Moe stood up slowly, her chest heaving for breath and her hair falling out of her loosened ponytail in curly chunks and flyaways. Her makeup was smudged and stained with splashes of a dark liquid and splatters of something luminescent glittered in her red hair. The clown tugged her mace out of the dissolving mess that was left of the corpse and raised it over her head with a triumphant war-honk from her horn. Ze wiped splatter from his own face with the back of his hand, unable to take his eyes off the sight.
"Why is that hot?" The Player whispered under his breath, almost as if he were talking to himself. Regect just made a meaningless noise in response that was, itself, almost lost beneath the scraping of his tail against the deepslate as it wagged back and forth.
A/N: This story takes place immediately after the events of my recent rp with the wonderful @mephistosfaust For full context, I highly recommend reading that first. The starter for it can be found here. A quick summary: My Prussia invited her Prussia over for lunch, with Lily to observe them. Two big dicks enter, words are exchanged, and one leaves in a body bag. Seriously, read the full rp for a fun experience. Other than that, please enjoy! (Read more is for length only.)
—
Evening was beginning to set in when Liliane and Frau Wagner returned to Prussia’s home after their job. It was summer, though, so the evening would be long and night was not yet present. Frau Wagner went in on her own, as Liliane sat in the driver’s seat, hesitating over sending Ludwig a message. When she finally did, she felt her gut clench. What was going to happen now? She had never imagined these events unfolding like this. But ever since Ludwig and her father had met, turbulence just kept following her around. Was she about to lose so much of what she held dear?
She sighed and stepped out of the car. It was time to see just what her father was going to say. Was he going to ban her from going to the other world? Or could he think of some worse punishment? She had not been the one to kill the other Prussia today. She wasn’t even the one who invited him here! But somehow, in some way, this was her fault.
She walked into the house without knocking. She was already expected after all. Frau Wagner walked up. She had already cleaned herself off, and was holding a first aid kit out to her. “He’s in his library,” she said, “but you should clean yourself up first. Do you need any assistance?”
Liliane took the first aid kit. “No, but thank you. I’ll take care of it. Thank you, for all your help.”
The other woman smiled, which was rare for her. “It’s my pleasure.”
With that, Liliane left her and walked into the nearest bathroom. She took a look at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t too bad off. Some bruises that would swell, sure, and some scrapes. But she’d been through far worse. She unbuttoned her shirt to look at her torso. Same story. She washed the blood off and put bandages on the few open wounds she still had. When she was all put together again, she took a pain killer. She looked at herself in the mirror, sighed, and then left. She placed the first aid kit on the nearest hallway table, and then made her way to the library.
The door was open, so she entered without knocking. But, instinct told her to close the door behind her. He usually preferred to have his talks with her in absolute privacy. She walked further into the dimly lit room and found him sitting on the couch by the big windows, a Prussian history book in one hand, and a glass of brandy in the other. She stood silently, awaiting her orders.
“Sit down,” he said without glancing up from the book. She complied, sitting next to him on the couch. They sat in silence for two minutes as he finished reading the chapter he was on. When he had, he slowly closed the book and then set it on the table beside him. He swirled the liquor in his glass and then sipped from it. Without turning to look at her, he said, “So. Today ended in a disaster.”
“Sir, I–”
She was cut off as he held up his hand.
“Do not be so fearful, child. I do not blame you.”
“You…you don’t?”
“No,” he said. He took another sip. He stared at the amber liquid, and then set the glass down by the book on the table. He turned towards her and met her eyes. “I blame myself.”
Liliane blinked. Her eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. She was too afraid to respond.
Her look of surprise made the corner of his lip twitch up, though only for a second. “Yes, I know. It is not often that I am at fault. Rare, even. But, like any good general, I must face the fact when I have faltered. I am, after all, the one who invited him here today, despite your warnings.”
She stared at him. For him to make this kind of admission, and to her no less, was nothing short of a miracle. “Sir, it’s…I mean…I’m the one who punched him first. I’m the one who went up to him and provoked him more, even when I knew his nature. I knew he’s a wicked snake who twists words and thoughts just to get a rise out of others. If you wish to blame me, I would understand.”
A seldom seen gentle smile came to his face. There was no hostility or cunning plan hidden behind it. He reached over to hold her chin softly. “Sweet child. You do not need to take the blame for this one. I have already admitted to it. I brought him here. I kept you with us. And I am the one who dealt the final blow. I am perfectly capable of shouldering this blame. Or do you think me too old and frail for that?” he asked, his voice darkening towards the end.
“No. No, of course not. Never.”
“Good. Then do not try to blame yourself further for it.” He let go of her chin as she nodded. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his grey hair. “So, as I said, today was a disaster. But, it is not the end of the world. Or, worlds, I suppose I should say.” He propped his head onto his hand, his elbow set into the arm of the couch. “The question before us is, what next? I presume you took care of the body and its things like I told you to?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hmm. Good. But that won’t hold him down forever. If he’s anything like me in more than looks, and I hate to make that comparison, then he will be up and about within the hour now. And will likely want revenge.”
He looked at the girl from the side of his eyes and saw her worried look. He raised his head and turned it to look at her more fully. “I suppose this does put a damper on our plans.”
She frowned. “Our plans?”
“Yes. Your plans to keep going to that world, and my plans to have you report back on it.” As her eyes grew larger, he continued. “I planned on having you report to me everything you did or learned about in that world. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with from now on. But, that might have to change. The little weasel is bound to tell his brutish Doberman all about the events of today. Quite frankly, I will be surprised if you are welcome back.”
Liliane looked crestfallen. She looked down at her hands fidgeting in her lap. It was one thing to have that fear by itself, but to have her father voice it out loud too? It was starting to manifest into reality. She covered her face with both hands and started to breathe heavily.
“Liliane. Look at me.”
She lowered her hands and turned her face towards him. She was still hyperventilating. He blinked once, looking at her cooly. She tried to hold her breath to slow down her breathing. She clenched her fists tightly. “I–I’m sorry, sir, I…” She kept panting, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him.
Prussia kept staring. After a minute, he stood up and walked over to his liquor cabinet. He fixed a glass of whiskey and returned. After he sat down, he held it out to her. “Drink,” he ordered.
She stared, then nodded, then took the glass. She focused on getting her breathing under control. Finally, she downed the whole glass and put it aside on the table by her.
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not cheap, child,” he said, although there was no edge to his voice. He simply stated it, like one would state a scientific fact.
“I understand. I’m sorry.”
“Hmm. Well, at least you’re not panicking anymore, right?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Good. Now, I think we’ve discovered the truth you’ve been hiding. You really are in love with that Germany.”
She looked at him in fear.
He shook his head. “I’m not going to reprimand you. I am simply stating the facts. How long have you been in love? Or, how long have you been denying those feelings to yourself and everyone around you?”
She swallowed, wishing she hadn’t finished the whiskey so quickly. “I’m not sure how long I’ve loved him,” she said, her voice as tense as her body, “because I’ve been trying to suppress it for so long. I keep trying to tell myself it’s platonic, or maybe familial at most. But, I…I…” She shook her head. “I think I want him more than that. But it will never happen. I know he doesn’t see me that way. He looks at me and sees a cousin, or a sister, and never someone to be intimate with.”
Prussia’s lip twitched. “I wouldn’t give up hope there then. Considering his fraternal tastes in lovers, perhaps being seen as a sister will get you there.” When she didn’t respond, he sighed. “You should consider this a blessing, my dear. What hurts now will save you a great deal more pain in the future. After all, even if he did love you back, he would still betray you.” When she looked back at him, he shrugged. He picked up his glass to sip from it again, then kept talking. “You know it to be true. From the sounds of it, he only has eyes for his brother in the end. And, it’s in his nature to betray those closest to him. Think about his history, child. Think about everything he’s done. He serves only himself. Do you think he killed me to save you? Hardly. He did it for his own ego. To try to ‘own’ me, and by extension, you. He would kill you the moment it served him to.”
She looked at the palms of her hands. He could see the gears turning in her head, the doubts beginning to grow and wrap themselves around her feelings, like a python around a mouse. “It’s just, lately, he’s been so kind. He’s listened to me, and taken care of me.”
When she wasn’t looking, he rolled his eyes. “My dear, look at me.” When she did, he said, “It’s a lie. I’m not saying he’s purposefully deceiving you right now. He may not even know he’s doing it. But in the end, he will betray you. Everyone does. Everyone has. Except me. I’m the only one who has never betrayed you. From the day I took you in, I have cared for you as my daughter. I have raised you, given you a home, an education. I watch over you, even to this day. Whether you’ve fallen or risen to great heights, I have always been here for you.” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Trust in me. You know it to be true.”
She glanced at his hand and then looked back into his eyes. She lowered her hands into her lap calmly. “May I ask a question, sir?”
He nodded.
“When…when that bastard asked you if you would sacrifice me to save yourself, and you said no, did you mean it? Was that the truth?”
He tilted his head to the side. He stared right into her eyes, and she held his gaze. A thought stirred in his mind. Is there anything so undoing… He closed his eyes for a few seconds and then looked at her again.
“You have the ability to detect lies. Did you detect a lie in what I said?”
“No.”
“So, why do you ask?”
“I guess I just…wanted to be sure. I wanted to hear you say it to me, not to him.”
He took a deep breath in through his nose, held it, and then let it go slowly out of his mouth. She wouldn’t stop looking at him, wouldn’t stop pleading with him. He half considered telling her to drop the topic entirely. It wasn’t as though this sort of situation would really happen. But, no, it was crucial that she know the truth.
“I meant what I said, Liliane. I would not sacrifice you to save myself. You,” he stopped to clear his throat, “are my loyal daughter. And I will honor that, always.”
Her nose twitched. He knew she was sniffing the air for a lie. When she didn’t find one, she began to smile. And then, she did something that caught him completely off guard. She leaned in, wrapped an arm across his chest, and pressed her face into his shoulder. She was hugging him.
He blinked several times and swallowed. He looked down at her. His chest felt tight and he was hyperaware of every inch of her that was touching him. He had to steady his hand to stroke the back of her hair. After he had done that for a minute, he cleared his throat and gently pried her off by her shoulders. He could see wetness in her eyes, but she was still smiling.
“Pardon me, sir,” she said, “I couldn’t help it. I’m just…so, so happy that you’re my father. I’m honored to have a man like you to call…call my…my dad.”
That word. That little, informal word. It made his chest feel tight again. Dad. It was so much more familiar than “father.” He had to cough and look away. When he turned back, she was still staring at him, smiling, though looking a little confused and concerned too.
“Dad?”
She’d said it again. Was she trying to stab him to death with this word? He shifted in his seat. “I’m fine,” he lied, and he knew she’d smelled it. Before she could ask, he spoke again. He forced himself to sound authoritative and calm like he normally did. “If you’re going to hug me, you ought to ask first.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and waved it off. “And save it for out of the public’s eye, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He frowned in thought. He grumbled with himself. Then, the old Prussian said, “I suppose you may call me, ‘Dad,’ if you really wish though.” He sighed loudly and looked at her sharply. “But never call me ‘Daddy.’ Understand?”
“Yes…Dad,” she said with a huge grin on her face. “May I hug you again?”
He huffed and looked weary. It was moments like this that brought out his age more. He then opened his arms, his palms up. “Very well. But only–” He stopped short when there was a soft impact on his chest. He looked down at his daughter as she embraced him once again and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. He looked uncomfortable again, but he settled for resting one arm on her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair absentmindedly. With his free hand, he picked up his glass. He swirled the last bit of brandy around and held it up to his mouth. He breathed in its scent through his nose. Finally, he finished it off.
As he set the empty glass down, he looked down at her again. He had the thought of telling her to get off now, but he found himself growing used to her weight against him. He supposed that maybe, just for this night, he could tolerate it a bit longer.
Describe Gawain as if you were narrating his appearance, stature, and general "vibes" in a novel!
Tall, lithe, and clad in gleaming golden armor from boots to helm, Gawain looked the very picture of a storybook knight in shining armor.
Most who only knew him in passing or by his media appearances thought him a heroic but stoic figure, for his responses to questions and conversations were often short and evasive, and - with his face obscured but for his eyes - his expressions were nearly impossible to read. He holds himself tall but tense in his non-hero public appearances, and always seems to be on guard for some sort of threat. Gawain comes across in quick conversation as curt at best, and mildly threatening at worst.
But anyone who spoke with the knight longer than what was necessary to get an audience with his employer, Mayor Aether, would be shown a different side of him - the side that stood in the street to make sure no cars ran the crossing light, and let kids in the park teach him how to play hopscotch. When not feeling the pressure to be on his best behavior for the sake of Aether's reputation, Gawain becomes a kindhearted people-pleaser who has trouble saying no and gives his all to fulfill his promises even when he's overwhelmed and out of his depth.
As they sat together on the kitchen floor, backs against the center island while they waited for the fire to cool enough to put in the readied dough, Michael wondered what he had been afraid of.
Vashael hadn't said anything about his scarring when he'd woken up alone and followed the smell of lavender and herbs to the kitchen. He hadn't said anything about the borrowed shirt loosely folded on a nearby chair so it wouldn't get dirty, or the flour so hastily tossed about on the counter that some of it missed and landed on the flooring. He had only removed his own shirt, draped it over the chair, and asked what they were making. Still a little stunned by the lack of reaction (and for being caught - he'd tried so hard to be silent), Michael had mumbled something about lavender bread and shuffled to the side to let Vashael reach the dough.
They worked in silence, for a little while, folding the tacky mixture over and over its filling of herbs and lavender. Despite the late (early?) hour, Vashael seemed content to take the strange turn of events at face value. Michael tried to let him. The anxious fire that had awoken him from slumber still simmered beneath his skin, and he didn't feel ready to talk about it. He didn't think he'd ever be ready. This silence was a blessing, actually.
….
"…they don't frighten you?" Michael finally gave in and broke the silence as he added another small pinch of dried lavender buds. There was little question as to what the 'they' he spoke of was. He was usually so careful about not revealing his upper arms, even when they embraced between the sheets in the dim light of a lantern. Vashael shook his head as they brushed hands folding the dough once more.
"No." He replied with a shrug as he looked the shorter man in the eyes. "Why would they? They're just scars." Michael was quick to turn his eyes away, and his hands pulled away from the dough to curl into loose fists on the floury countertop. The runes burned into his skin were ancient, but not lost knowledge. The previous emperor had so often used the magical binding to keep prisoners of war and politics captive wherever he pleased that anyone with even a passing interest in local history or arcane arts could recognize it.
Or it felt that way, at least.
"They're…proof of what I am." Michael said quietly. It was supposed to be an argument, but it came out too soft; even to his own ears it didn't sound convincing. "The product of a monster."
"They're proof of what you were." Vashael had stopped kneading then and reached over to take up Michael's flour-covered hands. "A captive to a monster." He intertwined their fingers loosely and leaned down to touch their foreheads together. "He did not make you. He hurt you." Michael stared up at the prince for a few seconds, unable to turn away from those earnest golden eyes, and struggling to categorize the emotions that were sent rushing through his veins by this statement.
Relief, perhaps, for hearing the reassurances that he was not something just as bad for having survived the torment of something worse? Grief? He had never truly gotten to confront the enormity of what he'd lost. There had never been time to stop moving forward (recovering, relearning, fitting in, keeping up) and look back toward what had been taken.
Maybe even a tiny bit of fear, for being so thoroughly seen so quickly. He'd barely said anything, and Vashael had read between every proverbial line with ease.
"They're just…scars…" He whispered, almost afraid to once more break the silence that had started to slowly fill back in between them as they stood in the moonlit dark kitchen. Vashael smiled wide and proud, his face awash with the pale blue light from the warlock's own eyes, and Michael felt the anxious flames recede. Slowly, Michael's fingers tightened from a loose entwining to a hold, and Vashael's responded in kind. The human took a deep, shaky breath, and the fire that had driven him out of bed that night suddenly seemed to cool.
The bread dough was forgotten for a little while (in favor of…more important things), and when it was finally remembered, Vashael re-lit the embers of the kitchen fire with a quick puff of fire breath. And as they sat together on the kitchen floor, hand in hand with their backs against the center island while they waited for the fire to cool enough to put in the readied dough, Michael smiled and wondered what he had been afraid of.
Madelyn McQuail had given up hope of seeing her family again after her third night in the storage container.
She may have been only twelve, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew that a little girl from Chinatown wouldn’t be any kind of priority for the local cops (if her parents reported her missing in the first place. Her dad’s own criminal record made all of them cop-shy, and she knew they couldn’t afford to lose one of their only breadwinners, with two other kids to support). She could only hope that her parents kept some of her belongings to remember her by the next time they had to tighten the budget. She hoped it was the blanket her grandma had made her. It was all the woman had left behind when she’d passed.
Most of the kids being held with her felt the same way. Some of the young ones were still crying for their families, but the older ones knew the drill. For some of them, this wasn’t even their first time being kidnapped. Some of them (the girls, mostly) had stories of being taken from school or the park or off their parents’ front steps, and being rescued at the last second by one of Gotham’s shadowy heroes. These stories calmed some of the crying ones, but Madelyn thought it cruel to get their hopes up like that.
Even with the ever-growing number of vigilantes that prowled the Gotham streets, they couldn’t be everywhere at once, and if they weren’t here by now, then they were probably not coming.
But while most kids were resigned or tearful or in denial, there was one kid who’d gone to work as soon as their captors had locked the container door on them that night. Madelyn hadn’t said anything as she watched him draw a series of boxes on a relatively clear piece of their cardboard bedding - one large one with rounded corners, and three or four smaller ones on one side. Their captors had taken most of their belongings (mostly things they could sell, or identifying items that they could use for proof of life or blackmail), but some kids had been left with small, nonthreatening items like Cheryl’s half-eaten root beer lollipop and Marcus’ inhaler. This kid had probably managed to hide his stick of chalk in his hand, Madelyn figured or their captors had just not seen a need to take it.
When the artist was done with the boxes, though, he got up and began to shuffle around the boxes on his knees, scratching the chalk with his fingernail to turn it into powder, and draw a thin circle around the boxes. Madelyn furrowed her brow, and finally opened her mouth.
“What are you doing?” She asked. The kid looked at her, but didn’t say anything as he finished laying down his weird chalk circle. It looked like something she’d seen in one of her older brother’s favorite ghost hunting shows. “You’re wasting good chalk. They won’t let you have any more, you know.” The kid continued to ignore Madelyn, and reached up chalk-covered hands to his mouth to pull out a soggy roll of red ribbon. Madelyn curled her lip in disgust as the kid unrolled this short ribbon and laid it down perpendicular across the center of his biggest rectangle drawing. As he started scribbling something in one of the smaller rectangles with what remained of his chalk, Madelyn quietly scooted herself away from this freaky kid.
He’d lost his mind, and lost it good.
A sudden burst of muffled laughter from the men standing outside the container caused them all to fall into a tense silence, and the strange kid froze like a deer in the headlights. The laughter faded, and the kid slowly returned to scribbling before his chalk snapped, and he cursed. Madelyn didn’t know what the word meant - it didn’t sound like English, and it certainly wasn’t Mandarin - but it was clear from the tone that it was an exclamation of anger. A few more kids were staring now, as the creepy kid continued his scribbling with the sharp stub of chalk left in his hand. When he finished, he picked up as many broken chalk pieces as he could and stuffed them into the pocket of his shorts.
From another pocket, he pulled out a stick of gum and four cigarettes, Madelyn remembered one of their captors had dropped their carton earlier, and said a lot of colorful words when he couldn’t find all the ones that had rolled away. Kids began to whisper as the kid unwrapped the gum and threw it in his mouth, chewing wildly for a few seconds before spitting it out and ripping off pieces to stick the cigarettes upright within the largest rectangle - one in each corner. He then took off his striped shirt and flipped it inside out to retrieve some sort of trading card that was taped on the inside, and more kids scooted away from him as he put the card down in the center of the big rectangle, and started to chant something.
The words were still not English, and some of the younger kids began to cry again, confused and scared by the weird activity. Madelyn wondered what she’d done wrong to not only get kidnapped, but to get kidnapped along with some weird cultist child.
“Hey,” She said. The kid kept chanting. “Hey!” Madelyn raised her voice as much as she dared. She didn’t want their captors to think they were being too loud. They’d been warned about the consequences already. “Knock it off! You’re scaring the little ones.” The kid’s voice cracked, and he faltered on his words, but he kept chanting. Madelyn felt bad. Everyone coped differently, she knew that, and she knew that she couldn’t judge someone for how they reacted when their life was in danger. But this was making an already bad situation worse for the littlest kids there, and that just wasn’t-
“Arroo?” Madelyn’s thoughts ground to a halt about the same time as the rest of the storage container fell into an eerie silence. A red mist had begun to seep up from the seams in the container floor, just outside the weird kid’s chalk circle, and take on a vaguely canine shape from the paws up. As the children watched in stunned silence, a head appeared in the smoke, lowered as if to sniff the circle. A pair of bright blue eyes lit up in the smoke, as did a heart-shaped mark as the creature sat, and looked around at the gathered children. The kids cringed back as its icy stare passed over them, and when its head could turn no further, it leaned almost upside-down to look at those directly behind it.
A few sparks of nervous laughter went around, and the creature began to wag its tail. After getting a good look at all the children, the creature turned back to the boy who had summoned it, and licked his forehead with a bright blue, somewhat see-through tongue. Then, it ran off and jumped over a few of the children, who let out startled shrieks and ducked even as the creature passed through the wall of the container and disappeared.
All that was left behind were a few chalk paw prints on the cardboard flooring, and a heavy silence.
Madelyn almost broke it after a few minutes, if only to ask what the hell that had been, when the temperature in the container suddenly began to drop. The weird kid scooted away from his drawings as ice began to spread out from the center of it with a faint crackle. The few nervous whimpers this caused were quickly shushed as the ice spread across the floor and up the container walls in a smooth, thin layer - dusting frost on the edges of blankets and shoes and pant legs - until it came together again on the ceiling. As soon as it had, a column of snowflakes began to spiral down from where the ice had met on the ceiling, rapidly building up into the shape of something tall and humanoid.
The children huddled together in fear as the snowman grew taller, and started to solidify with the crunch of snow being packed down underfoot. Color spread across the solid white like dye dropped into water, and a collective gasp ran through the frightened crowd as the figure's exposed skull lifted, revealing glowing red lights in its eye sockets. The horned skulls of some sort of large animals adorned the beings shoulders like armor, shimmering with a coating of frost and dripping with long, sharp icicles, and a heavy cape of some dark red fur hung down from its back. As it moved, testing its limbs as if to be sure they all worked, the ice across its torso cracked and sang, though Madelyn couldn't see any pieces breaking off.
The smokey, dog-like creature returned as the figure finally seemed to take notice of its frightened audience - passing through the container walls and ice like they weren't even there - to circle around the figure with its tail held high in pride. Slowly, the towering being moved one of its legs to slide back, and lowered itself to one knee. The dog-like creature hurriedly circled to sit at the being's side, like a dog called to heel, and the figure turned its skull toward the weird kid.
"Soititko minulle, pikkuinen?" (Did you call to me, little one?) He asked in a soft, low voice. It made Madelyn think of her grumpy neighbor Mr. Henway, who had always scared her with his permanent crooked frown until she'd one day caught him feeding and talking to the stray cats behind their building.
"Minä tein." (I did.) The weird kid whispered back. Madelyn wondered why he sounded so scared, if this had been his plan all along. "Me kaikki haluamme kotiin." (We all want to go home.) His voice cracked, and the being's skull tilted. It made a low whistling sound that sent shivers down Madelyn's spine, and more of the dog-like creatures began appearing - out of the walls and the floor, as if they'd been waiting there for their cue - to circle around the being like the first. They tumbled over themselves like excited puppies at dinnertime before another command from the being straightened them out.
The being moved to stand up again, and the smokey beings at its feet moved towards the children. They seemed to grow bigger, but for a few, as they sat, forming a semi-translucent 'wall' between the children and the far end of the container, where the doors and their criminal guards stood. The being pushed off as he turned and glided towards the container doors on bladed boots, stopping before the barrier with ease and raising one hand to shoo away the ice that held it shut like a bothersome fly.
"Do not look." He told the children behind him with a thick accent that Madelyn could not place. "You will be safe in just a few moments." Madelyn sat up on her knees, trying to see over the pointed ears and wagging tails of the smokey hounds as the being lowered its shoulder and bashed open the container doors, but before she could see more, a paw on her shoulder pushed her back down.
The creature left its paw draped over the girl's shoulder as the guard shouted - first in surprise, then in fear - and then the sounds from outside were suddenly muffled. Madelyn thought she heard a gunshot, then maybe a splash, and then silence. A few of the hounds turned their heads around to look at the container door, but otherwise remained still until there was a strange, muted cracking sound, and they finally broke rank to excitedly mill around throughout the confused children. Through an archway in a wall of ice that dominated the container's now-open doors, the being returned. Madelyn caught a brief glimpse of one of their guards, frozen in a block of ice like the people she'd seen on the news the last time Mr. Freeze had run amok in the city, before the wall closed itself, and the figure once more lowered himself to one knee, though now with more space between himself and the children.
"....so," The figure spoke after several seconds of silence. "I found this on one of the bad guys. Does anyone here know how to use it?" The figure held out one hand and opened it to reveal a cell phone with a cracked case sitting on his palm. He placed it gently on the ground, and slid it across to the children, where Madelyn quickly grabbed it. "You can dial 9-1-1 for the police, yes?"
"Why didn't you just call?" The girl narrowed her eyes at the figure. She wasn't sure if it was courage or overwhelming panic she could feel rising in her chest now that the more human threat to their lives was gone. "Why do we have to do it?" The figure's skull seemed to deform to give the impression of raising one eyebrow, and he held up his massive gloved hand again.
"My fingers are too big for the buttons." He replied. Madelyn paused. That hadn't been the response she'd expected, but it wasn't wrong, either. She dialed the number with shaking fingers and held the phone to her ear. One of the hounds lay down at her side and rested its head on her legs, though she could only just feel its weight.
"Hello? 9-1-1?" Madelyn stared at the creature lying on her lap, because if she looked anywhere else, this weird, freaky, hopeful dream might end. Against the floor, she could see the shadow of the being as it slid across the floor to whisper again to the weird kid. "We need the police!"
(I haven't given this fic a proper title yet and this is the first draft. I'm thinking of posting it all on AO3 once/if I finish it.)
Prince!Matthew/ Knight!Ludwig
"Hey Matthew. I'm sorry, I won't be able to go hunting with you tomorrow. Father needs me to go with him to a meeting with another family."
"Is he trying to marry you off already?" Matthew joked, letting out a laugh trying to hide his disappointment from the older prince.
"No... or at least I hope not. Now I'm worried. Listen, I'm really sorry, I'll make it up to you." Alfred apologized again.
Matthew continued packing his bags, more trying to hide his face then anything "No worries. I can just go alone, and we can go together another time."
"Don't go alone. You know mother worries about you when you go off by yourself. Father worries too. What if something happens to you." He was worried but didn't want to show it too much. "Take a knight with you at least. I’m sure they’ll enjoy a bit of a break too."
“Fine, just get one who’s close to my age. I don’t want to be stuck with a stuffy old man.”
–
“Well at least he’s not old, and handsome.” Matthew thought as he looked over at the knight.
Sir. Friedrich Wilhelm Ludwig Augustus von Beilschmidt, probably the most stuffy of the knights. He figured that Alfred chose him because he was probably the best choice to protect him.
After a while into the ride Matthew finally spoke to break the silence .
“Sir. Fredrich?”
“Yes, your highness?”
“Do you enjoy hunting?”
“Yes, your highness. My older brother used to take me when I was younger, but I haven't gone for a few years.” The knight’s eyes never stopped scanning his surroundings as he spoke.
That was a lot more than Matthew was expecting to get out of the man. He had to be honest it was nice to have someone to come along with him, maybe it won’t be as bad as he thought. “Well, I know the best hunting spots. There are a bunch of boar around this part if that’s what you want. Or I know another place a bit further away that’s good for deer.”
“Whichever you prefer, your highness.”
He let out a sigh. Back to formal talk, he was hoping he could have had a proper conversation but it wasn’t going to happen if the Knight was going to be so formal.
“Sir. Fredrich. I know this isn’t proper but on this trip you may just call me Matthew.”
Sir. Fredrich almost froze for a moment. Talking to someone from the royal family so formally was usually a big no, but it did seem like an order directly from a prince.
“Of course…. Matthew.”
“Thank you. So, do you want to hunt boar or deer?”
“Deer, if that pleases you… Matthew.”
“Deer it is then. It’s a nice day for a longer ride anyway.” The prince smiled at him before starting to lead the way.
—
After a little while of traveling Matthew came to a stop and jumped off his horse with bow in hand.
“Your highn… Matthew?” Being so formal with the prince was very strange, but it was a direct order and he didn’t want to disobey.
“There are tracks over here that look fresh, I think there’s one around here.” Matthew wandered around looking for other tracks and his knight found a place to tie off the horses so they wouldn't wander off.
“This way Sir. Fredrich.” Matthew called back and pointed towards a narrow path through the thick brush. He looked so happy now that he was out in the woods. It was almost like out here he didn’t need to act princely, like he was out of the view of anyone who would disapprove of him not being proper.
“Ludwig”
“Pardon?”
“If we’re going to be informal on this trip, then you can call me Ludwig if it pleases you.” Ludwig felt awkward, but it felt like the right thing to do since the Prince seemed to be informal on the trip.
“Of course Ludwig.” Matthew gave him a warm smile before leading the way into the forest. For a moment he swore he saw Ludwig smile back.
—--
They made it back with their kill just as the sun was setting. Servants came out to take the large stag that they managed to track down and the smaller game they got along the way to be butchered.
“I don’t think it’ll be ready until tomorrow but I can have some of the meat sent to you once they’re done, Sir.Fredrich.” Matthew switched back to a proper mannerisms now that he was back in the palace walls. “I could also have some of my cooks prepare a meal for the two of us for dinner tomorrow night if you would like.”
Matthew wanted to get to know the Knight better now that they spent a whole day together away from the palace.
“I would very much like that. Your majesty.” Ludwig get a little bow to Matthew.
