Moki-Mori's Random Writings

Random pieces of writing, stories, odds and ends, and other little bits of written work by Moki-Mori *not currently looking for Beta Readers* My Other Blogs: https://www.tumblr.com/moki-mori https://www.tumblr.com/mokimorireads

[mokimoriwrites]

2026 - A Year of Writing and Art

My creative goals for this year are to continue a year of writing by trying to write for at least 5 minutes a day and to also try and create 1 full art piece a week.

My writings will be posted to this blog and my art will be posted to my art blog; @moki-moridraws

[mokimoriwrites]

7/20 - Cat of Serial Killers (a different POV)

It had been a normal night out on the town. Entering some standard run-of-the-mill bar that I couldn't name, getting the same usual craft beer, and drinking until the overhead lights stopped hurting my eyes. 

Sometimes, if the day was right, there would be someone there who would make good dreaming company. The usual useless conversation, shooting the wind, chugging down our drinks in tandem sores. 

Funny enough to be entertaining but not real enough to sober you up. 

So when tonight started out the same, I didn't even bother to really think about it. Got to the bar, sat at the counter, ordered the same bottle. 

Drank one; the lights still hurt.

Drank a second; the noise was still too loud.

Drank a third; the people were still annoying.

Drank a fourth, and what do you know? Drinking company. 

A young woman, maybe a year younger than me. Sitting at the same counter, drinking the same bottles, with the same pissed-off look on her face I had. 

“God, this place is so loud…” She hisses into the third bottle of the night. 

“And bright.” I groan, and she snickers at that. 

“Right? I’ll need another to make it tolerable." She sighs, raising a hand to wave at the bartender, “One more!” 

“Make it two,” I tell him, thanking him when he places it in front of me. 

We get to talking and drinking, and suddenly I can't remember how many bottles deep I am. 

I drink another; the lights are dimming. 

And another; the bar is quiet.

And another, the world is fuzzy.

By the time we get to her car, the world is spinning, and my legs won't work.

She helps me into the back seat, and hops into the driver's spot herself. 

Most of the ride is a blur; I just remember her calling someone while she drives with impressive skill considering she outdrank me by at least four beers. 

By the time we get to her house, her husband is waiting outside. They both haul me into the living room, then down a hallway past a row of cats watching me with wide eyes. 

Suddenly I'm in some sort of basement, hands chained to the wall and knives being jabbed into me while the woman laughs like she lost her damned mind. 

It was just another night, damn it! So just how did I end up here? How did it end up like this??

[mokimoriwrites]

7/19 - Council Meetings (part 10)

Ser Fig of all people is the one who comes up with the solution to our main problem, which is how much power the faith of Codos has within my palace. 

“Simply restrict them to one position,” they suggested as if it were the simplest solution. 

Such a thing would be complicated. New laws drafted, votes held, people selected and reselected into positions. And then the gaps left would have to be filled. 

“But it would work, would it not?” They shrugged, old eyes glimmering with some pleased look at their idea, “Suddenly, the faith has ten people in only ten positions rather than ten people in thirty!” 

It would also disguise the sudden shuffle in staffing within the palace. Of course, new maids, servants, stable hands, chefs, and guards are being hired; a majority of the council positions and the people within them were shuffled around, too. The whole of the palace would essentially go through a restructuring. 

It was a solution that would kill two birds with one stone, to say the least. 

“The real question is how to go about getting it to happen.” Fig pointed out, “Council members have held several positions since your great-great-great-grandmother's time. The sudden change will bring questions.”

“We could use the alliance with the demon realm as a cover…” I suggest tentatively. They, too, had recently gone through a restructuring of their government and palace personnel when the current king took over. It had been a center point of our discussion during our dinners together at the envoy meeting. “I could say I was inspired by the new reforms he put into place and wished to implement some myself.” 

“Yes, that would work…” Fig nods, “If anything, people will comment on how odd it is that you waited this long to do such a thing. Usually, the newly crowned will add or change something or other as a sign of their new rule.” 

Fig was correct about that; my father had changed the religious structures in the kingdom in the first year of his coronation, and my grandmother had enacted new trade reforms during her first few months as queen as well. I had actually received a number of near-complaints about the lack of additions or changes in my new rule. 

Then again, I was barely fifteen when I was crowned. So many of these were brushed off with the excuse that I was simply not yet ready for such an undertaking. 

Three birds with one stone, then I suppose. 

“And it would make the demon realm look better upon us.” Fig adds, “If you relate your own positive changes within the palace and court to being inspired by their own.” 

Four birds. This plan was becoming very efficient. 

Not that it would be without difficulties, of course. 

The process could take months if not years to finalize. Reforms would have to be drafted and sent out, votes would be held, positions of high value would need to be filled, and we would need to watch who filled them.

“We should start today.” Fig tells me, “The open meeting will be the best place to announce it.” 

They were right. The open meeting was filled with the usual people: myself and the councilors, but also with an audience of hundreds of nobles. Peasants, merchants, foreign dignitaries, and heads of religion and guilds. If I announce it during that meeting, the presence of the public would prevent any moves from happening against the change. 

Especially any open resistance from groups such as the church of Condos. At least not without drawing suspensions and concerns towards themselves. 

It was a perfect stage.

“Right… I'll draft something to be read this afternoon then.” I nod, dismissing Fig and my small group of loyal councilors. Something of this size would take time to draft, and I barely had two hours before the meeting started. I needed every spare minute I could grab.

This, I think to myself as i start writing things down, will also serve as an excuse as to why I have been avoiding Gavin. 

I couldn't meet with you and spend our usual hours together with wine because I was simply too busy drafting this new reform to mark my mark with! 

Make that five birds. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/15 - Council Meetings (part 9)

Sinte was right, things felt both worse and better come morning. 

On one hand, the idea of having to handle the sheer amount of staff that Gavin had hired directly or indirectly seemed less of a daunting task now that I had slept and eaten. On the other the harsh sting of betrayal felt fresher than it had the night prior. 

I had risen early, as the sun came over the mountains, and went immediately to the kitchens to make myself food. The Chefs said nothing, for this was not an uncommon occurrence. I woke up horribly early most days, and I didn't want the poor maids and chefs to have to wake before the crack of dawn just to bring me breakfast. 

“Good morning, Simon.” The head chef, Marks, was a man who had been here since before my father was born. He was loyal, that much was certain, and he wasn't of the Codos faith. 

“Marks, I have an odd request for you.” 

“Hm?” The older man continues cooking whatever it is he was making. Something sweet and smoky smelling in a pan over the fire. 

“I need you to tell me which of the kitchen and serving staff were hired by Gavin or through his recommendations."

Marks stops then, turning to give me a glance with a raised brow, “Finally asking questions, are we, Simon?” 

I blink, taken aback for a moment, before nodding. I should be surprised, really; few people knew more about the inner workings of the place than the chefs. People loved to eat, and they loved to gossip, and who would overhear more than a chef willing to ply the talkative ones with food? 

“I’ll deliver the list of them personally, alongside a list of those I believe you can wholly trust.” He nods before shooing me off with his hands, “Now shoo, I have breakfast for everyone else to prepare.” 

I smile, taking the plate he offers me and ducking out of the kitchen. With Mark’s help, the kitchen and serving staff should be fairly easy to handle. He doesn't tolerate problems in his kitchen, so I doubt he kept on anyone he thought was suspicious or would turn out to be so. 

With that handled fairly well for the first thing in the morning, I let myself relax and enjoy the bread laden with ham and butter I swiped for breakfast. The rest of the day would be busy. 

I needed to speak with my secretary and have him shuffle meetings around so I could handle the guards before anything else. After Marks got me the kitchen staff list, I could make decisions on who to keep, who to move, and who to fire. The same would have to be done with the guard staff as soon as possible. Having trained and armed people around who may or may not have higher loyalties and be ready to overthrow me wasn't ideal in any case, so they took priority. 

Then I had to attend the audiences I missed during the next Trump; there were preparations for various galas, balls, and dinners to finish, political alliances to attend, and plans for the new demon realm alliance to settle as well. 

I sigh, stuffing the last of my breakfast into my mouth and reaching for a piece of paper. 

I could sort out what needed to be done today and what I could push off to later or delegate to someone else. The guards were there today, and the Star Gala needed to have its plan finalized because it was being held in two weeks' time. The Alliances with the kingdom to the north needed my attention sooner rather than later, and I would need to send out a notice to all the other kingdoms about our new alliance with the Demon Realm. And I could squeeze in some audiences. 

The other gala, party, and dinner plans could be delegated to the division that oversaw such preparations, which could then send plans to me for final approval. The meetings with some foreign delegations of lower rank could be handled by people within my court of similar or slightly higher rank. And the kitchen staff, while important to deal with soon, wasn't my greatest concern. 

Marks would handle all my meals and serving if I asked him to, I'm sure he’s already planning to do so after this morning. And with his list, it should be relatively quick to handle the matter. 

The issue was really benign, care about who noticed the changes in staff, and keeping the -certainly mass amount of- firings and new hires that would have to replace them secret, or at the very least kept on the down low. 

Sinte was planning to do an audit on the military forces, just to make sure we wouldn't be surprised or overrun suddenly by Cotos fanatics in the military should a coup occur. And she and I had come up with a small list of councilors I could trust as we began weeding through the rest. 

The list was embarrassingly small now that I looked at the names on it again. Myself, Sinte, Ser Fig, and a few others from the merchant, agricultural, and political groups. 

At the very least, I have the core sections covered if the rest of the council turned out to be working against me. Military, food, politics, and the economy were the lifeblood of any kingdom, and keeping those councilors who were loyal to me in the loop would serve me well should the worst happen. 

The worst of everything I have to deal with is Gavin. I need to somehow lessen his power within the castle and court, remove him from my personal affairs, and somehow get him off the guard (or at the very least have him no longer be the captain of the royal guard), all without him catching onto the fact that I know about the churches and his plans.

There had to be a solution…

[mokimoriwrites]

7/14 - Council Meetings (part 8)

Sinte was furious when I murmured what I had overheard. It was treason in its simplest forms, something worse when looked at through a more detailed lens. 

“Who knows how long they've been doing this…” She mutters angrily into her cup, pacing back and forth and back and forth. 

Truly, who knows? 

Gavin was assigned as my guard in childhood; his father was assigned to my own when they were children as well, and his grandfather to my grandmother, and his great-grandfather to my great-grandmother, and so on and so forth. 

For many, many generations now, his family has been guarding mine. 

But were they? Or were they just laying the groundwork for their church to take over? How many times did I overhear Gavin’s father mention religion, Cotos, or following the word of the light to my father? How many times had Gavin done the same to me? 

I had always taken it as a love for their own religion, that they practiced it so seriously, they breathed it into their everyday lives.

“They always were fanatics… But I would have never thought they'd go this far.” Sinte stops her pacing at last. “Did you know that he tried to get me to quit my position? He went to the head priest, and everything about it, they spent a whole year trying to get me to leave the military.” 

“Why?” Sinte was good at her job, had always been. Unlike most higher-ranking military officials, she was young and came from an unaffiliated family, and while it wasn't unusual for people like that to do well in the military, it was odd to see them do so well so quickly. 

“Because I’m a woman, and my place to them is at a man’s side bearing his children and washing his weary feet.” She scoffs. “That's what they all preach these days. Proper order this and everyone’s place that.” 

“How far do you think this goes?” I ask, wary all of a sudden. I had been… heartbroken? Over Gavin’s betrayal of him to the high priest, but certainly it went further than that. If his father and great-grandfather were in on it, then how far did it go? 

Gavin had hand-selected a majority of the castle guards and had picked them based on their ‘extraordinary devotion and loyalty to the kingdom’. But what if they were fanatics like him? Waiting for some signal to topple everything to the faith’s favor? 

“You mean who else is in on it?” Sinte sighs, “Likely any or most of the guards he hired directly. Any staff too…” 

Those were in the hundreds. Gavin had either picked them out personally, recommended them to other branches of palace staff, or had known them throughout their childhoods as well. 

More than half of the entire palace staff, maybe even some of the nobles our age, and the councilors who were younger were on that list in some way. 

“How do…” I sigh heavily. How do I fix this? Was there a fix? Or do I just wait until they have a coup and kill off my lineage? 

I have a brother and sister I need to think about.

“We’ll begin in the morning.” Sinte shrugs, ever pragmatic as she always was, “We’ll start with the palace guards and anyone who works closely with you, whoever handles your food, clothes, your rooms.” 

I nod silently, not able to think beyond much more than that at the moment. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/13 - Council Meetings (part 7)

The political meeting hosted on the border of our shared lands was… boring, honestly. 

The good kind of boring, I think. The kind of boringness that means the alliance is going to go well, that there won't be any bloody war breaking out, that trade may actually begin between our two lands. 

It was a historical moment; no other kingdom had ever even managed to get to the point of two envoys meeting with the Demon Realm before. Let alone begin to draft a trade deal and invite each other to some smaller galas occurring in the other’s kingdom. 

So truly it should have been exciting, right? That's what people would say if they heard of it. 

“You had a private dinner with the demon king? What was he like? Did he eat raw flesh?!” 

“The trade deal went through! What sort of goods will they be sending?” 

“Oh, they're coming to the Star-Ball! What sort of fashion do you think they’ll wear? I need to look into demon gala trends!” 

Everything was all a titter around me, excitement about what had happened and what was bound to happen next. 

But I couldn't remember a single thing about it. Not really, anyway. I remember the meeting going well, the deals benign drafted in our favor, the invites were tentative, but everyone seemed happy with how things were for the moment. 

Every detail of that entire week-long political balancing act seemed to have simply vanished from my mind when I arrived back at the palace. 

It was late at night, late enough that most others were already asleep and only the guards on duty were roaming about the halls. 

I knew Gavin stayed up late most nights, a habit from when we were young that he never shook. If he and I weren't buried in conversation and wine, then he was reading or singing or simply thinking until he felt like going to bed. 

I thought he would appreciate me stopping by his room. Just a quick check in, “hi! I'm back, good to see you again! I missed you so much, I spent every spare moment thinking of you.” Nothing untoward, nothing odd. The few times I had left the palace without him and returned this late, we did just that, though perhaps without the open acknowledgement of our romantic feelings. 

So I went along the familiar corridors, waved hello to passing guards, and came to Gavin’s bedroom door. 

It felt weird, seeing as I had hardly ever stopped by his room before. Certainly not without him being the one leading me here for one reason or another. It felt weird, especially since it was my first time coming to his room after we had started… started whatever it is that he and I have now. 

Well… what I thought we did. 

Had his door been closed this probably would have been avoided, and I still don't know if i would prefer it or not. If the door were closed, it would have knocked, they would have stopped talking, and I would have been left unaware for who knows how long about his true intentions. 

As it was, Gavin did not have his door closed, not all the way at least. 

It was cracked open, flickering firelight glowing from the little seam between it and its frame, casting jumping shadows on the floor in the hallway. It was barely cracked open, really, but enough so that I could hear every word that was said in those rooms. 

“I am glad to have one so devoted as you serving so closely to King Gavin.” The head priest spoke in the same voice he uses during sermons at the great church. His cadence was careful, calm; it would be soothing if I didn't find it so gratingly fake. “Especially in such trying times.” 

“It's my honor to serve the faith in any way I can.” The way Gavin replies sounds like he’s enthralled by it. Which makes the next part so difficult to swallow for me. “His majesty is rather… taken with me. I’m not happy at having to sin, even if it is simply faking such a thing, but for the safety of our people I'm more than willing.” 

“Your soul will suffer no blemishes for this, I can assure you. Sin is only true if there is a sinful intention behind it, especially in matters such as these. The priest assures him, “I am simply glad you found a way to control him. I admit I was shocked when he agreed to this whole ordeal in the first place.” 

Control me? I remember hesitating that very moment, pausing with my head frozen in the air as I listened more closely. 

“I’m sure that as long as I play at being attracted to him as I have been, he will eventually fall into order under the faith. Gavin replied with such confidence. “Frist i’ll have him call off the deal with the demon realm, and then I'll convince him to convert.” 

“And what a miracle that would be for the order of Codos.” The priest replies. “But you’re sure you can get him to do such a thing?” 

“Simon -his majesty, I mean- has… he’s always been rather obvious about such things. He can't stand the idea of me simply leaving, so if he won't comply with simple asks, I’ll simply threaten to leave him instead!” Gavin says this as if it's such a wonderful plan. 

“And once he is properly converted, we will be able to eradicate the demons once and for all.” The priest sighs. 

The two of them continue the conversation, the topic changing from Gavin’s manipulation of me to some other topic I cared not about. 

I don't remember how, but I ended up in front of Sinte’s door that night.

She didn't question why I was there, simply saw how pale I looked and had me sit down before grilling me on what had occurred. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/12 - Council Meetings (part 6)

For the week leading up to the departure of the political envoy, Gavin essentially clung to me. He spent the day hovering about me, hand constantly on my shoulder or elbow; he spent meals sitting as close as possible to me, our knees brushing together under the table; his evening conversations were spent curled up together on the lounges in my chambers, and he spent the evenings entangled with me in my bed. 

Not in any explicit way, mind you, just lying together. Holding my hand, quietly whispering conversations, a hesitant clinging as if he didn't know whether to stay or to go. 

I didn't mind it. In fact, it was something I had dreamed of since I realized I had a crush on him when we were children. I had always wondered if anything would ever come of it, and had long since resigned myself to the fact that nothing ever would. 

The Faith of Codos disapproved of many things, amongst which were same-sex relationships, so I had always assumed that Gavin would either never have such feelings (or if he did, shove them deep, deep down where the light would never find them) or would be disgusted by my own such feelings. 

I had not expected him to act on them first, had never expected him to act on them first. 

But now here we were, curled around each other just a night before my envoy and I were set to leave to see the demon realm's king. 

“You’re sure I can't come?” he had asked this every night since I first told him he wasn't coming along. 

“The envoy has already been decided. Besides, I want you here to keep things settled.” We were still in our busy season after all, lots of people of all types were moving in and out of the palace. I trusted Gavin more than anyone else to ensure that all went well and that everyone was safe here. 

“You’ll write as you promised?” he huffs instead of arguing further. 

“Yes, every stop we’re at, I'll send a letter.” 

“Good.” He huffs again, this time as if he had one something rather than in frustration, “We should get to bed then. You have a long day ahead tomorrow." 

I sigh and nod and let Gavin haul me out of the couch and pull me into the bedroom. We spend that night as we’ve spent the rest of the past week, curled around each other, hands held between us, drifting off to sleep whilst basking in each other’s presence. 

It was bliss. 

I only wish it had lasted longer before it all shattered into pieces. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/11 - Council Meetings (part 5)

Gavin, true to his softly spoken question that afternoon, was in fact waiting at my door that evening before I myself had even arrived at my rooms. 

I was surprised, worried even. I had agreed with Ser Fog’s idea, stating that we should at least follow through with the proposed meeting, with no set hopes of such a thing succeeding. 

“It's not likely to go anywhere, but I would rather we at least attempt it.” I had said evenly and with the care that a lifetime of practice gave me. 

The councilors nodded, murmurs of ‘yes, I suppose that makes sense’ and ‘there really isn't harm in seeing where it goes, is there?’ whispered about the room. 

Gavin, to my surprise, hadn't made any open claims against such a thing.

“Gavin, you’re here earlier than I thought you'd be.” I smiled, letting both of us into my chambers. 

He returns the smile, starting to chatter about random things and court gossip while I quickly change out of my formal wear. 

“I'm surprised I was here before you as well,” he says once I rejoin him in the small sitting room. There were snacks on the table, and he had already poured wine for both of us. “Meeting running late?" 

“There were some additional things we needed to work out for next week.” That was when I, and a small envoy, would be meeting with the current King of the Demon ZRealm and their envoy at a small estate on the border of our two kingdoms. It wasn't wholly ideal, but our lands didn't really meet anywhere else. Both kingdoms come to gather at one small area, the masses like arrows pointing at each other and only touching at the nose. 

“Just let me know when and how long so I can pack accordingly,” he shrugs, sip[ig his wine and nearly choking on it when I reply. 

“You’re not coming.” 

“What do you mean I'm not coming?!” He chokes out after a moment of coughing and spluttering around  his drink, "I'm your guard!” 

“You don't like demons.” I say simply, “I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."  

“Who will protect you?!” 

“The external military forces will be present in the enjoy and we have guards on staff who don't mind demons.” 

“But-”

“Gavin, you would hate it." I sigh, “You would be angry and uncomfortable and upset the whole time, and I can't do that to you. Both as a friend and as your king.” 

That and demons supposedly have the ability to sense things such as strong emotions directed at them. Gavin’s hatred for them could be palatable if it were true. It was simply safer and easier for everyone if we carefully selected the envoy to be made up of people who were mostly fine with the idea of demons. 

He doesn't say anything else about the matter for the night; instead, we continue on with our usual chatter. 

It was nice getting back into the routine of things. 

An excerpt that wasn't really our normal. Usually, we sat across from each other or on adjoining couches, but tonight he was practically pressed against me on the same seat. And he usually leaves around midnight, but tonight he stays with me, curling around me whenever I try to move to retire for the evening. 

“Gavin?” I ask him after the third failed attempt to retire both of us for the night. Was he drunk? He usually could hold more liquor than I could. 

“Simon… Why are you trying to get me to leave?” he was pouting, face teary-eyed and flushed. 

“What?” 

“You’re trying to kick me out of your rooms, and you won't let me come along to the talks with the other kingdom.” He all but wails, clinging to me, “I know we’ve never talked about it, but I just assumed… that you felt the same way I did.” 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/8 - Council Meetings (part 4)

Am I actually considering it? It's what floats through my mind again and again over the next few days, mostly whenever I'm lying in bed trying to fall asleep.

Gavin seemed disgusted about the idea of it, not that I'm surprised about such a thing. The faith preaches absolute loyalty to its words and rules; it also preaches absolute aversion to anything demonic. 

If Gavin hadn't been indentured into the royal guard as a child by his father, who was captain before him, then he likely would have joined the holy order. 

It's been a point of contention between us, even when we were children. The royal family does not follow the faith, never has, and likely will be guided away from ever doing so. The church is powerful, holding a good amount of sway in the government already, without also having the ruling family under its thumb. 

So we don't practice it, we don't worship their gods, don't pander to their ways, don't allow them to grab at any more power than they already have. My own father greatly pissed off the high priest with his policies that actually restricted the power the church held, and I was angering them by allowing more religions to enter the kingdom's council. 

Gavin had thought it when we were children, insisting that everyone was a member of the faith whether they wished to be or not. Now, he avoids the topic, but still, every now and then, he pushes for me to follow its teachings. 

He was avoiding me again recently, hadn't come to my chambers for our nightly reports and chats, and hadn't stood by my side during meetings as he usually did. Now that I think about it, I hadn't even seen him in the castle for the past few days. 

“Your Majesty?" General Sinte gently pokes my side, drawing me from my thoughts. 

Whilst Gavin handled the royal guard, Sinte was in charge of the kingdom’s military forces. Essentially Gavin handled any internal military affairs for the kingdom while Sinte handled the external ones. 

She and I hadn't known each other until I ascended the throne, but being barely older than I was meant she was a touch more understanding of my moods and habits than the older members of the council. 

“You’re making that face again, sir.” She explains that when I look at her with a raised brow, she's not one for physical interactions aside from fighting. “Thinking about Fig’s ordeal?” 

We were walking to what would be the final meeting on this matter now. I would be held to make a decision based on the many councilors' advice on it. After that, we would deduce how to proceed based on my decision. 

“You’ve been quiet during those meetings.” I say in response, "What's your opinion on the matter?” 

In actuality, there were a few people I was actually holding onto the advice of when it came to this particular situation. Fig for one as he started it, a few of the religious councilors, a few of the merchant and guild ones, and the military ones; Sinte and Gavin. 

Sinte had yet to share her thoughts about the situation. 

She’s quiet as she looks at me, continuing to keep her pace slow as we walk along the hallways. 

“I think it's a good idea,” she says finally, which is not something I expected. Sinte, like Gavin, was a member of the faith of Codos. Though perhaps less fanatic than he, I couldn't really say, as she and I were not so close. Regardless, any member of the Codos church even considering the alliance was… odd. 

“Really?” My shock must show more on my face and in my tone than I intend it to, for she pulls a face of her own in response. 

“I know I follow Codos, but… It makes sense politically and militarily." She shrugs, “The Demon Realm has always been the worst enemy we face. No wins for either side, heavy losses in both men and land, economic problems caused by the wars, droughts, floods, fires, and magic issues.” She lists historical events that had occurred during or quickly post-war between us and the demon realm. “It never really ends well for anyone.” 

“And you see the alliance as a way to end that?” 

"In a peaceful way. Allied powers are less likely to go to war with each other,” she shrugs again, “And aside from them being ‘demons’, which really isn't a reason, no one knows why the demon realm was exiled from the other kingdoms in the first place.” 

This was correct. At some point, history gets muddled, and the world goes from getting along to being separated into many shattered parts. The Demon Realm got pushed the furthest out of all of those parts. I had always thought that in some way it was racially motivated; every other kingdom was human or human-esque in appearance, while the demons weren't. 

“And it's not like we’d be the first to try. Just last year, the Nordic kingdom attempted to ally itself with the demon realm. They didn't get very far into discussions, but they tried.” Sinte points out again, “In fact, I can't recall anyone getting further than the first letter, which ends with either a battle or a resounding no from the demon side.” 

“We got an acceptance letter…” I murmur softly, thinking back on the history of alliances with the demon realm now that she has pointed it out. It was true; no one had gotten that. At least not that was recorded or shared with the other kingdoms. 

Site only nodes as we finally come to the council room doors, where we part ways. I enter from a back door that takes me right to the throne dias at the back of the room, while Sinte walks through the main door to find her seat amongst her peers. 

It's a surprise when I find Gavin waiting for me at the door around the corner. 

“Simon.” He says simply, smiling. 

“Gavin, is something wrong?” Usually, during council meetings, he stands beside me or is seated on the dais with me, as my personal guard. But during discussions such as this one, he typically assigns someone else to me so that he can participate in the discussion as a councilor of internal military affairs. 

“No,” he sighs, hand reaching for my face, “I just missed you.” he smiles, thumb stroking my cheek before the clock tower bell rings and brings both of our gazes apart. 

The meeting was starting, and we were now late. 

“I’ll see you after ok? Tonight?” He asks after a moment, eyes searching mine with a look I hadn't seen in them before. 

“Of course.” I smile back, taking his hand in mine as it slides from my cheek. Holding onto it for as long as I can as he walks away to enter through the main doors with the other last councilors arriving. 

My heart feels like it’ll beat out of my chest, and I have to smack my face a few times to bring the blush of my cheeks down a touch before I enter the room myself. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/7 - Council Meetings (part 3)

The days pass in a blur, more meetings, more training, more audiences being granted. It's the peak of the season for the Castle, jousts and competitions just around the corner, the harvest season was coming to a close, and invitations for the autumn balls and galas from other kingdoms were beginning to arrive. 

He was so busy that he hadn't really given much thought to Fig’s crazed idea about the demon realm. Hadn't even considered it or lent a single moment of his energy to it, not a single thought of it had crossed his mind, actually. 

So imagine his surprise when Ser Fig suddenly shows up, Your majesty!" He calls out, hands waving about some old, singed-looking scroll, "Your Majesty, I have the most wonderful news!” 

“Ser Fig, how can I help you?” I pause, waiting for the older man to reach my side before we begin walking again. I had meetings with the merchants of their neighboring kingdom, followed by a meeting with the kingdom’s eastern regimen of soldiers, and then I had another list of audiences to revise. 

If I were lucky, I could get lunch between the meetings. 

“The Demon King responded to my letter about an alliance! He wishes to invite you to meet to start drafting an agreement!" 

I stop dead in my tracks as Fig shoves the burnt scroll at me, the horned insignia of the Demon Realm shining wickedly from the front of it. “What?” 

“The alliance that we discussed at the council meeting! With the Demon Realm! The King is very excited to participate in such a thing!” Fig continues walking as he prattles on, not even noticing my lag in pace. “He’s about your age, you know, just coordinated to! Very eager to make new alliances and right the wrongs of history!” 

I… I was going to get lunch today, was I? 

“He… how?!” Gavin staggers as he enters the meeting room. The councilors, including Ser Fig, have already vacated. My schedule after being handed the scroll that afternoon was entirely ruined. No meeting with merchants, no meeting with soldiers, and no lunch. 

Though I did make time for the audiences. The people who came to those can't afford to have their time wasted or come back some other day. A brief recess was held during the long and arduous council meeting, ng where Fig’s idea was discussed in depth, during which I attended to the machines, and they had lunch. 

A fact that my stomach grumbles at in discontent. 

“Apparently, he knows a man who knows a she-devil, who knows a noble, who’s friends of the current Demon King.” I sigh, “You didn't bring snacks with you by chance?” 

“Snacks, Simon?!” Gavin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before snapping shut with a click, “Really? Right now? Snacks!?”

“I haven't eaten since last night’s wine…” I sigh, rubbing at the migraine forming behind my eyes. 

“You… why didn't you eat?” Gavin’s already at the door, bossing some servants around in demand of food before I have a chance to answer him. 

“Emergency morning meeting about the summer floods not receding in the western farmlands, so no breakfast, afternoon was booked solo before Fig’s decision, and then after that it got busier, so no lunch.” I sip from the stale glass of water on the desk before me. 

And with how things were going, I wasn't likely to get dinner either. 

“You need to eat…” Gavin brushes the back of his hand against my forehead. I lean into it more than I mean to. “You can't carry yourself like this.”

The tone of his voice is one that I know means he is speaking of my father. The great king, the wonderful man, and a decent parent, who drove himself into an early grave.

Too much work, too few meals, too little care for himself over the value he held our people to. 

Watching him work himself to death had inflicted similar habits upon me, something which Gavin was horribly against and actively worked to prevent. 

“I know.” I sigh softly, letting him remove the heavy crown from my head. The migraine is already fading without its pinching weight around my temples. “There was just too much to be done.” 

“And Fig isn't helping." Gavin cuts in, “He’s a traitor., I knew he was no good on the council when your father was in charge,e and I knew it would only bring trouble once you ascended!” He was ranting now, hands slipping from my hair as he paced the room behind my chair. 

“He’s not of evil intentions.” I sigh again. Convincing Gavin of this after the old man’s recent actions may be near impossible, but it was true. 

Ser Fig was old and perhaps a touch senile, but he was not evil. Everything he had ever done on the council was in the interest of the kingdom and its people, even when those things went against the royal family. 

I had always had some touch of respect for the man because of it. 

For some reason, one that I have yet to understand, he legitimately saw this as something the kingdom needed. 

“I just wish he could explain himself in a way that made sense. It would make it easier to wrap my head around this matter.” I rub at my eyes again, perking up only when food is brought in and quickly placed before me. “You haven't eaten either.” I motioned for Gavin to sit next to me.

“Are you considering this?”He asks after a moment of silence, where he simply remains where he is, standing behind me. 

At the moment, I have no answer for him. Instead, I gesture for him to sit again as I stuff more cheese into my face. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/6 - Council Meetings (part 2)

“Your Majesty?” There is a soft knock on the door before it opens without me having to answer it. This is a usual routine for me and my guard, Sir Gavin. 

“Gavin, wonderful. What's the report?” I ask him. Gavin was the head of the royal guards and had been my personal guard since we were both children. We had made a habit of having a daily meeting in the evening, after dinner, but before full retirement for the day, to go over any and all things pertinent. 

This could involve skirmishes the royal knights had reported on during patrols about the kingdom, or drama between the servants. Honestly, it was refreshing to speak so candidly with someone. 

“Maria and Therasa are at it again~” he tells me with a smile. 

“Ah!” I mock gasp, hand flying to my chest as we both fall into our seats across from each other at the small round table by the fireplace, “No! Tell me everything.” 

“Well, you remember how last week the two of them got into some petty fight? Apparently, this morning Maria found her bonnet was missing, guess where it was?”

We spend most of the evening like this, chatting aimlessly, sometimes about matters of importance, mostly about random little things. We move from the table to the small sitting area I keep in my chambers, glasses of wine in our hands as we talk for hours. 

“By the Gates, I needed this.” I sigh heavily as I drain my second glass of wine. 

“Rough day, Simon?” Gavin asks with a frown as his brow furrows. He was one of the few people who protested my ascension to the throne four years ago after my father’s death. 

I was but fifteen then, and he was worried the weight of the crown of the kingdom would break something within me. 

“No, just annoying in all honesty.” Though perhaps a king should not call his duties annoying, “Ser Fig is insisting on some new wild idea, and it's got the whole council in a tizzy.” 

“Again?” Ser Fig was known for causing tizzies in the council. He had, historically, prevented an important trade deal from taking place as some of his ideas had stalled discussions for over three years. “What is it this time?” 

“I wasn't paying attention. I stopped listening to them argue about it after ten minutes.” I shrug, not the entire truth, but if Gavin found out that Fig was trying to ally us with the demon realm, it would cause issues. 

Especially since Gavin was a devout follower of the faith of Codos, which was heavily against all things demons and demonic. 

“I ended up getting quite a ways through my short drama,” I tell him in jest. We have a running joke that when I space out, I'm actually writing and directing a short theatrical play in my head. I believe I've finished at least fifty-seven since Gavin first started the joke between us when we were eight. 

“What's this one about?” He laughs, settling back into a relaxed lounge, “Another knight?”

“No, this one is about a bowl of fruit!” I declare, empty glass waving about as I paint my words in the air, “They go on an adventure!” 

“Fruit?” 

I shrug before continuing, “In my defense, I started writing it during Fig’s speech.” 

“You’re terrible, Simon!” Gavin barks out another laugh, which triggers my own fit of giggles and we pass another few hours this way. 

By the time he leaves for his own rooms, it's nearly midnight; by the time I collapse into my own sleep, it is nearly dawn. 

My body may have been tired, but my mind is plagued by vivid pictures painted with Gavin’s laugh and his rough hands and his delighted smile. 

Even his furrowed brow makes its way into the figments of my imagination as I slip off to sleep while the sun slips above the hills in the distance. 

Part 2 @dragonhumper

[mokimoriwrites]

7/5 - Sacrifice Gone Wrong (part 4)

Things were… going rather well, actually. 

The God of Bones had been a little on edge, bringing in a human man to his realm. Keeping him around his children, giving him access to their food. 

But Thomas had quickly shown himself to be trustworthy and truly interested in nothing else but cooking and learning about cooking. 

The man muttered in his sleep about cooking, hands twitching as if mixing batters and frostings even in his dreams. 

Arlo and Elise were fond of him as well, if only for the treats he provided them at request. 

Scones, cakes, cookies, meriquines, partires, frostsings, icecreams, candies, the God hadn't even known so many sweet things even existed prior to this in all honesty. 

His children were well fed, not just on sweets and treats of course for he was a good father and made sure their diets were balanced, and they were happy.

His realm and its estate was filled with the soft giggles and loud laughter of children who knew naught but joy and love. They napped in his arms, curled up beside him every night for their stories, and spent all day running wild in the house with their toys. 

It brought a smile to God's face every day. 

But again the year was drawing to that day again. The bay where a procession of wailing, drumming, and chanting would come up the mountain and into his temple. 

Where it would disturb his children’s rest and bring fear and apprehension to their eyes as they remembered that they had had a life prior to this, one that was not happy nor safe. 

And the God of Bones hated it. 

Almost as much as he hated that noise and those scared looks on his darling's faces, he dreaded the sacrifices that were to come. All throughout the year, the people behaved. offering toys, food, incense, treasure, all appropriate things he had allowed to be offered. 

But that is what they did every year, until the ritual time came. It was then that they always did something stupid. Like trying to bring him a bride, or his children a bride, or when they brought Thomas. 

Would they try to bring Thomas a bride this year? He would have to ask the young man if he was interested in such a thing… 

Maybe they could be his sous chef? That was a thing bakers had wasn't it? 

He was getting ahead of himself, after his lengthy and specific threats one would hope that they wouldn't be bringing any humans at all this year and would stick to something nice and simple. 

And if they did… well, there were other realms that worshipped him and made offerings. He did not need this one, especially if they insisted on being so difficult. 

And so as the procession began, the drumming and chanting growing louder as the parade climbed the mountain to his temple, the God of Bones felt wary. 

His children clung close to him, even as Thomas tried to calm them with treats and sweets. Their eyes glanced towards the edge of the void, where the veil got thinner every year during this noise. 

“It's happening again…” Elise whimpered, burying her face into her papa’s robes. 

“It sounds different this time,” Arlo mutters, holding onto both his papa’s and his little sister’s hands. 

“It does…” The god agrees quietly as he and Thomas try to soothe the children. 

There was no wailing, no sobbing, or cries of despair and grief that usually followed the parade as worshippers mourned the loss of a human life to come. 

It was just him drumming and chanting this year. 

How odd indeed. Perhaps they had finally listened to him? 

A miracle, truly, if that were the case. 

“My Lord?” Thomas asks after the procession grows silent. 

“Children go to your rooms, Thomas remains in the kitchens.” He says simply, ushering his little ones to their little nest. “I will return shortly.” 

And so he tucks his little dears in, instructs Thomas to remain in his area of the house, “The guards will not like it if you wander whilst I am away.” 

“The guards?” 

“Remain here, Thomas.” 

And then he was gone, in the blink of an eye, he was in the offering room. Hoovering between the barrier of realms, more of a spirit who could be sensed but not seen, watching in great interest as a… 

A chicken was set on the altar. 

A chicken wearing a small ceremonial headdress and decked out in ritual ornaments… 

A… 

“A chicken?” he asks simply, manifesting wholly next to the priests in his confusion. 

The men jump away, some of them screaming in shock, one of them fainting in fear at his presence. 

The bones of his neck snap as he tilts his head to look at the chicken on his altar. It tilts its head back at him, seemingly just as bewildered by its presence here as he was. 

“Uh… yes my Lord.” The head Priest, a younger man this time with light brown hair and large blue eyes, gazes up at him, terrified. “You… you demanded that no humans be brought to you so…” 

“So you brought a… chicken… in bridal wear?” 

“In ceremonial offering clothes… not.. Not bridal wear. We… we aren't offering the chicken as a bride.” The priest explains. 

Thank the other Gods for that. He truly did not wish to explain to his cousin, the God of Fauna, why a chicken had been offered as a bride to him. 

“Why… why a chicken?” he asks instead, head snapping to look at the young head priest. 

“It's the best egg hen in the entire kingdom!” a woman declares from behind them. And the God of Bones twists his entire upper body around, spine and ribs snapping apart as he does so, to look at her.

The older woman does not flinch; instead, her arms cross, and she glares up at him. 

“She lays the best and the most eggs out of any chicken in this entire kingdom, the entire world, I'm sure of!" 

“And you are?” 

“The chicken’s prior owner, my Lord,” the head priest tells him, “We… we asked for animals of talent and prestige, and her chicken won… so we are offering it to you.”

“For… what purpose?”

“Eggs.” The chicken’s owner scoffs, “The best eggs I'm sure even you yourself have ever had.”

“For the baker to use…?” the priest adds on as well, “if you still have him in your service, that is, if not, eggs are also very good for children to eat!” 

They were… they brought him a chicken… an ‘egg hen’ to be exact. 

The best egg hen, apparently. 

“This… suffices quite well, actually.” He says, body righting itself as he looks at the chicken again with renewed interest. “Does the egg hen have a name?” 

“Brunhilda.” The old woman tells him, pride coloring her voice, “Lady Brunhilda, on account of how wonderful an egg hen she is.” 

“Very well, I shall accept this… Lady Brunhilda, the egg hen, as an offering.” The God of Bones nods, and then the light of the room turns green, bright and vibrant like grass after a fresh summer rain. 

And then he is gone, in his home with his children and Thomas staring curiously at the chicken -at Brunhilda-.

Elise gasped with great delight, hugging the chicken above her head and shrieking as she ran about the room, chanting, “Chicken! Chicken!” 

“Her name is Brunilda, Elise. Apparently, she is a very good egg hen.” Her pap tells her, to which Elise turns to look at him, yelling a sharp, 

“NO!” 

“No?” “NO! She is Queen Brunhilda! All hail Brunhilda! Queen of chickens!" Elise shouts and begins to chant, “Queen Brunhilda!" as she runs about the room again. 

Arlo is quick to join her, shouting, “All hail the chicken queen!” as their father and Thomas watch on in confused amusement. 

“So… an egg hen?” Thomas asks him. 

“Yes.” 

“For baking?”

“The eggs are., I don't think the children would approve of eating her majesty.” 

Thomas nods in agreement, “I can make a wonderful soufflé with her eggs.”

[mokimoriwrites]

7/4 - Sacrifice Gone Wrong (part 3)

Arlo and his little sister, Elise, had done nothing but thrive in their new father’s realm. 

Still eight and five, but now two and one years after they had joined him here. 

The three of them were happy, the house had grown more cluttered, and God spent less time brooding in endless silence. 

The children spent most of their time playing or sleeping, curled up against him or in his lap as they napped or racing from room to room with their playthings. 

It was loud, the once silent air of the void now filled with the joyous squabbles of children who experience nothing but love and happiness. The God of Bones could not be happier, he thinks. 

But once again, the humans did not seem to pay attention to his wishes, nor to his warning. 

With the upcoming yearly ritual drawing close, he had sent the priests a vision instructing them to bring something for the children. Toys, sweets, clothes. So long as it was not alive, he had not cared what it was. If it needed to be something special, then they could simply bring their best snack, their most expensive toy, or clothes made by the best seamstresses. 

But again the procession starts, the drumming, the marching, the wailing as the long parade of followers climbs and cries their way up the mountain into his temple. 

Elise stops her game, worried eyes turning towards him as the noise breaches the veil and bleeds into their home realm. Arlo wakes from his nap, curled in his father’s klapo. 

“Is it happening again?” his little boy asks softly, eyes clearly from waking too soon. 

“Yes.” He sighs, smiling gently at his daughter and bringing her into his arms as well, “It's just the procession. Do not worry, they cannot harm you here.” 

His children were safest in his realm, in this estate. Though they could not see it, there were many things that lurked in the shadows, in between the layers of this place; they heeded his call and his commands.

They would serve him or his children at their whims. 

And they would slaughter anything that tries to breach their safety. 

Elise says nothing, just whimpers and curls into his grasp more. Arlo, sweet darling Arlo, who is such a good big brother, smiles and curls up around her as comfort. 

“Arlo, stay here with your sister. I must attend to this.” The God of Bones lays both his children down in the nest of a bed, their room has become. The two little beds pushed together and plied high with pillows and blankets and soft plush toys that they fell asleep in every night, if they did not fall asleep atop their father first. “Elise, everything will be well. Do not worry.” 

Arlo nods and Elise only clings tighter to her older brother as he leaves. There's a flutter in the in-between spaces around the room as the creatures flex and fold into gaps of the realm, gathering and curling about the children' s presence like snakes protecting a hoard. 

In all honesty, God truly did think they would listen this time. What part of ‘do not bring me any more brides. Do not bring any brides for my children. Do not bring any more children.’ is so difficult to understand. 

In the offering room on the sacrificial altar lies a man. He is in his late twenties, maybe, certainly young, with sunken eyes and a gaunt expression on his face. Instead of being dressed in the typical ceremonial bridal clothes, he is dressed in simple work clothes. 

An apron around his waist, a cotton shirt with long sleeves and a high collar buttoned all the way to his chin, thick boots meant for long days of labor. 

His hands were calloused, his arms strong, certainly not like the soft little dolls of men and women that were usually brought. Young adults who had spent the past few years of their lives at the very least being prepared for the role of a God’s Bride. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he sighs. Truly, he did mean to sound more angry and ‘scary’ than he did weary and annoyed, but he simply could not help [ the tired confusion from seeping into his voice. “Why is there another person…? I told you I did not want any more people.” 

“You told us we were not to send you nor your children any more brides, and you forbid other children from being brought to you.” The head priest, the same from last year, bowed as he spoke to the presence in the room, “We have instead brought you a servant who will be of great use!” 

He did not want a servant; he did not need a servant. And they knew full well what he had meant last year and the year before. 

“Are you displeased?” He asks after a long moment of tense silence. 

“I am considering how I wish to slaughter you,” God answers tersely. 

“There's no need for that, please.” The young man on the table speaks as he brings himself to sit with great effort. “My name is Thomas,I'mm a chef. I'm only twenty-seven, but I'm going to die soon from an illness, and there's so much more I wish to do.” 

“Being sacrificed brings you to death quicker, boy, not later. This will not extend your life at all.” God tells him. 

“The boy you took in two years ago, last year, he had not aged. Your realm does not adhere to the rules of this one.” Thomas continues. “I would like to work there, as a chef.” 

“He's the best one in the entire kingdom!” The head priest tacks on, “Very talented, especially with sweets and confections. The children of the whole kingdom love him!” 

Sweets and confections… best in the whole land…

In a way, he supposes they brought what he wanted. Instead of one treat, they had given what is essentially an eternal supply of one via a talented chef. 

“And I wish to continue doing so. I don't really care who for, so long as I can hone my craft for longer.” Thomas declares. 

“Papa?” Elise murmurs, hiding behind Arlo, “Who’s he?” 

“This is Mr. Thomas. He’s going to work here as a chef from now on.” 

“A baker, really, sir.” Thomas corrects meekly. His pallor has already faded from sickly to healthy, his eyes no longer sunken in, and his face no longer gaunt. “Cehfs cook more savory things, I focus on baking and confections.” 

“Like cakes and candy!?” Arlo gasps, delighted, “You can make cakes?!” 

“Yes, though I specialize in cookies…” 

“COOKIES?!” Elise shrieks. 

Well… it hadn't gone as he wished, but this did end up rather well, didn't it? 

The torches had turned green once again, and the God of Bones had gained yet another living being in his realm. 

And this year, he made a very clear, very lengthy, very specific list of demands to the priests. 

No people. Point blank, period, no discussions, no loopholes, no workarounds. 

Bring another person to the altar again, and your entire people shall be obliterated. 

[mokimoriwrites]

7/3 - Sacrifice Gone Wrong (part 2)

It had been a year since Arlo had joined the God of Bones in his realm. There was now a small estate, with luscious gardens and sprawling rooms just for him and his comforts. Many of the offerings made over the years, ones of food, items, treasures, and the like, had made their way into the home, furnishing the place and providing extra little comforts and luxuries. 

The people still did make such offerings, now including children' s toys, sweet treats little ones were fond of, and even clothing in children's sizes. 

The god considered these offerings to Arlo and accepted them on his behalf. When the little one was older, he could make such decisions as to take or not to take them on his own. Not that such a day would come anytime soon, aging was slowed considerably here, and the God of Bones had full intention of extending his life for as long as possible, perhaps even for an eternity if he could do such a thing. 

A year had passed, and the two were happy, patient, and child as Arlo insisted, and in all honesty, God had no arguments to this. He enjoyed holding the little one, playing silly games with him, reading stories to him, and generally just taking care of Arlo. 

He had found purpose in the boy who did not flinch away from his horrifying appearance. 

And despite all his insistence, a year later, there was another procession. More drums, chanting, wailing, as the procession made its way up the steps and into his temple. 

Another bride to be sacrificed, as if he had not explicitly told them last year he wished for no such thing. 

So when he peered through the veil into the altar room, annoyed at the interruption to his otherwise peaceful routine, he turned furious. 

There, dressed in bridal wear, against the priests and procession was a girl no older than five. 

“What is the meaning of this?” It hisses and groans as it fades from his realm to theirs, “Why would you bring a child here, dressed for a ceremony?” 

“To offer to you, as we have done for every year, my lord.” The head priest bows, a different man than last year. Younger with narrower eyes and darker hair. 

“I did tell you, did I not? That I did not wish for any more brides?” He motioned, the bones of his arms and hand creaking and splinters before mending back together again, “But here I find another bride -no worse, a child dressed in a bride’s gown.”

There is silence, and he can feel Arlo’s presence slip beside him as the boy joins him on the other side of the veil. Just like when they first met, the little one clings to the bones of his leg, hiding in the folds of his robes. 

“Ah, I understand your fury, my lord. Please excuse me, but you are incorrect. We did not bring a bride for you, but one for your new son. As a celebration of his joining your Holy lineage.” The head priest bows again as he explains, and the girl stares wide-eyed at the God before her. 

“Arlo and this girl both are far too young for a thing such as marriage.” The God snarls, “For you to-”

“I wouldn't mind a little sister,” Arlo says quietly, suddenly, casting a hush over the gathered crowd. “I think it'd be nice to be a big brother…” He murmurs again, glancing up at his papa before looking back towards the little girl. Giving her a small wave. 

The little one does her best to return it, though her hands are weighed down by the heavy fabrics of the ceremonial bridal wear. 

A sister? For Arlo, this girl would be a sibling, and for him… for him, it would be another child, a daughter to go along with the son. 

The God of Bones thinks about it for a moment, considering the many changes he has already faced with taking in Arlo, and decides, without much hesitation, that he also would not mind taking in another child. 

It would be good for Arlo to have a playmate, good for him to have a sibling so close to his age, good for him to not be the only human stuck in his realm of Death and Dying. 

Yes, and little sister would be very good for Arlo, and it would be good for the girl as well. 

For what well-meaning parents would allow their five-year-old daughter to be dressed up in bridal wear and paraded up a mountain and into a temple to be killed in ritual sacrifice? 

Certainly not any decent ones. 

Obviously, this little girl, as Arlo before her, needed better parents. And who was the God of Bones to deny how good he was at being a papa? 

“I will take this one, as another child of my house,” The cracking sound of his voice echoes throughout the whole temple and down the mountainside. “If you dare try to bring another child up this mountain for sacrifice again, I shall drown your land in blood and bones.” 

With that and a flourish, the God, his son, and his new daughter all disappear beyond the veil. The light of the torches turns into a vibrant and angry green.

[mokimoriwrites]

7/2 - Sacrifice Gone Wrong (part 1)

Gods were fickle creatures, beings of power and design unknown who controlled all that was life here. 

Gods of animals, Gods of plants, Gods of the rain, Gods of the hearth. 

There were hundreds, thousands even, of them. From the largest,t most powerful of beings known to all to the small ones who were just as fickle and just as cruel as their larger kin. 

Many demanded sacrifices or offerings of some kind. Food, incense, treasures, songs, worship. They would make their demands known, and the item would be brought to their altar in ceremony and given to them. Some were rather particular, others did not care so long as they got something, others still wanted nothing and were bothered with it anyway. 

The God of Bones and The Dying was one of these. He was one of the more powerful Gods, an ancient one older than most of his other kin. He did not like offerings or worship or prayers; instead, he preferred to be left to his own devices in his vacant, shadowy realm. 

But as is the woe of Gods, they are hardly ever left to their own devices for long periods of time. And so the God of Bones was soon bothered by yearly sacrifices. 

Some local people had gotten it into their heads that he had cursed them with droughts, famines, plagues, and illnesses that ravaged their lands. And that he would only relent should they offer him a bride. 

Each year, a new one was brought to him. Boy or girl, pretty faced with long lashes and soft skin, tall and lean and unblemished by the world. They were always eighteen or nineteen, never older, never younger. They had to be pretty but talented as well, in song or poetry or writing or weaving or music. They must be trained in all the duties a God would expect from its spouse as well, whatever those expectations were (they weren't wholly sure in truth). 

And so the God of Bones was bothered, very severely bothered. 

It preferred its silent, empty realm, preferred its own company to that of others. It wanted no such bride, it had placed no such curse, it had made such demands of the people. 

And yet every year, things were the same. 

The creaking, crackling noise echoes through the empty void of his home as he moves. The knobs of his spine protruding from his translucent flesh, the lengths of his humorous bones uncovered by it. His long black hair fell to the floor in stringy, tangled tresses, his eyes glowed from beneath the bangs that fell down his face and ribs. 

He could hear the procession, the steady footsteps ascending his temple stairs, the beating of drums and wailing of worshippers as yet another bride was brought to his altar to be slaughtered. 

He sent each of them away, shutting them off to the afterlife, not moments after they appeared here. 

The people took it as a sign of prosperity when this happened, the flames of the torches in his temple turning from orange to a sickly green. 

It meant nothing to him, truly. The offerings, the fire, the wails. He had not wanted this, not in the hundreds of years that it occurred. 

But the people truly did believe he had caused their misery and would deliver them salvation. 

He was not a being who delivered such things. 

He could feel the rumbling as the veil between his realm and their world became thinner, as the small shimmering curtain that allowed the souls of the sacrificed to pass through grew into a hole to allow them entrance. 

He sighs wearily, neck snapping as his head turns over his shoulder like an owl. 

And like an owl’s his eyes pause, wide and shocked as he stares at the little bing before them. 

A body had indeed passed through the veil, a full body, not just its soul. 

He could hear the screams of distress, shouts of panic from the other side, the questions of the bride-to-be as their whole ritual fell apart. 

Before him is a boy. A boy who is not meant to be here, a boy who was not a part of the ritual they had planned, a little boy who was staring up at him with eyes as wide as his own were currently. 

They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, the God’s body creaking and cracking as it shifts around so that all of him is facing the little thing. 

The boy doesn't flinch as the sickening noise, doesn't tremble in fear as his appearance, does not shake or yelp in terror as he reaches his hand out to the little thing, the bones of his fingers brushing his cheek. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice rough and raw from years of use. “Usually, they send someone older than you.”

Now he begins to shake, tears welling in his big, round eyes, a little sob bubbling its way up from his throat. 

Instead of running from him, instead of hiding from his presence, the little boy flings himself onto the God and clings like a babe to its parent. 

“Oh?” 

The little boy wails now, trying to climb into God's arms, clinging and crying and burying his little head in the folds of the robe’s fabric as he sobs. 

“Now, now, little one… what is this all for?” God does not wholly know what to do, only that it has never had this particular reaction from a human before. 

It is clear that the child wishes to be held, though, so he picks him up, and in the blink of an eye, the two of them are standing in the sacrificial room of his temple. 

The humans gasp and scream, the wailing grows louder and is then silenced immediately. People his, curl up into each other to get away from him; some press against the wall in an attempt to be as far as they can. 

There are priests in the middle of the room, a bride girl of nineteen with them, dressed in the ceremonial gowns all the brides before her had worn. 

“My Lord!” one of the priests starts, bowing deeply even as he trembles in fear at his God’s presence. “Our apologies, this boy interrupted the ceremony and entered your realm without permission, please allow us to try again-!”

“That is unnecessary.” God’s voice sounds like the haunting winds over a graveyard, echoing off the chamber's walls and silencing everything in an instant. 

The boy clings to him, burying his head more in his robes. 

“This boy, who does he belong to?” God asks simply, gently removing the child’s grip from him and holding him out for the priests to see. 

“He belongs to no one… My lrod… he is a street child.” The bride answers after a moment when none of the priests speak up, “An orphan left ot his own devices.” 

“This young and left alone?” The God asks, head tilting too much to the side as his bones snap and pop into their new position. “Why?” 

“His parents died-" the bride begins. 

“I am aware of how one becomes an orphan; I am asking why he was left alone on the streets at this age.” God clarifies. Surely he was too young for such a thing, yet he only looked. “He is what? Five, maybe six years of age?” 

“I'm eight.” The boy answers from his outstretched hold, hanging limply in the Gods’ two-handed grasp like a wet cat held by its owner. “Almost nine.” 

He was small for eight, certainly too small to be nine.

There is silence from the gathered people, long, heavy silence that seems to weigh the very air around them. 

“And why did you enter this place, child?” The God asks carefully, setting the boy down. The little one immediately is back at his feet, clinging to the bones of his legs through the robes and hair that drag on the floor. 

“Because they said that there was always food here, and clothes, and a bed. And that you treat the people who give you like family.” The boy answers simply, eyes already starting to wet with tears again as he tries to cling tighter to the God before him. 

“You have our ploughies, my Lord!” The head priest seems to finally gather his wits, reaching out to snatch the boy back from God, “Such a thing will not happen again, and I will personally ensure this urchin is punished to the highest degree-!” “That will not be necessary either.” The God interrupts, motioning for the boy’s return. “Little one, what is your name?” 

“Arlo.” He tells God, with big brown eyes staring into the being's soul. 

“Arlo…” The God murmurs, testing the word carefully, “You came here intending to become a part of my realm, yes?” 

“Apart from your family.” The boy, Arlo, corrects him. 

“You did this willingly, of your own volition?” 

Arlo nods, soft brown curls bouncing with the eagerness of it. 

“Very well.” God's stringentness directs his attention to the priests, “This is the final sacrifice of a human I will accept from you. Arlo will become a child of my realm.” He tells them, extending his hand to be given the little one back. 

“Your child.” Arlo again corrects him, “You’re my papa now.” 

The God simple star, wide-eyed at the boy as he is released and runs back to cling to him again. 

“I suppose that is correct, yes.” He finally agrees, and with a flourish of his hands, the torch fire in the temple turns a bright sickly green, and he and the boy are gone from this world.

[mokimoriwrites]

7/1 - Council Meeting (part 1)

Every king has a council. Some call it the round table, some host it in proper council chambers, and others have more of a loose idea of a council. Regardless if you're a king or a queen, let us be realistic, queens rule as well; you require a council. A council can be made of very many or very few people; a good number is usually five, and you should have a variety in what they counsel you on. 

Military councilors, political councilors, religious councilors, councilors of the common people, counselors of trade and merchants, counselors of foreign relations, Magic counselors (though this position is usually delegated out to the Court Wizard or Mage). 

There are many topics a ruler must deal with and thus be counseled on after all, so having this variety increases the chance of success (and decreases the chance of having to scramble when the matter of military comes up and we do not yet have a military councilor) 

(not that that has occurred before or anything…) 

Usually, council meetings are… boring, perhaps tedious, maybe a little dull. Definitely a necessity, but it is bureaucracy, and bureaucracy is… 

Well, it isn't the fun part of ruling that's for sure. 

“Perhaps it is time for the demons to be released from my liege.” one councilor argues, one of foreign relations. 

“Perhaps not?” the Military Councilor objects, horror painted across her face. 

“You’re never open to my new ideas,” the first huffs, pouting as they slouch back into their chair. 

“Maybe if your new ideas weren't ‘let's destroy society,’ we would be more open to them.” A councilor of trade sighs heavily. 

“But think of the alliances!” The first tire again.

“We will not, in fact, I say we don't even design this topic for the attention of conversation.” One of the political counselors groans, head already pressed into the hood of the table before him. “We need to focus on the marital prospects for our new king, seeing as he’ll be ascending wholly soon.” 

My father had recently passed; may the gods handle his soul with care, and I, as his heir, was now King. 

I had been crowned and crowned and was now king in every right. But Kings need Queens to rule, and to produce more rulers after them, so the topic of marriage had come up. 

“What alliances exactly were you thinking of?” I ask the councilor of foreign relations.

The topic of marriage is not one I was fond of. 

Mainly because the women that had been put forth (though in truth they were mainly girls, as I myself was still but a boy in all seriousness), were not to my tastes.

In fact women were not to my tastes. 

Nor were men really for that matter. 

Well… maybe one man was. 

“Seee! The king knows value when he hears it!” The first councilor cheers, jumping up from his seat and now standing on his chair as he continues the tirade of his spiel. 

In all truth, I cared not for his plans, but it was very much a distraction to the rest of the council. And I will take all the time I can to stall any potential marriages. 

For now at least. I know I will have to wed at some point, but I am young! Barely nineteen, there was plenty of time for me to wed and have children. 

My own father didn't marry my mother until he was in his late twenties, and they didn't have me for a few years. My sister was born many years after that, being only twelve now, and our younger brother, who came into the world shortly before our mother's death, was now eight. 

My grandmother, the queen and mother of my father, hadn't married or had children until her mid-forties. 

Both their rules had been long and prosperous ones, well, perhaps my father’s wasn't overly long… but it was very prosperous! 

If push comes to shove, I shall use this as a backup plan to stall my marriage for a bit more. Though I fully intend to marry before I turn thirty at least, which gives me eleven years yet. 

“Your Highness, please do not seriously consider this…” My military councilor, a General Sinte who was five years my senior, sighs wearily into her hand, "Allying ourselves with the demons would make us an enemy of everyone around us!" 

Ally ourselves… with the demons…?

“The king agrees with it!” The first councilor, a Ser Figs, I think? They were always a touch odd, perhaps; soon enough, they’ll be the crazy old man of the council. “He thinks it's a wonderful idea!"

I really need to stop letting my thoughts wander during council meetings… 

[mokimoriwrites]

6/29 - Tea in the Woods

Time passes slowly by the windows of the manor. 

The roses seem to bloom eternally, and the clouds seem to float endlessly by.

It’s been days, weeks, months since Titania was locked in here.

The last time she saw anyone, it was Oberon's face, the careful mask of calm she was so used to, shattered, and in its place were unused tears and a frown.

His master, or servant, or whatever it was, hadn’t let anyone else in since she had screamed at his ward for the better part of the day. Apparently insulted at the lack of respect she had for her old friend.

What even were they now? Capteur and prisoner? 

Did it even matter? 

She had to get out, soon, before the weather turned, and she was stuck here permanently.

Puck, some small creature who was friends with Oberon, had insisted that there would be no hope of returning to her family once the season went from summer to fall.

“Once the courts change, you’ll be stuck here forever.”