Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lady Donetta falls into the familiar tongue of Cerisan as she works upon the King. Murmured words of surprise, how the stench of cola couldn’t hide the sweet copper of blood, soaked through the royal silks yet... 

Here they were. Alive, whole, not even a Tart Guard felled by the assassins. 

Calroy hasn’t so much as glanced at her since the fighting ceased. 

He knows of his failure, and Donetta is sure if he dares look her way the facade will slip. 

“Did you say you needed sugar cotton?” Someone asked. Donetta and Calroy both snapped to attention and looked to the voice, seeing only the small peppermint child. 

“There isn’t any this far from the border, but the pits of mango are just like it!”

“You... speak Cerisan?” Calroy asked slowly, Donetta brushing her skirts as she stood. 

“Yeah! I used to wander off a lot and I’d end up in villages on the border and all the little grandmas would come talk to me,” he smiled, bright and wide and with all the innocence only a child could have. Donetta knew her next move before she even finished taking her next breath. 

“Let’s go find some mangoes, then, yes? Tell me more about your adventures,” 

She felt Calroy sending her questioning glances, but she left each of them without a response as she and the child - Liam Wilhemina, seventh in line for Jawbreaker, Count, Ward - exited the carriage. 

“The mountains were great, and there was so much to explore! But after a couple years I knew most of the stuff and-“

“-In Cerisan, please,” she interrupted gently, “I’d like to test your fluency,” 

Without a hitch in his thoughts Liam continued, excitedly recounting his travels. 

“- there weren’t any cool seeds left, so Preston and I went looking past the mountains and we found a little village up close to the border, hey, I think they might’ve been related to you! They were donuts too! Is that rude? I’m sorry, anyways, we found these cool bagel seeds and a woman came out and yelled at me for letting Preston sniff around...”

Donetta tuned the conversation into idle chatter, scanning the landscape for both a mango tree but also any stray wandering eyes. Some footman had glanced over at the sound of their language but quickly averted their gaze at her raised brow. 

“...and Count Cinnamon said that-“

“Mousier,” she corrected. 

“Mou-sier?” 

“You mean Mousier Cinnamon, but keep going. You’re doing very well for someone not born in the grain-lands, Liam,” she encouraged. 

His rambling continues as they pick the fruit, shifting to tales of the strange yeast ponds he’d discovered while they returned to the caravan. While they commandeered a fire to dry the pits of the fruit he barely seemed to take a breath between sentences, and she held up a hand. He paused, face suddenly going bright red. 

“Aw, did I do it again? I don’t mean to talk so much, its just when I start-“

“It’s alright, you’re doing well! I only wanted to ask what was next? With the mangoes, of course,” 

“Right! Right, so well take the fiber part and braid it as best we can, then that works just like sugar cotton! If it won’t braid we can just tack it to some taffy and wrap it,” he shrugged. 

“Excellent. Tell me about House Jawbreaker - is it much different here from Castle Manylicks?”

Once more he delved into stories, several of which raised her brow. It seemed this child had been discarded often, unsurprising for such a distant heir, yet… something that could be used. Just as the road was cleared and the assembled tour was ready to continue down the road they had finished, tending to the King and the Princesses who had been injured. 

Reckless, she thought, staring at the bandaged slash on Princess Jet’s side. 

“Excellent work! Thank you, Liam, I hadn’t known mangoes could be so useful,” Calroy praised in Cerisan. 

“Yeah! Seeds can be useful for all sorts of things, and anyways, Mama Donut did most of the work anyways, she’s really cool-“

Even as he continued to speak Donetta could hear his words ring endlessly in her ears. 

Mama Donut.  

He was horrible with titles, understandable since all the nonnas in the mountains were called Mama, but… she can’t help it as her chest aches. 

She doesn’t correct him. Calroy catches her gaze at her stillness, wincing imperceptibly, but doesn’t speak. He caught it, she has no doubt.  

Their conversation continues as the caravan moves once more. Donetta falls seamlessly back into chatting, smiling as he trips over words and teaches them about every seed he can name. 

Pieces move and shift endlessly in Donetta’s mind as her heart clenches with a familiar ache.

~

“May I have a moment with my husband, King Amethar?” 

“Of course, we need to talk in private anyways,” 

She closes and locks the door, sliding the rug so that it rested against the door. An easy trick for muffling any sound passing through the gap. 

“Donetta, I cannot just leave talks without explanation, you know that, I need to spend time with the King-“

“Yes, King Amethar always did have more of your time,” she says casually as she takes out her sewing kit, watching the way his face stuttered before smoothing. 

“Do you doubt my feelings, Donetta?”

“Of course not. I know they betray you, of that there is no question. But that is not what I needed to discuss.” 

Calroy sat, smoothing the creases of his favorite pants, and resting his chin on his hands. 

“Liam Wilhemina.” She says.

“You’re getting close to him. Why? He is a ward, seventh in line of a seceded nation. His only real use is allowing Joren to keep his throne.” 

“And if Joren was out of the picture? If all of Jawbreaker was? I think we could use him. We’d continued as planned, oust the oathbreaker from the concord and his throne, but instead of creating war when the crown shifted heads...” she poses. Calroy hums, gesturing for her to go on. “He has no interest in fighting the Concord or the church, and of course the citizens would adore a sweet little peppermint boy on the throne. If we were to attempt to take charge by our original means there’s no doubt of bloodshed, not to mention the potential for uprisings. The Rocks are beloved, killing them would mean riots. But to disgrace them instead, give the people a legitimate heir to fall in love with?” she trails off.

Pawns and players shift in Calroy’s mind, the same game of chess they'd always played, opening new possibilities. It eliminated several obstacles, but others would arise in their place.

“What brought this on?”

“Perhaps you aren’t the only one betrayed by your heart, Calroy.” The needle stills in her hands while she stares at the cross stitch. “…he called me Mother.” 

Calroy gave a quiet and mournful sigh. As much as neither of them wanted to admit it, there was a reason she married a lowly Earls son. Candia was ages more advanced than other nations, but high society would always want children to carry their legacies. 

He taps his chin, glancing at the chessboard on his nightstand, envisioning the moves. 

“I can make it happen. You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“This will… limit our options.” 

She smirked, just a little, meeting his gaze. His apprehension was clear. 

“Dear, you are always one for the big picture - you mustn’t forget the little details.” 

He scowls just a little, but slumps against his chair. Perhaps Emperor was too ambitious after all.

“I’ll admit, I had gotten a tad carried away.” 

“That’s what you have me for,” she says. “Now, go warm up to the boy, yes? I’ll arrange the first steps.” 

He stood and began to walk towards the door, but not before looking over his shoulder. 

“I haven’t seen that look since our last gambit at chess,” he says. Her mind flashes back to vials of poison and the way her brothers lips went blue. “I’ve missed it.” 

Donetta’s smirk widened, and she resumed her stitching. 

Chapter Text

Donetta wanders about the shops near the Cathedral as her husband lies in wait in an alley. He’s sworn both to the boy and King Amethar that if things were to turn for the worst, he would help him escape into the mountains. 

The bells begin to ring through the town, shouts and cries erupting from the cathedral. Calroy pauses in sharpening his rapier, looking out, seeing the stone windows begin to shake. 

“Cal, come on, run! Go!” 

Preston and Lapin don’t make it out. 

They flee. 

It’s in the square they’re intercepted, hoards of soldiers pouring in all around them, Donetta at his back and Liam shaking at his side. Theobald and the Rocks are surrounded five paces behind, spears and shields at the ready. 

“We’re outnumbered, we have to go!” 

“Cal, take him and run! Get out of here!” 

“No, wait! I can help, please-!” 

“-don’t, Liam-!” 

“Liam, come on, I’m sorry- Liam we have to go!” 

Swords and arrows sing around them, ducking underneath silver and pulling Donetta forwards, scrambling into a back alley, gripping Liam’s shirt. 

“No! No, they need help, they’ll die! You don’t understand!” Liam shouts, struggling against them, but a guard is running past. Donetta pulls him back behind a barrel, putting a hand over his mouth as they huddle and hide. 

“We have to run, Liam,” she whispers, shaking from the adrenaline. 

“I’m so sorry, Liam, if we go back we’re dead, we can’t save them, we have to run,” Calroy rasps, and he spots an opening on the docks. The Colby lies in wait, and the decision is made. It will depart first, the Duchess surely eager to return home with her new husband, and far from the carnage soon to come. Stilton Cordeu will come, of course, but Calroy is nothing if not prepared.  

Liam shakes in the belly of the ship, hidden in a crate with the Crullers.  Calroy puts a hand on his arm, breathing slowly.

“Liam, I... I’m sorry about Preston.” 

He curls inwards, but Donetta can’t stand it, pulls him into her as he sobs. His only companion slain, and the friends he had made hanging in the balance. 

It’s nine days into the voyage they are discovered. 

Calroy holds Annabelle at rapier point, Liam and Donetta shielded behind another crate.

"We mean no harm, Captain. Forget us, and we may all get out of this alive." 

"Lord Cruller, is it? I have no interest in dragging the Dairy Isles into war alongside you. We are bound by the Concord, I could be hung for this alone," she glares fiercely, hand steady on her swords hilt. As she leans to the side her eyes catch sight of the two other figures, one a familiar striped peppermint. Shock fills her eyes, and Calroy knows their plan has succeeded when her expression falls. 

“Come with me.” 

“Why should we?” 

“There’s... something Liam needs to see.” 

Tension hangs in the air, thick as the humid yogurt around them. Liam flinches as the doors to the captains quarters shut. 

“I- I’m sorry we snuck into your ship, but do you think you could drop us off in the Great Stone Candy Mountains? It’s close, just a short sail away but-“ He stutters out, and Annabelle shakes her head. 

“We can’t do that.” 

“Captain, I understand that it’s an inconvenience and we are stowaways, but-“ Calroy tries.

“I can’t. You don’t understand...” Annabelle looks to Primsy, who seems stricken and nods shakily. Annabelle opens the drawer, and pulls out a parchment. 

“We got this two hours ago. Sealed and official, I've checked it a dozen times now.” 

Calroy tries to take it, but Annabelle firmly extends it to Liam. He gets paler and paler as he reads, until his knees give out completely, Donetta barely catching and easing him to the floor.  

“You said King Amethar was dethroned, yes? And his children are bastards?” Annabelle confirmed quietly. Calroy nods. 

She looks to the boy, head in his hands as Donetta holds his arms, whispering words of comfort, face stricken. 

“Well then. Long live King Liam Wilhemina, Rightful Ruler of Candia.” 

~

Calroy had hoped to go unnoticed during Cordeu’s coup, but as shouts of alarm come up from the bow he sighs and unsheathes his rapier. After years of nothing but practice targets and blunted tips, the sight of dried blood is becoming strangely familiar once more. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Donetta murmurs. “I hadn’t expected him to get this far, if I’m honest.” 

“With how much it took to get them to Sucrosi? Neither did I,” He mutters back. “This may take a while. Captain Cheddar is competent but I did arm them rather well I’m afraid,” 

“I’ll guard the Duchess. Bring her to me, won’t you?” 

“Of course. Shall I send Liam as well?” 

Donetta hums, pulling a dagger from her waist. “No. I suspect he’ll be a force to be reckoned with - if nothing else, he’s a child of Jawbreaker. Just keep a close eye.” 

“I only have so many hands, you know,”

“Losing your touch so soon?”

“You wish. Don’t worry, I won’t let our work go to waste.”

They smirk under the dim candlelight and the door slams open, a sailor shouting down. “We’re under attack!” 

“Stay here,” he urges, rushing up the ladder. 

He emerges to chaos, brawls all around as a storm rages above. Pirates are boarding to his left and the Duchess is exposed near the edge of the starboard side, Liam up on the mast, already taking aim. It’s almost simple to rush to the duchess’s side, blades tearing into a pirates that dares get close. He hears the thud of peppermint arrows as he pulls her towards the lower decks. 

“Down you go! Stay with my wife!” He orders, and the frightened girl hurries down the ladder. His focus returns to the field, surprised at the scope of the carnage. The Cheddar sailors have finished nearly all of the first wave, and Liam has picked off quite a few from the boarding crew. He finds Cordeu mere feet away, advancing towards him, dagger in hand. 

“Don’t tell me you expect to get past me with that?” 

“You Candians aren’t so tough,” he smirks back. No doubt he expects easy prey, intending to double cross him and come out with the Dairy Isles on a platter. But he is a boy, one who has only seen paltry sparring, never the true shades of war. And Calroy has never been easy quarry. 

He relishes burying his rapier in Cordeu’s stomach, in the way he chokes on his own blood. “You should have tried harder,” he grunts, shoving him to the floor. He allows himself a moment to watch his eyes glass over, ensuring no hidden blades appeared, before moving to the next pirate. In the flurry of motion and combat he almost misses it; a hint of sugar on the breeze. 

“What is that-?”

A sickening crack, and a blue cheese wedge falls limp to the floor. In its place is a figure of pink and blue, sugar staff in hand. 

“Is that one of yours?!” Annabelle shouts from across the ship. 

“I have no idea!” 

The monks eyes flash up to the mast and Calroy raises his blades, dashing to head him off. “I don’t think so. Who are you?” 

It’s almost unnerving, the intense stare of the cotton candy man, until Calroy recognizes him. “Cumulous? Is that you?” 

“I have come to protect the magic of Candia.” 

“Magic of-“ he glances backwards, up to Liam, who’s shrouded in unnatural shadow and slices through the invaders with enchanted crossbow bolts. “Ah. And how can I trust you?” 

One eyebrow raises, the man looking to the corpse lying behind them and then further back. An entire boat, one Calroy hadn’t seen, drifts aimlessly. Its entire party bludgeoned and limp. 

“Well. Good enough for now,” he muses. “Let’s finish this, shall we?” 

In the darkness of the wild storm, Calroy smiles. 

Chapter Text

Liam feels no more steady on land then he did on the ship. Every step he takes seems to sway, sounds around him muffled like he was underwater. They had been given small skiff, the insignias of House Cheddar scraped off, a compass and what little provisions their ship could spare. 

“Head southeast,” Annabelle had said. “You’ll hit Port Syrup in a few hours. I can’t get you any closer, lest we be spotted as well, but it’s dark enough that you can ditch the raft and blend in without much trouble. The rest is up to you.”

He doesn’t remember the journey, just the ache in his arms from holding up his crossbow. The feeling of being squished against Cal and Mama Donut, and the strange man who had appeared in the storm. He had introduced himself, Liam remembers, bowing with cheesy blood on his staff, but he can’t seem to figure out his name. 

It was hard to figure out anything right now. 

They were all gone.  

“Liam. How about some food?”

“Uh, I’m… I’m not hungry.” 

Donetta grimaces. “A few bites, then.”

He can’t remember responding, blinking and finding himself in a chair, soup in front of him. 

He had six brothers. How did… all of them? 

His dad was a war hero. He fought for fun, it was all he did besides have sex, and somehow Liam was all that was left-

“Just some cheese and broth, nothing too heavy. It should help settle your stomach.” She tries, pushing it closer. 

He can’t taste any of it, chewing mechanically. 

“Am I at war? With the Concord?” He croaks. 

Donetta purses her lips in thought. 

“As of now, I don’t believe so. Should you choose to accept the crown, that will be up to you. Your trial was never officially held, so you were never convicted or excommunicated - it’s possible it could all settle, as you never personally went against the Concord.”

“And Manylicks? My family, the village? Its…” 

There’s a hand on his shoulder but he doesn’t quite feel it. 

“Calroy is finding out what he can, and the Dairy Islanders have sworn to harbor any Candians they find.”

Liam stirs the soup listlessly. “They would have been sure. When they sent the letter, they would have been sure.” 

There’s a hand in his hair, smoothing it over and over. He can feel the tears slide down his face. 

“I’m so sorry, dear boy,” 

~

He comes back to himself in the square. He can feel Donetta stiffen beside him and blinks awake, watching as soldiers begin to surround them. 

“Cal?” He croaks, hand sliding towards his crossbow. 

“Hold on,” he whispers back. He steps forward carefully, hands raised. “Hello, friends. Can we help you?”

“That is Liam Wilhelmina, of Freezyburg, yes?” One asks, the lilt of Fructerano clear. 

“We are simple Candians passing through.”

“I would not call him simple. And you? I recognize you, from the feast in Comida. No simple Candian is brought to Comida.” 

“You’ll have to forgive me. It’s been a trying few weeks, I only wish to keep my friends safe.”

Another soldier steps forward, wide cape and several medals denoting him at least a Captain. “State your names. We will not ask again.” 

“Lord Calroy Cruller. My wife, Lady Donetta Cruller.” He waves a hand to his wife, who curtsies. After a moments hesitation the captains hand moves to his sword, and Calroy answers again. “Liam Wilhelmina. Ward of Candia.” 

“I’m sorry to contradict you, Lord Cruller, but you are incorrect. That is King Wilhelmina, of Candia. And you all must come with us.” 

“We are simply trying to return home,” Donetta says, grasping Liam’s arm. “We mean no trouble, we had no part in what happened in Comida,” 

One of them snarls, unsheathing their sword. “You are in rebellion with the Concord, with all of Calorum! By our laws and oaths we could cut you down where you stand!” 

“We’ve done nothing wrong!” Liam insists, panic lancing through him. There were too many, they couldn’t fight out of this. There was no one who would help them. 

“You are traitors, that is wrongdoing enough!”

“You would kill us in cold blood?” Calroy rebuts, drawing up to his full height. “How ashamed your ancestors must be. My kingdom has no ruler, what war could we wage? Our king was disavowed, the next was killed! The crown now belongs to a child, not even at his eighteenth saints day!”

Around them the crowd begins to murmur, scores of eyes watching from windows and alleys and roofs. 

“And who are you to speak for all of Candia? A measly Lord?” 

“I am the only guardian left of Liam Wilhelmina, perhaps the only member of the court left! If you will not accept my word alone, then I beg the chance to confer with the rest of our nobility, whoever remains! We are civilized men, will you truly allow an entire kingdom to be slaughtered in the dark of night, with nothing to defend ourselves? No ruler, no soldiers, not even the Concord? Were these twenty years of peace for nothing?”

It seems an eternity they stare at each other, until the captain glances at the crowd that has formed, then to Liam. He tries to summon the strong stance his father wore, chin jutted out and shoulders squared, even as his knees quaked. Finally, the captains hand waves, and their weapons are withdrawn. 

“I was a boy in the last war. I lost many friends, and even more family. My condolences to the King Wilhelmina. On the Bulb above, if it is within my power, I will aid you in preventing more death. The Hungry One has feasted enough.”

“Thank you.” Liam breathes. 

“We will escort you to Candia, where you may meet with the Candian Court. Representatives of the Concord meet us there, I will request them personally. Bulb willing, this will be settled peacefully.”

“You have our gratitude, honorable Sir. Truly.” Calroy says. 

Liams knees are weak underneath him, wishing for nothing more than to lie down and never get back up, till the sugargrass grows over him.

“O-Our things? And people? Cumulous?”

“We’ll get them, Liam. Breathe, it’s alright, just breathe,” Donetta whispers. In his greyed periphery Cal walks away, further into port, and he trips on his own feet in a hasty attempt to keep up.

“Wait! I’m coming, slow down-!”

He doesn’t register the seconds as black spots begin to fill his vision. Is it night? No, no, the Bulb is still out, why can’t he see, why-

“Breathe, Liam, hey- watch me, breathe. You’re not blind, you’re hyperventilating. It’s alright. Come on, in, and out. Good. In, and out,” 

“Sorry,” he gasps.

“It’s okay. This is the not so fun side of being a war guy, huh?”

“This- happens?”

Though his whole body seems to shake Liam can see Cal crouched in front of him, sad smile on his face. “Oh bud. Yeah. Can’t tell you how many times I talked Amethar out of these, or vice versa. Even Sir Theobald once - shattered a window with his Battle Pop thinking we were under attack,” he shared conspiratorially. It was only then Liam realized they were speaking in Cerisan. Looking around them he can see all eyes trained on him. 

“Sorry. I don’t want to split up. Every time I leave, it’s- it’s bad. Sorry.” He fumbles out in Fructeran. 

“Perhaps we could begin our journey tomorrow? It will take time to arrange the meetings, yes?” Donetta attempted. “We beg your pardon, it’s been a trying time and we’ve only just made it to port.” 

Liam wiped an arm across his forehead, sweat soaking into his sleeve. They were talking again, too fast and fluent for him to catch. 

“Yes. We’ll begin tomorrow, when arrangements are settled. My trusted soldiers will accompany you until then.” The Captain ceded. 

“Thank you. Bulbs blessings to you all.” 

“Come now, easy,” Cal pulls him up, hand heavy on his shoulder. “I’ve got you. Let’s get some rest.”

Surrounded by yogurt heavy air and armored soldiers the Candians trudge back to their meager room. Cumulous is waiting at the door, watching blankly. 

“Off to bed with you. I’ll handle it, alright?”

“I’m- I’m king. I have to, to do this don’t I?” 

“You are a child, and I’ve been running Candia for longer than you’ve been alive. It’s alright, Liam, I promise,” 

“Sorry,” he utters, slumping onto the bed and feeling his body drift away, out into the expanse of yogurt. “M’ a bad king,” 

“…no. You’ll be a good king.” 

Chapter Text

Her carapace clicked and creaked as she moved deeper into the cave. 

“So many souls, all safe and sound…”

Shadows pressed against the frozen crystal, hands reaching- pressing- clawing. 

Scores of eyes blinked curiously while hundreds of teeth smiled. 

“Shh…” 

The sound slithered against each wall, echoing into a menacing growl in the heart of the mountain. Each hand pulled away in fright. 

“They will be with you soon. I will bring them all home.”  

Feathers, too numerous and shifting to count, rustled and flared as she took flight, soaring further into the darkness of the frost. 

-~-

Hidden in an abandoned farm on the outskirts of Fructera, the Rocks and Sir Theobald gasp for breath. Ruby Rocks shakes uncontrollably, hand over her mouth as she slides to the ground. 

“It’s okay, Ruby,” Amethar whispers. “Take a break. No one can see us,” 

“You’re-“ she heaves, “You’re sure?” 

“Promise.” 

Sound and smell and light and wind rush back to them as she releases the spell and collapses against a wall. Jet kneels next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. 

“Think you overdid it,” she mumbles. 

“Had to. Too many, can’t get- caught-“ she coughs into her arm, trying desperately to muffle the sound. “I’ve never run this much in my life,” 

“We’ll rest here for now. Once we’re ready we’ll make a new plan.” Theobald says, finally setting the Battle Pop down.

“You have any spells left kiddo?” Amethar asks, and Ruby shakes her head. “No sense in rushing off then. This place is falling apart, no one’s gonna come looking.”

“What about the others? Liam and Cal and the Swirlies?”

Theobald remembers the smell of sweet cream blood, chunks of cone scattered on the ground. Liam screaming and Calroy’s shout of pain. He looks at the twins, small and shaking and their entire world upended.

“We were the main targets. If we got out, then they almost certainly did as well,” he lies.

As they both sigh in relief Amethar meets his gaze. His face is grim, the same expression he’d worn so often those twenty years ago.

Dead until proven otherwise, they used to say. It was easier, when you found their bodies anyway, when they were never seen again. 

But the twins are not soldiers. These few battles are their first, and if they lose hope now the journey will be that much more impossible.

Amethar nods once and says nothing. 

~

Berrybriar sits before them, equally a blessing and curse. Supplies, food and water and shelter - but the threat of discovery too.

“We’ll need disguises, like regular clothes. If we keep walking around in this someone’s going to notice,” Jet murmurs. 

“You’re right. I’m not exactly stealthy,” Theo admits. 

“I can go invisible? Grab things and get out?” 

“And wander around with floating clothes?” Jet rebuffs. “Plus, you’re still exhausted - can you turn me into a villager?”

“I can try. I’ll need to see one first. How about I send Yak, get a lay of the land?”

“Good idea. Try to keep him high up, he’s pretty distinct,” Amethar mutters.

Ruby lets herself slip into Yak, rising into the wind and gliding towards the village. It was a calm day, only a few people milling about, and just off to the west was a home with plenty of clothes on lines.

For a moment she circles in the air - half of her says it’s to spot hidden enemies, the other half can’t comprehend how things could be so normal after what happened. Lapin is dead, and so is Preston, and who knows what happened to the others. She’s not a Princess anymore, Pops isn’t King, and somehow with just a few words they’re at war. 

But here they all are, bartering for cloth and laughing. 

Something prods her arm and brings her back. Jet stares at her, worry in her eyes. 

“Is it safe?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks. Her throat is tight and it’s only then she realizes she’s crying. “Sorry. I’m okay. Just, it’s weird seeing normal people. If you head west-ish you’ll see a bunch of clothes, we can make it work. Maybe take the sheets too?” 

“You got it. I’ll be back,” Jet smiles as best she can and Ruby whispers the spell, watching as she morphs and changes, then rushes off with a wink.

She can feel their questions weighing on her shoulders and looks back toward the village. “I’m going to go back into Yak, make sure she’s okay.”

Maybe she’s a coward for hiding, but she’s allowed it, isn’t she? Just a bit?

“Good thinking,” Amethar rubs a hand across her back, and she leans into it. Yak watches closely as she blends into the crowd.

Jet fits seamlessly into them, walking calmly and smiling at passersby. Ruby can only catch glimpses of her hands sneaking things from stalls, stashing them away. Her head tilts to as she wanders past the crowds, seeming to absorb their words. She takes a basket from the edge of a yard and begins to pluck fabric from the line. Yak chirps as her wandering eyes find him and she winks. Once the basket is full she looks back in their direction, scanning once more for any witnesses, then bolts for the tree line. 

She slides to a stop next to them, searching for tails and grinning when she finds none. “Mission accomplished! I grabbed as much as I could, we should probably get a little further into the fields before they notice,” 

“Excellent work, Jet,” Theo murmurs. As they begin to shamble into the denser grove of strawberries Ruby bumps her shoulder. 

“What were you listening too? I saw you spying,” 

“Apparently they had a batch of soldiers come through last night; it didn’t sound good.” 

“What, you’re leaving me in suspense?” 

“Not so close,” she bargains, and Ruby shrugs in acceptance. It’s only when they’re all shaded by the leafy tops of the strawberries that she speaks up. “I don’t think we can go back home. To the Castle.” 

“Jet, just because the Primogen called you-“

“-No, it's not that. A bunch of the villagers were talking as I walked by, gossiping about the troops that had come through. Someone said that the castle had been taken, and that Cerisa was hungry? I- I think Cerisa took over Castle Candy. That they took it seriously, maybe Senator Ciabatta is trying to, I don’t know, get in with the Primogen?” 

“He’s trying to solidify his Imperatorship. Aw, hell, that’s not good,” Amethar sighs. “He couldn’t go after any of the kingdoms inside the Concord, he’d have to fight all of us, but since we got banished?”

“Expelled,” Theo corrected. 

“Close enough. But it means if we go back to Castle Candy we’ll have the entire Cerisan army waiting for us. They’re probably waiting for us now.” 

“Then what do we do? What about Mum, and all our people? Great Uncle Joren is king now, but he’s all the way up in Manylicks!” Ruby exclaims. 

“We-“ Amethar breathes heavily, grimacing and looking to Theo. “Got any ideas?” 

“Ruby brings up a solid idea. Castle Manylicks is secluded, they won’t give Joren the chance to join and potentially spoil the fight, but if we get up there and get him on board? We’ll have an army to fight back with.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that could work. We can get up there faster than any platoon, and I know the way. He'll will fight with me, one excommunicated war guy to another,” Amethar affirms. 

“But won’t Ciabatta go for Joren anyways? To finish taking Candia?” Jet worries. 

“And get through the Stone Candy Mountains? Nah. Cerisa’s all flat, trying to get up to Manylicks would be near impossible for a couple of stragglers, let alone an entire army. They’ll be alright.” 

“Then we’ll need to get moving, and fast. I’d estimate, a day and a half to the Cola River? Once we cross that it’ll be at least four days through the plains. How about up into the mountains?” 

“If we go full tilt, I can get us up there in four. I know a couple of cave systems that avoid terrain, we can kill time with those. Think we can steal a few fruit-beasts? Shave off a few days to the river, grab some Meeps once we hit Candia?” 

“Sprinkle and I will round them up, once we’ve got them we should set off- no telling if anyone will try to follow. Best to not give them the chance.”

“Me and Jet can share one, if it’s easier?” 

“I’ll see what I can do. Think you can make a decent disguise out of all of that?” 

Ruby grins and holds up the giant wine red sheet, guesstimating with her eyes. “Yeah, I think I can come up with something,”

-~-

Far in the distance, too many teeth stretch into a wide, wide smile. The scent of Plum sweetened ever so slightly, its sugar returning.

“They’ll all be home soon.”

Chapter Text

They’re met by Sir Malliard at port, archers trained not just on the soldiers but the hull, the sails, the mast. She burns in the setting sun, searing spear gripped tightly. Calroy and Captain Pectino move to the bow. 

“Do you come in peace?” She calls out. 

“We do! Sir Malliard, we return to negotiate - will you allow us ashore?” He replies. For a moment she simply stares, watching as he keeps his palms up, open and fingers still. He gives none of the signals he knows she’s searching for.

“My countrymen are always welcome. But I have had my fill of invaders and Imperials. I will ask again, do you come in peace?”

Calory looks to the Captain who nods once. None of the soldiers upon their small ship reach for weapons or shields despite the arrows nocked. 

“We have come to settle this chaos of the Concord. Representatives of Calorum shall be arriving as well to assist in these talks.”

Calroy can see the twitch of her lip from here, a snarl of indignation, but it vanishes in moments like always. 

“Well then. All ashore!” She commands, stepping to the side and allowing them to dock. He spares a single glance backwards, ensuring Liam and Donetta were following, and he climbs onto port. 

Sugargrass and a breeze of blooming redvines calls his attention relentlessly, drawing him with the scent of home after so long away, but habit has his feet marching forwards. Amanda stares at him with question in her eyes, shield and spear still in hand. 

“Good morn, Sir Malliard. Thank you for guarding the port.” 

“I will always fulfill my orders to the best of my ability. Much has happened - do you have news?” 

He sighs, and nods once. 

“Much. But first, I fear I must as for report. Casualties?”

“I have only heard of three, soldiers guarding the border of Cookieshire. Once news had arrived of the events in Comida, we’ve been at a standstill.” 

“And our allies of the north?” He knows the answer, had written the damning letter himself, but sets his face in resigned horror. She bows her head.

“No one has been able to reach them, but the boasting letters from Cerisa were clear. I suspect not just the castle, but the village entire as well. Bulb only knows of the land surrounding.” 

“We must settle this quickly, lest more of our kingdom fall to chaos. These soldiers have agreed to escort us home, and have called for representatives to join us. Much as I’d like to rest after all that’s happened, I must speak with the others at court. Are our comrades here?”

“Yes, the Knights of North Gumbia have fortified the castle - all but those who left for Comida are safe within.” 

“Good. Let us be off.” 

Without words Amanda fell back, allowing the Fructeran Captain to walk beside Calroy while she marched beside Liam and Donetta. He suspected Cumulous had moved to lurk in the crowd, unseen.

“Your Highness. Welcome back to Candia.”

Calroy can imagine the way the boy goes pale as seconds of silence tick by. 

“Thank you, Sir… Sir.” 

“Malliard, Your Highness. Former Champion of Queen Caramelinda.” 

“We’re going back to the castle, right? Castle Candy?” 

“Yes, your highness. Luckily, not much has changed. How do you fare? No injuries?” 

“There were some blue cheese pirates, I uh- I caught an arrow in the shoulder, but nothing too bad. I’m fine.” 

“Good to hear, your highness. I’ll call for healers just in case, hmm?”

“Can they see Cal too? He was in the big fight, the one on the deck-“

“I’m alright, Liam,” he throws over his shoulder, glancing and giving a reassuring smile. “But thank you.” 

There’s whispering behind him and by his relieved sigh Calroy knows she’s agreed to pull him aside anyways. 

“You’re okay too, right? I saw you go in the belly but I wasn’t really watching, did you fight?” 

“No, Liam, I didn’t fight. I’m uninjured I assure you - just tired. A nights rest will do us all some good,” Donetta assured him quietly. 

Faint traces of blood hang in the air as Dulcington comes into view. It’s empty, as empty as he’s seen it in years, and trained eyes find stains littering the stones. 

Captain Pectino beside him follows his gaze. “Seems the conflict was quite close to home, hmm?” 

“Cerisans on the edge of Muffinfield thought our borders would be weaker near the town. They were wrong.” Amanda announces flatly behind them. The Captain nods, scanning the area as they walk. Calroy can hear the rustling of armor and knows he must see the soldiers dotting the path, hidden behind cover. 

Amanda is well within range with her spear, both for the Captain and those trailing behind. Her prowess was unmatched when it came to melee - there was a reason she had been Caramelinda’s champion. 

Satisfaction grows in his stomach as the gates to the castle come into view, taking in the sight of it. There are archers trained on them yet again, but with two strikes against her shield Amanda dismisses them. Tart Guard open the gates, watching them with wide eyes. Mere steps inside the court waits, each craning for a look and whispering frantically. Sir Toby steps forward as the gates close, bowing to Liam with a hand across his chest, then turning to announce for all to hear. 

“Hail! The King of Candia has returned!” 

It’s easy to fall in line with the others, the soldiers and lords and servants, turning to the boy and bowing deeply. He gives a reassuring smile at his stunned look, and when he jumps at the sound of ringing bells Donetta puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Each chime seems to shake the ground beneath them, echoing endlessly as the castle bells toll. 

For the first time since Amethar was crowned, blood still drying on his hands and soil fresh above Rococo’s grave, the bells of Castle Candy ring. 

“Your Highness. Forgive our haste - I know your journey has been nothing short of perilous, but there are matters that must be attended to. Please, allow me to escort you inside,” Sir Toby bows once more, smaller this time. 

“Y-Yes. Thank you, okay. Lead the way.” 

~

Donetta has spent years with her eyes in one direction and ears in another. Listening to the other courtiers scramble while watching Liam fumble with his cola and the Imperials lurk is second nature. It seems they were content to simply observe their meeting rather than mediate - not that they would have any success anyways. 

“Our laws have always been clear, the heir must be of age before ascending the throne! Even in the chaos of the Ravening War this was upheld!” 

“All of the heirs were already of age in the Ravening War, it’s different now! We cannot wait two years to crown another King!”

“And what of the Concord? I highly doubt they’ll accept anything less than perfection after such a disaster-“

“-how can we think of the Concord when our own people are being slaughtered?! To hell with the Empire, we must defend ourselves first and we cannot do that without a king!” 

“You expect to overpower them then? With what army?! Our Tart Guard is feeble, our Knights are already stretched thin- any war we wage will only end in broken borders and burned towns!”

“I concur. Joren was a brute, he lived for the heat of battle and his soldiers were no different, if they could not withstand the Cerisans what hope do we have against the entire Imperial military?”

“Then we are right back to where we started - it has to be legitimate, enough to give formal renouncement of rebellion and take back our standing.”

“So, what, we throw the boy onto the throne? What training does he have, what skill? At least the Oathbreaker was a fighter and could use battle tactics, but this child is simply that! A child!” 

Across the table the former Queen flinched. What a wonder it was to see her after all this time, uncrowned and frightened. Perhaps this chaos was too much even for one as strong as Caramelinda? Then again, who wouldn’t be shaken with their “husband” and children missing in the middle of war. 

Donetta reached slowly sideways and placed a hand atop Liam’s. He had been scratching a line into the side of the teacup, but as the room grew louder he’d turned to gripping it tightly. The last thing he needed was to shatter the damn thing. She removed her hand before interrupting the Baron of Waferwood, raising her voice to catch the rooms attention. 

“We are getting nowhere.” 

Rarely did she ever speak in council unless absolutely necessary; heads turn when she does so now. 

“Duchess Meringue. I ask your forgiveness for my bluntness but I wish to waste no more time. I suspect you were not just the Heart of Candia, but also its brain; what say you? In this crisis your wisdom is invaluable - how can we protect the Sugarlands?” 

After speaking in Cerisan so often it’s lilt has begun to slip back into her Candian, but as the court absorbs her words no one seems to notice. No one besides Calroy, who smirks at her with his eyes. 

Her focus returns to Caramelinda. Knuckles white, jaw clenched, skin going pale. 

Pressure, pressure, pressure, Donetta mused. 

Give up that weight you bore so thanklessly. No matter the end no one will allow you back atop the throne, so give it up. The kingdom is at war, you are betrayed, your bastard daughters are nowhere to be found. Relent, Meringue, give it to me .  

“Ancient as they are, our laws must be obeyed. An heir must take the throne if they are the only one left in succession. Liam Wilhelmina is of noble birth, raised in nobility, and after the tragedy of Castle Manylicks he is the only link left in the chain of succession. Our bells rang, did they not? Our King has returned. We cannot change that or choose someone else. No matter what we decide here that does not change.” 

Even despite it all her words have power, how could they not? 

Liam looks up from his tea, blinking away the distance she had seen for weeks. 

“I’m House Jawbreaker. Doesn’t that make me a traitor, make Candia a traitor? Have I already ruined things?” 

Caramelinda’s eyes soften. 

“No, Liam. Something so complex must be outright stated, ordered even. What your father did does not pass down to you.” 

“I can fix it then, right? Tell them we take it back? Say I’m King now, and we follow the Concord like we used to?” 

“I believe that is our best shot. Hard as it is to admit, our final decisions will be determined by the diplomats the Concord and the Chuch send.”

Liam flinches and his eyes seem to glaze over again as he nods.

Murmurs circle the room as things begin to settle, plans forming and shifting and crumbling all the same. After some time the noise dies down and Liam stands. 

“I, uh, think we’re done? There’s nothing else to do until everyone else gets here, and- we should rest. And get ready. Right?” 

“A fine idea, Liam. Let us all return to our chambers. I ask that everyone remain inside the castle, for now, until the negotiations conclude. The timeline is shaky at best and it will be easiest to summon you all from within the castle walls,” Calroy offers. Murmurs of agreement circle and Liam smiles weakly at him. No one would protest, Donetta knew - with the country still at war the Castle was the best protection they would find. 

“Okay. Great. Um- good night, everyone.” 

Without any more fanfare Liam bolts from the room, only barely keeping from breaking into a run. Donetta watches as Sir Toby dutifully follows him, no doubt assigning himself as his personal guard. Calroy draws close to some of the guards near the door and she turns her gaze to the stranger lurking in the corner.

“My apologies for any neglect, Cumulous. What are your intentions tonight?”

“I’m too far from any access to the Monastery, no point in making the trip. Mind if I steal a room?”

“I’m sure no one will. There are quarters that remain unoccupied at the moment - have you met Sir Theobald?”

“No.”

“He was a ward of Lazuli, Bulb rest her soul, before her passing. Perhaps there may be something of interest to you there?”

Past the apathy of his face interest lit like fire in his eyes. There it is, she crowed. 

“Yes, I think so.”

“Follow me then, I’ll show you the way,”

As they walk she can feel the thousand questions forming in his mind, watching through her peripheral as he finally perks up and looks around. Strangely enough, he lifts his head and sniffs.

“Something the matter?” 

“There is… a lot of power here.”

“Candia is known for its magic, the castle is no different. Especially with wizards for royalty and soldiers who fight not just with swords but spells too.”

“But it is so… obvious.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be? Not just so far from the border, but sheltered in these walls? There’s no safer place for magic. Why not flaunt it?” 

“I’m… used to it being hidden. Destroyed.”

Donetta is familiar with the longing in his voice. Even more so with the incredulity.

“Well, Bulb willing,” she poses, “Things will pan out. Magic will remain strong, and safe, here.”

The worn but sturdy wood of Sir Theobald’s door greets them. Her mind wanders back to the sealed “alchemy” room, and marks it as incentive for later.

“Goodnight, Cumulous. Rest well.”

“Rest well.” He repeats, attention already shifting into the room. A smile finds its way onto her face as another piece moves on the board.

Now, if only she could find dear Cara… no, it would have to wait. If her calculations panned out she’d need all the sleep she could get tonight.

Their endeavors would finally fall into place soon. 

-

By the time Donetta entered their shared bedroom he had a fresh set of stitches and reports from nearly every player on the board. 

“Will you live?” She asks as he shrugs off the bloodied shirt. He was going to run out of them if this pace kept up. 

“Only barely. Did you see to the boy?” She shakes her head slightly, deft fingers unlacing the dress she’d been wearing since Comida. She swats him away as he reaches to help, a warning look on her face. “Darling, truly you can’t think that’s what’s on my mind,”

“I know it isn’t. But there was a reason I chose this dress and not my usual attire, and the antidote is awfully expensive.” Donetta steps out of the dress and changes into a simple robe. He glances down and sees the shine of silver within the boning of its corset. 

“Back to your old tricks I see,” he comments.

“After such hasty adjustments I thought it only smart to be cautious. Picking seams apart is tedious but its better than a noose,”

“I agree. Now, shall we go to bed? I’ve missed these sheets,” 

“Only the sheets? A decent pillow is heaven after sleeping in a hammock. Move over.” 

Before he knows it Calroy is bent over in laughter, tears filling his eyes as he laughs at the absurdity of it all. An entire castle laid to waste, decades of peace thrown aside, and here they were. Lying in their own bed with the crown that much closer to their grasp, complaining about life on the run.

“Such a shame, all that work only to have you go mad on the precipice,” she chuckles into his shoulder. “Go to sleep, Calroy.”

“Goodnight, Donetta.” 

“Goodnight.”

Chapter Text

Liam hesitated at his bedroom door. He knew what was inside and couldn’t bring himself to turn the knob.

“Everything alright, Your Highness?”

He glanced back and saw Sir Toby waiting.

“Yeah, yeah totally. Why wouldn’t it? Just, uh- I think I locked it, and I don’t remember where I put the key, cause who takes a key to Comida? I probably put it somewhere, I should ask Preston where I-“

All at once his stomach clenched and the tea he drank nearly comes back up. Sir Toby purses his lips.

“Shall I try it then? Some of these old doors are tricky and simply stick after a time away.”

Liam nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Toby’s hand is gentle as he moves him to the side, and with a quick slam of his shoulder the door opens.

“Thanks.”

Sir Toby bows and moves away.

Knapsacks and books, crates of soil and vine and seeds. Arrows hanging on the wall, a bag of treats, a little brush.

“Forgive my intrusion, your highness. But after long journeys sleep often escapes me - some nights a few bouts of sparring is the only cure. Shall I escort you to the training grounds?”

“It’s… it’s late, I don’t want to-“

“It’s no bother, your highness. I assure you.”

Liam stares at the bag of sugarcube treats and wants nothing more than to curl up with Preston in his lap and his mothers hand in his hair. Wants her to sing him to sleep, no war and no concord and no church to worry about.

His mother is dead. Hundreds of miles away, with the rest of his family. All of them. Preston too. Nothing more than a body in Lapins arms.

His throat feels so tight, like he’s being strangled from the inside out, anger and pain and grief swelling up from his stomach.

Maybe would be nice to hit something. Have something hit him back.

“Let’s do it.” He croaks.

Everything is off balance. With each step he moves forwards even as the halls tip and sway around him, wondering how he’s managed to stay upright until now.

“Have you any experience sparring?”

The words leave him even as his mind goes fuzzy and quiet. “Just my brothers. Nothing official.”

“Then we’ll start slow,”

Sir Toby raises his arms, fists clenched and shoulders squared. He stares at him, waiting for the first move. Liam blinks once, twice, willing his muscles to wake up. He swings an arm, aiming for Sir Toby’s stomach, and is quickly rebuffed by an armored hand.

“Again.”

He kicks this time, going for the knees - Grash used to do that all the time, kicked so hard he buckled and had to roll away from the next punch. But Toby doesn’t fall, doesn’t even flinch at the impact. Instead he steps forwards, into the gap between them and shoving into Liam with his shoulder. His foot hasn’t come back down, he’s off balance, and suddenly the wind is knocked out of his lungs as he hits the floor.

It hurts. Shudders his barely healed ribs and for a few long moments he can’t get any air, fighting his body to convince it to gasp in a breath, and all at once the dam breaks.

Sir Toby knows the storm that brews within the young king. Has felt it course through his own veins, seen it in his fellow soldiers time and time again. To lose so much would cripple any man - let alone a child. To break is to be mortal, even the strongest sugar snaps with the right pressure. Sir Toby can see the fissures and fractures in the stiffness of his shoulders, the glaze of his eyes. He will break. It’s a certainty no matter how cruel.

It must happen now.

As the air is knocked from his chest the final straw snaps. Sir Toby watches as his faces goes white, then bleeds into bright red with fury. He knows what’s coming, a stampede of raging meeps, out of control but relentless all the same. Liam rolls to his feet, then launches screaming towards him. Toby braves the attacks without a sound, arms raised and stance firm, watching as tears pour from the kings eyes, a familiar storm of grief on his face. He bellows names Toby doesn’t recognize but knows all the same. Is sure they’re written on a list of the dead in the court chambers, all those who came before him. All those who were supposed to bear this burden, and yet, the crown is upon his head.

Is this the legacy of Candia? Will this be their destiny, family trees endlessly pruned of their branches?

Sir Toby bears the onslaught the same as he bears the burden of his vows. Silently, without hesitation or remorse.

It has to happen now. Everything hangs in the balance; the survival of the kingdom, each lowborn and noble and treaty and acre of land, all of it rests upon what lies ahead. Liam cannot break in the days to come. He must be stronger than he was in the past, stronger than those who came before him and those who will come after.

He must break now so that he is strong enough to bear the weight. They will seal his cracks with molten sugar, build him armor of brittle and bark - but he cannot crumble within it. He must lose himself now, or he will bring eons of knowledge, and magic, and music, and scripture and blood and tears and candy to ruin.

It isn’t fair. But in sweetness there is strength. Toby will grant him this night, this maelstrom of torment, give him the peace of the fight. He will not force him to suffer alone. Toby will take his grief so that he can live despite it, so it does not choke him with its weight.

“ THEY’RE GONE! ”

Sir Toby can feel the marks form beneath his armor and knows the King’s hands will be bruised for days. That even after this, even after the bruises heal, the pain will never truly leave him. But he will bear it. He can. He has too.

Liam Wilhelmina screams and screams, beating his hands against golden armor, screams for all that he has lost, screams against the guilt and the pain and the emptiness.

It’s all he can do.

~

Caramelinda knows every inch of this castle, inside and out. She had hoped it would be her home one day, a wing full of books and spells and the scent of Lazuli’s tea.

She can’t bear to open those doors again. Even twenty years past the pain of its emptiness is too much to stand, so all that her love used to be lies still and collects dust.

She had gotten her wish, hadn’t she? This castle is her home. Her church, her court, her children.

A prison in gilded disguise. How cruel it feels to be so near to her dreams and yet so far, trapped in the crude remains of what was left of her life. To see what it could have been yet stuck all the same, a parody of how it was supposed to be.

She must stay and yet how she wishes to leave. Stained glass windows distorting the very light of day, obscuring the freedom outside these sacred walls.

How could she blame her daughters for their escape? How could she scorn them for crawling through the very same tunnels she imagined taking? What privilege to live here, to wear these crowns, what horror.

How she wishes she could scold them now. Send them to their rooms where she knew they would sing and laugh and scheme. Listen as they climbed to the roof and danced upon the parapets.

“My lady?”

Her heart leaps at the sound then settles as Amanda appears at her side.

“Sir Maillard, forgive me. I was lost in thought.”

“Sleepwalking again, your highness?” She teases lowly. Caramelinda looks around, surprised to find them in the abandoned south side of the lower levels. Just how long had she been musing and wandering?

“Perhaps,” she sighs with a smile. “I was meant to be walking to my new quarters, but it appears my feet had other ideas.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m very troubled - I’ve been trying to catch you for some time,”

“Oh? My apologies, with the chaos of everything I hadn’t-“

“-Cara, it’s fine,” Amanda reassures. “I only wished to see if there was anything you needed. I know it’s been a trying month.”

Trying. That was certainly a word for it. Her face must have twisted because Amanda’s lip quirks into a smirk, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

“Not quite how you’d describe it, then?” She teased.

“I had a few more expletives in mind, but perhaps ‘trying’ will suffice.”

“A fucking shit-show disaster of epic nightmarish proportions?”

Despite it all Caramelinda couldn’t help the snicker that leaves her mouth and Amanda’s eyes gleam with victory.

“Yes. A fucking shitshow of nightmarish proportions sums it up fairly well.”

For a moment all Caramelinda can do is stare at Amanda. Even in this dark and damp hallway she gleams with light, heat radiating from her very skin. The ring on her finger aches with a biting chill and her heart cries for the chance to throw it aside, replace it with the embers that burn in her champions eyes.

How selfish. How tempting.

“Your highness, perhaps it’s-“

Her head turns before her mind registers the sound. At first she thinks of a wounded animal, beasts brought down in hunts, but-

“Ah.” Amanda sighs lowly beside her.

“What-?”

Metal thuds and shifts, dull impacts and clanks suddenly filling the empty air.

“Your highness, I believe… Sir Toby spoke of sparring with Liam.”

Another scream erupts from around the corner, raw and raging and torn. Caramelinda can’t help her flinch. She’s a lady of court, she was a Queen, she’s no stranger to hiding one’s weakness and fear but…

For a moment she wondered it if was her. If her mind had finally erupted with the shadows she had shoved away. It’s all too familiar, the pain lancing through her throat with each wail, the burn of tears in her eyes. She had screamed like that once. Only once. When she had discovered the letter Lazuli left in their bed, confirming what she refused to believe all those years ago.

Is that what she would sound like? When the news finally came? When it becomes real, something she can deny no longer? When they bring back their crowns, or their rings, or their-

Their lockets?

Is that how she would sound? Would she make any noise at all? Would she bear it with the same stoicism she wore at her false wedding, at her coronation?

Liam wails beyond the corner.

“Your highness. It’s best we leave them be.”

“I’m not…” her voice cracks and she swallows. “It’s just Lady, now, Sir Maillard. He is your highness now. I don’t… I don’t even know what I am anymore.”

“You are Caramelinda. That never changed.”

She’s so cold. Has been ever since the first letter arrived, an ambush on the road, fear turning her blood to ice.

Amanda steps into her space, arms winding tightly around her. Caramelinda goes limp in her embrace, strength draining as it all becomes too much. Without a word her grip shifts and Amanda hefts her up, legs under one arm and she wraps around her shoulders.

“Take me to bed,” Caramelinda whispers. “Please,”

“Of course.”

She allows herself to be carried away, turning away from reality and burying herself into her champions shoulder.

“You… you won’t be mine, anymore,” she croaks.

“I’ll always be yours. Crown or no. That will never change.” Amanda answers, voice firm and sure. With each step away from the training grounds and closer to Amanda’s quarters she finally relaxes.

“Sleep, Cara. I’ve got you.”

~

Jet’s jaw tightens as she fights against the urge to let her teeth chatter. It’s freezing up here, really freezing, the kind she’d heard of in stories and imagined. What she wouldn’t give for her fireplace and plush blankets and candy apple cider.

“We’re nearly there, and this wind is only going to get worse. Perhaps we should rest?”

She looks up and sees Pop’s scan the land around them. It feels like they’re nearly at the mountain top but by the grimace on his face she knows it’s a long way to go.

“Shouldn’t be this cold yet,” he mutters, face turning scrutinizing. “It’s nowhere near even harvestdusk, why is it so cold?”

Theo looks around them as well, searching for something Jet can’t see. “What is it? Magic?” She asks.

“Maybe. But here it’s not exactly strange to feel magic, Duke Jawbreaker is known for encouraging the practice of the Sweetening Path,”

“You feel it though, right?” Amethar pushes.

“…a little, yes. But my grasp on arcana has always been weak at best. Ruby? What do you feel?”

Beside her Ruby stiffens a little. “Uh- I can try looking I think?”

Jet puts a hand on the hilt of Flickerish as Ruby closes her eyes, hands raising as if trying to balance on a tightrope. A smirk crawls onto Jets face and she knows in her bones that if it were anyone else she would mock them relentlessly for looking so dorky. But as she stares at Ruby she noticies the way her shoulders start to hunch, jaw clenching, eyebrows furrowing. She was anxious, of course she was, and the smirk falls off Jets face as fast as it had formed.

They’re on a mountain, millions of miles from home, and the last time she’d used her magic their entire world had fallen apart. So rather than joke or snicker Jet reaches up and holds her locket tightly, closing her eyes and concentrating. Ruby said she could feel it, once, way back when they were little, when she was happy or sad or annoyed. Jet thinks of warm candy apple cider, of the stories Mom used to read before bed and her smile as she saw the Swirler Sisters for the first time.

Her eyes peek open and she smiles as Ruby begins to relax, face smoothing out and shoulders falling. Her head tilts and Jet tilts hers too, listening for something she can’t hear, and Ruby’s eyes fly open.

“It… feels familiar. Jet, can I see your sword? And Sprinkle?”

She takes both, even holding her bow and touching the hilt of Payment Day, then staring at Sprinkle in confusion.

“It… smells like us? Like our magic? But not Liam. Not like Preston did, not like Sprinkle does. But it smells like us.”

Jet has to physically bite her lip to keep from making a joke as Ruby wrinkles her nose, and knows by her soured face that Ruby saw it anyways.

“Hey, I promise it wasn’t like that! It just- smells?”

“Well I don’t know how else to describe it! I wasn’t into books before, I don’t know the fancy words!”

“But the magic, it’s similar to the magic in your weapons? But not Sprinkle? Perhaps it’s because he’s a familiar,” Theo suggests. Ruby shifts on her feet and then calls down Yak, who has been circling the air ever since they reached the mountains. Before she does anything she turns to Jet and fiercely orders her to look away.

“What?! I want to see! It’s magic stuff, I want to learn! Promise I won’t make fun of you!”

“Not a chance! Look away!”

Jet sighs but turns around, even putting her hands on her eyes for good measure. Even with that she can hear the distinct sound of Ruby sniffing.

“You’re sniffing Yak?!”

“I said look away!”

“I’m not looking!”

“Hey! Easy, tone it down,” Amethar orders and they all go silent. Eventually Jet turns back around, rubbing her arm.

“Sorry pops.”

“Yak… smells like us too. Preston and Sprinkle are different, like Lapin is- was. It’s weird.”

“Regardless, I think we’ve proved that this is a magic storm and not a regular one - all the more reason to be concerned, even if it is friendly magic.”

“Then we push through. If we get caught in this there’s no telling for how long, or if we even get out of it. We need to get up there.”

“Then we keep going,” Jet says, ignoring the way her arms shook from the cold. “Come on, if we can make it up this mountain the Swirler Sisters will definitely hire you!”

“You’re right! Hey, I might actually be able to audition now! You know, when there’s not war and everything,”

Pops chuckles behind them as they begin to scramble up the rough path. “I think I’d like to see that,”

Jet feels her locket warm up as Ruby looks to her with a blinding smile, excitement and hope shining in her eyes. For the first time in what feels like months, Jet feels her heart slow down.

Chapter Text

Liam wakes to knocking on his door. He rises slowly, feeling the same as he did those few days ago after all that Fructeran wine. A hiss escapes his mouth as his hands flex; looking down reveals purple bruising covering his knuckles and the sides of his hands. 

“Your Highness? Breakfast will begin soon, the meetings afterwards. Do you need assistance dressing?”

Did he? All he had were his usual overalls or the stuffy suit he wore during his first exchange as Ward of Candia. 

“Maybe?” He calls out cautiously. His door swings open, two boys dressed in servants attire entering.

“I- I don’t know if I have any good clothes. Maybe what I came here with? From a while ago?”

“We’ll take a look your highness. In the meantime, how about a bath?”

“I can do that part,” he chokes out, face heating instantly. But the boy doesn’t press, simply nods and moves towards the closet with the other servant. 

Even now the water turns muddy quickly as he scrubs the scabs from his hands. Everything aches but somehow he feels settled. Less likely to explode. 

“Your highness, are you ready?”

“Yeah- yeah I’m good. Just a second.” 

If he thought flirting with an avocado was embarrassing, having two random people dress him was mortifying. “I’m Liam,” he forces out, desperate for a distraction. 

“I’m Whitman, your highness. I’m one of the footman for the lords,”

“And I’m Whop. It’s okay, you can laugh,” he offers with a smile as a hesitant smile appears on Liam’s face. 

“Sorry, I’m kinda rude.”

“Nah, it’s an old family name - my Dad tried to convince my mum not to use it but she’s a stubborn one,” 

Somehow his old outfit still fit and slid on easily with the help of Whop and Whitman. It was white with solid red buttons going down the entire front, a stiff shirt collar coming halfway up his neck. The pants had a line of red down the sides, and he stepped into simple white shoes. 

“You clean up quite nicely! It’ll look better once you’ve got a crown, but I reckon it’ll work for today. We’ll talk to the tailors about the rest of your clothes.” 

“Better hurry though, I’m sure we’ve got enough people waiting. Ready?” Whop asked. 

“Sure. Let’s do it.” 

-

Liam was nearly finished with his breakfast when a messenger entered the dining hall, several scrolls in hand. 

“Your Highness. Word has arrived from Dulcington and the Imperial Guard.” 

He winced as he rose, bruises flaring with pain, taking the scrolls with a grateful nod. He read the message from Dulcington first, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Your Highness?” Calroy murmured beside him. 

“Two companies. One Bulbian, one Imperial. Too small for invasion I think?”

“Likely coming to get word on the official status of Candia. I’ll bet the other scroll is announcing their arrival,” Calroy explains.

“Okay. So… we need to get the meeting room ready, and the guard? Just in case? All the people need to be summoned and we should get food too I guess. Will we need books? Or, uh, scrolls?”

As he spoke several Candians nodded and left the room, taking his rambles as orders. 

“There is a tome in the throne room detailing the succession of all the rulers of Candia. Sir Malliard, would you please?”

Liam nods and drums his fingers on the table while the knight salutes and marches away. 

“Right. Guards, lords, a room, a banquet… a priest? We have one right? Not just Lapin?”

“Yes. Archbishop Ike, he presides over the Castle when Primogen Lapin was unable and Dulcington full time. Perhaps it would be wise to bring the clergy, should any official blessings need to be given?”

“It won’t offend the group already coming?”

“I think it would show them we are willing and prepared for any spiritual guidance,” 

“Alright. The whole clergy, and we should clean up the temple. Do we have time?”

“The staff can split, perhaps some for the throne room and others for the chapel?”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Worst comes to worst when they decide we have everyone run to the official spot and get it ready,” Liam murmurs, fingers running through his hair. As he looked up and around the room he noticed that almost all of the staff had vanished. “Oh. That was fast. They didn’t have to wait for official orders or something?”

“Amethar was never one for official orders - they’re used to it,” Calroy whispers lowly. For some reason Liam feels his face go hot, even creeping down his neck. 

“I’m not good at this- I’m just- I- I’m a seed guy, or even if I’m not a seed guy I’m a war guy, how am I supposed to be a king?! I couldn’t even keep Preston safe how- how do I take care of a whole kingdom?!” He breathes out frantically. 

“Liam. The best kind of kings are the ones who doubt. Who worry. Because they are the ones who will try, every day, to be the best they can.”

His skittish eyes move across the room as servants and footmen and all types of candy move to work. Somehow even with his bumbling words they walk with a purpose and even smile as they notice his gaze. 

“You’re sure? I mean- I definitely embarrassed myself in Calorum. I offended almost everybody!”

“I’m sure. You won’t be alone, Liam. Even if the crown doesn’t fit now, you’ll grow into it.” 

His heart doesn’t slow, it can’t, not with the thought of the chaos to come. But it does settle just a little at Calroy’s assurance. 

~

In true Candian fashion, an entire ceremony and treaty meeting is arranged with only the confused mumblings of the King. Calroy may have not had any official control over hiring but his suggestions weren’t ignored, and he always chose well.

Flanked by the Imperial Guard the Pontifex herself enters the meeting hall, dressed in full regalia with bishops and miracle workers trailing behind. Sir Keradin Deeproot was noticeably missing, though he had to admit it was for the best; Liam probably wouldn’t be able to resist slaughtering the knight. 

“Heirophant Rex. Welcome to Candia.” Liam says from the thrones raised dais. He stands, knuckles white as he clasps his own hands. 

“Liam Wilhelmina. King of Candia. May the Bulb shine on you.” She speaks with narrowed eyes, disapproval clear in her nearly curled lip. 

“I am Lord Calroy Cruller, Candia’s Head of State. Please be seated, refreshments will be here soon.” He introduces, scanning the room and quickly cataloguing the various attendants and nobility. Unsurprisingly there were quite a few Bulbian ministers as well as Imperial representatives, who all took seats on the west side of the table while the Candian court took the east. Liam sat at the head of the table, glancing at the empty seat. Calroy quickly took it with a reassuring smile. 

“I am Duchess Ariana Amaretto, an ambassador and councilwoman of the Concord. May I begin with my deepest condolences for your loss, your highness, for both your kin and country.”

“Thank you,” Liam musters out, clearing his throat loudly. “Forgive my forwardness - my country is at war and I am trying to fix that. Are you here to fight us?”

Calroy bites his cheek as the duchess blinks in shock, before quickly regaining her composure.

“No, your highness. Much bloodshed was required to build the peace of the Concord, and none of us wish to endure such war again. The Imperial Court only wishes for peace, however that can be achieved.”

“An entire castle is in ruins not even three fortnights away. That’s not bloodshed?”

Pontifex Brassica turns to face the young king with a steely glare. 

“Your Highness. Duke Joren Jawbreaker was in open rebellion of the Concord and the Bulb itself. He made no effort to hide that or recount. He even sacrificed you, his rightful heir, to skirt the law and indulge in violence and sin. The Bulb is merciful but it demands penance all the same - be grateful it is not as ravenous as the Hungry One, and is satisfied with Castle Manylicks alone.”

Calroy can hear his teeth grind and subtly slides his foot to meet Liam’s, a silent show of support. 

“Are we to take it that no further penance is required for the… incidents of the past, Your Holiness?” He speaks up, taking the attention off Liam. 

There are a thousand shades of malice and consideration in her dark eyes. “Candia is a bright land, blessed by the Bulb as any other. Should it remain that way, led in light and scripture, all will be forgiven.”

His mind echoes with cruel laughter at her lies. She would try to tear them apart, he knows, but if the farce is maintained she would not come by it easily.

“We are more than willing to accept Candia back into the Concord, provided its ruler swears to abide it wholeheartedly,” Duchess Amaretto begins, “That being said… This oath must be binding, and Liam Wilhelmina is not yet of his eighteenth saints day, not for two years I believe. That is too long a time to leave Candia exiled.”

“We have no other left in the line of succession, no cousin or distant relative of Rocks blood. We have the tome to prove as such, if you wish. What would you suggest?”

“Candia has been led astray before. We have no interest in allowing that to happen again by letting a mere child rule, heir or not.” 

“And yet we cannot be ungoverned. You’ve made that clear.” Duchess Meringue says flatly, fingers lacing together. 

“The only precedent we can rely on is perhaps other nations of Calorum. They may not be an exact match, but they could guide our paths,” a bishop suggests, dry green face furrowed in concentration. “Vegetania was without a king once, in the years before the Ravening War. Before an heir could be produced and raised, the Court deliberated to rule in unison - a rather unorthodox method, but effective nonetheless.” 

“Rule by committee? Forgive me, Archbishop, but we are not Cerisans. We need a unified front, especially after such chaos - if we are led in all different directions, our citizens may as well be drawn and quartered!” Baron Waferwood exclaimed. 

Calroy hummed lowly as conversation began to devolve, comments and quips thrown about the table with no real direction. All the while he could feel the Pontifex’s gaze, glancing to see her raised brow. 

No time like the present it seemed. 

“We are in agreement that Liam Wilhemina should take the throne when he is ready, yes?” He calls out, drawing the attention back. Various noises of assent follow. “And we cannot wait for him in the meantime. Somehow he must rule, but he must be guided while doing so to prevent any more mishaps. Yes?”

“Who would guide him?” Duchess Amaretto asks, faint accusation in her tone. 

“I was going to suggest the Duchess Caramelinda. Her experience in ruling Candia is invaluable, she is an experienced leader of House Meringue and will be able to pass on her teachings, not to mention she has already raised two royal children. Legitimate or not they were Princesses of Candia and had been raised as such.”

“And allow her to rule in faux power once again? Excuse my suspicions but this seems awfully familiar,” Countess Buckeye sneered, the envy in her eyes clear but her point was no less true.

Voices rise once more and overlap until it blends into a meaningless hum. To his side Liam blinks quickly and Donetta calmly sips at her cola. 

It’s the Pontifex who cuts through the arguments once more. 

“Liam Wilhelmina is not just inexperienced but he is unguided in every sense. He has no earthy parents remaining - to expect him to grow into adulthood, much less kinghood, without such guidance is foolish. I suggest that if he is to be aided in the years to come he will need parents to show him the true path of the Bulb, not just an advisor.” 

It’s easy to let his head turn to Donetta, finding her gaze across the wide table. Her face softens and both hands grip the cup of cola in a semblance of prayer. Unmistakably the conversation quiets, and they both look away. It was no secret who had been caring for the boy since the Sucrosi Road, who saved him in Calorum, who got him across the vast milky sea and back to his homeland. His ears burn with murmurs of Donetta’s name and he suppresses a grin. 

“If he were adopted, under the light of the bulb? Given new parents to guide him, in all endeavors?” His wife asks, seeming to hesitate. 

There’s a quiet hush and the Pontifex nods.

“Liam Wilhemina. Are there any here you would find suitable?”

Liam swallows, mind no doubt warring at the thought of replacing Speria Mentha and Joren. 

But truth be told… who had comforted the boy? Raised him? Seventh in line, a litany of ‘parents’ and yet he was sent off to strangers at a moments notice. 

Calroy had little doubts.

“Donetta and Calroy have looked after me ever since Comida. Cal protected me with his life, Donetta too. I think it should be them.” He answers, staring at the table rather than the Pontifex.

“The lowly Cruller looking to come out on top once more,” Lord Paz scoffs under his breath. 

“He is the Head of State, the only one left with enough experience to actually help me! He is a good man, and I trust him, whether you like it or not.” Liam snaps, face hardening and glaring at the Lord. It echoes with power and command and no one dares speak against it, all eyes on the King. 

“Very well then. The Bulb above will bless this new royal family, and Candia along with it.” The Pontifex declares, rising to her feet. 

Duchess Amaretto rises with her and the room follows suit, and though the guards step forward they allow her to shake Liam’s hand. 

“Bulbs blessings to you, Liam Wilhelmina. And to your new family.” She bows to the three and smiles. “I’m glad we could find a peaceful resolution, and so swiftly. Have you a space to perform these baptisms?”

“Yes, they were prepared in case of any formal coronations - should we go there now?” He asks, glancing at Cal. 

“Better to strike while the irons hot, before minds can be changed,” he agrees. “Lunch will be ready when we return.” 

“Excellent. Lead the way, Your Highnesses.” 

Chapter Text

Amethar feels the weight of Payment Day on his back as they trudge up the mountain pass. It hadn’t been this heavy in years, not since it cleaved apart those last few soldiers before the ceasefire. 

It was still so cold. What little light should have filled the cavern was blocked by thick clouds, too dense to be anything but magical. 

His musings of the war being him back to those days so long ago, the smell of blood and syrup thick in the air. But even in his nightmares the smell wasn’t so strong, why could he-

“Pops!” Jet cries, bolting ahead and pulling him from the reverie. It comes to him all at once as she kneels, Flickerish glowing in her hands. 

Sticky sweet blood spattered across the cave walls and a Jawbreaker soldier butchered on the floor. 

His feet are stuck, stuck to the floor, eyes scanning the space for answers he can’t understand. Theo shoves past him with Swirlwarden braced, ready for impact, Ruby crowds against his back and draws an arrow with Sourscratch. 

“No,” he whispers, not feeling the word as it falls. “No, no NO!”

Payment Day weighs a thousand pounds, shoving him forward as he stumbles past the body, wide eyes following the trail of bodies in familiar armor. 

“Amethar. Amethar, stop, HALT!” Theo’s voice comes late to his ears and he comes back to himself, held in place by his knights blockade. “We cannot advance! We have no idea the scope, we could be walking to our deaths! We must wait!” Sir Theobald orders, and finally he stops, breath shuddering into his lungs and he returns to his own body. 

“Pops?” Ruby murmurs, back still against him, and as he glances back he sees her arm shaking with the weight of drawing her bow. All at once he has to decide, to be a General or a Father, how to keep them all alive when the world falls out from under him. 

Sir Theobald stands with the same rigidity he’d held for the past thirty years and for once doesn’t look out of place. 

“Weapons down. The glow will give us away, we’ve been loud enough already. Good flanking Ruby; Jet, hold the flank as well.”

“But I can-“

“That wasn’t a request, it was an order! As will everything I say next be!” He barks, hating himself as she flinches. “Hold the flank. Ruby will need to cast, and she can’t watch the flank if she’s watching ahead, so you need to watch for her. Keep her moving, use twin speak for her but Candian for us so we aren’t confused about who you’re talking to. Sir Theobald you take point. Get us as close to the mouth as you can before we lose cover. Anyone rushes you, shove them to the left and leave them to me. Questions?”

“Invisibility or Yak?”

“Both. I’m not taking any chances on him being spotted, so make him invisible before you send him out - will you have enough spells left to cast anything more?”

“Yes, what do you need?”

“We’ll see. Get ready for anything, call out what you see and I’ll give more orders from there.” 

Together they form ranks and begin to march forwards, until they lay at the mouth of the cave, protected by a stray outcrop of rock. He can hear as Yak flies past his ear, soaring into the open. 

“More dead. Candian and… Cerisan. They have Senator Ciabattas banner. There’s a lot of them.”

“Dozen? Hundred?”

“A thousand Candians. The main fight was just outside the castle walls. Village has been burned, and-“ Ruby gasps, going still, before whispering once more. “There’s light in the castle. Only a little, like a campfire.” 

“They’ve taken the castle and destroyed the rest.” Theobald murmurs. 

“Any hostages anywhere? They would be obvious, meant to provoke us,”

“No. Not that I can see. Everyone outside is dead, not even guards. They must all be inside. Should I fly in?”

Theobald glances to him, questioning, and he nods once. 

“Carefully. Quiet as you can, stay out of hearing range if possible. Look for numbers, Ciabatta, and Joren.” 

Wind howls through the cavern as Ruby searches, hearts pounding in each of their chests. He hears a sniffle and winces, knowing both of his daughters are crying. 

“I need-“ Ruby rises suddenly to her feet, staggering backwards until she hunched over and began to vomit. Jet glanced at him once before rushing to stand beside her, rubbing her back and helping her to her knees. It was a while before she made her way back over, pale but furious. 

“They put his head on a pike in the throne room. Everyone else was burned.” She croaks out, breathing heavily. 

That would do it. 

“How many? Still a full companies worth?”

She shakes her head. “Maybe a hundred or so? There must have been more, but I can’t find them. I don’t know this castle well, they could be hiding, but I’m not sure. No one seemed in much of a rush.” 

“They wouldn’t be. These bodies aren’t fresh, and they took what they wanted, there’s nothing else to rush for. They think there’s no one left to fight them.”

Jet sits beside her sister, their delicate fingers interlaced tightly. There were blisters now, raw and painful but eventually they would help. Whether a sword or a bow those delicate fingers would become scarred and rough. 

Theobald adjusts his grip on the Battlepop and begins to whisper. “A hundred soldiers is too much to take alone. Even with our magic it would be an avalanche, is there anything we need to retrieve before-“

All at once their heads snap to attention as rocks clatter to the floor further in the cave. A panicked gasp reaches his ears and before Amethar can pinpoint the sound Ruby’s pulling back an arrow and loosing it. 

Her glimmering feathers reveal a crevice they hadn’t seen, and as he and Ruby approach they find a chocolate woman pinned to the stone. Amethar scans her quickly and notes the messily healed scars across her face and the glave in her hand. 

“Try to move and my arrow will rip you to pieces.” Ruby calls out, drawn back for another shot. “Come out!”

They hear a pained hiss, no doubt trying to fight her magic, until two figures bleed from the shadows, the third still pinned. Each holds a weapon covered in blood, patchwork armor stained with gore.

Amethar stands slowly, unsheathing Payment Day and beginning to radiate with heat, only seconds away from exploding into rage.

“I will give you one chance to answer me truthfully. I am Amethar Rocks, cousin to House Jawbreaker - did you kill my family?”

“Oh, gonna cut us down big guy?” The smallest crows, twitching and giggling, but Amethar only grips his sword tighter, a strange magic hum coming from the blade. 

It’s a special sword. Rococo and Lazuli worked on it together, forged it with metal and magic, giving it the power to kill anyone who would dare touch his family. 

He never thought he’d need this power. But Lazuli had known better. 

A great tall man, horns framing his face and mace braced on the stone floor speaks up. 

“We did not kill the Jawbreakers, nor anyone in the villages.”

“Well, not the Candians at least,” the tiny gingerbread man chimes in. 

“What happened here?” Jet asks, standing with Flickerish poised to strike. 

“Cerisans. They came up the pass, this pass, and took the village. Started burning it house by house until the Duke came out to fight, and he lost. No one was left after that. Not a single one.” The figure pinned to the wall speaks.

“And yet you’re here? Why? Why did you get to live and not them?”

“Because we were protected by our Queen. Cerisa couldn’t touch us if they brought their whole country up these mountains.” 

“Speria… protected you?”

“Aw, look at him, he’s so clueless it’s almost cute!” 

“Keep it up, gingerbread, and I’ll carve off your buttons!” Jet snarls, and the melted woman barks at the man. 

“Swifty! Knock it off. Look, none of us are exactly friendly but our enemies are out there, not in here! And if we stay here chatting for much longer things are going to go sideways - get me off this damn wall and I’ll show you how we survived. Peacefully.” 

Ruby doesn’t relax but Jet looks to her father, glancing at his sword which has lost its dangerous hum. Theobald stares at the group with caution but no hostility. 

“Alright.” He says flatly, and Ruby relaxes. Jet stays by her side as she walks over to the woman, inspecting the arrow. 

“Hold still. This won’t be fun.” 

Her hands shimmer slightly as she grips the arrow, yanking it out quickly, but the tether disappears and doesn’t tear her apart. 

“Neat trick,” She gasps, hand pressing against the wound. 

“Sorry. Can’t be to careful,” Jet says. “So who are you?”

“I’m Gooey, that’s Jon Bon, and our friend here is Swifty. We’re Marauders, followers of the Witchqueen and enemies of the Bulb. You are the royal family? Former?”

“Former. I guess never. Me and Ruby are bastards now, but I think Theo is still a knight. He outranks all of us technically,” Ruby affirms.

All at once the three rogue Candians stare at each other with strange looks on their faces, and Gooey’s good eye seems to wince. 

“And the rest of the Rocks family?”

It’s not the strangest question, but the way she asks it makes Amethar focus. 

“Caramelinda is at Castle Candy, but she isn’t- we aren’t… married. Everyone else is dead now.” 

Her face clears into what looks like relief and his confusion grows. 

“Well. You need somewhere to hide, and we need to get out of these caves before the Cerisans start sniffing around. There are more of us, and if you’re looking to repay blood with blood, we may just be able to help.” 

“At what cost?” Theobald asks beside him with a narrowed gaze. 

“None, for now. We are soldiers, should she accept you, the Queen will decide what to do with you.” JonBon speaks up, deep voice resonating with authority. Amethar watches as Ruby and Jet look to each other, speaking without words until they glance at him. There’s apprehension, sure, but not fear. Not the dead-eyed hollowness he anticipated. 

“Alright. Lead the way.” 

Gooey nods once and gives a tight smile, looking down at her injured shoulder and then to JonBon. He reaches into his armor and pulls out what looks like parchment, followed by a stick of charcoal. She takes both and using her good arm begins to scrawl out shaky words. 

“Say, d’you ever fu-“ Swifty begins, but with a quick whack from JonBon’s hand he turns and begins to scream at him instead. “I’ll fucking kill you! Do it again! I’ll stab you, giant freak! What! What! Wh-“

“Swifty! Gods, I can’t do this today. Take this and go give it to the Queen - and only the Queen. Make sure she reads it and has a healer ready. I don’t feel like ruining my shirt today.” 

“You’re lucky, you sick freak, or I’d’ve taken your knees! BYE!” 

In a flash the paper and gingerbread man are gone, leaving the Rocks to blink in confusion. 

“Sorry. He’s a lot. Follow us.” 

~

Ruby takes to humming lowly as they trek through the hidden path and Jet strains her ears to pick up the notes. 

‘Trap? Paid off? Traitors?’

Jet glances to Pops who’s gone glassy eyed, then Theo who seems to twitch every few minutes.

‘Don’t think so. Jewelry.’ With a jerk of her chin she gestures to the litany of Bulbian prayer beads on their belts. ‘Smell magic?’

Ruby narrows her eyes at her but Jet looks away and whistles innocently. Slyly Ruby sniffs and pretends to wipe her nose. 

‘They stink. But not them, just on them.’

Jet clears her throat and murmurs in Fructerano, “Maybe your new title should be Bloodhound,” 

Ruby’s elbow thuds into her ribs and she snorts unconsciously but doesn’t hit back. 

‘Rude. Rude scoundrel with big head.’

‘Dork magic nerd. Theo keeps twitching.’

‘Hasn’t slept, even on watch.’

‘New mission. Besides survive. Put Theo to sleep.’

‘I can make him, if I sleep too. But after.’

Jet nods subtly and without thinking reaches out, pinkie extended. Without looking Ruby intertwines her own pinkie and they walk a little steadier. 

The passage gradually grows smoother as they walk, tunnels converging on this one path until the stone beneath them looks near polished from its constant use. Whoever these people are they’ve been here far longer than Jet thought. Her free hand reaches forward and taps Theo’s armor twice, quiet but noticeable. It isn’t long before his voice echoes in her ears.

‘Yes, Jet?’

‘If there’s been another Queen up here, what does that make me?’

She can feel his hesitance. The way silence fills the bridge in their minds. 

‘We don’t know what they truly are. Perhaps they are just beloved, a protector with no real claim,’

‘But if not? If…’ 

Jet doesn’t mean to but she looks at Pops and remembers the damming words of the Pontifex. 

‘Your father loves you. Your mother.’

‘I know. But I think he loves someone else too.’

It wasn’t the first time she’d thought it. How her pops looked at Mom, not with the dopey expression of affection but only gentle care. How they didn’t hold hands or cuddle or even kiss most days. She knew his goofy, lovesick smile, and it was never pointed at Mom. 

Jet thinks of Cal and his fancy pants and the way Pops used to stare when nobody was looking. She thinks of how Cal used to stare back, how his face would soften like he was melting just a little. 

Despite how it broke their little family and the mess it had brought, Jet isn’t shocked that Pops loved someone besides Mom. He always had, she just didn’t think it was anyone other than Calroy. 

Maybe Pops just had a heart too big for his chest. 

‘You’re thinking too hard,’ Ruby sings beside her. 

“Maybe a little,” 

While her brain wishes nothing more than to tumble down the rabbit hole of everything that had happened their little path had morphed into a cavern with light and sound steadily increasing. Soon they entered what looked like a formal entryway, guards with makeshift armor and Candian faces lining the walls while torches throw shadows every which way. Their eyes are drawn to the center of the room, raised high on a natural outcrop of rock and mounted with a throne made of an intricately carved ice. 

Theobald tenses in front of them and Jet looks over as his shield suddenly brightens, shining with swirling purple light. 

“Theo?” Ruby mutters, and the link between Jet’s and Theo’s mind reactivates. 

‘There’s another Rocks here. My shield attunes to the family, it’s how I protect you. Whoever is here, they are… they are real.’

Jet can’t seem to make the words leave her lips, not even in their secret song, only able to crush Ruby’s fingers in her own as she tries to fight back the bitter rush of betrayal. It shouldn’t feel like this. She never wanted the throne, not really, she wanted her own life in Dulcington with no responsibility and all the freedom she craved! So why did this hurt so much? To know the throne was never hers to begin with, that the life she’d lived so long was a lie. Pops seems stiff as a statue as clanks ring out, surrounding them all, louder and louder until the melted woman stands beside the throne and calls out. 

“All hail! Her Majesty, Queen Saccharina of House Frostwhip, First of Her Name, Sovereign Ruler of Candia and the Sugarlands, Witchqueen of the Dairy Sea, and High Priestess of the Sweetening Path! Archmage of Lost Sucrosia and Enemy of the Faith!” The stone beneath them seems to shake as shields and swords slam into the ground. “The Sundae Sorceress and Storm Captain of the Frosted Fleet!” 

Jet couldn’t feel magic like her sister but the rush of power is unmistakable, winds of sharp mint and sweet cherry whipping around them as a figure appears with crackles of lightning. On her chest the locket burns with the same betrayal and bitterness that soured her stomach, and though she’s captivated by the strange sorcery in front of them Jet turns away, burying her face in Ruby’s shoulder. A whisper of familiar magic rushes over them and Jet knows they’re hidden from sight. 

“Girls, please, I didn’t-“

“Liar,” Ruby seethes, pulling them back half a step as Amethar reaches blindly for them. Jet doesn’t see his flinch but knows it all the same. 

“Amethar. Give them time. We have other matters to attend,” Theobald whispers and Jet hates him just a little. She’s tried for so long, all these days of running and fighting, to be strong like her father but now her strength crumbles into bitterness. They weren't just bastards, their family was gone, butchered in their own castle. Liam could be dead and no one would be left to carry the Jawbreaker banner. A stranger was all that was left to rule Candia, if it even survived. The Pontifex had banished them and Cerisa had killed them - who would save them now? Without an Emperor on their side or even the damned Bulb, who was left?

All her sweetness drains away and she doesn’t care, not about any of it, and even as the Queen (half-sister, thief, heir, everything she’d never be) approaches Jet closes her eyes and runs away to the dark corners of her mind. 

Chapter Text

Blood fills his mouth as Liam is brought to a dais in the chapel. Calroy and Donetta wait for him but his eyes are on the Pontifex, her gleaming eyes filling his mind with rage and hate.

‘ Careful, Wilhelmina. Your position is fragile… fight and the glass will shatter beneath you. ’

He has no doubt it’s her words that fill his ears. He grabs hold of the tether before it can slip away and her mouth twitches.

‘I do this only to protect my people. If you threaten them again I will feed you to the Hungry One in pieces.’

Where satisfaction had softened her face fear quickly sharpens it. He may bite his tongue clean through to keep silent but the game of cat and mouse was over. Either she allowed them peace or she would burn with the rest of them.

Even as bulblight fills the chapel Liam feels shadows cling to his heels, darkening each corner as they drew closer. He’d felt it before in the crows nest of the Colby, the gloom of his hatred and grief giving him an advantage in the darkness. But Calroy was looking at him warily, and Donetta stared at his feet pointedly. His jaw clenched tighter, the blood swelled in his mouth, but each shadow receded to its normal place.

Time passes in fits as he bites and bites and bites to keep the shadows from rising again. Oil coats his hair and the room grows brighter, warmer, gasps ringing out. He doesn’t look, can’t bear to, but Donetta squeezes his shoulder tightly.

“It’s time to stand and recite your vows, Liam,” she whispers to him. He swallows the blood and tries to bury the nerves. When his eyes open the crowd of the court and dignitaries seems wide eyed, many whispering lowly while the clergy mutters off to the side. Was the light visible to them too? Had he been blessed by the very Bulb that had taken everything from him?

“Liam of House Cruller,” the Pontifex begins and at once his heart clenches. Not even his name remained now. Nothing was left of House Jawbreaker. “Do you swear to swear to obey the commandments of the Concord? The commandments of the Holy Bulb itself?”

His throat burns. “I swear.”

“Do you swear to lead your people faithfully, in light and in peace?”

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to honor the laws of Candia as they have been written? Do you swear to uphold justice in this blessed kingdom?”

“I swear.”

With each affirmation the fog lifts from his mind. His shoulders feel wet and it’s only when Calroy and Donetta stand that he realizes they had been drenched in oil as well, their hands letting it soak into his coat. They had already made their vows, yet he had no clue what any of them were. Maybe one day he would look it up.

“Liam of House Cruller. I name you the Blessed Prince of Candia.”

It burns and curdles his stomach but he rises, and like they had shown him he kneels to Calroy and Donetta. The Pontifex turns to them next and now that the link is made they can ascend. The ethereal light from the windows does not brighten for them, but it doesn’t dim either.

Calroy is crowned first, echoing his vows, and Donetta follows after. They don’t stumble or hesitate or even blink through the whole thing. When they’re both finished Calroy steps forward and places a golden circlet on his head, and finally he stands.

Amaretto approaches and bows at the waist to them.

“May you all guide your people as the Bulb guides you. Long live the King. Long live the Queen. And Long live the Prince of Candia.”

Over and over his people repeat it, filling the silent chamber with noise.

“People of Candia, your new Royal Court!” Amaretto announces cheerfully. The room swells with cheers and shouts of praise, and not long after the bells that had welcomed him to the castle ring once more.

Each toll rings into his bones. There’s a look of resignation in the Pontifex’s eyes and it’s that grimace that finally lets him breathe. It’s done. He’s been blessed, adopted, cleansed of sin. She can’t touch him. She can’t touch his family.

I’ll get you one day. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day I’ll be the last thing you see , he swears in his mind.

It’s the only bitter promise he can make.

~

A knight he doesn’t remember the name of stands in front of them as Liam vomits on the floor. Cola and blood will surely stain the carpet but Donetta tells him not to worry, rubbing his back over and over. Calroy is distracting the crowds to give them time, but Liam doubts it will be enough.

“Small breaths, dear, small breaths. You did so well, Liam, it’s almost over. I promise. One more appearance and you can go into seclusion for as long as you like,”

He tries to reply, to say anything, but only succeeds in vomiting again.

“Shall I fetch a miracle worker, Your Majesty?”

“No, Sir Malliard, but thank you. This isn’t poison or plague, merely grief.”

“Understood your Majesty. I’ll inform the servants to bring ginger ale, if that’s acceptable?”

“Wonderful. Come now, dear, to your feet. No- no, we aren’t going yet, just getting you away from the smell.”

“Sorry,” he moans, trying to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He knocks the circlet off and he can’t help but flinch when it falls.

“M’sorry, mom, I-“

“Liam. Everything is all right. This is expected, dear. You’ve had I’d say the worst month of your life, and here we are expecting you to smile and wave at parties,” she smiles sadly at him. Her deft fingers replace the circlet on his head and smooth his brow. It takes him two minutes to realize she’s breathing loud and slow, making him mimic unconsciously until his nerves settled. It’s then the knight returns with a chalice.

“Cool ginger ale with some crushed mint leaves. Always helped me before tournaments.” She assured, handing it over. He didn’t expect much but the sour taste finally faded and it wasn’t so hard to stand. With a few more sips his stomach finally stopped trying to crawl up his throat.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

“If I wait I’ll just get worse,” he admits, brushing shaking hands down his jacket. “I can do it. If I start to flounder can you make something up for me?”

“Already handled, darling. Our friend Sir Maillard here is planning on politely ordering the guests to leave so we may perform ‘sacred Candian rites of ascension’. Don’t worry, usually that means the royal family gets so drunk they can’t stand, but no one will notice if you’re in your room instead.”

“Thank the bulb,” he breathes.

“I figured. Come on now. Once more into the fray. Let’s go see what your father is up to.”

~

As the others mill about the throne room, a modicum of relaxation finally in the air, a bishop slides next to Calroy.

“She is displeased. You know this.”

“Unless she’s going to kill me here and now, I can’t say I really care.”

“You made things harder for all of us.”

He shrugs and sips at the cola.

“She lost a great deal to your little stunt. Put yourself on top and stole what you promised her.”

“I gave her an entire castlesworth, more. I gave her an oathbreaker and more heretics than she could ever dream of. Yes, I truly took so much.” He sneered quietly.

The bishop hummed and tipped his head in concession.

“Speaking of… his body still hasn’t been found. Awfully long wouldn’t you say?”

The glass in hand cracks.

“How… unfortunate.”

The bishop can see the rage in his eyes and knows he wasn’t behind the failed kings escape.

“The soldier will march home eventually. It’s only a matter of time. He’s of no real threat now - should we find him first, rest assured it will be taken care of.”

“And if I do?”

“Do what you wish. She has grown tired of this chaos - besides, she has a new toy to play with. Cabbage has finally gone to be with the Bulb.”

“Long live the King,” Calroy murmurs, and leaves the bishop to mingle further.

Amethar the Unfallen indeed. Everyone else torn apart as easy as the papers their fates were sealed on, and yet… If he isn’t here, there’s only one other place he would run too. With his speed, even if the bastard daughters followed, he would be reaching the ruins about now.

Just another loose thread to tie closed. Either he’d be slaughtered like his Uncle up in the mountains, or Calroy would need to convince his old friend once more.

After all - how many people knew of the secret tunnels through the mountains?

Another sip, another easy smile to a servant.

“You seem stressed,” Donetta murmurs in his ear, hugging his side lightly. His face softens and he kisses her knuckles.

“Just thinking of my next move in our game of chess,”

“Already? And here I thought you’d planned ahead,”

“It never hurts to be prepared,” he counters, kissing her cheek.

“Let me guess. Our little problem?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” he chuckled and Donetta rolled her eyes.

“Who else could it be?”

“King Cabbage, Bulb rest his soul, has passed.”

“And yet here you are, sulking instead of dancing with me,” she purred, taking his hand and relentlessly tugging him towards the middle of the room. With her mischievous smile he couldn’t help but follow, foisting the cola goblet on a passing servant.

Donetta kept his hand in her own and bowed gracefully.

“I wouldn’t suppose anyone had any musicians today?” He called out, glancing around the room. All at once Tart Guard scrambled together and seemed to pull instruments from thin air or under tables. Cheerful, if a little rough, music began to fill the room and the suffocating energy fades with hoops and hollers of joy. He bowed to his wife, his Queen, and slowly began to dance.

A familiar whistle caught his ear and he threw a smile to his new son who stood beaming beside the throne, waving and whooping as he twirled his wife.

All the while their steps flowed with the beat but spoke a language of its own. All sorts of gossip and scandal happened at balls and galas, and the Crullers were no strangers to conspiracy under the guise of normalcy.

He led her in what was nearly a waltz, each step calculated and measured. She pulled back and fell into him, in turn he dipped her deeply before pulling her up into an embrace.

Enemy approach.

Reposition required?

Hold position.

Friend or Foe?

Unknown. Hold position.

She kisses his cheek, brushing hands down his left shoulder. Acknowledged .

Courtesans began to fill the floor around them and he bowed to Donetta a final time, guiding her to Liam and offering a hand.

“Care for a dance, Your Highness?”

“I’m not really good at dancing,” he says and Donetta tuts, taking his hand.

“That’s why I’m teaching you. Come on, follow my feet,” she encourages, and soon enough they vanished into the crowd.

Another quickly took space at his side.

“Anything further, Your Majesty?” Maillard muttered.

“We may have an uninvited guest. Be sure to keep an eye out - if they do return, bring them to me.”

“Will they come willingly?” She asks, a little warily. He can’t blame her.

“Only time will tell. But keep it quiet nonetheless.”