#tw bisection

[peanut-tyrug]

SatBK Fanfic: A Sacred Old Soul

Sonic discovers that there's more to Caliburn than he lets on... an unseen past that only he and the other Round Table knights know of.

—

This idea spawned from an old SatBK AU I had. I'm not gonna elaborate on it, as the general idea of the AU is in the fic (also it'd be spoilery and I want the reader to see it for themselves).

—

TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains depictions of gore/blood, bisection, a corpse, loss of family/loved ones, threats toward characters, illusions/hallucinations, and swords. If you aren’t comfortable with these things, please don’t read this.

It hadn't been too long since Sonic and his talking Sacred Sword Caliburn had saved the kingdom of Camelot from certain destruction. Only a day or two.

Sonic was beginning to prepare for his journey back to his world, spending some time to get to know the other knights of the Round Table before he left. He had swiftly realized how similar they all were to the counterparts from his home... it gave the hedgehog an odd sense of deja vu.

After having spent a bit with Merlina, who was now ready to send Sonic home, Sonic wanted spend a while with Caliburn.

Like the Round Table knights and Merlina, Sonic never really had the time to get to know Caliburn. The sword had been at Sonic's side for most of his adventure through the land of King Arthur, and despite that, he barely got to see the side of Caliburn that was more... genuine. The side of Caliburn that wasn’t an uptight mentor in swordsmanship.

And Sonic felt a nice run through some of the kingdom’s scenery would be a good way to get relax with the Sacred Sword.

Around the half way point of Sonic’s journey through the kingdom, the pair had finally entered the Shrouded Forest.

The pair glanced upon the fantastical forest as Sonic steadily sped through it. The crystalline snow on the ground was swiftly crushed under Sonic’s speedy feet. The flowers of the forest shone in beautiful yet eerie shades of blue, violet, and pink. A few bugs flew around the forest, appearing to be uncaring for the hedgehog and sentient weapon…

“Be careful, Sonic.” Says Caliburn. “The butterflies here are not what you think.”

“You sure?” Sonic asks. “They look fine to me.”

“They can get at your head, make you see things that are not actually there.” Caliburn informs. “I’d suggest you keep them away.”

“…Oh, they’re little tricksters, huh?” Sonic asks again. “We can handle that, right, Caliburn?”

“We have faced more threatening terrors than insects, Sonic.” Says Caliburn with a stern tone of voice. “Little butterflies are no problem for either of us.”

“I’d imagine that.” Says Sonic. “Unless you want your blade getting slathered in bug guts.” He says jokingly.

Caliburn swiftly appears appalled at the comment, looking as if he’s sick to his stomach at the thought… he didn’t actually have organs, did he?

“Sonic!” Says a disgusted Caliburn. “D-do not speak of such things!”

Sonic chuckles slightly. “You know I’m just messin' with ya!” He says. “And if you ever get dirtied up, I’m sure I can find someone to get your blade polished up.”

“…I-I appreciate the gesture.” Says Caliburn, who still sounded disgusted.

…Sonic just wanted to throw a quip at the sword, just like he did during their adventure through the kingdom. It was the last time he’d have the time to hang out with the sword, and he wanted to make it worth while.

They had greatly bonded, both of them knew that. And both of them appreciated each other… even if Caliburn didn’t fully understand Sonic’s quips. The sword knew Sonic was just messing around, and didn’t mean it… that didn’t prevent him from taking them to heart for a moment though.

Suddenly, a few butterflies cross the hedgehog’s path.

“Woah!” Sonic exclaims. As he runs, he holds Caliburn up and swings the insects away, his movements lacking elegance and poise.

Caliburn is swiftly disoriented by the action, slowly trying to regain an ornate head. “Sonic!” Caliburn criticizes. “Don’t swing me around so recklessly! I’m certain you are aware that I am not some fly swatter?”

“Sorry.” Sonic apologizes. “Just had to get those bugs out of the way.”

Sonic continues his run, not caring for the sudden ambush. It isn’t long before even more butterflies cloud Sonic’s eyes.

Sonic halts with a quick yelp. Caliburn then falls out of Sonic’s grip, as he is no longer paying attention to the blade, trying to swat the insects away.

“Caliburn!?” Sonic cries out. He tries to reach for his blade, not noticing that it had fallen to the ground.

Caliburn eventually gets up on his own, now standing on his point. “Sonic!” He shouts, now racing toward the struggling hedgehog.

Before Caliburn can reach Sonic however, a hoard of butterflies race toward the sword’s face, completely obscuring his vision, and causing him to quickly shout.

“Get away from me, foul things!” Says Caliburn. “Away! Away with you!”

The issue is that Caliburn can’t sway away the bugs on his own, he needs Sonic’s assistance.

“Caliburn!” Sonic calls out. “Where are you?”

“Where are you!?” Caliburn asks back. “I cannot see!”

The two then appear to bump into each other, causing them both to fall back, still struggling with the bugs.

“Shoot!” Says Sonic. “These things are such a pain!”

“Hurry!” Says Caliburn. “Find me, and pick me back—!”

*WHOOSH!*

“…Up…?”

It takes a moment for Caliburn to adjust to his new and sudden surroundings. All he can see is what appears to be nothing; a completely white, blank void.

Caliburn attempts to get up… and yet, he doesn’t struggle to get on his point, not like he usually did. It was normally a small struggle for him to get up if he ever landed on the back of his blade, since he never had a spine…

Or, at least, he hadn’t had one… not for a time, as he recalled.

“…Strange.” Says Caliburn.

He only looks forward at the void before him… then he looks down…

“…W-what!?” Caliburn shouts. “What in the unholy trickery—!?”

…Caliburn had a body. A human body… something that felt so foreign, yet so familiar…

“…I-I don’t— I don’t understand…” Says Caliburn, panic rising in his voice. “No, this isn’t—!”

“Christopher!?” A feminine voice calls out. “Where are you? Where did you go!?”

Caliburn looks upward at the void again… he hadn’t been called that in ages…

He hadn’t heard that voice in ages…

Caliburn appeared simply awestruck at the voice. All he focused on what the single other person that seemed to be there with him…

“…A-Angeline?” Caliburn calls out, slowly and steadily rising to his feet. He struggles a bit though, trembling a bit where he stands.

“…Christopher?” The voice calls out again. “Is that you?”

Caliburn appears even more shocked as a figure comes into view from the void.

“…Angeline?” Caliburn calls out again. “M-my sweet Angel, why— How—!?”

“Christopher!?” The voice calls again as it became more clear.

From the void, a woman adorned in an elegant dress, colored in blue and gold with silver Celtic designs covering it, approached the confused Caliburn. Despite there being no wind, her mid-length brunette hair followed serenely, making her give off a poise and elegant aura.

“Angeline?” Caliburn calls out again, standing rooted to his spot.

“Christopher?” Angeline calls out again, now rushing to him.

Angeline then finally reaches Caliburn, and tightly embraces him, while Caliburn remains still in his confused headspace.

“Where have you been!?” Angeline asks. “I’ve looked everywhere for you!”

“…I don’t understand.” Says Caliburn. “You already know.”

Angeline then grasps onto Caliburn’s shoulders. She leans in close to him. “That doesn’t matter now.” She says. “We are both here, together.”

…Caliburn doesn’t smile, he only stares at the woman… before his expression descends into that of anger.

“…No.” Says Caliburn. “This is not real…”

“…What?” Angeline asks.

“…This is not real… it’s a trick!” Says Caliburn. “I will not fall prey to your illusions, foul beasts! How dare you sully her name!?”

“What!?” Angeline questions again. “Christopher, I am real!”

“No! You are not her!” Says Caliburn. “My mind has been twisted against my will to fall for the likes of those pests! I will not give in!”

“Caliburn! Snap out of it!” Angeline exclaims… almost sounding as if another familiar, snarky voice was speaking through her… and yet, Caliburn doesn’t hear it.

“Get out of my head!” Says Caliburn.

“Caliburn!!” A voice shouts.

Caliburn’s eyes then shoot open, as if he had been suddenly awakened from a deep sleep.

“—Wha— what!?” Caliburn shouts. “What happened!?”

Sonic, who seemed to have been able to get the bugs away from him on his own, then grabs the grip of Caliburn’s hilt and lifts him up. He looks him dead in the eyes before speaking. “Those bugs got to ya, Caliburn.”

Caliburn then appears to be ashamed of himself… Sonic could tell that he didn’t feel good about those bugs getting the best of him… but there seemed to be something else lingering on the sword’s mind. Same for Sonic’s.

“What was all that about, anyway?” Sonic asks. “Who was that lady you were talking about?”

A sudden surge of panic slaps itself onto Caliburn’s face... just how much of that did he hear?

“…I-it was nothing. She is no one.” He says.

“…And I thought a Sacred Sword like you would never tell a lie!” Sonic says slyly.

“Why I never! I would never do such a—!” Caliburn begins, before getting cut off.

“Yes you would, and you’re doing it right now!” Says Sonic, sounded irritated. “You can tell me!”

…Caliburn then sighs, feeling defeated. “You are the king, and my closest friend. You of all people should have my permission to know this…” Says Caliburn. “…C-can you keep a secret?”

“Of course I can! If it’s for a friend!” Says Sonic. “Spill the beans!”

“…What?” Caliburn asks. He doesn’t understand Sonic’s modern slang.

“What’s your secret?” Asks Sonic.

“Before that,” Caliburn begins. “Let us leave this place. It is best that we don’t get caught off guard by the butterflies again.”

“Roger that.” Says Sonic.

The blue hedgehog then begins to speed out of the Shrouded Forest with his Sacred Sword in tow. Silence crosses the both of them as Sonic approaches the Deep Woods.

—

Sonic comes to a halt near one of the many groves of trees in the Deep Woods, just nearby where he had first fought Sir Lancelot. Small crystals reflect the Sun’s peering light onto the ground, lighting up the grove a bit.

Sonic leans Caliburn against a tree, while the hedgehog sits next him with his legs crossed.

“You ready?” Sonic asks.

“…Yes.” Says Caliburn.

“What’cha got for me?” Sonic asks again.

“It’s fairly long.” Says Caliburn, as if warning Sonic that he may get bored of it.

“Ah, just make it interesting.” Says Sonic, smiling.

Caliburn chuckles a bit. “I like to think it is.” He says, as he begins to tell his tale…

“…Have you ever pondered how I am able to be sentient, Sonic?” Caliburn asks.”

“Magic?” Sonic asks. “That’s what I always thought.”

“You’d be correct.” Says Caliburn. “But the magic of it is what you don’t know… to be general, I was once organic…”

“You weren’t always a sword?” Sonic asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“…Exactly.” Says Caliburn.

“But… how?” Sonic asks. “What about the lady?”

“…That is when this gets a bit long.” Says Caliburn.

~~~

'…I was orphaned at a young age. My family had passed in a storm…'

“…Mother? Father?” Calls a young Christopher Caliburn, son of a small peasant family. “Where have you gone?”

The child walks through a quiet and desolate forest, soaked head to toe in rain water. His sewn-up rags were tearing at the seams from the rain. The child walks practically aimlessly, looking for his missing family.

'…They were never found, and my home had also been lost in the storm. I was left to roam that forest alone, no one to help me, and all I had other than my rags was what I knew I could do on my own…'

Christopher eventually weakly falls to his knees in the rain. He begins cry softly, only begging that his family was somewhere in this storm, possibly looking for their son…

But he had been looking for so long, and there was no sign of them. No trace of them anywhere in those woods.

…They were dead, no matter how much Christopher didn’t want to admit it.

Despite that, he knew he couldn’t sit there and cry forever… he had to survive here. It was all he could do. It was what he had to do… whatever it took.

'For ages, leaking into my adult years, I remained in those woods. Surviving completely on my own. Killing animals to live, building shelters to live… it was all I could do.'

'It was the same thing all that time. It never changed, until it did…'

Christopher, now in his mid thirties, ventures the woods, dressed in a uniform from one of the various guards that had come upon the woods, but had never returned to Camelot… he didn’t like the idea of taking their clothes as his own, it didn’t feel morally right, but he needed them.

A hand-carved wooden spear remained in his hands. He glances around, looking for anything he could easily take down…

Before a sudden hissing is heard.

Christopher turns a heel, pointing his spear in front of him… then, again, the same hissing.

What was odd was that it wasn’t a familiar hissing, not like that of a snake… almost like some small beast that had yet to be named and discovered.

…It sounded just the slightest bit of ferocious, like a knight of the underworld…

The beasts of such kind haunted Christopher’s nightmares. He had known of them from tales his mother spoke of… even if they ended nicely, the thought of such beasts scared him, even though he was almost an adult.

Such imagery can frighten anyone, regardless of age.

Suddenly, the hissing is heard again… although, it’s much closer than before…

Christopher turns back… only to be met with a helmeted beast. A knight of the underworld, one with bat-like wings and fisk-like tail. Christopher shouts, startled. He holds his spear up, trying to fight the beast.

“Back!” Christopher exclaims. “Back, I say! Back!”

The creature shrieks in a thunderous fury, as if to call others of its kin. Christopher freezes for a moment, before turning a heel again and scurrying off… no way he could fight as many as it could summon with a rickety wooden spear.

As he runs, he can feel the presence of many other underworld creatures chasing after him. He was their prey, and it felt like nothing was going to save him from his predicament.

As he ran however, the ground below him seemed to suddenly disappear as he began to trip and fall. Christopher tumbled down a deep slope, rolling down the hill, until he suddenly landed in a pile of shrubs. The shrubs swiftly broke his fall, although, the pain he was in first fall had yet waver.

Christopher slowly rises from the shrubs with a pained grunt. As he recollects himself, his eyes quickly spot something before him…

His eyes go wide, and his mouth goes agape…

Christopher spots an elegant and pristine sword lodged into a stone covered in vines. A single ray of the Sun’s light peered through the trees and onto the blade, making it appear even more beautiful.

~~~

“Was that sword… you?” Sonic asks.

“Yes, it was.” Caliburn says softly, as if reminiscing. “I had not an inkling that the sword in that very stone was Excalibur itself… I actually remember finding it here, in the Deep Woods.”

“Huh, who knew?” Sonic asks himself in wonder. “But what happens after that?” He asks with a soft smile on his face.

“We’ll get there.” Says Caliburn, sounding as if he was trying calm an excited child.

~~~

Christopher steadily exits the pile of shrubs and heads to the stone. He slowly wraps his hands around the sword’s grip, and tugs…

The sword moves an inch upward…

Christopher tugs harder at the weapon, until it completely slides free from the stone. The sword feels heavy in Christopher’s grip, causing him to drop it slightly. He slowly picks it up again, allowing it to set itself in his hands.

Christopher looks ahead past the stone, gazing upon a grove up ahead. Rather than climb back up the steep hill, Christopher walks into the grove.

As he walks, he takes a look at the sword. It could practically be used as a mirror with how reflective it was.

As Christopher gazes upon the serene blade, a sudden shriek makes him come to halt… it didn’t sound like it came from a creature, but rather… a person.

Christopher then rushes forward, blade clutched tightly in his grasp, toward the sound of the shriek. He runs for what feels like miles… before suddenly bumping into something… someone.

“Oh, stars!” Says the stranger as she suddenly falls. She looks forward, and yelps at the person before them, a man dressed in a raggedy guard’s uniform and wielding a sword.

The lady moves backwards, afraid of what the man could do to her. “D-don’t hurt me!” She says. “I did no harm, Sir Knight!”

Christopher slowly rises to his bottom and looks to the woman in confusion. “…I’m sorry?” He asks. “I am not a knight.”

“…Then what of your sword?” Asks the lady.

“I found it, my lady.” Says Christopher.

Suddenly, another hiss is heard… a familiar sound…

“It’s still after me!” The lady said to herself. She then turns to Christopher. “You must help me, sir!”

“With ails you, my lady?” Asks Christopher.

“Underworld knights!” The lady says in a panic.

From behind the woman, a small hoard of underworld knights appears. The lady yelps and hides behind Christopher, hoping that he can help.

Christopher holds up his weapon to the knights, ready to strike… before then thrusting forward, taking a knight or two. He then swipes the sword to hit the rest… although, his movement is messy.

The knights disappear in puffs of smoke, dying just before his eyes. Christopher slowly lowers his weapon, breathing heavily. He then turns back to the woman, who was sitting on the ground…

…He never had a chance to properly look at her. Neither did she.

They stared at each other in complete awe… they were swiftly pulled to each other like magnets.

The lady was dressed in a small blue and gold gown, decorated with Celtic designs colored in silver. Her wonderfully put-together brunette hair stayed still as the woman looked up to Christopher… her face slightly red.

Christopher doesn’t initially realize that he was slightly red in the face too… until he realizes he’s staring. He clears his throat. “…I’m sorry.” He says.

“No, no… it’s alright.” Says the lady. “…B-but that was amazing!”

“…I need no compliments, my lady.” Says Christopher.

The lady then looks Christopher, as if wanting to speak again, before looking down… appearing worried by his raggedy and slightly torn outfit. “…How long have you resided here?” She asks.

“…Almost all of my life.” Says Christopher with a tinge of dread. “I have fought for my life in these woods.”

“I see…” Says the lady. “I could let you stay at my home for a time.”

“I need it not, my lady.” Says Christopher.

~~~

“Still as stubborn as ever.” Sonic says in a joking tone.

“Oh, hush up.” Says Caliburn, sounding as if he’s trying to repress a chuckle.

~~~

“Are you certain?” Asks the lady. “I’m certain it would be a nice change from the Deep Woods, wouldn’t it?”

Christopher wants to retort… but then he thinks about it… it would be a nice change from these woods. He had been here for almost his entire childhood, and hadn’t had a meal that wasn’t fish in months, as not many other animals resided in the Deep Woods other than the fish that reigned it’s lake. And his clothes, always ragged and in tatters, having to take cloth from those who had fallen…

Christopher then looks up to the lady with certain eyes. “I will accompany you.” He says. “…You are correct, your home would be a nice change from the Deep Woods.”

“Oh, thank you for allowing me to help… I am very thankful for your help as well.” Says the lady. “I go by Angeline, by the way.”

“…A wonderful name.” Says Christopher, smiling softly… his face also appearing a bit red again. “It suits you.”

Angeline blushes a bit. She hides her face a bit, but is simply unable to repress a smile. “Oh, stop!” She says. “What is your name, sir?”

“I am Christopher Caliburn, son of the late Colette and Alaric Caliburn.” Says Christopher. He then smiles softly. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Angeline.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Christopher.” Says Angeline. She then seems to have a realization of some kind… “…Your 'late' family?”

Christopher’s expression falters slightly. “…I lost them years ago, I wasn’t even in adolescence yet…” He says. “…I-it was a storm.”

“…Oh, stars.” Says Angeline. “I apologize for asking… I had no idea…”

“No, no, it’s alright.” Says Christopher. “The grief may live on within me… but I do not let it consume me. I am but too strong to fall to my grief…”

Angeline smiles. “I’m glad.” She says. “Come, I will lead you to my residence.”

~~~

“So you and this Angeline were buddy-buddy?” Asks Sonic.

“…What?” Caliburn asks, confused once again.

“Like, were you friends?” Sonic reiterates.

“…It started that way, somewhat.” Says Caliburn.

~~~

Angeline leads Christopher through her small village. As they walk, Christopher notices a few villagers eyeing him, appearing afraid…

They were likely intimated. None of these people knew who he was, and neither did he. He was also wielding a weapon… they were fearful of him attacking, he assumed.

With time, Angeline comes to a halt in front of a drab wooden door. She lets herself in, with Christopher following behind her.

Angeline’s home was a small cobblestone shack, decorated with organized shelves. It was cramped and desolate… and yet, it was home. Christopher didn’t have much either.

Christopher hums. “…A very neatly home.” He says as he sets his sword against a wall.

“Yes.” Says Angeline. “I try to keep everything together… I’ll find you something nicer to wear… how did you get that?”

“The uniform?” Asks Christopher.

Angeline confirms with a hum and nod as she enters another room.

“…I’d rather not say.” Says Christopher. “I am not proud of the method I used…”

“That’s alright.” Says Angeline. “I understand… you had to what had to do out in the Deep Woods, I would imagine.”

“…You could put it that way.” Says Christopher.

It was all he could do. What he had to do.

Angeline eventually steps out of the room she had been in, a fleece dress shirt and pants in her hands. “Try these. I hope they fit.”

“They shall suffice.” Says Christopher, studying to see if the clothes would fit.

“…I’ll get you something to eat, hold on a moment.” Angeline then hurries over to a small kitchen nearby, looking through a few cabinets that were filled to the brim with jars of ingredients he couldn’t name.

Christopher then heads to another room to change out of his rags.

—

Christopher, now dressed in the clothes Angeline lended him, sits in front a small wooden table. He waits patiently for his meal… daydreaming about what had recently transpired… before a small bowl clanks onto the table.

“Here.” Says Angeline. “I don’t have much, but I made an attempt.”

Christopher looks to the bowl and takes it… there appeared to be a kind of soup inside of it. He picks up the spoon within the bowl and lifts the soup his mouth…

It was hot, he swiftly realized… but not too hot, rather, it was warm. A pleasant yet unknown flavor lathered Christopher’s tongue.

“…What is in this?” Christopher asked.

“Oh! A few herbs and spices… meat I had gotten in a trade… what meat was it?” Angeline then begins to become deep in thought.

“Hm… it’s serpent meat…” Says Christopher.

“Pardon?” Angeline asks.

“There’s serpent meat in this…” Says Christopher.

“Have you had serpent before?” Angeline asks.

“Yes, but ages ago…” Says Christopher.

“Hm… they’ve been hunted down a lot recently…” Says Angeline.

Before Angeline can continue, her eyes fall upon the sword Christopher had found.

“…You know, I’ve never seen a sword like that before.” Says Angeline. “How did you come across it?”

“I found it in a stone.” Says Christopher, the soup bowl in hand. “I’ve never seen it either… although, it does bare a slight resemblance to Excalibur…”

“Maybe it was made in its image?” Angeline suggests.

“…Possibly.” Says Christopher as he eats.

A sudden shout from outside then knocks Christopher out of his head.

“Oh, dear…” Angeline says, her voice clouded in worry. “A robber… again.”

“Again?” Christopher asks.

“They have been very rampant recently.” Says Angeline. “They’re likely after our resources… the King hasn’t kept an eye on the kingdom’s resources for quite sometime…”

Suddenly, Christopher rises from his seat and grabs the sword. He swiftly opens the wooden door and rushes outside.

“Christopher!?” Angeline cries out from inside her home.

Christopher turns his head back to face Angeline. “I will only be a moment!” He then hurries away.

Christopher rushes into a more bustling part of the village and immediately spots a robber haggling a bag from a defenseless damsel.

“Just give me the bag, and you can go!” Says the robber.

“I am desperate, I beg you!” Says the damsel. “I need this!”

Christopher’s brows furrow and he hurries forward. He holds his sword out and makes his presence known.

“Halt!” Christopher exclaims. “Leave the woman be!”

The robber turns away from the woman to face Christopher. “Hah!” He bellows. “What’s a man in rags gonna do with a sword without a name?”

Christopher appears offended the comment as he turns a heel to the right and circles back to the robber. He collides with the thief, making him fall to the ground.

Christopher keeps the thief pinned to the ground, his sword held close to the other’s neck.

“Judge a sword not by its name, but the power it wields.” Says Christopher in a stern tone. “I may not be well versed in swordsmanship, but I am certain a single swipe of this blade could end you in but a second… let this woman go, give her back her possessions, and I will not harm you… be weary that if you don’t heed my word, my mercy for you will be smothered out in an instant.”

The robber then appears horrified at the comment… despite Christopher being a collected and reserved gentleman, he was still very intimidating when he needed to be… it was unnerving…

Before the robber can heed Christopher’s word, the sound of approaching armored steps is heard.

“Halt!” Says a voice. “In the name of the King, halt!”

Three different anthropomorphic knights come into view… a black hedgehog, a red echidna, and a violet feline, all of them adorned in armor and wielding swords of the own.

The hedgehog steps forward, holding his drawn sword out toward Christopher and the robber. “Cease your movement!” He says.

The robber suddenly hurries away from Christopher and to the knights, appearing panicked.

“Just take me away! Imprison me!” Says the robber. “Get me away from that man!”

The echidna then steps over to Christopher, appearing suspicious. “…You are a thief, aren’t you, scum?”

“…What?” Christopher asks, taken aback.

“You were stealing from that man, weren’t you!?” Asks the echidna. “You had him pinned!”

“…It was he that stole, Sir Knight.” Says Christopher.

“How dare you not know the name of Sir Gawain!?” Sir Gawain chastises.

“Gawain, wait.” Says the feline, who approaches the echidna’s side. She turns to face Christopher. “You said that man had stole?”

“Yes.” Christopher responds. “He had stolen a lady’s goods… I could not stand by and let him have what was rightfully hers.”

“Just take the bag back! Take it!” Says the robber as he chucks the bag to the ground. The feline catches it just as the damsel approaches her.

“Oh, thank you, Sir Percival!” Says the damsel. “I am forever grateful.”

“I need no thanks.” Says Sir Percival. “I am here for the kingdom and its people.”

The damsel nods. “Have a blessed day!” She says as she takes her leave.

“You as well.” Christopher replies.

Sir Percival then eyes the sword in Christopher’s grip. Even behind her visor, anyone could sense the suspicions drowning her features. “…Where did you find that sword, sir?” She asks. “Are you a knight as well?”

“No,” Christopher replies. “I found it within a stone in the Deep Woods… I do not believe it has a name.”

“…The resemblance to Excalibur is eye-catching…” Says Sir Percival.

“He must’ve stolen it!” Sir Gawain accused… he’s always had such a thick head…

Sir Percival can only eye Sir Gawain before the armored hedgehog approaches. “…How could someone such as a common man be worthy of such a pristine blade…” He asks. “Only a Sacred Sword would be gifted to such a warrior…”

“Then he possibly is a warrior, Sir Lancelot.” Says Sir Percival.

As the knights speak amongst each other, Christopher begins to recognize each of them…

“Forgive me, but, only now do I realize…” Christopher begins. “Are you all Round Table knights? King Arthur’s mightiest of swordsmen?”

The knights turn to face the man before them. “…Forgive my forgetfulness… where are my manners? …Yes, brave swordsman.” Says Sir Percival. “I am Sir Percival, Knight of the Grail. I am joined by Sirs Lancelot and Gawain, Knights of the Lake and Knight of the Sun respectively.” She points to the respective knights with a hand. “We are at your service, as your kingdom’s most courageous of knights.”

Christopher hums, indicating his understanding. “I am grateful for your service.” He says.

Sir Percival then eyes Christopher’s sword, then looks back to face him. “I believe it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary to be given training in swordsmanship?” She asks.

“Hm…” Sir Lancelot hums, considering the idea. “Such a mighty blade should be wielded by proper hands…”

Christopher then appears flustered, taken aback… the same can be said for Sir Gawain.

“How can we trust him?” Asks Sir Gawain.

“I am certain we can hold out a trusting hand for him, Gawain.” Says Sir Percival. “He shall make a great knight… a Round Table knight even.”

Christopher still seems taken aback by the request. Before he can give his response, quick steps are heard pacing towards them.

“Christopher!” Angeline calls out. As she sees the knights, she skids to a halt and gets on one knee. “O, dearest Knights of the Round Table, forgive my intrusion…”

“You are alright, my lady.” Says Sir Percival.

Angeline then rises back up to her feet and faces Christopher. “Where is the robber? Did you assist the victim?”

“He was taken care of swiftly, Angeline.” Says Christopher. He then looks up to see the robber sitting in place not even daring to move and run off… the robber then seems notice the weapon-wielding man looking to him, causing him to avert his gaze in fear.

The knights also turn back to the robber… whatever Christopher done has worked… he was formidable.

Worthy of training in knighthood, gifted unto him from King Arthur’s greatest knights.

“…What do you say, sir… what is your name?” Asks Sir Percival.

“Christopher Caliburn.” Christopher responds.

“…Sir Christopher, would you take this opportunity from us to learn true knighthood?” Asks Sir Percival.

“…'Learn of true knighthood'?” Angeline questions.

Christopher, only for a moment, wants to retort… but he looks to his blade… then over to Angeline, and the rest of the small village…

…He wanted to protect them… this was his kingdom, just was it was theirs.

“I will take your words, and heed them well.” Says Christopher. “I accept your mentorship.”

“…Oh, my…” Says Angeline. “Mentorship from the Knights of the Round Table?”

“I want to be able to protect this kingdom, Angeline. It is my home, just as it is yours.” Says Christopher. “…I want to protect you.”

Christopher then finds himself looking into Angeline’s eyes… her bright brown eyes stare deep into his own ocean blue ones… her eyes were like a field, and his were like a fresh clean river… something you could never tired of looking upon…

They don’t even notice that either one of them was blushing slightly.

Christopher then blinks, coming to his senses. “…M-my apologies.” He says. “I didn’t realize I was—!”

“It’s alright.” Says Angeline. “I didn’t notice either.”

…Christopher couldn’t help but smile.

“We will begin your training today.” Says Sir Percival. “We will begin at Misty Lake.”

“…Y-you don’t mind if tag along, do you?” Asks Angeline. “I only wish to watch… and be at his side.”

…They both blush again…

“…As long as it is not a distraction for our student.” Says Sir Percival.

“I will be certain not to distract him.” Says Angeline.

“I will stay on guard.” Says Christopher.

“It is settled then.” Says Percival. “…But you need armor…”

“There is a blacksmith in the castle town, correct?” Asks Sir Gawain.

“Yes…” Says Sir Percival. “We shall start there.”

The five then head off to the castle town… a new chapter in Christopher’s life was swiftly blossoming.

~~~

“No wonder you know so much about knights!” Says Sonic. “You were one!”

“I learned from the best.” Says Caliburn.

“And so did I.” Says Sonic.

Caliburn smiles softly. “I appreciate the comment, Sonic.”

“Don’t mention it.” Says Sonic. “…And I’m starting to think you and Angeline weren’t just friends.”

Caliburn fails to repress a small chuckle. “We’re getting there.” He says.

~~~

'I had spent months around the kingdom training with the Round Table knights… I had been everywhere… from Misty Lake, to Molten Mine, to Titanic Plain… there wasn’t any place where I hadn’t been anymore.'

'Each round of training ended with a battle with one of the knights themselves… With time, I learned all there was to each of their skill sets, and one by one… they were all defeated in my battles against them.'

'I was formidable, more than ever, they knew that now… especially Angeline.'

'The entire time, she was there, watching my every move… she asked if I could teach her what I learned. We didn’t get far, but we had fun… we grew closer. Bonded more than ever before…'

'…Our love had blossomed like that of Spring when Winter were to finally cease… we were close, and nothing were to tear us apart.'

'…Until I finally met the King…'

Within the training grounds of Camelot Castle, Christopher and Sir Lancelot stand in their battle positions, the other knights and Angeline watching.

“Let us see what you are capable of, Sir Christopher!” Sir Lancelot demands. “Give me everything you’ve got!”

“That is what I seek to achieve; O, Knight of the Lake!” Says Christopher.

Sir Lancelot smiles for a moment… a rare occurrence it was for a smirk to cross the mighty knight’s face… he was impressed.

Sir Lancelot then charges forward, so does Christopher. Their blades clang together, making the air around them ring. Slashes after slashes soon follow, before Sir Lancelot suddenly disappears in a flash…

“Chaos—!” Sir Lancelot exclaims, before getting got off.

“Punishment?” Christopher questions, now guarding as Arondight’s blade collided with his own.

Sir Lancelot scoffs slightly, before striking down with Arondight once more. The hedgehog disappears again, the reappears elsewhere, summoning Chaos Spears.

Christopher turns just in time to defend himself from the spears. Sir Lancelot strikes again… time feels like it’s going a mile a minute… until it suddenly wasn’t.

The winds swiftly pick up as the sounding of galloping horseshoes hit the ground… or, somehow, the air.

A dark horse adorned in armor appears before Sir Lancelot and Christopher, zipping past them in a flash. The horse eventually finds its way to the ground, allowing everyone there to see the man atop the steed.

A bulky figure adorned in heavy armor sits atop the horse, his brightly colored slits that were his eyes peering from the eyes holes in his helmet. Dark mist surrounds the figure, a vapor that made him appear not of high standing… but a demon from the very depths of Hell.

“King Arthur!” Sir Lancelot exclaims as he gets one knee before the king. The other knights follow suit… so do Christopher and Angeline, despite how unruly he appeared…

“My liege…” Says Angeline.

King Arthur then turns to face Christopher, squinting his eyes. “…Is that the knight-in-training you told me about?”

…Christopher doesn’t like his tone of voice at all… he said it so venomously…

“Yes, my liege.” Says Sir Percival. “We have trained him well… we would say that he is even up to par with us.”

King Arthur turns away from Sir Percival and back to Christopher… his gaze reeking of suspicion.

“…Then fight me, Sir Knight.” Says King Arthur. “Show me that you are capable of being among my grand knights.”

Christopher, although taken aback, draws his blade… “I shall prove myself to you, my King.” He says.

The knights and Angeline then appear shocked. “Sir Christopher! Wait!” Sir Percival shouts.

“Silence!” Says King Arthur as his eyes squint again, as if he was happy that the new knight was willing to prove himself. “If he wishes to prove himself, so be it…”

His steed then lifts itself into the air, and circles the area… before King Arthur comes back down, glowing in bright red aura, his large blade glowing a sinister orange.

Christopher is barely prepared for fast the King was returning, barely able to block the attack. Despite his barely successful block, the power of the attack sends him flying across the field. The others gasp in shock…

He was not ready.

Before Christopher can get back up and recover, King Arthur comes back down again, his blade still glowing. Christopher barely dodges, and gets to his feet, which tremble and struggle to keep him up.

“I thought my knights had trained you well! What is this?” King Arthur taunts.

Christopher doesn’t even retort back as he runs and stands before the king. The king then readies himself, his eyes still squinted in anticipation, before his sword glows again. Just as the king swings, Christopher swings back.

Their blades clash, again and again, before King Arthur is thrown off, finally giving Christopher room to attack. He slashes the King’s armor, seemingly hurting him… before the King suddenly grabs Christopher by the neck and holds him up to his face… he tucks his sword away and pulls out a small scabbard…

As Christopher struggles to breathe, a bright aura emanates around the king. “…I am immortal.” Says the King. “You cannot defeat me… no matter what you try.”

The King then throws Christopher off, causing both the swordsman and sword to hit the floor.

“Christopher!” Angeline cries as she rushes over to the swordsman.

As Angeline gets to her knees in front of Christopher, the other knights also at his side. King Arthur looks to the group with a stern glare.

“If you wish to fight again, find me in Faraway Avalon.” Says King Arthur, placing his sword away. “…Or, you can wallow in the pitiful mess that is your swordsmanship.”

The steed finds itself in the air again, and King Arthur sees himself off, just as Christopher rises up to his bottom.

“Are you alright?” Angeline asks.

“…I’m fine…” Says Christopher, sounding strained.

“But you were hit.” Says Sir Percival.

“…I am alright, Sir Percival.” Says Christopher. “If only I could hit him…”

“He has Excalibur’s scabbard.” Says Sir Lancelot. “He can’t be wounded.”

“…T-then how I am supposed to beat him again?” Christopher asks.

“…It would be ill advised.” Says Sir Percival. “It is not easy to win a fight against him… if anyone can anymore.”

“…It is oddly unfair of a knight like him… to cheat with a scabbard like that.” Says Christopher. “My mother told me of stories where he was wise and just… praised by all…”

“…He has changed, Sir Christopher.” Says Sir Percival. “…He isn’t who he used to be…”

“…And yet you don’t try to stop him?” Christopher asks. “Why?”

“The King’s orders are absolute.” Says Sir Lancelot.

“…Whether we like it or not.” Says Sir Gawain.

“Without loyalty to the King…” Sir Percival pauses. “We are nothing…”

…Christopher begins to ponder of the King… the tales he heard, and how untrue they felt… that was not the King of the kingdom of Camelot once knew…

“…What happened do the King?” Christopher asks.

“…We aren’t sure…” Says Sir Perceval. “He returned after a hearty battle he was injured from with Excalibur’s scabbard and…”

“He lost himself…” Says Sir Lancelot. “He summoned knights from the deepest reaches of Hell, and let them loose…”

“…If the scabbard had made him immortal…” Christopher began. “…Then was he corrupted by it?”

The knights then go silent… it was the only foreseeable option.

“…He is a threat to the kingdom, and yet you stand by? You say you are for the kingdom and it’s people when you act as underlings for a tyrant?”

“Sir Christopher, please—!” Sir Percival pleas, before getting cut off.

“How dare you!” Sir Gawain butts in, while Sir Lancelot only snarls at the swordsman.

“And yet you deny it… I am right, aren’t I not?” Christopher asks. “You have done nothing about the King, and for what? To keep your dignity? When other people, your people, are in danger because of the very man you’ve sworn your allegiance to? I thought there was more to being a knight than serving a King?”

The knights go silent again… and before any of them can throw a rebuttal, Christopher stands tall.

“…I wanted to learn from you to be able to protect my kingdom… my people… and I learned from tyrants…” Christopher begins. “I will fix your mistake… the King must be taken down…”

Everyone looks to the swordsman in an unanimous shock.

“We forbid you from doing such a thing!” Says Sir Gawain.

“…What about you?” Says Angeline, breaking her silence. “You’ll be despised… a slayer of Kings…”

Christopher turns back to Angeline, putting his sword under his arm, and takes her hands. “…It is what I must do, Angeline.” Says Christopher. “This kingdom still won’t be safe if I show him mercy. He will still be here, to lurk in the shadows, devise schemes against the kingdom… bring upon further destruction then he already has… I cannot stand by, and watch this man hurt my people… understand me when I say I’m doing this for the kingdom… and you.”

…Reluctantly, Angeline accepts… she knew it was what he had to do…

Like what he did in the woods, it was he had to do…

Their kingdom, their people, were all in danger… it had to be done, right?

Christopher turns back to face the knights. “Where is Faraway Avalon?” He asks.

“It is an island across Camelot Castle…” Says Angeline. “You would have to get there by boat.”

“You side with the traitor, Angeline?” Asks Sir Lancelot.

“It is necessary!” Says Angeline.

“…Admit it. You fear the losses he could face, just as much as we do. He’d be nothing if he committed this act.” Says Sir Lancelot.

“You speak of that as if I’d care.” Says Christopher, before Angeline could even retort.

Christopher then speeds past the knights, hurrying toward the nearest dock he can find.

“Wait!” Says Angeline, quickly following after Christopher. “Let me be alongside you!”

The knights follow suit… all of them rushing to the same place… the knights attempting to attack Christopher, but losing him in the chase…

—

'It was days before I had finally reached Avalon… but I got there…'

'The island was decorated with a castle hall-like structure, the late afternoon sun beaming against the hall’s pedestals. It was all that was between me and King Arthur…'

'Before she grabbed my hand…'

“Wait!” Angeline cries, grabbing Christopher’s hand.

“What?” Christopher questions as he turns back to face Angeline. “Angeline? How did—!”

“Let me be alongside you!” Says Angeline. “I want to be with you!”

“…You cannot watch me this time, Angeline.” Says Christopher. “Wait here. I shall return victorious.”

Christopher then leans in, and softly kisses Angeline on the cheek. Her face goes bright red as Christopher backs away.

“…I promise.” Says Christopher, smiling softly.

Before Christopher hurries off, Angeline tightly wraps her arms around the swordsman… Christopher hugs her back.

“Good luck. Be safe.” Says Angeline.

“I will.” Says Christopher, still smiling softly.

He then runs off into the castle hall of Faraway Avalon, ready for his rematch…

—

“King Arthur!” Christopher calls. “I am here for our rematch!”

King Arthur’s steed turns back to the swordsman. He bares the same barren yet eager look from before.

“I was waiting for you. I had an inkling you’d come here.” Says King Arthur. “It seems you feel not an ounce of self pity… that’s alright. It just makes it more sweeter to see you lose.”

“I am not losing.” Says Christopher. “Not again.”

King Arthur can only laugh in Christopher’s face as his steed gallops off.

“…An act of cowardice?” Christopher asks himself. He then hurries after the King…

Although, he’s too fast… he can’t keep up with him, no matter how hard he tries.

As Christopher stops, being out of breath, King Arthur suddenly comes flying back toward the swordsman. Christopher dodges, although barely. The King’s shadow then passes directly over Christopher, landing swiftly back onto the ground and rushing off again. Christopher gets back up and chases after the king again…

Although, he is suddenly paralyzed. Violet threads of electricity slam down onto the ground, a few of them striking Christopher in the process. Christopher then falls to the ground, breathing heavily… despite that, he still gets back up on his feet.

As he runs, a portal seems to appear in front of King Arthur’s steed… and another appear before Christopher as the King’s hand emerges from it, Deathcalibur in it’s grip. The deadly sword slashes around, barely hitting Christopher as he blocks the attack.

…Christopher continues his chase, until King Arthur summons spheres of his own essence… causing Christopher to halt and fall to the ground, out of breath and terribly weakened.

King Arthur then looks back to the knight… he almost felt bad for him. “…And we’ve only just started… I pity you. And so should you.” He says. “…Why don’t we make this a bit more fair?”

King Arthur then flies off of his steed and charges toward Christopher. Just as the King approaches, Christopher lifts his blade up to block the King’s attack. The two blades stay clashed together, King Arthur’s blade barely touching Christopher’s neck.

“…You simply do not know when to quit.” Says King Arthur. “Do you not know how the kingdom will view you once I’ve been slain by your nameless blade? …They will loathe you. You will chastised out of this kingdom. Your image will forever be tainted with my blood…”

“…I do not care about that… I care about my home!” Says Christopher.

“Then why do you persist?” Asks King Arthur. “Why do you keep this up, when you know what will happen to you!? When you know that you could lose everything!?”

“Because this is my home, and my people! If your very knights won’t keep them safe, then I shall do uphold peace for them!” Says Christopher. “This is what I must do! For my home! For my people! For my kingdom, that I will NOT LET YOU TAKE AWAY FROM ME!!”

Suddenly, a bright golden glow surrounds the area. King Arthur is flung away, while Christopher stays rooted to his spot in the ground, his eyes firmly shut.

Christopher peeks upon an eye just a smidge… to immediately see his blade surrounded in a beautiful pristine aura… one that would match the very power of Excalibur itself.

Christopher then becomes completely covered in a blinding white light… he opens his eyes to see pieces of fantastical golden armor surrounding him. The plates of metal slam themselves onto the silver armor that Christopher bore. And his blade, once again, becomes enveloped in an aura… transforming into something greater than anyone could expect.

The greatest of any Sacred Sword that resided in the kingdom of Camelot… Excalibur.

The blade began to settle in Christopher’s hands as his eyes settled upon the blade. A small crown sat upon the weapon’s crossguard, which was also spread out. Surrounding the blade itself was a golden Celtic pattern, centering the blade in all its glory.

The glow finally dissipates, allowing King Arthur to finally witness Excalibur’s might, a newfound motivation, a force of will, filling the swordsman… only for him to scoff at it.

“You can fight me with that blade all you wish,” King Arthur begins. “But you will never see my end!” The King then hops back onto his steed and hurries away.

“…Not unless I retrieve your scabbard.” Christopher says sternly.

Christopher then rushes toward the King, swiftly noticing his increased speed as he begins to levitate off the ground. As he begins to adjust to this new power, King Arthur launches over him again, to which Christopher responds by hovering to the right of the attack, successfully dodging.

“I now your tricks now, tyrant!” Christopher exclaims. “You cannot run away forever!”

“Try to best me all you like!” Says King Arthur. “Whether it be through your tongue or your blade, you shall not strike me down!”

“We’ll see about that now, won’t we?” Christopher questions slyly.

As King Arthur continues to hurry off, Christopher reaches his side… right where Excalibur’s scabbard lay.

Christopher puts a hand out, lifting up the visor of his armor to properly see it, trying to reach for the scabbard…

Although, he doesn’t notice that King Arthur has once again raised Deathcalibur…

Directly above Christopher’s waist.

As Christopher barely reaches for the scabbard, time seems to slow as he suddenly feels a sharp, deep pain directly over his waist.

…Christopher can only watch in utter horror as King Arthur victoriously glares down at his body as he and Excalibur slowly fall to the ground.

“…What did I tell you?” King Arthur asks. “You cannot defeat me… and you won’t even get to live to bask in my glory… a shame, really.”

Christopher can only stare at the victorious King, completely lost for words as his body falls to the ground with a loud clang…

As he can feel his life force fading from him… he sees King Arthur hurry off on his steed, and Excalibur slowly losing its golden luster.

…The silence takes over, and Christopher is left completely alone…. No one to spend his last moments with. No one to cling to as he dies in their arms.

Just as he had been before meeting Angeline… his dear Angel…

…Alone…

—

Angeline waits, a faded and uncertain smile on her face…

…Where was Christopher?

“Angeline!!” A voice calls. Angeline looks back.

She sees the Round Table knights, hurrying toward her. After a moment, they all finally approach the woman, questioning looks hidden by their visors.

“Where is Christopher?” Asks Sir Percival.

“Be weary, for if you fail to comply… you will be charged with treason, and sentenced to death.” Sir Gawain threatens.

Before Angeline can answer, the galloping of horseshoes is heard. The knights look up and bow, while Angeline only looks up in horror. King Arthur lands to the ground, and stares unto them before speaking.

“The traitor has lost.” Says King Arthur. “He is dead.”

Angeline sharply gasps and covers her mouth in fear, while the knights only repress their grief and shock… even if he turned against the knights and defied the King… they couldn’t help but silently grieve. They were his teachers… people he bonded with, until he learned the truth.

…Angeline, on the other hand, was completely overrun by her emotions. Tears formed in her eyes as she hurried into the walls of Avalon, desperately clinging to possibility that he was still there… that the King was lying.

Arthur doesn’t even stop her… as if he wanted to let her see him…

“Christopher!?” Angeline cries, her sobs leaking through her voice as she calls. “Christopher!?”

Angeline continues to call out the poor soul’s name… until she finally finds him…

Angeline can only stare at the sight in horror… all she sees of Christopher is a bisected armored corpse, laying limp and lifeless on the ground, blood having pooled next to him.

“…No…” Angeline begs. “No… this isn’t… this isn’t what was…”

Angeline approaches the corpse, only begging that this was just some horrifying nightmare. She gets to her knees and nudges the body, only to be met with the ice cold chill covering it…

The desperate lady begins to softly sob… which descends into a maddening cry from the deepest depths of Angeline’s sorrow.

All she can do is cry over her love’s body… all hope of him still being alive lost, and replaced with a heartbreaking, soul crushing despair…

—

An assumption of life after death is silence and darkness… a space with no depth, existence without noise… completely void of the life the soul once saw…

So bleak and depressing, although it wouldn’t make you cry… you’d wallow in it. Wallow in your sorrows until this existence faded with the rest of it.

The young swordsman believes life is over, and there is no returning to it…

Although… a small amount of will propels him forward…

~~~

…The sounds of bird’s chirping and wind blowing catches then suddenly enter swordsman’s senses… along with a feeling that his senses are no longer lost…

If he could just…

…Open his eyes…

Christopher opens his eyes, blinking for a moment before adjusting to the sudden brightness of Camelot’s Summer afternoon.

“…I-it’s so bright…” He says, his voice sounding raspy due to lack of use.

All he sees is a misty river just below what appears to be large cliff… he tries to get to his feet…

But he can’t.

He feels rooted to the ground, as if his boots were welded to the stone below him… he tried to move his limbs… yet it felt like he had none… all he could do was shimmy on the rock…

“…W-why— why can’t I move?” Christopher asks himself. “What—!”

“Welcome back.” Says a calm voice.

“Who is there!?” Christopher asks. “Why can’t I move? What kind of sick trick is this?”

Suddenly, a small reflecting pool appears before Christopher, revealing to him what had happened to him… he was swiftly caught off guard.

His limbs and body were completely gone… all of anything that remained of him was his face, now reduced to a pair of eyes and a mouth… the vessel he was now reigning was no longer human…

But rather… a sword… the very sword he had used in his last moments with the King.

“…I-I don’t— I don’t understand…” Says Christopher. “This is some illusion, I swear it!”

“It is all real, Sir Christopher.” Says the voice again, now standing next to the talking sword so he can see her… making her instantly recognizable.

A pink hedgehog dressed in a blue gown, among other teal and turquoise adornments.

“…T-The Lady of the Lake!?” Christopher exclaims. “What are you— what am I—!?”

“Everything will be alright.” Says the Lady of the Lake, Nimue. “I will explain.”

“…Forgive me for my words, but please do.” Says Christopher, desperation and confusion clouding his tone.

“…Your soul has guided you to this new vessel. Your strong will has allowed you another chance at living.” Says Nimue. “You are now a sentient weapon, the one to decide who is worthy of the crown…”

Christopher appears taken aback by the sudden news, but he tries to keep himself collected. “…Forgive me, but I do not understand… I am to choose the King? How?”

“Read them.” Says Nimue. “Their touch will allow you to read their souls. You will find the true King, I am certain.”

“…A replacement for Arthur?” Asks Christopher.

“Yes.” Says Nimue. “A King truly worthy of the crown. A knight of pure heart and courage.”

“…I am— I am honored, lady Nimue.” Says Christopher, still sounding shocked. “I will take this second chance with grace… and make you proud. It is for my kingdom… and I would do anything to protect it.”

“I am grateful.” Says Nimue. “And I wish good luck unto you.”

“I appreciate the gesture, my lady.” Says Christopher.

Just as Christopher finishes his sentence, Nimue disappears, leaving to take in his responsibility in solitude.

…It all felt so stressful… it put a lot of pressure on Christopher… to decide who is most worthy of the crown?

…Despite the odd anxiety of it all, he would take his duty to heart. He would follow it for however long it may take… he’d make this kingdom proud…

“…Oh, Christopher…” Said a new, familiar voice.

Before Christopher says a word, he takes a listen…

“…I truly wish you were here right now…” Says the voice. “I can only be grateful the King let me bury you at all… but… if only I could just… be given a sign that you were here…”

…It was Angeline… he had to call out to her…

“…Angeline.” Says Christopher, loud enough so that she could possibly hear him. “Angeline!”

Angeline turns head back to face the sword that lay within the eroding stones of the Misty Lake… it was when his training had first began. Where his journey to knighthood rooted back to… where else could she have put the sword as a tombstone, if not here, to honor his legacy as a knight… King Arthur wouldn’t let her place his grave in Avalon anyway.

“…Christopher?” Angeline asks, now looking to the sword.

“Angeline!” Says Christopher, shimmying in his spot a bit. “I am here!”

…Angeline then grows suspicious of the shimmying sword, but slowly approaches it.

“Grab my grip!” Says Christopher.

“…'Your' grip?” Asks Angeline.

“Yes!” Says Christopher. “Tug upward!”

Angeline looks down at the sword’s grip, appear in uncertain… what did Christopher have to do with any of this? Could it free him? …Bring him back?

…She grabs hold of the grip… and tugs. Tugs with as much strength as she can muster… but to no avail, as she is unable to pull the sword from the stone.

“…I don’t understand…” Says Christopher. “I’m certain she’d make a great ruler…”

Angeline looks back down at the sword… was it actually speaking?

She looks down at the sword’s front… and is swiftly met with ocean blue eyes staring back at her… she gasps and only looks on at the now startled sword.

“…Christopher?” Asks Angeline.

Christopher’s face eventually softens to a small smile. “I am here, my Angel.” He says.

Angeline’s mouth curls into a small smile before faltering, now appearing confused. “…What happened to you? Are you trapped in there? Do I need to get you out?”

“No, no! I’m alright.” Christopher says reassuringly. “…I am aware this will be confusing, but trust me!”

Angeline hums in confirmation… giving Christopher the permission he needed.

“…I saw the Lady of the Lake… she had said my soul, my will power, gave me another chance at life.” Says Christopher. “And now, I have a grand role to play… decide the one who shall replace King Arthur as the rightful King.”

“…Oh, my…” Says Angeline. “…That is a major responsibility… but I’m certain you could do it. A-and you saw the lady Nimue?”

“Indeed.” Says Christopher. “She was very polite.”

“…Hm…” Angeline then hums in thought. “If you are meant to find the true King, why don’t I gather some villagers from around the kingdom? Surely one of them must be the King!”

“…Possibly.” Says Christopher. “There are a lot of people in the kingdom. It’s worth a try.”

“…It very much is, Christopher.” Says Angeline.

As Christopher hears his name again, he thinks to himself… is such a name worth being the title of sacred weapon? It just felt so… basic… what kind of sword had such a name?

“…Maybe I could go by a different name?” Asks Christopher. “‘Christopher' just doesn’t feel like a proper name befitting a Sacred Sword…”

“…Caliburn?” Angeline asks.

“My surname?” Christopher asks.

“Yes.” Says Angeline. “It represents you… it is you. I believe it would be important to keep a bit of yourself alive, right? You may be in a new body, but you are still you… it even sounds more befitting.”

Christopher then ponders over the name, and her reasoning behind it… and a small smile grows on his face. “…I like that name…” He says. “Caliburn…”

'After our initial exchange, Angeline went around finding those who were willing to have their hearts be tested. Many tried, but none achieved what they hoped… no matter how certain I felt they would be a perfect fit.'

'Even when the visits had died down, Angeline still came to visit. We would talk for hours, learn more about one another… but, suddenly, she stopped showing up…'

'…Then I remembered she had started to fall ill after the visits had mostly ceased, and that a new illness was in the air… I feared the worst when she had stopped coming by… and I never saw her step foot in the Misty Lake again after her most recent visit…'

'I remained in that stone for five years… a period that felt like an eternity, only to me…'

~~~

“And then I found you. And read your soul.” Says Caliburn.

“And?” Sonic asks… it felt there was more Caliburn wanted to say.

“…I was confused.” Says Caliburn. “I picked you, and you were nothing like I thought the true King would be. You were bashful, crass, snarky, and barely trained in swordsmanship, everything I felt a knightly King wasn’t… I just couldn’t see what I was missing for the longest time…”

“…What were you missing?” Sonic asks.

A small, soft smile crosses Caliburn’s face. “…I had an epiphany during your bout with Merlina.”

“…Yeah?” Sonic questions.

“…I didn’t take notice of your strong will.” Says Caliburn. “The very strength of your will is what rekindled Excalibur… despite how snarky and cocky you are, you still had what I had… you don’t care what others say about you. You don’t mind having to play the role of a bad person… you do what you believe is right for the sake of others.”

“Yep.” Says Sonic. “It’s just how I roll.”

“We share the same morals. Same goals.” Says Caliburn, still smiling. “Despite how uncertain I was, a part of me knew that you would make a wonderful King… You have much assisted me, Sonic. I don���t regret my time with you one bit.”

“…Yeah.” Says Sonic as he then smiles softly and turns to face Caliburn. “I don’t regret my time with you either.”

Silence then covers the Woods… before Sonic breaks it with a slight chuckle.

“…It’s kinda weird… Kinda like ya said, we both got our own rules, and they’re mostly the same…” Says Sonic. “It’s kinda like— like you’re my double in this world or somethin'.”

Caliburn hums. “…An odd thought… and yet, it doesn’t feel untrue.”

“Yeah.” Says Sonic.

As the sun passes over the Deep Woods and to the horizon, Sonic thinks over Caliburn’s story.

…It wouldn’t surprise him if Caliburn was in some way like his double in this storybook world... As he said, Sonic was like him. A lot like him, even if it wasn’t one to one. Caliburn was still a gentleman, Sonic was still crass… and despite that, in a sense, they were doubles. Two people sharing similar mindsets to one another…

…It kind of gave him an odd sense of deja vu when he thought about it…

As the last bit of sunlight fell over the Deep Woods, and Sonic had begun his return to the castle… he had new found knowledge of Caliburn. It wasn’t what he necessarily meant by 'getting to know him', but he took it nonetheless. Caliburn’s tale was a nice one anyway.

As Sonic rushes through the Woods, he spots a few leaves brush past him… it was odd, there was no change in the wind that he could feel.

…Although, Caliburn knew exactly what it was as he spots the leaves, which hovered over to his face.

“…Hello, Angeline…” Says Caliburn, quiet enough to where Sonic couldn’t hear him.

As the hedgehog and Sacred Sword exit the woods… Caliburn can hear a greeting returned back to him…

Even in death, they never part.

- END -

[fandoomerthesequel]

and so, hadriel is done!

[pan-fried-autism]

GORETOBER DAY 27: Glitch

TWs: Bisection (getting cut in two), gore, blood

Smh this is why you don’t live with a viddy game virus

[arceoptryx]

i think you're not okay. do you want to talk about it...?

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Eclipse: Not to be dramatic.

Moon: You’re always dramatic.

Eclipse, missing his entire lower half: NOT TO BE DRAMATIC BUT I’VE BEEN CUT IN FUCKING HALF!

[friezaglasiencold]

How the hell did you survive the explosion of planet Namek? I know you're tough but you were missing half your head, what happened to your brain?

This answer is a bit bloody, so I’ll put it under a cut for those of weak constitution. Short version: I didn’t.

It took twenty-six hours of surgery and several medical breakthroughs to get me conscious again; evidently my heart stopped three times, and by the third I was officially declared dead. Daddy Dearest persuaded the medical team into breaking resuscitation policy. In total I lost half my fluid volume, three limbs, a kidney, most of my digestive system, and a hefty chunk of brains (all of which were thankfully returned to me upon my resurrection, so don’t go making any jokes about brain damage). I’d been in shock for days when they found me. Total shutdown.

That’s not a fun answer, but you have only yourself to blame. You did ask, after all.

Actually, they kept the tapes from the procedure. I’ve watched them a few times—when I’m able to swallow my revulsion, they’re fascinating to pick apart.

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

how did she do this tho

[raemeh]

ok um anyways

Fanfic wip

[suffarustuffaru]

hey guys u know how like reinhard can come back to life right after dying anyway what if u decapitate him and then his headless body casually gets back up and calmly puts his head back on like how fucked up would that be haha

[vermilionsun]

Okay, so we basically know very little/nothing, but I compiled everything I could find here :)

TW for religius themes [?]

Strap in

First of all, we know two definite Gods: the Allmother and Ocudeus.

The Allmother seems to be a benevolent deity that protects her believers. We can assume that since mr. Chocky was wishing upon her for mercy during the Soulless’ attack on the caravan and he was the only one not dying at that point (The Soulless kills him only after the MC’s curse has taken control of him).

Plus, the (Oracle! has the extra —[text]—) MC comments:

Is she the one who made the Soulless kill the traveller to save the MC? And cut their arms off to end their misery? Could she be protecting them?

Or did she not want her subject [the traveller] to suffer due to the MC's curse?

Was everything random and out of her control?

And that's basically everything we know about the Allmother.

Then we have Ocudeus. This ancient motherfucker— I had to rewind the damn game for this tentacle bitch again.

Anyway, we know he's the ancient, eldritch being Ais has formed a pact with" that gives him "borrowed, unnerving abilities."

Also, it is suspected that its name is likely from Latin oculus and deus ("eye" and "god") + that "Ocu" also means water in Betoi.

Now, onto the funny stuff: (Oracle!MC is the only one who comments on these)

The MC can hear a heartbeat the moment they step out of Kuras' clinic

And it gets louder the closer they get to the Seaspring

The MC can literally feel Ocudeus watching them from the Seaspring. What's interesting is that they find it familiar

Ais warns the MC about "ruining the host's mood" [Could be interpreted as: "I'm (Ais) nice, but you don't want to ruin the host's (Ocudeus, who propably lives in the waters of the Seaspring) mood (by asking questions regarding its power and questioning its dominance/control over me)] — As if Ocudeus itself invited them over; that would explain how that lady knew the MC's name:

Either Ocudeus wanted to see them or it wanted to be fed tea leaves by Ais and felt it was nescessary to brought someone over for Ais to clean the damn temple once in a whie—

IN REGARDS TO AIS' RELATIONSHIP WITH OCUDEUS

The MC's eyes always return to the mark, and only explanation left is that it was made by Ocudeus

WAIT. Pause and backtract to the Seaspring

Let's break them down:

1. The topmost

2. The closest one

3. The bottommost

"ucly dpzo vu h zovvapun zahy ol'z hsdhfz spzalupun." - Both with Affine [A=1, B=7] and Mono-alphabetic Substitution (+10 other cyphers) it's the same message: NEVER WISH ON A SHOOTING STAR HE'S ALWAYS LISTENING

Since the notes are left there by people who have evidently drank from the Seaspring (“If you see me, never speak to me,” etc) I will take a wild guess and assume the bottomest note is Ais’ last moments before Ocudeus merged with him.

And also this ties with the whole “Ocudeus is a fallen god” (“shooting/fallen star”) who left the Shroud ignorant about the world beyond and ended up landing to Eridia

"A river bisects Eridia into two distinct halves: the flood-eroded districts of Lowtown, and the elevated, gilded city of Hightown." — Eridia's a river city and Ocudeus is a giant fucking octopus.

ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇˡʸ ᵍᵒ ʷʳᵒⁿᵍˀ :⁾⁾

What I find interesting though is that if the note is truly by Ais, he mentions mirrors and eyes. He must have been trying to hide from something—Ocudeus or another deity?—that “knew what he did,” and let Ocudeus overtake him as a last resort, perhaps.

BUT WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THE MIRRORS?!?!?!

THERE IS NOT ONE (1) MIRROR IN THE WHOLE DEMO. NOR IN THE PROMOS. NOT ONE. [unless I'm blind]

Sure, it could be the surface of the water and the whole thing is metaphoricall but it bugs me so muchhhhh

kuras Kuras KURAS KURAS KURAS KURAS

Recently, it was revealed that he, indeed, came out of the Shroud THOUSANDS OF YEARS BEFORE THE FOGFALL OCCURED

And I bring you a background issue:

"An angel is a heavenly supernatural or spiritual being. In monotheistic belief-systems, such beings are under service of the supreme deity (i.e. God)."

Is he autonomous or does he worship a god? And if so, WHICH GOD?!

Perhaps, and take that with a grain of salt, perhaps Allmother

[Does anyone see a pattern? 'Cause I do]

What if Kuras' greatest sin was leaving the Shroud?

Kuras came through the Shroud because he loved humanity. He's had human friends, colleagues, and lovers...

Their incorporeal spirits take physical form, strengthening some and weakening others. The longer they spend in the human world, the better they adapt.

Kuras loved humanity so much he up and left the Shroud and gifted humans all the knowledge he possessed. He risked his power - perhaps his life - as he travelled through.

And so I ask you; Is that his biggest regret? Him loving humans to the extend of abandoning the Shroud and his creator for a life of teaching them, only for his efforts to result in "trinkets, pleasure, and petty tyranny"?

And lastly, Vere

I want you to keep an open mind with this

We know from his character lore that

"Centuries ago, the Senobium bound a wicked beast with a magic collar, sealing his powers and forcing his obedience."

and we know Vere has lived for over a century

BUT THE THING IS: ancient ≠ century [also mentioned here]

WHAT IF

"Seems we're both cursed"

What if Vere used to be human and attempted to take the ancient beast's power [remember, his fatal flaw: "Lusts for power, no matter the consequences"]

He obviously succeeded and became what he is now, while simultaniously getting chained for one reason or another;

The Senobium obviously sees him as a threat but uses him for his abilities anyways

Prehaps he couldn't control the power he gained?

He could have been a theif wanting a better life, like the Hound!MC

He could have been affiliated with the Senobium in another way before

But we know one thing for sure:

He, too, was betrayed and caused havoc unintentionally

Perhaps in regard to the beast's powers?

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your changeling BF: pt 8

General Plot: You arrive in Darkbell and meet the king

Word Count: 3.5K

Changeling (Clark) x f nymph reader

TW: yandere behavior, sfw fluff, magic

Previous parts and more nsfw monsters here

The troubling thoughts were scrubbed from your mind when you reached the gates of Darkbell. They were massive, rising up several stories and made of some gleaming white metal. 

“Amazing, hm? The gates of Darkbell have never been breached. The citizens have lived safely inside for centuries.” Clark said, pulling your horse to the side where there was a smaller entrance with a night elf guard. 

“State your business,” he barked, not at all friendly. 

Clark opened his jacket and pulled out some document. 

“I’ve been sent by the Mage’s Chamber to answer your request,” he said. 

The night elf examined the document carefully, then looked at you, his glowing violet eyes skeptical. 

“What about her? Doesn’t say anything in here about a nymph,” he said. 

Clark sighed and rolled his eyes. 

“For Goddess’s sake,” he grumbled. “No one is trying to break into your bloody cave. She’s my wife! Why else do you think I’m carrying around a nymph?” 

He pulled out the two little booklets the administrator had given you to mark your marriage and showed them to the elf. The guard didn’t seem the least bit moved by Clark’s tirade, but handed his documents back and waved you through. 

“Proceed straight to the castle,” he said as you passed. 

Clark mocked him in silence when you were out of his view. 

“Be nice,” you said, smacking him lightly on his arm. 

“You are too sweet, my love,” he said, nuzzling your ear. 

You gasped at your first vision of Darkbell. Clark’s description did not do it justice. The city was stunning. The homes and businesses were cut directly into a shimmering blue stone, flecked with sparkles that looked like stars. Gravity defying aquaducts wound around the buildings delivering water in sparkling waterfalls to various ponds and wells tucked in walled gardens. The paths were lined with blocks of the same gleaming white metal as the gates. There weren’t just glowing mushrooms, there were bioluminescent vines and flowers climbing every vertical surface and clusters of gently pulsing fungus crowded the corners. 

Night elves moved elegantly through the neighborhoods, their skin a similar blue to the buildings but their eyes glowing a rainbow of colors– blue, green, pink, and violet. The cave was relatively dim, but you could still see quite well with tall illuminated fungus growing along the avenue like street lamps. 

At the far end of the massive expanse that was the city, a lovely sparkling castle sat at the top of hundreds of stairs. It appeared to be carved from blue and purple crystals that were hundreds of feet tall. Even more crystals arranged almost like stonehenge circled the main building. As you approached, your eyes followed two of the aquaducts emptying into a wide river that bisected the city. It was clear and still as glass with massive white fish with no eyes gracefully swirling their long fins below the smooth surface. 

“How pretty,” you breathed, your eyes eating it up like candy. 

“It is a little pretty,” he agreed, guiding your horse along the widest road towards the castle. 

You had to dismount in front of another surly guard at the base of the castle. 

“King Khelvan is expecting you,” he said, carefully examining all of our documents again. “Proceed.” 

“The king,” you whispered as Clark took your hand to lead you up the staircase. “I’ve never met a king before! What do I do?” 

He chuckled. 

“Just let me talk with him,” he assured you. “Be polite and bow when you approach, that’s all. Don’t be hurt if he’s a little rude, all these elves are cold to outsiders.” 

You were expecting an old King with lots of wrinkles and maybe a long beard, but that wasn’t who was sitting on the throne. The night elf was incredibly handsome and appeared to be close your your age with oddly familiar glowing green eyes. A sweep of long blue hair fell over wide, strong shoulders. He was dressed in a robe that looked to be woven from silver thread only accentuated his graceful features. A single silver circlet rested on his head. 

To either side of you, what must have been his court, peered at the two of you, whispering amongst themselves. 

“Greetings your Magesty,” Clark said with a practiced flourish as he bowed. 

The king’s eyes met yours for a moment and while Clark was looking down, he winked at you! The edge of his lip lifted just slightly as he looked you up and down. Your cheeks burned and since you were standing there staring, Clark grabbed your wrist and pulled you down with him. 

“Rise Mage and state your business,” the king said, his tone neutral though his voice was very smooth and deep. 

“I’m Clark Septos and this is my lovely wife (Y/N). We arrived to answer your request for an investigation,” Clark said. “You wrote there was a wraith haunting your halls, causing trouble. The Mage’s Chamber humbly offers my services to hopefully find some solution.” 

The king rose from his seat and glided down the set of stairs that separated the two of you from the throne. He circled the both of you, taking your measure. 

“A changeling and a nymph,” he hummed. “What an interesting match.” 

“I’m very fortunate,” Clark said, smiling at you warmly. “The goddess blessed me with a wife as sweet as she is beautiful.” 

“Hm,” he said, then turned and walked down a side hall. “Let’s discuss the matter in my library.” 

You stuck close to Clark as you followed him. The inside of the castle was just as beautiful as the outside. Everything from the chairs to the shelves was carved from faceted crystal. 

He led you into a smaller room with a massive, sparkling desk and took his seat behind it, gesturing for the two of you to take the ones on the opposite side. 

“As my request explained,” he started as soon as you were settled. “There’s a wraith on the loose. I’m not sure who conjured it or why, but it seems to have some vindictive mission. Things and people have gone missing, relics destroyed, and no matter what spells we cast they simply aren’t strong enough to excorcise the creature. I assure you, we would not have summoned you had we been able to handle the situation ourselves.” 

Clark pulled out a small notebook to write notes. 

“Does it speak or communicate?” he asked. 

King  Khelvan nodded. 

“It goes on about some betrayal that occurred,” he said. “I have no idea what injustice they refer to. I’ve searched the library and asked the elders, but no one can come up with anything.” 

“When and where does it tend to appear?” 

Khelvan thought for a moment. 

“It seems to like hanging around the Queen’s chambers. I, of course, have yet to choose a Queen so they are unoccupied, but maids and guards maintain the rooms. There are also many artifacts and heirlooms there that will become the property of the Queen when she is crowned,” he explained. “It’s her items that disappear. It took a scrying mirror, a painting, and a fan that has been passed through generations. There may have been other things I have yet to notice.” 

“What was the painting of?” Clark asked. 

“A princess,” he said. 

“What princess?” 

“No one of note.” 

“Hmm,” Clark hummed. “I’ll have to investigate the area to find out more.” 

“Yes, of course,” Khelvan responded with a tip of his head, then his glowing eyes flicked to you. “I can keep your wife company while you work. This wraith is much too dangerous for a fair nymph. My guards will escort you to the Queen’s halls.” 

Clark frowned deeply and seemed to be wrestling with the idea in his head, but finally caution won out. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “It would be unwise to risk (Y/N)’s safety with a wraith I’ve yet to see.” 

“But-” you started and he shook his head, shushing you. 

“You’ll be safe here,” he said. “I won’t be long.” 

You were nervous about him leaving, but he gave you a comforting kiss on the forehead before he joined the guards standing outside. 

“Would you like a glass of wine to ease your nerves?” Khelvan asked. 

You didn’t really drink, but you didn’t want to be rude, either so you nodded. 

He poured you some rich, red liquid from a decanter and placed the silver goblet in your hand. 

“How did you come to be the wife of a changeling mage?” he asked as he retook his seat. “Most nymphs stay in the old wood. I’ve only met one other that busied herself with our affairs.” 

“It’s kind of a complicated story,” you admitted. “But I adore Clark. He’s been my anchor and my protector through a very confusing time.” 

“I’m sure he would guard such a treasure fiercely,” he mused, smiling at you. 

You found yourself getting lost in his eyes. They were an intense chartreuse, like sun filtering through the leaves of summer trees. 

“Have we met before, you majesty?” you asked. 

You knew it was a silly question, you’d only been in this world a few days, but he seemed so familiar. 

He didn’t answer, likely because it was obviously foolish, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Does he treat you well, provide for you?” he asked, instead. 

“Oh yes, we have a pretty house in Leotolas and a garden. He’s given me some gold to buy what I need,” you said. “He’s an excellent provider.” 

“Leotolas is lovely,” he hummed. “But it can’t compare to Darkbell, can it?” 

You blushed. Darkbell was beautiful, but you wouldn’t compare the two. Of course, you’d never admit that as he was the king. 

“Darkbell is amazing,” you said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth framed by pointy canines. 

“I’m glad you think so,” he said. 

He stood, crossing the room and lifting your hand. 

“Has your mage taught you any magic?” he asked and you weren’t sure how to answer. 

“Well not him exactly,” you admitted, “but his boss taught me how to access my own magic.” 

He nodded, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with a smile. 

“Can I teach you a spell?” he asked. “It’s not that difficult.” 

“Oh yes! That’d be wonderful!” you gasped. “What kind of spell?” 

“This spell is very special. It let’s you glimpse a memory of the person you touch,” he explained. 

Suddenly you were standing in your old bedroom looking in the mirror. You were putting on earrings, singing some song, and dancing around as you dressed. You looked at your phone and there was a picture of a guy you used to know with the message. 

“Is this good for a date? I have no idea how to dress! Help!” 

“Looks good!” you typed. “You look handsome in anything you wear!”

You remembered this moment. It was right before you went on a date with your first boyfriend. Looking around, you found Khelvan standing next you. 

“Ah, so you are a traveler. Pretty outfit,” he said winking, then glanced around your room. “What an interesting world you lived in.” 

He looked at the phone in your hand. 

“What fascinating magic,” he hummed. 

You felt something like a rush of wind and you were back in his library. 

“How did you do that?” you gasped and he chuckled. 

“I’m going to teach you,” he said. “First you have to reach out to the goddess of time and ask for a trade. One memory of their’s for one of your own. That’s the reason you can’t use the spell too often, you’d lose lots of memories. It doesn’t have to be a special memory, just one you have a very clear vision of.

The goddess’s name is Edenta. Focus on her name and try to draw the memory you are willing to trade to your mind. Once you have them in your thoughts, touch your subject and ask for the memory you’d like to see. You have to be relatively specific or she will show you whatever is closest to what you asked for. You can experiment on me.” 

You blinked at him.

“You’re sure you’re okay with me digging around in your memories?” you asked and he laughed. 

“I can help you choose one if you like,” he offered. 

“Yes, I don’t want to see anything too private,” you admitted and he gave you a soft look. 

“So considerate and kind,” he murmured. “What about…? My first date, since I saw yours?”

Your eyes widened. 

“Kings date?” you asked, making him laugh harder. 

“It was arranged by my father, but yes,” he said. “Come on now, quit stalling. Close your eyes.” 

You took a deep breath and did as Khelvan had asked. The moment your mind formed the goddess’s name, it felt like the air got cooler and the glowing shape of a woman appeared in your mind’s eye. It was impossible to focus on her directly, she seemed to be shifting between forms before your eyes.

“Greetings nymph, why have you summoned me?” she asked, her voice many different voices all at once. 

“I wish to trade a memory for a memory,” you said, your words echoing in the space inside your head. 

“What have you to offer me?” she asked and you focused your thoughts on an unpleasant memory you’d rather forget. 

It was when that boyfriend dumped you for your friend. You felt Edenta’s derision. 

“You offer such a miserable memory,” she huffed, “but it will pay the price. What do you wish to see?” 

“Khelvan’s first date,” you said and the moment the words were expressed she disappeared. 

Khelvan had never put down your hand, so you didn’t have to do anything else. You were suddenly in the very court where you’d been introduced. Khelvan was much younger and an older man, who looked very similar was standing with his hand on his shoulder. 

“I don’t want to do this, father,” he grumbled, but his dad smacked the back of his head, causing him to stumble forward. 

“Don’t be rude to Tria, her family has traveled far to organize this match,” he snapped. 

You looked behind you to find the girl he was rejecting. She was a beautiful night elf, dressed in an elaborate gold gown. She looked no more pleased to be standing before him. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, taking a few steps forward to give Tria a stiff bow. “Greetings Tria of Anore.” 

She returned one just as stiff. 

“I’m in your hands, Khelvan of Darkbell,” she muttered. 

The moment was so awkward you wished to be anywhere else and blinked, finding yourself in the library again. You looked up at Khelvan, amazed it had worked. 

“Did I do it?” you asked and he nodded. 

“Yes, you completed the spell perfectly. Apologies my first date was not as pleasant as yours,” he said and you shook your head. 

“Things are very different for you, you’re a king,” you said, pulling your hand away. 

“They were,” he said, leaning against his desk. “But now that I am king, I can make my own choices as to who I make my Queen.” 

“Why haven’t you found one yet?” you asked, then your ears burned at your stupidity. “Oh…ah…I’m sorry, you’re majesty, that was rude of me. I shouldn’t question your decisions.” 

He shrugged and smiled at you. 

“Perhaps I have found her,” he said. “I only need to woo her. Hopefully, more successfully than Tria.” 

You offered him a genuine smile, at that. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said. “I wish for your happiness.”

“Come,” he said, rising and holding out his arm for you. “Let me show you the garden. There’s no reason to stay cooped up in this dusty library while your changeling does his work.” 

You were sure Clark wouldn’t like you hanging on another man’s elbow, but Khelvan was the king and you didn’t want to offend him. So, you looped your arm around his and followed him through the castle. 

The garden was stunning. There were crystal fountains with sculptures that looked like they were made from ice. Flowers and fruit trees filled the space with color and sang to you a sweet song. 

“It’s amazing flowers bloom in the darkness like this,” you commented, your hand hovering over a bloom. 

“You can touch it,” he said, but you shook your head, standing. 

“Trust me,” you laughed. “I’m still getting used to my magic. You don’t want to have to hack back the vines I create when I touch plants.” 

He chuckled, tipping his head in thanks for your honesty. 

“I’m very curious about your old world,” he said, waving you to a bench in front of a fountain shaped the like white fish you’d seen spitting water. 

You shrugged. 

“It was noisy, dirty, and generally…unpleasant,” you said. “There was not magic like here. There was science that made our conveniences, but every convenience had a cost.” 

He nodded, thoughtfully. 

“All magic has a cost, as well,” he commented.

You thought about this for a moment. 

“Yes,” you agreed. “Channeling the whisperer can be…painful, but I’m working on it.” 

While you sat in the garden, Khelvan spoke to you about the history of Darkbell and a few humorous stories about his childhood. 

An hour later, Clark returned with his escorts. When he saw you sitting together he frowned, tugging you away from Khelvan and giving you a kiss. 

“I missed you love, did you miss me?” he asked, trying to sound easy but you could tell he was annoyed. 

“Of course I missed you. I always miss you when you are away,” you beamed, “His majesty has been telling me about the history of Darkbell. It’s very interesting.” 

He made a noise in the back of his throat and glared at Khelvan. 

“What are your impressions?” Khelvan asked, unmoved by Clark’s hostility. “Did you find the wraith?” 

“Yes,” he said tightly. “From what I could garner your wraith is royalty. I tried to speak with it, using my methods to draw out its story. It has some vendetta, perhaps about the girl in the portrait. It’s bitter and vicious! Its presence is very concerning as I believe it will continue its activities as its goal is retribution for what it lost.” 

Khelvan frowned. 

“Can it be excorcised?” he asked. 

Clark frowned. 

“Possibly,” he said. “There is a method that we use for such creatures, but though it is well practiced it’s never a guarantee. Wraiths fueled by hate and revenge tend to be tricky. These feelings are strong and fuel dangerous magic.” 

“What materials would you require to try?” Khelvan asked. 

“A bottle imbued with magic,” he replied. “Wraiths like these cannot be killed, only contained. I will need to trap it and then the Mage’s Chamber will insist I return with it, as it can become a powerful weapon to the owner of the bottle.” 

The King frowned, but Clark continued. 

“You will have to trust the the Mage’s Chamber doesn’t use these creatures as weapons. They merely join our collection where they can be monitored. We don’t hoard weapons for nefarious purposes, as a practice we attempt to avoid political conflicts. We do a service to Ilirion, keeping them out of dangerous hands.” 

“Hm,” he hummed. “Would you be able to go through with the exorcism in the coming days?” 

Clark nodded. 

“Of course,” he said. “There is some preparation but it won’t take much time.” 

Khelvan nodded. 

“Then my guards will escort you…and your lovely wife to guest chambers,” he said. “Please ask them for anything you may need and they will procure it for you.” 

His eyes flicked to you. 

“Don’t forget what I taught you,” he said, his gaze intense. “You may find it useful.” 

Clark grimaced and pulled you under his arm as the guards led you to another part of the castle.

[fandoomerthesequel]

new oc. his name is hadriel! hes a nephilhim

[ninibeingdelulu]

Mission failed ✧

Plot: You’re about to die… when your captain come to save you.

A/N: this one’s more angsty (or sad) than fluff. Tw! (maybe?)

The sickening crack of splintered bones and rending flesh assaulted your ears as another agonized scream tore through the chaos.

Your heart pounded a staccato rhythm of pure, unadulterated terror against your ribcage.

This wasn't how the latest expedition beyond the walls was supposed to go.

Trees and debris whipped past in a dizzying blur as your frantic horse thundered over uneven terrain, hooves scrambling for purchase against the blood-slicked earth.

Titans unlike anything you'd ever witnessed surged from every direction in nightmarish droves, effortlessly plucking your fellow Scout comrades from their saddles.

Mouths agape and eyes blank with rapturous hunger, the grotesque beasts shoved weeping, thrashing bodies between their massive jaws without a shred of mercy.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin and the others were all seasoned soldiers despite their youth. Yet even they scattered like skittish deer, screams of panic and rallying cries dissolving into gurgled, sputtering wheezes as Titans swarmed unchecked.

You were older than the 104th cadets under your command but felt just as paralyzed by the overwhelming dread locking your muscles.

Focus. You had to focus.

Fight or flee - those were the only choices when staring down oblivion itself.

Head whipping back, you instinctively yanked brutally on the reins, guiding your steed away from the crush of menacing footfalls.

Evading took priority right now; you could regroup and mount a counterattack later from a safer vantage point.

At least...that had been the plan until a towering twenty meter Class abruptly materialized directly in your path.

The sheer enormity of its hulking, naked form loomed nightmarishly close as your steed skidded to a complete stop, whinnying shrilly in terror.

You didn't even have a chance to react before the jarring impact flung you clear of the saddle, tumbling painfully across the dirt and brambles with the wind knocked clear from your lungs.

Choking on a mouthful of grass and grit, you managed to surge up onto your elbows just as the Titan slowly swiveled its tremendous head to fix those empty, predatory orbs on your prone, defenseless form.

Its jaw unhinged with a wet squelch, an avalanche of putrid saliva raining across your petrified body.

This was it.

This was how your story would end - filthy, broken, unmemorable. Just another insignificant speck of flesh swallowed into the gaping maw of humanity's greatest nightmare.

You cringed back helplessly, tearless sobs of pure distilled terror shredding your ravaged throat.

A blur of verdant green and stark white erupted past your periphery just as those slavering jaws began to descend with ponderous, gnashing intent.

The whisper-sharp slice of twin blades bisecting flesh registered a heartbeat later, followed by the earth-quaking crash of thirty meters of ruined Titan crashing to the dirt a hair's breadth from your shuddering body.

The impact sprayed the air with scarlet droplets, coating your contorted, shielding face in viscous streaks of gore.

You flinched violently on instinct, expecting to be pulverized beneath the catastrophic bulk.

Yet something much more slender and decidedly humanoid collided into you instead.

Powerful arms looped around your torso, rolling you clear of the plummeting wreckage in a whirl of dust and grass that stung your eyes.

Tucking your head into the crook of one elbow for protection, your unexpected savior cradled you securely against their chest through the tumult.

Only after the tremors and choking debris cleared could you summon the courage to squint one eye open...directly into the death-carved glare of your steely-eyed captain, Levi Ackerman himself.

That perpetual scowl etched deep grooves in his chiseled features.

You'd always walked on eggshells around the infamous Capitan, whose fierceness and ruthless skill in combat garnered respect and fear in equal doses.

He didn't suffer fools gladly and made it his personal mission to ride your ass harder than anyone else's.

Extra chores, grueling training regimens, cutting reprimands met with stony silence.

You'd lost track of how many times you fantasized about telling that smug bastard to shove his superiority complex up his tight little ass.

But in that moment, shaken to your core from brushing the very precipice of death itself, all you could do was gawp mutely at his frigid countenance hovering inches away.

With a barely perceptible curl of disgust twisting his thin lips, Levi abruptly shoved you off his lap and surged to his feet in one fluid, leonine motion. Blades already slung across his back, he extended one calloused hand downwards with a scathing glare.

"On your feet, soldier," that trademark rasp grated against your frayed nerves.

You scrambled upright without accepting his offered hand, legs wobbling precariously beneath you.

Head swiveling wildly, you absorbed the full scale of the massacre unfolding amidst the trees - scattered corpses both human and Titan alike peppered the gnarled earth, limbs and entrails intermingling into a perverse tapestry of viscera.

Your lungs burned like every inhale seared them raw, ragged gasps the only sound escaping past the lump of panic lodged in your throat.

Too many...there were just too many...

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Levi's acid tone sliced through your dazed spiral with ruthless efficiency.

"Or are you just going to keep gawking around like a useless sack of shit while our comrades are being slaughtered?"

Your gaze snapped to his, a spark of fury momentarily replacing the shock and dread paralyzing your muscles.

Levi was right.

You'd lost yourself in the horror - even as a seasoned Scout, you'd faltered utterly.

But the way he laid into you, insinuating your weakness or damnwell demanding you simply buck up and ignore the piles of mangled humans around you...it ignited a surging, blinding rage that clawed its way up your raw gullet.

"What do you want from me!?" you snarled, whirling to face the diminutive man fully.

Every gaunt, bloodstained inch of him radiated pugilistic menace yet you found yourself unable to choke back the scalding tirade boiling over your lips.

"Your harsh, bullshit demands? Your callous disregard for this unmitigated massacre around us!? You think I wanted this mission to go so horrifically sideways!? You think I wanted to watch my brothers and sisters being ripped apart and devoured while doing nothing!?"

Levi's hooded gaze flashed dangerously, lips peeling back from his teeth in a bestial sneer as he took an aggressive step into your personal space.

"Then pull your shit together and stop crying, soldier! If I hadn't come along, your blood would already be mingling with all the rest of the worthless scum smeared into these trees! At least die with a little goddamn honor instead of pissing yourself in abject terror!"

Your face twisted with mingled rage and disgust, shaking your head vehemently as angry tears stung your eyes.

"Honor? You're one to talk! Why bother swooping in to save my wretched ass if all I am to you is some useless sack of - "

With a snarl of fury, Levi seized a fistful of your shirt, actually hauling your boots off the ground to crash his forehead viciously against yours.

His granite eyes bored into you with volcanic force from mere inches away, noses practically brushing as he spat out each vitriolic word with undisguised venom.

"Because we're abandoning this shit-show on Commander Smith's orders. Now. So you can sit here bawling about honor and sacrifice or you can follow me out so I don't have to waste any more of my time and effort fishing your pathetic ass out of yet another self-inflicted mess."

You could only blink owlishly, momentarily stunned into silence by the sheer intensity radiating from your captain's diminutive form, when he sneered a final parting shot before wrenching free and firing his ODM gear skyward.

"I'd leave you to the Titans, but it'd be a fucking waste..."

His cape snapped sharply as Levi dissolved through the canopy, undoubtedly charging ahead to rendezvous with the other squads relaying Erwin's orders.

You stood there, chest still heaving with a volatile mixture of anger, fear, and a confusing tangle of other raw emotions in the wake of Captain Levi's harsh departure.

The sounds of battle raged on around you - thunderous footfalls, agonized screams abruptly silenced, the meaty thud of Titan flesh hitting the ground.

Yet it all seemed muffled and distant compared to the singular thought ricocheting through your skull with mounting urgency.

What the everloving fuck was that about?

Sure, you expected the kind of unforgiving, ruthless dressing down Levi was notorious for dishing out even in the direst situations.

The man operated on a whole other plane of pragmatic brutality where coddling weakness simply wasn't part of his DNA. But the vicious intensity behind those final remarks before he fired off left you utterly at a loss.

There was clearly far more bubbling beneath the surface than his usual contemptuous dismissal of your perceived failures.

For a disorienting instant, you could've sworn Levi seemed almost...protective? Possessive, even?

Over you and your well-being amidst this fresh hell?

The idea alone ignited a dizzying swirl of conflicting reactions. A derisive scoff quickly smothered by something suspiciously close to... Anticipation? Curiosity?

You clenched your jaw, shoving those dangerous speculations aside as another anguished yell pierced the cacophony nearby.

There'd be time to untangle the complexity of whatever the fuck was brewing between you and your rigid, aloof superior later.

Assuming you both survived this near-apocalyptic shitshow first.

One deep, steadying exhale later, you snatched the reins of your skittish mount and lithely vaulted into the saddle with a grunt of effort.

Scouring the surrounding chaos, you quickly oriented yourself towards the shattered line where surviving soldiers were beginning to disengage under the cover of thick black smoke billowing across the field.

With a sharp kick of your heels, you urged your steed into a gallop, blades gripped tightly as you careened towards the retreat.

Whatever reservations or bitter confusion lingered, you shoved it all down in service of this singular goal - escape this living nightmare.

Just keep moving, keep fighting to see tomorrow.

Everything else could be dealt with once you saw daylight again.

Maybe then, you could finally decipher the tangled mess of what that last exchange with Levi truly ignited within you.

No matter how much you desperately wished you could ignore it.

[syndicate-of-swing]

The Drifters' reaction to your confession

VENTURA CITY DRIFTERS (Alina, Emily, Sahara, Violet, Rose) X READER

TW: none

A/N: The first VCD self-insert post ever created, I reckon.

VCD was created by sonokido.

Alina Scratch

"Wait, wait, you like me?"

Utterly flabbergasted at first.

Once it dawns on her that you are, in fact, being serious, she immediately lets out a joyous laugh and tackles you into a hug, not bothering to let go until Marie suddenly stumbles across you two.

"Oh, hi, Marie, this isn't what it looks like, uhgottagoBYE-"

Emily Lang

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

IMMEDIATE bearhug. Your spine is now bisected. Have fun with that.

The moment she releases you, she pulls you in for a kiss.

And it is not a short one.

Alina and Jack have to pull you two apart.

Sahara Taylor

Doesn't say anything at first, eyes ever-so-slightly wide.

Waits just long enough for you to start panicking, then pulls you in for a kiss.

Pulls away from you a few seconds later, half-smirking.

"I like you too, dumbass."

Violet Naire

"...wait, what?"

Straight-up doesn't believe you at first.

"Huh. You're serious."

Looks away for a moment, then quickly pulls you into a hug.

Notices that Rose is approaching, and reluctantly lets go.

"I... call me, okay?"

Rose Naire

You have just activated her hyperdrive.

"OHMYGOSH, ohmygosh, you actually said it-"

Starts giving you kisses all over your face.

Her tail could be mistaken for a helicopter right about now.

Does not care if anyone else sees.

[vampiric-succulent]

OUAW EP 22 second half:

TW for a bit of gore

COMBAT TIME BABEY

I need a detailed description of how Gideon’s manacles work I Need to Know

TORBEK W MOMENT WHEN HE BECOMES GOREBEK AND MAKES AGDON ACTUALLY SCARED

HOW DID THEY DESIGN THESE CHARACTERS HOLY SHIT

Mace i like your ignition idea but aren’t you also gonna burn down the bridge you’re on??? Nope okay nvm

This guy has a 15ft long scarf. Can’t we just grab that? It’s literally trailing.

Oh fuck. Is Twig dead? No no no

love how Derek just goes “nah fuck that I cast Shield”

“These awesome guys…. And Gricko…..”

THANK GOD SOMETHING HITS HES GRAPPLED GOING DOWN

I LOVE MACE BANGING THE TABLE SO HARD THE BATTLEMAP CAMERA SHAKES

Y’all are IGNORING Twig rn. Can’t someone stabilize her????

Twig is so iconic

NOT TORBEK. THAT IS NOT TORBEK. WHO IS THIS GUY

Oh my god.

GEAR TWOOOO— Woah that’s a bisection.

MY HEART. KREMY DO NOT LET TWIG DIE.

“I don’t feel so good Mr Kremy” GAH

Hootsie is magic??? I guess that makes sense

DONT CLOSE YOUR EYES TWIG

I feel like maybe Gricko should have been able to roll a perception check when Agdon stole something from him underwater— even at disadvantage— how is Agdon seeing? Magic?

Frost could be such a good villain who uses sympathy as a weapon— “I can save you”

What is this random frog doing here? Also I bet Frost looks lowkey ridiculous trying to talk to Agdon through the swamp midfight

YES GRICKO IS GOING FOR THE SCARF wait. This could uh. Be a trap

HARE TODAY GONE TOMORROW I GOT IT

not the chuckles coming out for battle 😭

Gorebek is so fucking scary. I love this so much.

YES THEY GOT HIM HOLY FUCK

Oh fuck Torbek is gonna drown

Twig how are you just making banaña bread right now

TORBEK MY LOVE

Oh fuck vaguely Russian gourd headed scarecrow

WHAT?????? GEHENNA????????? WHAT KID CAME UP FROM THERE????????????

Holy FUCK that’s a way to end a session

PLEASE tell me more about the Gear System. Also oh my god this was such a good episode. Holy shit.

[astralbulldragon13]

A Cheeky Little Dance

(TW: mentions of some mild gore at the end as well as a little angst)

Cheeky blinked, realizing where she was. She was in Kayley’s room, she had just finished reading the little one her bedtime story out of a handmade story book. Cheeky heaved a sigh as she closed the book, and set it on her bedside counter, pressing a kiss to the little girl’s forehead as a shadow fell over them from the open doorway. Cheeky looked over her shoulder to see V.

He was leaning against the door jamb with a smirk. She stood and carefully exited to room, leaving the door cracked open so a bit of light can enter the room. Kayley may have had powers that would have terrified most Corporation agents, but she was still only five years old and was afraid of the dark.

Cheeky met V in the hall and looked up at him. “What is it?”

He took hold of her hand and began to tug her along to the living room. “There was something I wanted to show ya.”

She nodded and followed him, seeing an old LP player on the coffee table. Cheeky couldn’t help but laugh when she noticed the stack of vinyl next to it. “What are you doing V? We just put the kids to bed.”

He looked at her with a smile as he placed a disk on the turn-table. “Well, I just thought, since we finally have a minute, we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

V took her by the hands and they began to dance. It was honestly the most fun that they’ve had in a while. Most of the songs had a fast pace, with lots of spins and twists, she thinks the moves were from the Jitterbug. She didn’t know either of them knew how to dance like that. With the slower songs, they did some sort of waltz. For some reason, she couldn’t tell what the songs were, but it didn’t feel like it mattered.

V couldn’t help but make jokes about Yanks and high school proms, and Cheeky would laugh, poking his sides as punishment for his teasing.

“I just don’t get the obsession for it? Just seems like some stupid pomp and circumstance for girls to get all dressed up and show off.”

The blonde rolled her eyes. “That’s cause you’re a dude.”

Cheeky didn’t exactly have a good tell of the time, but it felt like hours. As the dancing seemed to wind down they were doing a cheesy slow-dance. His arms were wrapped around her waist and held her close, her arms were wrapped over his shoulders, with her head resting on his chest with her eyes closed.

“This feels nice,” Cheeky whispered as they swayed back and forth to some sort of acoustic song. After a few seconds she sighed and opened her eyes. “Is this a dream or are we dead?”

V took a deep breath and rested his chin on top of her head. “I dunno, love. I admit, this does feel too good… what do you think?”

Cheeky felt tears sting her eyes as she gripped his shirt. “If this is a dream, then it’s the happiest dream I’ve ever had in my life. And if this is death… it’s a better afterlife than I deserve.”

She leaned back and looked at him. His appearance had chanced. There were darker shadows under his eyes, and his hair was longer, brushing the collar of his shirt. She reached up and brushed a thumb under one eye to reveal the scar under his right eye, as thought it was hidden by makeup.

Then everything began to crash down around her as it became harder to breathe, like her chest was tightening around her.

V lifted a hand to touch her face, a sad smile on his face as he wiped something from her lips, only for her to see that it was blood.

There was the horrific sound of a scream behind her, and Cheeky whirled around to see…V, flying towards a giant creature, with long red hair and teeth so sharp it would make Atrocity look for a nail file for his teeth.

Cheeky turned to run towards the fight as the monster stuck V in mid-air with his claws like a poor mouse being pierced on a thorn by a butcher bird. She could see the others, Wilder was bisected, his blood and entrails staining the grass and concrete, L was propped up against a rock, her body as limp as a puppet with its string cut. The mousy girl was trying to pull L away as she screamed

Cheeky reached out, trying to use her light magic to do something, anything! Only to trip, fall, and land face to face with… herself. Cheeky saw her own body, laying on her back, her ribcage was exposed, as well as her lungs, but… her heart was gone. Her legs were folded under her body, she was kneeling on the ground when that monster… tore her heart out.

Cheeky could barely make out the sound of V trying to make a joke with his final breath, before she screamed to the heavens, tears falling down her face as the light seemed to fade away from everything. Leaving her alone in the dark.