Chapter Text
King Preston hadn’t thought this through, had he?
His wife, Priscilla, was pregnant, her hand wrapped tightly around his as they looked at the demon before them. His face was malformed and grotesque, his eyes asymmetrical and misshapen. A tiny top hat sat atop his head, bald except for three strands of hair. He wore a black, well-fitted suit, a yellow dress shirt underneath, a black bowtie, and simple black dress shoes. If it weren’t for his grotesque form, he might be considered handsome with how well he dressed.
His fat hand is held out to them, and a venomous smile twisted on his lips. “Do we have a deal?”
Preston looked to his wife, she shook her head, silently begging him to refuse.
But it was a family tradition, something Preston sought out in every aspect of his life. He took tradition seriously. Though, Bill's deals with the Northwests had not meant providing the heir as his vessel until now. Preston's own father's deal with Bill had simply been to raise him to hold the tradition, as if Bill knew he'd make this deal.
He sighed, stretching his free hand out to Bill’s. “If you guess our child’s name, you’ll possess them at the age of sixteen?”
Bill Cipher, with that sick smile still on his face, nodded, “That’s the deal, Northwest!” He cried out in his high and loud voice, so brazen against the serious nature of the castle.
Preston took Bill’s hand firmly and shook it, “Deal.”
Bill’s evil-sounding cackle echoed through the halls, he released Preston’s hand and held his stomach as he laughed. He gathered himself again in a moment. “So, your child’s name, eh? You’re a man of tradition, Preston, that much is obvious! All the way back to when Nathaniel took this kingdom for himself! He struck the first deal before his first son was born!” Bill pressed his palm against his non-existent chin. “So I wonder, what could you possibly be naming this child?”
Priscilla’s hands gripped her stomach, and Preston was at her side in a blink. “Dear?”
“It’s nothing,” she panted, brown eyes meeting her husband’s in stubbornness. “He’s just kicking especially hard.”
Preston nodded, one hand resting over hers on her stomach. “Of course.”
Bill’s glee was palpable in the room. “I know the name!” He declared, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the king and queen. “Prince Preston Northwest the Fifth.”
Preston let out a sigh, took his wife’s hands in his. He kept his eyes on her as a single tear tracked down her face. He didn’t look away when he answered the demon. “That’s correct.”
Preston saw Bill from the corner of his eye, the way he lit up, nearly jumping in excitement.
“As soon as that son of yours turns sixteen he’s mine.”
Bill left them with this, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.
Preston let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Does that count?”
Priscilla shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe she’ll be safe after all then.”
The queen let out a stuttering sigh. “Maybe we should see the wizard to be sure.”
Preston nodded firmly, “I think you’re correct, amor. Even so, maybe he’ll have a way for us to get out of this.”
“Our princess, taken over by that grotesque being. Preston, I just cannot imagine that.”
“I know, Priscilla. We’ll find some solution.”
“Why did you have to make the deal anyway? Surely it isn’t just tradition, Preston!”
Preston bowed his head, “But it is. And tradition is what makes the Northwest family great.”
Priscilla’s hands encompassed her large stomach again. “Our daughter hasn’t earned such a fate that you’ve sealed for her.” She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “When will we leave for his cottage?”
“First thing in the morning. He’s almost on the other side of the world, amor.”
Queen Priscilla wrapped the scarf tighter over her head, her hand enclosed tightly in her husband’s as they trekked over the uneven ground in the pouring rain. A small cottage by the woods rested just in front of them, broken shutters, a bright red door, and most peculiar of all, a weather vane shaped like a question mark.
Preston led his wife closer to the cottage, carefully watching their steps and guiding her over large, bumpy patches of ground. One might think it was more of a ditch than a path. They had travelled many miles by boat, and then quite a few by horse, but this last stretch had to be on foot. The sorcerer had made it this way for a reason.
Finally they reached the door. Preston pulled Priscilla to his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and knocking on the door with his other hand in a familiar pattern. The royals stood on the step in silence for nearly a full minute, Preston counted the seconds in his head. He was reaching to knock again when the answering knocking pattern rang out from the other side of the door before being swung open. A man, as old as Preston’s own father would be, stood before them, unkempt and unshaven, his eyes almost seemed mad.
There was a small staring contest, with Preston backing down first. He cleared his throat, pulled Priscilla closer to his side “The Great Vhernan?”
The man across from them nodded. “Who’s asking?”
Preston stuck his chest out a bit, held his head a tad higher. “King Preston Northwest of Newton Falls.” His head tilted slightly to his wife. “Queen Priscilla. We’ve come seeking your great knowledge.”
Vhernan barely even blinked.
“Right,” Preston said before continuing. “We’ve come seeking your help with the demon known as Ciph-”
Vhernan hissed loudly, cutting Preston off before he could finish the evil creature’s name. “Don’t speak of him aloud.”
Preston nodded.
Vhernan beckoned them into the cottage with one hand. “Come with me. Explain what has happened.”
So Preston did. He spoke of the family tradition, being careful not to say the name as he did so. He told of his pregnant wife, of the curse laid on his daughter. Vhernan fixed tea and gestured to the tattered seating around the small table in his living room. Preston kept Priscilla close to his side as they sat on the old loveseat. Vhernan returned, sitting across from them in an orange plaid chair. He offered the tea to Priscilla as Preston continued the story, Priscilla taking the tea and sipping daintily as her husband spoke.
When they finished Vhernan sighed, full of a deep regret. “This is not my first run-in with this demon. But you knew that. It’s why you sought me out.”
Preston only nodded again, unsure of what else to say and wary to not upset the sorcerer that is his only hope.
Vhernan took a long, careful sip of his tea, seeming to be gathering his thoughts before he answered. When he swallowed he shifted forward in his seat, his cold brown eyes locking onto Preston’s. “I may be of help. Thanks to your wife’s ploy, we have space to adjust the deal. But not by much. He guessed the family name. If your child were to be a son, that’s undoubtedly what you would name him due to your tradition.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I have a spell that should not harm your wife or daughter. At least, not until much later.”
He stood from his seat and headed back to where he disappeared to make the tea. Preston sipped at his own, his eyes trailing to his wife’s growing belly. A daughter, a princess. As lovely as her mother she would no doubt be. Graceful and dainty and beautiful. His daughter.
Vhernan returned a moment later, his eyes travelling to the couple on his couch, pressed side-to-side. “Your wife should not be harmed in any way, but I’m afraid there is only one hope for your daughter.” He started mixing the potion before their eyes, it turned many colors as he added new things, finally landing on a soft lavender.
The wizard held the beaker out to the queen. “Your Majesty,” he said, dipping his head in reverence. “If you so choose to drink this potion your daughter will sleep as soon as the demon possesses her. The only act to awaken her will be the alleged kiss of true love, a spectacle no one has seen in hundreds of years.” The wizard’s eyes cut to Preston. “The last widely known was between your great grandfather and his queen, was it not? Nathaniel Northwest and his wife Kathryn?”
Preston nodded, tipping his head forward slightly in a show of respect for the mentioned dead.
Priscilla’s eyes stayed on the beaker the wizard held. “She will be possessed, then she will sleep, and only a kiss from her true love, who may not even exist, will wake her? What of the demon?”
Vhernan nodded solemnly, “A kiss of true love heals all broken things, including the mind of your daughter, where the demon will reside. But you must remember,” and here, he meets her eyes and holds the stare with a cold and fierce look. “All magic comes with a price, Your Majesty.”
Before Preston could open his mouth to discuss the option or even ask the possible price, Priscilla grabbed the potion and drank it.