#words from the lich

[lichniche]

Necromancer Tournament

i got sick so im extending the submission period! the 15th is the new deadline!

to reiterate, here are the rules:

im not gonna define necromancy, if youre not sure if somebody qualifies submit em anyway and i will either decide or if im unfamiliar or unsure too we will hold a prelim poll

submit as many people as you want but only submit each person once

real people allowed lmao ?? but i hold veto power

no ocs (sorry)

submit to the ask box! one per ask preferable!

PLEASE INCLUDE THE NAME OF THE MEDIA THEY ARE FROM

all polls will be tagged #necromancy tournament and #tournament poll and all non-poll but still tournament relevant stuff will be tagged #tournament stuff

all polls will run for one week

NOW

here are the current submissions!

anyone in orange has been submitted by multiple people

anyone not in the no category or the maybe category is guaranteed a spot unless someone raises an objection, the orange highlighting is just informative

if you are familiar with the source material and want to dispute any of these please do. if you have an opinion on anyone in the maybe column and whether they deserve to be included please share

Magic the Gathering:

Liliana Vess

Gisa Cecani

Lim-Dûl

Ratadrabik

Elder Scrolls:

Vastarie (Elder Scrolls Online)

Mannimarco (Elder Scrolls Online)

The Untamed / MDZS

Wei Wuxian

Xue Yang

The Bible:

Jesus Christ

The Witch of Endor

Dungeons & Dragons

Acererak

Azalin Rex

Vecna

World of Warcraft:

Arthas Menethil

Kel'Thuzad

The Adventure Zone

Barry Bluejeans

Lup

Abhorsen

Chlorr of the Mask

Sabriel

Guild Wars

Zhaitan

Trahearne

Palawa Joko

Marjory Delaqua

Skulduggery PLeasant

Solomon Wreath

Lord Vile

Misc:

Henry (Fire Emblem Awakening

Ned (Pushing Daisies)

Aesop Carl (Identity V)

Xykon (The Order of the Stick)

Rasputin (real life/Don Bluth Cartoon)

Edward and Alphonse Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Dorian Pavus (Dragon Age)

Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson)

Suzie Costello (Torchwood)

Herbert West (Reanimator)

Lewis Bernavelt (The House With A Clock In Its Walls)

Neferpitou (Hunter x Hunter)

Roger de Camden (Vampire: The Masquerade)

Joshua (The World Ends with You)

Pisces Jealnet (The Wandering Inn webnovel)

Malistaire Drake (Wizard101)

Mary (Trash of the Count's Family)

Delilah Briarwood (Critical Role)

Shang Tsung (Mortal Kombat)

Kotaro Tatsumi (Zombieland Saga)

Licorice Cookie (Cookie Run)

Wasp (Archivist Wasp)

Soren Baltimore (Camp Here & There podcast)

Wendell and Wild (Wendell & Wild)

Orochimaru (Naruto)

Amors (Death and the Maiden webcomic)

The Lich (Adventure Time)

Zanbar Bone (Fighting Fantasy)

Snap & Jacks (Snapdragon graphic novel by Kat Leyh)

Santa Claus (Puppet History ? real life ? its unclear)

Watcher (DeadEndia) (comics)

Ty Blackthorn (Shadowhunters)

Dr Hix (Discworld)

Maybe:

Steven Universe

Rose Quartz (Steven Universe)

Maya Fey (Ace Attorney)

Victor Frankenstein (Frankenstein)

Sauron (Lord of the Rings)

Takuto Maruki (Persona 5 Royal)

Claudia (The Dragon Prince)

Bart Simpson (The Simpsons)

Norman (Paranorman)

The Marionette (fnaf)

Merrin Meredith (Septimus Heap)

Uni (Katekyo Hitman Reborn)

Bermuda von Veckenschtein (Katekyo Hitman Reborn)

No:

The Doctor (Doctor Who)

The Master (Doctor Who)

Harry Dresden (The Dresden Files) (decided by vote)

The Locked Tomb:

Harrowhark Nonagesimus

Palamedes Sextus

Coronabeth Tridentarius*****

Ianthe Tridentarius

John Gaius

if you are familiar with the source material and want to dispute any of these please do. if you have an opinion on anyone in the maybe column and whether they deserve to be included please share

here are my personal submissions (with duplicates included- if a submission is orange it was submitted by multiple of YOU, i did not take my own list into account)

Johannes Cabal (Johannes Cabal: The Necromancer)

Grimora, Scrybe of the Dead (Inscryption)

Militsa Gnosis (Skulduggery Pleasant)

Lord Vile (Skulduggery Pleasant)

Samhain Corvus LaCroix (Hold Me Closer, Necromancer)

Dorian Pavus (Dragon Age)

Henry (Fire Emblem Awakening)

The Necromancer (West of Loathing)

Novice Necromancer (Skyrim)

Xenia of the Autumn (Lovestruck: Reigning Passions)

Sabriel (Abhorson)

[rhineposting]

last anon left me flabbergasted for the rest of the day ngl

me and my girlbestfriend both wrote 100k diavolo fics and we're going to have a diavolo themed wedding with 21st century schizoid man for the first dance, and they show up wondering if I know what jojo is.

why yes I do know why do you ask

[dabidagoose]

Not really sure if i should be as bothered as i am about how phylactery is used in DND, since it also refers to tefillin. I saw some people on other parts of the internet discussing how phylactery is more of a translation of tefillin, and sometimes the word has just been used to mean amulet or something to do with protection in Greek, but I'd be curious to know if anyone on here had any thoughts on the matter.

[rolanpilled]

BG3 Patch 5 Spoilers

WARNING: BG3 SPOILERS AHEAD!

New content from the ending scene of BG3. This is all from the perspective of a redeemed Dark Urge who romanced Shadowheart and Halsin, and recruited every "good" ally possible.

people at the party: all your companions, scratch, owlbear, volo, and a bard in the middle playing a song (his name is milil)

lae'zel is the only one who isn't here physically, she sent an astral projection instead because she's been busy fighting vlaakith

astarion explains why he ran away (ashamed) when the sunlight hit him, he's become a "hero" who adventures and has accepted himself

(romanced halsin) you can hug halsin, he's missed his friends and you. you can do both the hug and the kiss, it's really sweet. he's turned the shadowlands into a community, repursing reithwin and moonrise towers into homes for people

jaheira's daughter rejoined the flaming fist, she's been working on rebuilding the harper network. the upper city was entirely destroyed by the battle but has been mostly rebuilt. she jokes that you might be a parent soon

wyll gives you a choice between three stories, a stegosaur/dinosaur battle, an impossible lich, or a young dragon. he lost his warlock powers but has been managing the best he can, and has become a RANGER ("a true hunter of monsters"). duke ravengard is commanding the flaming fist and help rebuilding the city, and he's very proud of his son

minsc and boo guard the streets while jaheira is "occupied with harperish manners". they "went to give a tickle" to the zhentarim, then got locked up in a zhentish cell, awaiting execution? idk if i'm reading incorrectly but he seems to be implying that he actually GOT executed but withers brought him back just in time lmfao

gale has become "professor gale dekarios of blackstaff academy, educator of the esteemed school of illusion". tara is with him. he surrended the crown of karsus to mystra, who cured him of the orb in exchange (his tattoo is gone), though his students still think he's explosive (he implies that he uses it as a threat to keep his class under control). he tells his students about your adventures together. he also implies you're welcome to visit his tower

shadowheart (main romance) - the game told me that we settled down together to live a happy, peaceful life on a farm in the countryside. shar still hurts her (if parents are saved), especially when she can sense that SH is enjoying herself, but it's been getting less frequent because she's been "losing interest". there's a new hug and kiss scene for her too, so i'm assuming this is for ALL companions and not just halsin/SH/whoever

withers will speak to you about karlach, explaining that she won't be able to come back. he jokes about her, which is rare for him, and you're given to opportunity to grieve her loss. in "a dozen tendays" (assumedly how long bg3 is), "an entire life was lived, she lived several centuries" (not exact quote).

milil, the bard playing in the center, does NOT want to be there. he's pissed that no one recognizes him (he's pissed specifically that i'm a bard and don't recognize him), i had to pass a deception check to recognize him and he cheered up and offered to change the song he's playing

there's a chest called "Chest of Grateful Words" filled with letters from your allies!

"Official Guild Letter"

"Letter from Barcus"

"Letter from Art"

"Letter from Valeria"

"Letter from Ravengard"

"Letter from Sebastian"

"Letter from Florrick"

"Letter from the Gur" (unascended Astarion)

"Letter from Alfira" (durge, killed quil grootslang)

"Letter from Dammon"

"Letter from Elminster"

"Letter from Nocturne"

"Letter from Voss"

"Letter from Hope"

"Letter from Mayrina"

"Letter from Nine-Fingers"

"Letter from Zevlor"

"Harp-stamped Letter"

Baldur's Mouth Gazette

If you find anything interesting I missed, please let me know.

[mightymizora]

Look everybody’s growth journey in BG3 is impressive but Lae’zel? Sometimes I think of it and it blows my mind.

If you do her non ascension path she goes from what is essentially a talented student, like the top of her class honours student ready to graduate, to rejecting her brainwashing and leading a revolution. Depending on your choices she’s either working with a myth, or a legend, or just fucking… doing it alone. Spreading the word, gathering an army when the odds are awful. And she is steel eyed about it. We know she experiences fear, love, passion. We know from her romance path that she has vulnerability in her, but for this? For this task of literally taking on a lich queen? She is unrelenting. She would rather die than live that way and see others live that way.

When we meet her she is, for a Gith, very open minded, but she is still singular about her devotion. She is still brainwashed, bloodthirsty, every inch a killer devoted to the art of warfare. And it just takes the smallest amount of companionship, chance, for her to become so open and loving.

And she can be convinced to stay in the place she’s grown to love, and to stay with those she loves, but I think it’s telling that it’s a persuasion role. She wants to, obviously she does, but her sense of justice, of what is right is so strong that she is willing to sacrifice her own happiness for the potential of her entire people to be free, and that is just. Nobody is doing it like her, sorry.

And the sociopolitical ramifications of that in the D&D universe? Hello!! Githyanki and Githzerai united, the potential felling of Vlaakith! It’s incredible.

What a woman.

[terezis]

ok here's the hot goss from the nycc taz gn panel

i don't actually know whether or not it was recorded/ if they're going to put it online so here is my summary. also if i miss anything and u were there pls feel free to chime in. spoilers obviously!!!

got eight new preview pages (four two-page spreads), not the pages on the macmillan website!!!

ok i will tell u about those pages but the main thing discussed at the panel was how they went about adapting this arc into gn form. the actual time spent in wonderland has been trimmed a lot bc they had to think about what was actually important to the narrative as they are building to story and song.

basically in planning out the suffering game they also really had to decide what the rest of the series would look like, bc whatever they include now is seeding the stuff that's going to happen later.

cam is not in this book. it was implied there's less wheel spins. rowan/ash/sterling get much less screen time

almost half of this book is lunar interlude stuff (pre and post suffering game, INCLUDING REUNION TOUR!!! no word on where it ends but they made it clear that a LOT of thought went into what to include and where to end it, and what that would mean for the next book)

ok so about those preview pages

first one was post-taakitz date with kravitz sensing a lich and the umbra staff shooting at him <3 <3 <3

i thought they were going to show us the preview pages that were on macmillan so when i saw kravitz i was so shook

second spread was magnus visiting the voidfish, which now happens right before they leave for wonderland; the whole beginning of tsg from magnus trying to talk to pringles to him kidnapping those guards to the chimera fight was cut LOL bc it never really got… addressed again in the podcast

angus comes to get him for the mission but magnus has been going Through It (outright stated, they were like. he found out he's a red robe. he would probably not be handling it well. he has eyebags now. LOL) and snaps at angus when angus presses him on what's wrong.

more angus content, he will be investigating what's going on at the bureau more (his scene w magnus ties into this)

same for lucretia! more content/ stuff for her to do

third spread was merle w his kids getting saved by the red robe, is at a carnival instead of a random street this time LOL

last one was the boys arriving just outside of wonderland

wonderland looks fuckign cool

what else… oh confirmed like eighty panels of bare ass naked magnus after he gets his body back. so i think we really are getting the full reunion tour this book???

ALSO NAKED BARRY COVERED IN SLIME. WHEN HE GETS OUT OF THE POD. CONFIRMED. CANON. LOL

omg ALSO!!! ben (editor) said he campaigned REALLY HARD to have the umbra staff break during the suffering game, freeing lup early, bc he really wanted more time with her, but griffin campaigned really hard NOT to do this, and in doing so his arguments solved a lot of other problems they had been having at the time LOL

travis is the fans' champion when the others get too edit-happy. he's the one who has a good idea of what moments are important to the readers so he's like hey… too far. don't cut that. and then they don't

justin leaves great notes and when they couldn't figure stuff out ben would often say "no it's fine justin will solve this." and he ALWAYS DID

this was news to justin

??? i think that's all the main points honestly i'm v picky about adaptations but overall i feel like these are good changes that make sense when translating the podcast to gn

that said i do hope taako still gets a washing machine dropped on him <3 do this for me carey <3

[horus-unofficial]

hello hello welcome welcome. welcome 2 the HORUS guide 4 HORUS tech aka horus-unofficial.tumblr3.un gives you extremely comprehensive and very useful insight into its "pattern groups" and "licenses". we are your host harold HORUS here today to talk to you about our beautiful darling cunt of a child, the LICH

nobody knows how the lich came 2 be. some buddies of ours say they invented it 9989 years from now which is weird bcos anyone normal would wait another decade before sending that shit back in time to hit that sweet 9999 and keep people guessing as to whether these files actually are from that far in the future, or if the lucky terminal receiving this code just stopped bothering to count the years after 15015u. either way, the lich is here now, and back then, and most certainly at some point in the future, and it kinda looks like we probably did invent it so that means we are in the clear to act like we're the ones who made it!

the lich sucks! its terrible! with glass bones and paper skin and a reactor that overheats at room temperature, a gust of wind could leave a dent in this PG's plating, which is made from samples of styrofoam and bubble wrap warped straight from the insides of pre-Fall packages labeled "FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE" (a perfect bumper sticker for your lich, should you find yourself piloting one sometime within the next -50 to 250 years). you can tell no former members of harrison armory's R&D department were involved in the designing of the lich because the only thing those fuckers know how to do is create industrial microwaves, and the lich's reactor is the most slipshod, poorly-coded shit in the known universe. the only code regulating the lich's reactor is "reactor = cool" and not only are neither "reactor" nor "cool" defined anywhere in the system code, but HOR_OS doesn't even use = signs.

you may ask us, "if the lich is so shit, why do people pilot it?" and we are so glad you asked! generally speaking, answers to this question fall into one of two variations: - "it's a funny mech" - "why is everyone saying i pilot a lich??? i pilot a nelson!!! what do you mean that's my lich frame in the mech bay and i've had it for years, i literally don't have a single HORUS license, @horus-unofficial please advise"

the lich's victorian orphan-esque constitution aside, its biggest strength as a frame is likely its ability to send itself to the seaside for a much needed mental health break should it encounter the slightest hint of adversity on the battlefield. its no wonder the lich is so frail, the entirety of our nonexistent R&D budget went into making this thing the most annoying roleplayer on the playground. "you hit me with your sword? nuh-uh, i dodge. oh you run me through on your spear, killing me instantly? well it turns out that that body wasn't actually me, i've been dramatically looking down upon this duel from up there on those cliffs the whole time!" <- words most commonly spoken by future lich pilots at 11 years old

this allows it to be unexpectedly versatile in combat- with a refundable get out of jail free card and a maximum speed comparable to most of SSC's catalogue, it can weave through dangerous zones in combat with unexpected efficiency, allowing it to support allies from virtually any range, and instigate the occasional skirmish if its pilot is so inclined. we dont necessarily advise that you choose violence as a lich pilot, only that its a more viable choice of function than you might initially think

the lich plays with the timestream with the same enthusiasm as a preschooler in a sandbox, both in regards to itself and anything (un)fortunate enough to be within its sensor range. for every timeline where the lich is playing support for its allies and being so kind and niceys, there's another timeline where it gleefully tears into its adversaries until it overextends and dies respawns in another timeline, and it's through this universal law that an unusually principled lich pilot might find themselves taking a hit for its allies before immediately redeeming that get out of jail free card we mentioned earlier. of course, "principled HORUS pilot" is an oxymoron, so if your squad has a lich pilot what actually happens is more along the lines of being teamed with the biggest fucking nuisance on your planet, who pretends to toodle about the battlefield all combat because the truth is they've been stuck in a time loop for 7 years, and are well beyond the point of caring.

bottom line: if you encounter a lich in combat, dont even bother targeting it. it's unkillable except for when it isn't, and its banned from every omninet roleplay forum in the known universe for a reason

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your drider general

A/N: It's the middle of October, so I wrote a spider story ^_^

There have been a lot of requests for NSFW drider content. I don't plan on doing any NSFW of my other drider character Vass (he is just too pure 😳), so this is a completely different story in a completely different universe, literally.

General Plot: You've been stolen from your home by a lich, who has declared himself King and assigned a handsome drider general to watch over you, his Queen.

Word Count: 7k

Drider (Ruvain) x fem reader

TW: arachnophobia! THERE ARE SPIDERS! (<- heavy spooky, spider content), a rather graphic death of a minor character, bondage, nsfw drider smut, some graphic violent talk, mention of self harm, yandere behaviors and talk

“You must do it again,” the lich who called himself King hissed at you. 

You tried not to glare, tried not to imagine his slow, agonizing death. The amulet he’d fuzed with his body prevented you from harming him, though if you had a single second left in your life where that amulet was gone, you would use it to cut off his cock and feed it to him. You’d spend your last moments smiling as he bled out while he choked to death. 

Instead, you lifted the spoon to your lips and tipped the soup into your mouth. It was delicious, as all things were in this castle, but you only tasted ash. 

“Yes, that’s more like a Queen,” he cooed, brushing his hand over your hair. 

His cold fingers drifted further to your cheek, and you forced yourself not to jerk your body away. Since you’d been captured only a few days earlier, you asked yourself if it was worth waiting to seek revenge. You could end yourself and join the family King Camus had slaughtered to obtain you in the afterlife. 

Perhaps you were too much of a coward, but you liked to think that one day you would find a way out of this trap, and then you would take your revenge. 

Camus was the cruel ruler of the country of Ventirest, where you’d been born. 

You would have lived and died in the small town Cerulle, where your family lived as ranchers, if Camus hadn’t come riding through on a countryside tour. He just happened to see you leading a cow through the market and, in his words, “fell in love.” 

That was a lie. Camus didn’t love anything but himself. He wasn’t a popular king, but he had that amulet and an army of monsters to keep the mostly rural country in line. You all toiled to pay his high taxes, though you made very little. He’d sent a page to your father to inform him you’d been chosen as his Queen and that your future was secure. 

Perhaps your family would have thanked him for your good fortune if it were a different King, but your parents were only afraid. How long until he grew bored of you and snuffed you out? They tried to hide you, saying you’d run off, and they couldn’t find you. Camus sent his dogs to sniff you out, and when they found you, your family was punished for protecting you. They were all killed, everyone who carried your family name, and you were thrown in his carriage on your way to the Capital. 

So, for the past two mornings, you’d wondered to yourself if this was all a waste of time. You pretended to be obedient. You did as he said and let him touch you, though you feared the day that his advances would grow more intimate. He’d promised you that you were lucky that he found you so desirable but was willing to give you a few days to “acclimate” before he forced you into his bed. 

You shuddered at the thought of his cold body, which carried the stench of rotting corpses touching your warm skin. 

“Master! Master!” one of Camus’ servants yelled, running in with a pile of maps and books in his arms. 

“What is it?” Camus snapped. “I’m in the middle of an etiquette lesson with my Queen. What can be so important?” 

“Of course, I would only interrupt you if it were dire!” the servant said, throwing himself to his knees in a bow. “And it is dire!” 

Scrolls and books flew everywhere as he prostrated himself. 

“Well, get on with it. What’s the matter?” Camus barked. 

“There’s an uprising, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, afraid he’d be killed as the messenger. “The villages of the west, where you obtained your Queen, have sworn to overthrow you for stealing a child of the land! They mean to take her back to her home.” 

Camus snorted, but your heart skipped in your chest. The people of the land came together for you? To seek revenge on your behalf? Your eyes misted with tears. You knew the people of the land were good and just. Their loyalty to a mere farm girl touched you deeply. Inside, you also wept for them. Camus was an immortal lich. You knew of no way to kill him. Many of the people who rode for you would die. 

“I didn’t steal her! I am the Goddess's chosen ruler of this land! All women are mine,” he snarled. “I could take every farm girl in this country, and I would still not be wrong. Perhaps I will after I’ve rendered their heads from their necks!” 

“Of course, of course,” the servant said. “I am only repeating the reports. I would never-” 

“Ruvain!” Camus shouted to nowhere in particular, and from the vaulted ceiling, cloaked in shadows, a drider appeared, elegantly sliding down a length of silk. Despite and maybe because of his bulbous body and eight brown legs, he was incredibly handsome. His eyes shimmered a rich gold, and his hair matched, laying over his tan shoulder in a thick braid. 

“You called, Your Majesty?” the half man, half spider, asked, his voice smooth as the silk he’d arrived on. 

“I need to convene with my generals. Guard the Queen!” Camus snapped. 

The drider looked a little offended. 

“Am I not a general, Your Radiance? Have I been demoted?” he asked. 

Camus let out a wet laugh. 

“No, but you’re the ugliest of the bunch,” he chortled. “I can’t leave my new Queen with someone too pretty, lest she get the wrong idea. Your eyes alone would send any woman running.” 

You felt outraged, not only that he questioned your character, but that he’d called this beautiful creature ugly. 

The drider’s eight eyes met yours for a moment. They shined like gold coins, and you saw they held the same fire and hate. He, too, was putting on an act. 

He gave Camus a deep bow. 

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, and Camus ran out of the room, dragging the poor servant behind him. 

When you were alone, you took the measure of the drider. 

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to lose me accidentally, would you?” you asked. “I can just slip out of the window over there. I’ll give you a slap if you want to say I fought you.”  

He let out a chuckle that made your heart flutter. 

“It is wise to let the King have his way,” he said vaguely, though he circled you, looking more closely. 

“I don’t like that he called you ugly,” you said, looking deeper into his eight gold eyes. “The only ugly one here is him. He smells like rot. You can smell that, can’t you? Everyone pretends…Anyway, I think you’re very handsome, actually. I quite like your legs, if I’m to be honest. And your eyes are…arresting…uh, in a…ah good way.”

At that, the drider smiled, revealing large, pointy teeth that sent a quake to your stomach. 

“He bathes in perfume,” he commented evasively, rescuing you from your own awkwardness. 

“Well, it’s not working. The perfumer should be shot…or maybe that’s just how bad he smells,” you said. 

The drider looked amused. 

“He hasn’t yet conquered you? Has he?” he asked. 

“If I could stab him in the neck, I would,” you admitted, clutching the silver spoon you held. “Only it wouldn’t work, would it? He’s warded himself cleverly.” 

“You don’t fear retribution? Telling all this to his general?” he asked, touching a lock of your hair and examining it. 

“I don’t believe he’s conquered you, either,” you said. “I’d bet my life on it. You want out of here just as much as I do. What’s keeping you? You’re strong…and very stealthy, I might add. How long were you watching from the ceiling?” 

He tipped his head, interested in you. Everyone around Ruvain whimpered and cowered in front of Camus; you were very different. 

“Where is a monster like me to go?” he asked. “The village from where you came would never accept me. If I didn’t work for Camus, I would have to live in the forest, where some intrepid knight would come for my head on a quest, thinking I had a magic liver or some other such nonsense. I was stolen from a land far from here, and I’m unsure how to return..” 

“So you bide your time serving that asshole?” you asked. 

He looked thoughtful. 

“I thought having access to the royal library would produce some results,” he admitted. “Camus pulled me through a portal. I can’t take a ship back. For all I know, he’s taken me from another universe entirely. In fact, that’s how he obtains all of his ‘monsters.’ To answer your other question, I’ve been watching you since you arrived.”

“And in all this time, you’ve found nothing?” you asked. 

He frowned. 

“Camus has a secret workshop that I think holds the answers I seek,” he said, “but I can’t get access to it. It’s warded, and if I tried, Camus would know and order my death. I have to approach it very carefully.” 

“Slimy bastard,” you grumbled, and Ruvain gave you another of his silky chuckles.  

“It is very frustrating, but I wouldn’t say I’ve found nothing. I’ve certainly found something,” he said, his eyes flashing. 

“Well, is it useful?” you asked. 

His eight eyes blinked in an eerie cascade. 

“Only time will answer that question,” he said. 

“Care to share?” you said, and he gave you a wide smile. 

“We’ve only just met. I can’t reveal all of my secrets,” he said. 

You scrubbed your hair and growled your frustration. 

“Since I’ve come here, it’s been nothing but secrets,” you huffed. “I miss my ranch. I miss my family. He took the only good things in my life, and now…now I’m just a doll for him to dress.” 

“Know this (Y/N): you have my protection,” he said. 

You sighed. 

“You don’t have to make me promises like that, Ruvain,” you said. “I know you’re only looking after me for Camus. I don’t need your lies. I’m all too aware of the truth.” 

He tipped his head and gave you a curious look. 

“You will learn the truth of things soon,” he said ominously. 

You wanted to ask more, but Camus came in like a tornado, his face the picture of rage. 

“How could they?” he snarled. “They are nothing…ants, and they think they can capture me? I’ll destroy them…crush them under my boot.” 

His spooky eyes, milky white, turned in your direction. 

“I’ll have you tonight!” he said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit. 

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks in his hands, meeting your gaze. 

“You’re thrilled, aren’t you, darling?” he asked. “You’ve been waiting for my body, haven’t you? Saving yourself for me? I won’t make you wait any longer, and I’ll fly your virgin blood as a flag for those vermin to see as they arrive. Before they die, they’ll know I’ve taken you and filled you with my seed.” 

He was too frantic, his eyes filled with madness, to notice your fear. You did not want him to touch you, and you weren’t a virgin. You trembled, wondering what he would do when he discovered that fact. It wouldn’t be your virgin blood on that sheet; it would come straight from your veins. 

He clapped his hands and grinned, his crooked, rotting teeth making bile rise in your throat. 

“I must prepare myself!” he beamed. “Our first night of passion and the counteroffensive must be timed perfectly!” 

His eyes flicked to the drider. 

“Take my Queen into the city, to the fashion district,” he said. “I want her to choose something just for me. A dress, lingerie, oils and perfumes!” 

You were surprised he didn’t want to dress you himself, but it seemed he wanted to feel that you adored him, proving so with whatever you chose. You wanted to be sick. 

“Don’t let me down, (Y/N),” he said, winking at you. 

You gave him a tight bow. 

“It will be as you wish, Your Highness,” you choked out, and he hurried out of the room. 

You gave Ruvain a serious look. 

“End me, Ruvain,” you said. “I’m too much of a coward to put a knife to my own skin. Do me this favor. I won’t let that…monster touch me! He’ll have fuck my cold corpse.” 

Ruvain shook his head. 

“There are so many reasons I won’t grant you your request, but the most important for you to know is that death will not end your misery. If you kill yourself, If I killed you…he would resurrect you…tie you to him for eternity,” he explained. “A far worse fate than a few minutes underneath him.” 

Your heart turned cold as ice, and you gasped. 

“No,” you murmured. “He can’t! I can’t…” 

“He will,” Ruvain insisted, lowering himself so you were eye to eye.”Camus has no real magic but we can get out of artifacts. He experiments with alchemy. Reanimating bodies, fusing what few relics he finds to living hosts…But I told you. I will protect you.” 

“How?” you gasped. “He holds all the cards.” 

“Well, the window wasn’t a good option, but now we have some time to play with,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “First, we need to get a message out to your kin. They will only get themselves murdered coming here when we’ve just escaped.” 

“Escaped?” you asked. “What do you mean? You just said you wouldn’t let me escape.”

He smiled down at you. 

“I told you I would protect you,” he said. “I’ve been working out a plan since I first saw you.” 

You blinked up at him.

“You-you have?” you asked. 

He gave you a grave look. 

“I’m no better than Camus,” he admitted. “I won’t return you to your countrymen, but I will protect you. In my web, you will always be safe. Do you…do you hate me?” 

Your mouth dropped open, and you slowly shook your head. Your cheeks were burning like hot irons. The handsome drider thought he would take you for his own? Fear and uncertainty flickered within you, but Ruvain didn’t smell like death, and making love to him would be no hardship, assuming driders and humans could make love. 

“Um..n-no,” you said. “I don’t hate you…” 

He smiled, showing a white, sharp fang.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Now to your message. I have many spies that can reach out to your countrymen, but they won’t believe a warning coming from me. You must record one on a recording crystal. You’ll tell them you’ve escaped and are fleeing, not to come for you.” 

He gave you another sobering glance. 

“Once you record this, however, there is no doubt it will eventually fall into Camus’s hands. I have many spies, but so does he. He will know you ran from him, and he will spare no expense to find and punish you,” he said. 

“Wait, wait!” you said, waving your hands. “What about you? You have a mission here. We can’t run away without whatever he has in his lab!” 

He smiled again. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head over that,” he said. “With a gorgeous companion, my time in this realm will be far more…pleasant. Returning to my homeland can wait.” 

You took a step forward, setting a hand on his fuzzy leg. 

“I don’t want to tear your dreams from you, Ruvain,” you said. “It’s not fair. My family is gone…they’re never coming back, but yours are waiting for you.” 

His face softened into an expression that was hard to imagine a powerful drider would have. 

“You’re still very young,” he assured you. “People assume dreams are static things, that they are losing something if they change. That’s not true at all. Dreams morph and blossom like flowers. You are stealing nothing from me and giving me so much more in return.” 

Again, your cheeks burned from his tenderness. If he had some nefarious plan for you, he was doing a damn good job breaking down your walls. 

He chuckled. 

“Camus is going to be very angry when he realizes you walked right out of the front door to escape him,” he said. “I kind of wish I’d be here to see it.” 

You gave Ruvain a shy nod, and he waved a hand for you to proceed. 

“After you, my Queen,” he said. 

—

The sun was sinking low in the sky when you climbed into the royal carriage. Ruvain walked alongside as it made its way slowly through the bustling city. The citizens were used to seeing Camus’s monsters running errands, and many of them had even made friends when they went to drink in the bars and visit the brothels. 

They were much more afraid of who might be inside the carriage. No one wanted to be in the King’s eyeline. It would only lead to ruin. Ruvain had given you a recording crystal, and in the privacy of the carriage, you’d made your message and returned it to him. 

You’d told those who would avenge you that you were escaping and going into hiding. You told them not to look for you for their own safety but that you would send a message later to assure them you were okay. 

You could not tell them to drop their uprising. Those who would stand up to their King did so for many more reasons than a single woman; you were only the last straw. A revolt was a long time coming, so you sent them the Goddess’s blessing and only asked them to be smart and safe. Do not fly into battle blinded by rage, you’d warned. The King is wiley and immortal. You must be quiet and clever if you mean to unseat him. 

Your heart pounded as you entered the fashion district. Ruvain insisted you needed to be seen shopping, or the King’s spies would realize you were running immediately. Ruvain worked best in darkness, so you would stay out until sunset. 

You went to shop after shop poking around. Not intending to wear any of it, you purchased the most expensive, obnoxious items you could, happy to be spending the King’s money frivolously. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sun set. It was time to put your plan into action. 

Ruvain took you to a spa to have you bathed, plucked, and oiled up like a dinner chicken. Only you didn’t do any of that. The moment you were checked in, you asked one of the ladies for the bathroom and slipped out of the back door. 

Ruvain was supposed to meet you in the alley on the other side, and the two of you would climb the rooftops out of the city. 

That’s not who greeted you when you opened the door. Yes, Ruvain was there, but he was surrounded by six of Camus’s monsters– three nagas and three minotaurs. Camus stood there, smugly tossing the crystal you’d sent in his hand. 

“Tsk. Tsk.” he said, peering at you in the torchlight. “I offered you everything, and you chose to betray me. You should know this spider is a devil. He would have eaten you once you left the city. However, I am kind, and you are just a naive farmgirl; I’ll give you a chance at redemption. Come to me.” 

He held his hand out to you. You growled at him. Now that your escape plan had been discovered, there was no reason to pretend. 

“I’d rather he eat me one limb at a time than fuck your zombie body!” you snapped, then spat at him. 

Ruvain gave you a glance filled with both worry for your mouthing off and also sudden determination. Camus’s face turned to one of pure rage. 

“You snivelling bitch! You’re nothing! I could have had you and then tossed you in a ditch, but I offered you the world! To be a Queen!” 

“You’re nothing but a filthy murderer who hides behind creatures with nowhere else to go!” you shouted. “Those who have come to challenge you do so with nothing but pitchforks and torches. They have more spine than you’ll ever have!” 

“You won’t speak to me that way!” he snarled, the nagas at his side slithering towards you and one grabbing you by each arm. 

“I’m going to let you watch while my monsters tear this traitor’s legs off one by one!” Camus promised, glaring at Ruvain. 

His face had lost the fear it held and was only a mask of indifference. 

“Perhaps,” he said, eyeing the minotaurs approaching him. “You are not the only one protected by magic. You know so little of the creatures you've detained." 

He murmured some words under his breath, and in the flickering firelight, a wave of darkness roiled around you. It looked like the earth itself was writhing, a shiny black, living oil…only it wasn’t liquid. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly until the wave began climbing one of the naga’s bodies. Then it was all too clear; millions of spiders rolled over him like the tide rising. 

His screams pierced the night air as he frantically tried to brush them off. 

It was no use; the wave kept coming, and more and more spiders filled the alley, climbing the walls and smothering the torches. 

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ruvain told the other monsters. “You can die like your friend is going to die…or you can hand me the girl and join me.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Camus screeched, watching in horror as the naga’s face, covered in spiders, began to bloat, pustules forming and popping from their venomous bites until he all but dissolved in front of you. 

The other monsters looked horrified, and a moment later, you stumbled to the ground as they dropped you. 

“Come here, darling,” Ruvain hissed, waving a hand at you. 

You scrambled across the ground, the sea of spiders parting in your path. 

Ruvain scooped you up and set you on his back. 

“You fool!” Camus snarled, tearing his eyes away from the bloated, deformed body beside him. “You can’t harm me! I’m invincible!” 

Ruvain laughed. 

“I don’t need to harm you. In fact, I need you alive,” he said. He nodded at two of the minotaurs. “Bring him. We’re returning to the castle. I’m sending you all home.” 

Camus screamed and howled, but carrying him against his will was no harm, so his amulet did nothing. His only power was in the monsters he wielded. He carried no other weapons because he was arrogant and smug. His monsters would follow his order to the letter because they had nowhere else to go. 

The minotaurs dragged him behind you through the back alleys. Everyone in the city knew not to meddle in anyone else’s affairs. Camus himself had set such a precedent. So they ignored his cries, as they’d been taught. Shutters closed, and doors were locked as you proceeded to a secret back entrance to the castle. 

As you moved through the castle, the monsters you passed were quite happy to let you through. Ruvain told them simply that he was sending them home, and they fell in line, interested to see how this played out. They all had nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

You stopped in front of a door covered in runes. 

“Open it,” Ruvain barked. 

Camus, still filled with pride, shook his head. 

“Never! I’ll never bow to a bunch of mindless creatures!” he spat. 

Ruvain shrugged. 

“I can’t hurt you; we all know that,” he said. “But spiders crawling in and out of all your orifices for the rest of your miserable eternity causes no direct harm. I can’t imagine it will be pleasant, though.” 

If Camus’s face could blanch, it would have. 

“Let me go; I have to use my hands!” he snapped. 

The minotaurs looked to Ruvain for guidance, and after a thought, he nodded. 

Camus stumbled forward, turning three of the runes so they formed a pattern you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen it after it was solved. The heavy stone door slid open to a set of stone stairs leading downward. 

“Let’s go, him first,” Ruvain said, shoving Camus forward. 

The parade of monsters followed Camus into the darkness. You worried he’d tricked you all when you finally reached a basement that smelled of rot. You coughed and covered your mouth. 

“What is that smell?” you asked, but it was soon clear. 

The laboratory, if you could call it that, was filled with dissected bodies. Monsters, people, you couldn’t tell one from the other as they were all flayed like raw fish. The only other notable thing other than sets of alchemy tools, bits of metal, and flesh was a large round mirror on one wall. 

“Hold him,” Ruvain told the minotaurs, “don’t let him touch anything. I know what I’m looking for.” 

Ruvain set you on the ground and started shuffling through papers. He gave a cheerful shout when he found the right scroll and a small book. You peeked over his shoulder, curious. 

“This is the spell to take us home,” he said, then showed you the book. “These are the coordinates of where he pulled us all from.” 

“Now then,” he said. “Since we no longer need him, what shall we do with him?” 

You all looked around the room,y our eyes landing on the torture equipment, disappointed you couldn’t just dissect him like he’d done to the poor souls rotting on the tables. 

One of the nagas had an idea. 

“Let’s lock him away, where no one will find him, and he’ll never escape,” he said, nodding to a small inset in the wall near the back of the room where a candelabra would normally go. It was just the right size for a body.

“I expect your silk is too strong to break with his fingers or teeth," the naga said.

Ruvain's face filled with an evil smile. 

“That it is, friend!” he said, “I can spin a silk so strong even steel swords or fire won’t break it.”  

“No! No! You can’t!” Camus screamed, but it was no use.

Locking him up caused no direct harm, so there was nothing he could do. As a lich, he did not need to eat or breathe, so a comfy coat of spider silk was harmless to his health.

He cried and begged, promising everyone in the room the world, but Ruvain simply took him in his arms, taking his time as he wrapped line after line of silk around him. The monsters listened to each scream and cry with satisfied smiles until Ruvain stuffed his mouth with spider silk and sealed it up. He finished wrapping as Camus whimpered, a mummy of white silk. Then he stuck him in the inset and sealed the whole thing up with a web of more silk. You couldn’t even hear him inside. From the outside, it looked like a nasty spider infestation but nothing more. 

The monsters gave one another high fives as their task was complete. 

“Now to send you all home,” Ruvain said. 

He scurried over to the mirror, twisting and turning various runes until a world appeared in the glass. 

“Home!” the minotaurs gasped, racing forward through it before Ruvain had even waved them on. 

You winced, expecting them to shatter the glass, but instead, they passed right through it. They ran through without a single glance back. One after another, he put in the coordinates of each of the monsters’ homes, and they left, some of them thanking him, others so excited they simply ran before the chance passed them by. When every monster was gone, you gave Ruvain a sad look. 

“It’s time for you,” you said, smiling a little. “You were my savior, and I can never thank you enough for that, but I understand you need to return home.” 

He smirked at you. 

“Now I can go home whenever I like,” he told you. “And perhaps I will someday, but now we have your world to attend to.” 

You looked at him, confused. 

“What do you mean? You’re free? Why aren’t you running like the rest?” you asked. 

“Because my world never needed me and this world needs a Queen,” he said. “And a Queen needs her guardian knight and first general. With the word of their Queen, your world will accept me, not as a monster, but as your companion.” 

He bowed in front of you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“I offer you my life, Your Radience,” he said, then peeked up and winked at you. “But don’t think because you’re my Queen, I’m ever letting you go. You’re mine, and we will rule this land together.” 

He stood and looked around. 

“Now, let’s get out of this filthy place. I’ll have the mirror moved somewhere that doesn’t smell like death and seal this miserable laboratory up forever,” he said. “I’ll  be sure to make it look like every other wall in this castle so no one has the bright idea to go exploring looking for treasure and instead finding an angry lich.” 

He returned you to his back, and the two of you ascended back to the empty castle. Footsteps echoed through the halls, and soon, you were faced with a bunch of farmers carrying torches and pitchforks. 

“Free her from the creature!” someone shouted, but you held up your hands in panic, worried they would hurt Ruvain. 

“My companion is not your enemy, people of the land!” you shouted. 

They all looked at one another, confused. 

“He’s one of Camus’s monsters!” one of them said. 

“NO, no. You are very wrong,” you explained. “Ruvain has freed us from Camus and sent all of the monsters back to their homes. They never wanted to be here to start. Ruvain is mine. You will not take him from me!” 

The villagers looked confused, but they’d noticed on the way in that no one had put up a fight. The monsters appeared to be gone, and the castle was empty, but what servants hadn’t run the moment no one was looking. 

“Her Majesty (Y/N) gives me too much credit,” Ruvain said, smiling down at you. “She is the one that deserves your thanks for freeing us from the nasty lich. I am only her servant, bound by the same gratitude as you should be. She is my Queen and should be yours as well for her service to the kingdom. There is a power vacuum now that the lich is gone. Do you want it filled with some other despot who cares nothing for you or a woman from your own land? She’s brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. The countryside will welcome a humble Queen who is one of their own.” 

Ruvain bowed to you deeply. The lead villager gave you an odd look and turned to discuss the issue with his fellow countrymen. A moment later, torches were extinguished, and pitchforks hit the floor with a clang as the villagers bowed as well. 

“Long live Queen (Y/N)!” they shouted in unison. 

You couldn’t help your burning cheeks, but you knew your kin needed strength, not a shy girl, so you tipped your head. 

“I promise to serve you well,” you said as Queenly as possible. “Now, we must rebuild what Camus has broken. You are the bravest, strongest citizens of Ventirest. You came here knowing you would face monsters with only your farmtools and spirits. I can never truly express how your care for a simple farm girl moved me. I would be honored to have you form my guard if you are willing.” 

“We will begin to rebuild tomorrow,” Ruvain said. “For tonight, you have traveled a long way, and the Queen has accomplished much in only a few hours. Let’s all rest. Run and tell the heralds to inform the people Camus is defeated. Tonight, they should celebrate their freedom.” 

The villagers gave Ruvain uncertain glances, but mostly because it was hard not to be frightened by such a large creature, especially one with eight legs. You encouraged them with a nod, and they gathered their tools and took off to the barracks where the monsters used to sleep when they ran the guard. 

“I’ve told you a lie,” Ruvain admitted when they’d gone as he sat you on his back. 

“What is that?” you asked, your heart fluttering, hoping he wouldn’t let you down, that he didn’t do this all to trick you. 

“I told them you needed rest when, really, I just wanted you all to myself,” he said. 

His gold eyes glinted with mischief. 

“Should I be worried?” you asked, your voice wan, and he chuckled. 

“Only if you don’t like orgasms,” he said, crawling down the hallway towards the unused Queens chambers. 

You’d have to fumigate the former King’s room and bed. It all smelled like rot. 

Your cheeks burned again at his words, and a very special tingle shot down your spine to your core. 

When you entered the room, he set you down on the floor, sliding the door shut behind you with one elegant leg. You watched, your heart racing, as he slowly and deliberately lit the fireplace, then the candles, casting your bedroom in soft, flickering light. 

When his gold eyes finally met yours, they were full of hunger. 

"You said you'd rather I eat you than for that lich to fuck you," he hummed, circling you to take in your form. 

He lowered his head, sniffing your neck.

"I liked that," he purred, and a shudder that was something between fear and excitement rolled through you. 

You let out a yip, as he pounced on you, taking you up in his arms and climbing gracefully to a shadowy corner at the arch of the vaulted curling. 

Candlelight flickered in his eyes so that they glowed in the darkness. 

Another surprised yelp echoed against the stone, mixed with the sound of fabric tearing as Ruvain ravenously stripped your dress from you with his teeth. Strips of gold and indigo fluttered to the floor far below. 

“You’ll never don human clothing again,” he insisted. “I’ll have dressed made of spider silk, so you always wear my mark.” 

When you were bare, he examined every part of you, all the white spinning web he crisscrossed to form a large nest for the two of you to rest. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" you asked, your breath shaking as one arm, then the other was bound by silver silk. 

He grinned at you. 

"This is how driders mate," he hummed, diligently tying elegant knots to bind your limbs. Your legs were tied open, and your neck and hips pulled slightly so your back was arched, your breasts presented to him. 

You had to admit the knots and lace he formed with strong, nimble fingers were beautiful and complex. You trembled both with a touch of fear and a lot of desire. His chest and arms were chiseled from a lifetime of climbing around lofty places. Your eyes followed his elegant movements. 

The men you'd known from town were stocky and strong from a farmer's life of chopping wood and eating beef, but Ruvain's figure was all athletic elegance. His muscles were chorded and lean, flexing as he tightened one knot and then another. 

It was a delight to watch. 

When he seemed happy with the lace of web he'd tied you up with; his attention turned to you. A finger traced your breasts, then drifted lower where his eyes ate up the tender flesh between your thighs. 

"I've been dying to taste you, darling," he said, glancing up. 

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, and then as if you were a sweet surprise, they landed more firmly, his tongue pushing into you. 

"Mmm," he groaned, tasting you as it slid over yours.

When he pulled away, he looked ravenous.

Lowering his head, he returned to examining you between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"I'm fascinated by your anatomy. Your two legs hide such a pretty treasure." 

He circled your clit, making you moan. Never in your life had you thought being trussed up would get you hot, but your cunt was dripping for him. You squirmed in the soft silk bindings, testing their tightness. You were his prey. He could do what he liked to you. 

Unable to hold himself back any longer, his head lowered, a long, searing tongue collecting the moisture at your slit. 

"Mmm," he hummed, licking you with long strokes between pressing kisses onto the inside of your thighs. "I love how soft you are. You're going to feel so good on my cock." 

His tongue explored your channel, making you let out a loud gasp. 

"Mmm, Ruvain," you murmured, making him chuckle, the silky laugh that made your nipples harden. 

"Are you eager for me?" he asked, teasing you with a finger as his eyes focused on your face, a smug smirk on his lips. 

"P-please Ruvain," you whimpered, every inch of your skin tense and sparkling, begging for release. 

"Be patient, little human," he purred. "I'm still exploring." 

One finger circled your back hole experimentally before two more entered your pussy. 

"Ahhh!" you mewled, twisting in your bonds. 

He lowered his head again, licking and sucking your clit until your pleading and sobbing filled the room. His fingers worked inside you gently, the third teasing you where you'd never been touched before. You didn't know it could feel good, but he drove you mad. He brought you higher and higher until you cracked, and an orgasm bloomed from deep in your core and blossomed over your whole body. 

Your nipples especially were tight and desperate for his touch. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your flavor off the ones covered in your juices. 

"Mmm," he said, briefly closing his eyes as he savored you. 

When you'd regained your senses, Ruvain was perched over you, palming his cock as he watched you. His other hand pinched a nipple, twisting it gently to see your response. The eyes you were trying to keep open squeezed shut as he toyed with them, soon leaning down to play with them with his tongue. 

"So sensitive," he growled, and you felt his sharp teeth nip at the sensitive skin, "and so vulnerable. You're all mine. I could keep you up here forever and torture you, making you fall apart over and over again for me." 

"I need you, Ruvain, please," you whimpered, your eyes on the large shaft he was stroking in his hand. 

The smile on his lips widened to show all of his sharp teeth. 

"I do like it when you beg," he hummed. "Your sweet pleas are very hard to resist." 

He didn't make you wait any longer, sheathing himself in your hot, wet cunt. He hissed, and his hands gripped your hips as he seated himself inside of you. 

"You're searing inside," he groaned, sliding slowly out and thrusting back in with a bit more force.  

You jerked in the silk as he drove into you for several strokes, purely for the pleasure of breaching you, before his sense came back to him. His eyes shone as he kneaded your breasts and curled his body down to you to invade your mouth with his tongue. It moved against yours, mimicking the treatment your pussy was getting. 

His powerful hips slammed into yours, held firm by his web. You cried out in his mouth, and you heard a lusty growl build in his throat. He pulled back, leaving your lips wet and shining. 

"That's it my sweet little human, milk my cock," he hummed, never taking his eyes off of yours. 

Your pussy was doing all of the work since you couldn't move, squeezing and spasming around his thick cock. 

"You belong to me. Every inch of your tender flesh; your mouth, your cunt, your cute little asshole are mine to use and enjoy," he growled, one hand clutching your throat while he pounded harder and more raggedly.

 "If anyone else touches what's mine, I'll kill them, slowly. You understand? I'm never letting you go. I'll never tolerate a competitor," he promised. "I'll let you perform your duties as Queen, but if you ever let anyone too close, I'll steal you away to my homeland, fucking your pretty body until you forget about this world altogether. I’ll make you my toy. You'll cum when I let you and beg me for my seed…and I will make you beg."

His threats were lost on you. Your thoughts were scattered, drowning in bliss as he filled you over and over again. Your pleasure was at his mercy. He could give it and take it away as he liked. Fortunately, at that moment, all he wanted to do was give. 

His finger circled your clit, while he sucked on your nipples, pushing you closer and closer to your end. 

"Beg me," he demanded. "Beg me to let you cum." 

You would have agreed to anything. 

"Please, please , Ruvain, please, don't stop," you wailed. "You feel so good. Please let me cum!" 

He gave you a devious smile at you as his eyes rolled back in his head. 

"Tell me you want me to fill you with my child," he demanded. "Tell me I'm the only one who gets to spend his seed in your womb." 

Your eyes squeezed shut, hovering just on the tip of an explosion. 

"Anything you want, Ruvain," you said. "I'll carry your child. I'll give my body to you; just please don't stop!" 

He laughed, pleased that you were willing to be his, and doubled his efforts. His mouth crashed against yours, pulling your tongue into his mouth and stroking it. You felt pleasure in places you'd never felt before. Your lips and tongue were sparkling. Your breasts ached, brushing against his chest, your nipples hard points. And finally, your cunt felt like a vice on his cock, his thick shaft hitting every sensitive spot. 

You detonated in his arms, the world dissolving, and your only conscious understanding was Ruvain's scent, touch, and delicious, overwhelming pleasure. Colors exploded behind your eyes, and your body felt like fireworks. Your muscles went completely limp as Ruvain emptied his cum inside you. There was so much, waves of hot fluid gushing from your cunt. You heard it splash against the stone floor far below you from somewhere far away. 

"I love you, (Y/N)," he breathed in your ear. "The moment he stole you from your village, you were mine. You may take time to feel the same tenderness for me, but I'm happy to wait." 

He carefully extracted you from the nest he'd made, orienting himself so he could tie you to his chest with more silk to rest. 

In any other circumstance, you would been frightened being so far up, but you felt perfectly safe tied to Ruvain's body, and your thoughts quickly muddied as you fell asleep.

[huramuna]

even in undeath - chapter 1.

lich king aemond x reader a 'world of warcraft' AU. prev | next

The Lich King is the master and lord of the Scourge. Consisting of thousands of walking corpses, disembodied spirits, beasts of the north, and damned mortal men, the Scourge is a terrifying and insidious enemy.

word count: 2.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, DUBCON, smut, heavy heavy angst, graphic depictions of violence, allusions to cannibalism, imprisonment, kidnapping, murder, suicidal thoughts and ideation, mutilation of corpses, obsessive aemond, dark aemond, a happy ending is not in our future. PLEASE MIND THE TAGS! This story will be pretty dark.

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It was dark and cold. There was a faint dripping of water somewhere off to the side, but you couldn’t quite see where. The echoes of whimpers ricocheted off of the craggy walls, stinging your eardrums. 

This was the descent into madness, wasn’t it?

You weren’t sure how long you’d been chained up for— how long had it been since your village burned to the ground? Since you watched the ghouls rip apart the cow farmer from down the road. Since you watched hellhounds crunching on little Mary Jay’s bones. Since you had watched your mother and stepfather plead and beg for their lives, for forgiveness, for mercy, for absolution of their supposed sins before the death knight’s sword lopped their heads off. 

How long has it been? 

Shifting slightly, the chain tied to your throat clinked against the wall. There was no light, no passage of time to be had in the dank, pitch black cave they stowed you and a few select others in. You only had on a ragged potato sack as a dress, the sensation of dirt and grime caked on your hair and under your nails making you feel less than human. 

But— you were still human. For now. The Scourge had ravaged the Eastern Kingdoms without mercy, swiping through the North and South like a fast traveling plague, curdling and damning everything it touched. Hordes of undead zombies, ghouls and hellhounds were the first to raze the cities, driving out the people like mice from the walls. Then the banshees came, along with the necromancers to raise the dead, adding them to a forever amounting army.

Not even Quel’thalas had been able to resist it, an ancient elven city hewn in magic.

What chance did you have? 

More than most, evidently. Your mind wrought itself over and over as to why— why were you alive? Why were you still human and not merely a risen thrall? 

The clinking of armor scared you as it ascended the hallway. You pressed close to the wall and closed your eyes. 

Please don’t stop here, please don’t stop here. 

Clink, clink, clink… closer… closer… 

Then it passed, descending further away. You let out a breath, your blood still pumping in your ears. 

Clink, clink, clink. They were coming back. Clink… silence. You felt bile rise in your throat as you shook, the chains rattling noisily. You knew they were standing there, you knew they were here for you. 

A harsh tug upon your chain, your head hitting the floor— some words were mumbled, the voice sounding far away and broken. Your eardrums rang with the ferocity of your fall, drowning out any semblance of what your jailer was saying to you. Then, you were tugged upward, the cool metal of the collar biting into your skin as you were dragged like a petulant child away from your cell… 

You didn’t want to open your eyes. You couldn’t face the horror you knew was around you— corpses, living ones and dead, the clatter of bones, the heavy breathing of gargantuan abominations, bodies and faces of countless people stitched together into a new body, hewn with thread and necrotic magic until it gave way to something else entirely. Something unnatural, something made of nightmares. The dermis of those who were used to make the monsters would still twitch, reach out on its own, and if it had a mouth, it would be twisted into a scream. You swore that you heard them whispering as you were dragged by. 

The monstrosities were one of many abhorrent creatures at the Scourge’s disposal. Hellhounds, ghouls, gargoyles, wraiths, crypt lords, geists, banshees, and other things of horrific nature were only some of the power wielded by the Scourge. It felt like it was all pulled out of a child’s fairytale, changed and twisted and defiled into what it was now. 

It all felt like a very bad dream. 

Your eyes opened on their own and you took in the image of death knights, former paladins who served a higher power, the Light— now are nothing but undead heretics, glowing eyes and gaunt stares that bored through you. 

Some of the monsters chittered as you were dragged past them, leering and looking hungry. 

‘Scrawny that one. Perhaps she will suffice for hellhounds to pick their teeth.’

‘Speak for yourself, her skin will do beautifully on a new abomination.’ 

‘She won’t be knighted. Merely a maid’s bastard, I’ve heard.’

You forced your eyes to close once more, the sudden light stinging them. You forced yourself into another time, a better memory than what you were experiencing. 

They were right, you were a maid’s bastard. Your mother had served in the royal keep for years, with you under her feet. You didn’t know who your true father was, nor did you care.

You became attached to the second son of the King— Aemond Targaryen. He was a sprightly boy with near white hair and luminous violet eyes. The two of you were attached at the hip. 

Childhood friendship blossomed into more as you grew into teenagers and young adults— you shared your first kiss together, you held hands and shared sweet nothings. As he trained by day to become a paladin of the Light, he held you close by night, vowing to never let you go. You were both terribly in love and so terribly, terribly naive. He was your first in everything– your first friend, your first kiss, your first lover. You promised yourself that he would stay your first and only.

‘You can never marry a maid’s bastard, Aemond! You’re a prince of the realm-‘

‘I don’t care! I want her, father. I’ve always wanted her!’

Your mother quit her job at the castle— moreso, threatened into quitting by some of the King’s advisors. She was given a considerable amount of coin and told to take you far, far away and to not contact the prince again. 

Heartbroken, you left him your sapphire ring, the only thing of value you ever had, which had been passed down through your mother’s family for generations. 

It was left on his desk with a note of few words but much feeling. 

‘I love you. I’m sorry.’ 

That was over ten years ago. You hadn’t seen him since, but you missed him horribly. Especially now. You wondered if he was still alive, fighting against the Scourge like his knightly vows dictated. 

Maybe he was married and moved across the sea to Kalimdor where it was safer. 

Or maybe he was dead. Dead like almost everyone else you knew. 

You heard a rumor, fleeting and without much more information, that his father had died– no, that his father had been murdered. The fall of the king, Viserys, is what started the Scourge war. Did Aemond know, wherever he was? 

You imagined him holding his arms around you, kissing your neck and fanning his breath over your skin. He liked to encompass you completely with his body when you laid together— you never could emulate the feeling with heavy blankets and pillows, as much as you tried. Putting yourself back into that memory, you wrapped your arms around yourself, willing warmth into your body. 

But you didn’t feel any warmth. All you felt was cold, cold down to your bones. They felt brittle, like ice, splintering into shards as you were thrown on the floor again in a different room. Pain bloomed in your arm as it cracked at an awkward angle. Broken. 

Your ears rang again as your mouth opened into a scream, tears of pure anguish squeezing from your eyes. But you didn’t hear a thing besides the rush of blood dampening your senses— and the sickening crunch of your broken bones. 

‘What have you done to it, Lady Deathwhisper? It looks broken.’ 

‘It’s human bones are so brittle, it was merely a slip of the hand. I cannot help that their living constitution is so weak.’ 

‘His grace will not be pleased if it is broken beyond repair.’ 

‘Worry not, Lady Alys. Most things can be mended— and if not, it can always be raised.’ 

‘Physical defects aren’t the only issue. What of its mind?’

You feel an acute sensation over your skull, reaching into the depths of your cranium. Its cold, but not stinging— like a soft caress upon your brain as your mind is rifled through like a tome. You can feel your memories being perused, all of the most intimate moments of your life flashing in your head like playwright’s prose. The physicality of your mind being invaded wasn’t painful, but the act of your memories being ripped from you was damning. Tears fell down your face on their own, your mouth opened into a silent scream.

‘She is the one— I saw it. You are lucky that you did not break her mind completely, Lady Deathwhisper.’ 

‘As are you. You do not have a deft hand when it comes to memory perusal, Lady Alys. I am surprised that it still has a brain in its skull.’ 

‘Shut up and bring her to him. He will be pleased she is still alive. Barely.’ 

You felt yourself being moved again, still reeling from the invasion of your mind. You tried to put yourself back into the safe haven of memories, but they were… locked. Locked behind an iron door with no keyhole. They were lost to you. 

What were you trying to remember? 

Flashes of white hair and violet eyes flitted behind your eyelids, soft caresses and kisses, heavy breathing and love filled promises, the sensation of skin to skin… 

Your eyes opened, vision bleary. A helmed woman followed behind you, wings outstretched. You could see the glint of green eyes under her helm. Val’kyr. The woman behind you was a Val’kyr, a spirit guide who defected to the side of the Scourge. They could move between the realm of living and dead as simply as taking a breath. 

“The little human is awake,” she mused. “Your mind isn’t broken after all? I do see a glint of intelligence behind those eyes. Keep them on me, you shan’t wish to look upon Lady Deathwhisper.” 

You didn’t want to speak, words caught in your throat like food stuck in your craw. A val’kyr was basically an angel of death and talking to one must mean you are dead. 

You wish you were. 

The chains scraped against the floor, which was no longer stone like before, but rather, hardened ice. You were ascending upward, it seemed. The architecture of the building was nothing like you’d ever seen— dark metal was plated upon the walls, inscribed with glowing runes. The runes looked… familiar to you, somehow. But the memory that contained them was locked away, or mayhaps stolen by the Val’kyr, Alys. 

The temperature was cold, you were being lofted upon ice, of course, but you didn’t wholly feel it. You were partially numb, heat radiating from your broken arm. You knew you should be feeling pain— but you were just… numb. 

Your escorts stopped in front of two large doors, inscribed with the same glowing runes. Against Alys’ advice, you glanced at ‘Lady Deathwhisper’. She was skeletal, floating upon the ground with no legs to speak of. Her robes were purple fabric, molded around an incorporeal body. She spoke in a language you didn’t understand, the scratchy voice of hers coming out of a bone skull, but the mouth wasn’t moving, maw open as the words came out. 

You should have listened to Alys. 

The door opened with a rumble, opened by ancient magic, likely imbued by the runes, as they flickered and flitted above your head as it opened. The room beyond was open and bereft of almost anything, except for a throne. A throne forged of ice and swords. 

Someone was sitting upon it in a lazed position, one plated gloved finger tapping on the arm of the throne.

“We’ve brought her, your grace,” Lady Deathwhisper growled, shoving you forward. You skidded across the floor, which felt slick like grazing atop an ice-capped lake. “Alys confirmed it is her.”

The clinking of armor caught your attention, the sound of metal grazing against ice. It was irritating and made you grind your teeth. As whoever was on the throne got closer, the force was oppressive. Whimpers and tiny cries were ripped from you as they walked towards you, the aura exuding from them causing you to fall flat to the ground, feeling as if someone was sitting atop of your chest and not letting up.

The steel plated boot was in front of you now and your hair was grabbed rather harshly, pulling you up. 

Don’t look, don’t look. You cannot look.

“Look. At. Me.” the voice growled. It was quiet but commanding at the same time, rattling in your bones and making a home amongst the marrow. It felt familiar… so… 

You lifted your bloodshot eyes, not out of your own volition, but from the authority of the voice.

“Hello, little dove.” he mused.

It was him. It was… it… Aemond. You knew him so well, even with ten years gone. His chiseled jawline and chin and the dimple of the tip of his nose… 

But his eye was missing, a jagged scar bisecting it. In its place was a sapphire. The sapphire from your ring, grown into something to make home in the socket.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, your stomach flipped and flopped like a fish hoisted from the sea, sputtering for air. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t–

Your best friend, your lover, the one you vowed to never forget, to never forsake.

Aemond Targaryen. 

Aemond Targaryen was the Lich King. A defiler, a mass murderer, an unholy being in his own right.

“Now you won’t be able to leave again, will you?” Aemond murmured, his violet eye roving you. It was glowing slightly– his skin was a pale gray pallor, cheeks sunken slightly. He was undead.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, vision going black.

[lichniche]

Santa clause from puppet history

PLEASE ELABORATE

[contract-crawdad]

Before next week’s Fionna and Cake episode, we can really only guess as to why exactly the Lich explicitly didn’t kill Simon and company, but I wanted to compile all the ideas I’ve already seen!

Spoilers, obviously!

•The most common idea I’ve seen is that, due to the Lich’s connection to Golb, Golbetty is actively intervening to protect Simon. As if telling the Lich ‘No, bad disciple, don’t turn my failwife into ash’.

But that doesn’t quite track.

Golbetty hasn’t really made any visible moves to protect Simon (save for possibly preventing him from putting on the crown) at all up to this point, and even if the Lich not killing him was Betty’s doing, she’s still just leaving Simin alive but otherwise stranded in a dead world in which he will die of starvation.

Additionally, any protection from Golbetty would absolutely not have extended to Fionna and Cake!

•I’ve also seen a lot of people assume the Lich let them live and was playing possum like he did in the Time Room in order to gain access to multiversal travel: sure his own world is out of life, but there’s always more to snuff out in other universes!

But I don’t think there’s any plan here. The Lich makes it very clear that he isn’t initially aware that this is a Simon from another universe, he just thinks his world’s Ice King has come back from the dead.

Even then! Assuming he very quickly did the math and came to the conclusion that there could only be living beings in this world if they came from elsewhere and that waiting would let him hitch a ride out of this world with them and into a new one, he simply does not do that. The portal in the back of Simon’s head is wide open and the Lich does not spring into action and seize the opportunity.

•Similarly flawed is the idea that the Lich cannot harm them due to being in a similar ‘purposeless’ state as when he was stuck in the Time Room.

This one has the least going for it. Jerry is very much able to kill, and Simon Fionna and Cake are all very much able to die.

•This leads into the final possibility that would be really interesting if it were the case. The idea that the Lich just… decided not to do the one thing he’s been known to do, which is murder really good.

Sure, he seems to sputter and fade, but that’s only after seemingly very deliberately releasing the gang from his hold. But why?

Aside from being Golb’s last scholar, the Lich identifies himself twice as the ‘ceaseless wheel’. The imagery that puts to mind is both that of a grinding wheel, constantly grinding away at the life of the world, but also the imagery of moving forward. Progressing. ‘Ceaselessly’ moving towards his goal no matter what.

The Lich himself even goes as far as to say that something has changed. ‘In days of old’ he would have killed them… but then he can’t even finish one of his iconic monologues, even to explain what’s changed. It’s the biggest ‘Eh, why even bother?’ the Lich could give.

He’s eradicated the thing he’s defined himself as. The wheel has ground to a halt, it can’t get itself turning again.

In other words. Simon got it in one: the Lich is (very uniquely) depressed.

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 8: JERRY

The last of four posts for today.

This episode has a very dark setting. This is the universe where The Lich wished for the extinction of all life. There is nothing here. This establishing shot features the Squirrel's apple cart, from a few episodes ago, but he is long dead and it is long abandoned.

We are introduced to a new cosmic entity, Orbo, who is Scarab's boss but is not to be mistaken for Prismo's boss, whose identity remains a mystery.

Simon name drops a whole bunch of magical items from the original Adventure Time series; the Armour of Zeldron from Blood Under the Skin, the Wand of Dispersement from Sons of Mars, the Porcelain Lamb from Beyond This Earthly Realm, and the magic beans from The Pods.

This episode suggests that the nature of Simon and Betty's relationship was initially quite unhealthy. He was one of her lecturers, and she had an infatuation with him from first sight.

This illustration features the ancient wizards who sealed Coconteppi beneath Wizard City in the Distant Lands episode of the same name.

Simon's expedition to find the Enchiridion was first mentioned in the newspaper clipping in I Remember You, and was mentioned again in Temple of Mars.

BMO apparently survived The Lich's wish because he isn't technically alive. I wonder where Neptr and the other MOs are. Cannibalised for batteries, perhaps. Also, that BRB note is very sad and is identical to the one Finn wrote in Blenanas.

There are various familiar items in the thawed out remains of the Ice Kingdom; ninja paraphernalia from The Chamber of Frozen Blades, Ice King's diary from The Empress Eyes, and of course the tape collection from Holly Jolly Secrets.

Here's a deep cut: That machine in the background to the right of Simon is the machine that held the lightning power that Finn went to steal in What is Life, so that he could power up Neptr. The Demonic Wishing Eye is also in this shot.

For a single frame, Ice King and Gunter can be seen reduced to skeletons. Presumably this was the exact moment that the Lich's wish took effect. Everyone died instantly, in less than a frame.

When I watched this episode for the first time I was confused about where Fionna got the working crown. But you can just about see it inside the drum in this shot, where Ice King mentioned he had put it in his tape.

This is the exact moment the photograph was taken for the newspaper clipping seen in I Remember You.

We first heard the story about how Simon met Betty after they tried to check out the same library book in Broke His Crown. It's cool to see it playing out for real.

Simon throws a pebble at the window and accidentally hits Babette in the face, exactly like Finn and Jake did to Kim Kil Whan in the episode Ocarina.

This is the second time Simon caused Betty to miss this research trip to Australia. She says in Temple of Mars that she never got the opportunity to go, and resolves that her life might not have been so messed up if she'd followed her own dreams instead of following Simon's.

The song in this scene, the motif of which has been heard throughout the series, is by Half Shy, who also wrote "Monster" for Obsidian.

BMO is buried with a paper flower because there are no real ones left alive. His death seemed pointlessly cruel.

THE LICH! He is in his half-disguised Billy form, confirming that this is his wish-altered reality. Like in his other appearances, the first line he speaks is a single word command. This time, the command is "Cease." But with nothing left to do he has become depressed, and he doesn't bother killing our protagonists.

And finally, we are left on this cliffhanger. Fionna and Cake have returned to their world. Scarab has convinced the boss that Simon must be destroyed. And GOLBetty is here to claim them both while the Lich watches on.

This episode's dream features a pair of Lich skulls either side an effigy of GOLB.

[fkitwebhaal]

In contrast to Ulder Ravenguard, I think Gale could bring any of the Origins home as his fiancee and Morena Dekarios would be fine with it.

I am saying this not as a jab against Ulder or even claiming Morena is a better parent than him (we don't know anything about her except her and Gale seem to get along).

I say this solely because if your son gets dumped by a Goddess, has a magical orb that is stuck in his chest, spends a year in a tower refusing to leave, vanishes without a word, and then shows up months later minus said orb AND in a happy relationship? And that person talked him out of blowing himself up for said Goddess and helped him save the world? IDGAF who he brought home as long as they genuinely love him and treat him well.

Women my son is going to Hell for to fix her heart. Not an ideal place for him to be but fuck it, he's getting out of the house, as long as they send post cards.

Former warlock who was cursed by patron and is now either a duke (heck yes) or going to Hell for his bestie and my son is going with. Same as above, sounds great, did you know my son's fiancee can dance.

Warrior from the astral plane going to fight a lich queen? I cannot stress how exciting it is to see him to get out of the house and she can and will carry him to safety, zero objections.

Vampire spawn? A little blood loss is WAY BETTER than the orb situation, just make sure to watch your iron intake son. Eat more spinach.

Former cultist to an evil God? Let bygones be bygones, key word here is former.

Former leader of a cult of an evil god. KEY WORD HERE IS FORMER IT'S FINE.

[crinkle-cut-pickle-bucket]

Inktober: Day 9- Bounce

Sorry, gotta bounce—I’m sensing a lich’s presence emanating from…your umbrella?

image description:

a greyscale drawing of two figures, pictured waist-up, standing outdoors, backed by a white stone fence and a starry night sky. One figure, Kravitz, is a skeleton in a dark, hooded robe, who is holding a large scythe in his outstretched right hand. Near the scythe, there is a glow of an open portal that is just out of shot. Kravitz’ eyeholes are shaped to express, perhaps regret. His left hand is also outstretched, in the other direction, resting on the shoulder of the second character, Taako. Taako is a light skinned male elf with blonde hair tied up in a bun. He is standing—revealing a side profile—and facing Kravitz, with arms crossed. He is wearing a loose shirt with cut-out sides to reveal an undershirt. There is a bag’s strap hanging from his shoulder. His expression is quietly shocked and blushing. There are stylized indicators emanating from Taako to convey his surprise. Below, and spanning the width of the image, there is a long block of white which contains the following words: “Taako, I’ve had a lovely night. Do you think I’ll be hearing from you again any time soon?” end description.

[anistarrose]

Point: Barry post-Voidfishing would specifically regrow living bodies so his lich form couldn't be tracked by Lucretia, which means that he probably can't reap the same benefits by possessing a corpse — since otherwise, he'd just do that instead to keep his memories.

Counterpoint: the concept of Barry taking a mission with a random adventuring party with the hope of finding Lup, then dying while everyone else is distracted, and having to Weekend at Bernie's his own body around while trying to conceal his true nature from his teammates until they reach their destination is extremely funny.

join this thought exercise with me. Barry's just like: the map says we're only a day away, can we please pick up the pace? yeah, I know I look deathly ill, but I'm raring to go, honest! actually I think that the mold and diseased-infused air of the Evil Dungeon would be great for my condition. I think it would fix me. look, I'm a sick old man. you gotta help me reach the Evil Dungeon before I die. you wouldn't let a sick old man die with the cure in sight, would you? oh, don't worry about the bandits I just vaporized with a single word. really don't worry about all the formaldehyde I've been chugging. it's the only treatment for Miss My Wife disease, otherwise terminal — what do you mean the name of the disease sounds like static

[thatgirlonstage]

man the way Magnus entrusted his relic to Jack and June because they were good people with rustic hospitality and it turned an entire town into a place of betrayal and coups and distrust and finally an inescapably looping nightmare for years where death was perpetually an hour away and the way that the town was ultimately saved with kindness to animals through reuniting the purple worm with her children and the self-sacrifice of the town's self-appointed protector

and the way Merle's relic took love that had bloomed from rivalry and twisted it into a desperate need to prove oneself capable and better, to become unto a god, the way it drove Sloane to run away from everyone she cared about rather than reach out to them for help, and the way it was only stopped with peacemaking, with reaching back for her still when all hope seemed lost, with Hurley leaping headfirst into silverpoint knowing full well she would be killed but doing it because she cared about the person inside even at her worst, even when she was irredeemable, even when no one else would think to find anything human left in there at all

and the way Taako's relic was put to the use of science and exploration and used, for a while, successfully, but with too much greed, with too much selfishness, with too much focus on Maureen and Lucas's goals and too little trust of other people's word on how dangerous these relics are, the way it ultimately became the tool of a creature trying to claw its way back to the life and loved ones it knew and had lost, a creature that had long since lost its sense of self, that had merged with others just to survive, and the way familial love was necessary to stop it, the way Lucas got to his worst out of love of his mother and the desperation to do anything to get her back, the way he got brought back to his senses by that same love and the realization of how badly he'd failed her, the way he was still an untrustworthy dick at the end but they let him go anyway and he came back when it mattered

the way Lup's relic was locked away for a decade and ultimately uncovered and reactivated by Gundran's desperate desire to reclaim what once belonged to his family, the way it was not stopped, the way the loss of Phandalin haunts the narrative, a reminder of failure and of people the boys couldn't save

the way Davenport's relic gets caught up in a game of smoke and mirrors while on the harsh time limit of the end of a journey, the way part of Jenkins' ploy is that he seems utterly unthreatening, the way Hudson's death and the loss of his head in particular is practically collateral damage, the way the train could not be saved but this time the people were

the way Barry's relic is in the hands of two liches who are very obvious and intentional foils to him and Lup, but even more than that, the way it's so buried in the suffering of losing everything that makes you yourself, over and over and over and over and over, the way Wonderland is designed to make you eventually dependent on this cycle of loss just to stay alive, the way it's only beaten by changing the rules of the game

and of course the way Lucretia's relic stays glued to her side, the emblem and reason for her loneliness, isolating her in a bubble of her own making, until, of course, she lets her family back in, and as raw and painful a reunion as it is, as it has to be, because you can't stay safe from your mistakes forever, the seven of them together find the solution she could not find alone