Empires SMP Fanfic: The Past Unmasked
Characters: Mythical Sausage, fWhip, GeminiTay, PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady, Jimmy Solidarity, mentions of others
Relationships: Jimmy Solidarity/Scott Smajor, LDShadowlady/Joel Smallishbeans, MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor
Tags: Masquerade Ball, Author Doesn’t Know How To Describe Clothing, I Gave Up Halfway Through, Use Your Imagination For The Rest of The Characters, Fluff, Romance, A Smidgeon of Angst, Allusions to Afterlife SMP
Summary: (Prompt courtesy of Cynthrey) “That night was quite a sight to behold. For years at the annual masquerade, the Ruler of Rivendell had only picked the Codfather to dance. Yet, this year despite their previous animosities, as soon as the King of Mythland walked into the room they were both drawn to each other as if under a spell.”
“What could have possibly changed this year that drew these rulers so close?”
(Also available on Ao3!)
[A/N: This fic is brought to you by this art from @cynthrey which in turn is inspired by this post by @killmebythebeach ]
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Sausage adjusted his cloak after hopping down from the carriage, bidding Sir Carlos a good evening as the knight-turned-chauffer drove off toward the stables where the rest of the empires’ assorted conveyances would wait until the masquerade was over. It looked like he had been the last to arrive, but he didn’t mind being fashionably late. The theme of this year’s ball called for an even more creative twist to their outfits than usual, and Mythland’s royal tailor had stepped up to the challenge like never before.
Every piece of damask fabric had an intricate pattern to it, from the red-violet split sleeves of his shirt to the golden trim on his black cloak and coattails. The only matte finish was on the skeletal rib design and bottom edges of his gray corset vest. A white crystal Nether star pendant neatly fell in the center, attached to the cords that held his cloak across his shoulders. It was a genuine Mythland artifact and added the perfect touch to the costume. His partial face mask was black with pale blue filigree. The intent was to evoke an image of the Wither of Mythland, and he was extremely pleased with the result.
He kept the hood of his cloak up as he scaled the wide steps of the venue, nodding politely to the host’s guards and following an attendant through the building to the ballroom. Another attendant at the door announced his arrival to the large gathering of rulers and civilians scattered below, but Sausage was already off down the stairs heading straight for where the other members of the Wither Rose Alliance were clustered together chatting.
With the legends of the Grimlands and the Crystal Cliffs being related cautionary tales, fWhip and Gem had, for all intents and purposes, come up with costumes that reflected each other in way; fWhip’s consisted of a set of green leather armor decorated with painted glittery scale patterns, a collection of small amethysts strung around his upper arms and waist, and a violet mask covering half of his face. Gem wore a silver and gray suit that had sparkling streamers that imitated redstone wire wound over one shoulder then around that arm, and also around the opposite leg. Her mask resembled a pair of red goggles without the lenses in.
Then there was Pearl, clad in a dress of Mythland make as well – otherwise she would have simply worn her favorite battle armor. The skirt was shaped by overlapping strips of brocade with large embossed sunflowers, allowing her plenty of freedom of movement, with a practical bodice and thin straps that had smaller flowers embroidered onto them; her mask was a cluster of laurel leaves, gilded around all of the edges like their namesake empire. Pearl was her own legend, and looked as intimidating as any Amazon Queen regardless of fancy clothes.
She greeted Sausage first, then the four of them caught up on the goings-on of their respective realms. They moved to the buffet tables after a while, continuing to chat over food and drink. As much as the event was meant to be a meeting of all empires, there was still something of a divide in the room. Even when the dance floor opened, they kept to their group; Sausage automatically took the first dance with Pearl, then traded partners to fWhip and then to Gem, all of them laughing and either complimenting or ribbing on each other’s skill in turn, though remaining good-natured.
The Nether star pendant glinted in the candlelight, and for a second Sausage caught another gleam from the corner of his eye. He paused with hand outstretched toward fWhip and looked again for a possible source. His gaze skimmed past the towering Ocean Queen and her husband, past the red wings of the ruler of The Lost Empire, and landed on another figure who didn’t have wings so much as a cloak made of white feathers. On their arm hung loose gossamer sleeves and a silver vambrace with gold accents all over. Their costume resembled an orange robe under a white tabard, laced on the side with braided yellow cord, part of an orange fabric belt visible from that angle.
Sausage could see their mask was also orange, with gilded patterns over it and an arrangement of red to yellow feathers like small wings to the side, just barely concealing pointed ears. A thin filigree circlet held a small, open oval of gold at the back of their head, and he wasn’t sure if that had been what caught the light but he felt an inexplicable urge to find out.
Without a word he pulled back his hand and set off through the crowd of other dancers.
fWhip, hand still raised, stared after him. “That…was weird.” He lowered his hand and looked at Gem and Pearl. “Did anyone else find that weird, or is it just me?”
Gem stood on her tiptoes to try to follow Sausage’s movement through the crowd. “No, even for him that was kind of weird. Wait, is he going over to Scott??”
fWhip immediately looked over as well. “Oh, that could be trouble. We haven’t hit the time of night for thinly veiled pleasantries with old enemies. What is he thinking?”
They watched Sausage abruptly stop a good meter shy of the elven king, but he did seem to still be staring at him, and Pearl murmured, “I’m not sure he’s thinking at all…”
~*~
The ruler of Rivendell had mastered the art of casual talk with the overabundance of humans who attended royal functions, humoring their haste to accomplish things in a shorter time frame. In more ways than one he was grateful to have Jimmy, Lizzie, and Joel in his circle, beings with a greater life expectancy and a little more patience for the flow of time.
It was, however, something immediate that made him feel someone’s eyes on his back and he glanced over his feathered shoulder to see the King of Mythland staring at him from the edge of the dance floor. Scott tried to return to his conversation with the handful of local nobles but the feeling continued. “Excuse me,” he said, and pushed his drink into the hands of the person next to him. The nobles exchanged glances and began gossiping about a potential confrontation.
As Scott approached, Sausage could now see that incongruous amidst all the precious metals was a thin steel necklace with a flat medallion hanging from it. Affixed to the center was a piece of amber, within which appeared to be a small singed feather. Sausage stared at it, then raised his eyes to Scott’s face as the elf halted in front of him, looking slightly annoyed. Sausage sketched a low bow then held out his hand, upright with palm facing outward. “May I have this dance?”
The Nether star glinted, drawing Scott’s attention. His demeanor suddenly mellowed and he raised his hand to hold his palm against Sausage’s, folding his other arm behind his back. Sausage did the same, and they joined the rest of the dancers, falling into the slow rhythm of the waltz being played.
Meanwhile, from her vantage point as the tallest person in the room, Lizzie had noticed the turn of events and was making a sour face. “Little brother,” she called to Jimmy, who was laughing with Pixandria’s ruler about something, “Are you aware that the King of Mythland just stole your husband-to-be?”
Jimmy turned, still chuckling. “What? Scott would never! He’s only ever danced with me at…these…balls.” He now stared in shock, seeing what Lizzie was pointing at, and Joel squawked out a laugh at his dumbfounded expression.
Oblivious, Sausage and Scott only had eyes for each other, or rather each other’s adornments. “I know you, Angel,” Sausage said succinctly, executing a quick turn that Scott followed, their hands staying even.
A few moves later Scott said, “You’re not as dark as you seem, Wither.”
The tempos changed on the next waltz but they remained in perfect step.
Sausage’s gaze traced the shapes in the circlet across Scott’s brow. “You wear the gold that was once of your eyes.”
A turn, a bow, then three steps later Scott said, “You have your soul exposed, plain on your face.”
“And what of your soul?”
Expressions unchanging despite the comments, they then danced in silence until the set ended. They stared at each other as the next set began, then this time Scott bowed and offered his hand to initiate another round.
Lizzie pulled both Joel and Jimmy to the floor with her, Pix following just to balance out their numbers – only to end up partnered with Joel as Lizzie practically dragged her brother in the general direction of the two oddly matched rulers. “You need to cut in!” she insisted. “Use your spine! Be bold! Sausage can’t just do that!”
“Well, I don’t want to be rude.” Jimmy avoided looking toward them. “Maybe Scott has a reason. Maybe there’s finally peace between them? I can’t just interrupt that!”
She smiled despite his reluctance, fondly brushing her hand over the fins at the side of his face. “Just go rescue him again, little brother. Treaties can come later. Every dance is your privilege as a betrothed.”
“Okay. Okay, fine, you’re right. Umm…” Jimmy turned to skim the crowd. “Wait, where did they go?”
Lizzie looked around as well but even she saw no trace of them. “I don’t… know.”
“Well, it’s official, they have business to discuss and I’m not going to bother them!” Jimmy pivoted and zipped back toward Joel and Pix.
Lizzie frowned and cupped her hands to her mouth to call after him, “Okay! But let’s just hope neither of them turns up dead!”
~*~
Scott didn’t entirely understand why he was still holding onto Sausage’s hand or why he was following him out of the ballroom into a curtained seating alcove off the main hallway. He felt the medallion burning warm against his chest in spite of two layers of costume and an undershirt. But when the King of Mythland turned toward him again and his eyes fell from Sausage’s face to the Nether star, still shining despite the muted light, the strange feeling of familiarity clouded his mind once more – the same as when Sausage’s gaze landed on the medallion.
“Just when I thought I would never see you again, Angel,” Sausage said and gently pulled on the elf’s hand to bring him closer. He let go and slipped his arms around Scott, who closed his eyes, and then he kissed him.
There was a split second of confusion, then a fluttering of his heart drowned it out. Scott returned the kiss then leaned into his embrace, getting lost in whatever this feeling was. He had never expected the brash king to have such a tender touch, hand threading over his cyan hair to rest under the decorative halo.
Scott placed his hand against Sausage’s chest, fingers brushing the beveled center point of the white jewel. He drew back to catch his breath. “Is this why the stories were removed from history?” he wondered out loud. “An angel, involved in a forbidden romance with a demonic soul-stealer from the Nether?”
“A demon from one perspective, maybe. A ferryman from another. And maybe just simply cursed, not given a choice but to steal. Don’t you remember?” Sausage murmured. He brought his own hand between them to touch the medallion.
Scott felt it grow warm again. “A curse of shadows and hunger.”
“Yes.”
“Broken by sacrifice of a life, not just a soul.”
“Yes.”
“A sacrifice brought about by compassion.” Scott studied Sausage’s mask, then felt a pang of unknown guilt. He leaned down to kiss him again, light and lingering.
Sausage smiled up at him afterward, eyes soft. “I loved you with all my withered heart.”
“I know.”
Scott then returned the look sadly. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t Sausage. He pressed his hand against the Nether star and then pulled away from the embrace, although it made him feel an ache inside to do so. He removed his mask and circlet. “I can’t be your angel anymore, Wither.” He set them down on the cushioned bench, then lifted the medallion from around his neck and held the chain out toward Sausage. “But let them be together.”
Sausage’s lips parted to speak, but instead he accepted the necklace and placed it over his own head, tucking the medallion under the top of his corset. The light inside the Nether star dimmed back to the same as any normal jewel, and something changed in his eyes. He looked Scott up and down, then graciously bowed and left the alcove.
Scott put his mask back on and fixed his halo into place, then went off to search for the Codfather and come up with an apology – if not an explanation – for why he had disappeared.
~*~
The Wither Rose Alliance had given up theorizing about their missing member’s absence and merely hoped he returned unscathed. They were back at the buffet tables when Sausage abruptly reached between fWhip and Gem to grab a pastry puff and loudly proclaim that he was starving. Pearl made a teasing comment and they laughed, but the other two traded a glance and wondered what could possibly have happened that he now had Scott’s necklace.
~End~
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[Post A/N: Yes this fic has references to Echoing Through To You. My Afterlife Scosage brainrot extends to other universes now. Blame Cynthrey, we keep feeding each other's creativity in an infinite loop of mutual brainrot. XD]
Edit: Now with added sequel! [ Phantom Solitude, Chapter One ]
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