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delimeful · 4 months
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give me mercy no more (2)
warnings: self sacrifice, mentions of hypothetical gore, fear/panic, misunderstandings, abduction, logan getting too excited about science and explaining Nothing 
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Standing alone on the center of the barren sacrificial altar, Virgil felt as though he’d been wrung out like an old dishcloth.
The stress was still there, along with the terror and the dread and the misery, but after a while they’d faded into simple background noise. A low, ever-present hum, constantly reminding him he was going to die soon.
As though he could forget something like that.
Still. Better him than Janus, or, gods forbid, Thomas. It was the mantra that had carried him this far. He’d say it all the way to his grave.
Assuming he actually got one, that was. There probably wouldn’t be much left to bury.
The sound of distant wingbeats pulled his attention back to the world outside, the chorus of terror growing the slightest bit louder in the back of his mind. He could see the silhouette, growing larger as the dragon got closer, and twisted one of the decorative ceremonial cuffs he’d donned around his wrist nervously.
He glanced at where two of his knights waited at the entrance to the open-air cliff platform.
“You don’t have to be here,” he tried, glancing between them. “It’s dangerous, and you probably won’t want to see…,”
He trailed off, gesturing idly with a cuffed hand, because there was really no delicate way to say ‘I’m most likely about to get torn to bloody shreds.’
The two of them exchanged looks. “We’re staying, sir. The least we can do for you is see this through.”
“I trained you guys too well,” he snorted, but when he turned back to face the open sky, he felt a little less alone.
He hadn’t needed to explain much, not after he’d told them that he would be taking Janus’s place. It had earned him looks, ranging from solemn to pitying, but none dared to argue when Janus himself appeared to have conceded.
(The spell would unravel by nightfall. By then, he’d be long gone, one way or another.)
He might not be an advisor, but when he’d stepped into the role of bodyguard, he’d applied every bit of dedication in his body to the job. He knew more about the kingdom and how it worked than almost anyone else.
And if that didn’t end up being enough? He was fairly sure that being a mage would tip the scales in their favor.
Revealing that little tidbit was a last resort, since rumor had it that most dragons were attracted to magical power in any form, and in order to obtain it, the more ruthless of them would often hunt down and consume human mages.
The thought didn’t manage to perturb Virgil much. He’d felt pretty sure he was going to get bitten in half well before uncovering the truth about that particular rumor, possibly even before he got through the first sentence of his explanation, and he’d committed to the decision anyhow.
Overhead, the dragon began their descent.
An enormous winged shadow fell over him, and for a moment, the instinctual clamor in his head became deafening— YOU’LL DIE YOU’LL DIE YOU’LL DIE— but he forced the automatic tension from his legs.
He couldn’t run. Not from this.
A heavy thump, and Virgil lifted his head to see that the dragon had shifted into a massive humanoid form. Far less aerodynamic, but it was the most common form used whenever a dragon deigned to actually speak with a human. Draconic snouts weren’t ideal for speaking human tongues, after all.
The beast was hardly less intimidating this way. They had settled so they were standing on the ground far beneath the cliffside, but they were large enough that they could easily rest their arms on either side of the wide altar Virgil stood on as simply as Virgil himself would lean against a counter.
Virgil glanced up for as long as he dared, and then resisted the urge to do a double take. Was that… was that their dragon?
He hadn’t been present for the last tribute offering before the assassinations– mostly due to aforementioned identity as a mage– but the being before him didn’t look anything like the descriptions of the ancient, silver-scaled dragon that had Thomas’s ancestors had made a covenant with, back when the kingdom was little more than a well-defended duchy.
For one, their human form was relatively young-looking. For another, the scales and horns that decorated their hairline were a deep indigo.
… Well, Virgil was already on thin ice. He resolutely decided he wasn’t going to be the one to ask. They were waiting on a dragon, and there was one here, so he might as well proceed with the ceremony.
Large, slit-pupil eyes flickered over the scene set before them, a pair of thin, translucent eyelids sweeping over them in what almost looked like a bewildered blink. “This is… unusual.”
It wasn’t the enraged demand for an explanation that he’d been expecting, and Virgil struggled to remember exactly how Janus had phrased his argument, thrown off-balance. “Uh, with the damages–,” no, shit, wait–, “I mean, honorable greetings to the lord of this land,” he hurriedly corrected, bowing his head in deference. “We humbly welcome you.”
There was a pause, and Virgil bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood. He’d never been the best at the whole social etiquette bit, and somehow the way he’d almost botched the entire thing in the first ten seconds was making him feel more stressed than the past half-hour of waiting for and vividly imagining his impending demise.
“I accept this welcome,” the dragon finally replied, still sounding more curious than angry. Naturally, they managed to make the greeting sound entirely professional and well-practiced. “I haven’t accepted a tribute from this kingdom yet, but I’m familiar with the general concept, and things seem… different.”
That was a definite yes on the new lord thing, then.
Their statement wasn’t phrased as a question, but Virgil recognised a demand for information when he heard one. He straightened back up, only barely keeping himself from falling into a Knight’s rigid upright posture on automatic. “Yes, my lord. There were significant damages to the kingdom during the invasions, and the– the livestock and harvest that would usually be offered don’t exist now.”
“Invasions?” the dragon asked, which was frankly not the part of that statement Virgil had expected their attention to catch on. “Was your previous lord negligent in her duties?”
“N–No,” Virgil tried tentatively, unsure what the right answer was here. “The matters were between humans, and our… previous lord… wasn’t to be bothered with trifles like that.”
The dragon’s brow furrowed, and when they huffed through their nose, a small puff of smoke escaped along with the sigh. “I see,” was all they said, their deep, rumbling voice sounding almost contemplative.
“Currently, our people only barely have enough to survive,” Virgil continued after a moment, trying to stick to the script he’d tricked out of Janus. “In the hopes of– of keeping the kingdom alive, so that you’ll have many years of tribute in the future, we ask that you show mercy and accept an alternative offering this year.”
The dragon’s ears pricked in interest, head tilting slightly. “An alternative offering?”
Deep breaths, now. “Along with heirloom treasures from the royal bloodline, you are offered the– the life of one of His Highness’s closest advisors, with knowledge of all in the kingdom.”
He lifted his chin and forced himself to step forward, spreading his wrists as far as the ceremonial cuffs would allow to make it clear just who was being offered, here. Janus would have made it look elegant, graceful even. Virgil was pretty sure he was only making it look like what it was: a guy in restraints pretending he was fine with his new status as a sacrifice.
The dragon reared back a little, thankfully looking more surprised than murderous. “Does this kingdom usually offer humans as tribute?” they asked, nose scrunching up in a confounded expression
“No, definitely no,” Virgil hurried to say, already grimacing at the idea of setting a precedent. “It’s only in this specific case. Only me.”
“I understand.” The dragon hummed thoughtfully, idly tapping clawed fingers against the stone. “Are any of these heirlooms magically-charged in any way?”
The sinking feeling in Virgil’s gut abruptly got a lot deeper. “No, my lord.”
They sighed in disappointment, clearly uninterested by the offering, and Virgil’s heart nearly seized in his chest at the idea of failing now, of the dragon claiming the original tribute by force and starving their people, of them demanding to see the king punished for the offense, or any number of other nightmarish outcomes.
He took another halting step forward, the sheen of sweat along his skin leaving him chilled in the face of the afternoon breeze. He was well within reach of those huge hands now. “However,” he managed, “there is still magic available in the tribute.”
Under the dragon’s sharp gaze, he couldn’t force another syllable past his clenched teeth. Instead, he held up a single hand and summoned a small orb of flame, shifting the color of the flames to an intense blue in the hopes of showing that he was a strong mage without needing to destroy anything.
His magic stores were considerable, after years of practice keeping them hidden and in reserve. He’d spelled Janus, but that hadn’t burnt through much. Really, it had only drained him emotionally.
The dragon’s pupils expanded as they leaned in closer, inspecting the display with a much more intense version of that same curious expression that they’d worn all along. Virgil swallowed, all his worries about being bitten in half abruptly surging back to the forefront of his mind.
“Oh, wonderful!” the dragon said, and there was a sudden warm weight curling around his back. Virgil turned his head to the side just slightly, and could see those huge claws curving around his shoulders. “Source magic will work much more efficiently than the remnants I could pull from most ancient artifacts, anyhow.”
Virgil forced himself not to try and wiggle out of the grip around him, even when it began lifting him clear off the ground, the dragon’s hand rotating to create a sort of curved cradle underneath him. He knew this would happen, he reminded himself. He’d wanted this over the alternative, and he only had to hang onto his composure for a little longer. Just until he was out of eyeshot of anyone who could tell Janus or Thomas afterwards.
“I accept the kingdom’s tribute and will act as its lord from now on,” the dragon intoned formally, lifting Virgil up further and further.
His heart dropped in horrible terror for a moment, but then he was lifted even higher, until he was staring down at a pair of curved horns. The hand under him tilted, and Virgil scrambled for a grip as he found himself promptly deposited on top of the dragon’s head.
“Hold on tightly,” the dragon warned, “I’ll catch you if you fall, but from this high up, you might pass out from the sudden change in altitude. Hm, I’m not certain humans know about altitude, actually…”
Virgil suspected he might pass out with or without outside interference, but saying as much wouldn’t help him. His gamble had worked, and now he was a mage in the possession of a dragon, as good as dead. He clung onto the horn next to him as the shape under him shifted to something far more reptilian.
They took to the sky, and despite the terrifying vertigo, Virgil turned and watched the kingdom grow smaller and smaller in the distance for as long as he could.
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delimeful · 7 months
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give me mercy no more (1)
G/t July Day 1: Enchanted
(Full Prompt List)
patron prompt: virgil hugging a crying janus!
warnings: arguing, tension, betrayal, mentions of assassinations, offscreen character thomas, it's a g/t fic but i didn't actually get to the g/t yet LOL, self sacrifice, crying, angst
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“You can’t do this.”
Janus paused for the briefest moment at the sound of his closest friend’s voice, before continuing to pack away rations.
“Can’t I?” he asked airily, not turning around to face Virgil.
He’d known this confrontation was inevitable since they’d come up with the only possible solution to their kingdom’s problem. He hadn’t realized how unprepared he’d feel even now, with the hour of tribute rapidly approaching.
“It’s not right. Thomas needs you,” Virgil insisted, stepping closer.
Without even looking at him, Janus could picture the scowl he was wearing. Terrified and defiant in the face of impossible odds, as always.
Bringing up the heir apparent was a low blow, however.
“Yes, he does,” Janus snapped, a bite to the words. “Do you think anything else on this continent or any other could possibly move me to do something like this?”
A short, stagnant pause as Virgil struggled to find a retort.
“His Highness will be alright,” Janus added, softer. “Of course he will. You’ll be there at his side.”
A year ago, the idea of trusting any of the knights of this kingdom would have been laughable at best. The Sanders kingdom was a pit of vipers, and Janus had blended in with the best of them, climbing the ranks to the position of advisor through means that would make any moral man weep.
He’d still only barely been in time to prevent Thomas from perishing in a political assassination, one initiated by the same mage faction that had orphaned the young boy originally.
Janus didn’t have to do any investigation to learn that particular tidbit; it was an illuminating and concerning letter from the queen, an old friend of his, that had brought him back to the kingdom.
He’d been too late to save her. He’d made sure that the same couldn’t be said for her son.
Back then, he and Virgil had constantly been at each other’s throats, both expecting the other to betray the prince at any moment. Virgil saw right through Janus’ sly facades, and Janus knew that the rank and file of the kingdom’s army were only loyal to the highest bribe.
That was what they’d thought, anyhow.
When the next attempt rolled around, Virgil had been forcefully diverted from his usual patrol route, and was halfway across the grounds when the alarm was raised.
He’d torn through any opponent in his way in a desperate frenzy, and burst into the prince’s quarters expecting to see the worst.
Instead, he’d found Thomas whole and unharmed, positioned solidly behind Janus, who stood ready with two narrow, poisoned blades. The room already had a handful of would-be assassins collapsed on the ground, some in the same exact livery Virgil wore.
“Come and try,” Janus had hissed, keenly aware of the slash along his side and the way blood was already darkening his doublet.
Virgil, bigger and stronger and less winded even after a sprint across the kingdom, had taken two steps forward and knelt before him, head bowed.
The fool. Janus had almost stabbed him on reflex alone.
“Thank you,” he’d said, the back of his neck well and truly exposed, “for protecting him.”
Janus wasn’t used to being trusted. It had thrown him off for long enough that he’d stayed his blade, and before he knew it, Virgil had managed to worm his way under his defenses and become not only a trusted ally, but a snarky, paranoid, invaluable friend.
They grew to be called the Two Hands of the Future King, a title probably invented by some of the more pretentious court nobles. Virgil hated the attention, and Janus leaned into it just to annoy him.
They’d have to come up with something different, after Janus was gone. He wondered if his death would be referred to as something garishly insensitive, like The Amputation. Hopefully not; Virgil might actually come to blows if he heard that sort of thing.
He dragged his mind out of the past, sliding another ration he would likely never eat into his bag with the same smooth calculation he’d done everything else in his life.
“Besides, there’s no cause to be dramatic. I’ll be fine,” he said, voice full of a certainty he didn’t feel.
He held his breath as Virgil stood silently at his back for a long moment. His lies had never worked on the knight, but now he silently begged that for once, Virgil wouldn’t shatter the illusion. That he wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be.
“Tell me how you plan to convince them,” Virgil finally said.
Janus let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “I already went over my strategy at the council meeting, didn’t I?”
“I was too pissed off to pay attention,” Virgil replied bluntly. “Tell me again. The way you’ll tell the beast.”
It was a rare occasion for Virgil to want to embrace a lie instead of the painful truth. Janus could grant him that, at least.
“With the damages from the invasion, we find ourselves unable to provide our usual tribute without starving to death ourselves,” Janus began, the speech long-memorized in the agonizing past week of waiting. “In order to preserve the existence of our kingdom, and by extension, the existence of your future tributes many years to come, we have provided an alternative offering that we hope will please you.”
He turned and spread his hands in an elegant flourish, his posture loose and pointedly unwary. “Along with precious heirloom riches, you are offered His Highness's own most trusted advisor, with vast wisdom and knowledge gathered from this continent and others.”
To do with as you please, he completed silently in his head. That would be no comfort to Virgil.
After all, everyone knew what most dragons pleased to do to humans that inconvenienced them.
Virgil stared at him with a deep wrinkle in his brow for a moment, and then snorted. “I should have guessed that you would flatter yourself even in a time like this.”
Janus smirked, repeating his favorite retort. “I speak only the truth, Honored Knight, and I’d thank you not to imply otherwise.”
Virgil smiled despite himself, but as the silence stretched it collapsed into an expression much more desolate.
“I’ll be perfectly fine,” Janus lied, and then, after a beat of hesitation, lifted his arms in a wordless offering.
Virgil crashed into the hug with enough force to nearly bowl Janus over, but he didn’t bother with a single complaint, only savored the warmth of his best friend safe in his arms.
He was doing this for both of them. His two most important people.
They stood like that for a long moment, and then with a low, pained sigh, Janus began to pull back.
Only to find that his limbs had gone strangely numb.
A jolt of surprise went through him, but all Virgil did was slowly shift them over to the nearby armchair, giving him somewhere to sit heavily as the prickling feeling spread further through his body.
“Something’s wrong,” he managed through lips he could barely feel.
Virgil, usually so quick to check him over at even the slightest sign of injury, spent a moment longer with his head tucked over his shoulder before withdrawing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and his eyes were eerily lit up from within by magecraft. “But we both know who Thomas needs more. And it’s not me.”
The enchantment didn’t hurt. It settled soft and heavy on him like a blanket with the weight of stone, keeping him stuck in place even as his mind began to shriek.
“How?” he managed.
“I was born into a bloodline with the gift. Got kicked out. I didn’t want anyone to know,” Virgil said, letting a few sparks flick off his fingers. “I probably could have told you, I was just… afraid, I guess. I know it’s not fair to ask, but don’t tell Thomas? I don’t want to bring back bad memories for the kid.”
Janus had moved rapidly from shock to anger, not at the secret of Virgil’s nature, but at what exactly he planned to do with it.
“Don’t,” he said, a desperate tilt to the word even as it came out slightly mangled.
“You were right, Jay,” Virgil said with a wry tilt of his lips. “You’ll be fine. So take care of him, okay?”
Janus managed the slightest shake of his head, and whatever expression he was making was enough to make Virgil’s own composure crack slightly.
“You hypocrite,” he said, voice choked, and pulled him into another hug.
Janus hadn’t wept when he’d realized that the only way to keep Thomas safe was to sacrifice himself.
Now, with Virgil’s arms wrapped around him, he felt his stinging eyes spill over.
His breath hitched, the only version of a sob that could make it through his body’s current stasis.
“I know,” Virgil murmured, clutching him tightly. “I know. I won’t change my mind, but I’m sorry. I don’t— I don’t want to leave. But I have to.”
He couldn’t do anything to stop this, Janus realized blankly. He could only clutch back at his best friend’s arms with the barest curling of his numb fingers. He could only see the slight tremors that shook through Virgil’s frame, the pallid cast to his skin.
He could only watch as Virgil released him, picked up his bag and walked to the door, stopped to look at him with fear and stubbornness in equal measure.
“I’ll see you around,” he said simply, giving him a simple salute and a small smile.
And then he was gone.
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delimeful · 9 months
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July 2023 Patreon Previews
Here is the end of month summary for July! :D
give me mercy no more (1)
preview:
“You can’t do this.”
Janus paused for the briefest moment at the sound of his closest friend’s voice, before continuing to pack away rations.
“Can’t I?” he asked airily, not turning around to face Virgil.
He’d known this confrontation was inevitable since they’d come up with the only possible solution to their kingdom’s problem. He hadn’t realized how unprepared he’d feel even now, with the hour of tribute rapidly approaching.
est. release date: September 16, 2023
(link)
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just a little rush (1)
preview:
Patton wiggled his shoulder through the bars and craned his neck, straining to get a good enough angle to see the other half of the clock across the room.
Enough of the clock’s face was visible that he could guess the time most of the day, except for the stretch of time in which both the hour and minute hands were out of sight. Patton wasn’t usually overly concerned about the loss; Normally, it didn’t really matter either way.
Now, when it had been what felt like ages since he’d last seen Remus, it mattered a lot more.
Of course Remus had chosen the most inconvenient timing possible to stage his latest escape attempt. Patton would smile if he wasn’t so worried.
est. release date: September 23, 2023
(link)
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a little trust (goes a long way)
preview:
Fidget knew it was a bad idea from the very start.
He shouldn’t even have entertained such a ridiculous notion for a moment, and yet somehow he’d not only done so, but he’d also allowed it to roll around in his mind until it became an entire, fully-fledged plan.
A plan that was absolutely going to get him killed.
He was crouched in the shadows of one of the supply stacks sitting on the edge of the second level, meaning he had a perfect view of the containment yard and its current resident.
(link)
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every good intention (4)
preview:
Roman had been thinking.
Contemplating, really. There were a surplus of mystifying elements to consider as of late, especially now that he’d found out about Logan and Anxiety’s secret tryst.
(He was fairly certain that platonic cuddling between a repressed nerd and an awkward emo didn’t actually qualify as a tryst, but it sounded much more dramatic that way.)
He was no Logic, but as a charming and exceptional denizen of Thomas’s mind, he naturally had wits aplenty of his own.
And so arrived his realization: When it came to the puzzle that was his interactions with Anxiety the past few weeks, there was a pattern.
est. release date: September 30, 2023
(link)
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to know that song (and all it’s words) (10)
preview:
“You hurt him,” Patton said, and he barely even recognized the sound that came out of him as his own voice.
Whatever the leader alien was saying was lost to the distant buzzing in Patton’s head. Logan’s response made it through, just barely. His voice had dropped into that icy pitch that meant he was well and truly angry, an ominous tone that made something primal and hunted in the back of Patton’s mind shiver to life.
Be ready, it said. We’ll have to fight soon.
est. release date: October 7, 2023
(link)
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the roots of something greener (1)
preview:
The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.
The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.
This wouldn’t have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didn’t care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.
Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.
est. release date: October 14, 2023
(link)
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just a little rush (2)
preview:
Remus hated to admit it, but Pattycakes had been right.
He definitely should have waited a little longer before trying for his next escape attempt.
It was the woulda-coulda-shoulda sort of regret that he didn’t usually waste time on. He was well aware of how many of his plans were bonafide bad ideas, and he generally went through with them anyhow.
The alternative was letting the fire ants under his skin grow more and more intolerable until he ended up doing the dumb thing anyway, but even more recklessly. It wasn’t so much a ‘choice’ as it was a ‘delay of the inevitable’.
After all, he was the only one getting hurt in the end, right?
est. release date: October 21, 2023
(link)
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WIBAR Intermission: Visiting Home (1/3)
preview:
Despite the tension buzzing at the back of his skull, Virgil found that being planetside again was surprisingly… nice.
He would have preferred that it was an uninhabited area— or at least, that it wasn’t one of the only places in the universe that had aliens he really, really couldn’t afford to terrify— but he couldn’t deny that feeling the ground under his feet and the sunlight on his skin was soothing, a balm he hadn’t known he’d needed.
It wasn’t the same as Earth, not really, but Patton’s home planet was close enough to familiar that he found tension seeping from his overwrought muscles despite himself.
He shook some of the dazed contentment off, flicking a glance over his shoulder and reminding himself that if any of the locals saw him, it could spell Capital-D Disaster.
est. release date: October 28, 2023
(link)
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