Chapter Text
If he was ever asked to pinpoint the moments in his life where everything had gone to, for lack of a better term, absolute fucking dogshit, he would probably have to single out those two nights for the rest of his days.
The first one of the nights could only be described as glowing. Everything was warm and bright and the air practically vibrated with excitement. He had changed out of his squadron uniform and into the suit George had picked out for him, and it fit like a fucking glove, if he had to say so himself. Not that he was the only one dressed for the occasion, but he was definitely intending on turning heads that night.
And so he did.
He was powerwalking across the white tiles of the main hall, holding two glasses of sparkling liquid. One for himself and one for Pandas. This was especially exciting, seeing as they were technically allowed to drink on the job, and his friend had been hyping up the experience all week.
“It's like, cold, but warm at the same time? But not warm in the ‘oh fuck I tasted this soup way too early' kinda way, but like, it tingles, right? And it's still so refreshing-”
“Nik, that has to be the worst description of intoxication I’ve ever heard in my fucking life.” Dream had interjected, not really a part of the conversation but listening in like he usually did. He had just replied with “Aww, cut Pandas some slack, Dreamie. Besides, it's not like I have any actual experience to compare the description with!”
“See, I win!”
“I was not aware we were competing.”
“Please, when are you two NOT competing? OOOOH I CAUGHT YOU SLACKING-”
The conversation played on in his head as he chuckled to himself at the memory. He must've been thinking a little too hard though, because suddenly he wasn't really watching his feet at all and he only really came to once he tripped face first into a wall of velvety fabric.
Velvety fabric attached to someone’s back.
He choked on a small yelp as he barely managed to not spill the two glasses all over his and the strangers' suit.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, umm- sir! I’ll be going now and not come back to this part of the hall ever again! Seriously though please forget I was even here-”
The next course of events were a series of happenings that, if you’d told him about them the week, heck, even the day prior, he would've probably laughed in your face and called you a basket case. The stranger turned around, (gods, he was tall, he thought) put his hand under his chin and tilted it upwards, forcing eye contact.
The man's eyes were a shade of brown that in the light of the banquet hall, looked like they could be made of solid gold. His hair was also brown, but chestnut in hue, and it was delicately slicked back over his head, which was adorned with a pair of jet black, curled horns that he thought had to be fake. To top it all off he was wearing a red velvet suit, which would've, in all honesty, probably looked ridiculous on anyone else, but for some reason only made the man look all the more intimidating.
All he could do was awkwardly swallow, only to realize that his mouth was in fact bone dry.
Fuck.
“-Speak?”
Oh no, had the strange man talked to him? Shit, shit, shit-
“You. Can you speak?”
“I just spoke a minute ago, umm- sir.” His voice had suddenly raised at least three octaves. He hated it.
“Well, aren't you a cheeky little thing.” The stranger had murmured lowly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “You’ve got a name, sugar?”
“Q” He had croaked. Since that was in fact his assigned Ace codename. He was working, after all.
“Q...” The man let it roll off his own lips, as if he was trying it out for himself or something. “Do you know who I am?”
“No” He had replied instantaneously, as he did in fact, not know.
For the first time, the man looked surprised. “Really?” He tilted his head to the side a little bit and finally, finally let go of his chin. He had never been so grateful to see someone be capable of expressing human emotions. “Don't they teach you shit like this in combat school, or whatever? You went to… to that , right?”
“Pandora Academy, sir.” He thanked the gods he was finally regaining his confidence. “And no, celebrity trivia isn't really our forte, I’m afraid.”
The man actually chuckled at that, his eyes glistening in the chandeliers above them. “Not even on members of the High Council?”
Oh gods.
Oh, gods.
“Crap! Forgive me s- I mean- umm- Your Excellency, I haven't addressed you by the proper title at all! Shit, I’m really sorry, I messed up, again-”
He had really walked headfirst into a member of the High Council and then proceeded to sass him. This was definitely a new low point. If Dream or Pandas found out about this, they'd never let him live it down.
He was, however, forcibly startled out of his own thoughts as the council member before him threw his head back and let out a loud, jarring cackle that definitely scared the shit out of at least half of the other attendees. All he could really do in this situation was stand there and watch the once intimidating man before him deflate like a fucking whoopee cushion. When he was finally done, the man had wiped some stray tears off his cheek and coughed into his hand. Loudly.
“You're funny!” He had exclaimed, like it was some sort of amazing discovery. “You're fucking funny, Q!”
Then the man snatched one of the glasses he was holding and downed the contents in one go.
“Whew! Fuck knows I needed that.” He whistled, not caring for the other's puzzled expression at all. “Come on sugar, drink with me.”
He had had enough at this point.
“I think I’m gonna have to pass on that.”
The man proceeded to put on a fake pout that made his skin crawl. “Awww come on...” Then he grabbed his arm, which he would've normally shrugged off but he was holding it a little too tight .
“Are you really going to refuse a member of your High Council?”
This is where he wishes he would've said yes, yes I refuse. Fuck off and go to hell and whatnot.
But for some fucking reason he found himself lifting the glass to his lips instead.
And so the grip on his arm loosened.
He tilted the glass, letting the sparkling liquid into his mouth. It was sweet at first, but after a while it started to burn and he had to swallow it quickly, making sure not to choke on it as it went down his throat.
The man next to him let out a snicker. “Not used to champagne, are we?”
“Not exactly.” He had replied shakily.
“Try opening up your throat, ‘t goes down easier that way.”
So he tried that.
“There we go~” a voice somewhere praised him as the glass was emptied in no time at all. The stress of swallowing it all down as quickly as possible was quickly replaced by a warm, tingly feeling in his head.
Pandas had been right. This felt absolutely fucking amazing. And he needed more of it.
“D’you know where they got more of this shit?” He’d asked his newfound companion, not even worried about the fact that he sounded way too excited all of the sudden.
“I don't know, you're the one who came to me with it!” The man quipped back and clinked the empty glass he was holding with his index finger.
Well fuck, he was right about that. He giggled at himself. Maybe he was funny.
“It's- it's over there-” he pointed haphazardly at the table on the other side of the hall, where coincidentally, fresh trays of champagne had just been placed down.
His new friend placed a hand on his shoulder and flashed him a grin.
“Lead the way, sugar.”
The rest of the evening was a golden, sparkling blur. He could vaguely recall downing glass after glass of the champagne, laughing at everything people said to him, not knowing what they were talking about in the first place, spinning around with the horned man’s hands in his, probably trying to get him to dance or something, the man in turn leaning in close and mumbling things into his ear that made him even more dizzy than the alcohol.
Gaps of conversation stuck out here and there, still lingering in his mind even in his drunken state. Such as the man telling him about a house uptown that he owned, introducing him to other men in different colored suits that he, to no one's surprise, didn't recognize either, and then finally, when he stumbled into a fancy car with tinted windows, resting his head on the man’s shoulder as he continued whispering things to him that he couldn't hear but still understood every single word of.
It was during the car ride that he completely blacked out.
He came to in a cold sweat, immediately scrambling to get up from wherever he was lying. Unfortunately for him, though, he had not accounted for the fact that he was hungover as all shit at the moment, and his entire body was trying to kill him. So he proceeded to flop back onto the mattress, groaning in pain as he did so.
Mattress.
Wait, whose bed was this?
More importantly, was he fucking naked?
Coming down from the overall shock, he really began to take in his surroundings.
He was in a bedroom, a fucking huge bedroom. Sitting on the large canopy bed in the center of it, wearing jack shit. He could feel his wings ruffle nervously on his back. He wasn't used to feeling so… exposed. But he did know that he fucking despised it.
So he did the next best thing and wrapped the covers around his torso. Luckily for him, they weren't exactly proper blankets, just those shitty single fabric-like things that they usually had at fancy hotels. So it just looked like he was wearing a normal towel. He felt a little bit better now, at least.
He hopped down onto the cold floor, shivering as it made contact with his bare feet. Another important thing to note is that it was fucking freezing in here. Whoever lived in this place might prefer sleeping in the fridge? He thought to himself, pain shooting through his head as he tried to snort at the thought.
Right. He had to find out wherever the fuck he was.
He wandered around the bed, marveling at the many full length mirrors and paintings of landscapes that adorned the walls, as well as the windows, showing a luscious garden outside. The person living here was definitely loaded and then some. He bit down on one of his nails as he turned around to face the bed again.
And then his heart dropped.
Above the canopy was a portrait. A fucking huge portrait, he had no idea how he had missed it.
A portrait of a man with golden eyes and chestnut hair.
Oh. Oh fuck his life.
He immediately ran for the first door he saw, nevermind the fact that he was only wearing a bedcover. He slammed it open, only to find that it was, in fact, a walk-in closet.
A walk-in closet with a chair placed in the middle, his suit neatly folded on top.
Along with a small piece of paper.
He dropped the covers and began dressing himself again, the note falling onto the floor as he tore his suit from its place on the chair. He really, really didn't want to read that. Because he already fucking knew what was gonna be written on it.
But curiosity is a powerful bitch. And as he’d finished buttoning his shirt, he found himself leaning down, picking it back up.
Predictably, what ended up being written on the note made him sick to his fucking stomach.
Hey, Sugar<3
Last night was fun, but we really shouldn't get too ahead of ourselves, now should we?
Had to go. There are Council meetings on Saturdays too, can you believe that? I’d fire the king for it if I could, but don't tell him I said that;)
You treated me real nice. I already miss you…
Sorry for letting you fall over so many times btw, next time I’ll buy ya something pretty for compensation, what do you say?
J.Schlatt
He tore the note in half, exited the walk-in closet, found the real door, and proceeded to make it a total of five steps before he projectile vomited all over the closest wall.
And that was the first night.
The second night happened a little over a year later.
----
“Codename Q has eyes on the target. I repeat, Codename Q has eyes on the target. Codename Panda, do you copy?”
He sighed and kicked some loose gravel off the edge of the rooftop he was currently perched on. Of course Nik wasn't responding. He was probably trying to show off some new fire breathing trick to random civilians on the street, and he was probably doing it somewhere in a completely different part of town. He had a nasty habit of disappearing whenever the mission bored him. How he hadn't lost his job by now was a mystery, he thought to himself.
He became alert once again when the small device in his ear crackled back to life. “Codename Dream responded. Codename Q needs backup already?”
Of course Clay responded. And of course he was taunting him. But hey, at least he was doing his damn job.
“Codename Q confirms response. Codename Dream, just get your ass over here now.”
Dream sighed loudly into the intercom, making it crackle even more. He winced at the uncomfortable sound. The fact that Dream was definitely doing it on purpose didn't make the situation better.
Nevertheless he was there in no time, his light blessing making fast travel easy. His trademark mask was shimmering in the light of the billboards as he lifted his scythe to rest on his shoulder.
“Are you- are you fucking posing right now?”
Dream didn't respond to that as he began walking past him.
“You're supposed to say ‘Yes! Yes I am, Q. For you and you only! I love and treasure our partnership, and I’d totally leave George for y-’ ”
“-Just shut up and do what we're here for”
“You're no fun today.”
Dream didn't respond to that either, but he did lunge at the target, a cluster of syndicate mobs who were currently scaling the side of a nearby building. It was some of their newer models, so yeah, he admittedly needed backup. He hastily readied his own weapon, a long, golden bow, and leapt to another rooftop in the attempt to gain higher ground. There weren't any billboards on this roof clouding his vision with their excessive light, so he had a much better chance of aiming at the mobs without accidentally shooting his friends’ ear clean off his skull.
In the end, he managed to take out about five of the things while Dream finished off the other fourteen. A considerably even bounty, seeing as Dream rarely left any work for the rest of the Aces. No wonder Pandas didn't bother showing up.
“Any word from His Highness?” He asked as Dream made his way up to the roof.
“Oh, I’m sorry, he's your Highness isn't he~” He couldn't help but tease, seeing as Dream didn't respond right away.
“Don't be such a nuisance” Dream finally barked back. “And yes,” he added. “As per the request of our Captain I have George on speed dial. No worries though, so far the event seems to be running smoothly.”
Dream held up his lightbox, showing him what appeared to be a livestream of the festival dinner currently going on behind the castle walls. The entire royal family, as well as the High Council, could be seen sitting around a table, discussing something that the volume was too low for him to make out. It all looked so incredibly boring, and he had to hold in a laugh as he saw George shifting uncomfortably in his seat, whispering something to his sister who nodded in agreement.
“See?” Dream said. “All we have to do is tear these junkyard rejects to shreds while our boy sits in there and looks pretty for us, m’kay? Speaking of which-” He turned around. “We appear to have more company.”
He couldn't help but let out an audible “urrrgggghh” as another swarm of mobs surrounded them, crowding the already cramped rooftop.
Dream, once again wasting no time, began cutting through mob after mob like they were butter, practically dancing circles around them as he did so. “Showoff” He muttered under his breath as he began firing away at the ones Dream wasn't paying attention to.
They kept going like that, trading blows back and forth with their metallic opponents for about ten or so minutes, until eventually only a single one of the mobs remained. It was a little bit bigger than its friends, sporting eight legs instead of the typical four. He was about to plant an arrow right between the fuckers red, unblinking eyes, when Dream suddenly lowered his bow for him.
“Hold your fire Q, this is an anomaly. We don't know what’ll happen if you hit it.”
‘So what? You're not the fucking boss of me!’ Is what he would've liked to reply, had Dream not been fucking right… Again. This really wasn't his day, was it.
He had no time for any sort of quips however, as the mob began walking sideways, circling around the pair of Aces. They ended up back to back, their weapons drawn and brows furrowed in concentration as the creature continued stalking around them like a wildcat waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on its prey.
After about 30 seconds of this, the mob suddenly started emitting a weird beeping noise, as if it was calculating or, worse yet, counting down to something. Was this fucker a bomb? With the way this night was progressing, he thought it might as well be.
He ended up being half right.
The anomaly let out a longer, much higher ‘beep’ than its previous ones, and not even a second later, its eyes slid apart, revealing a bright, red light underneath.
A light that was growing in size. Rapidly.
“Oh. Oh gods they're gonna blow us to kingdom fucking come-” He whispered. Not really sure if it was directed at Dream or himself.
Dream had other things to say to him, though.
“Q, OPEN FIRE, NOW! AIM FOR THE TOP OF THE HEAD!”
“Well, you certainly change your mind fast!” He laughed, happily complying with the order for once.
The shot was perfect.
For a being so intimidating in appearance and size, this mob certainly had to have the shittiest legs out of any that they’d ever fought over his past year in service. All it took was one arrow and the mob tipped over on its back, shooting the deadly ray straight into the night sky, and what would've definitely been the end for the two Aces came to serve as a festive firework. Fitting, on a night such as this one, he thought.
He was about to go up to the smoking husk and examine it for himself when Dream, once again, stopped him. He resisted the urge to bite off his nail. Dream was really picking tonight of all nights to be even more of a buzzkill than usual, which, in his opinion, was saying a lot.
“Wait. I hear noises coming from the inside.”
“So? All the more reason to go investigate it!”
“Says the guy with the long range weapon?”
“I have a knife!”
“That doesn't count for sh-”
Their undeniably idiotic squabble proved to be short lived though, when a metallic “thud” sounded from the inside of the broken machine. Dream was gripping his scythe so hard that his knuckles were turning white.
“Get behind me.” He whispered. “When I give you a signal you jump to the roof across from here. We need a backup plan in case this thing takes me out.”
What the hell? Dream had just seen him take this thing on, practically by himself, and now he wasn't even giving the knife a chance? Fucking bitch.
The noises from inside the mob were getting louder and more frequent as Dream inched closer to it. He was just about to back away like Dream had told him to-
When the top of the mob’s body came flying off, followed by a long string of muffled curse words.
“So it was a cockpit, huh…” He heard Dream mutter. “The Syndicate is getting real bold with their pet projects, I see.”
“You… You shut your mouth, you fucking dog…” The person formerly in control of the mob was speaking now. As they rose out of their seat, both of them could see that it was a woman with long, bleach-damaged hair that went over most of her face. She was holding a pair of sais and needless to say, she looked ready to fuck shit up.
“So you came prepared, huh? Oh, don't feel flustered on my account, I do love a challenge!” Dream continued. He found himself scoffing. This guy's hubris could probably be finely cut with a toothpick.
“That's my line, dog” the woman sneered.
Then she disappeared in a flash of lighting and appeared behind Dream, in clear position to make skewers out of the poor guy.
So she was light blessed too. Fuck.
It seemed that Dream had figured it out at about the same time he had, because he was on her in no time, countering her blow for blow. And he would've loved to help, really, but the fact that they were both essentially teleporting around the rooftop not staying in place for a little more than 0.5 seconds, made it a little hard for someone with, y'know, a long range weapon to contribute whatsoever. Not that either of them seemed to remember he was there, anyways.
Their battle came to a staggering halt once the woman manifested in front of Dream and slammed her forehead into his face, shattering the mask that covered it. Bits of the material rained around the two as Dream’s eyes revealed themselves, bright green and shining with rage.
Oh, he was pissed.
Not that she seemed to care, as she practically somersaulted back onto the top of her mob, laughing gleefully at the small piece of the mask she held in her hand.
“What was it you said earlier, dog? Something about a challenge?”
Dream lifted his scythe in the air as he began walking towards the mob, slowly.
“Nothing to say, huh? Did I cut your tongue out? Well, not that you had much use for it to begin with…” She laughed again, readying her sais for what appeared to be one final attack. He found himself reaching for the knife in his belt.
“Now, prepare to witness your end and our beginning! SIC SEMPER TYRRANI-”
The woman's victory speech came to an abrupt end though when, seemingly out of nowhere, something pierced her torso from behind, leaving a gaping hole where her heart had probably been moments ago. Nobody had any time to react, least of all her, as she fell to the ground with her face still contorted in pride and rage.
“How- I’m- that wasn't-” Dream stuttered as Pandas jumped down from the mob and joined his squad on the rooftop. His right arm was soaked in the enemy's blood, and it was still smoking slightly from the usage of his flame blessing.
“Hey boys!” Pandas hollered, as if the other two hadn't just seen him commit murder. “I was over by western and saw the lightshow, figured it was you guys!”
“Well, you sure took your sweet time.” He replied somewhat bitterly. There wasn't any real malice behind his words though. No way he could ever be mad at Pandas the same way he got mad at Dream.
“So western huh?” Dream had already regained his composure somewhat. “That's pretty far from castle grounds, Nik. Care to explain what you were doing over there?”
“I was- uhh-” Pandas face was suddenly redder than a beet, small flames licking up the sides of his ears in a way they only did when he was flustered. “There was this girl, see, and I wanted to show her this new comic I found… in a store… on western…” He practically whispered the last part.
“I see.” Dream replied bluntly. “And not once did it occur to you that we might be in danger?”
Well, that was a bold statement coming from someone who claimed to be able to 1v1 an Anomaly not even 3 minutes ago.
“Oh come now, we handled ourselves, didn't we? Besides, Pandas here just saved your life! If anything he's the hero of the day!” He walked up behind Pandas and gave him a hearty pat on the back. “And I come in second, of course.” He added. “Because I shot down the spider mob.”
If looks could kill, Dream would be wanted for double homicide right now.
“Speaking of which-” Pandas piped up. “Should we take care of the body? I’d feel horrible just leaving it here.”
Dream groaned. “Nik, she was a traitor to humanity. You literally just impaled her with your fist.”
“Shut up, man. Everyone deserves a proper burial.”
Since he was 100% with Pandas on this one, majority rule led the Aces back to the castle's military compound, along with the broken pieces of the mask and the woman's body, which Dream had wrapped in a shock blanket, covering the fatal wound.
“So… a girl?” He started, attempting to make small talk with his friend who totally wasn't holding a corpse at all. “What happened to Jonah?”
“Oh, he just… We didn't work out.” Pandas replied dryly.
“Fuck, sorry to hear that, man.”
“Thanks. Well, it is what it is. Don't think this is gonna go any further though.”
“Why's that?”
Nik’s eyes met his, smiling sadly. “She ditched me after like an hour. Don't blame her though, I probably bored her.” He looked back down at his boots, kind of kicking the ground as he walked. “Who even reads comics anymore, man?”
“... I do.”
Pandas laughed, finally. “You're a good friend, Q. I think I need to tell you that more often.”
He smiled. “I could stand to hear it more, yeah.”
They laughed together, walking through the castle parks basking in the never ending summer night of L’Manberg, carrying a stranger to her final resting place.
And that was the last time everything was normal.
They finally made it back to the compound, Dream walking ahead to greet the two people guarding the main gate. One of them went up to him immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering in his ear.
Huh. That was not usual guard behavior.
Him and Pandas were both considerably far behind, but arrived by the gate just in time to see Dream’s expression shift and then drop completely.
“You're- you're joking, right?”
“Sir, it's already all over the news. It was livestreamed to the masses for crying out loud!”
Dream let out a shaky exhale in a fruitless attempt to compose himself.
“When did this happen?”
“About 16 minutes ago, sir.”
“And they're sure it was natural causes?”
The other two Aces could only stare at each other. What the fuck was Dream talking about?
“No, sir. They're examining his body as we speak. Of course an assassination attempt isn't a far fetched assumption, but come on, sir. Everyone kind of expected something like this to happen eventually.”
The poor guard swallowed awkwardly as Dream left his, albeit pretty ill fitted attempt at lighthearted commentary to be absolutely decimated by the pregnant silence that filled the cool night air. He figured he might as well take the fall on this one
“Well… as you can see, we’ve got a bit of a body problem ourselves at the moment, so maybe just let us in and we can deal with the situation later?” He made a vague gesture to the body still curled up in Pandas’ arms.
“But of course, sir!” The second guard squeaked as she pressed in the eighth-digit code on her lightbox. “Good luck and Glory to the crown!”
“Glory to the crown.” Everyone else mumbled in unison as they were finally allowed passage through the gates.
“Hey, hey-” He ran up behind Dream and tugged on his shirt. “Who the fuck died?”
“I’ll tell you if you stop doing that.”
“Fine, fine. I only did it to get your attention, and it worked because I’m a genius. Anyways, spill it!”
“It was councilman Schlatt.”
And his blood ran cold.
“Excuse me?”
“Yup. Heart attack. That's what they think it was, anyway. Right in the middle of a speech, too. And on the day of the Red Festival? Way to go out with a bang if you ask me.”
He suddenly felt way too lightheaded for his own good. His wings were twitching against his back again, begging to take him somewhere that wasn't this fucking compound. He needed to get out of here. Badly.
“Did he- I’m- are they sure he was-”
“Dream, lay off on him, will ya? Can’t you see the poor guy is having a panic attack or something?” Pandas cut in. He placed a hand on his back, admittedly grounding him at least a little. “Don't be sad, Q. He was an old guy! An old guy with lots and lots of heart problems! Old guys with heart problems die all the time! Especially when they drink because don't even get me started about that guy's drinking problem-”
He already knew all of that. He was trying not to think about it, and Pandas was definitely not helping. But he closed his eyes and all he could see was gold with glistening chandeliers reflected in them.
He couldn't breathe.
Was he sad? If he was sad for this fucker he swore to every god on every plane that he would never forgive himself.
No, no he wasn't sad. Not at all.
He felt disgusted.
He didn't even feel it when his knees hit the pavement.
He didn't hear the surprised voices of his friends shouting at their sudden company, questioning their actions.
And he didn't feel cool metal being placed around his wrist.
On September 2nd, Lunar Imperial Year 598, Ace Codename Q of the royal guard was arrested on suspicions of murder.