Work Text:
The Meritocracy employs all manner of skills.
Some are less... publicized.
Wilde, smiling, gently holds your chin, traps your gaze. He is singing, and something in the song writhes in your gut, climbs your spine; slithers into your mind. You can feel it: invasive, implacable, prising you apart and leaving you hideously exposed.
There are dark stories about bards. You never dreamed they were true.
He sings his questions; you answer him, call-and-response, his magic dragging secrets from you one. By. One.
‘By any means necessary’, Meritocratic agents are told.
Wilde’s means are merciless , and you never saw him coming.