#maugrim

Obsessed with Burns as the Ice Queen of Narnia. He was her in an intro and also in the Tapped Out game.

(My boyfriend made me this gif last year hehe)

SO BEAUTIFUL!!!

And I was thinking, if Burns is the White Witch, and Smithers is the witch's dwarf, who would Victor be?? MAUGRIM, the head wolf, OBVIOUSLY

Nine Years Ago —

Archelaos went to painstaking lengths to close the door of his Old Town apartment silently as he slipped inside for the night. He had mastered the art of sneaking in, even in his tin-can Guard uniform. Once he'd persuaded the deadbolt to lie flat, he loosed a silent sigh of relief before turning and stepping inside.

BANG! CRASH!

Fuck!

At the feet of Archelaos' steel boot (the only one he wore, given that the other leg was a prosthetic) sat his metal umbrella holder, having purged itself of its contents on the floor. As quickly as a one-legged man could, he knelt down and began stuffing the umbrellas back into the vertical holder. His heart quickened as shaking hands set it right again. He knew that it hadn't been in his path when he left that morning.

"So you're finally home," came the lilt of the man he had been hiding from. Archelaos looked up the stairs to see Maugrim. His thin body was draped in a crimson robe, his red crop of hair a mess atop his head. The young man was glaring at him. "What's the excuse for avoiding me tonight?"

"Not an excuse," Archelaos breathed, "A woman had been attacked and needed someone to walk her to her doorstep."

Wrong answer—the fact that it was the truth didn't matter. He could see the irritation building in Maugrim's expression as the thin young man began walking down the stairs, one foot in front of the other, painstakingly slow. Like an executioner walking up the stairs of the gallows.

"That's not in your job description," Maugrim spat, "How did her cunt feel?"

"Love," Archelaos could hear the plead in his tone, "I just walked her home. Nothing happened." He felt like he was going to vomit. "I need to eat dinner." He swallowed and steeled himself for the walk to the kitchen. Just one metal foot in front of the booted other.

"What you need is to take responsibility for your actions!"

Archelaos then shouted out in pain, feeling his skin twitch and his muscles spasm as something unnatural gripped him by the meat around his bones, preventing him from moving, let alone walking. "Maugrim, please!" He pleaded, louder this time, "Nothing happened, she just needed someone to get her home!"

A slender hand pressed against the center of Archelaos' chest. "Then why do you smell like cheap perfume?" The young blood mage's voice seethed.

Of course, Archelaos couldn't tell him that the woman had hugged him—that would be assigned as a lie. He couldn't express how terrified she had been, or how he had been the only one on the force to give her an ounce of compassion—that, too, would constitute as cheating. Most of all, he could not correct Maugrim that she hadn't been wearing perfume.

Finally, in hopes for mercy, Archelaos sobbed out a choked: "I'm sorry."