to meet you, though,” they finally said, and leaned their cheek on top of Raphael’s head. “Not just this half, or the other one she met. All of you. Whole again.”

A long breath, the weight of a head on their shoulder. “I am not certain that this --” a vague gesture towards himself, towards the half of his soul that form now housed, “will gladly go back to being dormant.”

“Well, that may not be all that bad, don’t you think?”

“It should. It must. Human nature will always flinch back from the fiend. To have one part of me shudder at the other is to be weakened.”

“You’re not flinching from me now, my little brat.” Another silence, and this time it stretched on. Haarlep didn’t press, and instead folded the wing over Raphael, keeping him flush against their side, their tail wrapping around his waist. They felt him lean against them and oh, he was certainly not flinching. “Maybe, even this half of you is not all human, and the one back in Mephistar is not all fiend.”

A groan. “I am begging you to leave the philosophical conundrums to me.”

“Come now, you know I’m not wrong.”

“It’s painfully simplistic.”

“No more than pretending a single soul can be truly split along some kind of dotted line.”

Raphael scoffed, but did not protest. Instead, he shifted to lean more comfortably and closed his eyes. Haarlep chuckled, and angled the wing to block out as much light as possible from his face. “So much for not being tired.”

“Jest all you want. I couldn’t sleep.”

“But you can now?”

“If you’d be so kind as to be quiet,” Raphael grumbled. “We may find out.”

So much for keeping an eye out, Haarlep thought, but chose not to voice that. They turned their gaze back at the desolate landscape before them and the covered Citadel, looking out for threats, only occasionally glancing down at the ring glinting at their finger.

***

A long distance away, across Avernus and high up in the skies, the bowels of the Flying Fortress were shaken by a wordless cry.

It was a scream of blackest fury and something else, raw and unrelenting, coming from the dungeons. There was never a shortage of cries coming from the dungeons, but this was different. The Lord of the First had crumpled on her knees, tears like molten glass falling on the golden fur of a motionless hollyphant, on the infernal dagger still plunged into the creature's heart. 

Zariel screamed again, all hatred and sorrow, and everyone in the Fortress trembled in fear, looked at one another in confusion. Mizora could feign their same confusion well enough; pretending came as easy as breathing. Her fear, that she did not need to fake. Good as she was at reigning it in, she felt it more keenly than anybody else at Zariel’s court. 

If Zariel were to ever learn that the celestial creature’s blood was on her hands, her life would be forfeit - and her death would be a slower one than the one she’d granted the blasted creature who’d somehow gotten into her mistress’ head, and ruined her enough that Asmodeus himself wanted her replaced.

And when an order came from the Lord Below, she could but obey.

If our scouts had killed it right away instead of bringing it here, this would not have happened. They thought it a gift to our mistress, and it was her undoing. All that revolting talk of goodness and old times. Why, why, why did she not end it herself? Why did she keep going down in the dungeons to see it?

So many questions, but Mizora had always considered herself a practical creature and she knew it was much too late to dwell on those, too late for second-guessing. The order had come, and she’d seen it through. The hollyphant was dead, the line had been crossed, and there could be no going back. All she could do now was play her cards, feign ignorance, and wait.

All while holding onto the hope that her favorite little warlock, his companions, and the devil who was a devil no more would be up to the task ahead.

*** [Back to Chapter 19]

[On to Chapter 21]

[Back to Start]

[klausinamarink]

Find the word tag game!

i’ve been tagged three times?! hell yeah! thanks @flowercrowngods @sidekick-hero and @penny00dreadful

Rules: search for 5 words in your wips and post them in the sentence(s) they appear, then tag other people with 5 new words.

my words: 1) fresh, despise, flat, warning and suppress (good ones, Sam!) 2) heavy, heart, breathe, chest, hurt (lovin’ the angst night flavour, Dio) 3) breath, hair, smile, fingers, blue, love (fantastic choices, Sandy)

your words: pastel, tooth, confidence, penetrate, interest

tagging next (no pressure!): @ghosttotheparty @thefreakandthehair @theheadlessphilosopher @momotonescreaming

fresh

He froze. The entire back of his hand was coated with fresh blood. Then he realized that his nose was still dripping, some red drops splattering on his new pants.

despise (couldn’t find it anywhere)

flat (Robin being taken to Russia)

“Steve?” She whispers. Or tries to. Her throat is so dry that her voice doesn’t even come out. She squints through the bag, trying to dissect the silhouettes. None of them have large fluffy hair that seemingly defines physics (seriously, Robin had seen Steve’s hair flattened after the Russians threw him on the ground and it had gone back up in a poof some minutes later despite the blood and sweat drenching the locks) or hands on their hips. They’re all too broad and tall and short-haired to even resemble him.

warning (from The Locked Tomb au!)

“Your posture’s off. Too stiff. You held your sword like it’s an axe at the start.” Without warning, Wayne pulled his rapier back and smacked the end of the pommel at Steven’s sternum. Eddie felt the pain secondhand as Steven almost kneeled over, only for Wayne to pull him upright again. He lightly tapped the blade on the Third cav’s shoulder and said, “Point to the Ninth.”

suppress (don’t have it anywhere, sorry!)

heavy (from my Wendigoon does a video about Hawkins fic)

Secondly, while Eddie Munson was twenty years old and in his third senior year at the time, he wasn’t particularly strong. Like yeah, some students said he could push away the jocks easily and his friends had mentioned he could lift heavy amps and boxes, but he wasn’t that strong. Because to even cleanly break a bone right in the middle on your own requires an insane amount of arm muscle. Let alone, all four limbs, each one broken in three or four different places. 

heart (second part to Robin in Russia au)

The tugging continues. This time, Steve is pulled back, fingers slipping away from the photo. His heart shoots up in a panic and he grabs the photo again. Someone is screaming NO, NO, NO, each word making a noose around his parched throat. Then Robin’s ripped into shreds, some of the pieces stuck to his shaking, sweaty hands. Her smile is gone.

breathe (Robin in Russia)

Robin breathes slowly, careful not to alert the Russians. The roaring grows less intense. Then the pressure returns to her ears as the ground starts to tilt downward, less threatening than earlier. She yawns silently again and her ears pop.

chest (from my s3 rewrite)

Annabelle barely had time to turn around when something plunged deep into the front of her chest and neck.

hurt (for the next chapter of Eddie and Will in the Upside Down au)

Or at least, he makes an intimation of a laugh. It sounds just as broken as he feels. His throat is clogged up and rusty, the muscles scraping at each other like nails on chalkboard. Every part of his body hurts.

hair | smile (including both since they’re in the same paragraph)

“If your cavalier is that much of an embarrassment, then would it not be the same for you, Princess?” Eddie barely held down the smug smile crossing his lips as she stiffened. “It would be a shame if, on your first real duel outside of your House, you turn out to be a disappointment of a necromantic heir who can’t even flick a bone speck on my hair. I cannot imagine the scandal.”

fingers | breath (doing the same as above)

Then inexplicably, Steve bowed his head and pressed his lips against Eddie’s hand. It wasn’t on the bones of his knuckles or the back of his hand or even his fingers. Instead, he kissed on the space between the first and second knuckle. It was the most ordinary and random place to kiss one’s hand, but yet it took Eddie’s breath away.

blue

Blue eyes. Freckles. Wavy dirty blonde hair. Smiling.

love (the Eddie and Will in UD next part)

He wants his uncle Wayne to scoop him up in his arms and hold him tight, murmuring gruff words that are always full of safety and love.

[post-nuclear-sweetheart]

To combat the tender Patches smut sitting finished (and unpublished) in my docs, here’s the start of a less than sweet smut I’m getting around to again

Your scream was the sweetest thing to grace his ears in ages. The pitch, the shrillness; for how brief your breathy scream rang out, it remained just enough to fill his mind and leave behind a lingering taste at what you could have sounded like. It was electrifying in the moment - hair raising - but to Patches’ disappointment, you stifled yourself. He stared into your furious eyes as the barrier lowered with you on it, down to the giant that dwelled in the cathedral’s halls.

For as long as he mused upon your scream, Patches was incredibly disappointed that he was, instead, the one sputtering at the end of a blade. Cheap excuses and half-hearted apologies spilled from his lips, while yours remained tight and screwed up. He looked up into your eyes at the end of his rambling, feigning innocence, all the while searching your hard stare for any betrayal of your thoughts.

You weren’t buying it.

“Look,” Patches sighed and swatted away the end of your blade, “I’m something of a merchant. My blood is more useful to you inside me than on your boots. I’ll give you discounts aplenty, so long as you spare me! Call us square, won’t you?”

Your eyes fluttered about, taking in his offer. You unknowingly gnawed at your lip in thought, considering how lethal trusting him could be. Patches, meanwhile, observed the way the flesh of your lip turned flush against your teeth.

You flicked the tip of your rapier between Patches’ eyes. He halted his sudden movements.

“Now, now,” slowly he reached for the stone balusters to pull himself up, “there’s no need for that. It’s a good deal. We’re even, aren’t we?”

Patches stood square, his shadow looming over you. He was tall, of slimer build than some of the other ash that ran about in full armour, with a permanent hungry look in his eye. You couldn’t help but look away from his stare. Although you’ve come across much uglier, horrifying foes, there was something about him that disturbed you in a way you couldn’t place your finger on.

“So we’re even. Isn’t that right, beloved?”

A hand was violently shoved into yours. His grip was tight - too tight - and you swore you could hear a crack from your hand being crushed in his. You stopped yourself from crying out, but still a small whimper managed to snake past your lips.

You were too concerned with your pained hand to notice the hungry stare he gave you. It was delicious; nothing quite like the initial scream, but it was just enough to bring him to the edge, but small enough to keep him from going over.

“You know, most people say “deal” back.” He remarked so casually, as if he weren’t squeezing your hand tight enough for the bones to click. He began to violently shake your arm from sheer force in which he jostled your stinging hand around. “It’s just that- Well, in my culture, it’s plain rude not to say it back. Symbolizes a solidified agreement-“

“-Deal!”

You dropped your sword to claw your hand out of his and cradled it to your chest. Your fingers could still move, but stiffly and painfully so.

It was barely above a whisper. Shaken from the unexpected assault and breathy from panic, your hushed tone could have easily been drowned out from the atmospheric echoing around the enormous cathedral, but to keen ears, he could hear the smallest details in a single word. There was a slight vibrato to your airy and pitched voice, as if you carried a song. For the briefest of moments, Patches closed his eyes, taking in the small yet filling sample you offered him.

“Oh, dearie me, are you hurt? Let’s have a see,” he reached for your hand that you protectively guarded, and was swatted away, “-Alright! Cripes, I got a little excited, is all. I didn’t mean to squeeze so hard. I’m used to those lug heads that strongarm you into a bargain. Sometimes you just gotta squeeze them into submission.”

His emphasis on squeeze made you recoil away from his wolfish grin. The stolen armour, the deceit, the physical intimidation - it was all becoming too much, even for you.

“All except Greirat, though. Have you met him? You’d have gone through the burg, so I suppose you would have. He and I are jolly mates.”

It was at the mention of Greirat that kept you from dashing away from the lunatic. He was an unusual sort; a thief with an ounce of sympathy where most else held their empathy hidden. You squinted at Patches, but nodded all the same. Surely if Greirat would consort with him, perhaps there was a glimmer of decency beneath that horrible smile.

“Ah, I knew you would! He’s got an eye for the good-natured souls, what with how fast you’ve forgiven me after sticking that laughable rapier in my face.”

Your mouth hung open, appalled. You were on the precipice of shouting, “What the actual fuck is your problem?” but instead clamped your lips shut, as not to scream a series of colourful profanities that have been steadily coming to mind. You allowed your bewildered look to speak for you.

[shinigami-mafia-imagines]

Nico Character Report – Ryunosuke Fischer This learned lookin' man here's name is Ryunosuke Fischer. He introduces himself as Fischer and that's what we're gonna do here cuz fuck typin' out all that. Don't let his professional appearance fool you, he may be an amicus curiae by day, but by night, he's a bonafide demon hunter! A damn good one at that, he's been doin' this for 20 and more years! You wouldn't expect it from him with that pretty face of his. Like Trish, he's Dante's partner in the business. What would that be called? Amicus diaboli? Amicus venatoris?Regardless, he's been there since the beginning of it all and his skills prove it. But uh...don't tell him, this, but that blood thing he's got goin' on? Kinda gives me the creeps, bein' able to control his blood like that. He swears up and down he's human, but I dunno if I want to believe that one. And even his blood seems to be sentient! It can't talk or nothin, but I swear it mocks me whenever it just turns into somethin' I could just easily whip up. The little shit. Creepy or not, though, I really wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that rapier of his. Despite his skills at being a zippy little thing, that demon king still rocked his world. Just what in the world CAN beat that thing? Nico Character Report – Devil Knight Fischer Now this is a form that can whip even the biggest and baddest of demons into shape! It's like his blood crystallizes into armor or somethin', not just turning into weapons! He's even got horns to intimidate those little bastards further. Gotta admit, I'm a little jealous he can just whip that out willy nilly. Or at least when he starts gettin' his shit kicked in. You could say he pulls this trick out of his briefcase when the goin' gets tough and I do not blame him. It looks like he hits harder in this mode to boot—AND I REITERATE: I do not want to be on the receiving end of that rapier of his when he gets this serious. Now, the drawback of this fancy suit of crystallized armor is the fact: this is his damn blood! He can't keep this form up for long or consistently or else he drops like a fly immediately after! And yet here he is, just usin' it willy nilly like it's no big thang and he acts surprised when he drops to the floor once he's all done. I don't know how Dante deals with it, but Lady sure seems to give him an earful whenever he recovers. And I know just how heated she can get. Honestly, you'd think he'd be okay with being en banc when he gets beat up, but here he is, just using his blood as armor like he's some kinda knight...hold on. Nico Character Report – Azazel So this is what's goin' on with Fischer's blood! This little number is called 'Azazel', apparently He was a demon used by the cult Vetus Sanguis as a way to rid themselves of their sins. Pretty much, He and a host were scapegoats just because of some superstition. And that host happened to be Fischer. Now, I don't know how either of them escaped that cult, I've never even heard of them...But they've got friends in Nero and I. Hell, I bet even Kyrie would befriend the thing. From what I understand, Fischer and Azazel weren't very close and more or less thought of one another as a means to an end at first. But the way he just talks to himself sometimes nowadays, that's friendship. They learned to like each other despite both just being a habeas corpus to their asshole cult and boy does it show in how they fight. Acquaintances wouldn't be able to work as insync as those two do. Hell, Nero won't even treat my babies as good as these two treat one another! He should learn a thing or two from them. Despite their clear symbiotic relationship, it appears Azazel still takes too much fill of Fischer's blood, leaving him with chronic anemia. I'm sure the thing would cut back if He understood how much of  a drain he was on him, but I guess there's nothing better than some fresh blood for a demon to chew on. He can't even speak or convey complete thoughts, so it's not like any of us could tell Him he's being a little bitch. They've both survived for this long, though, so they must be doing somethin' right.

[abiital]

"Well," I think to myself, "Can't say I didn't see this one coming." The king did attempt to talk the noble off, but I was actually intrigued. The noble was always easily offended, and he never had enjoyed my informalities. I'd already stepped over my boundaries by making a joke about his wife. "Sure thing, your shoddiness!" I replied, much to the noble's displeasure. "When shall we?" Oh, boy. I'd never seen the man so pissed off. He told me that I had an hour to prepare, and to meet him in the center of town. The town gossip had already been informed, so I had no doubt in my mind there would be quite a crowd, as I headed back to my home. The walk took about 20 minutes, and it'd take about 10 to get to the center of town, but that didn't concern me. I'd kept my rapier from my duties as a knight all those years back, and still practiced with it on a semi-weekly basis. I wasn't sure what combat training the noble had, if he even had any to begin with, but I'd find out soon enough. Of course, just to spite the noble as much as possible, I showed up to the town square in the most mocking attire I could -- a shawl that I had sewn myself after a run-in with the noble, made to awfully mimic the color scheme of his own clothing. He was already waiting for me when I got there, and he seemed just as furious as before. He shouted something at me about 'being a disgrace to the kingdom,' but I could care less. I was more focused on his posture. Both feet facing forward, already off to a bad start, and that was before I noticed they weren't even close to being shoulder width apart. The rest of his stature was about as straight as a pole, I assume to upkeep his 'dignity' -- not like that's important in the slightest, when he's putting his own life on the line, but regardless, I took the opportunity to joke about it. I am a jester, after all. "You're standing quite straight," I shouted out. "Almost as straight as the pole that your mother would -- oh, I shan't say!" A decent laugh from a few members of the crowd, that's nice. I brandished my blade and took a more defensive stance than I'd probably need. After muttering something under his breath, the noble charged me, and I could already tell that he was not nearly strong enough to be wielding the longsword that he'd brought. He couldn't even hold it steady. I would've questioned why he brought a longsword, but that's not really important in the heat of the moment. What was important was that my suspicions were confirmed -- this man was making more of a fool of himself than I do on a daily basis, he didn't even have a sliver of knowledge about swordplay. Each time he swung, he had to actively pull the sword back -- giving me more than enough time to parry or block, -- and then would have to recover after. Of course, he'd brought armor with him, but he wasn't wearing a helmet. One quick stab, and I'd put the blade through his cheek. And my god, the way he trembled and dropped his blade, I thought he was about to piss himself. I placed a handkerchief in his hand before pulling my blade out -- though I was slightly concerned that I may have hit his parotid gland -- I still didn't want to kill the man. Something or other about me being disrespectful again, he stuffed the handkerchief into the 'expertly made' Do-It-Yourself piercing in his cheek and ran off, I assume to the hospital. A majority of the crowd cheered, some of the crowd booed -- and I even had a few tomatoes thrown at me -- but regardless, I had to crack one last joke before leaving the scene. "Well, this crowd certainly appears torn, but I do know one thing -- his cheek is going to be the same for a while!" A few more laughs, a few more tomatoes, as is the life of a jester. I wiped the blood from my blade and once again returned to my household. Do I regret it? No, not in the slightest. Though I think that interaction is going to leave a hole in his confidence for a while.

..And a hole in his chee-

You are the king’s court jester and you enjoy your job very much, but what not many people now is that you used to be a royal knight. One day a noble, offended by a joke you made, challenges you to a duel.