right now I'm reallyyyyy loving the idea of a hucklerabbot fic where robby and Jack still work in the ER, but dennis is just a barista or similar trying to make ends meet. and dennis pulls 12 hour shifts, from 9 to 9- and frequently sees both attendings who come in at different times every day.
robby and jack are both interested in him and are flirting with him, deciding between them that they'd like to add the curly haired boy to their relationship. dennis is confused because he's interested in them both, these hot older men who tip 200% of their order total... yet both wear wedding rings... he doesn't know what's going on.
and one day at about 6ish, an accident happens. dennis manages to slip on spilled water at the coffee shop while trying to cut baked goods, ending up with him badly cutting his arm and also smacking his head on the counter, cutting that too.
he's hurried into the ER by his coworker, holding tissue on his head and a tea towel on his arm as dennis sniffles and tries not to cry about how he's hurting and how there's blood all down his top and trousers- he doesn't have the money to replace them! he doesn't even have insurance!
since he's got a quickly bleeding head wound and has lost a not insignificant amount of blood, he's called through quickly. when robby sees the blonde curly barista he and Jack have been flirting with and treating to massive tips, he snaps the case up as his immediately, grabbing donnie- only the best stitches for dennis.
dennis is pale faced and has tears on his cheeks, and when robby walks round that curtain, he really thinks he's going crazy. why is robby, one of the hot guys who unknowingly have paid for his meals for a week with all their tips, snapping on blue gloves and pulling a stool over to treat him? (dennis doesn't know it, but jacks on his way too, shift change just 20 minutes away and an emergency text from robby urging him on.)
dennis keeps crying a little, confused, hurt and stressed (this was going to cost him SO much!), and robby sets about making that better- no good having their boy crying.
"you're okay, dennis, we'll patch you up here, okay? you don't seem too badly concussed, but it's still bad enough that you wont be working for several days. we'll stitch it all up and youll stay in bed a few days. besides, your arm will need lots of rest, its a bad cut and especially with where you work, that wont be suitable. but you're safe here, okay dennis? we've got you."
donnie finished stitching up the large cut on his arm, and dipped out of the room. dennis started to panic. he couldn't afford this. he couldn't afford treatment. he couldn't afford to miss several days of work, he wouldn't have money to eat or for rent!
robby noticed dennis's breathing getting heavier as he examined his head.
"are you feeling okay dennis? are you in pain sweethea- dennis?"
he had to cut off the term of endearment, not wanting to spook the younger. you and Jack aren't dating him yet, idiot!
dennis shook his head.
"I'm- I'm sorry, robby. i cant afford this! i can't afford insurance, i can't afford to miss work!"
jack chose that moment to arrive and join robby in the room, entering just in time to see dennis crying and panicking, arm bandaged and head being sewn.
"I can't! i don't know what to do!"
dennis hadn't noticed jack yet, eyes closed as he cried. without anything more than a glance, jack and robby made a decision.
"don't worry your sweet head about that, dennis."
that was jack too? dennis looked up to see. what was going on today? the two men who tipped him more than his wage and flirted *both* worked here?
"jack? you work here too?"
"sure thing, dennis. me and robby here are married. but as i was saying, don't worry about the money."
"I don't understand?"
robby smiled a little as he meticuloulsy continued stitching dennis up.
"we've got it all covered, dennis. trust us, okay? we don't tip you more than the price of our drinks for nothing. we're not going to let you struggle."
dennis felt dizzy and he didn't think it was the head injury. the two hot men who'd been tipping him for weeks were doctors. really hot doctors. and they were married. and they wanted to *pay* for his treatment?
grockdrian’s dynamic is… my favorite dynamic cause it’s just three geniuses in a room, nerding out and wanting each other viscerally.
grace, an academic, someone who holds a phd and has finally found two aliens who nerd out too?? bro needs someone who can hold a conversation long enough about science, physics, biology, etc.
please, more poly couples where they’re all smart and match each others freak 🙏
Burn The Knight AU (Slay The Princess x Deltarune AU)
“You’re on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path is a castle.” Narrates a Narrator voice in the goats head. “And in the basement of that castle is a Knight. You’re here to burn them. If you don’t, it will be the end of the world.”
The young boy shifts his foot behind him as he considered this. “The end of the world?” He reiterated out of disbelief as he shook his head disapprovingly. “But why would a knight want to do that? Aren’t they supposed to protect people?”
“Don’t linger on the specifics. You have a job to do here. Just get in there and do what needs to be done.” Said the voice quickly enough to shut down the mere thought possible hanging in Ralsie’s head. “Besides we’re all counting on you.” That statement was indeed correct, the elders sent him here for a reason; yet he could not fathom the idea that a knight could be possessed with the goal of ensuring the roaring, right?
For now, he needed to be the one asking the questions to this undiscerning voice talking to him about murdering someone for the moment. “Killing somebody, whether a knight or not is bad in itself no?”
The Narrator inhales sharply, and with the most trying voice it can muster: “Casualties between a normal being who contributes to society and a person meant to protect the wealthy are TWO very different things,”
“But still… burning a knight, doesn’t that bother you?” Persists the goat, already sick of these unexplainable answers.
“Should it? Are you a monarchist? Is slaying a knight that protects the royal family worse than slaying a police or a mayor or a priest?” The voice insists firmly. “At least a Mayor has responsibilities and limits.”
“And can’t… someone else do this for me? Why did the elders choose someone like me out into the woods to do it?”
“If that were the case, then I’d be shocked if they stuck me to that idiot bluebird instead. And I think you know very well how that would turn out.” Ralsie visibly shudders, repressing his urge to puke upon imagining that gut wrenching picture of the bird’s insides the wrong side out. The voice right in a way, at least, gor all he knew about himself was that he had magic and that bluebird only had his halberd.
“Though I have to say, I’m quite surprised by your reluctance thus far. But unfortunately for both of us, you’re the only one who can pull this off.” Mentioned the voice with an urgent tone that reminded the goat as to why he was to head to the castle.
Clenching his fists til they turned white, Ralsie lowered his head to look at the ground he stood on; both paws trembling as he did so. “What if I fail?”
This time. The voice takes a while to respond, and for the first time; Ralsie could no longer bare the silence, was he abandoned here just for everyone’s amusement? He pondered, the passing thought slowly beginning to take a toll on his mental state but was lucky enough to be interrupted by the Narrator itself. “You won’t fail, but if you weren’t to use magic, then most likely yes.” An awkward silence, that wasn’t how it meant to say it.
“…Listen what I am trying to get at is, you have your magics up your sleeve; and the knight only takes on close combat in order to reign victorious. As long as you steer clear out of their line of attack sight, then you can kill them just as easily as they can to you.”
“Fine.” The boy caved uncertainly. “But I’ll talk to them first, if the knight is as bad as you say - then maybe I’ll see if they’re worth burning alive. I’m just not going to commit myself entire to this crime.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to see what happens.” Agreed the Narrator.
Ralsie heads over to the path onwards to the castle, a very long and devastating journey, it took only two hours since it was so far away from his town. But before he could even make it halfway up the stairs, a different voice spoke, one that was timid with an etch of a frightened tone to it. “Wait. Don’t tell me we are actually going to go through with this?” The voice inquired, her voice almost impossible to hear even as both Ralsie and the Narrator were quiet enough to listen. “Knights are protectors, so we should be saving them if they’re in that basement instead of burning them alive.”
The Narrator pushes aside the obvious comment and tells the goat. “Ignore her, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Though just a reminder. They will lie, they will cheat, they will do anything to make sure you don’t kill them.”
With that in mind; Ralsie made his way up the stairs begrudgingly, out of breath by the time he entered the castle. The interior of the castle almost entirely bare as though it is meant to be a vast and wide open space, the young goat shudders from the biting cold circulating through this architecture. Red dust covering every part of the castle, and just where you stand, you notice dried specks of bright red splattered on the fallen chandeliers and shattered frames, debris of what used to be proclai. It almost looked like a battle happened in here, and yet a strange tune starts to play.
The Timid one speaks first. “A-a-a-are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” She asks, a creeping paranoia seeping into her tone. The Narrator could only exaggerate his cough, “Almost certain.”
Yeah right, almost. Thought Ralsie. “You know I can hear you.” Answer the Narrator bitterly. “And to my defense I don’t like the look of this either. We are all in this mess together because of that Knight, which is why you need to burn them.”
As the boy walked through these very dark and empty corridors, the walls themselves begin to cave in on him, the longer he treads - the more constricting the halls become, forcing him to get onto his knees and crawl his way to a to tiny latch, there was no where else to go; nowhere but down where that basement door is.
“W-wait! You’re tell me we have to go down that? Aren’t we going to get stuck? Oh, I hate tight spaces!” Said the timid one, her tone shaky as Ralsie backed off slowly to pull the linen the human child-sized trapdoor. “Unfortunately so, unless you’ve been thinking of going through that other door with the giant teeth.”
“N-no! Of course not! Just-”
The Narrator interjected with a bit of strained patience in his voice. “Great! We’re all on the same page then!” The door to the basement creaks as you open it, putting his feet in first with strained effort - a panic rising to his throat as he began to try and pull himself out to no avail. “Looks like someone in a bit of a jiffy.” Said a voice from below, almost as if holding back a snicker only for it to turn into a half hearted laugh.
“Are they…? laughing at us?” Said the timid in a hiss.
“Well maybe if you had made door little bit bigger then I could actually come downstairs you prick!” Remarked Ralsie from above, shrieking as the wood creaks and splits open - the little goat descending the stairwell as though it were a slide, til he hit concrete floor.
“Anyway. Don’t let their joking guise fool you. It’s all part of the manipulation, you’re a playing a dangerous game by coming here alone still.” The Narrator cautioned, earning a puzzled look from the goat. I thought you said I was the only one that could do it.
“And that I am certain of.” Revealed the Narrator affirmatively. “The only thing I would be taking precautions of is a possible fifty-fifty close combat fighter if you do not tread carefully.”
“Well? Are you just going to keep talking to yourself or am I going have to talk for you?” The knight said in an embittered edge to their blank facade. The goat at last risks a look at his presumed target, a heavy chain bound around their wrists that bind them to the far wall of this spacious blue rose covered basement. A keyboard, to which they push to their right side; staring intently into the young oats own eyes, though you can’t tell if they are actually looking at you or just zoning out completely.
“They’re stunning.” Said the timid one, awestruck with the knights fine armor and how well it holds their figure. Albeit a bit small from afar. “How can someone like this be a threat to anyone?”
“I am begging you to stay focused. There’s a lot weighing-” The Narrator almost chocked on his words upon seeing his next description being shown to him. “ET TU, boy!?”
Timid’s interest piqued as she checked on Narrator. “What? What’s wrong?” Worry was clear in her tone, but it also hinted at a small spark of curiosity during the spur of the moment. “I cannot believe you’re making me describe this already. I, hate you.” And it grumbles something undecipherable under his breath before elaborating further with great dismay.
“The goats cheeks begin to warm upon taking in the knights breathtaking appearance, which the Knight reciprocates with a puzzled head tilt to the side; uncertain what’s happening at the moment.”
The timid gasps, squealing excitedly albeit a bit uncharacteristic of her to show such an expression. “Is this what I think it is?”
The Narrator scoffs and brushes that unneeded comment aside. “No. It almost definitely is NOT what you’re thinking. And besides the former knight hasn’t even bothered to return that same admiration. So please stop whatever you are doing and do as you planned!”
Right, right! Ralsie acknowledged, getting up from the cold ground and brushing off specks of frozen ice. Walking towards them with newfound ambition, the knight puts a hand up before he could go further. “What? Did you really think I’d let you get close enough to drive a weapon into my heart? Forget it. not this time.”
“We don’t even have a weapon, why would they-hold on, what do they mean by “this time”? Have they been through this before?” Asks the Timid in a low but concerned manner. “It doesn’t matter whether they had done this the first time. Now’s not the only chance to do what it is you need to do.”
“Oh! Yea, um. How about we talk about this? Wouldn’t that be nice? I can even make you a nice cup of tea!” Says Ralsie with a warm smile, the knight observes him carefully - a sly smile crossing their features. “So that’s how it is huh? They want me to give you information so you can immediately report it back to them after you kill me?” It’s a statement more than a guess but your widening eyes betrays your put back and relaxed composure. Their smile grows into a toothy grin, knowing they hit the spot.
The Narrator sighs heavily. “Was all that training for naught!? That’s private information you shouldn’t give away so freely!” He chides.
“I suppose I’ll give you one thing though.”
“My name is Kris Dreemur.” They announced indifferently. Checking out every inch of the goat now, slightly intrigued by his form. While also observing how the young goat reacted, locking their eyes with his. Slinking back against the wall once they were satisfied with the goats pinking cheeks as a certified reaction. “You’re an interesting one.”
The goat, as though suddenly remembering where he was; straightened his spine and continued asking his questions. The knight howled in agony as though they were dog trapped in their owners cage.
“Are they seriously going to make me describe this!? They aren’t a dog!” Countered the Narrator with a tch; appalled about how it had to describe the knight avoiding the questions they didn’t like by rolling around on the dirty floor as though they were a wee puppy.
This was going nowhere, they only half heartily answer a few select queries with a vague careful choice of words.
The timid one, put off by this sudden turn in events oddly played along this weirdly intriguing scene unfolding before her. “Who’s a good wittle puppy, huh? Who’s a the goodest enby?”
“All of you are INSUFFERABLE!!” Called out the Narrator abrasively.
“Um, there’s this rumor going around that say you want to bring the end of the world. Is there anything you might have to say to rebuke this?” He asked at last. They go silent, pushing themselves off the ground as they considered their next response. “Now why would I do that? I can vaguely recall how much bloodshed spilled within these walls, crying out for help only to find that I am answered with nothing but darkness.” And then their next words, they were laced with such tranquility, yet had embitterment etching into their tone as they continued.
“By the time it ended, however, I was bound to these chains; nothing but this keyboard that I can only assume were left as a half hearted apology to keeping me binded.”
Kris’s words echoed through the goats head, lingering for longer than he would’ve liked. Ralsie mentally berated himself for not being more steel-hearted. He processed and reprocessed the knights words, searching for any holes and false or made up statements; but could find none. At least, nothing but truth for now.
“So you don’t know why you are here.” Affirmed the goat with a relieved huff of laughter, his shoulders relaxing a bit. All this serious talk was making his body tense, at least the knight didn’t make it harder for him to try and dissect every word they spoke. “Well. It’s the only thing I know. Asides from being locked up here of course.” They answered honestly with a defeated sigh.
“Have those… elders? Mentioned anything as to why, I was so dangerous?” They asked curiously, a note of infatuation tinted at that last part. They put a hand to their chin, a coy grin creeps up their lips as they thought about the idea admirably.
“Are they-?” Says the timid voice in utter disbelief. “Actually incited by that rumor?”
“I- you know what? fine. Be weird all you want but leave me out of this.” Finalized the Narrator with slight ire.
Putting a hand to his chin, the boy did his best to “No. I assumed they wouldn’t have come for you just to chain you here without reason. I see why now, Seam told me to question things rather than to presume the worst.” Answers Ralsie honestly, the words leaving his mouth with a calming tone.
Narrator: “Silence falls between you two once more, for a moment, it seemed like they wanted to say something. But decided on not doing so, shaking their head to push those thoughts away.”
“Whatever they locked me up for. If hypothetically I was meant to be lethal to the world. I figured they’d would tell you.” Concluded Kris, checking their gloves uninterestingly. “However, no matter how badly I want to leave. At the end of the day, whatever the two of us have going on down here is about trusting each other blindly.”
The knight semi-closed their eyes, skeptical of the goats next move; unfortunately for them, the goat returns the suspicion in full. “And believe me, I’d rather rip my own heart out than to put my trust with a wizard specifically.”
Ralsie startled, looking around briefly before returning his gaze to theirs. “How did you-?”
“They point to your outfit, and…”
The Narrator observes the fluffy boys attire himself, wincing as he did an imaginary face palm. “They’re not wrong. But also. COME ON! You couldn’t have been a little more discreet?!”
Ralsie’s entire face flushed, covering his Redding face with his ears. “Give me break already! I got called to do this so suddenly they didn’t give me TIME to change!”
“For a moment you thought you heard a half snort and a half laugh escape from their lips, only for them to forcibly cough it off.” Described the Narrator.
“These elders that sent you to ‘burn’ me. Claimed I was threat to the world, but didn’t elaborate as to how or why.” They continued before adding on: “And I believe the only reason I’m still here is because you wish to hear me out. Otherwise I would’ve been nothing but ashes.”
“I mean… they’re not wrong.” Spoke the voice of the Timid hesitantly. “Believing in a better outcome by listening to them has done more favor to our situation then not.”
Kris at last let their hand fall to their lap, pressing their lips into a thin line as they clutched the fabric of their navy blue bodysuit. “What if I told you… that I wanted to live my life freely? That maybe I’d like to live a quiet life with my parents and big brother watching me from above as they observe how I spend my freedom viewing every starry night?” They let out a hearty breath of laughter at their own words. “Hell, maybe I’d start my own adventuring journey and aid those in need.”
“Would you believe me then?”
Kris waved a hand dismissively before Ralsie could answer.
“But then again. You don’t really know me, I could even become some sort of dystopian monarch and start a revolution to keep Royal Families from ruin.”
“And I doubt that no amount of words will get you me any closer to escaping this castle and the catastrophe that unraveled within these castle walls. There’s no good talking to someone who can just-“ They lift up their arms as though they were beholding a gift to the sky itself. Their chains rattling as they put their hands together and uttered nonsensical chants. And mimicking a flaming: FWOOM! gesture by just using their chained hands.
Not even knowing why, Ralsie’s right eye twitched. Glaring daggers at the knight with a scowl, speaking through his clenched teeth as he retorted back. “We. do not. sound like that!”
“Yes you do,” They countered confidently with a glower of their own. “Or rather close enough anyway. I think you know what I mean.”
The Narrator groans disappointingly. “They’re right about one thing though. Words aren’t worth anything at all situation like this.”
Ralsie crossed his arms with a hmph! But he must say, admittedly so, that he agreed to disagree with the Narrator of this. “Okay. You have a choice, Fire boy. Do you trust me a prisoner in their own cage, clearly unable to bring the roaring. Or the ones that put me here?”
“This is wrong.” Chimed in the Narrator. “The Elders have told you about the risk you’d be running all for the sake of one person.”
Ralsie considered his response carefully.
“And what would you do if I let you out?” He insisted.
Kris frowned. But didn’t bother arguing.
“Anywhere. Doing anything else but be here.” They answered curtly.
“So, I’m guessing you don’t have the key?” They tried, changing the topic.
“Bummer, but I’m sure there’s a key somewhere around this place. If there isn’t…” The Knight trailed off, eyeing their chained wrists.
“You could always use that fire magic to good use.”
Narrator: “They glance at the form of your paws; which are cupped into a diamond shape out of mere reflex, you jolt at the perfectly timed coincidence.”
The Timid: “You don’t suppose it’s what I THINK they’re suggesting, right?”
The Narrator: “They are, I’m sure of it.” It said affirmatively.
Ralsie walks up slowly as though they were a stray dog, each step causing the Knight to tense at first - hugging their knees whenever the goat grew closer, once he got to them; he examined their chains binding the knight to the wall, tugged them as much as his strength would allow him to avail.
The Narrator: “They are large and heavy, far too solid for you to even imagine trying to break through.” Reassured the Narrator as though reading Ralsie’s thoughts.
“If- y-you don’t have the key, maybe you should go looking for it! The castle isn’t that big after all.” The Knight suggests.
The Narrator: “Doubtful. Whoever locked the Knight away down here never intended them to see the light of day.” It assured the goat. “They wouldn’t have left the key to their chains somewhere in the castle.”
Shifting his right foot uncomfortably, lips quivering as he went for the query for his own clarification. “A-and, if I can’t find the key?”
The Knight raises a brow, pressing their lips into a thin line. “Please do.” They said, the words they spoke sounded desperate; pleading even. Rubbing their arms and crossing them, pressing their chained wrists to their chest. Both the Timid voice and the goat let out a sigh of relief, glad that they weren’t meaning what they originally thought the Knight had wanted to imply.
Narrator: “You attempt to make your way out of the basement, but the oddly mended golden trapdoor at the top slams shut. A click of a lock sliding into place.”
Timid: “Someone else here?” She asked instinctively, her trembling voice carrying the throughout the goats mind.
Despite his sinking heart, Ralsie fruitlessly tries the knob. Once, twice, thrice, nothing. “Hello?” He called out worriedly. “Is someone out there?”
But nobody responded.
Narrator: “It’s locked from the outside. You’re here to burn the knight. And you won’t leave until you do.”
He slowly makes his way back down the stairs. Offering a shaky smile that does nothing to assuage anyone’s worries.
Narrator: “This would have been so much easier if you’d simply burn them like you were assigned to do.”
Timid: “Easier for whom?”
Narrator: “Easier for everyone.”
“Nononononononono!!” The Knight cried. “I could’ve sworn I heard the trapdoor break when you entered! Why’d this had to happen now!?”
“I’m really sorry about this.” The young goat apologized, walking over to slowly again and sitting five inches in front of the knight; making them tense even when Ralsie’s gentle paws grabbing ahold of their left chained hand that they recoiled instantly - watching him closely yet cautiously.
Ralsie raised his hands in surrender, trying to keep the peace between them.
Narrator: “Whatever you think of doing you will regret it. And you won’t like what happens next…” The goat visibly shuddered at the sharp edge of a threat the Narrator made, though his instincts reminded him of what he ought to truly have done earlier. He and them were truly alone, knowing either side could come out victorious; yet no bloodshed has occurred even when both of them were on guard. Even if it was for a moment.
Ralsie gazed into the knights eyes kindly, a silent plead in them enough to ease their mind - only slightly but it was something. “If it hurts, then make any sound of agony. And I’ll stop.” He promised.
A couple tears fell down their cheeks as they nodded. Hesitation clear as crystal as they put a trembling wrist in yours. The goat offers another, but genuine and gentle smile. “Just look at me, it hurts less that way.”
Narrator: “Against your better judgment, you place your right paw on the left cuff binding their wrist, smelting it took up more time than you expected, but once you’ve got through the chain. It opens just enough to its halfway point so that you can pry it off of them. Repeating the same process for the right wrist.”
“Please.” They begged, releasing a shaky breath they didn’t know they were holding. “I’m so….. close. To being free. Don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t.” Ralsie reassures them. “That’s a promise.”
At last, the knight was free. They double check their wrists for any signs of burns or scars, eyes widening upon finding none. Crouching to pick up the keyboard, tightening their grip around it like a prized possession. “Are you sure you want to bring that? Is it not heavy?” Ralsie asked as he got up from his kneeling position.
Kris considered it, shaking their head side to side. “Maybe a little bit. But…”
“It feels right.”
Without hesitation, the two of them head towards the basement trapdoor; the Narrator seemingly irked at this predicament.
Narrator: “No. We won’t have any of that. The stakes are too high. You can’t just let them escape into the world.”
“…no. I just can’t let them escape into the world.”
As the Knight approaches the halfway point of the stairs, Ralsie’s body steps forward and raises his paws in the same v-cupped position.
Voice of the Timid: W-w-wait! That’s not fair. You can’t just do that! They’re just children!” She cried out in agony.
Narrator, its voice dropping to a thinning impatience - alas revealing his true facade as he answered with a sharp edge to it. “Watch me.”
The goat warned the knight, to which in turn was answered with a quick sweep under Ralsies legs, causing both of them and the surprising durability of the keyboard had, to tumble to the ground with a thud and a massive clack; the Narrator once again lifted the boys trembling arms and chanted the practiced spell. “Stop that.” The Narrator demanded of the monster when he forcibly bit his tongue. But before it could do so as much utter a word for the boy, the knight clambered on top of him and clamped Ralsie’s paws shut and pressed his own paws onto his chest.
“You know….” They managed angrily, their once relieved smile turning into a grimace. “And here I thought I’ve finally found a way to convince you. Guess letting me go was never THAT easy, was it?”
Narrator: “Stop it! Stop resisting me! I am trying to get you out of here alive.”
Yet the boy bites down his tongue again, harder. And this time the hot bitter iron fills his mouth.
Narrator: “Firegrave! Chant. The. Spell!” It insisted urgently.
“Oh. I think I see it now.” Spoke the knight in a chilling tranquility at their narrow death. “The battle in your soul, it doesn’t alude me at the slightest. Yet…”
“There’s something, oddly… familiar about you.”
“I’ll make this quick.” Kris promised. Hauling out a sharpened silver knife to Ralsie’s throat. “Maybe chances that we meet again under different circumstances.”
Narrator: “And then they slit your eyes with an almost stone-faced facial expression.”
“I’m sorry.”
Narrator: “But you don’t have time to respond. Because everything goes dark, and you die. I hope it was worth it.”
The words of Quinn's victims and their families echoed in Darlin's head, their own voice among them. Testimony after testimony after testimony. First for the Department's hearing, then for the Vampiric Ruling Council's. Everything revealed had been more than enough to earn Quinn his execution, but bureaucracy works at a glacial pace, especially for those untouched by time.
The year following Quinn's capture had been simmering agony for Darlin'; the promise of his death kept them hopeful, but the possibility of his escape had them perpetually on edge.
How much time had they lost to this monster? How many friends? Family? And what else? Their voice. Their identity. Their dignity. Nearly their sanity. It had been a fight ever since they left him to get that all back. And they had, in large part. But none of it was ever the same. They looked different. Sounded different. Acted different. Felt different. Who would they have been if they had never met Quinn?
Darlin's cascading thoughts slowed as they heard the front door open and familiar footsteps cross onto the porch.
"Darlin'?" Sam asked, "You ready?"
They raised their gaze from the railing they were leaning against and looked into the tumultuous fog that had rolled onto the driveway. The night was insisting they go back inside, into the safety and warmth of their home and their mate's embrace.
Tugging at the edge of their blood-stained jacket, they nodded and walked to Sam's truck, their steps stiff and uncertain. Sam locked the front door and followed close behind.
Darlin' scowled at their shaking hands as they put on their seatbelt, missing the buckle three times. Not wanting to embarrass them, Sam tried to give no notice to the small battle happening next to him. He buckled his own seatbelt slowly and started the truck, biting his tongue to keep from offering help.
"Do y'want music or..." Sam trailed off. They shook their head. In an effort to not let them stew in total silence, Sam rolled the windows down and cautiously pulled out of the driveway.
The fog carried them the whole drive. Darlin' fixated on their hands, feeling unreal.
———————————————
The Vampiric Ruling Council Chamber for all states west of the Mississippi was located just 40 minutes outside of Dahlia, deep in the heart of an old growth forest. Impossible to find without invitation, neither Sam nor Darlin' had been there before Quinn's hearing. And even then, they hadn't been in the Grand Hall.
Intimidating was an understatement. The floors and walls of the enormous room were made of black marble with crimson veins snaking through each slab. Ten Corinthian columns of the same material supported a high vaulted ceiling, the ribs of which gave the appearance of a large cage within which the hall's inhabitants were enclosed.
Stepping through the set of pointed walnut doors, Sam's teeth were set on edge. The hall was already filling up, and having so many vampires all in once place was overwhelming. He could only imagine what it felt like for Darlin', whose hand he gripped tightly as they entered.
His eyes quickly scanned the room. "I found David," he murmured before leading Darlin' through the throng towards the right side of the hall.
Gleaming, hungry eyes followed them, much to Sam's displeasure. Darlin' didn't seem to notice, their mind elsewhere.
David saw the two approaching and moved away from the column he'd been hugging since he arrived.
"Good to see you both got here safe," he said, keeping his voice low, though in a room full of vampires it hardly mattered. David studied Darlin's distracted countenance, the way their eyes flit around the room. He locked eyes with Sam and mouthed, 'How are they?'
Sam glanced down at his mate before shaking his head slightly in response. David’s scowl deepened. Moving to Darlin's other side, he flanked them and the three waited for the rest of the hall to fill up.
At the far end of the room was a set of black marble stairs leading to a platform. The wall behind had three large windows with pointed arches. They contained stained-glass depictions of Vampiric history and power, illuminated by the bright moonlight pouring through. On the platform was placed a simple, dark walnut stool.
David kept his gaze fixed ahead as he reminded Darlin’ in a low tone that they didn’t have to be here.
“You have nothing to prove,” he muttered.
Darlin’ released the hold their teeth had on their inner cheek to reply, voice barely audible, “I-I have t-t-t-t-to see it-it happen.”
Sam and David both knew what they meant; they had to see Quinn die. It was the only way for Darlin’ to trust that he was truly gone.
———————————————
After another twenty minutes, the ceremony began. A procession entered from the large doors down the center of the hall and up to the platform.
First were a group of gaudily dressed vampires who Sam recognized as some of the different Houses’ Ruling Council representatives.
They were followed by Quinn himself, who was bound in both physical and magical restraints and surrounded by six vampiric guards.
Then came a masked figure carrying an ornate executioner’s sword, it’s jeweled pommel glinting in the hall’s candlelight. The scent of a strong perfume wafted off their body, further obscuring their identity.
Finally, one member of the Ruling Council entered, ushered in by attendants and more guards.
Sam bristled at the display. Quinn didn’t deserve this, to be paraded in ceremoniously by high ranking vampires. He deserved to be discarded in a ditch on the side of an unnamed road.
———————————————
Once the procession had all found their places on the platform, the Ruling Council member stepped forward. Her dress was intentionally understated, her face severe. As she spoke, her voice rang like metal—sharp and unforgiving.
“Brethren. Representatives. Honored guests. We stand here this night, in the moonlight of the Waxing Gibbous of the Fourteenth Day of the Second Month of the Year Two Thousand and Twenty-Five, to bear witness to the execution by beheading of one Quincy Leighton Erling Fox. He has been tried by the Ruling Council and found guilty of the following charges…”
He was staring at them.
He’d been searching the crowd from the moment he sat down on the stool. And now he’d found them, his stare like a predator's jaws locked onto its prey. His eyes were a webwork of scarlet strands, which had long since choked out the original blue of his irises.
He smiled.
All external sound, all external feeling fell away. Suddenly, Darlin’ was lost in the depths of a dark, expansive sea. All they knew were his eyes and their own heart, each thump shrinking the hall, bringing them closer to him.
Could he hear it? Was their heartbeat thundering in his head? Would it soothe him in his final moments, like a storm he himself had crafted, lulling him to sleep?
Sam felt Darlin’ release his hand. Glancing over, he saw them slipping through the crowd, heading toward the outskirt of the room. He and David exchanged equally panicked glances. The latter moved slightly, but Sam shook his head. He would go. David would stay.
Following their path, Sam wound his way through the crowd and out the large pointed doors. Just before he turned the corner, he looked back once more to the platform. Quinn’s eyes were on him, his face devoid of any smile.
———————————————
He trailed their scent to a gazebo tucked away in the property’s garden. The two of them had been here once before, on a recess during Quinn’s hearing.
As he slowly approached, Sam could see Darlin’ hunched over on one of the gazebo’s benches, head clutched in their hands.
They must have heard him. Their head shot up, and then the rest of their body. Sam stood still, and the two stared at each other from across the garden. He knew that look in their eye; he’d seen it too many times before. They felt trapped, seconds away from bolting.
His muscles tightened preemptively, ready to follow if they ran.
But they didn’t.
After a few moments, they sank back down onto the bench, and Sam continued his approach. Once he’d climbed up the steps of the gazebo, they croaked out:
“I-I couldn’t l-l-let him wwwin.”
He stopped, opting to give them space and lean against one of the columns of the gazebo instead.
“He could hear mmme...mmy heartb-beat...he was st-taring…staring at-at mme...smmiling at mmme,” they spat.
It took all of Sam’s strength to stay still, to not rush back inside and tear Quinn’s head from his shoulders himself.
“So I l-left. He wwwanted mme t-to wwwatch,” Darlin’ continued, pulling Sam’s attention back to them, “He wwwanted t-to l-look at mmme wwwwhen he died. He wwanted the immage of his death t-t-to p-play over and-and over and over…t-to b-be immortalized in mmmy mmind…So I-I didn’t give it-it t-t-to him. Didn’t g-give him that p-p-power.”
They straightened their posture and breathed in deep. “I-I don’t nnneed to wwatch. I-I trust David. He’ll t-t-tell mmme.”
Sam’s chest felt fit to burst with pride. He walked across the gazebo and sat next to his mate, linking their fingers with his and kissing their temple.
“How do you feel?”
“…l-light.”
———————————————
The two sat in shared silence until they heard someone walking toward them—David, no doubt doing what Sam had done earlier and tracking their scent. Darlin’ and Sam rose from the bench as he drew near.
“It’s done,” David said as he scanned Darlin’s face, “Quinn’s dead.”
Darlin’ nodded, silent for a moment.
Then they shrugged. “I-I’m hungry. L-L-Let’s get some food, mmmy treat,” they declared before heading out of the gazebo and through the garden.
David and Sam stared after them, in various states of shock and awe. When they didn’t follow, Darlin’ swung their body around and continued walking backwards as they called out with a grin, “Y-Y’all coming?” They turned back around and kept heading towards Sam's truck.
“Are they okay?” David asked, “What happened?”
“They won,” Sam replied, his voice like sunshine, “They fucking won.”
