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wordstome · 5 months

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kingdom come - iii

king König x princess & assassin reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, afab reader, romance, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kind of age gap because König has been king for a good chunk of time but it's not really much of a factor, fantasy/medieval setting

7.7k words

tw: explicit smut, animal death, mentions of child death, violence, mild body horror, ableist language (use of the word "cripple")

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"I'm not going to sleep with you." -quote from woman who is about to sleep with him

There’s a portrait of a woman in your room.

Of course, König offered to have it removed or replaced, but you’ve procrastinated the decision because you never thought you would be here long enough for it to matter. Yet here you are, staring up at this lovely young woman on the wall.

You tilt your head, studying her. Her expression is neutral, almost pensive, but the artist captured a playful sparkle in her eyes, as if she’s keeping some sweet secret.

It’s the first queen, of course. König’s first wife. The one who died many years ago. It’s strange that after so long, he hasn’t gotten rid of the portrait.

What happened to you? you wonder. If someone had asked what you thought when you first arrived here, you would have said, without hesitation, that König had her killed. All your life, you had been taught that he and his father were evil, unfeeling tyrants. Now, this conviction has wavered.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s ridiculous, to be thinking better of his character. You only ever wanted to know him better to kill him. But the more you understand about what makes him tick, the less you think that he would do such a thing. Perhaps it’s true, then, that she died in childbirth.

Your eyes travel all over the portrait, poring over every detail of her features. Did you know him? Did you understand him? Did you love him?

Did he love you?

What did that feel like?

“Good. You haven’t left yet.” Calliope comes into the room, bustling with energy even before the sun comes up. You don’t know how she does it.

“We’re about to.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You notice she’s wearing gloves, but more importantly, she’s holding a necklace: a silvery chain with a small, intricate pendant. Vine-shaped pieces of metal hold a white, almost clear jewel in place, its various facets reflecting the candlelight in vivid colors.

“Jewelry? I’m going to be living in the woods for the next few weeks,” you tease as she lowers the necklace over your head. It does look quite durable, but you’re not exactly dressing for a costume ball here.

“Consider it a reminder that I await your safe return,” Calliope responds, securing the necklace behind your neck. “Look at it and remember me. You’re not to do anything reckless out there, am I understood?”

“Understood.” You give her a soft smile as she arranges the necklace on your collarbones. You’re grateful for the gift: though she can’t come with you, a small piece of her will always remain with you.

“Good. And don’t let that handsome husband of yours distract you and get yourself killed.”

“Calliope! What happened to ‘something’s not right with him’?”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t handsome!”

You snort and roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your face.

You used to think that living in König’s home already exposed you to an exhausting amount of the man. As it turns out, going on a journey with him is even worse.

There’s nobody else to talk to, nowhere to run or put distance between you two when he frustrates you. It’s not so bad for the first few days: the towns surrounding the capital are still populated enough to provide some respite from him. But once the two of you have made your way outside the bounds of civilization, it doesn’t take long for things to become stilted and awkward.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the last town.”

“I don’t feel talkative.”

“Really? I’m out of my mind with boredom right now. Come, you’re not in the mood to get to know each other a little?”

You give him a look. “What else is there to know? I’ve lived with you for several months.”

“But we don’t talk.” König nudges his horse to walk closer to yours. König is such a large man, his horse is massive too: comically so, next to your normal one. You let out a sigh.

“There’s nothing to know about me.”

“I doubt that. All I know about you is you’re a princess trained to be an assassin. ‘Your whole life’, according to yourself,” he says with a touch of mocking.

You purse your lips, determined not to let him get under your skin. “There’s nothing else to know.”

“Truly? Nothing about what you like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like…your favorite food. Or hobby.”

“Hobby? …I suppose I spend a lot of time at target practice.”

“That’s not a hobby.”

“It’s relaxing to hone my skills.”

He gives you an amused look. “You remind me of myself as a young man.”

Something about that irks you. “We’re nothing alike.”

“I used to have the same mindset as you, at least. I held one objective in my mind and didn’t seek purpose outside of it.”

“I…”

As much as you loathe to admit it, he’s right. You have been focused on one objective your whole life. If you probe deeper, you can’t remember having any friends outside of Calliope, nor any interests outside of the curriculum your father set for you. “It wasn’t as bleak as you seem to think it was.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not like I never had fun. I had my own way of finding it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, when my training progress stalled, I’d be sent to bed without dinner. Naturally. I eventually learned how to climb out of my window at night and go foraging in the woods for something to eat.” A smile curls your lips as you reminisce. “Eventually I even worked my way up to hunting—little things, like squirrels. I spent many a cozy little evening cooking for myself over a fire.”

You turn to find an abject look of horror on König face. “What? What’s wrong? Is there danger?” You turn around to scan your surroundings, but nothing immediately jumps out at you.

“No. No danger. I just…he sent you to bed with an empty stomach so many times you learned how to crawl out of your room and hunt squirrels to eat?”

You blink at him. “You’ve never had squirrel before?”

He looks scandalized. “Of course I have! That is not the issue with what you just said.”

You shrug. “It was important discipline. Besides, it gave me hunting experience at a young age. Squirrels are hard to skin, but I could do it in twelve seconds flat if you gave me one now.”

König looks like he wants to say more, but instead he looks up at the sky. “We should make camp soon.”

“Is it that time already?”

“It needs to be set up before it gets dark. We should also start hunting while it’s light out—not all of us can catch things in the dark, squirrel-girl.”

“Hey!”

Later, you’re both chewing on a rabbit when he speaks.

“You know, when you said you wanted to travel with me, I was quite concerned.”

“Yes, I know. You didn’t think I was capable of handling myself.”

“Not just that. I was worried you would be…unaccustomed to living rough.”

“You thought I would be a spoiled princess.”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes.”

You snort. “Well, now you know. I can handle myself in the outdoors.” You toss the rabbit bones you’ve just picked clean into a small hole dug into the dirt. When you leave, you’ll cover it with dirt to prevent predators from smelling the remains and following you on your journey.

“You want the other leg?” you ask. König seems startled, for some reason.

“You caught this one.”

“Yes, but you’re bigger than me. You need the food.” You reach up to pluck a leaf from a nearby tree and wipe your hands. Rabbits sure are greasy…

There’s a strange look in König’s eye as he regards you. You raise an eyebrow at him in response. “What?”

“…nothing.” He reaches for the rabbit while you shrug and walk off to find some water. The back of your neck prickles as you go, as if his stare is physically touching you.

You can’t stand to be near him nowadays, and you don’t know why.

Of course, you have no choice but to. There’s a tension that feels weighty, forbidden. You know he can tell, because he’s been more cautious around you, giving you as much space as he can afford to. Somehow, that irritates you even more.

Tonight, the two of you are camping in a dense, thick part of the forest not far from a road. It’s quiet, secluded: even the usual soundscape of ambient animal noises is silent.

The fire crackles and pops as you stare into the flames, as if you’ll find any answers in it. Instead, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as König returns from washing himself in a nearby stream, approaching you from behind.

“This won’t work if you’re constantly upset with me for some unknown reason.”

You don’t turn to look at him, though some invisible force compels you. “Why? Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“I’m worried about your comfort too, you know. If you just told me what I’ve done wrong, then we can resolve it before it breeds resentment.”

“I’m just stressed.” Everything he does or says seems to irritate you nowadays, but you know in your heart of hearts that it’s not his fault. It’s your own problem—you assume camping outdoors for so long has taken its toll on your psyche.

He frowns at you, but doesn’t pry any further. You can’t help but watch as he walks around to the other side of the fire, drying his hair with his shirt. God, he is a work of art: all chiseled muscles and glowing skin. Your eyes travel down his torso, drawn by the line of his abs, down to the happy trail leading to the slightly askew waist of his trousers.

“You’re drooling, princess.”

Your eyes snap back up to his face. His eyes are dancing with mirth as he realizes he’s just caught you ogling him. You make a face at him, but it only makes him laugh. “Was not.”

“Incorrect answer. You should have attempted to strike at my ego. Now I know you were looking.”

“I think I’m just being driven mad by spending so much time alone with you in the woods.”

“I know several ways to drive you mad, sweetling.”

You slouch against a tree, your face hot—and not from the fire. In a blink, he’s standing before you, with a gleeful expression on his face like he’s just discovered a cure for dropsy.

“I know what’s making you sour as vinegar. You need to be fucked.”

You bury your face in your hands, unable to look at him. “I thought we had moved past this,” you groan, trying to ignore your rapidly quickening heartbeat.

“What, your ever-growing carnal lust for me?”

“You being a pervert.”

“I’ve never made a secret of it. You, however…” You suck in a startled breath as he leans down, trapping you against the tree just like he had the day you sparred with him. “You’ve been denying yourself.”

Your breath is ragged as he looks you in the eye, the tension between the two of you as taut as a bowstring. A familiar sense of panic rises in you, the same way you feel every time he’s close to you like this. Before, you thought it was because it felt dangerous to be so close to your enemy. Now, you’re second-guessing yourself.

“So what if I have?” you mumble.

“There’s an easy way to fix that.”

“…The last time you had me in this position, you were threatening me.”

He tilts his head slightly, a wicked gleam in his eye. “You don’t feel threatened now?”

You don’t respond immediately, and heavens forbid, he takes it as hesitancy, his demeanor instantly transforming. “One word. One word, and we will never speak of this again. But if you tell me you want this, I will fuck you senseless.”

“Yes,” you whisper, and his lips on are on yours.

It’s a strange sensation, considering half of your mouth is pressed against the cold, smooth surface of his mask. You don’t even ask him about removing it—it’s become a part of him in your mind. And maybe part of you even finds the mystery of it alluring.

You all but melt into the kiss, against him. It’s different, everything is different than that first awkward kiss from when you were younger. It makes you ache, makes you long for him in a way you’ve never wanted someone before.

You have to separate to breathe, but your reluctance to break apart from him is clear by the way you chase his face with yours. He laughs at you, but it’s not condescending at all. It settles in your chest, warm like honey.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you murmur.

“Luckily for you, you’re in good hands.” It’s the cockiness in his voice that does you in, what makes you let go and give yourself over to him.

You feel flustered, awkward, and like the least desirable creature on earth, but he looks at you like he wants to devour you. Like there’s nothing else he wants more than to have you right now.

“You can trust me,” he says softly. You try to respond, but suddenly find you’ve gone mute. All you can manage is a small nod.

To your surprise, he lowers his mouth to your neck. You gasp, a full-body shiver running through you as he kisses you there, sucking and nipping at you as he goes. “W-wait, I’m—”

“Sensitive? I can tell.” You squeak as he continues to lavish you with attention, his fingers trailing down the front of your torso to undo your pants. His movements are deliberate but slow, giving you plenty of opportunity to stop him. But of course, you don’t.

You let out a quick little breath as he finds his way to your pussy, his deep chuckle reverberating against your throat. “You’re so wet…did I do that to you, liebling?”

You’re about to respond, but instead let out a sharp gasp as he dips a finger into your pussy. “How are you ever going to take me into this tight little hole of yours…” he taunts.

Oh, God, you hadn’t even thought about that. Your mind flashes back to your wedding night, and the first time you tried to kill him. You had mostly been shocked by his audacity, but only now do you recall how big he had felt between your thighs.

He’s gentle with you at first, patiently stretching you open as you whine and beg in his arms. You just about sob when he finally pays your clit attention, circling it with his thumb, and in what seems like no time at all, you’re cumming, hard.

“That didn’t take long at all,” he says with that awful smirk of his.

“Th-that’s not fair,” you stammer. “You know…”

“I’m only teasing you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead as you come down, shivering with pleasure.

He makes you cum twice with just his hand. Your legs are trembling by the time the two of you properly get undressed. You’re soft and pliable, helpless putty in his hands as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Ready, liebe?” he asks.

“That is not going to fit,” you say, eyes wide and fearful. There’s absolutely no way, you think, staring down the absurdly thick and long monster between his legs.

“Trust me, remember? We’ll take it slow,” he reassures you. You bite your lip and nod, giving him the go-ahead to sink into you.

Instantly, you realize that no matter how well König could have prepared you, there was no chance that it would have been enough to ready you for the stretch of him. You feel like you can hardly breathe as he splits you in half with his cock, your mouth dropping open in a wordless cry.

“Fuck, you are tight,” he groans, but he keeps his promise to go slow, feeding himself inch by inch inside you until he’s sitting snug up against your cervix.

The two of you stay there, suspended in a moment in time, connected to each other in the most intimate way two people can be. It makes your head spin, makes you dizzy with the sensation of his body pressed against yours.

You nod, and he starts to move.

If you had thought before that his fingers felt good inside you, then his cock is something else. The delicious stretch of him is almost electrifying, and you wonder how you went all your life without it.

All you can do is let him take control—you don’t have the presence mind to do anything but hold onto him, gasping and moaning. He’s all around you, above you, inside you, and it feels like nothing else in the world matters, or that there is a world other than König, König, König.

Your third orgasm surprises you, waves of pleasure flowing through you as you cry out, your pussy sucking him in as if it wants him to stay inside forever. That’s what seemingly pushes him over the edge too, a string of expletives bursting from him as he floods you with his cum.

You’re limp and weak, all but purring as he shifts to lay next to you and pulls you into his chest.

“You are sweet when underneath me like this,” he purrs.

You swat him in the chest, but it must feel no heavier than being hit by a branch, because he just laughs.

“There’s no reason to be shy now. I’ve seen everything at this point.” You pout at him—something that only seems to bring him delight, because he pulls you in for a kiss.

“This isn’t how I wanted to take you the first time,” he says, a hint of shame in his tone.

Your heart twinges with affection. This isn’t how you imagined your first time, either, but the idea of him wanting you so badly he thought about it beforehand, fantasized about it even…“I’ve slept in trees before, this is nothing,” you reassure him.

He shoots you a concerned look. “You continue to share alarming events from your childhood.”

You sleep together that night, curled up against him with your legs tangled with his. He falls asleep first, the slight rumble of his chest as he sleeps against your cheek. You lay awake a little while longer, watching him, breathing him in. Now, you have no choice but to be confronted with the truth that you’ve been refusing to acknowledge this whole time.

You don’t hate him anymore. You don’t even dislike him now. And you certainly don’t want to kill him.

On one hand, things are easier. Crossing the line feels more like having torn down a wall, with no more need for pretense. On the other, König is somehow even more insufferable than before. Or perhaps insatiable is a better word for it. You go from having daily sexual tension with him to daily sex, period.

It’s like the floodgates have opened. He’s always loved to tease you, but it gets a hundred times worse now that he knows just how to make your cheeks feel warm.

“I was thinking…” he muses one night as you cuddle by the fire. “You may have to start riding on my horse.”

“Don’t I already do that?” you ask, sleepily playing with his hair.

He snorts. “Your susceptibility to my corrupting influence is truly something to marvel at.”

“You’ve been enacting psychological warfare on me for months.”

“Anyhow, as I was saying.”

“Your horse is quite large, but I don’t think it could handle me astride it as well.”

“Well. Certainly something else that’s large could handle that…”

You sigh. “Get to the point.”

“It’s becoming quite distracting, watching you moving up and down with the horse’s stride.”

“I cannot believe you. Innuendos twice in a row?”

“This is a legitimate grievance!”

“Riding on your horse would not fix the problem. Unless you plan for me to sit behind you in the saddle, which I refuse to do.”

“You’re no fun.”

You lean forward to kiss the corner of his mouth instead of responding.

Your newfound…activity, however pleasingly distracting, can’t eclipse what comes next.

The mood is somber as you arrive in the village: it’s a quiet, sleepy place, just a scattering of simple houses dotting rolling hills and one singular street lined with buildings in the center of it all.

In sharp contrast to his playful, almost jubilant mood on the road with you, König instantly snaps into his authoritative persona. It especially suits him when he puts on the hood: it makes him seem that much more intimidating and threatening. Almost inhuman.

The first order of business is to hold counsel with what passes for the leader in this tiny village: a local merchant patriarch. He’s a sturdy man in his older years, face lined with both wrinkles and scars. He must have been quite the warrior when he was young: you can tell by the way he carries himself.

He gives both of you the lay of the land, and it’s a grim predicament indeed. Herding the livestock is a job most often given to the children, as it’s a relatively safe job with less skill required than the tasks the adults take care of. That’s changed, of course, with the arrival of the beast a few weeks ago. He confirms the most gruesome details that have been brought before König by previous messengers, and it turns your stomach just to imagine it. Those poor children…

The two of you set off early the next morning, with directions from an experienced hunter who had been keeping track of the beast and reporting its movements. At first, it feels normal: just another walk in the woods with König. The solemn silence between the two of you serves as a stark reminder that this isn’t like normal—followed promptly by increasing signs of a presence in the woods. Snapped branches, giant pawprints, and worse, streaks of blood.

Then you break though into a clearing, and your blood runs cold.

The beast before you could only be described as a wolf for lack of a better descriptor. It’s monstrously large, being König’s height and half again, with all of its proportions just slightly wrong: its legs scrawny and just slightly too long for its body, the snout lean and far too sharp to fit the rest of its head. Dried old blood crusted into the fur of its muzzle and chest belies the savagery of the creature, even streaking onto the fur along its neck. And the most obvious tell-tale sign of an unnatural creature is that fur: a dark, rusty blue that shifts with impossible pinpricks of light, like the night sky is ensnared in this feral animal’s coat.

You heard its growl before you saw it. But now when it lays eyes on you and König, it opens its snout and…speaks.

“What do we have here?” The voice comes out as a broken, reedy croak, as if stretching vocal cords that haven’t been used in a long time.

Something about it raises your hackles, like your body’s responding to an ancient, ingrained fear. Fae.

“Don’t listen to anything it says.” König’s voice is suddenly soft, dangerous. “None of it is trustworthy.” Slowly, deliberately, his hand moves to his back and draws his sword.

“Ah, the boy king,” hisses the beast. “You simply couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“You’re eating my subjects,” König responds. Your eyes flit to where his hand tightens its grip on his sword. “This is not personal.”

“But it always is, is it not?” The beast and König circle each other, like two combatants in an arena. “You are as ever driven by your past mistakes.”

“König, what is it talking about?” You feel like you’re witnessing a conversation you shouldn’t be, but you feel helpless to do anything about it. If you tried to make a move towards the beast now, it would have its jaws snapped around you in an instant.

“It’s lying, liebling. It’s what they do. It’s trying to throw you for a loop so it can catch you off guard.”

“Liebling now, is it?” The beast lets out an awful, barking laugh. “My, the two of you have come far. But not far enough, it seems.”

König gives you a quick, sidelong glance, then tilts his head back towards the beast. The message is clear. We need to distract it. I’ll keep it talking.

“From her response, it seems you’ve been keeping secrets from your lovely little bride.” The beast shakes itself, its fur puffing up to look larger and more intimidating.

“There’s nothing to keep. None of that is important.”

“I would beg to differ. And if your liebling knew what it was, she would disagree as well.”

“You know nothing about us,” König growls. Yes, you’re in a life-or-death situation right now, but the viciousness in his tone sends an excited shiver up your spine. You’re opposite König now, almost completely hidden behind the beast’s monstrous form.

“You know nothing about each other!” Before either of you can react, the beast whips around. Its glowing-white eyes are fixed on you. “Not that it matters any longer.”

You barely have time to scream before the beast is upon you.

“No!” König’s voice rings in your ears. You can feel the creature’s hot breath, its vile drool spilling onto your clothes, its teeth closing around your neck—

Time slows to a crawl, the events unfolding one after the other in sequence. The first thing you’re aware of is the beast’s roar of pain, booming deafeningly all around you. I’m inside its mouth, you think numbly. The second thing you notice is your necklace: it’s glowing red, as if the metal has become molten hot. But you don’t feel any burning sensation, just a faint tingle.

The third thing you see is König shoving himself between the two halves of the beast’s snout, physically holding it open with his body.

It’s truly an impressive sight, like watching Atlas hold up the sky. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up at him in awe.

“What are you doing?! Get out!” he yells, and you snap back to your senses.

You roll aside out of the beast’s range, scrambling to get back on your feet. König dodges out of the way just as the jaws snap shut.

“Is that..?” the thing wheezes. You rush to help König up as it glares balefully at you. Its beady eyes focus on the pendant around your neck, narrowing in disgust.

“Calliope,” it spits. “I should have known. This bears marks of your meddling all over.”

Your blood runs cold. “What did you just say?” What does your lady in waiting have to do with this?

“You—” The beast doesn’t get a chance to finish its sentence, because König takes advantage of its consternation to stick his sword into its neck. The creature bellows in pain and lunges at König, who barely manages to dodge the strike but loses his grip on his sword in the process. The monstrous animal whips around and around, attempting to grab hold of the sword with its teeth.

“Strike, now!” König calls before promptly getting clocked in the head with the pommel of his own sword as the beast thrashes and screams.

You don’t hesitate to spring into action, unsheathing a wicked-sharp blade as long as your forearm and sprinting towards the creature. König’s left you a perfect opening: as long as the beast is trying to get ahold of the sword, its chest is wide open for attack.

You don’t waste the opportunity. With the running start, you leap forward, sinking the blade into the wolf’s chest, right where its heart lies. The long, keening wail that the beast lets out is confirmation that your blade has struck true.

You have to throw yourself into a roll to get out of the way before the massive body crashes down on top of you. It lies on the ground, its heaving breaths growing shallower by the moment, its wounds staining the ground with a faintly shimmering golden ichor. So the fae do have golden blood, just like the old legends said, you think, watching the macabre scene with stunned terror.

“Brought low by two fae-touched mortals with barely a fight…” the beast huffs. It sounds weary and resigned to its fate, strange for a creature that had seemed so deadly and menacing just moments before. “Fate is cruel.”

“Fae-touched…what do you mean?” you ask, eyes widening. “Wait! What do you mean by that?!”

The beast doesn’t respond, its chest now hardly moving with its breaths. It’s not long for the world, now.

Behind the hulking, dying animal, you spot König staggering into a standing position. “König!” You gather yourself and rush towards him.

He’s visibly unstable on his feet, swaying slightly and looking dazed. The sword must have hit him hard, because his hood has been partially torn away. Despite everything, though, you can’t see any visible blood or injuries from this angle. Until he turns.

A bloodcurdling scream tears its way out of your throat. König cringes slightly at the sound, but you can’t help yourself. The sight is terrifying.

The skin above one half of his mouth is simply gone. He has no lip, not even any flesh up to his nose. His upper teeth and gums on one half of his mouth are just exposed, giving him a grim, unnatural appearance. He looks like Death itself, resembling the skeletal depictions in the manuscripts.

You should be afraid—scratch that, you are afraid. But you realize quickly your fear is not of him, but for him.

“Did it do this to you?!” you say, panicking. You dash forward and grab ahold of his face, turning it so you can examine the injury more closely. The act seems to startle König, who simply looks down at you in confusion.

“What are we going to do? There’s no way this village has a healer who could dress this wound…” you fret. An injury on this level is almost certainly a death sentence if he doesn’t receive adequate attention immediately, and he certainly won’t last the night if you’re forced to travel by horseback again—

“Schatzi…” König grabs your hands with his and removes them from his face. “I’m fine.”

You stare at him in shock for a moment. “You—how can—you—”

He heaves a heavy sigh, as if a massive burden has been placed on his shoulders. “I’m alright. The wound is…not new.”

“How can it not be new.”

König screws his eyes shut for a moment as if trying to gather his composure. “It’s been this way since I was young. Look,” he says, touching the area with a finger. “There’s no blood.”

On closer inspection, you realize he’s right: not only is there no blood, but the skin around his mouth and nose appear to be completely healed. And not even as if it were a true wound: there’s no scarring, no uneven flesh. The skin and muscle are simply…missing.

“What…how…” You’re at a total loss for words. Since he was young? What happened? How had he survived such an injury as a child? You have a million questions, but you find yourself unable to ask any of them.

You watch him, stunned, as he walks past you towards the beast’s body. It lays completely still now, all semblance of life having fled from the corpse. With one hand on the grip and one foot braced against the beast’s body, he wrenches his sword free, then bends to pull your knife out.

“I know you must have questions,” he says, wiping the blood off of both weapons onto the wolf’s fur with a grimace, “but I can’t answer them here. Please, if I promise to explain, will you…will you wait until we’ve left the village?” He turns to look at you beseechingly.

“I…” Now that the adrenaline and initial panic is beginning to fade, your whole body feels heavy and exhausted. You don’t have the energy to be angry, or afraid, or demand an explanation now. You have no choice but to agree, nodding quietly. König seems relieved at your calm response.

“So that’s why you always wear a mask or a hood,” you say numbly as you watch him take the ruined hood off, shaking his head to get the hair out of his face. He gives you a sad, regretful look.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

“Did you mean for me to find out at all?”

“I never meant for anyone to find out.”

The villagers throw a celebration. A modest one, to be sure, but the relief on the peoples’ faces is enough of a reward for you. You can tell König is glad to see it as well—though every time you look at his face, hidden once more behind his mask, you feel a twinge in your heart as you remember what lies underneath it.

You can’t find it in yourself to enjoy the celebrations, even as excited children and grateful parents swarm you to give their thanks. You give them all a smile and a kind word, but that’s all you can manage. Dread and curiosity mix to form a terrible feeling in your gut.

The days between your defeat of the beast and your departure go by in a blur. You’re grateful for the rest, but you can’t stop thinking, worrying, about König’s condition. You manage to stop being petrified that he’s going to drop dead of infection at any moment, but you can’t look at him anymore without thinking about it. About the secret that he’s kept from you, from everyone who’s ever met him. You can’t even wrap your mind around what it all means. You have no point of reference for what could have happened to your husband’s face.

Husband. What a strange thing, to be wed to someone whose full face you had only seen a few days ago, months into your marriage. You haven’t thought of him like that at all. He’s always been König: the king, the enemy, the annoyance. And your lover, you suppose. For the first time, you start to wonder exactly what kind of man you’ve bound yourself to.

Because it’s exceedingly clear to you now. You can’t kill this man. Not just because you don’t want to anymore, but because he might be unkillable.

The village hasn’t yet vanished in the distance behind the two of you when you speak. “What the hell?”

König’s eyes slide to you, then back to the road ahead. “Language.”

You sputter in indignation. “Lang—that’s not what I want to hear!”

“Forgive me. I couldn’t resist.”

“König, this is serious! You promised an explanation.”

“I know what I promised,” he says, a slight edge creeping into his voice.

“Well?”

König takes as deep breath. Inhale, exhale.

Then he begins.

“Well. What do we have here? You’re awfully young for this, little prince.”

He’s fourteen. He’s about to make a decision that will shape the rest of his life.

He had done as the crone’s old tome instructed. Bone from an animal slain in its youth. Flowers bloomed under the cover of pitch black night. A blade whet on the summoner’s own flesh. He’s knelt under the light of the full moon, round and blindingly white.

The ethereal creature standing before him is easily twice his height, with an unearthly glow to their skin and hair and a smile that could almost be mistaken for kind and benevolent on their unnaturally beautiful face.

He’s done it. He’s summoned a fae.

With no small amount of difficulty, he rises to his feet, leaning heavily on the cane that helps him walk. The fae lets out a noise of amusement as they watch the young boy struggle.

“Usually, mortals don’t gamble away their lives until they’re older, and greed begins to dictate their actions.”

He glares at the fae but doesn’t respond.

“Come, now. Do not look at me so. Give me your name, little prince.”

“…you may call me König.”

The fae’s expression sharpens, ever so slightly. “Clever boy. ‘König’…don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?”

“I want to make a deal.”

The fae sighs. “Straight to the point, I see. Well, I can’t fault your efficiency. Or is it desperation?” They smirk at him, their eyes taking the rest of him in. He knows he must make for a pathetic sight: a cripple with a harelip, spine curled and legs thin and spindly.

He doesn’t care. This is the last day he will ever be this pathetic.

“Let me guess. You wish to no longer be a cripple.”

“I want to be able bodied. I want to be strong enough to defeat my enemies. I want to be rid of my harelip.” Clear, concise language. He’s spoken these words to himself in the mirror countless times.

“You’ve certainly done your research. Then you know what price I will ask for such things.”

He swallows nervously. “Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

It starts in his toes, the strange sensation that flows up through him that he will know all his days. He can feel the strength rushing into his limbs, feel his spine straightening, withered muscles coming to life.

Then comes the pain.

It’s white-hot torment, as if his body has become a living coal. He falls to the ground again, screaming and writhing as his bones crack and realign themselves. Somewhere, in the distance, he can hear the fae’s cruel laughter as they watch him suffer. For a brief moment, some primal, animal part of his brain thinks he’s going to die.

“Fret not, boy king. You won’t perish—I won’t let you until you give me what you’ve promised me,” the fae says, as if they can hear his thoughts.

He’s not sure how long he lays there on the ground, body wracked with agony. It feels like hours pass before he regains use of his limbs. But the pain does eventually fade away, leaving him dazed but still alive. Slowly, he manages to stand up again.

He stares at himself in wonder, legs and arms stretching. For the first time ever, he’s able to stand tall and straight on his own, his cane discarded to the side. And he feels strong. At last, he doesn’t feel weak for once.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The fae’s face has changed: they still look the same, but there’s a beastly, ugly quality to their lovely features that chills him to the bone.

His hands fly instantly to his face. The harelip is still there, he notes with displeasure.

“You forgot something,” he says, frowning in his lopsided way.

“Oh, I didn’t.” Before König can react, the fae’s eyes hollow and grow dark, becoming two pools of endless void. Their teeth sharpen, their face grows gaunt.

“Remember what you owe, boy king,” they remind him. “On the day and the hour your first child is born, I will come to collect.”

He doesn’t even have time to scream before the fae reaches forward with black talons and tears off his mouth.

You’re rendered speechless by his story. Where do you even start?

Your first thoughts are of the way he described himself as a child. König, weak and crippled? König? You look at him now, eighteen hands high astride his horse, the picture of raw strength and dominance. You can’t imagine it at all.

Your second thought is— “You made a deal with the fae? Do you know how foolish that is? Fae never give you what you want, and the cost is always far too high!”

“Don’t lecture me,” he says tightly. “I know what I was getting myself into. I had no other choice.”

“What do you mean, no other choice? You were the king’s son—you are the king! You could have had servants carry you everywhere if need be!”

“You don’t understand what it was like,” König snarls, turning to you with fire in his eyes. “Nobody would have accepted a cripple as their king. My life would constantly have been in danger, having to rely upon others. Unable to even defend myself if an assassin set upon me in my bed.” He’s getting angrier, more worked up as he goes.

“I told you that I was once poisoned as a child with nightshade berries. Did you wonder why there was such a plant in my mother’s garden? Why the royal heir was unsupervised for so long in the first place?” König’s expression is twisted, his voice turned bitter with betrayal. “It was a plot against me by some of my father’s advisors. They conspired with my nursemaid to make it seem like an accident…they expected me to die.”

“I…I’m sorry, König. I didn’t think.”

He glances at you and takes a moment to collect himself before speaking. “I was lucky. My father sent for the best healers he could find. My mother cried at my bedside for weeks.” His brow furrows. “My lot in life could have been worse: my parents loved me, at the very least. But it made me hate myself even more—that I was such a profound disappointment.

“My mother had a difficult birth. Some whispered that it was penance for what my father did: that the spirits of those slain during his campaigns had cursed my mother’s womb. She never was able to conceive again…so all their hopes rested upon my shoulders. My crippled, useless shoulders.”

The venom in his voice when he talks about himself makes your heart ache with sympathy. You move your horse closer to his and put a hand on his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting manner. His expression softens as he looks down at you.

“It would have been easy for you to kill me if I were still like that, liebe.” You feel your face grow warm again at the term of endearment.

“It makes sense, your strength being fae-given…Calliope said there was something not right about you.”

“Calliope is a perceptive woman.”

You study his face, eyes regarding his mask in a new light. “It really doesn’t look so bad. I only reacted that way because I thought you were injured.”

He shrugs. “Never was that good-looking anyway.”

You make a face. “Are you suggesting I sleep with ugly men?”

“You’ve only slept with me.”

“I’m trying to compliment you.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“When you’re not annoying me.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, now you know.”

You study him. He seems relieved to have finally gotten this off his shoulders. “Do you regret it?”

He gets a faraway look in his eyes. “…No.”

The village’s leader had advised an alternate path back home: it might take you a day or two longer, but it was less remote and lined with other villages. You arrive at the first inn just as the sun is about to duck beneath the horizon, the sky streaked with orange.

It’s a serene part of the wood, and the inn is quite quaint as well. Whoever runs it has done well for themselves, you think absentmindedly as you and König dismount and prepare to unload.

A side door swings open, and a quite frankly huge man walks out, facing away from the two of you. Your sense of scale is attuned to König now, so he’s of course not the biggest man you’ve ever seen, but he’s broad-shouldered and thick with muscle. You can’t see his face from this angle, but you can just about spot his blond hair—

“Shit. Shit.” König instantly spins around so his horse is between him and the man who’s just walked out of the building. You squint. Is he…hiding?

“What’s going on? Should I be worried?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Is he cringing? “Do you think it’s too late to set up camp?”

“Set up camp? When there’s a perfectly good inn right there?”

“Yes!”

“What has gotten into you? That man is quite big, but he’s not that sc—”

“I’m not scared of him, I just recognize him. And I don’t particularly feel like seeing him.”

You’re agog at the scene before you. “You’re the king.”

“Even kings have their hangups, alright?”

“I am not sleeping in the woods.”

“As your husband and supreme ruler, I demand it.”

“Come now. I know you’re tired of fucking me outside.”

That gives him serious pause, which almost makes you giggle. Ridiculous man. You could probably lead him onto an executioner’s block if you held him by the cock.

“Please,” you beg, stepping forward to hold his hand and giving him the biggest, most wide eyes you can muster. “I’m not ready to go back to sleeping on the ground yet.”

His face scrunches up in a hopelessly endearing, almost childlike way. “Fine. But you have to go in and talk to the innkeep. I’m going to stay out here.”

“I don’t know what all the fuss is, but fine. You big baby.” You hand him your horse’s reins and make your way to the front door of the inn.

You’ve barely pushed the door very far at all before you hear a friendly voice from inside. “Welcome, traveler! Come on in.”

“It’s wonderful to make your—” You stop in the doorway, frozen with shock.

“It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance, your highness.” A pair of familiar sparkling eyes look back at you. “And you can tell his majesty that he can come inside, I’ve already seen him.”

König’s first wife stands before you, watching your reaction with clear amusement.

Forgive me for that smut. It's been years since I've written anything nsfw, and I wrote this at like. 5AM after a very long day because when I'm not exhausted, writing smut becomes impossible. It's quite the pickle.

Well...I did say that part 3 was going to be a doozy! I'm looking forward to all the reactions...🤭

Comments and feedback are of course always appreciated <3

@kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @keiva1000 @catluvwr @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @channelsoph @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @lexuria @complexivelovely

#I hope I managed to tag everyone!!!#könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #konig x reader #König x reader #konig x you #König x you #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #fic: kingdom come

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

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Related to my prev post:

I don't give two shits if Bruce is written like a bad dad if it means we get good writing for everybody else since i think minorities are more important than a white cishet male nepotism baby unlike his butch lesbian counterpart who's judaism is an actual fundamental part of her character and since he's been written as abusive so consistently over the years it's in-character anyway

Dick can be both bi/pan and demisexual and there's more evidence for the latter than the former so making him be sexually loose is aspec erasure and mspec stereotyping and he dosen't have a thing for redheads,he has a thing for black women and to me the only guy he seems to like romantically is Roy and that adds on to his demisexuality since they're childhood best friends

'Catholic guilt Jason' is a shit headcanon that misses the major and critical part of him being Red Hood that he didn't feel the slightest bit bad about killing people and the point of his redemption was learning remorse,afrolatino Jason isn't based on stereotyping but him filling out so many black and latino cultural aspects and if any hcs for him are stereotyping it's the one that he's a slut because he's a very handsome and hot and cute goth punk man

Tim is perfect the way he is and dosen't need power ups or to get 'punished' for the oh so horrible crime of being a realistic teenage boy,he's not JUST huge a loser or a super cool dude but both at once and it's bad writing and fetishistic to ignore his wide range of relathionships that consists of mostly of women to make him a 'guys guy'

Stephanie is heavily autistic and bpd-coded so she's far from a 'normie',much less an 'it girl' but people see blonde hair and blue eyes and throw away everything else about her because that's all she's worth to them or call her an abuser and a pick me just like they do irl bpdtistic women and she's also canonically pastel/indie punk and a Team Mom but gets her presentation switched to basic and made out to be a womanchild instead

Cass had a million times more moral conflict than Jason ever did,would never in her LIFE wanna be feminine even in the chinese way and would be butch in it instead,turning her scattered speech into sign language is ableist not unlike(but not on the same level as)changing Babs' type of wheelchair disability and she'd be a better Batman than any male character in existense

Duke is only a golden child in the sense he has a yellow motif and is as disruptive and authentically quirky as his siblings,We Are Robin is a better team than the canon Outlaws,his powers are cooler than any Al-Ghul ones you could come up with,he has more femme energy than Tim does and Carrie Kelley ain't shit and only gets brought back to replace him because DC is antiblack

Damian's introduction mentality was a result of not only child abuse but also psychological grooming to get him to dehumanize himself and all his bigoted comments are explained either by him being like 12 or his writers trying to demonize brown people and anybody who thinks he's a bad person is a super-sized pissbaby with no sympathy for kids of color,shipping him with Jon is making a bisexual man into a ped0phile and Jay is good even if aging Jon up wasn't and he should be friends with Maya,Suren,Nell,Colin,Kathy,Maps,Tai and Miles,Gwen,Peni,Pavitr,Hobie and Margo from Atsv and Nico and Hazel from Pjo instead of Billy Batson or Danny Fenton or ANY Mcu characters

Talia is super hot but should be drawn in accurate arab clothes instead 'sexy assasian gear'(not that these two can't co-exist but you get what i mean),her personality is extremely rich and her stories are mega interesting,she's a good mom to Damian and literally never 'took advantage of Jason' seeing as That Scene In Lost Days was decanonized by it's writer who said it was ooc for her on his part,she should've been a mom figure to Stephanie in her Robin Days too since they would get along and she deserved her own run where she takes over Lexcorp to transform it into a force for good and become Superfam-adjacent to free herself from having only male connections

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prankprincess123 · 6 months

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I'm trying to become a teacher because as someone with super severe ADHD I've encountered so many ableist teachers who try to 'logic' away all my problems with neurotypical solutions and refuse to comprehend that neurotypical solutions don't work for neurodivergent brains. And it is so frustrating because the very professors who are teaching how to alter teaching and assessment strategies to fit the needs of every individual student are sitting here refusing to follow the instructions from the accommodations center, and giving me neurotypical solutions and saying I'm not working hard enough when I come to them with struggles caused by them not following my accommodation plan, when I've already been working 10x harder than I should need to be and would need to be if they'd actually practice what they preach!

Like I'm sorry that printing off a physical copy of the assignment takes you five minutes, but the assignment doesn't exist to my brain unless it's on paper in front of me, and I can't print it off myself because it doesn't exist, and telling me that printing it off myself is easy doesn't help, because even if I did magically manage to remember that it exists, it is then a like 50 step process to do so, and I only have 25 spoons today and they have all been used by this conversation! And I'm sorry that I misunderstood this assignment, telling me that I'm lucky the Education program is so accommodating to let me re-do the assignment does not help when you refuse to understand why your instructions were misunderstood or to even attempt to re-explain the assignment in a way that actually makes sense!

I'm sorry that my executive disfunction makes it so physical processes take 10x more work for me than they do for you, and that because my brain is so hyperactive mental processes take 1/10th of the steps that you expect me to take, and that resultingly any 'show your work' assignments are lacking because I did show all my work and I don't have the spoons to discover and then show the steps you didn't tell me I needed and I instinctively 'skipped over' because they're non-existent in my brain!

But telling me to "just turn off that part of your brain" does NOT help in any way whatsoever, and you as an education professor should know this because this is literally a significant portion of what you are teaching!!!

And I realize that life is hard for everyone, but there's a difference between fighting a big boss in a video game and fighting the same big boss on hard mode when you didn't get to choose the dificulty setting and you don't know how to play because someone changed the tutorial language to Phoenician!

#long rant #rant #actually adhd #adhd problems #adhd struggles #adhd student #university struggles #university life #student teacher

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emzii-hi · 4 months

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MY OPINION ON THE FOREVER SITUATION

I would like to start to say this hurts me as a fan of forever and that I would honestly want to stay neutral and keep out of this whole thing until its be clarified but will keep tabs on whats going on. I do not speak on behalf of forever this Soley my thoughts and opinions. I do not know the culture of Brazil and i speak only from experience when i make connections. And the whole reason I am righting this is that I want to just get it off my chest. THIS IS A VERY VERY LONG POST!!

First of all i have seen the tweets and have watched the whole stream that forever streamed talking about this. I would also like to say that I speak and can read portugués so I feel like I can confidently form a well informed opinion based on what is being put out there. And i will talk about each part separately and then give my final opinion

THE TWEETS

The tweets are in no other words gross and very concerning and that's honestly all you can say about them. He was very obviously over what we know is the legal age and was talking about/towards minors fan or not is gross. Concerning about every other ableist and sexist tweets again are gross and shows a lack of maturity that he had at that age.

IMFORMATION/PEOPLE ONLINE

The way people especially English speaker from what I can see is actually crazy that people and assume information then spread THEIR opinion as fact towards other people. Whether the information is correct your opinion is not fact. sharing and putting your opinion of the information is okay but don't go around spreading your information as fact because it can be more hurtful then helpful to both parties.

Also this is another language AND culture. I feel like people speaking online about his voice sounding this or the way he phrase this are mainly English/Spanish speaking and even if Spanish is similar we do not know all their tones and cultural cues

Also a big thank you to everyone who is translating the information about everything that is happening you are all doing gods work and me and everyone in the community appreciate you

STREAM

On stream today forever both talked about the drama and the way he is handling it.

LAWYER/LEGAL ISSUES

I see a lot of people complaining and saying he must be guilt if he is lawyering up. Now this has two faces. ONE is that yea okay of he is so innocent why does he have to lawyer up it makes no sense. And to an extent i can agree with as like if you have nothing to hide. Especial if maybe the same victim is not able to get a lawyer.

But on the second side think about this logically. If you were accused of a crime petty or not your first thought is clearing your name. He is lawyering up in a way that is able to clear his name is a legal sense. Why can't and wouldn't he be able to defend himself is he MIGHT of truly not done something.

Another people were hoping that he would at least say sorry about what he did to the victim. But i would like to put it out there that if he is taking the legal route and he is getting a lawyer and defense to help him, if he were to say anything at the moment that made him seem guilty like admitting to the allegations would be used against him. Obviously this is in thoughts that the victim/s are taking any action towards Forever other that just stating it on the internet.

HIS OLD TWEETS

First things that i want to say is that one we do not unless you are Brazil know the culture. I am part Mexican and I can say that you will find a lot of men (more like boys) that joke like this. I can say from experience like that one of my ex and his friends that would joke like this a lot and people in Valorant joke like this ALL OF THE TIME. Is it wrong yes, did it make me feel super uncomfy yes. Point is that people usually joke like this and it was way more common back in the earlier 2010s, even fucking racist jokes where consider super funny until like super crack woke era came. He in the stream was like did I say this yes and I was wrong and I am not the person I was back then. For me I am like okay that's valid. PEOPLE CAN CHANGE. People can grow and mature. A school bully can become a better person. The fanfics we read where the mean person becomes nicer is change. Character development, character growth, maturing, call it what you will it does happen and honestly I am shock that people will point at someone that wasn't always they way they are now go 'OMG YOUR THE DEVIL NOW WHY DID YOU DECIEVE MY EXPECTATIONS'. Again this is not me defending Forever for his past tweets but more of me saying that you cant judge a person sometimes because of their past. This man probably met people that slapped sense and knowledge into him that he was like wtf I was a shit person.

Him deleting his old post is him starting a new and trying to show the person he is now and not the person he was and no longer agrees with. I would do the same if I posted something and just not longer agreed with it cause people do change and learn and grow new opinion whether for better or worse.

HIS POPULARITY

He also talked about how its kind of ironic that this claim/s has come to light right after his popularity has hit an all time high especially after the QSMP. And how every claim/s has first started on Twitter when theirs not actual legal action be taken into consideration by the victims. (from what i can tell) THIS DEOS NOT MEAN FOREVER IS INNOCENT. This just means keep an open mind. If people are able to send raid officers, break into streamers house, dox them online I would not put it past people faking a very gross and traumatic experience that effects actual peoples lives and hurts ACTUAL VICTIMS.

THE PERSON THAT PASSED AWAY

There was this person named Choquel (trigger warning) committed suicide due to a gossip blog spreading around false information. This person was who had a life and family that are now in shambles just because people wanted to spread rumors. I hope that they rest in peace and are enjoying their after life. And I send prayers to their family and hope for the best for them. I honestly don't feel comfortable taking 100% on this mainly cause idk a lot and this is just what ik about this situation but full am sadden that the world lost a person that could of made a change in someone's life but ended up taking their own because of others and their words.

OTHER STREAMER UNFOLLOWING/BANNING FOREVER

I do not know much on this aspect put from what I can see and do know is that a lot of people are unfollowing forever and even people from close circles like: PHIL, & BIRIUM.

I think this has two sides one is the very obvious opinion. They unfollowed because they believe the claims/have actual information that has not been released. And if they do and that's is why they unfollowed him then GOOD FOR THEM. I am glad they are standing in solidarity with the victim.

BUT on the other hand, is just in my opinion is that they just don't want to drag into drama that might effect them as streamer/person just for following the person being accused even if they don't support that person. Then again I do not have the information to be able to fully understand this.

MY FINAL CONCLUSION

I am going to remove myself from the forever community but will keep my eye out for any update. This can go either way, and if the victim is an actual victim and not someone that is just hateful, then I hope you get your Justice and forever gets the punishment and karma that he deserves. If forever truly is innocent then I wish him Goodluck on clearing is name.

I am really sad that this has happened to us as a community especially right now in the new year. I am sorry and give my condolences to any victim in this situation which includes, his wife, the victims that brought this to light, any past victims in the past from his tweets, and his friends.

Overall this situation is a bad situation and if its like what the community believes to be which is true then keep boycotting forever, keep spreading information/translations, and supporting the victims. But please do not send hate to fans in the community who choose to continue to support and enjoy Forever. They are fans and entitled to their opinion and do not deserve any hate towards them.

Again this whole thing is my opinion and thoughts if you have questions or concerns or feel that I missed something please let me know. IF you had or are going through grooming/sa/domestic violence speak to someone please trust me you will find people in life that will treat you and support you in the way you need and want.

Stay safe and warm. Eat and drink water

-EMZII OUT-

#forever situation #qsmp forever #qsmp #talking #my opinion #I am out but will be keeping tabs #sad #veent

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itsagrimm · 1 year

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He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 9 - Of Moons and Monsters

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of cannibalism, arranged marriage, disrespecting and displaying a corpse, ableist language, internalised toxic masculinity, creepy observers with no understanding of boundaries, warning for those who have issues with paranoia, König has issues and needs fairy tale therapy

Not sure how the phases of the moon work? Click here.

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Partly beta-read by the amazing @queenquazar. There are typos in there but I need to publish this asap before spiralling into another round of rewriting this for the 10th time. also, thank you so much for baring with me.

6.9k words

Masterlist

this is a hit or miss chapter. love it or hate it. i am ready to throw out my laptop bc this chapter was hard to write.

Oh and I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

As the King of Everything from Under the Water, König never grew tired.

As a man, König felt like he was grinding his bones into dust.

The never-ending work started to get to him, eternal weariness was wearing him down like a stone getting chipped away in the currents.

He yawned.

During the day König worked on the Half-Palace. The Half-Palace was getting close to being done, rising up into the sky as high up as it reached down low and deep into the waters. It was a marvel. But König was not done yet, working tirelessly to finish his new residence to finally marry and bring his fiancé home safely.

During the night König guarded his Bride. With his axe in his hands, he stalked her garden, carefully avoiding her strawberry patches and making sure no villager or malevolent creature harmed her. The rumours of a human maiden marrying the Vodyanoy had made its rounds, and König started to see more unusual unwelcome guests creeping in the shadows. Sometimes he found villagers too, boys who turned on their heels just at the sight of König’s giant frame, axe, and piercing deep blue, ever-seeing eyes. Not all the trespassers were clever enough to run away at the sight of him. Twice König used his axe and spilled blood. First time it was a Tschort trying to sneak through the kitchen window. The other time a Kikimora nearly made her way to the Bride’s window. König got to them both in time, killing the intruders with quick blows of his axe and hanging them up in the alder tree around the bride’s house for the night as a warning. The first time his bride cried out at the sight of it, the second time she did not cry anymore.

During the few moments in between when he walked at the lakes beach with her or closed his eyes for a moment, worry consumed any thought in König’s mind. His Bride was fragile. The creeping beings in the shadows wanted her blood, her tender flesh, her inheritance. There was danger everywhere and König started to feel on edge from being on the lookout all the time. In all his life he had experienced worries and insecurities. Now he had learned to fear - for her.

In those moments König wished he could just ignore all tradition and carry her to the half-finished Half-Palace before the wedding to keep her out of the hands of those that wanted to tear and bite and kill and devour her. But then he looked at his own hands - long clawed fingers that could wrap around her neck and break it like a twig or drag her down the deep waters until she was nothing but a lifeless body. The first time that realisation hit him, it had mortified König. He was a danger - just like all the others. And she was just a girl. A girl that managed to get tangled up with him. Baba Jaga’s words still hung over him, telling him he had to sacrifice something to keep his Bride safe. Something deep inside of him knew he had done it wrong, all of it so far. Her fear of water was testimony of it. And so he sacrificed everything for her. But one question remained.

Will it be enough?

Feeling tired and drained, König sighed and made another round to check for danger. For now, no one was there but the moon, rising over the gable of the Bride’s house.

Peaceful, calm, familiar.

König nodded in greeting to the silent lunar wanderer. At least the moon was not out for his Bride. For now.

Of course, the thin slice of the waxing crescent did not nod back.

It was the moon after all.

König let himself fall onto the grass again, leaning against her door and closed his eyes.

A moment, just a moment of rest.

Rest.

Rest…

Sleep was alluring. It called to him like the Rusalkis called for him to return to just being in the water.

Just a little bit...

Just a bit closer…

No harm in it…

With a low “thud” the axe slipped out of his hands, waking König back up from his light short slumber.

König shook his head.

No! He had to stay up. Another Tschort could try to crawl in any moment or Ivar might wipe up the village into a frenzy and come for her. His Bride was so frail in comparison to him, a little maiden and nothing more. Just yesterday she cut herself with a kitchen knife. Or was it tomorrow? Does not matter! One day she would hurt herself again and he had to make sure that would not happen. He could take it, not sleeping and working every moment. His body will withstand. He was a king after all! He was her guardian, her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, her man.

And she was worthy of König to grind himself down as a payback for the life he had condemned her to and the pain he would cause her with his huge hands and sharp claws. Sleep and labour was a necessary sacrifice.

“You are an idiot.”

König looked up, searching for the source of those words.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. You are an idiot and deep down you know it already.”

König got up from his spot, taking up his axe.

“Who is it! Come out! Show yourself!” The king called.

“I am not hiding myself. You just don’t see what is in plain sight like the fool that you are.”

Confused, König's head whipped around, searching for whoever was talking to him.

“Here, little king. Up!” The voice called. “You are not used to looking up when speaking, aren’t you?”

As told, König looked up while raising the axe in expectation to see a new threat, a new danger, a new assailant.

What he saw instead was the moon.

“Hello.”

König blinked, not understanding how and why the thin lunar sickle was smiling down at him.

“Don’t look so surprised!” the moon scolded with a laughing tone. “You greeted me yourself.”

“How?” König asked, lowering the axe.

“You are asking me how I can speak?”

König considered the moon's words before smiling shyly like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Okay, that’s fair. You can speak just like I can.”

If the moon could nod it would have done so. Somehow König felt like far out in the interstellar realm of implausibility the moon indeed did nod at him.

“Why after millennia of not speaking to me you do now, moon? I greet you twice a day.”

“I grew to like you, little one. And I got bored watching you self-mortifying yourself. It was entertaining for a while until it became the most pointless thing I have witnessed in a long time.”

“What do you mean, Moon? I am not mortifying myself! How would you even know.”

The moon raised an eyebrow at König. Somehow it did that.

“Please. I have better eyes for that than you, little king. I do nothing else but watch and witness.”

Unconvinced, König crossed his arms.

“What do you know about me and my worries?” He countered.

“Only about half of it. I just see you at night.” The moon admitted. “Shame really. You doing everything else but talking to your fiancé is quite the sight.”

“What is there to talk about?” König replied. “Spare me. Everything is clear. She is just a nice girl who ended up engaged with me, so I have the duty to protect her.”

“Sure, little king. Then you would have no issue just crossing that doorstep of hers and telling her that. Sacrifice the facade and just take her to that Half-Palace of yours and be done with it. It’s all just formalities and traditions at this point. You are just concerned for her safety.”

“I am concerned for her safety.”

König gazed around the dark garden. There was the spot where Ivar had threatened his Bride. And the alder tree König had strung up those that had wanted to harm her. And the axe with which nowadays he did as much killing and fighting as he did building.

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

XXX

König looked at the Bride’s door. The familiar wooden frame she walked through every day. It would be easy to just open it and go in. Or knock? König felt like she would appreciate a knock before getting dragged out of her family home in the middle of the night in the name of her safety and his pragmatic marital claims.

Up in the night sky the thin moon sickle was grinning at the sight of the fool calling himself King, silent and expectant to watch something - anything - happen.

But it did not.

Not every night was calm and spent in solitude.

A bunch of laughing and giggling Rusalkis decided to join him and the occasionally appearing fox on his guard post. König looked around, seeing the half-moon rise above the horizon. It had been silent ever since that night a while back.

Of course, the Bride was still sleeping in her own house.

Of course, he had not even attempted to move her from it.

They were still unmarried.

It was tradition König told himself.

She would not want to be in the nearby finished castle with him anyway.

“Why so grim dear Vodyanoy?”

Startled, König spinned around, teeth barren and the axe in his hands.

“Easy.” A rusalka straying behind soothingly replied, her hands up.

König stilled.

“Oh it is you, Lada.” He said and lowered his axe, “I am sorry. I thought someone had crept up to me.”

Lada leaned forward. Her pretty eyes gazed up at him as she lowered her hands.

“You know, not everyone is out there to get you or the Devitsa, Vodyanoy. Take a rest. We can guard her in the meantime.”

“No.” He grumbled. “It’s nice that you are here to help, but she is my responsibility to carry. I brought this upon her.”

Curiously, she leaned forward.

“Oh, you do that a lot these days, König.” Her words splashing down her lips like a lively spring, unimpressed by the near display of violence moments before. “Always responsibility. Always offering yourself up like that makes a difference. Tell me, is this spectacle for you or her?”

“It’s not a spectacle.” König replied, moving back from her and crossing his arms before him.

Lada grinned.

“Alright. Sure. Good luck.” She declared and waved a goodbye at him before, jumping back like a firefly raving in zig zag over a pond's water. König watched Lada return to the other Rusalkis, giving a sharp, toothy and nearly careless smile to flirt with the Fox. They seemed so content with chatting in the moonlight. As if stalking and hunting intruders was a Rusalki past-time. Knowing the Rusalkis it probably was.

König suppressed a yawn, unwilling to admit Lada was right. He really needed to take a break. Soon, when he was married and the bride was safe. He would have given anything he had in him then. But until the wedding there was no point of even thinking about rest or the life leisure he had known before.

Was he really that busy all the time?

Unapproachable and lost in his own thoughts nowadays?

König remembered how much time he used to spend with the Rusalkis. Oh, he did. They had played, filling the air with splashed water, with laughter, with moans.

It felt so long ago.

He hadn’t even thought about it.

Would his marriage remove him forever from that part of his life?

He stilled as the realisation hit. It hurt. But only a little.

Thinking about the Bride's little human fingers that tangled his hair, asking him how his day was, telling him about hers pleased him. König had gotten used to the Bride in his life so quickly, he wanted more of it.

But enough to stop lust and satisfy his more carnal desires?

She…

You promised to guard her, protect her, make her your Queen. Nothing else. König reminded himself unhappily and looked up, searching for answers in the night sky.

There were none, only the looming moon.

It was as if the half-moon was watching him with mockery, observing König’s thoughts and temptations.

König grunted.

Fine, maybe she was charming in many ways. He had to admit that to himself. But maybe that was another sacrifice he had to make for the sake of her. König was sure they could find an arrangement at some point. There was little he promised nor expected from her outside of their marriage. But that was for a moment in the future when he had the right words for it.

Until then, his tasks were easy: No sleep, no leisure, no lust.

König tapped on the hilt of the axe. It’s been a couple of days since he had to use it as a weapon and the calm waiting was wearing him down nearly as much as thinking about his forbidden Bride - her clever remarks, her unrelenting will to life, her careful steps around water. If he asked her opinion about his sacrifices she would say something wise. She always seemed to do, giving him little knowing looks over tea cups, over the lake, over hot puffs of breath escaping her lips. And when she spoke her words rang in his ear like music. Melodic syllables falling from her mouth like raindrops and teaching him of the world.

Now the bride's words were siren songs to him.

He sat down into the grass and watched the house of the bride. There she was, sleeping her well earned rest. And he was outside where he belonged with his claws and flaws and desires. He looked up to the sky. Cold stars and the unmoving moon grinned down at him, silent and calm unlike his thoughts. König wondered if it was easier that way, just to watch and never to do. Just to witness but never to participate.

No wonder the moon is a judgy creep.

König frowned, wishing he did not feel drained, unsure and like he had made the wrong decision.

Let them see. I will do right by her - König promised to himself.

XXX

The night was pleasant but cold. It had rained and the now cleared sky and fresh breeze added to the unusually cold summer weather. König was sitting right under the ledge of the roof, watching drops of the previous rain roll down from the leaves and running into little pools of water. It was calming. And with humid weather like that he knew at least no villager would show up, giving him one thing less to worry about.

König heard her steps before he saw her step out into the night. He looked up.

“König.” She greeted with a blanket around her shoulders. “Would you mind company? The full moon is so bright, and the rain kept drumming against the roof. I cannot sleep.”

He nodded before suspiciously eyeing the massive, silent luminary above them.

Creep.

She settled next to him under the dry roof, facing the dark garden and treeline with him.

“Are you okay?”

Her words reached into him and laughed at his convictions. Just hearing her voice made something stir in him.

“There was so little time these past days and we hardly spoke.” She continued. ”Can I help with something?”

König shook his head before even thinking.

His burden, not hers.

“No, Bride. You cannot fight the monsters lying in wait. You can’t even lift my axe.”

The thought of her facing another Kikimora, a Tschort or an angered, disapproving Rusalka terrified him. She did not even have teeth to tear and bite.

“Is fighting the only way to help?”

He looked down at her, the little pretty thing that he spent the day admiring while working and the night desperately trying not to think about.

She pressed her thighs closer to her body for warmth.

Tangled limbs, desperate touches, heated kisses. He could warm her up.

Instead, he lifted his arm and silently invited her closer. No point in keeping her cold.

“Yes, it is but it is unpleasant work, my Bride. We will marry soon, and you will be safe in the Half-Palace. Do not worry yourself.”

She moved closer, pressing herself into his warm body. With a stern look more for himself than to others König commanded the last of the drops on the grass and from the dripping roof not to touch his shivering maiden.

Of course, she did not notice, only purring like a cat before the warming fire.

For a moment they stayed like that as if she was thinking about his words while König closed his eyes for a moment, indulging in it.

“What will happen with my family’s house? I am fond of this place.” She asked finally.

König sighed and opened his eyes.

“Whatever you want, Bride. It is yours and it always will be.” He chuckled grimly. “Maybe you want to stay here every once in a while, when you grow tired of my company.”

“Do you think you are an unpleasant presence to be around?”

“At times.” He admitted.

“I do not.”

“You are too kind.”

“I doubt that.”

There it was again, the banter. She met him exactly at his level, hitting him playfully where he would never expect it. There was a lightness in her words that made him nearly believe her. König could not help but grin to himself while pressing her slightly closer.

“Any idea about the sacrifice?” She asked while leaning into him to cover his massive frame with what was left of the blanket. A cute but pointless gesture.

“I have some ideas,” König resigned. “But there is no way to be sure it is working and I doubt you want to test it.”

She shivered.

“No.” Her voice was thin and frail, hitting him with guilt.

“I think I need to ask my brothers for help.” König continued. ”But I'm not sure that is wise. It could be dangerous.”

She nodded. “I suppose dealing with family can be like that sometimes.”

König stilled, thinking about her words and listening to the drumming sound of the rain.

“Hmm, I suppose you know a lot about that,” He hummed and paused before daring to speak again. “May I ask … are you angry at your family? For marrying you off to me?”

It was as if he was asking the bravest question of all.

She shifted around.

“Sometimes,” She admitted. “It’s hard because till this day I love my family. But to be fair, marrying me off to a stranger was just the last thing of a long line of things that weren’t as well thought through or kind as they might have told themselves. Who knows. They are dead now and I am here. Could be worse.”

He nodded, trying not to feel too much about her words. Marrying him was bearable. König hardly blamed her. Still, it hurt more than he had expected. Was that pain another sacrifice?

“Could be worse.” He repeated flatly.

“Well now you make it sound bad. That’s not what I meant.” She muzzled into him as if she truly wanted to be there.

König closed his eyes, reminding himself not to lie to himself. This was just a practical arrangement for her. For him.

He cleared his throat.

“So, what do you think we should do?” The Vodyanoy changed the subject. “One brother you already know of is Simon. We used to be close but something happened and since then he is like a ghost of himself, moody and withdrawn but capable of kind and terrible things at the same time. It’s hard to know with him. He never formally claimed his kingdom, but everybody knows not to cross the master of the forest, the Leshy.”

The forest turned silent as if knowing that König talked about its master.

“What are the things that make him dangerous to be around?” Her voice was so little in the woodland's silence, so brave to speak.

König swallowed, remembering his days with his brother. They were long gone, lost in a sea of blood.

“Simon taught me how to kill.”

The forest stayed silent, as if trying not to breathe like an animal of prey sensing a possible predator.

“Oh.” Brave like a single flame in the dark she whispered into the night, breaking the silence, and releasing the forest from the dark grip of its master.

“I have other brothers but the one who could help is the deathless one - Koschei, the master of bones and battlefields. Nowadays he goes by the name Graves.”

“Charming. Leaves little to the imagination why he could be dangerous.”

He grunted in agreement.

“That’s quite a family I am marrying into.” The bride paused. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Scared?”

She shrugged.

“Only a fool would not fear a brother-in-law who is called deathless or for whom the forest dies down.”

Brave one.

“You do not have to marry me and into this family. You know that, right my Bride?” It felt right to say it and offer her a way out from the terror that was his presence.

She stared into the cold wet forest, unmoving and expressionless.

König wished he knew what she truly thought of right now.

“Do you not want me as your bride?” She asked finally with a flat voice.

Her lips singing the siren song. What does marriage even mean at this point?

“I promised it, did I not?” He said instead.

She nodded, a stony expression on her face.

“So, we stick to it.”

“Aye.”

König felt tired. Like he had run out of words, keeping it short and safe instead of pouring out his heart and burdening her. If only he could rest, lay down next to her and close his eyes.

“You say Simon was here?” The Bride mused. “He was the one to point out the danger to me. If he knew how to get rid of it or wanted to help, he would have done it. But he did not. I don’t think we can count on him here. Which leaves…”

“Koschei.”

König felt the corners of his mouth drop down into a disapproving frown.

He knew she was right. Still…

“Maybe there is a safer, cleverer way to engage with him?” The Bride continued. “He is the Deathless. I am sure he might know something and maybe a simple letter or a messenger will be enough. What do you think?”

Still unhappy, König considered her idea. It was sound. Yet the mere thought of having to ask his brother for help and being in debt to him worried him more than he wanted to admit. Graves always had a thing for pretty girls. And for his Bride to draw the attention of Koschei the Deathless did not only feel like asking for disaster but evoked new fears in König.

What if Graves would like her and do as he had done with many girls before?

A new ugly thought roared its head up.

What if the Bride would prefer Graves over him?

“If i keep practising my writing I can write to him.” His dearest Bride added. “I could ask for his council as a bridal gift. What kind of man would refuse or violate that?”

König took a deep breath. He hated how right she was.

“I could work but-”

“Perfect. Let us do it soon.”

Her voice left him as little room to argue as there was left under the blanket between her and König.

“Fine.” He surrendered like driftwood to the currents.

Instead of pushing for more she just sighed herself, relaxing into him and staring into the dark.

She will just be my Queen. König thought to himself, surprised by his own possessiveness. As long as she is safe, it will be fine. No need to worry more than usual.

She was here, at his side and safe.

Nothing more than someone like him could expect or ask for.

He closed his eyes again to enjoy the feeling of the Bride so close to him before straightening up and concentrating on being on guard again.

She yawned, muzzling closer.

“I might fall asleep here.” She admitted. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, Bride.” König replied with a feeling he wasn’t familiar with, “I’ll be there.”

xxx

It felt ridiculous how much König loathed the thought of his Bride meeting Graves. He knew it was unfair, hating what his own insecurities and worries did to him. The Bride had suggested a plan and he was the one not sticking to it, that odd feeling in his stomach stopping him from teaching her how to write or write Graves himself. Instead, König could not help but make excuses.

It’s late…

I am busy right now…

Maybe tomorrow…

König told himself that his worries and reservations were justified. He was just cautious. It was Graves after all, the Deathless, the one called master of bones and battlegrounds. And the Bride was so fragile in comparison to all those monsters and men.

“Just talk to her, boy!” The moon nearly shouted down from its high place one night right before vanishing behind a cloud.

König only shook his head.

The Bride was his responsibility and it was his duty to protect her from the world. That was his sacrifice. It had to be the answer. But then doubt whispered again to him.

Not good enough, Graves will be better for her.

A day passed, a night, another day. The Half-Palace was shaping up and König was dreading to be finished. He would bring her home then, far away from all those who were out for her blood.

But then she would be alone - with him.

Suddenly the axe was looking tiny in his hands, just a simple twig in clawed fingers made to rip and tear and drown.

He felt stuck - he was the reason for her troubles but also the key to her safety. He wanted to keep away but then how was he supposed to guard her? He wanted to marry her and be done with it. But what did marriage even mean for him? For her? Was it the delight in her presence he felt? The excitement of just talking to her? The secret longing to take her deep into the waters and embrace her with everything minor that he was, feeling her bare skin and tangled limbs and bubbles of air escaping her moaning lips and reminding him it would be the death of her.

Confusion dripped more into his tired and worn mind.

He was scared of himself and what he was capable of doing.

But no one could understand what he was anyway.

And so König kept it to himself.

That night he was alone. The Fox had gone home. He had young to play with tonight, he had said, and König had only nodded.

Yeah, yeah, sure, I understand.

Lada and all the other Rusalki left for some rest in the ponds, and rivers and lakes.

Deep down König knew that he needed some break as well.

But he was afraid of leaving the Bride alone or staying alone in the house with her. He was a danger too after all.

Defeated, he sat on his regular spot next to the door, gazing through the garden and hoping for nothing and something to happen at the same time.

The axe in his hand had started to rust a bit from all the blood it had spilled. A long time ago it had been a gift from his brother Simon, back when they were close.

“It does not have to be this painful, you know?”

König looked up, searching for the source of the voice. The garden with its tidy strawberry patches and attempts of growing buckwheat and sunflowers was as untrodden as it had been the last time he made his rounds.

“Still up here, little king.”

König looked up and the thin crescent of the waning moon smiled down softly at him.

König leaned back against the wall of the house.

“What do you want, Moon? I am tired. I don’t need a lecture or getting shouted at again.”

The grand luminary of the night sky stayed silent. König wondered if that was all then and prepared to get up again for another patrol round.

“I am sorry. I should not have done that.”

The Vodyanoy blinked in surprise.

“Is the mighty Moon apologising? To me?”

“Don’t make this harder than it is, little king.”

König crossed his arms but nodded.

“Fine. Your apology is welcome. What do you want, Moon?”

“I just want peace between us. Of all your brothers and the old beings walking this earth I feel the closest you. The waters and I… There is some magic working between us and I felt responsible to say something but I overstepped. That is not how good-”, the moon paused, “Neighbours, let’s say neighbours are supposed to be.”

König huffed.

“You are a creepy neighbour, you know that?”

Moon in its interstellar ways giggled.

“I am the watcher in the night. What else did you expect?”

“Maybe, but I don’t have to like it.”

The moon kept smiling.

“If you ever have children I will watch them and keep them safe just like I watch you and just like I watch your Bride.”

“I don’t trust that. And I doubt I will ever have children.”

“Who knows. That’s not up to me.”

They stayed silent.

Nervously, König grinded his teeth and considered what he had heard.

“You watch her too?”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay? Clearly all of this must get to her. And the arranged marriage…”

“Little King”, the moon whispered near softly, “Isn’t that something you should ask her yourself? Be brave. Talk to her.”

“You keep pushing me to talk to her!” König cried out in frustration. “Why? It wouldn't matter anyway! There is nothing to say. Our marriage is just a facade. I am the one most likely to harm her and there is nothing I could say or do to remedy that.”

The anger of the past months, bottled up and pushed down, made their way out of König. Like a hurt animal he howled his words up to the moon.

He jumped up. The axe was ready swinging in his hands, clawed and ready.

If he could, König would have picked a fight with whoever crossed his path just for the sake of it. But there was just the moon - cold and far away.

He screamed in anger.

“I do everything! And it’s not enough. I AM NOT ENOUGH!” König stalked around the grass and felt his anger dissipate with every step getting heavier and heavier.

“I am not enough.” He repeated with finality and came to a halt. “And I never will be.”

It was silent.

Conscious about his outbreak he looked around. Not a leaf dared to move around him. Ashamed he fell into the grass and covered his face.

“I am sorry. It was too much.” König mumbled as he tried to catch his breath and fight the tears. “I am not like that normally.”

“I know, König. It’s okay.”

The moon's words felt like the last push. König cried. He did not know why. Some of it he understood. But a lot were just tears he had to shed years, months, nights ago and now he did not know why he cried.

Heaving for air in between his sobs, König hears the moon's soft words.

“Oh it’s okay, König. It’s fine, little king. It’s fine…”

He was the water and the water him. Köng’s tears flowed endlessly until he was done and only a tired void was left in him.

He looked up to the moon, staring down at him. The soft smiling crescent unchanging and familiar, surrounded by a countless number of stars shining down at him.

“I am sorry for … this.” König started.

“No.” the moon interrupted. “Don’t you dare to apologise for crying. I mean it. It’s okay. Next time, just leave the axe out of it, okay?”

König looked at the axe a bit off in the grass. He had let go of it at some point, feeling like failure again - even in his sadness he was intimidating.

Vodyanoy nodded.

“Listen König, may I say something?”

Another nod.

“You breaking down like that was inevitable. Don’t torture yourself like that. You don’t need to carry it all alone. And I guarantee your the Bride would be the first to listen to you.”

A tired smile made its way up to Königs lips. “There it is again - you want me to talk to her. But she is so fragile. She can never do what I can. What’s the point?”

“You build her up in your mind as mighty as that castle of yours. She is the most fragile, the most worthy, clever and beautiful - don’t deny it. I watched you yearn for her for too long. But she is just a person and not your dream of her. And all your sacrifices are great but the one that truly matters you did not give.”

“Which one?”

“Honesty - with her, with you. You two need to talk with one another instead of silently offering yourselves up. She is not as weak as you make her out to be. And you, little king, are not always strong. It’s painful to watch.”

Defeated but not yet passive, König tried to reason. “You don’t understand. Besides, what is there to talk about?”

“That you care about her maybe? And that you care so much, that’s close to twisting into a mindless adoration suffocating both of you. Let her be strong and be to you what you are for her instead of sheltering and keeping her away. She is an ocean worth discovering, not a cup of water that needs to be kept out of the sun to not evaporate.”

König looked down at his hands. The same claws as always.

“Don’t start that again, boy. Get up, knock at her door and ask if you can sleep there. And tomorrow you can talk.”

Slowly, König eyed her door.

Disturb her? Be a burden to the one he wants to keep all burdens away from?

“Be brave, little king.”

The moon was wrong. Nothing could be fixed with talking. But what if the moon was right?

The door drew him in like nothing before.

And he was so tired.

König got up, collected his axe and stepped forward.

Should he really do it? The moon stayed silent, waiting for König to walk to the door and knock.

He took a deep breath, wiped his hand over his face and stepped forward.

This was it. It felt like the bravest, hardest thing he had ever done.

He knocked.

Cultural context

Tschort (literal translation: devil) can be both a plural and singular. It can be translated as demon or devil. But that only captures the word in its Christian context and not its presence in mostly in pagan traditions in folk and fairy tales. It’s easiest to understand a tschort as a type of evil or at least ill-meaning supernatural male being.

A kikimora is a bad female house spirit known for haunting dreams or generally the household. I know her as an entity that drives humans insane by whispering, stealing eggs, spinning spider webs and confusing her targets but there are other tales about her in which she has other abilities. There are proposed links between the Kikimora and the ancient Greek Moiren, the Germanic Nornen, and obviously the old Slavic goddess Mokosh. Funnily enough in the game “The Witcher 3” the kikimora is a type of giant spider.

Erle / alder is a very important tree in central European folklore and especially German speaking folk. Alder trees are part of the birch tree family, making them very resistant trees. The alder grows on very humid soil, often appearing close to bodies of water or moorlands. Since moors were associated with the dead, alders were considered a bit spooky. Alder trees ‘bleed’ a reddish liquid when being cut, adding to their spooky association. There are several rites around alder and alder twigs. The Erlenkönig or Alder king is a very famous German poem about an elven king trying to seduce a sick child to come and live with him. A german – English translation can be found here https://www.ogn.ox.ac.uk/sites/default/files/bellcogo2015.pdf All in all the alder tree is just a cool spooky tree with plenty of pagan-Christian connotations around it.

There are a few stories about the moon and as far as I am concerned, they all coexist in a semi plausible way. In the 1964 soviet, kids’ movie ‘Морозко’ the sun does not rise out of kindness to give the protagonist time to finish her nightly chores. The man on the moon or the moon face is a story drawing from German speaking tradition that the moon is a single wanderer watching out for those that cannot sleep or work late at night. It’s a kind presence and there are lullabies for kids about the nice man on the moon guarding them. Also, the moon as the cause of ebb and flood would be of interest to a water being like the Vodyanoy even though many Slavic folk traditions come from landlocked places therefore not noticeably experiencing the tides. At last, the moon is a way of keeping track of time, not just for eastern or central Europeans.

The Rusalkas name is Lada. Lada is a name used till this day. The origin of it is interesting. There are conflicting theories about ‘Lada’ being a possible Slavic goddess of marriage, fertility, love, spring and much more. Since primary sources on beliefs before Christianity in eastern Europe are basically non-existent, I would be careful with set ideas about the goddess Lada. The word лада appears to have further linguistic roots and connotations in old eastern Slavic and modern spoken Slavic languages like significant other, fret, lover, maiden, husband, etc. However, my Russian is far from good enough to get into this and I also don’t speak any other languages from this region. So please be mindful of that. If someone feels like educating me here, I would be very interested in learning more.

Little reminder – Rusalkis are something akin to mermaids or nymphs. They are loaded in symbolism as being promiscuous but also connected with children and childbirth, playful but also dangerous as they kill and drown those who harm them, spinning and washing clothes but also leisure, very much alive but also connected to suicide by drowning. In the stories I am familiar with, Rusalkis can leave the water if they want to, however there are stories where they don’t. Since Rusalkis are a staple in a lot of eastern European folk traditions, there is no one set idea what the right Rusalka is.

Koschei / Коще́й in Russian is the recurring male bad person in at least Russian Slavic folklore. Koschei is also called the immortal or the deathless. The name Koschei translated literally can mean something along the lines as the one of bones. Supposedly he is unkillable because he keeps his soul or heart secured in a separate place than his body. Often that is an egg which is placed in other animals which are guarded. Stories about Koschei tend to place him as the antagonist or love rival. Koschei is supposed to be rich and likes gold. He tends to kidnap, enchant, or marry unwilling young beautiful women (which require rescue of course). He is a sorcerer. Often, he is named as head of a castle or larger hall which indicates a ruler position. This is stressed with many tales naming him tsar / царь / ‘king’. There are links between Koschei and the other classical bad girl in Slavic folklore – Baba Yaga. That is symbolised by helping each other or being related somehow. However, they rarely appear together.

Addition by 'Uroo7kuro0': "Кощей" can come not only from the word "кость"/"bone". Also perhaps he's the prototype of another god whose name is "Карачун"/"Karachun" who was in charge of the cold. Interesting fact in some fairy tales Koschei and Baba Yaga were equally negative characters, while in others Baba Yaga helped the main characters kill Koschei

Devitsa is a transliteration from the word ‘девица’. It’s not well translatable but means something along the lines of maiden, mistress, damsel, maid or lady. Here, it is used like an honour title but like all honour titles the word Devitsa can and is used ironically. Nowadays in spoken contexts

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qprstobin · 7 months

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home back to you - pt. 2

The long awaited part 2 of the Stomarol post-s2 fic! Tommy has an anxiety spiral and then is foiled by Steve's tiny bodyguards.

Pt. 1 | Ao3 Link

Minor TW: some ableist language, Carol and Tommy continue to be bitter towards Nancy and Jonathan, and basically the entire first part involves Tommy fighting off an anxiety attack.

For a moment, Tommy was so dizzy that he thought he might pass out.

This was his fault.

Tommy did this.

He’s the reason his ex best friend, the guy he- the guy who has- he’s the reason Steve was this banged up. The reason their season was likely ruined. The reason Steve missed school for a week.

He had just wanted Steve to look at him again.

Tommy waited until Steve was out of sight before blearily making his way towards the parking lot. The school was quiet, most of the clubs having been over and done with for the day by now. The only sounds were coming from the janitor a hallway over, the newspaper room, and his own heavy footfalls.

His mind was racing so fast that he was having trouble actually thinking. He tripped over the lip of the door leading outside and sighed gratefully as a burst of cold air hit him.

Carol was leaning against the side of his beat up pickup truck, inspecting her nails. The smack of her gum was audible even across the empty parking lot. Tommy could barely hear it over the ringing in his ears. When she saw him heading her way, a mean grin lit up on her face.

Normally, the look would get his heart pumping, but right now his heart was stuck in his throat.

“You’ll never guess who I just saw drive off together,” she said, glee and something like distaste at war on her face. Her chest was heaving, and Tommy let himself be distracted by her – everything for a moment, watching the rise and fall of the Hawkins H on her cheer uniform.

When he didn’t immediately say anything in response, she seemed to realize that something was wrong.

“Babe, are you okay?”

The concern leaking into her voice made Tommy feel hot. Anger started to drown out the panic coursing through his body.

Instead of answering her question, he snapped at her.

“Get in the car.” He wanted to get out of this godforsaken parking lot in front of this godforsaken school in this godforsaken town. “We can talk about it at yours.”

Carol stared at him, affronted. That was good – anything was better than the concern that made his skin itch . (Or, that’s what he told himself, at least.)

She glared at him for another moment before he finally snapped – “Get in the car!”

She made an offended noise high in her throat, but got in the car.

Tommy got in as well, slamming the door shut behind him in a way that had less to do with anger and more to do with the lock sticking.

They didn’t speak as he pulled out of the parking lot. He stared straight ahead, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The silence was stifling, taking up more space than it should in the cab of his truck.

Finally, Carol couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but it does NOT give you the right to talk to me like that,” she told him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she had crossed her arms and was glaring at him. A typical angry Carol pose.

Tommy forced himself to breathe, trying to release the anger and anxiety out of him in one long exhale. It kind of worked.

“You’re right,” he said, flexing his fingers against the wheel and shooting her a (hopefully) suitingly regretful look. “I’m sorry.”

Carol sniffed but settled more comfortably into her seat.

“Apology accepted.”

Silence fell over them again, but it was much warmer this time. She put her hand on his knee, and it was the most grounded that he felt all day.

“What was it you wanted to tell me earlier?” he asked eventually, as they got closer to her house. He was hoping to put off the inevitable meltdown he was going to have, wanting the easy distraction of high school gossip. She loved sharing gossip with him.

(Even if he wasn’t as good at dishing as Steve had been.)

( don’t think about Steve yet, don’t do it- )

But then she hesitated.

“I-” she started, surprising him. “Maybe it should wait.”

Tommy’s stomach cramped. She was still mad at him.

God, he just kept fucking shit up. Could he do just one thing right, and not take out his issues on his girlfriend?

“I said I was sorry, Carrie,” he pleaded, trying to keep his focus on not crashing instead of the pit opening up in his stomach.

“No, no, it’s not that. I know you’re sorry,” she said, trying to head off a more intense apology. He couldn’t see it but he could certainly hear the eye roll she just gave. “I just have a feeling that what I saw might be related.”

That-

That wasn’t much better.

“Let’s wait – like you said. We’re almost there.”

Tommy tightened his hands once more on the steering wheel. He didn’t really remember the rest of the short drive, arriving there on autopilot. His face felt like it was vibrating, pins and needles prickling along his jawline.

His ears were ringing again by the time he parked and made it into Carol’s house. Both her parents were out again – her father at some sort of meeting while her mother was at work. It really was crazy how many people he knew who had parents that were just never fucking there-

“Babe – Babe!”

His spiral was shattered by Carol’s hand on his face.

“Deep breaths,” she told him and he complied without protest. “Now drink this, and tell me what happened.”

A glass of water was shoved into his hand, which he drank dutifully in one long gulp. He accidentally slammed the empty glass down on the island when he was done, making himself wince.

“Steve’s back in school,” he started, flexing his hands against the edge of the counter. “You saw him earlier, yeah?” Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure the two had a morning class together.

“Yeah, I saw him this morning,” she replied casually as she popped a new stick of gum in her mouth. Tommy would’ve gotten annoyed if he didn’t know it was a nervous tick of her own. “Saw him after practice, too. Jonathan Byers was driving him home.”

That stopped him up short.

“Creepy Byers?” he exclaimed in shock. Some part of him registered that this is what she wouldn’t tell him in the car, what had gotten her so worked up after practice.

“Creepy fucking Byers,” she repeated, popping her gum for emphasis. “Like, bad enough they eat lunch together when he’s not hiding in the dark room, but now he’s giving him rides? What’s up with that? Especially since I definitely saw him kissing Princess Wheeler in the hallway on Friday.”

“Ugh, gross .”

“Right?!”

The two fell into a mutually put off silence. Carol had refilled his glass, and he was starting to feel more and more like a real person with every swallow.

“Is it true? Billy did that?” she asked finally.

Tommy’s breath stuttered. She didn’t have to clarify what ‘that’ was. He couldn’t speak, could only nod.

“Fuck,” she said under her breath, then louder, “Fuck! What a fucking psycho! Steve looks even worse than he did after Byers kicked his ass, and that creep beat his face into the pavement!”

His stomach cramped again and his hands were threatening to start shaking again. She kept talking, too caught up in her anger to realize that he was no longer following along.

“Like? Who does something like that? Why would he do something like that? Was Steve too pretty for him or something-”

“It was my fault,” he said, cutting her off. He’d feel bad about it if he wasn’t two steps away from losing his absolute shit.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked incredulously. She popped her gum aggressively.

“It’s my fault,” he repeated, pressing his hands into his eyes. “I wanted this. I asked for this.”

“You wanted Billy to beat the shit out of Steve,” Carol said more than asked, though the question was still clear in her voice. He could picture the skeptical tilt of her brow perfectly.

“Yes! No! Of course not! I just-” he wasn’t sure how to put it into words without ripping himself open. “I thought – well, I guess I thought that if someone actually challenged Steve’s… throne or whatever, maybe he’d…. It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“I just…”

“Yes?”

“I wanted him to look at me again.”

She made a noise of understanding, and he could hear her nails tapping against the counter in thought.

“Set someone up to challenge his throne, make him realize that he’s losing his precious social capital, and hopefully make him remember who his real friends are,” she mused aloud, making his poor jumble of half formed thoughts sound like an actual sensible plan. “That was actually not a bad plan, babe.” She popped her gum, sounding unbothered in a way that made him bristle.

“Well, look how it turned out! Our season is fucked, Billy has lost his fucking mind, Steve got his face beat in worse than even what Byers did, and Steve is never going to want to talk to me again, because it’s all my fucking fault!”

Carol didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t exactly take this as confirmation that he was the worst person on the face of the earth, but it definitely didn’t help stop the stinging in his eyes.

Before he could spiral too hard, however, she was prying his hands from his face. Lights popped in front of his eyes, and he had to blink them away in order to see how pissed her expression was.

“Don’t be stupid,” she told him once he stopped blinking. “Billy does what Billy wants. Sure, maybe you made a bad choice in friends but we were all blinded by his mullet and abs, not just you.” He made a noise in protest at that, blushing furiously. “You didn’t tell him to go fight Steve, did you?”

Tommy couldn’t do anything but shake his head in response, shocked at how fast the anger had returned to her.

“Exactly! No matter what your intentions were, this isn’t your fault. We don’t even know why they fought in the first place, and neither of them seem to be fessing up.”

This last bit really seemed to piss her off. Which didn’t surprise Tommy at all – Carol hated not knowing something. She thrived on a certain cultivation of information, she had to know everything about everyone in order to stay anywhere near the top.

Her and Steve had an absolutely insane ‘network of informants’ before Steve had stopped talking to them.

Tommy knew he wasn’t the only one who missed Steve like a phantom limb.

She slammed her hand down on the counter suddenly, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Get that look off your face, you look like you’ve been listening to too much of Steve’s sad British music,” she said. He sputtered at that, but didn’t get a chance to respond. “Listen, you feel that bad about Billy going psycho? Then do something about it! Do something to fix it! Apologize! Take some responsibility instead of moping like a little baby.”

He blinked at her in shock for a second, and couldn’t help the way his lips twitched.

“Wow, thanks for the advice, Dr. Perkins,” he said. He couldn’t keep the grin from his face as her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Got any more for me? Some sort of plan? Steve didn't seem eager to talk to me today.” He tried not to show how much that fact hurt.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” she snapped, crossing her arms with a huff. Then she popped her gum as a thoughtful look crept onto her face. “Well, I do have a few ideas…”

–

Tommy felt good having a plan of attack. Not only had seeing Steve left him feeling extremely unsteady, but it also excited him knowing that finally, finally, he was going to be getting his best friend back.

All he had to do was wait for the right time.

It should’ve been easy.

Steve was still benched and so only came to every other practice for morale’s sake. Also, so he could chat strategy with his co-captain and the coach. They didn’t share any classes together this semester, and only shared one of their lunch periods. Which, he never ate in the cafeteria anymore anyway.

Tommy and Carol agreed that Steve needed some time to heal, and they needed some time to start putting distance between them and Billy. Vicki might still be infatuated with the man, but they weren’t the only ones becoming wary of him.

In the end, Tommy only lasted about a week and half.

It was one of Steve’s off days (by request) and so he should’ve been home by now.

But his car was still in the parking lot. Steve was still in the parking lot.

The bruises were starting to fade, turning his face a sick green color. His now customary sunglasses were perched on his nose, making him look like a douchebag. (Tommy hated how good they looked on him.) A cigarette dangled from bitten down lips.

Tommy tore his eyes away from Steve’s mouth.

He started heading towards him without a thought, wanting nothing more than to apologize for all the shit he’s said behind his back the past year. For the hand he had in his fight with Billy. Wanted to tell him he wasn’t even mad that Steve called him an asshole and ditched him.

(Well, he was actually still a little pissed about that, but it didn’t even matter anymore.)

His mission was halted as a skateboard slid in front of him.

“Where the fuck-” he exclaimed, barely managing to keep from tripping over it and eating asphalt. When he righted himself again, he found he was surrounded by three middle schoolers all glaring at him.

He’s pretty sure he’s seen this movie before – something about Kids in a Cornfield?

Regardless, Tommy had seen these kids before, trailing behind Steve or Byers after school. Once or twice he had seen them at the arcade when he had been stopping by Family Video to drop off a tape.

Normally though, there were five of them that he would see with Steve. He looked over to where the other teen was standing to see that his attention had been taken by the two missing kids, excitedly yelling about something or another.

“What do you want with Steve?” one boy asked. St. Clair, maybe?

Tommy sputtered, “What do you mean what do I want with him? I just want to talk to him!”

The only girl of the group stepped forward, her skateboard clenched under her arm like some sort of weapon.

Which, considering she had just tried to kill him with it, it sort of was.

“Did Billy send you?” she asked.

That startled Tommy.

“Billy? Like Billy Hargrove?”

“Don’t play stupid – though I’m sure that’s hard for you,” she scoffed, which, rude , “I know you’re friends with him. I’ve seen you two together before. He’s also mentioned you a few times, though not as much as he complains about Steve.”

Billy’s little sister.

Billy had mentioned her before – normally when complaining about how watching her took up so much of his time. Not to mention how of a brat she apparently was. But Tommy had never actually met her before. He’d seen her hanging around Steve more than he’d ever seen her hang around Billy.

There was probably a reason for that.

“Billy didn’t send me. I’ve barely talked to him in almost two weeks,” he said, trying not to blink as he stared down Baby Hargrove. She bared her teeth at him and he flinched slightly. A pleased look came across her face. “Not since…” he trailed off.

It was obvious to all of them what it was that caused them to stop talking.

The three kids shared a quick, wordless conversation, communicating in a flurry of waggled eyebrows, hand gestures, and full body eye rolls. Tommy was reluctantly impressed. He wished he could do that with Carol or Steve, or even Nicole.

“Just because he isn’t talking to my douchebag brother anymore, doesn’t mean we should just let him do whatever he wants! It could be a long con!” Baby Hargrove said aloud, stomping her foot childishly and casting suspicious eyes back at him.

The first boy shushed her as they all sent wary glances back at Steve, but Steve was still enthralled by the excited story the two other kids were telling him. His cigarette was starting to go out, now clutched loosely between his fingers.

“I don’t think he’s smart enough for a long con,” the second boy, who couldn’t be anyone other than Nancy Wheeler’s bratty kid brother, said with a sneer.

“It doesn’t matter, we all agreed – until Steve is no longer concussed, we aren’t letting Hargrove or his friends mess with him,” St. Clair reminded them, his hands moving towards his hips in a parody of a move that Tommy had seen Steve do time and time again.

It would be kinda cute if he wasn’t actively keeping Tommy from talking to Steve.

“Remind me why we are letting him drive us around when his head is even emptier than normal?” Baby Wheeler scoffed.

Baby Hargrove perked up. “I could drive.”

“No!” Both boys whisper-yelled in response.

“You guys are such babies.”

The back and forth was starting to drive Tommy insane. (Though he had to agree with the boys – letting Baby Hargrove drive seemed like a bad idea. He’d seen the way Billy drove, after all.) He needed to talk to Steve now .

His eyes flickered back to Steve, wondering if he should make his move while his tiny bodyguards were distracted.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole,” Baby Wheeler sneered, seeing where his eyes went.

Tommy was starting to see why the kid got on Steve’s nerves so much when he first started dating Princess Wheeler. Hot and cold didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Tommy!” Carol had suddenly appeared behind him, making him jump.

The kids hadn’t noticed her walking up either. Baby Wheeler hissed like a cat in surprise and Baby Hargrove had hoisted her skateboard up like a shield in front of her and St. Clair.

Tommy turned automatically, like a moth to a flame, his eyes catching on a still distracted Steve before making eye contact with Carol.

Who was pissed.

Fuck.

“We had a deal,” she reminded him, crossing her arms with a huff. “We had a plan ”

He grimaced. “Sorry, babe.”

She pouted at him, but then looked over his shoulder to where Steve still was and sighed.

“Whatever, it’s fine. Not like you made much progress. Let’s just get out of here,” she said, popping her gum loudly.

He wanted to protest – after all, Steve was right there , even if there were several children in the way – but she cut him off with a meaningful look. He wasn’t quite sure what she was getting at (this would be a great time for him to gain the type of mind reading skills the middle schoolers had shown earlier) but gave in.

Carol grabbed his hand and threaded her fingers through his, and he allowed himself to be tugged towards his car. There would be other opportunities to talk to Steve, he knew it.

He cast a glance over his shoulder at the kids – who were still giving him suspicious looks. St. Clair pointed at his eyes and then back at him in the universal ‘I’m watching you’ signal while Baby Hargrove tapped her shoes against the edge of her board menacingly.

Tommy tried to resist, he did, but couldn’t help looking over their heads at Steve. Who was finally looking back, noticing him for the first time. He’d pushed the sunglasses up onto his head, and was watching them walk away. There was a look on his face, one that Tommy couldn’t parse. It looked like annoyance and regret all rolled up into one.

Whatever it was made him want to turn around right then, plans and appropriate settings be damned. Instead, he let himself continue to be pulled away by Carol, and raised his hand in an awkward wave that immediately left him embarrassed.

But then, miraculously, Steve waved back.

#stomarol #stommy #st fic rec #stranger things #my writing #mean girls trio #mean girls trio au #tommy #steve #carol #the party #home back to you

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