Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s dark. Mostly quiet save for a gentle shuffling a short distance away. The blackness ebbs out of your mind, and your eyes soon follow suit. A couple blinks to let in the faint glow of the room you’re in, and you begin to read your surroundings. It’s an unfamiliar room, tile floors and walls a heavy wood color. Gold flames float upon sconces on the wall, and a soft pink glow arches around a figure to the side of the room. You recognize the silhouette, though without his signature hat you can better make out his tiny horns and droopy ears, bringing you back to the last time you saw him like this. You were saying goodbye but then… it takes your foggy brain a moment to fill in the blanks but once you have-

“Oh, Kris! You’re awake.” You look to the voice and see Ralsei give you a gentle smile. “I was just making a cake for us, but it’s still not ready.. I, um, did say we could come back here and eat cakes when your journey was over, did I not?” He fidgets a bit as he looks down on you. You’re still on the floor and when you adjust your weight you can feel your arms tug behind you.

“I, um, I’m sorry for the chains. I wasn’t entirely sure how you’d react to this, I mean, I really didn’t expect to react that way myself. People can be quite surprising in the moment I suppose.” He comes to his knees to match you in posture. “I admit, it was rather rude of me to pacify you without warning. I should have talked things over with you both, and perhaps you’d have agreed to stay on your own. I’m just so happy that you’re finally here, and I worry that, you might leave, and I’ll wake up as if you never came in the first place.”

The room sits silent now that he’s had his say. It seems he’s considering what to do next. You take stock of your position, legs folded beneath you, hands chained to the wall behind you, and hair strewn across your face as always. Susie doesn’t seem to be anywhere within the room. Just Ralsei, a subtly regal dining table and a cozy kitchen lined against the wall to your left. Ralsei heads in that direction and checks on something in the oven. You turn to examine your chains a little better. They seem to be standard prison shackles, oddly fashionable, as you noted earlier. They’re attached to a ventilation cover screwed into the wall. You wonder how much force you’d need to pull that from the vent itself.

“Um, Kris,” you turn to find Ralsei crouched near you again. “The cake is cooling now, it should be done shortly. If it’s alright, I could unlock you now and we can go sit at the table.”

From his behavior so far, you don’t seem to be in immediate danger. You’re not sure if he has other precautions in place to hinder your escape but being unchained certainly wouldn’t hurt, and at the very least, the table would be more comfortable than the floor. You nod and he sighs in relief before stooping to meddle with the chains.

“Here you are, Kris.” He’s learned nothing. There’s a moment where you imagine turning and clocking him in the head while leaping to bolt at the door, but you find yourself shuffling towards a seat at the dining table instead.

Ralsei approaches with a large plate in his hands. The cake is a dark, rich color with white poofs of icing spread in little dollops around the edge. There are some vaguely familiar symbols across the center but you can’t recall what they mean.

“I made enough for Susie as well but, she’s not ready to interact I think. I can bring her a slice when we’re done though. She might enjoy that.” He cuts out a piece for you and slides it in your direction, then repeats the action for himself. He seems totally unfazed by the bizarre situation that he’s wrapped you into. His gentle countenance and calm hum could almost fool you into thinking that this was just a normal visit among friends. It’s clear that that’s what he’s trying to trick himself into believing as well.

“Dig in, Kris.” Ralsei stares expectantly at you from his seat across the table. You glance at the sweet beneath you, and back at Ralsei. You take half a forkful from the corner and bring it to your mouth. It tastes like marshmallows. Besides that, the texture of the cake itself is deep and creamy, while the white tufts are light and fluffy on your tongue, striking a good balance between flavors. It’s so very comforting. You hate it.

“I hope you like it, Kris, it’s dark candy cake. I thought since both you and Susie liked those in the forests it would be a good one to start with. Plus, it’s one of the flavors that I have the most experience with, so I was certain I could do a good job.” He takes a few bites himself and you both sit in silence.

“Well this is pleasant, don’t you think?”

You think Ralsei should choke on that cake. You tell him it was a sweet gesture.

“Oh I’m glad you think so! I can teach you how to make it if you’d like. Not now, of course. It’ll take us a while to finish this one as it is, but with three mouths at the table, I’m sure we’ll get an opportunity soon.” He gives an easy smile that lights the room better than the bobbing flames behind you, and his body loosens in the comfort that you’d play nice. “In the meantime, why don’t you ask me some questions? I know plenty about the kingdoms and I’ve picked up a few things from the books around the castle.”

You ask about Susie.

“Oh, Susie? Like I mentioned, she isn’t taking too well to the situation. She’s in another room for now, but I’m sure she’ll calm down soon, then we can all spend time together!”

You poke for more details. “Really Kris, don’t worry about her. She’s safe and she won’t be getting out on her own. Once she understands, she’ll be just as kind as you.”

Your stomach churns at that, but you shovel a couple more bites into your mouth anyways to feed the silence. Ralsei takes that as a cue to reach for his own slice. In the shuffle of fabric, you catch a glimpse of a bracelet and you suddenly remember what the symbols on that cake stand for.

Friendship.

Perhaps for someone who’s never experienced it themselves, this empty act might suffice, but you have your own personal grudges against being a puppet.

“Is there anything else you’d like to know?” You ask about the dark world.

“Yes, the dark world, fueled by the fountain here at my castle. There are three kingdoms within this realm with very little interaction as of late. There is the East Kingdom, overseen by Card Castle as you well know, the West Kingdom ruled by the Beakers of Reason, and this the Central Kingdom, ruled and populated by yours truly. There is no direct route from the East to the West, but Lightners could travel to both, and they’d bring stories along with them. Sometimes citizens of the East would travel to this kingdom as well to visit or shop, but the Great Door was closed long before I was born.”

You ask about the empty kingdom. “This land was full of kind people. They crafted and traded, and pursued music and art, and nurtured families. The books they left behind have provided me many years of comfort and knowledge. I wish I could have met them all myself, though I suppose it’s for the best that I didn’t. I wouldn’t want to lose all of my friends. Once the Lightners visits became less frequent, people noticed entire families start to disappear. The kingdom banded together to look for them, but soon there was no one else to continue the search. It was then that the door was locked, and I arrived.”

That was plenty of information, though none of it immediately useful. You’d rather leave.

“But all of that is in the past. For now, I’m just glad to have my friends with me, and we don’t ever have to be lonely again. Speaking of which, I should really check on Susie now. Thank you for spending time with me today Kris, and for being so understanding.” He stands and you take the cue to do the same.

“Now, if it’s not too much trouble, would you please return to your cuffs?” He waits expectantly but you make no motion to comply.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you of course. It’s just a precaution for my own peace of mind. You understand right?”

“Please Kris, don’t make this difficult. I’ll be back soon and then we can hang out some more.”

“Kris, I refuse to use violence against you, just go to your chains.”

He sighs. “Alright then, let me ask again. Kris, would you please go to your chains for me?”

Your options are yes and yes. You head to the chains.

“Thank you Kris, I knew you’d understand.” He walks to your spot by the wall and locks you into place. “I won’t be long. Maybe I can bring you back some pillows to make you more comfortable. Talk to you later, Kris.” He turns and you watch his cloak swish out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Chapter Text

He did end up bringing you those pillows. It did little to cushion the hard floor beneath you and it’s difficult to adjust without any hands. Comfort is a futile attempt when your arms are constantly arced behind you.

You while away in silence with no way of determining how much time has elapsed. It’s so quiet. You’d think a large, old castle like this would creak with every breath, or you’d hear a cricket or dripping or a ticking clock or anything at all. But it’s silent and so empty you could scream. You consider screaming. Would anyone hear? There is only Susie and Ralsei and a big open expanse.

You continue to sit, and sit, until the tell tale echoes of footsteps down the hall.

Ralsei walks in more riled up than usual. His fur sticks up slightly in the back and his stance is tensed. He has a teapot in his hands and he goes directly to the kitchen.

“Ah, hello Kris. I thought I’d make some tea today, and perhaps we could play cards.”

It doesn’t make much difference to you, but the lack of choice does stir you a bit.

“I, forgot the cards. Sorry Kris, I’ll be right back.” He rushes straight out of the room again without giving you so much as a second glance.

You look to the stove. You can’t tell what kind of tea it is from here, but the pot looks nice, breakable. You think about the many ways you can use a shard, and when those thoughts dwindle out, you think about how you won’t do any of those things. How you won’t do a single thing you’re not told. You stare at the teapot until Ralsei returns. He hums as he boils the tea, then as he moves it from the kettle to the teapot, then from the counter to the table.

“Alright, the tea is all set up. Why don’t you join me at the table?” He seems calmer now. He unlocks you and takes his normal seat. You take yours.

He prepares the cards and suggests a game that you know. He’s come to see you intermittently since that first time, each visit with another activity more dull and superficial than the last. He’ll try to make conversation but you’ve decided that you don’t particularly care. He deals you a hand and you let yourself drift into your own mind.

“I’ll win this time for sure!” It’s the same face, but such a different tone. His ears perk and eyes glisten with honest conviction as you shuffle the deck again.

“Is that so?” you tease.

“Absolutely! There’s no way you can keep winning after that many games. My luck is bound to turn soon.”

You nearly chuckle at that but hold yourself back. You don’t want to ruin the trick so soon.

“Okay then, if you’re so confident, why don’t we add some weight this round?” You glance at your brother and discreetly slide an ace to the top of the deck.

His shoulders fall a bit, “Uhh, I don’t know..”

“Aw you always wimp out.”

“I would prefer to go a week without an injury or something sticky I have to scrub out of my fur.”

“Glitter isn’t sticky.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Alright alright,” you hold the cards out in an appeasing motion and use that opportunity to read them as well, “How about this? If I win you do my history project.”

“Kris, that’s cheating!”

“And if you win, I’ll do your math.”

“…” Cheating is fine when it pays. Seven, king, three, ten..

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

You smile and pass the cards. One of these days he’ll quit being so trusting, but until then you’ll enjoy the free grade boost.

“Your turn, Kris.”

The room feels darker when you blink back to attention. If Ralsei had been talking to you, you hadn’t noticed. You place a card.

“Ah another two? You’re having terrible luck, aren’t you?”

You could say that.

Apparently your deadpan expression is getting to him again and he starts speaking, “I have plenty of other games as well if this bores you too much. Or we could read some books, or try something creative, I-“

You quickly cut him off before he can begin that rant. His list of ‘fun friendship bonding’ activities is long enough to challenge Alphys’ anime opinions.

You suggest something else.

“Huh? Go outside? Well we could explore the kingdom a bit, but I’d rather wait until Susie is up to it. I know I said she can’t get out, but I’m still more comfortable being here just in case.”

He puts down a card. Eight.

You place a three.

“Honestly, she is being very frustrating. I can understand being upset but she continuously feels the need to lash out.”

At least one of you is putting up a fight. You place a card.

“Can’t she see that if she would just accept this, everything would be much easier and more enjoyable for all involved?”

You can tell this will go on for a while and consider tuning him out.

“Of course she doesn’t. She never pauses to think before rushing into a situation with an axe and an insult.”

He places a card.

“I don’t know why she’s so determined to leave anyways. It isn’t like there’s much for her at home.”

Your hand stalls, but you place a card.

“If only she could be more like you.” Obedient. Submissive. You bite your tongue and keep staring ahead like a good little doll.

“I’m sorry, Kris. I’ve been rambling haven’t I? I don’t mean to be so harsh on her. I’m just worked up is all.”

You suggest that you go visit her. You place a card.

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know about that…”

You could reason with her. You could be a good example.

“That is true. Kris, you are very kind, and exactly what I expected of a hero. It’s just, it’s a dangerous idea.”

He places a card, a five.

You remind Ralsei that he set things up so that she can’t escape. You tell him you trust him.

“I, well, I- I suppose then. I’ll consider it. Let me just make sure everything’s safe before we do anything.”

It’s not a promise, but it’s a start, and if your guess is right, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get him to follow through.

You place a card down. A king.

Chapter Text

It’s been a while. Longer than usual, you think. You tap your fingers against your shackles. A steady rhythm to lull you back into the void, but no matter how much you stare, you stay painfully aware of your position in this reality. Tap, tap. One friend who can’t let go. Tap, tap. Two friends who cannot move. Tap, tap. Three friends who have never been so alone. Tap, tap. Four friends doomed to the dark. Tap, tap. Five friends who, well you’ve never had that many friends before. You keep tapping regardless, until Ralsei finally wanders in.

“Hello, Kris. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. I brought some books for us to share.” He places the pile down neatly on the table then turns to lock the both of you in. “I also brought along some nice snacks. This one’s got chocolate because I know you like that. Feel free to request any type of food as well. I’ll do my best to find something fitting.”

He’s been feeding you regularly, and yet you never feel fed. Susie was right. It’s like nothing you eat here matters. It’s enough to keep you alive, probably, but it lacks any real substance. He approaches you without hesitation and unlocks your chains. You walk to the table, more out of habit than anything.

“Alright, so these ones have stories about this kingdom, its history and inhabitants, these two are informational, diagrams about darkners and such, and these are fantasy novels.” He spreads the books into their prospective groups and looks to you. You grab a novel at the end.

“Oh that one was written by me, actually,” He shifts his feet a bit and looks down with bashful humility, “I was just so inspired by the other books I read down here, and I wanted to try making something too. I made um, quite a few actually, but that’s one of my favorites.”

You take the blanket from your place by the wall and lay it on a dining chair. You sit down with the book and start reading. It’s a story about a group of close friends fulfilling a prophecy to destroy evil. The protagonist is very kind and ends up befriending the major villain. You don’t know what else you expected. You place the book down.

“Oh Kris, you’ve finished already? What did you think?” He puts his own book down from across the table.

You tell him it seems familiar.

“Oh yes, well,” he blushes a bit under his fur, “I was imagining how our meeting would go. The ending’s a little, different, but I like how our adventure turned out as well.”

You encourage him by mentioning the ‘friends’ he made.

“Um, yes,” he squirms a bit in his seat, “Did you maybe want to look at another book?”

You squint suspiciously, though Ralsei can’t tell with your fringe in the way. You grab a history book.

“Oo, right that’s a good one. I especially like the part where it describes the festivals held in this kingdom. It would be fun to experience one personally.”

You hold the book in front of you, but don’t open it. You ask if Susie could join you next time.

“I, well, I don’t think she should really.”

You ask if she’s safe to visit yet.

“No, no not yet, Kris. Why don’t you read your book?”

You allow the subject to drop for now and open your book. If you overwhelm him, you’ll lose your chance. He is visibly relieved and embraces the silence, turning to the pages in front of him. The history account features different types of darkners: origami birds, CV warriors with bullet attacks that seem to closely resemble staples, and so on. It’s actually somewhat interesting, but you have more pressing matters at hand. You reach across the table to grab a chip close to Ralsei. As you do, you ask how he has been lately.

“Hm?” he looks up from his book, “Oh, well thank you Kris. I’ve been doing very nicely, especially when I get to visit you.”

You ask if Susie is still causing him trouble.

“I, I suppose.”

You ask how she’s doing.

“Can we not talk about Susie please!” You reel back. That’s the first time he’s raised his voice since you’ve met. He looks flustered and curls in a bit. “I’m, I’m sorry. She’s fine, Kris. Let’s just drop it for now.”

You look at your book and start tapping the table. Something happened. You can certainly try again, but you’re not going to make any progress when he’s like this.

You grab another book. It’s a scientific explanation on Darkners and magic. The first couple pages start with general Darkner anatomy. They seem to be made up of some shadow matter, a thin net of pure magic full of void space and something abbreviated as IM. Though a fundamental aspect of their being, it comes from an external source that breathes life and character into them, seems like their version of a soul. You flip through the other pages and somewhat skim their contents, but for the most part you’re watching Ralsei and throwing tester questions to feel his mood and calm his nerves. Once he seems at ease, your queries get more specific as you try to determine just what might have happened between them two. You point to a page on darkner battles and ask if monsters can trigger a battle without physically being able to attack.

“Oh, well since the battle sequence is an expression of a monster’s soul, they could start a battle, even by accident, but they won’t be able to fight or defend. They could still act or spare to end the sequence though.”

You ask if someone could start a battle against a monster who is unable to fight. You know the answer to this one, having lived around plenty of monsters of both the magic and human variety.

“Well, I mean technically that would be possible, but it is very dishonorable and goes against the spirit of battle culture itself. Only someone who, has no regard for their opponent or how others may view them would do something so dreadful.”

You ask about attacks outside of battle.

“I, yes that is, I mean we can send attacks outside of a typical battle sequence as well.”

You ask if that is held to the same standards as a real battle. Must you always play fair?

“It’s, it’s still very despicable to, to harm someone who is unable to fight back, regardless.”

You flip a few more pages. Ralsei sighs and pushes himself back a bit in his seat.

“I’m quite done with reading for the day I think. If you don’t mind Kris, I’ll be going now.”

You tap the table a few times and turn the page you weren’t reading.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut you off in the middle of your book.” He looks at the pile left on the table then at the door, then at the kitchenette, then back to you. “I could bring these back next time and some others too. For now, could you please go to your cuffs again?”

You tap some more, and not finding any other reason to stall, you grab your blanket and set it below your chains, arranging pillows and shuffling things around as Ralsei waits patiently. You stare down then finally sit in this bed you’ve made. Ralsei slides your hands into the cuffs and locks them around you.

“I really do appreciate you, Kris. Thank you for staying with me.” He looks at you but has nothing else to say, so he stands, collects his things, and leaves you behind. You feel bitter.

Chapter Text

After a couple visits, you suggest that Ralsei teach you to cook something. It’d be a good excuse to explore the kitchen a bit more and find things to aid in your escape. He took up the suggestion without hesitation, pleased to see you engaging with him at last. You stand at the ready as he explains the ingredients he’s laid out on the counter.

“Alright, so I wanted to start out with something not too complex that allows you to get familiar with some of the resources in this area. From what I understand, this is called a spring roll and it’s something that Lightners eat as well, so it’ll be like eating something from home but with a Dark World twist, a bonding experience between two worlds,” he beams at the thought.

You open a drawer and start shuffling through the contents.

“Ah let’s jump right into it then. The first thing we’re going to want to do is prepare the vegetables.”

A whisk, measuring cups, frosting tube, and other miscellaneous baking supplies. You move to the next drawer. Beside you, Ralsei has divided the plant parts into two groups.

“We don’t need any supplies yet, Kris. First we’ll just rinse these off with water,” he gestures to one of the groups.

The second drawer holds cutlery. You run your finger across the silverware. Spoons, forks, knife.

“Oh that will be useful next Kris, thank you. You can just place that on the counter while we wash these vegetables.”

You pick up the knife as instructed and stare at it a bit longer than you should. Then you place it on the counter. Ralsei leads you in rinsing the vegetables, telling you the name and facts about each one as you go. He opens a cupboard. You note its contents: a pot, pan, colander, cutting boards. He grabs the pot and cutting board, places the pot on the unlit stove for now and brings the cutting board and knife to the table.

“Could you bring all of the vegetables over here, Kris?”

You look through more drawers instead. Spatulas, wooden spoon, funnel, peeler, some utensils you don’t recognize.

You observe the stove. It’s mostly ordinary except it’s missing any dials or buttons.

You check the fridge. It’s empty, save for some leftover cake from a previous visit.

“All of the vegetables should be on the counter, Kris.”

You grab the ingredients and bring them to the table. You sit down.

“Thank you, Kris. Now, we’ll cut these up into thin slices about this long.” He cuts up one of the orange plants to demonstrate, then hands you the knife.

You take another plant and do the same.

“Good job, Kris. So you’ll do that for all of the vegetables except for these.” He separates three plant types from the group.

One is a thick waxy leaf, like those from an aloe or agave, you could never remember the difference, another is a dark, block looking shape, and the last resembles a white grass shoot. He points towards the latter and continues, “Instead of cutting these, you can just tear them apart. We’ll use the grass part in the roll, and toss the root. It doesn’t offer much in terms of flavor and it’s too tough for anyone to eat anyways. As for the Kurey Wax,” he gestures at the leaf, “I’ll grind that down into a paste and let it boil while you work on the rest.”

He walks back to the drawers to grab a mortar and pestle and you start tearing apart the grass reeds. The white roots remind you of someone and you pocket them for later. Your inventory is mostly empty by now, save for a couple dark candies and an egg.

Ralsei returns with his supplies and crushes the leaves into a thick paste.

You use the egg.

“Huh Kris, have you had that this whole time? Well I guess that makes this an egg roll now, hehe.” With your permission, he grabs the egg and the smushed wax plant and heads to the stove. “I’ll just cook this into the spread. I’m interested to see what this’ll do the texture of the paste itself.” He has his back to you as he focuses solely on his task. “I don’t even know where you would find an egg down here. Were you carrying it ever since you arrived?”

You sit silently and consider the pile in front of you. An assortment of plant bits, a cutting board. A knife.

“You really are a fascinating person, Kris.”

You pick up the knife, and start slicing the vegetables. All of the plants are foreign to you, an arrangement of various shapes and colors. The ones that aren’t completely dark, have neon patterns or bioluminescent bits, though those seem to be fading the longer they sit lifeless on the table. You don’t remember seeing much plantlife on your walk through the kingdom. Perhaps you can use that as an excuse to go outside.

“Could you pass me the Basanine please?”

You look over the plants. You know he told you all of their names but you weren’t paying attention.

“It’s the block that you didn’t cut.”

Well that solves that. You grab the chunk from your pile and bring it to him. He takes out a lemon zester from the drawer and starts filing away pieces to mix into the pot. You make a mental note to pocket that once you get the chance. “Thank you very much, Kris. If you’re all done with the vegetables, why don’t you start laying out some rice paper? I’ll bring this to the table in a moment.”

You do as you’re told. Once the mixture cools, he brings it to the table and you both spread it across the paper. You add in the vegetables and roll them up and you’re done.

“Well done, Kris, perfect job.” The completed rolls sit in a nice line on the table. Ralsei takes a moment to admire them before pushing his chair back. “Well I should probably clean up first, but you can try one now if you’d like.”

You quickly stand up.

“What is it, Kris?”

You offer to do the dishes for him.

“Aw you are incredibly sweet, Kris. How about we do it together? Then we’ll be done in half the time.” And so you move everything to the sink. Ralsei washes and you dry, making sure to hide the lemon zester on you once you get it.

After a moment’s consideration, you also equip the knife and hope that Ralsei doesn’t notice.

Once the kitchen is set, you both sit at the table. Ralsei compliments you some more and makes small talk as you eat the rolls. They turned out pretty well actually. You really wish you could enjoy this, but the locked door to your left and the shackles to your right are difficult to ignore. Well, perhaps not for Ralsei. He seems to be very adept at ignoring things he doesn’t want to see. He looks rather content with just the food and your company.

Soon enough, your time together ends. He leads you to your chains and thanks you for the visit.

“I’m really glad you suggested this. It was fun making something together and getting to share a bit of my world with you.”

You suggest he share even more of it by giving you a tour.

“Yes that would be very nice, Kris. I’m sure we’ll get to it eventually. For now though, I have plenty of activities for the two of us in here.” He stoops to lock your shackles as usual and you slide the lemon zester in between the pieces.

Unfortunately, he notices that they don’t lock all the way and you have to slide it back out of sight before he sees. The cuffs lock and after a good test tug, he gives his usual farewell and leaves the room.

You pull the zester back out and begin filing at your chains. It’ll likely take a while for you to see any real progress this way. Luckily, you have nothing but time.

Chapter Text

Books again. You stare at him as he stares at the page, each turn of paper registering like ticks to an unbearably slow clock. Your dull file is a prison pipe dream, sanding away at material much firmer than its intent. Even if it were possible that it’d stay rough enough to make it all the way through, it would take ages and your captor would notice its deterioration long before your escape. You know that, and yet you spent the last untold hours before Ralsei’s arrival chipping away at a futile goal, as everything else in your life.

Angel above, this place is a vacuum against the soul. A musty room that reeks of solitude and desperation, an all consuming hopelessness tugging at the mind. And it’s so quiet.

Ralsei’s presence usually dictated at least some pointless small talk, but he’s been abnormally silent this whole visit. No rambles or unnecessary descriptions or attempts at conversation. It’s up to you to lead this anywhere.

You start with the standard ‘How do you do.’

He looks up startled out of his book, or his thoughts. “Oh, I’m fine thank you very much.” He pauses as though that’s the end of it, then remembers the next part of the niceties, “Mm, how are you?”

You affirm that you are also well.

He nods but does not continue the conversation.

You ask him if something is on his mind.

He pauses thoughtfully before resolving to confide in you, “I was thinking about what you and Susie told me, after we fought the king. You said we cannot always approach things with kindness. Sometimes there will be people that we just have to fight.” He looks weary, like he’s been running through this for a while now. “The issue is, how do you know when to be gentle and when you should not?”

That choice hasn’t really been up to you. The tugging at your heart usually opted for a peaceful resolution as did the majority of Hometown, even going so far as to avoid conflict entirely, at the expense of a choice few, concealed by ignorance and averted eyes. Yet those in your experience who used violence seemed to do so only against those they knew they could abuse. Cruelty towards a weaker party couldn’t really be considered a fight. So then, when have you seen violence justified? You deliberate until you find something fitting.

You fight when it’s not just a game anymore, when your life is seriously threatened and your opponent shows no signs of backing down. You tell Ralsei as much.

He curls in ever so slightly and reaches for his scarf, rubbing the fabric as he considers your statement. “But, all of the darkners we encountered in Card Kingdom also threatened our lives, and you showed them kindness, Kris. Thanks to you, we amassed so many friends, and they all are the reason we survived the king in the end.”

You want to scoff, but the same voice that directed you to spare no matter how many times it killed you now holds still your tongue. It’s easy for them to sit back and choose kindness when they aren’t the one in the line of fire. Funny how the dark world shows what you are in a much more honest light. You’re nothing more than a toy soldier, and your prince still needs an answer. You consider some more then tell him that you fight where kindness fails, when nothing else will get through.

He nods thoughtfully. “I see, thank you Kris.”

The longer you sit in this room, the more you wish you could teach him a lesson in violence directly. It certainly would be the simplest escape. Part of you hopes Susie is still giving him hell. The other hopes she’s grown some common sense.

“Have you had to do that before?” he pipes in, “Fight someone, I mean.”

Your mind flashes through a sequence of associations, conflicts you’ve seen, arguments you’ve overheard, fights with your brother, though you know that’s not what he means. People have certainly picked fights with you, but fighting back in the traditional sense never worked in your favor. Soon you learned not to try at all.

When you were younger you were vicious with anyone who disturbed you, kicking, biting, scratching, you were a real tornado, but then the kids got bigger and decided to make it a game. Break the horse, tame the freak. You got back at them in small ways, ants in their bed, swiping their favorite keepsakes, replacing their food with hygiene supplies, but you were useless in most physical matches and lashing out your old way only brought more discipline from the adults.

Sometimes though, it wasn’t up to you. That voice can be so fickle. Sometimes it will fight regardless of the consequences to you, sometimes it will spare, sometimes it’ll make you relive the moment so you can do both. In that sense, you have been forced to fight. You tell him yes.

“Why? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Because I’m actually just a puppet and sometimes I wonder if everyone else is one too. Alright, you don’t tell him that. You think to one of the times you elected to fight someone on your own. Because they wanted to hurt you.

“Oh, well self defense is certainly understandable,” he rubs a hand against his arm, “Do you know why they wanted to hurt you?”

They are bad people.

“Oh. Yes I’m sure they are, to hurt someone as sweet as you..” His hand travels to his ear. “Um, do you,” he’s not meeting your eye, “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

You know what he wants to hear, and you know what you want to say, but you also know it’s not your choice. You tell him no. His whole posture relaxes with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you very much, Kris. I know you’re not a bad person either. It was cruel of those people to hurt you in your past, but now that you’re here with me I promise that won’t happen ever again. I would never hurt you, Kris. You’re too special to me.”

Sufficiently peptalked, he gets out of his chair. “I’d like to go work on something now so I’ll be leaving you here, but there was something I wanted to say first. I’ve been thinking it over and really there’s no need for you to be locked up to the wall all this time while I’m gone. You can keep the blankets and the books and I’ll try to bring games whenever I visit so that you have plenty to do.”

You reel a bit at this development and he moves to your side of the table. “Thank you for being patient with me, Kris. I hope you know how much I appreciate you.” He hugs you goodbye and leaves the room with a smile.

You remain still for a moment then look at the door in disbelief. You get to your feet and rush to where Ralsei just left, quickly testing the doorknob. Locked, of course, but you’re in a much better position than before. Just one door and everything in the room at your disposal. Something is bound to work and for once you have a glimmer of hope.

Chapter Text

You observe the door, mind filing through the various parts holding it in place and the ways to take it apart.

First, you try running something in the crack between the door and wall on the side with the knob. Your zester, it doesn’t fit. The knife, it slides in but stops at the knob. Suppose that trick only works from the other side. There’s a sliver of space under the door but you don’t see any way to take advantage of that.

The hinges? If you can slide out the center of it, the hinge would come loose. You grab a fork from one of the drawers and use that to push the bit from below. It won’t budge. You grab your knife again and try hooking it under the flat top of the bit. After some finagling you get it in, but when you try twisting it to pull the bit up and out of the hinge, it loses its grip. You give it a couple more tries but that doesn’t seem to work either.

The door is way too heavyset for you to knock down as it is. Unscrew the knob? No, then you’d just be left without a door knob. You’ve been locked in a room like that before. It doesn’t help.

Really, your best bet is to pick the lock, but you can’t come up with anything thin and long enough to fit into the hole. Bobby pin, a needle, a wire hanger, the prong of that fork if you could detach it from the rest.

If Ralsei had a normal stove rather than an overglorified hotblock, then you could use the fire to melt the fork at the spot where the prong meets the grip until it becomes loose enough to snap off. That would work. You’ve done that before with Asriel when you made that angel doll.

All the kids had been making craft angels at church out of cardstock and cotton balls. They were small, generic things that got tossed out as soon as they went home, but you two teamed up to make the biggest most epic angel to grace the elementary kids’ room. You didn’t ever make it past the wings, but what wings they would’ve been! You cut out fancy twists and shapes along the edges, and the top corners curved upwards in sharp points, more like a dragon than the standard bird look everyone else opted for. You wanted to draw on a million eyes but Asriel wanted the plastic gems, so you compromised and drew pupils onto each of the gems he attached.

You quickly ran out of time and the mass of parents filtered over from their service to retrieve their kids. You ended up bringing it home with you and working off of the supplies you had there. After adding on quite a few more appliques, you realized that the giant wings sagged too much under the weight of their own amazingness. You suggested reinforcing it in the back like a kite, but you didn’t have any wooden dowels handy. What you did have were some forks, fire magic, and the sort of impulsive behavior and disregard for property that comes with being a small child. Together, you melted the prongs off and glued them into support beams along the wings. Eventually, the forging experience drew the attention of a very concerned goat mom and that was the end of that project.

It would be nice to have that ability now, or to have one of them with you, both for the convenient fiery escape and for the company. They were both such comforting presences. Sure, Asriel was a bonafide dork but he had a big heart, and he knew you. He knew when you needed space and when you needed to talk or a distraction. He was always so patient and understanding even when you lashed out or didn’t make sense.

Living in the same room, he was there for the bad nights, the ones where your body goes stiff and the shadows seem thicker and you can’t breathe and an invisible weight presses down on your chest and all you can do is stare and panic.

At first, he couldn’t know anything was wrong until the feeling had passed and you were curled up and shaking in bed, but after enough episodes, he was sure to keep an ear out for your struggled breaths across the room. The times in which he did notice, you would wake up to your big plush of a brother and his reassuring eyes. He’d talk with you until you could calm down again and allow him to sing you back to sleep.

Nowadays, the only time you see him by your bedside, his face disfigures into a gloppy white mess and melts out of sight with you motionless to reach him. You try to pretend it’s not there. Don’t struggle. Don’t panic. The less you fight, the sooner it passes. The first nights after he left were like sleeping with your foot out of the covers, cold and vulnerable.

That room had been home to plenty of intimate conversations, divulging fears and secrets, hopes and dreams. You more along the former half and Asriel dwelling in the latter. It was rare for him to open up about the things that bothered him, or at least anything more serious than exam jitters or an obnoxious classmate.

Seeing him break down over three open textbooks and a binder of papers, margins overflowing with notes, you had just thought it was finals biting at him. His eyes were wide and bore a hole through the books, his breathing a little more rapid than normal.

“I can’t do this.” It didn’t seem particularly directed at you but you picked up the baton of conversation anyways.

“Have the fractions finally got you?”

“Yeah, and not just them. It’s the integrals and the history timeline and covalent bonds, and other kinds of bonds, and college applications, and the list of clubs and community service that fills them up.”

“You always did put a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah and I can’t eat it all.”

“Well throw some away.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can. You already put all those clubs on the list, you can drop a couple now.”

“But I have a responsibility to them! I can’t just leave them now that I’ve got 'good kid' points with some colleges.”

“You don’t need points to be a good kid. That’s already who you are.”

“Kris..” his voice like a sigh, “Can I be honest with you?”

There’s really only one answer to a question like that. You nod your head.

“That’s-“

Not for you.

You’ve lingered long enough in those memories. You feel the edges of the table and press down on its wood to ground yourself firmly back into the present.

You breathe. You look at the door.

If you want that life back then you have to get through this door.

Yet even then, Asriel is gone. He may come and visit every now and then, but he’s no longer a constant in your life, and as he gets more wrapped up in his own, his appearances will become increasingly more rare.

You stare at the door, and soon enough the lock turns, and a young goat greets you with a smile.

Chapter Text

Ralsei pokes his head into the room. He pauses with a big smile, using the partially open door to obscure something from view.

From your position at the front of the room, you note that you must look like a dog awaiting its owner.

“I brought a gift for you today, Kris!” He announces cheerfully, turning towards the surprise with complete disregard for the vulnerable position it puts him in, the door open and his back to you.

You watch as he slowly wheels something large into the room. A wooden box on legs, with a thin arm reaching up over it and arcing down to a needlepoint. A record player.

It looks vintage, with thoughtful carvings around its bulk, but the wheels on the floor are much newer, like they were recently attached. The bottom half of the stand has been modified to hold shelves of records. Overall, the setup is more akin to those projectors they’d wheel into classrooms, than any traditional record player you’ve ever seen.

Once inside, he locks the door and gently pushes the gift to rest against a wall. “I know it can be very quiet around, especially when I’m not here, and that silence can be very overwhelming, probably even more so for you since you’re used to a much more active world, so I thought I’d share something that I used very often when it was just me in this castle.”

You walk over to the record player.

“I didn’t know what kind of music you’d like so I provided a variety of genres and songs that I really hope you’ll enjoy. You can test them out and listen to things at your own pace and preference.”

You run a finger along the carvings.

“My first idea was to get you a piano but that’d be a bit too much for me to carry, not to mention it wouldn’t have fit through the door, at least, not with all the good keys, haha.” He bites his scarf and watches you with hopeful eyes. “Do you like it?”

You pick up the arm of the machine and place the needle into a groove. Music hums out from the player and wraps the room in a soft melody.

“I do.”

He sighs in relief, “I’m so glad.” He closes his eyes to make room for the wide smile growing up the sides of his face.

The two of you sort through the songs. He points out the ones he likes and provides explanations for each disk. You listen to the beginning of a few different records and determine which ones you like best.

There are high tempo dance songs, swing, ballroom, even some ska. You nearly don’t recognize it without the cheesy messages of kindness and angels. Whoever thought it was a good idea to place worship drawl over an almost rock-jazz combo had no clue how hilarious it would sound, unless that was their intent. 

Asriel got a whole album of that stuff from Gran as a Gyftmas present. You could only imagine her disapproval at you curled up in laughter on the floor of your room as he let it play for the first time. As the good child that he is, he’d listen to it anytime she was in town to show how much he appreciates the gift, and every time, you’d have to steel your face like the guards in that one Monty Python skit. When he moved out to college, the CD was left behind with everything else he no longer needs. 

The songs here are all coated in an overlaying static that grants them a timeless feel. A couple have a certain nostalgia, though you know you’ve never heard them before. They make you want to sit back and drink in their bittersweet tune. 

You feel homesick. You listen anyways. As the song dwindles to an end, you try to settle on any one distinct memory but they all slip at the brink of attention like waking from a dream. The last note hits and you feel something drift away, something that won’t return.

You grab another record.

“Ah,” he gestures at the disk in your hands, “This one starts off simple Kris, but if you let it play a little while, it’s actually really pretty and complex.” 

You place it on the turntable and let it play.

He’s right. This one is very nice.

It’s calm. An easy to follow melody threads through the song as a sort of base. Additional notes make sweeping motions like a lapping river, and a higher key mingles, an occasional drip upon the flow of music. It’s like laying in the forest by the lake right after a rain, not entirely a hypothetical in your case. You’ve found yourself in that position on numerous occasions.

This song is also the only one so far with a vocal backing. There aren’t any distinct words, but you can tell a gentle voice reaches out as its own instrument. Your eyelids and shoulders droop, and you file this one away as a song for sleep.

As the next one plays, Ralsei invites you to take his hands. You look at his sincere face. He just wants you to enjoy this moment, to let yourself enjoy this. It’s only a moment isn’t it? You can allow a moment. You stand and the two of you sway, a rudimentary waltz, boxes around a boxed room. At least the ribbons on this cage are nice. At least you aren’t alone.

At home, you have no cage, but what good is a lonely freedom? 

Listen to that, soon you’ll be speaking in rhyme. 

Well you aren’t as isolated as all that. You have Toriel, kind, patient, trying to cure an emptiness of her own. She’s guarded, she’s a protector but not a confidante. Asgore, he certainly knows a thing or two about loneliness, and because of that he’s clingy and desperate. His eyes cry for companionship but all he’ll find is pity.

Noelle, the only one who still makes an effort to consider you since Asriel left. She’s nice to everyone, and yet she has no close friends in class. Her dad is keeping face in a hospital bed and her mom is hiding hers in the mayor’s seat. A huge house all to herself, at least on the days she can even manage to unlock the door. How is it that in a town so full of people, that everyone is so alone? Is that any better than an empty town?

You listen to slower songs. You aren’t that interested in dancing.

Eventually, Ralsei makes his way out the door, leaving the room to you once again. Almost by habit, you follow his tracks and examine the doorknob. A small, thin object…

You make your way to his gift. You casually lift your hand without the slightest bit of urgency and let it rest on top of the machine. In one motion, your fingers glide down towards the needle. You pick it up, and put in a new song.

Chapter Text

The music provides a nice reprieve. When a song is playing, you can sit down and close your eyes and imagine yourself back in your room. In order to break out, you have to use the needle from the machine, leaving you in momentary silence again, and so you only try intermittently, when your soul is beating for something new. 

In between attempts, you listen to music and think, of family, of home, of the past, of things all your own. As you think, something drags you to your feet again. Won’t they ever give up? Maybe if you sit down here long enough they’ll realize that there’s nothing for them and finally leave you alone. But that’s too much to hope for, you know they’re insufferably determined. And so you stand. You grab the needle and walk to the door. You fiddle with the lock halfheartedly. If you were going to break it, you would’ve done so by now. This is just a waste of time. You let yourself zone out as your hands do the motions, until you hear the lock turning. You snap back to attention. Did you do it? The door opens towards you, but you aren’t the one moving it.

Shit.

You step back to avoid getting hit by the door and see Ralsei. He looks up in surprise at you. “Oh Kris, what are you doing so close to the door? I didn’t hit you, did I?”

You back up some more to give the proper amount of space between you two. You explain that you were wondering when he’d return. You were getting lonely.

“Oh I’m sorry, Kris. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting so long. I must’ve been wrapped up in other things. But I’m here now. Let’s sit down.” He closes the door behind his back and you catch a glimpse of the needle still poking out of the knob. He begins to turn around to lock it as usual and you toss yourself to the floor with a yelp.

He immediately directs his attention to you and approaches quickly with concern. “Kris! Are you alright?!”

You nod but wince dramatically when he tries to touch you.

“Oh no, you’re hurt, here let me lift you onto this chair. Where is the worst? Is it just your leg? Let me see your arms.” You let him coddle you and send a healing spell over your nonexistent wounds. “What happened? Did you trip?”

You confirm that you weren’t paying attention and tripped on the chair leg.

“You need to be more careful of your surroundings, Kris.” Thinking back to the lock, you nod and promise to pay closer attention. You need to get that out sometime before he leaves. Or maybe, the door is unlocked right now… Would it be too risky?

He sits down next to you and you opt to bide your time.

“Well I’m glad you’re alright, because I’ve brought something I’ve been wanting to do with friends for the longest time.” He takes out little bundles of yarn in various colors. “Friendship bracelets!”

Oh, so the shackles didn’t count?

“Do you know how to make them, Kris? I can show you. I’ve been practicing all these years and even found a way to embed messages in them, kind of like my own special language, or a secret code!”

His excitement is infectious. You allow him to guide you in a simple braid with two green strings and two yellow.

Friendship bracelets. It’s so very Ralsei, the Ralsei of your travels, not the Ralsei that is your warden. You suppose they’re the same regardless. But it’s so sunny. It’s so sweet. It doesn’t fit. It’s uncomfortable. It’s fake.

He lets you handle the rest once you’ve got the pattern down, and picks yarn for his own. Black, brown, and orange- not the most colorful combination but you’re sure it has something to do with his “secret code.” You know he’d explain it to you if you asked, but you don’t really care to do so.

You need to focus. A way to get close to the door without being suspicious...

Ralsei braids his threads in a pattern much more complex than your own, though he doesn’t show any sign of difficulty or confusion. He even hums an unfamiliar tune under his breath. You’re glad he hasn’t noticed the silence of the room yet. That music player was a testament to how far you’d come. You had his trust, at least to an extent. You received gifts and food. If he were to catch you now, how much of that would go away? Certainly he’d continue to feed you, though maybe you wouldn’t get as much variety or flavor. He’d feel betrayed but he couldn’t be mad. It’s not like him. He’d likely withdraw somewhat, treat you more icily and most definitely keep an extra eye on you. It would make any future attempts at escape just that much more difficult. So then, you eye the door.

“How is yours coming along, Kris?”

You jump out of your thoughts and meet his expectant gaze. You toss your attention down to your strings and he follows.

“Ah did you get mixed up? It’s easy to zone out when doing something like this.” He reaches for the threads on the table. Sure enough, one of the green strings had gone astray. He pulls your work apart a few hitches and reminds you of the color pattern. You nod and thank him for the help. He accepts the gratitude wholeheartedly and you both return to your work.

You begin to scratch at your skin. Nothing has gone wrong yet but you can’t help but imagine everything that could. Each time he begins to speak, your brain fills it in with any number of concerning starters: Hey why is it so quiet in here? Ah what’s that in the door? or Oh, let me go grab something real quick.

Actually. You look at the door again, scan the objects nearby, then make a path in your head. You stand and announce that you are getting a snack.

Ralsei affirms the idea as a good one and you walk towards the fridge, careful not to rush your steps or otherwise draw attention to yourself. You skirt the edge of the room, veering your path close to the door, and put out a hand at the last moment, sliding the needle into your inventory without skipping a beat. You keep walking and allow a quiet sigh as soon as you’re properly hidden in the open fridge.

That taken care of, you can calm down and eye its contents: leftover salad, an unidentified fruit and a couple of dark candies. You pocket the candies and turn to go back to the table.

As you reapproach the door, however, some impulse throws you out and down the hall. You hear a shout behind you but you’re running. You rush with no direction further and further then to the right, the left? You search for windows or stairs. You don’t know what floor you’re on. You don’t know where Susie is. This wasn’t well thought out at all. You just needed to be gone. You pause and whip your head around, unsure of where to go and where you’ve already been. Then you’re in battle.

You turn and see Ralsei catching his breath, hands on his legs. He looks up and you see the utter betrayal you knew he’d feel. “Kris-” You can tell he wants to say something more but nothing fits. There’s some misplaced hope in his eyes, pleading with you to give some sort of explanation and come back peacefully. You both know exactly why you left.

You defend.

He takes that as his answer. “Kris, don’t do this. Let’s go back please.”

You stare him down until he makes a choice. He defends.

You act-> Check

RALSEI – AT 8 DF 12

The fluffy prince…

He defends, passing the turn to you.

“Kris, I understand you’ve put up with me for so long, and I’ve been such a terrible host. Whatever it is you want, we can talk it out and come up with a compromise.”

You don’t want to compromise. You want to go home.

You act-> Talk

You tell him you’ve been here long enough. It’s time to move on.

He visibly resists the thought. “We don’t need to though. You’re better down here. If it’s not to your liking we can always change things up. I can get you a new room, a more comfortable one, and we can walk the gardens and I can show you how to collect the best plants.” You’re forced to let him ramble until he passes the turn back to you.

You act again, this time changing your approach. You tell him that sounds very nice. You say there are some people you need to speak to back home and some things to take care of, but that you’d be happy to walk the gardens when you get back.

He looks at you surprised but hopeful. He scans your face and you put on a reassuring smile to add credibility. He looks down. “Kris, I- I don’t think I believe you.”

He defends.

You act. You assure him that it must be difficult to trust people when you’ve grown up all alone, but you appreciate his company very much and would hate to leave him forever.

He processes your words, very clearly wanting to buy it. “Then, why did you run away?”

You flounder through your mind for a response. You say it was a spur of the moment decision, certainly he could understand those.

“My impulsive decision was to keep you close to me. Yours was to get far away.”

You don’t have a response. He defends.

You weigh your options.

Act -> Check, Talk, Obey

Fight, Item, Defend

All you have in items are a lemon zester, those tough plant parts, a couple dark candies, and a needle. You still have a knife equipped.

You try to talk once more. You tell him to end the battle before someone regrets it.

“You can end this at any time, Kris.”

You look Ralsei in the eye. He doesn’t waver. You fight. With a slash of the knife, you cut him down by 5 HP. He recoils back then gives a look worse than the first betrayal. You don’t meet his eye. He defends again. You fight. And so you go on, fighting and defending, with the occasional plea from Ralsei for you to cease the battle. ‘ We don’t need to fight. We can come up with another solution ’ and so on. This continues until he reaches half of his health. Once it’s his turn again, he hesitates over the Defend option.

“Kris. When is it okay to fight?”

The question he asked you earlier. Back then you’d told him that you fight when nothing else will get through. Right now you hold your tongue.

“Will anything else get you to stay?” He asks fully hoping that there is some other route that you haven’t clued him into yet. He considers your silence, then with a sigh, he chooses to fight.

It’s not much, just 3 HP off your meter. His ATK power is higher than that. You know he doesn’t want to do this. You continue to fight.

He sends another attack. You dodge. With the headstart you have on his HP, it won’t be long until he’s down to zero. Maybe then he’ll finally give up. Then again, he does have healing powers, and enough TP to make use of it. He’ll keep healing himself and this’ll never end. You need to try something new.

You check your options again.

Act -> Check, Talk, Obey

Obey

“What?” he blinks at you.

You tell him you’ll go back now.

“Really? You- oh good! That’s great. You had me so worried, Kris, I- wouldn’t know what to- if you,” a relieved sigh, “Here.” He passes the turn back to you, then motions the scarf from its defensive pose into a tight figure eight. He wants you to put your hands in it. “Just for the walk to the room.”

You step forward -> Fight. He loses 18 HP.

Wide eyes, he hugs himself close and doesn’t respond. He’s at 17/70. His breath is irregular and it takes several long seconds before he readies another attack.

You dodge most of it and take only partial damage. You fight. He fights. You fight. He fights. You fight. He’s at 5 HP. He doesn’t heal. The turn is yours.

You defend. He fights. It goes on like this. Not all of the attacks hit you but your HP steadily goes down nonetheless. You use a couple candies. You try gnawing at the Blanc reeds. They hurt to chew on and only end up providing 2 HP. Ralsei is shaking. Why won’t he heal! You’re out of items. Certainly he wouldn’t…

You don’t know what Ralsei would and wouldn’t do. Your body thumps loudly, your heart most of all. Each slash makes you keel over and clutch at your stomach, your arms, the aching cavity where your soul should be.

You act -> Talk. You tell Ralsei that he’s hurting you.

He stops, his breath catching in his throat.

You tell him to look at you.

He stares into the floor.

You call his name.

His breathing grows faster and his whole body begins to rock.

You call him again, this time reaching out and arcing his face up to yours. He jumps at your touch but doesn’t escape. He looks you over. Magic doesn’t leave the same kind of scars, but anyone can see how beaten you look. Your body weighs down at the sides, and you can’t allow too much pressure on your right foot. It buzzes with the static of a limb that’s fallen asleep. All of you is so tired. He has to see that.

He looks at your HP: 28/90. He places shaky hands on your shoulders. You try to catch his eyes but they’re so distant. They look right at you but you can’t read them. You can’t see inside. And as the moment slips by, your chance is gone.

Ralsei cast pacify.

Chapter Text

You wake up on the floor of your room. The top part of your body weighs forward. It would lie flat against the floor if not for your arms holding you back.

You stare down, your mind taking its time to wake along with you.

Emotion creeps in, panic, anger.

You did this. You were too impatient and you screwed it all up. You had things under control. It was fine. You were fine, but you’re never content with that. You can’t let things be fine. You push and manipulate and run and disregard consequence- there is always consequence, but you think you’re above it all.

Maybe you are. But others aren’t.

Your head hangs lower.

You don’t care. You never have. And so here’s the mess.

You’re back where you started and then some. Not only have you returned to these shackles but now Ralsei knows you’re playing the long haul and will assume any small freedom is another step closer to you leaving. Which means he won’t be giving you any… so then, you’ll have to take them from him. You’ve certainly accepted anything he’s said or done so far, with a grain of salt of course, or more like a pitcher of the stuff, but nonetheless, you’ve lived a passive taking for so long. It’s time to grab your freedom for yourself and quit being a coward.

But that’s reckless. Recklessness isn’t safe. Recklessness isn’t productive. That’s what got you into this mess. You need plans and order or, at the very least a semblance of control. You can’t lose that. Not just yet.

You sit there, indecisive, struggling. When you can’t make a choice, one is always made for you. You hate losing choices. You hate making them.

Ralsei enters the room.

For a moment, the silence lasts and you both size up the other. He is timid, hope dulled in his eyes yet still there regardless. He holds a defensive stance, as if you could pose any real threat here. Maybe he fears your words. You feel a sense of power in that. You hold condemnation on your tongue.

He breaks the silence with a meaningless greeting. Of course. You watch him settle at the table, and he attempts a friendly starter, with no mention of recent events. If he is going to pretend it didn’t happen, then you can follow suit. You ask if he’ll release you from your chains.

He stops his speech. He makes no motion to comply but stares off devising some sort of response. Ultimately he just says, “No.” Then continues with what he was saying before.

You interrupt him again to ask why.

He seems confused. “You know why I can’t do that, Kris. I- I can’t trust you to act reasonably right now.”

Neither can you really, but you’ll insist regardless. You tell him he can trust you.

“I’d like to Kris, but I really can’t. At least not now.”

You tell him he can trust you because you are friends.

He predictably chokes up. Less predictably, he stands from his seat and rushes towards the door, “Not now, I-“

Wait! You call out for him. He pauses, giving you a moment to piece together your next move.

You can’t stay like this. Your hands itch at the cuffs and you can feel the restless energy already settling in. Mind and body shackled in a box already so small. Stuck for hours, years, eternities- outside of time it’s all the same. Your breath is short and concerned at the very thought, a damned existence. You can’t go back to this.

You tell him it was a mistake. You say you didn’t mean to, you didn’t want to, you won’t do it again. You ask him not to leave, and you let yourself sound desperate, and you let yourself sound vulnerable.

He can’t leave. He dares a look in your direction. You’re absolutely pitiful, a small lump of a human tied against a wall, a child in hero’s clothing. He inches towards you.

“You- you promise you won’t run away?”

You promise.

“I don’t know if-“

You promise, and gulp down any indignation you may feel for having to beg for the simplest freedoms.

He looks at you intently, then sighs in resignation, relief, it’s unclear, but ultimately he agrees to free you of your chains, if only for the duration of his visit.

A heavy sigh and you let your body droop all the more, proffering yourself fully to his mercy.

He returns to your side and you feel the metal loosen its hold. Once he has them completely off, you do not run, you do not stand. You sit, head lowered, and wait for direction.

“Before we go any further, I have a request. Would you hold this for me?”

You turn your head to see what he offers. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t whatever this is. He cups an odd blue gunk in his hands. It’s in that liminal existence between solid and liquid, enough to hold its form, though the edges imply it would rather spill out over every surface.

Ralsei reads your confusion and explains further, “It’s residue from the squirmle caves nearby. It’s not dangerous or unsanitary, it is just a bit troublesome to contain, and it stains.”

That answers the what but not why. He motions it towards you and it bobs into your hands. Sure enough, his own are marked a slight blue and reflective like he’d been handling glitter. You toss it into your inventory to free your hands as well and it splats, taking up all of the slots. Those must have been emptied after your last battle, even your knife is unequipped.

“If you drop some of that to free space, it’s sure to leave a noticeable mess, so hold on to it tight Kris. I wouldn’t want you sneaking around items like last time.”

So that’s what he’s doing. You suppose it’s only fair to trade one freedom for another. If this is all you have to suffer, then at least you won’t be much worse off than before.

He gestures you towards the table and you comply. Your body straightens out from its slumped position on the floor, but your head doesn’t follow, still bowed down under the weight of self inflicted deference. You sit and stare holes into the tabletop until Ralsei grabs your hand. You instinctually flinch from the contact.

“It’s alright, Kris. I’m not going to harm you.”

You know he won’t. You’re doing as he wants. You’re following the rules. But you’ve never been so aware of his power before now. One wrong move and things could be so much worse. So you have to be cautious. You have to be wise.

“Here,” he moves away, “I’ll make us some hot chocolate to calm things down.”

You wait silently at the table as he prepares the drinks. You can’t say the wrong thing if you say nothing at all. Not to mention you don’t have much energy to come up with words anyways.

Out of curiosity you check your stats, your HP much lower than you’d anticipated. You figured he’d return you to full health or at least something near it as apology, but he’d left you halfway. It’s enough that you needn’t worry about falling in a few hits, but the missing points leave you worn and prone to outside control. It minimizes the threat of you cornering him again and makes you that much closer to the natural threshold of pacify. The shadow over your eyes darkens.

“Here you go, Kris.” He sits down across from you and gently slides a drink. You cup your hands around it, taking in its warmth, but not too close since the mug is still too hot for touch. You stare into the contents, a light brown about the shade of milk chocolate. The steam wafts up its sweet scent. You lift it to your mouth for a sip, eyes closed. It’s still incredibly hot as it pours down your throat, pulling at the corner of your eyes. You dare a glance at the goat in front of you and quickly set the cup back down. You hold onto the edge of the table and note the harsh stone floor, the rough walls, the flickering torch light, and remind yourself that you aren’t there.

Once you’re settled back into the world, you find you’ve lost your appetite for the treat. You toy with the heat of the cup instead, seeing how long you can hold it before it burns, shifting its contents to reveal a deeper tone under the creamy top. You swallow and can barely feel the residual taste from your first sip.

Ralsei has no qualms in drinking his own and doesn’t chastise you for avoiding yours. You push it off until it’s too cold to be worth drinking at all.

He sighs into an empty cup. Is he content just sitting here with you? Is he upset? You wait in silent trepidation as he pauses before adding anything more.

“I must be getting tired. We’ll have to pick this up another time. Would you head back to your spot, Kris?”

You’re frozen in your seat. That was too quick. You don’t want to- You can’t go back, not so soon. Your heart speeds, your breath quietly matching its uneven rhythm.

“Kris. You aren’t going to be difficult again, are you?” It’s more firm than you’re used to from him. He stands and slowly walks to your side. You realize that you’re shaking. You jump at the touch of a soft paw on your shoulder.

“Shhh,” he brushes the space where your hair meets your neck, allowing strands to comb through his fingers in a slow, reassuring lull. “It’s alright Kris. You aren’t stuck. You are safe.” His voice is hushed, gentle. “I’ll be back soon and you’ll be right out again. You need to do this, Kris.”

Your heart slows somewhat under his careful voice and soothing touch, but you don’t want to go. You hate being trapped and you hate the silence that stretches out the minutes into lifetimes. But you worry about consequences more, about not cooperating and being locked away for even longer. You had to beg for your few minutes unchained and you can’t let that slip away again.

Eventually he coaxes you up from the chair, then over to the wall, to your spot, your sad, impromptu bed of pillows and blankets barely cushioning the cold floor. You try not to think as you kneel down, as your arms stretch behind you, and as irons close tight to your wrists. You don’t listen as he says some parting word. You don’t look as he walks out of the room. You fall to your side and stare intently. Still trembling, you try to empty your thoughts and call upon a numb cloud to overtake your mind.

Chapter Text

Pretending can only last you so long. Pretending not to feel, an act so fragile that it’s broken by the slightest shift in your chains, by a passing thought, by a heartbeat. Why do you even have to try? Usually feeling numb is something that comes naturally to you, without any input or consent, like many things you’ve endured. You’re such a passive vessel in your own life can you really call it yours?

A different game of pretend is easier, sunnier even, pretending to be somewhere else. Ralsei has that one down to an art. You aren’t in a hollow box with hollow figures, you’re in a home with family. This unruly nest of fluff is a bed. His visits are quality time with a trusted friend. He can dress this dingy ruin as a spectacular castle, a game of dolls as a meaningful relationship.

And sometimes you can too. You can pretend that you’re home, that you’re somewhere safe and warm, that he’s someone you know, someone you miss. It only lasts a moment. It also breaks too easily.

And all you’re left with is a cold reality. Silence.

Silence.

S i l e n c e.

You’re too tired to scream. It’s dragged your voice into silence too.

You fester on a blank page until he walks in. After all, there’s no story without him.

Ralsei’s at the door. He smiles, he greets you, he frees you. The start of every day. A new rhythm. You need no sun to mark the time. Day is when Ralsei is here. Night is when he is not.

He leads you to the record player and asks you to pick a song. You grab the nearest one and he lets it play.

Noise, brilliant noise breaks the atmosphere and suddenly you can breathe again. You grab the edges of the music box and drink in its vibrations, each wave pulsing on beat with the tune.

“This was a good gift,” he muses from behind you, “I wasn’t sure what to get you, but I knew it had to be something good, something that made you feel the same joy you give to me.”

You stay silent, holding the box close.

After a minute of listening, he speaks up again, holding a different disk, “I noticed you liked this one.” He gets close to pull the needle away and you slide away as well. A new song pumps through the horn, smooth, steady. It has a simple beat, melodic undertones, then it sweeps off into a beautiful and energetic piano piece.

That’s right, you did like this one. You’d like to learn to play it if you got the chance. You hadn’t played the piano in a while, current situation aside. You didn’t own one yourself, so you only had stolen moments, at the hospital, the school, the church. They tried getting you to play for the Sunday service, so you had to stop practicing there. It wasn’t a skill you were pushed into, but it wasn’t frowned upon either. It brought you calm, and if it kept your mom satisfied as well then all the better.

The song closes in a neat resolution. That’s the thing about music. It makes sense. It has its own journey that’s not complicated by words and motives.

Ralsei puts on another familiar record, the river song from that first time. You never asked its actual name, nor did you for any of the others, but you remember this as the one for sleep. Its lulling tune breathes a somber melody that mists the environment in a cool serenity. You focus on the music, listening in for the elements that draw this effect. It’s the echoed notes, a gentle chime above the harmony. It’s the deep bass coursing in unhurried song. You listen to the voice softly in the background, its hum is familiar. You let it flow, tasting it like a fine wine until you can place it. It’s the call of the fountain.

That day right before you were supposed to leave, the two of you, it rung silently as if from within yourself. You wonder if she heard it too. You wonder if she remembers that day. It was ages ago now. How is she? You haven’t asked in so long. He wouldn’t tell you. Is she in a room like this too? Is she still fighting?

You look at Ralsei. You look for any signs of wear or worry. He has been tighter, more cagey lately. His fur a little less kempt, his eyes a little more dead. Looking at them now, you realize how much you’d avoided them and how much he’s avoided you. They aren’t just dead, they’re wrong. There’s something in them that scares you but that you can only see when he looks directly at you.

You shudder. He changes the song.

For the duration of the visit, he lets you pick the records, paying close attention to the reactions they pull from you. When you’re happy, he’s pleased. When you’re disinterested he suggests another.

When he had first gifted this record player to you, you’d started to grow complacent. You were swept up in the calm and wanted to believe that everything was alright. You can’t let him have this though. No matter what you pretend, you need to keep a resolve in your heart or else this truly is your fate.

While the music plays, you wander the room, swaying as though focused solely on each song, idly drifting your hand across and under surfaces. You search for a spot you can hide the residue that fills up your inventory, even just enough to free up one space, but the room is too open, the drawers and cupboards too risky, the cracks beneath furniture too simple to notice if you were to attempt.

Ultimately, you can’t find a place to your liking and your time ticks down with the fade from one song into the crackling of empty space. You look to the record player, ready to grab another disk, but you stop at Ralsei’s silent stare. It doesn’t hold ill intent. He just seems comfortable to watch, assessing you. You can’t really tell his thoughts from here. Regardless, he breaks his gaze a moment after you notice.

“That was nice,” he states honestly.

The record continues to scratch at itself until Ralsei gets his bearings and removes the needle. The room returns to dull silence. You both stand in it for a while.

“You really like music. That’s something true to you. You can’t be yourself, but I still see you. I know you. You won’t get that from other people.” He says it sincerely. It sounds true.

“Come on.” He makes his way to the chains.

Maybe a part of you wants to stay put in defiance, but it’s not very strong. You follow close behind and return to a position that better facilitates the process.

He binds your wrists. You lean back against the wall and close your eyes as if he’s already gone. With a farewell and a locked door, he really is, and the chapter closes, leaving you in silence again. It’s a long night.

Chapter Text

Your arm is pinned uncomfortably under you as you lay to one side. You twist and adjust to redistribute your weight but decide to try a different position instead. You pull up your knee and push with your foot and elbow to leverage yourself back into an upright position. You loll your head back against the wall then forward into free space. When neither of those are suitable, you lean onto your other side. You can feel the stretch of the muscle opposite your relaxed ones and pull yourself back up to roll your spine. You try crossing your legs. You try stretching them out, but no matter what, you can’t stay comfortable for long. You’ve been restless lately, barely scraping together a night’s sleep over interrupted dozes.

You scratch lightly at your inner thigh instead, skin starting to peel in spots at your constant picking. They’d bleed for a bit, then scab over, then you’d scratch the scabs. It was an idle action, an old habit. It would take a concerted effort to stop at this point and there really was no reason to try.

Ralsei hasn’t noticed the scars yet. You find that pretty funny.

With this extra time awake though, you have managed to settle on a place to hide the residue: right here in your sheets. Neither of you pay much attention to this area when you aren’t in it, and while you’re here, you can make sure to shield the hiding spot from sight. Now all that’s left is to find something useful to fill its space.

You should be more careful with how and when you escape this time. If you make a plan, you can avoid the flaws of an impulsive attempt.

Thinking productively like this makes you feel a little less helpless and fills your day with purpose. You don’t understand how Ralsei could sit here alone, doing aimless projects for eternity. You suppose that’s why he trapped you here in the first place.

You wonder if having prisoners has done anything to fill that emptiness in his heart. You doubt it. He’s still alone. He’s still stuck doing nothing at all.

And how about you? Back in the Light World, did you have any purpose there either?

You shake that from your mind. You’ve been down that line of thought before. It counters what you’re trying to maintain here, drills down your resolve.

You shift in your chains again. You wish you could sleep.

You lay back down on the floor. It hurts to put all your pressure on one shoulder but it’s no use trying to find a better position. You stare at a table leg until Ralsei returns.

You sit up before he reaches you so that you can better block the lump under your blanket. All proceeds as normal. He lets you free, sets up some music and begins a meal for the two of you.

Most of the ingredients here are unfamiliar to you, but the end result always has the impression of something you’ve had before, whether it be the texture, taste, or general appearance, though you can’t say you’ve had glowing or cyan food in the Light World.

Today’s meal is most similar to a pasta dish, with a bread roll on the side. The roll looks thoroughly charred, but when you give it a bite, it’s soft and sweet like melon bread. As a general rule, dark foods here tend to be sweet, cyan foods have more of a plant or vegetable taste, and white depends entirely on what it’s paired with.

You pick up a fork and try the pasta. The taste really doesn’t deviate from what you’d expect. You prefer the feel of this over the kinds you’ve had in the Light World. Oftentimes the sauce there gave noodles a slimy feeling that you didn’t enjoy, especially when it’s overwhelmed with cheese. It feels stringy and gross that way. This pasta is mostly dry. It has the flavors you’d associate with an oil based sauce without the slick texture.

Thinking on it now, everything here seems to be fitted to your tastes. You haven’t had any sensory issues, from your food at least. The environment is another problem entirely.

Another thing you notice as you fiddle with your fork, is how none of your meals come with knives anymore. He cuts anything that needs it ahead of time, and he certainly hasn’t invited you to cook with him again. An obvious precaution. You’re surprised he didn’t think of that before your fight.

A fork can still be useful though. You twirl it between your fingers. It’s still pointy enough for a weapon and the blunt side… You glance at your chains. It might be flat enough to fit into those screws in the vent.

How noticeable would it be if you didn’t hand it back to him when he does the dishes? Pretty noticeable.

Well, what if you did the dishes yourself. That worked once before. Would he really let you do it again?

“Are you not hungry, Kris?”

You look to Ralsei and then your plate. You pick up some food as response.

“Is it good? I’ve tried making things that you’ll like. Would it be better if I could make it more like Light World food? The colors aren’t quite the same but I can fix that, and the flavor or the scent if need be.”

Normally you’d just let him ramble, but the lack of sleep has made you a bit contrarian.

You ask how he knows what Light World food tastes like.

“Uh- From, well, books! Descriptions recorded from the times that the Lightners visited. It’s all I have really, so I’d love your feedback.”

You huff and continue your meal.

“Mm, what’s your favorite food from out there?”

You look to your plate, deciding if you want to bother with that question, then you think of home.

You think of the scent of sweets wafting through the air. Freshly baked pie, cookies, chocolate. Then of meals- you tended to prefer the sides instead of the entrées- rice, edamame, and so on. Though you were a fan of stews and soup. You miss your mom’s soup, the smell, the warmth.

You miss warmth. It’s not cold here, but it’s not warm either. You miss the feeling of sitting in the sun or cuddling under a blanket. Somehow you feel you wouldn’t get the same effect here. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to hug Ralsei. You don’t like hugs much, not the big encompassing ones, the pressure, the feeling that you can’t move, but you can handle them when it’s on your own terms. It helps that your family is so comforting and soft.

“Do you miss them?” 

Your thoughts must read on your face.

But why ask that? No good can come from you thinking of home. He wants you complacent. He should want to erase that from your mind.

Maybe he’s feeling guilty.

You stare at him.

“It’s nice here,” he defends, “It’s quiet and simple. We have music and good food and each other. And we can do anything you’d like. We can make it better than anything you could have up there.”

You ask if he’d like to go to the Light World.

“I can’t do that,” he looks aside with a sad look, “It’s not possible. I don’t have enough physical matter to survive out there.”

You ask if he Wants to go.

“Well,” he pauses, “Yes. Absolutely.”

You ask why.

“I’d- like to see the sun, and the ocean. The sky and clouds. Green forests and fields, flowers. All the people…” He stares as if he’s trying to visualize it.

You explain the feeling of the sun, the heat tingling across your skin, the grass and leaves at your back, wet with dew.

“That sounds lovely…”

You both imagine for a while, then he pulls up a new topic.

“We have a lake here. It’s not the same as water in the Light. You don’t feel it the same way.” He thinks of how to explain. “It’s like a puddle of wind. It’s soft and smooth on your skin when it passes by. It feels like floating. Ah but you float in water too. Hm, it’s like floating on air, or on a cloud. When you dive under, there’s such a light quality. You’re swimming through space. It’s cold, but in a refreshing way.”

He mulls it over then adds, “We have some tall places too, where you can see the whole kingdom stretched before you. And the stars. They aren’t just above you like in the Light World, they’re all around, like floating lanterns in the sky. You’ve seen some already in your travels. Even the roof of this castle has some beautiful views.”

You suggest the two of you visit it sometime.

“Another place would probably be better. That’s too close to the fountain.”

Just like Card Castle then. That’s good to know.

An outline builds in your head, less of a plan and more of a list of goals: Escape your room, free Susie, get to the roof. You’ll have to figure out the ‘how’ for each step individually.

You take a bite of your food then focus on gathering intel. 

You tell Ralsei that he’s so nice to you.

He doesn’t seem to know what to say at first, flustered at the sudden praise. “Of course Kris. Kindness is the language of caring, and I care for you so much.”

His beaming smile makes you sick.

You tell him that he’s kind to everyone.

“Well, I try to be. Everyone should be kind to one another so that we can build a world rooted in friendship and cooperation.”

You act impressed at his declaration, then ask if there’s anyone that he isn’t kind to.

He pauses. “Well, it is very difficult to be kind to those that continuously harm me.”

You ask if he’s kind to Susie.

His eyes widen and you can tell this is a subject he’d much rather avoid, but he isn’t as desperately evasive as the last time you asked.

“I give her all the kindness she’ll allow.” He settles on this response as if that’s all there is to say on the subject. It provides you absolutely no details and you’re not sure how to pry from there.

Instead you cut to the point and ask how she’s doing.

“Stubbornly. Though I think she’ll change her attitude soon.”

That doesn’t sound good. You ask what makes him say that.

He scans you before making a response. “You must be so concerned since you haven’t seen her in a while. Don’t worry, I’m still working on a get together for the three of us.”

You ask what he’s doing with her. A hint of urgency sneaks into your voice and ruins the remnants of your nonchalant curiosity.

“I think that’s enough for now, Kris. You’re getting worked up. I don’t want you to worry over something you don’t have to.”

That does quite the opposite for your worries, not that he cares in the slightest.

He looks to your empty plate instead and goes to grab yours as well as his own. You hold it tight.

“What’s wrong?”

You stand up, plate and fork firm in your grasp, and you march to the sink. You need to get out of this place. You need to get away from him. And this fork is the first step to that.

“Kris, please don’t be upset. You’ll get to see her as soon as it’s safe, I promise.” He follows close behind.

You wash your dishes then stiffly take the ones from his hands, adopting his excuse as your own.

“It won’t be long now, another week or two I’m sure.”

Week? How long has it been already? How much longer before your escape? You pocket the fork and leave the rest unceremoniously in the sink. 

“We don’t have to end things on this note,” he pleads, “Come, let’s listen to some music.”

You head straight to your chains. He sighs and follows.

“Kris please, don’t start getting stubborn now too.”

You sit down. You want him out of here as quickly as possible. Once he’s gone, you can get to escaping, or at the very least, compiling a plan.

He shackles you in place then adds, “Things could be much worse.”

His tone is ice, and so is your body. That wasn’t a defense of his own actions. That was a threat.

Once again, your mind wanders to Susie. What has she been going through, at his hand?

Your chains are secured to your wrists now, but Ralsei’s hand lingers a moment longer. Music still plays, struggling against the stagnant air.

He stands then heads towards the sink instead of the music player. He arranges the dishes on a towel to dry then quietly crosses to the records. He shuts off the music and leaves you without another word.

You wait a couple beats to fully ensure he’s gone, and then a few more to process this fear. Then, you resolutely pull the fork from your inventory. With some effort, you slide the blunt end against the vent and into a screw on one corner.

Against all odds, it fits.

Chapter Text

The fork repeatedly falls out of place as you loosen and tighten the screws of the vent over and over. It takes some practice but you can safely undo them as needed, and it becomes comfortable busywork for your hands. The top two corners are a little more difficult to do since you have to bend your wrists in an odd way, so you fidget with the bottom two instead.

You could undo them all and attempt an escape now. You still don’t know where Susie is though. You won’t leave without her. So you’d just be wandering aimlessly and increase your chances of getting caught.

You still haven’t been able to sleep.

How could you with Susie on the mind? With conditions like this? How have you slept at all this whole time?

You fill the space with useless thoughts. Thinking over your journey, wondering if there was any way to prevent this outcome. If you were less nice. If you were more perceptive. If you emphasized that you’d be back. If you’d helped him build other relationships. If you’d left without telling him.

You think about how he acted then and how he acts now. You can’t be certain how reliable your memories are but he’d felt more genuine then, maybe. He was certainly less assertive. He was more compassionate, more naïve. You actually can’t say he’s changed all that much. And that makes it worse.

You think about home, about if anyone has felt your absence, about what will happen if you- when you return. Sure maybe people are grieving, but then they’ll find comfort in each other, then they’ll come to terms, then they’ll start to heal, then you’ll show up and destroy that. Either you’ll spiral them back weeks or months of personal development or they’ll have fully moved on and not have a place for you anymore. You never had a huge impact in town anyways. Only your family would really care.

What would that do to them? What is that currently doing to them?

You think of Susie. When you think of Susie, your mind goes blank. It wants to fill in a million horrible details. It wants to go wild over what she could possibly be going through. But it goes blank instead. It says, you don’t want to know.

Things could be worse.

You’re chained up on the floor of a room you haven’t left in who knows how long, but you’re allowed to get up. You can be unlocked for a period of time and eat nice food and do stupid but at least superficially pleasant activities.

The obvious first tier is that she doesn’t have these luxuries. She’s likely chained all the time, maybe less palatable meals, no games or crafts. How much deeper does it go? Little handcuffs wouldn’t be enough to hold her this long. Hell, she managed to beat up a castle guard without leaving her cell. What precautions would Ralsei have to take? She’d be tied up, heavily enforced, maybe with magic. You doubt he’d want to get within a close proximity of her, but he still has to feed her right? There must be some barrier between them at all times.

He says she’ll be ready to meet you soon. How is he making her more cooperative? You can only think of torture. What would he be willing to do? What is he capable of? You think of sharp items and chemicals, of the stuff you read in books: a chair of spikes that you can’t sit on fully, or stringing her up by her wrists to forbid her from properly supporting her own weight and possibly cutting off blood flow, sticking her feet in boiling water. He has fire magic. He can make her sit inside of a magical fire, feeling the full burn of it without killing her.

You think of her screams echoing down the halls. You think of her twisting in pain, crying out, but no one is there to help.

The prongs of the fork dig into your hand and it takes much longer than it should for you to notice.

No one is here to help you.

You need to help yourself.

You’ve always helped yourself. You’ve always faced things on your own.

There were other people. They would have helped if you let them but you always came up with some excuse.

You could handle it yourself. It wasn’t that important. You didn’t want to bother anyone. If you bothered them they wouldn’t like you anymore. You were just a burden.

You’re so enveloped that you don’t notice footsteps in the hall.

Ralsei opens the door and you quickly halt your thoughts. You ensure all the screws are tight, and pocket the fork before he can reach you, then cover the area of hidden residue, all slowly enough that the actions wouldn’t draw his attention. He greets you and unchains you without incident, and you resist a sigh.

He sets some music on then gets to work in the kitchen. He has the kettle out so it’ll be tea or cocoa today, likely with a pastry or snack food. You settle in at the table and calm your nerves.

It’s an easy rhythm with Ralsei, every day a game. Your goal this time is to uncover Susie’s whereabouts. With that, you’ll have the last piece to make a run for it, and from his prior comment, you’re certain she’s been alone in this prison too long.

Once calm enough, you try to apply your musings and his previous sinister air onto him, but it doesn’t stick. A small, soft goat humming to himself while making a warm drink certainly doesn’t match the image of a stone cold torturer. You know that’s a dangerous flaw. You can’t underestimate him. It’ll get both you and Susie hurt even more.

The kettle boils and he serves into two mugs. Hot chocolate then. The drink has always been a comfort to you. In addition to your natural sweet tooth, it has sentimental value. It tasted like Home. Not home as in your house, that taste would be more cinnamon and butterscotch, but the taste of what Home means. It’s comfort, security, reassurance, company.

It hasn’t been that long since the last time he made this for you. You try to think back. He hands you a mug and you accept its warmth.

Right after your fight. He’d freed you from your chains after making you beg. You were such a mess. You hold onto the heat and wonder if you could do it again. If something went wrong. If the plan isn’t perfect. How far does his forgiveness stretch, and are you willing to test that line?

You remember his threat. You think of Susie.

“We should make cookies soon. I think it’d pair nicely with the hot chocolate.” His voice jars with the image in your head. Could he really be two people? How can someone alternate so severely?

“Though maybe that would be too sweet together. I guess we won’t know until we try. With the way you love sweets though, I’m not sure any amount would be too much.” He teases the last part at you.

You drink some of your cocoa. It’s as delicious as always. Didn’t you have some the first day you were here too? It’s hard to remember anymore. You were hesitant to consume anything, not sure what he may be playing at. Now though, you have a better grip on his intentions, and a poisoned meal isn’t in the plan.

He takes a sip of his mug.

“How about some cake? I think we have a few slices left in the fridge,” he offers.

You nod and he goes to grab some.

You agree to most all his suggestions. It’s no use arguing over harmless stuff like food choices or the activity of the day, and most of the time you don’t have an opinion on the matter anyways.

It has set up a particular power dynamic though. His suggestions feel less like suggestions when they’re always followed up by action. It’s only when he “suggests” you do something you’d rather not, like returning to your chains, that you realize just how much power lies behind his words. He speaks, you follow.

He returns with the cake. He passes a slice to you, then bites into his own.

“Hm, it’s better when it’s fresh. Don’t you agree?”

You go to taste yours but notice he didn’t hand you a fork. You look beside his plate to see if he has the spare, but the only fork in sight is the one in his hand.

You raise your eyebrows to ask but he speaks up before you can.

“A fork right? I only grabbed one since you already have your own.”

You stare as he takes another bite. Your eyes are wide, breath hitched, as your brain tries to fill in any explanation other than what you think he meant.

You glance at the door. You saw him lock it. You should have run when you had the chance.

“Yes, Kris, I know. But you don’t have to worry so much. I’m not upset with you.” He says it so calmly. How long has he known?

“I’m just, disappointed.” The standard parenting phrase. Is that how he sees this then? He has all the power and he’s always right, and you’re just a child.

“Have some cake, Kris. I just want to talk.” You worry, but you are inclined to believe him. He works through everything with talking, at least around you. You stare at him until you resign to revealing the fork from your inventory. There’s no point hiding it now.

He takes another bite of his cake. You follow suit.

“I know you were upset last time, but you didn’t run away. Why is that?”

You think of the best way to approach this. Hide your cards and pretend you couldn’t find a way to escape? Flatter him or play up to his loyalty? Tell the truth? That one is never good.

You tell him you can’t escape with just a fork.

“Then why’d you take it?”

You mull over that question as well, then you say, it gives you hope.

That answer seems to hurt. He drinks his hot chocolate.

“Okay,” he settles, “What would you like to do tomorrow?”

Is that it? You ask if you’re done discussing the fork.

“Are you going to try to escape again?”

You consider the situation, then nod.

“Then all I can do is stop you when that time comes. For now, I should try giving you things to look forward to so that you won’t want to leave.”

You want to explain that that’s useless but you’re much more content to leave the topic behind.

“It is rather tricky though. There are just so many things we can’t do, but there has to be something both safe and fun.”

You have no suggestions of your own. Instead, you eat some more cake and tune in to the music playing behind you. It’s the river song, the one for sleep. If only you had this playing while he was gone, maybe you could get comfortable enough to actually rest.

“Sweets and music are a good start, but it does get rather boring after a while, don’t you think? You can’t have sharp or small items but all of my crafts use those, and books don’t seem to interest you as much as they do for me.”

Ralsei’s rambling, the peaceful song, and the warm drink all coax your eyelids down and you ease in and out of focus.

He muses to himself for a while longer before noticing.

“Kris, have you been sleeping alright?”

You nod, then after a pause, you admit that you’ve been pretty restless.

“Perhaps it’s the bed. I know you were sleeping fine before but multiple nights of poor sleep could have added up over time. I’ve considered getting you something nicer but that would be a reward, wouldn’t it? And after your recent behavior, I’ll have to hold off on those for a while.”

From a purely technical stance, that reasoning isn’t too bad. The fact that he’s openly admitting to training you into submission though is plenty bad to make up for it.

You take another bite of your cake. It’s not like this is news.

You’re glad he’s sticking to a reward based system instead of a punishment one though. In your tired stupor, you decide to voice this thought.

“Oh, who said you wouldn’t be punished?”

Your mind skips like a record and before you can fully accept what he’s said-

Ralsei casts pacify.

You open your eyes but remain blind. The air is stuffy and dense. You’re sitting on the floor, rested on your side against a wall, and when you move you feel shelves pressed into your back. Instantly you understand. But you silently reassure yourself. It’s okay. It hasn’t fully sunk in yet, just don’t panic. You press a palm against something flat in front of you. It’s a tight fit as you push yourself to your feet. You are hyper aware of your breathing and you’re already shaking as you feel the edges of the surface in front of you, trying to find a doorknob or a crack.

It’s empty. Your heart seizes. You try to keep calm but your leg is bobbing, your fingers twisting and scratching at your hand. Your breath feels labored, drawn out, the equivalent of running in a nightmare but getting nowhere. It tricks you into thinking that you’re not breathing at all which panics your mind and makes you gasp faster.

You push at the door. It doesn’t budge. You hit it with your fists, your palms. You feel sick. You want to puke. The darkness closes in on you, the walls, the shelves, they collapse in your mind and push you down to the floor again. You curl up and you start to cry. You kick at the door. You want to scream but you can’t find your voice. You make yourself smaller so you won’t be squished. Your chest heaves uncontrollably. The room is dizzy, or your head is dizzy, you can’t see the room, you can’t see anything.

You feel hot, suffocated. You squirm and rock. You feel like you could pass out any moment but you unfairly cling to consciousness. Your insides are screaming and you wish you could cut out your heart so it would stop beating so loudly. And there’s a fear in you so great that it blocks out all other thoughts. You’re drowning out of water and all you can do is silently scream and scream and choke on the air.

You close your eyes and you sob. You hit your head on the door and you plead, maybe aloud maybe just in your head. You plead for this to stop. You plead for Ralsei to let you out. For anyone to let you out. For anyone to end this. For this whole thing to end. For you to end.

But nobody came.

Chapter Text

You jolt forward with a gasp and stop at the pull of your chains. It’s not dark anymore. You’re back in the room.

Or were you always in the room?

Your brain rewinds over your last conscious memories. Either you passed out under the stress or that was all just a nightmare.

You check your inventory.

The fork is gone.

So it’s true.

You’re shaking. Your arms twitch against your shackles.

You may be in a bigger room now, but you still can’t move, and your brain doesn’t accept that you’re actually out of danger. Well your brain is right.

You’re still confined. And the room feels so much smaller than it was before.

You don’t look at the corners because when you do, they bend and twist and you feel nauseous again.

You don’t look at the ceiling because it threatens to fall down on you at any moment.

You don’t look at the door because you know it’s locked and you picture yourself beating at it with panicked fists as you run out of air.

So you stare at the floor. And you start to float, to not feel the chains, to not breathe the stiff air, to not think.

And you stare. And everything is still.

And you stare. And something touches your shoulder.

And you stare. And it leads you to the table.

And you stare. And noise breezes through your skull.

And you stare. And a scent reaches your mind.

And you stare. And something tilts your head up.

And you stare. It’s a soft goat. Ears like a bunny. Face like family. Eyes like a friend.

His face is full of memories, none of which you can reach.

His mouth is moving. He looks concerned.

“- is okay. Hey, you just need to breathe. Remember? In, one, two- Out, one, two.”

His voice is calm. The room flickers in your peripheral vision.

“Shhh, In… Out…”

Your back is rested against the side of your bed. Your legs are hugged close to you.

He sits with one knee up. He’s angled towards you with a cautious hand held in the air, careful not to come any closer than you’ll allow. He lets the hand rise and fall with his words.

“In..” hand goes up, “Out..” hand goes down.

Your breath slows to match his rhythm, carrying your shoulders in a steady wave.

“Ground yourself. Feel the floor at your feet, your legs and back against the chair.”

You feel wood, solid against your back. The frame of your bed? Against your legs? Your legs are against you. No it’s against wood. You feel the wood, and the space between them. Chair. You’re in a chair.

There’s a table in front of you. You touch the table. Your bedroom disappears. You’re here again. 

You’d rather not be.

“Can I touch your arms?”

It’s Ralsei. You don’t answer.

“Alright. Keep breathing, Kris, you’re doing well.”

He leads your breathing a little longer until you’ve settled back in your chair and you’re done shaking.

“Are you alright?”

You don’t answer.

“I’m- I’m sorry Kris.” He shuffles the food around in his bowl, not sure how to continue.

You stare at your own bowl. You can’t make out the ingredients in the cloudy broth without stirring. A spoon lies untouched at its side. You can’t muster the drive to pick it up.

Instead you keep looking down, and breathing. The scent of the meal struggles to pass by the block in your mind. It doesn’t register.

Your mind is blank.

“Won’t you please try a bite, Kris?”

You don’t respond.

“I worked hard on this one. I think you’ll like it.”

You don’t move. There is silence.

“You know…” he deliberates his words, ”Before your, time out, you were being very stubborn. You won’t still be that way, will you?”

You remain still.

“Because, if you haven’t learned your lesson yet, we can always extend your punishment.”

A prickle of fear impulsively seizes your heart, cutting through your haze.

It takes a couple seconds to process the request, but you sluggishly move your hand to the spoon and then to the bowl.

Upsetting the tranquility of the broth’s surface, you discover familiar ingredients: diced potatoes, carrots, rice, celery- all softened from sitting in the soup. You raise a spoonful to your mouth and swallow.

It’s uncannily like your mom’s cooking.

It’s warm and the taste is right, but it doesn’t soothe you, doesn’t reach down to your soul in the same way. In fact, you barely feel it at all as it goes through you, and as you blindly feed more into your throat. You watch yourself mechanically shovel it into your mouth until the bowl is empty.

Then with no further reason to move, your arms drop. Everything feels heavy suddenly, like your body is weighing you down. Your brain won’t acknowledge anything around you. It’s solely focused on the heartbeat pumping life into you still. It feels like your whole body rocks with its movements, though that’s probably not true.

It’s silent.

“Kris,” your bowl is gone. “Let’s go for a walk.”

He’s at your side. He’s holding your hand. He very gently coaxes you out of your chair.

He leads you out of the room.

It’s slow going. He’s in no particular rush, and he doesn’t push you more than necessary to move along.

The hallways feel very narrow, and they stretch forward forever.

Your vision blurs and spins, and your head is dizzy. You feel like you could pass out.

But your feet keep moving, and you trust Ralsei to keep you from bumping into any walls.

He leads you around corners and down stairs, until you reach a door.

It has a square window made of pretty glass segments, colored and fragmented enough that you can’t see through.

He opens the door.

There are trees, shrubbery, beautiful flowers and colorful plants, and a smooth rock path winding through it all.

He leads you through the door. And there is sky.

Your breath catches, and your feet freeze in place. You see the world, so endless and open in comparison to your tiny room and you try to compact it in your mind, or comprehend it, or decide how you’re supposed to feel, but you don’t feel, or maybe you feel all too much. Too much that it doesn’t process.

And you’re sitting on the floor. And you feel like you’re shaking but you can’t be sure.

Ralsei sits down in front of you without a word, letting you hash this out at your own pace.

You think you really are shaking.

He nudges you backwards to rest against the floor, and all you see is the sky.

Cool and dark, twinkling with dancing lights.

Your eyes are wide. As open as the sight in front of them.

There’s something on your face, dripping down your cheeks and collecting at your jawline. You don’t move.

There is no time as you stare. There is no being, or worry.

Empty.

The sky, your mind, your body. It’s empty. And for a moment you could fade away.

And you can’t feel the difference between your eyes open or closed.

You’re on your side now, a bit sore from the rocky ground, but with no intent to move any time soon.

You hear shuffling behind you. Ralsei adjusting himself. Perhaps he had laid down too.

You close your eyes again. It’s so much easier.

You sigh back into consciousness, your eyes hooded but open nonetheless.

All you see is the exterior wall of the castle. It knots your stomach, but you don’t have the will to turn away.

After a while more, a soft hand touches your shoulder. Your heart flinches but the only reaction from your body is a slight curl of your fingers.

“Let’s go, Kris.”

You don’t move. You probably couldn’t if you wanted to, and you don’t particularly want to.

It’s quiet a little longer. Then he scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

For a moment you’re okay with the idea of him carrying you the whole trip back, but then you wriggle away and to your feet.

Your limbs are still static, a wonder they can support you at all, and your brain too.

He opens the door and holds a paw backwards towards you.

It’s almost like a bit of displaced déjà vu.

Reason screams through layers of fog, but your need for familiarity moves your hand.

You hang your head and follow him in.

Soon you’re in your room. His grip loosens on your hand. You want to hold on tighter. You want a hug. You want to run away. You want to hide in his fur and pretend you’re home, you’re loved, you’re safe.

You let go of his hand.

You don’t move any further into the room.

He leans against the table with a sigh and looks at you.

“Hey,” he breaks the silence, “How about you don’t go in the chains, just this once?”

You should be enthused at the suggestion, but it doesn’t really settle in your head.

“Are you still tired?”

You don’t know how long you were asleep just now, but you can certainly accept some more.

“Here.” He walks to your chains and rearranges your blankets and pillows away from the wall. You hadn’t noticed when you woke up but there’s more cushion than before.

Once he’s set up an adequate bed, he pats the creation to call you over.

You comply. You sit down next to him.

“You’ll feel better after some rest.”

You lie down on your side, facing him.

He starts to hum a tune. There’s nothing magical in it, nothing forcing you to do as he says. It’s just a suggestion, a calming breeze.

Once you’re more settled in, he slowly runs a paw through your hair. The initial touch sends a quiet panic, but the repeated motion is soothing, and you feel your eyes drift closed.

He keeps playing with your hair, tracing fingers down your scalp, and his song changes.

It’s another lullaby. It takes a few notes for you to recognize it, but once you do, your eyes flip back open. He doesn’t sing the lyrics but you know them very well.

This is too much. The red alarms ring in your head again. Just who is he? How does he know so much about you?

All this time he’s been trying to comfort you with the same tactics as your family and it muddles up your brain. It makes you want to lean in closer when your good reason knows you should be running far away.

And the two voices scream. It’s uneasy. It doesn’t fit. But you want it more than anything. And it overwhelms you. You curl in on yourself. You try to block your thoughts, to shut everything down. And you let yourself fall, but into what you’re unsure. The voice drowns, and it’s much more serene to feel nothing at all.

When your head is finally quiet, it doesn’t think of the past or plan for the future. It only thinks of the present, of the hand rustling your hair, of the lullaby your brother would sing to you.

Your brain associates these things with Asriel, with comfort.

It doesn’t matter if he’s the reason for the pain. If he can just stay like this, you don’t want him to go.

Chapter Text

Time trickles down its fateful hourglass. Even your fingers have lost tune, tapping tapping against the stone floor. Your eyes hazy, your days hazier, your life no more than a series of tableaus against a castle wall. You could imagine your head neatly joining with that wall. But that would be just so much effort.

Besides, you aren’t even near the wall right now. A glass gaze stares forward from your seat at the table, or maybe from your cushions and pillows, or was it down the hallway and out into the fields? Nothing stays in your memory longer than the moment it takes to live it. If you’re laying on the floor one minute then staring at an untouched fruit tart the next, it really makes no difference. Ralsei could have come and gone a million times between your last memory and now. He’s tried sweets, songs, new activities to no avail.

Nothing quite catches your attention. Nothing can seem to drag you out of this sluggish resignation that weighs at your wrists where shackles once did the job.

You can barely feel the skin on your bones, the nails on your skin, the blood on your nails. A hand, soft and warm, that sticks to you like cotton candy melting in a summer heat, rotting with a putrid sweetness that fills the senses.

It pulls at your own hand and cleans it off. Cold pushes at where you’d been scratching and it throbs, sending pulses down your shoulder and arm, into each extremity, and centered on a cold uncaring controlling heart. You try to tear it out, you try to swallow it and sever it and throw it far away and tear out your own eyes and your nails and your all of you whatever you can get your hands on.

You hear yelps and crying and your hands struggle over the dissonance of soft flesh and soft fur.

Ralsei casts pacify.

Next time you come to, soft fuzz still coats your hands, but when you stretch your fingers they make no contact with your skin. Music plays lazily from a corner, and Ralsei sits on the floor in front of you, head downcast, face obscured.

You both sit in silence.

Next time you’re at the table. Next time you’re at the library. Next time what does it matter. Same poses, same places, same person, same cage, same key, same nightmare, same stones squeezing the breath out of you.

Why are you still here.

.

..

...

You.

You muster up all your energy to focus in front of you. To grab these walls and appliances and colors and shapes, and pull them into each other. To make your surroundings feel real once more. But it slips at the edges and resists your attempts. You’re swimming through a watercolor approximation of this damned room. You can hardly imagine any other scene. For what it’s worth, you can hardly imagine this one either.

It just, doesn’t make any sense.

Nothing has changed and that’s the most damning evidence of all.

How long have you been wearing this shirt? It should reek by now. How long since you last took a shower, or used the restroom. You understand monster food doesn’t process the same way so he may not have thought to include one with your “suite,” but it’s been so long. The human food from back then, it should’ve passed by now.

By now. How much time has passed, has any passed at all? It’s like we’re on pause. Perpetually in Now, only now. Was there yesterday? Was that made up? Is this made up?

Magic food, magic fire, magic healing, leaving nothing behind, no scars, no proof, no meaning, no future, no past.

Where are these records from? All the books? They were really just left behind? Who wrote them? How does Ralsei always just conveniently know things, about you. They couldn’t have written books about you.

And Susie. Is she even still here? Does she exist anymore? Did she exist at all? It’s becoming so much harder to remember. Remember.

Remember a goat smiling at you, crying in his sleep, dragging you along in a little red wagon. Is that all that remains? All that is left is that which has left you.

You laugh, and there is a crinkling of your eyes as though holding back tears that you’ve long since dried out.

You push your hand into the corner of a table, willing it to budge under your weight like clay, testing to see if your hand ghosts through it. Instead it just digs into your palm and you rub a thumb against the finished wooden texture. Your hand twists and digs in place and this all seems so funny. In a sick way that would get you yelled at, like a prank that’s gone too far.

A plush hand grabs your own, slowly, gently. It isn’t as urgent as the other times you’d drawn blood, just holds your hand between two of its own. The skin stitches together like a tugging string, and he pulls, holding your threads carefully, lovingly.

Deep eyes, red, like the leaves that shudder around your home. Red like the heart in your chest, like the strings. Such discordant music. Who would expect anything else from your soul. Fingers that have forgotten the keys, no, not forgotten, painfully cruelly aware of the keys, as they slam down on random ones entirely.

His eyes stare intently, trying to reach deep within, to grab anything that remains.

“You won’t need to be alone.” He promises. “Never alone.”

Never alone. Never alone, it echoes in your mind, a bitter taste, a threat, an absolution. You can’t decide if you’d like to be alone. Lucky you, you never had to make that decision.

“Tomorrow. I have a surprise for you. I hope, I know it won’t fix this, fix, everything. But I hope you’ll be happy. If only for a moment.”

Those eyes curve down in such genuine sorrow, pity, guilt.

He puts his head against your hand, so utterly tired.

You could almost feel bad for him. But not quite.

And again he’s gone.

And again he’s gone.

And again he’s gone. The record skips. Your brain on an endless loop. Never alone.

Chapter Text

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah

You continue to stare at the ceiling, your eyes in and out of focus. You fix onto a crack in the stone, following it as far as it’ll stretch before shrinking away. You find another one. Trace it with your eyes. It snakes around the others, growing and shrinking, chipping in parts, until it joins the edge of a block and disappears. You follow another one. Another. Until they converge into the outline of a nervous system, bulging across sinuous strips of pink tinted stone, the innards of this ravenous cage. The walls breathe deeply and slowly, pulsing these cracks, pushing jet black blood through each crevice. It drips down the corners of the room, the corners of your eyes. And sinks deep into your lungs, sticking down your throat, making each breath heavier, slower, trying to match the rhythm of the walls. You can no longer see the winding paths above you as your vision starts to blur once again. This time it’s a creeping fog working its way across your periphery, dragging the blood behind it, the darkness overtaking all else.

The rattle of a door scrapes your ears and draws you out again. Your breathing returns in full desperate gasps. The stones just stones once more.

You calm yourself and rest into the heavy posture of disengagement. The emptiness and simplicity almost blissful in comparison.

He enters the room, staying careful to cover the doorframe with his body, as if you had the energy to try that again.

He says something with a coaxing smile. You let the words pass through you, nothing more than a meaningless buzz.

He turns around, door still open, and pulls something in. Someone in.

Susie!

Your head immediately perks up, eyes wide to take in more of the scene. Is that her? Is she here? Is this real?

You look between the two of them. Ralsei seems pleased, holding her by the hand. She seems. She seems, unlike her. For one, her hair is braided back, two smaller ones joining a larger braid behind her, only a couple strands frame her face. With her hair styled like this, her eyes are on full display and they. They look so empty, so disheartened, so weak.

“You should join us at the table, Kris.” Ralsei’s words return.

He gently guides Susie to a seat. She drops her entire weight in one movement, head down the entire time, only looking in front of her. The door is closed. Something twists in your chest.

You approach with slow curiosity, choosing a seat directly across from Susie. You’d prefer to be closer, but Ralsei already has the seat beside her.

Your bones feel electric, your fingers waking from a long sleep.

“-And so I thought you’d appreciate having a new face around, or well, a familiar face of course, which is even better! It’s a shame the two of you have been apart so long but-“

Her hands are in her lap. The buzzing is still there, stuttering and tuning to catch the words behind it. And then they pause, Ralsei smiling at them both, expectantly perhaps, or just enjoying the moment.

“Now we probably shouldn’t try anything too taxing today. Maybe some light conversation and snacks. I brought some choco diamonds and chisps, but if you need something more substantial just let me know and I can arrange it for you. And if you need a drink then of cours-“

You stare intently at her but she never meets your eye. You want to say something, to connect with her, to know what went wrong. Where were you? What did he do?

“Susie has been getting along very nicely lately and we’ve even started a curriculum of music and culture. A lot of the lessons are book based so it’s slow going, but she seems much more receptive to having instruments around. Susie, do you want to tell them about what you learned?”

There is nothing but silence.

“Come now, there’s no need to be shy. We could even bring a piano in here, or at least a keyboard, and you can show off that one song we practiced.”

Both you and Ralsei watch Susie. Might as well be a corpse slumped in that chair.

Ralsei clears his throat. “Ah, Susie, are you doing alright? Are you too tired right now?”

…

“Because you can always rest if you need it. I could help you with a lullaby.”

Her posture changes. Back straightens, shoulders tight, eyes forward. She shakes her head.

He continues, “Kris has missed you. Won’t you speak with them?”

She nods. “Yea” she adds quietly.

You’ve never heard that voice from her. You’re leaning back. You feel a twitch to leave. Another one to jump over the table and find her, to hurt Ralsei, to fix this. How do they fix this?

That voice leaves her again, “The music is nice. I’m learning a lot.”

“What-“ the word cracks out of your throat, a rusted voice box, even quieter than her.

You take a moment and try again. You whisper, “Are you okay?” A stupid question. An obvious question. No the fuck she’s not okay.

She nods. “Yea. M’fine.”

You blink. It’s been a while since you’ve felt so relentlessly violent. Your limbs fight off the weariness they’ve been carrying, and prep to fight some more.

“How are you feeling, Kris?” Ralsei chimes in, clearly ecstatic to hear them speak for the first time since..

“Fine.” You say with a bitter taste. You turn back to Susie. “Where is your room?”

…

“Oh she’s got a special room, not quite like this place. It’s a bit further into the castle. But I’m hoping the both of you will be getting more comfortable suites soon, long as I know I can trust you of course.”

There’s more silence. You wrinkle your face in his direction, an accusation in your eyes. There’s a notable crunch.

The sound surprises you. Apparently, you’ve grown used to all sounds being from either you or Ralsei. You turn to face Susie who has risked a bite of the chisps.

Your eyes meet for the first time. Hers are wide and cautious. Her movements slow like someone testing the limits of what they’re allowed to do.

You gulp. She does the same.

You ask, “And how has Ralsei been treating you?”

She pauses, holding very still. You look over to see Ralsei watching with casual interest.

“He’s fine.”

Fucking bullshit.

You turn back to the warden, “Ralsei, could Susie and I have a moment alone?”

“Oh of course! I can set up some private time down the line once she’s feeling more social. As you can see, this sort of thing really tires her out.”

At this point you’re full on glaring, face incredibly still. You breathe. “I see. She does seem sort of off, doesn’t she? Why could that be?” Another crunch from Susie’s direction.

“Ah, well she’s been having trouble sleeping lately. It’s really starting to weigh on her. The only times she’s able to get any proper rest is when I sing her my favorite lullaby.”

“You can’t just blame this on a lack of sleep,” you gesture emphatically at Susie.

With both yours and Ralsei’s eyes on her, she pauses again, a wad of chisps nearly to her mouth. She stays still and glances between the two of you.

Meanwhile, with her staying still this long, you start to notice where her claws should be. What’s there now could hardly be called a claw. Nails pierce out of her fingertips, barely nubs, and the surrounding skin is a scarred paling red, missing its protective scales.

Kris stands up.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Ralsei reels back just slightly before regaining his composure. “What do you mean, Kr-“

“I’m talking about this!” You reach towards Susie to grab a hand and shake it in Ralsei’s face, but she quickly pulls back before you can make contact.

She curls in, looking you up and down, shaking.

You drop your hand.

“I mean,” you start quieter, “Her hands.”

You look at her, nothing but concern in your eyes. She looks at you with caution.

…”Ah, that’s what riled you up. I’m sorry Kris, I would never do anything to harm you or her. Susie on the other hand…” He looks at her with something akin to pity, “She can be rather violent. And when she doesn’t have anyone to target that anger onto, she turns it against herself.”

You continue to stare at her, the three of you in silence until she swallows.

“Yea, he’s right.”

You’re dumbfounded.

“I’ve been helping her learn healthier ways to deal with things,” Ralsei continues. “We’ve come a long way.”

He slides the choco diamonds closer to Kris. “Come on, Kris. It’s alright.”

You stare at the plate, thoughts pounding against the walls of your head.

You sit down.

“Perfect,” he smiles.

“Now Susie,” he places a hand against her arm. She follows where it leads, taking her closer to the table again. With his thumb he tries to soothe her.

“It’s okay,” his voice is soft, “You’re with friends.”

Carefully, she returns to the position she started with, head bowed, hands in her lap.

You watch this, screaming the entire time. There’s an incessant itch, to move, to act. What the fuck are you still doing here?

To save, to protect. You aren’t exactly a hero. Hell, look at where you are now. You let Susie come to this. You were patient, always so patient, biding your time as if the perfect moment might come and you could sneak away. All the while growing more complacent, more hopeless and malleable. Your patience is just an excuse not to act, not to face what’s in front of you. And while you wasted all that time, he was doing terrible things to her, hurting her, breaking her. You want to scream.

Your eyes glare protectively. All you know right now is that she will not be leaving this room with him.

What can you get? In these few moments of civility, what can you pry out of his filthy snout? What do you need to know?

“Ralsei.”

“Yes, Kris?”

You wipe your face clean of any murderous intent and turn to face him.

“How have you been?” Shitty start, stupid start.

He blinks, “Oh, well I’m glad you asked. I’ve been feeling a little, well, on edge lately. Hopefully it wasn’t too apparent. The last thing I would want to do is worry you of course. But no, it’s nothing of importance, just some lingering anxieties now that the two of you are here.”

Yeah, you don’t give a fuck. “Does Susie have a set-up similar to mine?”

“Ah, hm.. well not exactly the same. She does have her own room where she spends her time when I’m not around. Not as cozy as I’d like it to be, but functional, for now.”

“Have you been outside?” you ask to Susie this time.

She is just as caught off guard as every other time she’s been addressed. She stays quiet and looks to Ralsei for what seems like permission or guidance.

Ralsei will chime in, “No, not yet unfortunately. Everything is just so overwhelming for her right now as she’s adjusting.”

“Adjusting to what?”

“This world,” Ralsei gestures with an arm to the general air of everything. “It is much different than the one you’ve known, and it can be a bit frightening and disarming.”

An interesting choice of words.

You speak again, “Do you miss home?” That’s what it is. Home. You never really believed in the word. Not as a place at least. Home just sounds so saccharine, so forced. It sounds like something you’re not allowed to have.

You stare at Susie. The question is for her.

Ralsei watches too, face tense and focused, but offering no guidance this time.

You can see the question progress slowly through her mind, creaking against rusted bars towards some sort of light, some familiarity.

“No.” The word is barbed and clinging. It looks like it’s lived there for a long time.

You sit in silence.

“Do you miss it?” Ralsei asks.

The question surprises you. It’s soft and earnest. You meet his eye, and without hesitation, provide a determined “Yes.”

He looks down in presumed disappointment, and a hint of guilt. It doesn’t matter whether it’s true. You knew it would sting, and that’s all you want right now.

The air hangs stagnant in the room. A standstill.

“I’d like to come visit sometime.” You add.

An inhale, relief, “That sounds very nice. Once you both are settled into your new spaces, it would be a delight to show them off to one another.” Always saying when, once, after, in the future. A nebulous future. He knows it will come, but if he can just stand still, push the hands back an hour, minute, second, maybe then he’ll have enough time to fix it. Enough time to forget, to adjust, to accept this as a burden he must carry.

Why does he always do that? Everything falls on him, and yet none of it could be in his control, could be his fault.

What must it be like to be a victim of your own life?

Oh you would know that intimately.

You tap the side of your chair.

You eye him up and down, redefining his image in your head and what it means. This is the enemy. If you ever considered him a friend, that was your own misplaced trust. You should’ve known. But now you do. So focus.

You have two ways to go from here. There’s polite. There’s making pleasantries to ensure Susie is allowed back, to make sure you can both be free of your shackles, of whatever damn punishments she’s been suffering. Your nails dig into the wood beneath you. You breathe.

Once you have enough freedom, once you have an opening, you can be gone. Wait for a misstep. Wait, keep on waiting.

The other option, the one that sounds much more satisfying right now, would be to climb over this table and slam his fuzzy little head into that useless chunk of stone he uses to play kitchen. With your own fire, you could fry that fucker and fill his castle with the putrid stench of burning fur, strangle him with that damn scarf and watch his eyes roll back.

You stop. There was something in those eyes. You shake the thought. It isn’t him. This was never him. This isn’t what you wanted him to be. This isn’t-

“Kris?”

His voice..

You seem to be glaring into the space ahead of you. Ralsei waits for you to adjust.

“Would you like to end things for today? I think you both did a very good job, considering.”

Considering? You’re tempted to prod. But no, the more important part of that- you shake your head.

“No really,” he continues, interpreting the dissent how he sees fit. “I was a little worried how you two would react, but it looks like we can all be friends again, someday soon I hope.”

He disgusts you.

He stands. He holds a hand down beside him to Susie. After a moment, she accepts it, placing her own hand in his. You get another look at her damaged nails and for a second you feel like you did inherit that fire magic, as something burns within you and pushes out in waves, trying to escape your skin.

This is your chance, you have to move now. She cannot leave.

You stand as well. Ralsei looks over at you curiously then deems nothing of it. “Don’t worry, Kris. We’ll be back soon okay?” He begins walking towards the door.

You move faster, you get there first, but he has the key.

He gently motions for you to move aside so he can reach the lock. You move just barely enough to let him through. You watch intently as he takes the key out of his pocket and moves it into place. He stops.

“Kris, would you mind waiting a little further away. It’s just hard to open the door like this.”

You pause for a few seconds and the two of you stare each other down.

He sighs, “Well in that case,” and begins to remove the key without unlocking the door.

Your hand moves to cover his and force it back in. You struggle, trying to turn the key in opposite directions. “Kris. This really isn’t-“ He begins to scold but cuts off as he puts more force in. Fabric wraps around your wrist and tugs. The scarf pulls your hand away as Ralsei frees the key once more and quickly returns it to his person.

You stare at his pocket. He’s soft, you could take him.

Knowing what you intend, Ralsei backs away. He walks towards the other side of the room before you can decide to act.

Susie continues to stand a step away from the door where he left her. You try to read her, to get some sort of, a hint of her in there.

Ralsei sits neatly among your bedding. “Here, Kris.”

A twinge. There’s no fucking way you’re going to be called over like a dog.

He watches. “I can wait.”

Of course he can, and he will. You scan the room, looking for things that could help overpower him. Susie would certainly be able to but..

You step towards her. She’s tense but doesn’t move.

You speak quietly to her. “We can stop this.”

She stands silently.

“We just need the key. Can you help me get it?”

Her thumb rubs at her thigh, the only sign of movement.

“Susie…” you glance towards Ralsei, who oddly makes no attempt to interrupt and is humming quietly to himself. “I need your help.”

“Whatever he’s done to you, he can’t stop us. You are so strong, so, willful. You wouldn’t bow down to a pushover like him.”

You’re not sure she’s even hearing you.

Fine. You walk past her then, to the kitchen. You open drawers, cupboards. You know he took anything sharp but still, anything can be used as a weapon. Ok maybe not the fucking plastic measuring cups. You rummage around. Something sturdy. You grab a pot.

As you turn to face him, Ralsei stands up and casually straightens out his clothes. He begins to sing as Kris walks towards him with intent. You raise the pot high above you and swing it down like a boulder. The song stops.

He catches it, crouching his body down enough to soften the impact in his hands. He attempts to tear it free but you don’t let him. You swing it again from the side. He dodges. You raise your knee and hit between the legs, then with your foot already raised you kick him towards the wall. He hits and slides to the ground.

The world darkens for a moment as something tries to pull its way from your chest. You put it back in.

You decide to hold one handle of the pot with both hands so you can put full force into it. You swing and he blocks with his scarf again. You grab the edge of the fabric and pull, tightening its grip around his neck and in an instant it courses with magic and unwraps from his body. Before you can properly react, it’s snaked its way up your arm, one end tight against your wrist, the other pulling your arms behind you. You put all your effort into untangling yourself but it holds fast and your hands are bound, pot still firmly grasped between fingers.

Ralsei watches intently, clearly putting a lot of focus on keeping hold of you. He stands again slowly, and cautiously walks towards you. He reaches a paw towards your shoulder and you bite in his direction. He pulls his head out of the way but doesn’t sway his course. He wrangles you into your pile of blankets and cushions where he can lock you up properly. You fight his movements in small bursts of writhing and kicking. Not escaping but at least making his job a lot harder. He takes your impromptu weapon.

Once you’re safely bound, he steps back a couple paces, calls his scarf back to him. It flies up the back of his body and then snugly around him again. He doesn’t move his eyes from you.

Susie stands by the door, struggling to keep her own eyes open.

There’s a silence between you for some time.

He’s looking at you intently with, not quite anger. It’s more like, stern disappointment. The disapproving glare you get from your mother after a prank goes too far.

Ralsei turns away from you, walks over to Susie and the door. He pulls the key from his pocket, glances at you and then Susie, and unlocks the door. With a heavy exhale, he leads Susie through followed by himself. And the cage closes shut.