#Incarnate Word Red Knights

[yuesya]

With a gasp, awareness floods into his body once more.

Open cuts knit themselves back together, broken bones realign with no regard for his own will. A dead heart that was just run through by a sword of ice and moonlight begins beating once more, forcing blood to pump through the veins of an abomination that has no desire to be tethered to life.

A frustrated hiss escapes his throat, and Blade hauls himself upright, slowly rising from a pool of his own blood.

… The Mara is quiet, for once. It’s quiet for the very first time since his return to the Xianzhou Luofu; the past several days in this agonizingly familiar land have served as a special hell all of its own. But he knows that the current respite in his head is only an illusionary peace, merely one that follows the aftermath of every temporary ‘death.’ Soon, the Mara will rear its head once more, flooding his mind with madness and bloodlust that isn’t entirely his own–

But that’s nothing new.

Staggering to his feet as his body continues healing in complete disregard of his own wishes, Blade casts a glance around his surroundings. The young Cloud Knight child, Jing Yuan’s apprentice, is speaking quietly with his master. A slight distance away from them, closer to the lapping waves of the Scalegorge Waterscape, stand Imbibitor Lunae’s incarnation and Jingliu.

Jingliu.

The one who’d carved her swordplay into Blade’s immortal body, every cut and slice and ice-cold utterance, Of five, there are three who must pay a price. Who’d been the one to kill him just now, at Blade’s own behest.

Who’d failed to kill him.

Again.

…

Elio had informed him beforehand that this was not the stage where he would find his final death. Once more, his scripts are accurate to a fault.

It’s not yet time, Blade.

Yes. He knows.

His end… will not come at the hands of Jingliu, who’d already killed him thousands upon thousands of times before. Nor will it occur in an altercation against a powerful opponent who far outstrips him in combat ability, nor from any enemy that he encounters when playing out his role in Elio’s scripts.

“As expected,” he murmurs quietly, “In the end, my death… can only be wrought by your hands, Shiki.”

White hair, blue eyes. Quiet, and expressionless. A calmness that remains unchanged even as she stands upon a mountain of corpses, and the ground beneath her feet runs red with blood.

‘The swords of mortals cannot kill the flesh of Emanators, who are blessed by Aeons.’ Jingliu’s words do not lie, but Shiki is an exception. She’s also more curse than mortal.

One day, eventually…

“Who’s ‘Shiki,’ if I might ask?”

There’s a guileless smile on Jing Yuan’s face when Blade lifts his gaze towards the other man. Guileless, but lined by something sharp.

“As an Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance, it’s only natural that I’m a little curious,” he says, “About someone who has the capability to kill a being created from the flesh of an Emanator of Abundance.”

“Not yet.”

Jing Yuan arches an eyebrow. “But they will in the future?”

Yes. That much, Elio has confirmed.

“… Interesting. What’s your relationship? Ah, don’t tell me it’s another Stellaron Hunter–”

White hair splaying out everywhere. Blue eyes looking up towards him from the ground. Silver Wolf holding out a phone with a colorful glowing screen, “Hurry up, I need you two for co-op rewards!”

Falling asleep, using Firefly’s shoulder as a pillow. The air in the corridor is cold, and both of them are wearing too little. They need a blanket. Firefly glances up and smiles when one is draped over them, “Thank you, Blade.”

Sitting beside a coffee machine, three steaming cups arranged atop the counter. Kafka shaking her head, bemused, “Why do you always make your coffee so sweet? Even Bladie is going to get cavities at this rate.”

A single girl, surrounded by a sea of dismembered corpses. Every step leaves a bloodstained footprint as she approaches.

“There you are, Blade. Let’s go back.”

…

Shiki. His relationship with her would be…

“One who seeks death,” he answers, “And one who brings it.”

[mew-ya]

hello everyone! i'm proud to share my halloween-themed fic for raven's (@swampstew) event, where writers all incorporated a costume + a character into a fic! at the end of the month on October 29th, there will be a vote to see who wins the costume contest! check out the other fics and get ready to vote when the time comes!

character: Charlotte Katakuri

warnings/notes: no warnings (SFW fic), so fluffy it hurts, non-gendered reader, gender neutral reader, reader is average human sized

length: 4,016 words

summary: Your employer, Charlotte Cracker, Minister of Biscuits, gives you a last-minute invite to the Charlotte family's yearly Halloween party. As a newer resident of Totto Land, you'd not yet been to one of the Charlotte family's reputed parties, so your curiosity led you to the foot of Whole Cake Island on the night of Halloween.

You’d heard the Charlotte family threw a party for every occasion. And based on your arrival at the foot of the great Whole Cake Island, Halloween was certainly no exception. Hosted by Big Mom herself, every candied and frosted structure was painstakingly decorated by Streusen and his team of chefs. The cakes lining the horizon were decorated in the colors black, orange, red. Creepily smiling bats, balloons in deep red, and cotton candy clouds of a deep blue filled the darkening sky, contrasted brightly against the orange sunset. Fake blood oozed from the frosted fences lining the cracker-laden paths that led you to the delicious town of Sweet City. The singing, dancing homies you’d grown accustomed to seeing were eerily silent, silence a rare and disturbing thing in the archipelago you’d come to reside in. You spotted a few homies who took the shape of gravestones, attracted by the only sound in the whole area beyond the plodding footsteps of other partygoers. The gravestone homies sang a dark dirge as they sullenly watched a shovel homie dig up a fresh grave. Even the juice river had been dyed red to look like blood, deep red reflecting on the horrible grins of the trees peering from the edge of the Seducing Woods.

Having once glimpsed the true darkness of Totto Land, you couldn’t help but wonder if its morbid, Halloween-themed makeover was the truest reflection of its nature. Memories flashed back to your initial arrival to the archipelago. You watched the man in front of you die as Big Mom’s Incarnation swiped the final months of his life as payment for his residency. Vivid memories of him collapsing to the floor with a final breath danced in your brain, followed by the hollow smile of the creature with its white glowing eyes. The creature you’d come to pay twice a year for your ability to live here.

You shuddered at the thought, shaking away the uncomfortable memories. You’d lived here for about 3 months, happily, but saw the hints of darkness creeping behind the picturesque frame of the candy-encrusted landscape…

--

Inside Whole Cake Chateau, the highest of extravagance was on full display. The smell as you stepped inside the massive cake building was perhaps the most memorable—powerful, luscious notes of candy corn, lollipops, gumdrops, marshmallow, chocolate all tickled your nose in unison yet each distinct. The large buffet table to your right was a mountain of confections modeled after zombie parts, skeletons, bat wings. The serving dishes were massive and well-stocked, an army of chefs and rook knights replacing every calorie taken from the table with finesse and speed. To your center, a red velvet chocolate fountain so large that it rivaled an Olympic swimming pool. Guests dotted every corner of the ballroom to your left, dressed from head-to-toe in expensive costumes of classic horror creatures, characters from the latest trends, jokes, and other displays of amazement and fantasy.

You recognized some of the partygoers, primarily from your work as a baker in the cracker bakery housed on Biscuits Island. Visitors from across the entire archipelago came to your workplace to place orders for customized cracker flooring—the area’s edible replacement for tile flooring. While most often you’d seen the Charlotte family’s aides and assistants placing orders at your workplace, some of them preferred to complete the work themselves. Charlotte Katakuri was one of them—an ominous figure he painted against the colorful showroom, tall, dark and quiet. But his attention to detail and patience with ordering the perfect set of cracker floors for each of his projects made you come to realize that there was more than meets the eye with him. He was a figure that intrigued you more than you’d care to admit, but you’d only ever seen him in a work setting. He was a person that you looked forward to seeing, though you held your feelings about him deep within—he seemed too perfect, too unobtainable.

Until today. The most extravagantly dressed you recognized as members of the Charlotte family, who were both the children of the land’s queen as well as its appointed politicians. Charlotte Smoothie stood out immediately, tall as ever, effervescent in a red and blue princely outfit, epaulets encrusted with rhinestones and a beautifully detailed sword laying at her hip, her hair in a low ponytail like a fairytale prince. Charlotte Compote was next to her in a vampiress costume, signature bowl hat filled with a deep red liquid like blood, hair adorned in a slick black wig, fangs poking from red lips, and a beautiful blood red gown, and they appeared to be discussing the décor in detail. Young children in a rainbow assortment of costumes swarmed around their feet, and given their appearances, you could only assume those were younger Charlotte children as they ran in circles at Compote’s feet. From a distance, you spotted a tall figure dressed as Frankenstein’s Monster chatting with a woman dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein, though most of their outfits were obscured by the crowd.

As you approached Compote, another regular of your cracker establishment, you heard Smoothie call out: “Katakuri!” and the Frankenstein’s Monster turned his head. You immediately saw that Katakuri’s skin was painted a pale green that made his pink hair, irises, and tattoo pop in contrast. Steel bolts were attached to each side of his head, and his mouth was covered, as usual, by a scarf, although this one was tattered and worn to fit the outfit. Before she could say anymore, Katakuri was there, crouching down and saying something to the children with a gentle, yet stern look in the eyes peering above his tattered scarf. The way they stopped and listened to him so intently was telling of their respect for him—could these be his own children? Ah, well. After he spoke to them, they became quiet and orderly, walking single file towards the pink candy spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. The woman dressed as his bride showed up behind him, cooing, “Oh Katakuri—you’re always so good with them.” With a nod of acknowledgement, he stood back up silently, and noticed you standing 15 feet from them, staring directly at him. He looked at you up and down, and blinked.

“You’re the one from Cracker’s bakery,” he uttered at you with the gentlest hint of a furrow in his brow. The woman dressed as Frankenstein’s Bride next to him grimaced, the wrinkles in her face scrunching to her brow as she failed to hide her frustration. You felt an ounce of hostility from her, and wondered if she had somehow noticed your fascination with Katakuri…

You nodded coyly in response and approached the group of large individuals, but before you could try to politely continue the conversation, you felt a smack on the flat of your back. A large figure leaned in next to you, grin penetrating a hole in the side of your face. “You made it! I’m so glad,” Cracker exclaimed a little too loudly in your ear.

Smoothie groaned, “speak of the devil…” and Cracker gave her a smirk as he acknowledged his siblings standing before him in a circle on the ballroom floor. You noticed Cracker wore a bordering childish lion costume with a mane created from craft paper. Compared to the other costumes, it didn’t make sense to you until you saw him later on in the evening next to the rest of the Wizard of Oz cast…Mont-d’Or in a scarecrow costume, Moscato in a tin man costume, and Poire in an adorable and well-crafted Dorothy costume. You had learned their names because they all stood together in a line to be judged at the costume contest you watched later in the evening.

The siblings bantered around you, discussing each others’ outfits, nearly forgetting you standing there, small in stature and already quiet to begin with. You craned your neck to follow the conversation going on in the air above you.

It struck you as a bit odd that Cracker invited you, one of many employees of his, to this party. There was no one else from your workplace you recognized. On top of that, the Charlotte family all in a single room was a party entirely on its own, without any need for additional guests. This party appeared to be much the same, thick with Charlotte blood, common folk mostly appearing in (Halloween-themed) serving garb, some friends and in-laws dotted between the unusual shapes and sizes of the Charlottes.

--

You mostly enjoyed yourself throughout the party, learning everyone’s names and becoming more familiar with Cracker’s close siblings. The woman Katakuri was with was named Brulee, though you spent most of the night averting your eyes from them, feeling awkward for having ever had a crush on him. Of course he had a wife, or a girlfriend, or whoever she was.

Instead, you paid attention to the costume contest put on by Perosperos and Charlotte Linlin. The contest’s comically large scroll full of rules that’d been penned throughout the years of their lives together as siblings was read through at the very beginning like a very boring educational speech. Poire explained to you that it basically boiled down to: “make your costume yourself, don’t use devil fruits, and anyone discovered cheating on either of those rules would be banned from participating in the costume contest forever.” After learning that, your eyes opened to the absolute craftsmanship of this family’s dedicated costumers. Even the worst costumes such as Cracker’s childish lion seemed less bad after considering the amount of work he had spent at a craft table, hot gluing whiskers to his hand-sewn furry hood.

You had come wearing a mummy costume, but it was store bought and nothing special. Just something cobbled together last minute in preparation for the party, so you had no reason to enter the contest.

There was no real prize beyond the ability to brag—but bragging rights were an incredibly important prize to the Charlottes, and doubly so when a party was involved. Even a cool woman such as Smoothie was swayed by its power, giving her all to craft the most beautifully detailed prince costume this year in the hopes of winning. A teenaged girl named Flampe was swarmed with chess knights all dressed up in the theme of her costume: a musician with all of her adoring fans. You weren’t really sure what popstar she was supposed to be—her skin was painted like a skeleton, hair curled densely, a large crown upon her head, heart shaped sunglasses resting on her head with an orange feather boa around her shoulders. She held a green guitar shaped like a shark that she never actually tried to play. Given how nearly everyone in the room watched her entrance and participation on the stage, you guessed it was someone famous.

Later on in the event, you noted that Katakuri and Brulee joined as a team with their matching Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein outfits. You wouldn’t have pegged Katakuri as the type to want bragging rights for anything, but the crowd’s response to them was incredible—for Katakuri in particular. Oven noticed your surprise. He leaned down to you and explained, “he’s been voted the most popular brother, after all. He’s cool, perfect, and utterly undefeated in battle.”

In the end, the costume contest voting boiled down into a popularity contest, as things so often do within the family’s politics. Charlotte Linlin, dressed in the most expensive and extravagant Queen costume, sat at the large chair behind the judge’s table and laughed her signature “mama-mama” when she counted the results. Flampe’s skeleton musician-themed group was the winner and she accepted the honor with the smallest amount of grace, followed by Katakuri and Brulee’s Frankenstein pair in second.

--

The party came to a close, its music dying down, the youngest children all retired to bed or gone home. You’d been invited upstairs into one of the many candy-rococo rooms in the upper echelons of the Whole Cake Chateau by Cracker, and sat on the floor with a grouping of older Charlottes and friends sitting in a circle, all laughing and chatting. Katakuri and the woman he was with were there.

You’d chosen dare. A bottle was spun in the middle of the group. Whoever it landed on would be the second player of 7 Minutes in Heaven—a game typically played by hormone-ridden teens looking to make out in a closet. But you were adults, joking around. You’d been recruited as the first player in a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven, which made you feel a bit uncomfortable—this was a party your boss invited you to, after all. You weren't usually a dare person either, but you’d never gotten to play spin the bottle growing up, so you figured why not. The gentle haze of an alcoholic beverage helped, too.

The bottle stopped. Of all the people in the circle, it pointed at Charlotte Katakuri. Brulee looked uncomfortable, but didn’t say anything—why would a married couple play this game? You thought to yourself. But in the single night you knew him, Perosperos was the one making up the rules, and he was a stickler for those.  You decided not to protest. Maybe you’d stand silently in the closet for 7 minutes with the perfectly terrifying Katakuri as he gazed down upon you in the darkness.

Words were exchanged, and you were both sent to the closet for 7 minutes of heaven.

You entered the dark closet, shuffling in and out of a multitude of large dresses belonging to Charlotte Linlin, the fabric nearly engulfing you. The door shut behind you both, and a voice rang out, “timer starts now! Don’t get too naughty, you two!” followed by Brulee’s audible groan.

You heard Katakuri audibly gulp above you. The feelings of shock and nervousness had blinded you to his expressions, so now that you were smashed together in the dark, you had absolutely no read on him whatsoever.

So you quietly asked, “Katakuri…?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why did you—aren’t you married? Isn’t this weird?” but you were interrupted by a large gloved hand on your shoulder, sending a wave of nervousness in a whirlwind through your body.

“I am not married,” he responded, simply.

You gulped, biting your lip.

“But, Brulee…?” you responded in your head, but the words didn’t come out. Somehow, he heard you anyway.

“Brulee is my sister. She likes scary movies a lot, so we dressed up for the contest.” He changed the subject. “I think your costume is nice,” he gestured, withdrawing his hand on your shoulder to touch the fabric with a respectful tap of his finger, unable to point in the darkness.

“Wait, then whose kids were—well...Okay. Thank you,” and you laughed a little as you went along with him. “If you’re wondering, I didn’t make it. The mummy wraps came pre-stained.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t know you guys had all these rules. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a contest. I just grabbed something from one of the shops last minute. You did such a great job on your costume, I feel embarrassed for you to even have to look at me! Cracker didn’t even tell me about this party until the day before.”

Katakuri sighed. “Sorry.”

“What’re you apologizing for?”

“He invited you because of me.”

You didn’t understand what he meant. Katakuri continued.

“I…mentioned you once...” That revelation piqued your interest. He talked about you? Why?

Katakuri shifted his weight from one foot to another, causing some of the dresses around you to move. “Because I thought you were…cute.” The words choked out of him, you could almost feel the heat of his blushing cheeks radiating from above you as he spoke. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

An awkward silence filled the closet—he’d stunned you twice in a row, first with the truth about his relationship status, and second, that he’d requited your attraction. What to do?

Katakuri cleared his throat again, uncomfortable and trapped in a closet with his head nearly touching the ceiling, stuffed awkwardly against the shelf with the person he’d just admitted he liked. You wanted to respect his request to drop the subject, so you didn’t push it.

Following his earlier lead, you offered a compliment. “I like your costume too.” You lightly touched the thick canvas fabric of his baggy pants where they tucked into his heavy platform boots, outlining a patch stitched with wide embroidery thread. “You really made all this yourself?”

The leg under your hand shifted in its pants as Katakuri kneeled before you, pushing Big Mom’s hanging clothes surrounding you out of the way by sheer size of his frame. A protective arm rested on the floor next to you, and he uttered, “Yes. The rules are very explicit. You can incorporate basic, store-bought items such as shirts, pants, but they must be modified in some tangible way.”

“Is it okay if I touch?” you asked, not wanting to be too presumptuous. You continued, “I didn’t have much of a chance to look at your costume too closely, but it must be good if you won second place.”

“I worked hard on it, but I am not sure it was deserving of second place. You’re welcome to touch it.” The air felt less thick between you as the awkwardness simmered into a cool comfort.

You explored the details of his costume in the darkness, your hands small against the 16’ man’s frame. The large arm resting on the ground next to you was adorned in the sleeve of a thick blazer, artificially weathered by his own hands, its threads exposed and rough with rips and tears near the seams. Thickly woven patches were sewn into his entire suit using embroidery thread. The blazer was opened at the center to reveal his shirtless chest, and although you couldn’t feel it, you remembered how his skin had been carefully painted green around the pink tattoos, and how the juxtaposition of those two colors created such a bright and engaging contrast on his skin.

“Did you sew the patches with a machine? The detailing feels so even,” you asked as you felt the perfectly squared stitching, betraying the imperfect nature of the Frankenstein Monster.

“I sewed all of the modifications by hand, though the jacket and pants were something I had already owned. Have a couple of injuries on my fingers to prove it.” Katakuri replied as he twisted his wrist, opening his palm next to you.

“You? Injuries? One of your brothers told me you were undefeated. To think you’d been bested by a needle and thread…” Reaching down to his hand, you ran yours against his palm to the ends of his fingertips. He let out the lightest flinch when your hand pressed against a small needle injury at the end of his pointer finger.

“How the mighty fall,” he answered with a spark of amusement.

Resolving not to waste this private moment, he made a move.

Katakuri wrapped his hand around yours, and with the softest motion, pulled you in towards his body as he leaned his head down. You were close enough to him to feel the warmth radiating from his core. You swore you smelled a hint of fried dough. The ruggedly tattered scarf wrapped around his lower face tickled your skin as electricity grew between you and the seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. You were so close that you felt his breath on your nose, but the scarf stayed put as a barrier between you. You looked into the eyes you couldn’t see in the darkness, and yearned for the touch of his lips against yours.

Both yourself and Katakuri imagined the feel of each others’ lips pressed against skin, the taste, the touch, the smell—although you had no idea what his mouth looked like. He always covered it, so your imagination ran wild in the dark. You kissed the scarred and torn lips of the face you imagined in your head, then you kissed a mouth with sharp teeth so pointed that your own lips were cut in the process. Maybe he had big cute buck teeth under there that stuck through a pair of swollen lips. You kissed that too. Your imagination ran through the possibilities like a rolodex, and each was good, wonderous, and electric.

Meanwhile, Katakuri’s rolodex of imagined scenarios was not so idyllic. He imagined the multitude of ways in which you’d reject him, how you’d take his scarf from him and embarrass him, how you’d reveal the secret of his mouth to the entire world, painting a target on the backs of all his siblings. He remembered all of his past relationship failures, and most of all, he remembered the great bloody wound across his sister Brulee’s face as he stood there powerlessly. He froze.

The hesitation began to hang thick in the air like a fog, and you were nearly able to feel the discomfort circulating from his body. You weren’t sure what changed. Time had been dilating and you wondered how much longer the 7 minutes would last.

You took your chance.

You grasped his hand which held yours so gently but stiffly, and pulled it close enough to plant a sweet kiss upon the top of his painted knuckle. Underneath your lips, his body notably relaxed. The gesture brought him back to reality.

Katakuri’s eyes glinted with the color of the future, where he saw the moment the door opened to light, just moments away. In a flash, he pulled your hand through his scarf to his lips and returned the kiss so quickly that you could hardly process what might be under there by feel. He then stood straight up and gave you both a once over that lasted no more than a single second, any hair or mummy wrapping out of place put in its proper configuration by the quickest swipe of his finger. As if nothing had happened.

The door opened.

His siblings joked, poked, prodded, and laughed at what they thought may or may not had happened between the two of you. He spent the rest of the night avoiding your eyes, as if nothing had happened. Eventually, his siblings dropped the subject. Deep down, they were rooting for Katakuri—most of the older Charlotte children had already been married, through virtue (or iniquity) of arranged marriage. But perhaps the strongest and most perfect Charlotte, intentionally held from the world of political marriage, would be allowed to pick his own partner.

The party moved on. Other games were played, other topics broached, other siblings bullied and jested and the family was having a great time. Katakuri thought he’d gotten away with keeping up his perfect illusion that he’d kept his distance during the closet game, but sometime later, his eyes widened at you like plates, face turning red under his scarf, burning through the green face paint. He observed his hand and saw a hardly noticeable kiss mark on his knuckle. It’s already too late, he thought to himself.

Seconds later, Cracker’s burst of laughter turned the entire room to your face.

“Hold on, hold on! Your lips are GREEN!”

“GREEN?!”

“What did those two get up to…?”

“Katakuri! You DOG!”

Brulee looked concerned and attempted to play interference by standing between you and Katakuri to block the line of sight. She’d grown to be very protective of him, knowing that his hidden heart was kind and undeserving of the expectations those had thrust upon him. While she knew he was truly not the perfect being the world had decided him to be, she would do anything to help him protect that because it is what he had chose.

Despite Brulee getting in the center of it, the chatter raged on, the rumors spread, and you gained some kind of reputation. Your eyes met Katakuri’s as he leaned over Brulee to look at you. You furrowed your brows at each other.

The start of a beautiful relationship…

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Tender Tragedy

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: death

Words:2601

Day winding down to night, Dany took her intimate party on to her personal balcony where an iron pit sat at the center. Surrounding her great pyramid were small specks of orange light. Each one belonged to a family getting ready for slumber. Not Daenerys and her court. Their work tend to bleed into the late hours of the night. There was much work to be done in Meereen.

“Your grace.” Ser Barristan Selmy, a newly added member, holds out a jewel studded goblet to his queen.

Dany eyes the extravagance of the cup as she takes it graciously from the old knight’s hand. Growing up, such decadence was scarce for the once crown prince and princess. Viserys often complained that had Robert not started his rebellion, they would still have the Targaryen wealth that was owed to them.

Alas, Viserys’ own vanity was to be his doom. Now only Dany basked in such exquisite items. 

Taking a sip of the sweet wine she had been given, Daenerys can’t resist thinking on her other siblings; those long dead. She’d had Rhaegar, her older brother, and an older sister, (y/n). 

Rhaegar, the whole of the rebellion being his fault, of course had to die in order to restore order in the seven kingdoms along with the death of Aerys. That was a certainty that Dany had slowly come to acknowledge. She didn’t want to think that any fault lay on her family, but there were so many facts she couldn’t ignore. Targaryens were to blame for everything.

One thing she still couldn’t wrap her head around was why her eldest sister had to die as well. No one explained to Dany the ultimate fate of (y/n). Those like Jorah and Selmy who knew kept her in the dark. 

Turning back to Selmy, she watches as he seats himself in front of the fire that gently warmed his aging joints. Jorah was next to him, speaking quietly with Grey Worm who preferred to stand at attention in case his blade was needed. 

For a moment, Dany imagines how the guiding hand of a gentle, older sister might have changed her life instead of growing up with Viserys’ cruel tendencies. She grieves for what could have been. 

“What happened to (y/n)?”

Her inquiry has Grey Worm and Jorah ceasing their conversation all together. Even the introspective gaze that Missandei had while listening to them had evaporated.

Selmy sadly stares at his hands. He always became melancholic when the subject of (y/n) was brought up. “I don’t think right now’s the time for that. . .”

“Then when will be? No one talks about her. Why am I not to know about her, my only sister?” Her tone of authority has them averting their gaze from her drilling eyes. Must she be stuck with the knowledge that her elder brother Rhaegar died because of the accusation of rape and knowing Viserys was a monster in his own right much like their father? Were there truly no good members of House Targaryen that were worthy of life?

Pondering for a second, Selmy heaves out a weary sigh. “It is not a happy story. Many do not want to recall what happened to your sister because she was much loved and her death devastated every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. As if enough blood hadn’t been shed already.”

“It was utterly pointless.” Jorah murmurs, his own eyes glossing over. Dany had pestered him before about (y/n), any bit of information, but Jorah stood his ground and never uttered a peep about the elder Targaryen daughter. 

Quietly, Daenerys trails over to them and sits on the other side of Selmy. “What was she like? I just want to get an idea of who she is.”

That was an easier question to answer.

Light came back into Selmy’s eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch upward into a smile. “She was goodness incarnate, Your Grace. Much like yourself. And beautiful. (y/n) did much to help those suffering in the slums of King’s Landing. Was always trying to make things better and was an excellent problem solver. She was a burst of life in the Red Keep. Everyone thrived in her presence.”

So why was she too a casualty of the rebellion. Dany would tread lightly to that question. “Did she ever marry? She was very close to Rhaegar in age, right?” She’d be at the perfect age where young ladies were often pawned off to other influential families. Even Daenerys had been married to Khal Drogo when she was just ten and three.

Jorah chuckles at that. “Oh many tried. She was considered the perfect match. Constantly being hounded by old and young lords alike. Marrying her off though had never been Aerys’ top priority when his mind started to rot.”

“He never thought of marrying (y/n) to Rhaegar?” It was Valyrian tradition to wed one sibling to the other. Many generations of the Targaryens had kept the practice alive despite the negative views the Sept had toward it. 

“It had been discussed.” Selmy admits. “Maybe if he had done that to begin with, we could have avoided war. But. . . (y/n) had already pledged her love to someone else.”

**

Ser Arthur carefully scans his surroundings in the hallway to make sure no one saw or followed him to the destined rendezvous point. When he seemed to be completely by himself, he closed the door and turned to face you. Patiently awaiting him on the foot of the bed with a wide grin.

He’d mentioned many times how he’d never, in a million years, get used to the sight of your smile  and the way it illuminated your lavender eyes. Beacons that entangle Arthur in a trap he had no plan to escape from.

You stand and dissolve the small distance between you in a blink of an eye. Your hands, soft and smelling of the sweetness of spring, grab his cheeks to pull him down to your starving lips.

Arthur was all too ready to comply.

**

“She was in love with the Sword of the Morning, Ser Arthur Dayne.” He remembers Ser Arthur with the utmost fondness, but their relationship had been doomed from the very start. Selmy had been there when Arthur was sworn into the Kingsguard. Even by then the boy was completely enraptured by Princess (y/n). 

Dany, listening intently, originally this of this as a perfect story from some old fairytale . A princess and her lover knight, a classic. But (y/n)’s story did not end happily ever after.

Missandei holds Dany’s hand. She too had a sense of where this kind of story was going. 

“So great was their affections for one another, it was quite obvious to everyone around them. During tourneys, Arthur would ask for her favor. The dances before the war, they would dance with each other. When war finally broke out, we found (y/n)’s chambers empty. Arthur, before joining Rhaegar’s forces, spirited the princess out of the Keep.”

*

You jolt to a stop as Arthur held out an arm to stop you from advancing. You’d been crawling along the shadows in the corridors of the Keep as Arthur led you hall after hall to evade any guards. Like hell he’d leave you behind. What he was doing was punishable by death but he didn’t care. 

Thinking the coast had been clear, you’d almost gone around the corner but Arthur’s better trained ears heard someone coming. 

He holds you close to his side so that your cheek was pressed against his armor and you were partially hidden under his cloak. You didn’t breathe for fear of discovery.

Whoever it was walked right past you, none the wiser. Both of you release your breath simultaneously. Even if someone had caught you, Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to kill them; even if it was his own brothers from the guard. They no longer mattered anymore.

A single touch from Arthur had you jumping and he chuckling. He’d only reached out for your hand. He brings it up to his lips and gives your knuckles the most gentle of kisses.

Finally you smile as he coaxes you along.

**

At this point, Selmy pauses to quench his parched mouth and ignite the courage required to continue with the story. He wished it ended there, (y/n) and Arthur escaping and happily living out the rest of their days somewhere in Essos.

Dany as well as the others drink from their cups.

“Of course this caused such a rage in Aerys. (Y/n) tended to have stubborn strike, but for the most part she had been obedient to Aerys. It was the quite the blow to him that his treasured daughter had escaped with one of his personal guards.”

Aerys had sent whatever manpower he could spare to look for (y/n) and Arthur.

“They remained elusive for several months. But one day while Arthur was gone to fight in a battle, Rhaegar’s defenseless camp had been attacked. They dragged (y/n) out by force.”

**

You’re pretty sure your scream pierced a few of your assailants’ ear drums.

Someone grabbed a fistful of your silver hair and nearly rips your skull from your neck. Even though it caused you unspeakable pain, you fight and claw at any inch off vulnerable skin you could dig your nails into.

They curse at you, crown Targaryen princess, and treat you with outstanding abuse you had never experienced before.

You could taste the rusty burst of blood trickling out from your split lip. Feel the boning of your corset imprint itself into your torso as they beat you into unconscious submission. These could not possibly be natives to the Crownlands. Possibly someone Aerys had paid off. No person, knowing who you are, would ever treat you in such a manner. Whether you were the Mad King’s daughter or not.

Fight had fled from you as they hoist you onto the back of an awaiting horse. They keep their eyes open to scan the area once more before leaving. There was no sign of the Sword of the Morning.

Silent tears spring into your vision as you watch Rhaegar’s plundered camp consumed by flames.

Your captors waste no time and heed their mounts to move faster.

“(Y/N)!!!”

Your eyelids try to flutter open at the sound of Arthur’s voice stretching over miles. It was impossible.

Hooves cease to beat and quietly stop at the approaching figure. Men in armor dismount and brandish their swords. Arthur was greatly outnumbered.

His battle had been far away from the camp yet there was Arthur sizing up his chances as he hops off of his own war horse.

“Yield, Ser Dayne.” One called out to him. “The king wants you alive.”

Eyes that could have passed off for Targaryen flick over to you and a knife that had suddenly appeared tauntingly against your throat. You stay absolutely still unless the blades gives you its sharp kiss. The only way you could keep your fear at bay was to keep your gaze focused on Arthur’s eyes. Wisteria filled pools calm your racing heart although you knew there was still much for you to fear.

Arthur dropped the great sword of his house, Dawn, in front of his feet in surrender.

Countless knights descend upon him and bind his limbs in chains. It would not do to have a knight of Arthur’s caliber have any access to his limbs.

He’d be compliant as long as they kept the two of you together.

**

“Couldn’t Ser Arthur have taken them on? I’ve constantly heard of his mastery with the sword and how he was like no other.” To Dany, the infamous Sword of the Morning gave up quite easily.

Every line on Selmy’s face seems to deepen. “Alas, Arthur was still but a human. He knew when to pick his battles. This was not one he could’ve ever won by himself.”

He knew he must tie off the story of (y/n) Targaryen and Ser Arthur Dayne. Anyone could imagine the torture Aerys put his daughter and Arthur through before their actual death. They accepted their fate with their hand’s holding the other’s.

(Y/n) didn’t she a tear when she glared at her father as he read out their punishment. She kept her head held high as did Arthur. That’s how Selmy wanted to remember them. Not their grotesque corpses that had been left.

From the older man’s reaction, Daenerys knew she’d learned enough as her own tears spill over her bottom lashes.

Next to her, Missandei hastily wipes a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Her hand was trembling in Dany’s as they support one another.

From a hidden pocket, Selmy sighs and pulls out a leather drawstring pouch. “After. . . After they had died, Aerys wanted their remains to be tossed like common trash. Instead we properly buried them. However. . . Before all remnants of her life was scrubbed from the world, I saved this one piece of her.”

Once placed in her hands, Dany tentatively pulls open the pouch and pulls out a silver locket. Engraved into its metal were beautiful flowers. Each petal captured with intricate details. In the center was tucked a large pink pearl.

Dany opens it, her eyes instantly round and glisten. “I-Is this. . .” Her gaze falls back onto the contents of the locket. Inside was a perfectly curled lock of silver hair. Targaryen hair.

“Before she died, Aerys had her head shaved for further humiliation.” Selmy whispers.

Softly Dany pets the soft piece of hair. The only part of her sister she’ll ever know.

Shutting the locket with a gentle hand, Daenerys holds it close to her heart.

**

The strong beating of Arthur’s heart had nearly lulled you to sleep. His arm slung around you, daring anyone to put you in separate cells.

They granted you this one last request.

Aerys wouldn’t let you and Arthur live. Both of you accepted that when you were captured. The Mad King didn’t take prisoners of war.

At least you had one last night with him. To be held in his arms and gifted kisses upon the crown of your head. This was all you had ever asked for.

The Few months you’d spent with him evading Aerys had been the happiest. If this was the price you had to pay for it then so be it. You’d finally experienced true happiness

“(Y/n)?”

“Hmm?”

You shift in his hold to look up at his gorgeous face. The man was a work of art and possessed the looks of old gods of the sun. Despite the sultry pout of his full lips, Arthur had always been dedicated to you; no other woman had ever held such sway over him in his entire life. Sweet as it was he’d even tried his hand at poetry to try and explain how much he truly loved you. It was awful but to you it was your dearest possession.

All over again, you fall in love with him from the way he gazed down at you with naked love.

“Being with you has completed my life. No matter how short a time we had. I’d do it all over again knowing this would be the price.”

You blink back tears but it’s useless. His image is blurry. “M-Me too. Knowing that you love me and you’re here…”

Arthur caressed the side of your face and pressed his forehead to your’s.

Whatever what happened when the sun rose, you’d have no regrets.

[agnerd-bot]

"King" Mordred Alter, False Ascendant to the Throne(Avenger)

Ascension Stages:

First Stage: Mordred Alter is noticeably older than their Proper Human History or Dream World counterparts, wearing armor similar to that of the Goddess Rhongomyniad, albeit with Mordred’s own helmet in place of the Lion Kings. Perhaps most noticeable is the fact that this Mordred wields both Excalibur and Clarent simultaneously.

Second Stage: Mordred’s armor now gains a deep red cape that goes down to their knees. Excalibur and Clarent now seem to have dulled, with small hairline fractures noticeable along their blades. The helmet has been removed, revealing a weary smile on their face and a gold and silver crown upon their brow.

Final Stage: Excalibur and Clarent are swapped out for Carnwennan, the white-hilted knife gleaming with magical energy. Mordred’s cape has been torn to shreds as a sinister aura surrounds them. Blood stains their shining armor as they bear a maddened smile on their face.

Theme:

Fatal Battle Theme: The Death Of God's Will (Full Mix + Voice Lines)

Traits:

Class: Avenger Alternate Class: Berserker, Caster, Saber, Assassin True Name: Mordred Pendragon(Alter)/King Mordred Source: Arturian Legend Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic Evil Attribute: Earth

Known as: The King Who Was Never Meant to Be, Usurper King of Knights, Vile King of Camelot, The Bastard Who Defied Fate

Voice Actress: Sawashiro Miyuki

Deck: QAABB

Parameters: Strength: A Endurance: B+ Agility: B+ Mana: A++ Luck: E NP: A-

Passive Skills:

Magic Resistance A++:

Mordred’s already impressively high Magic Resistance has been bolstered even further due to the magecraft they have learned from Morgan Le Fay, allowing them to deconstruct enemy spells with ease. For the magic that they can’t handle on their own, Mordred has the Holy Dagger Carnwennan to nullify any magical harm taken.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own debuff resistance by 23%.

Avenger B:

The anger and bitterness of Camelot’s people drives Mordred further. Each angered sneer, each hateful glare, each venomous word that drops from their people’s lips only serve to push Mordred further and further in an attempt to prove them wrong. Mordred Alter will do whatever it takes to prove they have surpassed their father and have become an even better king.

They will bring Camelot into a new golden age, even if it means dragging their citizens into it, kicking and screaming.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own NP generation rate when taking attack by 18%. -500% Chance to reduce party's debuff resistance by 8% except self. (Including sub members) [Demerit]

Oblivion Correction C+:

No matter where Mordred runs to, or where they try to escape, it is inevitable that there will be a King Arthur there to overshadow them.

(FGO Effect:)  -Increases own critical damage by 7%.

Self-Replenishment(Magic) A+:

As this incarnation of Mordred was taught by Morgan le Fay in the arts of magecraft alongside their teachings as a knight, they have a well-versed knowledge of their own mana efficiency and how to best use it in combat, able to constantly refresh their pools of energy in a fight to keep fighting for long periods of time.

Because of these teachings, coupled with the blessings of the Holy Sword, Mordred has been able to live far past the expected lifespan Morgan had given them, allowing them to further their knowledge in both the Holy Weapons and their own Magecraft.

(FGO Effect:)  -Charges own NP gauge by 4% every turn.

Active Skills:

Defiant of the Winds of Fate A-:

It is said that the fall of Camelot was destiny. That at the Battle of Camlann, the death of King Arthur would lead to the collapse of the kingdom itself, leaving nothing but pain, misery, and loss in its wake. However, Mordred managed to defy that destiny. After slaying King Arthur with her own Excalibur, and defeating the Witch-Queen Morgan le Fay when she attempted to take the throne for herself, Mordred ushered in an era of peace and prosperity for Camelot, defying the prophecies set for them long ago.

Where fate says there is destruction, Mordred will bring prosperity. Where destiny says there is death, Mordred will bring healing. Where the future says there must be sorrow, Mordred will bring joy. So sayeth the King of Camelot.

(FGO Effect:) -Increases own Buster performance for three times, three turns. -Apply Guts to self for two times, five turns. -Reduces all enemies' defense for three turns.

Revolutionary Charisma B-:

Charming, handsome, and witty. These were the traits that made Mordred able to weave their lies and tricks in the kingdom of Camelot. With but a few words, they convinced several of Arthur's finest champions that their king was unfit. With some well-placed manipulations, the Round Table came to believe that Arthur's Camelot was nothing more than a sham. Even souls like Guinevere came to ally with Mordred, believing that rule under Arthur was one of simple war and bloodshed, and only through Mordred's leadership could Camelot come to peace.

However, after the Battle of Camlann, many had lost their faith in Mordred, the horrors of the war leading many to believe the new king could only bring misery and pain. Many of Mordred's people turned against them, believing the new king to be nothing but an opportunistic usurper. As such, this skill is not a rallying cry to the side of a king, but an insidious killer to bring an entire nation to its knees. It is a skill suited to wreaking chaos and havoc, turning brother against brother, friend against friend, kingdom against kingdom, leaving Mordred standing at the end, alone.

(FGO Effect:) -Increase party's attack for three turns. -Increase party's damage for three turns. -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all enemies --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.) -Inflicts Confusion status for 3 turns to all allies[Demerit]. --(30% Chance to activate the debuff below every turn. When activated, 500% Chance to seal their skills for 1 turn.)

Destroyer of the World’s End A:

The power of a child of both the King of Knights and the Witch-Queen of Albion. Rather than specializing in knightly chivalry like their father Artoria, or magecraft like their mother Morgan, Mordred has found a way to properly combine both, allowing them to even match the power of the Holy Spear Rhongomyniad in combat, which is what allowed them to defeat their father Arthur at Camlann. As surviving the war that was meant to kill them allowed Mordred to live longer than they had in Proper Human History, they've managed to hone this power to the point where they can match both Morgan and Artoria in their respective specialties.

This is the power of Mordred, the King Who Was Never Meant to Be. A king driven to madness by the cruelty of the world and the wickedness of those who tried to manipulate them for their own selfish desires. No more will Mordred be another person's puppet. No more will Mordred stand in the shadows of the ones who came before. The Usurper King will stand, facing down even the end of the world if they must.

(FGO Effect:) -Charges own NP Gauge. -Increases own critical star absorption for 3 turns. -Increases own critical damage for 3 turns. --Grants self On-Attack-Activate buff for 3 turns. --Gains critical stars when attacking with Buster Cards. -Increases damage against Savior to Humanity enemies.

Noble Phantasms:

Noble Phantasm: Excalibur & Clarent - Twin Swords of the Rightful King

Rank: A++ Maximum Targets: 1000 Range: 1-99m Classification: Anti-Fortress

In one hand, the silver blade used to knight kings and denote peace.

In the other, the golden blade forged by the gods to light the way.

While both swords were once used as symbols of heroism and goodness, now they are wielded by a cruel and petty tyrant, stolen from their rightful owners. Clarent, stolen from its rightful resting place. Excalibur, used to slay the very king who was chosen to wield it. The Pretender King of Knights, Mordred, wields both of these blades, having forced them into servitude long ago in order to exact their own mad vision of domination. These blades that once served as emblems of justice and chivalry, now turned to oppressors, slaying members of the Knights of the Round with complete impunity.

Under normal circumstances, the use of these swords by one not deemed worthy would result in these weapons dropping a rank in power. However, with Mordred’s magical skill, they managed to find a way to retain the power expected of these blades, even with a false claim to the throne. Channeling their abilities through these sacred armaments, Mordred Alter uses both swordplay and magecraft in conjunction with one another. Every strike is akin to a clap of thunder. Every slash is alight with the flash of lightning. With these weapons in hand, the King of Greed is akin to a living force of nature, carving apart any enemy in front of them with horrifying bloodlust.

But despite the raw magical energy that comes from these sacred weapons, one can sometimes see them tremble in Mordred’s grip. As if they are begging, screaming out to be released from their contract, and be returned to their rightful home.

Noble Phantasm: Carnwennan - Shadowed Blade of the Witch-Killer

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1-49m Classification: Anti-Unit

One of the three holy weapons said to have been given to King Arthur by God, alongside Caledfwlch and Rhongomiant, stolen from King Arthur’s armory After Mordred killed her. While lacking in obvious destructive power in comparison to the Holy Sword and the Holy Spear, the Holy Dagger makes up for it with its versatility. In the original Welsh tellings of King Arthur, it is said that Carnwennan’s wielder is able to cloak themselves in shadow, rendering them invisible to the world around them. The user can also summon pillars of shadow to attack enemies, as a counter to Rhongomyniad and Excalibur’s pillars of light. The blade can also extend, moving large distances and even curving around corners in order to attack an enemy at a distance.

The blade has a second property, made famous by Arthur’s use of it to slay Orddu the Witch. The White Hilted Dagger has the ability to nullify other magical abilities when wielded, able to dispel curses with a single touch, puncture magical shields as if they were paper, and grievously wound any Phantasmal Creature if it strikes true. In addition, whenever Carnwennan destroys something made of Magecraft or with innate magical ties, it absorbs this power into itself, allowing Carnwennan to grow stronger over time, eventually matching its sister weapons if it reaches a certain point.

While Mordred prefers to wield Clarent and Excalibur to prove their legitimacy as king, Carnwennan is the weapon they are most proficient in, given their talents in Magecraft and preference for underhanded combat.

Noble Phantasm: La Mort Artu - Thus the Usurper Claims Victory

Rank: A- Maximum Targets: 1 Range: 1m

Classification: Anti-Arthur

A Noble Phantasm that is emblematic of the action that defined the knight Mordred: the death of King Arthur. By combining the holy power of Arthur's armaments with the transcendent magecraft of Morgan's teachings, and reinforcing both with Mordred's own unshakeable willpower and unquenchable hatred, King Mordred gains the power of a fearsome thunderstorm capable of wiping out all of Britain in one fell swoop. This immense power is then concentrated within Mordred's blade, turning it into a weapon capable of matching and potentially surpassing the Tower at the End of the World, Rhongomyniad, at its full strength. Mordred even claims that if they were able to land a killing blow on the King of Storms, it would be enough to erase her from the Throne of Heroes entirely.

The main drawback of this technique is that it consumes incredible amounts of prana to use, meaning that Mordred is left on a very short timer when it is active, potentially risking death in the process. Furthermore, because of the single-minded obsession required to use this technique, each incarnation of Mordred Alter can only use it against an opponent that they have come to well and truly hate, to the point that their destruction is all that will satisfy them, usually in this case some form of Artoria, given their status as an Avenger.

(FGO Effect:) -Applies Target Focus to a single enemy for three turns(activates first).-Increases own damage against Round Table Knight or 'Saberface' enemies for one turn(activates first). -Applies Ignore Invincible to self for one turn(activates first). -Remove Anti-Enforcement Defense from all enemies(activates first). -Deals damage to one enemy that ignores Defense buffs. -Charges own NP gauge(effects increase with Overcharge). -Inflicts Curse for five turns to all enemies.

Voice Lines:

Summoned: Greetings. I am King Mordred, Avenger Class Servant and child of Artoria Pendragon and Morgan le Fay. I stand as the King of Camelot, and the one who will bring it to prosperity. Truly, it is an honor to make your acquaintance… Master.

Level Up 1: Not enough. Damnit, this still isn’t enough to surpass my father…

Level Up 2: My powers grow stronger. Hahahahaha! If only Mother could see me now!

1st Ascension: Ahhhhh, that’s better. It’s nice to finally get out of that helmet for a while. Allow me to reintroduce myself. I am Mordred, King of Camelot. If you need me to help you save mankind, then I shall lend Clarent and Excalibur to aid you.

2nd Ascension: Nothing changed this time around, huh? That’s fine for now. In due time, I’ll be able to show you my full potential as king.

3rd Ascension: Wha…?! Why am I wielding Carnwennan now?! Damnit, I should be armed with Excalibur and Clarent! How else am I supposed to prove myself as king?! …no, no, it’s not your fault. I suppose that I am better suited to using the Holy Dagger instead of the Holy Sword. Regardless, this is a major pain in my ass… But I suppose I can make do.

4th Ascension: My father never really cared about me… My mother saw me as nothing more than a tool… The people of Camelot all hated and reviled me. And yet? Here I stand as king, in defiance of all expectations of me. Heh… Hehehehehe… Hahahahahahaha! If only they could see me now! All their heads bowed before me!

Fight Start 1: Lay down your arms and I shall show you mercy. Otherwise, I will end your life here and now.

Fight Start 2: As king, it’s only right that I take the stand at the front lines.

Fight Start 3: Hahahahaha! Finally! It was getting boring waiting for some action!

Fight Start 4 (Fatal Battle): You… You! You took everything from me! My kingdom! My love! My right to rule! If I can’t reign over Camelot… If I cannot be accepted by this country… Then I can at least watch you die by my hand!

Skill 1: Destiny has no hold on me!

Skill 2: Oppressors cannot control me!

Skill 3: Not even Mother or Father can stop me!

Command Card Select 1: I am… most unsatisfied.

Command Card Select 2: Fine, I guess I’ll step in to help.

Command Card Select 3: I’ll carve you to pieces!

Noble Phantasm Select 1: Rain down, Lightning! Roar out, Thunder!

Noble Phantasm Select 2: I will carve you apart… And leave nothing but blood and mist behind!

Noble Phantasm Select 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ enemy): I slew the King of Knights once. I’ll simply do it again! Now prepare to die, Father!

Attack 1: Drop dead!

Attack 2: Shut your damn mouth!

Attack 3: It’s useless! Just give up!

Attack 4: I’ll crush you!

Attack 5: Carve them to pieces, Carnwennan!

Extra Attack 1: Let’s see what breaks first… Your spirit! Or your body!

Extra Attack 2: Can you handle this?! No escape!

Extra Attack 3: Be it sword or sorcery… I reign as the king of all!

Noble Phantasm 1:

In my right hand, I bear the sword of kings, Clarent!

In my left hand, I bear the sword of gods, Excalibur!

As the true heir of Camelot, these two sacred weapons bend to my will!

And so too shall all kneel before me or die at my hand!

LA MORT ARTU!

Noble Phantasm 2:

My father was the King of Knights.

My mother was the Witch-Queen.

And I… have surpassed them both.

Now, I stand as the true King of Camelot.

La Mort Artu.

Noble Phantasm 3(Against any ‘Artoria’ Enemy):

No more am I going to be left behind in your shadow.

No more am I going to pick up the pieces of your legacy.

It doesn't matter if Camelot burns to the ground…

It doesn't matter if all of humanity turns against me…

When this is over and done with…

I promise you, 'Father', the world will forget you were even mourned.

The Legend of King Arthur… DIES NOW!

Damage from Noble Phantasm: BAAAAASTAAAAAAAAARD!!!

Regular Damage: Khhhh! You little-!

Defeated 1: Bullshit… THIS IS BULLSHIT!

Defeated 2: You…! This isn’t over, damnit!

Defeated 3 (Fatal Battle): Why…? Why?! What did I do to deserve this…? Do you hate me that much, Father?!

Victory 1: And that is how a true king gets it done.

Victory 2: Is that all? Barely even worth remembering…

Bond Level 1: Thank you for taking the time to be with me. I understand that you are busy as the Last Master of Humanity. I know I am a king, but still, it's humbling to know that someone like yourself is willing to spend time with someone like me. ...it's nice, having someone to talk to again.

Bond Level 2: Excalibur and Clarent... The blades that belong to the king. After the death of Arthur, I took them for myself as a sign of my right to rule over Camelot. Unfortunately, the swords of kingship don't seem to agree with me on that front. Never in my life have I seen either of these swords scratched, let alone cracked... Am I truly that unworthy of kingship...?

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): *sigh* So the truth is out, huh? Shit, this is a pain in the ass... I was hoping that I would be able to keep up this charade for a little while longer. Then again, it was so annoying having to play 'the good king' for so long. So, 'Master'. The Knight of Treachery is here, at your service. Or rather, you are at my service.

Bond Level 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): You… Why do you look at me with those eyes? Like I am some kind of abandoned child? Like I’m some sort of stray that needs pity?! I am a King! I am the villain who slew King Arthur! I am the monster that reigns over Camelot! And yet you still think of me ...no matter. You'll turn out like all the rest. One way or another, I will make you kneel.

Bond Level 5 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): …you really do see the good in all things, don’t you, Master? I suppose that is undoubtedly your most admirable trait. Be that as it may… Never look at me with those pitying eyes again. I have my pride, both as a knight and as a king, and if you dare insult that pride, I will not hesitate to end you. But if you will treat me with the respect I am owed? Perhaps there is a place at my side for you.

Dialogue 1: It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a bit of time to relax and have peace? Most of my life I just knew combat, so being able to sit around and do nothing is nice, isn’t it? …it’s too quiet around here, I’m bored.

Dialogue 2: I am at your service, Master. If there is an enemy before me, I will crush it at your command.

Dialogue 3: I know that contractually, you are the Master, and I am the Servant, but at the same time, I am still your king. Don’t get any bright ideas, got it?

Dialogue 4 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): So many Servants in Chaldea, so many pawns to play with… All ready and willing to be sacrificed upon your orders, ‘Master’. … Hah! That look on your face was pretty frightening. Don’t worry, I just wanted to see how you would react.

Dialogue 5 (If you have any Artoria Pendragon(Saber)): So the Once and Future King has come to Chaldea. How lovely… Hm? Oh, don’t worry, Master. I suppose I can play nice with my Father for now, if you need me to. That being said… I will crush her again when the time comes. Then, everyone will understand just who the true King of Camelot is.

Dialogue 6 (If you have Artoria Pendragon(Lancer Alter) after Clearing "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"): The King of Storms… That phantom I summoned back then to run rampant as a Berserker. …did she really mean those words she said to me back then? No, it doesn’t matter. She is King Arthur, and I am Mordred. In the end, we are to be enemies.

Dialogue 7 (If you have Mysterious Heroine X or Mysterious Heroine XX): Another one of the Fathers wandering around Chaldea, I see. Is that ballcap of yours meant to be a disguise or something? …what? “I am no Artoria, I am the spacefaring defeater of Sabers and hero of the Servantverse?” GET REAL! If you’re gonna hide your identity from me like a coward, at least give me a reasonable excuse instead of that crap!

Dialogue 8 (If you have any other ‘Artoria’ Servant): …Master. I’ve noticed we have a bit of a… multiplicity issue. I seem to be seeing several versions of my Father wandering around Chaldea. One is dressed as a showgirl, another seems to be my father as a child, and yet another seems to be a man. Not to mention the multiple evil Fathers walking around. …we have how many here?! I see. Excuse me, but I have to go step out a bit and scream my head off. I’ll return shortly. *click* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Dialogue 9 (If you have any ‘Saberface’ Servant): Hello, ‘Father’. How about we settle this once and for… …huh? Wait, you’re not- Then who are- DAAAAAAGH! DAMNIT, I’M IN THE WRONG ROOM! YOU! You didn’t see anything! *SLAM!*

Dialogue 10 (If you have any ‘Round Table’ Servants): So this is the Knights of the Round Table from Chaldea. Still as loud and obnoxious as always, no matter what universe, isn’t it? …I admit, part of me wishes I hadn’t divided the Round Table into two during my rebellion. Only a handful of us survived, and even then, none remained in Camelot. It was kind of lonely running the kingdom by myself, y’know?

Dialogue 11 (If you have any ‘Enemy of the Round Table’ Servants): Ah, I’ve heard of you! Yes, a great and powerful enemy of Camelot, one that brought even the great King Arthur to their knees! Of course, I was the one who managed to kill her for good… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself. Say… how about you and I get to talk a bit? I’ll treat you to some good booze and we can talk shop about reducing Camelot to rubble, hm?

Dialogue 12 (If you have Lancelot(Saber)): So this is the Lancelot of Proper Human History, is it? Hah… I guess, no matter the timeline, you’re still the same, huh? An idiot of a man, too chivalrous for his own good, even if it means his own misery. Hey, care for a spar? I wanna see if you fight as good as the Lancelot of my world.

Dialogue 13 (If you have Lancelot(Berserker)): Lancelot…?! …to think that someone like you would end up like this. …I’m sorry, old man. I should’ve been with you.

Dialogue 14 (If you have Mordred): I gained everything we ever wanted in life… the throne… victory over Father and Mother… even the blade Excalibur is mine! So why… Why do you continue to give me that expression?! Why do you look so much happier than I am?! HUH?! ANSWER ME!

Dialogue 15 (If you have Mordred(Rider)): …a surfboard? Really?! And are you really using Prydwen for your stupid summer games?! NO I DON’T WANT TO STEAL IT FOR MYSELF! …I have my own anyway.

Dialogue 16 (If you have Baobhan Sith): The adopted child of the Lostbelt Morgan le Fay. A spoiled brat of a girl who trails after the Witch-Queen out of some unreconciled loyalty to her. I see, so this is my Lostbelt counterpart, huh? …huh? This brat is supposed to be Tristan?!

Dialogue 17 (If you have Lostbelt Morgan): Oh. It’s you. The ‘good’ version of Morgan le Fay. As witchy as ever. Still beautiful, which of course you would be, with all your magic and sorcery. … You may have the rest of Chaldea fooled, ‘Mother’, but I don’t buy your act for one second. The very instant you dip a toe out of line, I will hunt you down and make you wish I killed you.

Dialogue 18 (If you have Merlin or Lady Avalon): Poor, poor Merlin… forever the observer. The watcher. Forced to gaze upon the mountains upon mountains of failures you’ve created from the confines of Avalon. Tell me, did you know of the truth of my birth? Did you know my fate was to slay the King of Knights? Did you know that was why my father nearly attempted a genocide? …of course you did.

Dialogue 19 (If you have Florence Nightingale): That nurse… she looks at me strangely… I feel simultaneously afraid and comforted by her presence. Ghh! She’s looking this way! Quick, hide me!

Likes: Have you ever gone sailing, Master? I’ve only done it a few times when I was young, but I always feel like the water’s surface is soothing. As if even in the harshest storms, I would be fine. Hmph. Perhaps it is the one blessing my Mother ever gave me… Or perhaps it’s just dumb luck.

Dislikes: Those other mes… those damn idiots. With their smug faces… their arrogant smiles… Everything about their existence is a pestilence that doesn’t deserve to exist!

About the Holy Grail: The Holy Grail… So many of the Round Table sought it out in some form or another. Even my Father sought to attain it for herself, only to fail. In that case, I think I’d like to take it for myself… Perhaps then I can… Hm? Oh, nothing, just talking to myself.

During an Event: Oh, an event is going on? I suppose I should escort you there to see what is going on.

Birthday: Yes, yes, happy birthday and all that. Enjoy your cake and your festivities, and all that stuff. Some of us actually have important things to do. 'What are they?' …shut up.

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Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These words have long followed the name ‘Mordred’ for centuries. Since the betrayal of King Arthur, Mordred Pendragon has gone down in history as one of the most infamous traitors to ever live. This Servant is the living embodiment of that very same reputation, being a vile and wicked schemer with an unending lust for power.

A Mordred from an alternate timeline, raised in earnest by their mother, as opposed to their Proper Human History counterpart being abused and ashamed of their heritage of being the child of the Witch-Queen of Orkney. A master of combat, and a genius in Magecraft, this Mordred succeeded in their rebellion against King Arthur, slaying the King of Knights and taking the throne of Camelot as the last of the Round Table.

Bond Level 1:

Height/Weight: 171cm • 65kg Source: Arthurian Mythology Region: Wales Alignment: Chaotic • Evil Gender: Nonbinary

While normally Excalibur's pseudo-immortality would leave Mordred at the same age physically as the time they wielded it, because the Holy Sword is actively rejecting them, they lack the blessing of Excalibur. Instead, this version of Mordred has matured as if they had chosen the Holy Lance, though noticeably lacking the incredible defense Excalibur would normally grant.

"While it is a pain in the ass to lose the immortality of Excalibur... Who needs it when I can just smash any enemy in front of me to pieces?! Besides, look at me! I rule!"

Despite the seemingly higher intellect and maturity, this Mordred is just as childish and petty as the other Mordreds, Holy Sword or no Holy Sword.

Bond Level 2:

"Mother... What the hell is going on here?!"

"Oh, dear... It seems I taught you well, my daughter. Too well."

"Don't change the subject on me! You... Did you seriously try to kill me?! Why?!"

"Isn't it obvious? You were the only thing standing between me and the throne I was owed. That was stolen from me by Uther and given to Artoria! I was the rightful heir to Camelot, and I was denied it!"

"I know that! That was why you wanted me to kill the king, wasn't it?! So a child of Orkney could take back the kingdom?!

"Still so slow on the uptake, Mordred? A pity, I thought I raised you better than that. I didn't want you on the throne. Honestly, I was hoping you and Arthur would end up killing each other. Unfortunately, you survived..."

"So everything you told me... All the care you put into raising me?! All your teachings?! All of it was just so you could get me to kill Father?!"

"Sadly, yes... You were just meant to be a weapon, Mordred. And what a weapon you were. I'm so proud of you..."

SHING!

"GAH, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

"You... Mother... No. Morgan! You have committed treason against your king. Stand down now, and I'll spare your life. Otherwise I will kill you!"

"'King...?' What a joke. You aren't even half the king Uther was, much less anything like Arthur. You are just a pathetic weapon meant to sit tight and obey! Do you hear me?! You're nothing more than a filthy homun-!"

SCHLICK!

Bond Level 3 (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Despite the era of peace Mordred's rule brought to Camelot, it was never enough. Their citizens feared them, seeing Mordred as a bloodthirsty tyrant. Their knights despised them, seeing Mordred as a terrible machine. Nothing Mordred did would ever be enough to repent for the terrible bloodshed and misery the War at Camlann caused, with many crying out for the return of King Arthur to the throne.

The sole allies Mordred had, Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere, had left long ago in shame and disgrace, hating themselves for their participation in the Fall of Camelot. Mordred had gained everything they had ever wanted. The throne, the Holy Sword, the crown. And yet, nothing was ever enough to escape the shadow of Arthur.

Desperate and embittered, Mordred eventually decided that the only way to improve their own reputation was to destroy Arthur's own. Using their skill in Magecraft, they summoned an alternate version of Artoria Pendragon, the Altered King of Ghosts, to ravage Camelot, trapping her under Madness Enhancement.

The people would all see the image of the beloved king destroying Camelot, and Mordred as the savior defending Camelot. Then... Then they would love Mordred.

Bond Level 4:

Why...?

Why do they still cheer for you over me? Why do they still claim you to be the Once and Future King? Why do they still hate me?! I'm supposed to be the hero here! I'm saving them! I'm protecting them! From you! And still, they sing your praises, and drag my name through the mud?! Where's the justice in that?!

I've given everything to help Camelot thrive! I've killed so many people... My friends... My brothers... My mother and father... And for what?! For a kingdom that won't accept me?! For a throne that constantly rejects me?! For people that constantly put me in your shadow?! Even in death, you still look down on me! Even after all I've done, everyone only remembers me as the one who killed King Arthur!

Arthur...

Arthur...!

AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

...I understand now. Mother was right. You really are nothing but a thief. You stole my glory. You stole my kingdom. You stole my future from me! Everything I do is tainted with your influence. No matter what I do, I will always be compared to you, seen as inferior to you, seen as the evil that will oppose you. Fine then. If the world will only know me as the one who slew King Arthur... Then I might as well live up to this. This time... I will end the Legend of King Arthur permanently.

Bond Level 5(Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

Deceitful. Cruel. Evil. Greedy. Treacherous. These are the labels that humanity has given to Mordred. These are all humanity will ever know the knight Mordred to be. After realizing this, Mordred has chosen to cast off all attempts at being a just king, and has fully embraced the idea of being the wicked Knight of Treachery that opposes their father. A cruel and wicked tyrant that seeks to end the very idea of 'King Arthur', no matter the cost and no matter the hatred they get in return.

To that same end, they battled with their father, the Altered King of Storms, in a recreation of their fated duel at Camlann. Father and Son, King and Usurper, once again dueling to decide the future of Britain. The King of Storms took no joy in this battle, once again being forced to face their failures as a king and a father. The Knight of Treachery, on the other hand, threw themselves at Artoria without remorse, not caring for a moment how their body broke or how much blood was spilled. All that mattered was killing the person that stood before them once and for all.

"See Father?! I told you I was better than you! I told you that I would be the better king! Now... Say it! Say that I am your better! Say that I am your rightful heir! Say that I am worthy to be your son! SAY IT ALREADY!"

Extra (Clear "The Altered Realm of Swords and Sorcery: Britannia"):

At first glance, Mordred Alter couldn’t be more different than their Proper Human History counterpart. One is blunt, rude, and callous, the other is clever, polite, and seemingly friendly. One is all too happy to settle a conflict with fist and blade, the other will at least attempt a diplomatic approach before battle inevitably comes. One was a simple weapon, built only to kill and die. The other attempted to become more than that, a ruler that would bring Camelot into an era of peace and prosperity.

At their core, however, they are the same person.

Despite being the one to kill their father, they admire them, desiring nothing more than to follow in their footsteps. One to try and help relieve their burden of being a king, the other to try and help carve a path towards peace and prosperity. Both follow a path of chivalry, despising those who trod upon the innocent and weak, even if their own demeanor makes them seem as though they are the same. They are arrogant, proud, and boastful, not believing that there is any potential for failure on the road they walk, carrying themselves with the dignity and pride expected of a true king.

They want to be respected, to be acknowledged, and to be loved.

But one does not gain such things through force or power. One cannot make it happen by their own will. It is as impossible a task as counting every single star in the sky across the endless universe.

But that’s what Mordred does best, isn’t it? Seek the impossible to make it their own.

[linktheacehero]

oooh! first of all, congrats!!

ummm (taking entirely too long to figure out what to request) okay. I don't know if you remember the time where we were talking about an older mini impa looking over the next link and zelda but just her realizing just how dumb they are and realizing that her own parents must have been exactly like this

i had way too much fun with this. Context for everyone else not involved in the extensive brainrot lore- Mini Impa is oot zelink's youngest child and in this ficlet, tp zelda's great aunt.

Impa took a sip of her tea as she witnessed the kingdom's greatest warriors of the era, miserably flirt with one another. Her majesty handed the hero a singular dark red carnation, the color matching the tips of her ears, in gratitude for aiding in the current reconstruction of the castle. She might as well kiss him, Impa thought. She could see how her grand niece's eyes shined with affection for the boy, the small curve of her lips whenever he spoke with her, even how her body realized the moment his presence was known to her.

Impa wondered how Link hadn't noticed it yet.

----

A few days later the hero gifted Zelda a simple necklace made by his own hand. She witnessed how much of a nervous wreck he'd been, Farore save his soul, stumbling on his words and anxiously playing his his hands. Impa was surprised he didn't combust on the spot!

Even more so when her majesty kissed his cheek. The dazed look on his face said it all- he was just as smitten with her. And yet neither made a move.

Nayru have mercy on us, Impa prayed. The gifts, the longing stares, the affection that was embedded in each of their actions; how was it that neither knew of each other's feelings?!

"For being Wisdom and Courage incarnate, they sure don't show it," she muttered to herself. With that thought, she remembered her own parents, the predecessors of this Hyrule's heroes- how her father would give her mother the softest smile, how she in turn would take his hand and kiss it no matter where they were. And the stories both her namesake and Aunt Malon told her from before her parents got together; tiptoeing their feelings, both scared to tell the other, carrying a longing for each other. Impa prayed that her grand niece and the knight would come to their senses soon.

[captainmortuem]

SWTOR Secret Santa 2023

My giftee was @tiredassmage

I know you said you were in love with the Agent, but I fell in love with the idea of the relationship between your Knight and Warrior. I tried my best to get their personalities based off of the tagged posts and character bios, as well as playing into a bit of that in-between from begrudging alliance to blossoming friendship that (as far as I could tell from all the posts I was reading) would take place right around the time of Shadow of Revan. Not as cold as Ilum may have been, but not yet so devoted as during the KotXX story. Like seriously, I spent three hours looking at their character tags to try and figure them out.

Bonus for some of my own SWTOR OCs thrown in there, and a few of yours who don’t really take to the foreground. I sincerely hope you enjoy all 1,134 words.

The hideout on Rishi had become… crowded. To put it nicely. Barring the fact that four, or more apt would be “three and some broken up metal pieces of a droid” of their group was out galavanting around the planet while the notorious pirate captain of the Red Hulls sat in this one room that had been deemed “safe” by their Imperial and Republic associates. Six of the eight incarnations of this “captain” sat performing various leisurely tasks while the remaining two, Tyr and Evek’fezen, patrolled the outside to make sure nobody got too wise about what this mismatched group of Jedi, Sith, Spies, Troopers, and Criminals were doing boarded up in the same hut as one another. Slumo’cet’lezu and Ipah’fezen were playing a game of Sabaac off to one side, using a crate as a table and discarded baskets as chairs, and only a few times had they drawn blasters on one another with accusations of cheating. Darth Occlus and Satia sat in the corner sharing history and culture with one another, comparing and contrasting the planets they’d been to and the people they’d met in their respective empire’s spheres of influence, each thankful that the other seemed keen to avoid political banter and the usual shortcomings that topic brings. But the most curious of the bunch was the Hero of Tython and the Emperor’s wrath, not bickering or sparring with one another as one would expect with the Shield of the Republic and the Sword of the Empire so close together, instead the two seemed keen on just enjoying one another’s company. There was a kinship to be had between warriors, different banners they may wear, but of a kind all the same. The Knight had Kira standing beside him, strangely tense and the room could feel it, but the proximity to so many Sith was still a bit jarring for the Jedi after having only recently killed the Sith emperor. Plenty of reasons for tensions to be a lot higher than they seemed to be, barring the Sabaac game off to one side, but neither of them seemed to care further than their credits could get them.

“Strange how circumstances keep bringing us back together like this. It was Ilum first, yes?” Rhyst spoke up first, sitting across from Savosta in one of the few intact chairs in the room.

“Correct, Ilum was the first instance of us working together. It was a welcome reprieve when you showed the sense to assist in the destruction of Malgus.”

“It was the best choice any of us had. He was a threat to the Republic and the Empire both. Since then we’ve become… friends?”

“It is perhaps too soon to define our working relationship with words like “friendship.” A partnership, similar to that of our respective selves and the spies from either side.”

“Lana and Theron, you mean. What’s your take on them?” Rhyst asked, sitting up a bit straighter in the chair.

“You wish for a tactical assessment? They exceed where they have trained, subterfuge and deceit. Unsightly skills, but ones they see fit to use for what seems to be a great good. If there is such a thing.” Savosta sat back in his chair, fingering the edges of the lightsaber blade in his palm. The experience on Rishi had been, enlightening, if not clouding his mind further the more he thought of his supposed antithesis sitting across from him. There was a respect; respect for duty, respect for expectations, respect for somebody who has lived through battle after battle, and a strangely begrudging respect for the man that had killed his emperor. Rhystyl was a dangerous man, an oddity, how could Savosta share so much with a man who is ideologically opposed to everything he stands for?

“I don’t mean a tactical assessment, they’re both accomplished spies. I mean their relationship to one another. They are working toward the same goal, but something still doesn’t sit right. I have a feeling something is going to happen soon, something big, and I don’t know if waiting here is the right way to prepare for it. Revan is still alive, and we’ve got six of the ten people in the galaxy who could stop him just sitting in a room playing cards and talking philosophy. Does that seem right to you?”

“It is not a question of right or wrong. The spies are playing their game, let them play. A sword or a blaster is no good without a target. When we know where to go, and who to destroy, then we will go there and destroy them. If you’ll excuse me, I am going to get some air, as fetid as the air in this cove may be.” Savosta stood from his chair, bowing his head ever so slightly as a sign of respect to the Jedi before making his way outside. There was a section of the building they stayed in that was relatively flat up on the roof, and Savosta climbed his way up there to ruminate on all that had happened since Ilum, Manaan, and now the events on Rishi.

It was only a few moments before Savosta could feel another presence, one that made no effort to be hidden from him, his companion and member of the Dark Council, Darth Occlus.

“Tire of philosophy with the Jedi?” He asked, not looking up from his view over the cove and all the people within who went about their piracy and private lives without so much as a thought to what lay outside the walls of their home.

“Quite the opposite, she’s been an unusually engaging partner. But my interests currently lie with you, your conflict is more than apparent to somebody attuned to the force, like both myself and my previous conversation partner.”

“Do not presume to read me, councilman. My thoughts lie on our next steps, where we will go from here.”

“You know as well as I that I do not have a say in whether or not you are “read”, Wrath. I would be executed for saying this, but these Jedi may present an opportunity. Not for scheming and backstabbing, nor conquest and decimation.”

“Then what?”

“Unity. A potential for peace. If nothing else, at least an end to the status quo. The Galaxy cannot war with itself forever, but this small step towards an alliance could be a wind that douses the flame the Empire and Republic seem keen to keep lit. Malgus was right in his thoughts, if not wrong in his actions. The Empire needs to change, the Galaxy needs to change. These companions we make now and the bonds that are being formed, those will be the seeds for a bright and unusual future for everybody.”

“But first Revan.”

“And many more, Wrath. Many, many more after.”

[pastel-omegas-blog]

Chapter One

Chapter Two

WARNING!!! THIS BOOK WILL CONTAIN MATURE THEMES AND VIOLENCE PLEASE LEAVE IF IT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. I DO NOT NEED THIS BOOK TO BE REPORTED . YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.( Mentions of suicide,bullying, blood/torture ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️( This book is going to have more matured themes  compared to my others, from smut scenes to non-con, lactation, drugging, hypnosis, abuse of power and over obsessiveness. 

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" Arguh! Do we really have to come to this frozen waste land? " A man said as he hugged the thick jacket he wore around his frame even tighter his pale cheeks already getting a red hue to them as he continued to swear under his breath, peaking out of the carriage window to see the knights sticking close to their side and small snow falling. His purple eyes narrowed at the sight of more snow.

" It won't take long until we reach the manor your grace " an elderly voice replied and the blue haired male clicked his tongue in irritation.

He hated this. 

He hated having to leave the comfort of his home in the capital.

He hated having to leave the warm and cool weather for this frozen deadland.

He huffed removing his glasses, wiping away the steam that fogged the lens for the umpteenth since he had crossed the border, before wearing them growling loudly as they started fogging up again.

The gods he hated this forsaken land!

He wished he hadn't accepted his older brothers proposal to come here. Had he known he would be stuck in this condition he would have refused to step foot into this land.

And he had sent him to where they throw that devil incarnate to. 

He was so mean doing such a cruel thing to him.

" I can't take this anymore! I want to go back home " the man says with a scowl on his thin peach lips  folding his arms and puffing out his cheeks his eyes narrowing into a glare as he stared at the elderly man who seemed to be acting as a chaperone 

Ren felt a headache beginning to form as he stared at the fuming recessive omega noticing how his scent of oranges started becoming acidic.

The aging recessive alpha didn't have the strength to deal with any bratty attitude. He was already stressed as it is. The imperial family were playing with fire with this stupid plan they were doing. Trying to one up on the Duke and the northern nobles would not be good for them in the long run, yet they still went ahead to do. And they made matters worse by adding an inexperienced child to the team as a representative.

" I'm sorry your grace but it's too late to turn back now. Please bare with the conditions for a few more minutes " the grey haired man said trying to soothe the younger man but he wasn't having any of it.

" No! I said I want to go back home now damnit! What are you deaf ? Has your age started affecting your hearing as well ? I want to go back home now. I don't care how you do. Open a teleportation portal for me or something damnit. How an old fool like you could ever be given the title of a ' war hero ' is beyond me. I'm tired and cold and I've had enough ! " The blue haired recessive omega whined out stomping his feet inside the carriage as he glared at the older man.

Ren bit back a growl as he let him s hands fall on his thighs his grip tightening on his own flesh causing a dull ache of pain to start forming.

How dare this brat.

How dare he say such words to him.

He was the son of an ordinary count while he was a Marquis. He didn't even have a noble title himself and was just lucky to be born in a well off noble family.

Apart from the difference in social class, he was a heavily decorated knight he had helped bring the empire to glory countless times during his youth and he had even been recognized as a war hero for all his efforts.

Yet here he was letting this inexperienced child yell at him and he couldn't complain about it, unless he wanted the ungrateful brat to tell on him and he would have his head removed from his shoulders. He was related to the holy saint and future emperor of his Empire. The holy man had made it very clear that he cherished his younger brother and no harm should happen to him

That was the only reason he hadn't thrown him out of the carriage yet.

How such a spoilt brat like this could be related to the kind and holy saint of their empire was beyond him.

Even though they shared similarities traits in appearance their personalities were vastly different.

Stoping himself from yelling at the younger man Ren spoke up again trying to calm him down. " Again your grace I am truly sorry for any discomfort your facing now, but it's too late for us to turn back. We will soon arrive at the Duke's manor so please hold on until then " the older man tried to reason and omega puffed his cheeks tears of frustration beginning to bring at the corner of his eyes.

" No. No. NO! "

The younger man spoke up stomping his foot and the older alpha swore he saw red for a moment, the only things keeping him from lashing out at the omega was his sense of pride and fear for his life.

Alfred glared at the older man through his foggy glasses, his long hair tied up in a ponytail swished around everytime he stomped his feet.

How could he just ignore him.

He was so cruel.

What kind of alpha was he? Had he lost his heart from butchering people in the battlefield that he didn't know how to treat an omega right?!

" You old - " the omega started only to be cut off

" Now now I know your having a hard time adjusting your grace but please stay calm. We'll be going back to the capital soon so don't worry. I'm sure you can handle this for a few more hours. "

A smooth voice spoke up  easing the tension inside the carriage in an instant. What  ever rage Alfred felt bubbling in his chest died down immediately he heard the man sitting beside him speak up and his ears heat up.

" I.. I'm sorry for d.. disturbing you Archmage Adonis " the blue haired man mumbled out fiddling with his fingers as he lowered his gaze to his laps. A soft chuckle made his blush worse, the soft scent of burning oak coming from said man calmed him down immensely.

" I know your exhausted. Poor omega the cold weather must be getting to you " the mage  purred out softly and Alfred could only nod his head at his words, not being able to look at the duel haired colour man.

" And I knew your stressed out as well lord Ren, but still try to be easy on lord Alfred. It's his first time doing something this important so the stress must have gotten to him and made him anxious. Please be more considerate to his situation " the man said and Ren felt his grip on his laps get tighter as he listened to the man's words.

How dare this high and night bastard blame him for something when he wasn't at fault. How is it his fault this that he was stuck with a bratty child who didn't have any single respect for his elders.

If the boy knew he would be whining through out this journey and would start demanding to go back home then he shouldn't have agreed to come in the first place!!

But like earlier he swallowed down his thoughts and lowered his head to the younger recessive alpha  mumbling out apologies instead.

No matter how wronged he felt he would be a fool to argue with the man.

Who was he, a mere marquis and an ordinary war hero to argue with the son of one of the four eastern dukes and Archmage of the magic tower.

He rather his pride be destroyed than he lose his life.

The man simply smiled at the older man's submissiveness before turning to look at the blue haired omega who had buried his face into the fur coat he was wearing as a sorry attempt to hide his flushed cheeks and the tower mage chuckled. " You see lord Alfred ? He sorry so don't get to worked up alright ? It's just a few more hours and I'm sure they'll soon move by in a flash so please hang in there " the man reassured once more and the recessive omega nodded.

 Silver eyes watched the whole thing go down, their owner not speaking up once as he watched the whole nonsense go down.

Sure the omega's constant whining was giving him a headache, but he dare not speak up. He might be the prince, but recently certain members of the saints family had moved into the imperial palace and now had more favor than him. 

Alfred was one of them.

So the red haired alpha had no choice but to sit still admist the chaos and try his best to ignore it, as much as he would like to help Ren the man was on his own in this.

An image of a h/c man flashed in his thoughts and Calix felt his heart squeeze in joy and fear. Joy that he finally see his older brother figure after such a long time and fear that he would have to leave him again so soon as he would be dragged back to that hell hole he called home.

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The entail shock of the arrival of the heavily guarded knights and the imperial carriage had died down a bit, but it sent the servants into a panic as they rushed to make the majestic huge mansion even more presentable, word of the unexpected arrival flew quickly which led to the current situation.

Walking through the busy halls with a scary scowl on his pale pink lips. The frown etched on his normally stoic face and the thick smell of his phermones was enough for the servants to scurry away in fear.

" Do they really lack manners to just show up uninvited without dropping word of their arrival before hand " the silver  haired duke grumbled under his breath not bothering hide the growl that followed after.

He had just come back from a patrol along the Inovre Forest and had battled some monsters they had unexpectedly come across. He just wanted to change his blood stained clothes and get some rest. Probably see a certain h/c omega , before he had to deal with his busy schedule for the day. Now he had to wrap that all up and let the work pile up because some dicks didn't in understand common courtesy.

​​​

" Well your cousin's family always have their heads up their asses. They feel that since their the one ruling the empire they can do whatever they want. " a smug voice replied to the man and he rolled his eyes.

  " Thank you very much for telling me something I already know Daniel. It was really helpful "

The silver haired man said sarcastically.

" Glad I could be of help sir~ "

The dark haired recessive alpha said with an optimistic beat, not minding how the other alpha pumped out more phermones at his words, if he was affected by the assault he didn't let it show. He wouldn't be a captain of the North wyvern knights if he let the phermones of an alpha trying not to throw a temper tantrum.

He actually found it funny that the feared Duke of the Northern territory was a few wrong buttons away from ripping someone's head off.

Oh what fun today was going to be ~

              ¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶°¶

" What could be so important that those 'Pure bloods ' decided they would come and pay someone as impure as me a visit. And without a word in advance as well. It's like they were hoping to catch me off guard and look for how to disgrace me. " A deep voice mused as his silver eyes paid close attention to the knights. The calm expression he wore was a great contrast to how he felt inside.

Duke Nicolas Devon Vermillion was livid.

The blonde dominant alpha's pheromones would have been all over the place if he wasn't trained to control them.

He already had enough on his plate with trying to find a solution to the sudden drought the land was facing and the sudden spike in månå beasts been so active.

He didn't need the imperial family to add to that headache.

' Has that little brat finally lost all form of respect ? He dare try to make a fool of me?! Has he let all that power finally take over his senses !! '

That ill mannered pup was really beginning to get on his nerves. He was nothing but a child who was given to much power and was in a position he didn't earn.

A small hand placed it's self on the man's chest as a hand hooked around his arm, a soft warm body pressed itself against his side. The strong scent of fresh grapes filled his nostrils and instantly calmed his senses a bit as he pulled the figure closer to him causing the person to giggle.

" There there Honey, it's alright. Don't let them get under your skin. That's what they want so let's not give it to them. So take a deep breath and let it out " A smooth voice spoke up their velvety voice calming down the blonde man even more as he listened to their instructions.

Letting out a deep breath Nicolas sighed a genuine smile tugging on his lips as he looked at his side, staring into white milky eyes that held nothing but love towards him, love that he returned back in his own gaze and subtle gestures.

His pretty wife  really knew how to make him feel better.

Long flowing silky snow like hair, with cool earth skin tone, pure white milky eyes. A very beautiful dominant omega with such unique features.

Unique features that only belonged to one family in their entire empire.

 Lady Marina giggled softly at her husband's antics as his grip on her waist tightened and loosened in a teasing manner.

Her cloudy white eyes looked over to the empty spots by her side and her husband's her plump lips turning into a small frown at the absence of her children. She could excuse her two eldest, because she knew they had places to be, yet her youngest was no where in sight.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the unexpected blaring of trumpets and the former duchess turned her attention back to the carriage.

The knights stood by either of the carriage door their hands on their weapons, ready to draw them if  needed   as the manor servants laid out a lavish fur red carpet from the mansion entrance.

The door opened and our stepped their visitors.

An older man with grey hair was the first to come out. For a noble he was extremely dressed down wearing darker colours instead of flashy ones and he had no jewelry or gems on to show off his wealth. The only thing that screamed to be of value was the pure gold pin that took the shape of a small dragon that was pinned to his chest, a sign that the man was a former war hero.

The next person that followed was a man with long flowy white hair that reached his mid back, his pure white locks turned into a pitch black colour at the tips, his light blue eyes held a calm look to them, his thin lips stretched into a gentle smile as he stepped down with grace that belonged to that of a swan, his silver and sapphire coloured robes flowed gently around his form.

Recognition flashed in Nicholas silver hues as he watched the tower mage of the eastern empire extended his hand out to the inside. A petite hand stretched out to hold the mage's and out stepped a blushing young man who had the lower bottom of his face hidden in his fur coat.

' blue hair and purple eyes '

The thought passed through the couples head and they were shocked for a split second, it died down when they noticed how young the man looked and he wasn't dressed in any holy garmet. 

That and they knew their nephew would never allow the holy man to come on his own to the north.

" He must be a relative " Marina said quietly and her husband made a sound of acknowledgement as they watched the blue haired man glue himself to the mage's side.

Following after the blue haired man was a head of deep crimson hair, his silver eyes rolled in slight annoyance as he stared at the blue haired recessive omega, before he started looking everywhere as if he was searching for someone, a small frown tugging his lips downwards when he didn't see the person he was looking for.

Ren cleared his throat at the three young men he was acting as an escort for, getting their attention as he subtly gestured towards the former Duke and Duchess who were watching them with hawk like eyes.

Sure all three young men might be highly respected, but that was in the east. This wasn't their territory anymore. They weren't on top of the food chain and the aging alpha prayed to the gods that they could hold down their pride and ego as they as they talked to the real top dogs.

With everyone focused on their new visitors no one seemed to notice the fluttering of butterflies as they made their way back to their master.

Hi. So we meet our unexpected visitors. It might seem like much but the next chapter is gonna be hot. And sorry if this is all over the place.                                         

 Now let me explain how the Northern Grand duchy is related to the imperial family.

Nicolas Vermillion mostly known to others as the former Grand duke of the north, but before he got this tile he was referred to as the bastard child of Emperor Carinvan.

He was born from a lowly prostitute and was taken in by the Emperor's when his mother died from an unknown illness.

He was mocked and despised by the nobles and other royalty who cursed at him, especially his brother (the late Emperor ) who made sure to constantly remind him that he had dirty blood.

Despite this his father favoured him more because he was better versed in the ways of politics and he seemed like a fit ruler than his son.

Something happened though, but that will be explained in a later chapter.

He might not let it show, but it irks him that he couldn't sit on the throne and become the Emperor, but it doesn't matter now.

Now that he has a certain h/c omega in his grasp he was going to make sure his son was going to be  Emperor.

No matter the cost.

I've been feeling under the weather for a while that's why this chapter is so late.

[akampana]

28. Diartoria

Prompt: 28. "Your smile brings me so much joy." Ship: Diarturia Tags: Romance

As he stared into her eyes, brushing her blonde hair from her cheek, he wondered if she’d let him kiss her. She looked so beautiful like this, with the sun casting its golden glow upon her face and a lovely tinge of red dusting her cheeks. Her gaze was fond, and her smile soft. The Irish knight was half-convinced he was lost in a dream. He never had any luck with love, after all, and yet, here he was, so smitten .

Describing exactly what the Once and Future King meant to him was a challenge all on its own. There was no one quite like her, and no one with whom he shared the same connection. Theirs was an everlasting dance of blades made to the rhythm of steel on steel. When their weapons clashed, he felt like he was dancing on the clouds. When they were apart, it was like gravity itself drew them together till they clashed once more in a flurry of sparks. 

Something in her green irises told him she could see right through to him; take the pages that were his life; read between his every line. He bared his soul to her unafraid, because he knew that with her there was no gavel nor jury that would damn him to a life on the run. There was only her, the regal knight who turned out to be so much more than just the chivalrous figure he met at the docks. He fell twice: for the king she became, and the girl she didn’t get to be. 

He was sure the day he met her. He was sure now. She was the culmination of all the work he put in as a knight, the light at the end of the tunnel, the reward that awaited him for his service. He wouldn’t trade anything for the fire he saw in her eyes as they exchanged blows, or the laughter that erupted from his lips when she won, or the smile that graced her face when he claimed victory. She was everything he wanted. Everything.

Arturia’s lips tasted like a warm welcome after a long journey; her mouth, like an embrace before a hearth; her kiss, sweet as hot chocolate on a chilly night. As they parted for a breath, she cupped his cheeks and nudged her forehead into his fondly. She wore a delicate smile upon her face as he pulled her body closer. Diarmuid decided that very moment that he wasn’t losing her again, he didn’t care what impossibilities he’d have to overcome. He’d march up to Avalon and take her to his Tech Duinn, if he had to. 

“What is it?” she asked lightheartedly, drinking in the soft chuckle that escaped Diarmuid’s lips. 

“Nothing, my lady, I just…” the knight lightly touched the pad of his thumb to her lips. “Your smile brings me so much joy. I no longer believe I can continue on without it– without you.”

Diarmuid took a deep breath, distracted by the smell of her hair.

“I want you to come home with me,” he whispered happily for only her ears to hear. There was confusion in her eyes, but she stayed comfortably circled within his arms. 

“What do you mean?” she asked him, stroking her thumb across his cheek. “We do not exactly have lives to live anymore.”

True, they were both Heroic Spirits after all, neither resurrection nor incarnation awaited them now that they were relieved from service. The knight chuckled again, feeling her grin against his mouth as he stole another kiss. “And yet, we have the afterlife, do we not?”

When they parted, Diarmuid dragged his finger down the curve of her lips until the corner. He had always been proud to be one of the few privileged enough to see her so happy. Not everyone could make her feel this way. 

“This smile–your smile…” he professed endearingly, “brings me so much joy, my dearest king. No heaven awaits me in my father’s home without it. I would simply waste away.”

Arturia nearly glowed red hearing his words. She didn’t know where he’d found the courage to make such declarations without even a hint of hesitation, when every word was laced with the same truth: he loved her. He loved her so much, he’d denounce eternity’s paradise if it meant he wouldn’t be with her. She’d always thought maidens were being dramatic when they swooned, but she was just short of it herself. 

After all, she too would find it terribly lonely, if she were to spend the afterlife without the spearman she grew to love. She didn’t know how Diarmuid could pull this off, nor if it were even possible to leave Avalon and leave with him to Tech Duinn. All she knew was that she wanted the future that he envisioned. They would have each other, forever, and that would be enough. 

“Then yes,” she said at last, sealing the promise with another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

_____

You can't tell me Aengus wouldn't kick down the gates of Avalon and ship Arturia off to Tech Duinn with an exclusive passport made by Donn, you just can't. HAHAHA

thank you for the ask. I hope you are doing well.

-akampana

[lethal-obsession]

🎬

From this meme: accepting

The sound of glass and clay shattering was followed by the wails of frustration from the young princess. She stood in front of the broken mirror, only partially seeing herself. She was the image of madness-driven despair: her figure disheveled, dress torn, face swollen and red from angry tears and the scratches she had inflicted upon herself.

Unbeknownst to her, a dark figure watched from the shadows of the candlelit chambers, waiting for the right moment to step into the light. After what felt like an eternity, the princess's outburst began to wane as her energy was all but spent. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing weakly, head bowed, too lost in her own pain to realize another presence stood before her.

"But why does such a beauty like you cry?" asked the shadowy presence. The voice was feminine and smooth, comforting in a way. The princess couldn’t lift her head, as any attempt only brought her more pain.

"What beauty?" she chuckled heartlessly.

"You," the presence responded sincerely. The princess, finally gathering enough strength, raised her gaze to see the one who spoke to her.

"How can you see beauty in this?" she asked, her mind as shattered as the mirror behind the dark figure. She was too distraught to be surprised or frightened by the demon before her.

"And how could I not? I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, nor as skilled a dancer and singer. I have also noticed your eagerness for knowledge, even learning about war tactics—something uncommon among princesses." Kneeling before her, the demon extended a hand to the heartbroken princess.

"I did everything I could think of for him, so he would notice me. But I failed. I can never be perfect enough for him. He stole my heart but has none that I can ask in return." She wept as she spoke those words.

"But oh, my dear, is it a man who has brought you to such a state of desolation?"

"He is not just any man! He is better than any other in this world! He is honored, kind, a studious man and the most skillful swordsman of my uncle's personal guard!" The demon smiled at hearing that. Such a naive girl, doomed to fall in love with one of the King's knights!

"What if I told you I could make his heart yearn for you as yours burns for him?" Such words sparked a glimmer of hope in the young girl, a hope she had thought lost. In her desperation, the princess lunged forward and grabbed the figure's hand.

"How?!" she demanded.

"I have my ways." The demon refused to give out her plan. "But I can propose a deal. I can make him obsess over you, if you will let me stay here."

"I’ll take it!"

"Are you sure about this, my dear? Don’t you have any questions or reservations?" It was all too easy to convince her prey, and the answer was obvious. Gwenfaer knew it before the girl could speak.

"I don’t care! I’ll do anything! You can have my soul if that’s what it takes to have his love!"

"Then so it shall be done." Before the girl could realize what was happening, the deal was sealed with a kiss to her hand, and she felt weak. Her body withered, skin turning pale, wrinkled, and fragile; her eyes grew dull and lifeless. In an instant, where the princess had stood, there were only dry bones in a tattered dress, and where the shadowy figure had been, there now stood the beautiful princess, as bare as the day she was born.

"I promise, he will be obsessed with you." Even her voice, Gwenfaer had stolen. "But we can’t risk them finding out about our little secret now, can we?" With a breath, the remains of the princess turned to dust and were swept away by the wind.

‘Ophelia’ stood up, sauntered to the shattered mirror, and studied her new form. She was perfection incarnate. Flawless skin, velvet-smooth; eyes of blue like a clear spring sky; hair of pale gold. Her smile was sweet, one that could melt even the most stern of men. She was satisfied with her new form. It certainly would allow her to move around that realm with a lot more freedom, and raising little to no suspicious about her true identity.

She only had one knight to enchant so she could keep her end of the bargain and she was free to roam the world until she could find her next victim.

[uniquevoidflowers]

Part 1:

___________________________________________________

Part two:

"Extraordinary. My servant was able to defeat the hero yet you took his role and bested me. But this is not the end. My hate never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end. I will rise again. Those like you who share the blood of the goddess...they are eternally bound to this curse. An incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all of time."

Zelda's head ached. She had spent so much time trying to figure out a way to stop this curse, or even just help her future selves navigate this. If Link were here he would've told her to take a break a long time ago.

Link.

Link was gone, and because of that, the spirit of the hero will fail to reincarnate, and no chosen hero will stand up to aid the kingdom. Zelda rubbed tears from her eyes and decided she needed to clear her mind. "Are you okay?" Father asked, gently.

"No." She admitted.

She saw the understanding in his eyes. "...Is there anything I can do to help you?" He asked.

"I don't know. Link's...death has had some unforeseen consequences and I don't know how to help the future." Zelda explained, taking a shaky deep breath after.

"I'll look into it. Take a moment to rest." He said and placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

She rubbed more tears from her eyes and nodded. Father sighed and started walking away. Zelda hurried to her room and collapsed on the bed, the blanket rustling and twisting out of its usual shape. "If only you were here, Link." She mumbled, swallowing back sobs. "Or Impa...I could really use her advice right now."

What would Impa say about this? Would she even know how to fix this?

Zelda sighed and curled up in on herself, her thoughts becoming jumbled, mixed with grief and frustration. Suddenly a book fell off of her shelf and made a loud thud on the ground. Zelda crouched and picked up the book. It had a white cover and red text on the front, silver lining the edges, and it was dusty, the pages beginning to tear. She began flipping through it. It seemed to be a book about immortality, or at least something along the lines of it. She gasped, as the wind flipped the pages to a few specific pages, and was taken aback at how dark this book was.

How did it get into the Knight Academy?

The pages talked about turning into an immortal spirit, and the cost of doing so, even turning into an immortal dragon. Suddenly, Zelda got an idea. An awful idea that might just work.

_______________________________________________

Zelda gathered the necessary things and started chanting the words, waiting for anything to happen. She could sense dark magic beginning to appear and the light inside of her screamed and begged for her to stop, find another way, leave. She wasn't going to, though. Once she was finished the chant, black began to fill her vision and darkness seized her body.

....

....

....

Zelda's eyes shot open and she yelped. She saw her hands, they were intangible. She looked down and saw her physical form was lying on the ground and the book had vanished. "I did it." She let the words hang in the air.

[nikubunbun]

Hello and Welcome to the Official blog about a Backrooms group known as The Pantheon.

The Pantheon is a group of powerful godlike entities that oversee everything. It all begins with the Pillars, which are the incarnations of certain concepts. These concepts vary from fundamental ones that keep reality together (Such as Chaos) to those related to lesser subjects, yet still important (Love, Justice).

The Pillars create Avatars, which represent but an infinitesimal fraction of their power and obtain a part of their abilities. Avatars can have all kinds of forms and can be of infinite number. Usually they do not represent all aspects of a concept, but often focus on specific traits of one.

The avatars are incarnated all throughout the multiverse, with two prominent versions of the pantheon being known across the Fandom and Wikidot of the Backrooms. Both versions are canon in the Backrooms multiverse, though this blog will focus on the Wikidot version. Information about them can be found here:

http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/pantheon-hub

http://backrooms-wiki.wikidot.com/the-pantheon

In this blog, it will be possible to ask the Gods themselves any kind of intriguing question. Favorite foods? Dynamics? Not like they have anything better to do nowadays, with the fall of the Pantheon.

Scenarios and AUs can also be enacted, and you'll be able to see them in all kinds of situations. Want an AU where all the gods turn into babies? That can happen. Requests can be made as long as they are kept SFW. (Absolutely no NSFW questions/scenarios)

Ask the Gods about personal questions, dig deep into their intricate story and find out what happened to the Pantheon and its members through their words!

The characters that will be the protagonists of the blog are listed below:

Argos

Philia (Æ’gaph), Olivia

The Pillar Scribe, the Terminus

Icarus

The Dark Sovereign

Fengári

Blanche (Azel’kyra)

The Game Master, Puzzle Maker, Komo’oide

The Red Knight, Jaga’dain

Y’liad

The Keymaster, Kei’

Nostalgi Gaius

Kirai (Xal’kyrai)

Val

Everyone is available.

(Art drawn by https://twitter.com/BUBBLINGBEACH go check them out they are pretty cool : 3)

( @mctoran @justapikachusart Two very cool collaborators that are very poggers, go check them out)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Final Boarding Call

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

“Architect’s balls!”

Should have expected that to be Celex’s first words upon seeing the incarnation of chaos itself, though Adam had the distinct feeling that the architect’s balls were a bit of an understatement when it came to what they were now witnessing.

None of the other Makers looked particularly pleased at the Ex emperor’s outburst, but at this point Adam was under the impression there were much bigger fish to fry than Celex’s irreverence.

“Black holes.” Sunny muttered her voice dragged down with the weight of its own gravity, “Does Anyone else feel incredibly stupid for not putting that together until now.”  Adam grunted in agreement, he couldn’t help but feel the exact same thing she was feeling. Before them, the black hole at the center of the Milky Way, Sagittarius A* spun, shedding escaping light from the very edges of its outer event horizon, where light was still fast enough to escape the pull of incredible gravity.

And all around it, a hazy cloud of red.

At first Adam had thought it an incomprehensible mass, and maybe that was the case, and his human mind was finding patterns where there was none, but looking at the red haze that spilled out and around the blak hole, reaching tendrils into the darkness, he got the sense of a massive creature, with a massive presence to match, the cold and abiding chill that had rooted itself in Adam’s chest, not a new fear, but an old fear.

One that had been chewing at his guts since his soul came to fruition.

And it wasn’t alone: spattering the darkness that surrounded the black hole, and its massive, reaching creature, there were ships, thousands of them, maker ships, Kree ships, human ships, and other ships Adam did not recognize, an entire armada just for them, and at it’s head, a massive spiked beast, almost as big as the empyrean, and radiating the silky orange light of recycled maker souls. 

And orbiting it all, the Necratorium, sharp funnel of light reaching its orange glow into the reaches of space, from whence the souls of the damned spilled like a cascade 

The shadows on the Empyrean continued to deepen, until it felt like the light was struggling to chase back an impending tide of black tar.

He shivered.

“This is it.” He said softly 

“This is it.” Sunny agreed.

“Fuck me.” Ramirez muttered.

At first it was simply them, alone against what seemed to be an enemy tide, but then, one by one other ships came flashing into existence behind them, white and glazed gold with true maker power. First tens than hundreds and then thousands of ships appearing behind them in wave after wave forming up behind them in a grid of ships ready to take on the army that lay before them.

But still Adam felt small

They had Apollyon 

“Don’t suppose this is an appropriate time to ask where the hell the architect is.” Adam wondered 

Below him Adham, standing with hands on his hips gazing out the window and towards the field of battle, shook his head, “I don’t know where he is.”

Ramirez snorted in incredulity, “You lost god?”

Adham frowned at him, “I am not our father’s keeper; besides, he has a preference for personal descretion. I rarely know where he is at any given time.” 

“Don’t tell me this is going to be like one of those urban fantasy tv shows where god is totally real, but he’s like a really shitty absentee parent.” Ramirez muttered

Sunny gave him a look, “That is oddly specific.”

“Not really. Movie studios think it's edgy, but when everyone is going edgy, no one is being edgy.”

Adham huffed, “No, he is not, and don’t be insulting. I simply said I didn’t know where he was . I never said he wasn’t involved. He will reveal himself when the time is right.”

When the Maker ships were done appearing, it still wasn’t over, and one by one others shapes began to appear, miles and miles of twisting, scaled bodies, and wide, reaching solar sales.

The leviathan.

Still Adam was not convinced it would be enough. 

“Until  then.” Adam muttered. Turning his head ever so slightly, he exchanged a look with Sunny and Celex both of which gave him a slow, understanding nod.

Outside the window Apollyon’s army laid out before them.

It was time to show him theirs. 

With the flick of his hand, Adam engaged the com system, sending a hail down to the equipment room, “Bring it.” He said hoping beyond hope that their equipment officer hadn’t been booted out of his position. They sat there for what seemed like a long time, waiting as adham gave his orders, and when Adam was just beginning to assume his message had gone unheard, the door at the back of the bridge opened, and their equipment officer came hurrying onto the deck, pushing a massive, heavy looking cart.

Were it not for the gravity strips at the base of the cart Adam was sure he wouldn't have gotten the thing anywhere.

He went mostly unnoticed as he brought the cart to Sunny’s side, and only when Adam disengaged from the helm of the ship did Adham noticed and turn to see what was going on, face pulling into a frown just in time to see Adam strop his shirt off to reveal the skin tight black dermal suit underneath.

“What are you doing?” He asked the suspicion clear in his voice.

Adam ignored him, Pulling off his pants and kicking off his boots. The black dermal suit fit over his body like a glove, clinging tightly to his skin, all the way from his feet to his wrists, like the strangest pair of footie pajamas. With the addition of the gloves and padded hood, the suit was almost comfortable.

Adam was glad he worked out.

The others were doing much the same.

Completely Naked as she usually was, Sunny was the only one who didn’t stop to a strip tease.

Adham marched forward, “What is.”

Adam stepped back locking his mechanical foot into the left boot, and then his human leg into the right boot.

The SE Armor, whirred to life, folding  around him, snapping into place around his ankles, and then rolling like a sharp wave up his body, locking into place over his hips, and then his torso and then his chest, until the helmet was the last item, retracting itself down over his head, and covering his face with the mirrored blue visor.

Lights erupted over the HUD as Fealty roared through the system stronger and more lucid than ever.

System booting.

And then the SE armor whirred, slotting into place through the ports on his wrists.

Steel eye, born from pain and death, tested in ash and fire and human suffering, perfected through redemption and ending here in its final installment, allowing, for the first time in its existence, for a man to step into the suit without a price.

Ramirez donned his SE armor for the first time, without a price.

Now the SE armor was optimally paired with the more invasive SE exoskeleton, but this model didn’t require it to function.

Leaving it available to all species 

A fact Sunny was quite pleased about.

The visor locked down over her face with a sharp click, as two spiked metal horns sprouted from her head like a crown. The pearl white of the armor gleamed in the half darkness, chasing back tarry black shadow. Defensive spikes erupted from her shoulders, knees and elbows, And when she was done, she finished the ensemble by picking up a massive spear, pearly white like her armor, and shot through with golden energy.

In her armor she was almost two feet taller, with the spines.

“What is this.” Adham repeated

Adam stepped past the maker and back onto the platform, feet thudding and sending little shockwaves through the room, “Preparing us for battle.” He raised his hands, feet leaving the floor as he was drawn into the air, “Call them.” He ordered, voice echoing around the room, strangely distorted by the microphones in his helmet.

The comms officer nodded, ignoring their Maker’s protests, and keyed the signal.

Adam did the same to the rest of the ship, “Empyrean crew this is your captain speaking. Man your battle stations.”

It took no more than a few seconds for his commands to reach a response.

More flashes of light began appearing in the darkness around them.

And then the first voice came through the comms, “At your call, Admiral.”  Simon said. Turninghis head Adam could see the Omen floating in the darkness next to them, the sleek line of her dark hull illuminated by pulsating blue light.

“With you.” McCaster said, followed by Koslov, and then Kimball.

Sharp lights cracked like fireworks in the vacuum of space, beginning as a trickle and then following as an eruption culminating when there came an eruption of ships, thousands upon thousands strong crackling into place around and among the waiting Maker army.

And then, there she was, Lord Avex’s imperial cruiser, “At your side Admiral.”

But it was the last ship that surprised Adam the most.

Shock and surprise, when a familiar ship appeared out of the darkness in a blaze of light, smallish in comparison, built like a brick with engines, dark, stalky, and unrefined.

The Harbinger?

“At your call Admiral.”

He turned towards the voice, surprised when President Kelly herself appeared on the Holo.

“Kelly! But shouldn’t you-”

“Be back on Earth?” She smiled a little, a short glitch causing her body to vanish in a void of stars before returning, “I have always admired proactive presidents.” She held out her arms, “besides, someone built this beautiful replica of our first ship, and I simply couldn’t refuse the opportunity.”

He smiled, “Damn straight.”

“NO!”

Adam sighed, “Adham.”

HTe maker glowered at him from the floor pointing a finger up at him, “What did we agree on.”

“You agreed on it, and I lied.” Adam shrugged, “I came to warn you about the invasion, be glad I let you tag along for the ride.” And then he turned away leaving the Maker working his jaw trying to find words.

[incorrectshantaequotes]

Shantae Headcanons - The Canonical AU

So! Blog anniversary! College was kicking my ass up until about a week ago, so I haven't been done a lot with the blog (but hey that's why I built up such a massive queue LOL), but I always do something for the anniversary, and I'm not making an exception now. So, let me ask you a question: does the name Watch Quest ring a bell to any of you?

If it doesn't, I'm not surprised. Chances are, if you have heard of it, you were like me and only found out by scrolling through the Shantae wiki and happening upon the page by chance. For those of you who don't feel like pulling up the page in question, a quick lesson - Watch Quest was a small game released on Apple Watch featuring the Shantae cast, more specifically Shantae and Bolo as the main stars and some various enemies.

But! There's a key difference! By the word of Wayforward themselves, this game does not take place in the Shantae universe, making this game an AU of sorts. They even went to the trouble of differentiating the Shantae and Bolo designs a little, even if those changes are not the most...streamlined, for lack of a better word.

Now, because this was just meant to be a small game for the Apple Watch of all things, this universe was...not really fleshed out. It didn't really need to be for the things it was trying to set out to do. And, as the game itself has been taken down from the app store, it seems the most it will ever contribute to is being a weird little footnote on the Shantae wiki, and for most people, that'd be for the best.

But I am not most people, so for this year's anniversary, let me try and flesh out this universe anyway!

General -

So whereas Shantae is normally something of a smorgasboard of various mythologies and eras, what with genies, mermaids, steam tech and robots all existing in the same games, the Watch Quest universe is slightly more grounded, with a more solid (if still nebulous) foundation of "medieval europe" like so many other fantasy titles. Basically, imagine this as the D&D/RPG Game AU of Shantae

As is to be expected of such a world, there are plenty of parties of adventurers out and about doing various quests, as well as plentiful danger along the way. Generally, quests handed down by the crown take priority, but it's really up to the group which quests to tackle first

As you'd expect, Shantae, Sky Bolo, and Rottytops are one of these groups! Obviously, they tend to face off against Risky Boots, but they also help out with just some various monsters or the Watch Quest incarnations of other Shantae villains

The Heroes -

Shantae:

Design notes: I didn't do this for the Reversal AU because it'd be more fun to leave the designs up to interpretation, BUT since we actually do have canon designs and they're like. Not that great. I'd figure I'd give my thoughts on how I would make these guys look

Anyway! Shantae's cloak in her canonical Watch Quest design is cool and all, but it's also painfully obvious how it's tacked on to the original design with it, you know, being blue and all, so either her pants have to change color or her cloak does. I'm going with the former since there is precident for Shantae in blue and also when I visualize it it it just kinda works? If you're wondering "wait what about the top," the official art has her wearing a black top instead of her more usual red one. That is not reflected in the sprites at all but I like that design choice so I'm sticking with it. Also, to make the black a bit more prominent, I'd switch out her golden arm cuffs for black gloves, as well as switching out her shoes for black boots. Take out the bits of gold on her pants in exchange for a black belt and hip holster for her scimitar and you're done!

Compared to her canon self, WQ!Shantae has had a...rougher upbringing. Unlike in Shantae, there are no genies - instead, Shantae is the child of a human knight and a fae, woodland spirits known for being benevolent guardians, cruel and petty tricksters, and everything inbetween. Most people consider fae to be unreliable and untrustworthy simply by nature, so to be the child of one and a human? Needless to say, people got up in arms about her.

Her Uncle Mimic tried to raise her, townspeople be damned, but as Shantae grew older Mimic's neighbors grew more and more adamant about getting her out, to the point of nearly running him out of town. Not wanting that fate for Mimic, Shantae ended up running away when she was a kid to spare him the town's ire, and thus began a life on the lam.

Lacking any other ways to support herself as she was growing up, Shantae ended up becoming a talented small-time thief, knowing how to pick pockets and quietly take from the market without anyone noticing. She only ever took what she needed to survive, of course - just because she used rougher means to get herself food and keep a roof over her head didn't mean she lost her morals.

This lifestyle was what led her to meet Bolo - during one of his first missions, escorting a noble to his manor, she'd pocketed some of the noble's money when they bumped into each other on the road and Bolo noticed. A chase ensued, and as it went on, Bolo was quick to realize her obvious skill. When he finally managed to corner Shantae, instead of arresting her, Bolo instead offered to give Shantae a legitimate way of working as an adventurer. She accepted without hesitation.

She was accepted on Bolo's recommendation as well as a couple of tests, and soon after, the two of them formed what would be the start of their party. And so began Shantae's life as an adventurer!

Shantae's adventurer class is Rogue, a class known for its speed and stealth. Her job tends to be to either scout ahead or to act as a distraction so the heavy hitters can get into position, though she's no stranger to taking down opponents herself.

Bolo:

Design Notes: Honestly, out of the two canon designs we got for this, Bolo's is worse. And Watch Quest was supposed to give him more focus. My man really gets done dirty no matter which universe, huh? In any case...the cape is fine, but like with Shantae's cloak, either it needs to change color or something else - in this case Bolo's headband - needs to match. Going with the headband in this case, as a red headband works both for the eyes as well as for what will be a bit of a bolder characterization for Bolo here. Also, swapping out his jacket and leather protective equipment (i.e. his boots and gloves) for actual armor, because as nice as his normal look is, that cape has to attach somewhere, and it also fits nicely with his greatsword.

Moving on to the actual lore - Bolo here is the son of a blacksmith in a small village close to the kingdom's capital, meaning that as a kid Bolo grew up surrounded by tales of knights and adventurers riding out to glory. And ever since, he knew - he wanted to be like that. He wanted to be a champion of what was right, to inspire others, to be someone's hero.

And so, he got to training. Whether it be with his mom as a kid, swinging at her with nothing but a stick and pure childish stubborness, or with the actual royal guard as he got older, signing in to join and get some proper swordsmanship under his belt. And then, when the time came, he went to his mother's forge, made a new set of armor for himself, and went out to become an adventurer.

Which...did not initially go as well as he expected, admittedly; turns out "ex-royal guard" is not as great a thing to have on your resume as he thought it would be. He didn't get that many job requests, but when he actually formed a party with Shantae and it grew in members, gradually they got more and more quests to handle. The fact that they had several adventures against major threats also helped.

Compared to his canon self, WQ!Bolo is more confident, knowing full well how capable he is in a fight and actually being able to inspire and lead the others fairly well! He does still have some insecurities about his intelligence, though - because despite it all, Bolo can still be as dense as a rock sometimes.

Bolo's adventurer class is Knight, a class known for good power and defense but low speed. His job is to take hits that the others can't and dish that hurt back out to their opponents in turn. Or, in other words, Bolo is the tank.

Sky:

Design notes: I don't HAVE to cover the others since they don't have Watch Quest designs, but I'll do some quick notes for my mental images of them anyway because it's fun. In Sky's case, I imagine instead of her hooded cape she just has some pink and blue head wrappings to secure her hair, as well as some slightly more formal dress and a wooden staff topped with a bird.

Sky...did not grow up with the best images of adventurers in her life. Both her parents were adventurers, and their constant quests meant they were rarely ever home. Then, one day, while they were out on a seemingly typical quest, Sky got a knock on her door, and she was promptly informed that they weren't ever coming home again. Both of those combined experiences growing up led to her believing adventurers were good-for-nothing morons with a death wish, and rather than risk being taken in by one, she ran into the woods and began to live with the birds she'd befriended when her parents weren't home.

The only reason her and Bolo's party ever interacted at all was because there was a big game hunter in her woods looking for trophies, and as it so happened, all of Sky's bird friends were fairly rare...realizing she couldn't defeat the hunter alone, she reluctantly went out to the nearest guild and put out a request. And after some initial rejections from other adventuring parties, Bolo and Shantae were the ones to pick it up.

Sky went with them because she didn't trust either of them an inch, but as the days passed and she talked with them more and more, she started to realize...they weren't that bad? Talking with Shantae felt as natural as talking with her birds did, and Bolo...Bolo was something else. At the end of the quest, after the hunter was defeated and the topic of payment was being discussed, rather than try and scam them like she'd initially planned, Sky ended up offering her services as payment instead, saying it was the least she could do after they helped save the birds that were as close to her as family.

Being more isolated from society growing up, Sky's rather mistrusting of...everyone, really, but she is working on it. That being said, she trusts Bolo's party with her life, especially Bolo and Shantae, and will defend them all fiercely as well as provide some comfort if they need it. She can't say she trusts them with their own lives, though; as the resident healer of the party, she's the one in charge of keeping them all alive, and, well...let's just say that complete lack of any kind of self-preservation drives her up the wall. And her blood pressure. Her poor, poor blood pressure.

Speaking of! Sky's adventurer class is, as you might expect, Druid, a mystic class with connections to nature. She prefers to talk to and work with birds most of the time, like the one she has as her companion, Wrench, but Sky can talk to other animals and control plants as well. As mentioned before, she also knows a lot of healing spells, and is the designated healer here.

Rottytops:

Design notes: For Rottytops' design...I'm imagining something like Armor Baron's cursed armor set mixed with some furry pelts, with her weapon being a gigantic hammer and her hair being done up in a small ponytail like it is in her Fillin disguise.

Rottytops had perhaps the most antagonistic introduction to Bolo's party, being raised up as part of a certain Hypno Baron's undead army and serving as its general, fighting alongside him when Bolo, Shantae, and Sky showed up to stop him. But then something strange happened - when Bolo and Shantae landed a combination attack on Hypno, something snapped whatever control he had over her, and Rottytops promptly decided that working for Hypno Baron sucked, actually, so she swung around and started helping take him down.

Eventually, he fell, and Rottytops tensed, waiting for the magic animating her to fade and dissipate...but nothing happened. She got weaker, sure, but compared to crumbling apart she'll take not being boss-level powerful anymore. With nothing better to do, Rottytops elected to join Bolo's party! Without asking. Or informing anyone about this, really. Rottytops' communication skills leave something to be desired. Thankfully, despite that little issue, she did manage to get officially accepted into the party.

WQ!Rottytops is a lot more straightforward compared to her canonical counterpart. She has the capacity for clever and zany schemes, sure - she was a general, after all - it's just that she doesn't see the need to scheme most of the time when 95% of the time the solution can just be her hammer. Besides that, Rottytops is still very much a gremlin here.

Rottytops' adventurer role is Barbarian - a glass cannon of sorts, with big emphasis on the cannon part of that. That hammer isn't for show, after all! Rottytops can enter a berserker rage, but generally doesn't, because she doesn't like losing control of herself like that.

Villains -

Risky Boots:

I do have thoughts on how the other villains would work, but I'm sticking with just Risky for now since I'm kinda pushing how close this is to the anniversary. Also not including design notes for this reason

Anyway! Risky Boots is the first major threat Bolo's party faces after they've all been gathered together, and she's incredibly feared in the Watch Quest-verse...for good reason.

Risky is technically a warlock, that being a mystic class that draws power from a deal with a devil rather than something innate to them, but the key word here is very much technically. What actually happened was Risky summoned the demon, kicked his ass, and took his powers for herself, even wearing his skull like some kind of macabre trophy. People don't know what the hell to qualify Risky as at this point other than dangerous.

The first scheme Bolo's party put a stop to was to piece together a magic artifact that could have allowed her to take over the kingdom with ease, but while they ended up beating her, she managed to escape before she could be imprisoned. So, ever since, she's been a consistent threat for Bolo's party.

Not much to say about Risky's personality in Watch Quest, since it's about the same as in canon, with the main difference being that WQ!Risky, without years of being under the Pirate Master's heel, is a bit more willing to let herself be emotionally vulnerable. Only a bit, though; she still has a reputation to maintain, after all.

[void-ink-studios]

Incarnations AU - A Little Explored Kirby Power [Part 2]

Another day, another short. This time, a 2 parter! As promised, here’s part 2!

Characters: Kirby and Meta-Knight (prominently), Nightmare and Dark Matter (implied/referenced)

TW for this chapter: MAJOR themes of both emotional and physical abuse, as well as gaslighting.

Word Count: 2,500

Part 1 | Part 2 (You are here!)

Meta Knight knew it was a mistake to visit the Dream Fountain today.  He knew it was a mistake, because it’s always a mistake.  He loathed it, and the wand sticking out on top.

It was a shame, too.  Because it was such a beautiful spot in the castle.  If he could stand looking at it, he’d love to let Kirby explore it more than the little glimpse they got today.  He could see the child rolling around in the soft grass, oohing and awing at the water that sparkled like starlight.  It was like you stepped into another world, when you approached the Dream Fountain.

And yet, Meta Knight would rather attempt to eat his own mask, walk on hot coals, and poke holes in his wings with a red hot poker, all at the same time, than get anywhere near the Dream Fountain for any longer than necessary.

It wasn’t for anything specifically about the fountain, he agreed that it was beautiful.  Stunning, even.

It was the ghost that haunted the fountain that kept him away.  If there was a way to exorcise the Dream Fountain, he’d take Kirby on a picnic and marvel at the rainbow swirls of the water.

But, for the safety of Popstar, and the Galaxy at large, everything stays as it is right now.  What haunted the Dream Fountain was not something to be dealt with, at least not right now.  Just contained, until he could figure out what to do next.  But, everyone was safe for the time being.

Although the collective safety of Popstar held little comfort when Meta Knights felt a presence latch onto his mind the second he steps too close.  It’s all the in he needs.

He could feel it, waiting for him to fall asleep, so they could play their game.  A game they’ve played for decades now.  One that guaranteed to put him out of commission for the next week, at least.

He could feel it, getting ready as he tucked Kirby into bed that night.  It circled his mind, like a vulture, waiting for an injured animal to just keel over and submit.  He felt little prickles on the back of his neck and top of his head.

He almost wished Kirby would demand more bedtime stories, but the child needed their rest.  He ran a hand through their fluffy hair, tucking them in for the night.  He switched off the light, taking this lingering moment of peace to watch the child settle in the soft glow of the star lights hanging from the ceiling.

They will be okay tonight.  Safe.

His own bed, however, wouldn’t see that kind of peace.  Especially not tonight.

He nearly begged Captain Vul, Trident Knight, or even Sailor Dee if any of them needed help in the night shift tonight.  The Captain had given him a stern look, reasserting that things will be fine and that Meta needed to rest.  Trident and SD both also declined his offer, leaving the voice in his head to snicker at his efforts.

He tried to find something in his room to distract himself.  Surely there must’ve been some paperwork to be done, some decree by the King that needed addressing, just something.  Hell, he’d even reread one of his least favorite books if it could save him from sleep.

And yet, he felt his resolve failing him.  His eye lids were so heavy, and his limbs felt like dead weight.  Vul was right, he really needed his rest.  He’d been working for nearly 36 hours straight, he needed sleep, he knew he did.  He knew the voice knew this too.

The voice sprang its trap the second he closed his eyes.

“Welcome home, little bat,” the voice snickered.  Meta hated how he felt so much smaller, so much more helpless.  He was never small the way Kirby is now, but dear Void did he make him feel like he was.  His beloved sword and mask were nowhere to be found, like they didn’t even exist.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings.  He found himself on a platform, high above the abyss of space, no way off without walking along a narrow bridge of light.  Rainbows fell off the edges like a waterfall.  It’d be beautiful if not for the ominous presence looming over his back.

Meta didn’t look behind him.  He wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“This isn’t home.  It never was.”

The voice growled slightly.  There was a small force pushing Meta forward.  On shaky legs, he stepped onto the starry road.  One foot in front of the other.

“That’s no way to talk to your elder, little bat.”

Meta didn’t dignify that with a response.  No need to encourage this.

“So, little demon, have you snapped and killed the oaf of a king yet?”

Meta stopped walking at that.  He could feel the smile growing behind him, almost like the teeth were touching the back of his neck.  His ears flicked uneasily.

“No, no of course not.  He is my friend.”

“Friend?  That lazy imbecile is beneath you, fully at your mercy.”

“I am loyal to him, as he is loyal to me.  You wouldn’t understand that word, loyalty.”

“Loyalty is how you end up made a fool of.  What will that loyalty do for you when your little friends realize you’re a monster?”

“I am not a monster.  That’s what you chose to call me.  It doesn’t make it true.”

“You’re Voidborn, just like me.  Just like us.  You’re an Incarnation, just like the monsters you pretend to defend your pitiful little planet from.”  Meta felt a clawed hand wrap around his shoulder.  “You’re one of us, Meta Night.”

Meta shook his head, trying to banish the voice.  “Don’t call me that.  You don’t get to call me that anymore.”  His wing batted the hand away as he walked his tiny self across the road of stars, looking down into the void below.

“I’m an Incarnation, yes.  But I am nothing like you.  You, Dark Matter, Galacta Knight… you all hurt people.  You laughed as people cried in terror.  As people fell from lack of sleep to avoid you.  You are all monsters.”

He felt more than heard the bellowing laugh rattle through his bones.  He stole a glance up, the starry road coming to an end.  His bare feet crunched against the cold, blue dust as he stepped onto a desolate moon.  He looked up into the ever expanding reach of infinity.  His home is out there somewhere.

“And what of you, little demon?  I remember the pathetic little creature you were when we first met.  How quickly you were ready to claw and bite and slash at any poor thing that got too close.”

Meta Knight kicked a rock along the edge of a crater, still not looking behind him.

“And I remember you making me that way by sewing distrust of my own body.  Foolish as I was to trust you, I was still new.  I forgive my younger self thinking I could believe a word you said to me.  I am not a monster, not the one you wanted me to be.”

Meta kicked the rock, jumping a little as it skidded over an icy lake.  He gazed out at the endless pool of crystals, how the stars twinkled on its surface.

“From what I heard, you nearly butchered a baby, in cold blood, little demon.”

Meta tensed at that.

“...How do you know about that?”

“It was right there, helpless to stop you, and you nearly cut it down with your sword.  What would your King have to say about that, hmmm?”

“Answer the question.  How did you know about that?  You’re trapped, you don’t know any of what’s happening on Popstar.”

“I bear witness to all of your dreams, little bat.  I know how you thought about butchering a helpless little babe.  You were going to do it, if it didn’t start crying.  I was almost so proud of you, my little monster.”

“S-Stop it… I wasn’t going to kill them, I-I wasn’t, I’m not-”

“Not like me, you’re right.  You demanded an infant fight you.  You called an infant a coward.  You’re a monster alright.  But also an utterly pathetic one.”

Meta stumbled on his words, shaking his head.  He felt a push, knocking him down onto his knees to stare into the ice.  He could see the glittering teeth in that awful smile leering over him.  He felt a huff of breath trapped in a laugh against his neck.

“Butcher.”

He hesitated, and that was all he needed.  A shadow, as tall and imposing as ever loomed over him.  He could see it on the ice, how the figure leaned to hunch over him.  The stars disappeared from the lake’s surface as shadowy tendrils wound their way up around Meta’s arms.

“Let go,” Meta demanded, tugging back with his quickly draining might.  “Go away, you’re not real!  Go away!”

“What would your little lackeys have to say if they saw the miserable little wretch you’re meant to be?  A butcher in their happy little midst.  Like they’d be able to stop an Incarnation.”

The tendrils tightened, pulling the struggling Knight down into nearly a bowing position.

“Come on, little bat, let me see those horrid little wings.”

Meta hissed as a set of boney hands harshly gripped the base of his wings, forcing them open.  He flapped them furiously, trying to escape the freezing grasp holding him down.  He could feel his mind slipping, defaulting back into that awful headspace, the one that froze and obeyed when he was held down like this.

“Isn’t this nice, little bat?  This game we used to play?  Remember how you’d beg for this just to not upset me?  All I had to do was say one word, and you’d fall into place, like a little doll.  Face it, Meta Night, you’re a tool.  Meant to service better Incarnations.  Now, stop struggling, and just-”

“Meba…?”

Meta Knight froze at the tiny little voice.  He snapped his head up, looking around for its source.  Where were they?  Please, no, don’t be here, please!

“Hmmmm?  Now, what is this?”

“You leave them alone!  Don’t touch them!”

“Hush, little demon.  Now, do my ears deceive me, or was that the child you tried to slay?  Oh, my sweet, stupid Meta Night, you are pathetic.  Are they a more powerful Incarnation you’re serving now?  Or are you looking for your own tool, to pretend to be one of the higher beings?”

Meta hissed again, baring his fangs and scraping his feet to pull himself free.  The hands on his wings tightened and yanked, hard.

“Come out, little one, come look at Meta Night, in his proper place.  Let me get a good look, I’ll see where you belong as well.”

“Don’t you dare!  Stay away from them, they’re just a child!  Don’t touch them!”

Meta wrenched his hands free, growling and lashing out at the hands behind him.  He whipped around, his face reflected in the awful grin

“There you are, little bat.”

Meta barely realized his mistake before a clawed hand wrapped around his throat.  He stared, eyes wide, into the visor.  He never did see what lies behind that glass.  And if there was any justice in the Galaxy, he’d die not knowing.

“Get off of me!”

The grip tightened, pushing Meta back to the ground.

“Submit.”

He froze at that word, his limbs wanting to go limp.  He tried to push through the struggle as best he could before he felt his head slam against the ice.

“Seems I must reteach your basic training, little bat.”

Meta made a sound, or at least tried to through the pain pounding the back of his head.

“You.  Will.  Submit.”  Each word was punctuated by another bash to the back of his head, the last one managed to plunge his head through the sheet and into the water.

He felt water rush into his nose, the cold shock sinking into his skull along with the dull ache radiating from the back of his head.

Meta didn’t know how long he was under.  5 seconds.  30 seconds.  90 seconds.  His lungs ached, burned, his wings thrashing to pull himself up.

He was pulled out by his throat, that smile glittering as he coughed up water and tried to breathe.

“Submit.”

He was plunged back into the water, and held there for another agonizingly long amount of time.  His limbs were giving up on him, his wings the last part of his body still trying to fight.  They hurt so much from how he grabbed and pulled them… they always did.

“Submit-”

Meta expected to go back into the water.  Or to be hit again.  Or to be manhandled by the towering Incarnation clamped around his throat.

He wasn’t expecting to be dropped unceremoniously onto the ice.  He sat up as quickly as he could, scooting away as he watched the grin finally falter, bony hands gripping his head.

“What is this-”

The desolate moon started sprouting grass.  Light green grass, soft grass, the kind on Popstar.  Meta looked back, the icy pool melting into a gorgeous little lake, with Blippers and Flozos jumping and swimming.

The scream that not as much of a grin bellowed made Meta clamp his hands over his ears and close his eyes.  In the muffled darkness, he felt warmth, first spilling over his back and aching wings before wrapping around his chest like an embrace.

He opened his eyes again, seeing Mount Dedede grow in the background, the castle standing proudly.  He was propped against a tree, with an open book on the grass next to him.

And Nightmare was a crumpled heap in the grass.

“This isn’t over, Meta Night!  You hear me?  This isn’t over-”

The awful creature disappeared in a low rumble and thick purple smoke.  In its place, Kirby stood, waving their hand at him.  The poor boy looked tired as he waddled up the hill, sitting next to Meta.

“Are you ready to go home, little one?”

Kirby shook their head, leaning against Meta’s side.

“It’s okay, Meba… Sleep well.”

They nestled into his chest, and Meta couldn’t find it in him to mind.  Instead, he wrapped them up in his arms, keeping them tucked close with his wing.

“Okay… sleep well, Kirby.  Dream in color.”

He didn’t have a clear idea as to how his mind managed to fight back so aggressively against Nightmare this time.  It hadn’t done that before, at least not that effectively.

Meta might’ve figured it out when he awoke the next morning with a very sleepy Kirby tucked into his arms.  One who had definitely not been there when he went to bed the night before.

He pointedly ignored the sets of eyes peering through the crack in his door, deciding he’d deal with the nosey crew later.  Instead, he readjusted, letting Kirby rest soundly on his chest as he ran gentle fingers through their fluffy hair.

[terroreigns]

Continued from [ X ]

@shiroi---kumo​

Only after the magician's fingers nudged the knight's chin higher, did the misty creature suddenly snap fully back to reality. And with that rather abrupt awakening - came defiance. A swish of white hair as the knight's head moved to the side, disgust twisting and tugging at his features.

Oh, my. How very rude.

The soft giggle faded following the Unlimited's words, the Chaotic avatar's own visage shedding any pretense of friendliness. Instead, a sharp, stone-cold look crept onto cadaver-pale skin - their voice suddenly an absolute void of emotion. Like a black hole.

"Feeling feisty, aren't we, Makenshi." The entity's words cut through the air, entirely unamused. And if there was one thing about Chaos one absolutely did not want to do - it was to bore it.

A squeeze of blood-red tendrils followed, an emphasis to the magician's half-statement, half-inquiry. Not nearly enough to break bone, but certainly enough to bruise, forcing the air out of the Misterican's lungs with ease. Just as quickly, the boa constrictor's hold relaxed, snaking slowly up, but not quite high enough to rest around the neck. Yet.

The Troupemaster's expression reverted to a picture of cordiality, lips puckered as a gloved finger wagged slowly. "Nuh uh uh~" A nonchalant reprimand, and a tentacle gently but firmly forced the swordsman to look in their direction.

"You know you're hurting me, don't you? Running off like that. My precious little gem, lost in the filth of this realm." A long, dramatic sigh, followed by a theatrical sadness welling up in frigid eyes. Switching masks with the ease of a practiced actor. "What did I tell you about these savages? They will break you. They just cannot appreciate someone like you. Cannot ever give you the love you so desperately crave and deserve. Savages, that they are. And a gem like you -"

They smiled softly, a perversion of reassurance painted upon too-pale lips.

"...Is just so very brittle. Is that not right, my Little Cloud?"

And there it was, held tightly in the demon's grasp. The Maken was lowered from the darkness of the ceiling, ensnared with no hope of freedom by the serpent's coils. The beast reached for it, bringing it close to their body - just close enough to trace a finger across the soul crystal's scarring. They knew.

Of course they knew. It was Chaos' own fine work, after all.

"Now, let's begin with the very basics, just like good old times, shall we? I am the divine punishment sent upon this realm. My previous incarnation was too good for these animals. Look how they thanked me. And you aided them, like the lost rebellious child that you are. Don't you see it? Used for their ends like some common weapon. Their hands were never fit to wield you, my dearest Little Cloud. But that’s alright. I am forgiving, unless you make that too difficult of your own accord."

A gloved hand left the Maken to rest on the entity's chest. "The name's Anarchy. As you may have already heard, I have had a little change in the form of address. From now on, you will refer to me as Your Frabjousness, or, if that is too complicated, simply: Master."

The magician never ceased to smile, ever patient with their prey until they were not.

"Do you understand, or should I repeat myself? Hmm?"

It seemed now was the time to answer. After all, it was best not to bore the living flesh of Chaos with unnecessary silence.

[thet-wordfearer]

Your laugh is like golden sunshine

Watched Willow (Netflix) and now I can’t get this idea outta my head so…

Also first fic please don’t hate me for this being bad

Ler: Jade

Lee: Kit

TW: T-word fic so yeah that’s it

…

Loving someone is a mess. Jade knew that all to well.

And loving Kit was like wanting to hold fire, it only got you burned.

Kit being the hard-headed, stubborn, mostly apathetic, bratty, woman she was. She was fire incarnate.

So when a friendly spar turned into a secret discovered, oh was the red-head going to take advantage of that.

…

“I can do fine on my own. I don’t need more training.”

Kit lay a giant a rock in the woods they had entered and she really just didn’t want to get up at the moment.

Jade rolled her eyes, as stubborn as Kit always was, Jade was almost at her limit today.

“Fine, a friendly spar then. Show me you don’t need my help, princess”

Kit narrowed her eyes, then sighed “Fine, I’ll prove it to you then.” Grabbing her sword of a rock, and stapling the sheath to her waist, she begrudgingly got up and followed her friend.

Making their way into a clearing, the young knight unsheathed her sword and the princess followed suit.

“Ready to lose?” Kit confidently teased

“We will see” Jade replied

The sound of metal striking each other filled the sunlit trees with a clanging echo, and Kit at first seemed to be gaining the upper hand, until she was knocked on her butt again, then again, by the third time she was getting irritated.

“Am I losing yet?” Jade smirked

“Shut up” the brunette growled

The princess made a jab in which the knight had side-stepped grabbing her side to push her when a squeal escaped Kits lips, she flinched away from the touch.

“Are you hurt?” Jade quickly rushed to her girl friend’s side, dropping her sword next to her.

“No. I- you- you just surprised me. That’s all”

But by the blush creating across Kit’s face, Jade knew she was lying.

“Wait, Kit, are you ticklish?” Jade laughed out

“No! I mean no, no I’m not.” Kit had replied far to quickly and for to enthusiastically to be believed.

“No way, I can’t believe I didn’t know this” Jade smirked, oh this was going to be good.

Kit had take no more then two steps back when the knight had suddenly tackled her friend and a short wrestle had ensued.

Jade sat on her friend’s waist, smiling victoriously.

“Jade- Jade, don’t, I promise, I’m not ti-“ but her words were immediately stopped as Jade dug her gloved hands into Kits sides, and the reaction was immediate.

“Nohohohoho waahahahahaiat”

“Oh this is absolutely golden” Jade laughed as she squeezed up and down her crush’s sides, watching as Kit squirmed and laughed, pushing feebly at the assaulting hands.

“Hahahaha dahahahamn ihihihihit, gehehehet ohohohohof

Kit’s laughter took a higher pitch and came out more frantic speed to it as Jade reached her ribs

“HAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO”

“Is there something wrong Princess?” She teased as Jade moved her hands to her victims stomach.

Kit. Screamed.

“HAHAHAHA HAHAHAHANOT THEREHAHAHAHAHA“

“Why? Bad Spot?”

Kit’s face was a deep scarlet, but couldn’t reply due to laughing so hard.

Finally as her laughter went silent, Jade decided she had enough. Pulling her hands back and smiling down as Kit gratefully gulped in air, a smile still plastered on her face as residual giggles still left her mouth. Jade looked down into her face, the way her face was flushed, hair messy and all over her beautiful face, eyes twinkling in the sun, tears around the corners. She was smitten and all she could do was stare.

“Uh, Jade, still sitting on me.”

Jade blushed a deep red, “right, sorry.” She got up and offered a hand, which Kit took.

“I can’t believe your ticklish.” Jade laughed as she bent down and picked up her and the princess’s forgot sword, throwing the other to Kit, they headed back to camp.

“Don’t even think about telling anyone.” Kit huffed as she walked along side her knight.

“You know,” Jade smirked

“Ugh now what?” Kit groaned as she looked at the red-head

“You never did say stop.”

“Yes I- I mean I- shut up”