#the council decides em's fate

[bmpmp3]

those little 1/12 size pvc and abs blind box bjds are so so dangerous like theyre so cute and well made and affordable but i Do Not have the space for all these funny little guys

[the-mostly-one-and-only-gabriel]

The fact that you'll do it. They all know. You probably don't even remotely see that happening anywhere in the foreseeable future, but you're certainly doing it at a particular point. Which they know of, and it seems they've chosen to taunt you with it.

Don't mind 'em. They're always like that.

HELLO???

You anons are such strange, omniscient creatures, how do YOU know I’ll do anything of the sort?!

Because I KNOW I am loyal to the council… who are you to decide my fate?

[shopcat]

that last long steve ask i was debating who to send it to among the trilogy of steve enjoyers on tumblr (you em lesbianrobin sarah steveharrington) like technically its not even a question sorry for bothering u with just my one long steve thought randomly idk i thought u would also enjoy steve thought bc u do post steve thought. anyway thats why the council (pic of the frogs or cats or wtv animals in a circle)(->me) has decided your fate (sent it over to Your askbox) and also you’re online and i was like i Need to Send this Immediately. Now . but yeah feel free to send over i just realized the word is triad and not trilogy GEJDBSJBDNF thats so embarrassing (silly in a funny way) ummm yeah didn’t wanna bother all three of u. idk if this makes it look like ure third choice or wtv im sorry i dont mean it like that😭 also it makes it sound like im just shooting a volleyball in the air down the other side of the net (tumblr screen) and tbh i dont have any defence bc yeah thats kinda what this was. but Yeah i forgot what my point was Sorry this is literally getting So Long for no reason. ummm yeah My Point Was u are 1/3 of the steve tumblr triad i trust🫶🏻

THIS IS SO FUNNY i love you. it's okay i love talking about him at all times and em and sarah live in my pockets and i live in theirs also

[nosfagratu]

had to show u the full screenshot i used for eno in that oc thing bc im fucking obsessed with it

[jimintomystery]

Danganronpa 3

After I watched the Game Grumps play the first two Danganronpa games, I wanted to continue the story. I was gonna wait for them to play the third game, but that's more like an AU or something. (Or is it?) It turns out that the adventures of Danganronpa, Blorbo, and the rest of Dork Squad continue in the anime series Danganronpa 3: The End of Kibougamine Gakuen.

(translator's note: "Kibougamine Gakuen" means "Hope's Peak High School.")

I don't think Arin and Dan are going to riff an anime, so I figured I'd have to do this one solo. Sure, I don't like anime, I thought, but I held my nose through the games, so how bad could it be? The first episode has a weird caricature of a Black man. Four episodes in, everybody gets horny because their dinner is laced with an aphrodisiac. Anime!

[Above: I couldn't believe the world ended because an otaku got all mad that somebody said anime is stupid, but actually it makes a lot of sense.]

Even by anime standards, though, something about the way the characters look and move feels uncanny. I got the feeling this was a bit of a rush job, but maybe I'm just out of touch.

Also, this show is really hyper-violent. I can't be too upset about that, because I knew it was Deaddovebagpa when I picked it up. But I can't in good conscience recommend this to anyone. If you're going to watch it, you need to have a hell of a reason that overcomes all the reasons not to. My reason is that I'm already In Too Deep.

Anyway, I binged this back in May and immediately spent the next three months writing fanfic about it. So as much as I complain about this furshlugginer thing, I clearly got something out of it. So let's talk about that. (Spoilers under the cut.)

DR3 is split into two arcs: The "Future Arc" is a sequel to DR1 and DR2, and the "Despair Arc" is a prequel. (There's also one episode called the "Hope arc", but that's basically just the finale of the Future Arc.) The Despair Arc features the kids from DR2 and the events leading up to The Tragedy. The Future Arc features the DR1 kids, and their contentious relationship with the Future Foundation, which has been rebuilding the world since The Tragedy.

I don't have a lot to say about the Despair Arc. It's a tragic story, and it does fairly well weaving the bits of backstory from DR1&2 into a coherent narrative. In a weird way it reminded of watching the Star Wars prequels. You've got all this organization of super-prodigies at the height of their power, and in their hubris they let a few unforced errors snowball into the collapse of their civilization. I was mainly interested how Despair episodes added context to subplots in the Future Arc: the Munakata/Sakakura/Yukizome stuff is an obvious example, but there are plenty of others.

But I'm sick of prequels. I prefer to move forward. Give me Blorbo.

In the Future Arc, Makoto Naegi is in trouble for his unauthorized plan to rehabilitate the kids from DR2. So he's brought before the Future Foundation leaders for questioning, but then the whole group is trapped in a new version of the Killing Game. The kids from DR1 want to work together to figure this out, because that worked before. The Foundation leaders, who have spent years at war while the DR1 kids were isolated in their school, think that approach is naive, so they quickly descend into trying to kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out.

Most of the new characters in this Killing Game are really absurd. I mean, that's Danganronpa for you, but it's harder to roll with it when these weirdos are sitting around a Wise Council Elders table deciding the fate of the world. Not to single out Ruruka Ando, but she's only a couple of years older than Makoto and her special talent is making delicious candy. I Guess dot jpg.

Despite this, each character gets just enough development to make me care about most of them, at least a little. Danganronpa has always been surprisingly good at that, often with little effort. You'll meet a dude named "Hentai Dakimakura" and he's the Ultimate Coupon Clipper or something but also he speaks through a ventriloquist dummy, and you're like "...the hell is this?" But then a month later you're like "Ha ha, that's our Daki, always up to his shenanigans."

Of course, my favorite character is Kyoko Kirigiri, and I watched this primarily to see what happens to her...and uhhh to see if she hooks up with Makoto. This did not go well.

[Above: just fuck me up]

...OK, look. I read over a year ago that Kyoko seems to die in DR3, and then in the end she's still alive. If I wasn't sure she'd be okay I wouldn't have watched this thing. I thought I was ready. I was not ready, because I didn't know how she "dies." All at once you learn that her poison bracelet was going to kill her unless Makoto died first, and that she must have know this the whole time. I had to stop and drink some rum. I cannot believe this hit me so hard.

This leads to a pivotal scene where Future Foundation leader Chad Munakata challenges Makoto to a showdown. See, all along Chad believed Makoto didn't have the nads for defeating despair. So he figures Kyoko's death will break Makoto's spirit, proving his point, and I'm like "YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, YOU SON OF A BITCH." But Kyoko asked Makoto to promise not to give up, so then I'm like "i know it sucks little buddy but you have to shake it off and get back up, dude, you promised." And then he flashes back to that scene and balls his fists and I'm all "yeahhhhh go get 'im, tiger."

The general theme of the Future Arc is about refusing to surrender to despair, even in the face of abject doom, even when empty violence might seem more personally satisfying. Makoto can't bring back the dead or undo the damage done to the Future Foundation, but he stays the course for its own sake, and therefore wins the ideological fight. So I think I understand why the Hope Arc might come across as magically fixing too much--not only is Kyoko resurrected, so is nearly every casualty from Danganronpa 2. I don't think that undermines the premise, though; like I said, I knew Kyoko wasn't dead but I still felt Makoto's grief as if she was truly gone forever. And besides, the series has always rewarded characters for enduring despair with a timely stroke of luck, even if it's not always so transparent.

["I think it's very nice of you to give that dead woman another chance."]

I ended up pulling an all-nighter to finish Danganronpa 3, because I just couldn't put it down and...well, I had to get to the part where Kyoko returned. About ten minutes before that scene, it finally hit me that nothing is going to happen when Makoto finds out she's alive, just like they didn't confess their love for each other in DR1 and they weren't explicitly a couple at the start of DR3. I feel dumb for just now figuring this out in 2022, but the tease that two characters will get together is the draw, so the storytellers always have an incentive to kick the can down the road rather than deliver a payoff. If you need a payoff, well, that's what fanfiction is for. Which explains why I had to write two of 'em, probably.

It's truly astonishing to me how happy and fulfilled I feel after I finish one of these Danganronpa things. Maybe it's just because I like Kyoko a lot and she always wins. But I suspect it's because they know how to manipulate your emotions, and take you down just low enough (but not too low) so you'll feel great when the good guys finally win. I need to figure out the formula so I can swipe it.

[a-sketchy-a-day]

Made another dragon Beetlejuice drawing. With the added bonus of Lydia, and a dragon Barbara and Adam!

Read below the cut for an entire AU.

Okay, so it takes place in a universe where dragons exist (...obviously). There are drakes, wolfhound to horse sized wingless dragons that are quite common pets. Then there’s the rider dragons, which can only be owned by members of certain special guilds and orders. And then there’s the monster dragons, vicious, untameable, and told to poses powers.

Lydia is the child of a dragon rider, and thus she had a right to get a dragon of her own. So her mother, Emily, helps her pick out the egg of her future dragon and instructs her how to take care of it. But one day while out flying, Emily's dragon Sunny got struck during a lightning storm, killing them both.

Lydia devoutly continues to take care of the egg, but weeks after it was supposed to hatch, there is still no movement. When they get to the guild to get it checked out they find the hatchling had died just a month into development.

They instantly see it as a bad omen, that first her mother and then her dragon would die. Surely it is too mean that death will follow the child everywhere. Because if this they are seriously considering to banish the grieving girl.

Charles and his new partner Delia come to her defence though, the later insisting that maybe the dragon’s death means that she was never meant to have a common dragon. After all the first riders and some great heroes found their dragons in the wilderness. So with that, Lydia is sent to the forrest, not to return until she finds herself her ‘destined' dragon.

But, having lost her mother, having her father replace her, and with the last connection he had to her gone, Lydia has already lost her will to live. Instead, she has set path for the cliffs of a mountain nearby.

Barely the second day into her journey she meets two drakes, a copper brown one and a teal one, who instantly seem to get attached to her. They accompany her on her travels, hunt for her, make sure she stays warm at night. And honestly, Lydia is glad to have friends on her last few days. She calls the teal, female dragon Barb (because her spines point in the wrong direction), and the male Adem (‘Add ‘em’ because of his extra pair of limbs). While camping out in a cave to hide from another thunderstorm, they hear a threatening rumble. Out of the darkness slowly crawls a monstrous dragon with a fiery red mane and jaw, gleaming green eyes, and twin striped tails. Both Barb and Adem crawl back and curl up in fright, trying to pull Lydia with them, but she simply stands there staring at the beast thinking: "Hu, guess this is how I die than.” It blinks at her a few times, confused that she isn’t running, before making a lunges at her. Still no reaction. He towers over her, paws at the ground around her, snarls and snaps his jaws, but she doesn’t even flinch at the flames from his nostrils, and the deep roar that sends saliva flying at her simply get’s a dry: “Gross…" And as Lydia stares at the brute with a: ‘You gonna kill me yet or what?’ look on her face, it suddenly flops down, mane turning green in a flash, and only one single mantra going through the monster’s head: ‘New best friend, new best friend, new best friend, new best friiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeend!’ And thus the party became four.

At first Lydia tries not to care, but it’s annoying how the giant dragon just keeps following and ‘purposely badly hiding every time they turn around to look’. He doesn’t even seem to mind Lydia’s gloomy mood, and takes every frustrated scream and smack she gives him a delighted grin. But the times she apologises for her outbursts or plays with his mane, he looks downright over the moon. Eventually Lydia reaches the cliffs. She looks down over the edge, causing Adem to nervously takes her dress between his teeth so she won’t fall. She backs up again, making the drake let go, she takes a few steps away…and makes a running leap into the deep. This is it, this is what she came here for. She can hear Adem and Barb’s frightened cries behind her, but they’ll be okay. Dad and Delia will figure it out, maybe they’ll have a kid of their own, and they’ll be non the wiser about what happened to her. And she’ll be okay too. Wherever her mom is, she’ll be there soon too. And then a pair of red claws wrap around her, thunderous wingbeats in her ears. At first Lydia is furious that, whatever she tries, BJ (Big Jerk) won’t let her die. Anytime she jumps, he catches her. Anything deadly she tries to attract he scares away. Venomous plant spotted? Oh, it’s on fire now. But then it sorta becomes a game, and honestly she’s mostly just challenging him now. She tries to deprive herself of sleep, but he just curls his tail around her to keep her still and despite being dirty and smelling weird, his mane is supper soft and warm. Hard to stay awake under those conditions. At one point when they sit down to eat, Lydia hesitates, puts the roasted rabbit back down, and gives BJ a smug look. Next thing she knows she blinks back to consciousness, fat and meat juices smeared across her face and hands, Adem and Barb looking at her with wide, horrified eyes, and BJ giving her an equally smug look back.

One day another rider flies over the spot where they are resting. Lydia stares after them with wistful eyes. Suddenly she is snatched up by the back of her dress and plopped down to grab hold of think green fur. There is a moment of calm while Barb and Adem get plopped down between the larger dragon’s shoulders too. And then they launch into the air. Lydia used to fly with her mom now and then. It never failed to make her laugh, to lift her spirits. Sometimes they’d fly to close over another rider’s head to give them a good scare. Sometimes her mom would take her hands off the leads with a loud ‘Don’t wanna fly anymore’, so Lydia could take over and try it out. Those were some of the few places or times that felt like she belonged. Sure, BJ isn’t Sunny, neither Barb nor Adem is her mom, but for the first time since that fateful storm, she feels a tiny bit closer to home again. So she gently spurs BJ on and pulls his mane, and the curious dragon lets himself be steered right on top over the other rider. They notice the dark shadow appearing over their head, despite the clear skies. They darn near soil themselves when they notice the giant predator hovering over them. Lydia can’t stop laughing at the reaction, and ‘BFFFF forever!' keep echoing progressively louder through BJ’s head. Deciding that maybe continuing to live isn’t too bad after all, Lydia steers BJ back into the direction of her village.

When they return, at first the council is disappointed to see Lydia walk in with two drakes. It doesn’t last long though, as a gargantuan form follows on her heels. Because you know, the monster dragon she brought with her is a Striped Demon. They posses great powers, even to twist the world around them to their wishes. Only the cruelest and strictest of men had ever attempted to tame them. Needless to say, the only people who ever managed to ride one quickly became dark lords. And most of them didn’t live very long. Now, with one of those legendary dark beasts happily doing as she asked, they fear that that dark omen from before is less ‘bad fortune will strike those around her’, and more ’next dark queen’. (Which way it will go depend on whether you’re a ’step on me dark lady’ lesbian, or a cottage-core one.)

[kanaima]

On Jedi and marriage

Lets see, one of the most popular topics about Jedi are their views on marriage and attachments. A very common opinion is that “Jedi should be allowed to marry!” “Jedi rules makes no sense” and “If the Council have allowed Anakin to marry, he would have never fallen to the Dark Side”

So, I’m here to debate these arguments, first I’m going to talk about my boy Anakin. 

He wasn’t, by any mean, ready to marry, or to become a Master, or to have a seat on the Council.

Now that that’s clear, time to talk about why Jedi forbiddance of marriage actually makes sense. We have the Jedi, members of a Religious Order, which beliefs have proved to be true and the Force they worships actually exists, and not only exist, it guides the entire galaxy.

Jedi Knights and Masters do not have a regular job, they usually are far away on missions, some are really long, some are utterly dangerous, some are hard and difficult, but all of them require the upmost attention from the Jedi. Canon made it clear that Jedi are so few, that entire systems do not believe them to be true, so it wouldn’t be rare if a single Jedi have to deal with an whole planet.

From my point of view, it would be kinda cruel to demand attention from someone who could be dealing with a whole planet.

That would leave them very little time to focus on a marriage, that’s obvious, and we all know what happen when marriage is not a priority for one of the parts. 

As an example, we can mention all the failed marriages caused by extended separation time (deployed soldiers, diplomats in far away countries and volunteers in war zones and poor regions) and by jobs that demand time and dedication, but are also dangerous (EMS staff, aircraft pilots, war nurses, truck drivers). If any of those jobs is underpaid or not paid at all, well, you can imagine how fast the honeymoon bliss end.  

Also, marriage usually lead to children, and there no way to efficiently care for their position in the Order, the mission they are dealing with, the partner waiting for them, the children, the maintenance of the partner and the children, because we have to remember that Jedi aren’t swimming in credits.

Perhaps an incredible capable Jedi could deal with it all. But we, again, have to remember that Jedi have their own toddlers, children and elders to care for, their own home to care for. Because yes, the Temple do not keep itself active, clean, working by its own.

Back to the topic of money and children, a Jedi can take a Padawan, and they will have to train, take care, teach, feed and basically keep the kid alive for the next 10 or so years. 

Not everyone is Padmé Amidala, not everyone would be willing to let their partner go to wandering the Galaxy with the only company of some 10-20 years old who isn’t any of their actual kids.

Also, the Jedi would have to take the Padawan out to even more missions to teach them how to deal with politics, internal conflicts, negotiate peace, lightsaber fighting skills, philosophy and all of that stuff. The Master have to be ready to sacrifice for their Padawan if the situation get out of control. To the Jedi, having a Padawan is not some daycare project, they have to guide and protect Padawans with their lives. 

I say again, it could be cruel to demand all to just one person.

That’s exactly why the Jedi Council could have made someone decide between the Order and their Marriage. They can’t have both, there is no balance in having both, at some point, one will be pick as a priority, either by themselves or by fate.

It is noy because they are mean, is because they care.

Not even Ki-Adi Mundi, the oh so mentioned Jedi with a family have both. Mundi isn’t constantantly with his wife or kids, he isn’t even in his own planet. He had to choose, and is very clear that he choose the Jedi.

[motherstone]

When you have the time could you share the bad au?

Anon, I am deeply grateful that you asked, but I must warn you that this is LONG (16+ arcs long and that’s because I havent conceptualized the others yet) and i am only sending you pt.1 Be warned.

More under the cut:

Deviation from canon:

·        Anything involving the aliens is dropped

·        Algos island won’t be a gas station, but an actual fucking island

·        The Voice is spiritual in nature.

·        The Old is New scene occurs around Book 5

·        Trellis eventually gets some fractions of his memories, but I dunno how yet

·        The Resistance at Frontera won’t be THE Resistance but the Elven resistance – they refused contact with the human resistance because they’re very discriminatory and hostile. The ER is composed of the researchers/engineers/etc and their kids that the Elf King failed to purge when they revolted once they fully realized that they are actually creating weapons of mass destruction

·        Emily gets trapped in the Void

·        There’s a whole lot more, but I can’t recall all of them

Note: Do take that these are not yet properly developed. Many of these are ideas I just enjoy playing around with. It WOULD not put much attention to most characters because a.) I haven’t nuanced their roles nor what part they should play in the story and b.) the narrative focuses on Trellis because I’m biased and ngl the potential of the story he could create is a LOT. He has sooo many potential conflicts, be it in self, society, and nature I couldn’t help myself. Also, do take note that this story is meant to be a tragedy – it’s going to explore Trellis and his reign, and the burden and subsequent consequences from it. The narrative doesn’t seek to “punish him” because 90% of the problems he encountered are out of his control and there is barely a perfect solution to anything, so he is bound to create ruthless and even questionable decisions as a result of his inexperience and young age despite his intelligence; all of these I am intrigued to explore about because all of it I just made up lmao.

In addition, my head blurred between what is canon, what I want canon to be, and what you know about the “canon” in my head (which is likely, not a lot because I never post abt it), so I may suddenly spout things that may seem out of context because you guys lack the background behind it. So if you have questions, pls feel free to send them my way. These arcs are INCREDIBLY condensed because if I spout too many details, I’d forget the details in other arcs. So. Yeah.

ARCS

STONEKEEPER TRIALS

-      Guardian Council arrives at Algos Island which contains the knowledge to purify the Voice from the Elf King (which should weaken him and thus easier to kill him)

-      Stonekeepers of past made sure to put security measure to prove the worthiness of the person seeking said knowledge and using it responsibly for the right reasons by subjecting them to a Trial (they will experience their deepest greatest desires and greatest fears as well)

-      Technically, the knowledge isn’t a concrete thing – it only works once per keeper, but it modifies itself to fill in the gaps of the knowledge they lack but seek (so like if youre seeking how to heal, the Temple will give you that knowledge and THAT knowledge only)

-      Lacking time, all three decided to take the Trials separately but at the same time.

-      This is supposed to be the fic on ao3 is about, even had an outline n all but its too long so I’ll post it later

-      tl;dr: Tellis finished first and is the one who gained the knowledge, and Vigo finished second, but Emily isn’t waking up at all. Eventually they all got attacked by the shadows

-      Trellis sends Vigo up to get the airship to them as he stays behind to protect Emily from the shadows

-      He’s getting super desperate as the enemies increase but Emily isn’t waking up until she suddenly transforms and tries to kill him

-      He barely survives but the Firebird gets away. The rest of the crew retrieved him, but when he retells them what happened…

-      They didn’t believe him. They think he sabotaged Emily.

BURNING OF IPPO

-      It more or less goes the same in Supernova, except the memory thing doesn’t happen and none of the Amulet trusts him except Riva and Vigo. Leon Miskit and Karen are still on Cielis while Navin n Aly are on Frontera but they don’t know that yet.

-      So the firebird attacks as usual, but instead of taken out early in the game, he is pushed to the limit protecting the city and its citizens as he’s the only one who can create a barrier while Vigo distracts FB and Riva evacuates the people

-      Trellis also bothers to release the elf soldiers in prison when it burns so they would be able to evacuate (will be important)

-      He nearly dies from exhausting himself, but manages to repel the FB to leave Ippo alone after much of it is burned. He is devastated by the aftermath because most of the people burned right in front of his eyes (will be important)

-      Worried at FB’s destructive power, they argue between pursuing it or ending the war. Riva argues trellis can’t go around protecting every city as its too fast for them, so it leaves only one viable option; end the war as quickly as possible to focus on Emily before she  burns everything and kill everyone

-      They eventually reunite with the Cielis army, but eventually gets abandoned again alongside the human resistance because they refuse to serve under Trellis, who was going to command the assault

-      Lacking an army, the elven, Luciean, and Ippoei soldiers then offers to help

-      They reconvene with the ER on Frontera, finally reuniting with Navin, Aly and Pil, who were all horrified by the news. Navin has mixed feelings but ultimately agrees it was his fault and is optimistic Em will be ok. Aly on the other hand is apprehensive but continues to trust him.

-      Meanwhile, Vigo departs to convince the CA to change their minds and get more allies, while Trellis, Luger, and the rest forms a plan…

BATTLE OF VALCOR

-      Trellis pretends to be captured by Elf Army to get close enough to the Elf King to kill him – avoiding as much bloodshed as possible. Unfortunately, he was decided to be executed before he could confront him so all hell breaks lose as the disguised soldiers ditches their disguises and fights the remaining EA on the king’s side

-      Note: Trellis is waaay more powerful and skilled here although his destructive powers are nowhere near Emily’s

-      He tries to make his fights as curt and decisive as possible to avoid wasting precious energy for the confrontation (I swear to god the fight sequence is more elaborate in my head but hnng I’m busy rn). Eventually he does make it at the temple of kings – where his father was waiting

-      Trellis was nowhere weak, but he barely holds ANY dice against his father’s power and was very close to nearly dying

FALL OF THE KING

-      He was saved by the timely intervention of Vigo and Riva – who has finally arrived with the CA (who got threatened into cooperating)

-      They barely get the upperhand, but they manage to get Trellis close enough to enact the Scission but, got uphold by the fact that the man they were trying to kill wasn’t dead in the first place but ALIVE

-      The Elf King begs Trellis to end it all, the mercy of release, for death, and it horrified him into freezing into place – MISTAKE

-      He gets a fatal wound being stabbed because the EK was tricking him (he is alive, but he was not really manipulated by the Voice – He was always evil all along), sneering at his softness that was never quite wrung out by the abuse

-      But that also gave Trellis the perfect opportunity to cast the Scission, which he then does at nearly the cost of his own life

-      The Voice gets cut off from the EK and retreated to the Void, and the EK dies from his wounds, and Trellis was about to meet the same fate

-      All three of them are barely held together by threads, but Vigo uses the last of his power so trellis could survive. At this, Trellis just has a mental breakdown and he doesn’t want to go any further, being so close to his breaking point because of all the horror he has to endure (ohh boii and it doesn get better from here)

-      But Riva was pleading for him to get up, get the mask and get to the other side, to show the mask, the soldiers that he WON and Gulfen surrenders and end the war. These two stumble slowly, but steadfastly, Riva practically the only thing supporting Trellis as they try to get to the fighting

-       They eventually manage to reach it, but trellis has to stand alone, composed, undefeated, because if it were anything less, people would challenge him. He declares a surrender.

-      The battlefield silences. One by one, the weapons drop.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Preview! “Shadowed Beneath Our Hand”

A little sneak peek! Getting new stuff prepped in time for the “Wakanda Forever” premiere. This will be out at the end of the month.

C.W.: NSFW. 18+. Smut.

Summary:

King M’Baku, leader of the Jabari tribe high in the mountains overlooking Wakanda, has a lot on his mind lately. His beloved wife and confidante Ayomide is expecting twins in two months, adding a total of nine children to his growing brood. He is also licking his wounds after losing Challenge Day and a chance to take over the lands beneath him. When a Jabari fisherman arrives at the palace with a catch he was least expecting to pull out of a river, M’Baku is thrust into a position he never thought he would find himself in: Decider of the fate of Wakanda.

"The ladies on my elbow ain't for the show Every madame on my team is a top general, oh Got to be ready for war, war Should they get into my door, door? Get 'em, we'll get 'em, I know that we'll get 'em Cause I lived through this shit before, oh

I'm a Classic Man You can be mean when you look this clean I'm a Classic Man Calling on me like a young OG I'm a Classic Man Your needs get met by the street, elegant old fashioned man Yeah baby I'm a Classic Man"

Jidenna – "Classic Man"

M'Baku Òkè of the Jabari tribe slumped down low on his throne, rubbing the injured knuckles of his left hand. Swollen and still bruised, he grimaced from the pain radiating all across his massive body. More than anything, the biggest ache he nursed was his shattered ego. None of his royal attendants made eye contact, fearing his mood. Even his most trusted guards avoided stirring up his wrath over the public defeat at the hands of the Panther Tribe's new king, T'Challa Udaku.

He stepped his solid frame down from the throne, shaking his thick thighs as he ambled behind the royal seat and looked down through the glass floor. A giant gorilla carved out of the mountain held part of the palace above the clouds and he gazed into the cloud-laden abyss below. Hidden underneath was Wakanda, the land that could've been his. How bold he had been to show up! No Jabari king had ever come down the mountain for centuries, but M'Baku had the urge to flex his might for his people. The Panther tribe moved too recklessly before the death of King T'Chaka and M'Baku was set on smashing their endless hereditary rule by snatching the throne away and returning the whole of Wakanda back to the traditions they once held before vibranium took over their culture.

Ah, there!

An opening in the clouds gave M'Baku a peek at the tops of Warrior Falls. The place of his crushing defeat. He sighed. Only the great God, Hanuman, knew why he could not beat the spoiled prince. The moment M'Baku held T'Challa's waist in a powerful hold and bashed his face bloody with the gorilla mask, the Jabari king knew he'd won the fight. The prince was no match in stature or strength, and yet somehow, under the gaze of Hanuman, Bast, Sekhmet, and the ancestors, Prince T'Challa claimed his throne, rendering M'Baku a failure before his people.

His council of elders chastised him for wanting to go down the mountain in the first place. His beloved wife, Ayomide, warned him about seeking a foothold in the world below them. Her belly stretched with two of his babies resting inside of her womb and she fussed at him for daring to mingle with the flatlanders.

"You are a fool to go there," Ayomide grumbled at him.

Lying on their warm bed deep inside of their mountain chamber, M'Baku rubbed her stomach and cooed gentle words to their twins who gave up kicking their Mama's insides to get her attention. Ayomide glared at him with blistering heat behind her eyes. She had the nature of a goddess and the beauty of a darkening sunset. The woman also carried the wisdom of the elders he admired in his council, and he often conferred with her before making any decisions for their people. He stroked the skin of her arm and stared into her dark, flashing eyes.

"It is time they witness the might of the Jabari," M'Baku proclaimed.

"Why get mixed up with those people? They are not worthy of our security and happiness if we take over ruling them. We are too different," she lamented.

"There is a new day coming, my love. I should be the one to lead it."

In his mind, M'Baku wanted to lay Wakanda at his wife's feet. She endured an eighth pregnancy carrying two children this time, and her patience was not what it used to be with him. He was even made to use concubines to pleasure himself because she refused to make love to him with his mind on humbling T'Challa and the Wakandans. Inside their bedchamber, he lifted a lover chosen by her, up and down on his tree trunk thighs, parting the wet folds of pliant pussy as she reclined next to him, watching the interaction and guiding the other woman on what to do to please him.

The girth of his dick wore out the concubine, and she whimpered with glassy eyes, staring at his wife while he thrust up into her, his heavy balls slapping against her ass. M'Baku allowed the woman to rest on his broad chest and he leaned over to kiss Ayomide, but his wife turned her head away playfully and squeezed her full breasts for him to keep his arousal going. He preferred to make love to her, spooning behind her and plunging into her slick, engorged heat while rubbing on her burgeoning belly. He could cum so fast just from rocking into her wide backside for five or six shallow strokes. She punished him instead by giving him one of her trusted concubines. Ayomide indulged in lovemaking with other women that they often shared. However, since her latest pregnancy, he only wanted her to himself. Talks of facing T'Challa cooled her ardor, and she sent him her favorite women to play with.

Alas, T'Challa humbled him before the world. Ayomide would probably put him out of her bed and cut off her women for him out of spite.

M'Baku concentrated on the sun dropping lower on the horizon. He spread out his large hand, letting it cover a portion of the Wakandan territory that should've been his at that moment. It cast a shadow on the glass, reflecting his meaty fingers back to him. From his position, he embraced the sensation of floating on the clouds above the world. Such a tiny-looking nation from where he perched hidden behind his hand, so high in the heavens. Yes… heaven. Eluigwe. That's what the Jabarilands were. Wakanda, no matter how technically advanced and powerful they were, couldn't compare to the mountain of heaven that cast shadows over them.

M'Baku balled his hand into a fist. He was still the Jabari king. He was still the leader of a mighty nation. Another snow cloud drifted across the vast swathe of mountain sky, and the first gentle flakes of fresh snow fell to add more powdery layers to the accumulated inches that arrived after his humiliating defeat.

"Eze M'Baku…"

The timid voice of a male attendant broke into his reverie. M'Baku turned and Nebechi, his favorite throne room assistant, held his hands up in deference.

"What is it?" M'Baku said.

"My Eze, your wife, Eze Nwaanyi Ayomide, is here to see you."

Nebechi stood with downcast eyes, his bulky body just as large as M'Baku.

"Tell her I am busy," M'Baku said, turning back toward the window, watching the snow flurries increase.

"You will do no such thing."

Ayomide's voice startled him. M'Baku cut his eyes at Nebechi for not warning him that the Eze Nwaanyi, queen, was already there. He waved an agitated hand at Nebechi, and the man scooted away quickly.

The queen stood near his throne with two female attendants and her personal consort, Ijemma. M'Baku could not tear his eyes away from his wife. The glow of her pregnancy made her seem otherworldly. Nubian knots were twisted and decorated with moonstone crystals with hints of blue deep inside the alabaster color. A long robe made of reddish-brown antelope hide and decorated with a fluffy fur collar protected Ayomide and their babies as she moved around the cooler parts of the palace and her treks outside. He noticed the melting flakes of snow glistening around her shoulders. The other women had on coarse leather coats and furry boots decorated with dark glass beads.

M'Baku lumbered his body over to Ayomide and held her outstretched hands. He kissed her cheeks, then her lips with passionate affection. Her demeanor was pleasant and for once since his return from Wakanda days before, she smiled at him. He leaned over and kissed her consort on the cheek, and Ijemma bowed to him.

"You have graced me with a smile, my love. Am I forgiven?" M'Baku asked.

Ayomide smirked, then rubbed her belly with tender hands.

"You are the king of kings, my husband. I cannot stay cross with you forever, so I came to spoil you with my affections. Ijemma is here with me, so we can all spend some time together. I can pamper you and she will please you in my place."

"The babies are being difficult today?" M'Baku asked.

She sensed the disappointment in his voice. He wanted to pleasure her alone and make up for his rash decision to fight on challenge day.

"There is some discomfort. When there are two instead of one, things exhaust me faster," Ayomide said.

"My Eze, M'Baku, if you wish for me to not share your bed with you and the queen tonight, I can come another time when you need me," Ijemma said.

"Whatever the queen wants, I will do," M'Baku said, staring at Ayomide with longing and lust.

"How you like to be with me… with all of this astounds me," Ayomide said, palming her belly with exaggeration.

M'Baku nuzzled his beard against her face, his fluffy lips seeking her lush mouth.

"Easy, my love," Ayomide said, catching her breath after he released her lips.

"Come, you shouldn't be on your feet much longer. I'll take you to our bedchamber and we can get you comfortable," M'Baku said, cradling her hand.

"Two more months and they will be here, and I can have my body back to myself," Ayomide teased.

"Eze M'Baku!"

Otito, his lead guard, ran into the throne room, shaking snow from his wide shoulders. His leather and furs showed everyone that the snowdrift had stayed for the evening. His fur boots were packed with icy whiteness. Out of breath, Otito waved toward the entrance.

"A fisherman found a body down below and brought it here," Otito rushed out.

"Someone drowned in the waters?" Ayomide asked.

Otito shook his head and M'Baku became worried. Otito was not one to act flustered and excited about anything.

"Please, come see for yourself!" Otito said.

M'Baku followed his guard out of the throne room. Three more guards waited just outside of the door, their faces displaying bewilderment.

"All this for a body fished out of the river?" M'Baku barked.

Ayomide and her women followed him and M'Baku kept a gentle hand over hers, not walking too fast to exhaust her. They moved through the wide halls and made their way to the palace entrance, which was in the shape of a giant gorilla head. More guards stood at the palace entrance with the snowfall covering their bodies.

"Eze M'Baku!"

A young Jabari fisherman with a strong back and strong features lugged a heavy sled behind him. Instead of cold fish caught for him to sell at the market, a body covered in snow and thick furs rested on it.

"I found him. He washed up on shore. He may be dead…."

The fisherman explained his situation, but M'Baku pulled back the furs.

"Glory to Hanuman," M'Baku huffed out.

There, in the falling snow, covered in patches of crystalline ice, with bruised flesh and a fresh stab wound on his side, laid the King of Wakanda, T'Challa Udaku.

"Is he dead?" Ayomide asked.

"Take the queen inside, now!" M'Baku ordered.

Ayomide's attendants and consort ushered his wife back through the gorilla head. M'Baku towered over the young fisherman.

"Tell no one you found him," M'Baku said.

The fisherman nodded. M'Baku's mind spun in a thousand directions. How did this happen to T'Challa? The great Jabari king himself had only fought him a few days ago. Was he assassinated?

M'Baku reached down and touched the new king's skin. Frozen and hard like the ice he floated in before the fisherman pulled him out. The Jabari king quickly covered T'Challa's body.

"Take him to my Hall of Meditation. Let's see if we can save him," M'Baku commanded.

The king's guards took the sled away from the fisherman and pulled it east toward his private spiritual retreat.

"Go with them. They will return your sled and furs, and remember," M'Baku pointed a threatening finger at the man, "not a word to anyone."

The fisherman held up his hands in deference and scurried away, tugging down on his coat to keep the snow from freezing him more. A cold sensation chillier than the snow crept over M'Baku. If T'Challa was near death, and put that way on purpose, who was leading Wakanda? The girl child, Shuri? Ramonda? M'Baku stomped his way through two feet of snow to the Hall of Meditation. T'Challa probably wouldn't make it through the night. He would worry about Wakanda later.

Hope you enjoyed the preview! 

[dredreadsdrawing]

These ones? These colors? Please me.

I lik

Them

Very nice very pretty

I mean I like ALL of them but like,

These ones

And I thought the one with glasses had a mustache at first glance lolol

Lololol, they're your God children now, it has been decided by the high Dre council -w- You may draw em, give me headcannons of them/their fates/their personalities, you may even name em a name thats in theme with Onomatopoeias (names that are sound based lol). I will ultimately decide how ehat you give fit into the narrative with what u give ^^ For now, I'll give you these tidbits I had as I drew em, feel free to change shit up if you'd like:

1. Grim business-y clown. All I knew to make em was they'd wear a generic business suit and always sound miserable. Main color blue.

2. Good newspaper-boy clothed lad. I know he looks mostly blue-leaning but his main color is actually Red (i should have explained, I made 7 clowns with 7 colors in mind to fill each row. Red/Blue/Pink/Purple/Orange/Yellow/Green. I will now specify everyone's main color lol)

3. A very blushy nerd. Applecheeks, this one lol. Wears a turtleneck, hair always styled back. Red is their main color.

4. Pink of course. Short n poofy, modeled after the classic Pierrots. Their color may be pink but their mood hangs as blue, a juxtaposition.

[squiiids]

major points in a hypothetical persona 3 remaster that would make my dreams come true

you can choose between a male and female protagonist. This choice changes very little except for a few occasional dialogue options (male gets a few more “i don’t care”s, female gets a few more sentences ending with exclamation points), and both options are considered equally canon. All romance options will be available for either gender.

All the social links, and a lot of the story as a whole gets revamped and rewritten. Like, I love this game, favorite one in the series by far, but a lot, and i mean a lot of the social links and story beats are Really bare and lacking, especially compared to the writing in p5. Like, sure there’s something to say about simplistic writing where everyone’s got a solid suspension of disbelief and is more willing to go with the flow (love not having to explain the dark hour to Junpei every 10 minutes, unlike Ryuji in the metaverse), but seriously, we could just use a Bit more of characters looking around, exploring the world, talking to one another, etc

Obvs, Junpei gets a new voice actor

Every party member has a social link, unlike in p3p where it’s gender locked or the original where only the girls get em.

Like in Persona 4, choosing your after school electives will change your available social links, but to a much greater degree, including social links you meet through other social links.

For a sports team you can choose track or kendo and meet Yuuko and Kazushi during it. You can alternatively choose volleyball or tennis and meet Rio instead, and through that meet Kenji (who’d have to be met this way since Junpei stole the magician slot).

For a committee you can choose the student council and get Hidetoshi & Chihiro, or the health committee and get Saori & Maya, which gets narratively explained by Junpei offering a copy of Innocent Sin online, but if the player’s already joined the student council, Mitsuru says you’re too busy for games like that

For a culture club, you unlock this during Fuuka’s social link, where she asks the player if she should form a food club or keep to cooking as just a hobby. Forming the food club lets you meet Nozomi, who quits immediately after seeing Fuuka’s food isn’t At All fit for the Gourmet King. Deciding not to form the club causes Fuuka to invite the player to join the art club and form a social link with Keisuke.

Only some floors in Tartarus are randomized. Other floors are proper dungeons with intricate layouts.

Same with full moon bosses. They get real dungeons, and not just brief walks up to the boss.

Takaya, Jin, Chidori, and Ikutsuki all get social links, and they are respectively, Sword, Pentacle, Wand, and Cup. Some are increased automatically, others, SPECIFICALLY TAKAYA, are not

Pharos’ social link only goes up to rank 5. Ryoji gets a social link that is something outside the tarot arcana, but it also only goes up to 5 (but gets story locked at 4). When he reveals his identity to SEES, the two combine, and get maxed out when you choose to kill him.

Elizabeth (or Theodore if you chose him, I GUESS) also gets a social link that is outside the tarot arcana

Shinjiro’s death stays canon. I might change my tune on this when i reach the scene in P3P, but i dunno yet.

Minor improvements hither and yon, new events like a Valentines & White Day event.

The final scene can occur with any character INCLUDING Strega, Ryoji, Akinari, Shinjiro, and ESPECIALLY (theo or) Elizabeth (Who drops some real good lines bout how she knows what you had to give up, and she’ll stop at nothing to free you from your fate, and give you the proper reward you deserve)

AND SPEAKING OF, there’s an epilogue, set 10 years later, where Elizabeth (or Theo, whatever) completes her (or his) mission, and you get to walk around Tatsumi Port Island and Iwatodai with her, seeing how all of your social links have grown in the time off. Lots of real touching stuff, seeing how everybody’s grown, plus some cool stuff maybe implying Strega’s still around but now they’re fighting for the future they thought would never happen. Most people you see don’t believe it’s you until you flash the memento they left you and they’re all “No way I can’t believe it!” and get all teary-eyed. It all of course ends with going back to the dorm, which By Some Chance, all of SEES is there, and they all of course immediately recognize you, and the game ends with you getting to say something along the lines of, “I’m back.” or “Sorry to have kept you waiting!”

[maple-keenes]

they wanted heaven from me, i gave ‘em hell

summary: heaven pays no attention to the actions of those in hell. roman isn't sure whether he's doing the right thing anymore, but he's certain of one thing - that his father isn't fit to be king. and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that he won't be anymore.

pairing: logicality and prinxiety

tw: murder, death, discussion of murder and death, remus, deceit, morally grey deceit, weapons, criminalization of gay people, homophobia, cursing

wc: 5837

a/n: this took me THREE MONTHS to write and i am ashamed of how bad it turned out 

read it on ao3

general:

@analogical-chaos @theflatpancake @ilovemygaydad @alltimevirgilant @virgiliananxiety @romanticsanders @theincediblesulk @wroammin @creativity-killed-thekitten @bitchyybabyy400 @wooflesthatwoof @lyditist @heck-im-lost @max-is-tired @demurphart @thelowlysatsuma @land-of-dragons-and-frogs @theeternalspace @magicallygrimmwiccan @weirdsthenewnormal @romansleftshoulderpad

--

The king looked down coldly upon his son, who, despite being ordered to his death, was oddly cheery.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched man.” The king turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

Roman smiled crookedly, glancing up at his father. “Daddy, please. Forget about the whole sodomite thing for five minutes, won’t you?” He laughed. “Personally, I find it ridiculous. I think the fact that I’m being executed should fall entirely on the arranged coup, not the boyfriend.”

“ENOUGH!” his father roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.”

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” the executioner grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Roman grinned, walking side by side next to the executioner as they made their way to the dungeons. As they finally were out of anyone’s sight for certain, he shook off the loosely tied ropes binding his hands and pulled of the ‘executioner’s’ mask, giving his boyfriend a wry smile. “You’re clever, Virgil. I didn’t think you could pull off the executioner act.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

about five months prior

"A toast!" the king cried, "to my dear son, Prince Roman. May your victories be plenty."

Roman beamed as his father and the rest of the court applauded. He stood up, raising his glass to the rest of the court, the ladies giggling and swooning as he smiled at each of them in turn. “Father, you honor me. I hope to bring great glory to this kingdom!” The crowd let out a raucous cheer, clapping and hollering for their beloved prince.

Oh, their beloved prince, the savior of the kingdom. An amazing title to have bestowed upon oneself, but Roman despised it. Oh, he despised it. He was trapped, caged in a life he didn’t want. His dad was a dictator, his mother was dead, and he was… he was Prince Roman. He was the symbol of hope for this twisted kingdom.

Late one summer evening, Roman saddled up his horse and rode out into the woods, the lantern swinging in front of him as he cantered through the forest. It was practically dark when he decided he should really start to head back, though his plans were interrupted by strong hands grabbing him around the waist and pulling him off his horse. Roman’s cries were muffled by a gag slyly placed around his mouth as the edges of his vision dulled and then everything…

Stayed vaguely in focus, because he wasn’t going to black out. Gotcha.

As he was dragged, his vision slid in and out of focus. Roman supposed that was on purpose, though he wouldn’t have been able to tell you where he was anyways. When they reached the hole that this hooligan was dragging him to, the prince was promptly tied to a chair and then, only then, did Roman realize that the hooligan currently in the process of binding is legs to the chair was unreasonably attractive. Oh, he had skin like a perfectly roasted coffee bean, and gorgeously tousled brown hair all pulled together with grey-blue eyes. Roman could fall right then and there.

Of course, he wouldn’t. Because he was a man, and therefore he would marry a woman, not a beautiful kidnapper. But oh god, those eyes…

What was the harm in flirting a little? Especially with a man who was certainly going to be executed once his father found him. The kingdom would never stand for its beloved prince being missing, and Roman would be grateful, even though his father could only truly be described, as the author would say, as a word that begins with a and ends with sshole. And tyrant. Murderer. Etcetera.

“I don’t suppose you’re only on your knees for my viewing pleasure?” Roman asked lazily, retaining that ridiculous confidence he’d become known for.

His captor looked up. “Oh honey, I only get down on my knees for attractive princes.”

Roman was quite put out by that. Never, in his life, had he been insulted and rejected so thoroughly in the same sentence. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why I’m bound hand and foot.”

“Nah,” his kidnapper replied, flashing him a cheeky smile. “I’m going to go fetch my friends. And then we’ll see about your fate.” He bit his lip, still laughing. “Personally, I was all for execution. My friends are less cold-hearted.”

“I don’t think I could ever see someone as attractive or humorous as you are as cold-hearted,” Roman remarked, grinning at his mysterious captor.

The man winked. “You’d be surprised.” With that, he turned and walked into a room off to the side, returning a minute later with his friends, Roman assumed.

One was taller than the other by quite a bit, sporting a royal blue bandana tied fashionably around his neck. Roman could have sworn he’d seen that face before, the pale skin contrasted against dark brown hair and dark freckles. The picture of regality in posture and poise, but a boyish face nonetheless.

The other was shorter, bouncy, and smiling. This was not a situation where one should be smiling, so he had to admit he was impressed. He has long curls… come to think of it, Roman was fairly certain he had also seen this young man before. God, he really needed to start paying attention to the servants’ names.

“So, my dearest prince, these are my friends. They will decide your fate.”

Tall glanced at him, annoyance and disdain evident. “You have far too much of that ridiculous flair for the dramatic in you.”

“Aww, I think it’s sweet,” Short cooed. “Hi, Prince Roman. I’m Patton, that’s Logan,” he pointed to Tall, “and your captor is Virgil. He’s kind of a... well, he’s a nice jerk, but we love him no matter what.”`

Roman gasped, attempting to point at Logan. "You! I know you! You work for my father!"

Logan nodded. "I am an advisor to the throne. Surely we've met before, prince."

"Once or twice. You are a spy, then?" he questioned.

"Certainly. The former duke - or king, now, I must call him, may trust me, but I know the man is a tyrant." Logan sighed. "I didn't mean to live a double life. I have been Remus' advisor since he was 25 years of age and I 18."

"So… you're old, is what you're saying."

He let out a short, barking laugh. "What I'm saying is that I know your father very well. And his brother, when he was still alive."

Roman opened his mouth in protest, ready to call the older man out on his faulty memory, (his father never had a brother) when Virgil interrupted with a loud "Anyways. Life stories later, prince murdering now. Any last words, Roman?"

"Now hold on a minute -"

Patton placed a calming hand on Virgil's arm. "Virgil. He is not our enemy. Nor are we going to murder him for the actions of his father. The servants I meet are fond of Roman. He is kind to them when his father is not. And the court nobles… well, they know that he is different, if nothing else."

Realization dawned on him. "Patton… do I know you too?"

Patton gave him a small smile. "From a long time ago. It makes sense you would not recognize me, but nonetheless, I still think you are kind and I would much prefer you as an ally and friend than dead on our floor."

(It is months later that Roman finds out the truth about Patton. When the secret is revealed, Roman will think back to this moment and wonder how he missed it, because it was all in the eyes and he just wasn't looking hard enough.)

"So I'm outvoted?" Virgil asks, scoffing. "Fine. But he could still run off and go tell his father and we'd all be dead. We don't know him."

"I do," Logan and Patton chorused.

He shoots them a glare. "Well, I don't." Virgil walked over to Roman and poked him in the chest rather harshly. "How do we know you won't rat us out to Daddy?"

A million reasons ran through Roman's mind.

Because he's a horrible tyrant.

Because he starved thousands.

Because he treats his council and family like we are less than dirt in private, and as if we are gods in public.

Because he murdered my mother and he'll kill me too.

"Because he doesn't deserve the throne he sits on. No country deserves a land ruled by someone with no one's interests at heart but their own." Roman sighed. "And… because I hate him more than you do."

Virgil leaned back, seemingly satisfied with Roman's answer. "Well. I guess that's okay." He reached out his hand to Roman as a gesture of "I guess it's okay if I don't murder you today".

Roman took it. "Good to be a part of the team," he responded. "What do we do now?"

Virgil raised his eyebrows as a smile overtook his face. "Now you learn how to fight."

--

It was two days later when Roman returned to the place he'd met the other three, mumbling something or other about Virgil being a bitch and also unfairly attractive for such a bitch.

Virgil was already standing outside, twirling a dagger between his fingers and smirking at Roman. There was a straw doll set up a few yards away from the hole marking the entrance to the secret lair or whatever.

"Guess who finally showed up." Virgil sheathed his dagger. "Thought we agreed on 4?"

"Had to convince my guard not to follow me out," Roman said, dismounting from his horse (who had, luckily, wandered back to the castle after Roman was kidnapped).

He nodded, and Roman took that to mean that this was an acceptable excuse. "What'd you tell them?"

"That I had a hot date with a cute boy," he answered along with a wink.

Virgil turned bright red. "I - I can't - " he stuttered, before quickly regaining his confidence. "I feel sorry for the man. His company is quite unattractive."

Roman scowled. "I'm gorgeous, thank you. And I told them that I would like to hunt and i would prefer to do so alone. They were much more keen to believe that excuse than a woodland tryst with another man."

"Oh, I wonder why?" he muttered sarcastically, tossing Roman a plain dagger. "First lesson, close combat."

He held the dagger in his palm, studying it. "It's… well, frankly, Virge, this dagger is boring. And I already know how to fight!"

Virgil shot him an exasperated glare. "Firstly, defending your life or someone else's is not supposed to be a glamorous affair, Roman. Secondly," he continued, ticking them off on his fingers, "you know how to fight like a royal, which means you know how to fight sword fighting instructors and that's about it. And finally, don't call me Virge."

"Jesus, okay." Roman rolled his eyes. "Okay, master sword fighter, teach me your ways."

"No more snark outta you." Virgil grabbed Roman's hand amd balled it into a fist. "Is this the right way to make a fist?"

"Touchy, aren't we?"

"Stop talking and answer my question."

Roman sighed. "No, it isn't. I'll break my thumb if it's inside the fist."

"Correct," Virgil said, smiling. "You're not as useless as I thought."

"Thanks," he replied, annoyed, though he grinned back at Virgil.

Maybe this would be fun after all.

A month passed of combat training with Virgil, potion-making and medicine with Patton, keeping track of the king's movements with Logan, and planning. What for, he didn't know. But they sure as hell did a lot of it.

“So, Logan.”

"Roman."

Roman leaned back in his chair. “When we first met… you said that my father had a brother. And... I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I just - I've never even heard of an uncle."

Logan's face softened, just a little bit. "I suppose your father wouldn't have wanted you to know about him, no."

He went quiet for a bit, mindlessly flicking through their notes. "What was his name?" he asked, avoiding eye contact.

Logan glanced at him, then looked back down at his papers. “It was Damien.”

“Damien,” Roman repeated. “He was exiled when I was little. I never knew he was my uncle.”

“He was better than your father, but that’s sort of a low bar.” Logan chuckled a bit at his own joke. “Damien was… he wanted people to respect and admire him, and he wasn’t always great at telling the truth, but he was a decent man. You deserved to know him.”

Roman gasped in mock astonishment. “Logan… is this your way of saying that you liked someone?”

Logan glared at him. “I like some people plenty. Currently, you’re excluded from that minority.”

“Well, thanks for telling me about my uncle.” He shifted in his seat a bit, shutting the book in front of him. “It was nice of you. Now, on to more important topics, since you mention that you do, in fact, like people -”

“I would prefer to end this conversation here.”

“And I wanna talk about your love life, because we’re friends now and I want to. So, guess we don’t always get what we want.” Roman shrugged. “I remember one story about you at court that you weren’t married yet, and one of the ladies in Princess Madelyn’s kingdom - you know, the one about a thousand miles east from ours - was quite interested to learn this.” He winked, not subtley, as Logan rolled his eyes.

“Roman, I do not want to talk about this. Also, this is quite the change of topic. How long have you been waiting to ask me?” he said, decidedly looking anywhere except Roman.

Roman grinned. “Since I met you. Come on, I’m a prince. I never get to gossip with my friends!”

Logan shut his book and sighed. “Yet instead of talking to the other 20 year old, you come to the 35 year old advisor?”

“Well, I’m curious, Logan. To the rest of the court, it’s a big deal you’ve never been married because it's so uncommon -"

"Roman!" Logan exclaimed sharply. "As far as legality goes, I am not married, no. Is that good enough for you?"

He gasped. "Does that mean you're married illegally? Is it a princess from another kingdom? Or is it someone higher ranking than you and the court doesn’t approve of the marriage?” Roman continued to speculate as Logan slowly tried to open up his book and continue to read. It was a few minutes later that Roman noticed Logan had completely tuned him out and he began to pester Logan into telling him why he wasn’t married legally.

Logan, sensing that this conversation wasn’t going to end until he told him the truth, sighed and set his book down, saying, “It’s not a legal marriage because I’m married to a man, Roman. And as forward-thinking as the king claims to be, that marriage is not legally recognized in this kingdom. If you’re going to tell your father, remember that we’re all very good with a knife.”

“Oh my god, that’s so obvious!” Roman shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t guess that. You know, there was this prince from Valdovia who visited when I was like 17 and we ended up making out instead of going to the dinner -”

“It’s great that I don’t have to stab you, but for the love of all things, please stop talking.”

“Who’s your husband? Would I know him?”

He blushed. “Virgil! Come collect Roman, please!”

Logan refused to take any meetings with Roman for a few days after that.

Since it had been a couple months since Roman had joined their motley crew, Virgil and him had developed a rhythm to their day-to-day fighting. Most of the time, Virgil won, but Roman was starting to catch up. This particular time, it had been a couple days since Roman’s conversation with Logan, and he was just excited to see Virgil.

Neither man would ever admit (Virgil especially, since he maintained a steady cover of constant annoyance with Roman) that they looked forward to these daily lessons.

And they would never, ever admit that they looked forward to seeing each other.

They started off like this -

Strike.

Parr.

"So, did you know that Logan is married?" Roman asked.

Kick.

Block.

"Yeah? Him and Patton have been married for like, five years."

This caused a sufficient break in Roman's concentration, and Virgil was able to land a punch on his shoulder.

"You're kidding," he responded, regaining his balance and aiming a kick to Virgil' side.

"I'm not." He rolled his eyes, easily blocking the kick. "No more talking now."

Dodge.

Punch.

Roman got distracted enough watching Virgil fight that when Virgil kicked him next, he lost his balance and fell down, though not before he tried to grab onto his opponent’s arm to pull himself back up, which ultimately resulted in Virgil falling on top of Roman.

Virgil blushed, hard. “S-sorry -”

“I usually prefer my men under me, but this is nice…” Roman said, grinning.

“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbled.

Roman raised his head up and gave Virgil a quick kiss on the cheek. “There. End of conversation. We can get back to -”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Virgil kissing him full on on the mouth. Roman grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, wrapping his leg around Virgil’s and that is when Patton walked out.

“Oh!” he exclaimed softly. “Er, boys -”

Virgil rolled off of Roman. “Sorry! We were just… um…”

Patton raised an eyebrow. “Making out on the forest floor?”

“Little bit, yeah.” Roman flushed. “We were fighting and things got a little bit out of hand.”

“You two are so cute!” he said, giggling. “Aw, I was rooting for you guys. I’m gonna go back inside now but just know that I totally approve and -”

“Patton!” Logan called from inside the hole. “Get back here, I need your help!”

And that was the end of that.

--

Two more months passed of holding hands under the table and kissing each other at the end of fights, of Logan’s stiff congratulations and Patton’s overwhelming acceptance, of training and planning and planning and training, when Logan gathered them all in the main room of the hole and announced formally that the time had come to murder Roman’s father.

“Really, huh? Five months of all this planning and it’s finally time to kill him?” Roman asked, trying to hide the panic slowly creeping into his voice.

Patton laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Roman, you know we’d never make you -”

“No,” he interrupted, voice hardening. “I - I apologize. It feels weird that thing we have been planning for some long has finally come to pass, and I guess it’s just a bit overwhelming for me.” Roman took a deep breath, collecting himself. “What’re we going to do?”

Virgil smirked, standing up. “I’m glad you asked, darling. It requires you to get arrested.”

“Arrested?”

Logan nodded. “We need you to try to kill him and get caught.”

“...why?” he asked.

“If someone were to kill the king, wouldn’t the first in line be the first to suspect? You can’t be there when he dies for real,” Patton explained. “And I can’t either, so when -”

Roman cut him off. “Why can’t you? They don’t know you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You still don’t know?”

“Save it for later, Patton. Now, I would also be highly suspect, but no one knows who Virgil is. Virgil is our lynchpin. Now, for the rest of it…”

Roman listened intently to his part of the plan (which involved getting caught, escaping, fighting some guards loyal to his father probably, and then being king. Simple, really, if you thought about it) but he was still hung up on Patton’s ‘you still don’t know?’.

Of course, Roman didn’t know a great many things. Roman didn’t know that he’s actually the fictional creativity of a 30 year old man from the year 2019 being written about by a teenager with nothing better to do. He didn’t know about Cup O’Noodles. He didn’t really know what exactly his relationship with Virgil was. Despite all this, the most important thing that Roman does not know is the identity of Patton, who is sitting to his left.

After the meeting, Roman cornered Patton and insisted they talk.

“I - you seemed confused when I asked why you would be suspicious. Why should I know you? Is this some great oversight on my part?”

“Well, a little bit, yes,” Patton said, leaning back against the wall. “You said you never met your uncle. I know for a fact that’s not true.”

Roman folded his arms across his chest. “Fine, so I met him once when I was three. Why do you - oh.”

He smiled a little bit. “Do you remember me now?”

“You - you’re my cousin! You’re Damien’s daughter!” Roman flinched. “Er, I’m sorry. You’re Damien’s son. That’s why - that’s why I knew you - I knew I had met you before! You were my favorite cousin!”

Patton was practically beaming now. “I really have missed you, you know. It was kind of weird, not telling you who I was. But I thought it was for the best…”

“So you are my cousin. Damien’s son,” Roman said, inclining his head towards Patton, who nodded briefly. “But… when I met you… you were a girl.”

“That’s all correct. My dad was never really one to hold me to gender conformity.”

“But my father - he doesn’t like your dad. And… Damien was supposed to be king but he convinced the court to banish him so he could be king, which happened when I was around three so you left with him when you were what, 15? Did I miss anything?”

Patton shook his head.

“And nobody told me this.”

“Apparently not,” he replied.

“I… I’m really sorry, Patton. I feel like I should’ve recognized you earlier,” Roman apologized.

Patton stepped forward and hugged Roman tightly. “Hey, none of that. You know me now. And you’re gonna be king, right? So my father and I will be allowed back into the kingdom.”

Roman smiled a bit and hugged him back. “I promise.”

A little while later, Roman was preparing to mount his horse and head back to the castle as Virgil approached him. Roman set his saddlebag down and turned to him, tilting his head in confusion. “Is something wrong?”

“I - no, nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to ask you - before we go through with all of this…” Virgil trailed off, looking sheepish.

He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “If this is about the fact that you’re going to have to kill my brother, then I promise I find that a much more attractive quality than you think.”

“It’s not, but duly noted,” he said, laughing a little. “Um, I wanted to ask if you would maybe want to be my boyfriend? I know our relationship is a little weird, and we might die in a couple days, but I -” he coughed, as if it was hard for him to get the words out, “I really like you. You’re the first person I’ve felt this close to ever.”

Roman smiled. “Did you just say something emotional? With no sarcasm at all? Who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Virgil perked up, looking at Roman. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes, my love,” he responded, giving Virgil a chaste kiss. “Now, I have to get home before dinner, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Alright?”

“Alright.”

--

Dinner was uneventful. King Remus hadn’t deigned to join them, so Roman struck up a conversation with Logan, who had thankfully attended, about foreign policy or something.

It was when Roman was headed to bed that things got interesting, so to speak.

As he was putting his crown on its cushion, there came a knock at the door. “Come in,” Roman called, stepping back to be able to look at himself in the mirror.

“Roman, what are you doing?”

Roman whirled around to face Remus. “Father! I - I was just putting my crown away. It’s getting late, and I wanted to be rested for my hunt tomorrow.”

The king nodded. “I noticed you’ve been hunting a lot lately. Is there a particular animal you’ve found hard to catch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you must know, Remus, there is a deer who is being quite stubborn,” Roman lied. “I had a query for you…”

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath. “There was a man with a daughter that visited when I was very little. Who was that?”

Remus blanched. “I - I cannot tell you.”

“Do you not recall?” Roman pressed.

“It’s not important, Roman,” he snapped. “Come on, get to bed. I will see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow passed in planning, planning, and more planning. Roman was set to fake the attempt on his father’s life tonight, and Virgil to rescue him by posing as the executioner. Logan had access to the dungeons, so he would meet them down there with Patton after the king had died for real, and they would escape from there.

So when nighttime fell, Roman tucked a knife into his clothes and went to the king’s room. However, when he approached, he heard voices from inside… one his father’s, and one that he remembered from a long time ago.

“I refuse to let you come back. There’s no fun in being king if your dumb old brother is here too.”

Roman stifled a gasp with his free hand. Damien.

“I’m not the dumb brother! You’re the one running this kingdom into the ground!”

His father harrumphed. “I’m leaving, and you best not be here when I get back.”

Roman reached for his knife as the door swung open and he was face to face with his father.

“Roman?” Remus’s eyes flicked down to the knife clutched in his son’s hand. “Well, I figured you were plotting something. Shame it’s gone so badly for you,” he said, feigning pity.

“Father, I -”

Damien walked over to the door, leaning against the frame. “You know, Remus, I always liked your son better than you. I can’t blame him much.”

“Brother, get out of here. Guards, take my son to the dungeons.”

The exiled king’s eyes glittered. “Oh, I will. Roman, do say hello to Patton for me. He hasn’t stopped by in a while. And congratulations on finally getting together with your boyfriend, Patton was quite excited about it the last time we talked.”

Remus turned to Roman, his curiosity overwhelming his fury. “Your boyfriend?”

Roman held his chin high. “Yes, my boyfriend.”

“Well, I guess you’re to be tried for two things tomorrow. Guards!”

At noon the next day, a guard Roman didn’t recognize dragged Roman out into the Great Room, and he was forced to kneel in front of his father and the rest of the court.

“Behold!” Remus cried, “My horrid son!”

You know what happens next.

Roman didn’t seem to mind one bit that he was about to be executed. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

“Roman Delacour, you are nothing but an embarrassment and a traitor to this family. You and that… boy… have brought shame upon our kingdom and you tried to murder me, you wretched boy.” His father turned up his nose, refusing to look at his son.

Roman smiled crookedly, glancing up at his father. “Daddy, please. Forget about the whole sodomite thing for five minutes, won’t you?” He laughed. “Personally, I find it ridiculous. I think the fact that I’m being executed should fall entirely on the arranged coup, not the boyfriend.”

“ENOUGH!” Remus roared, gesturing for the executioner to slap his son. “You are shameful, boy.” The flicker in Roman’s father’s eyes suggested that while Remus appeared furious, he was actually quite enjoying this.

“I’m aware.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “I do not want to have this disgusting creature in my sight any longer! Take him to the dungeons."

Roman caught the eye of a regal man standing to his father’s left and winked. Damien raised an eyebrow in response. The executioner stood up, grabbing Roman by the arm and wrenching him away until they were out of sight, down in the hallway to the dungeons.

“You know, you didn’t have to actually slap me,” Roman remarked conversationally.

“It was part of the facade,” Virgil grumbled. “Now shut up or we’re gonna get caught.”

Roman grinned, walking side by side next to the executioner as they made their way to the dungeons. As they finally were out of anyone’s sight for certain, he shook off the loosely tied ropes binding his hands and pulled of the ‘executioner’s’ mask, giving his boyfriend a wry smile. “You’re clever, Virgil. I didn’t think you could pull off the executioner act.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “You have no faith in me, my dearest prince.”

Roman kissed him deeply, wrapping himself around Virgil. “Oh, I’d have you on the dungeon floor if I could, Virge. Many thanks for rescuing me from a terrible fate.”

"Well, I couldn't just leave you to die, my darling."

Roman giggled. “Okay, handcuffs.”

“Kinky,” he mumbled as he locked Roman into the cuffs, pocketed the key, and put him in the cell. “Now, I’ll be back in about 12 hours and we’ll kick some guard ass.”

“Bye bye.”

Roman wasn’t entirely certain of how long 12 hours was, but one thing he was now sure of was that it was a lot longer than he had previously thought.

By the time the sun rose the next day, Roman was starting to wonder what had happened to Virgil. He hoped that he wasn’t caught or worse, dead, but he couldn’t be sure -

His thoughts were interrupted by Virgil rushing in as if on cue and dragging Roman out of the cell, unlocking his cuffs on the way. “You run to the fight! I have to get out of here before they catch me.” Virgil pulled him in for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you when you’re king, Roman.”

Roman followed Virgil’s instructions and ran towards where he could hear the yelling, keeping his head down as he barrelled through the corridors. When he reached the front lawn of the castle, he saw a million flashes of silver as supporters of his father fought those who opposed him. He saw Patton battling a couple of guards and Logan punching another nobleman in the face, and Roman bit his lip and flew into action.

Strike.

Parr.

Keep your thumb inside your fist, Virgil’s voice reminded him.

Kick.

Block.

You’ve got this.

Dodge.

Punch.

Find your rhythm.

He was getting tired now, and the fight seemed like it was never going to end. As a last ditch resort, Roman cried, “Am I not the king?”, attempting to get everyone’s attention. A couple of people nearby turned their heads, so he continued to talk. “You think you know my father but you don’t! He was a madman!”

“He knew what was best for us!”

“He wanted what was best for him!” Roman snapped. “Remus starved hundreds so he could torture more! He murdered the queen! He is not your king, my people.” He took a deep breath and yelled, “I am your king! And I command you to stop this right now!”

The field fell silent, and Roman made his way through the battlefield. Some of the court he had known best were staring at him with hatred in their eyes he had never seen before. Still, he held his head high and kept walking.

“You know my father as the man who brought you peace after Damien was exiled! You know him as our fearless leader!” Roman yelled, walking through the throngs of people. “But he never knew you. Remus never cared about you!”

“And you do?”

Roman started, a bit taken aback. “I -”

Did he?

“Of course I do,” he said, softer. “I don’t want people to fear me. I want you to respect me. I’m young. I have more time to learn. I won’t be perfect, but I will be better than a man who only wanted the throne to take it from his brother.”

There was a soft murmuring among the people in the crowd, and then a voice called out, “All hail King Roman!”

“King Roman!”

Roman smiled to himself. We did it, guys.

epilogue

“A toast,” the king said, “to the birth of the heir to the throne!”

The rest of the court cheered, the king’s most favored advisor the loudest of them all.

Roman smiled and set down his drink. The child him and his husband had decided to adopt had just been born, and so called for a celebration.

It had been about ten years since the death of his father, and though some people were reluctant to accept Roman at first, he had quickly become favored by the public. (Especially after the legalization of gay marriage and increase in civil rights.)

He walked around, mingling with a few of the guests until he reached his cousin and Patton hugged him as tightly as possible, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you!” he cried, and Roman laughed.

“Thanks, Pat. I’m sure you will absolutely be his favorite uncle.” He smiled. “I promise Virgil is around here somewhere…”

“Right here, darling,” the man in question said, putting an arm around Roman’s waist. “Hey, Pat. Hey, Logan.”

Logan nodded. “Prince Virgil.”

Virgil stuck out his tongue at him, and Roman laughed. “Love, he’s just being formal.”

And so Dukes Patton and Logan, Prince Virgil, and King Roman, talked together and laughed together, and not a single one thought about what had happened ten years ago.

After all, those in heaven pay no mind to those in hell.

[sabraeal]

The Most Perverse Creature in the World, Chapter 8

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Though your father had been a country count, unimportant to the machinations of Wistal’s court, you had never lacked for companionship.  What your father had lacked in political clout, he had made up for in varied acquaintance: knights’ daughters, a neighboring baron’s young granddaughter, your own cousins-- all of them had made up your coterie of ladies, giggling beneath covers in childhood and over fans when you made your debut.

They had cooed when you had told them of your husband’s proposal, teasing you over his age, over his equally distant holdings, but when you had married in your father’s lavish gardens, taking your husband’s hand as you made your first steps toward Bederin--

They had wept.

You wonder sometimes what has become of them. Whether they married well, whether the pretty knight’s daughter caught a peer after all. Perhaps you sit on the council with their husbands, and they--

They ignore the receipts as well. Just another entry made in the ledger, written in their neat hand at the same time it is thoroughly unseen.

Perhaps they think of you, too. The news of your husband’s death, at least, must have brought them pause over their needlepoint, remembering their younger, less complicated years. Their condolences could have been one of the hundreds you received and blindly answered, too deeply entrenched in your mourning to think of anything more than a few lines of thanks.

They might even think of you now, wondering if you nephew took care of you as he ought as the new count, or if you had been sent to the house of your brother, living as a spectral albatross about his neck.

Ah, whatever they think, it would pale to the truth of it.

“I only mean to say, if we’re to be taxed for acts, then what’s the incentive for us to do more than give ‘em a quick rub and send ‘em on their way?” Himawari folds her arms right under her chest, mouth set in a belligerent pout. “What next? Are they going to take for duration too? For how many little deaths we fake?”

At least, you hope your friends would not be able to guess at this. “I am not sure of the lords’ plans for future taxation, but as it currently stands, you would be changed more for a, ah, rub than you would be for something more...traditional.”

Himawari’s brows draw sharply over her blade of a nose. “Traditional.”

“What her ladyship is trying to imply,” Kikyo interjects smoothly, “is that they mean to tax us for what they call lewd acts, which doesn’t include fucking. Unless you do it any way but on your back.”

Himawari snorts, stretching out to her full, impressive length. Before tonight you thought few men wanted a woman who could look them in the eye, but it’s taken you weeks to find an opening in Himawari’s schedule. Aside from Tsubaki, she’s the most popular girl in the house.

“Well, that makes no sense. It’s quicker and cleaner to just use a hand, and I--”

“Plenty of your other companions feel the same,” you explain quickly. If you have learned anything in your meetings with the ladies of this house, it is that you do not give them time to expound upon...personal experiences. Or rather, specific personal experiences. It only leaves you wondering which of your fellow councilmen might have been the ‘rude gent that wanted a spank’ before he inevitably got down to business.

(Though you do have a few ideas on that one. And the lord who asked for a glass of port during a specific act you will not allow yourself to recount.)

Himawari frowns, somehow forbidding even in her gossamer negligee. “Then what’s to be done about it? It’s the lords what decide our fate. Are we to deny them custom? Starve ourselves while they go elsewhere?”

“That is why I am here.” You smooth your notebook across your lap, taking comfort in the paper beneath your palms. “His Majesty has task me with finding an alternate proposal.”

“She’s been asking all of us our thoughts,” Kikyo explains, “in an attempt to make one that’s more fair to us, instead of the lords.”

Himawari raises a skeptical brow. “And how’s that been coming?”

“Ah...” Your notes are a mess; you ask one girl what she wants, and it confounds another’s. You put forth this contradictory piece, and suddenly you are in a debate with no experience to draw from, only what you have gleaned from your interviews and trolling through the Big House’s archives. “I am...approaching an idea...”

“Yeah, that none of us want the same thing,” she laughs, shaking her head. “There’s some girls here who don’t to much but lie on their backs. And some of us that have made a name filling different sorts of appetites. And have you talked to the boys?”

“Boys?” You blink, shuffling through your notes. “The doormen--”

“They’re for sale too.” Her mouth hooks, wry. “I’m sure they’d have plenty to say about getting taxed up the--”

“We take your point,” Kikyo interjects smoothly, “but there’s not much to be done. Not without suspicion.”

You nod. “I’ve gleaned that your madam wouldn’t like the idea of you girls bargaining a better position.”

“Not unless it made her a pretty penny,” Himawari spat, “which it might well do, since she’s so keep on pinching from our pockets.”

You swallow a sigh, shifting in your seat. “It would be nice to have all of you in a room at once, if only to make some sense of it all. But your madam--”

“Would never allow it,” Kikyo confirms. “She’d think it was cutting into profits.”

“Even if I paid?” You would be far from the first peer to rent out a house of ill repute for an evening. “I could--”

“My lady, it would only be a pretense.” Kikyo sends you one of her soft, sly smiles. “She hardly likes two of us in a room at once, let alone all of us.”

“And agreeing,” Himawari huffs. “Might give us ideas about who should really be running the house.”

Your mouth hooks into a smirk. “Sounds like you all have ideas on that too.”

“Don’t we just.” Himarwari’s teeth bare in a tiger’s smile. “Mainly seeing our current one out of it.”

Her words slap you as hard as a thunder clap. “Would that be possible?”

Kikyo’s eyes widen. “My lady?”

“I do not mean permanently.” Yet. “But for a night. Is there a way to get her from the house?”

The two women exchange glances.

“She hardly ever leaves,” Himawari admits. “Unless...”

“Unless she has custom,” Kikyo finishes, thoughtful. “But she considers her services very...elite.”

“What she means is: the madam won’t go out for anyone but the choicest lords.” Himawari grins. “Which don’t happen too often, considering how they all like young things that aren’t too big for their britches.”

More likely they prefer young things who are impressed by their power and will do anything to please them. You bite down on the thought; as true as it may be, your job here is not to denigrate the reputation of the other councilmen.

After all, they do such a fine job of it themselves.

“Not that it would solve much,” Himawari scoffs, “Sumire would still be here.”

Sumire. You’ve heard the name before, once or twice, as girls passed meaningful looks. “Is that...?”

“The Madam’s spy?” Himawari snaps. “Yes.”

Kikyo’s glance is laden with censure as she says, “Sumire is the Madam’s freshest flower.”

“Freshest flower?” you ask, already fearing the explanation, but-- you are here to learn. There is no point in helping them if you choose to turn away from what they cannot.

“She debuted last year,” Kikyo explains with a hesitation that sets your teeth on edge. “To much anticipation.”

Himawari snorts. “She paraded the girl around for a year, letting everyone look and never touch, and then sold the right to the highest bidder.”

“An auction.” Kikyo gives her a quelling glare. “Only the most promising receive one. There’s no point, after all, if one’s debut won’t pay for the party itself.”

“You mean that her...” You flounder for the words, and Himawari smirks. “Her maiden’s head was...?”

“Sold, yes.” You stifle a squirm, but Himawari’s grin says you have done a poor job of it. “To some lord, who kept her until he tired of her.”

“That isn’t what happened,” Kikyo snaps. “You know that well enough.”

“It hardly matters in any case.” The tall woman shrugs, careless. “Only the fanciest lords are allowed to have her now.”

Your mouth pulls thin. “I take it that the Madam has something to do with that?”

“Of course.” Himawari’s grin is sharp. “Why accept less than the opening bid?”

“The Madam gives her the choicest clients,” Kikyo clarifies, “and as such, Sumire is loyal to her. Like a child to a mother.”

It is on the tip of your tongue: a mother would never sell her child. But it is an easy thing for you to say, a woman who never had one, a child who never wanted despite it. But when a child is yet another open mouth to feed, and there’s not enough food to hand-- who knows what might be done to make up the lack.

You stare at your hands, still covered in lace, the weight of your wedding ring heavy on your finger, and--

And maybe it is not only those hungry for bread that sell their daughters.

You nod, briskly, to organize your thoughts. “Then we will table such an idea for now. But as for your thoughts...”

You close the door behind you, leaving the woman to whatever preparations they make to conceive the illusion of your visit being a profitable one. For your own peace of mind, you’ve never quite asked what that entails.

Those thoughts are not the ones that occupy you in any case. Your mind races, as it always does, filled with half-written laws that sag in the middle, or are only held together by a thin chain of ellipses as you search for the words you need to bind them. The other councilors might joke about your knotty problem, but if it is one, its loops conceal a hopeless tangle beneath, the whole of it always hidden from your view. You may pull at what you see, hoping to find an end, but you suspect all of those efforts have only made it worse, not better.

Still, you probe at it, mind tugging at its coils. If only you could drag every last bit of it into the light--

You press your lips together, teeth biting at your cheeks. There is a way to do it, if only you could figure out the logistics of it.

Hah, but is that not what you were trained to do? They may not have wanted you to be a countess in your own right, but the perfect count’s wife, able to organize a luncheon--

Now that, that you have been trained to do.

“Obi.”

He glances up from where he leans against the wall, all impossibly long limbs, the way hounds were just after they grew out of being puppies.

“May I help you?” he asks, gaze darting to the door behind you. “Is my lady ready to leave?”

You blink. “Yes?”

His brow arches, every feature of his face curved into polite curiosity. It takes you aback for a moment, he looks younger like this, hardly more than a boy without the guarded suspicion marring his face. “Will you get her?”

“Get her?” You stare at him, brows drawn in confusion. “I’m here.”

“You’re--?” His eyes widen, jaw going slack. “My lady. I didn’t-- I didn’t recognize you without--”

Words fail him, and he gestures vaguely toward his face. For a moment, you stand stymied, but then you raise your hands, the smooth round of your cheek squishing beneath the lace of your fingers.

“My veil,” you breathe, reaching for your reticule. “I must have-- I didn’t--”

His hands come to still yours, lifting the fall of lace from your boneless fingers. “Please, my lady, allow me.”

He sets it over you gently, lowering the blusher of your veil until it falls over your chest, obscuring the world beneath a black cage.

“There, that’s...” His lips press together. “Normal.”

“Normal,” you sigh, fussing with the edge. “Yes. I suppose.”

Obi opens his mouth only to close it again. “You were going to ask me something else, my lady?”

“Yes.” Your hands drop down to your side, laying flat against the crape. “There’s a girl I want you to secure a meeting with. Her name is Sumire.”

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 17: The Trial of Adrian Raines

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

When the Council accuses Adrian of orchestrating the Feral outbreak for selfish and nefarious purposes, a tribunal is held to decide his fate. As witnesses come forward to testify, Nadya learns who can and cannot be trusted.

note: Out of all the chapters written for Bound by Destiny this one is not only the longest (at 9k) but also the largest culmination of this passion project so far for me. It brings together aspects introduced and changes made and address why those changes occurred, but also--at least I think--really fleshes out the trial in a way that wasn’t possible in the visual novel medium. I would really love to know what you think!

[READ IT ON AO3]

“What’s the matter?” She’s back at their side in a beat. Looking Nadya over with concern bordering on anger. “What’s happened?”

“Nadya — hon — talk to us.” Lily cradles her head on her shoulder and Nadya wants to thank her for the gesture but she just can’t find the words.

Then Kamilah comes into blurry, teary view. Cups a hand along her jaw.

“Please. What is it?”

“The… th-throne,” she manages to gasp; both vampires spare it a glance like it doesn’t want to crush their very souls and she’s jealous of their ignorance. “I—I—it…”

She takes in a sharp breath and the words tumble from her unbidden.

“It’s mine. That throne is mine.”

Even saying it feels like a strange dream. Like knowing the answer to a question that hasn’t been asked — with no context.

Lily and Kamilah just stare for a moment. Torn, like Nadya herself, between what they know and their concern for her strange behavior.

Then an unreadable emotion comes over Kamilah as she brushes a bead of sweat from Nadya’s brow.

“Have you been here before?”

Nadya gives a silent, tight-lipped nod.

“When?”

“Yeah, seriously,” scoffs Lily, “when?”

Only she doesn’t know. Doesn’t really have an answer. Sure dreams are supposed to be based loosely on people’s lives, right? There are all those studies about the faces you don’t recognize in dreams actually being random passersby on the street or someone you saw at a grocery store once when you were eleven?

So yes. The painting of that awful man Gaius disturbed the ever-loving bejeezus out of her and she’s been having nightmares about his corpse-strewn floors ever since. But how does that explain that she knows if she turns her head a fraction to the right there will be a fist-sized crack in a crumbled pillar… caused by Kamilah herself?

Another fresh wave of tears are ready to fall but there Kamilah is to wipe them away with a handkerchief. There’s a war waging behind her eyes.

“This is not finished,” she says quietly, even wraps her hands around Nadya’s as she passes the cloth in offering, “but we must put it aside for Adrian’s sake. Do you have the strength to go forward?”

Lily presses their temples together. Holds her tight. Nadya’s been the unfortunate best friend to see her lying in a pool of her own blood but now Lily has the misfortune of being worried out of her mind.

“You don’t have to do this, Nadi’.”

“Yes,” she breathes; gains confidence with every word, “for Adrian — yes I do.”

They help her up but she has to push them off — wants to stand on her own two feet. With a sure nod towards Kamilah they venture into the heart of the cavern.

Six lesser chairs were added all at once — judging by the equal ruination on the stone. These aren’t thrones but a council of seats. Meant to prove no one is over the other. All equal.

The ideal democracy… or so they’d hoped.

In the middle a medieval thing has been placed; like a seat, sure, but Nadya’s pretty sure normal seats don’t involve iron-wrought manacles on the arms and legs with strange runic symbols carved into the surface of the metal.

“They’re going to place him in that like an animal.” Nadya doesn’t ask. She knows these jerks well enough and it sickens her.

“Any of us would sit there if the occasion called for it.” Kamilah answers.

She gestures to a collection of chairs — actual folding chairs like something out of a high school band concert in the gymnasium — off to the side and departs from there. Goes and takes her place on one of the stone seats.

Nadya doesn’t miss that it’s one of the two seats closest to the abhorrent throne.

Lily and Nadya take their seats beside a man dressed like he just walked out of a historical monologue. Nadya tries to place if she saw him at the Ball but nothing about him looks familiar. His half-moon spectacles balance lightly on the edge of his nose as he continues to read the leather-bound book in hand.

Lily helps her do everything she can not to focus on the throne for as long as possible. Luckily it’s just enough to keep her going until other footsteps begin to sound and they turn to see the cavern entrance crowd with familiar faces.

Priya waltzes in first; looks like she just made her way off of a runway and knows it by the curl of disgust in her upper lip with each press of her stilettos into the packed dirt. She doesn’t even spare them a glance while she takes her council seat.

Behind her Valdas and Isseya walk in arm-in-arm. Mutter something between one another not only too quiet for her human ears to pick up but also — from what it sounds like — in another language altogether.

They take two of the folding chairs in the back row. This must be where the witnesses are herded off to.

With the throne at her front and the Trinity at her back Nadya’s losing places to ‘look elsewhere.’

“You’re right,” Valdas answers with his voice raised well enough for her to hear, “she is glowing.”

Before Nadya can say a word Lily turns to her defense. Arm slung over the back of her chair and a middle finger dangling lazily in obvious view.

“Something to say, new blood?” Valdas asks politely. Lily swings her finger upwards and blows a kiss at him with it.

“Hmm how about ‘suck me?’”

“With pleasure.”

“Ugh.”

Vega arrives next; ever the figure of grace under pressure. Only there’s that same smirk when he looks at Nadya that he did on their first meeting and she does not like the way it makes her feel.

Behind him struts the Baron with a large guard flanking either side. Only he’s not two steps in when Kamilah’s voice echoes through every curved and carved wall.

“You know the laws, Cecil.”

The Baron — Cecil, Nadya realizes, and tries not to laugh at his name — grunts. “Yeah well I ain’t the only ones breakin’ ‘em, am I? Ain’t that why we’re here?”

Vega interrupts Kamilah before she can argue — only he’s on her side?

“We are also here to show that we are better — that we follow our own rules. Kamilah is right.”

With what are probably threats under his breath the Baron jerks his head — sends his staff back up the steps. There’s a brief muffled commotion and a “watch it, goons!” that has Nadya turning all the way in her seat.

She knows that voice.

Lo and behold Katherine jaunts down the final steps, with Lester glowering at her back just behind.

“Next time,” calls the vampire to his cohorts as he practically pushes the Nighthunter aside to get to his seat, “she’s under someone else’s watch!”

Vega raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t need to put her up personally, Castellanos.”

“Oh he didn’t — no need to guide me, I’ll find the reject table all on my own — but he wasn’t really happy at the room service bill I racked up.”

Either she knows what she’s doing when she takes up the space just behind Nadya — blocking the immediate contact between her and the Trinity — or she’s just a buffer by nature at this point. She doesn’t look at all surprised at the spontaneous reunion.

“You doing okay?” Katherine asks; actually puts a hand on the back of Nadya’s chair and fixes her with a look of genuine concern. For a moment the facade is down.

Nadya shakes her head mutely. “Yeah — no surprise. Can’t say I’ve ever done something like this either. Just tell your truth and everything will be fine. We know Adrian’s not guilty.”

Something about her bluntness actually helps get Nadya in the right headspace. “I’ll introduce you guys later…” she mutters to Lily.

Five of the six Council seats are occupied — it’s time for things to begin.

And then a strange thought crosses her mind — has Nadya looking around so quick this way and that that her head goes for a not-so-fun spin too.

“Where’s Nicole?”

“Who?” Lily asks.

Behind them Katherine’s caught on as well. “Good question… Why am I not sure I’ll like the answer?”

Nadya flashes her a worried look — doesn’t have time to try and get Kamilah’s attention over it because Kamilah herself is standing; speaking.

“As the eldest member of the Council it is incumbent upon me to preside over these proceedings. I trust I do not need to stress the importance of not only the allegations placed upon the accused but also the duties of the Council to ensure justice is carried out swiftly and fairly.”

Around her the vampires mutter their assent.

“Too many of our own have died — suffered at the hands of this blight of Ferals. I trust I’m not alone when I say what happens here tonight will not only be seen as a trial but as a call to action.” She looks each Council member in the eye — Vega and Priya stare back while Lester and the Baron keep their gazes carefully averted.

“We have come together to protect this city once before. Let us put aside our individual differences and do so again.”

Kamilah takes her seat; gestures with a wave of her hand. “Bring him in.”

Nadya’s heart suddenly starts pounding in her chest, wanting to escape — to flee out of her ribs and back up to Central Park under the stars.

Everyone in the cavern turns as Adrian, bound in chains with similar runes at his wrists and ankles, is shuffled in by unfamiliar suited vampires.

He’s still in the same uniform from the Ball — fabric ripped and frayed in some places and dark spots reflecting dried blood in others. His hair is askew but for the most part he looks… okay?

Then she remembers he can heal. And it makes her think of all the cuts and wounds and bruises that must have healed even between wherever he was being held and here. And it makes her want to yell.

Their eyes meet as he passes. Even with the rings under his eyes and his sluggish heave-ho of bound feet he manages to smile.

I’m glad you got out safe, it says, I’m glad you’re okay.

But you aren’t.

Don’t worry about me. You can’t save me.

No, but I can try.

The guards remove his manacles one at a time — bind him into the chair instead. It doesn’t look like such flimsy wood could hold him but then Katherine leans forward and whispers to them in a dark tone.

“I can’t believe those bastards are using a Corwin Chair on him.”

Lily looks the chair up and down. “‘Corwin’ like… Jonathan Corwin? Like the Salem judge?”

Katherine doesn’t hide her surprise. “You’re not a Hunter, are you?”

“No, I just have a pretty eclectic collection of random knowledge.”

“Catch me up, please?” Nadya asks the both of them. Lily defers to the other.

“A Corwin Chair was, yeah, used by Jonathan Corwin during the Salem Witch Trials. Corwin wasn’t a witch himself but he did have one kept under his thumb. Forced her to bewitch an old medieval chair so that no being trapped in all four locks could escape.”

“Was he a… you know — vampire?”

Katherine shrugs. It’s the extent of her knowledge. She leans back and gestures for them to pay attention to the trial having already begun — each Council member looking down upon Adrian with a different expression. Nadya can’t imagine the pain Kamilah must be in.

“You have exercised your right for witnesses to testify on your behalf. Do you see them all here, Adrian?”

Adrian looks back to where the witnesses are gathered. Something ticks in his brow.

“No, I do not.”

Kamilah nods. “Was due diligence performed by the accuser to ensure his witnesses’ arrival?”

There’s absolutely no surprise left in her as Nadya watches Vega cross one leg over the other.

“Of course.”

“And as for the missing witnesses?”

“Their summons were met by refusal.”

Behind her Katherine mutters something — takes out an old flip-phone and holds it between her legs while awkwardly punching at the numbers.

“We can proceed without them, I should think.” Vega adds. Priya and Lester nod in agreement.

Outnumbered and overruled, Kamilah has no choice.

“Then the trial will begin. Will the prosecution please lay out the crimes to the tribunal?”

Nobody’s surprised when Vega stands; especially not Adrian. The senator adjusts the knot of his tie like this isn’t a life or death situation for Adrian — rather just another meeting or speech where he gets his own spotlight.

“So that’s him,” Lily asks quietly, “that’s the asscanoe who broke into our place?”

Nadya nods — isn’t one to curse normally but you know what, Vega deserves it. “That’s the asscanoe.”

Vega spares a gloating and victorious smile to Adrian before addressing the rest of the Council.

“I’m sure I speak not only for myself but every Clan Leader here — yes even our dear boy Raines — when I say that this Feral problem has gone on for far too long.” Even Kamilah agrees with a curt nod. It would be foolish for her not to. Vega continues, “Almost a year ago we all gathered here as we do now and addressed the barest whispers of such activity. When my fellow Council member leapt to the call of action and volunteered to contain the matter personally, I — like you all — merely took it as Raines enacting his civic duty.

“And perhaps that is what he wished for us to believe. He counted on our belief that we all shared a mutual dedication to what we’ve built here in New York. After all… the decades have been prosperous to us all, haven’t they?”

Again the Council agrees. Adrian remains silent in his torture chair — though his restraint is definitely faltering with every word that crawls out of Vega’s mouth.

Lester huffs. “Get on with it, Adam. The longer you gripe the likelihood of my voting for you declines.”

Vega’s brow ticks but he’s otherwise unperturbed.

“Very well. I have sufficient reason to believe that our own Adrian Raines has not only worked from within to dismantle our democratic authority, but also is the mastermind behind the innumerable Feral attacks within our grounds and without — and intended to use the Awakening Ball to further his agenda and eliminate those on the Council once and for all.”

Whatever pulls the trigger does so violently — brings Adrian to the farthest edge of the chair he can reach with his teeth grit and fangs bared. The runes glow a pale light and the smell of something burning fills the cavern. Nadya has to turn away to avoid coming to the conclusion of what exactly it is.

“How dare you!” Adrian shouts; realizes when he can’t wrestle his way out of his bindings the next best thing is to hurl his rage through words. “You know every word of that is a lie!”

“Is it, boy?” Vega sneers the word; uses it as a weapon to send Adrian lower than he already is. “Or does the apple not fall as far from the tree as he would like us to think?”

“What the hell does that mean?! Why bring him into this?!”

Vega’s accusatory finger jabs down at Adrian in condemnation.

“I suspected your lust for power the moment you demanded he be entombed rather than sent to meet the sun! See it in his eyes, my fellow Council, my fellow tribunal?! A madness brought to the surface, shared by soldier and king! There lies the true legacy of Gaius Augustine!”

His words howl like the wind through the cavern. Everyone gathered holds their breath — the very mention of his name makes Nadya queasy in her seat.

Kamilah slowly leans forward in her seat. Her expression sits grim and dark. “To what end are you accusing Adrian of orchestrating… all of this?”

“To the very same end as Augustine himself. He’s no longer content with democracy and instead seeks to rule over us, as Gaius did! He walks in the footsteps of our Maker and just as we did then we must take action now; we must find him guilty!”

“That is enough!”

Kamilah now stands; taller than Vega not in height but in stature. Despite the way he looks down at her the years act like a gaping chasm between them with Kamilah on the higher ledge. “Your call to action means nothing. This is merely the charge you level against him on behalf of the Council. And no decision will be made until all testimony is heard and weighed. Do I make myself clear?”

But whether or not the words stand they’ve done their damage — Vega knows that. Anyone can see it in the glint of his eyes when he resumes his seat; defers to Kamilah with an inclining nod of his head.

His words are out there in the world and they’re so utterly terrible that Adrian actually looks afraid to have heard them. To know they’re about him. From what little Nadya knows — isn’t supposed to know, is dreaming of, but dreams can’t be real, they can’t be — he has every right to be afraid.

Kamilah gestures to where the witnesses sit. “Scholar Jameson, will you join us?”

The bespectacled man beside Lily closes his book — though judging by the fact that he’s on the same page as when they arrived he’s been far too absorbed in the trial to finish his chapter — and stands. Adjusts his frock coat and walks with an otherworldly grace towards the Council’s seats.

He even offers Adrian a cordial smile. Then bows to the rest.

“As always I am pleased to be of service.”

Priya snorts degradingly. “I can’t believe he’s still around. Figured he would have joined his precious collection by now.”

“On the contrary Miss Lacroix,” and the man named Jameson fixes Priya with a stare that makes her shift in her seat, “I find every fulfillment in taking care of the Musea Sanguis, but have no interest in becoming one of its many displays.”

“On that note…” With another gesture from Kamilah, Jameson nods and appears to situate himself. Ties his salt-and-pepper hair up with a crimson ribbon and tucks up the cuffs of his frilly sleeves as if he’s preparing to do some heavy lifting.

“Bring the first witness forth at your whim, Council.”

“On behalf of the accused?”

Adrian blinks in surprise. But looks grateful that Kamilah gives him first choice.

“On my behalf I would call Nadya Al Jamil to testify.”

Nadya startles — has to do everything (with Katherine and Lily’s help) to not make it noticeable. The Trinity members whisper something behind her.

“M-Me?” she asks. Suddenly all eyes are on her. A boiling cauldron of hatred, disgust, a plea for help.

“Either get up here or stop wasting everyone’s time!” barks the Baron.

“You got this,” Katherine whispers behind her; nudges her up standing. Walking’s a bit easier from there but boy does she not like every step she takes towards that throne.

Nadya comes to stand where Scholar Jameson gestures beside him; between Adrian and the Council. Like a buffer — or a shield. She wishes she really could be.

She looks around hastily. “Uhm… what do I…?”

Kamilah holds up a hand to silence her. “I understand this is your first trial — but my explanation will be brief. You will be expected to answer every question posed to you. You have no right to decline — such right was forfeit the moment you agreed to be a witness. Jameson, here, will probe your mind each time to ensure the truth is heard and spoken. Do you understand this?”

He’s gonna what her mind? Nadya leans away from the kindly man — suddenly looking not so kindly even with his smile — and fumbles before she can answer.

“Y-Yes. Yes I understand.”

With nimble fingers Jameson positions her at his whim. It’s hard enough to turn her back to Adrian when talking about him but when she feels the cold press of Jameson’s fingertips to her temples she barely contains her shudder.

“Begin with your name.” Kamilah directs.

“Nadya Al Jamil.”

“And your relationship with Adrian Raines; the accused?”

“I’m his assistant-slash-secretary…” There’s a hum of discontent behind her and Nadya quickly adds, “and I’d like to think I’m his friend. He’s mine at the very least.”

“When did you come into Adrian Raines’ employ?”

She answers basic questions — it reminds her of a lie detector test she did for a laugh in college; establishing a base line of questions and answers. What she did for Adrian, if she ever came into contact with vampires before Adrian, how exactly that whole thing came about.

“I’d be dead if Adrian hadn’t been there to save me.”

Vega holds up a finger. “Miss Al Jamil, would you have been in the same danger had you not become affiliated with Adrian?”

“Well… probably. It’s not like I was attacked at work or anything. In fact I’d be dead if I didn’t know him, since he wouldn’t have been looking out for me.”

“A statement with some possibility of truth, yes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Now, dear, I’m not blaming you. You’re only human — and those mortal senses only provide you with so much protection from the predators of the world. But Council I propose this thought —” his finger angles down to point at them below, “— that it seems awfully convenient for Raines to have been there at the exact moment to change Miss Al Jamil’s fate. Either he was following her and her alleged attacker for some time — thereby putting her in grave peril — or perhaps there was no Feral at all, and only Raines himself.”

“Bullshit!” hisses Adrian behind her. Makes her turn to see him strain in his bonds that singe his skin yet again.

“Adrian, stop.”

“I won’t let him slander me like this!”

“Neither will I!” And even Vega looks surprised when Nadya rounds on him. “Because that’s a lie! I may not remember the attack but I’m pretty sure you weren’t there either. You’re guessing just like I am.”

It’s Lester who speaks next, to Nadya’s shock. He rubs his chin and shrugs.

“She’s not wrong. Let’s try to keep our imagination to a minimum, ey Adam?”

When Vega doesn’t respond, Kamilah gives a reassuring nod (or, well, she takes it as reassuring, because she needs it right now) Nadya’s way.

“Thank you Nadya. You may sit.”

“B-But what about the Ball, and —”

“Our inquiries are on behalf of an established timeline. Thank you for beginning it for us. You may sit.”

She takes the second time not as a suggestion but an order. Awkwardly returns to her chair and doesn’t stop Lily from throwing her arm around her shoulder and pulling her in tight.

“So, did you feel the psychic guy?” Lily whispers.

Nadya looks back to Jameson; busy wiping his hands with a pocket square. “A… bit, I think? It felt more like I was doubting myself… and then suddenly I knew my own answer.”

Lily makes a heebee-jeebies gesture and it manages to give Nadya the smallest smile.

Katherine goes up next. Unlike Nadya her questions are less personal and more clinical; professional. She explains how and when Adrian first contacted her for her services and about meeting him for the first time at the Gallery — where Kamilah was present.

Lester purses his lips. “I was against bringing your kind in.”

“We are aware.” Kamilah replies with a roll of her eyes.

Priya, who’s looked absolutely bored since she walked in, snaps her sharp nails for attention.

“Just how much did he pay you to turn around and butt-fuck everything you weirdos supposedly believe in?” She shrugs at the looks she gets. “What — I can’t be the only one thinking it. When have you ever heard of a Nighthunter doing anything besides being a pain in the twat?”

“Hey, no, fair point.” Katherine agrees; her flippancy makes Nadya worry her lip while she waits for the answer.

“Answer the question, please.”

She shifts under Jameson’s touch. “Adrian isn’t the only vampire I’ve done business for. Not like I wanted word to get out on that kind of thing, you know. But he wanted to do real good I think. He was up front about everything and you don’t get that a lot in my line of work.”

“To your knowledge are you the only Nighthunter under Raines’ employ?”

“No; when things got sticky I called in… well let’s call him a friend I guess. But he’s someone you want at your back.”

“His name?”

“Nik Ryder.”

Kamilah looks through her to Adrian. “Was this man asked to testify?”

“No,” Adrian replies, “I didn’t meet him for very long and didn’t think he would have anything to say towards my character.”

She’s satisfied by the answer. “Thank you for your honesty. Before the witness steps down is there anything she wishes to say freely?”

Katherine shrugs off the looming presence behind her — turns on her heel to look Adrian up and down.

Nadya briefly recognizes the softness in her eyes — that same kind of sympathy she sent Nadya’s way for seeing an uncultured girl struggling to be taken seriously at an art gallery. It felt like years ago now.

“Yeah I guess,” she speaks loud enough for everyone to hear but at Adrian directly, “I think Raines is one of the good ones. I’ve seen evil — real, pure evil. The kind without purpose and only driven by instinct — and also the kind you think he is; the bastards that play the long con. And he’s neither.”

The Council says nothing for or against her words so Katherine resumes her seat with the rest. The look she and Nadya trade is full of mutual thanks. So far both of them have done what she considers to be well.

So why can’t Nadya shake the feeling that their impassioned speeches are nothing more than dramatic flair?

“On my behalf I call Cadence Smith to testify.”

For all the good it does Adrian might as well have said nothing. She and Lily trade confused shrugs and behind them the Trinity continue to look bored with all of it. Katherine’s furrowed brow catches her eye but before she can ask the woman shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Looks back down at her phone where the screen is dimmed to near black and huffs.

“As the witness seems not to have deigned us with his presence…” Vega gives a flippant gesture Kamilah’s way. She sighs.

“In his absence, your witness has forfeited his right to testify.”

“Wait, please,” there’s actual worry in the way Adrian pleads; looks to each of his fellow Council members imploringly, “he’s not just a witness — he’s an alibi.”

“An alibi for what?” Innuendo drips off of Priya’s tongue.

“For… I… for several things.”

Adrian’s sudden hesitancy is met with a predatory look from Vega.

“For your undisclosed time out of state, yes? I remember your absence from that meeting quite acutely.”

“No shocker there,” Nadya mutters under her breath, “that’s when he broke into the apartment.”

And Adrian had returned, albeit a day later than he had originally said. What was it that he had told Kamilah in the kitchen…? Something about a favor — something she never learned the truth of.

“I’m sorry Adrian, but if the witness isn’t here…”

He hangs his head. Knows Kamilah is only doing her job by presiding over his trial but Nadya can tell it’s putting a strain on them both.

“I know. Still — Katherine was there, she can —”

“You know the rules, boy!” snaps the Baron, “a character witness or an alibi—the bitch can’t be both.”

Katherine seethes. “Who are you callin’ a bitch?!”

Before the Nighthunter can stand Kamilah diffuses the situation with a raised hand. “I’m sure Adrian is aware, and that his outburst was a mistake.

“And in the interest of fairness…” she turns to Vega, “the prosecution may bring forward their first witness. Adam?”

His words make Nadya’s blood run cold.

“On my behalf, the prosecution asks Nicole Anderson to testify.”

She knows nothing, not even her sudden swelling rage and desire to punch something — someone, a very specific someone — in the face, can compare to how Adrian must be feeling. Evil cursed witch trial chair be damned she wants to run out into the middle of the cavern and embrace him; protect him from everything and everyone set out to harm him.

Because apparently there are more people on that end of the spectrum than anyone knew.

Nicole emerges from a shadowy section off to the opposite side of the ruins. Still perfect; still not even a hair out of place. Her heels thud awkwardly on the dirt rather than the usual tile of the Raines Corp. floors. But she doesn’t break stride.

Behind her Nadya actually hears Katherine’s jaw lock in place. Lily looks between them and Nicole and can’t focus on which reaction is more important.

“All right, I’ll bite — pun not intended — who’s Stockbroker Elsa?”

Nadya swallows down all of the worst and most vile curse words she knows to keep them from spilling out. It takes some effort.

“She’s the VP of the company. Adrian’s ally — his friend. Or so I thought.”

So Adrian thought, too, because when Nicole comes to stand with her back turned to him he reopens his burning wounds with a new kind of fervor.

“Nicole…” hissed through gritted teeth, “what are you doing?”

She barely looks at him in profile. Doesn’t get the chance when Jameson steps up behind her to do his duty.

“I’m sorry Adrian,” which Nadya calls bullshit, “but I’m doing what’s right.”

Kamilah recovers from the shock only because she has to. But the damage is done; whether together or separate in plan Vega and Nicole have shaken the Council down and taken the trial with it.

“Begin with your name and relationship to Adrian Raines; the accused.”

“My name is Nicole Anderson. I work as Vice President and CFO of Raines Corporation.” Nicole answers calm and cool; better fit for a business meeting than a life and death trial.

“When and how did you come into the employ of the accused?”

“Ten years ago I was hired to spearhead the Raines Corp. clean energy think-tank. I’m under the impression the accused saw my work and believed my talent was wasted anywhere but within the highest levels of the company.”

The accused. It makes her want to be sick — watching Nicole refuse to say his name.

Kamilah notices it too.

“And you, Miss Anderson, are here of your own volition to testify against your employer?”

“I am.”

“You do this without coercion; without any threats made against you?”

“I do.”

“Obviously, Kamilah,” Vega drawls, “so I think we shall skip such redundancy.”

There’s a hard silence before Kamilah continues.

“Very well. You may begin.”

Nicole curtly nods. “Thank you. As I said I’ve been working under the accused for ten years now. I’ve seen every inch of his company, both inside and out. I know of his numerous personal projects — those pursued with the Council’s permission and those pursued without your knowledge.”

“And what projects might these be?” Vega asks — the lilt in his voice feels like a black mold.

“For the last decade the accused has hired biologists, geneticists, and various chemical engineers at an undisclosed Black Site in Albany.”

“Nicole — don’t —” Adrian warns behind her, but she continues.

“The most recent of his projects has involved the capture of Feral vampires — beginning around a quarter of a year before the Council declared it an ‘infestation.’ I have both firsthand knowledge and physical evidence that shows the accused was allowing his scientists to perform experiments on captured Feral subjects.”

“To what ends?” Lester asks hastily.

“Well it is my belief that the accused intended to find a cure or explanation for whatever fails the transformation process — for what Turns a human into a Feral rather than a vampire. But while the intent may have been a noble one… I believe it to have caused more casualties than would have occurred had the accused not pursued it.”

Nicole has the whole cavern entranced. Even Nadya has to shift back — catching herself leaning forward in her chair.

The Baron puffs his cigar. “Explain.”

“Of course; had the accused not purposefully kept Feral specimens alive and placed vulnerable humans in harms way there may not have been an infestation at all. I’ve provided Senator Vega with classified documents detailing the results of every test performed; needless to say they were all failures and many resulted in workplace deaths — which the accused passed along to me to cover up.

“I’m not proud of what I did for him. I think eventually my conscience got the better of me.” Nicole’s throat catches on her words. “After dozens of death certificates, false news stories… I reached my breaking point when three subjects escaped from the Site. One of which could very well have been the same creature that attacked Miss Al Jamil.”

“That’s a lie!” proclaims Adrian. But Jameson, fingers still on her temples, shakes his head.

“She tells the truth.”

“Jameson?!”

Vega nods. “Indeed — I’ve seen the cover-up paperwork regarding the incident with my own eyes.”

Adrian looks around; a bead of sweat drips down his brow. “That — that isn’t possible! It never happened and I certainly didn’t ask her to cover it up — there was nothing to cover up!”

The Council looks at Kamilah expectantly; waiting for her to silence the accused. He’s not one of them anymore — the longer this goes on the more apparent that becomes.

And Nadya can’t do anything but sit and watch.

“Have you any evidence to your claims? Anything that can disprove the allegations brought forward by the accuser and their witness… Anything, Adrian.” Kamilah insists.

“Don’t forget your place, Kamilah…” Lester warns half-heartedly. He, too, is losing every last ounce of faith he might have retained.

“You would do well not to forget yours.”

“You know I mean well.”

Kamilah doesn’t dignify it with a response. Stares down at Adrian firmly and there is even a hint of a silent plea in her eyes.

Adrian’s racing mind comes full-stop. He slumps back in his chair. Yields to the magical bonds.

“No, I don’t. Nothing the Council could find substantial.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” The Senator looks down on Adrian as though from the top of the Empire State Building. Certainly Nadya feels that small.

“Is the witness attempting to claim this escape led to the events of the Awakening Ball?”

Nicole’s lips ease into a grin before she can remember herself — she quickly schools her features and gives a grim nod.

“I am.”

“This dreadful ‘oversight,’” Vega actually uses air quotes — makes Lily gag mutely, “I am convinced was no mistake at all; but rather an elaborate murder attempt on the accused’s behalf.”

Kamilah deadpans. “Even if he too was at risk.”

“You remember the madness that claimed Gaius’ mind at the end, Kamilah. Better than anyone I would venture. It fits closely — wouldn’t you say?”

She doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t have an answer.

“Now that you mention it…” Priya taps a pointed acrylic against her stone armrest, “I don’t remember seeing Raines after midnight during La Soirée.”

Before anyone can agree with her Adrian jerks forward again — his last bit of hope pushed outward in a rush of adrenaline.

“I have an alibi! Here — witnesses! I call them forward!”

Lester looks down at him in frustration. “Patience, Raines…”

“I can!” He looks between each Council member — focuses on Kamilah. “Let me call them forward. Please, Kamilah. Please.”

Kamilah inhales. “I will allo —”

But the sudden trot of hasty footsteps on stone fills the chamber. Draws everyone’s attention — from the Council to every witness — to the back of the cavern.

Katherine exhales all the way down deep from her lungs. “Finally; it’s about time he got here.”

“Please tell me we’re about to get deus ex machina-ed all up in this bitch.”

The Nighthunter gives Lily with a look of real hope. “I fuckin’ hope so.”

It would be nice if a magical army would appear at the mouth of the steps — agents of some Vampire-on-High who had ultimate authority, who were there to put this unjust trial to rest.

Nadya knows exactly what she would do: she’d have that awful torture chair burned in the marble fire pit at the Ahmanet Financial rooftop pool, would roast marshmallows crispy black and melty and curl up in Kamilah’s arms and give the woman what’s likely to be her first s’more ever. Adrian would be across from them safe and sound. Lily and Mari would be there, too. Even Jax — since she’s giving fairy tale thoughts a whirl.

Everything would be okay.

But everything isn’t okay. Very not okay — not in the slightest. Instead of a surprise army there’s just a lone figure that has to duck through the stone archway to avoid hitting his forehead as he enters.

So she follows Kathy’s lead and puts whatever little dirt-flecks of hope are left inside all into one pot.

Even if the pot looks sorta-kinda immensely nerdy.

“And of course I’m late, of course,” Nadya only catches the newcomer’s words because he passes them on his way forward — he seems more fixated on dusting himself off and looking presentable than doing whatever saving grace-thing he’s meant to do, “because this city is a bloody nightmare — I’ve solved ancient riddles easier than finding a street — oh, Katherine, there you are. Am I too late?”

He stops right in front of them — offers Kathy a flustered half-smile obscured by a thick curtain of wild hair. He speaks with an accent Nadya can’t quite place and hasty words of apology.

“On second thought, yell at me later. Where do I go to say my piece?”

But a loud and phlegm-coated cough doesn’t give him a chance. Draws everyone back up to the Council seats where the Baron’s red face is like a beacon.

“How dare you enter this space! Someone stake this ratty bastard!”

“Wait, no! Don’t!”

“What he said!”

Adrian and the tall man lock eyes. Despite the sag in Adrian’s shoulders he still manages to look irritated. The little bit of emotion helps with Nadya’s hope.

“He’s here to testify on my behalf.” Adrian exhales.

Nicole practically shoves Jameson away in a temporary slip of her role. Her scowl is plain as day. “Council law is clear — whoever you are, you can’t just storm in and demand to be heard!”

“I believe we are capable of speaking for ourselves, Miss Anderson.”

Nicole rounds on Kamilah — bites her tongue at the last second. Finally the two thousand year old vampiress allows a shred of victory to show through her teeth. “Outburst aside, however… she speaks the truth. Have this intruder escorted out.”

“By any. means. necessary.” Vega adds through gritted teeth.

Any doubts Nadya might have had about what the stranger was are gone in a literal blur — nearly gives herself whiplash following his rapid movement away from the approaching guards.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “A little late I might be — but an intruder I am not! I was sent a summons!”

From the inside of his jacket he procures a folded paper; one Jameson takes at Kamilah’s silent behest. He unfolds the top, scans it briefly, and nods to the Council.

“He tells true. He is the alibi witness Cadence Smith.”

Cadence pushes up his glasses — again, she can’t not wonder, do vampires really need them? — and offers an awkward bow to the Council; tries to give them all the same one at once by turning on his heel but swings a little too wide.

“His legitimacy aside,” argues the Senator, “it is the witness who is to speak on the Council’s command — not the Council who waits for the witness.”

“Here here!” Lester agrees; and while Priya doesn’t say it the look in her eyes says the same.

Kamilah shifts in her seat; crushed between a rock and a hard place. “In the spirit of impartiality I… am inclined to agree.”

Adrian’s face falls. Cadence meets every Council member’s expression with a hard stare.

“I hardly think that’s fair. Not only did you lot spring this on me at dawn—in Louisiana no less—but it’s not as if I was escorted to your meeting site! Were it not for the fact that I happen to be well-versed at tying together historical events of our society I likely would have never found the place at all Now how is that my fault?”

It isn’t just Nadya’s hand that suddenly shoots up but her whole body. Standing on the tips of her toes until it hurts like she’ll reach the ceiling of the cavern if she just believes in herself.

“Yes, Nadya?”

Because Kamilah humors her everyone focuses back on the poor little human. Her heart races in her stomach — everyone in the chamber must know it.

“Every witness has to be in a Council member’s custody a day before the trial, right?” She whirls around with open arms — looks to Isseya and Valdas at the back row and doesn’t even care that she has to snap and wave her hands to get their combined attention. “That’s what you told me.”

Like she never spoke Isseya goes back to looking over Nadya’s shoulder. Ruby eyes glistening in the torchlight — fixated on Cadence since his arrival.

Valdas, too, looks between them before somehow realizing everyone is waiting for their word. But there’s no time to play investigator on their erratic behavior. The Trinity were an erratic duo.

“I — yes. As was dictated to me by Castellanos when we were presented with… with our summons.”

“A-ha!” Nadya regrets spinning again but forces down her nausea for Adrian’s sake; points a finger at Cadence. “So why wasn’t he?”

“Actually yes, why wasn’t I,” after a beat, “why wasn’t I what, exactly?”

“In a Council member’s custody.”

“Oh — yes!” Louder this time and with his arms folded over his chest. “A guide would have been nice.”

“So since he was only late because the rules weren’t followed he should be allowed to speak. He showed up, didn’t he?”

Lily elbows her knee in support — or what she hopes is support because it just ends up hurting; making her sit back down while trying to collect herself like that was her plan all along.

Across the room Adrian mouths ‘thank you’ with wet eyes.

And the look of pride Kamilah’s directing her way — that’s totally just icing on the cake.

“Since one sleight will cancel out the other I’m inclined to allow it.” Go on, challenge me. I dare you. That’s the look she throws to Vega beside her. If he had anything to rebuke her ruling he’d surely offer it — and doesn’t his silence just speak volumes.

Nicole is escorted back to whatever lurks on the other side of the cavern and Cadence steps up to take her place in front of the Council. Just as well, thinks Nadya, because the moment she gets within range she’s going to commit a horrible act of violence against her former supervisor.

He’s the first vampire to speak so Nadya is taken aback when Jameson resumes his duties as living lie detector — watches him reach up through the discomfort of Cadence’s height to ensure he tells the truth.

“Begin with your name.”

“Cadence Smith.”

Behind him Jameson lets out a cry — jerks backwards and cradles his hands like a wounded beast.

“Scholar? What happened?” Vega leans forward immediately — ready to take any opportunity to strike.

Though he recovers quick enough, Jameson shakes his head repeatedly. “A lie.”

“A man who lies about his own name, yet is expected to tell the truth when the evidence damns Raines enough already?”

“I have an explanation,” Cadence protests. Vega’s nonchalance makes him clench his fists.

“Then this ought to be amusing at the very least.”

Cadence mumbles something Nadya can’t quite catch; seems genuinely concerned about the state of the Scholar much to the surprise of the man himself.

“Will this harm you further?”

Jameson schools his features. “I think not.”

“Then let’s try again.”

When Jameson resumes his stance it’s with obvious caution. Cadence, however, carries on like nothing happened.

“The name I have isn’t my own — which I can tie to my purpose here. I suffer from post-traumatic amnesia and have dedicated my life to the search for my real identity. Something Mister Raines — er, Adrian — was helping me with.”

There’s silence — takes Nadya a moment to realize everyone is waiting for Jameson.

The vampire looks like he’s just barely forcing himself through something uncomfortable. A bead of sweat drips off of his nose.

“He’s truthful.”

Only then does Kamilah continue. “When did you enlist the help of the accused?”

“Early last month.”

“And what services has he provided for you?”

“Oh — well, nothing yet. You see, something came up and I had to pause my search. Katherine — her, over there — she can vouch for me.”

“We’ll need something more concrete than…” Kamilah’s voice dies out — ends like she’s on the verge of a question.

At first it looks like she’s staring at Nadya. But she turns to see Valdas standing — expression sculpted into cool disinterest. This close, though, it’s hard not to notice how he struggles to wear the same mask she thought was permanently welded to his face.

Kamilah recovers herself — can’t really do much to continue what with everyone looking their way now.

“Something you wish to say, Valdas?”

“A question for the alibi witness.” He doesn’t wait for permission.

“When did you lose them?”

After several wild blinks and no interruption from the Council, Cadence comes to the conclusion he has to answer; does so with hunched shoulders and his hands in his pockets.

“My memories, you mean? I can’t rightfully say. I only remember waking up in New Orleans. Everything before is a blank.”

“Be specific.”

“I — I’m sorry?”

“When, in specifics.”

Nadya looks to Katherine but judging by the pensive cloud of her eyes there aren’t any to give. Doesn’t make her able to shake the feeling that these questions don’t really have anything to do with Adrian’s trial — and that makes her want to interrupt… but that one dumb brain cell called ‘common sense’ bites Nadya’s tongue for her.

“Well — I was shipped to the States from Europe just before the end of the Great War. But, erm, how exactly does this pertain to my testimony?” He looks between Valdas — who has gone pale — and the Council for answers. “Mister Raines wasn’t there.”

“It doesn’t, so save it.” Lester waves a hand and Valdas actually sits. A sure sign of the end of the world or something equally bad-news. “This is already taking up too much of my damn night.”

Priya clicks her tongue. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing with you…”

Nadya watches with growing curiosity as Cadence — silent, maybe contemplating what to say — darts his eyes across the chamber. Stares at every face, even hers, then moves to another in a random order. She doesn’t immediately recognize what’s familiar until she looks down to see Lily comforting herself with jerks of her thumb over the back of Nadya’s hand. The erratic motions of a joystick.

He’s planning. The realization makes her hope. Makes her grab Lily’s hand tighter in hers and hope.

“Alibi — I’m here to give you an alibi.” Cadence says suddenly; swats Jameson away from him like the ancient vampire is no more than a fly. Valdas, too, is forgotten.

“If you are able to provide one, yes.” answers Kamilah.

Beside her the Baron snarls, “And quickly…”

“Adrian Raines spent three days with me in the French Quarter. There was very little time to my memory that we weren’t somewhere in each other’s vicinity. In Kathy’s, too.”

Kamilah meets Katherine’s eyes; the women exchange understanding nods.

“Have you any proof?”

The more freedom Cadence is given to talk — the more he uses it. Speaking fast, almost like he’s on a doomsday clock. They all may very well be.

“Financial records from work receipts, I suppose,” he continues with nose scrunched in thought, “as well as research at my office littered with his fingerprints. And—oh yes—and not to mention witnesses with no personal ties to the accused — erm… Mister Raines, that is to say — who would be willing to testify if given time.”

Vega motions like he’s waving Cadence’s words out of the air in a cloud that hangs around him; disgusted.

“Receipts, documents — such things can be forged.”

“Indeed they can —” and whether Cadence knows it or not the brief glow of red in his eyes as he stares the Senator down could be taken as a declaration of war, “— from both sides of the trial, I should think.”

Nadya and Lily squeeze their hands so tight it hurts. Both of them keeping from cheering, whoop-ing, something to show their approval.

Vega doesn’t take long to realize he’s talked himself into a corner. He brushes over an eyebrow that wasn’t out of place with his thumb and allows a shrug.

“Very well. The Council has heard and accepted the testimony and alibi provided by one Cadence Smith. However,” he holds up a finger, “that does not provide an alibi for the accused during events mentioned by the previous witness for the prosecution. La Soirée, everyone?”

Before them all Cadence holds up a finger, tries and fails several times to speak, but finally gives Adrian an apologetic look.

“Sorry, my friend. But that I cannot do.”

“I believe we have witnesses present who have yet to speak.” Kamilah gestures for Valdas and Isseya to come forward.

In the back of her mind Nadya wants to call out their special treatment — thinks they should be called up separately rather than together — but if this is something that’s going to help Adrian’s case then they can break all the rules they need.

She was there when they admitted to spending that night with him. Kamilah heard it. Marcel heard it. Probably anyone near them with vampire hearing heard it.

And even if it was slow going it was still finally a break. Another crack in whatever wall Vega thought was impenetrable. Cadence had proof. Now Valdas and Isseya would have proof.

Maybe, just maybe, this thing could swing their way.

Tension like a thick, humid heat falls over the cavern. Nadya half expects to look down and see fog clinging to the bottoms of her jeans.

Between the Council seats and the witnesses’ chairs the Trinity cross Cadence’s path. She can’t tell who is holding whom captive in a long stare but it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Makes Lily cough and clear her throat in the way she does when her fangs appear unbidden.

Then it’s gone — like nothing ever happened. Cadence drops down into an empty seat beside Katherine; tries — and fails — to make himself take up as little space as possible.

And up front the Trinity stand side-by-side.

At Kamilah’s behest Jameson moves to step forward but a look from Isseya draws him to a halt. If anyone really wants to protest… they don’t.

Kamilah begins yet again.

“Begin with your names.”

“Valdemaras of Persepolis.”

“Isseya of the Veneti.”

“And your relationship with the accused?”

It’s the only time Nadya can think of that she’s seen the couple standing together without physical contact. It’s discomforting.

Isseya answers for them both, “We were present during the events of La Soirée, the first night of the Awakening Ball.”

“The Council is aware…” Kamilah measures her words carefully — the same way she did at the castle, “however what we ask for is your personal relationship to the accused.”

Discomfort grows inside Nadya into full-on nerves. She chews on the inside of her cheek — bites down so hard she might puncture skin.

The Trinity stay silent. Then, as if steeling herself, Isseya raises her chin and answers for them both again.

“We have none.”

They bridge the gap between them with linked hands. Adrian, too stunned to speak, simply rattles his chair manacles in a brief resistance.

What the heck is happening.

Above them all Kamilah slowly clenches, unclenches her fist.

“You… ‘have none.’” She repeats. Isseya nods curtly.

“That is correct.”

“And you speak the truth?”

“You dare question her?” Valdas advances; the picture of complacent yet with blood lacing his words. Or the promise of it. “Think carefully before you speak again, Sayeed.”

But unlike at the Ball this time Kamilah doesn’t back down. Snaps her red eyes at the elder vampire with a curled upper lip.

“I should advise the same of you, Valdemaras of Persepolis, and will remind you both of the consequences of lying to this tribunal.”

“You accuse us of lying, now?”

Of course she does! What is going on?!

“When I heard the contrary from your own lips with mine own ears — yes.”

Valdas breaks their hands only to take another step forward. It doesn’t divide them like it should — instead Nadya looks at the space between them and it just fades into nonexistence. Like an entire ocean could part them and it wouldn’t even matter.

“As it is your tribunal, your disgrace is forgiven this time, little lotus.”

Nadya’s never seen Kamilah physically recoil from anything before. But the whole room grows cold with a history she doesn’t know — she tries not to fixate on the pet name which sounds familiar when mouthed mutely but she’s sure she’s never heard before.

Because the Trinity is lying.

Valdas continues; doesn’t skip a beat. “We will testify once more — but only once. My Priestess and I have no personal relationship with the accused; Adrian Raines, no matter what he may boast to the contrary. Such is beneath us.”

He turns and gives the man a sneer in profile — makes Adrian tug at his bonds again with gritted teeth.

“Why are you lying?!” He shouts — and might as well be screaming at stone for all the reaction they give him. “Valdas — Isseya — please!”

The crack in his voice says it all. They’re his only alibi for that night.

They were his last chance.

With steepled fingers Vega looks positively giddy. “Thank you for your time. You may step down — or leave at your leisure with the sincerest apologies from this Council for wasting the Trinity’s time.”

Hands sealed back in place the pair depart in a gust of unseen wind. Cadence hastily fixes his hair out of his eyes. Lily looks between where they stood and the cavern entrance with awe.

Nadya sees her own nausea in Katherine’s face.

Kamilah goes to speak but the Baron catches her off guard. “Well, if that’s all they got…”

“Indeed I believe so.” Vega’s boasting isn’t lost on anyone. “Kamilah — as eldest of us I believe the honor of stating the facts to the accused is yours.”

Don’t do it. Kamilah please don’t do it.

Whether she can read the pleading in Nadya’s mind or not — Kamilah’s breath wavers as she speaks. Looks to Adrian and only Adrian with heartbreak in every word.

“Adrian Raines,” she begins, “you have been accused by the Council of orchestrating acts of terror against the vampire community of New York and those who lead it.

“Evidence — the legitimacy of which has not been determined by full Council vote — has been brought to the tribunal’s attention which suggests you were performing illegal experiments on Feral subjects without Council permission or knowledge. How do you plead?”

He looks so tired in his torture chair. Skin angry red and swollen, burned and charred black around his wrists and ankles, peeks through his singed clothes.

“Guilty.”

“You have been accused of covering up human deaths in relation to these experiments. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“You have been accused of having prior knowledge of the Feral attacks that have plagued the community, the Clans, and the Council. How do you plead?”

“…Guilty.”

“You have been accused of orchestrating the murder of the Council of New York at the Awakening Ball. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

“You have been accused of plotted attempts to usurp the Council’s power — the validity and success of which has not been determined by Council vote. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty.”

Slowly Kamilah stands. Vega beside her, then the Baron, Priya, finally Lester.

If the witnesses are supposed to do anything Nadya refuses. Turns her head away because she catches the light of a tear on Adrian’s cheek and can’t bear to look at him or the wretched Council any longer.

She buries her face into Lily’s shoulder.

“Regarding the trial of Adrian Raines… how does the Tribunal vote?”

Too damned fast. Too damned quick. She wants to stake them all.

“Guilty.”

“Guilty.”

“Guilty fucker.”

“Guilty.”

“Not—guilty.” Kamilah’s voice cracks on her sentence.

Nadya can’t breathe. Can’t look. Can’t scream. Can’t move.

“By majority vote…” Kamilah pauses — something (or someone) urges her along, “Adrian Raines, you have been found guilty of the crimes of which you are accused. You are hereby stripped of your Council seat and of your ranking position as Leader of Clan Raines. In following Council law your sentence is —”

But she can’t say it.

Nadya looks up just in time to choke back her heart and see Vega snarl the sentence.

“Death by the sun.”

“NO!”