Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bdubs had never been good at keeping his head down, but, man, he was going to try today. The last guy who made a fuss got his freaking head cut off and Bdubs was not going to be the next guy. He could be quiet. He could be so quiet! He'd follow the orders of the undead army with such little fuss that– that he'd be their favorite prisoner. Yeah, yeah. Favorite prisoner was good, maybe he'd get, like, extra scraps of food or something, or they'd let him see his horses before killing him. Something like that. 

When the kingdom had sent the evacuation letter, a piece of paper that had traveled through probably twenty hands before reaching their little village, a bunch of them hadn't taken it as seriously as they should have. Sure, many families all packed up and left for towns, meeting up with loved ones further south, but some were stubborn! The blacksmith, a few local farmers, and, of course, Bdubs himself. 

Now, Bdubs was a stable hand for the local Lord, not that he cared much for the politics of lords and ladies. He rarely saw them besides when he took their horses to be cared for. The Lord of their village was one of the first to leave, taking only his prized horses with him and leaving the old mares; and, as much as Bdubs complained about how slow and stupid they were, he loved them. He loved them much too dearly to leave them behind. 

This had probably been a mistake on his part, cause the evacuation letter had been sent for a reason. The stubborn folk had believed that the undead army would pass by their little village and he had believed it too. It was really too small to be of any use conquering and was thought to to be several miles off the war path. They had all been wrong about that. Everyone that stayed behind were now being marched in a line away from their little village and towards the army camp. 

It had only taken some scouting patrol to come through and find them all. Bdubs had been tending to the stables when the little party of undead came through. Last he saw they had left the mares alone in their grazing field, only caring to grab him and drag him out, not paying the old horses any mind. They'd be fine in the meantime, but he'd rather not leave them to starve through the coming winter if he could help it. That is if he didn't die first.

It was a bustling affair, the camp held more people than he had seen in his lifetime, and many of them were rotting at their core. The banners plastered around the camp, showing some insignia, were a vibrant and gorgeous turquoise with gold and black detailing. If Bdubs wasn't about to die, he'd be severely admiring the craftsmanship and eye for design. 

They were brought into a large tent, with a war table along the middle. A few men and women were going over it. They stopped to look as they watched the group of villagers file in. Each of them was dressed finely under their armor, glimpses of whites and golds and greens. Important people. Bdubs figured if there was any time to be silent and still, now was the time.

One of the villagers, an old farmer who had upcharged Bdubs more than once for his carrots simply cause Bdubs couldn't hide how much he loved buying carrots for his horses, started making a ruckus. He was shaking and shouting and asking what the point of being dragged from his home was when he held no part in this war. He got a spear in his chest for his effort. His body was dragged out the tent. 

That kept the rest of them quiet. Bdubs especially, he rather liked not having anything inside his body except his own organs, thank you very much. He would be a very good prisoner, the best, if he must. 

There was a shuffle, then a ruffle of canvas, then a knight slipped in through the back of the tent. He was clean. His armor gleaming and white hair swept back and skin pale as snow. One of his eyes seemed to have been replaced with a pure hunk of redstone, which didn't seem practical at all, but Bdubs had to admit was cool. He was tall and, from what he could tell, thin behind the armor. He couldn’t see much of his face with the black mask covering most of it, but he was handsome, for sure. Not to mention, he was dead. The lack of any pink to his skin and the blackened end of his fingers reminded the whole room he was a standing corpse. He obviously had the most authority of everyone in the room.

At least that was what Bdubs thought, until he heard the next words, "Please show your respects for Duchess Cleo of Southern Atlantis, of the Hermitcraft Kingdoms."

Before she even stepped into the room people were bowing; several guards even stooped to their knees. Bdubs was quick to follow suit, taking a knee and keeping his head down, just barely seeing the frame of the woman coming into the tent. She had been tall- freaking huge, not that he'd ever say that aloud. She was well over the knight's head, that was for sure, broad too. The other villagers clumsily kneeled after him, not wanting another spearing instance. 

He tried keeping his eyes on the dirt, really, but a small glance up and he caught sight of her shoes. They were riding boots. They were a thick ebony color lightly coated in mud; and Lord, Bdubs would love to see the horse the Duchess rode, it had to be big and magnificent. Her dress was the same vibrant turquoise as the banners, lovingly embroidered with golden thread that vined up her dress, with patterns stitched all through the fabric. Her corset was a glossy obsidian, accentuating her hips, reflecting purple in the shifting candle light, and laced with golden strings. The fabric of her bust was cream, ruffled and eye-catching. The color of her collarbone and shoulders– of her exposed patchwork skin, was pale green, the softest shade imaginable. Her hair was a fiery red that coiled over her shoulders, shiny oranges and scarlet strands perfectly held together and pinned out of her face with golden pins. And her eyes. Goodness, her eyes were bright emeralds. They shone in the low light. Hypnotic. They were looking back at him-

They were looking back at him.

The Duchess of the undead army was staring him down and he was staring right back like an absolute fool. He dropped his head to his knee. No, that wasn't enough. Not with the level of disrespect he just showed to someone that could have him hung as an example with a flick of her wrist. He dropped his other knee, bowing his head to the floor, his hands the only thing keeping him from kissing the dirt, and he vaguely had a thought he probably should be doing that too, but he was too scared still to do that now.

He could just hear chuckling above the roaring in his ears, his heart pounding. Then steps, light steps, at least compared to the stomping of the knights and guards and soldiers all around them. He didn't dare move, not making the same mistake twice, even as the steps stopped right in front of him. There was a light ruffle of a dress and he could see from the corner of his eye the embroidery brushing the dirt. He shut his eyes tight. 

“Up. Let me see your face,” the Duchess Cleo spoke, and while it held humor, it also held so much authority. It was a heavy voice. A warm voice. It made Bdubs want to melt on the spot and disappear into a puddle in the earth, far from here. 

He slowly– so slowly he was sure she was gonna say something to him– lifted his head. She was crouched in front of him, staring down at him with those emerald eyes. Her expression: a raised eyebrow, a tilt to her lip, held amusement and contempt, like she was about to relish in his coming demise. 

“Were you staring at me?” She asked, with the air that there was a right answer and a very wrong answer.

“No!” Bdubs shouted before he could think better of it. Before he could think at all, more like. “No. No. Never my– Never Duchess. I wasn’t staring, honest.” 

“Ah,” She nodded, a growing smirk across her face, “So you were admiring me then, is that it?” 

“I–” Bdubs snapped his mouth shut. The cold air suddenly grew warm, his hands clammed up. He ducked his head back down to the dirt. Perhaps if he shut his mouth now they would spare him. 

There was a moment of quiet. Bdubs imagined she was listing all the different ways she could execute him for the disrespect he displayed just now. So much for the perfect freaking prisoner. Couldn’t keep his eyes down. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

He tensed as a chilled hand stroked the back of his neck, running up it and then through his hair. He forgot how to breathe, only able to focus on the fingers along his skin. They traveled through his hair, up and down his neck, and then tilted down. Behind his ear, along his jaw, and then hooking under his chin. The Duchess pulled his head up, looking over his face with a much more curious expression than before. 

She was down on her knees now, her dress folded under her. Someone (mostly him) was going to mourn the embroidery of that dress becoming filthy with dirt. She hummed to herself, fingers brushing over the goosebumps along his arm. She looped her free hand under the arm and pulled him towards her. 

Bdubs let her. Hewould let her do whatever she wanted in that moment. He only flinched a little when he realized she was guiding his head to lay in her lap, if only because he was sure it had been a mistake. It wasn’t. Of course not. Bdubs shouldn't question whatever is happening. ‘Shouldn’t question the Duchess’s motives. He should just let it happen. Of course. 

She set his arm across her knees and his head in her lap. His other hand rested on her thigh. Her body was cold, but the fabric of her dress was light and soft under him. He wasn't sure when he had started breathing again, but he was doing an awful lot of it right now. 

“Well, aren’t you a sweet one,” She cooed, her hand returning to his hair, “Etho, dear, look at him. Sweet, isn’t he?” 

“Whatever you say, Duchess,” the knight answered, laughing just out of sight. 

The next words from the Duchess sealed his fate right then and there. “I want him cleaned up and taken to my tent. Stay there with him,” She ordered over her shoulder. 

And, oh. Bdubs probably should have done a little less listening. Perhaps he was a bit too much a perfect prisoner? Being taken to the Duchess’s tent was not the route he wanted to take. What did– What did she even want with him? Bad idea. Bad idea on his part to be this obedient.

He was pulled up by the arm. He had only a moment to fix his footing before he was being dragged out of the tent. For goodness sakes’ he was in something deep. 

Chapter Text

It took practically forever to get to the biggest tent, a grand thing made up of layered canvas, pitched higher than all the others with flags billowing from the poles. Inside the earth had been covered with planks of wood to create an even floor and then lavish rugs were strewn about. There was a dresser and a bureau and vanity with a fine golden mirror. Couches and chairs were pushed off to the side, next to a coffee table that held a tea set and a prepared chessboard on the surface.

The centerpiece was a king sized bed, covered in fine sheets, plush pillows and an intricately sewn eiderdown. Duchess Cleo sat upon the edge, her leg crossed over her knee as she smiled down at them. “There we are. All cleaned up now? Come kneel.” 

Bdubs was so busy taking in the sights of the tent, something that seemed to be ripped right out of a royal’s castle room, he barely heard her say something. He brought his attention towards her, taking in the sight of her. She was dressed down, the gown and riding boots replaced for a night gown. She was still deadly gorgeous, “I– I’m sorry? I didn’t–” 

"When the Duchess says kneel, you kneel," a cool voice spoke behind him. It was the knight that brought him here, to the Duchess's tent. Bdubs hadn't realized that the pale haired corpse had been as close as he was, breathing down his neck in a way that made goosebumps push up along his neck. “So kneel. ” 

Bdubs felt something kick out against the back of his leg, sending him falling, his knees making harsh contact with the ground. He barely managed to stop himself from slamming his face into the ground, keeping  his eyes to the floor. He didn't want to make a bigger mistake and get into even more trouble.

"Etho, please," She spoke, and Bdubs felt the presence behind him retreat. "Don't break him, he is only human. They can't put themselves back together like we can." Both of them laughed as if it were a silly thing, Duchess Cleo giving such a hearty laugh and the knight, Sir Etho, at her side gave a small chuckle. The sound made his bones chill. He kept his head down, his arms trembling. He went from working as a stable hand to being a toy, a mere plaything, to the Duchess. 

He couldn't help but flinch as the same frigid hand from earlier touched his hair again. It lovingly stroked through the locks, as if he were a precious item and not someone who could be killed for his disrespect: a worthless speck in the presence of the Duchess of Southern Atlantis herself.

"Now, sweet one, what is your name?" She spoke, her voice light and airy, as if speaking to a spooked animal.

Bdubs hesitated a moment, shocked that she wanted that, but he eventually spoke up. "It's… BdoubleO, Duchess."

"BdoubleO? What a lovely name," she praised, the hand trailing down his neck. He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him, his body protesting at the sensation, though he couldn't let it settle before the hand was gripping his chin. It moved his head up and he was once again confronted with the hypnotic emerald eyes, unable to stop himself from staring at them.

He couldn't look away if he tried as her hand was holding his face rather tightly. He wasn't meant to look away, not right now. He swallowed thickly, and he watched her lips quirk. The Duchess clearly thought this amusing, playing with Bdubs like a lioness to prey. It made Bdubs sick thinking about what usually happens to those that were caught. "Well BdoubleO, got anything else to add? A family name?"

"Bdubs!" He called out, his face turning bright red as he shouted at the Duchess. "I– Bdubs is my nickname, Duchess. I–"

Duchess Cleo cut him off with a laugh. The hand on his face pulled away, moving to cover her mouth. He even heard a snicker coming from Sir Etho, and he felt his face burn right up to the tips of his ears. He wasn't sure if it was from shame or embarrassment. He just yelled in the face of the Duchess and he was being laughed at.

"Oh my, someone is a bit loud for a little guy, huh?" Sir Etho teased, and Bdubs could see the corners of his eyes crease.

"H-Hey!" Bdubs yelped, only to feel a hand in his hair, ruffling it.

"Now, now, I don't want my boys fighting," Duchess Cleo called, glancing back at Sir Etho. "Please don't tease him, I'm worried about how much color he has in his face. Is that healthy?"

Bdubs could feel the heat on his cheeks, and her words did nothing to help it. Her boys? What on Earth could she mean by that?

“I believe this is natural, Duchess,” Sir Etho informed, bending slightly at the waist to get a better look at Bdubs.

“Bdubs, are you physically well?” Duchess Cleo asked, her hand still moving through his hair. 

Bdubs tensed as her nails scratched at his scalp. It was light enough it didn’t hurt but it was still a feeling he wasn’t used to. “I suppose so, Duchess.” He didn’t want to give a bad answer and make her upset with him.

“Good. Good,” Duchess Cleo nodded, slowly pulling away and standing. She moved back to the knight, who’s posture had relaxed into something that was almost casual. She looked down at Bdubs with a fire in her eyes that made his stomach churn, “Rise.” 

He did as asked though, slowly rising to his feet. He lowered his head once again, unable to get those fire forged jewels out of his mind. He kept his eyes on the ground, unsure if he was to raise them or not.

“Oh, Bdubs,” she cooed, her voice softening up. “You’re allowed to look, raise your head.”

He didn’t hesitate to obey this time, raising his head to look up. He was instantly drawn to Sir Etho, the redstone in place of an eye lit up, like it had been touched or powered.

“He is quite sweet, you were right,” Sir Etho admitted, softening up slightly as he realized Bdubs was looking at him. It was as though Sir Etho cared whether he was scared or not, which confused Bdubs. With how hard Sir Etho had been on him he figured the knight had a dislike for him or just humanity in general. “He seems like he has a loud personality though. Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” Duchess Cleo scoffed, rolling her eyes. “If I wasn’t I would have had you skewer him.”

At the reminder that they had every means of killing him sent whatever he was going to say right back down his throat. He couldn’t stop it all though as what had to be the oddest squeak bubbled up. It made both of them focus on him and he took an automatic step back, hands raised.

“Wait. Wait,” Duchess Cleo chidded, reaching out for him. Before he could get too far a different hand, one far more calloused and firm, grabbed onto him, tugging him forward. He was pulled right into a firm chest, another arm snaking around his waist, holding him in place.

“Don’t run,” Sir Etho mumbled, his chest rumbling as he spoke, letting Bdubs feel every powerful vibration that came from the giant who loomed over him. He felt another hand on his back, rubbing slow circles over his shoulders.

He would have thought they were trying to restrain him so he wouldn’t make another break for it, but instead something that he wouldn’t have thought of happened. They were trying to comfort him. Did they feel bad for what they said? Or were they just focused on the fact it had brought him discomfort?

“It’s alright, I expected it a few times,” Duchess Cleo assured, sighing. “We can make it work though; station more guards outside.”

“I see,” Sir Etho hummed, and Bdubs could hear the doubt in his voice. “All for one human?’

“It’s what I want and it will happen. You know how I can get, Etho.”

The chest in front of Bdubs rumbled again as Sir Etho chuckled and then it pulled away. Before Bdubs could think about what that meant he was spun around, pulled into the Duchess’ embrace next. Her hold was softer, the soft silks brushing against Bdubs’ arms and his face was pushed into her shoulder. A hand on the back of his head stopped him from pulling away. It was almost nice and comforting, aside from it being cold. 

“Fine fine, I’ll alert the guards and return shortly,” Sir Etho assured, bowing before leaving the tent. Bdubs wished he could leave just as easily as Sir Etho but he wasn’t as lucky.

The Duchess slowly started to walk backwards, leaving Bdubs forced to follow. He was about to pull away, get his footing back, only for the world to tilt.

They fell backwards onto the Duchess’ bed, her eyes alight with glee before they landed, her on her back and him laying on top of her. He was forced to look down on her and had no choice but to stare. Those fiery coils falling on the bed, framing her face in such a way that it was picture perfect against the turquoise sheets. There were no clips holding them so the hair was free to move as it wished but it still managed to frame Duchess Cleo so beautifully. Her eyes were more like molten emeralds in the shadows he cast down on her. Her gaze on him, solely on him, was terrifying. A mixture of fondness and possession that made him still.

Those eyes turned to that of mild annoyance when he didn’t seem to move or say anything. In a second Bdubs’ world shifted as he was tugged down, moving to her lap as she moved back on the bed, arms around him.

“There, how is this?” She asked, one hand moving to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing slow circles over it.

Bdubs wasn’t sure what kind of response to give her, so it was good that Etho came walking in just then.

“The guards have been informed, Duchess,” Etho informed, closing the tent flaps behind him. He made sure that they were tied so they wouldn’t get blown open, before he started to remove his armor.

“Good,” she replied, her hold tightening on Bdubs with one arm before she held out the other. It was a clear invitation, one that Etho already seemed prepared for. “Now come to bed. It was a long day today and, frankly, I want to get some rest before dealing with tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Etho informed, and Bdubs watched as he shifted to the side, reaching out to grab the pillow that was thrown at his head. He lightly tossed it onto the pile of spare pillows. 

He took off his chainmail last, leaving him in a pair of black pants and a black undershirt. Bdubs was shifted as Etho came closer to the bed, moved to lay on his side. Duchess Cleo moved as well, chest pressed into Bdubs’ back. Etho was quick to slide into the embrace, and Bdubs’ little world was filled with another cold body pressed against him. Bdubs tried to squirm away, only for the arms to tighten around him, giving him a light squeeze.

“You’re really fond of him, aren’t you?” With Etho’s tone it wasn’t really a question, and the breathy laugh from behind him was all the answer the knight seemed to get.

Bdubs closed his eyes, unsure of what else to do. He could try to make a break for it but with the guards outside, and being held between two cold bodies… it wasn’t possible. He’d be spending the night here, in the Duchess’ bed, between her and her knight. 

He had questions. A lot of them. They were going to have to wait. Duchess Cleo didn’t seem to be in any mood to begin answering him, as she gently squeezed him like he was nothing more than a pillow. He’d figure out what this was in the morning. He’d have more courage by then for sure, when the sun rose. For now he’d sleep.