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mistkissedmoon · 9 months

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Rebuilding Azarath

Raven visits azarath sometimes, to wander in between the wreckage of what used to be buildings, for a reason she doesnt know. Nostalgia? Punishment, and reminder both? Either way, she is obedient to her duties on earth and always precise in her timing, telling starfire how long she will stay beforehand and returning when she says she will, so starfire permits it with a worried frown that eases whenever robin asks to join her. Raven would accept his company for that alone, even if she didn't find his silent presence at her side grounding. He made time for her without complaint, even when she only gave him a few rushed minutes notice, until one day she knocked on his door and he opened it to reveal a packed bag on his bed.

Raven's stomach dropped, and Damian read her expression and frowned, stepping aside to let her in. "It's a mission in Gotham," he explained. He packed the last of his clothes and turns back to her. "I won't be gone for long." His eyes betrayed his concern, and raven straightened to reassure him. "I'll be fine. I'm just going to walk around for a bit, then I'll teleport back."

She repeats it to herself firmly as her feet touch azarathian soil, but it's so much lonelier without Robin. She hadn't noticed how much easier it was to breathe, and take up space and make noise with him beside her. Slipping through the broken streets, raven felt as though she were choking on the silence. Her footsteps ring out unbearably loud in contrast to the silence, yet the noise didn't help her at all. It feels as if she is being rude by disturbing the silence, as if Azarath itself disdained her presence here.

She frowns at the thought, before seeing if flying silently would help her feel a fraction of the serenity she felt with Damian's strength to lean against.

It doesn't.

She's wasting his time.

Raven hovered outside Damian's door, willing herself to knock.

Why would he come with her, if he has anything else he could be doing? When before she hadn't even given him an hour's notice, certain she wouldn't mind if he joined her or not?

She shuffled in place, before deciding, miserably, to leave. As she turned, his door opened, catching her off guard. Damian, looking unsurprised to see her, raised an eyebrow at her and she flushed, realising he had been waiting for her to knock.

"You must have something to say, after waiting so long at my door." Damian said dryly. Raven flushed deeper, and he leaned against the door, studying her expression as though he wanted to memorise it. His inspection made it harder for her blush to recede and she fumbled for an answer, before clearing her throat to compose herself.

"Would you mind visiting Azarath with me?" It came out meeker than she intended, and she cleared her throat again in embarressment. There were so many explainations on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to pressure him into agreeing by telling him how much safer she felt when he was with her. Caught between the urge to defend her unexplainable need to visit azarath and the desire to tell him why she wanted his company, she wrested with her tongue and stared at the floor between them, too many thoughts in her head to say something coherant.

"Of course I wouldn't mind." Raven peeked at his face and found his eyes softened and gentle. "If you give me enough warning, I'll try to rearrange my duties to go with you."

Raven felt warm. "Why did you come with me every time, even when I didn't give you warning?" She murmured. Although they were alone in the corridor, this moment felt intensely private and she leaned closer to him without thinking.

"You needed me." He said simply. "I won't let you down when you need me." Damian reached around her waist and gave her a quick hug that she leaned into.

Though it takes courage, it becomes easier to ask for his company after that. He makes it so obvious that she's a priority. Damian is far too stubborn and perceptive to let her slip away. Raven loves him so much.

Raven waited patiently for damian to stand after he kneeled to check something in the dirt. It was commonplace, as her wanderings grew more like wanderings and less like feverish hauntings, for him to stop and inspect something he saw; a piece of rubble, a ruined sign in the dirt.

"Raven. Your father…" Damian hesitated before continuing, his voice toneless in a way that told her he was hiding nervousness, and she turned, alert and wary. He was still inspecting, or pretending to inspect the soil, and with his back turned to her she couldn't see his expression. "The soil may be useable a few centimeters below the surface. I believe the years have been enough time for it to recover, only the seeds were all destroyed. We could replace them, if you like." Raven froze, shocked. Azarath, blooming with life, again? After what she did to it? Could it recover - No. Nothing could ever make the ruins clean again. Would the monks have thought she was trying to absolve her guilt by growing a garden on their graves? Cowardice. She seethed with self loathing. "Raven. Breathe." Raven became aware of Damian's, warm, calloused hands cupping her face and her own panicked breathing. Tears pricked at her eyes and despite her best efforts, a few rolled down her cheeks. Damian's eyes stayed fixed to hers and in a bid to calm herself, she slowly leaned towards him until their foreheads were pressed together. Damian didn't move, though his eyes showed uncertainty, and after a few tear soaked minutes she took a deep, heaving breath and stepped away, honoured by his trust in her and embarressed that she broke down in front of him.

"Let me think about it." Raven croaked. Damian waited patiently as she tried to order her thoughts. She didn't know what the monks would have wanted. Years of guilt and avoiding thinking about them had made their memories so blurry she could barely remember their faces, and only the repeated lectures their stern voices drilled into her. Their lessons hadn't been enough to halt youthful foolishness, though they had tried their best to ensure she understood the inherent value found in living things. "A garden. I think they would have liked that." She rasped, finally. Damian didn't pry about who she was talking about, and stayed with her silently, sensing she needed a minute. A garden for them. They would want to be in a garden. It won't be for me, and I won't forget what i did. If you can hear me, she prayed, thank you, and I'm sorry.

The rows of potato plants looks strange against a backdrop of collapsed columns and crumbling stone stairs, but after so long with nothing but the ruin left in trigon's wake, raven is glad to see any life growing on azarath. It's a far sight from the elegantly draped flora that used to grace Azarath, but she was too young to remember the names of any plants before they were incinerated to look for them on earth and after, all that remained of them was ash. The thought of making the hollow corpse of Azarath into a copy of what it used to be makes raven shiver, anyway, and she hasn't figured out how to remember the old azarath without seeing her mother dying. Restoring azarath to what it was exactly would not help her; she already suffers through visions of the past superpositioned onto the present - where this monk died, and or that monk was cut down as he ran - where buildings survived enough to facismile an appearance of before and during. Damian's offer to ask swamp thing for any plants that might have been on Azarath was sweet, though, and Raven takes it as the offer of support it is, and breathes through the guilt he didn't mean to elict.

Instead, a sprawling, tangled web of pumpkin vines that neither of them remember buying shove their neighbors to make themselves comfortable in a large corner of the messy plot she and Damian had cleared of rubble to prepare for a small garden. They had tilled the soil, damian easily working through his half while she panted through hers. Her patch of ragged, overturned soil and untouched earth looks both freshly overturned and strangely methodical and uniform when she comes back from her break, and she shoots Damian a wry look that he pretends not to notice. She supposes she won't turn down his help on her side, though it hurts her pride, since her shoulders ache worse.

She silently planted Purple hyacinth for regret, and a few days after find blooming zinnias (remembrance, goodness, friendship) amongst her flowers. They bring a smile to her face, although she privately thinks damian esteems her too highly (he thinks the same of her).

She considers planting asphodel (my regrets follow you into the grave) but Damian has been determinedly trying to persuade her to grow spices for cooking with a ferocity that Raven privately finds adorable, and she aquieses in anticipation of the food he will feed her. She hopes the departed monks won't notice the difference between the plants.

Damian has been bringing Daylillies to fringe the edges. Raven admires the way the golden petals look in the sunlight, and adds her own seeds and saplings, until the garden has been expanded twice and the vegetables make regular additions to the titans fridge. The garden looks overgrown, huge and healthy but riotous, individual plants boundaries' ill defined and sloppy from where the plants had grown beyond their boundaries and she hadn't had the heart to clip them. It was a wonder they were growing at all - how are plants supposed to flourish in half melted, seared soil? Whatever mixture Damian has been pouring into the soil (It might be magic), Raven is grateful, knowing he does it for her sake. She doesn't think she could bear it if her garden died now. She wouldn't try to grow anything here ever again.

Ravens aware it's irrational, but she'd been secretly convinced in a guilty, superstitious way, that nothing except her and her father would be able to breathe the air without slowly dying. Raven never tells anyone her fears, even though she suspects Damian already knows. The first time Damian asked to plant something there, she froze, after all. When she realised they had been on azarath for hours every weekend, she trembled, and fiercely hoped that damian would remain as strong and lively as ever. Raven would do anything, anything at all, to make sure what happened on Azarath wouldn't happen again (especially not to Damian). Damian didn't remark on the days when she doesn't leave his side, giving her tasks to do and things to hold when he kneels to inspect the soil. Although it doesn't - shouldn't change anything, the grief and fear in her eases when she sees the garden, and even the guilt is sometimes replaced by a contented peace. She wishes that serenity would be less rare; she knows enough psychology to know her self flagellation hadn't helped anybody, but she doesn't know how to stop loathing herself even as she tried not to nurture these feelings. She wants to stop feeling awful about herself. "Thank you. For - everything." He stands to face her, and Raven bit her lip, wondering if she should leave it at that, but he's done so much for her. "For being so patient. And keeping me from drowning here. And the plants and the food and -" The words flood out until she runs out of air, and sucks more in noisily, cringing in embarressment, but he's been looking at her with a gentle, tender look in his eyes since she started talking, so she continues. "You're a good - great friend. I'm so glad to have you in my life." And if she's been silently admiring the way his hair looks in the sunlight more than paying attention to the plants when he's not looking at her, he'll never know. Damian blushes uncharacteristically and looks away. "I'm glad you're in my life, too, Rae." He mutters, clearing his throat. He looks like he wants to say something more, but looks away again, pretending to look over their garden. An unfamiliar tension coils between them, and she stares at him trying to make sense of it until his ears burn red. Feeling pleased at his blush, and embarressed that she was pleased, raven broke the tension by turning away to put away her tools for the night so they could leave.

The air seems fresher then before, the land less imposing (haunted) with a garden, so when Damian suggests bringing Titus to Azarath, she agrees, thinking of dog produced fertiliser and bringing his water bowl.

Titus gambols around, flattening springy stalks. "Titus. Heel." Damian commands. Titus, aware that his master can be charmed into forgiveness with the application of puppy eyes, huffs playfully and races off to chase a dragonfly. Damian grumbles in exasperation, waiting for his dog to return as he always does, which makes raven smile, charmed.

Raven takes her rambling garden all in and hopes the plants won't die. Although she is a poor gardener (not for lack of effort, but skill and experience), she trusts Damian to step in where her attempts aren't enough. There are times where she retreats into herself and does nothing more than hauling bags of fertiliser around for fear that the plants will somehow sense her relation to the demon that scoured all life from this planet, as if they will wilt the moment she touches them. One day, Raven sees a plant drooping and drops whatever she was holding (she cannot remember what it is and does not register if it breaks), gripped by the a wild panic that she is killing this planet again - but no. It is a plant, it does not care of her heritage, and simply needs more water. Damian presses a watering can into her nerveless fingers with a knowing, gentle look and goes to pick up what she had dropped before she can protest and persuade him to tend to it. Days later, it is as green as it's neighbors and Raven decides that it is her favourite plant. She pats it's broad leaves every time before she leaves sheepishly, aware of Damian's amused eyes on her. They had been more amused when she'd dropped a kiss on the leaves before knowing it was covered in spines.

She doesn't bother to define what kind of love she feels for Damian, and she won't until they're ready. She does love him; she can't deny that. All that matters is he is the most important person in the world to her and by the look in his eyes and the shy smile and the unfailing loyalty and support he gives her when he stays with her instead of patrolling, she can tell he feels the same way.

#damirae #I had to check how fire affects soil for this.#Please ignore if the plants would not grow in these conditions I don't know the first thing about gardening.#not really happy with this but its done so im posting #damiraeweek23 #damirae week 2023 #damian wayne #raven #lunar crow

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lunarsands · 5 months

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ESMP S1 Fanfic - A Garden's Path - Ch 1

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the rest of the cast of Empires SMP S1, featuring blaze-hybrid emperor TangoTek, and introducing: The Children of Mythland (specific characters to be tagged when they appear in each chapter)

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Smallishbeans, Shubble/Katherine Elizabeth, TangoTek & SolidarityGaming

Tags: Empires SMP S1 AU, scosage, adoption, fluff, wholesome, so much wholesome fluff you would not believe, a bit of angst here and there, Sausage has a few nightmares for Plot reasons, acknowledgement of amputation (not sure how else to tag that but just in case)

WARNINGS: fantasy racism (human v elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Chapter Summary: Sausage and Scott set out to Rivendell to start visiting orphanages, hoping to find a child who won't mind their differences. It ends up not being Sausage's prosthetic arm that is off putting, and yet it turns out they don't even have to worry about traveling elsewhere when they meet two young boys who are not only simply curious, but also a perfect match when it comes to compassion and magic.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Prologue ]

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Chapter One – The First Princes

Dressed in plain travel clothes and with an overnight bag on hand in case they needed to stay in Rivendell for any extra time, Scott and Sausage stepped up into the simple carriage devoid of any official heraldry that waited in the stable yard. They settled in across from each other as the carriage began to move, and for about the tenth time that morning Sausage adjusted the partial shirt sleeve over the top end of his prosthetic, trying to get it to lay just right.

“Nervous?” Scott asked.

“A little. I hope this thing doesn’t scare too many of them.”

“It’s your arm, plain and simple. Just think of it that way.”

“Maybe I should have asked fWhip for a full sleeve cover or at least a glove.”

“I remember him saying things like that could get caught in the struts or the gears when you move.”

“Well, I could just hold it still in that case.”

“What if one of the children wants a hug? You would need to move it then.” Scott smiled, knowing the magic word.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, that is true.”

“So nervous, you forgot about things like that. It will be all right, Sausage. This is you now. Just be yourself. There doesn’t have to be any final decisions today, either. We have time.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” He stopped fussing with the sleeve and gazed out the window for a while instead. When they passed the final border into Rivendell territory he began to absently rub at his right shoulder. He was still at it when the carriage stopped. Scott gently pulled his hand away and gave him a reassuring smile before exiting onto the dirt road.

A large cottage with a moss-dotted roof and matching extension to the right side sat in a slightly overgrown grassy field. Further down the road the rest of the village was visible, but the area certainly gave the orphanage a spacious feeling. Sausage tugged at his cloak as he followed Scott to the door where they were greeted by two elven women who spoke warmly in Elvish at first – Scott translated that they were grateful the couple had safely arrived and that they were welcome to come inside and walk around.

As they entered, one of the women did a doubletake upon seeing Sausage’s right arm but she only offered a sympathetic smile afterward. Relieved to have passed that much judgement, they continued further into the building where a large classroom was set up. Most of the space was clear of furniture so the younger children could play with toys on the floor while some of the older ones were seated at desks by the far wall with books or actual classwork. Scott remained near the door, chatting away in Elvish, while Sausage ventured into the room, making sure not to startle any of the children with his approach.

He smiled when some of the little ones looked up at him, giving a small wave with his left hand, then stepped closer to start offering comments on their toys. However, a few of the older children suddenly came over and pulled the smaller ones away while giving wary looks – but it was the side of his head they were looking at, not his arm.

Sausage brought his left hand up to trace the outside curve of his ear, realizing that him being a human was more of a concern than the appearance of his arm. He lowered his hand and turned toward the blackboard, pretending to study the words written there as if what had just happened hadn’t bothered him. He recognized a few of the letters and knew the sounds that went with them from what Scott had begun to teach him. Just to take his mind off the less-than-welcoming reception, he muttered a few out loud. “Lah-ela-ha. Sen dra-ah-din. Te…Tehn. Si-veh…”

“Almost got it,” said a voice to his right. “We’re learning constellation names. The accent can be hard on some of the syllables.”

Sausage glanced down to see a boy with a warm umber complexion, tightly curled orange hair, and amber eyes, who then reached up to tap one of the words. Another boy, pale-skinned with longer, dark green hair and light blue eyes stood behind him. “Sieveh.”

Sausage repeated the word, trying to imitate the melodic sound. The boy shook his head. Sausage tried again, then chuckled. “Sorry, I need more practice. I just started learning.”

“That’s okay. Common is hard to learn sometimes, too.” The orange-haired boy nodded sagely. “By the way, I’m Azahar. I’m eleven years old. This is my best friend, Elowen. He’s nine.” It came out sounding rehearsed. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. My name is Sausage. I’m here with my husband, Scott.” He pointed toward the door with his right hand, being the side closer to it.

Azahar nudged the younger boy and said quietly, “I told you it worked like a normal one.”

Elowen nodded enthusiastically then piped up, “Excuse me, can I ask about your arm? It looks really cool! Have you always had it?”

Relieved that they were interested over intimidated, Sausage gave a patient smile. “You can, and thank you. I think it’s cool, too. It’s actually pretty new.”

“Can I touch it?” Elowen asked, and Azahar nodded as well.

“Um, sure. Just be careful of the wiring and those overlapping parts there, they might pinch your finger.” Sausage got down on one knee so his prosthetic was closer, stretching out his fingers so they could get a look at the mechanics of his hand, too. He turned it over as they cautiously poked at some of the metal.

Azahar began looking over the parts connecting to his upper arm but refrained from lifting the partial sleeve. “Can I ask what happened to your real arm?”

An amusing thought popped into Sausage’s head. “A dragon ate it during a fight!”

“Whaaaat?” Azahar’s eyes went wide.

“That’s even cooler!” Elowen exclaimed. “Did it hurt when the dragon bit it?”

“Yes, but I have a friend who is good with healing magic and she helped me.”

“Did you try to get it back?” Azahar asked.

“No, the dragon really wanted it for lunch.”

“Where did you get this one?” was the orange-haired boy’s next question.

“A friend who invents lots of cool stuff made it for me.”

“How does it wo—”

“What happened to the dragon?” Elowen cried, interrupting. Azahar didn’t seem to mind, and was actually looking happy to see the younger boy so engaged.

“Well, I had to take a break from fighting because that was also my sword arm, but my friends defeated it.”

Elowen was beaming, although still attempted to be a little quiet as he said, “I could have a dad who fights dragons? That’s so cool…”

“Two, actually. He helped me.” Sausage pointed again to Scott, who had noticed the exchange going on and was now walking over. “Scott, this is Azahar and Elowen. We were just chatting about dragon battles.” He gave a quick wink.

Azahar asked something in Elvish, to which Scott laughed and spoke a reply where the only word Sausage understood was brave. Then Scott switched to Common. “So, boys, I hear it’s lunchtime soon. Would you like to sit with us and talk some more? Besides about his fascinating arm?” He grinned, directing the look mostly at Sausage.

“Yeah!!” Elowen cried, then ran back to the desk he had previously been sitting at.

“We have to put away our schoolwork before eating,” Azahar explained. He glanced after Elowen, then gave the two adults something of a sad smile and looked up at Scott in particular. “His eyes are like yours.” Then he walked back to his own desk.

Sausage and Scott traded glances and then started toward the door. Scott asked quietly, “Did – Did you tell them we were only looking for one?”

“No, it didn’t come up,” Sausage answered. “They just wanted to know about my arm. Both of them,” he abruptly marveled. “And neither seem to mind that I’m human, which…the others do care about.”

“Maybe we’ve gotten lucky that there are two who are accepting of the situation,” Scott murmured thoughtfully.

“I think Azahar was trying to make sure we at least choose Elowen. They’re already close friends…”

“We could take both…”

“Let’s see how lunch goes. Maybe… just to make sure they’ll be okay with other stuff about us – uh, aside from that part about where we live. Ahem. We could talk about some other things besides the obvious. Do you want to show them some ice magic, to be on the safe side?”

“I could. Let me talk to the lead caretaker.” Scott broke off to wave at one of the women, while Sausage wandered further from the classroom door, not wanting to be a disruption when the children left for their lunch at wherever the eating area was.

As an accommodation some food was brought to him, Scott, Azahar, and Elowen in the classroom so they could talk without stares from the others. The boys asked about things like their adventures and hobbies, while Scott and Sausage volunteered as much information as they could without giving away their full identities. Azahar grew increasingly more involved when it became obvious that they were both being considered together.

Scott revealed a few tricks he could do with conjured ice magic, making the boys even more curious and intrigued, leading to questions of whether they would be allowed to learn magic. It was agreed that it could be included in their education, prompting them to promise they would do their very best at all their studies and then they showed off some of that day’s classwork.

Not long after that, the boys were sent to pack up their belongings while Scott and Sausage finalized documents with the lead caretaker. She eyed the official seal of Mythland that Sausage placed after his name before hiding the stamp back in his pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell them who you really are before you leave?” she asked in Common.

“We’re certain,” Scott replied. “We’re just two fathers starting a family.” He did trade another glance with Sausage, however. “If for any reason it doesn’t work out, we’ll do the right thing and let you know. But we both hope the next you hear will be about them settling in at their new home.”

When they met the boys at the door, they each took a bag to carry for them, letting Azahar and Elowen run ahead to the carriage, where they none-too-quietly speculated about the size and style belonging to a noble, and asking if it had been rented for the trip since Sausage had told them over lunch that they would be travelling a fair distance to get home. Once their bags were stowed they inspected the interior, having never been inside an enclosed carriage before. Scott and Sausage sat together and watched them with amusement at their curiosity, fielding more questions as the journey home began.

The boys eventually settled down, each taking a side to stare out the windows as the scenery changed from the familiar lands of Rivendell’s climate to the different hills and fields of the neighboring empires. When the first outlying settlements of Mythland came into view, Sausage reached for Scott’s hand with his left, seeking a little reassurance for his nerves.

“Are those giant mushrooms?” Azahar asked, peering out the window at an angle as if to look up under the plant’s cap. “I’ve seen this kind of forest in a book before, it looks amazing up close!”

“We can take a walk out to see some tomorrow,” Sausage suggested. “You’ll be able to see them from the – house, too, when we’re actually home. This is just the outskirts of where we live.”

Elowen looked over with wide eyes. “How big is this forest? It just keeps going! There’s no mountains anywhere!”

Sausage chuckled. “The forest of Mythland is mostly flat, but you’ll be able to see more when the trees thin out.”

The boys went back to watching the outside pass by, having the occasional comment but staying calm until the carriage finally rolled into the main city. Then Elowen gasped and beckoned Azahar over to his side. “Look, look! There’s a big castle!”

“Whoa! Are we going to go past it? Who lives there?”

Sausage couldn’t contain a grin. “We do, and now so do you.”

Azahar turned a look of disbelief toward him. “Wait, that means you… are nobles? So, you own this carriage?”

“Well, not just any nobles,” Scott said, grinning as well. “Our official titles are Lord Sausage of Mythland and King Regnant Scott.”

“K-King? …W-Wait, that means we’re…” Azahar looked at Elowen and wondered if he understood the implications.

“You are the new princes of Mythland,” Scott declared warmly.

Azahar sat back against the seat, digesting the news while Elowen seemed to still be working things out. “So…my new dads fight dragons and are kings of a whole big place with giant mushrooms and no mountains… This is kinda weird but it’s still cool!”

Azahar gave a little laugh and patted his friend-turned-brother on the head. “So, are we supposed to call you ‘Lord’ and ‘King’, um, ‘King Regnant’, too? I don’t know how being a prince is supposed to work except what’s in fairy tales.”

“You can just call us Dad,” Scott indicated himself, then pointed at Sausage, “And Papa, if you like. Or just our regular names. Titles are for use outside the family. You’ll meet some of our friends who go by names like Count fWhip and the Wizard GeminiTay. fWhip was the one who created Sausage’s prosthetic arm. He’ll be like an uncle to you. You’ll see him around because that arm needs regular maintenance, so you’ll see it when he’s not wearing it, too.”

“I hope that won’t bother either of you?” Sausage put in.

The boys shook their heads and Azahar replied, “We’ve seen – what’s it called – ampu…tees? Before. There are some old veterans in our village. But none of them have anything like that.”

“It’s a fWhip original,” Sausage explained, and then began to think of asking the inventor if he was interested in doing similar projects.

Scott had more he wanted to tell them, but at that moment the carriage came to a halt. “Here we are,” he said instead. “Mythland Castle. I am going to ask that you not run around right away. It’s a big place and you could maybe get lost.”

“We won’t, sir—uh, Dad.” Azahar paused then gave a delighted smile at being able to say the word. He helped Elowen get down from the carriage and held his hand to make sure he didn’t start wandering off, since the younger boy was already looking around in fascination.

Sausage followed next and took all of the bags as Scott handed them out to him. Then all four of them went up the steps to start a tour of the boys’ new home. One of the first stops was their bedrooms, down the hall from the royal chambers, and Sausage was now glad he had the foresight to clear a second room previously intended for guests.

However, the boys looked very confused by the options, each staring into the same room, with Elowen questioning, “Where’s my bed?”

“You can each have your own room!” Sausage pointed to the other doorway. “See, there’s another right across from here.”

“No, I wanna be in his room.” Elowen suddenly clung to Azahar’s arm.

The older boy spoke quietly to him in Elvish, and Scott flashed a sympathetic look as he overheard, then Azahar asked, “Can we share one for now? I’ll help move a bed over if you need me to.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll get it,” Sausage chirped, and set down the bags to bustle about in the second room, removing the bedding. Scott directed the boys to stand to the side and went to help him, and a short while later they had rearranged the agreed upon room to accommodate everything. They left the bags to be unpacked later and continued the tour, which included the library, treasury, dining hall, and a stop off in the courtyard for an introduction to Bubbles, which lead to more delight from the boys when they were offered a chance to run around with her.

Sausage told them that she had her own castle to look after but she visited often, so she was their dog to play with, too. Bubbles gave her approval of the children – not that Sausage ever thought she would doubt his decision in the matter. Not long after, he joined in the running around, pretending Bubbles was a scary beast that required fleeing, with extra flee. At one point he hoisted Elowen onto his shoulders, getting him out of range as Bubbles feigned nipping at his ankles. She jumped repeatedly, not getting much higher than Sausage’s stomach, causing Elowen to laugh.

Azahar, meanwhile, drifted over to where Scott sat on a bench watching with his own joy at seeing Sausage having such unrestrained fun. He commented to the older boy, “You’ve been watching out for him for a while, haven’t you?”

“He was really shy when he first got there. I don’t know what happened to his family, but I wanted to help.”

“I heard you were there for a long time.”

“Yeah. I just wanted the littler kids to get a home. I thought I could just, you know, grow up there, and work there. That seemed okay.”

Scott’s heart broke a little at hearing the tone of his voice, the weight of too much knowledge for his age. “If that’s something you would like to do when you’re grown up, we’ll support you. But you’re allowed to be a kid right now, and we’re here to look after Elowen now, too. So go play some more.” He turned a kind smile to him.

“No, let him have Papa to himself for a while. I’d like to sit here with you, Dad.” Azahar returned the smile and sat down. For the next hour or so they simply chatted in Elvish while Sausage and Elowen tired themselves out chasing or being chased by Bubbles.

~*~

Later, after dinner, the boys returned to their room to unpack their things. Azahar had a few of his favorite books that he placed across the top of his dresser. Elowen held up a picture book of his own, which the older boy smiled at and put next to his. Then he helped Elowen organize his clothes before hopping up on his bed to think about the day’s events.

Elowen took a slightly ragged-looking teddy bear out of his bag and climbed up next to Azahar, hugging the doll as he, too, thought about things. “Do you think they’re going to let us stay?”

“I think they’re very happy to have us. Papa is… different, and the other kids didn’t like that.”

“But he’s nice! And a lot of fun! And he has Bubbles!”

Azahar chuckled. “Well, we didn’t know about Bubbles before, either.”

“He let me ask all those things and didn’t get mad and was nice at our home. I don’t know why everybody else didn’t want to talk to him. They didn’t even try to ask him anything!”

“I’ll explain it to you later. Are you going to sleep in your own bed, or do you want me to tuck you in over here?”

“Umm… Can I stay here?” Elowen squirmed. “This place is nice but it’s… kinda scary, too?”

“Well, it’s a lot bigger than we’re used to, and it is a castle.” Azahar went over to get an extra pillow from the other bed, then arranged the blanket over Elowen and smirked. “There might even be ghosts hiding in some secret passage!”

“Nooo! That’s too scary!”

The older boy laughed. “Don’t worry, our dads are brave heroes, remember? They wouldn’t let ghosts or anything else hurt you. We’re their family now, right?” He climbed back onto the bed and made himself comfortable, letting the younger boy snuggle against him for familiarity’s sake.

“So, if we’re princes now, do we have some kind of job we have to do?”

“I don’t know. You can ask tomorrow. But I think we just get to be kids, and run around and have fun like you did today.”

“Okay. … … I’m gonna be extra good, just in case. I wanna stay here.”

Meanwhile, down the hall, the two newly minted fathers were also settling in for the night. Scott picked a stray leaf out from under a strut on Sausage’s prosthetic as he put it away. He looked at the leaf with amusement as he twirled the stem between his fingers, then set it on the windowsill before turning to his side of the bed.

Sausage was already laying down and gazing at the ceiling, then he looked over at Scott. “We have kids now. Two kids. Two… sons.”

“I know. I was there.”

“H— come on, now! Don’t ruin the moment!”

Scott laughed lightly. “I’m sorry. You did seem to be having a lot of fun out there.”

“I’ve ended up always being too busy to play with Bubbles most of the time. But today it felt different, anyway.”

“Now you have someone to share that with you, and meeting Bubbles was like a new experience for them, too.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Sausage went back to staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, then said, “I hope they’ll want to stay. Mythland is going to be different for them.”

Scott thought back to some things Azahar had told him. “It’s something of an adventure for them. Give it some time and we’ll find out how they feel. But I think we made the right choice.”

~*~

Over breakfast the next morning the boys were more subdued and being extraneously polite, with a few ‘sir’s slipping out as food was passed along the table. Sausage cast a couple of worried glances at Scott, who wanted to assure him that they were still adjusting but didn’t want to say it out loud in case it might make them feel like they were doing something wrong.

Finally, it was Elowen who broke the tension. “Excuse me, I wanna ask ‘cause Azahar didn’t know – do we have to do anything special because we’re princes now? Do princes have jobs? I know they rescue girls sometimes but that’s always in stories! What do they really do?”

“Well,” Scott replied, “Princes your age don’t have to worry about jobs yet. You might learn some things about the work we do when you’re older, but even I was only a prince until I married your papa. My brother, who is now also your uncle, has the job of a ruler, and I would only help out if he needed it.”

Azahar waved his fork. “So, if you lived in Rivendell instead of here, we would still be princes?”

“That’s right. Your whole family is royalty.” Scott smiled, feeling that he got past the technicality of having also been a king elsewhere. “Sausage does most of the work because this is his kingdom. The only work you have to do is your studies. We’ll set something up in the library later for that, but this morning we can all go out for a walk or look around the castle more if you like.”

Then Elowen remembered. “The giant mushrooms!”

Sausage nodded, also recalling the boys’ fascination from the day before. “There are some right behind the castle. We’ll go out after everyone is done here.”

Elowen excitedly began eating faster to finish his breakfast, although Azahar quietly reminded him to not eat too fast.

On the way out they ran into Bubbles, so the boys had another good run through the trees until they came across one of the giant mushrooms, which they inspected and made a brief attempt to climb. This time Scott was the one to lift Elowen on his shoulders to reach the underside of the mushroom’s cap, with Azahar watching from below while Sausage had a word with Bubbles.

Apparently, there was something important she needed him for, so after helping Elowen down from Scott’s shoulders, Sausage excused himself but promised to meet back up with them for lunch. The three elves walked for a little while so Scott could show them some of the paths that led either to other outside parts of the castle or into town, then they headed back inside for the remainder of the tour they hadn’t finished the previous day.

They ended at the library, with Scott saying, “I have someone else for you to meet who will help with some of your studies. Please wait here while I go get him.” He held the door open and the boys began to wander around to get a better look at the inside of the library. Elowen hopped up on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, glancing at the books someone had left on the table beside it, while Azahar went to the nearest bookshelf and looked at some of the titles.

Scott returned a few minutes later with some paper and quills tucked under one arm, and the boys were extremely confused to see that he was being followed by a… chicken. A chicken wearing armor with red and yellow heraldry, but still very much a chicken. “Boys, this is Sir Carlos. He’ll be teaching you Mythland’s history and helping with some other lessons.”

Sir Carlos tilted his head at each of the boys in turn, then clucked and said, “Young master Azahar, young master Elowen, it is a pleasure to meet you. I understand your studies center on Rivendell, so I will include that in your lessons. You are welcome to ask any questions about Mythland and I will do my best to answer.”

The two boys couldn’t help staring. Sir Carlos clucked quietly, then sighed. “Yes, I am currently a talking chicken. No, I wasn’t always a chicken. Your… papa has endeavored to return me to my original form but the spell was cast so long ago that it has been lost to time. I have gone on several quests to find the solution, and yes, I will tell you about them, but that will come later. Sire,” he nodded to Scott, who motioned for the boys to join him at one of the reading tables, where he set out the paper and quills, with one set of each for himself, as well.

Sir Carlos flapped his wings and got himself up onto a chair, then onto the table where he began to walk back and forth. “Firstly, tell me about your schoolwork so far, then we will choose a curriculum from there.”

Scott explained the concept of a curriculum in Elvish, then proceeded to help, translate, and take notes of his own. He and Sir Carlos soon had a general list, and then it was Azahar who reminded them about the possibility of learning magic. That one was out of Sir Carlos’ realm of expertise, but Scott decided he could get them started on some of the casting forms for ice magic, while another tutor would be needed for other types.

A little while later Sausage returned from the business with Bubbles for lunch as promised. He put in his thoughts on school lessons and agreed to sit in on the ones about Mythland’s history when the boys asked if he could tell them stories about their new home, too.

~*~

Extra-curricular lessons ended up diverging after a few days, however, when Scott was teaching them how to shape spell sigils in the air and, while Elowen was able to get it on the second try, Azahar struggled – with not a wisp of spell energy being conjured. It soon became clear that he simply didn’t have the propensity for magic. Sausage stepped in and offered to begin his sword fighting training early so that he would have something to do while Scott helped Elowen develop his burgeoning skills; Azahar was, of course, happy for his brother, especially because it looked like ice magic could be his specialty, and it gave them each a different way to bond with their new fathers.

What he lacked in magic he made up for with agility and analysis while using a blade, quickly picking up on the forms, if not yet having the strength to back up his strikes – although those, too, were only meant as examples, and Sausage didn’t push him too hard during practice. He enjoyed the chance to spend time with Azahar, though, getting to know him and making up for the slight lack he felt about not being able to hold full conversations in Elvish like Scott. The boy, in turn, helped him work on learning the language in between their own lessons and Sausage’s kingly duties that kept him busy.

Around three weeks later, everyone seemed to have settled nicely into their new routine, and there were no more worries on either side about whether things would work out. The boys were out playing in the garden with Bubbles during an afternoon off from lessons. Scott sat reading a book and occasionally glanced up when they ran by, although it was something mentioned in the book that made him get up and wander off in search of Sausage.

He found him where he expected to, standing over a desk sorting through a wide assortment of papers with requests from around the kingdom. Scott leaned on the doorway, tapping the spine of the book against his chin. “Sausage, I was just reminded of something. Do you remember how old you were at your debut gala?”

“Ummm, I think maybe I was ten.”

“Oh. It’s different for the elven court. But since this is Mythland, we could start thinking about having one for Azahar soon, since we missed that window.”

“Well, I think my parents waited for one reason or another. Considering the stories, they might have been waiting out a curse or something.” He laughed but cut himself off. “Uhm, maybe it’s not that funny actually, eh-heh. Okay, well, we could just make our own tradition. Split the difference and have one now for both of them, instead of introducing them separately. That might…actually work out better for Elowen, you know? I noticed he, um, gets a bit clingy toward Azahar when new people are around.”

“That’s true,” Scott agreed quietly. “I do like the idea overall. It might be easier on them to experience that part of royal life if they’re sharing a special day.”

“How big are we going to make this thing? Mine was open to the whole kingdom because I was the sole prince at that point. I don’t want to put too much pressure on them.” Sausage then added in a mutter, “Also, remember what happened at that one party after the wedding…”

“I think we’ll at most invite our friends, with the rulers of all the empires being a courteous necessity. It isn’t a secret to our kingdom anyway, but this will be one of those official introduction things.”

“Okay!” Sausage grinned and pushed all the missives into one pile, then took out a fresh sheet of paper and a drafting pencil. Then he began to rattle off fancy phrasing in an ostentatious voice, “Dearest friends, allies, and others, you are hereby invited…”

Scott chuckled as he continued with an exaggerated courtly tone and waited until he was done writing to pluck the pencil from his hand, turn the paper around, and start adding decorative flourishes around the border.

~*~

Everyone had just settled down for breakfast when Sausage announced, “Lessons today will come later, boys. We have an appointment at the tailor shop for something special.” He couldn’t help throwing an excited look at Scott. “We decided we’re going to have a special party for you that royal families hold when introducing a new child to the kingdom called a debut gala. Usually, it’s for one child at a time – well, unless there are twins or triplets, or something – but we’re going to have it for both of you at the same time, so you can share it. We thought you would prefer that.” He smiled gently at Elowen, whose eyes had gone as big as saucers.

Azahar seemed to be fighting back some tears of his own. Then he blurted out, “That – That sounds like it really makes things official! That we… we really do get to stay!”

Now Sausage and Scott traded alarmed looks, and the latter said with concern, “Of course you’re staying! You’re our sons. I – I’m sorry if anything in the last few weeks made you think we weren’t going to keep you.”

Sausage abruptly stood, nearly knocking his chair down, and hurried over to enfold Azahar in a hug. “We - We’ve been worried you might not want to stay, because things are different here, and we’re a little different, but… we love having you here with us! We want you as our family.” He tried to convey his sincerity without squeezing the boy too hard with his metal arm.

Elowen let out a sort of squawk and ran around the table to throw his arms around Scott. “We love you, too! I told Azahar I would behave really good because I really wanted to stay! I’ll keep being really good! A big party sounds scary but I still wanna be a prince!”

Scott gently patted Elowen’s back. “It’s not going to be too big. We’re inviting just our friends and other rulers so they’ll know we have more family now. It will be a bit fancy, but you still don’t have to worry about knowing everything about being a prince. You’ll be introduced to everyone by name, then everyone dances and has some food, and they might ask you some things to get to know you a little. We’ll be right there if you’re not sure about something, or even if it is a little scary.”

Sausage returned to his seat after straightening the chair. “And there’s one more thing: you’ll each get your own special crown! Not like my silly old thing, but something nice that you can wear whenever you want, or not at all – unless there is another fancy event that you’d like to go to.”

Azahar asked curiously, “Then, what will they look like?”

Sausage grinned. “It’s a surprise. But you do get to pick out the outfit and colors you want to wear for it! We’ll head out after breakfast, so eat up!”

As with almost all of the recent trips into town, such as the last time they had gone out to get the boys some new clothes in general, the more people they passed the more Elowen retreated into himself. He clung to Azahar’s hand and shied away against him despite the warm greetings from citizens who were merely happy to see their king and his husband out among them. By the third instance of a shopkeeper attempting to draw a smile from the shy boy, Sausage fell in beside Elowen and offered his left hand for him to also hold, acting as a second barrier to what was meant as politeness, yet was obliviousness on the part of the outgoing citizens.

By the time they reached the tailor’s shop, Elowen had begun to peek around with more curiosity toward his surroundings. Inside, the tailor also greeted them kindly before bustling off to the back room. He returned a moment later with an assistant and a small basket. From it he took three bobby pins with tassels made from metallic string on the ends. He gestured for Scott to lean forward, then he slid a pin with a red tassel into his hair near his ear, then turned to smile at the boys. Azahar accepted a gold one threaded carefully into his hair, while for Elowen the tailor knelt and gently slipped a silver one onto the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

Elowen looked at the tassel dangling from his cuff and the tailor lightly flicked it to make it sway. Elowen smiled and began playing with it, neatly distracted. The tailor then moved to get a tape measure from the basket and took Azahar’s measurements, with the older boy following instructions for how to stand and when to hold out his arms. When it was Elowen’s turn, the tailor asked him to hold out the tassel in different ways, effectively getting him to make the same poses for measuring.

The next step was picking out the style of outfit they wanted. The assistant brought out some examples, which were decidedly on the Mythland side of fashion. Seeing that both of the boys were uncertain, Sausage suggested they could get the same thing in different colors. Azahar glanced at Scott a few times then asked if they could get something similar to his elven tunic with a Mythland-style doublet over it (after he figured out what the clothing pieces were called).

At that point Elowen began to clutch at the tassel instead of still playing with it. Sausage held out his hand again, and now the boy practically buried himself in his papa’s cloak. The tailor cast a sympathetic look at Sausage and Scott, then quietly asked if Elowen would like to touch the fabrics; he didn’t even have to choose one, it was okay for him to just see what they all felt like.

Elowen nodded, and soon he and Sausage were walking through the shop patting at the assorted bolts of fabric with Sausage commenting how soft one was or how the textured pattern on another was weird, getting Elowen to laugh a few times.

Azahar smiled after them, then turned his own attention to choosing something he liked. He eventually settled on scarlet and yellow, hoping to lend significance to the colors of Mythland’s banner as his new home. After some gentle coaxing from Sausage, Elowen went back around and patted some dark blue fabric to indicate his choice.

With everything settled and a follow up day for a fitting agreed upon, they set off back home. Elowen was quiet the entire way and only relaxed once they were on the castle grounds. Instead of departing right away to tend to daily work, Sausage nodded meaningfully to Scott, then nodded toward Elowen as the boy seemed to meander aimlessly away whereas Azahar set off immediately toward the library for the expected delayed lessons.

Sausage moved to Elowen’s side with Scott a step behind. “Elowen, can we talk out in the garden for a moment?”

The boy glanced around for a second, but not seeing Azahar for reassurance, he silently nodded then lowered his head. Sausage gently took his hand and the three of them walked down to the doors leading to the securely walled-in outside area. Once there, Elowen continued to look at the ground. “Sorry if I didn’t act like a brave prince should today. I’m… I’m…” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I get scared sometimes…”

Sausage lowered himself to one knee to get closer to eye level. “You know what? It’s okay if being around a lot of strangers makes you nervous. All those people out there were happy to see us, and they’ll be nice to you, but if you’re nervous about it, you just tell one of us, and we’ll be right there to keep you safe. We don’t expect you to be brave all the time. I mean, we appreciate if you be a polite young elf, of course. But if there’s something you want to talk about so we can help things not be so scary…” He attempted to drop a hint without being pushy. He couldn’t help wondering if something in the boy’s past had contributed to this.

Scott, however, was the one to pick up on the hint. He placed his hands on Elowen’s shoulders. “Um. We’ll listen and help you with anything, but you don’t even have to talk about it right now. We just want you to know that as your dads, we’re here for you.”

Sausage smiled up at Scott with a sheepish look, realizing he was softening the potential pushiness. Sausage then placed his right hand on Elowen’s arm. “It’s always okay to say if something scares you. Adults get scared of things, too.”

Elowen glanced at Sausage’s prosthetic arm, then put a hand over the metal and gave a small smile before hugging his human father. “Thank you, Papa, Dad. …I don’t wanna talk about anything right now, but I feel better. I’ll try not to be so scared next time.” He stood back but kept his hand on Sausage’s prosthetic and said quietly, “Getting bitten by a dragon must be scary, too, and maybe too scary to talk a lot about.”

Sausage smiled back at him then ruffled the boy’s hair with his left hand. “That’s a good point! I’ve got an idea for something else we can do today that’s more fun than scary dragons: Why don’t you help me finish the invitations and get them sent out? You know all those ravens that hang out on top of the tower? We can tell them to go to Uncle fWhip and everyone that’s invited to the party! Let’s go find your brother!”

The three of them quickly went to collect a surprised Azahar from the library, but he caught on to Elowen’s enthusiasm after the quiet walk home. They relocated the stack of invitations – and Sausage’s stack of daily paperwork – to the dining room table to have space for all of them to work.

Now that they had an idea of when the boys’ outfits would be ready, they could set an official date for the gala, which Azahar and Scott wrote in the space left blank in the original draft. Scott signed each one, then passed them to Elowen, who put them in a neat pile for Sausage to sign in between his other missives. Elowen then took each one back and carefully rolled it up. Scott showed them how to apply enough wax before pressing the seal of Mythland into the middle to show that this was an approved royal message. He put the boys in charge of keeping hold of the dozen invitations while they waited for Sausage to seal some other scrolls, then up they went to the raven aerie.

The majority of the ravens were out on the rooftops. Sausage took care of a few unrelated missives first with quiet instructions, then turned a big grin to the boys. “Okay, where should we start? Alphabetical in Common? The closest first? The farthest – oh, we should probably send Tango’s to Jimmy, I don’t think any of the ravens know how to get to that particular Ancient City, um. Hmm…”

Elowen glanced at a raven that was hopping around on the nearest windowsill. “Are we gonna go by their first names or the name of their empire?”

“Good question!” Sausage replied. “What do you think? Which ones do you remember better from geography lessons?”

Elowen placed his set of invitations on the floor so his hands were free to count on his fingers. “Uncle fWhip is in the Grimlands, Auntie Gem is at the Crystal Cliffs… Auntie Pearl is in Gilded Heel-lee-lanthia—”

“Helianthia,” Azahar corrected.

“Umm, so, Auntie Pearl would be first by the closest empire, but Auntie Gem would be first by name…”

“Wait,” Azahar put in, “Would the Cod Empire be first by empire, or does it go under ‘the’ instead of ‘cod’? …That would mean the Grimlands wouldn’t go under ‘g’ either, huh?”

<i>”Cod! Cod!”</i> the raven on the windowsill called out.

Azahar nearly dropped the scrolls he was holding. “D-Did that one just say ‘cod’ or ‘caw’…?”

Sausage tried to suppress a giggle but failed. “Crows caw, ravens have a deeper kind of <i>grunk.”</i>

“Cod! Cod!” the raven repeated. “Cod Empire!” It then tilted its head and looked at the invitations Elowen had put down. “This letter is for Jimmy!” It hopped down to the floor and began to poke at the scrolls with its beak.

Scott scooped one up and held it out to the raven. “They don’t have individual names on them, but you can deliver this one to Jimmy, in the Cod Empire.”

“Cod! Cod! Jimmy is a cod!”

Scott smiled with a chuckle of his own. “Close enough.”

The ruckus got the attention of a few more ravens, who fluttered onto the windowsills and were soon calling to each other as word got around among them that there were quite a few scrolls in the hands of their young masters, as Elowen picked his up to start offering them to whichever raven ventured near. “This one goes to… GeminiTay at the Crystal Cliffs,” he said, trying to sound authoritative while keeping the order of empires listed in his head – since the choice had been decided for them. “Oh! This one goes to Tango the Blaze Emperor, he’ll get his from Jimmy – in the Cod Empire,” he said to the next raven, almost forgetting what Sausage had said earlier.

After he had gone through his half of the invitations, Azahar took over. “This one goes to King Joel in Mazelea. This one goes to Queen Lizzie in the Ocean Empire. Next is Shrub… no, Princess Katherine, in the Overgrown. Heh, I kinda keep messing up the Overgrown and the Undergrove, sorry.”

The next raven croaked at him then plucked at the scroll still in his hand. He hastily handed it over and continued with the rest of the list. He and Elowen then ran to a window to watch the ravens flying off in various directions, including the two going the same way to their neighboring empire.

~*~

Sitting on the dock outside the humble, littlest shack in the Cod Empire, Tango the Blazeborn Emperor held his feet just above the water, casually humming while watching Jimmy swim around under the surface. He was generally careful to not touch the water himself, out of an overabundance of caution, but he did lean over to look at how his fires, black cloak, and blazerod crown was reflected between the ripples.

The mirrored image of two birds flew into view, then they circled and landed at the edge of the shack’s roof. Tango could see they each had a scroll clutched in the talons of one foot. He stood up and held out his hands. “Those are for Jimmy, right? I’ll give them to him. You can’t swim either, can you?”

“Jimmy the cod!” croaked out one. The birds – ravens, Tango now remembered they were called – looked at each other. The second one croaked, “Give it to Jimmy! For Tango the Blaze!”

“Hey, that’s me! So, you were going to give both to Jimmy, and he’d give me one? He’ll probably be up in a minute, but it works the same way: give both to me, and I’ll give him one!”

The ravens conferred with each other in quiet creaking sounds, then both fluttered off the roof. Tango held his hands out again, only for both birds to drop the scrolls while remaining a distance above him, missing his hands completely. He realized they probably didn’t want to get too close to the flame atop his head. “It’s okay! I don’t take it personally!” he called after them as they flew off back the way they had come.

Tango picked up one scroll and broke the seal, softening the wax with his touch but reining in his heat to not set the parchment itself on fire. He unrolled it then tilted his head as he puzzled over some unfamiliar words.

The Codfather climbed up onto the dock a few seconds later and noticed his companion’s look of concentration. “What have you got there?”

“Hey, so – what’s a gala? And what are princes?”

“What? Let me see.”

“Oh, there was one for you, too! I guess they’re the same, but…” Tango turned and bent to pick up the other scroll that the ravens had dropped. “Here! Tell me if yours says it, too!” He handed it over and rather eagerly bounced on his toes while Jimmy struggled for a second to break the seal with his still-damp fingers.

Tango waited patiently for confirmation and an explanation, but all Jimmy did was exclaim, “Wait, since when has Mythland had princes??”

[Chapter Two - The First Gala ]

#empires smp #empires smp fanfic #mythicalsausage #scott smajor #empires bubbles #sir carlos #jimmy solidarity #tangotek #scosage #champions au: garden path #empires smp s1 #empiresshipping #team rancher #...but in Empires #lunar yarns

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