prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap
ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration
though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun
soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love
and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost
but simon figures that out too late
king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do
graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him
graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him
but it seems graves wants to take even him away
“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”
“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”
soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.
“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”
graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.
“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”
simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.
johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”
the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.
he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.
he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”
johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.
but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.
he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.
“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”
simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.
desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.
when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.
showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.
a thing done only in a time of great mourning.
graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.
ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.
ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.
graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-
and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.
“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”
graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”
his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.
but he only cares for one man.
who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.
“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”
johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”
because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.
never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.
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There was a day, a day where there was nothing that needed to be done, nobody to meet, not meetings to schedule, nothing to fight.
A rare, rare day for one Kevin the cat.
As the second in command of his Familia, who the Head delegates most of his responsibilities due to not wanting to do that at all, it is unusual that he no longer has much to do anymore.
With a pretty efficient system in place for each and every division to have an executive and their own second in commands who will soon take their place. It leaves Kevin with not as much to do anymore nowadays, most things being taken care of by other cats.
A meeting between the Familia Heads wouldn't be for the next few moons, and there isn't anyone around for him to fight.
So what does he do, exactly?
Snuggle up to gramps of course!
===
Danny doesn't mind Kevin invading his personal bed and personal space, as he has done it quite often and will most likely continue to do so for the rest of his immortal life most likely.
It seemed to be a pretty slow day, if his observations served anything. Nothing significant was happening, and the overall vibe was calm and slow.
A good day, a rare day, seeing the normal chaos that usually occupied this warehouse. Perhaps asking Selina to buy the surrounding ones proved effective.
Either way, it was a nice day.
Laying down, doing nothing except watching Tv and not really fighting the sleep when it came. He was drowsy, about to close his eyes and fall into a dream.
Then everything disappeared.
He snapped to awareness very quickly, feeling the familiar weight of magic in the air and what was most definitely the pull of summoning. Which is weird, because not many would summon him, most go for the King, which is Pariah Dark, and not the Prince, which is him.
Oh well, whoever summoned him is most likely some teens or adults who had nothing better to do than get together and try to summon paranormal entities and demons or such and such. He would take some of their food for summoning him, and be on his way.
Or at least that was what he thought.
Apparently, he was summoned by a genuine cult this time. He would take teens and adults with nothing better to do, as well as that one time he was summoned by wizards and got turned into a cat over being summoned by genuine cultists any day.
It's just, not for him really.
They did, however, do their research. Very powerful wards that was built to keep whatever was summoned in, that whenever he tapped on actually hurt him.
Drawn with the extract of blood blossoms for ghostly beings from the infinite realms.
A red mist flowed around the room, one that made Danny's lungs felt as if they were on fire and withering all at once.
A mist made from Blood Blossoms.
To top it all off, there were multiple Blood Blossoms scattered throughout the place, most of which were around the circle that summoned him. It felt like someone brought a hammer to his skull and kept pounding, his muscles felt taut and like jelly all at once, barely keeping him standing on his own paws as his eyes stung from the mist around the room and from the Blood Blossoms themselves.
Whoever this was, they knew their stuff, and whoever this was, decided that going overboard was far better than underboard.
He thinks he heard one of them speak, but he couldn't quite make out whatever was said from the ringing of his ears. Eventually, he had to fall, his eyes struggling to be kept open.
He should turn back into a living cat, get out of his ghost form. But he couldn't, the willpower necessary to do so slipping out of his grasp and instead being replaced by pain, pain, and even more pain. Even the very magic in the air was against him, whatever intent those who summoned him imprinted upon it was made to specifically weigh him down, as if gravity itself were his enemy, to go against him at every turn.
Weaken him.
If he could, he would laugh, but he's in far too much pain to do so. In all of his 150 years of existence, he never expected to encounter something like this. Something this strong.
He wondered, if in all of Pariah Dark's infinite power, if he would be able to stand up to something like this. Perhaps he would, infinite power would let him be able to stand up to something like.
Infinite power, while weakened, is still infinite.
But he, Danny, Prince of the Infinite Realms, did not have infinite power. With his title came a recognition of his raw power, of his ability, and given him political power almost unmatched as he was one of the few that reigned over infinity.
But that was mostly it, perhaps a bit of boost to his power, and maybe a distinct signature due to his newfound status. But not much else.
And is this what it granted him? An end, where he was stripped away from comfort, from his home, from his Familia, where each and every breath he took burned and withered. Where his limbs failed him, where his own power was useless due to his willpower being drained by overwhelming agony.
He would not die, no. For he is incapable of death.
Yet that makes it even worse.
Would he spend an eternity like this? Trapped with nothing but overwhelming pain for company, becoming intimate with it as it raked its hands through his fur, under his skin, between each strand of muscle and piercing his brain?
He doesn't know, and that scares him.
===
The Justice League, with help from a few members of Justice League Dark, appeared to prevent the summoning of the Ghost King, known as a tyrant who enslaves worlds and a being of infinite power.
What they found, however, was not the Ghost King. But instead, magicians surrounding a circle in a room of red mist, in the middle of the circle a passed out, glowing white cat floating via magic.
They saw it as preparation to summon the Ghost King, perhaps the cat was a sacrifice? Regardless, they went in, and fought. Eventually gaining the upper hand due to have far more powerful members than just magical practitioners.
The cat, without aid from magic, fell to the floor, and Zatanna was quick to dispel the summoning in case it was in the process of calling forth Pariah Dark from beyond the veil. They took the cat back with them, for surely it had some kind of importance if they were using it for their summoning.
Later on, Constantine would choke as he recognized the significance of the cat, a signature quite similar to that of the King of the infinite, yet different.
They weren't just offering any old cat to the Ghost King, no, they were offering him his Prince, and if the look of how they handled it was any indication, it was planned to use said Prince as a bargaining to get the King into their servitude of some sort.
===
Meanwhile, back at the Familia.
All hell has broken loose, what semblance of order there was broke, the head was gone, missing. Not even the second in command, who was with him the longest, had a clue where or what happened to him.
He was there one second, gone the next.
Not many stays calm about it, the ones who do mostly trying to calm down the kittens after the panic of so many other grown, adult cats.
Kevin, the second in command and de-facto leader whenever the Head isn't involved. Panicking does not help any of the other cats feel assured.
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