Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kristin closed the door behind her as gently as she could manage, rubbing at her eyes. She tried to lock it but may have missed as she trudged further into the flat. In her haze, she hadn’t thought to double check. Beams of yellow light filtered in through the shuttered blinds, basking the furniture in a soft warm glow.

The noirette yawned, pushing a stray toy towards the wall with her foot.

She turned the knob to her room with one hand and pulled the band out of her hair with the other; her fingers ran through the frizzy mess futilely.

Kristin managed a smile at the sight of a young blond boy entangled in her sheets. He was hanging slightly off the edge of the bed and a pile of white envelopes was lying messily on the floor beneath his arm.

She stooped to collect the mail, arranging it as best she could with rapidly closing eyes. She placed them on the bedside table along with her keys, nearly falling into bed.

Tommy shifted, grabbing onto Kristin as she settled. He really was getting too old and too big for them to share, but that was an issue that could be dealt with when they were both coherent.

Kristin’s eyelids drooped and she ran a hand through the down of Tommy’s wings before letting sleep claim her.

~-~-~-~

Kristin tapped the spoon against the rim of her cup, pulling it out. She sighed, placing it on the saucer as she moved yet another letter to the side.

The mail was mostly just bills. Bills and tax notices and repossession threats.

Tommy looked up from across the table at her sigh, pausing in the middle of a bite.

“Thanks again for getting the mail, baby. You really didn’t have to.” Tommy hummed, kicking his legs beneath the table. Kristin pulled her wallet out with a single hand, making a mental note to leave Sally some extra cash tomorrow. “How is Sally by the way? I meant to leave her a note but kept forgetting.”

Tommy shrugged, trading his fork for a red marker.

“Miss Miss Sally,” he said, not looking up. It took Kristin a moment to decode the phrase and she paused. How could he miss her? She’d just been there the night before.

Tommy continued before the noirette could comment, however. “Miss Niki said she’s doin’ good though.”

…

“Tommy,” Kristin asked. She was careful to not let the concern seep into her voice as she brought the cup to her lips, wings flaring up instinctively. “Who’s Niki?” She really shouldn’t be worried. Niki was probably a friend from preschool or maybe one of Sally’s relatives that had dropped by to cover for her.

“She’s Miss Sally’s fr’end!” Kristin let out a silent sigh of relief, continuing to sort the mail with one hand.

“Oh. That’s nice. And when did Sally bring Niki along?”

“C’uple o’ weeks ago! Miss Sally wa’n’t here, though. Miss Niki came by herself. She’s r’lly nice and plays wit’ me an’ is helpin’ me with my lett’rs! And she says-- Mama?” Tommy cut himself off when the sound of shattering glass reverberated throughout the kitchen.

Kristin had dropped the cup and it smashed against the floor.

The envelope was unsuspecting enough. Kristin’s name and address was written in flowery handwriting that decorated the front as it sat on the table innocently.

The problem was found in the seal and return address.

An immediately familiar sigil was pressed into the red wax of the seal: a flying crow with a crown held in its talons.

The top left corner held just two simple words, but they struck fear into Kristin’s heart:

Craft Residence.

The Craft Family was the most well known mafia family in all of the Antarctic Empire. It was hard not to be when they had control of the entire nation. They kept the country running under an iron fist and kept foreign sovereigns happy by sitting on a golden throne.

Whatever was inside couldn’t be good.

Kristin took in a breath, carefully slitting the envelope with the letter opener. Her hands shook as she brought out the page, quickly reading it.

“Mama? Wh’t is it?” Kristin knew her smile was shaky and unconvincing, but she did her best to smooth it out.

“We’re going to take a little trip, okay, baby?”

She rose, gathering the shards of the cup.

“Just a quick trip and we’ll be back before you know it.”

~-~-~-~

Kristin hadn’t wanted to leave Tommy alone but she’d had no choice; no babysitters could be found with such short notice and the hospital didn’t offer childcare. At the bare minimum, the silver lining was a change in schedule wouldn’t have benefitted them.

Giving the Crafts the wrong idea could end in both of their deaths.

She returned the next morning to find a neat stack of cash, all of this ‘Niki’s’ weeks of payments and a hefty bonus.

Kristin didn’t want to think of how the money had been procured.

She used the few hours not spent working and sleeping to pack. The noirette was more than certain that they would have supplies ready, but the letter had been light on details, and arriving with just the clothes on their backs would be seen as presumptuous at best.

Calling the letter an invitation was both an understatement and deep-seated denial. Summons was a more accurate term. It held the starting time, address, and plenty of nonsensical, lengthy jargon to fill the page.

To put it shortly, they gave her everything they thought she needed to know, and it wasn’t much.

Refusing the summons wasn’t even an option. It would mean fleeing the country without any government, corporate, or even neighborly support. They would be fugitives, her bank cards would be glorified trackers and they’d starve within the week, a fortnight if she was being generous.

She would pack, they would go, and she would pick a god and pray that they’d make it out alive.

~-~-~-~

The car came three days before the appointed meeting time. It pulled into their driveway at 5:15 AM, just as Kristin was turning in. She had enough time to wake Tommy, grab their bags and come out.

Kristin wasn’t sure they’d ever see that house again.

The vehicle of choice was sleek and black, but it was no limo. Best to be unsuspecting, Kristin supposed.

She counted at least 6 gun safes on the inside.

When Kristin slipped into the car, a pinkette was sitting across from her, a polite grin that didn’t quite meet her hazel eyes plastered on. She looked genuinely happy to see Tommy’s sleeping form and Kristin quickly deduced this to be Niki.

There were a thousand questions running through Kristin’s mind, but she asked none of them.

They would all be answered in due time.

The noirette turned her gaze away, pulling Tommy’s head to her chest and the toddler curled in.

She leaned back, closing her eyes.

Perhaps if she was lucky, she’d never have to open them.

~-~-~-~

Kristin stared blankly at the mirror. It reflected her face back at her.

The dress was nice, she supposed: Purple-black satin that flowed like water over her skin, white pinpricks dotting it like stars against the night sky. It was certainly worth more than what she made in months but despite all of it, the dress was just nice.

She would’ve liked it more if it were her dress or her mirror or even her house.

“Am I meant to be seeing something?” Kristen asked, trying-- and failing --to keep the tiredness out of her voice.

“I suppose one shouldn’t expect a blind man to marvel at a sunset,” Puffy sighed, finishing Kristin’s bow and moving to fold the excess bed linens. The handmaid's platinum curls were pulled back into a fluffy ponytail.

She stopped next to Kristin on her way out of the room. “Really, don’t worry. The Crafts protect their own. I’ve known Phil since we were children; he may seem uptight, but there’s a good heart under there. One that cares for his family.”

“I’m not family, though.” Kristen insisted on instinct. Puffy’s lips pursed but the not yet went unsaid. “Puffy, why am I here?”

“I’m sure everything will be revealed to you soon enough.” It was a pretty way of avoiding the question. Kristin sighed internally; she was bound to get many more of those the longer they stayed. “Enjoy dinner, Kristin.”

It might be her last.

Puffy left the room without a further word, shutting the door silently. Kristin looked back at the mirror and applied a layer of lipstick the same shade as her hair as she let her wings stretch out.

“You can come back in now, Toms.”

The blond toddler rushed back through the door from the adjoining bathroom, pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves. Kristin had dressed him earlier and would’ve been happy to do the same to herself but apparently Philza insisted on Puffy’s help.

Most likely to check for concealed weapons.

“Y’u’re so pretty, Mama!”

“Thank you, baby,” Kristin sighed with a sad smile, moving to sit on the bed. He didn’t look half bad himself. The suit had been provided, and it was made of an easily washable fabric, thank goodness. She wouldn’t be doing the laundry personally, but still felt for whoever had been saddled with that job.

Tommy climbed onto his mother’s lap, tiny white wings beating excitedly as she yawned. The new sleep schedule would take some getting used to, but her body was already rejoicing, joints, muscles and hamstrings at ease after years of unending tension.

Kristin separated her hair into three thick strands.

The garrote was a lustrous silver; long wooden beads tied to each end served as handles.

Kristin hummed under her breath as she finished her braid. She ran a quick hand through her wing and sighed at the collection of feathers that came out easily. She was stress molting.

The noirette steeled her nerves with a quick look at the time and rose, straightening out her dress. Tommy slipped his small hand in hers, and she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Just stay by my side, okay? You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to,” she said. Tommy nodded and the pair left the room.

~-~-~-~

Kristin let out a breath into her wine glass.

Everything was okay so far. They’d entered the dining hall with little fanfare apart from a customary curtsey to the royals. Tommy had stuck with Kristin like glue, facing into her skirts and leaning against her protective hand on the back of his head. They were far from the only guests and had been quickly ushered to the side.

Dinner was served swiftly-- some fancy cut of steak that Kristin sliced into smaller pieces for Tommy --and plenty of discussions were happening over the table. Kristin kept to herself behind a polite smile, and no one had bothered them.

It was going much better than she’d expected!

A tap on Kristin’s shoulder had her turning her head.

It was the same woman from the carriage: Nihachu, Kristin had come to learn. The pinkette leaned in, raising a hand to hide the view of her mouth.

“Philza has requested your presence.” Kristin’s grip on the glass tightened.

“Who will watch over my son?” She asked with as much respect as she could muster.

“That,” Niki replied with a smile that could cut platinum, “is my job.”

Kristin took in a deep breath to steady herself, turning to face the table across the room. Philza, Technoblade and William were seated there with an empty space presumably for Niki. The twin heirs were deep in conversation, William’s side being considerably more heated.

Philza (Crowfather, Angel of Death, Unsleeping Eye, and a million more titles that Kristin was too scared to name ran through her head) Craft sat at the head, finger tapping against the base of his wine glass. A diamond coated crown sat on his head.

An amused smile decorated his face as he looked around the room at his guests.

(Always watching.)

Kristin’s gaze wandered to the gun mounted above his head.

“Sometime today, please.”

Kristin stood, moving like an otherworldly specter. She leaned over to whisper in Tommy’s ear.

“I’ll be right back, love.” Tommy whined wordlessly, grasping at Kristin’s gown as his wings puffed up. “Be good for Niki, okay?” The boy still seemed on edge but he leaned back in his chair and Kristin pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Kristin kept her wings mantled as she walked; she held up her skirts, trying not to worry the fabric between her hands. Technoblade was the first to notice her approach, alerting his brother and father.

It seemed like Kristin blinked and she was at the table, tucking into a curtsey. “You sent for me, my Lord?” Kristin’s voice shook at first but she snapped it into place. This wasn’t the first time she was dealing with pompous mafia heads and it wouldn’t be her last.

The three held almost the exact same expression: lightly curious mirth.

Philza stood and Kristin had to grit her teeth to keep from backing up.

“I’d like to have a word.” He gestured for her to follow without looking back and she obliged silently.

Philza’s heavy footfalls were a vast juxtaposition to Kristin’s silent steps, much like their attire. The emperor was dressed in whites, azure, and gold, jewelry of the precious metal dripping off of him like water. The light colors just made his wings more noticeable, like pools of tar in snow.

Eyes trailed after them like magnets, hushed conversations rising.

Philza stopped in a corner out of earshot of the entire room, waiting to speak until Kristin had situated herself.

“I like to know my guests, as I’m sure you’ve already suspected. After all, it would behoove me to understand exactly who it is I’m inviting into my home.” He wasn’t even bothering with pleasantries. Kristin just kept a tight smile on her face, pretending to listen intently while searching desperately for a way out.

“So you can imagine my surprise when I found almost nothing on you. Kristin Rosales, age 31; working night shifts at Logsteadshire Hospital. Paying a babysitter to watch over her 4-year-old son. It’s just not a lot to go off of, Ms. Rosales, and Technoblade’s the best tracker in the Empire!” He laughed humorlessly as if he were looking at an unfinished puzzle.

Kristin pursed her lips. He clearly didn’t want a response, so she didn’t offer one.

“We dug a little deeper. We clawed and scratched out a trail until finally, finally we hit gold. Four years ago, a legal name change was filed. Kristin Rosales rose from the scattered ashes of Kristin Macabre.” A chill drew its fingers up Kristin’s spine, and she clenched her teeth.

It felt like centuries since she had heard that name and she was more than happy to let it die.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, Highness.”

“Oh, don’t be coy.” The ghost of a laugh painted his words. “Once that was uncovered, pieces started falling into place. I lived a very sheltered life growing up in the palace, but even I knew of Lady Death. You gave my father one hell of a time trying to keep the other families in line.”

Kristin didn’t even dare to lean against the wall although her legs were shaking under her petticoat like a newborn fawn’s.

“Schlatt couldn't have been happy to lose his prized weapon. I’m surprised he was able to keep it to himself,” the man mused.

“Schlatt,” Kristin said politely, “can fuck himself.” It was an unnecessary risk, but the Rams weren’t on the best terms with the Crafts anyway.

Luckily, Philza hummed in agreement.

“Schlatt couldn’t provide for you, especially with your son. You were right to leave. But it’s been hard, hasn’t it? Working nights? It would be so much easier to let someone else protect you.” His voice was cloying with sweetness.

Kristin closed her eyes, a strained smile working its way onto her face.

She could recognize an offer from a mile away.

“That shack of your’s was just too easy to break into. Not a gun to be found. Were you worried the babysitter would start asking questions?” He purred dangerously. “We could help you.” A satisfied smile made itself at home. “Let us.”

“I’m sorry, Majesty, but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kristin insisted. Her wings puffed slightly as she stood straighter. They were only out enough to make her point, but his eyes narrowed all the same.

“You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Rosales. Don’t act otherwise to my face.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” It was all about the words with these people. Slip up and you’re signed into a contract for the rest of your short, miserable life. “I do not work for any mafia and I haven’t for many years. As far as I’m aware, Lady Death died. Some accident on the job or maybe Schlatt disposed of her. I can’t help you.”

Schlatt’s response to everything was anger, especially to being told no. Philza was entirely different; he remained calm and collected. His wings were folded neatly and politely as he took a half-step back.

“Accidents do occur far too often in this career. It would be a shame if a toddler happened to stumble into one.” Kristin’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes. It would be.” She paused. Best not to seem too eager. “I suppose I can consider your offer. There’s nothing else that I can do for you, Emperor.” Philza smiled again, looking like the cat that got the cream.

Kristin’s mind was moving quickly.

In truth, who knew why she was here tonight? It was clear enough to her now, and Philza certainly knew, but that still left hundreds of people out of the loop. Maybe… maybe she could use that to her advantage.

Philza gently clapped his hands together, bringing Kristen out of her thoughts. “Consideration is all I’m asking. You are dismissed; enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

Kristin’s mind was moving quickly, but her body was quicker.

She stepped closer, twisting her heels to face out. The noirette was looking up at the Emperor until suddenly she wasn’t, balancing on the tips of her toes.

Her lips brushed his cheek for a moment, then two, three…

And she was gone, pulling away and walking back to her seat in one swift motion.

It was a spur of the moment decision and not clean in the slightest-- her lipstick smudged on his skin --but it was enough. Shocked conversation and gasps rippled through the room like a tidal wave. Kristin kept her eyes down, lifting Tommy into her arms. Her wings were aloft as they walked from the room.

If the Emperor wanted to add another weapon to his artillery, he should’ve waited before loading the magazine.

~-~-~-~

Wilbur tossed the apple up and caught it.

It had been days since the… incident. The guests had dispersed like seeds on the wind, spreading gossip wherever they went. Phil had refused to talk about the matter with them and it was bugging him.

Something else was bothering him more, though.

“The kid is just so quiet! It’s unnatural. He’s stuck to his mother like a rat in a trap and even then he just watches everything. He’s gotta be a ghost or something. Seriously, have you ever seen such a silent toddler? I thought for sure he’d be bouncing off the walls.” Wilbur whined, continuing to lob the apple and catch it every time.

“The apple needs to stay on your head, Wilbur, unless you’d like to see if I can hit a moving target and manage to avoid your hand,” Techno drawled, monotone as always.

Wilbur scoffed to himself. His twin could definitely do it, but he placed the apple on his head nonetheless.

After all, he could still be a prince with one hand.

Techno breathed, lined up the shot, and pulled back the gun’s trigger all in a trice. Wilbur flinched as apple juice spilled into his hair, and he reached up for the now holed fruit. “Kid looks just like Phil too. If the rumors are true…”

Techno huffed. He shot again, this time aiming for a target mounted on the wall.

“If the rumors are true, the toddler is next in line for the throne,” the pinkette grunted out. Both of them had been adopted into the family and shortly after named heirs, but a blood relative would snatch that title away before they could blink.

“I think Phil would’ve told us instead of letting us believe a lie,” Wilbur pointed out.

Techno huffed a second time, tusks bared, and he closed both eyes to shoot. “Phil doesn’t tell us anything unless it benefits him.”

As much as Wilbur wanted to disagree with his twin heir, he couldn’t dispute the claim.

“Someone has to know, though. It’s not possible that no one was here four years ago and doesn’t remember a dark-haired elytrian being invited into Phil’s chambers,” Wilbur mused.

“You and I both know that if he’s been covering it up this long, any leads have long been gotten rid off,” Techno said.

The pinkette holstered his gun, turning to walk out of the room.

“No witnesses.”

“No loose ends,” Wilbur finished.

Chapter Text

It was going better than Kristin had feared and worse than she had hoped. So all in all, not too bad. Some time after they’d left the dinner, Puffy entered the room to help her undress and informed her that they would be staying at the palace for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t an invitiation-- really, the constant, thinly veilled demands were starting to get tiring --and Kristin didn’t offer a response further then a curt nod.

The two of them not being immediately thrown out or beheaded or something was an obvious pro, but Philza also hadn’t summoned her, and the silence was worrying. Even if she could miraculously fool everyone else with white lies and meticiulously planned performances, at the end of the day they were the only two who knew the full truth. And it seemed he was unwilling to spill it.

That didn’t stop everyone else from trying to fish for information, however. Kristin couldn’t speak for the emperor, but she was almost immediately flooded by requests for promenades and town outings and afternoon teas. They were delivered to her room in piles of hastily written letters or through servants; no matter what method they chose, it was clear that they just wanted to find out everything they could about Kristin and her son and, of course, their relationship with the crown.

Speaking of which…

Kristin stood suddenly from her spot on the pavilion. The noblewomen or duchesses or viscountesses or whatever they had introduced themselves as blinked at her, shocked.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’m feeling a bit faint, you must understand.” Rubbing elbows with this class… brought back memories she would rather stayed buried. Plus, if she had to eat one more cold cucumber sandwich while someone droned on and on at her, she was going to puke.

“Oh, you should sit! Wouldn’t want you to swoon, especially in this weather.” It was a perfectly acceptable temperature, with even a gentle, cooling breeze. So they were all just lying then. Okay. Sure.

“No, no, it’s best if I get inside. Once again, please accept my sincerest apologies.” An overwide smile that she hoped wasn’t too strained was stretched across her face and she turned to go.

“I don’t see why all of you are acting surprised. I, for one, didn’t expect the wench who managed to seduce the emperor to have any manners.”

Kristin froze in her tracks.

“Excuse me?” She asked, not turning around.

“You’re excused. What I said was that you are an indecent wench, but what I really meant was to call you a dirty hoe.”

Schlatt’s Dog, Grim Reaper, Lady Death. The memories popped up despite her objections, rearing their ugly heads.

No. That wasn’t who she was anymore. Things were different now.

Kristin opened her mouth to respond, but someone else beat her to it.

“’Indecent… wench’ and ‘…dirty hoe.’ Would you like to add another to try for the rule of threes? And while you’re at it, could I get a name for the in-text citation?” Kristin pivoted on her heels to find the noblewomen slack-jawed, quickly rising from their chairs to curtsey.

“Prince Wilbur! I was just… I mean… what I meant to say—”

“I think I got what you meant to say actually,” he said smoothly, gesturing to the pocket sized notebook in his hand. “Word for word it was ‘what I really meant was to call you a dirty hoe.’ Nasty stuff, really. I’m sure the Emperor wouldn’t be pleased if this got back to him.”

“No, no, no, Your Highness,” she back-pedalled, “I was just trying to imply that because our fair Emperor would never commit such… such heinous acts that it must’ve been persuasion on her part, or- or some tactic or-”

“I think that’s enough.” Wilbur said, eyes rolling in boredom. Her mouth shut with a clack and she dropped into a stiff curtsey, face flushed.

“Ladies,” he said, tucking the journal into his coat pocket, “I hope my sudden appearance didn’t disrupt your afternoon too much. Please enjoy the remainder of your luncheon.” They all bowed again, and Kristin tried her best to inconspicuously edge away, but, of course, Wilbur noticed her.

“Miss Rosales, is it? Might I have a word?” She almost doubled down on her insistence that she was feeling light-headed, but their gazes met for a moment, and she simply nodded, averting her eyes.

~-~-~-~

“I trust your residence at the palace thus far has been… enjoyable, this previous incident excluded, of course,” Wilbur said after a few minutes of silent walking.

“Yes, my Prince,” Kristin replied, absent-minded. Her mind was working at full-throttle to find a way out and any conversation was going to be that much more exhausting.

“Puffy tells me you’ve been almost as busy as myself with back-to-back engagements.”

“It appears as though I’m the talk of the entire estate,” she said, struggling to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“Indeed…” Kristin stopped and he turned back to look at her.

“Excuse me, your Highness, but you must understand that I had been just about to take my leave when you arrived at the pavilion. The heat makes me flush, you see, and I believe it’s time to relieve whomever is watching my son of their duty.” She curtseyed and Wilbur hummed.

“…You know, we don’t take well to being misled.” She froze. It was obvious he was talking about more than just her previous statement and she silently grit her teeth.

“You’ve been here for over a week and have made no attempt to visit the Emperor. There’s never been any mention of you to any member of his inner circle. That son of yours should give us a good idea of when you would’ve been… intimate with him, but no witness can place you in the palace during that time. The facts simply don’t align with the story that’s being presented, but your little performance at dinner the other night seems to disagree.”

It was a mostly performative rant, but it did give her an important piece of information: for some reason or another, Philza hadn’t yet revealed the truth to the princes. They were as much in the dark as everyone else in this godsforsaken palace.

“I believe my relations with the Emperor are between me and him. Is there something you are attempting to ask me, your Highness?”

“I’m just offering you some free advice.” He stepped towards her and she took in a deep breath, resisting the urge to move back. “Do not endeavor to fool us if you wish to keep your life. If you’re smart, you’ll leave well enough alone and scamper off with your tail between your legs.”

Kristin laughed lightly.

“You can’t kill me in any way that matters. If you’re smart, you won’t lay a hand on me. Like you said, the Emperor wouldn’t be pleased if knowledge of an attempt on my life found it’s way back to him, and I can assure you it will.” The hard part was getting past Philza, but it appeared he was going to play along, at least for the time being.

She curtseyed again, spinning on her heel.

“Oh, and if it makes you feel better,” she called, “you really do emulate your father.

But you’ll have to try a little harder next time.”