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Chapter Text

Part I: The Groom
_________
When Nathaniel Wesninski was born, the most beautiful person in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.

Her hair was described as golden and soft as the sun’s rays, her skin fair as rose petals in milk. Her lips plump as ripe fruit, and her eyes genuine and breathtaking. There were no sonnets written about her though, because she worked in Paris for a Duke and Duchess, and at the time (arguably even now) it was very rude to write sonnets about a Duchess’ scullery maid and none about the Duchess herself. And no one wanted to write sonnets about the Duke’s Duchess because she was plain and poor and not nearly as delectably curvy and sweet as Annette the scullery maid.

But the Duchess–lacking beauty to the conventional standard–was cunning. Cunning enough to notice that the Duke’s eyes tended to wander, like magnets (though the author supposes this was before magnets) attracted again and again to the scullery maid. And so the Duchess sought out Annette’s greatest weakness–and found it.

Chocolate.

Soon after the castle became a wonderland of chocolate and bonbons and fountains of flowing sweets that proved irresistible to Annette. She became rather plump, and soon lost the elegant curves and sharp chin she’d once unknowingly flaunted. Though, she really didn’t seem to mind, and actually married a kind pastry baker, they had forty-two children together. The Duchess however, was doomed to suffer at the hand of her husband's perpetually wandering eye. They had no children. And the Duke eventually fell in love with his own mother in law, which unfortunately gave the Duchess ulcers. (Though, they didn’t have those either. Well, people had them, they were just called ‘stomach aches’ and were prescribed coffee with two spills of brandy. The Duchess took her prescription dutifully, watching her husband and her mother blow kisses at each other when they thought she wasn’t watching. Quite unsurprisingly, the Duchess’ grumpiness soon became legendary.)

By the time Nathaniel was ten years old the most beautiful person in the world was a man named Aadam, in Bengal. His skin glowed with a dusky perfection unseen in India for decades. His smile enamored anyone instantly, and his deep, rich voice was alluring to even the most deeply in love. Nearly opposite of Annette, he was very aware of his near perfection and took a pride in it that nearly rivaled Narcissus (though, Narcissus’ story hadn’t been written down at this point). One day, while strolling through a garden–humming a sonnet he’d heard written about him that compared his nose to that of a gods–he felt completely content.

‘I am rich,’ he thought, ‘and sensitive, and young and–’ but that made him pause. He would always be rich, and always be sensitive. But young? He pondered for a moment, and without thinking he furrowed his brows in contemplation. This was the very first brow furrow to ever kiss Aadam’s forehead and it inadvertently caused the very first wrinkle to appear. Aadam–realizing what he’d done–ran in a panic and spent the rest of the day in front of the mirror, trying desperately to coax the wrinkle out of his flawless skin.

But it didn’t go away, instead it grew, and made Aadam fret and worry more–which caused more and more wrinkles until he had countless creasing his once smooth skin. He married not long after, to the very woman who had written the sonnet he had been humming, their marriage was fitful and they produced one, very bitter daughter.

When Nathaniel–now demanding to anyone who wasn’t his father to be called Neil– turned fifteen the most beautiful person in the world was actually a tie between two siblings. Lueta and Lucas Stalling of Germany, with flowing brown locks and clear skin and constantly rosey cheeks. They each shared a childlike optimism, even through early adulthood (which at this point in time was age twelve for Lueta and thirteen for Lucas). While apparently attractive to most citizens of the village they lived in to others it has been described as naiveté. (Though this word hadn’t been invented yet, in fact, it was invented later to aid in the somewhat pessimistic descriptions of the two children). This naivete was to fault for their untimely deaths when offered candy by a child-eating witch in the middle of the woods. (This story has absolutely nothing in common with the fable ‘Hansel and Gretel’ and anyone to point out any similarities will speak with a very apt lawyer.)

Neil, of course, at fifteen knew nothing of these people–or that they were being secretly ranked in history by their looks. If he did know he would have found it unfathomable. Who cared who the most beautiful person in the world was? What did it matter if you ranked third or fourth or tenth. (At this time Neil ranked nowhere near as high. He loathed undressing enough to wash and despised the space behind his ears. His hair was typically–purposefully–stained brown with mud to hide the natural auburn and he found it amusing to throw his combs out his window into the pig fields to be eaten. Unfortunately this lead to him killing about as many pigs as his father had killed people.) Beauty was obsolete to Neil and as foreign as baklava.

Despite the chidings of his mother and father–the somewhat heavy handed chidings–the only things he truly enjoyed were running with the family dog, which Neil had named Sir (he’d never been very imaginative) and harassing the farm boy.

The farm boy’s actual name was Andrew, he didn’t have a last name because he was an orphan. Sold off to work for the rather wealthy Wesninski family around the same time as Aadam was the most beautiful person in the world. He rarely said any words, and it became Neil’s mission to provoke him into speaking more than two. He got his wish, when Andrew began responding to every one of Neil’s commands with the same three words.

‘Farm boy, fetch me some water, father is insisting on a bath,’ ‘I hate you.’

‘Farm boy, are you practicing your sloth imitations again?’ ‘I hate you.’

‘Andrew, do you think you’ll ever grow anymore?’ ‘I hate you.’

‘Andrew, I’m bored come talk with me,’ ‘I hate you.’

He and Andrew had an odd relationship. Neil appreciated having someone to talk to, and especially appreciated how blunt and honest and reliable Andrew was about everything. This lead to Neil spending more time than either his father or his mother really liked in the stables helping Andrew with his chores or talking idly as he worked. Sometimes Neil would sing to him, if Andrew was in a particularly untalkative mood. In the summers Andrew had shown Neil a river close by that they would go swimming in to cool off.

Nathan didn’t like his son fraternizing with the farm help, mostly because he was classist. But it was the only thing Neil wasn’t willing to give up, and it quickly became one of many bones of contention between the father and son.

Neil still cared not for beauty nor love by the time he turned sixteen. He winced away from his fathers insistence that he clean up to look more appealing for a future bride. But by this time he began noticing more and more the people in his village ignoring him. It wasn’t necessarily that Neil had many friends and that now they were suddenly all leaving him behind. Having a father known for the moniker ‘the Butcher’ tended to be a bit off putting (this was before butcher’s became known for cutting up non-human meat). But usually people would at least allow him a polite nod as he passed, racing with Sir. Now no one was in the streets as he passed.

When he finally cornered one of the local boys– Nicky (who was rumored to actually be distantly related to Aadam. Though, this was mostly just racist and because of Nicky’s similar skin tone. Nicolas Esteban Hemmick’s mother had actually traveled from somewhere in Madrid after being sold to her husband Luther. During a short fad when white men thought it exotic to have imported wives. The novelty wore off however, and everyone went ‘back’ to being racist again with a new abundance of mixed race babies.)

‘Why are you avoiding me?’ Neil had demanded.

‘You know exactly why.' Nicky had scoffed, sounding offended and a little bit jealous, ‘you’ve stolen them.’ And then he ran off. But Neil already knew who them was.

The village boys and girls.

The knob-kneed, hair-brained, wax-eyed, loose-lipped, slack-jawed, clodpated dim doomed noodlenoggined sapheaded lunknobed teens.

This made Neil mad, how could anyone accuse him of stealing them? He didn’t even want them! Why would anyone want them? They were no good and useless. At least Sir could run with him, at least Andrew was entertaining. The others were all just annoying.

‘Can I brush your dog, Neil?’ ‘No, thank you, Andrew does that.’

‘Can I go running with you, Neil?’ ‘No I prefer to run alone thank you.’

‘You think you’re so much better than all of us don’t you Neil.’ ‘No I just prefer running alone.’

‘Do you think it’s going to rain today, Neil?’ ‘No; the sky is blue.’ ‘Well it might.’ ‘Yes I suppose it could.’

‘You think you’re so much better than all of us don’t you Neil.’ ‘No, I just don’t think it’s going to rain, that’s all.’

This lead to them congregating outside Neil’s window late at night to laugh and joke about him. Neil ignored them, they didn’t matter to him. And if they ever got too damaging Andrew would emerge silently from his small shack, break a few bones and send them on their way. Neil never forgot to thank him for it, his only response ever being ‘I hate you.’

One day though, when Neil was just on the brink of seventeen, a woman drove by and spotted him. Neil didn’t notice–he hadn’t noticed the sudden up-cropping of men and women traveling to catch sight of him. (Andrew did however, and it added an extra bite to his three words). This particular woman, however, was important because she marked the first noble to travel to get the fleeting honor of driving by Neil. And, she was the first person to mention Neil to the Count.

_____

At this time, the kingdom where Neil lived was called Florin, (set where now is called Europe, though obviously this was before Europe but still during stupid white people they just were called Florins and not Europeans or Americans). In theory, the kingdom was ruled by a man named Ichirou Moriyama, the position had been handed down to him from generations of Moriyamas. Though, in reality, Ichirou was suffering the same fate his late father–Kengo Moriyama (if you would kindly disregard the Eastern sounding names implemented in a mock-European culture for the sake of continuity it would be greatly appreciated) that suffering fate was cancer. Though obviously during this time the word ‘cancer’ didn’t exist and, much like ‘ulcers’ and ‘religious freedom’ and it was simply diagnosed as ‘ailment.’

Ichirou had no heirs, but luckily he had a brother. A nasty, brute of a boy named Riko. Riko’s only confidant was his Uncle–Tetsuji–who mostly just went by the monicure ‘the Count.’ Prince Riko had been actually running the country since Ichirou fell too ill to rule, and everyone within hundreds of miles knew not to cross him and risk his legendary wrath.

_______

One day Neil’s parents crowded the window to their home.

“Mary, come see this,” his father summoned.

“Why?” his mother snapped back, she gave away nearly nothing when it came to obedience. They did not have what you would call a happy marriage. All they dreamed about was leaving one another. Well, Mary did, Nathan also dreamed of killing his wife. Though there was complications with her involvement in her family’s crime syndicate in another country he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of (and neither did the author of this, she’s just using Nathan’s selfishness as an excuse for her laziness.)

“Look.” Nathan commanded, and it got Mary moving and Neil hiding a flinch. Mary looked out the window with her husband to see a glimmering horse drawn carriage traveling down their road. It shined with gold and gems and looked like the most expensive thing any of them had ever seen. They gaped together at the carriage as it passed and Neil–busy setting the table–eventually gave in to his curiosity and came to peek covertly over his parents out the window.

The view also made his jaw drop (not because he was impressed, but just at the sheer unnecessarity the procession represented), as the Count and Countess’ entire entourage followed their jewel covered carriage. The procession looking ethereal and unreal to Neil’s eyes. He silently wished they would come closer so his father would be distracted for longer. And, as if to answer his wish, the procession turned down their road and started towards their home. Neil vaguely realized he still smelled like hay and dog from talking with Andrew in the stables all afternoon.

Neil’s father immediately whirled around on his mother and she flinched–which made Neil flinch. (It was like dominos, though, dominos hadn’t been invented yet. This was before Egypt.)

“Did you forget to pay the taxes?” Nathan demanded to know (this was after taxes, but taxes were before everything. Even stew), and Mary hurriedly shook her head.

“Even if I did they wouldn’t bring all that to collect them!” she said defensively, Nathan realized she had a point, but he still slapped her to prove the one he thought he had.

“We need to go greet them,” Nathan said, dragging Mary outside to go and greet the procession. What could they possibly be here for? he wondered.

“Cows.” The Count said after Nathan had greeted him, and Nathan and Mary had both blinked.

“My cows?” Nathan asked, and the Count nodded.

“I was thinking of starting a dairy farm, and you have cows known for their milk all across Florin, I thought I’d implore you your secrets,” the Count said, which confused Mary and Nathan, who both knew their cows were awful. The only reason Nathan kept them was so he had an excuse for all the meat he had hanging everywhere. Andrew mostly just milked them out of pity for the poor, bloated animals, but the milk was thin as water and people only bought it because they feared Wesninski wrath.

“What would you say my secret is, dear?” Nathan asked, and Mary jumped.

“Why, you have so many, I couldn’t say,” Mary said quickly. Both Nathan and the Count narrowed their eyes at her.

“Are you childless?” he asked pointedly.

“No,” Nathan said, though he wasn’t keen on bringing out his runt of a son, who smelled of dogs and hay and who’s hair was sticky with mud to come meet the Count.

“Then let me see him, maybe he will be quicker to answer than his parents,” the Count said icily. And Nathan hollered for Neil while Mary furrowed her brow.

“How did you know we had a son?” she questioned, but everyone ignored her perfectly reasonable inquiry.

Neil hurried out, rushing to beat his father’s impatience and stopped in front of the carriage so that the Count could see him. Nathan prodded his mother and his mother in turn prodded Neil and Neil remembered he was supposed to bow.

“You were inquiring about our cows? Well, Andrew feeds them, and milks them,” he said, as shocked and confused as Nathan and Mary were. The Count suddenly left his carriage, and came to stand in front of Neil. He was staring at him, intensely. So intensely it made the hairs on the back of Neil’s neck stand up. And caused Andrew to cross his arms over his chest from where he was leaning against the side of the building watching the whole thing. The movement caught the Countess’ eyes and she pointed at him.

“Is that him?” she asked, and Nathan nodded slowly. “Bring him over,” the Countess demanded, and Nathan blinked again.

“He’s not–”

“I will take no excuses, summon him,” the Countess cut him off, and so Nathan obliged, somewhat annoyed at being bossed around by a woman. (This was before progressiveness was a thing. Well, it was a thing but it was called ‘witchcraft’ and was generally frowned upon.) Andrew came over, not bothering to bow and fixed his usual flat look on the Count and Countess.

“They tell me you are the one to ask about the cows,” the Countess said, speaking now for her husband, who was still staring at Neil. “So tell me, what’s your secret?” She asked, watching him too closely and standing too close. Andrew took a step backwards.

“I feed them,” he said, she made a noise at the back of her throat.

“Perfect! We’ve discovered the secret, why don’t you show me how exactly you do it.”

“You want me to feed the cows for you?”

“Yes,” she said, and Andrew’s expression didn’t change but he turned. “It’s muddy, your dress will get ruined.” He warned. He didn’t really care he was just smart enough to know not to mess with a Countess.

“I only wear them once, and I’m burning with curiosity,” she dismissed, and Andrew shrugged and started to lead her away, Neil moved to follow.

“I should go help,” he said.

“I’ll come too,” the Count said. And Mary and Nathan blinked as they watched the Count and Countess follow Andrew and Neil away to feed the cows.

______

Later that night as Neil brought the half eaten bowl of food he was allowed to give Andrew to Andrew he was still thinking about the odd happenings of the night. He knocked on the door to Andrew’s shack, and it opened for him. Andrew’s shack had actually turned into something quite homey, with squat windows and a clean bed. He’d even added shelves where a few books sat–surprisingly dustless with cracked spines from repeated readings.

Neil held out the bowl, and Andrew took it.

“So that was… odd… right?” Neil asked, and Andrew nodded. “I don’t think I much like the Count or the Countess,” Neil admitted, and Andrew nodded again. “Well, goodnight, Andrew,” he said, getting another nod, and then Andrew closed the door.

When Neil settled into bed and tried to close his eyes all he could see was the Countess, watching Andrew.

He got up and undressed, washing off quickly and then redressing and crawling back into bed. He wrapped himself in the covers and closed his eyes again.

The Countess was still watching Andrew.

He sighed and got back up, this time he got a cup of water and sipped at it thoughtfully. He tried to lay back down.

The Countess was watching Andrew.

Why? Why was she watching him? Neil thought as he tossed and turned in his bed.

Sure, Andrew had eyes like sunlight filtered through amber, but who cared about eyes? His shoulders were broad and muscled but who’s wouldn’t be if they slaved away on a farm all day? His skin was tanned and perfect, again, from slaving away on the farm. His blond hair was surprisingly soft looking usually, if you were into that sort of thing. He had nice hands, they were covering in callouses which Neil didn’t think the Countess would like.

Neil sat up, maybe it was his teeth. Andrew had good teeth, give credit where credit was due and Andrew had perfect, white, straight teeth and tanned skin and broad shoulders and soft blond hair.

Neil concentrated. Some of the other villagers followed him around when he made deliveries, but they followed everyone around.

Neil shook his head out and laid back down. Teeth, it had to be teeth. Neil thought to himself, he let himself laugh at the Countess for a moment. The idea that someone could get so hung up on teeth was ridiculous, and he laid down, content to sleep. Until–

No one stares at someone like that because of teeth.

Neil rolled over and tried to ignore his thoughts. But suddenly Andrew was looking at the Countess and the Countess was looking at Andrew. They were watching each other with a shared intensity and Neil sat up again and splashed water in his face.

Then he stood up and started pacing. He wondered what Andrew even saw in the stupid Countess. She looked horribly annoying standing in the cow patch with her dress. And her hair was laughably tall and her face looked like some garish clown all painted up like that and… and…

Neil groaned, and flopped back down on the bed. He felt ridiculous and worn out from jealousy already. The night passed fitfully, and finally, just before dawn Neil gave up trying to stay in bed. He snuck out, Sir instantly at his heels and started running.

He ran and he ran and he ran and then suddenly he was outside Andrew’s door. He was out of breath and sweaty and sleep deprived and wasn’t really thinking as he listened to Andrew moving around inside his shack. After a moment he knocked on Andrew’s door, it opened–somewhat to his surprise–and then Andrew was standing there. One eyebrow cocked in questioned and Neil gulped. Then the words fell out of him before he could think anymore.

“Andrew, I think I’m in love with you,” he said. Andrew blinked, and then slammed the door in his face. Neil jumped back and then stared at the door for a moment. Then he bolted off. He ran so fast and so hard not even Sir could keep up and by the time he got back to his room his legs felt like they could never hold his weight again. He collapsed into bed and stared at the ceiling, regretting everything. After a couple moments of staring he nodded off, and was awoken by a knocking on his door. He hurried to stand–in case it was his father–and unlocked the door, opening it to see Andrew standing there.

“Don’t you have cows to be milking or something,” Neil said bitterly. Andrew furrowed his brows.

“I came to say goodbye,” he said, and Neil’s heart sunk, but he kept face.

“Oh? Did my joke this morning scare you off, going to flounce away with your merry little Countess, hmm?” he said–again, bitter as lemons. Andrew’s eyebrow raised farther up his forehead.

“Flounce?” he said, like that was the bit to be caught up in. Neil crossed his arms.

“Well, are you?” Neil prompted, and Andrew blinked at him.

“You idiot,” he said, and Neil bristled. “I’m going to America,” he started (the author lied before, there are actually Americans. If you can believe this book actually takes place before Europe and during America, also in a pansexual based society. If you’re getting a headache stop thinking about it.) “There’s more opportunities and I can make more money and build a better home for two there.” Andrew continued. Neil scrunched up his nose.

“Can’t quite picture the Countess moving to the country,” he admitted, and Andrew gave him another flat look.

“Stop talking about the Countess, I’m not doing it for her you idiot.” he growled, and Neil blinked.

“Then–but I thought–you hate–? Oh.” Neil suddenly put it all together. ‘I hate having to feel anything, it’s pointless.’ ‘I hate you.’

“Yeah, ‘oh’” Andrew mocked and Neil glared at him, and then his face dropped.

“You’re leaving today?” he asked softly, and Andrew nodded.

“A boat to London, then to America, it leaves this morning.”

“Oh…” he looked at Andrew, “You promise we’ll see each other again?” he asked.

“I promise,” Andrew said, and Neil watched him trying to memorize his features, then Neil suddenly realized he already had.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew ordered, and Neil smirked.

“You’re the one still standing here,” he teased, and Andrew rolled his eyes and started walking away. “Wait!” Neil called out–as loudly as he dared, for fear of waking his father–Andrew stopped. “No kiss goodbye?” he asked hopefully, and Andrew came back to kiss him.

The kiss of Bonnie and Clyde right before they opened fire on a squadron of cops and died is considered by some to be one of the stupidest kisses in history. The kiss of Cleopatra and Antony is considered by far more people to be the most iconic of kisses. But in reality, until this point the very best kiss in history was shared between two women whispering secrets to one another deep in a cave as firelight danced around them and the furs of their clothes felt soft against their skin. No one remembers that kiss, because it happened and then both were eaten by dinosaurs, or lizards, or giant birds–translations vary–but until this point that was the very best kiss in history. And this kiss was a cross somewhere between the idiocy of Bonnie and Clyde’s, the infamousy of Cleopatra and Antony’s, and the passion of those two women in the cave.

Andrew left, and sent letters back. They were all as brief as he had been when he was standing right there with Neil. ‘I hate boats as much as I hate you.’ ‘London smells like Sir.’ And Neil held each and every one like it was gold. He kept them hidden from his father–who just assumed Andrew had run off. He gave Neil all the chores Andrew usually did, but Neil didn’t mind.

His life felt brighter suddenly, and he started to sooth the hatred he had for the spot behind his ears, he washed his hair regularly, and started keeping his combs. He cleaned his skin and made an effort not to smell like Sir and hay all the time. He wanted to make sure Andrew didn’t regret doing all this, and so for the first time in Neil’s life he cared about his appearance.

He didn’t know it, but quickly he was climbing the ranks of the most beautiful person alive. Reaching twentieth place within a week, sixth place within a month, and then finally first within three.

Neil’s mother and father noticed, the people in the village noticed, Sir noticed. The villagers started buying more milk just for the opportunity to watch Neil drop it off, and as they started talking with him they found him to be kinder and funnier than any of them had expected. Some of them even asking after Andrew–but only if they had a few hours to kill.

That was perhaps why Andrew’s death hit Neil so hard.

He heard of it through his father, who was complaining about it in the kitchen as Neil set the table for dinner one night.

“...off the coast–dead, all of them,” he was telling Mary, who nodded along like she was listening. Neil perked up though and felt his blood freeze.

“Not the Queen’s Pride,” he asked, that had been the ship Andrew had told him he was getting on in his last letter. It had been weeks since he’d gotten one, but Neil had assumed that was normal, he was at sea after all. Nathan glared at his son for interrupting him.

“That was one of them, yes,” he said impatiently. Neil’s chest squeezed.

“One of them that what?” he asked hurriedly.

“That was attacked by pirates.” Nathan said, then he cocked his head. “Why?” he asked, but Neil couldn’t breath.

“Who, who, which pirates?” he demanded, (living in a small village like the one Neil did, you get to know quite about about erroneous things, like–for example–pirates). Nathan narrowed his eyes.

“The Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Oh. The one pirate famous for never leaving a single survivor.

Neil ran.

He ran and ran, and decided, deep down in his chest–that he would never love again.

Part II: The Other Groom

(At this point the author would like to clarify that the first chapter, aptly titled ‘the Groom’ was about the first groom, Neil, and went on for a substantial amount of time about him. This chapter, also aptly named ‘the Other Groom’ should then, in theory, be given the same respect and be written with a substantial amount about the other groom. But the author has no respect for the other groom and no patience to explore his character more than is necessary. So this part will be brief, and she is unwilling to apologize.)

Riko Moriyama was an ugly man.

Part III–

(The authors editor would like to remind the author that it is necessary to expand more than is currently written on the character.)

Riko Moriyama was an ugly man, he was barrel chested and thick headed and always scowling.

Part III–

(The authors editor would like to remind the author that it is necessary to expand and write the character with more emotional depth rather than just adding descriptors.)

Riko Moriyama was an ugly man, he was barrel chested and thick headed and always scowling. He didn’t exactly want to be king, as the only thing he actually loved–more even then war and causing harm to others–was hunting.

He was an avid hunter, and even had built what he called the ‘Zoo of Death,’ and he sent his hirelings around the globe to collect him the most dangerous and interesting creatures for him to hunt. The Zoo of Death had five levels, each with different terrains for the Prince to hunt in. The only person aside from him to enter the Zoo and return alive was the Albino–a french peasant actually named Jean who had been given to the Prince as a gift for his being distantly related to Annette. The final floor of the Zoo was empty, because Riko hoped to one day put the most dangerous creature in the world there, and then kill it. He had yet to find an animal that suited his desires, and so the floor remained empty.

The other floors were stocked as he requested them.

‘Today I am feeling quick, fetch me a cheetah.’

‘Today I am feeling strong, fetch me a rhino.’

And each animal he hunted and killed and it blew up his already big head until it got to be a bit unhealthy. The day he found out about the kings ‘ailment’ he had been hunting a jaguar.

“Your highness, sir, there’s a message–”

“Can’t it wait, I’m in the middle of this.”

“No sir, it’s your brother.”

“Oh? What about him?”

“He’s dying sir.”

C
R
A
C
K

The Jaguar went down and the Prince huffed and annoyed breath.

“Blasted, that means I’ll have to get married.”

Part III: The Courtship

The second part of the message was that the Prince had been summoned to a meeting that included the Count, the Prince, the ailing King, and the ailing King’s wife–Riko’s step-sister Bella.

Bella was shaped like a gumdrop and colored like a raspberry and she was easily the most loved of the royals–though, this wasn’t a very impressive feet as both Riko and Ichirou had an affliction for murder and theatrics that no one would really be able to enjoy except them. Riko called her Evil Step-Sister, or E.S for short, not because she was awful, but just because the only step-siblings Riko had heard about were all evil.

“Alright,” the Prince began, “Who am I marrying? Let’s pick a spouse and be over with this.”

“I say we should pick a spouse for Riko,” Ichirou said, though he’d had an awful fall recently and nothing came out normally, so it sounded to everyone else like “Mumble muuummbleee mumble umble, Riko,” Queen Bella was the only one to actually care enough to try and listen.

“Yes of course dear,” she said, patting the Kings royal robes.

“What did he say?”

“He says whoever is chosen will be marrying one hell of a Prince in Riko,” she translated lovingly. Everyone had noticed that since the Kings mumbles had set in he’d become suspiciously nice, though no one suspected it was Queen Bella’s doing–no one thought she had the brains to think that quickly.

“Tell him he’s quite well off himself,” Riko said.

“We’ve changed Miracle Men, that accounts for the improvement,” Bella explained, though, there wasn’t actually any improvement.

“You fired Miracle Minyard?” Riko asked, and the queen nodded, “But I thought he was the last of the Miracle men,” he added. The Moriyamas prided themselves on having the last existing Miracle Man working for them–and only them.

“No, we found another in the mountains, he’s old–but who wants a young Miracle Man anyways?” Bella said.

“Tell them I’ve changed Miracle Men,” King Ichirou said, but it sounded like “Mumble umble murmble man.”

“You couldn’t be righter dear,” Bella said pleasantly.

“What did he say?”

“He said that a prince like you can’t marry just anyone,” Bella translated.

“Hmm, I supposed that means I’ll have to marry Allison,” the Prince mused.

“It would be politically smart,” Bella added.

Allison Reynolds was the princess of Guilder. A country on the other side of the Florin Channel (though, in Guilder it was the other way around and Florin was on the opposite side of the Channel of Guilder.) Guilder and Florin had been off and on again war fiends since the beginning of the Moriyama rule.

There was the Olive War, then the Tuna Fish Discrepancy–which had almost bankrupt them both–then the Roman Rift which almost destroyed them both. Then followed the Emerald Discord, in which both countries got rich again, mostly by teaming up to rob anyone who passed through the Florin Channel (Channel of Guilder). Currently they were at a peace, but that was only because both Guilder and Florin had ailing Kings. (Though Guilder’s ailing King was actually dying from poison, as the princess was getting impatient with putting up with the creep and waiting for her turn to rule.)

“Describe her,” Riko ordered.

“Mmm, she’s rather lovely, very cunning.” Bella said, Riko nodded.

“Can she hunt? I don’t care how smart she is as long as she’s able to use a knife.”

“I don’t believe so, looked like a little waif of a thing last time I saw her,” Bella remarked. (This was only because Bella had only ever seen the Princess at age ten. Now Allison was known for her strength–and her love of women. Particularly one woman, a knight named Renee. It was all very boasted about in Guilder, as everyone adored the Princess and her future wife.)

“No, I think not then, I don’t want a waif of a spouse. I want someone so beautiful that everyone will think ‘wow, that Riko fella really has it set.’” Riko said, and Bella nodded along jovially with him. “Find me someone like that,” he ordered, and the Count stepped up finally.

“He is already found.”

_____

Riko and the Count traveled to the village where Neil lived in a carriage with only a small procession–so as to be inconspicuous. It didn’t work, since the procession was still more people than even lived in Neil’s village.

“You say he’s the most beautiful man in the country?” Riko asked, and the Count sighed.

“Well, when I saw him he was actually quite a mess, but he had potential, you will see. He delivers the milk.” He explained, and Riko relaxed and watched out the window as they drove by Neil’s usual running route.

“A milkmaid?” Riko pondered, but then Neil suddenly ran by, Sir close on his heels. He wasn’t paying any attention to the procession and hadn’t even noticed it–too caught up in grief-filled thought. Riko though noticed him. “I’ll take him,” he said, hurrying to stand. “I must court him now, leave us for a minute,” he commanded, and left the carriage to chase after Neil.

Neil slowed to a stop and let the Prince catch up, he recognized the man but didn’t really care.

“I am your Prince and you will marry me,” Riko said, and Neil barely blinked.

“I am your servant and I refuse,” he said blandly, and Riko started.

“I am your Prince and you cannot refuse.”

“I am your servant and I just did.” Neil said, turning to leave, and Riko reached out and grabbed Neil’s arm to stop him.

“Refusal means death,” Riko said, and Neil stared into his eyes.

“Then kill me,” he said, and he shook Riko’s arm off and ran away with Sir close behind. Riko had never been refused before, and he didn’t like it. So instead of going to Neil he went to his parents. Nathan and Mary were again confused to have someone of such a high status visiting them to inquire about their son, but Nathan had absolutely no hesitation when Riko offered him twenty more acres of land and four of the finest horses in the land in exchange for his son.

Mary hesitated, but she was ignored again.

And so, by the time Neil got home, he was snatched up by Riko’s men and stuffed into a carriage to be carted off and married.

“I’ll never love you, I cannot love again.” Neil said, and Riko scoffed.

“Love, who said anything about love, you are simply a pretty possession, a symbol of status, I care not for love.” And so Neil, who had been floating through life aimlessly at the loss of his one and only love, sighed.

“Then let us be married,” he said, just wanting it to get over with.

Part IV: The Announcement

(The Author would like to point out that there was supposed to be a chapter between this one and the previous one, titled ‘The Preparations’ in which Neil was taught how to be a Prince, tries to escape twice, and then became a Prince of some town called Hamerville due to the fact that apparently Princes cannot not marry royalty. He also discovers Riko’s horrible affinity for pain–other people's pain, and suffers a great deal. But the author felt like that would be as boring and sad to read as it would be to write so she skipped it to get to the more exciting bits quicker, and, she supposes, if you desire to read the missing chapter you could message her and request for the boring bits, but she doesn’t see why anyone would want that, so even if you do message her she probably won’t write it. She’s again: not sorry.)

On the day of the announcement of Prince Riko’s marriage to Prince Nathaniel of Hamerville the villages surrounding the castle gathered in the courtyard of the castle. It was a massive turn out, and they all waited impatiently, anxious to not only see if the rumors that the King was dead, or sick, or completely fine, were true, but also to catch a glimpse of Riko’s illusive groom-to-be. Rumors and legends about Neil’s beauty had spread like wildfire (mostly thanks to Nicky who wouldn’t stop bragging about having known the new King-to-be).

Prince Riko emerged on the balcony above them, and puffed out his chest in a great show of pride that had everyone rolling their eyes, and then began to speak with the utmost air of self-importance.

“I, Prince Riko, will soon be taking a husband, that husband none of you yet know, but you will meet today. His name is Prince Nathaniel of Hamerville, and I do hope you give him your highest respect,” Riko said (this was extremely hypocritical, as Riko had been anything but respectful to Neil since his forced arrival.)

Neil exited the castle and made his way out to the balcony, and everyone quite literally gasped. Before, when he was doing the cleaning himself, he’d become quite becoming, but now this new nearly twenty-one year old Neil put the grieving eighteen year-old Neil to shame.

With full time hairdressers now to clean out the mud and brush his hair every morning it had returned to it’s natural auburn glow, and slight completely unprompted curls sprang up elegantly. His skin was unblemished–the callouses from his early labor scrubbed from his hands and the new scars from Riko and the old ones from his father carefully hidden from view behind the silk of his fine suit– and his eyes shone like sapphires. With all the new hands to clean him every single day Neil had been polished into a near perfect specimen, and he seemed to glow. Though, not from happiness, because Neil was the farthest from happy he had ever been in his life.

“I wish to walk among them,” he said, after the people had gaped at him for a moment. (Against Riko’s assumptions Neil had actually studied relentlessly on becoming a ruler, and he hoped to succeed in becoming a good one. It was something he could throw himself into fully, an excellent distraction from his aching heart and marred skin.) One of the main things he had read to do was gain the favor of the people, that way it would be easier to get them to follow you if you were ever to overthrow the current ruler.

“They are commoners, we do not walk among commoners if we can avoid it,” Riko had said, and Neil and fixed his glaring gaze on him.

“I was once a commoner, and I’ve known many in my life, they will not harm me,” he said, and then left the balcony. (He didn’t exactly believe his own claim, but he hoped that either the people would adore him for this, or kill him for it. He couldn’t decide which was better.)

It turned out to be the prior, and as he walked the people parted for him, creating a pathway as he cut through the courtyard. When they wanted to touch his suit, he let them, and when they wanted to brush their fingers against his skin, he let them.

What did clothes and skin mean to Neil anyways if they could never be touched by Andrew again?

This worked terribly well to gain the people's favor, and he was immediately more beloved than even Queen Bella. Some people criticised his ability to be a good ruler, and some were just jealous, but almost no one could completely hate him. There were also three people in the courtyard who wished to kill him, but Neil didn’t know that.

And if he did he would have laughed. But–

–in the farthest corner of the courtyard.

–high above view

–A man, dressed in all black with pale blond hair watched Neil walk through his soon-to-be subjects. His eyes were gleaming with something unrecognizable, and something deadly.

____

By the time Neil returned to the castle he was exhausted. All the touching and favor earning was tiring and had drained him more than he’d expected. But as he lay down and tried to sleep his mind couldn’t quiet. It was thinking of Andrew again, and Neil chided his bothersome mind and left for a run.

He wished for Sir as he ran, but the dog had been left behind in Neil’s unwilling departure. Nicky had sent him a letter however explaining that he had taken the dog and was making sure Sir was living well. That made Neil happy, at least someone was living pleasantly.

He let his mind clear as he ran, and took his usual path through the woods. Though he stopped suddenly as he spotted three men blocking his path. The first man–who was actually a woman– looked Sicilian, and was stout and nearly hunchbacked. She grinned eerily at Neil. The second was tall and lithe, like the blade of a sword, he looked vaguely Celtic and very intense. The third man was a large brute, possibly a Turk, who was trying very hard to keep an imposing face.

“Hello sir, fine evening isn’t it?” The Sicilian asked, and Neil shrugged.

“If you like the dark I suppose,” he said. The Turk chuckled and the Celt elbowed him pointedly.

“We’re a few traveling actors, we’ve managed to get hopefully lost. You wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest village is would you?” the Sicilian said, and Neil shrugged again.

“You’re out of luck, it’s quite a few miles south of here,” he said, and the Sicilian’s smile sharpened.

“Perfect, there’ll be less people to hear your screams them,” and she dived at Neil’s face with a shocking agility. That was the last thing he remembered, as he hands reached out and tapped a nerve in Neil’s neck that caused him to black out. He didn’t know if he screamed or not, but if he did no one heard him.

______

The next time he awoke he was wrapped in a blanket and surrounded by the sound of water lapping against a boat. He opened his mouth to speak until he heard voices, and then decided it better to listen.

“I think we should kill him now,” the Turk’s rumbling voice said.

“The less you think the better,” the Sicilian snapped, then there was the sound of ripping cloth.

“What’s that?” the Celt asked.

“The same I attached to a saddle–a patch from the uniform of a Guilder officer, and also the reason we can’t kill him now,” the Sicilian explained, “We must wait until the Guilder frontier, that way his body will still be warm by the time the Prince discovers it,” she said.

“But that will start a war,” the Celt said, sounding surprisingly concerned.

“That is what we are being paid for,” the Sicilian said.

“I still think–” The Turk tried.

“Well don’t, if we don’t wait to kill him until Guilder territory we won’t be paid in full, and you won’t be paid at all. Is that clear enough for you?” the Sicilian snapped, which quieted them all. “Watch you heads,”

“We should tell him that we’re ransoming him back, then he won’t panic so much,” the Celt said suddenly.

“It won’t matter, he’s been listening to us this whole time anyways,” the Sicilian said, and Neil froze under the blanket. How could she have known?

“How do you know?” the Turk asked.

“Lola knows all,” the Sicilian said, and Neil scowled. Conceited much? He thought to himself. “Yes, very conceited,” Lola said, and Neil blinked.

“Kevin, put him back to sleep he’s bothering me and we’re casting off,” she added after a moment, and then Neil suddenly spotted the Celt removing the blanket enough to reach his neck and knock him out again.

_____

The next time Neil woke up he didn’t dare to even think for fear of giving himself away and instead just dived into the Florin Channel (Channel of Guilder). He held his breath and stayed under the water for as long as he could and then dragged himself farther and farther from the boat.

“There! He’s over there I can hear him!” Someone yelled from the boat, but the moon wasn’t out and Neil couldn’t see them and he doubted they could see him. He switched to a silent and hurried breaststroke.

“Where did he go!?” Someone yelled.

“Oooh Nathaniieeelll,” Lola’s voice cooed at him from somewhere in the dark, and Neil froze (well, stopped swimming and started silently treading water, which as close as you can come to freezing in water without sinking and drowning, which didn’t sound that appealing to Neil–or anyone really.) “These waters are shark infested, and did you know that sharks–upon smelling blood–go absolutely insane and devour anything nearby? Even other sharks?” she called, and Neil’s heart started to pound.

“I’m safe in this boat Nathaniel, but I have a knife in my hand, and if you don’t swim back over I’ll cut my arm and my leg and fill a cup with blood and toss it in the water. It’ll be a frenzy,” Lola continued. Neil didn’t believe her though, and so he remained silent.

Suddenly Lola cried out.

“She’s just cut her leg!” The Turk called out, and then Lola cried out again. “Her arm now, the cup’s almost full!” he narrated. Neil still didn’t believe them, so he stayed silent in the water.

“Last chance Nathaniel!” Lola called out, but Neil didn’t move. Then suddenly there was a splash and the sharks around him went mad. Panic filled Neil, but no matter where he turned to swim there were sharks, and it was still too dark to see any of them so he just felt and heard powerful fins slashing through the water all around him.

(The author would like to remind the reader at this point that Neil doesn’t die, he survives this, you can relax. Also the author would recommend you get a cup of hot cocoa, or water, or some refreshment, you’ve probably been reading for a while, have you used the bathroom? Eaten anything substantial? And the author doesn’t mean ‘oh I had two cookies for breakfast’ that’s not nearly fibrous enough to be considered a true meal. Perhaps consider standing to stretch quickly, it does wonders for your spine. Ok, the author’s done mothering you, stay safe, Neil certainly isn’t.)

Right then the moon chose to appear again from behind a cloud, and it illuminated Florin Channel (the Channel of Guilder) and Neil in it. The water thrashed with sharks and Lola pointed Neil out in the water and the the Turn steered the boat over.

“There! There he is grab him! Quickly!” she screeched, and suddenly arms were around Neil and yanked him out of the water, tossing him into the boat.

“Keep him warm,” the Celt’s voice–Kevin’s–said. And the Turk appeared and wrapped Neil in a blanket.

“Don’t want you getting a cold,” the Turk said, surprisingly not unkindly. Neil blinked at him.

“I don’t think it much matters at this point, you’re killing me at dawn,” he remarked, and the Turk winced. Suddenly though Lola shoved him out of the way. She struck him, hard enough to rattle Neil’s teeth, and he was sent reeling into the side of the boat. She wound up to do it again but the Turk grabbed her hand and Kevin had his hand on the blade strapped to his side.

“Do not use force, I am the brute, if you wish to strike someone strike me,” the Turk said, and Lola scowled at him and snatched her hand back.

“I’ll do whatever I want to,” she snapped, but she didn’t hit Neil again. She did crouch down and restrain his hands and feet however. “I’m the one who got him back in the boat, my plan was flawless,” she added pridefully.

“It was stupid, the sharks would have eaten me and then none of you would have gotten paid,” he pointed out, and she glared at him.

“Spoiled brats scream when they get scared,” she hissed, and Neil held her gaze.

“But I didn’t scream.”

“You would have, and then we would have found you. My plan was flawless, just like all my other plans,” she said, Neil wanted to argue with her more but she threatened to gag him so he shut his mouth on his own.

“Ah! Look! The Cliffs of Insanity! Yes, we are miles ahead of anyone else and perfectly on schedule, no one will catch us!” she boasted as the cliffs came into view. The Cliffs of Insanity were rising sheer and flat out of the water to vertigo inducing heights. They provided the most direct route to Guilder from Florin, but almost no one used it because they were too difficult to climb. Many had tried, but only two people had ever succeeded. (Allison Reynolds and her knight Renee were those two people, they’d been competing against one another and it had been what had sparked Allison’s interest in Renee.)

“No one could be following us then?” Kevin asked, Lola smirked.

“No, it would be inconceivable,” she smirked.

“Inconceivable?”

“Inconceivable.”

“So that means absolutely no one could possibly be catching up to us?”

“Yes,” Lola said smugly, “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Kevin replied, “I just happened to look back and see a ship catching up to us,” he said, and all four of them looked back to see the tiny black ship that–sure enough–was catching up rather quickly. The ship looked ominous on the horizon.

“Perhaps it’s just a local fisherman taking a pleasure cruise through shark infested waters at night,” Kevin remarked, and Lola glared at him.

“It doesn’t matter, we’ll lose him at the cliffs, they don’t have a giant to they, Matt?” Lola said, most likely referring to the Turk, who shrugged.

“It’s too far away to tell,” he said, and Lola glared.

“It was rhetorical, of course they don’t have a giant you moron,” she snapped.

“I’m not a moron, I just can’t see that far,” Matt said defensively.

“I don’t think you’re a moron,” Neil said, and Matt smiled at him. “I think you’re a moron, your plan is horrible,” he growled at Lola, who’s eyes shot daggers at him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about so shut your pretty little mouth,” she snapped, before turning to Kevin. “Kevin, steer us towards the steepest face,” she commanded.

“I was already doing that,” Kevin mumbled. They reached the cliffs–the black ship still gaining on them, and all four unloaded from the boat.

“Sink it, quickly,” Lola said, and Kevin sank the boat. Neil suddenly spotted a rope, and craned his neck to see that it lead all the way to the very top of the cliffs. Lola tugged on it a few times, making certain it was secure, and then Matt grabbed it.

“Get ready to climb,” Lola said, and Neil gulped.

“Climb?” he said, “I can’t–”

“Hush, what did I say back in the boat,” Lola hissed.

“Ready, load me,” Matt said, and Kevin and Lola grabbed Neil and set him so he was draped over Matt’s shoulders. Neil squirmed, not feeling secure enough at all to be carried all the way up the easily three-thousand foot cliffs. More panic clawed up his chest as Lola and Kevin both secured themselves to Matt.

“Stop squirming or I’ll cut off your legs,” Lola threatened, Neil didn’t stop.

“I’m not going to this is stupid we’re going to fall–”

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop you,” Matt said, it shouldn’t have been comforting but he said it so surely and pleased that Neil couldn’t help but believe him.

“He won’t,” Kevin assured him, and so instead of squirming Neil latched on to the giant as best he could, his breath hitched though as Matt began to climb.

Matt couldn’t have been more happy though, for he finally felt useful. When using his strength Matt knew he could never fail, not like when it came to using his brain. Reading made his stomach tie in knots. Writing made his palms sweat. Any mentions of addition–or heavens forbid division–and Matt as sure to change the subject. But with his strength–and especially his arms–he had never failed or faltered. His arms were unrivaled throughout the world, and while Neil was currently the most beautiful person in the world, Matt was certainly the strongest.

(The author’s editor would like to point out that she removed a large section which the author used to describe all the various strongest people in the world before Matt, but the author has no concept of strongman history and made everything up, so the editor–for the reader’s sake–removed all twelve pages of it.)

Matt climbed, arm over arm over arm steadily up the cliff. Quickly conquering 100 feet, 200 feet, 500 feet. The only one who was truly completely unbothered by the height was Lola.

She was glaring at the boat, which was coming closer and closer. Until a small man in black leapt onto shore.

“Matt go faster you useless oaf,” she hissed.

“I thought I was going faster,” he said, upset that he wasn’t being more helpful, and he pressed his arms to go faster. “Your legs are around my face though, I can’t see how much farther we have to go,” he added.

“We’re about halfway up, you’re doing wonderfully Matt,” Kevin said from where he was clutching Matt’s waist. Neil glanced up, and was actually surprised they’d made it this far up that fast, but when he looked back down his stomach dropped. This was for two reasons, one being the terrible height and the other being the man in black that had suddenly grabbed hold of the rope and began climbing after them.

“Inconceivable! Matt, you told me you were strong! A giant of incomparable strength! How is this normal man gaining!?” Lola screeched, and Matt started panicking.

“I have to carry three people, and he only has to carry himself and–”

“Excuses are shelter for cowards, go faster.” Lola growled, and Matt did. But the man in black continued gaining on them, he seemed to fly up the rope and cut their lead in half and then in half again. Lola screeched again.

“How fast is he climbing??” Matt asked, Kevin looked down and watched for a moment.

“I’m frightened,” he said, and Matt panicked again and pushed himself to go faster. Faster and faster and faster. As he got closer and closer to the top the man in black got closer and closer to them, and Lola’s screeching got more and more insistent until finally Matt reached the top and hauled them all up over the cliff side. Lola jumped off first, then dragged Neil down with her, and Kevin unlatched himself from Matt and went to peer over the edge.

Neil wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but he knew he never wanted to experience anything like it again. He couldn’t really move, with his hands and feet tied, so he just remained in a pile on the ground and watched as Matt and Kevin looked over the cliffs edge at the man in black.

“He’s an excellent climber, I think we–” Matt cut himself off as Lola cut the rope and it slithered over the cliffs edge like a live animal. They stared for a moment, and Lola smiled, seemingly pleased with herself.

“Well, let’s get a move on, we’ve got a prince to kill and a war to start,” she said, but Matt and Kevin didn’t move.

“He held on,” Kevin said, shock in his voice, and Lola’s face contorted with shock.

“Inconceivable!” She shrieked, running over to the cliffs edge. Kevin glared at her.

“You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means,” he said, and Lola ignored him, instead she threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh, no this is great, he’s holding on look at him!” she cackled, and then turned to Neil. “Oh how rude of us, you must want to watch too,” she said, coming over and grabbing him. She leaned him forward until he was basically hanging off the cliff and he spotted the man in black, not far down, dangling over the drop.

“He has strong arms, to hold on this long,” Matt said.

Then, as they all watched, he slowly began to climb.

“Inconceivable!” Lola yelled, tossing Neil down away from the cliff so she could get a closer look.

“It was inconceivable that he was following us and it was inconceivable that he was climbing and now it’s inconceivable that he survived! You aren’t using that word right!” Kevin snapped, and Lola ignored him and scowled.

“Kevin, you stay behind, kill him when he reaches the top. Matt, grab the prince and follow me, we need to hurry,” she ordered, and Neil was picked up again and tossed over Matt’s shoulder. He watched Lola turn to Kevin. “Meet us as quickly as you can in the Guilder Frontier after he’s dead,” Lola said, and Kevin nodded. He glanced to Matt, who was looking over his shoulder at him.

“Catch up quickly,” Matt said as Lola hurried away. Kevin smiled.

“Don’t I always,” he said, and then went to sit at the cliffs edge to watch the man in black’s progress. Matt turned away and caught up with Lola, leaving him alone.

He sat and watched the man in black climb for a long while, straining his eyes to try and discover the man's secret, but the darkness was too thougough and he couldn’t tell how he was managing to climb.

Kevin was good at learning, and studying, but he wasn’t a patient person, and so after just a few more minutes of staring he began to get bored.

He stood up and bounced around, pulling out his sword and giving it a couple of twists to warm himself up, but by the time he was finished the man in black was still at least 100 feet down.

Kevin sighed and watched the man for a few more moments, now that he was closer he could see that the man was wearing some kind of dark mask–or hood to hide his features. Kevin wondered if he was a fellow outlaw. He didn’t necessarily want to kill the man, Kevin didn’t really care for killing and the man had put up a commendable fight up the cliff already. But he’d been given an order, and he had to follow through.

So, while he waited, he did the only thing he could think of and pulled out his sword again and kissed the steel carefully.

__KEVIN__

When Kevin was a child he lived in a small village with his mother, Kayleigh Day.

The village wasn’t known by anyone or for anything, and it was tucked in the middle of nowhere and completely unspecial. No one came to the village to search out an excellent swords maker, or hire a blacksmith. No, they went to David Wymack, in the city a few miles from Kevin’s village.

But every once in a while, Wymack would be commissioned an impossible sword. One that he couldn’t possibly accept and forge.

And he would accept it and then travel to the tiny village and knock on the door of Kayleigh Day.

She would let him in, a smile on her face, and tell Kevin to fetch tea. Wymack would ruffle Kevin’s hair lovingly and hug Kayleigh, while Kevin rushed away to make tea and hurry back, not wanting to miss a second of the routine intaction.

It would stare with polite small talk, which Wymack was horrendous at, and then he would mention a difficult commision. And then he would ask Kayleigh to make the sword.

‘This noble wants jewels encrusted in the shape of his mistress’–’

‘No.’ Kayleigh would say. And then the real thing would start.

Wymack would ask again.

No.

Wymack would try to charm her.

No.

Wymack would plead.

No.

Wymack would beg.

No.

Insult.

No.

Bribery.

No.

And finally he would hang his head.

‘Kay, I promised to make this sword, and it’s impossible. I will have to go back and tell this man I cannot make his blade and my image will be sullied so thoroughly I will have nothing.’ he would say. ‘Please,’ and then Kayleigh would purse her lips and sigh. And then she would say–

‘Kevin set an extra seat for dinner,’ and Kevin would set down the plate he’d already grabbed and be bouncing with excitement as Wymack asked–

‘What’s for dinner?’

‘The same gruel as always,’ Kayleigh would reply, and then Kevin would be leaning for the door waiting for Wymack’s–

‘Kevin, go check my carriage, I might have some food in there.’ And there always was an entire feast for them to stuff themselves with. Kevin would be bursting with happiness, sitting and talking while eating his fill in the presence of his mother and Wymack. (Wymack–unbeknownst to Kevin and to Wymack himself–was actually Kevin’s father, after a night of childhood passion and a hay loft Kayleigh lied and told everyone who had asked that she didn’t know who the father was. This was because Wymack was from a rich family, and she knew the moment she told him he was Kevin’s father he would give up everything to be with him–she didn’t want him to give up his dreams of becoming a swords maker, so she’d kept her secret, even from Kevin himself.)

Then Wymack would try and convince Kayleigh to move to the city with him and join his business, and she would turn him down every time, because she didn’t have the patience to work for fools. She was an artist, not a pedler, and she refused to work as one.

One day, a man rode into the village, his horse was massive and he wore rich looking clothing and Kevin hid behind his mother when she went out to greet him.

‘Sir,’ she had said.

‘I’ve heard rumors of a woman named Kayleigh day who makes swords to rival excalibur,’ he said, and Kayleigh shrugged.

‘Someone’s been lying to you then, I could sharpen a dagger for you but that’s the extent of my skills,’ she said modestly, but the man persisted.

‘I have particular, particularities, that have been inhibiting my skills with the sword, I need you to make me a sword better than any other in the world.’ he said, and Kevin recognized the gleam in his mothers eyes.

‘What particular particularities?’

The man held up his hand, it had six fingers.

Kayleigh took the commision, and set to work on making the finest sword in the world. It took her an entire year, an awful year where she barely slept and never left her workshop. Kevin brought her food she forgot to eat and every other day was a trainwreck of her giddily exclaiming that she’d done it! She’d made the perfect sword! Or horrible crashes of sadness at the newest failed attempt.

Then one day, Kevin came into the workshop–ready to remind his mother to sleep–and saw her sitting at the forge, staring at the thing resting on top.

She’d done it. She’d created the greatest sword in the world.

The six fingered man didn’t think so.

‘It’s not the worst, you see, it’s just not what I was expecting.’ He said, turning it over in his hands. And rage roared up inside Kayleigh, she snatched back the blade.

‘Then you know nothing, leave.’ She snapped, and he sneered at her.

‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t take it, I’m just not paying as much as you’re asking.’

‘No, I will not give my best work to someone who doesn’t appreciate it. This sword belongs to my son now, leave.’

‘I want the sword.’

‘You will not have it, you ignorant fool.’ And those were her last words as Kevin watched his mother be killed by the six fingered man. He screamed, and his screams summoned the villagers who only stood and watched as the noble cleaned his own blade of Kayleigh’s blood and got back on his horse.

‘PIG!’ Kevin’s voice called through the crowd as he shoved his way forward.

‘COWARD!’he continued, clutching his mother’s sword as he stood in front of the six fingered man’s horse.

‘I challenge you to a duel, for my mother,’ he said, pointing the sword he’d watched his mother slave to make at the man, who laughed. He dismounted, and accepted the duel. Kevin barely lasted a full two minutes, but even as young as ten years old the six fingered man recognized his genius. He disarmed Kevin, and Kevin stood straight and didn’t say a word or beg at all. The man was impressed.

‘I won’t kill you, because you have talent and bravery, but you do need to be taught manners.’ The man said, and then he sliced the blade across Kevin’s cheeks and scarred him forever.

Wymack took Kevin in, and raised him, until one day Kevin was gone. A note pinned to his pillow that only said ‘I need to learn.’

When Kevin finally returned, after ten years of training himself and suffering through years of studying and practice, he was easily the best swordsman in the world. He had one mission: kill the six fingered man. When he found him, he would challenge him to a duel and say.

“Hello, my name is Kevin Day, you killed my mother, prepare to die.” And then he would kill the six fingered man or die trying.

But the world is large, and Kevin had no idea how to find the six fingered man. So instead he found the mouth of a wine bottle. He grew bored of swordplay, because no one could even come close to being a challenge for him. That was when Lola found him, a drunkard who barely picked up his sword anymore. She coaxed him back into shape, and hired him as her muscle, and so, when she ordered him to do something, he did it. Because he had nothing better to be doing.

_____

The man in black was taking a long time.

Kevin was still impatient.

He leaned over the cliff again and saw that the man was still nearly twenty feet down the cliffside. He checked to see if the man had six fingers, but alas, the man had the normal digits.

“Hello,” Kevin called down, and the man looked up at him and grunted. “I’ve been watching you for a while and I must say your ascent has been quite commendable,” he said, the man looked at him again.

“I’m a bit busy,” the man said, voice sounding stained.

“Right, right sorry,” Kevin said, and he left the cliffside. He waited a few minutes before going back to the edge. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?” he asked, the man gave a heavy sigh.

“Not sure, I’ll get back to you,” he said, and went back to climbing.

“Could you hurry it up at all?” he asked, and the man glared at him. “There’s a rope up here, I could throw it down,” he offered, and the man just stayed hanging for a moment.

“I’d rather not give up all this progress I’ve made,” the man said, probably assuming that Kevin would cut the rope as soon as he grabbed ahold of it.

“I swear on the life of Kayleigh Day you will reach the top of this cliff alive,” Kevin swore, and the man watched him again.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“My mother, she was murdered and I would never do anything to sully her name.” The man hesitated, then muttered something that sounded like ‘of course,’ and sighed again.

“Alright, fine, throw down the rope.” he said, and Kevin rushed to tie the extra rope around a tree and then threw it over the cliff. The man grabbed on and Kevin dragged him up and over the cliffs edge.

“I’ll let you catch your breath,” Kevin said, now willing to be more patient that he could see the man standing next to him. The man rolled his eyes.

“You’re so kind,” he said sarcastically. (Sarcasm had been invented at this point, though it’s been around as long as taxes have been. In fact it’s a bit of a famous debate over which came first–taxes or sarcasm.)

Kevin was buzzing with anticipation, he prayed to anyone or anything that would listen. Please, please let him be a decent fencer.

“Why are you following us?” he asked, curious to know what was worth this man’s effort. The man shrugged.

“You’re carrying precious baggage,” he said, and Kevin cocked his head. “Alright, I’ve my breath back,” he said, before Kevin could say anything else. Kevin grinned, he took a stance across from the man. He put his sword in his right hand–he’d been doing that lately. Fighting with his non-dominant hand for a challenge and the practice. The man in black gripped his sword with his left hand.

“You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you,” he admitted and the man raised a brow.

“You seem like an ass, hate to die,” he said, and then they began to fight.

(The author and the editor would both like to remind you that if you haven’t read William Goldman’s book The Princess Bride you should 100% go do that now, if only for this fight scene because it is one of the single most amazing fight scenes to ever be written and the author of this fic did it absolutely no justice.)

Kevin immediately realized his prayers had been answered. The man fought. He kept up with Kevin and predicted his moves and effectively parried them and attacked in ways that Kevin had never seen before. He felt excitement flow through him because finally someone to challenge him.

Kevin landed the first blow, a slight graze on the man’s wrist. The man barely flinched, but it was bleeding. He suddenly attacked with a new ferocity that forced Kevin backwards, and before he realized it his heels were on the edge of the cliff.

“Where did you learn to fight? You’re amazing,” he gushed, the man raised a brow again, still flashing his sword so fast Kevin had to concentrate to block it.

“Why are you smiling?” the man asked, and Kevin’s grin widened.

“Because I know something you don’t,” he said, shoving the man away for a moment. “I’m not right-handed,” he said, tossing the sword over to his dominant hand and stepping back into the fight. The man in black fought valiantly but he was no match for Kevin–who drove him back until they hit a grove of trees and Kevin managed to land a few more quick slices. Suddenly though the man was smiling, and Kevin frowned.

“Why are you smiling?” he asked. The man in black didn’t say anything but he switched hands and suddenly Kevin was completely outmatched. He gaped at the man. “Who are you??” he asked, the man ignored him and continued fighting, until suddenly Kevin’s sword flew out of his hand and stuck itself in the ground. Kevin sunk to his knees.

Beaten.

He hadn’t been beaten in decades. He gaped up at the man, and then quickly recovered himself.

“Make it quick?” he asked, unashamed to die at the hands of this particular man, but the man just shrugged and brought the hilt of his blade up and hit it over Kevin’s head.

“It’d be a waste to kill you,” the man said to Kevin’s unconscious body, and then he tied him up and took off after Lola, Matt, and Neil.

______

“Kevin’s been beaten!” Matt yelled as he spotted the man in black starting up over the hills. The terrain was rocky, and Lola wasn’t faring so well against it. Matt still had Neil over his shoulder, and he and Neil had been having a conversation about rocks when Neil had pointed out the man in black back on their tail.

“What?” Lola squawked, and Matt waited for her to catch up.

“Kevin’s been beaten,” he said, pointing to where the man was running towards them.

“Inconceivable!” Lola shrieked. Unretrievable! Matt thought, he liked rhymes. Though he didn’t say it out loud, Lola hated them. Or maybe she just hated Matt, it was hard to tell sometimes. (She did–just hate Matt, and Kevin for that matter. The only person Lola truly liked was herself, and she was horribly in love.) Kevin used to rhyme with him, and it made Matt a little sad that Kevin was dead now.

“Matt, untie his legs!” Lola commanded, and Matt set Neil down–he’d discovered he preferred to be called ‘Neil’ and Matt felt like it was only fair to call him that, he was going to die after all– he ripped off the ropes around Neil’s ankles and then Lola snatched Neil and dragged him away. “You stay here, and get rid of him, finish what Kevin couldn’t,” Lola snarled, and as she started to walk away Matt panicked. (Spanicked.)

“Uh, how?? I can’t fence!” he called, and she whirled around, spinning Neil with her who jerked around in her vice-like grip.

“I don’t care how, just kill him! Smash his head with a rock! Crush his legs with your hands! Pick him up and beat him against the rocks! I don’t care just kill him!” Lola snarled, and then she turned and left, dragging Neil with her. Matt was a little sad to see them go, he was starting to feel bad about killing Neil. He was nice, and very sad. He’d told Matt he could never love again, which Matt thought wasn’t a very good thing. (Ring.)

Matt decided to give the man in black a quick death, that was only fair, he had beaten Kevin, which Matt had thought was impossible. And he’d climbed the cliff, which Matt had also thought was impossible.

Matt wondered if he thought himself impossible to beat. (Eat.)

Then he stopped thinking and hid in some rocks, grabbing a big sized boulder so he could smash it over the man’s head. Then he thought better and grabbed another, smaller rock and waited.

Soon enough the man came running around the corner and Matt jumped out and threw his small rock right past the man’s head. The man froze and looked over at him.

“I could have hit you, but I didn’t,” Matt started, and the man eyed him. He didn’t say anything, which was a little unnerving, but Matt remained composed. “I think we should fight, the way god intended, hand to hand,” he proposed, and the man’s eyes didn’t move.

“You want me to put down my sword and you put down your rock and we’ll try to kill each other like civilized people?”

“Exactly,” Matt said, pleased he understood. But the man just scanned over all near eight feet of Matt.

“Huh,” he said after a moment.

“It’s not my fault I was born bigger and stronger than most people,” Matt said with a shrug, and the man sighed, but he took his sword out and set it to the side.

“I guess not,” the man said, and Matt lowered into a fighting stance.

__MATT__

His parents, upon discovering his great strength and size, had immediately invested in boxing. Randy Boyd, Matt’s mother, had been a prolific boxer in her day, and even she knew that her son had an advantage no other person would be lucky enough to possess.

The only problem was that Matt hated fighting. He hated it because everywhere he went he won, immediately, and the crowds hated him and Matt hated being hated. (Baited.) And getting hurt.

‘But mom I don’t want to, it hurts.’ ‘Life is pain Matty, anyone who says different is selling something.’

But all his parents had taught him to do was fight, and so when they died of a plague in one of the cities Matt was fighting in, he had no idea what to do. Eventually he discovered that fighting didn’t have to be so bad, so long as you did it for the right people. He began fighting off gangs of people for charities and large groups of bad people that made others cheer for him. Matt liked being liked.

But he was still alone, which was his second worst fear. (Hate and fear to Matt were the same thing, because everything he feared he hated and everything he hated he feared. Not unlike the way that for a while hate and love had meant the same thing to Andrew, and then to Neil, before Andrew had been killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts that is.)

So Matt had joined the circus, but people didn’t much like him in the circus, and the boooing soon came back and Matt ran away. That was when Lola found him, and he’d met Kevin. He liked Kevin, and he needed Lola, he wasn’t smart enough to be on his own, he needed her brains–at least, that’s what Lola always told him.

_______

The man in black also lowered into a fighting position across from him, it looked decently professional, and Matt wondered vaguely who this man was. (Fuzz.)

Matt lunged out to grab the man, but he dodged, and Matt was surprised for a moment.

“You are quick,” he remarked, grabbing for the man again, this time he managed to get ahold of him but the man just ducked and twisted out of his grip.

“I try,” the man said, dancing around him. Matt paused and tried to get his brain to think of a way to beat the man–like he knew Kevin probably would have. Oh, but Kevin was dead now. Before Matt could think anymore though the man in black was suddenly on his back (ack!), with his arms squeezing around Matt’s neck and cutting off his air.

Matt charged at a boulder and turned at the last minute, slamming the man between his back and the boulder. He heard the man groan but he didn’t release his grip. Matt did it again, the man still didn’t let go and now Matt had no air left.

He tried to tear the man’s arms away but it was no use, nothing worked and the man held fast. Finally the giant fell to his knees and then bonelessly collapsed into the ground. The man in black released him before he died, and left him unconscious on the ground–not bothering with ropes because what ropes could hold a man like that? Then he picked up the trail again and took off, two down, one to go.

____

Lola was waiting for him, in fact, she’d set out a small picnic spread complete with blanket, wine, cheese, apples and a tied up and blindfolded Neil laying beside her with a knife to his throat. The man in black approached warily.

“I see you defeated my giant,” Lola said. The man in black said nothing. He took a step closer though, and Lola pressed the knife harder against Neil’s throat, who winced at the pressure and the man in black froze. “Any closer and I’ll cut his throat,” Lola threatened. The man in black retreated, and Lola lessened the pressure. “Better,” she remarked.

“Now listen, I’ve come to the conclusion that you have come to steal what I have rightfully stolen, I don’t find that very gentlemanly,” Lola started.

“What a moral sentence,” Neil remarked dryly from where he was laying on the ground. He was getting bored of the journey and just wanted people to stop fighting over who ‘possessed’ him. He couldn’t see it but the man in black’s lips quirked upwards.

“Shut up or I’ll cut your pretty tongue out,” Lola hissed, and Neil sighed.

“You’re going to kill me anyways, it’s not much of a threat,” he said, now thoroughly amusing the man in black and pissing off Lola, who sliced her blade across Neil’s cheek, deep enough to draw blood, he hissed in pain and flinched away. The smile vanished from the man in black’s face.

“I never said I’d make it a quick death, now shut up,” when she looked back the man in black had moved closer and she scowled at him and pressed the knife into Neil’s throat again. The man hurriedly retreated. “As I was saying, I want to know the stakes, why are you fighting so hard for him?” Lola asked.

“He is a prince, the ransom would be well worth the effort,” the man said, and Lola narrowed her eyes at him and Neil sighed.

Great. Now, if Lola won he was going to die, and if this mystery man won he was going to get sold back to Riko. Neil decided he’d rather Lola win, she would be easier to run from, assuming this mystery man had truly scaled the cliffs of insanity, defeated the supposedly ‘greatest swordsman ever’ (according to Matt) and a full blown giant. The more he thought about it the more he wondered though, who was this guy?

“Money motivated, I can respect that, I am also money motivated you see. But, I’m also motivated by survival: I have very specific instructions for what to do with him and if I don’t follow through with them my life might be in demand,” she explained, “So, only logically, I have the advantage of desperation,” she said, and the man in black nodded.

“You consider yourself smart?” he asked, Neil smirked at the insult, but Lola didn’t seem to notice it, she preened.

“Of course, I am the smartest person to ever exist, the most genius creature to have been birthed and that is the result of decades of cultivating my massive intellect and perfecting each cell in my large brain,” she boasted. (In reality she was nowhere near the smartest person to ever exist. The smartest person to ever exist was actually a gender rejecting eighteen year old named ‘Nyeta’ who was born–completely randomly–with the knowledge of everything in the entire world. Unfortunately for them, they were also born without kidneys, though this, of course, was before people knew what kidney’s were and so no one realized they were missing until Nyeta died of jaundice. Though of course they didn’t have jaundice back then so they just called Nyeta ‘parchment skin’ until Nyeta died. Nyeta knew they were missing kidneys, Nyeta knew everything, but no one believed them.)

“Then I challenge you to a battle of wits,” the man in black said, and Lola watched him suspiciously.

“You’d dare?” she asked, tilting her head back to laugh, and the man simply sat down across from her, careful not to move any closer, and pulled a packet out of his jacket. He tore it open and held it out.

“Smell this,” he said, and she leaned forward and took a whiff, he squeezed the pack and a dust cloud engulfed Lola’s face. She started coughing and dropped the knife, scrambling for the wine to wash her suddenly dry throat. (She had fallen for one of the most classic of blunders. The most famous being ‘Never get involved in a land war in Asia.’ Though she’d been at fault for not thinking through all the classics, instead only thinking of her favorite, ‘Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line,’ though, the man in black knew of this one, which is why he’d killed her without putting his own life on the line.)

The man in black used his mask to protect himself and then dived forward, covering Neil’s nose and mouth so he couldn’t breath any of the chemicals in. Lola coughed and sputtered and choked and Neil struggled against the man in black’s calloused hands.

The man in black started dragging Neil away from the picnic and away from the dying Lola, who’s face had already begun to turn purple. Once out of range of danger the man in black dropped his hand away from Neil’s face and Neil scrambled to tear off the blindfold. He caught his first good look at the man in black then. As the man cut the ropes around his wrists and then held him in a bruising grip.

He was shorter than Neil had expected, with a black hood and mask covering his features and a sword around his waist. Neil spit on him. The man had the audacity to look surprised, and he wiped away the spit from the side of his mask. Neil glared at him.

“Who are you?” he hissed.

“No one you should be spitting on,” the man said, ice lacing his voice. Neil just kept glaring.

“Oooh, how ominous, are you going to crow about my death coming in seven days?” Neil mocked. (he probably would have compared the man to a fortune cookie, had they existed.) Neil was at the end of his proverbial rope. The night had been exhausting, and the day before that just as tiring. He was done with people having control of him and wanted it all to be over.

“Do you have no control of your tongue?” the man hissed at him, and Neil gritted his teeth.

“Not for the likes of you,” he growled, and then the man started walking. He was still holding onto Neil but Neil just sat down. The man glared down at him from where he was standing and Neil glared back. “I’m done moving for today.” Neil said stubbornly, “I’ll just sit here and wait for my stupid prince to come get me, then you’ll die and I get to go back to at least having everyone pretend I’m not a possession,” he said bitterly.

“Such bitter words for such a pretty face,” the man remarked snidely, Neil ignored him. “Get up, we’re moving,” he ordered, but Neil didn’t move. Unfortunately the man in black was much stronger than Neil and all it took was a slight tug to drag him to his feet.

“I’ll fight you every inch, I swear it,” Neil promised.

“What are your promises to me, Highness?” the man hissed, with such conviction it shocked Neil to stillness. Which the man took advantage of and tossed Neil over his shoulder. Neil dug his elbows into the man’s back and the man responded by pinching the back of Neil’s calf.

Then he took off, leaving behind the dead body of Lola. Neil kept his promise though, he didn’t stop struggling against the man until finally he grew tired of Neil’s resistance (after a long time) and dropped him roughly on the ground. Neil scrambled up and started running, but the man just grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

“Stop. Struggling.” He growled, and Neil felt a spark of fear in his chest, but he ignored it.

“I said I was done moving for today,” Neil growled back. Suddenly, there was a massive cannon boom and both Neil and the man in black turned to see a huge Armada covering the coast.

“Your love, he comes,” the man said, and Neil hissed at the word.

“He is not my love,” he snapped.

“Oh? So you admit to not loving your future husband? How quaint, an honest man, you’re a rare one, Highness,” the man snarked and Neil tried to yank his hands free–it didn’t work so he settled for glaring.

“It’s not like I chose to be married to him, he’s a bastard prick. And I could never love again so don’t you dare assume I had any free-will in the decision,” he snapped, feeling raw and angry.

“Never love again? But you’re so young, what a loss,” the man mocked, Neil was now reaching the end of the very end of all the rope in the world.

“Let me go, I can give you money, or land, or whatever you want just leave me be,” Neil said, the fight drained out of him.

“Not quite yet, Highness,” the man said, and then he took off running again, dragging Neil behind him. Neil was too tired to fight at this point so he let himself be dragged along, though he ran purposefully at a slower pace than he could have gone.

They ran until they reached the mountains, and had gotten a ways up into the hills where Neil could see the sea spread out on one side–filled with Riko’s ships–and a ravine on the other side. The man in black paused there to allow them both a rest. The man in black looked out over the Armada that was currently nearing the beaches.

“He sent the whole fleet after you. Wasn’t expecting that,” he admitted. “For someone who you don’t love he’s certainly excited about getting you back,” he remarked, and Neil scowled.

“He does love his animals.”

“Sounds like you’re a tragedy.”

“A horribly dreary one.” Neil agreed, and the man narrowed his eyes.

“Tell me, with a will like yours how does someone like you become will-less?”

“Parents willing to sell you, a prince with a vile sense of entertainment and a lot of guards and rope at his disposal.” Neil bit out, the man in black seemed slightly taken aback, he pushed the sleeve of Neil’s shirt up to reveal the scars left from layers and layers of rope burn and shackles. Neil tried to rip his arm away–it didn’t work again, this time though the man seemed fed up and grabbed Neil’s throat.

“Stop struggling, don’t you know it’s stupid to piss off people who could kill you?” he snapped and Neil laughed humorlessly.

“You won’t kill me, otherwise you wouldn’t have rescued me from other murders, or stopped when Lola had the knife at my throat,” Neil said, and the man in black released Neil and scowled at him.

“Loveless and wise, you must be a real catch,” he said.

“I’m not loveless, my love is just gone–killed, and I’ll never love again.” he said, and then he shoved the man in black. For a moment he balanced precariously on the edge of the ravine, arms pinwheeling, and then he fell. “You can die too for all I care!” Neil yelled after him. Watching as the man tumbled down and down and down, heels over head. His hood and mask fell off, revealing a flash of blond hair. And Neil turned to run until he heard three words echoing up as the man fell.

“I… hate… you…” Neil’s chest squeezed and his eyes widened as he looked back down the cliff.

“Andrew?!” he called out in disbelief, and then realized Andrew had just fallen all the way down the ravine–and that Neil had been the one to push him. Neil took off down into the steep valley and tried his best to keep on his feet. It was more controlled fall than actual run but he careened down the hill towards the only person he’d ever loved.

When he reached the bottom, and found Andrew, laying in a heap, and Neil collapsed next to him.

“You bastard, son of a bitch, asshole, dick, cunt, slack-jawed, fish-breathed, bone-brained, clodpated mongrel-minded dickswab fuckface shithole ass–”

“Neil, you’re killing Christians everywhere,” Andrew interrupted him, and Neil felt relief flood through him, pouring out like a great dam breakage. Andrew sat up and cupped Neil’s face in his hands. Neil didn’t regret that he’d shoved Andrew into the ravine–the bastard deserved it, but he was still glad that Andrew looked relatively unharmed. Andrew’s eyes didn’t soften, Neil wasn’t sure it was possible (it most likely wasn’t, because if in that moment they didn’t look soft they could never. Mostly because Andrew was feeling the softest and most intense he’d felt in his entire life, holding Neil again, seeing him again.)

“You came back,” Neil whispered.

“I promised.” Andrew said.

“They told me you died.”

“Fuck death, I only got to kiss you once.” Neil laughed and blushed. And then he frowned.

“But, they said your ship was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts.” Neil said.

“It was.”

“He doesn’t leave survivors.”

“Mmm, I’m very good at surviving situations I’m not supposed to survive,” Andrew said, (it was true, and also most likely due to the trace amounts of Miracle Man blood running through his veins. For even though Andrew had no idea, he actually did have a last name–Minyard–and a mother and a twin brother. His twin brother had been the Moriyama Miracle man for years, until he married his wife–a sharp, pleasant woman named Katelyn–and she introduced him to politics and Aaron–Andrew’s twin–realized the people he was serving were not good people, and so he only pretended to keep healing them. This inadvertently was the reason Ichirou was dying. So technically, you could blame Neil’s whole situation on Aaron, though no one knew this. Well, except Nyeta, if Nyeta had still been alive that is.)

“How?” Neil asked, and Andrew waved him off.

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he said. But instead of telling the story he leaned forward and whispered “Yes or no,” Neil said yes, of course, and they kissed. It was so passionate that it killed a great deal more Christians than Neil’s swearing had, but not quite as many as were killed by the Ottoman Turks.

(The story Andrew would tell was this: the Dread Pirate Roberts did really board Andrew’s boat, and he did kill everyone on board. But Andrew–unable to die and break his promise to Neil without a fight–managed to take out four of the Dread Pirate Roberts’ men, when he was finally restrained however, the Dread Pirate Roberts’ stopped his men from killing him. He’d been impressed by Andrew’s grit and instead of being killed Andrew was taken aboard the Dread Pirate Roberts’ ship where he worked, and worked and worked. He polished the decks and picked splinters out of the mast and bugs out of hardtack and every job no one else on board wanted to do.

He did it because the Dread Pirate Roberts had promised him that if he worked without complaint for a year, he would give him the opportunity of a lifetime. The Dread Pirate Roberts assured him that it would be more than anything he could gain in America, and he would be able to retire with enough gold to plate his toilet if he wanted to.

Andrew quite like the idea of Neil laying on his golden pillows and so he’d worked, endlessly for an entire year and never complained. Never said a single word actually, but he did quite a bit of thinking–mostly about Neil–and finally, at the end of the year, the Dread Pirate Roberts was so impressed with him he invited him to his cabin, and there he explained the truth behind the Dread Pirate Roberts.

As it turned out, the Dread Pirate Roberts was actually named Jeremy, and he’d been given the job by the Dread Pirate Roberts that had come before him–a man named Hernandez. See, the Dread Pirate Roberts was simply a title, the original Dread Pirate Roberts was long dead, and he’d gotten the idea to retire but he had grand ideas to make sure his legacy was carried out. And so, he found a suitable heir to his name, and passed it down–retiring somewhere in what’s now Hawaii.

So then, when Jeremy explained the whole thing, and then offered the name to Andrew, Andrew was quick to accept–he was still very attached to the image of Neil on his gold pillows–and so Jeremy made another deal with him. He could have the name, but only so long as he followed through and did the whole pirating business long enough that he found a suitable heir to take the name from him, Andrew was still quick to accept–Neil on Andrew’s golden pillows– and so Andrew became the Dread Pirate Roberts, and then terrorized the seas for a few years until he was able to find another man to replace him. He felt it was his duty to Jeremy to find a suitable replacement, and so he plundered and plundered and eventually found one by the name of Seth, who was ruthless and capable and hotheaded, but by the time Andrew had left he’d cooled off a bit and was fitting in well to his new title.

Andrew now though, was rich beyond belief, and had a boat of his very own–which was where he was trying to drag Neil currently. He’d come back to the village where he and Neil had grown up and darkened the doorstep of Mary and Nathan Wesninski. Though, it was there he found that the love–hate–of his life had given up on him, and gone against his word and was being married. This had hurt Andrew a great deal more than he wished to admit, and so he’d gone off to find Neil and take a look at him to convince himself he’d been lucky to lose him. He’d found him and seen him for the first time when all the other commoners did, and it took his breath away.

Neil on Andrew’s golden pillows.

But he’d also noticed that Neil looked horribly pale and melancholy, and the way he barely stepped closer than a foot away from his husband-to-be, and so he decided to hunt Neil down and demand answers from him. He’d followed him that night, but what he’d come upon instead was a boat in the distance and Neil nowhere to be found.

He’d also hoped that by not sharing his identity he could scare Neil into moving faster–that had backfired on him though.

And then here they were. Though now Andrew was thinking about Neil on gold pillows.)

______

Chapter Text

Prince Riko Moriyama glanced down the cliffside from the top of the Cliffs of Insanity. From here he could see his great armada encircling the coast. (The armada that was supposedly for finding his fiance, even though Riko had no care in the world for whether or not Neil was found dead or alive, he just liked having a proper excuse to have his entire armada so close to Guilder borders.)

To him, finding his stolen fiance was just like any other hunt he’d ever partook in. In fact, he kept comparing it to the time a band of monkeys had thought it hilarious to steal the Prince’s favorite riding satchel. Riko had tracked down the monkeys, and killed every single one of them.

That was generally what he planned to do when he tracked down his fiance.

So he studied the cliffside. There appeared to have been a rope tied around a tree and left to hang over the cliff, meaning someone had most likely climbed all the way up the cliffs. Though, something puzzling was that a ways away from the cliffs edge the scratchings and marks of a climber got erratic and stopped following a singular pathway up.

That, along with the two sets of footsteps doubling back and around and pacing along the edge of the cliff caused Riko to assume someone had been following the original group of kidnappers, but the rope had been cut in an attempt to kill the man. Though it hadn’t worked and so one of the kidnappers was left to fight off the pursuing man.

Riko followed the footsteps, imagining the duel in his mind until he reached the end where the imprint of a man on his knees could be seen in the grass. After that there were two sets of tracks, one leading away into the forest along the cliff, and another following after the tracks of the other kidnappers.

“There was a mighty duel, against two nearly evenly matched and great swordsmen here,” Riko mused, speaking aloud for Count Tetsuji who had finally caught up. (The Prince had ridden his ‘Whites’ which were simply four pure white horses so well bred they possessed abilities unlike any other animals on the planet. The Prince had taken to riding all four of them at once, changing horses mid race so not one singular horse was forced to bear his weight for too long and become exhausted.)

“One of the men won, but didn’t kill the other, and took to following the other kidnappers.” Riko continued, and the Count blinked at him, unsure how the Prince was able to get as much from some stirred up dirt.

“Why would someone be following the kidnappers?” the Count asked.

“To steal the Prince for their own to ransom back to me no doubt,” Riko said confidently as he got back up onto his Whites to follow the footsteps.

“Do we not want to hunt down the loser of the battle?” the Count wondered, and Riko waved him off.

“He is useless to me, I’m only concerned about having my fiance returned to me,” Riko said dismissively, and then he rode off.

After a little less than an hour of riding he came upon the site of Andrew and Matt’s battle. He didn’t even need to get off his horses and simply gazed at the site.

“A giant has been defeated,” he said as the Count caught up with him. “Whoever this man is, he will be formidable,” he added. “See, look there, the giant ran away,” Riko said, pointing at a patch of the ground.

The Count only saw dirt and rocks, “I do not doubt you, your highness,” he said simply, then Riko pointed to another set of prints.

“Ah! The Prince lives, we must hurry,” he said, racing off with his Whites.

When he came upon Lola’s body he evaluated the situation and grinned. (At this point the Prince was becoming very excited about the prospect of meeting the man who’d been able to (a) climb the cliffs of insanity, (b) win a sword duel, (c) defeat a giant, and (d) beat a Sicilian in what looked like a battle of wits. Formidable foe indeed.)

When he came to the ravine he glanced at the top, and then down to where Neil and Andrew had been hours earlier.

“Hmm… it would appear that two bodies have fallen down, but two did not come back up…” the Prince pondered.

“Odd…” the Count offered, nearly completely lost on the Prince’s whole process.

“Wrong, that isn’t what’s odd–the captor most likely assumed it would take too long to climb back up the ravine and our cannons must have alerted him that we were on his tail, so he chose to instead run along the flat bottom of the ravine.” Riko rubbed his chin.

“What’s odd is how could a master fencer, brawler of giants, and defeater of Sicilians not know what the ravine opens up to?”

“And what is that?” the Count asked.

“The Fire Swamp,” said Prince Riko.

“Then we have him,” the Count said.

“Precisely so,” Riko said, letting a sliver of his well known, bloodthirsty grin show.
________

(The author would like to admit now that after giving this fic to one of her friends to read and give their opinion on it, they told her it was “....Unique… entertaining… and… well, quite honestly I feel fucking cheated Evie, your grand reunion for what is supposed to be the greatest lovers since those two ladies in the cave is a quick ‘they kissed’? I don’t think you understand how frustrated I am currently.” The author’s reply was a petulant: “fuck you I write how I want,” before she went and indulged in all together an unholy amount of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food flavored ice cream.

The authors editor–who has a bit better sense in her head, thank you very much–reminded the author that writing out a complex/intensely sexual reunion was not a requirement and she could, in fact, write how she wants. But if it upset her so much, the author’s editor would be willing to take over for her. The author’s mouth was too full of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food flavored ice cream to understand so the author’s editor went ahead and took over anyways.

(a) everyone deserves a bit of privacy and (b) it’s worth noting that despite being chased by a psychotic maniac prince our protagonists did find the time to make out so aggressively on the ravine floor that Neil very nearly pulled a muscle. Which muscle, you want to know? Please refer back to note (a). And finally (c) the author partly didn’t write out the scene because she harbors a superstition that if she writes it out too detailed Andrew Minyard will personally appear, fully formed in all his five foot glory, and gut her in her sleep–only to be followed up by Neil Josten, also manifesting in the non-fiction world, to scary-effectively dispose of her corpse.

With such imagined consequences as that, you can imagine why instead of writing out their reunion she’s currently digging into a fifteenth tub of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food flavored ice cream. The author’s editor also discovered how bad of an idea it is to point out that if Andrew or Neil were real and were to read any of this–even without the detailed reunion–they would still probably not take it well.

This is also the reason for the long delay, both the author and the authors editor would like to apologize, though the author can’t type it out because her fingers are covered in ice cream.)

Andrew, in reality, did not know where the ravine he and Neil were currently running down opened up to. If he did, he might have put some more effort into climbing the side and getting back to where a safer route would be. Though, we can’t exactly blame him since his judgement was a bit impaired thanks to the cliff climb, the two fights, the running, the falling down a ravine, and the (almost) unnecessarily long makeout with his recently reunited lover.

But he did realize far quicker than Neil what was coming up, and so he paused.

“What’s the matter?” Neil asked, furrowing his brows and barely out of breath from the miles they’d been running. Andrew was vaguely thankful for the years of training and lack of cigarettes and tobacco. Knowing that had he not partaken he probably would have gone into cardiac arrest seven miles ago. (Though, of course, cardiac arrest didn’t exist as it does now, and was just called ‘possession’ because of the usual seizures it triggered.)

“Nothing,” Andrew said, before they continued running, but Neil stopped him–contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t an idiot, and he’d now noticed the sulfur smell on the wind.

“This is the way to the Fire Swamp, Andrew,” Neil said, and Andrew nodded emotionlessly.

“Exactly as planned,” he said carelessly, (though he wasn’t actually careless, because even though the Fire Swamp didn’t frighten him–nearly nothing did–the idea of Neil being harmed in the Fire Swamp did.)

“You make for a terrible liar Drew,” Neil muttered, and Andrew gave him a shrug.

“Not the original plan, that changed once you shoved me down a ravine,” Andrew replied, Neil crossed his arms and pouted.

“I wouldn’t have shoved you if I had known who you were,” Neil said unapologetically, and Andrew realized then that he’d missed Neil entirely too much and that perhaps the Fire Swamp would kill him so he wouldn’t ever have to worry that he might lose him.

He shook his head to banish the thoughts and grabbed Neil, dragging him towards the Swamp.

Now, for a bit of context, a few notes on (a) Fire Swamps, and (b) the Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp. (a) Fire Swamps are not completely correctly named. See, ‘Fire Swamps’ aren’t exactly swamps and they certainly aren’t on fire. They are, however, prone to bubbles filled with sulfur and other chemicals that when popped burst into a quick burn of flame. Then the swamps are also filled with large, lush green trees, allowing for a dark atmosphere that makes the flame bursts seem all the more dramatic. Combined with the rather moist climate provided by the constant shade, it attracts all the common swamp life, such as crocodiles (or alligators who can tell the difference).

(the author’s editor would like to point out that both crocodiles and alligators live in swamps so rather than ‘or’ it should be ‘and.’)

(The author would like to remind her editor to stop being a nerd and take a joke when it’s served.)

fire swamps also contaminate alot of od creaure.

(The othor wood also like to apologise and say that she is sorry for her remarks and also begs the othors editor to please return.)

Fire Swamps also contain a plethora of odd creature, this is where point (b) comes into play because it’s the difference between the Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp and the common Fire Swamp. The Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp contains not only (1) snow sand, but also (2) the feared R.O.U.S’s–more on them later. Snow sand–which is often compared to lightning sand–is actually nearly nothing like lightning sand. Because lightning sand is wet, and drowns its victims while snow sand is powdery and fine and suffocates its victims.

Another thing is that in Florin the Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp has become a household threat, much like the classic adage “There are starving children in Africa.” Many children grew up with the threat of being abandoned in the Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp. Though, for Neil and Andrew such threats were more like promises they wished would come true–knowing that even risking snow sand and R.O.U.S’s would be better than the home lives they lead.

But neither of them was stupid, and so as they entered they felt the prickling of anxiety at their skin. Or maybe that was just a reaction to the sulfur.

“This feels like a terrible idea,” Neil said reasonably.

“Neil, I have knives, and I didn’t travel across the world to lose you,” Andrew said, and Neil rolled his eyes at Andrew’s dramatics, before they both set out into the Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp.
________

Prince Riko watched incredulously as he followed the footprints of his prince and his kidnapper disappear into the Fire Swamp.

“Did they really go in there?” the Count asked, fright causing slight tremors into his hands as he watched the Prince scratch his chin.

“It would clearly appear so,” the Prince said, slightly annoyed.

Then the Count–praying it was a ‘no’–asked, “Will we follow them?”

“After entering there, they will either meet death–which I have no intention of making my own acquaintance with–or they will meet us on the other side,” the Prince said.

“It’s much too large to go around, we’ll never catch them in time,” the Count said, and Riko didn’t bother to look at him.

“Not for my Whites,” he said, already climbing back up the ravine to where he’d left them.

“We’ll follow as best we can,” the Count said, and Riko nodded.
___________

“If I’m being honest, this is a bit underwhelming,” Neil said, after they’d been walking for a while in content if a little annoyed silence.

“Does nothing please you, your majesty?” Andrew replied dryly, and Neil glared at the back of his head. Though, in truth, Andrew agreed with Neil. For all the hype of the great and terrifying Guilder/Florin Fire Swamp it was really just a smelly, dark, forest. Even the fire bubbles were easy to spot, since before exploding they made a very loud and obvious pop noise that was easily avoidable.

“Don’t call me that,” Neil snapped, he didn’t want to be reminded of what the title meant. Andrew noticed, and inferred, and paused his walking to turn on Neil. Neil stopped as well, going stiff.

“What did he do?” Andrew asked, voice quiet and dangerous and Neil knew if he were to share even one of the things Riko had done to him during Neil’s time as his fiance Andrew would be plotting to murder Riko with his bare hands before Neil could finish. As much as the thought comforted him, he didn’t feel like talking about it, so he readjusted his sleeves–to make sure the scars were covered–and brushed past Andrew.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, I’m fi–” though, he didn’t even manage to finish his go to statement of ‘I’m fine’ before the snow sand took him.

Then he was sinking–no falling. The sand was so fine it was like falling through a cloud, and there was no end. He fell and sank and fell and sank and panic started to fill him. He closed his eyes and mouth and stretched his arms and legs out much like a dead man’s float in the water, just to try and slow his decent. He had to resist the urge to plug his ears and nose which were filling with fine particles of snow sand and making him want to sneeze. Little bits of it were forcing their way through his squeezed shut eyelids and making them burn. His shoulder ached from the weight of the sand above him and it felt useless to hold them out.

There was no bottom to the pit it seemed, and he was sure he would fall forever, never stopping until eventually he lost the energy to hold out his limbs and his lungs gave out and then he’d die and his bones would fall eternally. This thought caused more and more panic to surge through him and he forced himself to stay calm, and began counting in all the languages he’d learned in order to be a decent king.

In the time Neil had counted to 5 in Florin-ese Andrew had taken a vine and tied it around a tree and then gripped the end of it. It was when Neil got to 6 that Andrew dove head first into the snow sand without any hesitation, and kicked and struggled through the sand for more speed as he searched out Neil. And then suddenly, Andrew reached the end of the vine, again–without a second's hesitation–he let go of the vine because he’d come too far to go back without Neil and pushed himself deeper.

By the time Neil reached 8 Andrew clasped his hand around a wrist, he pulled and then realized it was nothing but the boney wrist of someone’s skeleton, with no other body attached. He threw it away and went deeper still. It was at 10 seconds that Andrew finally grabbed hold of Neil–his foot specifically–and yanked him close until his arm wrapped around his waist. Then Andrew kicked and pushed and willed himself closer to the vine, until suddenly he felt it brush against his hand. Andrew grabbed it, and pulled both him and Neil up and out of the pit.

He pushed Neil up first, and then dragged himself out. Scrambling to get Neil farther from the edge and careful to be wary of more pits. Neil gasped for breath and clung to Andrew like a drowning cat. Andrew just sat and let Neil’s panic run its course, and let him clutch at him desperately, and held the back of his neck in an almost bruising grip. Both to sooth Neil and to remind himself that they were both safe and alive.

“Fuck,” Neil swore once he was taking less lung-tearing breathes.

“Are you done?” Andrew asked, his words might have been insensitive to some people but Neil knew him well enough that he was asking sincerely, and so he sucked in a breath before he answered.

“One second,” he said, leaning over and throwing up the past nights dinner. He wiped his mouth and gripped Andrew’s wrist with the other. “Ok, alright I’m good,” he said. Andrew nodded and stood up, helping Neil as well. Andrew’s own legs felt like jelly, but he ignored it, content in the fact that Neil was safe back on solid ground. They walked on in silence for a bit longer until Neil decided he needed a distraction from the stink of the swamp.

“You still owe me the story behind the Dread Pirate Roberts,” he said, and so Andrew told him–albeit a decently short summary, much shorter than the one the author provided, and when he was finished Neil stopped walking and gaped at him. Andrew stopped too and looked back at him.

“Why are you stopping?” Andrew asked, and Neil punched him in the shoulder, suddenly full of anger.

“You didn’t send me one letter! Not even a ‘oh by the way, I’m not dead,’! Nothing! For years! I thought you were dead! You fucking bastard!” Neil yelled, Andrew took the anger stoically.

“Every day Jeremy told me ‘I’ll probably kill you tomorrow’ and while I didn’t believe him, I also didn’t want to risk that a letter to you could be my last,” Andrew said, and Neil sighed.

“You’re still a bastard,” he grumbled, but then they moved on. As they did Andrew spotted his first R.O.U.S glaring at him with beady eyes from within the trees. He glared back, and then followed Neil. “So you took the name, gave it to someone else, and then came to find me?” Neil asked, Andrew nodded.

“I tried to, but you were otherwise engaged, quite literally,” he said, only slightly bitterly, and Neil turned on him sharply, spotting another R.O.U.S slinking in the foliage behind them.

“I had no choice Andrew, believe me,” he said, and Andrew did. He knew the type of person that Nathan Wesninski was, and he had no doubt he’d sold off his son the first chance he got. What he didn’t understand was how Neil had ended up with the man becoming king of the entire nation.

“How did you manage to catch the prince’s attention?” he asked, Neil shrugged, and turned back around to watch his path for snow sand effectively. Then he spotted another R.O.U.S ahead of them.

“I have no idea–Andrew do you see those?” Neil said, and Andrew nodded, because he’d also been tracking the growing number of R.O.U.S’s surrounding them. “Aren’t R.O.U.S’s carnivorous?” Neil asked, voice a little tight. Andrew shrugged.

“They’re just rats,” he said, and then of the ‘just rats’ jumped at him from the trees and tore into his shoulder with it’s massive front teeth.

(Capybaras, which are indignous to South America, have been weighed at 150 pounds. The largest pure rat is most likely the Tazmanian which had been weighed at 100 pounds. Though Capybaras are generally amiable creatures, and Tazmanian’s tend to be slothish, and easily avoidable. The author brings up these comparisons because R.O.U.S’s–Rodents of Unusual Size–are larger than Capybaras and much, much faster than Tazmanians. They can become nearly as large as a small dog, and are recorded to be as fast as wolfhounds. And, they are–as Neil said–carnivorous and very capable of frenzy.)

As soon as the R.O.U.S bit into Andrew, blood began to spill and the other R.O.U.S’s charged at him. Neil didn’t blink as he kicked the one off of Andrew and grabbed the sword from where it was around Andrew’s waist. He stabbed two of the other beasts and barely turned around when the one he’d kicked jumped at him. Before he could react though, Andrew snatched it out of the air and threw it into a fire bubble, where the thing screamed and then ran away, smoking and charred.

“Neil, Neil, are you ok?” Andrew demanded, grabbing Neil’s chin and scanning him for injuries.

“I’m fine, you’re the one who got bit, we need to stop the bleeding,” Neil said stripping off his coat to use as bandages. Tearing it with the long sword was a bit awkward but he worked fast enough that Andrew was able to bandage himself and then cover the wound with mud before any R.O.U.S’s caught the scent. Though in order to get the proper amount of fabric to make the make-shift bandaging, Neil left his arms bare, and Andrew stared openly at the scars he knew for a fact hadn’t been there when he’d left.

Neil realized what he was looking at and Andrew grabbed his arm before he could shy away.

“The Prince or Nathan,” Andrew asked through gritted teeth, Neil stared at a patch of the ground by where Andrew was sitting.

“You know my father was good at hiding it,” he said quietly, and Andrew sucked in a long breath and then grabbed Neil’s chin again to force him to make eye contact.

“I’m going to kill him,” he promised, and Neil stared back. “Both of them.”

“I know,” Neil said, the exhaustion from everything catching up with him again. “Let’s just get to your boat, alright?” Neil said, and Andrew nodded, and they stood again and set off, falling into a silence.

When they finally reached the end of the Fire Swamp there was a great rise of elation in both of them and then a sagging of utter failure. This was because as soon as they cleared the trees, and as soon as the ship Andrew had managed to buy–The Revenge–was in sight, so was the entire Prince’s great armada, and the entire Prince’s great army, and the ‘great’ Prince himself.

“Well that’s inconvenient,” Andrew remarked, despite the hollowness he was beginning to feel creeping into his chest.

“I accept your surrender,” Riko announced smugly from where he was atop the Whites.

“Is that him?” Andrew asked Neil, who sighed.

“Yes,” Neil said defeatedly.

“What surrender?” Andrew called back to Riko, who’s smile slowly gave way to a scowl.

“Yours,” he said, “Hand over the Prince and come quietly, as you can see you have no chance of escape.”

“I refuse to surrender,” Andrew said.

“Surrender!” the Prince yelled.

“Death first,” Andrew said evenly. But then Neil was pushing him back gently, and stepping between the two men.

“Do you promise not to harm him if I come with you?” Neil asked Riko, and Andrew growled and tried to fight against Neil but Neil jabbed his thumb into Andrew’s shoulder wound and stars filled Andrew’s vision.

“What?” Riko asked.

“Do you swear you will not harm this man if I come with you?” Neil repeated, and Riko grinned.

“I swear on the grave of my soon-to-be-dead brother and my already-dead mother that I will not lay a hand on this man, and if I do, may I never hunt again,” Riko swore, and Neil sighed and turned back to Andrew, who glared at him.

“Neil–”

“Promise me you’ll live,” Neil interrupted, and Andrew gripped his arm so tightly Neil could feel bruises starting.

“I won’t–”

“Promise me,” Neil said, and he smiled sadly, “I know if you do, you'll find a way to come get me, or I’ll find a way to find you,” he added, Andrew tightened his grip. “I can’t live without you again.”

“I’ll find you,” he promised, and Neil nodded.

“Thank you Andrew, for everything, you were amazing,” he said, and then walked over to where Riko was.

While he was walking Riko leaned down to where the Count was next to him. And whispered, “as soon as we’re out of earshot grab the man and take him to the fifth floor of the Zoo of Death,” Riko said, a gleam in his eyes. The Count nodded.

“For a moment while you were swearing, I almost believed you,” he said, and Riko grinned.

“Oh, I plan on following my word, I won’t touch him–you, on the other hand, are going to torture him extensively, and I will merely witness.” He said, and then quieted as Neil came to stand beside him.

“That ship, it’s his, he’s–” Neil thought of the story Andrew had told him, “nothing more than a sailor I’ve known since childhood, make sure he gets to the boat safely,” Neil said. Riko nodded with a malicious grin that made Neil’s stomach turn.

“Need I swear again?” he asked, and Neil shook his head and at Riko’s request mounted one of the Whites. “You were so close sir, I commend your effort and appreciate you returning my things to their rightful place,” Riko said, and Andrew’s wistful gaze at Neil turned murderous on Riko. Then Riko waved and mounted his own horse and Andrew watched as Neil rode away with the Prince, his stomach rolling with frustration and anger and exhaustion.

Then he turned his gaze on the Count as the man approached him, and more guards began surrounding him.

“Come sir, we must get you to your ship,” the count said with a vile grin to match his nephew’s. Andrew didn’t even bother to scowl at him.

“‘False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil,’” Andrew quoted blandly. (At this point the only person who knew who Plato was, was the previous Dread Pirate Roberts, Jeremy, who’d had a lightning flash of a relationship with the scholar and been sent away with much of the scholar’s works. Andrew, having nothing to do besides work and think of Neil had read the entirety of the works and was very well versed in all of Plato’s theories and philosophies.)

“Pretty words, just like your ex,” the Count said, and then he smashed the back of his blade over Andrew’s temple and the last thing Andrew saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was the six fingers on the man’s right hand.

Part V: Festivities

(The author would like to note that we’ve reached a rather dreary part of our story, and that again–as she did with the sharks–she would like to remind you that they all survive and you don’t have to worry. Also that you make sure and get another sip of water and stretch out a bit more. Maybe readjust yourself, or your seating position, get more comfortable–things are about to get very, very intense.)

(The author’s editor would also like to note that there was supposed to be a chapter here in which the author got a little too into her love of food and went on for a great deal of pages simply about what kinds of foods would be served at the wedding of the shit-Prince and our main character. This all while basically ignoring the actual story, and so, the editor–for the mental health of the reader–cut that out completely, and all you need to know is that it’s been about two days, and that (a) everyone in Florin was pretty much convinced Guilder was behind their beloved Prince Nathaniel’s kidnapping, which meant tensions were high, (b) that almost everyone also only loved Neil more once he’d come back, after the rumors of him braving the Fire Swamp and coming out alive, and (3) that now Riko, for foiling the ‘kidnapping’ was now finally considered a hero by his people. Anyways, it’s late, Neil’s tired from a day of preparations and carefully avoiding Riko, and he settles down into bed, wondering what sea Andrew is out sailing currently.)

Kevin awoke on the cliffs of insanity and tried to rub his eyes, then he realized he couldn’t, and so he shook his head out and realized where he was. Tied to a tree, on the cliffs of insanity ha that one’s for you Matt he thought briefly, before the fight with the man in black came back to him, and being beaten came back to him. He remembered being ready to die–expecting to die, but apparently the man in black had had other plans.

Then Kevin’s eyes landed on the six fingered man’s sword, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He stretched out and managed to catch the handle of the sword with his foot, and then it was a simple matter of inching it up to where he could grasp it and then slashing the binds so he was free.

Once he was free though, he paused. He knew what to do, Lola had made a plan in case just this thing had happened, he was supposed to go back to the start. He’d even made a rhyme so that Matt would remember it: fool, fool, back to the beginning is the rule. He even knew where the beginning was, the Thieves Quarter, where Lola had found them the job.

The only problem was that Kevin didn’t like Thieves Quarter. Everyone was big and mean and liked to rob skinny looking Celts (actually, they just liked robbing Celts, it was a bit of a running game in the Thieves Quarter, seeing how many Celts one thief could rob in a night. This is because of the very ignorant perception that Celts are all leprechauns or at least have the chance of being one.) And while Kevin was the greatest swordsman alive, it was a bit difficult to broadcast that beyond hanging a sign ‘round his neck that said “Greatest Swordsman Since the Wizard of Corsica, Do Not Burgle.”

And besides, was Kevin even the greatest swordsman? He’d been beaten after all, was he–

(The author’s editor cut out more nonsense which included a nearly eighteen page soliloquy that the author wrote through Kevin about the downfall of glory. This is because she wrote an essay for her British Literature class, turned it in, got a bad grade–despite being a pretty excellent writer–and so, not wanting to let this leave a mark, she went home and redid the entire essay and turned it back in for an additional four (4) points.)

(Four.)

(Fucking four.)

(The point is, Kevin does his thing, then wanders the cliffs of insanity until he finds a fisherman who takes him back to Florin City.)

As soon as Kevin found himself back in the Thieves Quarter, he found a stoop and collapsed on it. Fear making him tremble as he hunched against a building in the darkness. He wonder, for a moment, where all his fear had come from, and in a moment he found his answer.

With hands clasped around his mother’s sword for confidence, he realized he was afraid of becoming what he had been before Lola–

A failure.

A man without a purpose.

Kevin Day hadn’t touched a bottle of brandy in years, but soon he found his trembling hands fumbling for his money. He heard his feet running to the nearest alehouse and watched as his money left his hands and a bottle appeared. Then he slunk back to the stoop and removed the cork and he drank.

He coughed, and then swallowed, and drank and coughed and swallowed and gulped until his fears melted away and he was just Kevin, on a stoop, with a warm chest and not a care in the world.

He was the great son of the greater Kayleigh Day, the apprentice of David Wymack (half the bottle was gone now), the greatest swordsman since the Wizard of Corsica, (now the entire bottle) how dare fear creep into his head and thicken in his skull (into the second now).

So Kevin drank, and he waited. He let his mind slip through is fingers and his limbs float in liquor as he waited on the stoop for Lola to show up and nag at him until she found them another job–another purpose.
_______

(Also a ways away Matt wakes up and finds Lola dead, then tries and can’t find Kevin, and hides in a cave where some local boys find and mock him. But the author just couldn’t write that out because it made her really sad and there’s only so much sad she can take with her characters so she’s just going to sum it up like this and then continue.)

(Oh no, this scene isn’t much better.)

Andrew awoke chained in a cage.

He forced himself to ignore the pain in his aching shoulder and sore muscles and tried to get his bearings. The cage was rather large, and made up a great room. There was only one person in the candle lit room, an albino–bloodless and silent as he wandered over with a tray carrying food and bandages and medical supplies and brandy.

Andrew watched as the man came over and crouched down near where Andrew was chained to the floor. He offered the food–which turned out to be warm and actually pretty decent–and then went to clean Andrew’s wound. Andrew backed away and went for the sword he usually had on his belt, only to find it wasn’t there. Neither were any of his other knives, he was weaponless, and chained in a cage. The albino glared.

“If I don’t clean your wound it will fester,” the albino said, he had a french accent, and Andrew glared at him.

“Where am I,” he asked, the albino held up the bandages and Andrew got the feeling he didn’t plan on answering unless he was able to dress the wound. (He was right.) So he let the albino clean and patch up the wound. Watching as he did the whole time.

“Hell,” the albino said after a long time, and Andrew had to resist a smile.

“Dramatic,” he said, the albino stayed serious as he collected his things and stood to leave.

“They will torture you, and they won’t let you die–not before they break you,” he said, before he left. Andrew drew in a long breath.

He’d like to see them try.
________

Neil awoke one morning after the wedding. He’d slept in, he could tell since the sun was up, and suddenly there was a pounding on his door. He leapt up–the old habits left from his father still coursing through him–and quickly went to the door. There was a lock on it, but Neil knew Riko had a key, which meant it couldn’t be him knocking on the door.

It had been two days since the wedding, since Riko’s brother had died, and Riko had become king and since too busy to focus on anything else. So their wedding had been a quick affair, just between one ministers meeting and another, and all it had left Neil was an empty feeling and a new title.

He opened the door and froze.

Andrew was standing–no, leaning against the door frame, his face pale and ashen, his eyes rolling back into his head and blood pouring out from a wound on his stomach he was trying to hold closed.

Neil lunged forward and tried desperately to help him, but the blood just kept coming and then Andrew collapsed, and Neil couldn’t catch him because of all the blood, and then Andrew grabbed his shirt and pulled him close to whisper something but Neil couldn’t hear him because his heart was beating too fast.

Neil woke breathing heavy–he’d learned not to wake screaming–with a month until the wedding still.

He still jumped out of the bed and threw open his door and felt heavy with relief when all he was the castle floor, clean of Andrew’s blood.

This was the first of the nightmares, and they only got worse, and worse. Each clawing at Neil in a way that made them feel torturous. Each feeling too real to be dreams and soon Neil gave up sleeping altogether. The image of Andrew dead, or dying now burned permanently against Neil’s eyelids.

On the eight day without sleep, a few weeks from the wedding, Neil went to Riko. Riko grinned at him when he opened the door.

“Oh, coming to me now are we?” he said smugly, and Neil’s gut coiled with hatred. He stayed outside the princes chambers and scowled at him.

“I’ve come to let you know that you’re a disgusting brat who can only find satisfaction in the pain of others because you enjoy forcing people to go through what you couldn’t stand an ounce of, because I’m sure that makes you feel powerful, I’m sure it inflates your already massive ego to the point of exploding–” Neil began bitterly, “And that maybe if I’d been raised as a commodity, a second, throwaway prince only to be used as a rebound, maybe then I would understand the monumental need you possess to prove yourself to anyone who’ll look at you.” Riko clenched his teeth.

“How dare–”

“No, I’m not done–when you asked me to marry you I said I’d rather die, that still stands, and should we go along with this you’ll find me gone tomorrow morning, or dead.” Neil finished, and then he turned on his heels and started walking away. Riko reached out and grabbed Neil’s arm, fingernails digging into skin, and Neil turned on him and slammed his fist into Riko’s face.

The prince reeled from the blow, and by the time he recovered Neil was back in ‘his’ room, where he sat and waited for the guards to come and take him to the dungeons.

Because Neil had a plan, and his plan involved him being in the dungeons. He knew he probably hadn’t needed to punch Riko to get him sent there, but he smiled to himself as he remembered the satisfying sounding crunch.
__________

Once Andrew had healed back to proper health, they began the torture.

It was grueling, and double edged, because on the one hand the Count was physically hurting Andrew in every way he knew possible. Setting hands on fire, pulling nails, pulling a tooth, cuts, brands, waterboarding etc. On the other Riko would chatter on about every little thing he planned on doing to Neil once they were done, then filling Andrew in on what he’d done the night before, how things had gone.

The entire time Andrew set his jaw, and didn’t utter a single sound.

This was partly because he didn’t feel, or hear any of what was happening. Everytime they got near him, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and let his lids droop over then and relaxed his mind, going to a space far away from everything.

Andrew had survived worse, and he would survive this, he’d promised to kill Riko, and every single night he spent with him was only making that promise so much easier to imagine fulfilling.

Each time the Count and Riko finished the albino–who’s name, Andrew learned, was Jean–would clean Andrew’s wounds and say nothing. He would bring Andrew his meal, and his brandy, and then leave him alone, where Andrew would silently go through everything Riko said he’d done to Neil just so he could remember it for when he next had an open shot at the bastard.
_________

Things were going decently for Riko (unfortunately). Someone he considered to be his most annoying enemy was currently being continuously tortured, he was about to be married and become king. And even though his plot to hire the sicilian Lola to kidnap and kill Neil to start a war with Guilder has failed, the people just ended up loving both Riko and Neil more than ever, which meant that when Riko killed Neil, a day after their wedding, and then told everyone he’d been just moments too late and watched as the Guilder thug who’d killed his husband jumped out the window.

There wouldn’t be a dry face in the country.

The problem was, his fiance wasn’t playing along with anything sufficiently. So far Riko had been telling his soon-to-be-kingdom that his soon-to-be-husband was sick and resting in order to hide the fact that Neil was stuffed in a jail cell slowly working through his escape plan.

Neil’s plan went like this: stay in the dungeon until the night of the wedding, then he’d make his great escape while everyone was being tossed around by last minute wedding preparations. He’d use the key he’d stolen from one of the guards to unlock his cell, and crawl out the window on the far end of the room, where he’d run until he hit the coast, stow away on a ship, get off at the nearest land mass, and send Andrew a letter to where he was planning on going, and then wait for him.

He felt like it was a solid plan, and he was sure it would work, just as long as he stayed in the dungeon until the night of the wedding, and as long as Riko didn’t come down to check he was still there until Neil was already on a boat and hopefully halfway across the ocean.

He’d thought of travelling to Guilder, rumors of the new Queen were intriguing, and Guilder seemed the last place anyone would look for him–the would-be king of Florin. But he’d decided it would be best to have no clue where he was going until he got to his halfway point. That would leave no chance for giveaways or accidental hints as to his future location.

It was during one of the moments when Neil was running through his plan again, that he heard the scream.

He heard it at the same time as Riko was busy ordering people to gather up all the thieves in the Thieves Quarters and have them jailed for the ‘safety’ of his future husband.

The scream wasn’t human, though no one could possibly guess what kind of animal it came from (it was actually a wild dog from the first level of the Prince’s Zoo. Though, no wild dog–or even animal–had ever made a noise like that scream, because no dog–or animal–had ever been subjected to as much pain as that wild dog was.) The scream was anguish and agony in sound, it was chilling, and had children all over sobbing and grown men shaking in their boots.

As it quieted, and the dog died, deep in the Zoo of Death the Count tried to hide his squeals of delight. His machine–the Machine–worked, and it was ready.

Ready for what? You ask.

Ready, for Andrew.
_________

The Count all but ran to where the Prince was, and he excitedly relayed the news.

“It works your highness, it works, the Machine, it’s ready,” he said gleefully. Riko gave him a weary look and sighed.

“Listen, Unk, I’m glad you worked out all the little kinks from your machine and whatever, but I’m honestly swamped. I’ve got meetings to attend parties to plan. I’ve got to decide which officials stand where during my wedding and who marches in front of who for the parade, plus I’ve got to keep up the goo-goo eyes I’m supposed to have for whats-his-face and tell everyone he’s only sick. That’s not even mentioning how I’m supposed to get him through the ceremony without him doing something idiotic. Then I’ve got a husband to kill and a country to frame for it–I mean I’m just busy, and I hate to say it but just go do whatever you need to with Andrew and tell me how it goes afterwards alright?” Riko said, completely unapologetic. Though despite that, the Count grinned.

“I will your highness, I will,” He said. Riko nodded.

“Cool, alright bye,” he dismissed, and with that, the Count left.

He went down to the dungeons–since he was one of the only ones who knew the actual whereabouts of the Prince’s fiance. Neil glanced up at the sound of the man entering the dungeon, and was a bit surprised to recognize the prince’s uncle.

“What do you want?” he snapped, trying to play up the ‘I’m-stuck-and-have-no-hope-of-getting-out’ angle. The Count grinned.

“I was just wondering, your sailor–what was his name?” he asked, playing up his own angle, the ‘I-definitely-haven’t-been-torturing-your-lover-for-the-past-few-months’ angle. Neil narrowed his eyes on the Count.

“Andrew,” Neil said carefully.

“Yes, that’s right, Andrew,” the Count said, testing out the name, “I was just wondering what you think it would take to break him?” he asked. Neil felt his chest tighten.

“You can’t, he’s too stubborn for that,” Neil said, watching the Count with a new unease.

“Mmm, thank you,” the man said, before turning to leave. Neil lunged forward and leaned against the bars.

“He lied didn’t he, you have him?” Neil said, because–contrary to popular belief–he wasn’t stupid. The Count just smiled over his shoulder at Neil and waved to him.

“Have a happy wedding Nathaniel,” he said, and then left. Neil’s world began crumbling. Nearly three months, and Neil had been toiling around waiting for Andrew to come get him because he’d trusted Riko. He berated himself silently for his stupidity, and then his mind went to all the things Riko could have possibly been doing to Andrew this entire time.

Neil decided to change his plan, he was going to have to go to his wedding it seemed.
__________

“They need me, they can’t do anything to me,” Jean said one night, “I have poison, I can kill you, please, let me kill you,” he begged him. Andrew scowled at him.

“I don’t like that word,” he said, and Jean sneered back.

“You won’t like what they plan on doing to you,” he said fiercely, and Andrew resisted a smile. He hadn’t felt an ounce of discomfort the entire time he’d been stuck in the cage. “They’re going to use the Machine,” Jean said.

“I don’t care,” Andrew said apathetically, and then waved his hand for Jean to leave.

“You will,” Jean said, but he left.

The Machine, Andrew found out, was unlike any other torture he’d ever been put through, it was pain like he’d never experienced, and he discovered that was because the Machine didn’t just torture you with pain. It sucked away your life, and so far, the Count had stolen at least twenty years from Andrew.

Each time it finished he’d find the energy to spit on the Count and curse at him, but each night it became harder and harder as the Count turned the dial higher and higher and more and more of Andrew’s life was sucked from him.
_________

eight days before the wedding a brute squad was assembled and the arresting of all criminals in the Thieves Quarter–which was nearly a square mile–began.

It went surprisingly successfully, and by the second day of the assault more than half the thieves in the Thieves Quarter had been arrested. The commander of this force, a man by the name of ‘Gorilla’ launched his squad in for what he hoped would be the third and final day of the assault. That would leave five days until the wedding and he could hear no complaints from the Prince.

He sent off his squad to go round up the last of the criminals, and Gorilla took a loud brute and a quiet one for his own section, and made his way to the house of ‘Jack.’ The man was easily one of the most powerful men in the Thieves Quarter and he’d so far avoided arrest extremely efficiently. In fact, Gorilla was the only person who didn’t think he was bribing the authorities, and that was because he knew. Because each month, on the twentieth, Jack paid Gorilla a hefty sum to be kept out of the jails. Now though, he had no choice but to arrest the man–and he said as much.

“Jack I’ve got no choice,” he said, and Jack glared. “Just trust me and go along with it, I’ll give you the biggest cell we have!”

“Trust you? You’re the man I bribe to keep me out of jail and as soon as there’s a bit of pressure you just send me up and away!” Jack shouted back, and so Gorilla grunted–that was part of the reason he had the name ‘Gorilla,’ he communicated in almost entirely grunts when things weren’t going his way.

“Fine then, whack him,” he said, and the noisy brute stepped forward and whacked his baton across Jack’s cheek. “Not so rough!” he added, but it was too late and Jack crumpled to the floor. Gorilla grunted, and then motioned for the noisy and quiet brutes to load him into the wagon and be carried to the jails. The brutes did as they were told, and then heard the drunken ramblings of another criminal.

“Lola! Lola I’ve been waaaiitttiinngggg, three months! That’s a–” the man hiccuped, and took the break in his rant to take another drink of his brandy, “–that’s a long, looooong time, especially when all I’ve been doinggggggggg is BRANDY! I’m leaving, after today, if you don’t come! You hear me!” he shouted drunkenly. Then quieter he added, “I don’t mean that Lola, I’m sorry, please come back,” and then he hiccuped miserably and took another swig of his bottle.

This of course was Kevin, and the quiet brute waved off the loud one as he started towards Kevin.

“I’ve got an idea, you go ahead,” the quiet brute said, and the loud one shrugged but went ahead.

“Apparently this guy took out all the brutes that tried to arrest him yesterday, and the day before,” the loud brute said, the quiet one smiled secretly as they walked over.

“Hey, you,” the loud one shouted loudly as both brutes stopped in front of Kevin, who glared in the general direction of them.

“Hey, you, yourself you ugly cunt,” he snapped, thanks to the brandy you would hear the Celt in his voice.

“Runt,” Said the quiet brute quietly.

“And eat your mother’s liver with a dinner spoon!” Kevin yelled, drawing his sword and struggling to stand.

“Moon.”

“I’ll cut your eyes out with nothing but the nails in the steps of this stoop!” Kevin shrieked.

“Gloop,” the quiet brute said, and then Kevin blinked.

“Matt?” he asked, trying to force his brandy soaked eyes to focus, Matt grinned.

“Who’s Matt?” the loud brute said, but then Matt slammed his baton into the man’s head just like had been done to Jack.

“Kevin!” Matt said, and Kevin grinned as tears came to his eyes and he embraced his friend.

“Oh, where have you been you big ol oaf?!” he said good naturedly, the liquor causing him to sway on his feet and Matt had to stabilize him.

“I stayed in a fishing village for a while, and then I heard about the wedding here, and I remembered Neil, and how he was pretty nice and I thought it would be nice to come see his wedding, but then I ran out of money so I decided to try and join the brute squad that they were starting and they beat me with bats to see if I was strong enough and when the bats broke they told me I had the job,” Matt explained, Kevin narrowed his eyes at Matt.

“Isn’t Neil that one Prince we kidnapped?” he asked, and Matt nodded, happy that Kevin was following along. Though, thinking of the prince made him think of the man in black. “Matt–Matt tell me, did the man in black defeat you? And where is Lola?” he asked, swaying more violently, and Matt’s eyes widened in distress.

“One second,” he said, (Pleccond), and he propped Kevin up so that he was leaning against the building before picking up the loud brute and loading him into the wagon with Jack. Matt covered them both with a blanket and then returned to Kevin–who was rambling on about the man in black.

Matt took Kevin and laid him down in Jack’s bed, then he left, took the cart to the jail, and waited until he was relieved from active duty before going back to the walls of the Thieves Quarter. The very last of the thieves had been rounded up and arrested, and so Gorilla had locked it up. Luckily walls had never been a problem for Matt–thanks to his arms–so he scaled it quickly and then made his way through the streets to Jack’s house, where he found Kevin, still asleep in the bed where Matt had left him.

What followed was the three day process of pulling Kevin day from his drunken stupor and whipping him back into a bit of shape. Matt fed and helped Kevin back to health and dipped the Celt in tubs of hot water and then cold and then hot and then cold until all the brandy oozed from Kevin’s pores and he stopped trembling so much without a bottle gripped in his hand.

He told him about how the six fingered man was alive, and worked at the castle for the king, and about how the man in black had defeated all three of Kevin, Matt, and Lola, and how Lola was dead. On the third day Kevin began to pace. His strength returning and his brain flying, but then he threw himself down on the bed once he’d thought himself into circles trying to come up with a plan to kill the Count and finally avenge his mother.

“I can’t do this Matt, I’m not Lola, I can’t think,” he said helplessly, and Matt nodded his sympathy. “But wait–” he said suddenly standing back up and pacing again, this time with renewed vigor, “I don’t need Lola anymore, I need her master, her better, I need the man who killed her at her own game, who defeated me at mine, who defeated you at yours, I need the man in black,” he said, and Matt blinked, lost.

“You need the man in black?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because if Lola is dead, he’s the best chance we have at a thinker, neither of us are clever enough to come up with a plan, we need someone else, a third man, but now we just have to find the man in black,” Kevin said, pacing faster and rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Who is the man in black,” he murmured out loud.

“He’s a sailor for the Dread Pirate Roberts,” Matt said helpfully, and Kevin stopped pacing, instead blinking at the wall.

“A common seaman?” He scoffed disbelievingly, “I was bested by a sailor? No, I won’t believe it, there’s only one explanation, he must be the Dread Pirate Roberts, yes–yes now it makes sense,” Kevin murmured.

“It’s going to be very difficult to kill the Count, he’s always with the prince and the prince is refusing to leave the castle because he thinks Guilder is going to try and kill him, how will the man in black help?”

“He will,” Kevin insisted, “and wait, what? How could he think that Guilder did it if we failed, the Prince Nathaniel heard our plan, he would have told his–unless the prince was the one who did it!” Kevin said excitedly, now bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Wait how did the man in black get caught? Or did he return the prince?” Kevin asked, and Matt shrugged.

“They went through the Fire Swamp and the Prince cut them off, then he said the man sailed away,” Matt said.

“So if he was lying about the Guilder thing, there’s also a chance he was lying about the man in black thing, which means he might still have the man in black–who is a witness to the princes crimes!” Kevin said, now the wheels were turning in his head. He lurched for the door and Matt hurried to follow him.

Kevin now knew five things. Well, five and a half technically. (a) he needed to reach Count Moriyama to at last avenge his mother, (b) he couldn’t plan how to reach Count Moriyama, (c) Lola would have had a plan, (c prime) Lola is unavailable; however (d) the man in black outplanned Lola, therefore, (e) the man in black could get him to Count Moriyama. Conclusion (1) Prince Riko was lying, conclusion (2) he most likely wanted to keep the man in black within arms reach until after the wedding, conclusion (3) he also most likely planned on finishing the killing that he’d hired Lola, Matt, and Kevin to do, conclusion (4) the man in black was most likely in Florin City, conclusion (5) Kevin was also in Florin city, conclusion (6) Kevin needed a planner, and the man in black could do just that, and the man in black most likely needs a rescuer or a helper and Kevin can do that, so finally, conclusion (7) deals are made.
_______

It was dark when Neil escaped his cell and left the guard unconscious in his place. He snuck to Riko’s chambers, and he took the hunting knife he knew would be on the bedside table and he pressed it to the Prince’s neck, hard enough that it woke Riko with a start, his eyes fluttering around until they landed on Neil.

“Make a noise and I’ll kill you,” Neil said, so Riko stayed quiet. “Where is he?” Neil asked.

“Whom?” Riko said, smugly feigning innocence. Neil clenched his teeth and pressed the knife harder against Riko’s neck.

“Andrew, where is he, I know you have him,” Neil hissed, Riko choked for a moment, and then laughed.

“Nearly broken by now, if the Count’s reports have been correct,” he said, and Neil’s breath hitched.

“Where is he?” he demanded through gritted teeth. Riko grinned.

“Darling you should plan better,” he said, just as the guard stationed inside Riko’s room, hidden in a shadowy corner grabbed Neil and pulled him away. Riko called for his guards and they all rushed in, restraining Riko’s fiance and Riko got out of bed to gloat at Neil, who struggled against the guards and glared daggers. “How’s that feel? Knowing we broke him? Your unbreakable little sailor,” Riko taunted and Neil’s chest burned with anger.

“How’s it feel knowing he lasted longer than you ever would have been able too?” Neil shot back, and Riko’s smugness cracked a little, “he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be, more of a fucking human than you’ll ever be!” Neil shouted, and Riko backhanded him.

“Lock him back up, somewhere he can hear what’s about to happen,” Riko said, voice dripping with rage. “Know that you asked for this, you did this to him, Nathaniel,” he said bitterly, and Neil’s face dropped, his eyes widening in fear as the guards dragged him away.

“No, no! What are you going to do?! Don’t–” someone cut off his protests and Riko stormed down to the fifth floor of the Zoo of Death and burst into the cage–even startling the Count with the pure hatred in his eyes. Riko marched to Andrew leaned over where he was on the table so he could glare at him. Andrew scowled weakly, but he was exhaused, and in pain, and knew what was coming and knew he couldn’t be ready for it.

“He did this to you,” Riko said, and then he turned the dial on the Machine to twenty and flipped the on switch.

“No! Not twenty!” the Count cried, but it was already too late, and the death scream had stared.
________

Nearly everyone in Florin City heard Andrew’s death. This included Neil, who’d been locked back in his chambers with extra guards to keep him there. When he heard it he felt the pain with Andrew and went completely still with the realization of what that meant.

In another part of the city Kevin recognized the sound immediately.

“I do not like that noise,” Matt said, he couldn’t recognize it, didn’t know what it was, but Kevin did.

“That noise! It’s the same noise my heart made when Count Moriyama killed my mother, it is the sound of ultimate suffering,” Kevin said, “and that means it must be the man in black,” he added, Matt furrowed his brows.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Because, it’s a day until the prince’s wedding, who else has cause for such suffering?” Kevin said, and Matt nodded, then they made their way towards the noise, charging through the crowds and bulldozing through everything. (Clearly though this was before bulldozers, thought it’s still a perfectly apt comparison).

Meanwhile the Count watched as Riko glared at Andrew’s body as he died. When Andrew was certainly dead Riko turned and left. And the Count sighed. Dead bodies meant nothing to him, once you were dead you could feel no pain and pain was the thing he was interested in. So he sighed again, and said–knowing that even though he couldn’t see the albino he was there– “dispose of the body,” and then he left. Shaking his head a bit at the loss of a perfectly good test subject.

The albino emerged and carefully unhooked Andrew from the Machine, he took the mans dead body and put it on a wheelbarrow that he then wheeled up to the surface level and out the secret entrance.

“–Somewhere, he’s here somewhere we were getting close,” Jean heard voices and turned as he watched a knife bodied man approach, holding out a sword, and a giant towering over him.

“You–where is the man in black,” the knife-like man said, and Jean blinked.

“I know no man in black,” he said.

“Who made that noise?”

“Andrew.”

“A sailor? For the Dread Pirate Roberts? Who Prince Riko brought in?” Kevin proded, and Jean nodded.

“Where is he?” Kevin demanded, and Matt tapped him on the shoulder.

“Uh, Kevin, I think that is him,” he said, pointing behind Jean, though Kevin thought he was pointing at Jean since Kevin didn’t have the height Matt did.

“You’re the man in black?” Kevin asked incredulously. Jean raised a judgmental eyebrow.

“No, no Kevin behind him, the body in the wheelbarrow,” Matt clarified, and Kevin’s eyes widened as he darted around to Andrew’s body. He took it in, the body, the death, and he blinked.

“Fuck.”
__________

Part VI: The Wedding

Kevin Day, son of Kayleigh Day would not accept this.

He couldn’t accept that the man in black was dead, so he didn’t he asked Matt if he had any money and when he said he did he ordered Matt to gather the man in black and follow him. They walked until Kevin found the hut of the king’s old Miracle man and he knocked on the door.

“Go away,” a voice snapped from inside, mostly because it was midnight, but also because Miracle Minyard hated people that weren’t his wife. Kevin knocked again.

“Sir, please, we need your help, we need a miracle!” Kevin pleaded at the door. The door opened a crack and a sliver of the man’s face showed through, he scowled at them both.

“Why would you want me? The Miracle Man fired by the Moriyamas, I’ll probably kill him,” Aaron said bitterly, Kevin shrugged.

“He is already dead,” he said, and Aaron cocked his head slightly.

“Hmm, already dead, I’m good with already dead,” he pondered quietly.

“Please, we have money,” Kevin said, and Aaron opened the door wider.

“How much?” he asked flatly, and both Kevin and Matt’s eyes widened when the saw the man’s face.

“You look a lot like our dead man,” Matt said, and Aaron narrowed his eyes at him.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Aaron asked, and Matt shook his head and turned the dead-man-in-black’s face up so Aaron could see it. Aaron’s eyebrows rose into his hair.

“What the fuck,” he whispered.

“Aaron, dear, what’s going on?” a woman’s voice called from within the hut, and then Katelyn–Aaron’s wife–joined him in the doorway, her eyes landed on Andrew’s limp face and she glanced between his and Aarons.

“What the fuck,” she whispered.

“Save him, we need him alive,” Kevin said, and both Katelyn and Aaron looked up to him.

“He’s dead?” Katelyn asked.

“No way, he’s got my face–that’s some freaky hoodoo shit, get lost,” Aaron snapped, trying to close the door, but Katelyn held it open, she gave Aaron a meaningful look and he sighed. “Fine, put him on the table,” he grumbled, opening the door wider for them to come in. Kevin grinned and Matt ducked his head as he entered the home and gently set the man in black on the table. Aaron eyed him with distaste and poked his cheek.

“Freaky,” he muttered, and Katelyn poked him back. “Whatever, he’s less stiff than most,” he admitted after a moment.

“So you’ll help him?” Kevin asked hopefully, and Aaron crossed his arms and then uncrossed them and held up one of the man’s arms and watched it drop. He glanced between the man in black’s bicep and his own and raised his brows.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Aaron demanded, and Kevin bit his lip.

“Er…”

“Andrew! The albino said his name was Andrew, he’s a sailor for the Dread Pirate Roberts,” Matt said.

“Andrew… what kind of a name even is that? Dread Pirate Roberts, pah, that’s a hoax anyways,” Aaron muttered.

“Hoax?” Kevin asked, brow furrowing. Aaron’s eyes didn’t leave Andrew’s body, he waved the man off.

“Why should I bring this guy back?” Aaron asked, crossing his arms.

“Because he was a human and it’s a good thing to do,” Kevin said, using his ‘righteous voice’ as Wymack had once called it. Aaron didn’t seem phased.

“Yeah and my middle name’s Joseph, you just said he works for pirates,” Aaron argued, and Kevin looked a little taken aback.

“I need him alive,” Kevin said desperately. Aaron narrowed his eyes and glanced between Andrew’s body and Kevin.

“Why? You two fucking?” he asked.

“Aaron!” Katelyn scolded, and Kevin turned bright red.

“No he loves another–the prince’s betrothed–we kidnapped him, he’s nice–though very sad,” Matt corrected, and Kevin pointed to Matt as confirmation. Aaron glanced at Andrew.

“This guy’s getting prince dick?” Aaron said incredulously, “Where the fuck did I go wrong?” he added in a whisper. “Oh right, I married the love of my life and she stole my blessed ignorance, thank you dear,” he added, kissing Katelyn briefly on her cheek, she rolled her eyes and smiled at him.

“Can we get back to the life saving part?” Kevin said, still red. Aaron waved him off.

“Yeah, yeah, here’s the deal, I’ll save the twink as long as when I blow him up he doesn’t say something stupid, got it?” he said, Kevin and Matt blinked at him.

“Twink?” Matt asked at the same time as Kevin’s, “Blow him up?”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Aaron said, and he pulled out a bellows. He stuck it down Andrew’s throat and started pumping. “Listen, there’s three kindsa dead, you got the dead, mostly dead, and the kinda dead. This guy’s only kinda dead, which means he’s still got some memory kicking around, so when we put the right pressure in the right places, it’ll knock something important loose. If he just says some shit like ‘money’ I’m not going to bother bringing him back,” Aaron explained, Matt and Kevin watched him blankly. Eventually Aaron pulled the bellows out and squeezed Andrew’s head a little.

“...uck...ooo…” Andrew’s dead body wheezed, and everyone furrowed their brows.

“Fuck you?” Kevin said, and Aaron laughed.

“Ha, alright, that’s pretty good, never had an insult pop outta one of these guys before, now I gotta meet this asshole,” he said, Matt and Kevin shared a glance.

“So you’ll save him?” Matt asked, and Aaron shrugged.

“Yeah, lets save doppelganger,” he said, and then he cracked his knuckles and went to the stove.

It took nearly all night, and Miracle Minyard was finished he held up the lumpy looking ball of clay proudly, and Katelyn beamed.

“Your best work yet dear,” she said, and Aaron brushed her off–still smiling somewhat bashfully.

“It looks like a lump of cow pat,” Kevin said bluntly, and Aaron glared at him.

“Do you want him alive or not?” Aaron said and Kevin closed his mouth. “Christ didn’t your mother ever teach you to not to insult the man who’s raising your friends from the dead?” he added, and Kevin opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it.

“So he just eats it and he’s back alive?” Matt asked, and Aaron nodded and shrugged.

“Mostly,” he said.
_______

Meanwhile, at 4:25 Prince Riko called Gorilla into his chambers. The man arrived and Riko demanded a progress report on the security.

“Everything is locked and secured your highness, all criminals have been jailed and no Guilder agents are anywhere in the vicinity,” he reported, and Riko nodded, pacing.

“But there will be an attack tonight, after the wedding, I can feel it, my husband-to-be is to-be strangled tonight,” Riko insisted, and Gorilla’s face paled.

“Your highness, I can assure you there is no plot against the prince,” he said, and Riko shook his head.

“No there will be,” he insisted, and Gorilla got down on a knee.

“Then sir, I’m sorry but I must resign, it’s my–”

“No, no stop that,” Riko cut him off, realizing he’d need someone to run Guilder while Riko was in Florin, and the only two people he trusted were the Count and Gorilla. “No, there will be an attack, because I am killing the prince tonight after the wedding and you will help me frame Guilder for it,” the Prince said, and Gorilla nodded.

“Yes your highness.”

“Oh and also tell the albino I want him no where near my wedding,” Riko added, and Gorilla frowned.

“I haven’t seen the albino since yesterday,” he said, and Riko quirked a brow. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was that he could always find the albino.

“What if there is a plot tonight?” Riko pondered, and Gorilla jumped to his feet.

“I will go and find our sir,” he said, and Riko nodded, then went back to pacing as Gorilla raced out.

Riko was to be married no later than a quarter to five, six wouldn’t do, and he still had to get ready and figure out how to force Nathaniel into looking like a semi consensual groom.
_________

“Fuck,” Aaron said immediately after he’d sent Matt, Kevin and his apparent twin off to crash a wedding and kill the king and his right hand man.

“What is it love?” Katelyn asked, stroking his hair gently. Aaron leaned into her.

“I only gave them a forty-five minute pill, they wanted an hour,” he said, and she waved him off.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine, you did great,” she assured him.
_______

Kevin and Matt managed to get up onto the wall of the castle with some maneuvering, and they together propped up the man in black against the wall and contemplated when to give him the pill.

“If it’s sixty minutes we should give him the pill now, since it’s forty-five minutes till the ceremony which will give us fifteen minutes of escape,” Kevin said. (Though of course this wasn’t true, because of Aaron’s mistake, they only have forty-five minutes.)

“Or we give him the pill until five-thirty, then half to get there, half to escape,” Matt argued, Kevin shook his head.

“No we need to do it now, and we also don’t know how long it takes the pill to kick in,” Kevin said, and Matt nodded his agreement. They shifted the man in black and opened his mouth as wide as it would go and then Kevin dropped the pill down the man’s throat. Within a second the man’s eyes blinked open.

“Stop touching me, or lose your limbs,” Andrew growled, and both Matt and Kevin jumped away from him.

“You’re alive!” Matt said, and Andrew gave him a flat look.

“What else would I be,” he said dryly, and Matt shrugged.

“Dead.”

Andrew blinked at him, and then decided to pretend he hadn’t asked.

“Where am I?” he asked instead.

“On the wall, just outside the building where your beloved is being married,” Kevin said, and Andrew scowled.

“Why am I here and why can’t I move my limbs?”

“You’re here because we need your so I can kill the Count and you can get back your–”

“Say beloved again and I’ll cut off your tongue.”

“–Neil,” Kevin corrected himself. “You can’t move because you were dead, we found your doppelganger and had him revive you,” Kevin added. Matt nodded along and Andrew narrowed his eyes at them both. He was almost fifty percent sure that they were both some elaborate torture scheme drawn up by Riko and the Count. But they stared at him expectantly.

“What?” he bit out, starting to slowly get feeling back into his fingers.

“You’re the planner–what’s the plan?” Kevin said, and Andrew blinked at him.

“I can’t even–”

“We brought you back to life,” Kevin reminded him, and Matt nodded in agreement. Andrew closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“What are our assets?” he asked eventually. Kevin grinned.

“We have Matt’s strength, my steel, and your brains,” she said gloriously. Andrew gave him a flat look.

“That’s all?” he said, and Kevin gave him a deflated look.

“Yeah that its, but it’s enough–it has to be.”
__________

At 5:23 Neil was walking down the aisle, his eyes downcast and rimmed with red. His soul felt hollow and despite being dressed up and looking like the most beautiful person in the world, he felt like dying.

Andrew was dead–for real now, Neil was certain. Riko had killed him, and now, Neil was moments away from being married with him. The only thing that kept him walking down the aisle was that he knew that he couldn’t run now. He’d have to wait until after the wedding, and then Prince Nathaniel would vanish.

So at 5:24 he knelt down before the altar and just wished everything would be over with already. He was so focused on his melancholy though, that he didn’t even hear the screams coming from outside as the clock turned to 5:25.

________

The screaming was actually from the brute guards stationed outside the church, and they were all screaming at Matt, who was currently behind rolled down a hill in a wheelbarrow with his arms eagle spread while on fire.

Behind him, Kevin tried his best to keep the wheelbarrow moving, and a ways behind them Andrew made his way as fast as he could–currently eighty year old man speed–down the hill after them.

Meanwhile Matt, still in the wheelbarrow, on fire, and sailing towards the brutes was screaming: “IT IS I! THE DREAD PIRATE ROBERTS! I LEAVE NO SURVIVORS!!”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh as the speed he was going, so he looked quite frightening–though any giant, on fire, flying down a hill yelling “NO SURVIVORS!” would be pretty frightening. Everyone on the brute squad fled, screaming.

Part VII: Honeymoon

Gorilla had the sense to know that once a flaming giant was flying at your gate, you’d have a hard time getting things under control. So he took the only key to the gate and hid it on his person, then he tried to run.

Unfortunately for him (but fortunately for our heroes) Andrew also had the sense to expect such behavior.

“Give us the key,” Andrew demanded, and Gorilla shrugged.

“What key?” he asked, Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Matt, tear his arms off,” he ordered, and Matt took a step towards Gorilla, who suddenly produced a key.

“Oooh you mean this key,” he said, handing it over.

“Open the door,” Andrew ordered, tossing the keys at Matt. Andrew still couldn’t really use his arms very well, but he was managing at least to walk on his own, and Kevin had given him a knife. Though, if given the opportunity–Andrew decided–he would find a way to kill Riko with only Riko’s own toenails and both Andrew’s hands tied behind his back.

With the brute squad gone they had a clear path through the gate and to the ceremony–until suddenly Count Moriyama and four other swordsmen appeared.
_________

Riko was getting antsy, it was 5:28 and the ceremony was still going on.

“Prince Riko and Prince Nathaniel, do you–”

“Your holiness, would you mind speeding things up? My love cannot wait,” Riko said, but the archdean was almost completely deaf in both ears and didn’t hear him. Neil’s gaze was focused on the patter in the pillow he was kneeling on, but his thoughts were miles away, in that ravine, when he’d been reunited with Andrew.

The ceremony finally ended at 5:31, thanks to some rushing by Riko as the screams at the gate became louder.

Meanwhile at the gate, Kevin stood up to face the Count Moriyama. He straightened his spine, and raised his sword and said, with a completely straight face, “My name is Kevin Day, you killed my mother, prepare to die.”

And the Count turned and ran.
_______

At 5:46 Riko escorted Neil towards Riko’s chambers, and Neil only vaguely realized what was happening. Part of him saw the escape, but a part of him also knew that Riko’s chamber’s held a display of weapons on the walls, and if Neil could get ahold of one…

So he let himself be dragged along after Riko, down the hall, and he finally noticed the commotion coming from at the gate. He blinked, and wondered what might be happening.
_______

By 5:37 Kevin was so shocked by the Count’s cowardice that he stood stock still. Then he gathered his bearings and chased after the man, though he was faster the Count slammed shut a door and locked it, and no matter how hard Kevin threw himself against it, it wouldn’t budge.

“MATT!” He called, and Matt looked up from where he was protecting Andrew, who was now moving closer to health-freak 80-year-old speed. Kevin guestured to the door and Matt looked in distress between Kevin and Andrew. Andrew waved him off and stabbed one of the swordsmen as they tried to use Matt’s distraction to their advantage.

With that confirmation Matt charged the door, it splintered and cracked, and finally–after two more charges–the door gave in.

“Thank you Matt,” Kevin said, racing after the Count, as Matt turned back around to try and find Andrew again, but Andrew was gone.
_______

Neil was shoved into Riko’s room and he dived for a knife from the wall, but by the time he’d turned back around Riko was closing the door. He grinned at Neil.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, and it made Neil’s skin crawl, but then the door was shut and he heard the lock click into place. Neil sank to his knees and let the knife fall from his grip, it clattered uselessly to the floor.

“What? No quippy comeback?” he heard a voice say, and Neil froze. He turned around slowly, and then spotted Andrew sitting in the window sill.
________

Kevin caught up with the Count, and as he entered the billiard room where the Count had holed up, he started his mantra again.

What he didn’t know, was that the Count had a Florinese dagger, and was an expert at using one. So all he got out was “My name is Ke–” before the dagger rearranged his insides and the force of the throw caused him to fall against the wall.
_______

Neil raced over to Andrew and grabbed his face.

“Stop fucking dying,” he whispered, and Andrew met his eyes.

“Let me just write that down,” he remarked, and Neil pressed his forehead to Andrew’s and they closed their eyes.

“Does he know you’re here?” Neil asked after a moment, his breathing slightly ragged.

“Not yet,” Andrew said, then Neil realized something was wrong.

“Andrew, why aren’t you moving?” he asked.

“Turns out coming back from the dead is a bit of a bitch,” he admitted, and then they both turned their gaze to the sound of the lock clicking open as the door slid open and Riko appeared. He blinked at Andrew for a moment and then it turned to a scowl.
_______

The Count advanced on Kevin, who was leaning against the wall for support. His stomach was a fountain, blood gushing out and soaking his clothes, and as he watched it, he whispered to himself.

“I’m.. I’m sorry mom… I couldn’t–”

“What the fuck do you do with a wound?” Wymacks’ voice snapped in his ear. And Kevin looked back at the wound.

“Cover...it…” he said, pulling out the knife with a gasp and shoving his fist into the wound. His vision focused–horribly–but enough to spot the six fingered man’s sword diving towards Kevin’s heart. He parried at the last second, deflecting the blade into Kevin’s shoulder.

The Count looked taken aback and he blinked.

“You–I remember you, you’re that Celt prat I taught a lesson!” the Count said, and Kevin pushed himself up the wall until he was standing, and then he fixed his eyes on the Count.

“My name… is Kevin Day… you… killed my mother… prepare to die…” he said, and the Count frowned as Kevin charged him, he slashed and he parried and he stabbed and he held his fist in his stomach and tried not to think about what he was holding in.

“My name is Kevin day, you killed my mother, prepare to die,” Kevin said, this time with more strength. The Count scowled at him. “MY NAME IS KEVIN DAY YOU KILLED MY MOTHER PREPARE TO DIE!” Kevin yelled, and the Count screamed.

“Stop saying that!” he shouted, before Kevin stabbed his hand and the man’s sword fell away. The Count fell backwards, and he scrambled away until he hit a wall. Kevin followed him and pointed the point of his blade–the blade meant for this man, the blade that had killed his mother–at his throat.

“Offer me money,” Kevin demanded.

“It’s all yours,” the Count said.

“Power.”

“You can have it,” the Count said desperately.

“Offer me anything I want,” Kevin said calmly.

“I’ll give you anything you want,” the Count said, Kevin drew back his blade, fire in his eyes.

“I WANT KAYLEIGH DAY YOU BASTARD!” He screamed as his blade flashed and the Count screamed in pain. Kevin pulled back his blade, “that was just left of your heart,” Kevin said, he stabbed again, the Count cried out, “That was just below it,” Kevin said, the Count yelled again, “Do you see what I’m doing?”

“You’re cutting out my heart,” the Count said.

“You took mine when I was ten, now I want yours.”

Kevin didn’t stagger out of the room until 5:50.
__________

“I killed you,” Riko said.

“Yeah, didn’t take,” Andrew said. “Listen Riko, you have two options, one: you can surrender, and I’ll kill you relatively quickly, or two: you don’t surrender, and I do every single thing you’ve done to Neil over the past years back to you, and then I kill you. Maybe I’ll even use the Machine.”

“Or you’re bluffing, and you can’t move at all,” Riko said, suspiciously, Andrew shrugged. It was 5:52, he had three minutes–though he didn’t know this, he could sense the changes in his body and he forced himself to speak faster.

“You feel like–”

“Shut up both of you,” Neil said, and then he stabbed Riko in the neck with the blade he’d dropped before. Riko gurgled and dropped to his knees, and Andrew raised his brows as Neil returned to his side.

“I had a whole monologue, and an extensive toture plan,” Andrew said at the end of 5:54.

“I don’t give a shit, I’m not risking you dyin–Andrew?” Neil asked as suddenly Andrew went limp in his grasp as the clocks struck 5:55. “Andrew,” Neil said, this time more desperately, it didn’t look like Andrew was breathing and for a moment Neil was terrified he’d just watched Andrew die–for a third time.

Then Andrew gasped and his eyes flew open. Neil let out a breath of relief and pressed his forehead to Andrew’s.

“I hate you,” he said softly, Andrew smirked.

“That’s my line.”

“What the fuck happened here?” Kevin’s voice interrupted them, and they both turned to see him standing in the doorway, his fist still holding all his organs in place.

“I could ask you the same,” Neil said.

“Oh hey, sorry about kidnapping you by the way,” Kevin said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry Kevin, I’m still kicking your ass for that just as soon as I can,” Andrew said, and Neil rolled his eyes.

“KEVIN?!” Matt suddenly called from outside, and everyone–except Andrew–darted to the window, where they all spotted Matt, on the back of one of four identical white horses.

“Matt where did you find those?!” Kevin asked, and Matt smiled.

“I got lost and they looked pretty and I thought we could use them to ride off,” he explained, and Kevin grinned.

“How are we getting down?” Andrew asked from where he was leaning against the window sill. Kevin winced at that.

“Do you have a ladder Matt?” he asked, Matt shook his head.

“But it’s not that far, just jump and I’ll catch you,” Matt said.

And so all of them jumped, one by one, out the window and Matt caught them. Then they got on their horses and started off towards the gate, when suddenly they realized that Gorilla had managed to reorganize his brute squad, and they all turned on them.

“You can’t leave,” Gorilla said, and Kevin and Andrew opened their mouths to say something, but Neil held up a hand.

“Your king is in danger, go help him,” he said, and Gorilla gave him a look.

“They are my troops, they listen to me,” he said, and Neil grinned.

“And who do you listen to?”

“The king.”

“Guess what the fuck I am.”

Gorilla glared, but eventually gave in and the brute squad followed him to go find Riko, and Neil and Andrew and Matt and Kevin rode off, and they lived happily ever after.

(Well, at least until the events caught up with Andrew and he asked “Wait, what was that about my having a fucking doppleganger?”)