#sir carlos of mythland

[talonwings]

good mornfternoonvening, and welcome to the latest edition of 'talon's brain is consumed by empires smp.'

behold, i am starting a new multichap! this will be set prior to empires s1, and focuses on the backstory of Sir Carlos of Mythland--specifically, the RCU version of him (yes you heard that right, the RCU is making its glorious return with none other than the chicken NPC himself)

i hope former and current RCU enjoyers as well as other Mythland enjoyers will come along on this journey with me! <3

[capriciouswriter207]

Chapter 24: Summoning circle

Sausage reaches a breaking point and instinctually runs to the summoning circle

[concidineart]

As a chicken, do you think Sir Carlos can talk or does he communicate strictly through writing?

My Patreon

[lunarsands]

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 ]

[sm0lcatfish]

ROUND 1 - CRITTER BATTLE

SIR CARLOS - Having used to be human and now thousands of years old, he serves as the knight of Mythland and advises Lord Sausage on his magical visions.

BUTTER - An axolotl who lives in Lady Katherine’s magical pond, with Bubble and Blossom.

[empires-au-ideas]

Cold Wanderer leaders that showed up for the meeting before the massacre. All of them were killed unless otherwise specified

Rivendell: Xornoth, parents died a month or two before

House Blossom: a spiritual tie to the Spring, Katherine's predecessor and mentor

Crystal Cliffs: Gandalf, he escapes the massacre by turning himself into a cat. Mentor to Gem

Mythland: Sir Carlos, Sausage's parents died when he was young and Carlos was his advisor. He took Sausage to the meeting and Sausage was spared for his undying loyalty

Grimlands: Fwhip's and Gem's parents

Gilded Helanthia: not present but work on wof rules (kill previous ruler for the crown) Pearl killed THEM while the massacre happened and was sort of thrown into this

Cod Empire: previous Codfather, Jimmy's mentor

Ocean Empire: the seablings thousands of years old sea monster parent

Undergrove: not yet present, Shrub gets out of the nether a day or two after the massacre

Lost Empire: Joey's parents, the parents take him to the meeting but Xornoth let's him live for his undying (haha, totem) loyalty

Mezalia: Joel's dad (mom was already dead)

Pixandia: not present (save for a random diplomat) but Xornoth REALLY wants to kill Pix now

[andiinaraethtash]

Chapter 15: Well, You Look Like Yourself (But You're Somebody Else)

Notes:

TW: Fallout from betrayal, and that pesky demon, who is his own warning. Chapter title from Somebody Else by Flora Cash

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Joel’s day has been rotten from the start, and he’d like everyone to know that. First, there were multiple raids all over the place that he had to fight off, first in Mezalia, then in the Ocean Empire, then finally in Mythland. Then, Pearl turned on them for no reason, and killed him, sending him back to Mezalia, and when he got back to Mythland, he found that everyone had left without waiting for him.

It takes him the rest of the night to get to Rivendell, where Katherine had told Sir Carlos they were going, and it’s so bitterly cold there, he immediately wishes he was back home.

The others are all waiting for him outside Scott’s house, all of them except Jimmy. With the exception of Sausage, none of them are really dressed for the current conditions, and thus are all huddled next to the large building, trying to absorb whatever meagre warmth the building provided.

He lands, nearly slips on ice, and recovers as quickly as he can. “What’s up, guys, why are we all outside?”

Shrub makes a face that’s somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “We’re waiting to see if Jimmy’s got through to Scott. We think he has, it’s stopped storming, but they’ve not answered the few times we’ve kno—”

She’s interrupted by the ice over the doorway thawing out, like someone had just placed a bucketful of lava next to it. Expectantly, they all turn, and Scott, who’s standing in the doorway, hunches in on himself, like he’s trying to hide.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and steps aside.

Jimmy’s standing right behind him, and, with a quick glare in Sausage’s direction, gestures for them to come in.

It’s almost as cold inside as it is outside, the only real difference being the lack of wind. There’s frost covering every surface, snow piled up in the corners, and icicles hanging from the rafters. It’d be beautiful if it wasn’t so unnatural.

Joel stomps his feet and rubs his hands together in an effort to warm up slightly. Pix and Joey at the small stove, firing it up so it can start warming up the room, while Katherine and Shrub are at Scott’s side, talking to him in an undertone. Meanwhile, Lizzie is checking over Jimmy, and Joel almost chuckles to hear her tutting over a cut on his cheekbone.

Almost. It’s another sign that something bad happened while he was on his way here, and it rubs at him wrong that Lizzie’s the only one fussing over him. Usually Scott would be right there beside him, but…

Joel actually takes a moment to look at the elf king, and raises an eyebrow at what he sees. Scott is curled inwards, shoulders tense and hands shaking visibly even from across the room. He keeps sending glances around at all of them, like he’s afraid of them—and he probably is. He’s been betrayed too many times for him to be comfortable letting them in close.

He’s about to collapse into the nearest chair when he realises he hasn’t accounted for someone. Looking around, he spots Sausage at the front door, looking longingly back the way they’d come, like he’s thinking of home—or of Pearl.

(Honestly, with fWhip and Gem gone, Pearl had been the closest thing to home Sausage had, aside from Mythland itself.)

With a heavy sigh, Joel sinks down into the chair next to him and waves Sausage over. It takes a moment for the other man to notice, and even when he does, he just stares at Joel like he doesn’t understand what he’s asking him to do.

Finally, Joel gives up on waving him over and just outright calls, “Sausage, get in here, you’re letting all the warm air out.”

Sausage looks down at the pieces of wood littering the ground, then back up, and Joel realises those are what remains of the door.

Feeling marginally stupid, he sighs again. “Just get over here. It’s warmer inside.”

Sausage glances at Scott, then at Jimmy, who’s pointedly ignoring him, then reluctantly comes over. He picks a chair and sits, but doesn’t say anything, which is just… unusual. Unnatural. Weird. But Joel’s not one to press, so he lets it be.

Jimmy and Lizzie disappear upstairs, then come back down a minute later with a thick woolen blanket, which they pin to the door frame. Immediately the lodge gets a bit warmer. With a groan of relief, Joel slumps over in his seat.

”What are we going to do now?” Shrub asks softly, looking up at Scott, who just shrugs hopelessly.

Instead, Jimmy answers. “We, erm, we should probably do something to stop the ritual Xornoth’s planning. He’s got a lot of stuff, but we don’t know what all he needs. If there’s anything else, we have to stop him from getting it.”

“Easier said than done,” Pix says. “Do we have any idea what the ritual calls for, Scott, Sausage?”

Sausage shakes his head, but Scott nods, pursing his lips. “He needs a focusing item, an item that represents the entity he’s trying to summon, and something to anchor it. In the past, people have used blood as an anchor, but usually their own blood. Anchoring it to us… would mean that as long as all of us are alive, Exor will be able to remain here, and since we’re all land-bonded…”

Lizzie hisses, and Joel grabs her hand on instinct. “What about the other items?”

“Well, the item that represents Exor could be anything, but if I had to guess, he’d just use something easy to obtain, like a corrupted vine. As for the focusing item… I don’t know. It’d have to be magically quite strong in order to work, and even stronger physically to tolerate that kind of power for as long as Xornoth’s going to need it to.”

For the first time, Sausage speaks. “Something like the dragon egg?”

Jimmy sends him a caustic glare, before turning to Scott, his expression only softening marginally. Joel isn’t sure why he’s acting the way he is, but it’s disconcerting, to say the least.

Scott is nodding, though, which is bad, because if the egg can be used, then Xornoth has everything he needs to do the ritual.

Which begs the question, why hasn’t he done it yet?

Joel asks as much aloud, and Katherine pipes up. “Well, the decree said we had to give him our blood before the new moon, so maybe it can only be done then?”

Immediately, Shrub is grimacing. “Guys, the new moon is only five days away. We don’t have much time to come up with a plan.”

Joel groans. “Gods, I wish we could just ignore it and it’d go away.”

Joey huffs. “Not all of us have had that option.”

Sausage nods, and Joel levels them both a flat glare. “I never said I had done that.”

“But you did,” Joey fires back. “You pretended Xornoth was a figment of our imagination for months up until he killed fWhip, while the rest of us were actually dealing with him!”

“Yeah, by joining him,” Joel says with a scoff, and Joey and Sausage both reel back like they’ve been struck.

“Joel, Joey, be nice,” Jimmy says, and Joel just glares at him.

“What, like you’re playing nice with Scott and Sausage?”

Jimmy looks offended. “I have actual cause to—they thought I was the one to betray them! After everything, after how hard I fought him, they thought I would be the one to sell them out!”

Joel raises an eyebrow, but neither Scott nor Sausage deny it. Instead, they both hang their heads.

“I’m sorry,” Scott mutters. “I know that doesn’t make up for it, but I am. I just… the way Xornoth was singling you out, I thought—and since that was the worst-case scenario, I—I guess I assumed the worst.”

Sausage nods. “Losing you would have been a heavy blow to all of us. I mean, the Codfather Alliance follows you, and you’re one of my closest friends, and Pearl…” He cuts himself off, sounding choked, and Shrub reaches over to squeeze his hand.

Joel honestly hadn’t noticed anything that indicated that they had thought that, but they must have as they aren’t denying it. Still, he’s deflated a good deal since Jimmy had his outburst, now that he understands.

Behind his chair, Lizzie shifts uncomfortably. “The bad thing is, Pearl knows how we think, she knows how we’re going to react, especially Sausage. She’s going to sabotage us.”

Sausage’s head snaps up. “She wouldn’t. I told you, she’s working an angle, she’s got a plan—”

“A plan that involves her killing us?” Joel asks, because he can’t imagine why Sausage is defending her. His throat is still stinging from being slashed open.

Now, Sausage is glaring at him. “She would never do that unless she had a plan.”

“Sausage,” Scott says tiredly, softly, like even he doesn’t want to admit what he’s about to say. “How would she have convinced Xornoth she’s on his side?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then freezes. It takes several seconds and Shrub shaking his shoulder to get him to respond. “I—I don’t—but she can’t have betrayed us. She’s all I’ve got left.”

Surprisingly, Joel actually tears up a bit at the raw despair in Sausage’s voice. He quickly dashes the tears away, but not before Jimmy notices. He mouths a quick, ‘you okay?’ at Joel, and Joel nods, then turns back to Sausage.

“Look, mate, I’d love to believe that she’s got some sort of plan, too, but we need to be realistic, or at the very least, we need to prepare for the worst. And in this case, the worst is that Pearl actually did betray us, and she knows what we’re going to do next, and she’s going to help Xornoth stop us.”

Sausage wilts. There’s no other way to describe it, he just crumples, head bowing and shoulders drooping, face screwing up like he’s trying hard not to cry.

No one says anything for a long moment, waiting for Sausage to regain his composure, before finally Joey, who’d been fairly quiet for the last few minutes, reaches out and squeezes Sausage’s shoulder.

“I know,” He whispers, “I know it hurts, when they betray you like this, but you will survive, and give them back the hell they gave you.”

“I don’t want to give Pearl hell,” Sausage says, head in his hands. “I just want her back.”

Pix sighs, crossing his arms. “Sadly, the probability of that happening is low, and we all know it. Even you, Sausage.”

Sausage scrubs his face wearily, then nods, straightening. “Okay, then what’s our next move?” He still sounds tired as he asks it, but it’s a good question.

One that none of them have answers for.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jimmy suggests, “How about we split up into teams of three and check on the empires that were raided? We need to assess the damage.”

They nod, and Joel turns to Lizzie. “M’Lady?”

She forces a smile and nods. “Let’s go.”

_______

When he opens his eyes, it’s with a sigh of relief, because he’s actually the one opening them. He makes a conscious effort to blink, then crane his neck so he can look around, afraid his body won’t respond, but, no, he stays in control.

Idly, fWhip mentally tries to connect with his “roommate,” but there’s no answer. He just gets a faint impression of cold and the demon nursing his wounds before it fades.

Well, that’s a relief. Seems Scott was able to wound him, and fWhip can’t say he’s mad about it, especially if it results in him finally being back in control.

He pushes himself to his feet and almost immediately has to sit back down, because wow, he was not expecting a headrush that intense. Taking a steadying breath, he manages to get a good look at his surroundings, and is mildly surprised to find himself in his study.

He’d kind of blacked out as soon as the ice found its way from Scott’s hands to his veins, so waking up here is… not necessarily surprising, but unexpected. He’d have thought he’d be somewhere a little less… accessible. Anyone could walk in, though why anyone would intentionally seek him out is anyone’s guess.

Still, he takes in the room, the ruined parchments across the desk soaked in ink and tattered from one of Xornoth’s fits of rage, the piles of books strewn haphazardly across the floor, and worst of all, the creeping vines of corruption that covered the outside of the windows.

Closing his eyes, he releases the breath he’d been holding and tries not to sob. What has he done? This is all his fault, he’s not strong enough to fight off Xornoth, what is he supposed to do?

Setting his head in his hands, he maybe, maybe lets a few tears spill out, but quickly composes himself. No. No, he may not be strong enough to fight off the demon, but he’s got a chance now to do some damage, and he’s going to grab it with both hands and run.

This time, he stands more slowly, hands braced against the desk just in case, but the headrush isn’t as bad as it had been. Quickly, he scrounges for a piece of parchment that hasn’t been ruined. It takes a minute, but he finds one, and quickly starts scrawling down coordinates. His handwriting is sloppier than usual, which he chalks up to the rush he’s feeling and not the way his hands are shaking because what if Xornoth comes back before he can get this to Pearl, what if they find out what he’s planning, if, if, if…

He hates that word.

As soon as the ink is no longer tacky, he rolls the parchment up and hurries out of the room. He’s dizzy, and feels weak and like he’s barely in control of his body, but he pinches himself and he feels it, and he knows that right now, this is his body, not Xornoth’s, no matter how disconnected he feels.

It takes him time—precious time he might not have—to find anyone, but when he does, it’s exactly the person he was hoping for.

“Pearl,” he sighs with relief, and she stiffens.

She’s staring at the two chairs in the throne room, her back to him, and she stiffens the moment she hears his voice.

(It’s weird, hearing his own, non-garbled voice coming from his mouth, and weirder still that his mouth wants to give the words an elvish accent. But it’s his voice, and Pearl still stiffens.)

“Xornoth,” she says evenly, still not turning around, and fWhip wonders what he looks like if she really can’t stand the sight of him.

Still, he flinches at the sound of the demon’s name. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hear that name again without feeling that pit in his stomach. “Not Xornoth. It’s me.”

Pearl scoffs. “Like I’ll fall for that. You’ve pulled enough tricks that I know I can’t trust a word you say.”

“Pearl, please, just listen to me—”

“Stop!” She shouts, finally turning around, and he’s startled to see tears in her eyes. “Stop using his voice, stop using him—take me if you have to, but—just stop, you monster!”

This time, he bows his head at the words, tears in his own eyes, because even though she thinks she’s talking to Xornoth, he’s the one hearing the words, and he’s the one taking them to heart. He clenches his fists, and the crinkle of parchment suddenly reminds him of why he’s here.

“Mythland and the Crystal Cliffs.”

That stops Pearl in her tracks. “What?”

He straightens, looking her in the eye, and is surprised to see shock flitting across her features. “Mythland and the Crystal Cliffs. That’s where he’s rigged to blow. But you’re going to have to be careful, it’s rigged with end crystals, not TNT, so disarming it is going to be tricky, but if you—”

He’s cut off by Pearl tackling him in a hug, and all at once, he’s aware of every part of his body, and every part of him aches. He rests his head against her shoulder, letting himself one, maybe two quick sobs, before he’s pushing her away enough to hand her the parchment.

“Coordinates,” he explains at her confused look. “They’re all connected, so I just gave you the rough coordinates I could remember. You just need to find one, then follow the redstone to the next, and so on.”

Pearl nods as she unfurls the scroll, then frowns. “What are these?” She asks, pointing to a third set of coordinates. “That’s not in the Crystal Cliffs or in Mythland.”

fWhip shakes his head. “Nether coordinates. Go there last. I’ll meet you there if I can, but disarm the bombs first.”

She nods again, pulls him in for a quick hug, then picks up her sword and scabbard from where they’d been resting against the wall and strides toward the door. There, she hesitates, and he waves her on, hoping his seriousness spurs her on. It must, because she turns and leaves, and he’s left alone.

As soon as the door is closed, he’s turning away and sinking to his knees. He covers his face with his hands, and just sits there for a moment, debating what to do next.

Well, the most obvious thing is to sabotage Xornoth more, but the best way he can think of doing that is by destroying the phials of blood they’d just taken from the other rulers. The only problem is that he’s not sure where they would have stored it.

It’d probably be best to retrace Xornoth’s steps. He’d have had to have stored it somewhere between where they teleported back and the study, where he woke up. Cursing himself for not thinking to ask Pearl where they’d landed, he straightens and heads back to the study.

He’s worn out by the time he reaches it, but the moment he does, he spots something that should make things a lot easier: an ender chest. Of course they’d store it in there, he realises. No better place, after all, seeing as no one else could open it up and see the same contents that Xornoth did.

Quickly fWhip hurries over and presses down on the latch, waits a beat, then flings the top open, but he’s immediately disappointed, because honestly he should have anticipated that. Of course the chest would have different contents if it was him versus Xornoth.

Frustrated, he slams the chest shut, and paces over to the window, where he’s startled to see how much the landscape has changed. It’s more jagged than the mesa that makes up Joel’s kingdom, and utterly ruined besides. What had been dry plains are now canyons filled with eerie red fog, and there’s no way he can think of of healing the land.

Gods above and below, what has he done? What people have survived Xornoth’s reign must have sworn never to return, and after seeing the destruction wrought by his own hand, he can see why.

Another thought strikes him, and he half-way turns around, only to remember that Xornoth put the crown in the ender chest as well, so there’s no way he can retrieve that and pass it on to someone more worthy.

If there’s anything else he can do, he can’t think of it. He lets his shoulders slump, and he turns back to the window, only to physically recoil as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass. It takes a beat for his heart to settle, but the moment it does, he leans forward, determined to get a better look at himself.

He’d been pointedly ignoring the flashes of blackened skin that peeked out between his gloves and his coat sleeves, but now, now it’s impossible to ignore the fact that his entire body looks like a piece of coal, occasional pulses of crimson flashing through his veins. He’s got horns, large and unwieldy that he’s somehow forgotten about, protruding from his forehead. And of course, he’s got the crimson corruption practically growing on him, like he’s a walking fungus or something.

But in the midst of all that, blue eyes are shining out from the face he barely recognizes. His blue eyes. There’s a bit of red starting to creep into the irises, but for right now they’re his. He’s in control, and he’s going to savour the feeling of voluntarily taking a breath and actually feeling it fill his lungs.

On a sudden impulse, he decides he’s going to go see Gem, let her know that he’s okay, that he is still holding on, still fighting, but before he can turn around, his muscles lock up, and he catches a glimpse of glowing red eyes before a familiar voice is echoing in his mind.

“And what do you think you’re up to?”

Notes:

Dun-dun-dun!

[callmesausage]

casually rewatching LegacySMP from sausage’s pov and look wot i see? 

Sir Carlos?

[swamp-craft]

sausage: don't worry Carlos, we'll turn you back into a human one day!

the tiny Diogenes that lives in the dumpster behind my cerebral cortex:

BEHOLD

A MAN!!!!!!

[empires-smp]

I can't describe how much I love them

[verminguy]

Have some sketches of sir Carlos that im probably never going to finish

I want to write a fanfic about like his 1000 year life and stuff I have so many ideas but also dyslexia:/

[talonwings]

after missing a Mythland Monday because of Real Life Drama, i am happy to be back this week with a chapter i am proud of.

i initially planned for this fic to be somewhat short, but the brainrot has taken hold of me in a massive way, so i've revised the chapter count back to ? to reflect the constant barrage of ideas i find myself wanting to tie in.

if you're interested in a long-form story filled with esmp1 worldbuilding, please check out this fic! i update on Mondays (with the occasional exception) and i would love to have more people join this journey with me!

[capriciouswriter207]

Wither AU: Comfort cloak

The journey was agonizingly slow. Though Sausage tried to comfort Gem with his words and nudged her forward and each step was a victory, it was still hard. He could hear her mutter fWhip’s name, hold back tears, her nails digging into his skin. He didn’t mind; he had other things to worry about. He didn’t let go of his arm, tried not to break focus too much, afraid the corruption would overtake him. barely any progress was made on his skin. Still, it was progress. He ignored how his hand tingled, how the arm and shoulder attached to it tingled, how that might not be a good sign, how his heart beat at approximately 200 beats per minute and drained him of the necessary energy to keep going.

This was exhausting; and he could feel his focus slip from time to time. Only to pull himself back into it, afraid this slip-up opened the flood gates, that this was the moment he’d screwed up. He couldn’t slack off. He never was one to slack off anyway, but especially today he couldn’t afford to.

Lady Katherine returned with potions of strength for Sausage and Gem, concerned by the little progress they’d made traveling to the Overgrown. Sausage didn’t dare to move his hand from his arm and he didn’t trust the corrupted hand, so Sir Carlos had to help him drink it. It sent a shockwave through his body, but it worked. His attention was back, he was less exhausted, able to keep focus more easily again. They couldn’t force Gem to drink her potion, so they had to hold on to that until the comfort cloak arrived.

Sausage wondered what it was, and Sir Carlos answered. It was something manufactured solely in the Crystal Cliffs; used when magic had gone wrong. The magic imbued in the cloak would cancel the effects of the magic placed upon the person and would damped some of their powers, too, though its mostly focused on the harm done to the person rather than the magic that person possessed. As Xornoth was a supernatural being, they hoped the cloak would work on her. They hoped it would snap her out of her stupor and help her until Xornoth’s effect on her wore off or until she figured out how to keep it under control.

Sausage didn’t mention these effects probably would never wear off. That she might have to wear that cloak forever. That Xornoth would keep this fight going. He just thanked Sir Carlos for the explanation.

And Scott came down from the sky, announcing someone called Rick was arriving with the cloak. The group stopped for a moment, to allow this man to fly in and deliver the cloak. He landed next to Scott, the cloak in his hands, and his eyes met Sausage’s.

Sausage’s heart skipped a beat. He looked just like fWhip.

Maybe not completely. His hair was too brown, his nose too crooked, maybe a little too tall. But his wings looked similar to what fWhip had managed to create, and the way he carried himself and the shock on his face when he looked at Sausage and Gem all felt extremely familiar.

The man – Rick – approached the two. Sausage was too shocked by the sudden appearance of the look-alike that he allowed the man to come closer and wrap the cloak over Gem’s shoulders, saying they should probably wait a minute or two for the cloak to work.

The wait was agonizing, but worth it. Gem recovered ever so slightly from what had been done to her; the hallucinations faded, but she still shook from what she’d seen and heard, the images flashing through her mind. Where the nightmares had trapped her before, she was now able to see the world again and all the people who were trying to help them. Lady Katherine gave her the potion of strength, and Gem claimed the voices were quieter, but still present. She was good to walk, at a faster pace this time, now she wasn’t afraid to fall with each step.

Sausage found it was hard to take that first step. And the next. And the next. But Sausage soon found his rhythm again and with Gem still holding onto his arm, more for comfort than out of fear, he continued to walk. Even as his corrupted hand went numb and the tingling from his arm and shoulder spread through his chest. Even as his strength potion seemed to run out of strength and he quickly grew exhausted again.

(previous | masterpost | next)

[tinytieflingempire]

I’m sorry Sir Carlos is over a thousand years old? And also used to be a human? Whoooooaaaa

[lunarsands]

ESMP S1 Fanfic: A Garden's Path - Prologue

Characters: Mythical Sausage, Scott Smajor, Bubbles the Dog, Sir Carlos, appearances by the cast of Empires SMP S1 including Xornoth, 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, Jimmy Solidarity & TangoTek

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 vs elf), loss of parent (with adoption inevitably comes orphans), minor character death in a later chapter

Summary: Having weathered a new set of trials and finding love together, Sausage and Scott look toward a whole new future and adventure together: raising some adopted children. Surely after everything else they can handle two sons, a daughter, two or three others, a foundling infant…and a handful more along the way.

Set in an AU where Scott’s sacrifice at the end of Season 1 led to the creation of an alternate timeline. Scott retains his memories of the previous version of the world – as does Sausage, due to his ability to traverse parallel dimensions.

(Also available on Ao3!)

Prologue: The Aftermath

[ A/N: This is a sequel to an illustrated story by Cynthrey! :D Since I will be avoiding some of the spoilers for that story, we’ve decided to run them concurrently. You can read The Champion of Exor AU for information on things like: Why is this scosage? What is Tango doing here? Why does Sausage have a prosthetic arm? Now also available on Ao3!]

---

It had seemed like just another of Sausage’s exaggerated theatrics when, during a Wither Rose Alliance meeting, he bemoaned being unable to properly hug anyone with only one arm. Gem and fWhip had expected a different turn to the conversation when the wizard had asked how he had been adjusting after returning to some of his kingly duties. He certainly seemed like his old self, gesticulating as he talked, although now it involved waving his left arm around and merely lifting what remained of the upper half of his right, the sleeve of his shirt neatly rolled and pinned above where his elbow would have been.

The loss of one arm hadn’t slowed Sausage down for long, aside from the initial few months of recovery. Gem’s healing spells along with some holistic elven care had him back on his feet and in full architect form soon enough. With Scott’s help, they had rebuilt the parts of Mythland that had suffered from Sausage’s own actions. This included renovations around the castle, where walls were either removed or relocated to allow for open spaces, in particular a grand garden that featured some of the new orchid varieties Sausage had promised to bring to Mythland, and artful layouts by Scott’s hand of many other flowers and decorative hedges. The combination brought some natural healing, as well, to bodies and minds.

fWhip sat back in his chair as he watched Sausage while he went on about construction difficulties. The inventor clasped his ginger-bearded chin with one hand while beginning to tap on the papers in front of him with the other. He could remember just how Sausage’s right arm would look similarly flailing around with animated speech. fWhip abruptly flipped over a piece of paper and began sketching out a rough blueprint. The movement of the quill caught Gem’s eye and she glanced over at the drawing talking shape. Her eyebrows went up, then she smiled but refrained from offering more than a quiet and intrigued, “Ooh…” to not distract fWhip. He was in The Zone though, tuning out Sausage, and even grabbed Gem’s papers to have extras to scribble more details.

Gem now made sure to throw comments at Sausage to keep him distracted after she saw fWhip write a note of ‘deadline: wedding surprise’ with a big question mark. “You can do it,” she said, which could have been taken as directed at either of them. Sausage, of course, assumed she was talking to him and he proceeded to rattle off several reasons for why he probably could not and should not be doing any extensive cave explorations just for some emerald ore, because how would he manage both a pickaxe and a shield, unless he tried strapping a shield to his upper arm, but anyway how would he switch over to a sword fast enough if there were any monsters and also he was still retraining how to sword fight with his left hand instead of his right – and so on.

When the meeting ended, Gem had thought to offer any help fWhip might need with the project, but he was off and not-literally-running, pouring over the papers as he walked with only a hastily spoken, “Mm-hm, mm-hm, see you next time.” He stopped to lean on a barrel to make another notation, then tucked the papers inside his jacket to protect them as he stepped into the bubble elevator.

They’d had to replace ladders in various places since those were a little difficult for Sausage to use at the moment, but if fWhip’s plan worked, that would only be temporary.

~*~

Although the prosthetic had a solid copper casing in the shape of an arm proportional to Sausage’s left one, the prototype was still simple and more of a rush job than fWhip would have liked, but the deadline seemed to come up faster than expected, and the salmon forge wasn’t predictable enough for such precise work. As it stood, he nearly made Sausage late for his own wedding, but he had to insist they take the time to get it working so he could not only properly hug Scott, but properly hold his hand while exchanging rings.

That thought convinced Sausage to hold still despite glances toward the clock while fWhip cinched up the metal rig that went over his shoulder to hold the prosthetic in place against the stump of his right arm, then connected a series of redstone wires between the two parts. Sausage flinched at the small jolt as the redstone fired up, but then wonder dawned on his face when he was able to slowly straighten the arm and bend the fingers partway.

fWhip did warn him to think of it as a simple tool and not a full replacement; the range of movement was severely limited and wouldn’t hold much weight, and there wasn’t enough grip strength in the fingers to pick things up, but it would serve the purpose needed for that day. Sausage thanked him for even that much ability, and after fWhip helped him get his single-sleeved dress shirt and similarly modified ceremonial doublet on, he covered the prosthetic with his cloak and they hurried out to the garden for the ceremony.

Scott, waiting with everyone else, wore exquisite traditional elven wedding robes, a circlet made of gleaming ice crystals with a short veil attached atop his head, and clearly looked like he had been worried that Sausage had gotten cold feet. Instead, he saw the grin on his groom’s face that gave away that he was up to something and Scott couldn’t help a smile of his own, wondering if that giddy expression was for more than just the fact that their wedding was even happening. The elf’s own look of surprise, then of joy, when Sausage lifted the arm from under his cloak to cup his substitute hand underneath Scott’s hand, then slip the wedding ring on, was worth the minor discomfort of the not-quite-perfected redstone signals.

And then, once pronounced man and husband, Sausage carefully put both arms around Scott to hug him the way he had longed to since the moment he had woken up after the battle and found that his love was shared.

The redstone wiring failed partway through the reception, causing need for an impromptu sling to hold the prosthetic up until fWhip could remove the rig later, but Sausage didn’t mind. It had worked for just the right amount of time that it needed to, and anything else he could do fine with just his left hand – or with Scott’s help.

There were a few more designs that fWhip tried out after that, with variations on how the redstone wiring read signals and how the assortment of gears moved. Ever the adventurous type – and maybe just eager to have two working hands again, because what was a builder with only one arm – as well as possibly an unhealthy amount of pain tolerance, Sausage made for a good test subject. He put up with the occasional shorts in the wiring that left the prosthetic hanging useless, weathered the zaps if the power distribution was off, and let fWhip tinker without being picky about how the arm looked.

During the final test of getting conscious signals from Sausage to transfer to the prosthetic, fWhip resorted to a different sort of experiment with Gem’s help that involved embedding a transmitter inside a magic crystal that was attuned to the Mythlandian’s personal magical frequency, creating a small device that fit over Sausage’s ear and could be hidden behind it. This linked up with a matching crystal inside the prosthetic, and greatly increased Sausage’s control over the parts of the arm.

From there fWhip refined the inner workings. Smaller gears, a new type of copper wiring, some of the same old redstone technology, and then a series of overlapping struts on the outside to form the shape of flexor, radialis, bicep, triceps, and other assorted muscles but retaining superior functionality. He added a few aesthetic details as well, like invoking the vambrace he used to wear on his forearm that contained a second attuned gemstone for a backup.

The rig also no longer needed to go over his shoulder, with a basket-like inner structure that fit snug against what remained of his arm and the outer struts still forming a muscle-shaped support over it. An extra, simple strap was attached to the basket that could be tightened just in case, making it easier to remove for sleep or if it was irritating him for any reason. Sausage would wear a fabric cuff to cover the end of his stump for a little padding and protection for the scarred skin, the cuff itself buttoned on one side to also offer easy removal. He could choose to either drape a partial shirt sleeve over the top half of his upper arm or do away with sleeves on that side of his shirts altogether; the only drawback to the new design being that fabric could easily get caught in the struts if left sitting against them while he was using it. fWhip offered to test out full cover casings for temporary use in future versions, but Sausage still preferred functionality over appearance.

The real test came when attempting to pick up and carry boxes of supplies and materials, and how well the prosthetic held up while actually building. Of course, fWhip also cautioned against letting too much dust or small debris get into the arm, so Sausage was still limited on that front anyway, but getting to do at least a little of his favorite hobby was an improvement, and now he had Scott to help him – and to remind him when to take a break, or keep track of how much dust was getting kicked up. Still, even just drawing up architectural designs and taking measurements was easier with two hands.

fWhip was, however, resigned to knowing that part of the regular maintenance on the prosthetic would be cleaning the internal mechanisms. Although, to look at it another way, it served just as much of a learning experience for him to see what other types of improvements he could make to protect and perfect the internal parts even more.

~*~

With such a wedding as auspicious as a king marrying an elven prince, it was inevitable that there would be other parties of a more public nature, with the nobles of Mythland wishing to congratulate their ruler, and envoys from Rivendell visiting to honor their prince now become a king regnant. Things generally went smoothly, so on one occasion Scott and Sausage separated to mingle with crowds of their respective fellows to thank them.

Scott ended up accepting a gift from the Rivendell merchant’s guild of bottles of spiced cider, the best of each’s stock, and shared one with them over some idle chatter about recent Rivendell affairs until one of them made the casual comment, “Say, good move securing yourself a kingdom.”

Scott was about to question what they were implying but another of the merchants cut in with a laugh, “Ah, yes – why else a human then, hmm? What a quaint dalliance.”

A third asked, “He only has, what, fifty years left in him? Any lucky elf in mind for when that day comes?”

Scott forced his expression to be neutral then twirled his finger in the air. He froze their drinks, then caused frost to form over their hands so they were stuck to their goblets. He tossed what was left of his drink into the face of the first offender, then he spun around with his chin held high and walked away.

Meanwhile, Sausage had been chatting with some nobles from the far side of Mythland, and after showing off the latest version of his prosthetic, was fielding reports on the land holdings plus a little trouble with zombie hordes, which he promised to look into.

One of the men kept eyeing any of the elven guests who meandered nearby, then finally spoke his mind. “So, an elf became your choice? I can’t blame you. They have such… unusual color hair. Such pretty things…”

His tone made Sausage feel cautious that this was some type of judgment. “Well, there’s plenty of other things, just like you and me. Fighting skills, magic talent—”

“I suppose,” the man droned on as if dismissing those details, “They’re not all as delicate as they look. Say, are the ears like handles for when he’s—”

Upon the word ears, Sausage could guess where it was going and began to draw back his right arm. He then cold clocked the man right in the face before he could finish the sentence, buckling a few struts and popping a redstone wire somewhere in his prosthetic. The hand went limp and he had to lower the arm by pushing on it with his left hand, but he only glared as the offender’s fellow noble tried to help him, walking him away from the enraged Mythland king.

Sausage turned away as well and stormed off through the staring crowd, whispered gossip following in his wake about what the noble could possibly have said to make their king react like that.  He found a quiet spot with fewer people and started to inspect his arm. Aside from the struts making up the back of the hand and one by the wrist, he figured whatever wire had broken was key to letting him control the hand. He could only move the elbow partway so he forced it into a folded position, then removed his ceremonial cape and hung it over the arm to make it look like he was merely holding the cape as one normally would when feeling warm.

He figured that would suffice to ward off comments until he could contact fWhip to fix it. He should probably ask the inventor about reinforcing it so he could use it for such occasions without breaking it. He did feel a little foolish, however, that he had used it instead of his left fist, but the anger had struck pretty quickly, and his right side had been in a better position to hit first…

Well, what was done was done. He wasn’t about to allow such crude comments, and now people knew it. He turned back toward the crowd – in time to see Scott stalking by looking upset. He reached for the elf’s arm to stop him. “Hey – are you all right?”

Startled, Scott looked over at him, having not noticed he was there, then promptly hugged him and explained what the merchants had said. “It’s just so… callous of them to think I only married you because I wouldn’t become ruler of Rivendell, and that I would just… wait out your time…”

“Well, you… shouldn’t have to be alone after I go,” Sausage said softly. “It’s just a fact I’ll pass first. And I wouldn’t do anything like mess with magic to extend my lifespan, that would be crazy, eh-heh…”

Scott gave an earnest but gentle smile. “You’ve already thought about that, haven’t you?”

“Ah— haha. Yup,” Sausage admitted. “I won’t though. I know it won’t end well. We have the time together that we have.” He clasped Scott’s hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss to his knuckles.

Scott then hugged him again, only to realize there was something odd when Sausage returned the hug with only his left arm. The elf stepped back and looked down questioningly at how the prosthetic, hidden by the cape, was positioned. Sausage cleared his throat and slid the cape back to show the damage to his hand. “I, um, needed to defend your honor. The condescension runs on both sides.”

Scott sighed and helped arrange the cape back over the hand. “And we thought demons were the worst of our problems…”

“I know. Turns out it’s really other people. Come on, we’ll stick together for the rest of the night.”

“I like that plan.” Scott smiled, then paused and removed his own cape, draping it over the prosthetic as well. “Look how nice my husband is, carrying that for me.” He kissed Sausage on the cheek, earning a grin, then they rejoined the crowd.

.

It was sometime later when they were approached by the nobleman whom Sausage had punched, a sizeable bruise marring his face. “I expect an apology!” the man hissed. He flicked his gaze toward Scott and began to sneer.

“No,” Sausage said calmly, then yelled, “Guards! Escort this—” He spoke a word in Elvish “—out of here!”

Scott feigned a horrified gasp. “Sausage! Don’t call him that!” He had to suppress a smile until the man was hauled away, then he burst out laughing.

“What?” Sausage asked. “Was my accent that bad?”

“You called him a tree branch.”

“Oh. Well. Close enough.”

.

The rest of the event passed without incident, and soon enough the celebrations tapered off. With life getting back to normal and quiet, peaceful days ahead of them, Sausage turned his thoughts toward the future and the other possibilities that might await there.

~*~

One night, as Scott was helping him remove his prosthetic to get ready for bed, he decided it might be time to share some of his thoughts. He felt a little nervous, however, but instead of fidgeting just tried to lay still when Scott lifted it away from the protective cuff that covered the remaining part of his upper arm, the flicker of combined magic and redstone signals tapering off from his awareness. With the utmost care Scott placed it in its fabric-lined case where it wouldn’t be accidentally knocked over if either of them got up during the night.

Sausage sat up and leaned to reach and catch the elf’s hand before he could move around to the other side of the bed. “Can I… Can I ask you something?” Yet then, hesitating, he let go of Scott’s hand.

Curious about his tone, Scott sat down on the side of the bed. “You can, although it seems like you’re not sure if you want to. Everything okay?”

“Yes, I was just, um -- Well, I’ve been wondering… What, uh, what do you think about having… children?”

“Aside from the obvious issue with that?” Scott uttered a light laugh, but seeing Sausage’s face flush a little, he rested his hand over his. “Honestly? I hadn’t thought about it much before. Between the old world and this one, I always had other things on my mind.” He went quiet as he gave it some thought now, gently caressing Sausage’s arm in apology for seeming to tease him. “I guess… I mean we could… start considering adoption. Did you have something specific in mind? One, or maybe two – son, daughter, other?”

“Doesn’t particularly matter, just, ah— whoever we find that will accept us as we are, too. I mean, I don’t know how a child might feel about a father with only one arm.” Sausage looked at him sheepishly. “I would ask fWhip to reinforce the other one so I can pick them up and carry them around and stuff. Well, if they happen to be small enough for that. I guess age doesn’t matter too much, either.”

“Probably not an infant, though. We’re not equipped for handling anyone that young, and it might be easier to adjust our lives around an older child – you know, one who would know to be careful about your arm. There is one other consideration,” he added softly, a single possible repercussion coming to mind. “…Human, or elf?”

Sausage glanced down for a moment, understanding the implication, then smiled when he lifted his head. “Doesn’t matter. Whichever we find.”

Scott smiled in return and patted Sausage’s leg, then stood to dim the lanterns before going to his side of the bed. He had just gotten settled when more thoughts started occurring to him. “What would they call us? We can’t both be ‘dad’.”

“Dad and… ice-dad,” Sausage joked.

“No.” Scott pretended to act offended.

“I’m kidding! I called my father ‘papa’ when I was little. I’d be okay being that.”

“I’ll be ‘dad’ then.” He went quiet for a minute, weighing his next thought before saying out loud, “Should we tell them who we are right away? ‘Hi, we’re the rulers of Mythland, do you want to become royalty?’”

“That could be intimidating, or influence a match that doesn’t work out, depending on the people who run the place.”

“Right… It could be a surprise, maybe?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Then Sausage frowned sadly even though Scott couldn’t see it in the dark. “We won’t tell them the truth about my arm. That stays in the past. We’ll…make something up if anyone asks. Or just say that we don’t talk about what happened to Papa’s arm.”

Scott sought between them for Sausage’s left hand and gave it a squeeze. “All right.” He let a silent moment of that comfort pass, then said, “I’ll go to Rivendell in a day or so and find out what options there might be.”

“Sounds good. Maybe I’ll change some rooms around while you’re there.”

“Okay.”

They fell back into silence, if not sleep, with Sausage feeling grateful that Scott had been open to the suggestion, and Scott now realizing how much more of a future was available to them. His mind went to comments made by other elves about Sausage’s shorter lifespan. The idea of children meant their marriage, and the future of Mythland, could outlast them both…

~*~

Xornoth attempted to stare at his younger brother as if he wasn’t crazy, but darn if it wasn’t difficult not to. “You would like me to what?”

“Just to help me vet a few locations, if you will? I don’t know how appropriate it would be for a former prince of Rivendell to start touring every orphanage in the realm with his human husband…”

Xornoth chuckled. “Oh, but it’s appropriate for the current ruler to do it?”

“Well, I didn’t mean for you to go in person—”

“I understand your concerns but, Scott, why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Just go! Take Sausage with you and go meet some kids! Don’t worry so much about criteria, I’m sure any place will be overjoyed to know there will be dedicated parents looking after some young ones! Remember, I’ve seen you two together and the hearts are flying between you all the time now.”

The tips of Scott’s ears burned and he stared back at him as if he had never in the world expected him to say something like that.

Xornoth went and pretty much read his brother’s mind. “What? Did you think I would discourage you? You with your former inability to control elemental powers and him being a former demon? You’ve both gotten second chances and the world is wide open. You deserve a family of your own, too, if that’s what you want.”

“Maybe let’s not mention that second part ever again. Can I trust you to not bring that up? Our one rule is going to be we don’t talk about what happened to Papa’s arm.”

“ ‘Papa’? Oh, that’s adorable.” Xornoth laughed. Scott folded his arms, indicating he was serious. “Of course, I promise – I would no sooner tell about that than I would how I was once a demon, too.” He winked, but at those words Scott knew the secret was safe. Xornoth then began chuckling again. “Wouldn’t want to make Papa sad by reminding him about his arm, no… Ha! All right,” he said as Scott elbowed him, “Let’s get out a map and find you a town or two where you might not be easily recognized.”

Coming Next: Chapter One – The First Princes

[sm0lcatfish]

ROUND 2 - MYTHLAND’S BEST BATTLE

BUBBLES - Has inter-dimensional powers and exists in every world a Sausage does. All Bubbles’ have a seat in the spirit realm.

SIR CARLOS - Having used to be human and now thousands of years old, he serves as the knight of Mythland and advises Lord Sausage on his magical visions.