A snarl ripped itself from the Bladepen's throat. "I am not! I am the creator of monsters, of the drones! I stand next to the Enforcer!"

"You ssssuck his goddamn-shit-fuck bulge like it's a bottle of sugar water you give a rat-atat-tat for positive reinforcement. You roll over and show your jelly-belly at the snap of his fucky-wucky fingers. You'd be nnnnothing without that fishy-wishy-fucky fuck." Zeruki taunted.

Bladepen lunged, but Zeruki sidestepped em. "You are nothing, you ignorant child! You live in a garbage dump! You work the lowliest job on the planet! No one would miss you if you were culled!"

"Ha! Bitch, you think I don't knowalize that? Same to you, I didn't see your oh so precious Enforcer trying to revive-dive you. Who did that? Oh yeah! Me! This stitch-bitch! He didn't mmmmiss you for four hundred sweeps!" Zeruki crowed.

"Lies!" Bladepen shrieked.

"Brainwashed!" Zeruki shouted back.

This time when Bladepen lunged, Zeruki stood his ground. Pirouetting on his toes, his tail slammed into Bladepen's chest. The ancestor grunted, but didn't slow, and whipped around, too, but Zeruki leapt over eir tail like jumprope.

"Slow, too! You're a pampered-hampered hive meow-beast. Youuuu can't compete with-" A hand closed around his throat, hoisting him off his feet, and he was slammed against the wall. His helmet clattered loudly against the stone and made him scream.

"Shut your fucking tongue before I rip it out of your pissant skull, you pathetic worm! You're worthless, useless, nothing but a letdown to the Ursida line! You can't even do your job of serving the Fallens correctly! Alternia has no use for you!" Bladepen shrieked, spittle flying from between eir massive teeth. For a troll that cast no shadow, ey sure had one now. It loomed over eir shoulder, twisted and warped into something that hurt Zeruki's eyes.

He forced himself to meet eir gaze, his hands dropping to his sides. "At least-" he rasped against the vice grip on his neck, "I don't have terrrrminal updog."

That made the doctor pause, his deranged snarl faltering. "What... is updog?"

Zeruki's face lit up and he cackled. "You fell for it! Not much, mother-fucking-fucker, what's up with you?"

He swung his bo staff, the end colliding with Bladepen's head.

The mortal-faking entity screeched in pain and dropped him as ey reeled back. Zeruki hit the ground on his toes, practiced from launching himself off the top of hivestems.

Collapsing the weapon again, he shoved it back into his pocket as he bound away. Behind him, the pained wails folded over themselves, again and again until it became a needling, fuzzy static in Zeruki's ears.

>But in your defense, you were really, really bored. And hungry. And probably stupid. Stupid for the neon lights down the street that boasted of new fried cluck-beast flavored chips. So now here you were, smashed on the pavement after falling from... Eh, thirty stories? Give or take? You tried to catch yourself with your tail and had failed miserably.

He swerved for a narrow side street, praying they wouldn't be able to fit in after him. He was so close to the edge of the city, to his dump- if he could just get there, he'd be safe.

Just as he rounded the corner, he slammed into something both warm and solid. Reeling back, he fell on his ass, and found himself staring up through his bangs at none other than Atryus.

"Tray-tray!" He jumped to his feet, relieved, and momentarily forgetting his situation. "Wassup, duder-broski? How's it-" the rumbling snarl of the drones reminded him of what was happening. Whirling about, he saw them at the end of the street, and, unfortunately, they turned just in time to spot him.

But even with his jumpsuit and helmet, there was a limit to what he could take before his old burnscars started itching.

Which is how he found himself taking off for cover, scrambling up and vaulting over someone’s fence. It was late in the morning, so everyone was asleep. He’d be gone before the hive occupant woke up, he thought, as he pulled out his bo staff, unfolded it, and smashed a window.

The smell of incense and food swirled, heady and warm, around the cavern. Oliver could hear pots and pans clatter in the secondary cave, as a handful of followers worked to provide a free meal. It wasn’t anything special- ground meat and rice, with steamed vegetables- but there was enough to go around, and for some it’d be the easiest meal they’d get for a while. The incense curled out from the braziers hung from the ceilings above.

The soft shht shht of a towel over marble was an indication that someone had taken it upon themself to clean the altar and shrine. Oliver waited for the sound to stop before he called the troll over, gracing them with a touch and a thanks and a kiss to their forehead. When the troll stumbled away, Oliver heard the shift in the crowd as that troll was swarmed, the others eager to touch one their leader had blessed.

At her feet, Bohwie sat on his knees, his head tipped back into her lap as she ran her claws through his fluffy hair. He laughed as he watched the commotion, before he looked up at the oliveblood.

“How much longer, Olly?” He asked, laying his chin on their knee.

“Soon, darling. He promised deliverance. They’ll-” He stopped speaking as he heard, far above their heads, someone entering the cavernous tunnels. “-be here any moment.” He finished, chuckling.

Sitting up straight, Oliver rose to their feet, making Bohwie shuffle out of the way. “Darlings!” They called, the crowd instantly hushing and turning to them, “Tonight, we have two very special guests joining us. They have just entered our hallowed chamber, and will soon be upon us. Welcome them with the reverence you bestow upon Bohwie and I, for just as you all do, they serve a purpose greater than ourselves.”

The crowd murmured to one another quietly, shuffling about eagerly as Bohwie got to his feet.

Oliver listened past them, to the footsteps that were nearing the cavern’s entrance. “Darlings, it is my honor to introduce his most exalted, the child of the Empire, Fayroe Fallen, and the Father’s lover’s son, Zeruki Ursida.”

A hush fell as the two trolls stepped into the cavernous room, which held for several seconds.

“Uh… Wassup, fellow freaky-deaks?” Zeruki finally broke the silence, the jingling of the bells on his tail echoing and shrill when he moved. Oliver could smell fear emanating off the tealblood; he didn’t want to be here, clearly.

“Welcome, darlings. I’m quite pleased you made it here safely.” Oliver said graciously, descending the ramp and walking up to the other two.

“I brought him, just like you asked.” Fayroe said, leather shuffling as they crossed their arms; they sounded absolutely disgusted that they’d done a favor for the oliveblood. “So you’d better-”

“Yes, darling, I’ll help you, as I promised. But first, we have work to do, still.” Oliver assured him smoothly, before she turned to Zeruki. “Welcome, my fellow genetic deviant. I’m sure you have quite a few questions.”

“I sure as flip-fucking-fuck do. Where the hell am I, why am I here, and why did Faybee-baby-bitch show up at my hive? That’s illegal.” Zeruki huffed.

“Well, darling, you are among friends here. I am Oliver Maddel. This is Bohwie Akshai,” Oliver indicated the blueblood as he walked up behind her, “And all these trolls behind us are part of the Black Hand. We are servants of the Infinite Abomination, the most ancient and powerful-”

“Whoopidy-fuckity-doo, you worship a bitch-brat with eyes and tentacles that would be a superstar in Eastern Alternian bucket animation.” Zeruki interjected, sounding bored as he lashed his tail again and made the bells ring, “What the fffffuck does that have to do with me? I was having a nice tippy-time trying to get my lusus to stop eating the lounge-plank when pinky-pie and flufflekins showed up at my door.”

“Don’t you dare disrespect Persephone! I’ll-” Fayroe began.

“You’ll what?” Zeruki taunted, “Kill me? Go ahead and try, bitch-stitch-boy! Jokes on you, I wanna die! Your daddy-pops wants me alive, though! You wanna make daddy mmmmmad? Huh?”

“I could have you-”

“Have me what? Imprisoned? Tortured? Once again the jokey-pokey is on you, pinky-fuck! I’m into that shit! You’re powerless, chuckle-bucket-fffffuck!” Zeruki cackled.

Oliver realized he was quickly losing control of the situation. “Zeruki,” He interjected sharply, before he took a deep breath and continued calmly, “I apologize that we ruined your evening, but I asked Fayroe to bring you.” He gave the teal his most flattering and charming smile, “You see, darling, we have need of you. At this moment, you are the most important troll in the world.”

Zeruki was silent for several seconds. “Dope.” He said at last, “Why?”

“We need your assistance for something that could, potentially, change the world. I promise you, you’ll be royally compensated for your cooperation.”

“Compensated like… money, or like you’re gonna put me on that freaky-fucky table and cut my head off?” Zeruki checked.

“Whichever you’re into.” Oliver chuckled. They turned away, motioning for Zeruki to follow as they headed for the altar.

“Soooo…. What do I gotta do?” The teal asked.

“We just need some of your blood, my dear.”

“McChicken-fuckin-scuse me?” Zeruki asked, incredulous.

“Not all of it, of course! Just a few drops!” Oliver assured him.

“Why?!”

Oliver held out her hand, and Bohwie placed an old, tarnished, gold lapel pin- it was shaped like a scorpion, with two gleaming rubellite eyes- in her palm.

Fayroe sucked in a sharp breath. “Hold on a moment- you’re not going to- to bring em back, are you?” They asked nervously.

Oliver only smiled. “We need em, darling.”

“But- but ey-”

“Trust me, my dear, I know what I’m doing.” Oliver said soothingly. She gently placed the pin on the black marble, before she raised her head, turning it from side to side like she was observing the room. “Long ago,” She began, “I came across an ancient scripture, left behind by the original Black Hand. It detailed their rituals, festivities, and the god they worshipped.

This scripture… came with a prophecy.” Oliver said dramatically, hiding a grin when he heard the Black Hand collectively suck in a breath, “It was vague, as they often are, but I managed to piece it together- the Black Hand is due, nay, had been promised, a chosen one. This chosen child would usher in an age of glory, victory, and wonder- the age of nonsuffering- swept in on a wave of blood.

I thought, long ago, that I had found that child.” She let her voice fall into nostalgic sadness, “The one called Drayco Afasia. They were devout, beautiful, and were in line to succeed after Bohwie and I were gone. But before they could truly take their place as our chosen child, they were ripped away from us!” Her voice rolled from regret to wrath as she spat out the word.

The Black Hand reacted, growls and hisses emanating from the watching trolls. Oliver shook their head, clenching their fists against the cold stone altar, “The one called Musrio Almawt tore our child away from us, like a feral lusus takes away a grub. He stole our child, ending their life before it was begun! Then, unable to face the sin he committed, he took his own life in repentance! Only to meet our god, to confront the fact that he had taken everything away from us!” Their voice rose in pitch, as their followers jeered and snarled. They knew this story; Oliver had drilled it into them that Musrio was the enemy, conditioned them to react with malice at his name.

“Instead of smiting his soul from existence, however,” Oliver relaxed with a weary sigh, “our lord is merciful. It blessed Almawt with powers like mine, and sent him back to us, rebirthed and purified. It is my belief that our god intended for him to take up the mantle, to atone for his sins, and assist us with our goal. And so far, he has done just that! He has brought back many of those we require for the wave of blood! For that, we thank him.” She smiled warmly, and the scent changed to confusion and uncertainty, until she dropped the expression.

“But we cannot forgive him.” He continued darkly, “Not when he insists on impeding our work in any way he can. He returned our chosen child to life, but-” He let his voice crack, “I was too late.” He stage whispered, his voice thick with grief, “He had corrupted our child, convinced them that we are the villains, and has refused to continue his work for us.” He rubbed his knuckles over his mask, like he was wiping away tears, cleared his throat, and continued, “So I have been forced to play my hand, perhaps too early. I have brought back the Deadscar Wanderer, and the Hierophant- our beloved founder- and now…”

They held up the pin for all to see. “I shall bring back yet another that will join our cause. Once ey have joined us, there will only be two left! And once those two are within my grasp, we shall harvest their blood, all at once, so that the wave will begin, and our chosen child will come to us!” They announced proudly. The Black Hand were become frenzied, cheers and applause ringing through the cavern. “And once the child has come home, they will lead us into the age of nonsuffering!” Oliver cried over the crowd, “We are nearly there, my darlings!”

More chattering and clapping; Oliver allowed them the jubilation for a moment, before he motioned for silence. Instantly, his followers settled into breathless anticipation.

Laughing, Oliver turned to Zeruki. “So, my darling, do you see now why we need you? You are the descendant of one of the bloods. The connection through your bloodlines will allow em to grace us with eir presence. Will you do us the honor, and give us some of the azure ichor in your veins?” He purred silkily.

Zeruki was silent for a long moment; Oliver gave him that, letting him think it over. Finally, Zeruki took a deep breath, clapping his hands together.

“How do I put this politely?” He asked with mock cheeriness, “You’re flip-shit-fuck-trucking nuts, my guy. Absolutels-tootles buggy-bonkers, out the thinkpan fritz-frazzled. You feel me, Olive oil? I’m gonna go home, mmmmkay, and let my lusus gnaw on my skull so I forget all the lug-nut-lunacy your vocal box just spewed like my bulge during happy-fun-me-and-bucket-time. Okie-dokie?”

There was a collective gasp of horror from the Black Hand.

Icy fury stole through Oliver, freezing her already stony blood-pumper. However, her face did not change. Instead, she cupped her own chin thoughtfully, humming. “I see…”

“No you don’t.” Zeruki muttered, his tail chiming as he snorted.

“No, I don’t.” Oliver agreed and with a convincing giggle, dropping her hand, “But if that’s how you feel, then- well, I certainly won’t stop you from leaving. I won’t force you.” She carefully set the pin down, clasping her hands in front of her.

“Uh… sooo…. I can go?” Zeruki asked, startled.

“I won’t stop you.” Oliver repeated, their smile as cold as their veins.

“Uh… ‘Kay. Dope. … Bye?” Zeruki began to back away, his scent full of uncertainty.

“Oh, wait- just one thing, darling.” Oliver called. He turned towards where Bohwie was standing, waiting patiently. “BB, will you do the honors?”

Oliver didn’t need to see to feel the air suddenly become electrified- crackling, almost, and thick with an intangible power.

“I’ve got him.” Bohwie said calmly, although his voice was trembling with excitement.

“Thank you, my love.” Oliver purred, before they turned to the crowd. “The blessed abilities our lord has given us have come into great use this night, my lovelies. Does anyone have a blade we might use?”

There was a quick, and enthusiastic reaction. However, it was Fayroe who pressed a knife into Oliver’s hand. “Use mine. Just don’t get any of your own filth on it.”

Oliver gripped the blade’s hilt, laughing. “Of course not, dear.” He assured them. Turning towards the sound of Zeruki’s boots approaching, he held out the knife.

“Take it.” Bohwie rumbled.

The knife left Oliver’s hand.

“Slice your palm over the altar.”

Shuffling, and a rough scrape. There was no hiss of pain, no whimper, as the smell of blood filled Oliver’s nose.

“Turn your hand. Cover the pin.”

A brief pause, and a faint splatter of several drops hitting metal and stone.

“Give Fayroe his knife.”

“Ew.” The fuchsia muttered as he took the blade, wiping it down with a handkerchief.

“You’re going to stay here, and watch your ancestor rejoin us. You were willing to help, and gave your blood to us.” Bohwie intoned, before the energy in the air snapped and vanished.

Oliver heard several of the Black Hand take deep breaths, as if they’d just surfaced from underwater; they hadn’t been controlled, but the raw power

Bohwie possessed was still dizzying to be near. Zeruki spluttered, stumbling, as his body was given back to him.

“Wh-” He began, before Bohwie’s final order took over. He fell silent, and did not move.

“Thank you for your help, Zeruki.” Oliver purred as he stepped up to the altar again. “The pin is in place?” He checked.

“It is.” Bohwie assured him.

Satisfied, Oliver carefully peeled her gloves off and passed them to Bohwie. She rubbed her hands together, before she reached up and untied the silk band over her eyes. She let it fall to the floor as she pressed her hands together.

Energy surged through their body, up from their chest, down their arms, and into their head. Their eyes began to glow, as a dark, misty haze formed over their hands. The magic was not all consuming, no matter how hard Oliver tried to make it take over their body, as they were told it was supposed to.

But it would be enough. A bitingly cold wind cut through the warm cavern, racing around the room like a frenzied scale-mate. The lights and torches alike flickered, the scents from incense and food suddenly blown away. From Oliver’s perspective, he was alone; alone in a cold void, with only the sound of the wind and a deep thrumming, despite the hundred or so trolls in the room with him.

As the magic that gathered in her reached its peak, Oliver flung her arms out dramatically, throwing back her head. Her mouth opened in a wordless roar as she threw herself forward, slamming her palms down on the altar, on either side of the pin. Blood splattered on her fingers, the smell sharp and poignant in the void. It burned against her skin as the magic burst.

The wind built to a screaming whirlwind around him, the Black Hand crying out in alarm, only for their voices to be drowned out. Zeruki and Fayroe backed away in fear, as Bohwie stood resolutely beside his morail.

Darkness consumed Oliver inside and out as something tugged on his consciousness. Without thought, he seized it and heaved.

Green flames erupted in the torches that had been blown out, only to turn cyan. The darkness suddenly peeled off of Oliver and enveloped the altar they leaned on, gathering around the pin until it couldn’t be seen.

All at once, the darkness expanded, thrashing and solidifying into a shape.

A body.

Head, arms, and legs bloomed out of the torso, along with an excess limb. Fingers separated out of the dark, horns sprouted from the silhouette.

As the darkness locked itself into a physical form, the wind and roar and magic abruptly vanished, momentarily sucking the air out of the cavern along with it.

The black mist around the form fell away like fog, rolling off the altar and disappearing.

Oliver’s knees buckled, and Bohwie was immediately at his side to catch her. She gasped in air, her lungs frozen in her ribs as the energy was drained away. She had the strength to stay standing, though, unlike when she’d called Hierophant.

Bohwie stood him up, brushing back his hair and tying the mask back on his eyes. “Are you alright?” He whispered.

“I’m alright, BB.” Oliver assured him softly, smiling towards the cerulean’s face. “Did it work?”

“My, my, my… One moment, I am cutting open a subject. The next, the mother of the abomination has speared me through. Now I appear to find myself upon an examination table that isn’t mine. Most peculiar…"

A new voice, scratchy and sneering, spoke behind them.

Oliver turned as they heard shuffling, as someone sat up and rose from the altar top. They beamed, stepping forward and bowing low.

“Welcome back to Alternia, Dr. Dolion Ursida, the Bladepen.”

“… And that’s why we need your blood, darling.” Oliver finished.

“My, my, my…” Ey said, “That is certainly quite a story. I do not care for any sort of god, but I am not opposed to being a rat in your procedure. I shall have a vial delivered to your hive once I have the time.”

Oliver bowed graciously. “Thank you very much for your cooperation, doctor.”

Bladepen hummed, rose to eir feet, and turned to observe Zeruki, who was fidgeting with his tail. “So, you’re my descendant, are you?”

“Yeppers-peppers.” Releasing his tail with a flourish and a jingle, Zeruki stood up straight.

Bladepen cocked eir head to the side, observing him. “Hm. Malnourished, but reflexive. Serving the Fleet as an engineer, but,” Eir eyes locked on the bells embedded in Zeruki’s tail, “marked by the Enforcer.” Clicking eir tongue, ey steepled eir fingers. “Overall… disappointing.” Ey concluded, “Remove your helmet.”

Zeruki barked out a laugh. “Look, Bladey-bitch, you’re not my lusus, so I don’t gotta listen to you. You ain’t Fiona, and I ain’t Shrek. I’m not removing my helmet for shits or giggles after slaying your scaly-beasty-hivemate, okie-dokie? I’m uuuuugly, let’s leave it at that.”

Bladepen’s eyes narrowed slightly, before ey laughed. “Very well. What do they call you?”

“Zeruki. Zuki, Zuzu, Zuzuzuzuzuzuzuzu- but that one’s for my lusus only. Zeru if you’re here, Zeri if you’re queer. “The duder-bro who just stole a bag of chips” if you’re the oliveblood from the snackhive-”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Fayroe finally interrupted, twirling their needle-knife between their claws. Zeruki hissed at the seadweller.

Bladepen turned to Fayroe, their smile inexplicably getting bigger. “My, my… You’re Godric’s little one, aren’t you?”

Fayroe stiffened, fin-fronds fluttering. “Yes…?”

Bladepen looked them up and down. “Handsome, royal carriage, armed and dangerous… and, of course, bearing Godric’s majestic horns. Overall, satisfying.”

Fayroe curled his lip. “You’re weird.”

“So I’ve heard.” Bladepen purred, eir tail swishing back and forth as ey turned to address Oliver. “If there’s nothing more you need from me, I’d quite like to go see how my beloved has held up these past four hundred years.”

Oliver returned the cloying smile. “If it’s alright with you, darling, I’d like to accompany you. I wish to meet the Enforcer myself.”

“I don’t see why not.” Bladepen mused. Turning on eir heel, ey headed for the exit. “Come along, then.”

Zeruki looked around at the other three, then at the Black Hand. “… Yeah, no, I’mma dippin-dots-and-dash. This isn’t my kind of scene, so cut, print, kill the director. I’m out.” Flipping them all off, the young teal turned and fled.

While Bohwie and Oliver bid their followers goodbye and dismissed them, Fayroe headed after Bladepen, scratching listlessly at their lip.

“Dr. Ursida?” They asked as they ducked out of the cavern.

Dolion was stood a few feet away from the entrance, looking up at the stars. “Yes, master Fallen?”

Fayroe’s fin-fronds flickered; he liked the sound of that title. “What are you? To father, I mean?”

Bladepen made an amused sound, eir tail sweeping back and forth. “I am his physician, heart, and spade.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

Oliver and Bohwie emerged from the cavern a moment later.

“Shall we, darlings?” The oliveblood beamed.

Half an hour later, they were stood before the Imperial Enforcer’s hive. Bladepen and Fayroe took the lead, striding up to the gates. The drones on guard watched the group pass without reaction.

Dolion looked around, clicking eir tongue as they approached the front steps of the grand hive; it was large, imposing, and dark, exuding an energy of power over the lawnring. It was made of obsidian and gold, with architectural designs that could only be called “threatening.”

“Ohhh, so he’s a villain villain.” Bohwie said, staring up at the demented statues of drones in the process of dismembering lowbloods.

Oliver and Dolion both laughed.

Fayroe, however, had gone dead silent; Oliver could smell fear, barely contained terror, emanating from the fuchsia.

“His taste certainly hasn’t changed. How refreshing.” Dolion purred as they ascended the steps. The double doors were swept open for them by a pair of drones.

As the four of them stepped into the foyer, a fifth troll approached from the opposite side. He barely glanced at them at first, before he froze and did a double take.

“Wh-”

Dolion craned eir head back and beamed at the other troll. “Well this is a surprise. Hello again, Hounding.”

The giant purpleblood’s lip twitched, a growl rolling in his throat. “You’re back, too, doc?” He huffed, adjusting the ax laid across his shoulders.

“Indeed. Were you here to see Godric?”

“Hmph. Just fer a visit. Boss likes ta pretend we’re buddies; called me in fer a hive visit, an’ here I was thinkin’ it was work. Nah, fish-bitch just wanted ta have a beer and talk.” He rolled his eyes.

“How nice.” Bladepen smiled.

Hounding shook his head. “Whatever. I got shit ta do.” He turned and kept walking. “Getting’ real sick of finned-fucks tellin’ me what to do.” He muttered, just loud enough for them to hear.

Bladepen chuckled, before ey turned and kept walking. As the group headed through the doors on the far side, Fayroe dropped back behind Bohwie and Oliver.

They emerged into a dark, grand throne block, lit by braziers full of pink flames. Everywhere the group looked, there were depictions of deep sea monsters, banners of the Fleet, and- most prevalent- scorpions. They were carved into the ornate pillars, doorways, and even sewn as designs along the border of the carpet. The block was freezing cold, too, the air damp. It felt as if they’d stepped into a terrarium of sorts.

Out from the arched, tall and dark ceiling came a monster’s face; an ancient scorpion scale-beast, its scales bone white against the gloom. A death-rattle hiss in its throat, it bared its crimson teeth at the four of them.

“My, my, I’m coming across old friends aplenty today. Hello again, Lord Scordra.” Bladepen reached out and scratched the chitinous scales on the scale-beast’s chin, completely undaunted by the monster.

Lord Scordra, as the lusus was called, chittered and hissed; it was an odd sound, as it was both high pitched, and practically subsonic. The monster curled away, back into the dark ceiling, before it reappeared, crawling down an obsidian pillar.

It was a ginormous beast, with too many disjointed limbs and multiple glassy eyes. Its long, scorpion tail slithered over the ground as the monster snaked its way behind the raised platform at the far side of the throne room, curling around the dais.

Upon that dais, seated upon the throne, was the Imperial Enforcer.

“Dolion? Is that you?”

“Godric.” Bladepen breathed, eir tail practically vibrating. Faster than the three descendants could register, the tealblood was streaking across the throne room.

Ey ran up the steps and dropped to eir knees before the fuchsia, who reached out with black-gauntlet-covered hand and stroked his claws through the doctor’s wavy hair.

“I was wondering when you’d come see me again.” The fuchsia hummed.

“So sorry it took me so long. I’m afraid I was a little preoccupied for the last four hundred sweeps.” Bladepen groveled, taking the hand off eir head and kissing the steel knuckles.

Enforcer chuckled, deep and low. “Behave, Dolly.” He rumbled, grabbing the tealblood’s horn and tugging em to eir feet; his grip moved to one of the horns protruding from Bladepen’s jaw, which he used to pull the tealblood into a kiss. “Tell me, who are these friends you’ve brought with you?” He asked when he pulled away.

Oliver took the opportunity to step forward. She bowed as low as possible, as Bohwie did the same beside her.

“My lord Imperial Enforcer, Godric Fallen, I am Oliver Maddel, and this is my morail, Bohwie Akshai. We are no more than a humble oliveblood and cerulean, with a dream to see our enemies slaughtered before us. We’ve come to beg for your assistance. All we request and require would be a singular vial of your most royal blood.” Oliver spoke eloquently, laying it on thick. With their heads so low, Enforcer couldn’t see the shit-eating grins the two leaders sported.

The fuchsia laid his cheek on his knuckles, observing the two. “Rise, the both of you.” He ordered after a moment. Bohwie and Oliver instantly stood up straight.

“I would stand to greet you, but I cannot.” Enforcer narrowed his eyes towards Bohwie, “You resemble the one that robbed me of the use of my legs.”

The cerulean was not the best at being composed and articulate, as Oliver was, but he stood up straight, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Yes, sir. Dmitri is my ancestor.” He explained.

“Has he sent you to finish me off?” Enforcer asked, amused.

Bohwie spread his arms out. “Search me if you’d like, my lord, but I am weaponless. I don’t doubt I’d be cut down before I even took a step towards you, if your death was my intention.” He intoned, waving one hand to indicate the monster behind the throne; in truth, he wouldn’t even need to move to cut the fuchsia down. His abilities were far beyond his ancestors, but the Enforcer didn’t need to know that.

Enforcer laughed at that, before his gaze switched to Oliver. “Show me your eyes, oliveblood.”

Oliver obediently reached up and removed the band around their eyes.

“You’re blind?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, my lord. I was sightless from my hatching. My eyes were changed when I beheld the god I worship.”

“How is it that you return Dolion to me?”

“Through the god I worship, my lord.”

Enforcer said nothing, and his face gave nothing away. After a moment, he chuckled. “Very well. As thanks for returning my descendant, I will permit a single vial.”

Elation shot through Oliver so hard that his head spun. “Thank you, my lord.” He managed to say, bowing once more. Bohwie echoed his thanks and bowed, too.

Enforcer made a small noise in acknowledgement, before his gaze shifted to the fourth member of the party. “Fayroe.”

The younger fuchsia’s breath froze in their lungs. “Hello, father.” He managed to croak.

“Approach.”

On stiff legs, Fayroe did as he was told, but came no closer than behind Oliver and Bohwie.

A displeased growl rolled in Enforcer’s throat. “Fayroe, were you not released from the white room two nights ago? Then you turn around, flee the hive, and have to be dragged back by Dolion and company?”

Fayroe’s heart was hammering loud enough for Oliver to hear. “I didn’t flee, f- father. I went to fetch the Engineer, Zeruki Ursida, s- so that I might reunite you with Dolion.” He stammered.

Enforcer looked down his nose at the trembling fuchsia. “You’re pathetic, Fayroe.” He said at last, his voice as icy and dark as space itself, “Did I not just hear it was the oliveblood that brought Dolion back to me?”

“But I-”

“Enough!” Enforcer sat up sharply; had he the use of his legs, he would have stood. Lord Scordra stirred, letting out another subsonic hiss. Enforcer glared down at his descendant. “It matters not your intentions; you left the hive when you were ordered not to. You are meant to obey me, child!”

Fayroe flinched back half a step, a near silent whimper in his throat. They froze, their eyes widening with horror when they realized what they’d done. “I’m sorry, father, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry, please don’t-”

“Scordra.” Enforcer looked down at his lusus, “I’m finished with that thing. Do away with it.”

The draconic arachnid chittered shrilly, like it was laughing, gathering its feet under itself.

Panicked and desperate, Fayroe grabbed Oliver’s shoulder. “You swore you’d help me! You promised to get me away from him!” He cried.

Oliver turned her head and smiled at him. “I have done as I promised; he has rejected you, Fay, darling, and now you can go away.” She and Bohwie stepped away. “Goodbye, Fayroe.”

Fayroe’s head snapped up as the monstrous lusus shot across the floor towards him, the sound of his father’s laughter echoing around the chamber.

Oliver couldn’t see the carnage, but he heard the scream, the tear of flesh, the snarling-snort of a wounded animal, and fleeing footsteps, accompanied by the smell of fresh blood.

“Oh dear… did he hurt you, my lord?” Dolion said after a beat of silence. The giant lusus skittered up to the doctor, who knelt down and removed the needle knife from its nose. “There you go.”

Laughter rolled from Enforcer’s chest like an oncoming storm. “To think he’d defend himself… I certainly didn’t see that coming. How entertaining.” He turned his head towards the other two descendants. “You two, approach once more, and tell me this tale in full.”

“Yes, my lord, but- what about Fayroe?”

Enforcer’s smile was as coy and cruel as his lover’s. “Whom?”

~~~~~~~~~

(Credit for base)