Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Favour Tree’s branches reached upwards towards the stars. The small town nearby was fast asleep, true to its name, he supposed. ‘Dormont.’

The villagers didn't know just how accurate that name would soon be. 

Siffrin craned his neck to look up alongside the tree. The stars twinkled far away. He still doesn't know what he was trying to find in them. It felt like a taunt. Sometimes he thought that they stared back. Waiting. Laughing. Expecting. 

“Come forward, Bright One.” A deep voice commanded, pulling them out of their head.

A request from their King. Or was it an order? 

They obliged either way, heeled boots sinking into the soft soil. They hurried up beside the King, careful not to step on his tangled strands of hair. It would not have mattered- his hair had already snagged on every root and weed buried in the dirt. Siffrin didn't understand how he could stand the sensation. 

“This should be the last wish we'll need. Only Dormont has yet to be preserved.” The King hummed. Metal armor screeched as The King stared down at him. “Bright one. Will you do the honours?” 

Another request. Or another order? 

Siffrin nodded, and stepped under the canopy. Dormont’s Favour Tree was magnificent for such a small town. A magnificence that will be saved by their King. 

He picked a leaf off the branches. It had three points, shaped perfectly like a memory he once had. A memory he’s stuck chasing. He put the thought aside, cupping the leaf in his hand, bringing it to his mouth. 

They knew what to wish for. The King told them his request. 

…Or his order? 

Siffrin frowned. He didn't know what was up with him today. A request and an order were the same thing. It was his King telling him to do something, and him gladly obeying. 

They sighed, the exhale carrying a wish on their breath. 

“Save Vaugarde. 

Save Vaugarde. 

Save Vaugarde.”

That's why he and his King were here, afterall. Saving the country in amber, preserving its people in perfection. Never letting it feel the horrors that he’d gone through. 

A wonderful wish. 

They would save Vaugarde. It was their request to the Universe. 

And it was their King's order. 

__________________________

All in all, world domination was a lot easier than people made it out to be.

All you needed was some well placed words, well made wishes, and a whole lot of determination. Siffrin barely needed to lift their dagger- yet here they stood as the right hand at the head of the world. 

The Housemaidens had screamed when his King's blessing caught them. Siffrin wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel bad, their horrified looks reflected in his dagger’s edge and etched into his mind. 

Siffrin felt worse, however, when he let one get away. 

It was their own fault. They were too focused on the Head Housemaiden to notice the mousey little mademoiselle besides her. Too focused to see the Head Housemaiden’s blessing wash over the mademoiselle’s body, blanketing her in a soft light, blanketed in a ward to the King’s own blessing. Too focused on freezing the Head, keeping her away from destroying what they had worked so hard to achieve. 

The Housemaidens had screamed when his blessing caught them. It’s what turned Siffrin’s head over, made him watch as their eyes glazed over, captured perfectly in time. The mademoiselle didn’t scream, as the King’s blessing never caught her. It was pure chance that they even looked in her direction at all, with how quiet she was. They expected horror reflected in the edges of their blade. 

What he didn’t expect was the look in her eye. She was scared, sure, but there was something more palpable in her expression. 

Anger. 

If looks could kill, Siffrin would be six under from the vitriol in her gaze. He only caught it for a moment, before she’d gathered the hem of her skirt and ran for the exit. He only needed the moment before it was etched into his mind along with the others.

They knew with certainty that it would not be the last time they saw her, then. They knew then, knew more clearly than they knew anything else, that the mademoiselle, that the Housemaiden who got away, would be back one day. Knew that this all would either end with their dagger in her chest or with a rapier in their throat. 

Siffrin frowned. They were the same thing, really. 

Despite it all, Siffrin would still much prefer to be speared on the Housemaiden’s blade then have to tell the King again that she'd gotten away. Furious would be an understatement for what he was when Siffrin had told him. 

Siffrin didn't know that you were still able to be grounded at 26 years old, but he was apparently mistaken. 

The room that they'd been given was remarkably spacious, all things considered- but even the biggest rooms feel cramped once you've been stuck in them long enough. It was a dorm on the third floor, with one half sweeped to perfection, decorated with flowers and cute little stickers… while the other looked like a science experiment gone wrong. He’d taken the cleaner half, busying himself with the dozens of surprisingly visceral horror books lining the bookshelves. 

‘Grounded,’ in all fairness, was not the right word for their current situation. Put on hold, maybe? Temporarily suspended from duty, perhaps? 

Punished?

…Well. That went without saying. 

He sighed. It was eternally cold in the House now. The glassy surface of the King's blessing felt like ice to the touch, robbing the already itchy blankets from much of their warmth. He shivered, placing the book back down. His King would return soon, and would tell him off for being so bad at his job, and then Siffrin would be un-grounded and free to roam the House again… Hopefully.

On cue, there was a knock on his door.

Peeling off the frozen blankets, Siffrin strode over to the door. His fingers hesitated over the handle. 

There was another knock. 

They were smart enough to recognize a request when it was given. Slowly, they opened the door. 

It was a bit funny, in all honesty, seeing the hulking frame of their King beyond the tiny door frame. They leaned against the frame, raising a brow, “You got a warrant?” They said.

Some might call it poking a wasp’s nest, they preferred to call it ‘testing the waters.’

The King was, expectedly, unamused, but it didn't seem to make him any more upset, which meant he was in a good mood today. 

“Bright One.” The King’s voice echoed, vibrating through their chest. 

“Yeah, boss? I was busy checking out that cool room. I've been checking it out for like, a month, actually.”

The King grumbled, continuing as if they hadn't spoken at all, “The saviours will be arriving. Ooohhh… can feel their rot crawl closer….” His groans morphed into sobs, “Ooohhh… They want to destroy it, Bright One. Destroy what little we have left.”

Siffrin smirked, a smug look on their face “Soooo. Since you need someone to go get them… my punishment is lifted, then?”

The giant leaned down to meet him face to face. Siffrin's breath hitched, a distinct notion that they might've pushed his luck hitting them. The King breathed out, hot breath crawling down their throat,

“Sifrrin.”

Oh, so he’s SUPER pushed his luck. Okay.

“The saviours come closer.” The King grabbed the collar of their cape with a single finger, tugging them towards his face. “Your punishment is not lifted. Rather, its conditions have changed. You are to hunt the saviours. You are to keep them from reaching my throne. Keep them from destroying our beautiful eternity.” 

He pulled harder at their collar. “And this time… do not let them go.”

They were smart enough to recognize an order when it was given.

His tugging was nearly choking them. Strangled, Siffrin nodded hurriedly, “O-of course, your majesty.” The King, mercifully, let them go. Siffrin gasped for air, breathing in and out in and out…  

They risked a glance back up to The King. It was difficult to tell through the curtains of bangs, but he seemed… guilty. The King stood to leave, needing to hunch over to avoid hitting his head on the House’s high ceilings. Before he left, The King turned to look down at him once more. 

“... Bright One. Understand, you are all I have left. All either of us have left. Vaugarde may not understand our means… but the end will justify it. That is why I am harsh on you. The ends justify the means- and in this case, that end is our eternity…” 

The King, gently, placed a finger underneath their chin and tilted their head up to face him. “I cannot lose this. Any of this. Including you, Siffrin… Remember, The Universe leads…”

“And we merely follow…” Siffrin finished, averting his eyes.

“The Universe is leading us to our perfect ending. No matter the means.” 

The King removed his hand. He began to walk away, metal boots clanging against the frozen floors. “Do not disappoint, Siffrin.” He finished, thumping down the rest of the hall, and turning the corner until he was out of sight. 

Siffrin swallowed hard. They turned on their heels back into their room, and started to haphazardly tear through the room, searching for what they needed. 

In the closet, alongside a dozen or so oddly familiar dresses frozen in time, he kept his armor and hat. He strapped on the thin chest plate, gauntlets, and greaves. They were lightless and shiny, matching his dagger. A gift from his King, fitted perfectly to his body- designed to be lightweight and quiet, but still protective. He smiled at the stars adorning the metal. Sure, The King could be a bit much… but at least he was thoughtful? 

They kept their hat tucked underneath their arm as they ducked into the bathroom. Various lipsticks and concealers adorned the porcelain sink, but they were more focused on the mirror. They had to look sharp in order to save the world, afterall. 

They grabbed a hair elastic from the sink’s counter, picking out a strand of dark, coiled, hair. Gross. They used the ‘borrowed’ elastic to pull their own hair into a low ponytail, lest it get in the way. The King told them to grow out their hair, something about ‘preserving what little they had left’ or something. Siffrin didn't really understand what was so important about their hair, but they didn't mind it long either way. 

He fixed his bangs, making sure they wouldn't get into his eyes. As a final touch, he pulled his hat over his head, smiling at the reflection. They adjusted the brim, casting a shadow over his two eyes. Spooky. Intimidating. Perfect. 

…Ah, no, not quite. 

Their cape had gotten all wonky from The King. They straightened it out reverently, hands gently brushing the fabric. The cloak was the few bits of home they still had, which is why they opted to modify it into a cape- both for ease of arm movement, and because capes are objectively cool.

With the final adjustments done, they pulled out their dagger, giving it a little flourish. Today they would save Vaugarde. 

No matter what. 

__________________________

Trekking through the House was tedious at best. The Sadnesses paid him no mind, thank the Stars, but it didn't make the long walk any shorter. The lightless hallways churned and morphed into each other, twisted and glassy and cold. He pulled his cape tighter around his shoulders, sighing with relief at the warmth it gave him. 

It took them longer than they'd like to admit to realize that they really just had to go in a straight line to get to the saviours. The strong Sadnesses didn't care about them either (though they did make some odd sounds as they rushed by) and The King at least had the foresight to unlock some doors for them. How thoughtful. 

His heels clicked in a steady staccato against the glass floors, humming softly under his breath. He pushed a frozen door open to reveal another unimpressive hallway. It looked like all the other hallways in that blinding castle, decorated only with his reflection on the floor and six broken pillars. He hurried on through the hall, content to pay it no mind, before muffled voices carried through the door. 

They froze. 

The voices got louder, closer. 

And then they smiled. 

Siffrin ducked behind a pillar just in time for the door to be thrown open. Risking a glance from their already feeble cover, their suspicions were proven correct. 

Pouring out of the door were four people- no, four saviours. A big, buff, and probably stupid fighter in front; a tall, wiry, and distinctly frail looking researcher following close behind, and… a child? All filtered into the hall. And nestled all the way at the back was her.  

She looked no different than when they had last met, save for a cleaner dress and less traumatized expression. The same big bow decorated her hair, the same religious jewelry hung over her shawl, and the same rapier bobbing at her hilt. The little mademoiselle, the Housemaiden who got away. The villain of Vauguarde’s story. 

“W-wait! Isa! I think I remember this hallway! It’s dangerous!” The Housemaiden stuttered, wringing her hands as she gave the room an uneasy glare. 

“Mira, there’s nothing here.” The Fighter responded, patting her on the back comfortingly. “I know you’re nervous, but there ain’t anything we can’t take at this point!” 

“No! Really! The other Housemaidens called this Death Corridor,” she warned, tugging at his long sleeves back towards the supposed safety of the room prior. 

“Mirabelle, really, we do not have time for this-” The old woman said, pinching her brow, “There is nothing here. We are fine.” 

Well, that was as good a cue line as any.

The King simply told him to ‘not let them go,’ he did not say that Siffrin couldn’t have a little fun with it. He was, afterall, an actor- and improv had always been his favourite. 

“But are you fine, really? It might be best to trust your maiden’s intuition. She’s rather clever, afterall.” They called from behind the pillar. After an appropriate number of gasps, they walked out from their cover and into the open, staring down the band of heroes. 

The Housemaiden drew her blade without hesitation, her hands shaking slightly. Siffrin would’ve thought they shook from anxiety if it weren’t for the look in her eyes- A burning and violent resentment flared in them. The same look she’d given them the day she got away. 

“You.” She sneered, lips curled in disgust. 

“It’s nice to meet you again, mademoiselle.” He took off his hat and bowed. He peered upwards, locking eyes with the Housemaiden, “I take it you haven’t forgotten me?”

Her brows narrowed, “How could I forget a monster like you.” She spat. 

Ouch. Harsh. 

They brandished their dagger, twirling it in their hand. “I certainly haven’t forgotten you. You got me in a lot of trouble.” They slowly stepped towards the group, a twisted sense of satisfaction filling them as the saviours took a step back in turn. Siffrin leaned against one of the broken pillars and smirked.  “I’ve heard a lot about you in the meantime. About how you’ve become…”

They tapped the pillar, “A real pillar of strength for Vaugaurde.” 

…

He was met with complete silence, and then, belatedly, a muffled snicker from the Fighter. 

“Tough crowd.” Siffrin said, lifting a brow.

“That was dumb. You’re dumb.” The Kid added, glaring at him with the unrestrained hatred that only a prepubescent could produce. 

“I agree. Too forced. It wasn’t even funny.” The Researcher said. 

“The beginning was really nice, very intimidating, but the pun did ruin the mood. A solid 7/10 though.'' The Fighter agreed, as if he wasn’t the one who laughed at Siffrin’s extremely funny joke. 

They cleared their throat, pushing themself away from the pillar. “Anyways - Little mademoiselle, I’ve been looking forward to our next mat-” 

“You’re calling me little?” The Housemaiden interrupted, eyes darting to his heeled boots, then to her flat shoes. 

The Kid snorted, “Hah! She's calling you short!!!!” 

Siffrin's eye twitched. “Anyways-” He coughed. Swiftly, he drew his dagger. He flicked the end around in a slow circle, before tightening his hold on the hilt. Pointing the tip towards them, he gave a lazy smile. 

“Say you last words now saviours-” they flourished their cape, dropping into another bow, “-Because soon your curtain will fall!” They spared another glance towards the Housemaiden, expecting her vengeful gaze in return.

… Instead, however, she was looking… above him?

There was a click. The sound of something opening. The Housemaiden seemed to have not yet processed whatever she was looking at. 

They got the answer to what exactly it was mere seconds later, when every bone in their body was crushed in an instant by a giant boulder. 

Sifrrin was almost disappointed, in the last few seconds before his brain was flattened into a bloody crêpe. He was pretty proud of that monologue, even if the pun wasn't a big hit. 

Their mind lost itself into oblivion that death brought

  They felt nothing for a moment

    Until they felt

      A tug on 

       Their

 stomach

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of their borrowed dorm stared back.

Chapter Text

There were waves. 

He could hear them push and pull against the tide. Feel them ebb and flow against his body.

In and out…

In…

… And out…

The sand was soft underneath them. The sun was warm above them. The air was pleasantly breezy around them. 

And they felt nothing inside them. 

No feelings. No thoughts. No wants. No need. It was just him and the waves and the shore and the sky, breathing in and out alongside the push and pull of the ocean.

They were tired.

That was a feeling, right? And the more they focused, the more they realized they had a splitting headache throbbing against their skull.

He flexed his fingers. He licked his salt chapped lips. He breathed in and out in time with the waves.

In…

… And out…

And he opened his eyes. And he looked around. And he sat there a moment, taking in the birdsong and ocean breeze. 

And they realized then that they did not remember their name.

__________________________

Siffrin stared at the ceiling as if it would give him answers. His thoughts had crashed to a screeching halt in a way not dissimilar to how that rock crashed into him. 

Because that was what happened, right? 

They were standing in front of the saviours. Standing in front of the Housemaiden. They’d given their monologue, flourished their cool cape around, and were about to attack. And then they got crushed by a giant rock. 

They got crushed by a giant rock. 

THEY GOT CRUSHED BY A ROCK. 

IN THE FIRST ROOM????

THE FIRST CHANCE THEY HAD TO DIE? THEY DID???

HOW DID THEY MANAGE THAT??? HOW WAS HE THAT BAD AT HIS JOB???

Okay. Okay. 

Placing a hand on their chest, they breathed in… and out. 

So. He died. 

That… wasn't great. He got crushed by a rock, and now he's back…? Back in his dorm. Back in his bed. Back to not being a crêpe on the pavement. 

In… and out…

Their brain hadn't caught up entirely, still stuck in that room, staring down the Housemaiden. Phantom pains of crushed cartilage and broken bones whispered on his skin. He rubbed his arms. They were still there, if shaky and cold, because of course they're cold everything in the damn House was cold. 

They were alive. 

…

How were they alive…?  

That was the real question, wasn't it? As far as he was aware he wasn't immortal, though he hadn't exactly tested that theory until now. 

The room was quiet. Suffocatingly so. Glassy blankets pooled around their body, sucking away more warmth than they gave. They suppressed a shiver, biting their tongue, expecting the twang of bloody copper. They were instead met with cloying sweetness. Thick and sweet, like maple syrup clogging their throat. 

… Sweet. 

He jolted, shooting upwards, gripping the frozen blankets in a white-knuckled grip. Sugar. Sugar on their tongue, sugar bubbling and clogging their throat, sugar wafted through the air. It smelled like sugar. 

It smelled like Wish Craft. 

A disbelieving laugh bubbled out of their chest and out their throat. They smiled wide, giddy, and slightly manic. Tossing the frigid covers off their body they bounded out of bed, giggling to themself. They pumped their fist into the air, one, two, three, times. 

Yes! Yes! YES!

He stretched his arms upwards towards some unseen audience, “Thank you Universe! For granting my wish! And for making sure those losers will never win! And for making sure my dreams weren’t totally crushed!” He cackled at his own pun, as most well-adjusted adults tend to do. He was just about ready to do a little dance in place when a resonant knock banged on the door. 

Humming a directionless tune, Siffrin swung open the door, smiling up at their King. “Good morning, your majesty!” 

The King peered down at them, body unreadable. “Bright One.” The King groaned, “The saviours will be arriving. Ooohhh… can feel their rot crawl closer….” His groans morphed into sobs, “Ooohhh… They want to destroy it, Bright One. Destroy what little we have left.”

Huh. 

Siffrin stopped to think for a moment. That was… the exact same thing he’d said before. Word for word, line for line. He’d been so happy about his Wish Craft working that he hadn’t even stopped to think about the bigger picture- of how exactly The Universe crafted his wish. How exactly it brought him back. 

“Bright One. Are you listening to me?” 

Whoops. 

Pulling them self out of their head, Siffrin gave an easy nod. “Uh-huh! Yup! The saviours are here, and I need to go and hunt them down?” 

“...Yes. Exactly-” 

“It’d be my honour, your majesty.” A wicked smile spread across their face. This time, they knew better. 

The King laughed, though it sounded more like a sob. “Excellent, Bright One… And this time…” The King got up, turning to leave as he gave his parting words, “Do not let them go.”“

"Of course, your grace.” 

The King mumbled in reply, his hulking steps growing quieter and quieter as he turned the corner, leaving their sight. Once his thumps could no longer be heard, Siffrin slumped over with a sigh. 

Okay. He had a plan this time. A goal. Knowledge. 

Get dressed. 

Kill the Housemaiden. 

Kill her friends 

Profit.

__________________________

Now that he knew where he was going, the trip through the House’s blackened walls was much shorter.

The Sadnesses moaned and gurgled as they passed. The choked sounds resembled sobs, as the monster reached out gnarled hands towards his cape and legs. They suppressed a shiver, speeding through the endless corridors as fast as they could manage. He paused when he reached Death Corridor, as it was allegedly named. Taking in a deep breath, he carefully pushed open the door. 

The corridor hadn't changed. It was still dark and frosty, cavernous and sparse. They shivered. Heels clicked loudly in otherwise dead silence as they studied the room. Clearly a trap had gone off, which meant there would clearly be a way to disable it, right?

He took stock of the hall. The only decorations were six crumbling pillars. With a groan, he got to work. Brushing gauntleted fingertips over the rough surfaces of each pillar Siffrin searched diligently, brows furrowed. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Whoever hid the switch sure was efficient. 

Just when they'd almost given up, they suddenly felt a prick at the back of their mind. It was a nagging little sensation, not a headache, but an incessant feeling that there was something they were missing. 

He turned around, scrutinizing the room one last time. Barely, poking just out the corner of his eye, there was something shiny stuck in a brick. Gingerly, he wandered toward the pillar, towards the sparkling light. 

The glimmer faded as they got close, but the snag in their brain carried them to look further. Low and behold, nestled behind a crumbling brick, a lone switch sat. 

He flicked it. 

There was a deafening crash from behind. He hurriedly twisted to look at the source of the noise. Unsurprisingly, a newly fallen boulder sat a mere few inches away from his face. He could say with absolute certainty that if it had fallen a foot closer, he’d have died near instantaneously. He cracked a smug grin, giving the rock a small kick, take that stupid rock!!! He’s smarter than you this time, rock!!! He’s above you and your dumb tricks, rock!!!

Siffrin wholly and fully intended to spend multiple minutes of his life verbally abusing an inanimate stone, but his boulder bullying was unfortunately cut short by the sounds of approaching conversation. He panicked, realizing that his entrance point was blocked by a giant rock. He couldn’t be blocked by a rock! That would be poor staging! 

The voices grew louder and louder. 

Frantically, Siffrin opted to climb on top of the boulder instead. Sure, he’d lose the element of surprise- but adding levels to a scene was just theatre basics. Besides, he’d gain the element of the high ground, which was far more intimidating. 

The voices grew louder, louder, louder…

The door flew open, and The Fighter pushed through, followed shortly by the rest of his entourage. The Housemaiden wrung her hands anxiously, “W-wait! Isa! I think I remember this hallway! It’s danger-” She suddenly stopped in her tracks, eyes drawn towards the center of the hall. 

Eyes drawn straight towards them. 

“Dangerous? Why, what would ever make you think that, mademoiselle?” They sneered from their perch, pulling out their dagger to inspect. 

The Housemaiden dropped into a fighting stance, rapier drawn, “You.” 

“Me! I’m so glad you remember! I was worried you wouldn’t, considering we got off to such a rocky start.” He patted the boulder to accentuate his awesome cool funny joke. 

The Housemaiden blinked, brows knitted in thinly veiled confusion. The Kid wrinkled their nose, “That was du-” 

“Anyways!” Siffrin interrupted, not giving any preteens the chance to bully him this time around, “My King has given me pretty explicit orders to defeat you all…” They poked the tip of their dagger, “Soooo. My tip to you is to play knife for me, and maybe my King will spare you the worst, okay?” They forced a cheerful grin, the edges of their mouth not reaching their eyes. 

The three (Three? Were there always three…?) saviours stared at him, the Housemaiden’s rapier had faltered alongside her ironclad stance. The Fighter chuckled to himself, raising a brow, “You’re laying them on a litttleee thick there, bud. I appreciate the commitment but it’s really taking the… edge off your intimidation.” 

Horrifically, terrifyingly, disgustingly, Siffrin snickered at The Fighter’s knife based punnage. 

He immediately coughed into his hand to disguise the traitorous noise. 

The Kid, meanwhile, groaned, whacking the side of the Fighter with their little dumb baby hands, “NO!!! No more!!! Neither of you are funny! We’re supposed to fight them!!! And kill them dead!!!” 

The Housemaiden nodded along furiously, “Bonnie is right! No punning with the evil rogue, Isabeau!” 

The Fighter floundered, face turning a curious shade, “H-hey! I thought it was funny!!!”

It was pretty funny, which made it all the more a shame for what Siffrin was about to do next. They slid off the boulder, landing softly on the balls of their feet. Their dagger caught the light of the frozen torches as they brandished it- and as they attacked. 

The Housemaiden had impressive reflexes, pulling up her rapier to block his assault. She winced from the sudden strain, taking a step back. 

Feinting from her left, he baited her into blocking that side. Then- they snapped. Crafted power flowed from their fingertips down into their joints, lubricating their movements, speeding them up. They sidestepped to her right, fingers forming a scissors sign. The crafted spell burst from their hand, snaking towards her like a bolt of fire. 

His attack instead collided with The Fighter's guarded arms as he threw himself in front of the maiden. He winced on impact, but shook it off shortly, balling his hand into a fist. Siffrin jumped away from the impending attack, narrowly missing The Fighter’s rock type craft. 

The two sides found themselves in a standoff, glaring and panting at each other, both waiting for the other to move an inch. One on two, considering The Kid was hiding behind one of the pillars, glaring daggers at him. 

One on two.

…

Was he forgetting something? 

…

Probably not. 

The Housemaiden panted, eyes fixated on him. He raised a brow, flourishing his dagger, “Well? Come on! Throw a few more rocks at me, this is just getting good!” He goaded. 

The Fighter's brows lifted slightly, he stared towards Siffrin but seemed to be looking… past them.

He intented to look behind him, see what had taken The Fighter's interest- but he was interrupted by a loud crack followed by a dull thud. Belatedly, from where he suddenly laid flat on the tile floor, he realized the sounds came from him. 

Or, more accurately, it was the sound of a 50 pound hard-cover anthropology anthology whacking his skull and cracking it in half, killing him near instantly. 

Distantly, from where they laid dying, they heard voices above them. 

“MADAME!! Did you kill him?!?” 

“Kill them dead???”

Not yet, apparently. 

“Not yet, apparently.” The ‘Madame’ echoed, “Look, they're still breathing a little.” 

So nice of them to respect his pronouns while letting him bleed out on the pavement. 

The voices grew muffled and foggy. Their ears rang, their vision faded. Everything morphed into uncertainty as his consciousness escaped his grasp, as the sticky blood flowed out of his skull. In.. and out… and in… and… 

               He felt

                            A

 tu g

…

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of their borrowed dorm stared back.

A small groan left their lips. Sticky sugar coated their tongue, cloying their mouth. Siffrin suppressed a gag, forcing them self to sit up in their bed. The frozen covers shifted alongside them, chilling their legs down to the bones underneath. Their head throbbed. Carefully, they ghosted a hand over the back of their skull, unsurprised but still relieved to feel nothing but their knotted hair through their fingers. No cracks, no blood. Just their too-long, too-tangled hair. 

Death via hardcover. That was a new one. 

They groaned, holding his face in his hands. Stupid. He’d gotten cocky, gotten dumb. So smug after disabling that trap he didn’t even think to check behind him, didn’t think to second guess his instincts. Stupid. How’d she even get behind him? How’d he not notice an entire person walk behind him? Stupid. 

Strands of hair tore out of their head, falling onto the bed. The pain tugged at their skull, itchy and unpleasant. 

Slowly, they took a breath in… and out…

Okay. The Researcher was much more dangerous than he’d expected. 

In and out.

Not only was she surprisingly sneaky, she had little to no problem using her full strength to protect people. No problem killing him if he had promised to do the same to her party.

In and out.

Siffrin sighed, removing their hands from their face. They moved out of the bed, frame creaking as he went. There would be a knock on their door in a few seconds, afterall.

It was fine. They knew what to do to win now, disable the trap, don’t get cocky, make sure The Researcher won’t be a problem, save Vaugarde. 

On cue, there was a knock on their door. 

Obediently, he stepped forward to open it. His mind, however, was somewhere else. He already knew what the King was about to ask, anyway. 

Don't let them get away. 

__________________________

Down the hall, ignore the big Sadnesses, try not to trip on their hands…

The trip all the way down to the hall was quickly getting tired. Static candlelight blurred by with the steady click of their heels. The same Sadnesses groaned and reached for his cape. The Sadnesses were pushed away with a short kick of his heel. 

Flinging the corridor hall open, a sudden prick itched at the back of their mind. The same one as before, a nagging chime that something was missing. It pinged at the base of their skull numbly, until he found the sparkling switch and flicked it off. 

They didn't focus on it before, more concerned with not getting crushed to death… but that feeling was definitely odd. Odd enough that they didn't flinch as the boulder came crashing downwards, too focused on whatever it was nagging in their brain. 

[That would be me, Stardust~]

…

Siffrin whipped his head around. The corridor was cavernously empty, the only people there were him and the rock. 

[I'm not in there, dummy.] 

What the fuck?

[Language] 

WHAT THE FUCK? 

Before they had the chance to unpack anything about the voice speaking to them inside their brain, voices carried from beyond the door. He cursed, “I'll deal with you later…” he muttered. 

[I look forward to it~] 

Okay. Cool. Voice in his brain. Normal. He had to put that second on his list of priorities, considering the saviours were two seconds away from bursting into the hall. 

Siffrin pressed himself against the far wall, backing into a shadowy corner. The door flung open, letting the party noisily stride inside. 

“W-wait! Isa! I think I remember this hallway! It’s dangerous!” The Housemaiden stuttered, wringing her hands the same as always. 

“Mira, there’s nothing here… Actually wait, there is a rock.” The Fighter responded, calmly walking up to and patting the boulder. “Yup. Just a rock.”

“Why's there a rock???” The Kid questioned loudly, coming up behind him to try and climb the stone. 

The Housemaiden hovered near the doorway, “I-I have no idea…?”

The Researcher pulled up the rear, walking slowly, deliberately. She hummed absently, stroking her chin as she peered upwards. “There's a trap door above us. If this hallway was considered dangerous, Mirabelle, then I believe that danger has been long since activated.”

“Ah! I d-do think I remember there being a room full of rocks… for trapping.” The Housemaiden said. 

An awkward pause nestled itself in the conversation. 

“Why the crab is a House dropping rocks on people!!! That's not cool!!!” The Kid broke the silence, still trying to get on top of the rock. The Fighter scooped them up by the arms (like a cat) and plopped them on top of it, much to their joy.

“It is an odd thing for a religious site, yes.” 

Siffrin, still hiding in his corner, was getting rather bored of listening to them talk about rocks. Especially rocks that he has personal beef with. What mattered was that they were distracted- and more importantly, that The Researcher was behind the rest of them. 

They drew their dagger, and struck.

Silently from behind, Siffrin grabbed a hold of The Researcher’s arms and pressed the tip of their dagger against her throat. 

A strangled noise left her lips, alerting her teammates. Their weapons were drawn before they'd even looked behind. The Housemaiden’s eyes were blown wide, her grip shaky on her rapier, “Madame!” 

Siffrin smiled, “Hello there, everyone. Knife to meet all of you.” 

Chapter Text

Siffrin stood tall in center stage, blade drawn and eyes narrowed. 

The child sat in the audience, staring with wide eyed wonder at the performance before them. They'd never seen a show before- not that they could remember, at least. 

It was magic. 

The spectacle, the lights, the orchestra, the cadence at which it was all delivered. Even with the child's limited Vaguardian, they still could gather the meaning. 

Siffrin had turned against an old friend, torn between his family- or his friends. 

The child gripped the edge of the seat as the lead confronted his old friend, the two circling around like vultures over a kill. 

The show finished with a flourishing crescendo as Siffrin dug his blade through the old friend’s heart, whispering apologies on dead ears. 

The audience roared, applause replacing the final chords of the orchestra. 

The cast walked onstage for their final bows, and the child clapped alongside the rest, cheeks sore from how long they'd been smiling. 

Siffrin, huh…?

What a nice name that was.

__________________________

Getting held at knifepoint wasn’t exactly on Odile’s list of things to do today- though she honestly shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Long before they’d even stepped foot in the House, Mirabelle had told them of The King and his rogue. Stories of the static King, of him sending an assassin to deal with his dirty work, of the little warrior by his side, the blur of white and black. Of his ruthless deeds. Of his dreadful puns. 

The dagger pressed itself further against her throat. 

They were careful, she’d give them that. The weapon hovered just shy of actually piercing through skin, grazing the top layer with deadly precision. She’d be impressed if it wasn’t her throat it was pointing against, but since it was, she only managed to be annoyed. (And scared. Very scared, but she wasn’t going to admit that one. Not when the others looked so scared as well.) 

“Hello there, everyone. Knife to meet all of you.” The Rogue goaded from behind her. She could feel the bubbling laughter in his chest at his own joke. Odile frowned- She was being insulted, and he didn’t even have the dignity to insult her with something actually funny. 

The others turned to face her, eyes blown wide. Mirabelle drew her rapier, “Madame!” 

Mirabelle’s grip was unsteady, frantic. Isabeau was calmer to a degree, bless him and his training, fists raised and brows lowered. Boniface on the other hand was about as put together as you’d expect a child to be, frantically clambering off the boulder, tears already pricking the corners of their eyes.

Gems alive, she was supposed to be the adult here. They shouldn’t be worrying about her. 

“Glad to have everyone’s attention!” The Rogue said all too cheerily, pinning her arms with unnecessary force. “Now I think you’ve noticed by now that your dear Researcher is in a… difficult situation. 

Luckily, all you need to do to relieve her of this is to surrender yourselves! A generous offer, straight from my King himself.” The Rogue said, their freehand motioning along with what they were saying

He talked with his hands. While the knife was still pressed firmly against her throat, her arms weren't as pinned as before. 

“DILE!!!” Poor Boniface sobbed, distressed tears pouring from their eyes unrestrained. “Let her go, you stupid crab!!!” 

“You really think we'll surrender that easily?” Isabeau shouted, fists sparking with unreleased Craft. 

“Well, uh, yeah? Unless… you don't care what happens to her?” The blade kept inching closer and closer and gems now was not the time to panic. 

“Here, I'll be nice! I only really want the little mademoiselle over there-” His free hand pointed towards Mirabelle. He was distracted. “-The rest of you are free to leave!” 

“NO!!! No! No! No! We're not leaving without Belle!!! Or Dile!!! So shut up!!!” Boniface cried, stomping their feet with every point. 

She closed her hand into a fist from where it was stuck behind her. She needed to be very precise with this. 

“Exactly! It's four on one! Let M’dame go and maybe we'll go easy.” Isabeau said. 

“Yeeaaah. But like. Knife. On throat. I’m sure you can all move very fast- but unfortunately my dagger moves a little faster.”

He talked with his hands. 

The Rogue made a fatal mistake then, lifting the dagger ever so slightly off her skin to make a point. Motioning to the dagger as he mentioned it. A little quirk, the smallest manner of speech. A tiny slip up, giving her just enough room to move without getting sliced. 

An easy exploit. 

Crafted energy poured into her closed fist, and she punched backwards into their chest. They cried out, stumbling backwards, doubled over their stomach where she struck. Steam billowed off her fist, left over from the sparking energy Craft created. She blew it away, shaking out her hand. 

By reflex, she rubbed her throat where the dagger was pressed. Her breathing was unsteadier than she’d care to admit, adrenaline pumping through her. 

“M’dame Odile!” Isabeau came up from behind, hovering around her like a nervous fly. “Are you okay?”

“P-perfectly fine, Isabeau.” Gems, she didn't think she could've made that sound less convincing. He gave her a look, telling her that she should probably try that one again. Mirabelle came up her other side, beginning to bring her palms forwards, pops of healing Craft sizzling off her fingertips. Odile shook her head, lightly smacking Mirabelle's hands away, “...Worry about it later, you two. We have bigger issues.” 

The ‘issue’ in question quickly recovered, brandishing his dagger with a sneer. “Why are you so annoying…!” He muttered. 

“Why are you so bad at this, dummy!!!” Boniface pulled up from behind her, hugging her leg and sticking their tongue out at the enemy. 

The Rogue’s eye twitched, the hold on their dagger faltering ever so slightly. Odile smirked, patting Boniface’s head at a job well done. They struck a nerve. 

Mirabelle stepped in front, rapier drawn, stance wide. Her brows narrowed, “You said you just wanted me, right?” 

Isabeau extended a hand, the breath of a warning on his tongue, “Mira…”

The Rogue gave a strained smile, “Oh yeah. The rest of you are free to go!”

“Hmm…” Mirabelle closed her eyes and hummed, seeming to give it genuine thought. 

“Mira- Whatever you're thinking it's not worth it!” Isabeau said, and Odile was inclined to agree. 

“Pssst. Don't listen to them.” The Rogue stage-whispered, “Just say what you want, just say-”

“Nope!” Mirabelle answered, cutting him off with a delightful smile. 

The Rogue's face dropped. They floundered, “Wait-”

“Do you think I'm an idiot? Do you really think I don't know what would happen if I went in alone?” Mirabelle took a step forward, raising her rapier high, “My friends are the only thing that have gotten me this far, there's so way I'm abandoning them now!”

Isabeau and Boniface cheered along, though Odile personally thought the power of friendship talk was a little too much for her taste. The Rogue apparently felt the same, judging by their hilariously disgusted expression. They groaned in exacerbation, face hardening into something more serious. “Fine! Then we'll just do this the hard way!!!” 

In a flash, they pointed two fingers in Odile's direction, releasing a snaking bolt of Piercing Craft her way. She pushed Boniface to the side, raising her arms up to block. It wasn't necessary, however, as Isabeau threw himself in front of her, wincing in pain but otherwise standing tall. 

Mirabelle ran up, drawing her rapier in a wide slash. The Rogue blocked with his dagger. The two locked in a clash of steel, trading blows and parries in a delicate dance. Mirabelle was precise but The Rogue was fast, ducking and dodging quicker than she could attack. For a moment, Mirabelle's stance faltered- she tripped on the hem of her skirt in the flurry. The Rogue held his dagger high above his head, bringing it down to strike and she was too far away to help-

The Rogue was pulled backwards suddenly with an undignified yelp. In the midst of the sword fight, Boniface had weaselled their way behind, and tugged on the enemy’s cape as hard as their little arms could manage. 

Seeing an opportunity, Isabeau's fist glowed with power. It popped and simmered on his fingertips, until he released it, striking the air and sending a blast of Protection Craft straight into The Rogue's body. 

The Rogue was blasted back by the force, smashing roughly into the stoney wall behind. He groaned, head lolling to the side, eyes unfocused. 

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she walked over, standing above them. Revenge was always sweet, and she was nice enough to make her’s quick as well. Afterall, threatening her was bad enough- but threatening her allies? 

Now that was inexcusable. 

She debated on which Craft skill to use, before deciding on blunt-force trauma to the head via textbook. There was a strange sense of deja vu as she hoisted the monster of a book above her head, as she moved to smash it into his skull. The action was quick.

But The Rogue was quicker, apparently. 

Their hazed eyes gained sudden clarity, growing wild and wide. They snapped their fingers, the faint glimmer of Craft washing over their body. Just as her improvised weapon came down, they’d already bolted. Her book hit nothing but the stone wall behind them, resulting in a resonant thump.

He was already halfway through the hall by the time she noticed. He must’ve known speed enhancing Craft, then. Her companions tried to stop them along the way, but he was a slippery opponent. 

The Rogue was out the door in a matter of seconds, fleeing from the fight. 

A stunned silence filled the hall, interrupted only by Boniface’s callous squawking, “WHAT!!! They ran away!?!” 

Surprising everyone, even herself, Odile barked out a laugh, “Hah! All that talk and buildup- Only for him to turn tail at the first sign of trouble. I’m almost disappointed. Here I thought the King’s right hand would be a threat, yet all we got was some gutless cretin.”

“SHE’S CALLING YOU A LOSER!!!” Boniface yelled towards the vague direction of wherever The Rogue went.  

“And a coward.” 

“AND A COW-HERD!!!” 

“Cow- ward, Boniface.” 

“I MEAN COW-WARD!!!” 

Mirabelle giggled, though her face quickly soured, “W-we should still be careful, though… Even if we can beat them in a three on one-” 

Boniface glared at her. 

“I-I mean, a four on one fight… He still managed to sneak up on us. And he’s so fast, too…” 

Odile hummed, “Yes, that is an issue, isn’t it? Although it is fun to mock him, I struggle to imagine he’d do as poorly with a deck less stacked against him. We should proceed with caution, and stay close to each other. Who knows what he’s plotting- What devious scheme he’s thinking of at this very moment…” 

__________________________

SHIT. 

FUCK. 

STARS. 

OTHER SWEAR WORDS. 

Siffrin’s thoughts ran a mile a minute, though none of it was comprehensible as anything other than a string of expletives and disjointed worries. He had one job! He has one job!!! The Researcher was in his grasp- literally in his grasp- he had a dagger pressed to her throat! He could’ve used her as a bargaining chip to get the Mademoiselle alone, he could’ve threatened her to keep her from trying to attack him, he could’ve just slit her throat and kept her from getting in his way-

They paused, banishing the thought from their mind. 

He couldn't decide if the way his stomach churned at that thought was a good or bad thing. He knew which one his King would say it was at least…

The lightless halls blurred by in a flurry of motion, their legs carrying them through every twisting corner and dead end. Their Craft had long worn out by now, but the mental image of a book coming down to crack their head open again was enough to push them forward. He couldn’t make much sense of where he was anymore. Still on the first floor, but stuck in some random, endless hall. His frantic steps slowed to a stop as he leaned on the wall, panting and sweating. 

Clearly, trying to fight all four at once was a recipe for disaster. If third time's the charm, then Siffrin decided that option might just be a no-go. There were too many variables- too many rocks, too many books, too many saviours…

His brows raised. An idea had popped into his head. 

He walked to the end of the hall, turning the corner and into an abandoned room.

The dorm room was messy, littered with rolled up drawings and articles, some.of which were even about him and The King! Neat. Siffrin was ready to write off the room as unimportant, until he felt a tug at the base of his skull. A nagging feeling, a barb in his brain. He smiled and began to scour the dorm, rustling through every drawer, unfolding every paper…

Ah. That paper only had… ‘anatomy practice’ on it. 

Siffrin stuck their tongue out, and hurriedly put it back. 

The snag in their brain hadn’t left yet. He opened a closet, the contents spewing out onto the floor. A couple of drawn cards, more ‘anatomy practice’, some actual anatomy practice… Rope? Siffrin closed the dresser, deeming nothing useful, and decided to not think too hard on why a person so interested in anatomy would keep rope in their closet.  

After longer than they’d care to admit, Siffrin opened a dresser door. There, sparkling brightly, was a key.

[Finally! That took you forever.]

He whipped his head around on instinct. 

[Wow you have a really bad memory, Stardust! I’m not there, remember?]

“...Uh. Hi? Who are you? Why are you… in my brain…???” Siffrin asked towards the open air, feeling a little silly. 

[Just a helpful observer. I’ve been watching you.]

“Cool, can you say that in actual words instead of riddles? I’m a little busy here.” 

[Busy getting your ass kicked?]

…

[Yeah. I saw. You really suck at this Stardust~! Like really, you only have one job! And you’ve died twice now, and then ran away like a dumb little baby the third time!]

He was getting heckled by brain demons now? Insulted by his own auditory hallucinations? And here he thought the book bludgeoning was his new low. 

[Annnywaayyys. I’d love to chat, but I really can’t talk  like this for long. I know you're busy figuring out the next embarrassing way to get your shit rocked, so swing by the Favour Tree next time you die, kay’ babe?] 

“Wha- Next time!?! Don’t just leave me on that! Explain yourself!” 

[Hmmm…]

[Nah.]

[Also, by the by, your party will be coming down this hall in like. Thirty seconds. So if you have a plan, you should act quick. Not like it’s gonna work, though LOL. Byeeeeee~] 

“Wait! Don’t just leave me with that!”

…

No reply.

Siffrin grumbled, kicking a stray paper roll across the room in frustration. 

Okay. Okay.

In… and out. 

Brain Voice Demon Guy said that the saviours would be arriving shortly, which meant he needed to act quick. His plan was simple, really. Separate one of the saviours from the rest, subdue them, rinse and repeat, profit. 

On cue, faint voices carried from out the hall, growing closer and closer with every moment. Siffrin pressed themself against the wall next to the room's door, where a barrel of papers sat alongside them. The voices got louder and louder… Until he could just barely catch the silhouettes of the saviours out of his periphery. 

The Fighter was hanging back this time, hovering near the tail end of the group. Luckily for Siffrin, the saviours were inspecting the other room in the hall. 

The rest of the saviours had poured into the other room, pointing out every little knick knack in sight, leaving The Fighter as the sole straggler, his attention elsewhere. 

Their plan was far from foolproof- a rush job, in all honesty. But Siffrin wasn't going to get another shot so clear at this, so they pushed the barrel in front of them, letting it roll out into the open door. It thumped to the ground, rolling across the floor, spilling out it's contents. As they hoped, it caught the attention of The Fighter. He paused midway through the hall, turning to face the room Siffrin was in. Hesitantly, sparing a glance back towards his gone party members, he stepped forward. 

The Fighter drew closer and closer, eyeing the barrel with well-earned suspicion. He stepped through the door, poking the loose papers with his foot. Tepidly, he wandered further inside, taking stock of the room around him. 

Siffrin smiled, and moved.

In a swift movement, he moved behind The Fighter and closed the door behind with a startling thump. The Fighter jumped, head snapping backwards- but he was too slow. Siffrin pounced, tackling him to the ground with a grunt, The Fighter's arms pinned to the floor. “Knife to meet you again, saviour. So nice of you to drop by!” 

The Fighter grunted, “You’ve already used that joke twice , you monster!” 

Three times, actually, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I like to keep it consistent! Now if you could be a good arch nemesis and stop moving, that’d be great.” 

Siffrin lifted a hand, shaping their fingers into a scissors sign. Crafted energy boiled underneath their skin, begging for release. Unfortunately, The Fighter was just as strong as he looked, and cut off their attack short by rolling to the side and out of their grasp. 

He rolled into a crouch, fists raised and already sparking with energy. His eyes darted towards the mess on the floor for a moment, before quickly zeroing in on them once more. In a brisk movement, he struck out his fist, releasing the pent up Craft. Siffrin squawked, dodging to the side as a stack of papers were eviscerated where they'd just stood. 

The Fighter didn't let up in his barrage, sending waves of Rock type blasts, decimating every poor inch of the dorm room. Siffrin ducked and weaved, but a particularly well aimed shot clipped his leg. 

“Ah!” He hissed through gritted teeth, losing his balance and stumbling into a barrel next to the dresser. 

Without a second to spare, The Fighter cleared the distance between them. He grabbed Siffrin's wrists, pulling them up and pinning them against the dresser. “Now if you could be a good evil villain and stop moving, that'd be great.” The Fighter asked, sounding all too smug. 

He glared at The Fighter, trying to free his hands to no avail. The defender was strong, he'd give him that- able to pin him against the wall with little effort, his big muscles…

…

They were getting distracted. 

“Let me go! I'll kill you!!!” They kicked out their legs, whacking at the saviour with their pathetic escape attempts.

The Fighter chuckled, low and breathy. He smiled, and Siffrin could see every stupid detail of his stupid face from how close he was. “Uh-huh? Good luck with that, buddy. Real cute of ya’ to try though.”

Their face got warm at that comment- probably from how much they were running around before. Siffrin, angrily, kept wiggling in place. Impressive strings of cursed tumbled from their lips, but The Fighter remained unphased and unimpressed. 

 Eventually he slumped over, accepting defeat. 

“You done?” The Fighter asked. 

“Hngnrgngn.” 

“Great. Hold still.” 

Hold still? 

Siffrin could make some educated guesses on what was about to happen next. Visions of 50 pound textbooks and 500 pound boulders filled their mind. They closed their eyes, bracing themself for the inevitable blunt-force trauma that was about to come…

…

A moment passed, and all Siffrin heard was shuffling. Tepidly, they opened an eye, peeking out to see what was going on. 

The Fighter had leaned down and picked something off the ground, holding up their wrists in just one hand. Siffrin squinted, and to their apt horror realized he’d grabbed the rope that'd fallen out of the closet earlier. Before Siffrin could really process, he'd already looped the twine around his hands, tying it into a rough knot, binding his hands.

“Wha-”

“There we go! Now you can’t run around sneak attacking people!” The Fighter finally moved away, and horrifically, picked up Siffrin alongside him. They struggled, but were ultimately powerless as he tucked him underneath his arms like a limp sack of potatoes. 

Their brain had short-circuited fully, their subconscious getting hung up somewhere between not dying and big buff guy carrying them in big buff arms. 

Which, for the record, was a super normal thing to think after being taken hostage. 

They kicked their legs out, squirming wildly, “Put me down!!! My King will hear about this, you know!!!” 

“Hm…Nah. I’d prefer to not let the crazy assassin loose in the castle.” The Fighter responded casually, picking up the dagger they had dropped in the tussle, flipping it over lazily in his hands. 

Siffrin panicked, racking their brain for a way to get out of the mess they were suddenly stuck in. “W-well- I- You won’t be able to continue on anyways! Because I hid the key!!!” 

Technically not a lie, since it was hidden in his pants pocket. 

The Fighter paused for a second. He hummed absently, before immediately sticking a hand in Siffrin’s pocket. He rummaged around for a second, before triumphantly fishing out a silver coin and a key.

“...”

“...”

“Real nice hiding skills, bud.” 

“You try sabotaging people with thirty seconds to prep! It’s hard!” 

The Fighter chuckled a little, rolling the coin and key over through his fingers, “Fine, fine. I’ll be nice. Though I am going to rob you of… a single piece of silver. I can buy myself one whole toothpick with this money.” 

Rob him? Wait wait wait-

“Wait!!!” 

The Fighter stared down at them, brow raised. 

Siffrin cleared their throat, trying to maintain their feeble composure. 

“I… Uh. Want the coin. It’s uh… Important.” They cringed at their own voice, regretting the words as quickly as they tumbled out of their mouth. What were they thinking!?! Giving such an obvious point of vulnerability to the guy holding him hostage-

“Oh, it’s important? Sorry then, here you go!”

What.

The Fighter slid the coin back in his pocket. Siffrin sighed, relaxing every so slightly. It was embarrassing, sure, but it was probably the least embarrassing part about their current predicament. 

Key in hand, The Fighter pushed open the dorm’s door and back into the hallway, humming happily as if he didn’t have a kidnapping victim tucked under his arm. 

The door to the other room in the hallway burst open, slamming against the wall to reveal a frantic Housemaiden behind. She visibly relaxed when she saw The Fighter, “Isabeau! Thank goodness… W-we couldn't find you- and we heard crashing!!! A-and we thought you ran off!!!”

“You know, the one thing we said not to do, young man?” The Researcher said, arms crossed. 

“Y-yes! Exactly! We agreed on this Isa!!! We have to stick together, who knows what's lurking around here-” The Housemaiden stopped mid lecture, eyes pinned straight on Siffrin. He stuck out his tongue. 

“Uh… Hey Isa…”

“Yeah? Wassup?”

“...What’cha got there…?” She asked, pointing at Siffrin

The Fighter (Isabeau?) held out the key, a big grin on his face, “Oh, I got a key!” 

Siffrin then got the distinct impression that blunt-force trauma might’ve been the more merciful option compared to what he was about to experience. 

Chapter Text

Siffrin stood in the village square, letting the music wash over him. 

People sang and danced, twirling around cobblestone streets underneath warm torchlight. A band of fiddlers plucked and strung out twisting melodies, building and morphing into a crescendo. 

Other children his age decorated a Change God statue with flowers and crafted sculptures, giggling and babbling over their creations. 

Siffrin stood in the village square, away from everyone. 

The people spoke in a language they knew distantly. Of course they knew it- they had to learn it in school. Sitting down for long stretches at a time listening to their teacher rattle on and on, sitting down scribbling out enough verb endings to make their head spin.

He grimaced, face puckering. Just thinking about all his failed test papers soured his mood. At least he was never alone in class; he always had his friends to talk to…

He could always talk to…

His friends…?

…

Music became muffled against the ringing in their ears. Chatter and gossip washed away from his mind, wiped blank and empty. 

His friends. 

He had friends. 

He would complain to them during Vaguardian class. They would pass notes and mess around until the teacher picked on them for a question, and then they'd all laugh off their wrong answers and poor grades. 

Siffrin stood in the village square, and he did not understand a word being said around him. 

How could they? They barely paid attention in class. They could say ‘bonjour’ and ‘est-ce-que je peux aller aux toilettes?’ and not much more. 

Siffrin stood in the village square, and he did not understand his own thoughts. 

He spoke to himself in another language. He didn't speak Vaguardian well. It was a second language. He was thinking in another language. 

He spoke another language. 

His friends spoke another language. 

What language? 

Their mind was blank, clear, empty. Static stuffed their tongue and clogged their throat. They were choking on nothing, brain melting away, cotton stuck in their ears. 

“Excusez-moi, ma chère?”

Something stabbed through the noise. Siffrin looked up. There was a woman speaking to them. 

Speaking in Vaguardian. 

That was good. 

Siffrin only spoke Vaguardian, after all. 

“ Oui, Madame?

“Tu vas bien? Tu as l’air si... effrayé…”

She said he looked scared. Asked if he was okay. Siffrin smiled. Their cheeks pulled painfully. 

“Je suis bien!"

They were fine.

_________________________

“Uh… Hey Isa…” Mirabelle asked, eyes glued firmly on The Rogue tucked underneath his arm. They stuck their tongue out at her. Rude. 

“Yeah? Wassup?”

“...What’cha got there…?” She pointed towards The Rogue, who still had his tongue out at her. 

Isabeau smiled, and held out a strangely shaped object, “Oh, I got a key!” The Rogue had the nerve to look insulted that Isabeau didn’t care enough to mention him, sputtering out indignantly. 

“...Nothing else…?” She prodded. By the smug look on Isabeau’s face, he was being stupid on purpose.

“WE HAVE A HOSTAGE!!!” Bonnie exclaimed, sounding much more excited about it than a nine year old should be.

“Hmm… do we? I guess I might’ve picked up something extra along the way!” Isabeau laughed, patting The Rogue’s head. 

“You do know I’m like, right here, right? I can hear this?” The hostage pouted. Mirabelle almost thought it was cute, if he hadn’t held one of her friends at knifepoint an hour prior. 

“Hmmm… Do you all hear something? It sounds so odd… like the incessant whining of a failure.” Odile asked, pointedly ignoring The Rogue with an all-too smug expression. 

“She’s calling you stupid, stupid!” Bonnie taunted, sticking their tongue out. 

The Rogue glared at them all, his gaze settling on her for some reason, which was frankly just rude considering she hadn’t heckled him once yet, even if he deserved it. “How mature of you all. Tie me up all you want, but it won't matter! My King will make quick work of you all regardless.”

Odile laughed, low and dangerous. She stepped forward and crouched down to meet their eyes, tilting her head, “Will he now? My, you really aren't that important to his plans at all, are you?” 

She shrugged, “Makes our job easier, I suppose. If he cared enough to make us fight an actual threat then it would've been quite inconvenient. So it's handy he instead saddled us with an incompetent rogue who can't even kill some little old lady.”

The Rogue's lips curled, a sneer pulling at the edges of their mouth. Odile smiled in satisfaction, rising back up and turning on her heel. “Come along, now. We can find some ditch to throw him in later, I think we’re doing The King a favour, in all honesty.” 

Harsh. Mirabelle spared a glance towards the hostage, feeling the smallest inkling of pity at their expression. They schooled their face back into one of neutrality quickly, but she caught the way his eyes pinched, the way he bit his lips. Still, Mirabelle had decided by then that Odile was the scariest thing in the House, and so she obediently followed along in her footsteps. 

The distorted halls of her home seemed to suck the energy away from every movement. An incessant cold permeated every room, cloying her senses with slick frost and glassy floors. She stared down underneath her, towards the once-marble flooring. The curse covered every inch, buffering the surface to a mirror shine. Her reflection looked back, with baggy eyes and frizzy hair. A heavy sigh left her lips, and she adjusted her bow, fixing what little of her appearance she could control. 

Bonnie had run up next to Isabeau and The Rogue, pestering their hostage like a buzzing fly. Mirabelle’s hands twitched, the nagging anxiety constantly stuck in her stomach telling her to pull them back, pull them away from the danger. Pull them all away from the danger. Away from the warped reflection of her old home, away from cursed kings and killer assassins. 

Her anxiety has always been bad, but as of late she’d felt half a second away from bursting at the seams. It was so much to do, so much riding on her, so much she was pretending was true…

Silently, she breathed out a prayer to the Change God. 

Somehow, it didn’t help much. 

_________________________

“So, why is The King freezing people, huh?!?” The Kid pressed their face up to his own, walking backwards in order to ‘interrogate’ him. 

Siffrin grumbled, “To keep noisy kids from talking too much.” 

The Kid pouted, crossing their arms, “Hey! I’m not taking any funny business! You’re my prisoner right now! And you’ll answer the truth!” 

He, as the very mature adult man-woman-person he was, blew a raspberry at the child. The Kid blew one back. 

[I gotta say Stardust, this is somehow even more embarrassing than I was anticipating. If there is one thing you're good at, it's being pretty pathetic!]

Great. Perfect. Just what they needed. 

[Glad to be of service~ Also, Bonnie is still talking. Maybe pay attention for a bit?]

Which one was Bonnie again? 

“HEY!!! ARE YOU LISTENING???” The Kid shouted. 

Ah. That one was Bonnie. 

“Nah.” Siffrin answered. 

“I’m im-tera-gating you! So you better crabbing listen!” 

“It’s in-terro-gate, Boniface. But very close. Very good.” The Researcher commented absently from somewhere ahead. 

“What she said!” 

Siffrin raised a brow, “What if I don’t listen?” 

“Then I’ll have to kill you.” The Kid (- Okay calling them all by titles was getting annoying-) Bonnie responded, nodding solemnly. 

“Kill me dead?” 

“Kill you dead. Thank you for understanding.” 

The Fighter (- Isabeau? They thought it was Isabeau-) chuckled. Siffrin could feel him laugh from where they were still pressed against his side. “You’re a very considerate tyrant, Bonbon. Laying out the terms of service clear as day. I respect it.” 

Bonnie nodded seriously, looking awfully proud of themself. They straightened suddenly, and pointed an accusatory finger towards Siffrin. “First in-terro-gation!!! Why are you working for The King???” 

Ah, starting off with a loaded question. Siffrin couldn't even answer that one truthfully to himself, much less his enemies. "He gave me twenty bucks.”  He joked. 

“Just twenty?” Isabeau asked, hiding a smile.

“Give me thirty and I’ll join your cause.” 

The Housemaiden (- Okay he actually didn't remember what her name was-) cracked a small grin, “Very flimsy loyalties you have there.” 

“I’ll do twenty-five if you feed me.” 

The Researcher (- He thought the kid called her Dile? The others called her Madame-) chuckled, “That explains the quality of service. The King couldn’t even be bothered to splurge on a thirty dollar Rogue.” 

Siffrin grumbled, not dignifying that one with a response. Dile (- was that even her name? He definitely wasn’t calling her Madame-) was going for the throat today. 

Bonnie hummed, and ultimately accepted their answer, “Second interrogation! What’s your name???” 

“Only if you tell me theirs first,” he said, pointing towards The Researcher and The Housemaiden.

The Researcher grimaced, “I’m not doing th-” 

“Oh, I’m Mirabelle! And that’s Madame Odile!” Odile let out a long, long, suffering sigh alongside Mirabelle’s sheepish smile.

Bonnie, Isabeau, Mirabelle, and Odile… He could remember that. Good to put a name to his enemies for once. Logically speaking, he shouldn’t give his foes any more information than strictly necessary about himself- but emotionally speaking it would've been rude to break a promise. “I’m Siffrin. I’d shake your hands but I’m a little… tied up, at the moment.” 

Isabeau barked out a laugh, and quickly tried to muffle it with a hand. Odile gave him an unimpressed look, rolling her eyes and carrying on. Bonnie was busy groaning, but Mirabelle hummed thoughtfully. “Siffrin… Have I heard that name from somewhere…?” She mulled it over for a few moments more, before snapping her fingers, “Ah! I remember! It’s from that old play! What was it called-” 

“Thicker than Water!” He exclaimed, earning a few odd glances. 

“Oh, yes! I remember now! It's about a prince right?”

“Yes!”

“Oooh yeah! And he had to betray his friends to save his country.”

"Yes!!! Oh and then he kills his friend in the end, and the orchestra plays a leitmotif of his original theme-" 

"- I loved the ending, it was so dramatic! And tragic!"

“When I was a kid they would put on free showings of it and I went over and over- Even when I didn’t know much Vaugardian, the way the rhythm of the piece is made to sort of follow the rhythm of a heartbeat keeps it flowing in a way that I could… understand… it…” Siffrin stared ahead. The saviours stared back at him. 

Mirabelle raised a brow, smiling softly, “... I take it you’re a theatre fan, huh?”

They cleared their throat, sinking into the collar of their cloak, “... I dabble…” 

“No more nerd stuff!! Third interrogation-” 

“Unfortunately, Boniface, you’ll have to wait until later,” Siffrin turned his head towards Odile. During his ‘interrogation’ they’d apparently walked all the way into the main hall, in front of a massive gate. Odile put out a hand, “The key, Isabeau.” 

“Here ya’ go M’dame!” He said, fishing the key out of his pocket and plopping it into Odile's waiting hand. She wasted no time unlocking the gate, standing back as the doors opened in noisy segments. Once the last panels fell, she herded them into the newly opened hall. 

_________________________

“Hey, what are we going to do with Siffrin while we fight the boss?” Mirabelle asked, hovering just outside of the Sadness’s view. 

“Bait, obviously.” Odile replied. 

“Hey guys, just pointing out again that I can hear you” 

“Perfect. That means you already know your job. Go get em’ tiger.”

_________________________

The safe room beyond the strong Sadness was a welcome reprieve, even if her stomach coiled at the notion of waiting even longer to fight The King. Still, Mirabelle certainly wasn't complaining about sitting down for a while. 

Isabeau busied himself at one of the pillars, wrangling slack rope in one hand and a very angry rogue in the other. They flailed and shouted, but were ultimately pretty powerless as Isabeau tied the rope around the pillar, rooting them in place. 

Bonnie had excitedly declared it to be ‘Snacks Time' and were diligently working away at prepping them all something to eat. She sighed contentedly, sinking into her plush dress on the floor, trying to trick her brain into being calm. It never worked, really. She could pretend to be relaxed all she wanted, but her shoulders never stopped being tense, and the knot never left her stomach. 

It didn’t matter much in the end. She was used to it, afterall, and they didn’t have time to bother with her irrationality. 

‘OW- That’s too tight!” The Rouge- Siffrin- complained as Isabeau fiddled with the rope. 

“Oh, sorry.” Isabeau apologised quickly, loosening it obediently. Siffrin grumbled something under their breath, but looked more baffled at Isabeau's compromise than anything. 

A stiff silence filled the air, broken only by the occasional clang of a pot from Bonnie’s corner. Isabeau settled down next to Siffrin with forced casualty, body too tense for Mirabelle to believe he wasn’t a little nervous with their current situation. Her fingernails wound up in her mouth at some point, anxious energy crawling its way to be released somehow. Odile had her nose pressed halfway in her book- it was one she’d ‘borrowed’ from one of the dorms earlier, some big and complicated Craft theory book. To Odile’s credit, she was much better at feigning leisure than Isabeau, but Mirabelle still caught the way her sharp eyes would dart to Siffrin every few seconds. 

Luckily, Bonnie has no problems breaking into the adult’s hesitance. “SNACKS TIME!” 

“Snacks time?” Isabeau parroted. 

“Snacks time.” Bonnie agreed, nodding stoically. 

The group’s glorious Snacks Leader pulled out some containers from the confines of their bag, rummaging around and proudly presenting their creations. Onigiri, plantain chips, and tasty cookies were laid out in front of them, prime for plucking. 

“Thank you Bonnie, these look wonderful!” She smiled, picking up some of the cookies and taking a small bite. Tasty. 

Bonnie puffed up with pride, positively beaming. Diligently, they shoved snacks into the eager hands of her allies. Odile gratefully accepted some rice balls, a nostalgic glimmer in her eye and Isabeau already had a mouthful of plantains tucked in his cheeks like a hamster… 

They paused, hovering over Siffrin. Odile’s eyes didn’t leave the rogue as she bit into her meal. 

Bonnie stared down at Siffrin. Siffrin stared back, brow raised expectantly. Without breaking eye contact, Bonnie silently and swiftly shoved an entire onigiri into Siffrin’s mouth. “Huympfm???” He exclaimed, startled, mouth stuffed full. Chunks of rice fell out onto his armour, while other grains stuck to his cheeks. 

“Even bad guys need snacks.” Bonnie tacked on quickly after a few odd looks were thrown their way. 

A quiet laugh bubbled from her chest, “Awww. That’s really sweet of you, Bonnie!”

“So he has enough energy for more interrogations. And torture.” 

Siffrin choked, coughing out more grains onto his nice chestplate. Mirabelle did the same, thankfully swallowing the rest of her cookie before scolding. “BONNIE. No torture!!!” 

“Even if they’re an evil crab…?”

“Even if they’re an evil crab.” 

Bonnie deflated, stomping over to sit next to their own pillar with their cheeks puffed. They flopped down, and started to angrily munch on their cookies, mumbling something about ‘never getting to have fun.’ Their anger washed away quickly, a potential temper tantrum placated easily by baked goods. Siffrin relaxed in turn as he continued to eat their rice ball with… not much success, considering their arms were unavailable. It was equal parts impressive and horrific how the tiny rogue damn near unhinged their jaw to eat it, like a rabid snake devouring a mouse. 

Still, snacks time passed in relative peace. Bonnie threw out some suggestions for gentle torture methods, that were quickly shot down by her and Isabeau (And encouraged by Odile, but Mirabelle was fairly sure she was joking. Probably.) 

“So, what exactly do you plan to do with me?” Siffrin asked eventually, breaking the tentative relaxation they’d built. It was quiet for a spell, before she realized he was asking her.

“Uh… W-what do you mean…?”

“Are you just going to waltz up to my King with me tucked under that oaf’s arm? Drag me around the whole House? I can tell you now, it wouldn’t go well for either of us.” 

“U-um… Well…” Change this was embarrassing. She was supposedly the leader. Supposedly the hero. She should know all the answers to these things. 

“I was under the assumption that we'll tie you to some pillar until the King either freezes us all, or we kill him.” Odile answered for her, not looking up from her book. 

Siffrin scoffed, “I wasn't asking you.”

“My apologies. I'm sorry you think I care about what you want.” Odile retorted, slamming the book shut. 

“You’ve got an awfully big ego for someone who nearly had her throat slit open today,” Siffrin sneered, venom dripping from every word. Isabeau's eyes darted rapidly between the two. 

Odile laughed, low and humourless. She stood up, and bended at her knees to look Siffrin in the eyes. He raised his head up in turn, glaring daggers into her. “Well I think we're quite similar in that way, no? Perhaps we're both a bit full of ourselves?” Odile asked as she pulled out something from her bag- which Mirabelle quickly realized was Siffrin's dagger. 

Siffrin spat at her feet, lip curled in disgust, “We’re nothing alike.”

Odile smiled, twirling the dagger in her hand, “Of course we aren't…” she brought the weapon up to her face, inspecting it, “There's one big difference between us.”

Siffrin chuckled, “And what is that, Madame?” 

There was a sudden and sickening crack. It echoed through the empty room, filling otherwise dead silence. 

The dagger now rested in between two stones in the pillar, stray pebbles tumbling down, lodged free from the force. Siffrin stood stock still, pupils blown wide, staring straight at the weapon. 

Stray strands of white hair floated to the ground. There was a cut on his cheek. If Odile had been an inch off, the dagger would've pierced through his skull. “The difference,” Odile continued, adjusting her glasses casually, “Is that when I make threats, I intend to keep them.” 

She tugged the dagger out, and pointed it towards their throat. “You are very lucky you decided to attack me first. If it'd been anyone else underneath your blade-” She pressed the tip into their skin. “You would've been dead where you stand.” 

For a moment, Mirabelle thought Odile would press it further. Sink it into his neck and let him bleed out onto the frozen cobblestone. 

For a moment, Siffrin clearly thought the same. 

The dagger pulled away from their throat, Odile shoved it back into her bag. She nearly looked guilty for a spell, as her eyes wandered towards Bonnie in the corner. A heavy sigh fell out of her mouth, recomposing herself and sitting back down. 

Mirabelle couldn't help but stare at the rogue. He looked straight ahead, expression unchanging. His eyes were glazed over and distant. 

Like he wasn't here at all. Like his mind was somewhere entirely else. Mirabelle couldn't blame him. 

But she couldn't blame Odile either. 

_________________________

[So… That could’ve gone better.]

Really? He hadn’t noticed.

[Oh well, that’s what happens when you threaten someone! Tough luck, Stardust!]

Wasn’t the voice demon in their brain supposed to be helping? Keeping them on the right track? Be nice, like a guide should be?

[When on earth did I ever say that? Just being I’m helping doesn't mean I have to be nice, dummy~] 

Siffrin sighed, long and hard. The steady rhythm of Isabeau's footfalls was almost soothing, a gentle up and down up and down and in and out in and out. Their perspective of the House was remarkably limited from where they were now flung over the fighter’s shoulder, having apparently lost the privilege to at least see where they were all going. Tucked underneath his arm Siffrin could look ahead, but all they saw now was the back end of the twisting halls they kept getting lost in. 

A heavy weight trailed them after Odile's little outburst. 

Isabeau was determined to continue like nothing happened, laughing much too loud for the empty halls around them. Mirabelle hovered at the front, wringing her hands over and over, not look behind her as she led them through. Bonnie clung to Odile of all people, having somehow managed to wiggle their little hand into hers. 

Siffrin didn't know what Odile was doing. They couldn't see ahead of them, and she was awfully quiet. 

Conversations were muted, focused. Small talk bubbled back up after a while at least, silly banter settling back among them, stilted and stiff as they were. 

Good, he thought. Make them uncomfortable. Make them know he was dangerous. Make them know she was dangerous. 

[You're acting as if it was unreasonable for her to snap. As if you hadn't almost killed her.] 

Siffrin grumbled, deciding then and there that they didn't like their brain demon very much. 

[Oh don't worry, Stardust. 

The feeling is mutual.] 

_________________________

Black halls passed by in hazy blurs. Siffrin zoned out most of the way. They were thrown to the side during fights, left like a rotten sack of produce tossed into the dump. They didn’t mind an awful lot, the rhythmic battles gave them plenty of time to study movements. 

Mirabelle was a healer. She was anxious, but determined. 

Isabeau took the hits, and hit back harder. Dumb, but strong. 

Odile was frail and physically weak- but Stars did that woman know how to Craft. Slow, but cunning. 

Bonnie was… Doing their best.

They licked a stray grain of rice off their cheek, savouring the salty flavour. Tasty. 

Isabeau hauled them over his shoulder once more, the Sadness left writhing and groaning on the ground- only to be quickly dealt with from a clunky blow from Bonnie’s pan. More walking. Up and down and in and out. He shifted, craning their neck in a vain attempt to see past their hat, “Do any of you actually know where you’re headed?” 

“Of course! To the top!” Isabeau’s deep voice rumbled beneath them, warm and full and wholly alien to them. They decided not to dwell on it. 

“Can you be more specific?” 

“Hm… That is a pretty good question, actually. Hey Mira, where are we-” 

“OH! I know where we are!!!”  Mirabelle continued, a small smile on her face. “It’s the Head Housemaiden’s office! There’s probably something useful there.” She said, lifting up the hem of her dress as she marched into the office. 

Isabeau laughed, rumbling them again. “See? We know exactly where we’re going.” 

They entered the frozen room, door closing behind the group. Unceremoniously, they were plopped onto the floor. “Stay.” Isabeau ordered, speaking as if he were some disobedient dog. He stuck his tongue out.

A newly familiar pang nagged at the base of his skull. It itched and clawed, numbly begging for his attention. A smarmy pulled at his lips and it took a lot of willpower to not start cackling to himself. 

[Stardust, if they’re stuck, you’re stuck.] 

They couldn’t control their little chuckle, then. Ah, poor saviours. Took too long to reach The King, took to long to find the key, stuck on some puzzle they couldn’t piece together in time. Ah, poor saviours, frozen in time forever. Stuck forever. 

[You’ll be frozen too.]

He knew that. He wanted that. Wanted the sweet embrace of eternity, to save the scraps of his shattered home and mother tongue. Wanted his King’s wish fulfilled. Wanted to abide by his King’s request.

[...]

[Sure.]

[Keep telling yourself that, Stardust.]

There was a tinkling sound, like bells being rung, like a wind chime swept by a breeze. Siffrin realized that it was laughter, echoing in their brain alongside the stranger’s words. They frowned. They didn’t get the joke. 

“There’s nothing useful in here. Isabeau, grab the hostage. We should keep going.” Odile stated, pulling Siffrin out of their head. The barb in their brain got sharper, digging into their thoughts as Isabeau wrapped an arm around his torso. It began pulsating, throbbing, beating to a steady rhythm, thumping against their skull while the fighter shifted them over top of his shoulder. The thrumming got louder, thumping in and out and in and out and in. Isabeau’s steps were painfully slow, as it grew into a crescendo. Over and over in a relentless staccato, barbs morphing thorns and roots and sticking into their skull in and out and in and out and in-

The fighter stepped out of the room, and the torture stopped, ceasing in an instant. Siffrin whimpered, brain pulsing with phantom pains, sweat beading off their forehead.

[How odd. Wonder why that happened.] 

They cursed under their breath, cursing the voice ringing in their head in a language they’ve never spoken. 

[Don’t waste your breath here, Stardust~ We’ll have plenty of time for this very shortly.] 

He didn’t have time to figure out what that meant, as Mirabelle suddenly startled. “Oh! Wait!!! I think the Housemaiden kept a key in her drawer!!!”

Odile pinched her brows, “Why didn’t we check it in the first place…?”

Mirabelle ran past, hovering in the doorway. “Don’t worry Madame! I’ll be quick, I promise!”

The Housemaiden smiled. It was gentle. It was sweet. 

It was… sugary.

Something was stuck in their throat, and something clicked from overhead. Mirabelle’s smile never fell, never faltered, as she never noticed in time.

Didn’t notice the trap door open, and a boulder coming crashing down.

There was a crunch. Syrup coated his tongue. In one moment, Mirabelle stood smiling, in the next she wasn’t much more than a pool of sticky black blood on the floor. 

Breathless, he laughed in disbelief.

All that time, and that was all he needed? All he needed to do was get kidnapped? All he needed was to get her stuck under a rock?

All he needed to win was to kill the Housemaiden. All The King needed to win was for her to be dead.

Siffrin felt sick, either from joy or horror. It didn't matter either way.

He devolved into a cackle, uncaring to the stunned silence around him. Stars, she must've been in so much pain. Must've felt every bone crunch into dust, every vein burst, every pulse stop. He did. He remembers how it felt. 

Siffrin felt like they were about to barf. 

“...B-belle…?” Someone sobbed next to them. They giggled relentlessly, giddy and manic. Butterflies fluttered in their stomach. Butterflies, with their sticky sweet nectar making him gag. Butterflies, flying and pulling and tugging inside them. 

       Tugging

                     Cloying sugar on his tongue

Bursting from his sto

mach

A 

                           tu

                                                      g

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of their borrowed dorm stared back.

Chapter Text

It was cold in the House.

It was warm when they had first arrived. Sun bleached stone paved the walkways, the gossamer curtains draped and swayed in the balmy breeze, there was a gentle heat that tugged at weary bones and smoothed out rough edges.

It was odd, looking back to how easily they stepped into the House. After wishing at the Favour Tree, he and his King supposedly left to go and storm it…

But there were no guards. No barriers. Only a welcome sign on the door and soft snoring through the cracks under rooms. 

It was cold in the House. 

Sifrin would know, as he was practically an expert in it. Truly, no other person on earth was as experienced with sitting in the frosted corpse of a castle than he was right then. The window next to his borrowed bed offered no sunbeams to bask in or warm breeze. All it showed were stars. Stars in an eternal night. Stars unblinking. Stars frozen alongside his fingers.

It felt like a taunt. 

Sometimes he thought that they stared back. Waiting. Laughing. Expecting. 

They pressed their cheek against the glass, breath fogging up the window. Absently, they coursed a finger through the smooth fog, drawing a wonky star. They pressed their fingers against the image, desperate to regain some of the warmth in their tips, and in their chest. All they achieved was destroying it, fingers cutting through the vapour, coursing black streaks into their art. 

He frowned, flopping back on his bed. It wasn’t his. Most things he owned weren’t his. Not anymore. 

Being grounded sucked, but he preferred it to walking out and facing The King. At least for now, while the topic of his failure was still sore and tender. 

Is this what their eternity felt like? 

In the room, Siffrin was safe from his King’s tantrums and lectures. Safe from runaway Housemaidens. Safe from staring his victims in their frozen eyes, screams preserved in perfect statues for the rest of time. In the room, nothing moved. Curtains stood, stock still and stiff. Dust particles suspended themselves in the air, uncaring of gravity’s tug. Siffrin sat stuck in bed for hours on end. 

They closed their eyes, and shivered. Pulling a blanket up to their chin, they rolled over, sinking further into their downy pillow. The bedding didn’t help, at times it felt like it stole more warmth than it gave. Yet, the weight was comforting, and there wasn’t much else to do. 

They squeezed their eyes shut, mind fading into static. They sat frozen in the room, eternally waiting for something to pull them out of it.

Yes, they decided. It must be what it was like. 

_________________________

Siffrin sat up, startled. 

Honey and maple drowned their mouth, drowned their taste, drowned their smells. Sugar. Sugar pouring down their throat endlessly. Sugar choking every inch of air. Sugar in their lungs, sugar in their stomach, sugar in their eyes-

In… 

And out.

Dying was becoming familiar quickly, and so was gagging on nothing but whispers of wishes right after, and so was sitting in their too-cold bed staring up at the too-blank ceiling. 

In and out. 

Except, he didn’t die, did he? Mirabelle- The Housemaiden did. The rock didn’t touch him, never even grazed him. His wish was to save Vauguarde. The Universe granted it, by keeping him alive. By bringing him back over and over. By making sure he’d never fail. By making sure he’d always get in the last laugh. 

… Why did he loop, then? 

Why did he loop? 

Their wish was to save Vauguarde. If Mirabelle was dead, then the saviours couldn't win. He had saved Vauguarde. They got their wish so why were they still here? Why were they back? 

[Hey Starduuussst~] 

“Oh for the love of- Fuck off! Can’t a guy have a meltdown in peace!?!”  

[Oh of course, my bad, teehee~ Sure, I’ll leave you to it- But don’t forget our little promise, okaayyy?]

“Promise?”

[You’re so forgetful! Remember, you said you’d come see me next time? I’m getting lonely over here!]

Siffrin grumbled, clutching strands of white hair in a rough grasp, “I never said anything! I never agreed to go and see you!” 

[Oh, sure. If you want to run around like a headless chicken trying to figure things out for a little longer, be my guest! 

Or… 

You can come and see me. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and I have a lot of answers. And a lot to say to you!!! I have many thoughts to share!] 

They groaned, holding their head in their hands. Help would be… helpful. “... Fine.”

[Perfect! It’s a date~ 

Don’t keep me waiting!]

He regretted the deal as soon as it left their lips, but a knock on the door kept them from arguing further. Resigned, Siffrin marched up to his door and turned the handle. 

The King greeted him on the other side, as always. This routine was quickly becoming just as mundane as the taste of sugar on his lips. 

“Bright One.”

Siffrin bowed, peering upwards at The King’s hulking frame through their bangs, “You’re majesty. The saviours… They’re close, aren’t they?” They might as well speed it up.

The King nodded, swaths of ragged white hair tumbling to the ground with the movement. “Ooohhh… They are indeed, Bright One. Coming ever closer. They want to destroy it, Bright One. Destroy what little we have left…” He petered off, staring at them intently.

“I’ll make sure to handle them this time, My King.” 

“Very good…” The King hesitantly turned to leave, but paused to peer down at them with an unreadable expression. “And Siffrin?” 

They swallowed a hard lump in their throat, tasting syrup all the way down, “Yes, My King?” They asked, but they already knew the answer: Don’t let them go. 

The King instead tucked a massive finger under their chin, forcing their eyes to meet his own, “Who were you speaking too?” The finger tugged at the collar of their cape, harsher than necessary. 

“I was- uh- Giving myself a pep talk…? In the mirror…? To uh- reflect, on the journey so far?” Nailed it. The King loved his puns. 

The King grumbled, moving his hand to be behind Siffrin instead, cupping him entirely. “Siffrin.”

He was trapped. Breaths came out quicker than he’d care to admit. “I-I promise. I needed the confidence booster, you know?” 

The fingers of the hand twitched, armour shrieking as it rubbed against itself. There was a horrifying silence for a moment, as the armour stopped ringing and Siffrin stopped breathing. An eternity later, The King sighed, thick and heavy with unshed emotion. “Bright One.” 

They gulped, breaths coming in far too quick, “Yes, your m-majesty?” 

“... Do you know how important you are in this, Siffrin?” They didn’t answer. The King continued on anyways, “Bright One, what do you remember of it? What do you really remember?” 

Frigid waters, pine trees, beaches made of pointy black pebbles. A hand cupping his cheek. 

Auroras the further North you went, dancing in the sky. The moon raised high. Galaxies swirling up above. “...The stars.” 

The King laughed, devolving into a choking sob. “Yes… The Stars. The Universe. And what else?” 

Laughing with his friends, an oar in his hand, someone kissing the top of his head and tucking him in, “... Nothing.” 

“Ooohhh. Bright One- don’t you see? All I have of my home, our home! All I have are stars and…” 

“...Me?” 

The giant’s hand slowly raised itself, and patted the top of Siffrin’s head. They flinched. The King laughed, “All I have is you. And all you have is me. And all that’s keeping Vauguarde from the same fate is us.” 

“...And all that’s stopping us is the Saviours.” 

“Exactly. We must save them, Siffrin. Keep this from ever happening again. Keep me from ever losing something important again.” He gently cupped their cheek in a single finger. It took them every ounce of restraint to not back away from it. “You understand, right?”

Siffrin smiled, edges not reaching his eyes, “Of course, your majesty.” 

The King retracted his hand, humming in content, and turned to leave. Siffrin waited until his thunderous footfalls quit echoing through the House before ducking back into their room. 

The following steps were another quickly cementing routine- Grab his hat, strap on his armour, tie his annoyingly long hair into a ponytail, and check himself out in the mirror.

Which was, to be clear, a very important step in world domination. 

[Don’t keep me waiting, Stardust.]

They groaned, “Gimme a minute! I have to actually get down there first…” Which was an issue, wasn’t it? If they went down the halls and waltzed into Dormont, they’d surely run into the Saviours along the way. 

[Have you tried the ladder?]

“...There’s a ladder?”

The familiar pang nestled itself at the back of his brain, pulsing softy. Siffrin hummed, wandering around the small bathroom. Curl cream, nail polish, weirdly familiar bows, a window…  The pinging grew more incessant as he brushed by the windowsill. Curiously, he poked his head out into the eternal night outside.

Propped up to the window was a ladder, alongside a remarkably plot convenient construction worker who was stuck frozen in time. “Huh. Handy.” They hopped out, sliding down the ladder’s sides, ignoring the rungs and landing with a soft thud on the rooftop. Tools scattered around the worker, who was working on a hole in the shingles. Or, she was working on a hole, before they froze her in time for eternity. “Sorry about that, Madame. Don’t worry, the roof is basically fixed forever now! It won’t break anymore!” He laughed. 

The worker, as expected, didn’t respond. 

Still, Siffrin tipped their hat to her as they continued on down the sloped roof. Peering down the edge, there was another, much longer, ladder reaching the ground below, surrounded by forest. They smiled, and hopped down the ladder and onto the spongy grass below. 

The Favour Tree was just to the West of Dormont, and was just through the forest around him. A grin on his face, Siffrin took off.

_________________________

Branches reached out gnarled fingers to snag on his cloak as he stumbled through the forest, not risking the walk through Dormont itself. The bushes were as thick and lush as they came, and the was soil soft and loamy underfoot. Siffrin grumbled quietly to himself, pushing prickly sprigs away, nearly tripping on every root along the path. 

Eventually, clear sunbeams cut through the shady canopy of leaves. The path cut clearer and Siffrin picked up the pace, jogging through the dwindling thicket. Breaking free of the forest, they pulled down their hat to shield from the blinding sun. 

Pure night sky surrounded the House at all hours, twinkling away with their taunting lights- it was equal parts infuriating and comforting, but it meant that Siffrin was woefully unprepared for the balmy breeze and cloudless sky overhead. Nearby birds sang out little piou piou’s in the clearing and Siffrin craned their neck upwards to see what they had come for. 

The Favour Tree’s branches reached upwards towards the sun. He wasn’t sure why he was expecting something to have changed from the last time he’d visited. When The King stood behind him, stars glowed above him, and a wish floated gently below him. 

A tug nagged at the back of their brain. The same tug they felt when there was a key in a room, an incessant little snag that wouldn’t leave. 

They were smart enough to recognize a request when it was given.

They obliged the pull in their skull, heeled boots sinking into the soft soil. Trotting forwards towards the tree, they stopped once reaching the base. The trunk was as wide as a house, roots spilling and twisting through dirt and sprouts.

And there, sitting in a little nook created by the entwining vines, was a sparkle.

Siffrin shielded his eyes from the light, squinting to make out just what was in front of them. The pinging in their brain has stopped, telling him that this was indeed his destination. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the glow. 

They realized shortly that it was not wha t was in front of them, but rather who. Its head was molten stardust, sparking and igniting all on its own, glowing like it was plucked straight out of the night sky itself. Its body was black, sparkling with shiny specks dotted along its arms and legs. Its eyes narrowed as he got close. Its fingers dug into the root it sat on, leaving scratch marks behind. Still, The Star giggled, “It’s rude to stare, you know! I’m aware that my elegance can be a lot for some people, but at least get to know me before ogling me so much~ Have some manners!” The Star said, a strained laughter ringing out. It brought its hand up to hide a smile that didn’t exist.

Siffrin hovered a hand over his dagger, “So you’ve been the one talking to me! Whatever… you… are?” 

“Jeez, you are rude! You said it yourself, I’m a who not a what. And a them, not an it while, we’re at it!” 

His cheeks flushed. He actually felt a little bad, “...Sorry.” 

The Star rolled their eyes, “Oh, don’t give me that. Don’t bother acting all nice, we both know what you’re like,” they spat, tone suddenly sharp.

“Wha- Hey! I might be a super cool bad guy, but I’m not a bad guy.”

“Odile would argue to the contrary.” They said, pretending to examine nails that also didn’t exist.

“Odile murdered me!” 

“You threatened her with a knife,” They argued, eyes flat and unimpressed. 

“She murdered me before that!” 

“Stars forbid women do anything.” 

Siffrin groaned, holding their head in their hands. “Urrghhh- I didn’t think you’d be worse in person!!!” The Star simply laughed, sounding like bells ringing softly in their ears. Siffrin’s eyes narrowed, and he pulled out his dagger, pointing it towards the stranger. “Alright, here’s the deal. I came here for answers, and you’re going to give them, alright?” 

The Star rolled their two toned eyes and yawned, “My, you are so dramatic, Stardust. I already said I would give you answers. That’s literally the whole reason you came over here, right?” 

His lips pursed, dagger still held strong. The Star’s eyes flicked down towards the blade, then back up at him. They looked unconcerned, bored, if anything. Siffrin grumbled, lowering their knife ever so slightly, “Fine. First question, who are you?” 

“Hm…” The Star placed a finger where their mouth would be, humming obnoxiously to themself. “Ah… You can call me… Loop! Ain’t that easy to remember? Your good old friend Loop here to help!” Their eyes pinched, voice stressing the word friend with such bitterness that even Siffrin, as oblivious as he is, noticed the disdain. 

“Okay, then… Loop. Why are you here?” 

“...” Their eye twitched, “To help! Of course! You see Stardust, you’re stuck in a time loop~” 

He rolled his eyes straight out of his skull, “Really!?! I hadn't noticed!” 

Loop scoffed, “Oh don’t give me that attitude. A-N-Y-ways! You’re in a time loop! And I’ll be here to give you helpful little tips! And helpful little reminders where keys are! Here, I’ll give you some advice right now!” 

[Stop dying, dumbass~] Their voice rang painfully in his brain, bouncing and echoing. Siffrin winced. 

“See how nice I am?” They batted their eyelashes.

“I do not think I have ever hated a person more than I do at this moment.” 

Loop cooed, “Awww~ I’m so glad you feel the same way!” 

Siffrin frowned. It wasn’t the first time Loop had said something similar, but… “...Why?”

The Star startled, brows shooting up. They giggled to themself, “What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you hate me? You were the one who decided to take up residence in my brain, I’m not forcing you to do that! Why bother even helping if you clearly don’t like me?  You have no idea who I even am!” 

Loop stared at them. They blinked, once, twice… And then burst out into laughter. 

They cackled to themself for what felt like minutes, maniacal and rabid. Loop laughed and laughed, clutching their sides and wiping away tears by the time they finished. “Ha… Haha… Oh, I suppose you’re right Stardust, you’re so clever~” They purred. Turning on a dime, their eyes thinned, they leaned in close to Siffrin’s face, maintaining uncomfortable eye contact, “I really, really, don’t know you. Don’t understand you”

Silence hung thick in the air, filled only by Siffrin’s hoarse breaths. Loop looked almost sad before blinking again, and suddenly they were back to smiling and clapping their hands, “I mean, really, The King? Poor taste, Stardust! Poor taste!” They clasped their hands together. Their fingers dug into their skin so rough Siffrin expected them to bleed. 

“Don’t insult his majesty.” Siffrin said with a half-hearted huff. 

“Wow, wonderful defense. You sounded really enthusiastic there. I’m soooo convinced you like your boss, now.” 

 “...” 

“Anywho! I’m so sorry to say, but we really don’t have much more time to chat! So if you have any more questions, ask them now!” 

Siffrin startled, “Wait- Are you leaving?” 

Loop laughed, “HAH! No, stupid, remember what the time is? Remember where you usually are by now, in a normal loop?” 

His nose scrunched, trying to remember. 

“Urgh, I have to do everything for you, Stardust. By now, you’re usually in the Death Corridor, remember? Usually either about to get your skull caved in by a rock, a book, or an especially mean comment from a preteen? 

“...” 

“...” 

“I’m not dignifying that with a reply. But yes, I remember.” 

“Weeeeell, your party is about, hm…” Loop’s eyes suddenly grew distant, rolling back in their sockets, head glowing intensely. After a few seconds, they snapped back to normal, “About thirty seconds away from getting crushed to death! And, as you demonstrated wonderfully earlier, when they die, you do too~!” 

“But why! Why did I loop?!? I fulfilled my order, what more does The Universe want!?!” Siffrin shouted, tugging at strands of hair. 

Loop stared at them. They tilted their head slightly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

A steady ire burned in Siffrin’s chest, “Well?!? You said you’d answer me!” 

Loop stared some more. They smiled, and brought their hand up, “Oh, Stardust~” There was a sinking pit in his stomach. Loop’s finger booped the tip of his nose, “I don’t need to give an answer you already know.” 

A rebuttal formed in Siffrin’s throat. 

They choked on sugar before they could say it. 

Loop’s smile grew, tugging at the edges of their eyes, tugging at the pit in their stomach                  tugging 

                                           and 

    Tug

ging 

                 In 

                                   and 

out

_________________________

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of their borrowed dorm stared back.

They groaned, holding their head in their hands, pressing the palms into their eyes, licking their lips free from the sugary aftertaste. Butterflies still fluttered in their stomach but at least their breathing was steady, in and out and in and out. 

Looping back so far away from the actual death was far less visceral, less real. He was left with no after image of a sugar sweet smile or blood pooling on the floor, just the imprint of a grinning star in the back of his eyes.

…

Loop. He met Loop. 

…

Who was Loop? What was Loop? Why did they hate him so much, and why bother helping him despite that?

Siffrin wasn't stupid, he could see the way their claws dug into their arms, see how their smile was wide and manic. See how their eyes pinched too much, see how they bore into him. 

Their eyes… They were so familiar. 

…

Loop said Siffrin already knew the answer. Said they already knew why The Universe forced them back. They had saved Vaugaurde. They had completed their wish. Yet they were brought back anyway. 

Maybe he didn't do it right. 

The Universe was known to be particular. It didn't listen to nuance much, just hard facts. It doesn't care what you think, only whether or not the terms were completed. Siffrin wasn't sure where that nugget of information was hiding in his brain, but it had resurfaced, bobbing up against his drowned memories. 

… It was The King's wish, really. Siffrin was the one to whisper it into existence, but it was The King's order nevertheless. The Universe was picky, sure, but the solution was often simple. 

The King is Vaugarude’s saviour. Siffrin is merely his accomplice, his subject, his servant. 

And even still, who’s to say killing Mirabelle then would've led to Vauguarde being saved? Maybe Odile would’ve killed them later that loop, keeping them from helping The King secure his victory- Or the party would’ve gone on a revenge fueled rampage!

Maybe the solution was simple. Maybe all he needed was to kill Mirabelle a different way, when he wasn’t held hostage. Maybe all he needed was for The King to save Vauguarde instead. Maybe all he needed… was for The King to kill the Saviours himself.

Perfectly on cue, as always, there was a knock on his door. 

A small grin grew on their face. It wasn’t them who really wished for it, it wasn’t them who was saving Vaugarude! Their heels clicked in rapid pace against the glassy floors, as Siffrin threw open their door. “Good morning, your Majesty!”

The King was taken a bit by surprise, “Bright One. Good morning as well, I suppose. You’re awfully energetic.” 

Siffrin smiled, “We’re saving the country today! Why wouldn’t I be excited?”

The King chuckled, “Yes… We are… Aren’t we?”

“Or more, you are, my liege.” Siffrin bowed. “The Saviours are here, right?” 

“Yes… Ooohhh… I can feel them coming, Bright One.” 

A wicked grin tore across their face, “Let them come, your majesty. They’ll be dealt with. One way or another.” 

Chapter Text

Siffrin shuffled by crowds of people, heels clicking against the stone path. 

Villagers milled past with pleasant ease and sweet smiles, with familiarity as they wandered about their town. Their home. 

He did his best to keep the frown off his face as people passed by, waving to him with cheery ‘bonjours.’ It wasn’t their fault he was like this, afterall. They didn’t deserve, nor experience, the carnage of their thoughts, the sorrow beating in their chest where a heart was supposed to.

But, stars, did they want to scream sometimes. 

These people had other people. Had homes. Had their language. Had their culture.

Had their families. 

Siffrin only had fleeting memories and a sorrow rooted so deep in their soul they might as well have grown around it. Most days they were lucky to be aimless, lucky for their memories to have lost their grip on his mind, leaving them to wander without the pain of remembrance. 

Not today, it seems. 

Siffrin does not remember what they don’t remember- but they at least know the drowning loneliness that trailed them at all times. The weight that keep them rooted in the earth, reminding them that they were real. They brushed past the people as they went, fleeting touches that did nothing to help. They felt like water pouring out of cupped hands, like sand spilling through fingers. They did not belong here. They could not be contained. They were not solid, merely liquid and aimless among the people around them.

Suddenly, Siffrin bumped shoulders with someone. He jumped back, looking up at the long-haired stranger he’d run into. “Sorry!” He said in a language that no longer existed. He expected a ‘desolé’ or ‘excusez-moi’ in reply. 

It was quite a surprise, then, that the stranger said sorry back. 

The two stood still in the village, the crowd of Vauguardians fading in the back. The stranger stared at him. Not past him. He looked him in the eyes and kept looking more, searching for something. He looked at Siffrin and for once he existed, for once he was real, and asked him, “Bright One…

Where are you from?” 

_________________________

The routine was setting in by now: Put on his armor, tie back his annoyingly long hair, go down the hall, ignore the Sadnesses, pass the doors…

He paused in front of Death Corridor, hand hovering over the handle. 

Siffrin took in a deep breath, in and out. 

They needed to do it right this time.

They didn’t have the patience to mess around with any more hostage situations or head trauma- They just needed to achieve their goal. They just needed to save Vaugarde. They just needed to get the saviours all the way to The King without either him or them dying in the process. That way, his King would defeat them, he’ll save Vaugarde, and they'll all be free to relish in his wonderful eternity forever! Easy! Simple! Nobody could mess it up! 

…

They let out a breathy chuckle, empty of humour. Messing things up seemed to be the one thing they were good at not messing up. 

It wasn’t like he could even get any help, either. Loop was the closest thing to guide he had, and they were… unreliable, at best. He certainly couldn’t tell the saviours or anyone in Dormont because duh, and The King- 

…

His fingers twitched above the handle. 

They kept breathing in and out. They couldn’t waste more time by beating themself up over stupid things nobody but them or Loop could even remember, the saviours would be there any minute, afterall. 

… Muffled, from the otherside of the door, Siffrin suddenly heard voices, “W-wait! Isa! I think I remember this hallway! It’s dangerous!” 

Wait. 

“Mira, there’s nothing here.” Another muted voice replied, “I know you’re nervous, but there ain’t anything we can’t take at this point!” 

Not yet! 

Siffrin had already wasted too much time! He was so stuck in his own head, he didn't even notice how long he'd been staring at the handle, zoning out like an idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

In seconds one of them was going to get crushed to death and he’d have to start over again! It was the first thing he could’ve possibly screwed up, and he did! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hurriedly, he grabbed the frozen handle. 

“No! Really! The other Housemaidens called this Death Corridor,” Mirabelle warned, voice getting louder as Siffrin turned the latch and slammed open the door. 

“Mirabelle, really, we do not have time for this-” Odile said, not having noticed him yet, “There is nothing here. We are fine.” 

Not yet.

“Don’t worry, Mira. See?” Isabeau stepped further inside. There was a click from above. “There’s nothing to worry abo-” 

Siffrin saw it happen in slow motion.

Isabeau stepped forward. The trap activated. Siffrin snapped his fingers, crafted energy pouring through his body. The rock tumbled down. Siffrin was halfway across the hall. Isabeau looked up, eyes widening. 

Siffrin, acting on nothing more than adrenaline, smashed into Isabeau’s side, sending both of them tumbling onto the ground. A deafening crash sounded out behind them, followed by stray dust and debris from the boulder that had surely fallen. Siffrin breathed in and out, trying to steady his frantic nerves. 

Their stomach didn't feel painful or bursting at the seams. Their mouth was dry and free of syrup. They weren't on top of a freezing bed, but instead something… warm?

“U-uhm.” Someone squeaked from below. 

Finally sparing a glance downwards, Siffrin was met face to face with Isabeau.

Isabeau, whose face was currently ten shades darker than normal. 

Isabeau, who Siffrin realized, they were directly on top of, stradling his torso.

[Get a room, Stardust.] 

Siffrin’s brain stuttered, their subconscious getting hung up somewhere between not dying and big buff guy with big buff arms pinned underneath them. 

They didn’t need to say anything, luckily, because Mirabelle was already rushing to their sides, face taut with equal parts worry and relief. “ISABEAU! Oh Change- I think my heart nearly burst out of its chest! Are you alright?!?” She crouched down next to the pair, hands glowing faintly with the whispers of healing Craft. 

Isabeau let out a breathy laugh, eyes still staring up at Siffrin, “Y-yeah??? I think???” 

“Oh Isa!” Mirabelle sighed, clasping her hands together after she was sure he was uninjured. She smiled, before immediately shifting gears, “Oh Isa-” she repeated “-You crab!!! I told you it was dangerous in here and still you go galavanting in like- like!!! Some.. uh..” 

“LIKE A DUMB STUPID IDIOT!!!” Bonnie declared from behind. 

“Like a dumb stupid idiot!!!” Mirabelle parroted. 

Isabeau opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Odile’s stern tone, “Yes, yes. I’m glad you’re not dead, that was, admittedly, a pretty foolish thing-” 

“-Dumb stupid idiotic thing.” Bonnie helpfully corrected.

“...A pretty dumb stupid idiotic thing to do. I apologize as well, Mirabelle, for not taking your warnings seriously.” 

“Hmpf. Apology accepted, Madame.” Mirabelle huffed with a vindictive little smile.

“However. I do think we are perhaps glossing over the elephant in the room here?” Odile continued quickly, motioning straight towards Siffrin. Crap. 

Admittedly, they were hoping that they’d all be too busy coddling Isabeau to notice them slip away into the darkness of the frozen corridors. A plan that they did not execute for normal reasons. Reasons that definitely did not include being distracted by the unfairly handsome man still sat underneath them. Siffrin sighed, and silently braced themself for a book to the cranium. 

‘Uh- yeah. I was… gonna get to t-that…?” Isabeau muttered weakly, face turning a brilliant shade of tomato gray. He laughed awkwardly. Siffrin could feel it rumble from his chest where their hands still rested. It was warm. They pulled their hands away, bringing them up to their own chestplate, fingers instinctively flexing into a scissors sign. 

Odile raised a brow, “Calm down.” 

In and out. He was faster than her, faster than all of them. The current loop wasn’t a lost cause. He could still salvage it. 

“...You know, when people say ‘calm down,’ it’s a little odd to tense up even more than you were before.” Odile said. She stepped forward, pushing up her glasses. The beginnings of craft bubbled on his fingers as she got closer and closer, couching down beside Mirabelle and then she-

…Smiled? 

“You just saved our Fighter’s life. We owe you one, stranger.” She said, cocking her head curiously. 

What…?

Bonnie ran up beside her, grabbing at the hem of her coat and staring at him with stars in their eyes. They bounced on their feet, energy practically bursting out of their tiny body, “How did you do that!?! You went so fast!!! I didn’t even see the rock before you went whooosh and tackled Za!!!” 

What. 

Mirabelle nodded along, “It was like a superhero!!! Or like a prince swooping in to save a beautiful damsel in distress…!” She trailed off, eyes dreamy and wistful. 

“Mira, please don’t call me that. I am a handsome fellow in distress, thank you very much.” Isabeau said.

“Oh, well, of course!” 

Odile laughed, “Yes, of course. And then, who is our daring hero in this situation?” She asked, motioning towards Siffrin. He stared at her, blinking dumbly. Was this a joke? A ruse? Was she trying to get their guard down? His fingers had started cramping from where they sat still shaped into scissors. 

Bonnie frowned, “She’s asking your name, dummy.” 

They blinked again, studying her face. She looked not the slightest bit angry or vengeful- amused, if anything. 

“...Uh… Siffrin…?” They finally muttered, mouth dry. 

“Well it's nice to meet you, o’brave Monsieur Siffrin!” Mirabelle giggled. Siffrin must've pulled some sort of face, because she soon back peddled, “Or- uh- would you prefer Mademoiselle?”

They scrunched up their nose, “That's worse, actually. Just Siffrin is fine.” 

“Just Siffrin it is!” Mirabelle said, a sugar sweet smile on her face. It reminded them of butterflies.

They felt nauseous. 

“... Hey, uh… Siffrin?” Isabeau asked, startling them. It was so odd, being asked questions without their hands tied behind their back. It was… nice. Siffrin made a small hum of acknowledgement, pressing Isabeau to continue. “... Can you get off me now?”

They startled, face flushing as they realized that they’ve been stradling The Fighter for the entire conversation. They hurriedly jumped off, mumbling apologies under their breath and hiding their burning face underneath their hat. Odile laughed from somewhere above, offering her hand to Isabeau who graciously took it, hualing himself up and dusting himself off, “Well, I’ll admit almost getting crushed in the first room really doesn’t bode well for the rest of this trip…” he murmured. 

Odile sighed, “Agreed. Imagine getting killed by the very first trap! It’s just embarrassing.” 

[Yeah, Stardust. How embarrassing~] 

The only thing protecting Loop from a helping of very choice language was the fact that Siffrin was currently in mixed company. Still, they muttered expletives in a language that didn't exist, quiet enough that nobody could hear. 

[How crass! Do you speak to your mother with that mouth?] 

He almost replied, but was cut off by Mirabelle, “You know… Siffrin, you look a little familiar?” 

SHIT. “I do? That’s weird, I’ve never met you before! Ever. In my life. At all.” He laughed stiltedly, sweating bullets through his armor. 

Mirabelle’s eyes narrowed. She picked up the hem of her skirt and stomped forward, staring into their eyes intensely. “Yes… You look very familiar actually…” She hummed, head tilting. Siffrin choked on their words, panic spiking. Her eyes suddenly lit up in recognition, then with anger. Mirabelle jerked backwards, hand hovering over her rapier. 

“I remember you! You’re The King’s little guard dog!” 

FUCK. He lifted his hands placatingly as the rest of the saviours turned on him, raising their weapons. “I- UH- You’ve got the wrong guy!!!” Siffrin backed away slowly, glancing behind his shoulder to check if the way was clear for them to bolt. 

Odile tutted, Crafted power flooding from her fingertips and rushing into their own body. They groaned, legs suddenly feeling stiff and heavy, the Craft washing over them like sticky molasses. Odile smirked, “Not so fast, young one. You’re staying right here. I take that won’t be a problem, of course? Since Mirabelle clearly got the ‘wrong guy,’ it should be simple to prove your innocence, yes?” 

STARS. “Uh- Yeah? I’m- you’ve- You're… wrong?” he said, in a stroke of absolute brilliance in persuasion.

Odile gave him a flat look. “Isabeau, can you grab him please?” 

OTHER SWEAR WORDS. He couldn’t let himself get held hostage again! 

Isabeau approached cautiously, fists raised. Siffrin breathed in and out. They were an actor. They could manage some improv. “Uh… W-wait! I’m not with The King, I swear! I promise I’m not here to hurt you all!” They stuttered out, holding their hands up in surrender. 

[Not bad for a first read through, though could use some more confidence in the beginning. Keep workshopping it for the next loop, alright?] 

Isabeau hesitated. His jaw set, but he hovered to the back, unsure of what to do. Odile had pushed Bonnie behind her during it all and was glaring at him, sizing him up, “Really? Is the star-studded armor you have on merely a coincidence, then? Is it just happenstance that you wandered into the exact same hallway as us, on the day we stormed the House?” 

Siffrin forced a sigh, staring solemnly at their feet. They needed to sell this, and sell it well. They scrunched their face up, pretending to look a lot more conflicted than they actually were. “I… Uh…” Another sigh, heavier this time, hesitating just long enough to be convincing. “...Yeah. I… am working for The King. or, well… I was until a few minutes ago- and as far as he's concerned, I still am.” Siffrin risked a glance upwards, schooling their face into a remorseful expression. To their unshown delight, the saviours looked conflicted. 

“You’re… switching sides?” Mirabelle questioned, hands having traveled away from her rapier and towards her chest instead. 

“Yes! I promise, I’m not here to attack you all!” Not right then, at least. 

Odile grumbled, pushing a curious Bonnie further behind her, “And why exactly should we believe you?” 

“M’dame… They did just save my life.” Isabeau said. 

Siffrin suppressed a smile. They were glad he was stupid. 

Mirabelle stepped forward warily. Her eyes darted between him, her allies, and back to him once more. She sighed, “I… I believe you, Siffrin.” 

She did? Well that was easy. 

They bit their lip to keep themself from smiling too wide, “R-really? I know we didn’t get off on a great first step- but I promise, I want to help you all. The King…” Siffrin trailed off, trying to find the words. “He’s… he thinks he’s doing what’s right to save everyone. But… He's cruel. And controlling, and switches on a dime, and is… difficult. To be around.”

[And here I thought you were acting, Stardust. Though, I suppose method does make for a convincing performance.]

Odile placed a hand on Mirabelle's shoulder, giving her an unreadable look, “Mirabelle, are you sure this is the right decision?”

Mirabelle bit her lip, “I-I…” she sighed before setting her shoulders, turning towards him with a determined gaze, “Could I really call myself a maiden of Change if I don't believe that somebody could switch paths in life? If I don't believe people can get better- can grow and learn?” 

She smiled at him, so sweet it nearly made him puke. He found himself smiling back, fake and rehearsed. He didn't know if he felt shame or pride at how quickly she bought it, how quickly he earned such a beautiful smile that made butterflies flutter in his stomach. He wanted to retch. 

Their smiling mask grew wider, porcelain cheeks tugging painfully at their eyes. “I don't deserve your forgiveness, really… But I promise, I'll make it worth it! I can get you to the end. I can get you to The King.” Siffrin said, and for once it wasn't a lie. 

Hesitantly, Mirabelle extended a hand towards them. They accepted, lacing their fingers into her own. Their gauntlets kept any heat from actually touching them. The floor made them shiver. She hauled him up off the frozen ground, shaking his hand properly once he caught his bearings. “Well, Siffrin… Welcome to the team!” She suddenly startled, and whipped back towards her party, “If- uh- T-that’s okay with everyone…?”

Isabeau chuckled, “What kind of person would I be to reject my very own knight in shining armor?”

Oh. Wow. 

Siffrin felt very warm all of a sudden.

[I'd pay for the room myself, just stop doing this in front of me.] 

“I'm always down for cool evil guys.” Bonnie said, before immediately back peddling, “Or, uh. Cool not evil anymore guys.”

A lengthy pause followed. Everyone's eyes had wandered towards Odile, who Siffrin got the impression was the real leader of the operation, despite Mirabelle's blessed status. Odile stared him down, eyes sharp and unnerving before her gaze turned to Mirabelle's pleading face. Her eyes lingered, softening ever so slightly, before she let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. No point in arguing if everyone else is on board. But I will be keeping an eye on you, understood?”

He laughed nervously, “Haha…” 

Her scowl tightened. 

Siffrin cleared their throat, looking to the ground, “...Yes, Madame.”

Odile gave a satisfied smirk, “Wonderful. Let's get going then, shall we?”

_________________________

His heels clicked near silently on the frozen floors. 

Everyone else stomped noisily behind them, chatting up a storm as they wandered through the House’s endless hallways. Their fight or flight instincts were going haywire, yelling at them to either be quiet or eliminate the things making the noise. Really, it was a miracle the party had made it as far as they had. Between Isabeau's clunky footfalls and Bonnie's screeching, Siffrin wasn't sure how they didn't get ambushed all the way back in Jouvente. 

He zoned out most the way, avoiding Sadnesses where he could, turning and twisting through the glassy halls. A tug on his cape pulled him out of his head. He looked down to see their cape bunched up in Bonnie's hands, who was staring at them expectantly. Stars, he wasn't good with kids, “...Can I help you?”

“Why did you work for The King? Are you dumb?” Bonnie asked. Loudly. 

Siffrin choked. From behind, someone cackled at his expense. “Uh. Well… The King and I have- had similar interests.”

“What ‘similar interests’ involve freezing the country in time?” Odile questioned. 

“... The King- He... he just doesn't want to lose anything, not again. If everything is frozen, then nothing can be lost either.” 

Odile hummed in consideration, jotting something down in her journal. “And what was it he lost?”

Siffrin said nothing. Their head pounded. 

“...I suppose that's a personal question, isn't it?” She admitted, closing her book and tucking it underneath her arm. “I'll save my questions for later.”

Bonnie frowned, “How is he freezing people anyways?!?"

“Magic.” Siffrin said, poking his tongue out. 

“Magic isn't real, dummy!!!” 

“Yes it is.”

“No!!! Then why doesn't anyone use it?!?”

“The King is using it. Obviously.” Siffrin said with a wink."

Bonnie glared at him, face scrunching in confusion. After a beat, they suddenly stared at him, eyes wide in amazement, “...Really?”

“Yup.” 

“Boniface, please do not pay attention to the formerly evil man in our mitts.” Odile sighed.

Isabeau butted in, “But, like, seriously, how is The King freezing everyone? Like I get it’s probably Time Craft, but…:” 

“... But Time Craft is supposed to be impossible.” Mirabelle finished for him.

Odile hummed, “Yes, it is confusing, isn’t it? Do you happen to know why, Siffrin?” 

Yes, but there was no way he was going to tell her that, “Nope. Guess he never decided to tell me, haha.” Siffrin could feel the way Odile stared into the back of her head as he heard her hum once more.

“Curious.” She stated simply. “...Convenient.” She muttered under her breath.

[Great job Stardust~ You fucked it up!

She’s not gonna stop being suspicious of you, for like, the entire loop, by the by. Though you’re doing well with everyone else!!! Keep it up! Maybe in a hundred or so loops you’ll almost be a decent person? Just something to aim for~]

Siffrin grumbled to himself. They didn’t need to aim for anything, because this would be the last loop. 

Distantly, ringing in their brain, they heard somebody cackle.

Not much more was said for awhile. They passed by a classroom with a 'super cool notebook' inside that Siffrin ignored out of respect for it's Coolness, but other than that there wasn't much of interest. Eventually, they left the room and turned down the hall, only to be met with a curious sight.

In front of them, breaking up the monotony of the halls, were tears floating gently ahead of them. Siffrin sighed under their breath- they were already well acquainted with The King’s crocodile tears. They intended to keep going, not letting up with the breakneck pace they traversed the rest of the castle with.

“What’s this weird floating water?” Isabeau said, halting them in their tracks.

“It's The King’s tears.”  Siffrin explained. 

Isabeau hummed, debating something to himself. After a moment, he nodded his head. “Yup. I’m gonna touch it.” 

Siffrin very nearly went to stop him, grab his big hands and pull them away… Except, freezing them in time was exactly their goal, wasn’t it? Freezing wasn’t death, and was ultimately their fate anyways. Maybe it was that simple the whole time? If it worked, then Siffrin would be home free! 

“Oh yeah- Feel free! They’re completely harmless!” Siffrin said, walking up besides the tear. 

“Huh. Weird thing to say. Anyways.” Isabeau, without a moment’s hesitation, stuck his entire fist into the tear. He shivered, “Brrr. It’s a lot colde-” 

Black magic sprouted from where his hand was submerged, crawling up his forearm and down his torso, through his heart and legs. His eyes covered over last, stuck wide open and scared for the rest of time. 

Siffrin waited a moment. He felt a little nauseous, but there was no caramel in the air, no butterflies in his stomach- Only the stunned silence and chilled air around him. A chuckle bubbled in their throat, growing and growing into a maniacal laugh, “HAH! Seriously!?! That’s all I needed?!? Stars, you people are stupid!” 

“ISABEAU!” Mirabelle shouted, hands clasped over her mouth. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, “I-I… You monster! You tricked us!” 

Siffrin rolled his eyes and took a step closer to the tear and Isabeau’s statue, so close he was practically touching, “Please. ‘Tricked’ is very generous.” He shrugged, patting Isabeau’s shoulder sympathetically. It was ice to the touch, he could even feel it through his gauntlets. He shivered, “Not my fault he was dumb enough to touch it. I was hardly even trying.” 

Crafted energy popped and fizzled off of Odile’s closed palm as she hid Bonnie behind herself. She pushed up her glasses, glaring at him with calculated rage, “Please, do keep talking, I’d like to give you a chance for final words.” She said, and Siffrin knew for certain she wasn’t lying. 

Siffrin smiled, “Ah… Thank you, Madame. I always enjoy a monologue.” Her fingers twitched threateningly, Mirabelle drew her weapon. He threw his arms up in an exaggerated shrug, “But, alas. I don’t really know what to say. It was too easy, really! I mean seriously, what kind of idiot gets stuck in a tear?!?” He shouted, throwing his arms down for emphasis.

Arms, which were right next to the affronting tear. 

Arms, one of which was now stuck directly inside said tear.

“...” Siffrin’s arm had already gone numb, the black curse rapidly crawling up their body. Sugar dissolved thick on their tongue. 

He managed to catch Bonnie and Mirabelle’s shocked expressions as the world started to get fuzzy, as his stomach began to twist and flip. Odile had a vindictive little smile on her face, “Hm…” She wondered loudly, and the noise turned to ringing in his ears as the curse covered his legs. “Were you aware that you talked with your hands? Interesting little quirk.” She said, smirking. 

They didn’t know that, actually, but their mouth had already froze over. Their stomach churned, 

                 Mouth thick 

                                                        w    ith 

                                                                   syrup. 

         …

distantly

                                on the edge of their conscious

                                         the edge of their reality 

There was

                                        a

                          voice 

A shape

                                                            a star

they reached. 

   for it 

                  Was it here to save them?

                     Was it here to free them? 

                        Was it The Universe?

 Floating as a star in the endless embrace of death?

      they reached

and they saw

[Heyyyyyy Starduuuustt~]

                                        oh 

                                               It was just loop

nevermind then

[Jeez! So mean, even when you're dead!]

                 loser 

[A-N-Y-ways! I really shouldn’t be doing this for you, especially considering the little stunt you just pulled, but I’m feeling nice today.

Isn’t starting all the way at the beginning annoying? Well I’ll give you a neat little trick~ 

Sometimes, if you focus, you can head back to certain points in your last loop and try again! So this time, you’re NOT going to freeze Isabeau like an idiot and ruin your friendship, right~?]

                   not

                                                     friends 

[...]

[I think I prefer that anyways, honestly. You don’t deserve them.]

                    jealous

[Anyways. Just focus on what you were doing, kay’ Stardust?]

                The star left

                    They focused on the image of their enemies. of gaining trust

and 

they 

felt 

        a

tug

Siffrin stumbled, tripping over nothing. 

“Whoa, you okay?” Isabeau asked from behind.

No, not really. They were dizzy and disoriented and were gagging on sugar and syrup and their eyes were fuzzy and their ears were still ringing-

 “Yup! All good here!” They said instead. 

Isabeau hummed to himself, but thankfully let the topic go. Siffrin was glad, as it gave him some time to go over his findings and time to cough the caramel out of his throat. 

For one, Loop wasn't lying in his death-space. He wasn't sent back to his stupid frigid dorm room and stiff blankets, he was sent a few halls back with his enemies trailing behind like little ducks. Second, freezing his enemies… worked? For a moment, at least. Would there be a way to get them all to wander into a tear at once? Get them all frozen? 

[Pssst, Stardust. I'll give you the answer to this one for free~]

Siffrin scowled at the intrusion. 

[Mirabelle is immune to time-stop. Also, she'll learn a way to cure it. Freezing them won't stop them. Not enough.] 

“Siffrin? Why are you making that face?” Mirabelle asked. 

“You look like you ate a lemon.” Bonnie helpfully provided. 

Siffrin shook his head and laughed, “Haha… Sorry. I guess this place brings back bad memories…?”

“Of The King?” Mirabelle asked, a sympathetic look in her eye. 

“...” Siffrin was silent for a moment, “... I guess.” They muttered, steps coming faster than before. Their steady click of heels was a stark contrast to the quiet group behind, a stark contrast to the empty halls they all wandered. 

“What’s this weird floating water?” Isabeau said again. Siffrin startled, head snapping behind them. Isabeau was hunched over the tears, hand scratching his chin. 

“It's The King’s tears.”  Siffrin explained, again. “Uh- they'll freeze you in time. So don't touch them.”

Isabeau jumped back, “Oh jeez! I was totally gonna touch it. Thanks for the heads up!” Siffrin fought down a somewhat hysterical laugh, and continued onwards. 

The third thing they'd learned from the tear was that it made them loop. Pretty painlessly, too. They just hoped that information wouldn't end up the most useful. 

____________________

Traveling with companions was odd. 

When he was alone it was easy. He caught his own food, mended his own clothes, fought his own fights. When he was with The King, he'd be sent off ahead to deal with any obstacles. His enemies, on the other hand, were loud and rambunctious. Always running ahead of him, tripping on his cape, holding him up to focus on some inane distraction… 

They didn't get it. How they all could be so happy stuck in such a desolate place. 

They had reached the second floor, right in front of the Head Housemaiden’s office. The sight made them queasy. Still, they kept an absent mask on as they forced themself inside, brain already ringing with Loop’s help. 

“So, Mirabelle, if there were to be a key, where would it be?” He asked. 

“Huh- Oh, uh… I’m pretty sure she keeps them in her desk?”

Siffrin hummed in acknowledgment, and opened the drawer, ignoring Odile’s sideways glance in his direction. Nothing inside really sparked their interest, boring papers, mostly.

“This room is boring.” Bonnie complained loudly to the side, throwing away some picture-less papers they peeked at. 

Mirabelle laughed, “Well, it's important Bonnie! The Head Housemaiden needs to do all the boring stuff so the rest of us can do all the fun stuff!”

“What happened to her anyways? Did she get freezed too?” Bonnie asked. 

Mirabelle went quiet. Siffrin's fingers twitched. 

“... Forget it. If she's so cool, she's probably fine, right?!”

“...Yeah.” Mirabelle mumbled. Her eyes hadn't left the back of Siffrin's head. “She's fine. Right?” 

Was she waiting for an answer? 

“She'll be fine.” He said, patting the sides of the drawer to try and figure out what he'd missed. His fingers snagged something. “Ah- I found the key!” 

“O-oh, that's nice…! But, um…” She wrung her hands anxiously, “Are you sure the Head Housemaiden is okay? I-I mean… You were… The last person to-”

“-She’s fine, Mirabelle.” More than fine actually. She was perfectly preserved, sleeping soundly for all eternity. Siffrin brushed past the stuttering Housemaiden, ushering them through the door. “Come on, we have a House to explore.” 

His enemies hesitated, but followed anyway. Mirabelle lingered in the doorway a moment, eyes drawn to the crafted photos of her and the Head Housemaiden on the walls. The back of his throat went taut with sticky sugar, and he moved without thinking, grabbing Mirabelle by the waist and pulling her backwards with a squeak. 

“WHA-” She squawked in surprise, face flushing. She tried to wiggle out of their grip, “H-hey!!! What are you do-” 

She was cut off by the crashing of a boulder inches away from her face.

“-ing… Huh.” She thankfully stopped wiggling, instead choosing to stare blankly at the rock. 

“You… Uh. Got a really good sense for those, huh buddy?” Isabeau said.

“Indeed. I have never quite seen someone this adept at dealing with rock traps specifically. It’s… curious.” Odile hummed, scrutinizing them. 

Siffrin laughed a bit too loud, letting go of Mirabelle, “Haha… Yeah! I uh- I’m good with traps?” 

Odile was still staring at him. After a beat, she sighed, “Hm. Fine. Let’s keep going then.” 

He didn’t argue that. 

____________________

The library was new, filled mostly with dusty old books and YA romance, neither of which particularly piqued his interest. The ringing in his brain was back, and he bit back a groan as he shuffled through the shelves and shelves of books. Mystery, romance, ooh stageplays he likes those, romance again, history, dark romance, horror, medium-dark romance, sci-fi, medium-rare romance, a sparkly abomination…. 

Eyes drawn to the bedazzled eye-sore on the shelf, he gingerly pulled it out. Mirabelle looked over his shoulder, “Oh! I think that’s a diary?” 

“Why would a library have a diary?” He asked, though he didn’t really care about the answer. Mirabelle began to ramble on about something to do with Change as he flipped through the pages. He landed on a random one, skimming through the text. 

Teenage girl, mom making her do chores, island North of Vauguarde… Siffrin stopped reading, eyes planted firmly on those few words in front of him. Their vision felt blurry. 

Odile hummed, leaning over his shoulder to read, "The Island North of here? Yes… I remember it disappearing…” 

“It hasn’t disappeared.” They said abruptly.

“Oh? How do you know?” 

His fingers tightened their grip, tugging at the delicate paper. “It’s still there. I still remember being there.” 

“... Do you really?” Odile asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. 

Water and sea salt and pine trees and stars, stars, stars in all directions.  

"Yeah... It was... Snowy." He said simply. 

"... Snowy?" She said incredulously. 

"Yeah…"

"The island directly North of Bambouche- a city that doesn't drop below 20 in the middle of January- is snowy?" She asked, brow raised. 

"... Yeah? It's up North."

"The Island directly on the equator. That one? That Island?"

"It's North. North has snow." He wasn’t sure what she didn’t understand. 

Odile breathed out a heavy sigh, "The island North of the coastal city of Bambouche sitting right on the equator of the world is covered in snow? The tropical island? In the middle of a warm water ocean? That Island? That's the island that gets cold enough for snow?" 

"It's North.” He said. 

Odile considered his response. For a moment, he was half-expecting her book to come crashing down on his head with how angry she looked. Eventually, she merely sighed again and pinched her temple, “Gems… That’s what I get for thinking you’d be serious…” She muttered as she walked away, leaving Siffrin alone with the book. 

He gently brushed a hand against the pages before roughly slamming it shut and shoving it back in place. 

It didn’t matter if they didn’t remember. It didn’t matter if it felt like their brain was stuffed with cotton where memories should be. It didn’t matter if sorrow weighed him down, heavy as water. It didn't matter. 

All their problems would be solved soon. One way or another. 

Chapter Text

Their friend gently brushed their black hair. Siffrin sighed, enjoying the touch. 

“... It is very tangled, Bright One.”

Siffrin hummed, closing his eyes. “Not everyone is as obsessed with their hair as you are.” 

Their friend tugged at a knot. Siffrin winced. “You should care for it more. At least have the care to not tarnish it the way you have.”

They laughed, “You mean dyeing it?”

He pulled at the knot painfully, “Exactly. Oooh… I don't see what you don't understand…”

Their face scrunched up in pain, “It's just hair.”

“It's not just hair, Bright One. We have so little of our home. Neither of us have our own names, our own families, our own culture… but think- have you ever seen anyone else with hair so light?”

“... I guess not.”

“We must preserve what little we still have. Not destroy it.” He finished, carded his fingers through now smooth hair. 

Siffrin thought for a moment, “But… I do have a name.”

“Not your real one.”

“Still, it's a name. And we still remember parts of our culture, our accents, our clothing… it's not all gone.”

“What about your family?”

“...” Siffrin was quiet for a moment. “Well… I don't think I've completely lost it. We might not be directly related- but we share the same blood, in a way.”

His friend was quiet. Siffrin thought he said something wrong. 

“Yes. I suppose you're right, Bright One… Blood is thicker than water, and family bonds are thicker than anything else.” 

He patted the top of their head. They flinched back instinctively, before remembering they were supposed to like these. “Yes, Bright One,” his friend continued, “family sounds wonderful.”

____________________

Going through the House trailed by four saviours should be easy, shouldn’t it be? 

Three of the most powerful people in Vaugarde, led by The King’s own right hand. Possibly the four most skilled people available to tackle the task. Sure, even if Siffrin was lying through their teeth about actually helping them, they were still doing their damndest to help the saviours with navigating the House! 

It would be easy, right? 

   easy

it was supposed 

            to

                     be

Siffrin’s stomach tugged, and they stumbled forward.

“Whoa, you okay?” Isabeau asked from behind. 

“Yeah, just tripped.” Siffrin grumbled out, sick of hearing Isabeau’s fretting for the third fucking time that day. 

It would be easy, they said. Simple! Just get to The King! What could go wrong? 

[If it makes you feel better, I had fun watching you die! Look, you’re learning! How exciting!]

The first time they died was to the big Sadness on the first floor. It was their fault, really. They bit off more than they could chew, feinted behind it for a scissors attack- only for it to switch to a rock type that very moment and stomp them. They didn’t make the same mistake the next time, even if their chest still hurt from where it blasted them. 

The second was, in his unbiased opinion, a bit bullshit. There were rows of tears in either direction, and he picked wrong. Fine! Cool! Normal! Anyone could've made that mistake!

Which brought him to where he was now, newly looped, newly on the third floor, and newly ready for whatever else the House would throw at him. Really, he was doing the saviours a favour! They would’ve been crushed by now if it weren’t for him! 

The third floor was different from the others. It had an oppressive air around it, like the floors breathed and the shadows watched your every step. Sadnesses groaned and mumbled, lurching for their little party, clinging to their capes and clothing. The oddest part was the hair. Siffrin was well acquainted with The King’s odd obsession with hair, an obsession that somehow managed to include themself in it, but it was especially disconcerting now. Seeing it spilled around their feet like a twisting spider web, snagging and twisting into every crevice. How it even blocked the doorway, strands too thick to be cut (they tried, it didn’t work.) 

They carded a hand through their own ponytail. It was starting to get annoying, with how it was always bushy and tangled, how it got in the way. They really were due for a trim soon. 

The House’s shifting halls got worse, somehow. Dead ends and empty rooms stretched out before them, crawling with ugly little monsters dead-set on getting in their way. Siffrin eventually ducked into a spare room, his party of enemies trailing behind like obedient little sheep. 

He'd been trying not to think much about the party. Getting attached wasn't something he was keen on doing, especially not with the gaggle of scheme-ruining goody-two-shoes he was saddled with. Unfortunately, they didn't get the memo. All four (save for maybe Odile) prodded and pestered him with questions every step of the journey, constantly insisting on lingering in meaningless rooms to give meaningless commentary on meaningless things, constantly bumbling in the way of his one goal. 

All they needed was to get to The King. Then his wish would be fulfilled. Then they could be free in blissful nothingness. Then they wouldn't have to worry about the noisy people around them. Then they could rest easy knowing Vaugarde was safe and sound, preserved perfectly. Forever. 

The room they wandered inside was just as sparse as the rest of The House, brick and mortar frozen into a cold, glassy finish. The room was a long hall, decorated only with more identical pillars and one giant mirror at the end. They stepped closer to the mirror, taking the opportunity to brush some of their too-long hair back into place.

“That’s a big mirror!” Bonnie said. 

“Wonder what purpose it has… It seems a little odd to just stick it here, afterall.” Odile mused. 

“Oh, I know!” Isabeau said, pushing past Siffrin and rummaging around behind it, looking for something. “Alright, everyone say ‘fromage’!” 

Mirabelle laughed, “Oh, froma-” she was cut off by a click and a flash. Suddenly, a piece of paper had fallen to the floor. Gingerly, Siffrin bent down to pick it up. It was… a photo! Of him and his enemies. They all looked a little surprised, and he was in the middle of fiddling with his hair. Siffrin frowned, noticing that his hand was all blurry, and he wasn’t even looking the right way! 

“Oh, a photo! How wonderful!” Mirabelle said, clapping her hands. “Can I see, Siffrin?” Obidently, he handed her the picture. She cooed, “Aww, look at us all!” 

“We look so surprised!!! And you’re so blurry, cool evil guy!” Bonnie laughed, pointing at them. 

Siffrin frowned, “I thought I’d at least get upgraded to cool formerly evil guy.” 

“I need to im-tera-gate your performance a little more before we can add that. I’ll see in your next review.” Bonnie stated sagely. 

“When’s my next review?” 

“... I dunno. Ask me later.” 

Siffrin decided that was the best he was going to get with Bonnie. Mirabelle giggled at their antics before pocketing the photo, “I’ll keep this with me for now. Thank you for showing us, Isabeau! Pictures are so hard to come by…” 

Siffrin nodded along absently, already turning to leave when the annoying ping in their brain returned suddenly. They scanned the ground, attention caught by a faint sparkle nestled in the brick flooring. Scooping it up, they turned it around in their hands, “Huh. A key.” Shaped like a smiling mask, no less. “Handy.” They tucked it into their pants pocket, beckoning the rest of them forward. “Alright, let’s get going. We’re almost at The King, I can feel it. Literally. His hair is everywhere…” 

“That’s his hair!?!” Bonnie shouted, jumping away from where they were previously stomping on the loose locks. “Gross!!!” 

Siffrin laughed, “Super gross. Do you know how much I’ve had to detangle from it? A squirrel got caught in it once.” 

Mirabelle stuck out her tongue, “Ew. Did it really?”

“Yeah… It was a real hairy situation.” 

The resulting groans were music to his ears. He laughed, ducking out of the doorway with his enemies following close behind. They’d all be frozen or dead soon enough, but Siffrin could play pretend for a while. Pretend to have a good time, to laugh and joke. Pretend to like them all. 

The thought sent butterflies through his stomach. He felt like puking. 

____________________

The floor was beginning to look familiar to them, now. They were treading a well-known path, if in reverse. Being grounded for months really didn’t help their sense of direction when it came to The House, but they certainly knew this part. Knew it a little too well, actually, Siffrin would love to never have to see it again. Unfortunately, his enemies were far too curious to leave any stone unturned, and his dorm was just another rock for them to peek underneath as far as they were concerned. He doubted there’d be a key inside, unless Loop had been holding out on them, but he’d humour them nevertheless. 

They stepped inside his borrowed dorm, left perfectly as it was the last time he was there. They filed inside, but Mirabelle instead hovered by the door, wringing her hands the same way she always does when she’s nervous, “Oh! …Uh. This is my room…” She said. 

WHAT. 

“What.” He said. 

“I-it’s my room…?” She looked around to the rest of the party nervously, searching for something on their faces. Instead, her eyes rested on the still-open closet next to his bed. “Wait. Why is the closet open…? Why are my sheets all messed up!?!” She stomped further in, hurriedly taking loose horror books off the floor and delicately placing them back in their proper spot. 

“What do you mean it's your room?” He asked. 

“It's my room???” She repeated, rushing over to the open closet. There was a pause. 

“Are those six copies of the exact same suit of armor in your closet, Mirabelle?” Odile asked, an amused look on her face. 

“Six very familiar copies of the exact same suit of armor.” Isabeau chuckled. 

“...” Siffrin felt a blush creeping up their collar. 

“So, stranger, care to elaborate on why there are six identical versions of your armor in Mirabelle's closet?” Odile asked. 

“...” Siffrin was probably same shade as a tomato by now. “... They're not identical… ” they mumbled. 

 “Oh, my mistake, why are there six mostly identical versions of your armor in Mirabelle's closet?”

“... One for every day of the week.” 

“W-why are they in my closet???” Mirabelle fretted as she tried to rescue the dresses Siffrin had tossed on the closet’s floor. 

“Because… uh. I've been. Staying in here…?”

Mirabelle's face blanched when she caught sight of her decimated plushie stack. “For h-how long…?”

Siffrin’s face scrunched. It'd felt like he'd spent an eternity in the dorm, “About since The King attacked the House? He just gave me a random room to go and be grounded in.” 

“Your boss… grounded you? For four months???” Mirabelle asked, an odd look on her face. 

“Adults can get grounded?!?” Bonnie shouted. 

“It was news to me too, kiddo.” They said, laughing quietly. “Was it really that long though…? I guess I just spaced out for most of it.” They mumbled.

The three adults all shared a weird look, and Bonnie looked to be experiencing some kind of crisis. Mirabelle let out a quiet whine as she brushed dust off her dresses, “You could’ve at least folded them…” She sighed, hanging it back up with the rest of his armor, “Still…. Siffrin, that’s… uhm. Not something bosses are s-supposed to do? Generally? Or really anyone should do… Ever?” 

They scoffed, ‘You think I don’t know that?” She flinched at his tone. They breathed in and out, looking around every inch of the room. Just standing in it made their skin crawl and itch, begging to be let out. They scratched their arm, filled with a sudden and restless energy. “We should hurry, anyways. We don’t want to keep The King waiting, do we?” 

Mirabelle placed a stuffie back into its place on his bed, smoothing out his crumpled sheets and fluffing out his raggedy pillows. She turned to look at him, a small frown tugging at her lips. There was something resembling pity in her gaze, pity that he’d been stuck for so long, pity that he would toddle behind The King, oblivious to his horrible nature. Siffrin scowled, and walked out the door, not waiting to see if they all even followed behind. 

____________________

Later, they all found a Starcrest and used it on a line of tears, freeing the hall in the rightmost part of the floor. 

An annoying ding rang in their brain. 

[Whoopsies! Wrong way Stardust~]

“OH, SON OF A-” 

____________________

One loop added to their total (bringing this run up to an embarrassing four deaths) and one correct path chosen, Siffrin held a newly gifted keyknife in hand. 

He wasn’t sure how exactly he got it, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Was it divine intervention? Weird craft? Loop learning how to physically manifest keys in his hands? 

[I wish, it’d be so much easier…] 

“It really would be…” They muttered under their breath, climbing the glassy steps up towards the blocked doorway. 

“Who are you talking to?” Bonnie asked, clinging onto their cape in a way that totally didn’t make their heart melt the littlest bit. 

“The brain demon in my head. I’ll tell them you say hi.” 

Bonnie stuck out their tongue, “Bleh. You only give me dumb answers.” They said before scurrying back to pester Isabeau about something. 

Siffrin flipped the knife in hand, examining it from all angles. It looked a tad dull, a bit frail too, but they didn’t have many other options. They gripped the worn hilt in their hands, enjoying the way it slotted perfectly in between their fingertips, as if it were made custom for them. With a flick of their arm, they slashed through the thick strands of lightless hair, snapping the threads in two like a knife through butter. The locks tumbled to the ground in a matted, oily heap. The keyknife itself shattered once its job was completed, the broken blade plinking off the glass floors. They stuck out their tongue and carefully stepped over the loose hair, beckoning his enemies forward alongside them. 

The hall behind was perfectly symmetrical to every other hall behind a big door, long and ominous with pillars on either side, and one huge Sadness in the center. Siffrin didn’t actually know what was beyond this point, really. He’d been past the third floor in their first scourge on the House, but The King had twisted the lightless corridors so much they doubted it would even be recognizable. 

They drew their dagger, spinning the hilt around in their hand, staring down the strange enemy ahead. It looked to be a pair of floating rings and eyes, decorated by disembodied hands already poised to use different Crafts. 

Mirabelle took in a shaking breath before straightening her shoulders, an unseen determination burning in her eyes, “Alright everyone, let’s go!” 

Siffrin didn’t wait another minute before he took off like a comet, fingers shaped in the scissors sign, dagger glowing with building Craft. The Sadness wailed, preparing an attack of its own, Crafted energy pouring out from the closed fists orbiting it. Siffrin leaped out of the way of the blast, a smoldering hole left where they had just stood. They snapped back into action, arching their dagger into a slash straight across the main body, hitting it dead on. 

His blade made contact, but bounced off with a reverberating thunk, sending tremors up his arm. The Sadness had not even a scratch on its metallic rings, unflinching in the wake of his attack.

“Aim for the hands instead, stranger! It’s impervious to all attacks while it’s like this!” Odile shouted out, deciding to tell him after he'd already rushed in to attack, like the horrible old lady she was.

The battle raged on. The enemy was tough as nails and just as sharp, spinning and whirling out Crafted attacks at rapid pace. Siffrin kept up their momentum, dodging and weaving through beams and powered up punches. 

His enemies (the human variety) clustered together, shouting out commands and warnings to one another. Siffrin on the other hand kept close to the enemy, trading blows in close quarters. He snapped his fingers, filling him with a burst of speed as he took down a paper hand. 

“Siffrin, duck!” 

His eyes widened, but he couldn't move in time. The blast struck in their lower back where his chest-plate didn't quite reach, bursting through the seams of his cape straight into his skin. A pained howl tore out his throat as he fell to the ground, arms wrapping around himself in desperate search for the injury. Curse him and his penchant for crop-top adjacent armor pieces! 

“Siffrin!” Mirabelle shouted, tugging up the hem of her skirt and running towards him. Through the ringing in his ears he could hear the Sadness’s own pained screams as Isabeau blew the final hit, dissipating it into a fine dust. Mirabelle crouched down next to them, tugging their cape aside. Her hands hovered above their skin, glowing with faint light. Instantly, his shoulders loosened from some of their tension. The ringing stopped, his whole body felt like lead, but at least his pain wasn't unbearable anymore. 

“O-okay, I cast some Craft to tide him over for now- mostly to keep them from passing o-out but-” 

“We should get them somewhere safer. Logically speaking, there should be another safe room down the hall, yes?” Odile cut in, as sharp as ever. 

“R-right! Uhm, Isabeau can you get him? And be careful with his back!”

Someone lifted him gently, moving his arms around themself so carefully, as if he were made of glass. They were warm. From over the person- Isabeau’s- shoulder, Odile came around to inspect him. “So, on a scale of 1-10, how coherent are you right now?” She asked. 

“I’d give it like… a five?” They groaned, wincing when Isabeau shifted them slightly, “... or four?” 

Odile hummed, “Well, at least you're not dead. Come on, let’s hurry up before that drops down to a three.” 

The group hurried down the hall, Sadness forgotten. Despite his missteps, Siffrin did at least feel a bit more experienced, and a little stronger too. Pillars passed by in a cold blur. Isabeau ran very hot, and was honestly a little sweaty, but Siffrin appreciated the touch either way- even if he’d never be caught dead admitting it. 

They brushed past a frozen person along the way. Mirabelle stumbled, staring at them with wet, wide eyes. Her gaze flickered between him and the person over and over, before she tugged up the hem of her skirt and continued on, casting lingering gazes towards the stranger. 

Eventually, they reached the safe room. Siffrin was let down gently onto the cold floor. They shivered, already missing the extra heat. 

Mirabelle stumbled in behind, “Okay! I… Uhm… How do I put this…” 

A sudden jolt of pain nearly keeled them over, “P…please just hurry. I think if I wait too much longer we’ll be heading down to two.” 

“Oh! Uh… Well, okay, no point dancing around. Can you take your shirt off?” 

“Excuse me?”

“O-or like! You’re cape and armor! B-because it’s going to be hard to reach the wound with a-all that in the way, and uh, it’s really hard to heal properly without direct skin contact! And I’m really sorry I know it’s uncomfortable but that’s always how I was taught to do it in class and I mean really it’s more your fault for thinking that a crop-top chest plate would protect you from anything major and-” 

Siffrin tore off their cape, shivering instantly. The pain in their back was throbbing underneath their skin. “Please shut up and heal it already.” The armor came next, they fiddled with the straps in the back, whining whenever they tugged a tender muscle. Last was their undershirt, no stains were visible but he could feel how the blood soaked through the soggy fabric. Now half naked in front of a bunch of strangers he was planning to kill in a few minutes, Siffrin felt very exposed. 

He flinched when warm hands hit his back, a stark contrast to how his bare arms were already freezing with goosebumps. The hands pulled back, “Ah! Sorry! I should’ve warned you first, my bad…” Oh so gently, her hands hesitantly returned to his back. They were soft, though the nails were stubby and bitten. It was kind of nice. “Okay… It might sting a little at first, but after that you should feel a lot better.”

Her hands worked down their shoulders and towards the wound, trailing thin lines of Craft down the grooves of their back, sending a shiver down their spine. She reached their injury and began to pulse waves of Craft. Before, Siffrin thought that healing Craft was gentle, calming; like burning incense or a warm bath. Now, while their bones pricked with sharp jolts, they realized it wasn’t much different from other kinds of medicine. You had to set a bone before it would heal, you had to clean a wound with stinging alcohol to keep infections away, and you had to swallow a bitter pill before the medicine worked. Healing Craft was the same. Mirabelle had deadly precision, sending sharp bursts into key points, the energy stitching their skin back together, forcing scabs to bloom. Siffrin balled his pants in his fists and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming, Stars, was it painful. 

 As soon as it began, the pain started to fade. Mirabelle began messaging the muscles out, sending out gentle rhythms of soothing craft through them. Siffrin nearly melted into the touch, shoulders finally relaxing as the pain dissipated into nothing more than a memory. 

“The healing is working, huh?” Isabeau asked, chomping on a slice of pineapple that had been handed to him at some point. 

‘Hnmmmmpfh…” Siffrin sighed contently. 

A ripple of laughter carried through the room. Mirabelle’s hands were so gentle and warm and Siffrin couldn’t remember the last time somebody had touched his bare skin. Couldn’t remember if it ever even happened.

Bonnie came up from behind, and handed him a burnt samosa, which he accepted greedily. The last thing he’d eaten was the force-fed onigiri, afterall. Bonnie made a noise of admiration, “Whoaa… There’s barely a scar!” 

Isabeau laughed, “Oh yeah, you can’t get much better than Mira when it comes to this stuff!” 

Mirabelle flushed, “W-well… I… uh…” 

“He’s quite right, Mirabelle. You have some exceptional skill in Healing Craft and you should be proud of it.” Odile said. 

Mirabelle giggled, blushing furiously, “Well… I do think I’m pretty good.” 

Bonnie circled around to his front, seemingly assessing to see if he’d actually eaten his samosa. Obidently, he took a bite. It was obviously a bit charred, but still tasty. Bonnie nodded, pleased with themself, until their eyes suddenly blew cartoonishly wide. “WHOA!” They shouted. 

Siffrin blinked, following their line of sight down to his… chest? 

“What gave you those!?!” Bonnie asked, pointing at his top surgery scars.

Funniest lie possible, GO!

“I didn’t eat enough vegetables.” 

Isabeau nearly spat out his pineapple. Bonnie squinted at them, “Are you lying again?” 

Siffrin laughed despite himself, “No, no! It’s true! If you don’t eat your veggies then they pop right off!” they said, making a popping noise with their mouth. Isabeau was stifling giggles into his hand, and even Odile had an amused smile on her face. 

Bonnie eyed them suspiciously, humming in careful consideration for a long time. “... So I’m okay because I eat all my veggies?” They asked, face stone-cold serious. 

“Yes. You won’t end up like me, scarred eternally for my mistakes.” Siffrin said, barely keeping the smile off their face as they feigned gravitas. 

Bonnie hummed again, “Hm… Thank you. I am now safe from it. Because I will eat my veggies. Which I already do, because they’re really tasty!!! Thank you, Frin.” 

“You’re welco-” Siffrin paused, brain catching up with what was said. “...Frin?” 

“Siffrin is too long!!! And so is cool evil bad guy person. So I shortened it to Frin! Because you have proven your worth for nicknames!!!” 

Oh. 

That was… 

“... Thank you, Bonnie.” They said, a fake smile pulling painfully at the edges of their mouth. 

“Ehehe. You’re welcome!!! Now eat your crabbing food!!!” They exclaimed, scurrying back to their spot in the circle. 

Mirabelle chuckled from behind him, pulling her hands away. He already longed for the touch. “Thanks for humouring them, Siffrin,” she whispered in his ear, handing him back his bloody undershirt. “And look at that, a nickname! That means they like you,” she said with a wink. She got up, dusting off her skirt. “Alright, you should be all good to go! The wound might still leave a scar, and I’d recommend keeping an eye on it, but it certainly isn’t an immediate problem anymore, at least.” 

Siffrin nodded numbly. They popped the rest of the samosa in their mouth, not bothering to even chew. They didn’t realize how hungry they were. Mirabelle sat down next to Isabeau, accepting a madeline from Bonnie as she did. 

Frin.

It was a cute nickname. Bonnie was a handful, but they were a sweet kid. 

His stomach was rolling. The samosas might have been a mistake. 

Odile wiped a crumb from her mouth, face serious. “We should all take this time to rest while we can. The King is up ahead and we must be as prepared as possible.” 

Right. The King.

Siffrin put on his undershirt, the still bloody fabric clinging to his back. It was cold. He fastened the straps of his armor back on, the star on their chest shining brightly in the torchlight. Siffrin tossed their cape over their shoulders, mentally steeling themself. 

The curtain call would be coming soon, after all.

____________________

Nobody spoke on the walk through the hall. 

Footsteps echoed through the cavernous chamber, muffled only by the loose strands of greasy hair tangled at their feet. The pillars were crumbled, the floor was glass, and a bone-chilling cold permeated. The House was cold before, of course. Inescapable at times, a frost so thick it pushed through any amount of armor he could manage, but the cold in the hall was all encompassing, heavy and oppressive. His breath billowed out in a puff of steam. He pulled his cape tighter around his shoulders and pressed on. 

It'd be a lie to say they didn't feel a little bad for what was about to happen. They'd been awfully nice to Siffrin, healing and humouring them throughout the House. A grand archway loomed above them. Siffrin stepped underneath, foot snagging on a loose piece of hair. His enemies followed close behind the same way they had for the rest of the House. Following him diligently like a flock of sheep. Like lambs to the slaughter. 

They passed through the arch and into the throne room. The air felt thinner. Pillars passed by as their heels clicked against the floor. Their fingers felt like ice, face numb. 

The King sat before them, towering over their little party. He titled his head, hands twitching when he caught sight of them, “Oooohh… So… You've all come here to stop me?” 

Mirabelle stepped forward, rapier drawn, staring ahead with that same look she’d given them all that time ago- that hardened gaze burning in equal parts fury and vengeance, “It ends here, King! We won't let you freeze our home any longer!” 

The King hummed and pointed a giant finger towards Siffrin. “... And what about you, Bright One…?”

They stiffened, their hand hovering over the dagger resting in its hilt. Bonnie puffed up their chest, “Frin quit, you dumb crab!” 

A lump settled in his throat. The King hummed, “Is that really so?”

“Everything you've done… everyone you've hurt… King, it ends here!” Mirabelle said, brandishing her rapier, staring down The King. Siffrin stood right next to her, shoulder to shoulder. 

Siffrin drew their dagger, pointing it towards The King. The King didn't react, merely tilting his head curiously. They could see his eyes through the strands of oily hair. There was a look in his eye. A request in his gaze. 

An order.

They turned the dagger on its side and stabbed into Mirabelle's shoulder. 

She cried out, crumbling to the floor. He pulled the weapon out as quick as he put it in, the silver sheen matted with fresh blood. Siffrin more anticipated than actually saw Odile move behind him. He snapped his fingers, ducking cleanly out of the way of a rock type blast. The Craft sputtered in the air as it hit the floor next to him. A sidestep out of the range of another blow carried him in front of The King. 

They turned, and faced the saviours instead. 

Siffrin smiled, teeth bared wide and hungry. “You’re right, Mirabelle. It does end here. Everything does.” 

Mirabelle clutched her shoulder, hand glowing with Craft. Shakily, she stood to meet his gaze. She had that look again, the same one she gave The King just now, the same one she gave him the first time they met all that time ago. Except, there was something new in it. A wet shine that wasn’t there before, a hurt expression mixed and muddied in the fury. Siffrin almost felt bad. Mirabelle took in a shaking breath, “Y-you… You mo-” 

“Monster?” They rolled their eyes, “I’ve heard that one before.” They shrugged, staring the rest of the saviours down. Odile fists still crackled with pent up Craft begging for release; she didn’t look particularly surprised, but she did look angry. Isabeau had his own fists raised, but the hesitance was clear on his face. Bonnie looked shell-shocked, tugging on Odile’s coat hem. Siffrin shrugged exaggeratedly, “It doesn’t matter either way. You should all pick a nice spot to be frozen in! You’ll thank us when we’re done!” he smiled.

“Ooooh… Bright One. I knew you were loyal. Knew their flimsy words couldn’t break your dedication to our cause…” He laughed, low and dangerous. The King patted the top of their head with a single finger. Siffrin couldn’t contain the flinch. 

“And here I thought I was being too pessimistic.” Odile said flippantly, but her clenched hands spoke to her true feelings, “I should really learn to just trust my instincts.” she said, glaring at him. 

“But- why…?” Isabeau muttered, hands faltering ever so slightly from where they were raised, “Why bother saving me if you were just going to… Why bother pretending for so long if you were just going to stab us in the back!” 

“Pretty sure I stabbed her in the shoulder, actually.” They laughed. Nobody laughed with them. Siffrin sighed, throwing up their arms (They really did talk with their hands, huh?) “Tough crowd. A-N-Y-ways, to answer your question, Fighter…” They bowed, and gestured towards their King, “I figured it was only right for him to do the honours.” 

Isabeau’s face shifted into one of disgust. He raised his fists again, the beginnings of Craft sparking off of them. The King sobbed, “Oooh… Saviours. Come. We have wasted enough time as it is. Let us fight. And let us see which side The Universe favours!” 

At his command, the battlefield roared into action. 

Siffrin snapped his fingers, Craft flowing through their veins with exhilarating speed. Mirabelle moved first, rapier drawn. She slashed towards his middle, where his armour didn’t quite reach. They blocked with the edge of their knife, sparks flying off the intertwined blades. He mirrored her attack, twirling the hilt of his dagger as he ducked into a slash. Mirabelle blew him back with a wide open palm, the paper Craft sending him sliding across the glass floor. 

Isabeau came up from behind, sending out a powerful blast from his closed fists. Siffrin yelped, ducking underneath the attack barely in time for it to miss. As he expected, Odile followed up from the otherside, blasting him again with another rock type attack. He couldn’t move in time, the Craft colliding with his chest plate and knocking him clean off his feet. He groaned, a sharp pain in both his chest and back. It seems his earlier injury hadn’t completely healed, then. “You’re majesty! I’d appreciate some h-help!” He stammered, taking in a sharp breath. 

“Aw, what’s the matter, stranger? For all your talk, can you not handle a real fight?” Odile goaded, another Craft bubbling on her fingertips. 

The King hummed, “No… no… My Bright One is right.” The King’s fingers twitched, as he slowly lowered his hands from his face. “It is time we end this little game. Goodbye, Saviours.” 

At his command, the air stilled. 

Crafted light burst from The King’s fingertips, the smell of sugar burnt Siffrin’s nostrils. The Crafted blast shot through the throne room like a shock wave, rupturing into the Saviour’s chest one by one. 

And one by one they fell. 

Mirabelle’s eyes rolled back into her skull with a dull scream, mouth wide with terror, cold tears dripping off her cheeks. Odile toppled like a puppet with cut strings, eyes blown wide and distant, breathing heavy. Isabeau barely made a noise as he was sent to his knees, face haunted and pale. 

Bonnie hid behind a pillar, just out of reach of the attack. They were shaking. 

Siffrin stood still in horror, resting a hand on The King’d armoured knee. In a second, they had won. In a single attack, he’d won. Tremors wracked the saviour’s bodies while he stood and watched in the audience, waiting in the wings while the climax played out around him. 

It smelled like sugar. Like burning caramel. Like rotting syrup pouring down his throat and choking him. 

“...B-boniface-” Odile choked out. Her eyes were bleary, unfocused. “... G-get away…!”

Bonnie peeked out of the pillar. They were hyperventilating, hands shaking on their frying pan. 

Isabeau somehow managed a smile, “D-don’t worry, Bonbon…! We'll b-be fine…” His teeth were coated in blood. Siffrin's stomach started to churn.

Bonnie breathed in and out and in and out- fat tears rolling down their face. Their eyes turned to Siffrin. They held each other's gaze for a moment. Two onlookers. One a victim. One an accomplice. 

Bonnie cried, and Bonnie ran. 

The smallest hint of a smile tugged at Mirabelle's lips and she laid on the frozen floor, eyes resigned and distant. Odile breathed a sigh of relief, and for a moment Siffrin wasn't sure if she breathed again after. 

The King hummed. All Siffrin could hear was static. All they could taste was sugar, sugar, sugar- 

“Bright One.” 

Sugar on their lips, sugar on their tongue, sugar in their throat-

“Yes, your majesty?”

They were choking. Their ears were ringing. Their stomach screamed. 

“... Don't let them go.”

His breath hitched. “I-I’m sorry?”

The King groaned, “Don't let them go, Siffrin. Do not let a single saviour left breathing. Do not let their rot destroy what we have built.”

“My King- but-” he looked out to the three people in front of him. He wasn't convinced they were all still alive. “But we've already won, haven't we? The saviours are already dealt with?"

“Siffrin.” The King placed a finger under their chin, forcing them to look him in the eyes. “When I say not a single one, that means all of them.” 

Their stomach rolled. They wanted to retch. 

“Y-you- You bastards…! Don't you dare!” Odile heaved, trying to push herself up. Her arms gave out underneath her. 

“I…” Siffrin stuttered. 

“...Siffrin…” Mirabelle's voice was feeble, barely even a whisper. “...please.” She was looking at him. She was crying. 

“I…” 

They straightened their shoulders. The wound on their back ached. “Of course, your majesty.”

“N-no!” Isabeau cried out, doubling over in pain. 

Siffrin was already halfway across the throne room, running as fast as they could manage. Running from the smell of sugar. Running from the screams that followed them in their wake. 

The hesitated at the archway, sparing a glance behind him. The King was reaching in front of him. Reaching for Mirabelle. 

They kept running.

The halls blurred past him, but the taste of sugar never left. Every second it coated more of his mouth, rotting his teeth, rotting his gums. His stomach fluttered with butterflies, bursting with them. His ears rang louder than his heels could click on the frozen floors. He was cold. 

Through the static in their brain, something broke through the noise. They were in the safe room from before, where warm hands kneaded pain out from his back. In front of them, fruitlessly pushing on the door, was a sobbing child. 

Bonnie pounded at the door, tears dropping into the frozen floor, body shaking like a leaf in the breeze. Their head suddenly whipped around, staring at him with wild eyes. 

Siffrin could only taste sugar. He raised his hands placatingly, “H-hey! Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt you!”

Bonnie pressed themself flat against the door, “N-NO!!! Get a-away from me Frin!!!”

They still called him that. “No, shhh, don't worry. The bad stuff is over now, everything will be okay, alright?” He took a step closer, arms held out. 

Bonnie sobbed, curling up into a ball. “No! No! No! No!!! Get away!!!” 

Siffrin took another step, but stumbled along the way. Their head was spinning. The smell of burnt caramel was enough to make them choke. Butterflies ate away at their stomach. They were going to puke. “The bad stuff is over. You'll be safe, now. Everything will be safe. See? We've won!” 

He closed the distance between them and Bonnie. He kneeled down, pulling Bonnie into a hug. “Shh… Please, don't worry. Everything will be alright.” 

Bonnie struggled against him. He placed a hand on their back. 

The weight of the dagger on his hip grew heavier than he would've liked. 

“Let me go!!! Let me go!!! I hate this! I hate you! I hate you!” They screamed and cried and begged, pounding on his back. Their sobs faded into the ringing in his ears. His vision swam. 

He felt a tug on his stomach. 

Bonnie kept crying and crying and there was sugar on his throat and sugar in his eyes and sugar in his stomach and everything was spinning and everything was ringing and their stomach lurched and they gagged on sugar sugar sugar- 

Distantly, from the throne room, they heard Mirabelle scream. 

                                                    And then 

                they felt 

      a 

tu

         g

o

                  n

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of Mirabelle's dorm stared back.

They sat blinking at the ceiling for a moment. Their face was wet.

Siffrin bent over the side of their bed and puked. 

Chapter Text

“‘The King?’ Doesn't that sound a bit… I don't know… self-absorbed?”

“A King leads, Bright One. Leads to victory. Leads to salvation. Leads to perfection.”

“I mean, yeah, but… when you said you'd choose a new name, I was expecting something… more normal I guess?”

“Siffrin isn't exactly a common name, Bright One.”

“At least it is a name! Can I call you by a nickname? Kingy? Kingsley? King… I can't think of anything else... Can you?"

“Ohhh.. Hm... Yes, I do believe I have something in mind."

“Oh?”

“‘Your Majesty.’”

__________________________

Siffrin's chest heaved, bile burning in the back of their throat. Their stomach screamed. 

They'd won. 

The King killed the saviours. Wiped the light from their eyes with a wave of his hand. Swept through with a single attack. 

They'd won . Vaugarde would've been frozen over. 

They'd won. 

But they were still back. 

He was back tangled in covers that weren't his. Back with a screeching stomach and the all encompassing stench of sugar. Back in Mirabelle's room. Back at the beginning. 

Their breathing was sporadic, heavy and frantic. Sweat drenched the frozen blankets around them, sticking to their skin, clammy and cold. Siffrin tore the covers off and forced themself off the mattress, all but falling off Mirabelle's bed. He was at least lucid enough to avoid his previous puddle of puke as he stumbled towards the bathroom, gripping the walls to support his shaking legs. 

His reflection stared back at him in the mirror. His hair stuck together in greasy clumps, falling thickly in front of his eyes. 

They could've sworn it was longer than before. 

He scowled, stalking away from the mirror as quickly as he came. Restless energy burned underneath his skin made all the worse by the way his stomach flipped and churned. He paced the tiny dorm, stepping over broken vials on one end and discarded novellas on the other. 

They'd won, but they were back. 

They fulfilled their wish, but they were back. 

They saved Vaugarde, but they were back.

A low whine escaped their throat. Their head throbbed. Their wish should be granted. They won this time, Vaugarde should be frozen, preserved in their perfect eternity. 

No. No it wasn't just that they had won this time, logically Siffrin should've escaped four loops ago when Mirabelle's bones were crushed into the pavement. 

The Universe was picky, sure, but surely even it knew the conditions had been filled once, twice, even thrice over. 

They'd won. 

But The Universe didn't listen. 

Save Vaugarde. 

He'd done that already. What was he missing?

[I don’t need to give an answer you already know.]

Siffrin frowned. “You've said that before. You haven't bothered explaining.”

[I can tell the difference between ignorance and denial, Stardust. We both know the answer. Don't play dumb.] 

“I'm not playing dumb! I just need answers!” 

[...Come and see me, then. Not like you have much better to do.] 

He scowled, pacing back and forth. Reaching the bathroom again, his gaze lingered on the ladder propped against the window. “...Fine. But you better have some actual help this time.” He said with a resigned sigh. 

[Oh I'll help all right. See you soon, Stardust~]

Siffrin stuck out their tongue towards the empty air. 

The ladder stood as a taunt as Siffrin's eyes darted between it and the door. All they wanted was to tear open the window and escape into the fresh breeze, to free themself from the sugary smell burning their nostrils and the sticky bile stuck in their throat. They needed fresh air. They needed a glass of water. They needed- 

There was a knock on his door. 

Siffrin bit back a groan, and stumbled towards the handle, opening it. The King, of course, greeted him on the other side. 

“Bright One.”

Siffrin bowed and tried to remember what they said last time, “Your majesty. The saviours, they’re close, aren’t they?” 

The King nodded, “Ooohhh… They are indeed, Bright One. Coming ever closer. They want to destroy it, Bright One. Destroy what little we have left…” 

“I’ll make sure to handle them this time, My King.” Siffrin said once more. He didn't have the energy to come up with something new, not while he could still hear Bonnie crying in his arms. Not while he could still hear Mirabelle's scream. 

“Very good…” The King turned to leave, but paused to peer down at them. “And Siffrin?” 

“Yes, your majesty?”

“What is that smell?”

Siffrin froze. Their ears were ringing, “I- What do you mean, m-my King?”

The King groaned, “Ooohhh… Do not take me for an idiot, Bright One. I know that all encompassing smell, that sweet scent.” He placed a finger underneath their chin, “Do not play dumb.”

They closed their fists, “Again- I’m not playing dumb!” Think of something. “It's… Our wish, remember! To save Vaugarde!” He stammered, “It must be working, then! The smell of Wish Craft, it's because The Universe is answering our calls!”

The King hummed, slowly removing his finger from their chin. Their breathing steadied. “Oooh… Bright One…” The King began to laugh, low and strained, “That is wonderful news, isn't it? Oh… The Universe is leading us to our perfect ending already?”

Siffrin smiled, all teeth and no eyes like a rabid dog, “Very wonderful, your majesty.” 

Finally, The King rose to leave. “Very well, Siffrin. Keep the saviours from spreading their filth for much longer. It's The Universe’s decree, afterall.” His footsteps thundered through the hallways as The King turned the hall, leaving Siffrin alone with their rolling stomach and burning throat. 

They intended to duck back inside their room and strap on their armor, but a snag in their brain caught their attention. Frowning, they stumbled some steps further into the hall, the little ringing growing louder and fainter depending on where they stepped. Siffrin had never gotten the pinging in this hall before, which meant Loop probably was trying to show them something. They wandered around, eventually reaching a point where the pinging got unbearable. 

In front of them, a single tear floated aimlessly. 

Siffrin grimaced, “Very funny, Loop!”

[Oh give me some grace. I don't want to hold your little hand through the whole thing, surely you can at least figure this out, right Stardust?]

Frankly, it just looked like Loop was telling him to off himself. 

Which… Given his current circumstances, it actually made sense…

With a resigned sigh, Siffrin stuck their fist in the tear. The curse crawled up their arm, sucking away warmth, freezing their mind an d

         soul

in a 

                                         peaceful sleep

they d

          reamed 

         of butterflies 

circling around

           a 

tree 

                                      its branches 

                                    reaching 

                                  towards 

the Stars

Siffrin stumbled, tripping over nothing. 

They leaned backwards to counteract their weight, but only ended up stepping on their cape and tripping, falling down into the dirt back first. With a groan, they forced themself up. Their back hurt… but it wasn't an unbearable pain. Tentatively, they snaked a hand underneath their shirt, patting around where they had gotten hurt last loop (or, last last loop.) Sure enough, their fingers felt only clear, uninjured (if slightly bruised) skin, their wound having disappeared completely, as if it never happened. Which, in a way, it didn't. 

“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat. Siffrin glanced upwards towards the Favour Tree, then downwards to Loop sitting cross-legged, tapping their feet impatiently. 

He pushed himself up, brushing off dirt and grass while stumbling towards the trunk. Sugar still clung to his chapped lips and the world still spun if he moved too fast, but otherwise looping with a tear was completely painless compared to his other… methods. 

“See? I was being helpful. You're so judgy!!!” Loop said, narrowing their eyes. Siffrin wasn't sure if they were being playfully petty or actually mean. 

“I’m judgy? You're the one who's been spending the past…” Siffrin paused, counting on their fingers to work out the math, “...Eight-ish-sorta days heckling my every move!” 

“Not my fault you're easy to heckle! Almost too easy. Have you considered not being bad at everything you do?” 

“Have you considered giving me actual help from time to time?”

Loop scoffed, “I just told you how to loop back to places you've been- and look! You didn't have to clumber through the forest this time! Isn't that handy?”

“...” He sighed. “A little.”

Loop laughed, looking pleased with themself. “See, I’m good at my job! Unlike someone I know~” Siffrin's brows furrowed as he moved to respond, but Loop placed a finger on his mouth shutting him up, “Uh uh uh, Stardust~” Loop tutted, “I have a little more to say, alrighty?” Loop leaned back on their root as if it were an ornate lounge chair, “I see that bringing your party to The King didn't work out too well, huh?”

“...”

“What a shame. It really was such a flawless theory, truly. A-N-Y-ways! What are you planning on next?”

“... What do you mean?”

“Well the ‘have my shitty boss murder everyone’ plan didn't pan out too well-” Siffrin's memories filled with eyes rolling back in their sockets and a wailing child, “-Soooo, what's next on your little denial tour? You think maybe you have to kill Mirabelle yourself? Freeze them all? Kill Bonnie, like The King asked?” Loop had leaned forward, eyes narrow and dangerous. 

“...” Siffrin's mouth was dry. They fidgeted in their seat. 

“Or,” Loop continued, “are you finally going to face the facts, Stardust? I'm sure you can figure it out but I'll help if you want!”

I don’t need to give an answer you already know.

“What do I already know?” He quietly asked. 

Loop giggled, “Oh, Stardust~ Think! When do you loop?”

“When I die.”

“And?”

“... When the saviours die.”

“Very good!!!” Loop exclaimed, clapping him on like a preschool teacher. Siffrin grimaced, nails digging into the tree bark underneath him. “And, tell me Stardust, what did you wish for, exactly?”

Realization struck. “Oh.” They said dumbly. 

“What did you wish for?” Loop repeated, voice low and seething. 

“I wished to save Vaugarde.”

“That's right~”

“I only loop when either me or the saviours die-”

“-Because they can't make it through the House without you, and when the saviours die-”

“-Vaugarde can't be saved.”

Loop giggled maniacally, staring him down with a venomous smile, “Exactly, Stardust!” They laughed some more, pretentious and pitying. “You figured it out, you smart little cookie! You should be happy, really. Your wish is doing exactly what you wanted! It's making it so that you have no other choice but to save Vaugarde!” Loop said, shining brighter than he'd ever seen, a vindictive grin on their face. 

A pit dropped in their stomach, “But- That's not what I asked for!”

Loop shrugged, “You asked to save Vaugarde.”

“That's not what I meant!!!!”

“Maybe you should've been more specific?” 

“I didn't think I had too!!!” He held his head in his hands, gripping at strands of oily hair, tugging and tugging til they came loose. “ All this time- This whole blinding time was because of a stupid miscommunication?” He dug his fingers deeper into his skull pulling his roots, he growled, “I made them immortal?!? No matter what, it'll go back when they die- They'll win no matter what?!?” He tugged and tugged and tugged - 

A hand rested on their own, gently pulling it away from their head. “Don't tug, Stardust.” Loop chastised, voice unusually soft. Siffrin sighed, resting their hands in their lap. They glared up at Loop through thick bangs, bunching up the fabric of their pants. 

“...So I, by accident, wished for the exact opposite thing that I actually wanted?”

“Yup!” Loop said, popping the ‘p’. 

His brows furrowed, long forgotten memories bobbing up to the surface, how intent is important, but the correct rituals are what make them work, “But that shouldn't have happened. It's the intent behind the wish that directs what The Universe does. It knew my intent- Why did I get the opposite result?!?” He exclaimed, rising from his seat and pacing around the base of the tree. “I did the ritual right- I had the meaning in my head! The Universe isn't tricky like that, it's precise. Clinical. It does exactly what it's told, it does exactly what you want!”

A leaf fluttered down in front of them. Siffrin bent down, picking it up to examine. It had three points, shaped just like the stars on the armor they weren't wearing. “Maybe…” they flipped the leaf around, cupping it gently in their palms, “... I just need to try again. To specify.”

He raised the leaf to his sugar stained lips, the whisper of a wish beginning to form. 

They were tackled to the ground before they could finish. 

Siffrin grunted, landing harshly on their chin with a painful thud. They tried rolling over, but Loop was significantly stronger than them, pinning them down with ease. Loop leaned down, breathing into their ear, “Not a damn chance, Stardust~” Loop whispered. “You're going to finish what you blinding started, or Stars help me!”

He struggled against their grip fruitlessly, “I am! I'm saving Vaugarde! Just let me-” They were cut off as Loop jabbed their elbow into their back, knocking the air from their lungs. 

Loop laughed, “Do you really think it'd be that easy, anyways? Stars, you really are such a newbie at this… You can't just go back on your wish!” 

“Why not?” He grunted, breathing harshly through his teeth. 

Loop lifted off their back ever so slightly, only to grip their shoulders and turn them around so Siffrin's front was facing them. Their hands returned, this time pressing against their throat. “Think, Stardust~! Do you think you were the only person in the country to wish for that? To wish to save Vaugarde?”

“B-but-” He stuttered, desperately taking breaths in and out in and out, “It doesn't matter if they don't have the rituals!!! They can wish all they want, but without the Craft it's meaningless!” 

“But they do have the ritual, don't they?” Loop smiled. 

“Wish Craft i-is a lost art… there's no way they know it-” 

“Oh you're right, they don't…” Loop lifted a hand from their neck and used it to boop their nose, “But you do!” 

Siffrin stared dumbfounded and tried to steady his breathing. His mouth was dry. His throat was slick with syrup. “W-what…?”

Loop smiled and dug their nails into his shoulders. “You could wish again a hundred, a thousand times, Stardust! But it won't matter. Nothing you do ever matters, you'll be stuck here anyways.” The smell of sugar wafted through the air. They were running out of time. “Sure, the citizens of Vaugarde don't know Wish Craft- but the intent is there. Thousands of people wishing for the same thing… a whole country filled with hope. That's enough intent for The Universe to open an ear, at least. And for the ritual?” Loop grabbed his chin, pinching his mouth, “Well. You provided that. You gave that intent a vessel, a destination. Isn't that incredible, Stardust? You didn't wish just for yourself- you wished for an entire country.”

He couldn't breathe.

Somewhere, faraway, a trap was activated. 

Loop continued, smiling brighter than they'd ever seen, “Isn't it wonderful? Isn't it funny? The whole country, the whole Universe! They've come together to ruin your plans, ruin your life! The butt of some cosmic joke, aren't we?” They laughed again, the sound turning into static in his ears, “If you had just worded it a little different you would've won!!! But because of how you worded it, you just gave legitimacy to the wishes of the whole country!!! It doesn't matter how much you try and back pedal- You’re stuck! Stuck! Stuck!!!”

Loop gasped theatrically, “Unless… of course… you actually do save Vaugarde? Unless you actually do kill The King?” they laughed once more, the sound teetering off into something close to a sob, “Oh… Ain't that something, Stardust? Now you know exactly how to fill your wish! You don't have to wonder! You can get out. So easily.” Suddenly, their hands were back on his throat, nearly choking him. The smell of sugar was unbearable. His stomach flipped. “So get to it, alright Stardust? Because I can't 

      sta  nd another    second 

                stuck 

                     in 

                                            here

…Sifrrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of Mirabelle's dorm stared back.

They groaned, pressing the back of their hands into their eyes. A headache pounded at their skull. The ghosts of touch on their throat made them shiver. Silently, they breathed in and out in and out, greedily drinking in the stale air around them. 

After a few minutes, he sat up in his bed, glaring down at his bedsheets as if they'd give him answers. 

His wish was backfiring. And he couldn't redo it if he tried, because he accidentally made the exact same wish that the whole country had already made, and it would be impossible for him to muster enough intent on his own to counteract that.

Cool! Fun! Normal! Great! 

A manic laugh tore out of their throat. Amazing! They'd made the saviours functionally immortal!!! How hilarious~!!!!

He forced himself out of Mirabelle's bed, thankful that his puke puddle was gone as well. Pacing around the small flat, his mind ran a mile a minute. What was he meant to do? He couldn't kill The King, obviously, but how else could he get out of the loops? If his wish was guaranteeing him to save Vaugarde, then how on earth was he supposed to go against it? Should he even try? Was it The Universe's will for him to fail? 

… Maybe he was just missing something? 

Siffrin paused mid-step, mind filled with sudden clarity. They had all the time in the world, didn't they? They could loop as many times as they needed. Restart as much as they wanted to. 

Infinite time stuck in a loop meant infinite time to learn about their wish, to learn about The King, to learn about the saviours. There could very well be another way out, they just hadn't found it yet! All they needed was to experiment, learn weaknesses, learn loop- holes!!!

[Not funny, Stardust.] 

Siffrin ignored the voice in their brain, and rummaged through their closet with reckless abandon, pulling out their hat and armor. They laughed quietly to themself. They were in no rush! They could take as long as they needed to secure their victory! 

On time, there was a knock on their door. 

He let out a small grumble, dragging their feet towards the handle and turning it to reveal The King on the other side. 

“Bright One.”

Did he have to pay attention? The King would say the same things anyways. His mouth moved on its own, spouting out his rehearsed lines, “Your majesty. The saviours, they’re close, aren’t they?” 

The King nodded, talking and talking… Siffrin's eyes drifted past, focusing on the pillars behind him instead. 

There was a pause, and Siffrin took that as their cue, “I’ll make sure to handle them this time, My King.” 

“Very good…” The King turned to leave, thundering footsteps down the hall.

Siffrin sighed, fiddling with his hat. He still should be quick, the saviours would be in Death Corridor any minute now, but a strange sense of calm washed over him. He was in no rush. He had all the time in the world. 

Humming gently to themself, they strolled down the frozen hallways, admiring the still torchlight and towering pillars. They just needed to experiment, right?

[...]

Loop was certainly furious at him, but it didn't matter. He'd find a way through. A way to win. 

No matter what.

Chapter Text

“...That coin of yours, Bright One…”

“Hm? Oh, uh, what about it Ki- or uh, your majesty?”

“You seem to have an odd fascination, is all.”

“It's just- it's a reminder, I guess… “

“Of what?”

“I-... I’m not too sure- I’ve forgotten, haha…”

“Ooohh… Your memory has been getting worse… I fear that mine has as well…”

“I feel like it’s always been bad. Mine is so much worse than yours. It’s only because of you that I remembered in the first place.”

“... All the more reason for us to hurry in our plans, Bright One. Make sure nothing else can be forgotten.”

“... Do you really think it will help?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-... Sorry. Forget I said anything. It’s too late to back down now, anyways.”

__________________________

Isabeau wasn't dumb. 

Sometimes people thought he was, and yeah some of that was probably his own fault, but the point still stood that he wasn't. And while he was standing in an otherwise empty corridor populated only by a single fallen boulder, he was certainly smart enough to know something was wrong. 

“Why's there a rock???” Bonnie asked as they tried to find grips in the stone, likely for climbing-related purposes. 

Mirabelle still hovered in the doorway, too anxious about the supposed ‘Death Corridor’ to take another step forward. “I-I have no idea…?” She mumbled. 

“There's a trap door above us.” Odile noted, looking above. Ah, so the hall was deadly, just some sorry schmuck got to it first. “If this hallway was considered dangerous, Mirabelle, then I believe that danger has been long since activated.” Odile continued, voicing his thoughts for him. 

“Ah! I d-do think I remember there being a room full of rocks… for trapping.” Mirabelle said. Bonnie switched to trying to jump on top of the rock. Traps? Weird thing to put in a House, but maybe it was just one of the classes they offered?

“Why the crab is a House dropping rocks on people!!! That's not cool!!!” Bonnie yelled, speaking his mind for him once more. They were still trying to get on top of the rock, and failing miserably. Isabeau walked over and scooped them up by the arms, placing them on top of the boulder. They giggled in delight, claiming themself as the true Ruler of Rock. 

“It is an odd thing for a religious site, yes.” Odile noted idly, brushing past the boulder. She looked relaxed, but her eyes were narrowed in suspicion. She stopped suddenly next to him, jaw set in a frown. “... I wrote it off before, but… in the room prior, I could've sworn I heard a crash.” Her gaze scanned the room, her shoulders going taut, “A recent crash. A bit too recent for me to think whoever caused it could get out in time.” She spoke out loud. It was a statement. A threat. 

Tension laid thick around them, a collective of baited breath. The accusation was left to settle in the air, coating the room like a layer of dust. 

There was a sigh; not from the party, but from somewhere in front. Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved out from behind a pillar, then he heard a slow, sarcastic clap. “Bravo, Madame.” The stranger spat, grabbing onto the pillar and using it to spin around to face them all. 

Isabeau took a step back, seizing them up. Their armour was black as the night sky, their hair thick and tangled, and their smile smooth, practiced, and painfully fake. “I was half hoping you'd all just pass me by, to be honest,” they continued, leaning against the pillar and pretending to examine their nails. 

He raised his fists, the beginning of craft on his fingertips. Bonnie slid down the rock and ran to hide behind Odile and Mirabelle, who had both brandished their respective weapons. The stranger smiled, eyes lingering on Bonnie with a strange, sad look. His expression flattened into an easy grin soon after as he continued, “But I suppose I can never get past your keen eyes. Oh well.” He shrugged.

“Enough with the monologuing! What are you up to?!” Isabeau asked, placing himself at the front of the group. He was the biggest, afterall, if the stranger tried anything he’d much rather it be against him than anyone else. 

The stranger smiled again. It was an odd expression, something crossed between hatred and resignation and the strangest sense of giddiness, “Oh don’t worry Isabeau, I’m just here to experiment is all~” He said, voice layered thick in sarcastic sweetness, trailing off into an (unfortunately, rather cute) giggle. Isabeau frowned at his heart's bad taste in man-woman-people, but frowned even deeper once the words got past his dumb heart and into his brain. 

“How do you know my name…?” He asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. 

The stranger looked taken-aback, seeming to realize what he'd just said. He muttered something under his breath (All Isabeau heard was phoque, which was an odd choice for a curse, but he supposed he couldn’t judge, considering Vaugaurd’s penchant for crustacean-related profanity.) He recovered fast, “Do you think I haven't done my research, Fighter? I've been watching you all. A helpful observer!” he said with a wink. 

“You've been stalking us?!?” Bonnie shouted. 

“I- what? No! I haven't been stalking-” 

“I dunno man, preeetty sure that translates to ‘stalking’ in most people's books,” Isabeau said with a curt laugh. 

“No! I haven't been weird or anything! It's just- it's poor form to be someone's arch nemesis if you don't even know their name,” they scoffed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Bonnie grumbled and crossed their arms, “Why does only Za get to be an arch nem-ay-cis?!” 

“Nemesis.” Odile corrected.

“Nema-syis.” 

“Nem-” Odile enunciated. 

“Nem…” Bonnie parroted. 

“-E-Sis.” 

“... E-Sis… Nem-e-sis. Nemesis! I wanna be a nemesis too!!!”

The stranger ran a hand down their face with a heavy sigh, “I- OKAY. Fine. You can be my nemesis too, Bonnie. I guess.” 

“Crab yeah!!!” They shouted in glee. 

A small chuckle echoed through the empty walls, which Isabeau realized came from the very enemy he was facing. The stranger cracked a smile despite the slight sadness in their eyes. They fiddled with their bangs and coughed into their hand to regain composure. Face hardening, they turned to face him and his friends once more, “A-N-Y-ways! Where was I again? Oh yes, I was bringing the good news!”

“Good news? W-what good news?” Mirabelle stuttered. 

“That you all don't have to worry about saving Vaugarde, because me and my King have already graciously offered to do it ourselves!” He clapped his hands together in faux excitement, eyes pinching. “Honestly, you can all go home if you really want! Vaugarde will be saved by our hands,” he paused, and glared at them, “safe… forever.”

Hiking up her skirt, Mirabelle marched forward, pushing by him and leveling her own gaze with the stranger’s. They smiled in return, not flinching an inch from her scrutiny. Mirabelle growled, “You-! Freezing the Head Housemaiden and all the other Housemaidens, conquering my home, leaving poor people like Bonnie and their sister without a home to return to-” 

The stranger flinched then.

“-And then having the nerve to say you're saving us? You… You’re a…”

“Monster?” He finished for her, voice hardly a whisper.

Mirabelle frowned. The standoff lasted seconds at most, but they stretched like minutes. Mirabelle's hands rested openly on her rapier, while the stranger kept their hands close to the dagger on their hip. the Rogue hummed, tearing their eyes away from Mirabelle’s and leaning casually on the boulder. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Listen, mademoiselle, I’ll be nice! I’m not here to hurt you or your buddies,” they said, gesturing towards him and his friends, “think of me more as a messenger. I’m just here to let you know that The King doesn’t take kindly to meddlers, and that you should really turn back… If you value your life, that is.” They said, face stern.

“You’re crazy if you think we’re backing down after all this!” Isabeau said, punctuating with a punch into his own fist. 

“He’s right. We honestly don’t have much of an option but to press forward, considering the alternative.” Odile said. 

The stranger sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Worth a shot…” he murmured. “Fine! If you losers want to die so badly, be my guest.” He said flippantly and turned to leave. 

“Wh- Hey!!! You can’t leave just like that, you crab!!!” Bonnie shouted, stepping forward, brows furrowed. 

the Rogue hummed in consideration, before sticking their tongue out, “Preeetty sure I can, actually.” 

Isabeau moved to snatch onto their cape, but the Rogue was fast. With a click of their tongue, a snap of their fingers, and a wink that he couldn’t help but feel was directed at him, the stranger was off like a shot. They’d bolted out of Isabeau’s reach in an instant, leaving him stumbling, grasping at empty air. They were out of the hall by the time Isabeau caught himself, muttering a curse under his breath. 

“...” Mirabelle’s gaze lingered on the doorway. 

“He really did just monologue at us for a minute and dip, huh?” Isabeau said in disbelief. 

“I think they realized a four on one fight wouldn’t end well… For them, that is.” Mirabelle mumbled. 

Odile stepped forward, perfect composure as always, “Well, they’re gone now anyways. We should be careful nevertheless, everyone stick close, alright? We don’t know what tricks they have up their sleeve, or if they’ll try and fight us down the line.” A murmur of agreement responded. Odile nodded in satisfaction, “Very good. Now, let’s get going. This ‘King’ won’t defeat himself, afterall.”

__________________________

Isabeau wasn’t dumb. 

He knew the Rogue would be persistent- knew that they probably hadn’t yet left that floor, either. Knew that traps would be inevitable. 

What he wasn’t expecting was just how obvious they were being about it. 

Isabeau had hung back at the rear of the group, scouting out for Sadnesses and protecting the more fragile members from behind. When the rest of his friends crowded into a messy room smelling of sweet cinnamon and wax, he lingered in the hall for a moment longer, staying back as the others poured inside the room. Lingered just long enough to hear a roll, then a crash. His head whipped to the source, shoulders already tensed. A barrel wobbled in the doorway of the adjacent room in the hall, innocent and yet remarkably suspicious. Surely, the Rogue didn’t think this was in any way inconspicuous? He had to know how dumb of a plan this was, right? Sadnesses never wandered in the actual rooms, only the halls, and they were all already on high alert. It was an awful scheme… 

Sparing a glance back towards his party, Isabeau sighed.

It was an awful scheme, but Isabeau worried what might happen if the Rogue caught anyone else in his dumb tricks and, maybe, he was a little curious to what would happen. Mind set, he wandered up towards the door, pushing it aside and taking a hesitant step forward. The room was empty, empty of any people at least. Papers littered the floor in messy heaps, covers thrown half-hazardly onto the bed, a real disaster of a room. 

It was his fault for letting his guard down at all. His fault for not noticing the shadow in the corner. 

Isabeau was tackled to the ground with a grunt, arms pinned against his back. The stranger laughed and drew his dagger, pressing it softly next to his face, “Knife to meet you again, saviour. It’s so nice of you to drop by!” 

Horrifically, terrifyingly, disgustingly, Isabeau actually managed a laugh at the Rogue’s knife based punnage. His body was feeling especially traitorous today, it seemed. 

He struggled, pulling his head as far away from the blade as he could manage, “That w-wasn’t even that funny!”

“You laughed.”

“It was a pity laugh.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure it was. Now if you could be a good arch nemesis and stop moving, that’d be great.” The stranger’s palm buzzed with Craft as he formed a scissors sign. Panicked, Isabeau shifted his weight, rolling over onto his side, nearly crushing his enemy underneath him. the Rogue squawked and jumped out of the way. 

Isabeau rose into a crouch, readying his brassen knuckles, channeling Craft into his closed palms. Taking a steadying breath, he attacked. Rock Craft blasted from his closed fists towards the Rogue. They dodged, swift as ever on their feet, landing a foot away. Gritting his teeth, Isabeau shot out another blow, managing to hit everything in the poor person's room except the actual enemy in front of him. Sweat beaded off his forehead from overuse of the same Craft, telling him that he should probably switch it up before he got a headache.

Luckily for him, his last blast hit dead on.

He clipped their leg, tearing the fabric of their pants and cutting into the skin. They winced, and toppled over into a nearby barrel next to the dresser. 

Without a second to spare, Isabeau cleared the distance between them. Running more on adrenaline than brain power, Isabeau grabbed the Rogue's wrists and pinned them to the half-open dresser. “Now if you could be a good evil villain and stop moving, that'd be great.” He said, taking the rare opportunity to be a little smug. As a treat.

The Rogue glared up at him… But it wasn't the right kind of glare. Isabeau may not have Odile's keen eyes and terrifying perception, but he'd like to think he was still decent at reading people. 

The Rogue's glare was half-hearted, looking more excited than angry. Now that Isabeau had noticed, the ease he had with pinning them down stuck out in his mind too. They barely fought back, barely tried to run out of reach of his attack… 

It was odd. Very odd. 

After a moment, the Rogue apparently realized he was still supposed to be battling him. He wiggled around and gave Isabeau a pathetic kick to the legs. The Rogue frowned, “Will you let me go!?!” he said with a pout. 

Isabeau chuckled, “Nah, I don't think so. Real cute of ya’ to try, though.” He said.

The comment earned him a small smile from the Rogue, “You think I'm cute?”

His brain short-circuited, his subconscious getting hung up somewhere between weirdly charming assassin and weirdly charming assassin who might’ve been flirting with him???

Which, for the record, was a super normal thing to think after being attacked. “I- Uh. No. I don't. That'd be weird. You're evil. And working for The King. It'd be super weird for me to think that. Because you're bad. And evil. Yeah.”

The Rogue stared at him with a blank expression. Isabeau decided to look anywhere except into his eyes, which set his gaze firmly on the floor below. Low and behold, there was some handy rope placed just below him. Weird, and weirdly convient (almost as if it'd been placed there…?) but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

“Hold still.” He commanded, switching to hold the Rogue's tiny wrists in just one hand, using the other to pick up the rope and tie it around their hands. “There we go! Now you can’t run around sneak attacking people!”

The Rogue struggled against the restraints, giving up on the attempt much quicker than Isabeau expected. Weird. 

Voices pulled him out of his head, panicked calls from his friends outside the hall. He pointed a finger into the Rogue's face, “Behave.” 

The stranger smiled and rolled his eyes, “Oh of course I will. Stars forbid I be mean to my kidnapper.”

“You attacked me first?”

They stuck out their tongue. Isabeau sighed, “Just don't try anything funny. I'm watching you.”

__________________________

Experiment #1: Isabeau. 

Isabeau was an odd case. Tough as nails and about as smart, yet kinder and more charming than Siffrin had been expecting. He still didn't particularly enjoy his current situation, stuck to his side, hands bound and a noisy kid pressed against their face pestering them with relentless questions; but sacrifices must be made in the name of science. 

And even if he didn't enjoy it, the gentleness in which Isabeau handled him and familiar routine was preferable to most other scenarios the loops could lapse into. 

“Isabeau! Thank goodness… W-we couldn't find you- and we heard crashing!!! A-and we thought you ran off!!!”

“You know, the one thing we said not to do, young man?” 

He’d heard all this before. Siffrin zoned out.

“Y-yes!...” He caught glimpses of conversation. “...We agreed…” But it was mostly static in their brain, dissolving into mush, sinking through their fingers. “..Hey Isa…” It was peaceful, really. “...Yeah…”

“WE HAVE A HOSTAGE!!!” Bonnie exclaimed, loud enough to startle them.

“Hmm… do we? I guess I might’ve picked up something extra along the way!” Isabeau laughed, patting Siffrin’s head. 

This is when they were supposed to complain, “You do know I’m like, right here, right? I can hear this?” 

“Hmmm… Do you all hear something?” And this is when Odile insulted them, yes, he remembered. He braced himself mentally, “It sounds like the little ‘messenger’ flew a bit too close to the sun, no?”

She… laughed? Not the right laugh. It didn't sound like she was making fun of him, really. She sounded more amused than anything. “Well, that makes things easier, doesn't it? Come along everyone, we'll figure out what to do with our new ‘friend’ in due time.”

Huh. 

That was new!

Siffrin barely registered as the party started walking, stuck in his own brain. His experiments were already yielding success, it seemed. 

“So, why is The King freezing people, huh?!?” Bonnie asked again, walking backwards, staring straight into their eyes and keeping them from zoning out too much 

“To keep noisy kids from talking too much.” It was a bit hard, now, to remember all his lines. It'd been awhile since he'd let himself get carted across the castle by his own personal escort (Which is how he's choosing to interpret these events, for the sake of his own dignity.)

Bonnie stuck out their tongue. He stuck his out in return. 

Getting taken hostage was on purpose this time around. He was curious about the saviours, curious about dynamics, strengths, weaknesses… And what better way to get closer with the Fighter than to be pressed right next to him against his will for a few hours? 

“HEY!!! ARE YOU LISTENING???” Bonnie shouted. 

Wuh-oh. They zoned out. “Nah.” Siffrin answered truthfully. 

“I’m im-tera-gating you! So you better crabbing listen!” He's heard this before. 

“It’s in-terro-gate, Boniface. But very close. Very good.” Odile said from up ahead. 

“What she said!” 

Ah, Odile. 

That was one thing that actually had changed. She hadn't threatened them earlier, at least not with the same burning ire they'd earned before. She was more teasing than vengeful, amused than vindictive. Was it because he didn't attack her? That… made the most sense. Generally speaking, people like you more when you don't threaten to slit their throat in front of their friends. Crazy new revelations all around. 

“Ugh!!!! Za! Make them listen to me!!! They're being boring!” 

Whoops. 

Isabeau took two fingers and flicked him on the forehead, “Hey, you awake in there?”

“No. Goodnight.” Siffrin smiled, making a show of going limp in Isabeau's arms with loud and fake snores. 

“You're so annoying!!!” Bonnie grumbled, running away and up towards Odile, making grabby hands until she relented and let them hold hers. 

Success. Now Siffrin didn't have to think for a while. 

“So… Mx. Evil Dude. What's your name?” Isabeau asked, ruining Siffrin's single second of peace. 

“Siffrin.” He said. 

“Giving it to us just like that? Poor form for an arch-nemesis.” Odile chided with a smile. 

“What would you know about arch-nemey? I'm the expert in this field, Odile.” 

Odile hummed, “... You really did learn all of our names…” she muttered, “Was he following us? How on earth did we never notice…” she murmured to herself, teetering off. 

“Siffrin… Have I heard that name from somewhere…?” Mirabelle said, snapping her fingers as she did before, “Ah! I remember! It’s from that old play! What was it called?”

Their line now, “Thicker than Water!”

“Oh, yes! I remember now! It's about a prince right?”

“Yes!” He said. He still enjoyed this part, even if he knew the words. 

“Oooh yeah! And he had to betray his friends to save his country.”

"Yes!!! And then he kills his friend in the end, joining with his king to save everyone!” 

"- I loved the ending, it was so dramatic! And tragic!"

This was the part where he was supposed to ramble for a while. He couldn't remember his exact words, so he'd just have to adlib. He went to speak, but Odile beat him to it, “What was the name of the show again?” 

Huh. That was new as well. “Thicker than Water. It's really good.” They said. 

Odile hummed to herself, “And it's about a prince choosing between friends and family, and ultimately deciding on his familial bonds? If I was inferring correctly, that is.” 

Stars, it was always something with Odile. She just had to be difficult in some way. “Uh, yeah? What about it.” He asked. 

“Oh, nothing.” Odile chuckled. “It's from that old Vaguardian saying, correct? ‘Blood is thicker than water?” 

“Huh, I guess it probably is? I should take you to see it sometime, Madame. I think you'd enjoy it!” Mirabelle said. 

Odile hummed again, “Perhaps.” She said curtly. She sighed under her breath, murmuring to herself, “Though I've never liked that particular turn of phrase…” 

Oooh family beef. He could exploit that. 

They all turned a corner, Siffrin craning their neck to see ahead. They had wandered inside the main hall, its grand ceiling stretching high above, stained ink black. Sadnesses gurgled around them, inching their distorted figures towards them once they'd taken notice of the group. Odile kept them at bay with a Paper III and hurried the group forward towards the locked gate. “...Did anyone grab a key?” Odile said, sparing a flat glance to the fidgeting party.

“Uh. I think we… forgot?” Isabeau muttered, quiet and bashful. 

Oh. He forgot to grab the key at all, much less get it stolen from his pocket. Whoops. 

Odile pinched her brow, face screwed up in an elaborate blend of disappointment and unsurprise. A heavy sigh left her lips as she turned on them, hands placed on her hips, brows set in an unarguable expression, “So, you're saying that in the excitement of grabbing a hostage, we forgot the one thing we needed to get to continue forward?”

“... Y-yes? I mean, it's not that bad, r-right? We can just head back…” Mirabelle mumbled, eyes glued to the floor, squirming like a scolded child. 

Another sigh, “Yes, I suppose we can- I'm just worried about how long it would take. Gems knows where it would even be in this maze, and we're working under a strict time limit. The curse is coming quick, and every second we waste is another step closer to failure.” Odile said. 

Huh. Maybe he should try and wait out the curse? Something to keep in mind for a future experiment. 

Mirabelle fidgeted in place, looking anywhere but Odile. She wrung her hands. Bonnie tugged on Odile's coat tails, grabbing her attention, “We just gotta find a key, yeah? That's easy!”

“In theory, but the floor is large, Boniface. It's like a needle in a haystack.”

“... What if we split up?” Bonnie asked, tilting their head. 

“That's-” Odile began, tone sour, before she thought for a moment longer. “-Not a bad idea. It's not like we're heading into uncharted territory here, and we would cover much more ground…”

“B-but-! What about the Sadnesses?” Mirabelle stammered. 

Isabeau ran his free hand over his scruffy chin, “The one's on this floor are pretty crabbing weak. Or, at least, they're pretty crabbing slow. If anything bad happened, you could just make a run for it.” 

Mirabelle looked uncomfortable, but at least a little convinced. 

Splitting up would be handy. It'd give Siffrin some actual time to probe the Fighter for secrets and weaknesses, actual time to learn about him without the scrutiny of Bonnie or Mirabelle, or Odile's near omnipotent gaze. “I think it's a good idea.” He said. 

Odile raised a brow, “We're not asking you.” It was an echo to something she'd said before, though this time her mouth quirked up into an unconscious smile, and this time she hadn't nearly sent a dagger through their skull. So many little things could change, so many routes to follow, it almost made their head spin. 

Still, this was proof that Odile didn't despise them this time around, so they needed to shoot their shot while they still could, “Yeah but it's my problem too, and I say splitting up is a good idea. We'll cover more ground.”

“And why does it matter to you?” Odile asked. 

He rolled his eyes, “You think I want to be stuck on this floor? I'm already tied up. What am I going to do?”

Odile looked unconvinced, but Isabeau came to his rescue, “Trust me M’dame, they're not going anywhere!” He chuckled.

“Hmm…” She spent a moment on her decision, brow still pinched. “Fine. I believe you. Alright, Mirabelle goes with Isabeau and the hostage- Boniface, you come with me. Your group takes the left, mine goes right, we meet back here in an hour. Capiche?” 

Damnit. He didn't want Mirabelle with him! “Is it a good idea leaving the little kid and the old lady alone by themselves?” He said, raising a brow. 

“No, but leaving the crazed assassin alone with Isabeau is a worse idea. Any other objections? Or- objections from people I actually like?” She said harshly. 

“None here M’dame!” 

“No Madame!” 

“Nope!!!”

Siffrin frowned, “I still have objections.”

Odile smiled, ignoring him, “Perfect. I'll see you all in an hour, then.”

__________________________

Sent off on their quest, Isabeau, Mirabelle, and their captive wandered the House’s endless halls. 

He could appreciate that the House was probably much lovelier before he got there; Mirabelle spun vivid tales of marble floorings shined and swept to perfection, of cashmere drapes swaying in a warm breeze, of the sun peeking through rows of windows. It was a bustling community, filled with Housemaidens milling about every day, learning all that they could. 

The trio passed by a person, a scared expression on their face, frozen eternally. Their skin melded into the inky black around them, the curse shining them with a glassy finish. Isabeau's reflection stared back at him. He looked tired. 

Mirabelle led them forward around the endless hallways, fretting and flitting over little details, about how oh that room wasn't there before, or that the halls stretch on longer than they should. Disconcerting, definitely. Isabeau wished, sometimes, he could take her worries and let them rest for a day, tuck away her anxieties for just a moment. But today was not that day, as they had a King to fight, a country to save, and a broken, ugly, and warped reflection of a House to restore. 

Behind him, the Rogue- Siffrin- dragged their feet, grumbling to themself. They'd been in a sour mood ever since Odile wrote them off… and since he tied them up and held them hostage. Isabeau patted their shoulder in consolation. “Don't worry too much about M’dame Odile. She's usually pretty nice, she's just real wound up from everything going on. And uh… the whole thing about you attacking me and stuff.” 

Siffrin grumbled more. Mirabelle and Isabeau mutually agreed that Siffrin had been behaving well (again, weirdly well, considering the whole ‘kidnapping’ thing) and had let him walk by himself. His hands were still tightly bound as Isabeau led him along by the slack of the rope. “I'm not sure how much I believe you…” Siffrin muttered under his breath. 

“It's true! She's a little scary, but she's just bad with feelings.” Mirabelle said.

“Her fee-fees,” Isabeau nodded. 

“Her what?” Siffrin asked.

“Her ling-lings,” Mirabelle sing-songed. 

“Please stop talking.”

He snickered, tugging Siffrin along the winding pathways. After many false starts in empty rooms, they meandered their way back to the hall they'd found Siffrin in- or more, the hall where Siffrin found him. 

Mirabelle glanced between the two rooms. “Hmm… Alright, I take the left, you go right. Tell me if you find anything. And u-uh… be careful with… um.”

Siffrin smiled devilishly, “With the scary assassin? Don't worry, mademoiselle, I'll play nice. I promise.”

“Y-yeah. Um. With him.” She picked up the edges of her skirt, turning toward the other room. “See you two in a minute!”

“Optimistic time frame for how long this'll take,” Siffrin commented absently.  

“She likes to look on the brightside!” Isabeau chuckled, tugging on Siffrin's rope. “Let's hurry too.”

He circled inside the familiar dorm, stepping over loose papers and anatomy sketches. Nice. 

Half-open draws and messy articles lined the walls, a nest of nooks and crannies for a little key to get lost in. Biting a groan, Isabeau got to work. Charcoal dust coated his finger tips with every rolled up drawing he pushed aside, paint fumes pricking at his nostrils. Endless drawers left him empty handed and frustrated. He sighed. 

“Oh look. How key-venient.” Siffrin said, smug and smiling. Isabeau whipped his head back. The Rogue was out of his sight for a minute at most, and yet the rope that tied his fists now laid in a coiled pile on the floor, cut off with the knife tucked on his belt. Siffrin held a silver key up, spinning it in his hands. “Oh, whoopsies! Looks like my hands slipped~ Silly me~!” He waved his hands around, taunting him and his own dumb inattentiveness. 

Isabeau ducked down into a fighting stance. Siffrin spat a laugh, “Hah! I can't believe how easy that was. You're not too bright, huh?” 

He grit his teeth. He needed to keep a level head. 

Siffrin shrugged, pocketing the key and drawing their dagger. They inspected the edge casually, “Oh well, makes my job easier.”

“Why? Why are you even doing this?” Isabeau asked, Craft at the ready. 

Siffrin rolled his eyes, “So nosy. I'm doing this for my King, of course!” He said, smiling far too wide. 

“Do you like The King?”

He flinched. His eyes twitched, “No comment.” 

Ah . He was getting somewhere. “Why are you working for him then-” 

“-Enough! Is this a fight, or an interview?!?” Siffrin shouted, stomping his foot. “I'm here to kill you. I'm here to stop you. I'm here to do whatever The King asks! I'm here to be frozen in this stupid House for the rest of my stupid life, and I'm not gonna let you stop me!!!” They shouted, teeth bared in a vicious sneer. 

“...You don't seem too happy about it.”

Siffrin turned on him, “You don't know anything about me!”

He winced, rubbing the back of his head, “Well- yeah we just met but… I can at least tell that you don't actually want to hurt us, do you?”

“Don't want-? There's nothing stopping me from slitting your throat right now, you know,” they growled, bunching up the collar of his shirt and tugging him down to meet their eyes. He tensed, staring down at their icy glare, making sure he had enough room to run if he needed. “If I wanted to hurt you I could.” 

The rage bubbling in their glare was white hot, burning, consuming… unconvincing. The shake in their hands wasn't just from anger, there was more to them- and Isabeau got the notion that they had never been called out on it before. Isabeau let out an unsteady laugh, “You're proving my point.”

“What-” 

“If you wanted to hurt me, you could. But you're not doing that, because you don't.”

Siffrin stared, speechless. His mouth hung open agape like a fish, before snapping shut. He let go of Isabeau, weakly pushing him back as he stomped away further into the room, arms crossed. “You know nothing about me.” He said, throwing a sideways glare behind him. 

“I don't. But… I could.” He shrugged, smiling, “If you're not happy doing this, then why? Why work for a man you hate? Why do a job you don't have the stomach to do? What's the point?”

Siffrin clenched their fists, “... Why would I tell you?” 

Isabeau hummed, biting his lip, “Well- I get that, actually. I'm a stranger, I really have no right to wander up to you and tell you how to live your life. But…” He sighed. “I like to believe in Change. Not as much as Mirabelle, maybe, but I still do. And I just can't accept that you're stuck like this. That you're mean and unstable and dangerous and that you don't want to ever be anything else. That you want to be frozen forever.” He took a step forward, towards Siffrin. They took one back. “I can't believe that in good faith. People Change. Sometimes, a whole lot!” He chuckled, “What kind of person would I be if I didn't let you Change as well…?”

Hesitantly, so hesitantly, Isabeau reached towards Siffrin. His hand hovered just above his shoulder, waiting. 

Siffrin slapped it away. 

“Just because I'm in a House doesn't mean I came for a sermon!” They snapped. They took in a harsh breath, staring down at the floor, clenching and unclenching their fists. Isabeau rubbed his sore hand, stepping back closer towards the door. Siffrin continued, “I don't understand you Vaguardians. You rave on and on about Change, about leaving everything behind, becoming something new but-” they breathed in slowly, in and out, “-But what happens to what gets left behind? You always talk about the new, but what about your past? Your memories, your name, yourself…” They teetered off. With a heavy sigh, they slumped onto the bed, sitting with their head in their hands. “How can you destroy the things that make you, you?” 

Isabeau shuffled uncomfortably. Carefully, he lowered himself onto the bed next to Siffrin. The mattress sunk under his weight. The rogue went stiff, hands balling hair into their fists. “Well… That's part of it. Change is creation, but it's also destruction. The past is always important, sure, but if you cling to the past, you'll never grow. And I think it's worth it, in the end. It's like cutting off split ends so your hair can grow, it's… just something you need to sacrifice in order to improve. To learn. To Change.” 

Siffrin’s grip on their hair grew violent. Strands of white started to tear out their scalp. On instinct, Isabeau reached out to pull their hand away. They flinched back on contact, hands jolting towards the dagger on their hip, eyes blown wide. Isabeau threw up his hands, “Whoa! Don't worry bud. I was just worried you might hurt yourself.”

Siffrin stared down at his hands, like he didn't even notice. 

“You uh- You were tugging your hair-” 

“-Sacrifice?” They interrupted. 

Isabeau blinked, “Huh? Oh yeah. That.”

“Sacrifice?” Siffrin repeated. They laughed, strained, edged with mania. “You want to know why Isabeau?!? Why I work for that asshole?!? Why I can't just quit?!? That's why!” They threw their hands out in front of themself, gesturing wildly. “I can't lose anything more! There's nothing left to be given! I've done enough damn sacrificing for the rest of my phoquing life!!!” They shouted, breathing heavily. 

“...Well. I guess I can understand that.” 

“Do you? Or are you just saying that to please me?” He sneered. 

“No, no, I really do! It's… scary.”

Siffrin paused. He held his palms open in his lap. “Scary…?”

“Yeah! It was scary, when I did it. Knowing that I'd become someone entirely else, that a lot of things important to be would be gone, but…” 

“...But?” Siffrin asked, quiet as a whisper. They looked at him, wide eyes filled with sudden curiosity, the anger burning away as fast as it came, leaving a hollow shell.

Isabeau took in a breath, “But… I think it's worth it, in the end. To leave behind the things holding you back, even if they're important to you. If something is keeping you from being better, from being happy- is it worth it to keep holding on forever?” 

His question hung in the air, Siffrin dead silent. They shuffled a little tugging their hat down, hiding their face. Belatedly, they huffed in quiet laughter. Isabeau frowned, “Did you find that funny?” 

Siffrin shook his head, “No, no. It wasn't funny.”

“You laughed.”

“It was a pity laugh, I guess.” They said. “Not for you. For me.” They clarified after. 

“Why?” 

“It's just…” Siffrin shook his head once more, pushing himself up from the bed. He looked over his shoulder at him, and for the first time since they met, he smiled. “You're a lot smarter than I gave you credit for.” 

Isabeau smiled back, “I- uh. Thanks.” He got up himself, hands hovering awkwardly in front of him. “I mean it. Really.” 

They stood in each other's presence, calm and quiet. 

It was weird. Really weird, standing next to someone who tried to kill him that morning. Even weirder, then, that Isabeau didn't seem to mind. Siffrin eventually sighed, and to his surprise, held out his hands in front of him, “Welp. Mirabelle's gonna be here soon. Let's get this over with, and both pretend this never happened, alright?” 

“Get what over with?” 

Siffrin snorted again, and Isabeau decided they had a nice laugh. “What do you think Odile would say if you let me run free through the halls? You think she'd be happy with that? You got extra rope, so hurry up.”

Oh. Yeah. That. “You’re- uh… just volunteering?”

They wrinkled their nose, “Just do it before I change my mind.” Isabeau nodded, picking up the scraps of cut rope and binding them around Siffrin's arms- not too tight though. “It's loose.” They noted, testing the limits.

“Well, you never know. Maybe if something really bad happens in a fight your rope could conveniently come loose?” 

Siffrin smiled once more, cocking a brow, “You know, I never agreed to your Change logic. I just said that you were smart. Once we get to The King, I won't be on your side.”

Isabeau shrugged, “You didn't disagree, either. I'll just tie you to a pillar once we get to the end, give ya’ plenty of time to think on what you've done.”

“You're putting me in time-out? How terrifying.”

“Very terrifying. Now come on, Mirabelle's probably getting worried.” He gripped the loose end of the rope, pulling them along with a gentle tug out of the room, “And uh, for the record…” His eyes drifted to the floor, a traitorous blush creeping up his neck, “I think you've Changed plenty in just a few minutes. For the better.” 

Siffrin sank into the collar of his cape, looking away. “I- uh… Sure. Whatever you say.” He muttered. Risking a glance back towards them, Isabeau realized that Siffrin was hiding a smile.

Isabeau decided it was cute as well. 

Chapter Text

For the record, this was not the result they wanted from their ‘experiments.’ 

Siffrin wanted to find holes in his wish, paths to follow, dents in the saviour's armour, a real way out. A way he could actually take. 

“Hey, Siffrin, hurry up before I start carrying you again.” Isabeau teased, nudging them forward with the tip of his foot. 

The absolute last thing he wanted was a clingy fighter and heartfelt conversation about his ‘fee-fees’ and ‘ling-lings.’ They didn't need lectures on Change. They didn't need Isabeau's sorry looks and desperate ploys to get them to be someone else. To give the last pieces of themself that they had left, tear out chunks of their soul and stitch themself back up with faux leather skin and cotton stuffing to pretend they were still a person. 

And they certainly didn't need the way he smiled at them now, like they were in on a joke between just the two of them. Like he… liked them. 

“Oh we have plenty of time, we're in no rush.” Came Siffrin's smooth reply. 

“By definition, we really do not. But nice try, stranger.” Odile chided from behind. 

They had climbed up to the third floor by now, wandering the rightmost hallways. Everything looked the same; same pillars, same bricks, same Sadnesses, same bone-chilling frost tipping his fingers and sending his breath out in short puffs. Siffrin had no waymarks besides muscle memory from previous loops and Mirabelle's little anecdotes as they went, which made the twisting halls all the more confusing to wander through. 

Skirting past a lunging Sadness, Isabeau herded their little group into a spare room, slamming the door in its face. He let out a relieved sigh, regaining his breath as the Sadness clawed at the frozen wood. Siffrin hummed, taking a cursory glance around the room. There wasn't a key inside, if the lack of Loop’s annoying buzz was any indication.

Or maybe they were still mad at him?

Not his fault he wasn't willing to give up everything he's worked for just to appease some dumb star. If they wanted to be pissy about it, that was their problem.

Siffrin shook themself out of their own head, focusing on the room. Nothing stuck out in particular interest; Craft books lined shelf and table space, illuminated only by the frozen glow of still candlelight. In the middle of the floor there was a-

“Puppy!!!” Bonnie cried. 

“Dog!” 

“Doggy!” 

Dog!!! 

“And an actual human person as well.” Odile said. 

Humans were far less interesting than dogs. Siffrin tuned out the rest of the (non-dog-related) conversation, busying himself instead with the junk littering the cedar tabletops. It was difficult navigating with his hands tied, but the rope was long and Isabeau was only half paying attention, his focus dutifully spent instead trying to pet the frozen dog. Siffrin was able to sneak away enough to explore, slack rope pulling taut the further he strayed. His eyes glazed over the counter, bottles, string, a book about croissants…  

“Siffrin? Why are you making that face?” Mirabelle asked. 

“You look like you ate a lemon.” Bonnie helpfully provided.

Mirabelle peeked over his shoulder. It didn't escape him the way her eyes darted to the under-supervised rope around his hands. “... Croissants? What do you have against croissants?”

They stuck their tongue out, “I ate a burnt one once.” 

Mirabelle rolled her eyes, poking them playfully. It took every inch of their will to not flinch away. “And here I thought it was something serious.” They batted her away (or as well as they could with tied hands) and wandered past the offending book, taking stock of the rest of the room. 

Him and The King left the House in poor condition. Siffrin never realized before just how much his majesty had warped everything while he was trapped in his room. Walls bended and swayed at odd angles, bricks jutting and crumbled beneath their own weight. Halls had shifted entirely, snapped and melded back into twisted mirrors of what it once was. It all left the House feeling unstable, snapping at the seams, whining under its own weight. Cracks snaked up through the mortar, big enough to fit underneath, were left gaping wide. 

One of said cracks sat right next to the table, stretching so large it was a miracle the wall hadn't already collapsed. He was quick to write it off as another of hundred half-broken walls, until something caught his eyes on the other side. 

“What cha’ looking at Evil Guy?” Bonnie asked, popping up behind them. 

Siffrin tilted their head to reach a better angle, shuffling further towards the crack, “I think there's a passage through here.”

“And how do we know this isn't some trap?” Odile muttered. 

Siffrin blew out a raspberry, “Give me some credit, Madame. I've been on my very best behaviour.”

“It's true! He's been real good, Madame. Hasn't tried anything tricky. Real A+ hostage.” Isabeau nodded along, lying through his goddamn teeth considering Siffrin had unquestionably done ‘something tricky.’ It was odd how quick Isabeau was to defend him. In every sense of the word Siffrin was still his enemy, still his captive. He'd sworn no loyalty towards them all, in fact he'd told Isabeau that he'd betray them later. He guaranteed it, but yet here he was. It made his stomach flutter with something he couldn't place.

Ducking inside the hole, Siffrin confirmed there was indeed a hallway through the crack, spreading out in front of him. His rope pulled taut and he gave it a tug, “There's a tunnel through here!” He called out behind him. 

“Secret tunnel?” Isabeau asked.

“Secret tunnel!!” Bonnie shouted. 

Secret tunnel indeed. 

It was a tiny thing with a claustrophobic ceiling and shoddy walls funneling them into another small room. The room was uneventful as best, identical to every other dorm lining the House’s halls, filled with bookcases and cracking brick. Mirabelle went for the book shelf first thing, raving about whatever stock-standard script was printed on their pages. Conversation rose again, and Siffrin found himself tuning out. 

It wasn’t his fault that they were all too chatty for their own good. It made it hard to focus, hard to keep on track. Every second his attention was pulled in a thousand directions by inane little tidbits and anecdotes sprinkled into their deathly march up to The King’s door. Was it some kind of coping mechanism? Trying to keep their inevitable demises at bay with lame jokes and silly banter? Did it even work? He supposed it didn’t matter. All that really mattered was how much it distracted him from his goal. He needed to keep his mind clear. Clear of doubt. That’s what his King wanted. It’s what his King has drilled into his brain over and over; that they’ve come too far to back down now, that it’s the only way to save them, that didn’t you want it back? Didn’t you care? 

Of course they did. It was the only thing they wanted. It was the only reason they were still here. Their goal was all they knew for so long, it was the only thing keeping them going. 

It was all they remembered, all that time ago. The King sitting surrounded by Craft books, papers littered around the room, hair grown long, thick, and oily; how it curled and around the floor like spiderwebs. It might as well have been webs with how trapped Siffrin felt, a struggling fly that can do nothing as its death crawled ever close forward. 

Except it was Siffrin himself wandering further into the center. It’s supposed to be quiet in the eye of a hurricane, isn't it? 

“Bright One.” 

“Yes, friend?” 

“That’s not my name.” 

“Y-yes, my King?” 

“Preparations are complete. We have everything we need to save it, Bright One. Keep it forever contained.” 

His breaths came quicker than he cared for. He focused on them instead of the gaping maw in front of him, struggling against the web a little longer. “Your majesty… I… I don’t know if this is a good idea.” He said, voice teetering into a whisper. 

“Excuse me?” The King responded, voice cold as ice and twice as sharp. It froze Siffrin on the spot.

Siffrin was always cold, afterall. Always cold after that day. 

“It’s just- Think of all those people unable to ever grow or Change-” 

“If I wanted a sermon I’d go to a House!” The King shouted, rising to his full height. His head nearly grazed the ceiling, his body warping as his Craft pushed it further.

A twisted reflection of someone they once knew, someone they might have cared for once. They understood Mirabelle in that regard, at least.

The King sneered, “We have come this far, Siffrin! We have sweat and bled over this, and you wish to throw it away!?! Destroy all that we worked for?!?” 

The web bent under the weight as Siffrin’s demise crawled ever closer. The strings grew tighter alongside their throat, “O-of course not! But we can’t do this, can we!?!” 

The jaw of the beast seized him, tugging on his throat. He was choking. He couldn’t breathe. “Don’t you care, Bright One!?! How can you be so heartless? How can you accept that it’s gone, how can you throw chunks of your soul away? How can you accept that?” Siffrin’s friend pulled him closer, “How can you be so selfish, to risk them all the same pain, Bright One? Why go through until now? Why-” 

Why? 

That was always the damn question. 

Why are you doing this? Why work for The King? Why can you be so selfish? Why can’t you just accept it? Why can’t you let it go? Why can’t you kill him?

Ahaha. That last one sounded like Loop! Or was it just their own thoughts? Sometimes they couldn’t really tell. 

…

“Well, I didn’t know that you could get crushes on someone you hate, for one.” Odile said with a huffed laugh.

Oh. He really spaced out there, didn’t he? He had no clue what they were all even talking about anymore.

“Y-you can!?!” Mirabelle squeaked. 

Crushes? Was it because of all the romance books on that shelf? That seemed likely.

…

Siffrin hadn’t gotten a memory like that in awhile. It started happening more once the loops began, flashes of things from before his journey funneling into him. He didn’t pay them much mind, they were always benign at worst anyways. But as of late they’d gotten fuzzier. He could remember the words said (he always remembered his lines) but the details were lost, he couldn’t remember much of where the conversations took place, the context, the actions. His mind couldn’t grasp them anymore. It was equal parts terrifying and soothing how easily his bad memories could fall from his mind like gushing sludge, thick and viscous, yet unattainable still.

…

Out of them all, he wished that one in particular didn’t stick in his mind. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve gotten that. Though my heart’s been kind to me lately!” Isabeau chuckled. His eyes wandered towards where Siffrin was frozen in place. “Or w-well- uh- Pretty good for the most part. It’s had its moments.” 

Odile raised a brow. She turned her head over to Siffrin, “So, what about you stranger? You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time.”

Wuh-oh. They just had to guess what to say, “I uh- Well I don’t think I’ve ever really had a crush? Romance has never been a big priority. I’ve been busy with other things.” 

“Like what?” Bonnie asked, hands on their hips. 

“Evil monologues?” Isabeau supplied. 

“Maniacal laughter?” Mirabelle giggled. 

“Or perhaps busy tying poor maidens to train tracks?” Odile finished. 

Siffrin grumbled. They didn’t even know what a train was, and yet they were still using it to make fun of them. “No. I’ve just been trying to get along with my life and saving you all from destruction. I haven’t had time for crushes.” 

“Not even a hate-crush?” Isabeau asked. 

They barked a laugh, “How could you get a crush on somebody you hate? It’s just silly.” 

Isabeau pouted. It was kinda cute, “Hey, just cuz’ you don’t get it doesn’t mean it ain’t real, don’t be mean!” He gave an exaggerated whine, dissolving into a smile shortly after. He had a nice smile, a nice laugh too. Siffrin wasn’t sure why he kept getting stuck on him specifically. Was it the conversation they shared? The odd little bond they had in this particular loop? 

What else could it be? 

“You’ll see! One day you’ll get a hate crush, and you’ll rue the day you ever made fun of me.” Isabeau said. 

How silly…

…

Oh. 

OH NO. 

“Are you okay Siffrin, you’re making a weird face again…” Mirabelle fretted. 

OH STARS NO. IT COULDN’T BE HAPPENING. NOT RIGHT AFTER HE MADE FUN OF ISABEAU FOR IT. 

[You keep finding new and horrible ways for me to hate you even more, Stardust. I’m almost impressed.]

THE ONLY BENEFIT TO THIS SITUATION WAS MAKING LOOP MAD. 

Bonnie poked their side. “Did we break them…?”

Siffrin laughed suddenly, “Hah! Ah- I- Well. We should go! There’s nothing in this room!” 

Odile raised a single brow with a knowing smirk. Mirabelle and Isabeau exchanged confused glances as Siffrin tried to tug them away with his bindings, “Well come on! The King won’t destroy you from here! Let’s get a move on!” 

__________________________

After smoothly exiting the party from the fabled hate-crush-conversation room and eliciting absolutely no suspicion in the process, they headed off towards the rest of the House. 

Despite his complaints from before, Siffrin almost wished that the saviours would spend longer in libraries, if only so he could sneak a glance at the books on the shelves. He was there for research, afterall. Wish craft may be a lost art, but there had to be something within the endless halls. Something to tell him how he could cancel his Wish, despite the will of Vaugaurde backing it up; something to give him a hint on how he could get the saviours frozen without killing his King in the process. Maybe the answer was simple. Maybe it wasn’t. But he sure wasn’t going to find out trailing behind a rope like a deflated balloon. 

The rooms passed by in a blur, comfortably familiar. They knew which way to go now, knew the steps, knew the blocking. It made things easier, at least, when the Change God’s statue gifted a key shaped knife to them. 

Or more gifted a key knife to his feet, considering his hands were still tied. But it was the thought that counted. 

Mirabelle took up the mantle of slicing through The King’s revolting hair wad, snapping the strands with practiced ease. They tumbled to the ground alongside the knife’s blade, both falling into a useless heap. With some hesitance, Mirabelle beckoned them forward, tugging on Siffrin’s rope, herding him like a stubborn dog. 

It was the same boss as before. Siffrin fought back a frown as the others readied their weapons, ducking into fighting stances. Did he need to pay attention? The other three had it under control, and he had particular beef with this Sadness. The battle began all the same, with the exception of Bonnie being put on ‘hostage duty,’ apparently, if the stone-cold glare they leveled him was anything to go by. The kid hadn’t bothered to grab the rope, focusing instead on intimidation to keep him in line. It was cute. 

“Aim for the hands instead, Isabeau! It’s impervious to all attacks while it’s like this!” Odile called out once again. Siffrin spared a glance towards the bursting battlefield, towards Isabeau rubbing a sore hand right after he attempted to attack the floating monster, if the familiar call out was any indication. Siffrin was glad they weren’t the only one to ever make that mistake. It made them feel a little more competent.

Blows were exchanged back and forth, ping ponging through the echoing halls over and over. A Crafted spell from Odile, a Scissors attack from the enemy, Isabeau rounding in for a clean hit, a blast of time stop from the Sadness, then Mirabelle clapping her hands firmly… It was close to meditative, the delicate dance of death they were caught in. Siffrin was content to sit on the sidelines, resting their mind for a moment before they were forced back inside the spotlight. 

“Isabeau, duck!” 

Oh. They remembered this part. It’s about when they got struck in their back. Isabeau had taken their spot now that they weren’t standing center stage, eyes blown wide as a closed palm raised, glowing with Craft. 

Siffrin should let it happen. It was research, right? That's why he was here. 

He snapped his fingers anyways.

It was a horrible idea, really, but they shouldn’t change the script. Shouldn’t force an understudy on without a lick of their lines memorized. He was merely doing Isabeau a favour, keeping him from feeling a pain that he himself was already well acquainted with. 

A short sprint was all it took to place himself in front of the fighter, back turned to the blast. 

It was a familiar pain, but pain nevertheless. It bursted through their skin, burning through fabric, tearing them at their seams. 

“Siffrin!” Mirabelle shouted, tugging up the hem of her skirt and running towards him. It was sweet of her to have the same reaction to him crumpling to the floor, doubling over in pain, no matter whether he was friend or foe. Some things really never changed, did they?

His body went leadened as Craft flowed through his limbs. A small, contented sigh left his lips. He let his limbs go slack.

“O-okay, I cast some Craft to tide him over for now- mostly to keep them from passing o-out but-” 

Oh, they’ve heard this all before. They didn’t need to listen. 

“...somewhere safer… room down the hall, yes?”

“...Isabeau can you get him… And be careful…!”

It was a comfortable familiarity, knowing this time for sure that they would be fine in the end. Arms wrapped around them, big and buff. They leaned further into the warmth than they cared to admit. Somehow, they could swear Isabeau held them tighter this time around. 

He was carted off into the halls, Mirabelle stumbling past the same person as before, pausing for just a little too long. Someone let him down gently, arms pulling away. He was cold.

“Okay… How do I…” 

Mirabelle paused for a moment. Was he supposed to say something? He didn’t remember, it felt like so long ago now. 

“Well… okay, no point dancing around. Can you take your shirt off?” 

They remembered this. Blood soaked through their clothes, sticking to their skin, sucking away even more warmth than they recalled. They threw off their armour and undershirt, already numb to the sensation of frigid air on their back and the stares on their bare chest. 

Mirabelle got to work, messaging deft hands into his wounds. He winced as the healing magic burned and prickled at his flesh, forcing skin back into place, creating and healing scabs quicker than his body could handle. He bit the inside of his cheek and waited for it all to go away. 

The minutes melted away in a blur. A familiar, comforting, blur. Maybe it was just the soothing pulses Mirabelle rubbed into their body once the healing was finished, maybe it was the warm hand on his freezing skin, but either way Siffrin was content to melt into the sensation forever and never wake up. Getting hurt was painful, sure, but this more than made up for it, right? People spoke around them, spouting lines they’d rehearsed already. 

Breaking through the fog of their mind, Bonnie shouted, “What gave you those!?!” 

Ah. Right, the titty grave. He could say the same thing as last time but…

Funniest lie possible 2! GO!!!

“Sometimes, when you get old enough, they just pop right off!” They said, making a popping noise with their mouth. 

Bonnie wrinkled their nose like a disgruntled bunny rabbit. “No. That’s not true!!!”

He winked, “Yes it is.” 

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yuh-huh.” 

“No!!! Because Mira and Dile are old and they still have theirs!!!” Bonnie pouted. 

Mirabelle gave him a thoroughly scandalized look. Odile nearly choked on her samosa. Isabeau burst out into laughter and Siffrin smiled, “That’s because it only happens sometimes as you get older. There’s only a chance they’ll fall off one night.” 

“Whoa… so Dile has gotten really lucky because she’s so old!” They wondered in pure amazement. 

Odile sputtered a laugh into her sleeve. Success. Siffrin continued, “She sure has! I wasn’t so lucky…” 

Isabeau composed himself in the corner, clearing his throat enough to speak, “I will say, you’ve Changed in a different way than most Vaugaurdians. I’m… honestly pretty surprised you have at all given… what you said uh… before.” 

Siffrin rolled their eyes, “It’s different from where I’m from. We really don't ‘Change’ the same way you guys do. We’re more casual about it. It’s not a big deal.” 

Odile noted something down in her journal. Isabeau hummed, “I can understand. It’s interesting how different things can be based on where you’re from! Like, do you guys even have Body Craft in… uh… Wherever you lived?” 

Their smile strained, “Uh…” They had a headache, “Kinda? It’s not practiced super often… But it does exist. But yeah, no. I switched sides the old fashion way. I don’t have the Body Craft expansion pack.” 

“You mean expansion package?” Isabeau asked, a shit eating grin on his face. 

“ISABEAU.” Mirabelle shouted. 

Oh! That was funny! 

Siffrin laughed. The soothing Craft must still be clinging to their body, as they laughed louder and longer than they should, a dizzy sort of drowsiness to their movements. They felt like they just woke up from a nap or had a bit too much to drink, that kind of dopey giddiness. 

Odile sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose but hiding a smile underneath. “Children, children. Please stay focused. The King is right up ahead, afterall.” 

His giggles teetered off as his mind sobered. Right. This loop was coming to an end. 

Siffrin’s gaze drifted towards Isabeau. 

He better get ready for his exit.

__________________________

The walk back up to The King was silent. No banter, no jokes, no nothing. It was only the sounds of his heel clicking against the cold floor, and the footfalls of the party behind him. Every step made him wince, the gentle click clack echoing through the cavernous corridor. Frost pricked the stone pillars, creeping up slowly above the curse. Bloated tears hovered in every direction. His breath hung in a thick cloud in front of his face. His wrists hurt from rope burn. 

Isabeau put out a hand, signaling them all to stop. “Wait. Before we get there…” He turned to Siffrin. He said nothing, perhaps nervous of speaking too loud in such silence, as if a rule was being broken with every sound. Fidgeting with his sleeves, Isabeau tugged them closer. The rope nearly slid off their hands.

“It’d be a bad idea to bring you in with us, huh?” He chuckled, humourless. There was a glint in his eyes, a sad little tilt to his head. His eyes jumped between the rope and their face, an expectant look as Isabeau went to tie the twine around a pillar at a glacial pace. “Gotta make sure you won’t cause any trouble…”

The slack of their binds was wrapped around the column, circling thoroughly around. Yet the rope around his wrists was still loose. 

“So, last chance bud, I’m hardly convinced you really want to be doing this, so just checking- You’re really gonna’ side with The King in all this?” Isabeau asked, arms crossed. 

Siffrin hummed. In one smooth motion they slid their hands free of their bindings, shaking out his sore wrists. Odile went on the offensive, book primed and ready to be chucked straight for their cranium, distrust clear in her glare. Siffrin gave a casual shrug, “I dunno, Isabeau. Maybe! Maybe not.” Closing the distance between them and Isabeau, he smiled. “You gave a nice speech back there. Here, tell you what, I’ll think on it!” 

Mirabelle’s hand hovered over her rapier, “Uhm! I- Uh- Does that mean you’re not going to try and a-attack us? Because we really outnumber you, and I think it’d be a bad idea- and also like I really do believe in redemption and-” 

“I said I’ll think on it.” He rolled his eyes, sauntering across the hall. “Tell you what, I’ll take some time to consider, and then I’ll loop you into my decision after, okay?” 

Odile’s eyes narrowed, “We do not have time.” 

Isabeau walked towards Siffrin, arm held out. Hesitantly, so hesitantly, he reached for their hand. “Hey…  Siffrin. Really. I don’t think you’re a bad person.” 

Siffrin pulled their hand away, a snarl on their lips, “You want to know what I think, Isabeau?” 

“I-” Isabeau began, but Siffrin cut him off, shoving their hand into a nearby tear. 

“I think I was wrong before.” 

“What- S-sif! Your arm!” 

The curse crept further up his body. He could smell sugar now. “No, no. I was definitely wrong about what I said.” 

“I- What are you doing?!?” 

“I don’t think you’re all that smart, really. If you

                                                                        still think 

                                         I’ll 

                                                                                       b   oth  e r

                         be

                                   in g 

                                                    wi

                                 th 

…you”

…Siffrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of Mirabelle’s dorm stared back. 

Oh. He didn’t even get to finish before looping back. 

Oh well. It wasn’t like Isabeau would remember anyways. 

Siffrin sat up, rubbing their wrists. The rashes were gone without a trace alongside the scar down his back, but phantom pains still found a way to weasel themself onto their skin. They suppressed a shudder, biting back the urge to claw at the ghosts of their injuries. It itched and burned in such an incomprehensible way that made them lose their mind. Instead they grasped fistfulls of the hair on their head, tearing and tugging until the numb pain in their skull outweighed the sensations on the rest of their body. 

In and out. 

He coughed back the stagnant sugar in his throat and threw off the blankets. Pacing around the small dorm, he went over what he learned… Which was… Not much, really. 

He threw back his head in a groan, pulling another few strands of white out of their head. All he learned from that loop was that Isabeau was a big dumb softie who believed much too strongly in the power of friendship for a grown man. Nothing else. He also learned that apparently people get crushes on people they hate sometimes, which sounds just ridiculous enough to of course happen to him, since he was The Universe’s favourite chew toy, apparently. 

They tried not to think about how sad Isabeau looked when they stuck their hand in the tear. About his hopeful gaze when he let their bindings hang looser than he should. About the genuine smile they shared. About their little talk. 

…

If Siffrin didn’t find a way out soon (which they would), that would be a conversation they wouldn’t mind repeating. 

But other than some icky, complicated feelings, Siffrin really learned nothing of actual value. Which he maybe should’ve expected, but somewhere deep down he wished that hanging around the saviours might lead him to answers, someway, somehow. But he was nothing but a chew toy for the world, and oh boy, does it like to make him squeak. 

So, he needed another game plan. 

Talky-friendship-fun-times didn’t help, which meant they needed to hit the books- and hopefully not get hit with anymore books in the meantime. They had all the time in the world. They could experiment as much as they needed to. 

In and out. 

They had time. 

[...]

__________________________

Experiment #2: “The ‘Freeze Frame’”

The concept was simple. 

He and The King wanted to freeze everyone in time. They were to achieve this by spreading a curse throughout Vaugaurde. 

Which meant, in theory, if he were to just stall the saviours until the curse spread to Dormont, then they’d maybe win? As Vauguarde would be saved in time? 

Worth a shot. The worst that could happen would be looping back right? 

Or that’s what they thought before Isabeau’s brass knuckles hit them clean across the face. Turns out, playing cat and mouse with four other saviours on a single floor of a House doesn’t go too well after they’ve reasonably guessed that you’d taken all the keys. 

__________________________

Experiment 3: “The ‘Freeze Frame 2, Let’s not get Punched to Death this Time.” 

Last time didn't go well, that's okay! He knew better now, he knew to hide from them all better, knew to maybe leave the floor and let the doors lock behind him, which was in hindsight a pretty obvious solution. 

And so he waited. 

At some points he heard banging on the doors, muffled arguments from behind the walls. He snickered to himself, proud of his genius and expertise. 

And when the curse crawled over, they found a nice spot to freeze in. A bone deep chill crawled up their legs and arms, curling around their heart and organs. They closed their eyes…

And when he opened them, he was staring at the ceiling of Mirabelle’s dorm.

__________________________

Experiment 5: “Wait This Place has a Library!”

Siffrin sat in the library, stacks of books and loose leaf pages encasing him, the pile growing larger and larger with each stage play and document he tossed to the side. In front of him, a bedazzled diary rested. Its gaudy cover was a tease, promising answers and yet only leaving him more questions in the end. 

The Island North of Vaugarde. It had a name. A real one. A pretty one. 

His head hurt. 

“Hey, what cha' reading?” Bonnie asked, poking their head out behind him. 

“Nothing important. None of these have anything I need.” He responded. 

… 

Wait. 

Did he even meet the saviours in Death Corridor this loop…? 

“Someone who isn't frozen…” Mirabelle wondered aloud, “W-wait!!! I recognize you!!! You're The King's little guard dog!” She suddenly shouted, hand travelling to her rapier. 

Wuh-oh. 

“Is he, now?” Odile hummed, picking up a massive book on fishing off a desk, “Well. I suppose we'll just have to deal with them, no?”

WUH-OH!

__________________________

Experiment 7: “Hey Getting Tied up Wasn’t that Bad, Right?”

 “Now if you could be a good evil villain and stop moving, that'd be great.” Isabeau said, pinning him against the wall. 

Now that Siffrin had time to stop and look at him from up close, they could see the faint freckles on his face, the scruff of his beard, the perfect glossy polish on his nails.

  Stars. 

They were so fucked. 

“Uhhh, hey bud- you good? You ah, have just been staring at me for like. A minute…?” 

Whoops. 

__________________________

Experiment 10: “Master of Disguise”

This one for sure!

Sure, the last loop might've ended with him tripping on his own cape and straight into a tear- but that was an easy mistake to make! He'll get it this time! And to make sure of that, he had a plan. 

“Hey, Loop, do you think Mirabelle would recognize me in a different outfit?” They asked towards empty air. 

…

No response. Not even a flicker at the back of their skull, no buzz to imply that Loop was at least listening in. Siffrin huffed, pacing around Mirabelle’s dorm once more. They wandered towards their closet, examining the stacks of very fashionable evil armour inside. “I’m just saying,” they continued on, despite the lack of response, “She really didn’t get a good look at me back there. She’s probably just recognizing the armour, mostly. Maybe the hat. If I were to drop my usual clothes, she might not remember who I am! Then- using that to my advantage- I can get even closer to them than usual! Because they won’t be put off because little miss goody two shoes couldn’t help but snitch!” They exclaimed, pulling out a crumpled dress from the bottom of the closet. They attempted to smooth out the thick wrinkles against their chest, “So, good idea? Yes? No?” 

[...]

“Ah! You are listening. I can feel it.” 

[... I think you’re an idiot, Stardust.]

He threw his hat onto the bed and began to pull the dress over his head, “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s a good idea, you’re still just salty that I’m doing things my way.” 

[Whatever you say Stardust. Just don’t expect me to be nice next time I see you in person.]

“Well, with any luck for the both of us, I’m going to get out of here before that. Wouldn’t that be nice? Frozen forever with the knowledge that we never have to speak to each other again?”

[I would give absolutely everything for it.]

“It’d be so relaxing, free from the constant nagging.” 

[So beautiful- never having to deal with your stupid denial.] 

“What an idea…” 

[What a dream…]

Siffrin did a little twirl, the ruffles of the dress billowing alongside him. It was much more feminine than he tended to go for, but he could still appreciate a spinny dress once in a blue moon (though he wasn’t sure what a ‘blue’ moon was, to be honest.) Satisfied with his twirl levels, Siffrin went to go and turn the knob of his door, not bothering to do up his hair or put on his hat. He needed to be unrecognizable, afterall. “Well Loop, I hopefully won’t talk to you later!~ Bye-bye!”

[I can still speak to you outside your room, dumbass.]

“Byeee!” 

__________________________

Mirabelle hovered just outside the corridor, stomach bursting with anxiety. There was something wrong in the room, every alarm bell in her head was ringing at once. She felt sick and wobbly trying to keep Isabeau from marching blindly into the hall, marching into what might very well be his death! 

Bonnie stomped into the room with the undiluted confidence only a prepubescent could have, staring straight ahead. “Why’s there a rock???” They asked.

“I-I have no idea…?” She muttered, pushing past the others and walking into the hall. There was, indeed, rock. It sat dead center of the hall, its presence strange and unexplainable.

Even stranger, then, when a person sauntered out from behind, leaning on the boulder with forced casualty. They smiled up at her, “Hello mademoiselle!” 

There were a lot of things Mirabelle wanted to say in response to the past ten seconds of her life. The most pressing, however, were the words that bubbled up almost subconsciously, “Why are you wearing my dress…?” 

The stranger stared. They then looked down at their dress. Then they took a deep breath. Then they screamed, “Oh for PHOQUES SAKE!!!” 

Chapter Text

Bonnie was scared.

They weren't about to admit it, of course. But they were. 

The House was huge and freaky, walls painted black, cracks crawling up the sides. They were a big kid. They shouldn't be scared of spooky houses and weird Sadnesses anymore. Even if the long halls were shiny and cold in the exact same way Nille was when they left Bambouche. Even if all the adults whispered about contingencies and worst-case scenarios when they thought Bonnie wasn't listening. Even if they knew it was all or nothing. 

The weirdest part of it all, however, was the New Guy. 

He hovered near the front of the pack, leading them throughout the House. Apparently, he'd been living there for a while. He was weird. His hair was long and white, nearly reaching past his shoulders. The stranger wasn't wearing much, just some oversized tunic and mismatched shoes. It didn't look like they fit him well. A cozy scarf was wrapped around his neck, covering most of his face. He nestled into it, shivering every so often. Bonnie was pretty crabbing cold too, goosebumps popping up all over their arms, but New Guy had always seemed to be freezing.  

“Just a little further up before we hit the boss.” The stranger said, turning their head over their shoulder, the warm gray scarf muffling their voice. 

“The boss?” Mirabelle questioned, wringing her hands. 

“A big Sadness. It's tougher than the others, and it's blocking the way up towards my- Uh- The King.” New Guy explained. 

Odile hummed, muttering something to herself. “You haven't told us what exactly you're doing here, Stranger.” She said, crossing her arms. 

New Guy laughed. He sounded nervous. “Well I don't fancy getting frozen, so I just want to help! I wouldn't say I'm… uh… great at my job,” his face soured, “But I'm decent in a fight. Also, I actually know my way around here.”

Odile didn't respond. She jotted something down in her book, making a vague noise of acknowledgement. The group turned a corner, passing by a dozen identical rooms. Bonnie was getting dizzy.

Mirabelle bit her lip, “Uhm… If you were a Housemaiden, how come I've never seen you?”

New Guy shrugged, “Because I wasn't. My city got frozen over, so I ran to the epicentre of the Curse to avoid it. I didn't want to bother the poor folk in Dormont, so I've been chilling in here ever since.” They chuckled. Their eyes darted around the room, face falling, “... Get it? Chilling? Because… it's so cold?”

Isabeau gave a little pity laugh and patted them on the back, “You might wanna workshop that one a little more, bud.” He said. 

New Guy stuck out his tongue, “Not my fault you don't understand comedy.” The group hovered in the doorway of an abandoned dorm, avoiding the Sadnesses where they could. New Guy poked his head into one of the rooms, debating whether the trip inside was worth it. 

“Are you lying?” Odile said suddenly, face cross, brows pinched. 

The stranger startled, “I- Uh- excuse me?” 

“You said you've been living here.”

“Yeah? I have. That's not a lie.”

“But the doors only opened once we got the orbs.” Odile said. 

New Guy squirmed. “Oh… haha… How could I forget?” He said through gritted teeth. Sheepish, he rubbed the back of his head. He tugged his hair alongside the rubs, which was weird because it would probably hurt. “That's uh- that's because I got here before that! Right before the gates closed, I snuck in! The King's got a pretty blinding bad security system in here.”

Odile stared at them for a good long time. It was her scary look, the one she gave when somebody did something wrong. Usually Za. An eternity passed until she sighed, “Well alright then. I hope you’re telling the truth. For your sake.” She said, giving them a rough push as she shoved past them towards the head of the group, ignoring the dorm. “We got some ground to cover, so let’s hurry along now. No time for distractions” 

New Guy grumbled from behind, rolling their eyes. Falling back beside them, Bonnie looked up at them. They were still shivering. Bonnie tugged on their scarf, “What’s your name?” 

New Guy blinked, "Didn't I tell you already…?” He mumbled, more to himself than to Bonnie.

Isabeau startled, “Oh crab!!! We totally forgot to ask your name!!!” He turned back around, soft blush creeping over his cheeks. “So… Uh. What is your name?” 

New Guy chuckled under his breath, the sound muted from the thick fabric wrapped around his neck. “It’s Siffrin, Isabeau.” New Guy- Siffrin- said, the corners of his smile poking out of the scarf. 

“That’s a weird name.” Bonnie said, because it was. 

“Bonbon! Be nice!” Za chided. 

“What? It is!!!” They pouted. 

Siffrin laughed. “Well, not everyone gets as cool a name as Bonnie. I suppose I’ll just have to languish in my weirdness.” 

“It is a cool name. But it’s not my real name.” 

“Oh?” Siffrin tilted their head. Isabeau seemed to have stopped listening in, instead jogging to catch up with Mirabelle and Odile at the front of the group, leaving just them and Siffrin to chat along the cold hallways. Bonnie thought they recognized this route, the layout familiar, which meant they were heading back towards the entrance. 

“Yeah!!! My real name is Boniface, like how Nille’s real name is Pétronille! But nobody calls her that because it’s too long! Boniface is too long too!!! It makes me sound like a grandma, which is why only Dile calls me that because she is a grandma.” 

“I sure am.” Odile added, not bothering to even look behind her. 

“Grandma…? She’s like… In her forties.” Siffrin said, face scrunching up. 

“That’s old!!!” 

“Not grandma old. Not usually at least?” 

“Late forties. I turn fifty soon.” Dile said, voice monotone as it always was as she absently flipped through her book. 

“See? Old!!!” Bonnie shouted. 

Siffrin let out a hearty laugh, pulling up their scarf to keep it from falling off. “Alright alright- Fine. She's grandma aged, I guess.” They said, throwing up their arms in surrender. 

The group rounded a corner and filtered through a wooden door. The ceiling raised up high, intricate pillars supporting the grand weight. The inky marble underfoot was littered with cracks and chips, a broken path trailing up towards a giant staircase. They were back in the main hall now, where they first entered through the floor. 

A few Sadnesses gurgled in the middle of the hall, wandering aimless, bodies morphing with every step. Bonnie shifted upwards to Mirabelle, grabbing her hand. Siffrin carried on unbothered, skirting dangerously close to the monsters. He hummed, sizing up the room, “You picked up the key, right Isabeau?” He said all of a sudden, turning on his heel. 

Isabeau startled, “Huh? Oh- uh- yeah! I picked it up in someone's dorm.” 

Siffrin sighed, “Thank the Stars.” Setting a brisk pace, Siffrin hurried over towards the door. He got most of the way through the hall, carrying himself with an odd grace, as if he’d walked the floors a thousand times before. Right before he reached the staircase, however, he stopped dead in his tracks. Blocked by some invisible force, he froze up entirely, staring blank faced in front of him. His hand jerked towards his dagger, fingers twitching over the hilt. Siffrin’s breathing went ragged.

The adults traded worried glances. Isabeau jogged forward, hand hovering just above Siffrin’s shoulder, “Siffrin? Are you alright, bud?” 

No response. Siffrin was staring down at their blade, eyes wide in unseen horror. 

Mirabelle rushed over in turn, coming up to his other side. “What’s wrong with them?”

The Sadnesses took notice of Mirabelle’s noisy footfalls, melting heads turning to the source with sickening squelches. The two looked none the wiser, focusing solely on the spacey rogue in front of them. The monster gurgled, raising a misshapen hand into a closed fist. 

“Look out!!!” Bonnie warned. 

__________________________

Experiment #11: Master of Disguise 2.0

Siffrin should've probably remembered that it was Mirabelle's closet he was stealing from, but foresight wasn't a skill he was blessed with. But he at least had hindsight, and the means to fix his mistakes, erasing his more embarrassing failures. This time he had opted to raid the closets of various Housemaidens instead, praying that Mirabelle couldn't pick out any specifics from his jumbled wardrobe. 

A comfy tunic that was much too large, mismatched boots from two separate roommates, itchy pants, et la pièce de résistance: their new scarf. It was huge. It was warm. And most importantly, covered their face! Genius, frankly. 

Even better, his hypothesis had been right! Mirabelle casted him an odd glance from time to time, but overall she seemed none the wiser that the last time they met, he had let The King kill her. 

…

Wait, no. That was one of his last loops (Though he couldn't quite remember which one).

Stars. His memory had always been awful, but it had felt like his brain was wading through syrup for the past while. He couldn’t recall much outside the loops, not unless he worked for it. And why wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t need his memories soon, anyways. Forgotten pasts and fractured childhoods meant nothing when faced with his perfect eternity, frozen forever. He shivered. The scarf and tunic were no match for his cape in terms of warmth, but they would have to do for the moment. No, no. All they needed to keep track of was how to not die in the horror show of the House. Which doors to open, enemies to fight, words to say, keys to get- 

Wait.

 “You picked up the key, right Isabeau?” They said. Stars, they’d rather stick their hand in a tear then trudge all the way back to the art dorm. 

Isabeau startled, “Huh? Oh- uh- yeah! I picked it up in someone's dorm.” 

Siffrin sighed, “Thank the Stars.”

Good. One less thing that they had to worry about. They began their trek towards the stairs, not bothering to look behind to check if the group was following. Yes, the loop had been going well. Mirabelle didn’t recognize them, they had properly assimilated himself within the group- It was perfect. They were lucky, too. Mirabelle could barely sneak in a look at their actual face the last time they met- or- the last time she met them. When was it again? Siffrin strained their memory, thinking back before frozen halls were the only thing they were allowed to see. It was when… They had taken over the House, right? When they had frozen the Head Housemaiden? 

When…

…

When Mirabelle had collapsed to the floor, hands shaking, breaths quick. Siffrin stood ahead of her, cape billowing in the feeble breeze the open windows provided. They were high up. The Head Housemaiden was already frozen, preserved perfectly in time. A beautiful statue, posed for eternity. It was a wonderful resting place. One with a cool breeze and gentle sunshine. They were glad it would become theirs as well.

Mirabelle pushed herself back, moving towards a door that had been long since shut, stuttering out frantic pleas. Siffrin's body moved on its own. He could see her eyes reflected in his dagger. She looked terrified. (Was that right? Or was he misremembering again? Everything was so fuzzy as of late.) 

“S-stop!” She begged, pushing herself back against a wall. Cornered like prey in a trap. The wind blew strands of white hair into their eyes, blowing wildly in the violent gust. It reached far past their shoulders, tangled and unkept. Pure white, thick and sticky like a spider's web. 

The Housemaiden was pinned, sweat pooling off her forehead. The wind grew to a gale. The eye of a hurricane was supposed to be quiet. All Siffrin could hear was roaring in their ears. 

“Please!” The Housemaiden cried. Fat tears fell from her cheeks. They floated off her face into the air, dangling gently around them. It felt like an invitation, an exit. So easy to press their palm inside, let the frost overtake their bones, giving them the eternity they so desperately craved. Freeing them from the world. From their pain. From all they were still running from. 

The star on his armour was beating. His hands tangled in his white hair as he lifted his dagger. His head was heavier than before.

The Housemaidens screamed when the curse caught them. 

Or when The King’s right hand caught them. 

He couldn’t hear her scream very well. Not past the rushing in his ears. Wind rushing past them, blood rushing in them. His hair was slick with blood, thick, oily, and sticky. The Housemaiden’s eyes rolled back in her skull, mouth hung agape like a choking fish. Her arms fell limp to her side, head lolling over her shoulders. Tears still poured from her eyes, cascading down like a waterfall. It drenched his feet, yet the curse the tears usually provided never took hold. His dagger tore out of fresh flesh with a tug, shiny surface dulled matte with the blood. The Housemaiden’s corpse slumped forward, like a doll with cut strings. He could only make out himself in the reflection, his bangs covered his eyes. 

White hair puddled around him. He held his blade high in both hands, the tip dripping in a steady staccato, the blood falling onto the glass marble below. It mixed with the tears, churning into a violent whirlpool. Each drop staining the water.

Staining it… something.

It turned a shade that didn't exist. His eyes had stung just looking at it, gazing a sight he was not meant to behold. It swirled in the abyss, blood rising to his knees. 

Visceral. It was the only word he could muster to describe the sight. A horrible shade born of blood and betrayal, staining his palms.

His head spun, mouth dry. 

The shade spread further and further, crawling up his hands like his own curse. (No. Not his curse- his King's curse). It covered his body. It covered the Housemaiden's body (No not the Housemaiden Mirabelle her name is Mirabelle how on earth could he forget even that). He couldn't breathe. 

Who's reflection did he see in his dagger? Was it even his own? 

His hair had gotten longer. There was a weight on his head. His hands were stained.

“Look out!!!” Bonnie warned.

A stray bolt of Craft brushed by his face, chopping off loose strands of hair along the way, pulling him out from his distressing rêverie. Turning on his heel, Siffrin pivoted towards the Sadness, brain muddied with visions of sticky blood turning a shade he was never meant to witness. He felt sick. Hands shifted into a scissors sign as Siffrin blasted the opponent, mind wandering far from the battlefield. 

Their memories had a bad habit of sneaking up on them. Most days they had stayed buried deep in their consciousness, hidden under smoke and mirrors, rising just out of their grasp. Little things would prickle at the edge of their brain, whispers of people and places they had once known, things they should have still known. Their mind was tricky, they could admit. Flighty and anxious, clouded with vapour. Cotton stuck to the sides of their skull and all they could do to fight it was to keep marching forward, to keep fighting, to keep convincing themself they were still alive. Still a person, instead of a scarecrow stuffed with hay and fake smiles.

But even through all that, they’d never remembered something so… wrong before. 

The Sadness screamed when his attack connected, convulsing in place as its body righted itself. Blood rushed into his ears, the aftermath of Mirabelle’s screams in their ears and blood on his hands, blood that was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Whatever they had just experienced, it had been no memory. Maybe it was some kind of stress response? Maybe a Sadness hit them with some odd kind of Craft? Had it been Loop?

[...]

“I know you’re listening…” Siffrin grit out through clenched teeth, silent enough that the others couldn’t parse it through their panic. 

“There’s more coming!!!” Isabeau shouted, warning him just in time as a blast of Rock Craft came barreling towards him. 

Siffrin ducked, focusing their attention on the Sadness that attacked them first. Isabeau and the others could deal with their own problems. They shifted their feet and snapped their fingers. Quick as an arrow, they shot off the marble floor, slashing the Sadness clean across the chest with their dagger. It cried out, shrivelling to the floor in a disgusting heap before vanishing into the mist. 

They wiped the weapon off on their borrowed tunic, and tried not to think about the reflection they saw in it during their… vision. Tried not to think about the length of their hair. If that armour they were wearing was really theirs, or if the pauldrons felt too heavy. The unusual weight on their head. Silent as any good assassin should be, Siffrin whispered to themself, “Well? Are you going to say anything?” 

[...]

[I’m not a telepath, Stardust.]

Liar.

[That’s just rude.]

“Didn’t say that one outloud.” He had muttered, scanning the rest of the battlefield, feigning nonchalance. 

[... Well, It’s not a complete lie. I really can’t read your exact thoughts most of the time. It’s more… suggestions? Vague feelings. Notions.]

Siffrin wasn’t sure how much he believed that. 

[I can also read the narration, so stop being a bitch.]

Huh. He definitely did not know what the hell they were talking about, but it probably wasn’t important. The other three adults were busy with their own fight, swarmed by enemies. Wasn’t his problem. “Will you answer my question? Or is the 'notion’ of it not enough?” He muttered, voice low. 

[I have no idea what you saw while you spaced out. All I know is that it was distressing.]

That was one way of putting it. They could still feel the blood stuck in their bangs. Still see the shade that wasn’t meant to exist. 

[... Be careful, Stardust. Something doesn’t feel quite right.] 

Odile landed a finishing blow on the Sadness’ back, dispersing the ink black sludge into fine mist. She wiped the sweat off her brow, eyes wandering the hall before landing on him. 

They’d have to cut this conversation short. 

[I look forward to when you have the spine to meet with me face-to-face again, Stardust. I’ve been very lonely in the past… Stars, what number are we on now? 12 loops? A little pathetic, perhaps. But I’m not one to judge, I suppose. I’ll see you soon.]

“Are you alright?” Odile had asked, striding over to his side, checking over for any visible injuries. 

They plastered on a smile, “I’m fine!” 

Odile hummed but didn’t comment any further. Mirabelle shoved past her, taking Siffrin’s arms and studying them. They squeaked, but stayed still as her eyes traced over their skin, obliging once she motioned for the other arm. Moments passed until she gave a short, approving hum. “Okay, you’re not hurt or anything… But- Uhm… Try to be more attentive, I guess… You really worried us there, when you spaced out. We just want to make sure everyone is alright at all times…” Mirabelle said, wringing her hands.

He chuckled, “You worry too much, mademoiselle.” 

“I just don’t want anyone to get hurt!!!” She huffed. 

“Even total strangers?”

A sad look crossed her face, “No! I mean- You’re not a stranger, anyways. I don’t know you well, but I know your name, why you’re here… That’s not a total stranger, Siffrin.”

He rolled his eyes, “Partial stranger!” 

She puffed her cheeks, “Not a stranger!” 

“Acquaintance?” 

“Hm… No.” She said. 

“...No?” 

Mirabelle smiled, honey sweet. “You’re our ally, Siffrin!” 

Oh. That was…nice.

He could feel his face heating up. He shoved his head in his scarf to avoid meeting her eyes. Mirabelle simply giggled at his plight, which in turn only deepened the shade of his face. 

“Yes, yes, very sweet. Now let’s hurry along and unlock that door, yes?” Odile butted in. A murmur of agreements rippled through the group, pulling focus back to the task at hand. As Siffrin turned to follow the rest of the adults, he could’ve sworn Bonnie was staring a little harder than before. 

__________________________

“Okay Bonbon, just stay there alright? This one looks tougher than the others.” Isabeau said, his giant hands resting on Bonnie’s shoulders. He guided them behind a pillar. Bonnie pouted. 

“I never get to do any crabbing thing…” They mumbled, kicking their feet. 

“Yes you do! Did you see how you whacked that Sadness with your pan back there? That was pretty crabbing cool, kiddo.” Isabeau said, punching into his own fist for emphasis. 

They bit the edge of their lip, risking a short glance up towards Za, searching his expression. “... Was it really cool, or are you just saying that to make me less sadder?” 

“It was really cool, Bonbon.” Isabeau reassured, face stone cold serious. 

“... Really really cool?” 

He laughed out loud, deep and hearty. “Yes, it was really, really, cool. I promise.” 

It was Bonnie’s turn to giggle, “Do you super promise?” 

Isabeau rolled his eyes, “Yes, I super promise.” 

“Super duper promise?” Bonnie ventured, giggling incessantly. 

Isabeau trapped their head in the crook of his arm and noggied them, “No!!! No more!!!” 

Bonnie squealed, battering his arms with their palms, “NOOOO!!! Let me go!!!” 

He freed their head (and hair), only to instead grab their waist. He hoisted them up into the air, flipping them upside down. “Only if you promise not to terrorise me any further!!!” He laughed, shaking them up and down. 

Bonnie squirmed even further, blood beginning to rush to their head, “Hehehe! Fine! Fine! I promise!!!” They giggled.

“Super duper promise?” Isabeau asked. 

“ZA!!!” 

“Isabeau, stop torturing the child.” Odile chided with a gentle smile on her face. 

“Yeah Za!!! Stop torch-er-ing me!!!” 

Isabeau stuck out his tongue, flipping Bonnie rightside up and setting them down on back on the floor. He held up his hands in surrender, “Fine, fine. But they started it.” He winked. 

New Guy- Siffrin, their name was Siffrin- laughed out loud, hiding their mouth with their muffler. Siffrin was too long of a name, Bonnie decided. It was too hard to say, and it was weird too!!! They had needed a better one, and quick. 

Bonnie slid down the pillar, plopping onto the floor. Peeking out from the side they had a good vantage point of the upcoming fight. And a good vantage point of Sif- Nickname Pending -Frin. 

…

Frin!

They were a genius. It was perfect. 

The adults sorted themselves into a neat little line, weapons drawn and ready. They were fighting a weird Sadness, one with a Big Ball Head. It looked dumb. Siffrin situated himself off on the side, huddled near the back- which was odd, because of how quick he was! He should had been up at the front, not stuck behind everyone else! Even Bonnie could tell it was silly, and they weren’t even allowed to fight. The Big Ball Head screeched, igniting the battlefield. Craft blasted in every other direction, Odile shouting out strategies, Isabeau calling out encouragement, all moving like a well-oiled machine. 

Well-oiled, safe for one squeaky gear, that was. 

Siffrin struggled, eyes still stuck in a haze, a remnant from whatever odd spell had overtaken them in front of the door. They straggled away from the group, snapping their fingers to move a mile a minute, bouncing every which direction around the monster. They moved with grace, but not precision. Hits were sloppy, unorganized. Despite it, they still managed to duck and weave under every attack the monster had sent out. Siffrin seemed bored, almost. Stuck in their own head. Zoning out. 

Bonnie felt helpless. Stuck behind a pillar in a giant hall, ceiling looming high above them all, walls crumbling to the ground. They were tiny in comparison, stumbling along in too big shoes to fill. The monster screeched, a horrible and unnatural sound like scraping steel, as it sent barrage after barrage towards their friends. The party wasn’t as slick as Siffrin, stumbling over cracks in the floor or even themselves as they puzzled together what to do. 

Odile took a hard blast of Scissors Craft to the side and was sent back skirting across the mirror floor. She tumbled to the ground, clutching her side, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from making a noise. Bonnie poked their head out from the pillar, eyes darting back and forth in rapt horror. They couldn’t go out into the fight. Isabeau had told them no, that this one was stronger than the others; that they’d get hurt. Or maybe they’d just get in the way. Odile wasn’t far away, closer to Bonnie and the door than she was the enemy. They turned back towards the fight. Mirabelle looked panicked, but was locked in combat by vicious bursts of Craft careening towards her. Isabeau fared no better, attention stuck solely on the monster. Siffrin was similarly preoccupied, but didn’t look at all distressed. 

Siffrin turned Bonnie’s direction. For the slightest moment, the two locked eyes. Siffrin stood still a second, expression hazy. After a moment, they had cocked their head to the side before flipping their dagger in their hands. An odd gesture, considering the stakes. It was bit too cocky for Bonnie’s taste. Siffrin smiled, and plunged the weapon inside the enemy’s Big Ball Head, shattering it completely, sending shards of glass spewing outwards, dissipating into dust as they hit the floor. Siffrin grinned, “This just keeps getting easier,” they noted, twirling their knife lazily through their fingers. 

Enemy defeated, Bonnie rushed over to Odile. They scrubbed at their eyes to ensure they were dry, fumbling with their pack. “Dile! I- Uh- I think I got something-” 

Odile sighed, forcing herself up with a grunt and a wince. “Oh don’t worry about me, dear Boniface. It didn’t get me that badly, I promise.” She reassured, still clutching her side. 

Triumphantly, Bonnie pulled a sour tonic from their pack, presenting it towards Odile. “Still,” they huffed, “You gotta take a tonic if you get hurt! So take it!” 

Odile smiled, graciously accepting the offered drink. Her face puckered once the liquid hit her lips, but the relieved sigh after dashed any of Bonnie’s lingering concern. The rest of the party had jogged up towards them, all looking a tad worse for wear. Bonnie tried to snuff out their guilt at how little they could help. It didn’t really work. 

“Ah, Madame! I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you- there was just so much going on…” Mirabelle muttered. 

Odile quieted her with a simple wave of her hand, “It’s no worry, Mirabelle. Our new ally was right, it was a fair bit stronger than the others we’ve fought.” She mused. Her glare shifted towards Siffrin, eyes narrowing, “Though I will say, stranger, you seemed awfully prepared for that. Have you fought it before?” 

Siffrin stared ahead, face blank, eyes distant. After a moment, they startled, “Oh! Uh- Sorry. Were you talking to me?” 

Odile hummed, gaze hardening. After a moment, she merely sighed. “Oh, it was nothing I suppose. Though you should pay more attention. You’re awfully spacey.” 

He laughed humourlessly, “Yeah… I really am today, aren’t I?”

__________________________

Siffrin tucked himself away in a corner, fiddling with the end of their scarf. He was still spaced out, eyes wandered to the floor, mouth clamped shut as the other adults chatted along around him. Lonely. He looked lonely. 

They had deicded to stay in a small room between floors. The opressive atmosphere the rest of the House carried eased in the slighest sense. Bonnie could breathe a little clearer, think a bit straighter. They could even feel their fingertips again!

Tossing their pack onto the floor, Bonnie rummaged through its contents. A dozen vials of sweet and sour tonics, spices, their favourite utensils, and most important of all: the snacks. Cookies, fish head, burnt samosas, pineapple, oni-gee-ri, and so much more! A smorgasbord. A cacophony. A cornucopia. A- nother word they couldn't actually pronounce out loud. 

They didn't actually know what Siffrin liked to eat. They hadn't said much, really having only introduced themself to the party and led them through a couple of spooky hallways. 

But Bonnie would find out what they liked. Oh. They would find out. 

Marching up to the sulking rogue, Bonnie placed their hands on their hips, looming above him. Siffrin spared a glance upwards, “Can I help you?”

“Put the scarf down.” Bonnie asked. 

Siffrin nearly choked, “I- Excuse me???”

“Please.” Bonnie added. They almost forgot their please and thank you’s. 

He coughed into his palm, “Can I ask why?”

“It's a surprise, dummy.” 

Siffrin's eyes darted to somewhere behind Bonnie, and then back to them. With a sigh, they pulled the muffler down onto their neck, sparing nervous glances around the room. “This okay?”

Without a second to spare, Bonnie shoved a whole oni-gee-ri into his mouth. His scream was muffled by the beautiful sound of rice being force fed into somebody's face, which ranked as one of Bonnie's third favourite sounds. 

“Hpmh??? ” They mumbled, grabbing onto the ends of the rice ball to keep the grains from spilling. 

“You looked weird!!! And sad!!! And it was depressing.” Bonnie explained.

Siffrin looked like he was about to choke. He coughed out a few grains in reply. 

“But I like rice. No. I love rice. Rice is the best. So you can't be weird and mopey when you have rice. These were for Dile, but she'll have to deal with the cookies instead!!! Because the rice is for you now, Frin, so stop being weird. It's freaking me out.” 

Siffrin stopped choking. He stared at them, eyes wide. Careful not to spill anymore, he chewed and swallowed the rest of his meal in record time. He cleared his throat, “Frin?” 

Bonnie smiled, beaming with pride. “Yeah! Siffrin is too long! So I shortened it to Frin!!!” Siffrin blinked at them. Bonnie sunk back into themself, face heating up. “Uh- unless. You don't wanna be called that-” 

“-No!” Siffrin said, jolting upwards. Bonnie took a step back, and Siffrin at least had the sense to look sheepish at their outburst, “No- Uh- I mean, I love it, Bonbon.” 

It was Bonnie's turn to look surprised, “Bonbon?”

Siffrin fiddled with the hem of their scarf, shuffling in place. “Uh, is that okay…?”

Bonnie smiled. They plopped down on the cold floor right next to Siffrin, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah! Yeah! It's okay!!!” They crossed their legs, rocking up and down. “Nille calls me that. Za started calling me that too, I guess. But I like it!!!” 

Hesitantly, Siffrin reached out a hand. It hovered in the air a moment, before resting on top of Bonnie's head. Slowly, he started to ruffle their curls. “Bonbon. Yeah, I like it too.” He sighed, eyes wandering to the floor. “...You know… You're a good kid, Bonbon.” He gave one last pat to their head, before his hands returned to his lap. 

Bonnie stuck their tongue out, trying to smooth out their now messy hair. “Of course I am!!! Did you ever doubt that?”

Siffrin frowned, “Frequently.” 

Bonne whacked them in the face with the palms. Siffrin giggled, pulling their hands off. Rumbling laughter joined in and the two turned to look. Isabeau wiped some cookie crumbs off his mouth, chuckling to himself. 

“Glad to see you two getting along. And that you're feeling better, Frin.” Isabeau said. 

Siffrin smiled, hiding their face inside their scarf once more. A small blush had crept up their cheeks.

Isabeau continued, “Ya’ know, I was a little worried at first… but you really fit in our little group well, Siffrin.” Siffrin blinked at him, dumbfounded. “I hope we get some time to… I dunno, hang out? After it all. We're not exactly in prime ‘friendship’ circumstances, afterall.” He said. 

Siffrin shuffled into themself, pressing themself up against one of the crumbling pillars in the room. They fiddled with the end of their scarf, staring down at their reflection in the glass floor. A moment later, they whispered, “...You mean it?”

“Of course we do, Siffrin!” Mirabelle butted in. “I told you, you're our new ally! I'd love to learn more about you in less- uh- dire circumstances.” She mumbled, a tad flustered. 

“After we beat The King and his dumb crabbing butt!!!” Bonnie exclaimed, pumping their fists into the air.

Siffrin appeared startled, eyes darting around in disbelief. Soon, they began to smile. A gentle tug pulled the scarf all the way down, grinning ear to ear. They stared at Bonnie for a long while, eyes getting wet. Rubbing at their face, the smile fell, replaced with a strange, sad kind of look. They took a deep breath in and out, and pulled away from their reflection in the frozen floors. “After The King?” They asked towards the open air. Siffrin smiled again, hand resting on the hilt of the dagger, “...Yeah. I think I’d like that too.”

Chapter Text

“So, what do you want to eat, Frin?” Bonnie asked, tilting their head. 

Siffrin shrugged, thinking over the three options in front of him. “Hmm… I dunno… A samosa maybe-” 

[Psst. Stardust.]

Of course. Loop had decided that the middle of a conversation was the perfect time to interrupt them. Typical. 

[Choose the pineapple. It's tasty.] 

Was that all? Loop had the strangest way of going about things. 

Siffrin sighed, “Urgh, actually, I think I'll take the pineapple Bonbon.” 

Bonnie beamed and had begun to rummage through their bag for extra slices of fruit. They tugged out a container with gravitas and handed it towards him, a toothy grin on their face. Siffrin took the box, picking up one of the slices. The sticky juice dropped down their arm, staining the sleeves of his borrowed tunic. He grimaced, but plopped it into his mouth all the same. 

Spicy!

It was tingly, too. It was not what he’d been expecting, but still pretty tasty. 

“Well, do ya’ like it?!?” Bonnie hounded, bouncing on the heels of their feet. 

“It's delicious Bonb-” Siffrin had gone to say, until their throat felt incredibly tight all of a sudden. Their face tingled, their breathi ng cut

      off 

   and

they 

felt 

                            a

            tug on their

stomach…

[Teehee~]

you did

               that

on 

           purpose 

bitch

[Oh calm down, it was just a prank. Now think real hard about Bonnie, alright Stardust? Wouldn't want to have to redo all this. I'll see you soon!]

asshole

[Byeee~]

Siffrin

floated in

space 

and thought of

noisy kids

and 

  sticky rice

“So, what do you want to eat, Frin?” Bonnie asked, tilting their head. 

Siffrin stumbled in their seat and cleared the sugar out of their throat. “A samosa, please. And keep the pineapple away, I'm allergic.” They had said, fighting desperately to keep the scowl off their face. Faraway, ringing at the back of their head, they heard familiar laughter. 

Maybe he should pay Loop a visit. For revenge purposes. 

[Try me.]

“Why’re you making a weird face, Frin?” 

“No reason.” 

__________________________

After “snacks time” and readying themselves for the battle ahead, they stepped into The King’s halls. 

Siffrin wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel a little bad. Going through all this with Bonbon just to turn tail at the last second, sticking their hand in a tear? Not a great look. But Siffrin felt much worse about the prospect of facing The King again. Not after last time. Not now, not when Bonbon looked up at them with stars in their eyes and a nickname on their tongue. 

Fat tears floated, suspended in midair by some invisible force. Quiet as can be, Siffrin snuck over to where it hung, glistening in the frozen candlelight. He breathed in and out, and reached out his palm-

“Frin!!!” 

Bonbon tugged their arm away before their fingers could even graze the sweet liquid. “Frin! Those are dangerous!!! They’ll freez-ed you!” 

Siffrin gave a nervous laugh, “Oh… Right! Haha…” 

Odile stared, “Weren’t you the one to pull Isabeau away from one just earlier today?” 

Stars, could this woman get off their back for one blinding loop- “Well, I’ve been a little out of it…” They said. It wasn’t a lie. 

She treated them to a piercing glare, but eventually relented, saying nothing more to their infinite relief. Now pulled away from their only escape plan, Siffrin was forced to march down death’s row, joining the flock towards their slaughter. The halls stretched forward, an endless expanse of empty black and white, covered in tangling hair. They walked up the steps and with every step Siffrin could feel the tips of their fingers freeze over, see the clouds billowing out from their breath become thicker. Stars, they missed their cape. The scarf didn’t do nearly as much to keep the cold away. 

Footsteps echoed through cavernous halls. A grandiose archway came closer and closer as Siffrin marched to an invisible beat, hands shaking in his gloves. It was either seconds or hours, but they entered the throne room.

Siffrin's breath had hitched in their throat. An aftertaste of slick sugar clogged it, causing them to hack into their arm. Eyes watering, they dared to look upwards at the titan in front of them.

The King stood tall, webs of hair twisting in all directions as the five marched into his den.

The King. 

His King. 

…

His friend? 

He bit back the urge to laugh. He had not called The King that in a very long time. 

The King tilted his head, bangs shifting like long. curtains. For a moment, Siffrin could swear they were tipped with a shade that couldn't exist. Their stomach twisted with butterflies, and they had to force their legs to stop shaking.

“Oooohh… So… You've all come here to stop me?” The King said, hands twitching.

Mirabelle had stepped forward, rapier drawn, “It ends here, King! We won't let you freeze our home any longer!” 

The King hummed. His massive head scanned the line of heroes and villains (but which was which, anymore?) “... And what about you, Bright One…? Had the time for a costume change?” His rumbling voice bellowed, teetering into a dangerous, low laugh.

Odile's eyes narrowed, “Bright One, huh? Interesting nickname he has for you, Stranger.” Her hands were already on her Craft book, fingertips sparking with power.

Siffrin had wanted to speak, wanted to explain to his friends what was happening (but which were which?), but his mouth was dry, teeth clenched so hard they'd chip. Trembling hands raised to his scarf, tugging it down. He stared down at the glass floor, his reflection staring back. His hair was longer.

“... Your Majesty.” He said, as quiet as he could manage. 

Mirabelle gasped, hand covering her mouth. Bonnie looked frantic, their eyes darting between Siffrin and The King.

Isabeau blinked, a betrayed expression clear on his face. He shook his head, “Siffrin, what do you mean?” He muttered. 

The King laughed, “Ooohhh… Bright One. I was nearly worried for a moment…” 

“Siffrin…” Mirabelle mumbled underneath her hand. 

Siffrin had shook their head, desperate to clear their raging thoughts and racing heart. “Your Majesty-” They began, flailing for words like a fish out of water. “-I… Of course, I would never betray your trust my King but-” 

“Ooohh… I told you not to let them go, Bright One.” The King interrupted. 

He had told them that, once. Had it even happened this loop? Or had they skipped it entirely? They couldn’t remember. Their head spun. “And you did well, Siffrin… I am proud.” The King continued, reaching out a giant palm, patting them on the head with a single finger. 

Siffrin had flinched back from the touch, hand moving down to the dagger resting on his hilt. He tried once again, “Your Majesty, please, I-” 

“How… How could you!” Mirabelle butted in front of him, eyes watering. “H-how could I not recognize you after… after you…” The grip on her rapier shook as her gaze lowered to the floor. 

The King chuckled, “Ooohh… It’s because he sees reason, young Housemaiden. He knows… oohh… He knows my pain- our pain- Our combined sorrow, combined will, is what will save you all. Keep pain away from you all. You understand, don’t you, Young One? The want to protect? The wish to have the power to do so?” 

Siffrin’s eye twitched, “Your Majesty!” He shouted, silencing the brewing argument before it could erupt. All eyes focused on him, equal parts anger and bewilderment. He sighed, breathing in and out in and out. 

“Your Majesty…” Siffrin tried once more, now that the floor was his. “I… Of course, I would not betray you. Betray our… cause. But…” He teetered off. He was here to experiment, wasn’t he? That had been his one goal. Find out how to get out. Find all possibilities. “But, I don’t know if this is the right way to do this, my King.” 

The air had stilled. Bonnie looked much too hopeful. The King went rigid, head moving barely an inch, “...Excuse me?” 

Siffrin panicked, “What I mean is- There might be a better way than freezing everyone! We just need to find it!” They ventured, staring down at their hands, “We can wish for whatever we want, right? We can wish for our perfect world, free from the horrors we’ve seen… And we can live in it too! We don’t have to be frozen! We can have our beautiful end… And these people… They can live. We don’t have to stop it all. You don’t have to kill the-” 

“Enough!” The King bellowed, his voice sent tremors through the blackened hallways. He moved, rising from his knees to his full height. The crown atop his head pierced the ceiling above, sending rubble tumbling down. Frozen dust had fallen onto Siffrin’s face. He coughed through the cloud of debris, desperate to steady his frantic breaths. The King loomed above them, casting the party in a full shadow. His breaths came out as clouds of steam, fingertips covered in lingering frost. Leaning down, his gaze scanned the small crowd, before he reached out a titanous hand towards him, palm down on the floor. “Bright One.” He said. 

Siffrin swallowed the lump in their throat, “Yes, my King?” 

The King jerked his head towards his open hand, spread out like a platform. They hesitated, instead frantically searching the expressions of his allies. 

“Frin…” Bonnie mumbled, eyes big and wet with unshed tears. They clinged onto the tail of Odile’s coat with one hand, and the handle of their frying pan with the other. They were far too young to have to deal with this. Far too young for what a past Siffrin had let them go through. Steeling himself, Siffrin turned away from his companions, facing The King. With one careful foot in front of the other, they stepped onto his King’s palm. 

The giant raised them high into the air, putting them at eye level with his Majesty. They had stumbled, grabbing onto his tree-sized fingers for balance. “Bright One…” The King repeated. He sounded sad… but not angry. 

A surge of hope had fluttered into their stomach, twisting like butterflies inside of their gut. “Yes, you’re Majesty?” 

The King hummed, tapping Siffrin's forehead with his other hand. “Oooh… You propose that we… Give up?” 

“No, your Majesty! Of course not! I just think that we don’t need to go about this the way we have been! Do we really have to… deal, with them? Can’t we find a way- wish- a way for us to all have our perfect eternity? Our perfect world?” They explained, motioning towards their allies. 

“He’s right, y-your… uh… Majesty?” Mirabelle stuttered, “I would much prefer a peaceful solution to all this. We’re willing to hear you out, if you’d just explain why you’re doing what you are…” 

“We are?” Odile mumbled, almost so quiet that Siffrin couldn’t hear from up above. Isabeau elbowed her. 

“Yes! We are! Because we believe in Change, right, M’dame?” He said through gritted teeth. 

“No I don’t. We have an entirely different religion in Ka Bue.” 

“We believe in change- Of both the religiously significant and atheistic varieties!” Isabeau said.

Odile nodded, “I can agree to that.” 

A quiet chuckle managed to bubble from Siffrin’s chest. How on earth they all still managed to bicker and banter when faced with the potential wrath of his Majesty himself, they had no idea. Not long ago they found it irritating… But they’ve grown oddly fond of the quirk. They hated to admit it, but… “I know I haven’t known them all for long, but please your Majesty…” They whispered, “I don’t want to see them get hurt anymore.” 

The King stilled. The hall quieted. Nobody spoke, nobody dared to even breathe. Then, The King began to sob. 

Fat drops rolled off his cheeks and onto the floor, splashing like huge raindrops on the frozen marble. Bonnie squeaked from below, rushing behind Isabeau for cover. Siffrin backed away from the liquid caught in his hand as it pooled in The King’s cupped palms. He bumped into a wall, and had realized that The King had curled his fingers, barricading him from going much further. 

“Oooh… Bright One…” 

Siffrin bit his lip until he could taste copper, “Yes, your Majesty?” 

“...You don’t want to see them hurt anymore…?” 

Blood trickled down their chin, “Y-yes, your Majesty.” 

The King cried more, teardrops soaking his curtain of bangs. “Oooh… Bright One. I thought I knew you better than this. Taught you better.” He moved one giant hand away. Siffrin’s heart nearly stopped once he noticed the Craft beginning to spark off the closed fist. “You do not wish for them to hurt anymore?!?” He repeated, building the horrible, familiar, spell further and further. “What about me, Siffrin!?! What about us. What about our home, our people, our language, our Stars- Do you not care!?! How could you forget them so quickly? Move away from them like the rest of this pitiful world did, not caring enough to remember? Do you even care!?!” 

Siffrin’s face heated, “Of course I do!!! I care more than anything else in this Universe, which is why I just need you to listen! We’re never going to win like this- It’s not possible, we will never make it to our end! Please, just trust me!” 

The King growled. “... And why should I do that, Bright One?” 

“Because I know how this ends! I know there’s someway to fix this- something I- we- haven’t tried yet! We can make our perfect world and we don’t have to kill them-”

“Why should I trust you?” The King sneered. 

“Well-” 

“After you went against my explicit orders, deserted the armour I’d given you along with your cape from home, mingled with the enemy, and now have the gall to convince me that this was all for nothing? When the light of salvation is inches within our grasp?” 

Siffrin’s heart hammered in his chest, “Please just-” 

The King’s hand closed. 

Siffrin cried out as his arms were crushed to his side, only leaving his head poking out to breath. He had lost control of his breathing. Muffled by his own blood rushing through his ears, he could hear the startled cries of his allies. 

“Let this be a lesson, Bright One.” The King said, spell fully Crafted. No no no no they knew how this ended. Sugar pricked the tip of their tongue. Their eyes watered. 

“Y-your Majesty, please!!!” They shouted. The hand squeezed tighter. 

“I will see our eternity complete, Siffrin.” The King said as he cried, piercing their eyes as it echoed through the cavernous hallway, casting the spell out in a shockwave through their allies. “Whether you join me or not is up to you.” 

No no no not again he couldn’t take it again. 

His companions screamed in pain, falling to their knees. Burnt caramel stung his nostrils, lingering hot and heavy on his tongue. Mirabelle clutched her chest. Butterflies erupted through his chest. Isabeau nearly heaved. Sugar danced in the air. Odile’s eyes rolled back through her skull. Siffrin struggled against The King’s grip. 

The world spun and spun around, nauseous and disorienting. 

“... B-boniface-” Odile choked out. They had seen this all before, the memory burned in the brain, imprinted on the sides of their skull. “...G-get away..!”

Bonnie peeked out from a pillar they’d ducked behind, hands shaking, and Siffrin knew how this ended; they'd seen it all before. They had seen Bonnie scratching at a door that wouldn’t budge, choking on the smell of sugar in the air. 

Isabeau gave a bloody smile. For a moment Siffrin could swear his teeth weren’t the right colour, stained a shade too wrong to exist. “D-don’t worry, Bonbon…! We’ll b-be fine…”

Bonnie took in a shaky breath, fat tears rolling down their face because they were a child they shouldn’t have to stare death straight in the face like this how could he let this happen again-

Bonnie locked eyes with him. They held each other’s gaze for a moment. One of them was a victim. The other a traitor. 

“Bonbon…” Siffrin managed. Bonnie looked hopeful. “You’ll be fine, I promise.” Siffrin said. If nothing else, then that would eventually be true. Bonnie wouldn’t even remember this. They’d be fine. 

Bonbon cried, and Bonbon ran.

He could see Mirabelle smiling from where she bled out on the floor. He couldn’t stop smiling himself. His face hurt. He felt bad knowing that he’d ruin her carpets in a few moments when he looped back to her dorm and vomited on her floor. But she wouldn’t know. Not for long, at least. 

“Bright One.” 

The hand constricted further, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Siffrin laughed, mind stuck in a daze. The smell of sugar was overpowering. Any minute now. 

“Y-yes-” Siffrin gasped out, fighting to speak against his own lack of air, “-your Majesty…?” 

The King had sighed, his grip loosening a tiny amount. Siffrin knew it was foolish to hope… But they were friends, weren’t they? 

“Will you stay with me? Stay on the right side of history?” 

Family even. 

“Of course.” 

It didn’t have to be the end. Maybe this would be the one. 

“Oooh… I am glad, Siffrin. Glad you at least have the sense to follow through.” The King said, patting their head with a single, massive finger. They flinched back from the touch, but leaned into it soon after. His finger brushed the side of their face. 

“However, I do not believe treason of this calibre should be left without consequence, Bright One.” The King said, his hand cradling the side of Siffrin’s face. It smelled like boiling candy. Siffrin was too busy choking on the scent to respond. 

They were friends. He’d be fine. 

“Don’t worry.” The King said, his thumb covered the side of their face, gently closing their right eye. “I will be quick.” 

They were family. 

The King’s thumb pressed further into their head.

The pressure grew and grew and Siffrin realized that he wasn’t stopping. His fingernail dug into the flesh of their skin, pulling it up, mangling it. Siffrin cried out in equal parts shock and horror, but The King kept digging until he reached bone. Siffrin screamed and struggled, the hand crushing into their head. The pressure grew and grew. Tendons snapped. Siffrin screamed, voice raw, but they couldn’t stop stop please stop. Their skull was cracking under the force. Bones crushed underneath the weight. 

The King hummed, as if dissatisfied. All Siffrin could see was blood. It was his. Covering the side of his skull, covering his clothes. His lip bled raw with sweet tasting copper as he coughed up bile.

The King grumbled, muttering something under his breath. He paused for one horrible second. A moment where Siffrin was left to rest in his agony, blood dripping down his face. 

The King stabbed his finger into their eye.

Pain burst out of their skull, their vision went white. Siffrin wasn’t able to scream any longer, lungs crushed alongside their head. It was agony. They couldn’t see anything, eye mangled and covered in blood . They tried but they couldn't see anything out of the now empty socket, organ crushed into pulp alongside the rest of his face.

Siffrin’s head lulled, neck cracked. All they could taste was sugar and vomit and blood. They couldn’t see anything. They couldn’t even feel the eye there anymore. It was replaced by mangled skin stretched thin like a membrane, bones shaped in their majesty’s fingerprint. They needed to scream. They needed help. All they could see was sugar. 

They needed help

their stomach screamed. Insides crushed. 

they 

            needed

all they could taste was sugar

                                          sugar 

                                             sugar

please 

Anyone 

h

 e

 l 

          p

Siffrin woke up to the sounds of birdsong. 

The sun shined down on their face, spreading warmth through their black armour. 

The grass tickled the side of their head and tangled their long hair. 

Siffrin blinked. 

He blinked again, just to confirm that both eyes were doing it. He rested a shaky hand on his face. It felt fine, same as always. His lungs were still there. He could breathe. He could see. He could-

His stomach rolled, and he gagged up sugar. Forcing himself to his knees, he hacked onto the grass. Dry bile surged up his throat. He coughed up painful spurts, heaving into the beautiful meadow he'd found himself in. 

“Jeez, you know, you could at least say hello before vomiting on my lawn?” A familiar voice called out. 

Siffrin chucked up one last bit of bile, cringing at the sour taste left in their mouth. They almost prefered the aftertaste of burnt caramel. Almost. Groaning, they pushed themself up onto shaking feet. Their armour clinked as they moved, cape draping itself over their shoulders, hat now shielding their face from the sun. Absently, they rubbed the side of their face. They could feel the ghosts of the pain. How their flesh tore asunder, skull crushed under the weight. They blinked their eye, once, twice, thrice. It was still there. It throbbed in its socket.

Siffrin dared to look ahead. In front of him, the Favour Tree’s branches reached upwards towards the sky, and a familiar star sat on the trunk. 

He grimaced, head reeling from such a painful death. It felt like a migraine. 

“...W-why-” He coughed into his shoulder, still adjusting to having a throat no longer raw from blood. After clearing his throat, he tried again, “Why am I here?” 

Loop shrugged, pretending to examine nails they didn't have, “I dunno. Guess you were thinking about me when you died? Such an honour, Stardust~” They teased. 

Siffrin wobbled, head swaying. Stars, they couldn't deal with that right now. 

Loop had at least took pity on him, humming to themself. “... Come sit down, Stardust.” They said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

Too drained to argue, Siffrin hobbled over to their own stump. The cool shade the tree provided was welcome, as were the leaves blowing in the breeze, and the dappled sunlight poking through the canopy. It had been awhile since Siffrin had been outside the House’s walls. 

“It's been… what's the number at now… It's been 13? 14? Whole loops since we've seen each other!” Loop exclaimed, probably having had read his thoughts. “You know it gets awfully lonely sitting here by myself. I thought you'd just given up on seeing me at all after our little spat- but don't worry! I'm willing to forgive and forget, Stardust~”

“...” Siffrin averted their eyes. They could taste the sugar sweet blood on their tongue. 

Loop looked guilty, at least, shrinking into themself. They sighed, and placed a hand on Siffrin's. “That rough of a death, huh?” 

Siffrin rubbed their eye. “I- He…” they trailed off. 

Loop averted their own eyes. One was a different colour than the other. “Well, isn't it handy that injuries heal when you loop?” 

“... I guess.” He dug lines through the dirt with his foot, not looking Loop in the eyes, still rubbing his face. 

“Welllll…. Okay! So, tell me about everything I’ve missed! It’s been so long, almost four chapters now since we’ve last spoken in person!” 

“What in the Earth’s great big blinding star are you talking about?”

Loop giggled, “Oh don’t worry your cute little head about it, Stardust~ So tell me everything.”

Squinting their two eyes, Siffrin had tried to get a read on what Loop was trying for. They seemed… Genuine.

Suspiciously genuine. 

Loop hated him. They hated every inch of his body within every inch of their soul, and were very vocal about that fact. The last conversation the two shared involved them murdering him via pineapple slices. The last face-to-face conversation the two shared involved Loop pinning down his arms and threatening him to hurry up and kill his King. 

Suffice to say, they were not on the best of terms. 

“Why do you want to know?” Siffrin asked. Not as an accusation, but of real curiosity. 

Sighing, Loop picked at the bark of their stump. “Well, to be frank Stardust, I know how you think. And I think you need a distraction right now.” They admitted, staring him in his eyes. The confession lingered in the air a moment, having stunned Siffrin into silence. Seconds later, Loop perked back up, clapping their hands, “Also! I’m nosey. I want to know everything! Like how you befriended Bonnie? Or when you got your head bashed by an encyclopedia for a second time?”

Siffrin winced and touched the top of their head. The part where they could still feel splitting skin and bloody tendons. 

Loop hunched in on themself, “Ah, well… Maybe not that one quite yet.” They thought for a moment, humming to themself. They had then snapped their fingers, literally lighting up with an idea, “Ah! How about your little date~?” 

He blinked (Both eyes. They were both there). Then, he blinked again. “... Excuse me???” He soon managed. 

Loop smiled again. It was a familiar one, of forced-pleasantness and hardly concealed white-hot rage. It was nice to have something familiar happen for once. “Oh you know, Stardust~ You’re not that stupid, right? Or maybe I’m overestimating you. A-N-Y-ways! You know what I mean! Your little chat with The Fighter?” 

Hot blush crept up the sides of their neck, “That wasn’t- It’s- No! Don’t make it weird!!! It was…” They struggled to find the words, too flustered to think, “... Normal.” They settled on. 

“Normal? You and Isabeau are having a normal time?” 

“... Yes.” 

“Oh, and I suppose you redid the loop where he pinned you to a wall and tied you up like, thrice, for similarly normal reasons?” Loop ventured, expression flat. 

“I was experimenting!!!” Siffrin yelled. 

“With your sexuality?” 

Siffrin groaned, holding their head in their heads, pulling their hat down to hide the creeping blush. “You’re horrible.” 

“I’m aware.” 

“The worst.” 

“Know that one already, too.” 

“Despicable.” 

“Got anymore synonyms, or would you like my actual advice before our time here is cut short?” 

Siffrin thought for a moment, “... Awful?” 

“Bit weak, but I’ll take it.” 

With great reluctance, Siffrin sat up again. “Fine, what advice?” They’d take anything at the point they were at. 

“You know The King’s big attack? The one that y’know…” Loop made a slicing motion across their throat, “... All your party members?” 

“... I’m aware.” 

“Well~ Don’t say you heard this from me, but I’ve heard that Mirabelle can learn a little shieldy-spell that counters it! Isn’t that neat? Soooo… If you figure out how to get her to learn it- You might be able to last a little longer against The King. That’s been your whole deal, right? More time? Well this spell will give you more time against his Majesty. Who knows what you could do with that little extension.” 

Siffrin perked up their head. A shield? That could be… Good. Very good, actually. “How do I get her to learn?” 

Loop shrugged. “Heck if I know! Maybe a book? My personal recommendation is to give her the Isabeau-Bonbon treatment and have some good ol’ happy friendship fun times with each other. It’ll probably give you some kind of lead.” 

He stuck out his tongue, “Ew- No!” 

They blinked, confused. “What? I thought you liked them now? What on this blinding earth could possibly be the problem.” 

He crossed his arms and pouted, “Because, she’s like, the hero! The main character! A goody-two-shoes! Actually paid attention in class!” He explained. “I’m the cool evil bad guy! We can’t be friends! It’ll ruin my ambience!” He muttered. Loop was staring at him funny. “And for the record it’s not just her- I really don’t like Odile either.” 

“Woooww. I can’t believe you hate women.” 

“It’s not-” The sick scent of sugar hit their nose. They gagged in their mouth. 

Loop clapped their hands together, “Well, unfortunately, that’s our time cut short! Too bad! Remember what I said, okay Stardust? And I’ll see you again soon, alright? Love you! Miss you! I’ll always remember you! Don’t forget about little old me?” 

Siffrin rolled his eyes as his stomach began to lurch, “I wish I could.” 

The trees melted into each other 

leaves falling gently to the forest floor 

as they felt 

a

tug

… Siffrin opened his eyes, staring ahead.

The frozen ceiling of Mirabelle’s dorm stared back.

They groaned, sitting up. They needed to get ready. It was time to hit the books, afterall. Maybe if they spent enough time chasing leads, chasing sidequests, maybe they could forget the feeling of splitting bones and ripping skin.

Chapter Text

Books. Book time. Reading. Reading books. Reading books to learn a shield spell. Reading books to not die instantly to The King.

Siffrin could do books. Books were fun! It would even be a nice change of pace, spending some loops cooped up in a library, turning dusty pages. Much nicer than walking until his feet fell off, wandering endless halls forever. Much, much, nicer than getting crushed, or maimed, or mangled, or stabbed, or frozen, or insulted by a nine year old. 

[Skill issue.]

Or insulted by some glowy asshole. 

Their heels clicked softly against glass floors, echoing through the chambers. Siffrin hummed an aimless tune, skirting past the Sadnesses as they went. Books. Knowledge.  Studying. 

Their mood soured rather quickly, face scrunching up at the edges. They’d never been good at school. Granted, it wasn’t as if they could remember much at all, but they at least remembered slogging over nonsensical verb tenses and falling asleep on their desk.

Children playing all around them, too noisy for them to have a nice nap. They all tumbled over each other with sticky hands shoved in faces, running and screaming to their heart’s content. 

S̶̘͔̞̀̎̚i̴̧͙͓͋̃f̴̰̃̒̅f̸͇̬͇͒̚r̴͍͔͐̌ͅi̷̢͓̥̅̉n̵̦̦̦̓͝?̶̥̋ groaned from where he sat, watching out the window as the other kids played. It wasn’t his fault that Mrs.r̷̦͍̞̭͉̯̹̳̿̍͗͝ẻ̵̢̝̗̟͔̲͔͙m̶̧̠̘̘̥̺̪̿͑̀̇̓͛͊͠͝ę̶̢̺͇̣̮͂̓̿̈͝m̵̩̩͊b̵̢̖̈́̊̔͠e̷̗͙͚̊̕͜r̵̼͍̊̃͋̌?̶̧̣̠͉͉͚͖̿͋̈́͜ had the most boring class imaginable! He should be free! Free from nonsense grammar rules!!! Why should a single verb be capable of being conjugated in 21 different tenses, with different endings based on gender? Vaugaurde didn’t even have gender! 

It was dumb. Ş̴̧̖̗̞̈́͌̋ỉ̵̢̙͈̹̤͙̲͕̈́͆̚͠f̸̛̤̯̭͈͙̖̅̆̓͋̌̃͑̉͠f̸̧̪̬̙̫͎̲͕̥̓̋̐̿̈́͒̕r̸̜͚͔̪͍̲̟̽ī̸̢̢̳̉̔͒̀̀̚͜n̶̨̠̫͈̹̬̲͚̐͘ was never going to visit Vaugaurde. They were going to stay with mom and dad forever in their country forever, probably. They were a pretty bad sailor, and the water was too stinking cold anyways.

They’d always live in Ḯ̴̢̧͈̯̥̲͇͓̜͕̲̲͍͇̳̘̻̙̦̼̻̼̠͎̤̔̀̿̏̑̂̌͘͜͜Ṭ̶̛̳̃̉́̀͗̽̽̓̒̀͆͌̈́̆́̄̊͛"̵̧̡͍̭̦̤̪̱͓̫̫̤͍̮̥̪̯̮̩̙̙͕̫̗͓̦̼̖̀̌̌̐͗̏͑̇̽͐̀̕͝͝ͅͅŞ̶͔̟̗͉̝͚̥̦͕̥̹̟̥̲̠̺̠͇͉̘̗͓͋̍́̂͒̓͌̎͆̉̍͘̚͘͘͝͝͝N̸̢̡̧̗̪̟̫͕̗̳̜͚̩̦̘̰̠̪̭̼̹͕͈̙̳̻͔͖̮̻͙̒̀͋̆̽ͅA̶̢̛̛̳̩͖͇̗̹̝̠̙̭̤̗̣̯͖͇͓̙̪̞̣̱̪͕̤̫̺͚̱̙̱̓̅͛́́͋̒̉͐͑̆̿̂͌̽̀̆̂̅̓͋̓̓̎͌̑̓̆͋́̈͌͊́̊͆̑̀́͐̑̏̌̿͜͠M̸̢̡̟͖̲̘̦̞͎̙͓̥͈͍̋̎͗̍͌̈̈́̏͆̂̀̈́͋̋͗̀͗͋̾̄̏͑̃̀̉̑̓̔̀̍̾́͌̔͘͘̚͘̚͜͜͜͝͝Ę̵̢̡̹̞̯̙͚͙̜̝̈́̈́̈́̐̒̀̊͑̒̎̅̎͑͛̍̕͘͝. 

What is  ̸i̵t̷'̴s̸ ̵n̶a̷m̶e̵?̵

They couldn’t seem to remember…

Oh.

He spaced out so hard he walked all the way to the library. His head hurt. Considering the last time he remembered something, he was pretty thankful that one was short. 

Creaking open the frozen door, Siffrin pushed themself inside. Dust kicked up where they stepped, clouding around making them sneeze. Wiping their nose, their eyes gazed over the shelves in front of them, piled high and low with hundreds of books. They frowned. They didn’t have very long at all to actually explore the library- even if they were to activate the trap to keep the saviours from dying and themself from looping, they’d all still find Siffrin eventually. Could they keep the saviours occupied for longer? It’d be worth looking into, at least. 

Plucking a promising-looking novella from the shelf, he skimmed over its contents. It was a short read detailing some uses of protection Craft. It wasn’t Mirabelle’s specialty, but she could figure it out. She was smart. Unfortunately for Siffrin, that book seemed to be a Baby’s-First-Spell-Book kind of deal. Not helpful. He grumbled, pulling out dozens of books filled with promise, only to be met with nothing other than disappointment and a handful of useless facts. 

Siffrin sighed after throwing away a paper Craft book that was actually just about origami. They’d lost track of how long it had been- The saviours were probably already in the House. Which would explain 

      why   his stomach

hurt…?

oh 

wait 

he should think about

 rocks

      so he didn’t have to 

walk back 

siffrin reached out into nothing 

and thought of crushing bones 

and boulders…

Siffrin stumbled, feet catching on his cape, sending him falling flat onto his face. 

Ow.

Having broken nothing more than their dignity, they pushed themself back up, wiping off the fine coating of dust now on their armour. Death Corridor greeted them as they looked around, looking as dull as ever. Loop’s ‘helpful’ pings bulleted their brain, making them wince.

“Yeah, yeah- I’m getting to it! You don’t have to remind me every time.” 

[Just making sure you don’t forget. Aren’t I helpful?]

“Not really.” He pouted, flicking the switch and sending the boulder careening down. One problem taken care of, he hurried out the door before any saviour could see him. 

__________________________

Studying was just as boring as he remembered. A decade and half more life experience didn’t change that. In fact, it almost made it worse. He was out of practice, reading in a second language, and was completely over the idea of it already. There were so many books in the library- and only one of him! He sighed, tossing another useless novel over his shoulder. The thud from its landing echoed throughout the empty library, falling discarded among the hundred other books like it. Siffrin stared up at the ceiling, dust particles floating aimlessly throughout. It was quiet. He tapped his fingers on the ground impatiently, turning towards the frozen librarian. 

“Well? You’re supposed to help with this sort of thing, right? Got any recommendations?” They asked. Predictably, the librarian responded only with a gaping mouth frozen in fear. Siffrin groaned, pushing themself up and walking towards the statued man. They knocked on his head, the taps sounding like clinking glass. 

“Helllooooo? Anyone in there?” Dramatically, Siffrin slung themself over the man. “I know libraries are quiet but sheesh. You don’t have to give me such a cold shoulder!” They said, chuckling to themself. Predictably, the librarian once again didn’t respond. 

Siffrin grimaced. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. Every minute he spent staring at print the more the ink melted into itself, the more his brain fogged up. He wished it was anybody else who had to deal with it. He had been so close to his perfect eternity- so close to never having to think about anything ever again! And now all he was doing was thinking, and plotting, and scheming! His ever-present headache had throbbed itself into a migraine as of late, one that he didn’t appreciate the slightest bit. 

Voices carried through the brick walls, pulling them out of their own head. Shit. The saviours had already made it to where they were? That wasn’t good! They needed to study!!! And to be alone-

Wait. 

A wonderful idea hit him. A devious idea. A wonderfully devious idea. 

Siffrin didn’t have to study by himself! Afterall, there was a perfectly good Researcher right at his disposal! A perfectly good Researcher that he had a bit of grudge against, no less! Two birds with one stone- He’d get someone to do the boring stuff for him, and he’d get some light revenge on his biggest scourge throughout the loops. Really, he should be getting some kind of award for his brilliance. 

There was a table next to the frozen librarian hosting a menagerie of useless junk and trinkets. To Siffrin’s absolute delight (and confusion), a bundle of frozen rope sat untouched atop the table. An odd thing for a library to carry, sure, but he wasn’t about to look another gift of plot-convenience rope in the mouth. Plucking it off the top, Siffrin ducked into the shadows of the library shelves and waited for the Saviours to come. 

On cue, the door flung open, the Saviours filed inside. 

“Well this is quaint,” Odile said, bringing up the rear as always. 

“Oh, it’s just the library. I honestly doubt there'll be any keys in here…” Mirabelle muttered, “Still, it’s worth checking.”

The Saviours milled about the library, having quite a few close calls with Siffrin in his hiding place. They never did find the key, if Loop’s annoying ringing was anything to go by. They’d have to come back at some point to pick it up, which frankly wasn’t his problem right now. Eventually, coming up empty handed, the group turned to leave, Odile exiting last. Siffrin crawled out from their cover, popping their stiff joints and rolling their neck. They snapped, Craft flowing through their veins, lubricating their body, and they broke out into a run. 

Halls brushed by in a blur as the Craft made them even faster than normal, passing by dozens of Sadnesses as they went. Siffrin smiled. As they went they made certain to draw the eyes of the monsters, poking and prodding them enough to agitate them all. Going through the House was already a long hassle, but fighting irate monsters every inch of the way? It would buy them and Odile a lot of time for their little study session. 

Siffrin caught up quickly with the party, hanging back behind a pillar as they examined some destroyed statue. The rest turned their backs away, but Odile, ever inquisitive, lingered in the spot, examining something. The party had already turned a corner, and probably had already drawn the attention of a Sadness. Siffrin smiled, and brandished their dagger. 

__________________________

Odile wasn’t having the worst day, all things considered. 

Sure the end of the world wasn’t great, but she knew at least that she would be getting closure today, one way or another. Besides, Boniface had made some wonderful scrambled eggs for breakfast and she had a nice cup of tea in the morning, so she really couldn’t complain. Still, something had been nagging her the whole time. The boulder falling right before they entered, the strange shadows she saw in the library… It made her uneasy. Put her on edge. 

She was right to trust her instincts, it seemed, as a dagger had found itself pressed against her neck. 

“Don’t say anything. I promise not to hurt you.” Her assailant said. One hell of a demand for someone inches away from slitting her throat. She shuffled her body, trying to find an opening, but the assassin made sure to keep his grip steady. He had practice, it seemed.

“Don’t worry! I just need your research skills for a little bit!” They said, cheerily tying her hands behind her. 

“I-I don’t see how all of this is necessary if that’s your goal…” She choked out, eyes pinned to the weapon in front of her. 

The stranger hummed, “Okay, yeah… I’ll admit this feels a lot worse this time around. But revenge is never pretty.” They said in lieu of explanation. The rope tightened, and the stranger tugged on it to ensure it was secure. “Well, that looks good. If I move the dagger do you promise not to be loud? I really don’t want the rest of the guys to find us too quick, if that’s alright.” 

This had to be the oddest hostage situation she’d ever been a part of. Granted, she hadn’t been in many, but it still was the weirdest one yet. Odile sighed, moreso desperate to get the blade away from her neck. “I promise.” 

“I’ll take your word for it, Madame.” He said, removing the weapon and placing it back in its holster. And wasn’t that just the strangest thing? Madame. He didn’t sound sarcastic about it either. She tested the binds herself, assuring that they were tight. With some effort she could probably slip them off, but she’d have to be out of sight of her mystery attacker. Turning around, she went to see for herself who it was. 

He was a tiny thing. Tall heels bloated his height far past what it should be, yet he barely reached her chin. His hair was long and white, reaching past his shoulders. He wore dark armour emblazoned with stars. 

“Are you with The King?” She said, squinting at the familiar design in their chestplate. 

“Yup. Now hurry up, we don’t have very long before you have to go and fight him, and the library is this way.” They said, herding her back from where she’d already gone. 

“I- Excuse me- Can you explain what in the holy gems you’re doing here? Kidnapping me to bring me to a library. Not even going to kill me before your King? Are you what, planning to just let me go after this?” 

“Kind of.” They said, not elaborating. The two turned a sharp corner, running past irate Sadnesses before they could attack. “Not like I'm getting there this time anyways…” The stranger said under their breath. They probably thought she couldn’t hear her. 

“This is the worst plan I’ve ever heard. I cannot fathom what your goal here is. It’s a little pathetic.” 

“Yeah, yeah, keep moving lady. I need to find a very specific and advanced shield  spell, and I never got more than a fourth grade education.” He muttered, snapping his fingers. Craft washed over her, making her joints feel a solid twenty years younger. 

“A shield? Let me guess, for your King? Is he really that worried about all of us?” She questioned as the halls blurred by. 

“Sure. Let's go with that."

Odd. Very very odd. 

They rounded a corner, brushing past another chunk of monsters. The library door stood crumbling before them, the brick walls around it falling apart alongside the rest of The House. The stranger opened the door, poking their head inside. “Well, after you, Madame.” 

Very, very, very odd.

__________________________

Siffrin plucked book after book from the dusty shelves, turning over to see the cover, then discarded them into a pile behind him. Dud after dud, the stack grew only larger. 

Odile tutted from behind, “At least have the manners to put them back properly.” 

“That’d take too long! This way, I know which ones I have and haven’t looked over. It’s perfect.” 

“You’re being a nuisance to the poor librarian.” 

“Well he’s never gonna know. Just another one of my King’s long-term benefits.” 

“Hm.” Odile hummed, perusing the shelves on her own, done with the conversation. She seemed to be getting around well, considering her hands were tied. He felt a little bad- but ultimately considered it revenge for when she caved his skull in with a book. Twice. And that time she nearly killed him with his own dagger! Frankly, he was being too nice.

Siffrin turned back to his books, skimming over titles. The Haunting of Châteaux Castle, Grammar for Dummies, Ultimate Fishing Guide… His eyes glazed over, moving a shelf down. Romance books, horror books, sweet romance, salty romance, contemporaries, dark romance, light romance, medium-rare romance… 

“Ugh.” They mumbled. 

“No luck over there either?" 

“Are people really this into kissing other people? They’re not like, joking?” 

“Yes, unfortunately.” 

“Gross.” 

“A little.” 

Their eyes caught another love story. Out of frustration and curiosity, they skimmed the blurb on the back. “Two enemies find themselves in a dark castle of desires-” 

“Spicy.” Odile commented idly, fiddling with the rope around her wrists. 

“-One an evil Prince banished from his land, the other a kind seamstress from the city. Will they ever escape the castle? Will they ever get along?? Or will they, and their love, die inside it???” They read, putting as much melodrama into the performance as possible. 

“I’ve never liked enemies to lovers, personally.” Odile noted, rope falling to the floor. 

Siffrin was distracted by flipping to a random page in the book, “Why not?” 

“Too similar to something that actually happened to me. Hate-crushes are not very pleasant.” 

The section he landed on described what was apparently one of the character’s first meetings. The evil Prince was pinned against a wall while the seamstress tied him up. Siffrin frowned. “You know, I think I’m inclined to agree. This fiction is mirroring reality a bit too close for my likings.” 

Odile tiptoed behind him. He didn’t bother to look behind. She chuckled, “You have a hate-crush?” 

They rolled their eyes, “Yes and I hate it. Makes things so much more difficult.” 

“... You get tied up often?” She muttered, reading over his shoulder. 

“More than you'd think.” 

Odile chuckled to herself. “Well, then I suppose you won't mind this very much, since you're so used to it.” She said. Siffrin's brain had mere seconds to catch up with the words before a spool of his own rope circled itself around his arms. 

“H-hey!!! That's not how this is supposed to go!!!” They struggled, kicking out their legs in front of them. They'd knocked over a stack of books, almost wiggled out of the restraints. Odile tutted. In a flash of Craft, Siffrin's body soon felt sluggish. Their limbs trailed behind them like sandbags soaked in molasses, heavy and slack.

“Well, maybe you should've paid more attention then. This is simply karma for what you have done, young one.” She chided, knotting the rope tight behind his back. 

Siffrin groaned, eyelids drooping from the sluggish Craft. “You're the worst.”

“Please. This is just about the nicest thing I could've done. I have half a mind to blast you with some Protection Craft I've been learning as of late. This is a mercy.” 

“Then why don't you?” Siffrin grumbled through gritted teeth, “Never stopped you before…” he added under his breath. 

Odile averted her eyes, looking down to the ground. She sighed. “To be completely honest, I’m not entirely sure myself. By all means I should be dealing with you properly… But to be frank, you just don’t seem like much of a threat."

Wow. Rude. “Not much of a threat!?! I’m plenty threatening!” 

“Whatever you say.” She said with a sly smile. She sighed, "But, to expand, I don’t quite believe that you’re here to do any serious harm to us all.” She noted, tying the slack of his rope to a table leg. “You say you’ve taken me for ‘ransom’ but all you’ve really achieved is using me as a study buddy. You had every chance to hurt me, and ignored all of them. Also, you stopped struggling instantly after I casted my Craft, so forgive me for saying you don't seem to upset about all this."

Read to absolute filth, as always. “I can never get away from you…” He muttered. 

“That’s odd to me as well- A few times now you’ve spoken as if we’ve met before, but this is the first time we’ve ever encountered each other.” She tightened the rope enough that Siffrin had to sit directly next to the leg of the chair with very little wiggle room to spare. He winced at the uncomfortable position he’d pretzeled himself into. “So, young one, care to explain that as well? I’d appreciate if you threw in what exactly The King is planning, and why you’re working for him in it also.” She ordered, tone leaving no room for argument. 

Siffrin grimaced, “I’m working for him because we both want the same thing.” 

“Which is… freezing the country?” She asked. Not as an accusation, but sounding more of genuine curiosity. 

“Yup.” 

“Might I ask why on earth you want that?” 

Siffrin paused for a moment. “I… I lost something.” They settled on. “Something very important to me… And…” They breathed in and out, “... I just want to make sure I never lose anything. Not again.” 

Her eyes narrowed. The tiny library felt even smaller. His head hurt. “Is that all?” She asked.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. “... Yes.” 

“And about how you know me already?” 

“I’m an assassin. I’ve seen you all before. Poor form to not know the names of my arch-nemesis.” He said, smile pulled tight.

“I see.” She muttered. Her eyes were still narrowed, a sign they’ve come to recognize as her ‘I don’t believe you for a second but I don’t care enough to press any further’ look. With a huff, she looked around the library, crossing her arms. She tapped her foot in consideration, eyes moving from the shelves of books, and then back to him. 

Odile smiled dangerously, and Siffrin couldn’t help the shot of fear snaking up his spine. “Well,” she began, “One more question, Stranger-” 

“Siffrin.” 

Her brow quirked up. She looked down at him from above, where his arms were still pulled back uncomfortably close to the table leg. 

“It’s my name.” They explained. 

“I figured. Odd name. Where’s it from?” She asked, turning her back to them as she wandered around the library’s floor. Odile muttered to herself, picking a few books from where they sat and blowing the dust off their covers.

“Thicker Than Water!” He said, wiggling in excitement against his bindings. 

Odile paused mid page turn. “... Excuse me?” 

Oh. She’d been asking where the name came from. As in location. Whoops. “Uh… It- It’s a play. That I like. A lot.” He muttered, finding sudden interest in the frozen floor. “Sorry. I forgot that most people are given their names.” 

Odile laughed. “Not in Vauguarde! Oh I’ve met some folks with just the strangest names around here. But they always fit them quite well, I think.” She said, smiling. Siffrin couldn’t help but smile a little alongside her, despite the rope burning into their wrists and the statue of the librarian standing just a meter away. They had hardly ever seen Odile smile, and they’d certainly never seen her smile in a loop where they'd gone out of their way to antagonize the saviours. 

Siffrin chuckled, “Do you choose yours as well?” 

Odile’s smile fell. Her fingers tightened on the spine of her book. “No, no. My parents picked it.” 

Odile. “It’s very Vauguardian.” He blurted out. Her face pinched, and Siffrin fought a wince at his own big mouth. “Sorry- I didn’t- It’s just not a common name in Ka Bue, right?”

“Oh it’s certainly not.” She replied curtly. She placed the book back in its spot, ending the conversation with a quiet thud as it slotted itself back in. Siffrin recoiled into the collar of their cape, steeping in regret. 

Their chat dwindled, Siffrin still stuck tied to the leg of the chair while Odile milled about the library in a quiet frenzy. Diligent, she searched book after book, muttering to herself the whole way. Siffrin busied themself with the rope around their wrist. Their dagger hung tantalisingly at their hip, the weight of it taunting their freedom. Odile’s slowing Craft had begun to wane; they could feel the way their joints loosened already. Their precarious position gave them no room to reach for their dagger, much less unsheathe it, however their fingers were relatively free to wiggle about. Discreetly, Siffrin shaped their fingers into a scissors sign and casted a blast of Craft towards their own wrists. 

“OW- FUCK-” He said. Discreetly. 

Odile poked her head out from one of the shelves, a single brow raised. “I admire your tenacity, but I feel like this may be… poor execution. Unless execution was your goal, in which case you seem to be succeeding.” 

Odile’s sass was salt in the wound. Salt in the very, very, literal wounds. He groaned and withered in agony on the freezing floor, clutching his very bleeding arms in his very bloody hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, electing to ignore how watery they were. 

“Would you like some help with that?” Odile asked in earnest. 

“Hnnhngngnhnhnhn.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

With a heavy sigh, Odile marched over to the sad pile of blood and torn twine Siffrin had turned themself into. She crouched down next to them and held out her hands. They blinked at her, partly in confusion, mostly because their vision was too blurred to see much through the not-tears they definitely weren’t crying. 

“Let me see your arms.” She said, voice softer than Siffrin thought she was capable of. 

Siffrin hesitated. Odile was patient with him, keeping her arms out while he debated with himself. In the past, Odile had been ambivalent towards him at best, and actively murderous at worst. He’d wagered he’d seen this woman at the absolute lowest points of her life, bloody and kneeling towards an apathetic King or strangled against the edge of a blade.

He couldn’t blame her much for how she’s been treating him, he supposed.

Still, it made him pause when she held out her hands in invitation, the same hands she’d used to tie him up minutes earlier. Did he trust this? Trust that she’d changed her mind this quick? She did say that she didn’t consider him a threat earlier… 

Mind made up, Siffrin placed his stinging arms in her own. Odile smiled, and began to look over the damage, her wrinkled fingertips tracing lines in his skin. He flinched from the contact. She pretended not to notice. 

“Wow.” She said absently. 

“Wow…?” They parroted. 

“I’m quite glad you aren’t actually out to get us-” 

“-Excuse me-” 

“-Because this is some strong Craft you’ve managed to muster, Stranger. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of this. Especially at such close quarters as you did.” She said with a wink. 

Huh. Strong? They’d never been weak, per se, but Siffrin struggled to think themselves as particularly proficient. They had been getting in more practice as of late. Non-stop practice, for one. Looping thankfully healed their wounds, exhaustion, and hunger, which has made them capable of running and fighting through the House for… days? Weeks…? (… Months…?) On end. Time blurred when you messed with it as much as they had been. 

“I’m diligent in my studies. I’m very astute.” He said instead. 

“I’m sure you are-” 

“You could even call me a-stute-dent.” 

“...” 

“Get it? Like a student who’s astute?” 

“...”

“Nobody appreciates me.” 

“I’m sure they don’t. Now stop moving.” 

Siffrin obeyed as he sucked up his pride enough to stop wiggling in place. Odile was gentle despite her demeanour, being thorough in her investigations. A peaceful quiet settled into the library. The only sounds were the soft breathing of Odile and him, as the librarian didn’t make any noise in his state. Siffrin’s eyes kept wandering towards him. A worming sense of guilt nestled into his stomach, like anxious butterflies. He decided to look away. 

“Hmm… You sure did a number on yourself. How you managed to cut this deep through your gauntlets is beyond me.” She muttered. Odile dug through her coat pockets. She frowned, pulling out a paltry pile of vials. “I think I only have one healing tonic on me at the moment… Though my companions should be here soon. My dear Housemaiden is much more adept at this than I am, I’m afraid.” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen.” They replied. 

Odile passed him a tonic and stood up, rubbing her chin. “Frankly, I’m a tad insulted it’s taken them this long. You didn’t pick a very motivating ransom, it seems.” 

Siffrin downed the sour substance, puckering his lips as it slid down his throat. He wiped his mouth clean, staring down at his arms. The worst of the damage closed, skin stitching itself back in place with painful thread; however his flesh was still scored with deep cuts and painful scars. 

“The Sadnesses are attracted to noise, Madame. I think the ruckus they’re causing is slowing them down.” Siffrin explained, electing to leave out the part where he purposefully agitated them. His eyes wandered towards his injuries. Mirabelle made healing look so effortless. The way she shaped her hand signs, the way she built the Craft… It was incredible, really.

Odile paused for a moment, staring a bookshelf. 

“... Yes, I do believe you’re probably right. I should give them all more credit. Besides, as far as they’re concerned I’m simply lost right now. They haven’t the slightest clue to your existence.” She said with a chuckle. “You may be strong, Stranger, but you are one awful kidnapper.” 

Siffrin blew a raspberry. “My methods are simply too advanced to be understood.” He said. 

He rubbed the sore spots on his arms, wincing the whole way. Memories of Mirabelle’s deft Healing Craft sprang to mind. The motions she made, the way she shaped her fingers as she casted the spells… Clapping. She usually clapped, didn’t she? Paper Craft, but with the intensity of Rock Craft added onto it. Creation and Protection equaled Healing? That made sense, actually. 

An idea sprung to mind. With hesitance, Siffrin willed Craft towards their fingertips. The spell fluttered on their bloody hands, spinning aimless around their gauntlets. With sudden conviction, Siffrin clapped their hands together once, twice, thrice. The energy was given purpose; each clap sent the Craft down the tips of their fingers through their forearms. Siffrin cringed. The pain of the healing spell was almost worse than the injury itself. Blood receded back into its crevices as the Craft trickled down, closing up the wounds tight. Skin stitched itself back into place as if it’d never been broken, skin unmarred and smooth. Their arms tingled as the pain ebbed. The Craft numbed, dissipating once its job was completed. 

Odile whistled, “Impressive.” 

Siffrin jolted where they sat, staring up at Odile. “Huh? Oh- Uh- Yeah. I know Healing Craft?” 

“You don’t sound too sure about that.” 

“I only found out when you did.” 

Odile laughed. She walked back over to him, offering a wrinkled hand to help him up, which he graciously took. Her eyes trailed down the length of his arms. 

“Not bad for a first try. You have talent, Stranger.” She said, patting them on the shoulder. 

He flushed, “Well, it is my job.”

Odile chuckled. With a gentle tug on his cape, she pushed him further into the library. In front of him laid a stack of books piled high to the sky. Odile stepped in front, assessing the messy stack she’d made. 

“We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

“I didn’t get sidetracked. I was just reasonably escaping the bindings from my horrid capture.” 

“Yes, well, anyways- I was about to ask you a question.” 

“You were?” He strained his feeble memory. It sounded familiar, and he trusted her brain a lot more than his own. 

“Yes.” She turned back towards him, “You kidnapped me for ‘research,’ yes?” 

“Allegedly.” Siffrin grumbled, crossing their arms. “But we got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

Odile gave a hearty laugh. “Excuse you, I was just reasonably escaping the bindings from my horrid capture!” He blew a raspberry, punching her in the shoulder. She only laughed harder. 

Composing herself quickly, Odile continued, “Distractions aside, I think we have a common goal here. There is a subject that I’m rather interested in, and my hope is that this library holds the answers to my struggles.” She plucked a book up from the stack, a dense one about Crafted spells he’d somehow missed. “So, while I wait for my brave rescuers to figure out where I am- Shall we have a little study session, Stranger?” 

Siffrin blinked, dumbfounded. They shook themself off. They nodded, enthused.

“That sounds great, actually.” 

__________________________

An odd sense of nostalgia accented Odile and her impromptu study session. 

She was sat cross-legged on a freezing floor surrounded on all sides by piles of books, novellas, research documents, dictionaries, diaries, and more. The cold ran up her spine in a way that spelled absolute disaster for her back tomorrow and her feet were already numb and tingling. Odile sighed, placing yet another dead end in a neat stack next to her. Siffrin was faring no better, whining to himself as he threw his own text in a messy pile next to him.

“Ugh. I’m getting nowhere. Have you found anything?” He asked. 

“Not really.” 

“What are you looking for, anyways?” Siffrin questioned as he pulled out a paperback from the shelf. 

That was a difficult question. The two may not be on actively violent terms as they were mere hours ago, but Odile still didn’t fancy spilling her life secrets to a stranger who was ‘working’ for her supposed arch-nemesis. There was still a non-zero chance that Siffrin would turn on her later on, or change their mind about her little truce. Too many variables. 

Besides, feelings were gross and she didn’t want to talk about them. Like a mature adult. 

“It’s private.” She said simply, turning to her own shelf. 

Siffrin stuck out their tongue, “Boo.” 

She chuckled, fingers grazing the spines of titles. The Cursing of Chateux Castle, some sparkly journal, well-done romance, Thicker than Water… She paused. Her hand hovered over the book. It was a play transcript, a thin little thing that was nearly swallowed by the books surrounding it. She plucked it out of its spot, leafing through its pages. Sure enough, the name Prince Siffrin sat atop the first row. Odile squinted at the long monologue plastered on the page. 

Prince Siffrin

In which of ways doth I wend,

To mind own soul, 

‘r towards mine own end? 

A heart it beats and burrows, 

and mine own patience furrows. 

I see a king and cad,

lie before mine heart.

Blood and water, 

in equal part, 

Both guzzle and tremble, 

Through fingers they tumble. 

Odile could already feel her eyes glaze over the further down she went. The smarter part of her brain reasoned that it was written to be performed, not read. However the part of her brain actually reading it couldn’t be bothered to go past the first page she’d landed on. She closed the book and waved it in front of Siffrin. 

“This is the play you were talking about earlier, wasn’t it?” 

Siffrin blinked and grabbed the playbook from her hands. Their bored expression shifted in an instant to near hysteria- their eyes widening in delight. 

“THEY HAVE IT?!?” He exclaimed, flipping through the pages to confirm what she had just said. 

“What’s it about?” She asked, accepting at this point that this library didn’t have the familytale she was searching for. 

“It’s about a Prince, torn between two sides! You see, his dad- the King- is attacking a neighbouring country- but!!! The Prince had already befriended people from that country! So he has to choose between them and then-” 

“Which does he choose?” Odile asked before she could stop herself. 

Siffrin blinked, “...Huh?” 

“His friends, or the King?” 

“Oh, the King of course.” 

Odile couldn’t help the frown that tugged at her lips. “What do you mean ‘of course’?"  

“Well…” Siffrin fidgeted. “He’s his dad. And his boss, which is much more important. It takes precedence over some guys you just met. Also, it’s literally in the title. Thicker than Water.”

“Blood is thicker than water- Yes, that old Vaugardian saying.” She sat down, shuffling in her seat. Odile sighed, “You know, I've never liked that turn of phrase.” 

Siffrin sat in silence for a moment, seeming content with his play in hand. His eyes were glued to the cover, running a hand down the cover, fingers lingering on the title text.

“Why?” He ventured. 

Odile took a moment, collecting her thoughts. It would be an awful lot to get into, wouldn’t it? An awful lot to dump on a stranger who had kidnapped her earlier that very day. She didn’t want to burden them with her own issues. Or, maybe, she just didn’t want to drag the pit in her heart out for peer-review. Perhaps she was a coward, or maybe just repressed- But her burdens were hers alone. She was old enough to handle her own issues. Besides, there was another reason the phrase bothered her…

“Well, the phrase isn’t even right.” She said. Siffrin tilted their head like a curious pup. Odile took that as a sign to continue. “The actual saying is different. It’s so different, it means the complete opposite, actually. The original quote declares that familiar bonds triumph all else, correct? That the blood of family is thicker than the water you share between all others?” 

“... Yeah? Then… What’s the ‘real’ quote?”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” She repeated. Siffrin still looked a little confused, brows furrowed. “It means that the blood spilt in battle is stronger than the water you were born in- that bonds formed on the battlefield mean more than that of your brother or parent.” 

“Wow. I never knew that…” They mumbled, eyes falling back on the cover of their book. 

“Granted, I may be wrong as well. I just heard that somewhere, for all I know they made it up!” She laughed. “But I think I prefer that version. I like to believe my bonds with my allies are stronger than the bonds with people I’d rather forget.” 

“I can’t imagine that.” Siffrin blurted. His grip on the edges tightened. “Wanting to forget your family. Wanting to forget anything, really.” 

Odile hummed. Particles of dust hung gently in the air, frozen in time. “We’ve lived very different lives, Stranger. I don’t understand you anymore than you understand me.” 

Siffrin looked lost in thought, staring over the top of his book and towards the floor. The curse covering the dirty tile turned everything into a mirror-sheen, reflecting like glass. In the ice, Siffrin’s reflection glared back in equal intensity. 

“Have you ever felt… torn? Between the two?” He asked. 

Startled, Odile recalled long-forgotten memories. Of sitting down at low tables with her father, the beautiful cherry blossoms of Ka Buan springs, of him gifting her any book she could get her sticky hands on. They contrasted against her adult years, travelling in the backs of merchant carriages, meeting people from every step of life, yet always being aware of the way her voice didn’t match those around her; the ways her accent kept her from being quite right in Vaugaurde. The ways her thick hair and foreign name singled her out in Ka Bue. 

“Of course I have.” She conceded. “I take it you have as well?” 

Siffrin laughed humourlessly, “You could say that.” 

A silence fell between them. Not uncomfortable, but companionable. Odile figured she should say something more. Siffrin was tensed up, having placed his story back on the floor. He picked at the dried blood stuck on his armour. It really was impressive how quick he picked up Healing Craft. Normally it would take someone hours of observing masters to figure it out on their first try. 

Eventually, Odile spoke up once again. “Well, for the record, I don’t see why we can’t have both. It’s rare that life is so black and white, there are hundreds of shades of gray in between them. Friends and family both matter.” 

“I know that already…” Siffrin grumbled, sinking into their collar and hat. 

Odile laughed, “It doesn’t sound an awful lot like you do, Stranger.” 

“It’s just- I really don’t think I do have much of a choice here..” Siffrin lamented. Was he talking about his relationship to The King? It would make sense. They had similarly unusual hair colours and styles, fashion senses as well. Her theory was aided by how little they seemed to like The King. 

She decided not to push. It wasn’t her business. “Well, if that’s the case I say whichever makes you happiest.” 

“Is it that simple?” 

“In theory yes, in practice, no. But all it takes is some courage, Siffrin. I think you can figure it out. And I think I can too.” 

Siffrin finally turned to look at her. They lifted the brim of their hat. Their eyes were wide and a tad watery. They smiled. 

“You’ve never called me that before.” They said. 

“Called you what?” 

“Siffrin.” 

Oh. She hadn’t. 

“Well, I’m sorry it took me this long, Siffrin. I didn’t think you’d been paying attention.” She admitted. 

“I’m a lot more perceptive than you’d think!” 

The two laughed, content in each other's company. The books had been long forgotten, left strewn about on the floor. Soon after, voices carried out through the walls. The library door burst open, and her three allies came pouring in. Siffrin tensed up once more, hiding behind their hat. Mirabelle poked her head around the corner, in mid conversation with Isabeau. 

“Well there is a secret library further inside here but I don’t know-” She paused mid-sentence, staring straight at Odile with eyes blown wide. Odile waved. 

“MADAME!!!” Mirabelle yelled, bunching up her skirt to run over. She tripped over every book in the minefield of research they’ve made before she reached her. Isabeau and Bonnie followed closely behind, tiptoeing over the carnage Mirabelle left in her wake. 

“M’dame Odile! We’ve been looking for you!!!” Isabeau said, finally reaching their little book nook. 

“Yeah!!! Where’d ya’ go? You like straight vanished!!!” Boniface exclaimed. 

Odile casted her gaze towards Siffrin, who resembled more closely a turtle than assassin in their current state of hiding. Her allies followed her sightline. 

“... Who’s that?” Isabeau asked. 

“The reason I took so long. Care to explain to the fine folk, Siffrin?” 

He poked his head out of the collar, just enough so that they could see his eyes. “Do you promise not to get mad?” 

“That’s a bad way to start a story…” Mirabelle muttered. Her eyes lit up in recognition, her hands flying down towards her rapier, “Wait a minute! You’re The King’s little guard-” 

“-Little guard dog, yes I am, or at least I was. We’ve established this. But we’re cool! Aren’t we, Odile?” 

“Sure. I’ve at least made sure that they won’t try to hurt anyone, Mirabelle. They’re mostly harmless.” Odile said, pouring as much earnestness as she could muster into her voice. Mirabelle hesitated. She fretted back and forth, eyes darting between Odile and Siffrin before she sighed in defeat. 

“I… Trust your judgement, M’dame.” She said, relaxing. Her shoulders squared, and she pointed her sword towards Siffrin’s neck. “B-But don’t think I’m not watching you!!! I got my eyes on you!” 

Siffrin threw up his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. I hear you. I’ll be good.” He said with a wink. He pushed himself up, moving the tip of the rapier away from his face with his pointer. He stretched out exaggeratedly. “Oh, right! Mademoiselle, before I forget- Are there any good books about Craft in this library?” Siffrin asked all of a sudden. 

Mirabelle startled, “Oh! Uh… M-maybe? But if you haven’t found anything within all… This.” She motioned to the mountains of books around them. “Then it’s probably not here. Unless it’s in the secret library…?” 

Siffrin perked up, “How do you get into the secret library???” 

Mirabelle deflated, “No idea… I think the librarian in Dormont might know something?” 

Odile cut in, standing up herself. “Well that’s not very helpful to us now. A shame. We should get going anyways. I say I’ve wasted enough of your time today, and I apologize for that.” 

Siffrin sighed, looking oddly defeated. “Yeah, yeah. Alright everyone, let’s go!” 

There was an odd silence. Siffrin looked around nervously. 

“You’re coming… with us?” Odile asked. 

Chapter Text

Good news: Odile didn’t hate them, and Siffrin didn’t even hate her anymore either!

Bad news: They couldn’t find the book they were looking for. 

Good news: There was still hope, because it might be in the secret library!

Bad news: Mirabelle didn’t know how to get into the secret library.

Good news: She knew someone who did!

Bad news: That someone was in Dormont. 

All in all, it evened out to Siffrin’s current largely neutral mood. 

Well, mostly neutral, if he ignored the horrible pain in his back.

Getting attacked by the third floor boss was never his favourite part of any loop. Having his skin seared, back torn apart into bloody ribbons, laying half-conscious on the floor… Not fun. 

The aftermath they enjoyed, and they deemed the reward greater than the risk. Besides, if they didn’t get attacked, then they couldn’t make up another funny joke for Bonbon!

“WHOA!” Bonnie shouted.

 Speak of the devil. 

“What gave you those!?!”

Funniest lie possible, mark III, GO! 

“You should've seen the other guy.” 

Bonnie squinted. “... Who’s the other guy?” 

“Oh I don’t know. But you should’ve seen him. You think this is bad? His whole chest was gone. Cleaved cleanly in half.” 

“Siffrin, stop lying to the child. It’s funny, but not funny enough to suffer their education.” Odile chided, leafing through the well-worn pages of her journal. 

“I’m not lying!!! It’s true! They chopped him in half! I barely escaped with my life!” 

“Uh-huh. Alright.” Odile deadpanned, focus returning to her book. Siffrin huffed. It seems that one wasn’t quite as big of a hit as usual. Oh well, they couldn’t all be winners. 

Mirabelle stood up, having finished healing his back. “Alright, you should be good for now, Siffrin. But be more careful, okay?” She said, dusting off her skirt. 

“I agree. That was rather a reckless manoeuvre, Siffrin.” Odile said, turning a page. 

Siffrin blew a raspberry, “It wasn’t reckless, I just wasn’t looking behind me.” 

“That’s reckless.” Odile said. 

“Is not.” He stuck out his tongue. 

Odile gave a long, long, suffering sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hiding the small smile creeping up her face. “Either way, you should finish your snack quickly… We have quite the battle ahead of us.” 

Siffrin sobered, straightening up. “Yeah, I guess we do.” He said. He decided not to mention the fact that they wouldn’t be fighting The King in this loop. He wouldn’t want to ruin the mood.

__________________________

The hallway towards The King was empty and vast as always, the sounds of his heels echoing against cavernous walls. The group walked in silence, as always. The tension laid thick around the party’s shoulders, everyone strung taut like a ribbon. Siffrin found the trek relaxing. A chance to rest their mind in silence, following nothing more than the repetitive task of putting one foot in front of the other. It was nice, really. 

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. 

The group passed by another archway, where the strands of thick white hair had covered more of the black stone. Where salty tears bobbled aimless in the air. 

Siffrin dropped their pace, falling behind the rest of the party. The tears dangled as tantalizing droplets, promising their brief reprieve. They wandered further towards it, reflection shimmering in the clear water. 

“Siffrin, what are you doing?” Odile asked, turning to face him. She looked worried. 

“Don’t worry Odile. Our research wasn’t for nothing! I know where to find my Craft spell now.” 

Odile took a step forward, a frantic expression on her face, “Siffrin, wait-” 

He gave a one-fingered salute, and stuck his hand in the tear. The curse crept up his skin. The frost felt no different from the rest of the House’s cold halls. “Don’t worry Odile! I’ll see 

                                                             you back 

                                                                               In

Dormont

.

.

.

Siffrin stumbled, falling face first into fresh grass.

They shrugged off stray shrubbery, pushing themself up. The Favour Tree stood ahead of them in the clearing, branches reaching towards the sky. A small glimmer shined through its foliage, concealed by the thick undergrowth around it. 

“Sorry, Loop.” Siffrin said aloud, “I don’t really have time to talk right now. I have a library to go too."

A sparkling head poked out of the leaves. Loop looked displeased. 

“Didn’t think you’d be so disappointed,” Siffrin teased, reaching down to unclasp his gauntlets. They fell to the floor with a dull clang, and he bent down to scoop them up in his arms. He wandered over to the Favour Tree. 

Loop raised a brow, “I thought you weren’t here to chat?” 

“I’m not.” He said, dumping the gauntlets behind a large root, “I’m just dropping off my armour. I figured there’s a better chance Mirabelle won’t recognize me without them on.” 

Loop hummed, “That’s actually a decent thought. Your hair is a whole lot longer, too. Throw your bangs in front of your face and she’ll be none the wiser, Stardust!” 

Siffrin brightened, fiddling with the straps around his chestplate. “Hey- there’s an idea! Finally some use for this stupid hair…” He muttered, throwing the chestplate down with the rest of the armour. He blew strands of white out of his eyes, grumbling to himself. “I do have a question about that, actually.”

“Shoot. Not like I have anything better to do.” 

“Why is my hair getting longer? Everything else about me resets with every loop. I haven’t really needed to eat or even shower this whole time, and I definitely haven’t had to clip my nails or anything. Why is only my hair changing?” Siffrin said. They pulled a strand in front of their face, examining it. It reached far past their mid back now. 

Loop considered the question a moment, humming to themself. “Hmm…” 

“Well?” 

“Well- that’s an easy answer: I have no clue!” 

Siffrin’s face soured. 

“Seriously. I don’t have the answer to this one, Stardust.” Loop said. They thought to themself for a moment before continuing, “... Has anything else odd happened? Maybe there’s a connection somewhere in there?” 

“Well…” Siffrin cringed, recalling the oddities of their loops so far. They’ve had some particular oddities. Their memories resurfacing, and that horrible vision of killing Mirabelle. “... I’ve been remembering things…?” They said instead.

Loop scoffed, “I asked for odd things, Stardust.” 

“It is odd!!! For me at least! Anyways- well- during one of these memories I…” Plunged a knife deep inside her chest, tearing skin open like a doll plucked seam by seam, stitch by stitch. “I saw a weird shade.” They settled on.

“A weird shade.” Loop repeated, an unimpressed look on their face.

“Like a really weird shade. I don’t know how else to describe it. Like… a shade that doesn’t exist?” 

“You saw something that doesn’t exist?”

“Yeah!” 

Loop blinked. “Oookay. I’ll believe you, Stardust. Only because that’s not the strangest thing about all this.” 

Siffrin laughed despite himself. “Yeah, I wouldn’t call much of this normal.” His chuckling petered off, his expression sobering, “Well? Any ideas to why this stuff is happening?” 

Loop hummed, “Hm… Not really. The two don’t seem to share any kind of connection, frankly. Long hair and weird shades. Odd, odd things all around.” They concluded. “... Anyways. I thought you said you weren’t here to chat? Am I really that irresistible, Stardust~?” Loop teased. 

Siffrin shot up, eyes blown wide. “SHIT!” They tugged off the last of their armour, hastily shoving it behind the stump. They staggered across the field, muttering to themself. “How’d I get so distracted?!? I had one job!!!” Butterflies tickled the inside of their chest. It felt like they were bursting seam by seam, stitch by stitch…

“Oh would you look at that? We're already out of time! A pity. I'll be seeing you, Stardust~"

.

.

.

quicker? 

Somewhere far away             someone was crushed 

quicker?

[We really do not get much time to talk. Shame it takes so long to get to Dormont, huh?]

Siffrin thought of Dormont

of trees 

fresh grass  

        clean air 

and the crack of dawn 

at the very 

                           beginning of the

              day

Siffrin’s stomach lurched, and they stumbled into the grassy meadow. 

Morning dew hung off blades of grass in fat droplets, plinking onto the loamy ground. Bird song rang out in the clearing. The sunlight was dim, peeking just barely above the trees. 

Siffrin sat up, cloak moist from lying down in the dew. They looked around, taking stock of the trees and flowers around them. Staring ahead, they saw not the Favour Tree, but instead a small desire path winding ahead and the blurry shapes of houses just beyond. They were in a different clearing, surrounded by trees.

Pushing themself to their feet, they soon recognized where they were.

They had taken a nap here once! Before The King and themself had laid siege to the House, before they’d even made their stupid wish. They had taken a nap in the early morning, waking to the sound of birdsong and their King’s prodding. 

He still had his armour on. It hung heavy off his limbs, weighing him down. He shed it swiftly letting it fall down into the grass with a dull thunk. Despite the pit sunken into his stomach, he untied his hair. Using his fingers, he combed the thick strands of his bangs into his eyes. It itched his nose terribly, but he preferred that to being skewered on a rapier. 

Determination set, Siffrin jogged down the path into Dormont. 

He’d been in the House for a long time. Even before his endless looping, he’d been stuck in the palace walls for months. Stuck staring at the same frozen stars outside his window. Staring at the same ceiling. Clinging to Mirabelle’s same blankets, breathing in the scent of stale perfume. It was peaceful, almost. Now Siffrin knew every corner of the place better than any home he had before. It was the only place he could even remember properly, everything before the House fading away into vague mush in his memories. He enjoyed familiarity. Enjoyed knowing a place better than himself. 

Suffice to say, Dormont was a jarring change of pace. 

It was a sleepy town of hardly more than a dozen people, yet the crowds were still enough to make them sweat. For months Siffrin had never spoken to more than five people at a time, spending most of their days completely alone. Running out into the white bright world without a moment's preparation perhaps wasn't their wisest idea, but it was too late to go back now. 

Busy townsfolk milled by, wandering through pleasant fields and dirt roads. He barely stepped foot into the square before a runner brushed by without even a ‘désolé’ in return. He grumbled, muttering curses to himself as they continued their lap around the town’s main feature: a giant Change God statue. Siffrin spared nothing more than a glance towards it, knowing well they only had an hour or two before the saviours made it inside the House. A much more generous time frame than the ten or so minutes they usually had to speak to Loop, but still a hard deadline. 

They scanned the simple city, earning some odd looks from the townsfolk. A daydreaming women tilted her head in their direction. They tried to lower their hat and run off before she could speak to them, but Vauguarde was far too friendly for that, much to their dismay.

“Hello stranger! Hm… Oh no, are you lost?” The Daydreaming One asked, leaning against the side of a house. 

Siffrin shook their head, “No, no! I’m fine!!! I’m uh. Visiting.” 

“Nice… Nice.” She said half-dazed, “You do know that the world is ending, right?” She asked in earnest. 

Siffrin cringed. “I definitely do. That’s why I’m visiting! To help stop that from happening.” 

“Whoa…Like some cool superhero…” She muttered. “Oh!!!” She suddenly said, perking up, “You could, like, join the saviours!!! And save the world together- Like a cool evil beating brigade…” 

“Hahaha…” Came Siffrin’s stilted laugh. “Maybe! Though- uh- I really need to get to the library. Before the world freezes over. Can you tell me where it is?” 

The Daydreaming One smiled, “Ohhh, it’s right over there, past the Change God Statue!” 

That close? That made things easy. “Thank you mademoiselle!” He said as he turned around in the library's direction. 

“Good luck saving the world, Monsieur Superhero!” She called out from behind. 

He frowned, but his back was already turned away.

The walk to the library was mercifully short. A quick trek landed him before its oaken doors, held wide open, as per Vaugaurde’s customs. Siffrin peeked his head inside. It was a tiny little thing, which appeared to be the norm in the town. A paltry few shelves lined the wooden walls, housing a modest selection of books. In the corner of the building a bored looking man flipped through some kind of catalogue. He yawned, leaning back on the tiny stool he sat on, nearly tipping it over. Siffrin stepped inside, eyeing the spines of every book that he could see. Crafting for Dummies, The Haunting of Chateau Castle, Medium-Rare Romance: The Love Story for the ages, The Legend of Schmelda: Breath of the Kingdom of the Wind of Time…

“Looking for something, Traveller?” The Bored Librarian asked, not looking up from his book. 

“Yeah, a book.” Siffrin replied. 

“We have a few of those.” The librarian said, gesturing lazily to the shelves. 

Siffrin blushed. “Uhm- A specific one.” They clarified. The Bored One raised a brow, motioning for them to continue. “Do you have any books about Craft? High level Craft?” 

The librarian hummed, “Uh. Not really. I don’t think so, at least. That’s the kind of thing we keep in the House library. But uh. It’s a bit. Occupied. At the moment.” 

“I noticed. But I already looked in the House’s library-” The Bored Librarian gave him an odd look “-Before it got all messed up, I mean! And I didn’t see anything.” 

“Might be in the secret library.” 

So he did know. Perfect. “How do you get into the secret library?” Siffrin asked, shoulders tense in anticipation. 

“There’s a switch, I think. On one of the walls.” 

Siffrin smiled wide, “Thank you! You have no idea how helpful that is!” No idea how helpful it was to get an actual clear answer for once. 

“You’re welcome? Just, uh. Don’t go looking for it right now. Wait until after we all die, okay? Or uh. Don’t all die. Is what I meant.” He mumbled, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He turned back towards his book, finished with the conversation. 

Siffrin was almost giddy as they moved towards the door. Yes! Finally! Some actual progress!!! No more dead ends for them- With that shield spell, the King wouldn’t be able to kill the saviours in one move! With it, they could all have some time to negotiate! Siffrin could convince his majesty to no longer harm the saviours, and in turn The King wouldn’t have to die either! Siffrin could have their cake and eat it twice! They could save Vaugaurde without sacrificing anything they loved!

It was perfect. 

It was the best!

It was- 

“Oof!” He bumped into something on his way out the door. He stumbled back from the impact, foot snagging on his cape, and fell straight on his rear. 

“Oh Change! I’m so-so sorry!!! I didn’t see you there- and I’m in a bit of a rush and all b-because the world is kind of ending and I-” Oh. He recognized that voice. 

Siffrin looked up, tipping their hat back to see Mirabelle standing in the doorframe, wringing her hands like always. They smiled, and laughed. Mirabelle’s face shifted from anxious to confused, head tilting slightly in curiosity. 

“Don’t worry mademoiselle, I door- n’t mind at all.” He said. 

Mirabelle blinked. Then, she sputtered into a laugh. “Teehee… That’s not even that good…” She mumbled, hiding a smile. 

“I dunno, you seemed to a- door that one.” 

She laughed into her palm, “Shush! You’re reusing material!” 

“You really opened this can of worms.”

“Stop!” 

“I’m knob sure how many more of these I can think of.” 

“Then don’t!!!” She said, offering her hand. He took it happily, savouring the warmth from her palms. “You’ve done enough!” She exclaimed, smiling bright. 

“You’re right.” He said, a devious grin on his face. 

“Thank you-” 

“It seems we really should…” 

Mirabelle’s eyes widened, “No, no! I said no more!” 

“... Close the door on this bit. ”

“No!!! Bad!!!” 

Siffrin laughed again, stretching out his newly sore back. Mirabelle’s expression sobered as she peeked over his shoulder into the library. “I really am sorry for bumping into you, though.” She said again, hanging her head apologetically. 

“Don’t worry. I should’ve been paying more attention.” He replied. He followed her eyes into the building, “I’m surprised you’re looking for a book, though. I thought you’d be getting ready to save the world and stuff…” 

She stiffened, “Ah! I didn’t think you’d know about that, s-since you seem to be a traveller…” 

“I came here for a reason. You’re Mirabelle, right? Blessed by the Change God?” Or by a Head Housemaiden. But they didn’t say that one out loud. They had to at least try to be undercover. 

Mirabelle squeaked, “Y-yup! That’s me…!” She sighed, “The… The reason that I’m here is because- well- I have a little extra time before we all head into the House, and there’s a book that I’m really interested in reading!!! So I uh, wanted to see if they had it.” 

Siffrin moved aside, clearing the doorway. He gestured towards the newly opened library, “After you.” 

She giggled, “What a gentleman-woman-person.” The librarian paid them no mind as the two wandered inside once more. Mirabelle perused the shelves, bending down to look at the lower ones. 

“What are you looking for?” He asked, leaning over her shoulder. His hair tickled his nose. He sneezed, blowing it out of his face with a grimace. 

“The last issue of the Haunting of Chateau Castle. I need to know how it ends.” She stressed, fingers grazing over the spines of each book in careful consideration. “The last issue came out around the same time everything was frozen by… by The King… So I think it should be around here somewhere!” 

“Are you worried?” They prodded. She looked over her shoulder, a confused expression on her face. Siffrin moved his itchy bangs aside. “About The King, I mean.” 

She blinked. Then squinted. “W-well… Of course I’m a little worried but I.. But I think it’ll be okay.” She said with a sigh. Mirabelle picked out a book in the Haunting of Chateau Castle series, flipping it over to see the cover. “Why do you ask?” She said, a sour note in her voice. 

“Oh, well…” Siffrin stammered. He’d have to meet the saviours eventually- have to get them all to the secret library and to The King eventually. There was no point in lying, was there? “I want to join you.” He said. 

Mirabelle looked up from her book, eyes wide. “Join me?” She parroted. “Why?”

“It looks like you can use as much help as you can get. I can fight too!” Siffrin said, brandishing their dagger and spinning it around in their pale fingers. “I’m sure I could make myself useful, if you’ll let me.” 

Mirabelle went quiet for a moment, gently placing the book back in its slot. Her eyes darted all around. She wrung her hands, turning around to face him. “You want to help us?” She eventually asked, eyes narrowing. Her jaw set in place, a frown pulling at the edges of her mouth. 

A cold sweat pricked at their neck, “Uh… Yes? Please?” 

“Hmphm. Well, I appreciate the offer, however,” In an instant, her hands darted to the sheath resting on her hips. She drew her rapier in a smooth motion, pointing it inches away from their throat. “I’d rather my assassination attempts to be more upfront about it. I’d recognize that face anywhere- You!- You… Monster!” 

Ah. So he’d underestimated how much heavy lifting that scarf was doing in his earlier disguise. Good to know. 

“Wait a minute! I’m not with The King, I swear! I promise I’m not here to hurt you!” They said, throwing their hands up in surrender. This was a familiar script, even if the scenery was different. Same accusation. Same words, just in different patterns. Same girl calling them the same thing. A monster. They were inclined to agree. 

Mirabelle pressed further forward, making him step back. She hiked up her skirt, eyes set in boiling anger. Her brows furrowed, “And why should I believe you?” 

Siffrin sighed. His hands melted down towards his sides. He stared down at his feet. “I… Uh…” Another sigh. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I’ve been doing so much, all of this, for my King. He’s my friend. My fa- My majesty…” He trailed off. Risking a glance upwards, Siffrin saw Mirabelle’s own conflicted expression. 

“And?” She prodded, grip held steady. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know a lot, right now. But I do know that I don’t want to hurt either you or him, Mirabelle.” They admitted. 

Tension sat thick in the air, suffocating all around them. They could feel Mirabelle’s gentle eyes tearing through their seams, boring holes through the cotton stuffing stuck inside their head. The rapier lowered slowly. Siffrin didn’t move an inch, eyes planted straight ahead, straight into Mirabelle’s own. She inched forward, studying their expression. Hesitating just a moment, she reached out a warm palm and took their hand in her own. Siffrin blinked. 

“I’m… I’m not sure how much I forgive you. For everything you helped do.” She began, tracing lines in their palm. They shivered from the touch. “... But I believe you.” 

“Really?” He asked, breathless. “I know what we- What I did was pretty awful, but I promise, I want to help you all.” For real this time. “The King believes he’s doing what’s right to save everyone. To save what we’ve lost. But he’s…” Cruel, controlling, and switches on a dime, “Difficult to reason with, sometimes. I think I’d have a better chance with some help.” 

“Reason with him… Yeah, I think I like that idea. I like it better than killing him, at least.” Mirabelle murmured. 

“So you’ll help me?” A manic air edged Siffrin’s tone. He gripped her hand tighter, “Help me finally put an end to this all? All I want is to save everyone, Mirabelle. You’ll help?” 

Mirabelle startled, but soon relaxed. She patted the back of his hand with her own. She smiled at him, expression crafted from melted honey and sugar. His stomach lurched. “Of course.” She whispered, “That’s what I’m here to do, isn’t it?” 

“Thank you, Mirabelle.” Siffrin said, their own smile creeping its way onto their face. 

The two stood in silence for a moment. A peaceful feeling washed over them both, a tentative truce now met. It was perfect. Siffrin could find the spell, get his extra time, and convince his King not to hurt the saviours. He could save them. Everyone.

“Uh. I don’t want to ruin your moment…” The Bored Librarian said, shocking both him and Mirabelle out of their heads. They both turned to meet his eyes, twin sheepish expressions on their faces. “But. I would like it if you could threaten people with swords. And uh. Have a redemption arc. Outside the premises. Please.”