The stream is finally up, crystal clear and high quality.
We see the parade route, a long and straight rode paved in a brilliant red and black mosaic depicting roses and thorns twisting their way along the street.
On either side is a tide of people, dressed in their best, waving homemade flags and signs with Jack's face on them.
Floating screens hang above the road, giving folks in the cheap seats a better view of the goings on.
The energy is palpable.
Electric.
Excited.
And then... a hush, as if some unseen figure has held a finger to their lips.
Feet stomping rhythmically as music slowly swells
"Ooh-whoa-ooh!"
From the crowd, a girl hurdles the barrier with ease, her long blonde twin tails flowing after her like a flags.
"Ooh-whoa-ooh!"
Her skirt is a giant upturned pink rose, there is mischief in her single blue. She produces a whistle from somewhere in her unremarkable cleavage and blows 3 clear notes.
"Ladies and gents this is the moment you've waited for..."
Dodo birds flock to her from seemingly nowhere, dressed in little waistcoats, dresses and spats. They coo obediently, and trail after the girl in V formation.
"You've been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor..."
The girl twirls eager cartwheels, her feathered entourage waddling and swaying to the music.
Behind them, marching neatly is an army of skeletons. Their bones painted gold, roses crawling through their ribcages, rubies glittering in their eye sockets.
Two skeletons bring up the rear, leading a great beast but golden chains.
Something like a cheetah with a rabbit's head, and a buck's antlers.
The beast hisses and roars at the crowd, but seems perfectly at ease otherwise. It's long jerboa like tail held high and proud.
The Greatest Showman keeps playing as the biggest hyena you've ever seen lopes along, blue eyes gleaming with pride, her pelt bleach white and spotted with chemical burns. A dryad sits on her back, ivy leaves fluttering in her hair, she waves a hand and two massive thorny vines burst from the soil on either side of the street, coiling together high over the road and blooming into an arch of black roses with eyes rolling in their middles.
The crowd screams in awe and delight as petals rain down on them.
The thump of heavy paws replaced by the clattering of porcelain as dozens of teapots of every shape and size scamper along the route on little porcelain paws, or chicken legs, or insectile limbs.
They honk, whistle and toot like a troupe of clowns, spraying the crowd and each other with showers of confetti from their spouts.
And then... the ground begins the shake as the biggest teapot anyone has ever seen wanders behind it's much tinier brethren.
Easily the size of an elephant, it's ceramic hide painted red and gold, its thick legs taking careful steps.
It pauses for just a moment and produces a geyser of confetti and flower petals from its titanic snoot.
Behind this beast is another monstrosity of metal and machinery chugging along on steel spider legs, music blares from the speakers that make up the majority of its body. At its apex is a certain dancing demon, his usual black and white color palette broken up by his red shutter shades and the rose pinned to his lapel.
Bendy is in charge of spinning the tunes for the entire parade, and is doing a damn good job of it, only pausing to floss and dab much to the elation of the onlookers.
His grin is genuine, happy, and magnificent as he waves at the crowd and blows kisses to the kids.
The smell of smoke, sweet and seductive, follows behind Bendy's DJ float. The music changes from bouncy pop, to old school circus music played on actual instruments by giant bugs with literal fire in their eyes. Smoke leaking from the corners of their grinning jaws like demons dragged up from hell.
An anthropomorphic ant rides on the back of a giant stag beetle, a ladybug with eyes for spots juggles flaming knives.
A pair of centipedes dressed like mimes turn themselves into hurdles and hoops for the others to leap over and through.
Arachnid beasts that defy description and logic chitter and growl as they drag a float behind them on sturdy chains.
The float itself is a flying trapeze! With performers doing death defying stunts without the aid of wings or a net.
Something grub-like and smiling wears a half mask, like the phantom of the opera, and tosses toys at children from her place high on the float.
And now, that hush falls again.
The anticipation so thick you can cut it with a knife.
At the very back of the parade, bringing up the rear, is a giant black rose being pulled along by a team of white unicorns with their hooves and horns painted gold. Each animal is firmly muzzled and wearing a ruby studded golden collar in addition to their tack.
The rose blooms, and there is Jack, standing tall. He waves at the crowd as they cheer for him and call out his name.
He blows kisses to them and the cameras.
He's crying, fat blue tears rolling down his cheeks. And yet his makeup refuses to budge.
The parade continues on it's way towards wonderland castle, hurry now.
>after awhile the stream comes right back, still a little glitchy and wobbly, but back just the same
>everything is blissful, beautiful chaos as Candyland attempts to lay siege to Wonderland and reclaim its stolen river
>strange mechanical guards dressed in armor race to defend the border, and the once imposing wall of thorns and eye-covered roses starts to wither and crumble under some kind of strange magic
>a tide of living candy guards charges in and tries to lay waste to Wonderlandâs idyllic countryside.
>They find no homes to pillage, no villages to burn, no nothing they can see
>everyone in Wonderland knows how to hide and creep and fight inside their burrow-towns and tree-trunk homes.
>or they would if Jackâs wife, Jeanne hadnât had the presence of mind to move most of the folk into the castle for their own safety
>Jack knows damn well he should be resting, but he refuses when he knows that his friends are doing their hardest to keep him safe.
>the enemy brought their own spellcasters, soldiers and such, but Jackâs side has something they donât
>a bunch of batshit crazy idiots with 4 baincells between them and they all belong to Jeanne
>and a dragon
>his boyfriend brought his dragon.
>sheâs a starry sight to see, torching candy soldiers by the dozens as Jackâs friendâs and family tear into the others with morbid glee, some even going so far as to EAT those theyâve felled. And jack is right there among them, Vorpal sword slick with candy gore, surrounded by a shell of crystal quills that give violent acupuncture to anyone stupid enough to come close
>a figure in pink frills with impossible blonde pigtails wheels in out of nowhere and shreds someone with her bare hands alone
>a creature of ink and malice engulfs someone as they scream helplessly
>a ghost reaches in and tears out organs without breaking the skin
>bullets fly and bodies fall
>the ground seethes as magic turns dormant plants into killing machines
> a shout from the left-side of the screen and suddenly Jack is parrying a blow he almost didnât see
>standing there before him, the imagine of rage incarnate, is the Queen of Candyland clad in her spun sugar armor. She doesnât mince words, she only attacks and attacks and attacks, forcing Jack back back back, until he uses his crystal shards to put her on the defensive
âYou should have known weâd take back what was ours.â
>he snarls, knocking the Queenâs sword aside and useing the tip of his blade to tilt her chin up
âCall them off, or i add one more act of Regicide to my growing resume.â
>She glares sweet daggers at him, but does what he says all the same. Her troops fall back, but Jack does not let her go until the last living soldier is over the border and thus out of his hair
>the Queen is left to walk herself back home, unarmed and pursued by several of Jackâs guards
Hozier echoes throughout your room like mutinous heterodox hymns in abandoned churches left to the elements. Arcane and profane songs leaking through the rotted gaps in the roof and walls, spilling out into the empty air. Your vision is stained with the gold-black hue of His voice, and the sinfully sweet taste of His words. Your agitation melts away away away, leaving you fluid and fae as you dance in very little, body bending in impossible shapes, twirling, swirling to the rhythm as you sing along. Your crystals form deadly fans that chime with each and every syllable, every movement.
A hundred years in the future and you have His Last Album on repeat, His songs got further and further from human understanding as his career continued. Now, just playing His songs out loud summon things, beautiful things, wondrous, illegal magic that changes your room into a far flung forest full of impossible, unimaginable things that know every lyric, every note and key. You feel at home here, and you're sure He did too.
You're late for your audience with the Queen of Candyland. But still you dance, as the next song plays and the ceiling above you becomes the canopy of a night-dark forest, letting in beams of moonlight to dapple the mossy floor. An uncountable number of rainbow hued shooting stars streak by and cast stained glass shadows on everything around you. And still you dance. Feet leaving the ground as your magic kicks up, voice multiplying, radiating. A cacophonous choir of voices that don't do His words any justice. But still you sing. But still you dance.
Your secretary, Hououmaru, has to coax you out of the music's thrall. You aren't exactly happy about that but you have shit to do, and you can't spend all day listening to the Last Album. Even though you really want to. Your butler sees to the state of your hair, applying some new color while you shove some toast into your waiting maw and take your meds. Your seamstress, Nui, brings your clothes along as you teleport to your castle in Wonderland, still in your underwear. You can't be bothered to take most of this seriously, but you're still taking your full security detail over there with you. Better not tempt fate after all. Â You have to take the carriage over to Candyland, you're still far too drained to teleport yourself plus security over there on your own steam. But you're not incapable of defending yourself, as evidenced by the Vorpal Sword at your hip.
Your arrival is watched by a thousand eyes. Candy people and animals cower at your approach, and some part of you stings with guilt. There's little you can do about that, but it still hurts nonetheless. You guess you should be... happy, proud of yourself even, to have people cowering in your wake. But you aren't, it just makes you feel like a bully kicking down sand castles. You don't look out of the windows for the rest of the ride, contemplating sinking down low in your seat before remembering that Nui would eviscerate you if you wrinkled this outfit. So you just shut your eyes and sit very still until the carriage comes to a stop. There is mild concern from your entourage that you might be feeling ill, and at the moment you can't exactly refute that as you take one look at the Candy Queen's castle and feel your heart and stomach switch places.
Flanked by your security detail, sword at your side, countless tricks up your metaphorical sleeves and you feel no safer. Candy Guards stand stone-faced and silent in the halls, ever-present but unmoving. Eerie and discomforting. The throne room is no better, here is where you realize how grossly outnumbered you are. You can feel Rae behind you, silently counting the guards in here, adding their number to the ones you saw when you came in. She leans in to inform you of the seventy possible assailants you might have to claw your way through to get home. Seventy against four. You've never been much of a gambler but you like those odds.
Mellifera, the Candy Queen, is slow to address you, relaxed in her throne, honey-gold eyes half-lidded as if she were bored to the brink of dozing. Still, you are respectful and bow low at the waist, with your detail following suit.
"Stand, supplication does not suit you, Thief-Prince." she purrs in a voice as warm, rich and sweet as hot milk and honey. She is a magnificent creature, with translucent dark brown skin, twitching antennae, faceted black eyes, and fluttering wings at her back that cast stained glass shadows just like the falling stars from the song you'd so carelessly danced to. Her hair is opalescent white, full of sparkling sugar and sprinkles. She smells like raw honey, and a soft buzz chases the tails of words spoken with yellow painted lips. Beneath her skin is an endless maze of honeycomb, and floating just above her head is a crown of chocolate and amber that seems to perpetually melt, but the drips vanish before they can stain anything.
She is horrifically, horribly beautiful in every way. And yet as you think back to the night you two faced each other in battle, her face twisted with fury, she was beautiful then too. She sits up straight, an action that causes her obvious pain, Jeanne's parting gift, fondly remembered. Your ear twitches at her not-so-subtle insult.
"Thief-Prince?" you ask, voice level, calm. Too calm. Rae puts a hand against the small of your back, and your unconscious bristling ceases instantly, "I had no clue that retrieving lost property counted as theft in your lands, Lady Mellifera."
She gives you a smile, warm and sweet like brown sugar. It's wry but genuine and you don't like it, the way she looks at you when she does it. It makes you feel sorry in the wrongest of ways.
"There are many things you are clueless about, dear Thief-Prince, but your naivety is not what I wanted to discuss." she rests her chin in palm of one hand, head tilting just a little as she watches you squirm at her digs. You frown and lean back against Rae's steadying hand, the flames of your ire dying down to embers. She wants you angry and you aren't about to give her the satisfaction.
"Are we going to get to these discussions any time soon or do you intend to bore several millenia off my lifespan with this petty attempt at a squabble?" it comes out way more nonchalantly than you intended but that somehow adds weight to your words another tone just wouldn't have. Still, she laughs at you, a nasal snort that seems out of place coming from someone so clearly alien.
"Very well, we'll 'cut to the chase' as you Earthborn mongrels put it." she does air quotes, like the passive aggressive asshole she is. "I'd like to propose a peace treaty between my land and yours, we could become great assets to each other but that isn't possible if we are at each other's throats."
She shifts in position, resting her cheek on her fist. "And don't worry about the subjects of mine you slaughtered and devoured like animals, they'll be replaced soon enough."
You blink, bewildered, and she catches your shift in expression immediately, "You learn quickly not to get too attached to anyone around here," Mellifera doesn't even sound sullen, and simply shrugs as if this were something as small as a papercut. "Go on, kill them, my guards, I know you've been itching to. I'll just make more."
Her words hang in the empty air like the obvious threat they are. Unconsciously, you shudder, and she smiles again. That same damn smile. "So, what do you say?"
Your words falter, failing you as you struggle to process this fresh hell you've found yourself in. Finally you swallow thickly, the overpowering scents of sweet things turning your stomach as fast as the thought of the implications behind all of this.
"I'll... consider it." you say, softly, softer than you should. She seems elated nonetheless and wiggles her antennae in a pleased way that might have been cute under different circumstances.
"Wonderful, I'll send you a copy of the treaty to inspect at your leisure, then we can further discuss any specific edits or additional terms you may deem necessary." you instantly regret your words but it's too late to go back on them now. You'll play her games, just for a little while.
"Take this, as a hopeful gesture of peace between our two countries." Mellifera gestures at a shape draped in plain white cloth, the covering is pulled aside to reveal a marvelous cage of golden mesh, inside is a swarm of bread-and-butterflies. They flutter here and there on wings made of bread and toast, shimmering with butter, honey, or even jam. You can smell their warm, doughy scent from where you stand but can do little more than just stare in awe.
Hououmaru nudges a box into your hands, you nearly drop it in your carelessness and are left awkwardly holding it out towards the Candy Queen,
"We have brought a gift as well, Lady Mellifera, may it please you." the word please is accented and scummy, try as you might to sound professional you're quickly losing your nerve. Mellifera rises from her throne and makes her way towards you. Your security detail gently bristles like dogs on leashes, hands hovering near weapons just in case. None of the candy guards move, as if they too didn't care who lived or died. After all Queens can be replaced just like anyone and everyone else. Unease curls low in your belly, toothsome and vicious, as the Queen approaches. You are reminded of how fragile Candyland natives are by the way she limps towards you, still feeling the pain of your wife's bullet in her ass. It's a miracle she can walk at all, honestly.
Inside the box is a walking tea pot, not one of the feral ones that have moved in around the Brillig, a custom made one filled with tea from the river you'd stolen from her lands only nights ago. A petty, backhanded gift to repay her for the poisoned plants her least favorite daughter gave you a long while ago. After she opens the box, Queen Mellifera smiles that brown sugar smile at you again, the one that makes you feel sorry for things you haven't done. As if every injustice in this world was somehow your fault, but it's ok, she forgives you.
You really don't like her smile. You really don't like her. Childishness and invasion of your country aside, she makes you deeply uncomfortable as a person. Someone who has such a flippant view of death and sacrifice is clearly not to be trusted. She doesn't trust you, that's obvious. But still, here she is trying to kiss your ass and act like eons of tension between your home and hers has never existed. Something dark and cruel tells you that everyone would have been better off if you'd slaughtered her during the Battle for the Brillig. You almost never listen to that dark, cruel thing. If you did, you'd be out hunting down the twenty some-odd scientists that had escaped your initial siege of Delta Facility by some twisted facsimile of a miracle.
Mellifera thanks you for the gift, handing it off to a nearby guard. You two stand, locked in an uncomfortably quiet staring contest, as if you could decipher what the other was thinking just by sight alone. Mellifera searches your face for answers before that eerie smile dims into a thin grim line,
"If you have more to say, say it. If not, leave." she straightens to her full seven something foot height, and you refuse to give her the satisfaction of looking down her nose at you, stubbornly levitating up to look her in those cold black eyes, unsettled by the way they reflected your face a dozen times over. You barely see her move, barely have time to draw your sword as her own blade makes a sweeping arc towards your throat. It's over in a blink but there you both stand, blades barely biting into the skin of each other's necks. Blue running over her blade just as honey-gold runs over yours.
She smiles again, a different smile. She's impressed, and a little smug. You aren't smiling. With eerie synchronicity, you sheath your blades and fall back behind a wall of guards. "I grow tired of your company, Thief-Prince." she presses a sleeve to her wound and turns to leave, her free hand flying up to wave you off, "Until we meet again!"
"Until we meet again," you reply, ignoring the blood staining the collar of your dress. You leave with your gift in tow and find a jar of honey waiting at home, a note taped to it's lid and stamped with Candyland's royal seal.
