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Alien Alien: Then I the Mark of Ingratitude Stand

I didn't know if I should post this but I wanted to feed y'all because I haven't been able to write a single thing since the....Shit that has Gone Down. It turns out it's hard to write Six Lives, a story about fascists, on the side of the fascists kek

So! Have this, a rather unusual story I've gone with here in Alien Alien focusing on the sole human of this verse, the Earl of Marlborough. He's now brought back to favor and is in charge of the Duke of Gloucester, a sickly hybrid much like the King himself! He may be just a bit out of his depth, however, when he's faced with a vision of what is supposedly the boy's glorious future.

CW: objectification, dehumanization, implied/referenced sexual assault, violence, descriptions of gore, child death.

Something had changed in the sound of the King’s walk. It had been a long time since the change had begun, but it drove Marlborough mad now as it drove him mad then, as he listened to the King approaching.

There was a great inconsistency to the walk of four limbs, with sharp boots at the back and thick claws at the front. One hand, as it came down, sounded harsh and scraping, and the other sounded lighter, with a more graceful cling! as it hit the floor. That was the hand that so ached now; that was the hand that had been equipped with narrow claws made of metal that appeared to Marlborough more like those of an eagle than of a natural Defender of the Faith. They dragged along the floor as the King stalked forward, as he let out a heavy sigh through his nose like an exhausted horse.

Marlborough turned around to face him. When he had first met William, he was the same size he was now; oh, certainly taller than a human, of course, but he seemed to take little space up in the galaxy even as he would arch his back and hiss at any perceived slight or threat. He was still the smallest full-grown Asterothiriot Marlborough had ever encountered.

He had grown no larger, and yet as he walked past Marlborough could suddenly see why this one believed he ruled the stars themselves. Perhaps it was the age that now showed on his face, or the stiffness of his tail, or even the slitted pupils, but now it seemed he was almost deserving of calling himself a king like the ones that had come before him. He was just almost a full tendril-tooth.

Almost. The power behind his leap up towards the window reminded Marlborough of who had truly raised the hybrid prince. The six suspicious eyes blinked at him, one by one, as their owner sat back with his tail curled in front of his arms in a manner that reminded Marlborough of the cats on Forte Solaria.

What does he want? He waited for William to say something before giving him a hesitant curtsy. His face never failed to flush as he did so.

“Do you know why you're here?” William asked.

“No,” Marlborough said. Sarah had seen something, of course, and she had said that nothing bad could come from this audience, but that was all he knew. It was the Princess Anne's powers who were stronger, but she hadn't brought up anything important, either.

“Oh, perfect,” William said with an uncharacteristic purr. “I get to surprise you.”

“How thrilling,” Marlborough said dryly. “Did you want me to be your exhibition here instead? I would prefer it; nobody passes through as much.” He started stepping away. “Though I can't see why that would warrant such privacy.”

“Stay,” William snapped, and Marlborough froze. “It isn’t that. Quite the opposite, actually.” He lowered his head, his antennae twitching as if he'd just sensed something that displeased him. “Do you remember how it maddened the tendril-tooths here to see a human become an earl upon my arrival?”

Marlborough couldn't help but laugh. “Yes, as it did you.”

“Hardly.” William flicked his tail dismissively. “Why should I care about the species of my subjects? As long as they don't belong to those vicious, drooling fortune-tellers, then I don't—”

“I'll remind you that my family is made up of said fortune-tellers,” Marlborough said coolly. “And so is your government now. It has been more than a decade; are you still not used to it?” He blinked innocently up at William, who looked up and growled.

“That doesn't mean I have to like it,” he said. “One step can't cover seven steps. I would always rather work with humans and robots than with those conniving beasts who think they rule the universe.”

“Do we still talk of the same species?”

“You are a human, my lord, you would do well to remember that!” William leapt down from the window, and Marlborough drew back as the King began to circle him. “That’s the only reason I still tolerate you. Otherwise I would have—” He raked his claws across the floor. “Killed you myself.”

“And you expect me to be honored,” Marlborough said.

“Yes.” William nodded once. He stood up fully so that he was taller than the human, the spikes on his tail slicking back with a sharp rattle. “You know, I never liked the practice of...human art. ‘Tis frivolous and obsolete, especially when I’ve found a far better use for you. No, even after what you did...” He twitched one antennae to the side. “I never liked it. Truly, I would have preferred killing you.”

Marlborough had heard it all by now; he’d heard about how the King so hated to use his body as artwork, to keep him there as decoration while he spoke to his ministers, and how unnecessary he thought the whole practice, but that he was driven to it by expectation. Expectation! What William had refused to follow since the very day he’d arrived here!

No, he knew that while William derived little enjoyment from gazing upon his body, he still wanted some way to remind a human of his status here. William must have known that he knew, but as they stared at each other, they remained silent, both daring the other to speak.

“Maybe you should have,” Marlborough said at length. He didn’t truly mean it, not really, but with every passing day he’d stood there, death had seemed more appealing than the endless weight of, ironically, what little he wore.

“No. There’s still one last thing I need you for.” William tilted his head to the side. “Well, a few things. I couldn’t have kept you there forever.”

You might have been happy to, Marlborough thought, but he listened intently as the King spoke.

“The heart-eaters are spreading like a virus,” he said, “even through this peace. For how long do you think a sickness can be suppressed?” He shook himself as if the thought unnerved him. “I need your eyes to see them, and the rest of you to defeat them if— when King Louis becomes hungry again.”

“I can’t do that now,” Marlborough said with a growing amusement. “Not without—”

William interrupted him with a hiss. “I know, I know.” He took a deep breath, then said, “The late Queen left me with this knowledge, and she is not the only tendril-tooth here who is now aware of your value. So you must return to your command. And then you and I can put this whole mess behind us.” He flexed his false claws. “But this is not forgiveness.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Marlborough said. “I could die without it.”

“You could stand to be a little grateful, human.” William stepped closer until Marlborough could smell the blood of unfortunate prey on his breath. His eyes seemed to be focused on being unfocused, with an appearance that Marlborough had only seen in starving wolves.

“In a sense, I am,” he replied. “But I’d been expecting this.”

“So you did know!” William bared his teeth accusingly.

“Not through the visions of my wife,” Marlborough rushed to assure him. “Nor did I expect it today. But I thought that you would realize that your preferred human can only take you so far.” Keppel was a fine, clever creature, as he’d been when Marlborough had first found him, but even William must have known that his future lay elsewhere.

“Enough.” William let out a rumbling growl. “How far do you think you can take me?” He turned away, the tip of his tail brushing against Marlborough’s shoulder. “There is one more thing, my lord.”

Marlborough straightened up at the address. “Yes?”

“I ask- I command you to take up another position you may not be used to,” William said. “That of the Duke of Gloucester’s governor.” Seeing Marlborough’s confusion, he added, “I know a tendril-tooth might have been more logical, but I wouldn’t like him to be ruled by those monsters from the very beginning.” He flicked his antennae in the Earl’s direction. “Besides, the Princess trusts you more than she trusts any Asterothiriot, save for your wife.”

“You want a human to— pardon me saying this, but you want a human to guide an animal into its adulthood.”

The sentence had hardly left his lips when William lunged at him with a snarl, throwing him back against the floor. Marlborough winced as his head hit the ground, as he felt the King’s claws dig into his shoulders. This he’d been expecting as well; it only surprised him that it took so long.

“An animal?!” William snapped his jaws in Marlborough’s face. “Is that what we are to you?”

“Well, you’re not human.” Marlborough turned his head away as he spoke, staring blankly to the side. “I was merely stating a fact. The little prince deserves better, someone who can teach him to hunt and fight the way his species knows.”

“Oh, he does, doesn’t he?” William sneered and stepped off of him. “But he already has me. Having you will only be his first disappointment.” He waited for a moment, then snapped his jaws again. “Stand!”

Marlborough obeyed, and William continued. “Truth be told, I want you to give him a taste for blood.”

You could have done that yourself, Marlborough thought, staring at the claws that had just been held so close to his neck. Even if he knew that William wouldn’t kill him, even if his presence commanded little fear, he had never gotten used to it.

“In the prophecies the Queen left me before she died,” William said, “you seem to appear more frequently the closer that I get to joining her.”

“She told you when you would die?” Marlborough asked, startled.

William nodded slowly. “But that doesn’t concern you. Show that boy a fraction of the boldness you have shown me, and I know he will survive.”

“Your Majesty, I—”

“He will survive,” William repeated, silencing Marlborough with a wave of his tail. “And you will be there to see it.”

✭✭✭

He had played with the Duke of Gloucester before, entertaining him with a laser pointer or a squeaking toy, and he had observed how little energy the child had as compared to Marlborough’s own. Oh, he could run as swiftly as his mother, and bark as loudly as his father, but it tired him quickly, so that he preferred curling up to sleep in between unsuspecting tails.

“So you are telling me the human is mine now?” Gloucester was bounding about William’s feet, swatting at the lashing tail. He was quite a sight, his appearance being mostly of his mother’s species, save for his blank eyes and the lack of protective spikes at his belly. His tail, too, was shorter, and as of now, he only had two horns.

“More accurately, you are the human’s,” Anne said, her eyes glinting with amusement. “But you must show my Lord Marlborough the same respect as you do everyone else.”

“Your Highness,” Marlborough greeted the little prince, who now stared at him with wide eyes.

“Marlborough!” Gloucester stood up, his tail wagging. He was very nearly Marlborough’s height already. “Does this mean I get to see Lord Churchill more often? Will he come and teach me more of his battle moves?”

“I think he can teach you more than just that,” Marlborough said. “But yes, he will be here, as your Master of the Horse.” He knew his son would be pleased with that news as well; he was already quite faithful to the little prince.

“Master of the Horse,” Gloucester repeated with shining eyes. “What does he know about those mechanical creatures?”

“Well, he will learn at your side—”

“You, my lord, you can ride real horses!” Gloucester bounded back towards his mother on all fours. “So can I, I’m almost his exact weight! It would be possible, right?”

“You can, but you shouldn’t,” William replied before Anne could say anything. “The body of a Bocca della Verità is designed to run at a speed far greater than any horse could achieve. Besides, I can’t imagine it would be too comfortable.” He bowed his head to lick the prince in between his erect ears.

“You know, on my planet, Your Highness, they would hunt on those very horses,” Marlborough said. “They would ride on in after a fox— do you know that creature, the fox?”

“You mean to tell me that foxes are real as well?” Anne’s eyes widened, matching the awe of her son’s face.

“Yes, but they were nowhere near as cunning as the stories say they are,” Marlborough said with a chuckle. “They would always run, and they were the noisiest animals I’d ever encountered.” Save for your kind, he added silently, though with no malice behind the thought.

“But we are not on your planet, my lord.” William flicked his antennae back.

“Neither are we on yours.”

The spikes on the King’s tail began to shake, but Gloucester seemed to break the spell with an excited bark. “Oh, I want to show you how I’ve been hunting! I- I learned a new trick the other day from your son.” He began to bounce excitedly on his talons, unsteady as they slid across the floor. “I’ve never missed a mouse since.”

So the first thing Marlborough did with his new charge was watch him hunt. He had always hated joining the Asterothiriots when they were hunting, be it tendril-tooth or Defender or Canis magnetar— he could never do anything but watch. Worse than that, he had no idea how to carry himself like the hunters did, so silently and effortlessly across the forest floor without ever alerting their prey. He, though smaller than them, always managed to break a twig or rustle leaves, and the prey would run off before his companions could catch it. It was as if they had a sense he did not have, as if they knew what lay after every corner.

And perhaps, for the tendril-tooths, such was the case. Certainly not for little Gloucester, however. There was a silent understanding among them all that, like William, as a hybrid he would be unable to ever receive visions. He had long passed the age when the powers normally revealed themselves.

Still, his hunting was worthy of praise. Marlborough watched him from his place high in a tree, where he would not disturb Gloucester. The prince was stalking quietly, if a little clumsily, through the plants, keeping his body low to the ground. His tail lashed behind him as he paused and opened his mouth wide to drink in the scent of the air. Curiously enough, he had been born with the tusks of a female member of his species rather than the open, outward teeth of a male, but Marlborough wouldn’t have liked to imagine him with them, anyway.

Gloucester crouched down low, tensing before pouncing forward. Marlborough sat up as the boy leaped in the air, then suddenly his talons fell beneath him awkwardly, eliciting a yelp from him. There was a squeak up ahead, presumably the mouse scurrying away. Gloucester seemed unable to push himself up on his legs to catch it.

“Damn!” Marlborough hissed under his breath. He jumped from the tree and ran over to Gloucester, kneeling down at his side. “Your Highness?”

“I let it get away!” Gloucester growled, his ears flopping to the side. “Forgive me, I lost my balance—”

“There are more mice in the forest than you could ever hope to catch in a lifetime,” Marlborough said. “There’ll be another chance.”

“I will hunt them all!” Gloucester declared suddenly, throwing Marlborough off of him. “You see the King cough all the time, and he’s hailed as one of the best hunters in the galaxy!”

“And so will you be,” Marlborough said. “But he cares little for his health. You must, or your mother will for the rest of your life.”

Gloucester hummed thoughtfully. “Is it bad that I want her to?”

“Trust me, you won’t for much longer.”

“Maybe that is how it works for humans.” He sat back, puffing out his chest and rattling the spikes on his back. “Not I, sir. I will honor and love my mother for as long as I have left.”

The odd phrase sent a chill down Marlborough’s back, but he had no time to reply before he heard steps from up ahead. He tensed for a moment, his hand reaching for his sword, relaxing only when the animal showed its brilliant, delighted face.

“Did you miss a mouse, John?” Godolphin let out a chirp of laughter before he set the strange animal down, larger and with scales as compared to the mice Marlborough had known throughout his youth.

“You know I didn’t,” he answered. Beside him, Gloucester sprung at the mouse’s body, sniffing it so loudly that it was difficult to concentrate on Godolphin’s subsequent words.

“We ought to combine your way of hunting with ours one day,” he said. “You can ride me to flush out the stag-rabbit.”

“I- I have done so once,” Marlborough said hurriedly. “And once was enough, thank you.”

Godolphin cocked his head to the side, and Marlborough remembered too late that his species could smell fear. Though he did not remark upon it, Gloucester did.

“Show me what you did, sir, I can still smell the mouse’s fear!” he cried. “How is this?” He crouched back down in the same manner he had before, his tail wagging with excitement.

Marlborough looked expectantly at Godolphin, but he only laughed and nudged him with his tail. “You must show him. You’ve seen us hunt before.”

“Aye, and picked up nothing.”

“You must not think so.” Godolphin butted his head against his friend’s shoulder. “Just because you cannot join doesn’t mean that you were never there.”

Marlborough hesitated, then stepped forward and caught Gloucester’s tail in the air. “First of all, you already alert your prey, in particular the birds above, that you are here when you move your tail so. They sense a change in the wind even before they hear the whipping about. So keep it stiffly up in the air.”

“Like this?” Gloucester stuck his little tail out, and Marlborough nodded.

“Very good. Besides that, it also helps you keep your balance when you jump. It may not be enough to halt your condition,” he added delicately, “but it never did any harm. Now, also, keep your head up so that your tusks don’t brush along the ground.” He placed his shoe under the prince’s chin and lifted it up. “And your ears erect and still.”

Gloucester winced a little but obeyed. “Then the crouch is perfected?”

“Not yet,” Marlborough said. “Your swiftness is impressive, but you would be swifter still if you raised your body slightly from the ground. You only lower yourself when you are about to pounce.”

“And then?” “Then step forward. Be careful where you put your feet.” He walked past Godolphin and stood some distance away. “Pretend I am the prey.”

Gloucester nodded and began to stalk towards Marlborough. He was very careful, indeed, though he still lurched a little from side to side every time he paused. Marlborough turned to Godolphin, pretending to be distracted.

“A fine mouse you caught there. Did you give it a soldier’s death?”

“What?” Godolphin blurted. “You mean, did I ask God to accept it into Heaven?”

“Of course, so that you may hunt it again in death. Then you’ll have plenty to eat when you get there.” He patted Godolphin on the tail, and the tendril-tooth barked out a laugh.

Just in time, Marlborough looked to the side to see Gloucester leap towards him, throwing him against the ground. He couldn’t help but let out a sharp gasp when he landed, the prince’s weight full on his chest.

“Well done, Highness!” Godolphin said after a moment of Marlborough’s heavy breathing, evidently realizing that he couldn’t speak. “I didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Churchill taught me that pounce,” Gloucester said as he stepped off of Marlborough. “And now his father has taught me the stalking part of it. Thank you, my lord.” He dipped his head for a moment before scrambling up ahead, his tail knocking into a tree when he turned sharply into a clearing.

Godolphin rushed to help Marlborough back up with his horns. “Can you breathe now?”

“Y-Yes, I just- I felt the strength of that pounce,” he managed, resting a hand on his chest. “He’ll be a vicious king.”

“With your help, no doubt.”

They followed Gloucester out into the clearing, where he lifted himself up onto a boulder and lay contentedly. The sun bathed him in red, causing his growing mane to blaze like fire and the perpetual glow of his eyes to dim. His pose was like that of a portrait of the King that Marlborough had seen once or twice, where he lay with his tail curled closely inwards and his gaze fixed upon the viewer, illuminated by a candle beside him.

I hope William IV will be kinder to me, Marlborough thought. The boy was already popular with the people, and he could only imagine that he would continue on that path.

He was startled by a sudden hiss from Godolphin beside him. “Look at him!” he said. “Covered in red!”

“‘Tis only the sun.”

“The mother star is calling to him,” Godolphin went on with wide eyes, ignoring the remark. “At once every Bocca della Verità must see this as well— their heir wading through a sea of his enemies’ blood!”

✭✭✭

The Earl of Portland was now back in France, though he had gone willingly this time, on embassy for his master. Heaven knew how the creature had reacted when he found out he had to return to the place that had caused him so much pain, as Lord Albemarle told it, but at least the heart-eaters now knew exactly what would come from their twisted games. And he would not be made a subject of them any longer.

So it was the said Albemarle, the beautiful Arnold van Keppel, who spent every waking hour at the King’s side. It seemed to content them both, for every time Marlborough saw them together they were purring, though it was Keppel who outdid William in sheer volume.

But that was merely every waking hour; in the unholy hours of the night, Keppel spent time in what should have been his quarters, but were more like a small, yet winding, laboratory where the body parts of robots hung from every surface. They gleamed unnaturally under the fluorescent lights, which were far and few in between, leaving Keppel shrouded in darkness as he worked.

“Do you ever sleep?” Marlborough asked as he entered the room. It always smelled of burning metal here, a foul scent that would give him a headache if he stayed for too long.

“Ah, my lord!” Keppel looked up from his desk, miraculously having abandoned all the robots for tonight in favor of whatever he happened to be writing. “Took you long enough. How was the Duke of Gloucester today?”

“He goes very well in his studies and training,” Marlborough said, “though he oft reminds me of the King with how the sun tempts him to sleep. ‘Tis a curious thing, for there is not a drop of Defender blood in him at all.” He shrugged and leaned back on a table, where a disembodied android’s arm seemed to reach towards him. “But I have seen naught but dedication from him, from the very moment I began as his governor.”

“So you like him.”

“I am not displeased with my post.”

“And you have me to thank for it,” Keppel said, a sly smile growing on his face. “Well, a few others, too. But mostly me. I finally told the King about our history on Forte Solaria.”

Marlborough winced. “Oh. What did he say?”

“It was hilarious, by the stars,” Keppel said hurriedly. “He was so mad— oh, it was kind of hot. But like, mad at you, too.”

“For having saved you?” Marlborough rolled his eyes. He would never please this one!

“Yes! Well, mad that you were the one who did so, anyway.” Keppel laughed. “But it must have done something, because a few days later he made you the governor and a Lord Justice and everything was great again. Right?” His eyes widened slightly. “Things are better now?” “Very much so,” Marlborough said, though he failed to hide the irritation on his face. “But it’s not that easy. You must have told him— I was trained as a soldier there, not a whore!”

“And I was trained as a whore, not a soldier,” Keppel said, stepping up beside Marlborough to swing his hips against him. “Yet look at us now! The Asterothiriots have quite changed our destinies, haven’t they?”

“Not always for the better.”

“Trust me, it’ll only get better from here,” Keppel said, “if you don’t fuck this up. I mean, look, you have a future king in your care! God knows if you’ll live long enough to see him on the throne, but as he grows, I’m sure he’ll find ways to appreciate you. But seriously—” He stepped closer all of a sudden, raising his head so that his gaze was equal upon that of Marlborough. “Do not fuck it up again.”

“I’ll fuck up whatever I think needs fucking up,” Marlborough said, though for once he realized he’d long exhausted his disdain for the King. Whatever would be, would be, and it was all decided under William’s torn and bloodstained claws. He was not malicious, Marlborough decided, just a nearsighted fool.

“As for you, Keppel,” he said, changing the subject, “what do you do in here?”

“Me? I’ve started work on my future bride,” Keppel said with some measure of dismissal, though Marlborough could tell he could hardly contain his excitement. Had he found a match already?

He decided to fall into the trap. “Who is the woman on your mind?”

“Oh, her name is Geertruid and she is as beautiful as I am and endlessly clever,” Keppel blurted. “And very strong, too! I can introduce her to you, actually.” He took Marlborough’s hand and led him to the back of the room, where a large blueprint was pinned to the wall, displaying what would eventually be a full, lovely woman.

“Who is also a robot, of course,” Marlborough muttered. Turning to Keppel, he said, “Are you seriously going to marry her?”

“I hope so,” Keppel said, his eyes shining. “If she falls in love with me once she’s finished. I’ll give her some time, but I really hope she does. She’s going to be perfect.”

“You know half-ass deserves a failure,” Marlborough said. “So I would trust you to make her, as you say, perfect.” At the praise, Keppel grinned. “But that’s not what I was asking. Has a robot ever married a biological Asterothiriot before?”

“No, but why shouldn’t she?” Keppel patted the concept of his wife on the head. “They make devoted partners, much like yourself. See, I thought you could get by that.”

“I could,” Marlborough said. “I just didn’t think you would be so open to the idea considering my Lord Portland. I didn’t like androids before, and now I never will.”

“Oh, but he’s very easy to shut up these days,” Keppel said with a shrug. “I don’t know. I think I could grow to like him, honestly. I think I already have.” He walked over to his desk, where he had left a letter unfinished. “I was just writing to him.”

“You grow so close to him that- that you send him letters?” Marlborough picked up the paper cautiously. Now that was truly unexpected; if Keppel wanted to scold him quickly, he would have sent a message through Portland’s communications system. But a letter meant something else.

“W-Well, it’s not wise to send messages directly to him,” Keppel said, his face beginning to flush. “That’s never secure. Neither are letters, sure, but nobody would think that a robot’s letters are anything of importance.”

“I do hope that the heart-eaters have begged for your forgiveness already,” Marlborough read a passage out loud, “though I know that such humility is below them and their King. They owe you much, however, for though they’ll not say it out loud, you have rid them of a heavy weight on their tails, that of the late King James. Much as they laud him, I am certain that they wanted him gone, too. Still, I know that these are memories that you keep purposely away from your core, so I will stop speaking to you of them and instead remind you of my devotion—”

“Alright, that’s enough! Give it here!” Keppel lunged at Marlborough, who laughed and turned away, holding the letter high above his head to continue reading.

“—and I would that I was there with you, to be at your side before you must face those hated creatures, and tell you that you are always loved—”

“My lord!” Keppel climbed up onto the table, but Marlborough turned around again and clutched the paper closely.

“—as I am sure the Countess with you shall never let you forget. As for myself, I can only say that—”

At this Keppel sunk his teeth into Marlborough’s shoulder, prompting Marlborough to drop the letter with a yelp. Keppel leapt forward and took the letter, placing it back on the desk and glaring at Marlborough. He blushed a deep red, down to his snarling lips.

“I think you miss him,” Marlborough unhelpfully observed as he rubbed at his shoulder.

“You know what I miss, my lord?” Now Keppel smiled. “Your silence. Shut the fuck up.” He turned to sit back down, and Marlborough came up behind him, watching him dip his claw into the ink again.

“I see you mentioned the Countess.”

“So I did. I like her very much.” Keppel didn’t look up.

“Why? Because she takes care of him like you would have, if you were in her place?” Marlborough leaned in. “Did you always know it was impossible, this dream of yours?”

Keppel paused, at last lifting his head. “My lord, there was a time when I thought this here would be impossible for me.” He gestured at the letter with a sad laugh. “And now I write this...long, romantic bullshit, and it fools him. He forgets that I’m not from here, but he’ll never forget what I’ve taken from him.” He sighed. “So, nothing, then, must be impossible. Much less my dreams.”

Marlborough placed his hand in between Keppel’s antennae. Perhaps he had taught that terrified boy more than he had intended to, but what he told weren’t entirely lies, either.

✭✭✭

There was a grunting roar from up ahead, a vicious, but high sound that betrayed the youth of the attacker. Marlborough ducked his head and watched, hidden by the branches above him, but never, he knew, out of scent range for the boys.

The one who had roared was his son, who appeared almost like a full tendril-tooth save for his smaller ears and lack of horns. But he fought perfectly, possibly even better because he knew that he had fewer targets on his body than his pure-blooded counterparts. It seemed to Marlborough that everyday in the army he had seen torn, bloodied ears and chipped horns.

One day, perhaps Gloucester would see such injuries, and even experience a few himself. But for now, he was safe in the knowledge that his fight with John was only pretend.

He took it very seriously, however. He rolled swiftly to the side as John lunged forward, narrowly missing the prince as he landed on the grass. He scrambled back up to meet Gloucester’s claws in the air just before they came down on his head. The two batted at each other for a moment before Gloucester bowed his head, butting it against John’s chest. John cried out as he was flung onto the ground, where Gloucester pounced on him, nipping him in the neck.

“There, I won!” he announced. “If that had been a real fight, you would be dead.”

“Indeed,” Marlborough said, finally coming out of his hiding spot. “And why would that be?”

“Because he butted his head against my chest,” John said. He pushed himself easily out from under Gloucester. “An adult Bocca della Verità has very sharp, very large horns, which, if positioned correctly, could kill a man.”

“Correct,” Marlborough said. “And?”

“And then I bit him,” Gloucester replied. “We have venom in our mouths, so any bite could be fatal, but to the neck it is nearly instant!”

“Very good, the both of you,” Marlborough said, dipping his head towards the prince. “You may also think of your tusks as being especially deadly. Their length is unusual; God knows what it will be when you are king.”

“Oh, then I’ll have long, long tusks, just like the Queen.” Gloucester weaved excitedly about Marlborough, his tail wagging all the while. “I recall she had them even longer than Mama! It scared me at first, but she never bit me once.”

“I never saw her bite anyone,” Marlborough said. He searched the prince’s face for a hint of sorrow, but his eyes only seemed to gleam further with pride.

“If I could be as kind as her,” he said, “yet still command respect— that is all I desire.” He twitched one ear dismissively and sat back. “Alas, I know not how much respect this body of mine commands.”

“But you will grow, Highness!” John twined his tail around Gloucester’s.

“As large as your father and as fierce as your mother,” Marlborough added. He recalled Godolphin’s earlier half-formed vision; indeed, every tendril-tooth had seen the same, including Sarah. She claimed that it was less of a true vision and more of a sensation, a deep, sudden understanding of something no one but her husband and Godolphin had seen. To Marlborough, the matter was incomprehensible.

“John!” There she called him now. He looked up as she rushed towards him, leaving a startled Abigail Hill behind her. She was pretty the same way a dull sculpture was, and any personality she might have had was overshadowed by the presence of Sarah. It was always probable, of course, that she didn’t have one at all.

“What is it, my soul?” He laughed as Sarah stopped beside him, bowing low so that she could look him in the eyes.

“By the stars, you let them play too roughly!” She tapped her sharp tail against his chest. “What will the Princess say if she finds out her son tore a claw or landed too hard on the ground? You know very well how fragile his health is.”

“Ah, but this isn't playing.” Marlborough sat down beside the prince, who jumped back in excitement. “And even if it were, such games are necessary for their development. In the wild, animals learn how to hunt and defend themselves this way.”

“Are we wild animals to you, John?” Sarah asked with a playful growl.

“Why...only you.”

“And I suppose that means you are a domesticated one, aren’t you?” she said. “You could have fooled me when I first saw you.” She sat down beside her son, licking him once on the head. “Well, then, show me what you were doing if it wasn’t playing, Johnny.”

“Nay, Mama, we were training,” John said. “His Highness is already very swift.”

“I’ll get swifter still!” Gloucester jumped onto John’s lashing tail, and John yelped, standing up and kicking a talon out. Gloucester hissed and drew back as the claws hit him in the face, and John turned around to swipe down at his head. It knocked the prince easily to the ground with a grunt.

“Did you see that?” John turned towards Sarah with shining eyes, but something bothered Marlborough in the way that Gloucester had fallen. A mere swipe from a juvenile tendril-tooth had never knocked him down.

“Your Highness,” he said, lifting himself up on his knees to examine the fallen prince beside him, “are you well?”

“Yes, my lord,” Gloucester said. Unexpectedly, he crawled forward, lifting up Marlborough’s hand with his head and then letting it rest upon his mane. “I- I’m dizzy. That’s all.”

Though they nearly matched each other in size, the prince suddenly appeared very small to Marlborough, like a child of Forte Solaria. He was not a true beast yet, after all, like his aunt or grandfather, but still a boy, who had only dreamt of battle. One day, as the vision predicted, he would be the fiercest king this planet would ever know, but for now, he was young, lacking the scent of blood in his mouth.

“Then rest for a little while,” Marlborough said. “And you, Johnny, take care not to hit his head again.”

“I can handle it!” Gloucester cried, trying to stand.

Marlborough shook his head. “Not ‘til you’re older. If we can take care to avoid another migraine, then we must.”

“What kind of prince is felled by a single swipe?” John asked, and Sarah cuffed him behind the ear.

“Shut it!” she hissed. “You’re lucky the Princess wasn’t here. What kind of subject abuses their prince so? It was you who attacked him!”

“I only obliged because he attacked first—”

“Enough of that,” Marlborough cut in. “Sarah, they were training. But you,” he went on, glowering down at his son, “must take care of what words to use before your monarch in the future. You would never say that your opponent was weak just because you were strong.”

John sat up taller, his ears pricking up. “I- I see, Papa.”

“Now, tell him you are sorry.”

Rather than simply apologizing, however, John crawled closer to Gloucester, then fell on his back, exposing his armored stomach. Gloucester dipped his head.

“I found no offense, but you’re forgiven, anyhow.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” John rolled back onto his feet and wagged his tail when he saw his father staring at him.

“By the stars, John, you would have the same look if he had just cut his head off in front of you,” Sarah said. “What is it?”

It was one of the first things he had ever observed when he had first arrived on this planet, and yet he had never gotten used to it, either— their apologies were physical. He recalled seeing the late King James, then Duke of York, falling before his grand brother, asking for forgiveness without words. And how easily it had been granted.

Marlborough shook his head. “Very good, Johnny. You learn quickly.”

His son may have, but as for himself, he knew he never would.

✭✭✭

There were few tendril-tooths that still unsettled Marlborough; even with their unnatural jaws and glowing eyes, he thought he could almost grow to love the species. Besides, it was hard not to love such features when his friends wore them well, when his children were born with the visions of the stars in their eyes and they still loved him with all their power.

And yet one Bocca della Verità he had never understood, though thankfully he was not the only one who felt this way. The Earl of Sunderland was an incomprehensible beast, a creature whose powers of foresight were nearly equal to those of the late Queen, and whose subtle movements confused everybody. When he was pleased, he would shake the spikes on his tail, and when he was angry, his tail would wag madly.

He seemed somewhat partial to Marlborough, however, which so relieved him, as under James’ rule, Sunderland had spoken fondly of the taste of human flesh. He was never the type to ask before snatching something up in his teeth, either, and William didn’t seem to mind the obvious insolence.

Presently Marlborough watched the tendril-tooth eat in front of him, his strange mouth making a mess of the cooked meat. Cooked— why was it cooked? He sat here on a chair too large for him, his eyes aching from having to narrow them against the harsh glow of Sunderland’s gaze, and still he wondered how much monster this monster was.

“I thought your species preferred raw meat,” he said.

“Well, I don’t,” Sunderland said. “I despise a bloody mess on my claws, my lord. But the thrill of the kill is not...lost on me?” He phrased it as a question, for whatever reason, his tendrils curling upwards in a grotesque grin.

“Hunting, as I understand it, is still a messy endeavour,” Marlborough said. Some hunters made it less so, but he had seen how at times the poor prey was so thoroughly dismembered that it would be shameful to bring it into the King’s presence.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Sunderland said. “Not if you kill your prey quickly and cleanly. With our strength, we can always snap the neck rather than tearing out its throat or biting it and leaving it to die later of its infected wounds.” His spikes rattled as he stood from the table. “In short, a death just the way you like it, my lord.”

Did he think he could get his way like this? Marlborough acknowledged his answer with a quick nod, but said nothing.

“Knowing that this food was caught...ethically, as it were, would you not like to have a bite yourself?” Sunderland came up to his side, bowing his head to sniff at Marlborough’s face. “It shames me to think that you are here, without—”

“Please, sir, I already refused once.” Marlborough turned away. “And your shame is only imagined. You know what I came here for.”

“Indeed.” Sunderland drew back. “To refuse me yet another thing— the union of my son and your daughter.”

There he went again, withdrawing into the metaphorical shell that Marlborough had dreaded, and had sought to keep him out of. His ears would relax, his tail would fall limp, every part of him became unreadable until the only emotion you would be able to gauge from him was rage. But there was no way to see how close one was to drawing his ire and venom, so from here on out Marlborough was alone.

“Forgive me, but your son is...” He trailed off. There was no way he could say this kindly.

“I know what my son is,” Sunderland said. “You, however, have said it yourself, many times before— we are still animals, are we not? Uncivilized as compared to the nobility and beauty of the human race.” He reached out to run his claws along a strand of Marlborough’s hair. “I understand why a little one like you would be afraid of seeing your very tame daughter run off with a feral creature such as Charles. But, John,” he breathed, the name sending a shudder through Marlborough, “you deny her what comes naturally to a member of our species.”

“I have denied her nothing,” Marlborough snapped, pushing the invasive talons away. “She has been allowed to grow as if her father were one of you. What I worry about is your son, not her. He is-”

Again Sunderland cut in, his claws coming around Marlborough’s chin to pull him closer until the brightness of his eyes forced the human to close his own. “He is what?”

“He- he only pretends to have inherited your power,” Marlborough said, his hand coming up to grip Sunderland’s wrist as he tried to wrench his head away. Every Asterothiriot, it seemed, would forget their strength when it came to handling him. “What has he seen but his own imagined fortune?”

“Of course, any vision to you must look imagined,” Sunderland said, letting him go. Marlborough fell back, one hand flying up to his neck, where he still felt the sting of the thorn-sharp claws. “Have you ever believed in our powers?”

“I never doubted them,” Marlborough said truthfully. “Nor you. But I am always careful to consider the source.”

“Very well,” Sunderland said. “So you believe in us.”

“Yes.”

“So you must then believe me when I say that I have foreseen a fine wedding, whatever your answer may be,” he went on. “I see you raising my son higher and higher when I am gone. I see that your loyalty to him will not bode well for you nor for your wife.”

“What loyalty?” Marlborough narrowed his eyes. “I know your visions can’t be wrong, but I hesitate to voice what the alternative might be.”

“You think I am lying.”

“There’s no other way to explain it.” Marlborough backed away. “Forgive me, but I know myself better than any vision, and I know that I’d never consent to...this.”

“You try to force your way out of your destiny?” Sunderland barked out a laugh. “You have greatness ahead of you, more than anything you could imagine! If you defy fate now, then when does it end?”

“I never thought you a Calvinist, my lord.”

“Ah, but unlike a Calvinist, I believe that you make your own fortune. Is that not so?” Sunderland dropped down to all fours. “And still the fortune of others. If you obey now, you can become the most powerful human this galaxy will ever see.”

“I don’t see how your son can help me,” Marlborough said. “He has made an enemy of nearly everyone.”

“He’s young,” Sunderland said. “Tell me who didn’t have enemies at his age. And even you now.” He turned away, his tail running under Marlborough’s chin as he did so. “It amuses me that you think you have a choice as a human. If your wife has already resolved on the marriage, then you will obey, either her or fate. But you will obey.”

“If anyone can fight fate, I trust her to do so.” Marlborough shoved Sunderland’s tail away, wincing as the spikes approached his eye. “If your son is truly as in love as you claim he is, then let him prove it to me in time. But I’ll not be shamed nor intimidated by a man who refuses to get blood on his claws even just to feed himself.”

Sunderland stopped, lifting his head, and Marlborough tensed. Was this his anger, then? He swallowed and met the brilliant pink eyes.

Come whatever may, then.

But Sunderland only sighed. “Ah, why should I force fate? You’ll be back here, my lord, whether I wish it or no. And I do.”

“If that be true, then ‘tis not for the same reason,” Marlborough said bitterly. “Is that all? Or do you have something more you wanted to discuss, since my resolution on this is final?”

Sunderland nodded. He sat down, his tail coming around Marlborough’s shoulders and pulling him closer. “I waited to tell you this, and indeed I hesitate to tell you now due to your...defiance of what you know to be true. But the Duke of Gloucester is nearly ten now.”

“That he is,” Marlborough said, though he couldn’t imagine why Sunderland brought the boy up. He had only ever looked upon him with a cold interest, and Marlborough shuddered to think what he already knew of the prince’s future.

“Your wife may have told you this,” Sunderland said, “of the vision all of us shared regarding the prince. We saw nothing that could be taken with either much joy or despair, though, for reasons that escape me, all that I spoke to rejoiced.” He snorted. “It was the most nonsense thing God could have sent us! The prince drenched in blood not his own? Why? He is naught but a child!”

“I was there when the vision was sent,” Marlborough admitted. “And I thought the same. ‘Twas only the sun that shone upon him. That you all read an omen in the stars at that moment meant nothing.”

“I did not say that it meant nothing, my lord, I only said that the meaning it did have was purposely made as confusing as possible.” Sunderland shifted on his claws. “But upon studying what I saw that day in closer detail, and looking even further ahead, I realize now that this omen was not meant for our eyes.”

“I see,” Marlborough lied.

“It was sent to all of us in the hope that one way or another, it would reach you.” Sunderland poked his tail against Marlborough’s cheek. “And so it has.”

“Sir, I- I’m very far removed from this world,” Marlborough said, stepping away and shaking himself. Every touch felt like the prick of a hedgehog’s quill.

“That doesn’t mean that you don’t appear in visions,” Sunderland said, turning to look at him. “I would venture to say that you are the one who appears most frequently in the stars as of late.”

“But a vision meant for me, my lord, that is—”

“Make of it what you will,” Sunderland snapped. “I would have you remember one thing, however.” He lifted his tail and ran his finger across a spike. A dark streak of blue appeared just under the claw, dripping down onto his wrist as he raised his talon up towards Marlborough.

“‘Tis human blood that is as red as the mother star. Not ours.”

✭✭✭

Having had his eyes shut for so long in the past, Marlborough knew well what the approach of certain Asterothiriots sounded like. This one was the easiest, with the sound of scrambling claws, heavy breaths in between— it was the Prince of Denmark.

He looked up and saw the huge Canis magnetar as he entered, licking his whiskers as he sniffed the air. “I heard we were making William’s mask today. I couldn’t miss that!”

Marlborough dipped his head in his direction. “Have you brought your own, Your Highness?”

“Ah- well, yes—” George turned around, his tail wagging slightly at the sight of his wife. She held a mask in her hands, presumably her husband’s.

“Maybe think twice of running up ahead next time,” she laughed, handing him the mask. “William, do you not think it is too soon? Your papa made his own when he was fourteen.”

Gloucester at last looked up from his place at the table. He had splinters of wood buried in his tusks and claws, and his fingers were stained with the ink that he had used to draw his design. Beside him, Bishop Burnet flipped the pages of a large book, showing the boy some of the older, more popular designs that the Canis magnetar typically liked to use for their masks. His tendrils twitched upon the entrance of the Prince and Princess as if he had just smelled something foul.

“No, Mama, the time is just right,” Gloucester replied. “Who in this galaxy has the power to defy the heart-eaters? ‘Tis the magnetar dogs! Bishop Burnet says that Papa’s species can harness their magnetic fields such that they can even control the presence of those ghosts.”

“Naturally, it depends on the person,” Burnet muttered, but Gloucester seemed no less enthusiastic. He held up the wooden mask he had been carving out. Just last year, he had started to learn how to cut and shape wood with his talons, in preparation for this very moment.

The mask, of course, was messy, and looked quite dangerous to wear in Marlborough’s opinion, but both George and Anne seemed delighted. George ran to his side and leaned over the table, his tail wagging so hard it swatted Marlborough in the face.

“Oh, ‘tis very beautiful,” he said. “How will you paint it?”

“I- I want it red and gold,” Gloucester said, his ears flicking back bashfully. “Like my Lord Marlborough’s uniform.”

“Unnatural colors!” George leapt back, nearly colliding with Marlborough in his shock. “Have you given any thought to this beforehand?”

“I can assure you that he has, Your Highness,” Marlborough said. “And he’s convinced that the design is possible. I trust him,” he added, seeing George snap his jaws in the air, “as a hybrid of the Canis magnetar and as a student of the Bishop.”

“Then I do as well,” Anne said. “George, show him your mask.” She flicked her heavy tail at Marlborough, beckoning him closer. “My lord, a word.”

“Yes?” Marlborough looked up at her, standing almost as tall as her father. Her presence, however, relaxed him more than it exhausted him, and she never asked anything unreasonable. At least, not of him, he liked to think. With Sarah was a different matter, but she was happy enough to obey her Princess, no matter the order.

“William is but a hybrid,” she said. “And as of now, he’s had no visions. If God wills it, his powers are only delayed, but...” The spikes on her tail shook slightly. “Our King is a hybrid as well, whose mother was a Bocca della Verità.”

“And he has no such powers,” Marlborough finished.

“Indeed.” Anne gave him a tentative smile. “I thank God for it, but he also lacks the powers of his father. No gift of foresight, nor silk in his wrists...” Her eyes widened. “What if it is the same with my son? If he inherits neither of our powers, what then? We don’t yet know if he has the magnetic field.”

“I believe that as long as he has the same eyes as his father,” Marlborough said, “his powers will show. That is, after all, how the mask binds itself to his face and body.”

“I hope you’re right,” Anne said, glancing at Gloucester. “I wouldn’t like to have lied to him this whole time. I thank you.” She tapped her tail lightly on Marlborough’s shoulder before bounding back towards her son. He was occupied with carving out designs onto the mask, though at times his father had to use his own sharper claws to cut into the wood.

This, too, was beyond Marlborough. He watched the excited boy from some distance away, always having to move this way and that to avoid the wagging tails. It was only when Gloucester looked up at him expectantly that he approached.

“My lord,” he said, “how do you fight the heart-eaters?”

“Well, to that there are many answers—”

“No, my lord, how do you fight them?” Gloucester asked. “You’re a human, with no venom nor visions nor anything. I know you can see them, but they can’t be hurt at all, can they? Not without gamma radiation.”

“No, but there are ways to ward them off,” Marlborough explained. “For that, we need the strength of every Asterothiriot— the tendril-tooths and their visions, the magnetar dogs and their masks, and the Defenders and their hivemind. There are even heart-eaters here who want to help us, who know the weaknesses of their species well.”

“God knows there are few,” Gloucester said ruefully. “So is that how you fight them? By commanding us on the field?”

“When they have enough robots to control, yes. But we rarely fight true heart-eaters on the field.” Marlborough laughed uneasily at the thought. “Their invasions work from within, as they destroy and infect the codes of our devices.” He gestured at one of the computer screens that had taken the place of a window not too long ago, which Burnet used often for his lessons. “From there, they are even more powerful than they would be if we fought them conventionally.”

“The Sun King can eat stars, though,” Gloucester said. His tail twitched nervously. “Could he do that with our planet?”

“Oh, could he?” George’s ears pricked up.

“Of course not, you two.” Anne rolled her eyes. “There is enough nuclear energy on this planet to kill him if the foolish idea ever came to him.”

Marlborough nodded. “The most powerful repellent, after gamma radiation, is your magnetic field. So if you finish this...” He tapped the mask that Gloucester held. “You will have nothing to fear.”

“Indeed, they will fear me in turn,” Gloucester said, his eyes glittering. “The moment that I put this on, they know to hail William IV!” He placed his mask over his eyes with a fierce growl.

Though Marlborough had expected the transformation, it was still always a surprise to see a Canis magnetar activate its field. Gloucester bowed his head, his claws keeping the mask held up to his face as something like a halo appeared around his head, glowing for a moment before disappearing.

“Oh, thank God,” Anne breathed.

But her relief only lasted for so long, as Gloucester suddenly dug his claws yet deeper into the mask. His other hand reached out to grip the table. A shudder ran from his ears to the tip of his tail, and then he tossed his head back with a shriek.

“William!” Anne instantly swung her tail around him and brought him closer. “What is it? Does it hurt?”

It must have, Marlborough realized, for he saw that the prince’s tail was growing dusky brown fur in place of its spikes, as were his ears, though they began to flop over as if the weight were too much for them. Much like the ears upon his father’s head.

“Of course!” Burnet hissed, coming up around Gloucester. “This child appears to be nearly a pure-blooded Bocca della Verità. To put on a mask and change so drastically could very possibly break some bones.”

“Then we must stop it at once,” Anne said. She licked anxiously at her son’s face as he convulsed in her arms, his cries sounding less human to Marlborough by the moment.

“Your Highness,” Burnet said, turning to George. “You may stop this by using your own magnetic field. It is stronger than his and will allow you to pull the mask off in the midst of the transformation.”

“I- I was thinking of it,” George said hastily. He placed his mask on his face, the same halo appearing around his head for a moment. His fur became bushier and caused him to appear much larger. He curled his lip back, revealing the sharper canines and extra teeth that grew there. He fell forward with a huff and took Gloucester in his paws.

The air felt heavier around Marlborough as he observed them, as George buried his teeth into Gloucester’s mask and began to pry it off. It was surely the conflict of the two fields, binding father and son together, though Marlborough knew that there was nowhere else George would rather be, anyway.

Poor child, he thought. Anne had been right to worry; if this was to be the transformation every time, Gloucester would never inherit his father’s powers, either.

Hail William IV. Marlborough repeated the phrase to himself. He heard the prince fall silent at last, and he looked up, realizing that the beat of his heart had become almost painful.

“How is he?” he asked, stepping closer.

Gloucester rested in his father’s arms, his whole body shaking as he sniffed, wiping futilely at the tears on his face. Anne lapped soothingly at his head, squeezing his hand in her own. The boy glanced up at Marlborough and swallowed.

“If I shall inherit the kingdoms, then England is in danger, my lord,” he whispered.

“Never,” Marlborough answered in the same volume. “The King has no such powers, either, and yet the planet remains. I am a mere human, but I remain.”

“And how? How have you done it?”

At this Marlborough dropped his gaze to the floor with a rueful smile. “That, Your Highness,” he said, “I cannot say.”

✭✭✭

The Duke of Gloucester recovered well, for the wounds left afterwards were only imaginary. The King had seemed rather disappointed in his letters, though not as much in the boy as he was with Anne, for reasons Marlborough couldn’t fathom.

But he was pleased enough with everything else he had heard of Gloucester’s education, and so Marlborough kept him on the same path as before. He watched him hunt and fight from afar, listened to the intensity of Burnet’s lessons from behind the door, wore the discarded mask as Gloucester instructed, for the simple joy of seeing it used. If no otherworldly powers could affect Marlborough, then he didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge the prince on occasion.

What was curious to him was when Gloucester would drill his little army of tendril-tooth boys, fierce creatures that appeared more aggressive to Marlborough than their adult counterparts. He thought they might have liked him, but they were rather too rough and too curious for his tastes. They would nip at his fingers, sniff him everywhere, and knock him over with enthusiastic pounces, very unlike the usual care that his son would show him.

They liked him enough so that Gloucester began to use him as a sort of reward— obey me well, he said, and the human is all yours for the rest of the night. Marlborough didn’t mind this so much, for all they demanded was tales of the human galaxies and the occasional play-fight with him. What he minded more was a hint of the prince’s grandfather whenever he made such deals, and he thought again and again of what Sunderland had said to him.

Human blood is red. It had been so long since he had cared to acknowledge the scars on his thighs every time he dressed, and yet now they seemed to sting all over again. As red as the mother star.

And tendril-tooth blood is blue. As blue as the sea.

His eyes, as blue as the sea.

He was too relieved to forget this when he watched the boys train, and afterwards when he sat on the grass with them after a successful hunt. Gloucester would speak of whatever the imagined victory of the day had won them before curling up beside Marlborough, resting his head on his lap with his tail thumping the ground. He said that he liked the human’s hands, that they were softer than even his father’s paws.

It was during one of these sunsets that Gloucester told Marlborough his intention to take his little troop scouting elsewhere, where they could get used to fighting in a different environment and tasting unfamiliar scents. Upon overhearing this, John shot upwards and bounded towards them.

“Will we go somewhere, Your Highness?” he asked. He was now taller than his father, and attempted to be just as stern, but the way he seemed ready to pounce at everything that moved did not convince Marlborough just yet.

“You nosy boy, you weren’t meant to hear,” he scolded him playfully, pushing back on his son’s teeth as he stepped closer. “Sit down, if you must, since you’re already here.”

John obeyed, and Gloucester lifted his head from Marlborough’s lap. “To answer your question, yes, Churchill, we shall. I know not where, though,” he added, glancing back at his governor.

“I know of a place,” Marlborough said thoughtfully. “There is an abandoned nuclear power plant not far off from here. We mustn’t go in, but there are many discarded robot parts around the place that will make it difficult to smell anything natural. ‘Tis hard to battle in such conditions, but I have done it, and so you must learn, as well.”

“A power plant?” Gloucester tilted his head to the side. “Pray tell, why would we ever abandon such a source?”

“Long before your existence was ever thought of, the planet was in civil war,” Marlborough explained. “Which, I am sure, the Bishop has taken care to teach you.” He paused as Gloucester nodded, then continued. “Many power plants were destroyed in the process, or rendered useless by tampering or error or simply deemed unsafe after the chaos. This particular plant had nothing wrong with it, but the removal of certain software and securities in place made it susceptible to heart-eater attacks.”

“Was France not our ally then?” John asked.

“Indeed, but there are some places where we never want them to go,” Marlborough said. “So we left it as it was and it became something of a mass grave for old or defective robots.”

“So no one will bother us there,” Gloucester said, sitting up. “I have decided. We shall go there!” He wagged the tip of his tail. “But when?”

“Nay, must you make a decision now?” Marlborough laughed. He reached out to ruffle the growing mane. “I shall make you a deal, Your Highness. Your birthday comes soon, so you mustn’t wait for long— following it, I will take you there myself, just you, so you can see if it suits your purposes.”

“I doubt that it will not, my lord,” Gloucester said. “I trust you.”

“Oh, ‘tis a nasty place,” Marlborough said. “You might be surprised.”

Indeed, the prince didn’t have to wait long at all, for he was eleven years old just the following month. He was becoming a fine creature, as obstinate as his mother. He already showed, too, the beauty that befit the Stuarts, though his was less ominous and more sweet, innocent.

Still, his youth was shown more clearly to Marlborough that night, when he was surrounded by his adoring family and the curious courtiers, who all so dwarfed the prince with their magnificent horns and overgrown claws. If only William was there, to see how graciously Gloucester behaved towards them. Perhaps he could learn a thing or two.

But, as for himself, Marlborough was glad to be rid of William for the moment. Nearly every celebration at court before this had him be something of a decoration, listening in on every conversation but never welcomed by the King. Those nights were long, exhausting him more than any battle could. How strange it was to be so fearful of his own silence.

No, tonight the art was in the sky. The fireworks startled Gloucester at first, the spikes on his tail standing straight up as he ducked behind his father, but after a while he watched them with full attention. His wide, blank eyes reflected the stars.

“If hydrogen bombs were so beautiful,” he breathed, “we would all be dead, and I would blame no one.”

Afterwards, he was brought inside to dine with his guests; he was particularly proud of being the one who fed them with some of the larger animals he had caught. Marlborough watched them eat from a distance, having already done the same himself. The scent of blood reached him even from that distance.

“See him now,” Sunderland said as he came up beside him, nudging him with his nose. “The little prince so covered in red as we saw him then.”

Marlborough swallowed. Indeed, Gloucester’s face was stained with the blood of his food, though not to the concerning degree Marlborough might have imagined. Was that all the vision meant? That the prince would be as skilled a hunter as his uncle?

“Watch closely over him tonight.” Sunderland bowed his head. “For a deadly, unseen virus spreads through our planet like fire. I’d not like the King to be so incapacitated by another spell of that excessive grief of his.”

“What are you saying?” Marlborough’s eyes widened with outrage and bewilderment as he turned to face Sunderland. “Will- will he fall ill? Shall I take him somewhere?”

“I cannot tell you what to do, can I?” The tendril-tooth rattled the spikes on his tail and turned away. “No one can.”

A sickness that hit the prince hard enough very well had the strength to kill him; he was not yet as strong as every other boy his age. But Marlborough couldn’t imagine how or why it should happen here, when he was so happy and blissfully safe from all danger. He knew, though, that he also couldn’t afford to be blinded by the circumstances. Sickness came whenever it liked.

After the dinner he watched the Asterothiriots dance with growing unease, watching Gloucester as he weaved through the talons of dozens of guests around him. He seemed well enough, and yet—

“John, what are you doing?” Sarah bent over to nudge his cheek with her head. “You look ill. I told you that you don’t have to be here when we eat—”

“No, not that,” her husband said, looking away with a sigh. “Do you remember the vision your species had, but two years ago? About the prince.”

“Yes,” Sarah said. “Why do you think of it now?”

Marlborough hesitated. “Sunderland warned me that- that there is a virus of some sort— I know not what it is, but he seemed to tell me that the prince’s life is at risk because of it. Someone might carry it here...” He looked around. “Have you been warned of anything as of late?”

“Nothing about His Highness,” Sarah said, her ears twitching in surprise. “Nor have I heard anyone say a thing. Oh!” She straightened up. “The Princess did tell me before the fireworks began that she felt the strangest thing for a moment, that the aura of a dreadful vision had swept over her, but had disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. She knew not what it meant.”

“Well, then.” Marlborough glanced at Gloucester again. “I’d like to take him far away from here.”

“Wise,” Sarah said, “but Heaven knows if the Princess Anne will allow an end to the celebrations so early.”

“The warning came from Sunderland, so she must have reason to believe it,” Marlborough said. “I think she will.”

“Very well, then I shall tell her.” Sarah looked around for a moment before ducking to kiss her husband on the head. “It might displease her now, but she’ll be grateful later. You might have saved his life.”

“I hope I have,” Marlborough replied with another anxious glance at Gloucester. He was starting to feel dizzy, his head heavy. Perhaps she was right and the scent of the blood had gotten to him. He needed to get both himself and the prince out of here.

“Oh, John.” Sarah reached down to run her claws through his hair, her tail twining around his body. “Truly, what is it? I’ve never seen you worry like this, not since- since his reign. Or are you the one who is ill?” She dropped her hand down to touch it lightly against his cheek.

“N-No, my love, I only—” He leaned into the touch and sighed again. “I would that I had visions like yours. That I may protect everyone who is in need of it.”

“But look at you!” Sarah stepped back. “You never know what lies ahead of you, yet you carry on as if you did. Men would gouge out their all-seeing eyes for a fraction of your ability.” She brought his hand up to her lips, kissing it gently as she glanced to the side. “I must go speak to the Princess now. Be safe.”

She left him there alone, his body shaking slightly, feeling as exposed as if he were made to be artwork, after all. Now this was embarrassing; what a fool he was, being so frightened by something that may or may not happen, when all he had ever known was to be fearless.

Surely they all smelled what he had been told was the sickening scent of fear, but, once again, it was only Gloucester who addressed it. He trotted merrily over to Marlborough with his tail wagging.

“My lord! Does this not please you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Marlborough let out in a rush. “Yes, but it- it would please me more if— if Your Highness would remember how I promised that we would scout out the nuclear power plant after your birthday.” He bowed his head a little. “Now we shall.”

“Oh, can we? Right now?” Gloucester blinked in surprise. “Should I not tell my mama first, I’m sure—”

“I am your governor, and I say ‘tis very well,” Marlborough said. He took Gloucester’s hand in his own. “Think of this as an assessment. I will see how you track, how you hunt, perhaps even how you fight a real battle if we come across a larger animal. God willing, we shall not,” he added hastily upon seeing Gloucester lash his tail, “but it is now or never. You can take your troop there tomorrow if all goes well.”

“Tomorrow,” Gloucester repeated. He looked back at his mother, then shrugged his shoulders as if he were relieving some tension from them. “Very well. Let us go. Papa shall entertain them, he always does.”

They both waited until they were out of everyone’s sight, then hurried out while Sunderland was still the only one who watched them. Marlborough didn’t think too much about it; after all, the warning had come from him.

“‘Tis a strange time to leave,” Gloucester said as he bounded out under the stars, shaking himself. “Is something wrong, my lord? Why must we be so discreet?”

Clever boy. Marlborough fixed his gaze up ahead as he answered.

“No, but- but there might be. Worry not, however, I think we shall outrun it.”

“But if something is wrong, will my mama be safe?” Gloucester glanced behind him, then stopped in his tracks. “I will only go if you promise me she will be safe, and Papa, too.”

“With all my heart, I do swear it.” Marlborough bowed low. He prayed it would convince the prince, or he would be forced to tell him of Sunderland’s warning. And what good would it be to frighten Gloucester?

“Well...I did say that I trusted you.” Gloucester started walking again, and Marlborough followed him, relieved. “How far is this place, my lord?”

“We must go through your hunting grounds,” Marlborough said. “But we must be careful, the nocturnal beasts are more like to attack than their diurnal counterparts.”

“I will defeat them all,” Gloucester declared.

“I trust that you can, but ‘tis better to avoid an unnecessary fight.”

One moon was full, and two others had nearly caught up to it, so the prince’s eyes were thankfully not the only lanterns that lit their path. This time he seemed not at all interested in stealth as he crashed through the bushes and knocked his tail against the trees, likely scaring away any animals that may have been ahead. It must have been intentional.

It was a while before Gloucester spoke again, when the full moon had creeped ever higher above them. “I- I cannot smell as well here. Are we almost there?”

“We must be,” Marlborough said. By now he was starting to regret this; it was too dark and too late for someone the prince’s age to be out here. He might have retired to bed instead, and hide away safely under his covers, rather than run so far into unfamiliar territory like a common spy with a human as his only protection. The most extraordinary human this galaxy had ever seen, to be sure, but a human nonetheless.

You could have done this tomorrow, he scolded himself. But they were here now, and the prince seemed determined to press on.

“I smell water nearby,” Gloucester announced after another long silence. “There is something about it, though...”

“There’s an old pond here that the tendril-tooths dug out early on,” Marlborough said, remembering just in time before Gloucester ran up ahead to see it. “At first it was clean, but it has become such a mess of parts and oil that I advise you not to approach it. Even touching it would be dangerous— the water is conductive and it has electrical currents running through it that could burn you.” He reached out to pull back on Gloucester’s tail. “So stay away from it.”

“Oh, I promise I shall! Hurry, now, I’d not like our scents to be tracked here.” Gloucester scurried under the branches, and Marlborough followed him, hearing the flutter of a startled Cryptovolans above.

They came to the said pond, surrounded by hills of robot endoskeletons and armor alike, broken limbs and spent batteries piled together and leaking their contents into the water. The moon shone unnaturally off of the metal, which reached for what looked like dozens of tail-lengths around. If the trees grew here, Marlborough would say that they had almost become part of the natural order of things, but that was not the case.

“I like it here,” Gloucester said beside him, stalking forward on all fours. “There’s a lot of space to fight. And here, too, an unwitting enemy could fall.” He gestured to the pond with his tail. “I suppose the best point would be from one of the hills, right?”

“Yes, but don’t—”

Gloucester began to climb up the many robot parts, kicking down eyeballs and fingers behind him. “You, my lord, come up here! I’ll try to beat you back. My theory is that once you’ve made it all the way up, there is nothing that can take you from this spot.”

“Why is that?” Marlborough asked. He began to climb up the same hill that Gloucester had perched upon.

“Because of this!” Gloucester turned around and kicked at the parts underneath his talons. A heavy arm tumbled down towards Marlborough, causing the bolts he stood on to slide under his feet and nearly knock him over. He jumped off before the arm could reach him, wincing at the thump it made as it landed at its final resting place on the ground. That would have hurt.

“Very good,” Marlborough called up to him. “What moves should you use from such a position?”

“A high strike!” Gloucester demonstrated it by swiping his claws downwards through the air. “Right on their faces will make them run! But if they get closer, then I can kick them with the sickle-claw, like horses do.” He bent over on his arms and kicked out both legs behind him.

“Is that what we shall practice tomorrow?”

“Yes, that is—” Gloucester paused, his ears pricking up. “Oh, I can see the power plant from here!” He began to jump back towards the ground, but his claws slid out under him and caused him to practically roll down the hill instead. He seemed unaffected as he got back up, however, if a little shaky around his tail and legs. “May we go see?”

“I don’t consider it safe,” Marlborough said. He wondered if it was high time to return yet; the body parts here unnerved him more than he cared to admit. “Are you well, Your Highness?”

“Yes, so we should go!” Gloucester hopped from side to side like an excited dog. “Please, my lord, you know that I’ve always listened to you. I’ll stay right beside you.”

“Very well,” Marlborough sighed. “But if we go see it now, then we must go back immediately after. We’ve spent too long here already.”

“By the stars, we just got here! Come, come, then!” Gloucester nudged him forward, and Marlborough laughed and obeyed his prince.

It was a longer walk than he had anticipated, and he began to notice Gloucester yawning on the way there. But he seemed to shake off all exhaustion when they arrived at the crumbling building.

“It looks endless,” he said, looking from left to right. “And- and I smell water here, too, even over everything.” He tilted his head up and opened his mouth as if he were tasting the air. “‘Tis a very strong scent.”

“Nuclear energy uses water, of course,” Marlborough said. “Both to cool the fuel rods, and to store them. But I don’t see why there should still be any of it in use here.” He stepped through the large, shattered glass doors, Gloucester following close behind, and stifled a gasp upon seeing the abandoned reactor just outside the building. It obscured the sky that would have been so splendidly visible above the collapsed walls and ceiling, and just beyond it lay the even larger cooling tower.

“Would you look at that?” Gloucester ran up the noisy metal stairs that spiralled upwards, all the way to the top of the building. “It looks glorious from up here!”

“Get down, Your Highness, you swore you would be with me!” Marlborough called after him. “And who knows how well these stairs can hold you up.” He sounded more anxious than he intended, but such were his true feelings. This place was not meant to be disturbed, he could sense it.

“The stairs continue downwards!” Gloucester cried as he hurried down the steps, Marlborough’s heart skipping a beat every time he heard the boy’s talons slide for too long. “I see something down there. Can we go?”

“Very well, but then we must go back!” Marlborough joined him on the stairs, descending to the next floor, then the next, and the next.

The prince stopped abruptly in front of him, and Marlborough nearly stumbled over him. He was about to scold him, but he found himself silenced in awe when he saw the massive pool glowing in front of them. It seemed so large that it could have stored a couple of the King’s departing ships.

“So this is where it came from,” Gloucester said. He hopped onto the floor, slipping against the metal grating. Marlborough ran hastily after him. “What is this, my lord?”

“The spent fuel pool,” Marlborough answered. “I would have thought they had emptied it before they abandoned it.” He leaned over the railing, narrowing his eyes against his reflection before looking up again. There was a control station just on the other side of the pool, though the numerous screens were cracked and showed nothing but the radiation in the water.

With a pang of deep, primal fear, he realized there was a peculiar sound still coming from the station. The water was still, and thus silent, but over everything there was a sound like a dying animal, a high-pitched, brief little groan that repeated every five seconds or so. Were they the death knells of the machine?

“I don’t like it here,” he confessed to the prince, who was currently trying to reach the water with his talons. Marlborough sighed and pulled him back. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I—” Gloucester paused. “Do you hear that? Is it coming from the water?” He turned in the direction of the control station. “I would have heard it from the other floor. Has it only just started?”

“It comes from there.” Marlborough nodded at the cracked screens. “Did you truly not hear it before?”

“No.” Gloucester shook his head. “It sounds...like something not of this planet.”

The sound went on, impossible to make sense of in Marlborough’s mind. He might have called it beeping if it had not sounded so biological. He might have called it a humming if it did not stop so often.

“Are you ready to leave now?” he asked, turning to Gloucester.

“I- I suppose.” The prince kept his gaze on the screens, however, moving only when Marlborough nudged his shoulder. “My lord, I- there is something dripping from the cracks.”

“What?” Marlborough looked up, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t see it from here, but he guessed that Gloucester had a sharper gaze. “How—”

“Your Highness!” A booming voice echoed throughout the room, causing even the water to ripple slightly. Marlborough instantly brought Gloucester in closer as the screens began to flicker on, making clear effort through the static and colorful, messy lines. He knew what this was— nay, who this was.

The screens buzzed and buzzed until they suddenly stopped, flashing black before dozens of red eyes appeared all over them. They blinked down at Marlborough and the prince.

“Your Majesty,” Marlborough greeted him dryly in French, bowing low.

“Your Majesty?” Gloucester repeated with a squeak.

“Oh, little prince,” King Louis said, his eyes appearing to soften. “What an offering you bring me, Monsieur Churchill. Yourself, the human who has been such a thorn in my side...and the Protestant heir.” A grin began to slowly spread across the bottom of the screen.

“He will leave now. Both of us will.” Marlborough stood up taller. “And you can forget that you saw us here. There is a peace, and I trust you will not violate it.”

“Ah, but how often I have waited for a chance such as this!” Louis cried. “Must you leave so soon? I have been dying to meet this illustrious Duke of Gloucester.” His multiple gazes darted rapidly around the room. “Have you not brought your son?”

“No,” Marlborough said. “And I never will. Good night, Your Majesty.” He turned around and began to lead the astonished Gloucester up the stairs, only for a couple of rusted nails to fall down the steps towards them. Marlborough then caught sight of a strange, misshapen android dragging itself towards them with its four arms down the stairs, complete with an old, tangled wig and a partially revealed endoskeleton. Its sharp teeth went nearly all the way around its head, and its jaws seemed to be repeated down at its belly, out of which a metal tongue dangled and hit the stairs.

It lifted its faceless head, a mess of wires with nothing recognizable save for the mouth. Marlborough backed away as the robot stood upright on its twisted legs, lurching forward in Gloucester’s direction. Gloucester yelped and hid behind Marlborough, the spikes on his tail shaking fearfully.

“What’s the matter, prince? Were you not excited to challenge me before?” The King’s voice came from both the screens and the robot, which moved the mouth on its stomach rather than the one on its face. “You want to be like him, do you not? William. My William!” His voice was becoming garbled by echoing, distorted laughs, but they stopped abruptly when he next spoke. “Once upon a time, I had him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gloucester said with a nervous growl. “But you’ll not have me, sir.” He glanced at Marlborough, who was glaring at the screens. There was no way to fight him through those, as it seemed they were no longer functional and only served as a vessel for Louis. No, there had to be another way. Another answer that tempted him.

“Oh, Your Highness.” The robot took another step towards Gloucester. “There has never been anything in this galaxy that I wanted that I couldn’t have. Of course,” he added with a low hiss, “that doesn’t mean that your human friend here has not tried to stop me. It will be such a relief to finally have that body for myself and see what my dear brother James saw in it.”

“What is he talking about?” Gloucester bared his teeth and let out a ferocious bark. “You leave us alone! It is as my lord said; there is a peace!”

“Peace!” Louis scoffed, letting out a hideous laugh through the robot. “Tales for children. Why, should I let both of you live just to challenge me again later? There will be no peace in the universe until I rule it.” He raised the claws of the robot, wickedly curving towards the sky much like the sickle-claw of the tendril-tooths.

“Your Highness, I need you to get as far away from here as possible,” Marlborough said urgently, turning to Gloucester.

“But you-”

“Please, do not be afraid for me.” Marlborough pushed the hair from the prince’s face. “You can’t fight a heart-eater yet. When we return, I’ll teach you. But you must run, as far as you can, and never look back. There are robots up there he might be able to take control of, so you must take care to be especially swift.”

“I- I don’t—” Gloucester hesitated, and in that moment the robot lunged at him, snapping its jaws in the air right by the prince. Gloucester cried out and scurried to the side as Louis batted at his waving tail, trying to follow him up the stairs. For all the limbs the robot had, however, it seemed to have trouble crawling up them.

“Your quarrel is with me, Louis!” Marlborough spat at the screens once the prince had disappeared. “Leave the damn boy alone.”

The robot turned its great head towards him. “So it is. But it is best to kill a friend before he becomes an enemy, is that not so? You would know.”

“I’ve never once thought of killing a child,” Marlborough said. He slipped off his coat as the words rang in his head.

Killing a child. Killing a child. A deadly, unseen virus.

Sunderland and his cryptic prophecies! Virus, indeed, these heart-eaters as they devoured strings of code— but what deceit that monster played with. Had he intended to lead Marlborough to this very moment?

“What are you doing, you infernal human?” Louis’ eyes disappeared from the screen, being replaced by a huge, taunting grin. “Come to strip for me like you did for King James?”

No matter. Marlborough glared back at him as he kicked off his shoes. He was out of practice here, but at least it wouldn’t be the radiation that killed him, if anything did. He took a few deep breaths, and with the last one, the longest, he leaned over the railing and dove into the pool.

Distantly he was aware of Louis’ bewildered hisses above the surface, but he ignored them and swam deeper, fighting against the urging of the water to push him back up again and his own treacherous shaking. Though he kept his eyes shut, he tried to remember how the pool had looked before he had jumped in. The glowing had come from the very bottom, where the spent fuel rods were kept. As long as he could reach the bottom, he could find them.

He began to feel the weight of the water on him at last, pushing him down further. His ears, too, began to feel the pressure, so he lifted a hand and held his nostrils shut, attempting to exhale through them. He realized he had severely underestimated how long this would take, but at least Gloucester would have more time to get away.

He stopped when his hand hit something hard, and he could see the blue glow through his eyelids. He reached out and felt along the solid— yes, here was a rod, many of them. Perhaps there was a smaller one, though, like the ones that were used in robots rather than reactors. These were much too large to carry. He swam to the side, feeling along the rods until he came to one that ended rather abruptly. He pulled on it to break it free from the rod assembly, stifling a hiss of pain at the heat on his hands. At the very least, he knew he wouldn’t freeze here.

The rod seemed to be light enough. He pushed himself back up and began to ascend, though it was made difficult by the continual sinking of the rod in his hand. He couldn’t go up too quickly, he knew, but he only had so much time.

Oh, Your Highness, you must be very, very far away from here. He began to exhale slightly upon feeling the pressure begin to ease, and finally gasped as he threw his head out of the water, his eyes flying open.

He was met with the robot glaring down at him just over the railing, reaching out with its claws as Marlborough surfaced. They hooked onto his hair, but he merely wrenched his head away and swung as hard as he could against the robot’s face with the rod.

There was a true, inhuman shriek from Louis as he fell back, his hand coming up to hold the head that had nearly been knocked off his neck. “What- but- but how—?!” he snarled, the screens going fully red and illuminating the whole room. “I’ve heard the rumors, but you are a mere human!”

Marlborough dragged himself out of the pool, the rod clanging against the railing as he climbed over it. “Well, on the planet where I was born,” he began with what he knew was a nasty smile, “we have long learned the concept of survival of the fittest. Generations of nuclear warfare have created millions of humans like me, who don’t give a flying fuck about what you send in those fancy-ass IGBMs!” He raised the rod high above him, but the robot jumped out of the way before he could hit its face again.

“So you think you’re clever, hah?” Louis barked. “I may feel all the pain, but you can’t kill me from in here.”

“Killing two kings would be quite a feat for me,” Marlborough said. “Even I would not dare, Your Majesty.”

“‘Tis rather bold of you to take credit for that great king’s death.” The robot backed away with another loud hiss. “Did you send us Lord Portland for that reason? Just to see the Asterothiriot who raised you so high be brought so low?” It dropped down on all six of its limbs, its tongue screeching as it dragged along the floor.

“Do you think I owe him everything for that?”

“Why, yes, that is how all of this works.” Louis raised the hindquarters of the robot and then leapt forward. Marlborough ducked low and tried to roll to the side, but the teeth came down on one of his legs before he could do so.

“Ah—!” He tried to stifle any subsequent sound from his mouth as the robot shook the limb fiercely in its jaws, still speaking as it did so.

“Do you truly hold grudges for so long?” he asked. “Oh, what did he do to you? Gave you everything that you have today? And all he asked was that you serve him like a proper human should.” He tore his head to the side, and Marlborough tossed his head back with a brief scream. The claws came up to pin one of his arms to the side, the one that held the rod. “Now, give me that.”

“No!” Marlborough sat up swiftly, ripping his arm out from under the heavy claws. He could tell he had accidentally drawn blood, and lots of it, but he was too angry to care for pain at the moment. He brought the rod down on Louis’ head again, and again, and again, hitting him harder with each time. It caused the jaws to close more securely around his leg, but once again, he couldn’t care less.

“Damned human—! Enough!” Louis at last drew away from his leg, and Marlborough took the chance to stand, though he felt as if his leg would shatter under him as he did so. The robot sat up, clawing at his waist like a lion catching its prey from behind. Marlborough then turned around and drove the rod straight through the wires on its head.

It was the King’s turn to scream, again, and Marlborough pulled the rod out with some effort, kicking the robot away with his good leg. As its head landed on the ground, Marlborough brought the rod back down into it, pinning it there. Louis screeched and thrashed, his claws digging into Marlborough’s arms, until at last he began to fall still, indeed like the dying animal he had sounded like when they had arrived.

“I never meant for Portland to kill James,” Marlborough snapped. “Let it be known that there are no favors owed simply because he did. I made my own fortune then, like I made it before, and I shall make it forever after!” He tore the rod back out and began to slam it relentlessly against the robot’s entire body instead, tears coming to his eyes as he did so. “And thus I killed him!”

The robot fell limp, and Marlborough looked up just in time to see Louis retreating into his screen, his physical form flying fearfully through the air. He glanced back in horror as Marlborough swung the rod out towards the control station, throwing it with all his strength against the middle screen. It landed just where he had aimed, the end of it sticking straight out of the center and shattering the rest of the screen.

“No one will ever harm that boy!” Marlborough roared after the fleeing King, who hissed and backed away from the screen, his ghostly, monstrous body glitching in and out of existence itself with the radiation that surrounded him. “Do you hear me, Your Majesty? Leave, or you will watch me dive back into this pool here, and this time I’ll bring a rod to kill you.”

Louis flicked what were currently his four ears back, all one hundred of his eyes widening. “You are a fool, Churchill,” he breathed, and then fled up the stairs in the form of a Forte Solarian stag.

Fool? Fool yourself. Marlborough leaned back on the railing as he slipped his shoes back on, drawing his coat about himself. The blood running out of him was warm, but it still caused him to shudder as it leaked through his wet clothes. He had to get back, with Gloucester safely at his side.

Ah, of course, he had to follow Gloucester. He began to climb laboriously up the stairs, wincing at the intensifying stinging in his calf. The wound wasn’t very deep, but nowhere near shallow, either.

He limped outside, into the woods, a chill running down his spine when he saw just how dark it was without little Gloucester’s eyes. He reached one hand out and began to follow the moonlight until he could see the gleam of the abandoned robot parts up ahead. Good; from there, he knew where he was going.

“Marlborough!” His heart sank when he heard the youthful voice cry out. “Oh, you’re alive!”

“You- you were not—” Marlborough gasped as Gloucester ran into his arms, his tail coiling around the human’s body.

“Pray, forgive me, but what kind of general would I be if I abandoned one of our best men?” Gloucester gave him a hopeful smile. “And I was right not to. You reek of blood. Come, we need to get you back quickly.” He nudged Marlborough on the back with his horns.

“You were supposed to run,” Marlborough said, though too stunned to sound angry. “How- how are you feeling?”

“Dizzy, as always,” Gloucester laughed. “But you know that isn’t strange for me. Why?” He glanced down at the pond as they walked past it, twitching his ear at his reflection as if in greeting.

“Then I am not the only one who needs to get back,” Marlborough whispered. He leaned against Gloucester. They had lived, but for how long, he didn’t know.

And then came the hated sound again, right behind them. The hum, or the beep, or the squeal, whatever it was. Marlborough had already learned to despise it.

Gloucester froze beside him, and they both turned around, facing the pond again. There was a familiar red glow emitting from it, a grin forming across the surface of the water.

Louis can attack here as well, he remembered, seeing the sparks fly around the edges of the pond. Oh, yes, now he knew what a fool he had been after all, to bring Gloucester here alone, where the heart-eaters loved to rest.

“Oh, moons above!” Gloucester yelped, turning around to run. Marlborough tried to follow, but he felt something cling onto his wounded leg, something large and nearly burning him with its heat. He turned around and saw Louis crawling out of the pond with those wide smiles of his, gripping onto Marlborough and Gloucester with a singular, large hand.

“Ah, now, be not so hasty,” Louis purred as he brought the two of them closer to his face like a curious boy to an insect. “Especially you, Churchill.” He plucked Marlborough out of his fist with another hand, gripping onto his hair and eliciting a pained hiss out of him. “Sweet doll, you deserve someone better than William to fully appreciate your beauty.”

“I hate you,” Marlborough grunted out as Louis squeezed him, a finger coming up to caress his chin. He tried to hide the panic on his face, turning his head away to look at Gloucester. There was not a hint of human nor android in him— he could not gaze upon Louis so plainly.

And yet, he did, his eyes wide with awe as Louis swung him carelessly around in his hand. They were truly, dreadfully blank this time, so unlike the excited boy Marlborough was used to.

The hand that held Marlborough morphed into an impish tail, flicking the human’s cheek with the narrow point. “See here, my child,” Louis cooed at Gloucester, dropping Marlborough onto the ground and lifting his tail towards the prince. “There is a taste of human blood for you here.”

Human blood. Marlborough groaned and sat up. He held his hand up to his cheek, realizing that he was indeed bleeding there as well. The pain was fading back again, even as he held his bloodstained fingers out before him. Human blood is red.

“Do you like it?” Louis asked Gloucester, who was hungrily lapping at his tail. “Yes, there’s a good boy. Would you like more?”

Gloucester responded with a sharp hiss and a wag of his tail. He tried to crawl out of Louis’ grasp, and the Sun King laughed, placing him on the ground.

“Very well, then. Follow your nose. There is your human.”

“Your Highness,” Marlborough huffed. He shuffled away on the grass as Gloucester approached. The prince opened and closed his mouth, tasting the air as he had before, with that terrifying, beastly emptiness in his eyes. “You know me well. Please—”

Gloucester lunged at him, and Marlborough cried out, rolling to the side to shield his neck and throat from the vicious, snapping jaws. “William!” he yelled, batting his fists out blindly at the snarling boy. “Look- look at me!” His body jolted as he felt the sickle-claws digging into his ribs. “William—!”

He caught the horns just in time before they impaled his chest, then twisted them sharply to the side, throwing Gloucester off of him. The prince screeched as he caught his haunches in the brambles behind him.

“William, listen!” Marlborough knelt in front of him. “You- you have to fight the madness. I know it is possible—” He jumped back as Gloucester swiped at him. “You wanted to fight heart-eaters, did you not? Fight them now!”

“Both of you are the most pathetic creatures I have ever seen,” he heard Louis jeer. “Your deaths would not be so great a loss to this galaxy.”

“Shut up!” Marlborough turned to glare at him, and in that moment, Gloucester broke free. He opened his mouth wide and pounced forward. Marlborough frantically held his arm up to shield himself just as the tusks would have buried themselves in his throat. Instead, they bit deep into what had been his uninjured arm, though much to his surprise and horror, this brought little pain with it.

Oh, I am dead. He tried to pull his arm out, and that was when the next agony hit, forcing a whimper out of him. Gloucester shook his head from side to side, up and down, clearly trying to tear the limb off. There was a move that William had once taught him, though Marlborough knew not if he remembered it—

Gloucester rolled violently to the side, taking Marlborough with him.

The human shrieked as he heard the harsh ripping sound beside him, as the prince tossed his head back triumphantly with Marlborough’s forearm hanging from his jaws. Marlborough collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily and staring up at the sky in shock. He had spent decades in the European Galaxy, and it was a child who finally took this from him.

And now I will die. He could feel the burning of the prince’s venom coursing through his body, and yet he was the coldest he had ever been. He heard Gloucester approaching, licking his bloodied lips.

“Oh, he has ruined you,” Louis said faintly. “Well, I suppose he can have you, then.”

“Murderer,” Marlborough managed through his frantic breaths. “Murderer. Murderer. There was- there was a peace.”

“Nay, no longer,” Louis said. “If I can kill you and this child, there is a chance yet that James’ son may come to the throne. And the rest is history.” His crazed eyes glittered as if he were imagining his glory already.

Oh, William, I have failed you, Marlborough thought, though to which William he spoke to, he didn’t know. His vision was blurring, from both the venom and his tears. He would have liked to die with Sarah beside him, he would have liked to see both his son and the prince follow him into battle.

He winced as Gloucester stopped in front of him, sniffing at his face. His breath now had that nauseating, metallic scent to it, and Marlborough could almost vomit. That was his own blood.

“Very well,” he whispered. “Bite- bite my throat, like I taught you.” He reached his hand out to run it through Gloucester’s mane, still managing to smile up at him. “It was an honor to do so.”

Gloucester blinked down at him, then bowed his head. Louis growled beside him.

“Go on, Your Highness, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “I hear they taste divine.” He ran his tail along the bottom of Gloucester’s chin.

The prince didn't look up. Marlborough could see his legs shaking as they had before, his claws tearing up the grass as if he were making some great effort to stand. At last, he lifted his head and darted to the side, biting into Louis’ dangling tail.

Louis curled it in with a yelp. “N-No, not me! By the stars, how did you manage to hurt me?” He turned his tail back into an arm and lifted it towards his face, watching the wound begin to go black. “Your- your venom. It works on me.”

What? Marlborough weakly lifted his head. How did Gloucester, of all Asterothiriots, have the power to harm heart-eaters? There was no man here who had ever managed to do such a thing with nothing but his numerous teeth.

No ordinary man, of course. But Marlborough realized then that the boy was irradiated, to what must have been a large extent if he had the ability to harm Louis. Every part of him could hurt the King now, including his venomous tusks. And thus the King could even be killed.

Ah, but a child killing Louis was too much to hope for, Marlborough knew. He watched as Louis sprung back, trying to shake the furious Gloucester off of his back. He hissed and snapped his jaws at the prince, who climbed onto his shoulder, digging his claws into it to stop himself from falling off.

“You treasonous child!” Louis unsheathed his claws, or rather grew his fingers even longer, sharper. “Must I do everything myself?” He lashed his tail down against Gloucester's back, and Gloucester opened his jaws in a wild screech. He slid off of the King, tumbling on the ground with a couple of pained yelps.

“Run!” Marlborough called after him, and Gloucester had only time to glance back at him before Louis sliced his claws right through his chest and stomach. Opened was the only word Marlborough would later use to describe what Louis had done to the boy— ripped him open as if he were a worthless soldier on the field rather than the royal child that he was. This boy who had just only turned eleven now saw the turn between life and death itself.

The force was enough to send Gloucester flying towards Marlborough, his body landing with what sounded like a painful thump before him. His head lolled back as if he were stunned, and his chest heaved as he fought to breathe. There was that deep, deep blue covering every part of his body and dripping endlessly out of it. It was equal parts beautiful and the most horrifying thing Marlborough had ever seen; the exposed innards of a tendril-tooth child.

“William,” he whispered. He began to drag himself towards the convulsing body. The desperate choking sounds coming from Gloucester's bloody mouth, blue and red, almost caused him to faint, but he willed himself to come closer. “William.” He repeated the name with a sob.

Louis blinked down at them both, seemingly unamused, though noticeably shaken with the spreading venom in his limbs. Marlborough glared up at him through his tearful eyes, daring him to say something, but the King only turned his apathetic stare away and limped back into the pond. The last Marlborough saw of him was his wounded tail, flicking at them dismissively as always.

“William,” Marlborough urged, looking back down at the prince he held with the arm that remained intact. His other arm he could feel becoming drenched in the blue blood, but he welcomed it, for it meant a chance to survive. No, he would survive, for it was the attacker's blood that was the only antidote for the venom. But Gloucester spilling out all the contents of his belly here would only save Marlborough’s life, not his own.

“You were so brave, do you know that?” Marlborough smiled through his tears, but then he truly could no longer hold back the shattering, near painful cries as he wept for the dying prince before him. Did he know he was dying? Was he aware of everything he was about to leave behind? His eyes remained fixed ahead, and he said nothing as Marlborough smoothed back his mane.

“Your poor mama,” he whispered. “How could anyone be ready for this?” He buried his head into Gloucester's bleeding chest. “Oh, forgive me, my child. I knew not that a liar and murderer awaited us here. Forgive me. Forgive me.”

He had to go back, he thought as he felt the venom's effects drain from his body. He could at least crawl some distance back before collapsing into Sarah's arms. Would she want him now, though, like this? His arm replaced by the immortal guilt of having let Gloucester die under his care?

“I'm so sorry,” he went on as he began to drag Gloucester back, holding him up close to his body. “I'm so sorry to all of the alien race. When- if you go to Heaven, tell God I said that.” He knew if was a fanciful statement. He was slipping on the grass with the prince’s endless flow of blood.

There came a point where he could not walk any longer, which disappointed him so, as he would have liked to at least bring Anne a body to bury. He collapsed against the ground, the sounds of him hyperventilating matching the labored breaths of the prince. Was it Marlborough that was dying with him, or was there a chance Gloucester could be saved after all?

Chance, ha. They would both die here, then. He knew they had not even made it halfway yet.

Suddenly Gloucester kicked a leg out at his side, and Marlborough grunted. It was nowhere near the pain of his open wounds, so he let it be. He turned to look at Gloucester's face, his breath being taken away upon seeing the familiar look in the prince's blank eyes. There was the boy, still alive even if he was fading quickly.

“Oh, little one, please,” Marlborough pleaded, feeling as if he could burst into tears all over again. “Just wait until you can die by your mother's side.”

Gloucester blinked up at him, and then he reached out towards Marlborough with his weak talons. “You, trumpet of the apocalypse,” he said faintly, though his eyes are as clear as ever. “The angel who saves us all. It had to be me— I was the sacrifice that so pleased you. Play for the end of the world, my trumpet!”

“Wh-what?” Marlborough wiped at his nose, his voice shaking. “William, stay. I beg of you. Stay. I cannot let them take something else from me.”

The prince had fallen still, and for a moment Marlborough thought he was at peace now, the madness and terror leaving him as he realized he was safe, and held. But the emptiness of his eyes had returned again, and his chest made no attempt to swallow up every last gulp of air.

“William.” It was all Marlborough could manage, the panic rising within him all over again. “William, listen to me. Wake up, my child. We're almost there. I told you we would take your little army with us tomorrow.” He laughed uselessly, imagining the boys all nipping at each other's tails and roaring with delight. “You are eleven now, and look how strong you are. You have so much left to do.”

So much blue; Marlborough was drowning in it. The blue of this child's blood, of the radiation in the pool, of that monster's eyes that had taunted him during those dreadful nights— he couldn't take it.

He dropped his head against Gloucester's shoulder and screamed his grief out onto the body, which remained of his size, but now seemed much too small to be so still like this. He screamed until he either fainted or he heard the frantic footsteps ahead of him, he couldn't tell which one came first.

“John, you— oh, John!” That was Sarah's horrified voice. “No, I- I refused to believe it, but— John, please! Look at me!” She licked his bloodstained face, and he could only blink listlessly up at her.

There came the name again. “William!” from a horrified mother, unwilling to take in the sight of her son in such a state. “William!” from a shocked, sickened father.

“It should have been me,” he said as he felt Sarah lift him up in her arms. “It was all me.”

“Hush, say no more. You can tell us all about it later. Rest now.”

Rest! Marlborough wanted to scoff. What rest was there for those who were still living?

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