Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Radagon was happy.
Over the last few days, he has been trying to gather his entire family for a family lunch, to try to tighten everyone up, make his kids all realize they were siblings, instead of rivals for his affection or just for power. Marika was against the idea, but it has been stuck in Radagon's mind since his time with Rennala, when he has attempted to scold Ranni for reading after curfew, and Radahn jumped in front of her. Back then, he was just a kid, and he was scared of his father, but Radagon has been shocked by his children's love for each others, and he has been heartbroken to reunite with Marika, and feel the coldness emanating from her.
He wanted to believe that this woman, his other self, still had a heart, but she did very little to convince him otherwise. When Malenia would wake up in the middle of the night, crying in pain as the scarlet rot was trying to get into her, he would be the one to rush out of his bed to check on them, while Marika would just keep reading reports from her spies and vassals, making sure nothing was hidden from her.
As such, Radagon resolved to attempt something that commoners would do: gather the entire family for a meal. And so far, it had been a failure. From his other self's horned kids, the less said, the better, but even Godwyn, whose participation was expected, said in a sorry tone that he had something planned. And as for Radagon's own children, well... They didn't take Rennala's and his separation really well. Rykard told him that he had to feed his snakes, Radahn just swore at him and only stopped when Marika walked in and asked what that ruckus was, and Ranni just pretended to be deaf, before walking out, saying to no one in particular that she was going to eat lunch with her abandoned mother and that if her womanizer unfaithful "greaser" of a father dared to show his face in Raya Lucaria, it'd be war. Radagon had no idea what a greaser was, but he felt better not knowing. And he knew better than to ask Marika, her advice would be to smack them until they're unconscious, and then lock them in a black room for hours until they "learned proper respect".
Sometimes Radagon wondered how Godwyn was such a good son with a mother like that. He even said so to Marika.
"How come we are the same but have such different opinions on how to raise kids?"
She gave him a cold stare, and just answered. "Same starting lane, different places."
And then she returned to her stone tablets.

Still, Radagon couldn't help but smile. He earlier went to ask the twins, Miquella and Malenia, his beloved children, if they wanted to eat together at lunch, and their reactions have been so happy that he almost cried on the spot. Malenia in particular rarely smiled, so seeing her beaming like that, she felt as incandescent as the Erdtree itself. Now was the complicated part, convincing Marika. In retrospect, maybe he should have started with that.
"Marika."
"..."
He waved his hand in front of her face. "Marika. Leyndell to Marika, wakey-wakey."
She slammed the stone tablet on her lap and glared at him, her eyes wet. "What?!"
"You just hurt yourself, didn't you?"
"No. What do you want?"
He did his best to not smile at his half's furious face. Marika had absolutely no sense of humour, but she was cute. At least Radagon thought so, and he hoped it wasn't some magical artifice casted on him to make him love his other half that made him think so.
"I gathered Miquella and Malenia, we're having lunch together."
"Good, okay, have fun while I stay here, working hard!" He frowned. For being Queen Marika the Eternal, she could be annoyingly dense sometimes.
"Marika, I am inviting you to eat with us. As family. You know, like before-"
"Radagon, I-" She slammed the stone tablet on her knee again, causing her leg to kick the air, and sending her sandal flying while crying loudly. Staring at the sandal flying in an arc, Radagon focused on Ranni's furious face as she left him earlier, doing his absolute best to not laugh as he went to fetch it, offering Marika the consolation of not being looked at as she swore loudly and rubbed her leg, a bruise appearing over her knee. "D-Don't talk about old times, okay? We're adults now!"
"I won't, if you come eat with us. Come on, it'll make the kids happy."
She groaned. "Why can't kids just raise themselves. It'd save all mothers a lot of time. I can't run a kingdom and raise two kids at once, it's..." She kept mumbling and grumbling, but stood up quickly, with a little pep in her step, a little bounce to her walk. She was definitely happy about it but would rather get whipped in the middle of the marketplace than admit to it.
Radagon smiled, and led her to the garden, taking care to let her walk first, both because it was the etiquette, and also because that way, he got to stare at her rear as she walked, which was also pleasant. If he could, he'd gladly give her rear a slap, but they both had a wordless agreement that she'd had to be the one starting anything.

The royal garden was big, splendid, and nowhere near private enough for Radagon's wish, so they settled on eating on a more inconspicuous location, a little terrace. At midday, the sun would be just perfectly positioned to warm it, making it Radagon's favourite spot for a post-lunch siesta.
"Dad!" Little Malenia chased hair off her face, spotted Radagon, and came running toward him, tackling the consort King in the leg before he got a chance to grab her and lift her.
"Mom!" Little Miquella did the same, but to Marika, who pretended to frown, but Radagon spotted her smile. It was brief, but for a moment, while she was lifting Miquella off the ground and hugging him, her carefully crafted mask slipped, and the consort king got to see the real Eternal Queen. And it warmed his heart that the only thing to bring her true happiness wasn't food, or crushing Omens, or even sex, be it with Godfrey or him, but her children.
"I managed to drag your mother out of her office so we can enjoy some time together."
"Thanks Dad!" Malenia hugged him and kissed his cheek.
"Only for a while, I have reports from the North to read, apparently some of Rennala's albinaurics are..."
They all sat around the table, while servants brought in food and left. Already Marika had stopped talking about albinaurics, leaving Miquella and Malenia to argue over which one of them had the coolest things to say. Miquella wanted to boast about his progress at incantations (which filled Radagon's heart with pride), and even talked of trying his hand at creating a spell, instead of just learning them. Marika and Radagon both exchanged glances, but decided to not say anything about how difficult of a task it was. Malenia spoke of reading books and sword fighting, but quickly fell silent, instead looking up at her brother with stars in her eyes.
Then it was Radagon's turn to speak, and he spoke in dismissive terms of a few golden trinkets that he crafted recently, intending them to be political gifts to smooth things over with Caria. Luckily, neither Malenia nor Miquella noticed his sudden nervousness as he lied about the intended lucky person to receive such a royal gift, through Marika did pick on it, and stared at him, her eyes dangerously shining golden.
Then it was Marika's turn to talk, and while Radagon loved her as he loved himself, she was terrible at small talk. Between two bites, she was talking about taxes, road tolls, conscription, training drills, and more riots in the shunning grounds.
"Maybe we can let them out of the sewers?"
Queen Marika turned her eyes to Miquella, something in her eyes making Radagon wince. "What was that, dear? Could you repeat it?"
Radagon opened his mouth to try to change the topic, but it was too late. Miquella was already speaking, with the overconfidence of someone not realizing they're walking in a dragon's mouth. "The omens, I mean. They're like you and me, so why can't we let them in Leyndell?"
Marika didn't answer, instead deciding to finish her meal, but Radagon could tell she was angry. Even Malenia noticed, and subconsciously moved closer to her father. Miquella himself did notice the change in atmosphere, and just looked down at his plate, confused and hurt.
The rest of the meal was done in silence. Radagon could feel his own anger rising, but he was all too aware this was merely a reflection of Marika's. And it was infecting the food too, even the sweet jerkies they ate as desserts tasted bland.
Finally, Radagon gathered the courage to speak. "All right, I'll take Miquella to the library, we have some things to study toge-"
"Miquella is going to receive a very good lesson, right now." Marika cut him off immediately. She was barely keeping herself from shouting, and Miquella went pale as he realized just how angry his mother was.
"Mom, please, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not. You're not sorry yet!" The Queen finished her glass of wine, her hand slightly shaking, then slammed her glass on the table. Not strong enough to shatter it, but enough to crack it.
Then, without a warning, she stood up, walked to Miquella, and lifted him under her arm, holding him tight, while she pulled up his tunic.
"M-Mom! Please!"
Radagon winced when Marika raised her hand and brought it down on his son's rear, causing him to shout and weakly struggle. Malenia, her, just stared as Marika raised her hand again, and again, and again. The few of Miquella's rear that was visible under his underwear was quickly turning red, and Miquella's own screams quickly turned into pleads, then cries, then finally sobs as Marika just kept on spanking, hitting her son's butt with all her strength. Radagon focused on his plate, the show was too much for him, and if he had to look at it, he feared he's attack his half in a blind rage.
"Dad? Dad, she's hurting him..." A little hand pulled on his sleeve. When he turned, he was met with Malenia's wet eyes, and her shaking lower lip. "Please, I don't wanna see that."
"I don't want to either, but your mother..." A harder smack caused Miquella to howl, and Malenia finally cried. Radagon took her in her arms. "I'm sorry."

When Marika was finally done with her son, the lively demigod was broken. His head, arms and legs were dangling from his body, and while Marika kept spanking him, he barely reacted to the smacks, his white underwear barely covering his scarlet, almost crimson rear. That's when Marika's eyes detached from her son's clothed rear. Seeing her daughter cry even louder while Radagon was trying to console her... did something to her. Her face became unreadable, even to Radagon.
"Don't even mention letting omens out ever again. They deserve everything that's coming to them." And with that, she put Miquella back on his chair again, and quickly walked out, leaving Radagon to console a crying Malenia, and a Miquella who cried so much he almost passed out.

"Are you ignoring me?"
"..."
"RADAGON!"
"You went overboard."
"I... Bah. He said something stupid, and paid the price. Next time he'll think about it."
"You are impossible! They're kids, they don't know your history with horns-"
"Radagon."
"...with omens."
"Hmpf. They don't have to know our history. Just to not go against me."
"You can't blame Miquella for being an idealist! Would you rather he grows up to be like Rykard?"
"Rykard does a good job."
"I saw how he works. Until today, I've never been so disgusted."
"Are you saying that me giving my son the discipline he needs is worse than what Rykard does?!"
"Yes! There's a difference between spanking Miquella because he misbehaves, and what you did!"
"I heard enough!" A stone tablet went flying at Radagon's head, but he dodged it. "You can sleep on the couch tonight! And tomorrow! And until the end of the week! Make it a month!"
"Maybe I'll take the entire year on the couch, then!"
"I'd like to see you try, you'll be begging for the bed once winter comes!"
"I'll bring blankets, and maybe a lover or two!"
"You... You!!" Another tablet went flying.

Chapter Text

Godwyn was back in Leyndell.
And while he got to see the overjoyed population of Leyndell (even stopping in the inn by the main gate for a little drink), once he got in the palace, the atmosphere turned unpleasant. There was sorrow in the air, and some uncertainty.

Which meant that something happened. Luckily, it wasn't a murder or anything drastic like that (Godwyn feared he would die of a broken heart if anyone in his family got murdered), but whatever it was, it was still bad enough for the guards to stand at their posts, lips sealed shut together with such strength that they appeared as a single line, and for the servants to walk with their heads lowered (which caused some issues, a lot of them not watching where they were watching and almost colliding with Godwyn). So Godwyn did what Godwyn did best: use diplomacy.
He walked into his mother's empty room and found, as he expected, the oldest maidservant in the entire castle. After much cajoling, promises to not let out what happened, and heartfelt thanks for her loyalty, Godwyn was caught to speed on what was going on, and he was worried.
It turned out that Miquella, kind Miquella, had tried to lead a rebellion against Queen Marika, and got whipped so hard he couldn't even stand, before being thrown in the sewers with the rest of the monsters. Truly, thought Godwyn as he found Miquella in the library, reading by himself, a terrifying prospect. But now was the time for actual diplomacy. Godwyn knew what happened, or at least knew a part of it. He rarely has been on his mother's wrath receiving end, but it had happened, so he suspected Miquella also found out. And his little grimaces and frowns as he fidgeted on his chair, trying to focus, but not realizing he was reading the thick book upside-down was also quite suspicious. But while he wanted to know the full story, there was also the matter of Miquella's ego to take in consideration. Most of Godwyn's half-brothers would likely disregard Miquella's feelings because of his young age. As for Godwyn's brothers...
"Hey, Miq!"
"Who are you- Godwyn!" Miquella's smile grew until it looked like it was covering his entire face. Miquella was truly a sight for sore eyes, and Godwyn found himself smiling just as widely to his little half-brother, feeling a little pang of guilt at how he was planning to manipulate him.
"What are you reading?"
"Oh, um... It's..."
Godwyn dramatically turned head, looking at the book from the side. "Something about history, but from the Lands of Reeds' perspective?"
Miquella let out a little embarrassed squeal, and promptly flipped the large book. "S-So that's why I couldn't recognize the letters."
Godwyn giggled, then speak in a serious, solemn, but finely calculated tone. "Something on your mind?" He walked forward, and sat in front of Miquella, before asking a question he knew would be answered negatively. "Something I can help with?"
As predicted, the brutal change of tone took his half-brother by surprised, and he raised his eyes from the book, stuttering. "I... I-I-I... M-Mom..."
"Hey, it's okay. Take your time." This time, Godwyn picked a softer tone, trying to calm Miquella down.
"Y-Yes, sorry. It's just that me and Mom got in a fight, and I think she hates me now."
"Mom and me, Miquella."
He raised curious eyes.
"Put mom first, then yourself, otherwise you make it sound like you're more important than her." The little correction was unneeded, but Godwyn believed that the way was to beat around the bush, and sometimes touch the sore spot, so that Miquella wouldn't let out everything at once and hurt himself.
"I get it."
"Why do you think she hates you?"
"I... said something that I thought was good, but she got really angry."
"Angry? Did she ordered you to not have food for two years? Or be locked in your room for a decade?" Godwyn was slightly jesting, but he believed that exaggerating would help Miquella realize that whatever corporal punishment Marika gave him, it wasn't that bad. It was a despicable method, but the fault laid on Godwyn's mother for raising her hand on Miquella, the boy was exceedingly well-behaved by noble standards, let alone royalty standards.
"No, she spanked me."
Godwyn silently fumed. Just as he feared. 'I hate when I assume the worst and I'm right,' he said to himself, looking for his words. What could he say? "I see. What was it that you thought was good that got her so angry?" He closed his mouth before adding another jest, just in case...
"I said we could open the sewers and let the Omens in the town."
...yep. Godwyn barely kept a straight face, and only his love for his little brother kept him from laughing loudly at his blunder. "Ha, yes. Of course. She, um, absolutely hates the idea."
"I found out." Miquella lowered his head to his book, sounding hurt. Seeing him like that immediately destroyed all desires Godwyn had to laugh.
"Oh no, I'm sorry. I should have told you, but our mother absolutely hates Omens. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I thought I told you."
Miquella stayed buried in his book. "It's not your fault. It's just me, opening my mouth..."
Internally, Godwyn was panicking. He saw that before, getting scolded for one thing, and going the opposite way with too much zeal. "H... Hey, no, it's not right. You had a good idea, it's just that Queen Marika is just exceedingly stubborn about it, but will never explain why. So you had no way to know. In fact, I dare say it's her fault."
Miquella raised his eyes from his book again. The small, golden eyes were brimming with hope. "What do you mean? It's not my fault?"
"Miquella, look..." Godwyn stopped, looking for his words. He didn't notice Miquella's sulk as he did so. "When you talk to someone, and you say something they don't like, you notice it, right? Like, the mouth grimacing, like I do." He frowned, the corners of his mouth going down, lips closed. "Or, the eyebrows furrowing." He did it again, grimacing in front of Miquella, who seemed captivated and very amused by the demonstration. "But, you see, with mom, it's not like that. She doesn't show her emotions easily. She's the kind to appear calm when he's angry, or appear calm when she's sad, or appear calm when explaining the faulty approach of Radagon concerning fundamentalism among the Golden Order and how it's becoming a political issues when chapter houses are established a bit too close to Caria."
Miquella smiled at the last one. "Yes, she really is like that. She spent the whole time barely showing any emotion, but Malenia said she enjoyed the food."
"See? That's how our mother is, she cannot relax. So don't think she hates you, okay? You just had a disagreement, it happens, and it will happen again. You just happened to have a disagreement with the only person in the world who can spank you." Godwyn wisely decided to not mention his mother's extreme practicality, and how she would never throw Miquella away, so long as she had an use for him. It was something that could wait a few decades. Let Miquella enjoy the world before showing him how ugly it could be. Miquella's love toward everyone would likely be stamped out of him before he reached puberty anyway. And probably by that horrid harpy of a...

"I see. Thank you, big brother."
The bright smile threatened to blind Godwyn, and he promptly apologized himself and left. Marika would want to learn what he was up to, after all.

Left alone, Miquella's smile quickly disappeared, but he was still in a much better mood than before. Godwyn never lied to him, after all, and he's been around for much longer, so he had to know what he was talking about.
So Mother wasn't actually hating him!
"Maybe I should go see her and apologize... Or prepare something to make her forgive me..."

Chapter Text

Miquella was crying.
He was trying not to to, but being stuck in his current position, held under the arm by his mother, with his tunic rolled up, and her hand spacking his rear for what felt like the last hour, he couldn't help but cry. Through the smacking noises and his own cries, he could sometimes hear his mother's sharp words as she kept scolding him, but they were too indistinct for him to understand them. Something about no coming in her room, even if Radagon was somewhere else in the castle, then something about bringing her a creamy cake to make up for their last fight, and, with more smacks, something about definitely not tripping on her many stone tablets and send the little cake flying in his mother's queenly face.
If Miquella was able to reflect right now, he would be realizing that laughing at his mother's livid face, covered with white cream probably wasn't the most diplomatic idea he had all day. But his mother's large, calloused hand smacking his naked rear didn't really help. He cried, he kicked, but Marika's right arm was still coiled around his waist, holding him up, his legs dangling, his hands grabbing at his mother's dress desperately, while his mother just kept spanking and spanking.
At first, feeling his mother's warm hand against his naked butt almost calmed Miquella down, but when Marika raised her hand, he tensed up, knowing what to expect again. Then it came down with a loud smack, and he briefly realized that he had no idea what to expect, he has forgotten the pain, and his mother took pleasure in reminding him.

Malenia was holding back tears as he opened the small pot, and, with the tip of her fingers, picked some of the cold lotion, and rubbed his on Miquella's rear. Seeing him naked was not anything new, but seeing him so, laying on his belly, his head buried in his pillow as he cried, with his butt so covered with handprints that they all merged together in a single, giant red blot that covered his entire butt.
He let out a hiss as Malenia's long fingers caressed his butt, his crying finally calming.
"I'm sorry."
He rolled his head on the pillow, his eyes wet and red. "What for?"
"I-I should've been there, you shouldn't have had to suffer this..."
"Don't say that. It was my idea, and my mistake. Had you been there, you- OW!" He jumped as she poked a part of his butt that felt swollen.
"Sorry, sorry. Hold on."
Miquella buried his face in his pillow with a grumble.
More lotion was rubbed on his rear, and Miquella felt oily now. "Is it better now?"
"It is. Where did you get that?"
"O-Oh, i-it was, um..." Malenia stuttered something, which intrigued him.
"I couldn't hear you. Would my beloved, dear sister of mine speak up?"
"...teacher... gave it to me..." The first word definitely intrigued Miquella.
"Your teacher? You mean, one of the preceptors? I though they weren't allowed to give us anything?"
"No!" Malenia almost shouted, and Miquella recoiled, surprised. "He's different, he's not teaching me stuff like magic or anything, he's teaching me how to hold a sword!"
Oh. Oh no. "A sword?! Is Mom aware of that?"
"I don't care!"
"You definitely should, unless you want to end over her lap-"
"Listen, Miquella, he's amazing! He can swing his sword like it's nothing, but it's not, it's not nothing! It's super-large, longer than his arm, and he just cut a dummy like it was water!"
"Malenia, you can't cut water-"
"You know what I mean, stop playing smart!"
"OUCH!" Miquella screamed, immediately covering his butt. In frustration, Malenia just slapped him! It was a playful slap, but after Marika's extensive correction, it felt like a mighty blow!
"...sorry..."
Malenia stared at her hand. She didn't mean to spank so hard.

Chapter Text

Malenia held back a sigh.
"Are you absolutely sure about that?"

Fidgeting on his chair, Miquella nodded angrily. "That's the third time now! I didn't even do anything, this time!"
'So you admit you did it the first times,' thought Malenia, but she didn't say anything. She just stared at Miquella through squinted eyes, the scarlet rot starting to take root.
"...okay, fine, maybe I shouldn't have tried to sneak in the sewers while pretending Mother sent me, but I couldn't know that she'd warn the sentinels beforehand. And I certainly wasn't expecting her to come directly pick me up after they arrested me."
"Try to see things on the bright side, at least she waited until you were alone to spa..." He hissed loudly. "Sorry, to discipline you."
"Yay. I can't sit anymore without at least two cushions and I made a total fool of myself, but at least Queen Marika didn't beat me in front of commoners. I'm so happy with this, woohoo!"
This time, Malenia couldn't repress a frown. She opened her mouth to answer quickly.
But Miquella cut her off. "Sorry, I didn't mean to complain so much. It's just, you know. Sometimes I feel like she enjoys it. I'm not sure, but she always seem to be in a much better mood afterward."
"Don't be ridiculous." She stood up a bit on her chair, looking down on him from her slight height advantage. "Do you really think that mother would really enjoy spanking you?"

"Marika, why do I feel like you enjoy spanking Miquella?"
She spat her wine back in her cup, before looking at Radagon with a shocked look. "Me?!"
"Yes. You." He said back without any kind of humour. This was a serious topic, and this needed his full attention.
She avoided her gaze, focusing on the stone tablet she was previously reading. "...oh hey, Rykard found another Omens hideout, I wonder how they got there."
"Marika." Radagon insisted. "I'd really like to know."
She held up the tablet, hiding her face away from him. So she could still feel some shame, he thought. "I can't help it, he's just so small and adorable. Ever since that dispute earlier, I found myself enjoying it!"
"Marika, I understand that."
"You do?!"
"I do." Radagon stayed silent a moment, considering whether or not it was a good idea to tell Marika or some of the spiciest thing he did with his former wife, Rennala. But he quickly decided not to when he realized that if Marika knew Rennala was into this, she might try to marry her as well. And Radagon was not ready for a ménage à trois. Or to see Rennala again.
"Then you must understand why he's-"
"Marika, he's your son. He's our son. I can forgive you correcting him if he offends you, but if you begin to make up reasons, I will take his defense."
The Eternal Queen's eyes shone in a dangerous golden colour. "Oh? You, the gingerhead scrawny twig of a man, you'd oppose me?"
Her tone carried dangerous implications, and Radagon felt a shiver run down his spine. Which quickly turned into anger. "Oh, don't be stupid! We're the same person, of course I would never rebel against you or contest your authority in public, but if you begin to abuse Miquella, I can promise you that I won't come to this room for at least four centuries and you'll sleep alone, do you get me?"
With a flash of anger, she raised the tablet to throw at his face, but he stood there, unmoving, and she slowly lowered, her face turning into the expression of a spoilt child being denied the pleasure to tie a metal pan to a dog's tail and watch it run around panicked and crying. That the comparaison popped in Radagon's mind so quickly scared him, they were both the same person, and yet, Marika has grown... egotistical, for the lack of a better word. Maybe even cruel. "Fine, fine. I swear I won't spank him without a very good reason."
"Thank you."
As Radagon turned around, Marika's cup hit the back of his head, splashing him with cold wine. "That one was for for questioning me to begin with!"

"Are you questioning me, Malenia?"
"In this particular instance, I am! Miquella, dear brother of mine, please listen: I understand that you're angry at Mother for correcting you with the utmost severity, and that your opinion of her is degrading, but I'm pretty sure that your plan to get back at her is going to end with me rubbing even more lotion on your rear."
"Sh! Shut up!" Miquella rushed to cover her mouth with his hands, before looking around with his face red. Malenia kissed his palm, which made him retract his hand.
"Got you." She giggled, while he sat down grumbling. "One point for me."
"Meh. Are you still keeping count?"
"Always."
"You can keep count of how often I'm going to get Queen Marika."
"Well, so far, she's leading three to zero."
"I-" Miquella opened his mouth to protest, then closed it with a pout.
"Or should I count every spank separately?"
"I get it, I get it!"
"But in all seriousness, Miq." He raised his head, surprised by her sudden serious tone. "Give it up. You want to play a prank on Mother, who has centuries of experiences, and, according to you, would actually look forward to it just so that she can spa- I mean correct you. Are you absolutely sure that antagonizing her is a good idea?"
"Yes."
Malenia waited for an answer. Not a single came.
She sighed. She was going to need a lot of lotion, huh?

Chapter Text

Miquella was scared.
But for the time being, this wasn't about him, but about her. She was a lowly servant, her noble family disgraced, leading to her abandoning her surname, and working in the kitchen, a job where thanks were rare, and the occasions to shine, few. After all, nobody would notice if a chicken was well cooked or not, and certainly not Queen Marika, who would always eat with her off hand while working.
An older servant would claim that even when Queen Marika and the Carian traitor would do... the thing together, the Queen still wouldn't stop working, reading reports, sending orders... When she'd hear about it, the disgraced noble would turn red and focus on grinding almonds into a paste.

Then, one day, she met him. Miquella, the last son of the Eternal Queen, had come to the kitchen. The girl could barely remember what was said, only her own nervosity, and the Prince's radiance, until the moment his hand grasped her chin and made her look at him directly. When that happened, she fell into some kind of soft insanity. Nothing felt important anymore, and she gladly did as he kindly requested.

It all seemed menial and not important, until she found herself sitting on a very small chair in front of the Eternal Queen.
Who was busy setting up several very nasty tools in front of her, some looking like pincers, but covered in dried blood. Others looking like saws, also covered in blood. Some looking like balls covered in spikes. Also covered in dried blood.
And then there was a large wooden paddle, who seemed to be totally out of place.
Finally, the Eternal Queen spoke. "Would you happen to know what these are, girl?"
She spoke with difficulty. "T-Torture stools. Torture TOOLS, my lady."
The Eternal Queen, Marika nodded, but her eyes were fixated on the girl. "Exactly. Now, I want you to pay close attention to what's about to happen."
The Eternal Queen kept staring, until the girl nodded. Then, she stood up, and walked out, immediately coming back, dragging a panicked and crying Prince Miquella. "Mother, please, it was just some salt in your sweets, please!"
In front of the lowly kitchen aide, the Eternal Queen of the Golden Order, Marika, bent over her young son over her lap, rolled up his tunic, lowered his underwear, and, grabbing the heavy paddle, began to smack his naked rear with all her strength.
It would be impossible for the girl to explain how she felt at this very moment. The Queen's desk blocked some of her view, but she could still see the Prince's royal bottom get smacked with an ounce of mercy, the heavy paddle sending ripples in the prince's round buttcheeks, the noise seemingly deafening. The Prince, who had been previously begging, had fallen in a resigned mutism, that only loud cries of pain and sobs interrupted.
What would disturb the girl the most, when she'd lay in bed, trying to sleep in the decades following this incident, would be the Queen's smile at this moment.

After a good while, the Prince's naked butt appeared to be the reddest red the poor girl ever saw, and he was sobbing and crying without any dignity. It was the moment the girl saw him as he was, just a child.
The Queen Marika coldly pushed him off her lap, and ordered "Corner. Now. Tunic up."
Sniffing, the poor boy obeyed, standing nose against the wall, behind his mother, holding his tunic so far up that he appeared naked.
"Stop staring at my son."
The girl turned to the Eternal Queen, scarlet in the face.
"You have seen my son's punishment for opposing me. And he's my flesh and blood." She picked up a pair of sharp pincers, and played with them for a moment, her eyes drifting on the girl, eyeing her up and down. "One who isn't my son would not be shown such leniency." The pincers closed, and the girl felt sick as she realised what they were for. "Am I understood, girl?"
She nodded frantically.
"Speak."
"I understand, my eternal queen."
"Good girl. Return to your post, and spread the word that I will not allow any dissension, no matter how small."
The girl's eyes went to the crying Prince. He was rubbing his butt, and had turned away from the wall to look at her. His golden eyes were wet, and he looked humiliated. Which he was.
"Stop looking at my son. It will take a lot for him to end up over your lap, but I might allow it if he doesn't stop his petty acts."
"Yes, my lady."
"Leave now."
As she walked away as fast as she could, the Queen's voice could be heard again.
"I told you to stay in the corner!"
"But! Mother, you weren't serious, were you?"
"Do I look like I have a sense of humour?"
"But!"
Then there were slapping noises, and more of Miquella's cries.

Leda did as Queen Marika ordered. She spread the word of the Prince's childish antic, and the monumental correction he received.

Chapter Text

Malenia was frustrated.
It wasn't rare for her, sometimes she'd snap at the servants, who were living long, pain-free lives, and still dared to complain, while she could feel the tip of her finger burning up, and her eyesight was getting worse. It was a horrible thing to know you were doomed, especially at such an young age.
But in this particular case, the source of her frustration was her twin brother, Miquella. Or, as the servants all called him since the first incident, Miquella the Honest. And the name spread fast, though it wasn't as pleasant as it sounded, for the implications were that Miquella was a poor coconspirator, and the name immediately made others wary of him. His every move would be judged, and every word would be turned around until a secret meaning was found, until Miquella, holding back tears and utterly demoralised at how people he never met would judge him so harshly, stopped all efforts and focused on his research to cure Malenia.

From the few Malenia could say, Miquella's new efforts pleased neither his father, nor his mother. Outwardly, their father seemed proud of Miquella's ambition and his scholastic endeavour, but there was a little something, some shyness to his praise, that made it sound false. As for their mothers, she was downright discouraging him. She rarely talked to them directly (the only contacts she seemed to have with Miquella being when she spanked him after a failed scheme), so she's usually just send a letter that Miquella and her would gather around to excitedly read, until realising it was nothing but scolding.
After that, they'd just leave the scroll somewhere to gather dust, before an overzealous servant would take it to the archives.

It would take Malenia several decades to realise what her mother was attempting to raise Miquella into: a statesman, rather than a scholar. And for a while, she'd believe her disappointment with Miquella was the reason of her strictness toward him. That is, until a Leyndell servant seeking refuge in Elphael spoke (rather unwisely) of the Eternal Queen's glee whenever she'd be spanking Miquella.
He almost got thrown off the Halig Tree for his "blasphemy", and it took several knights' efforts to calm the population.

But true to himself, Miquella didn't only give his attempts at curing Malenia all his attention. Sometimes, around three or four times a week, often less, he'd try to outsmart their mother.
And thus, around three or four times a week, often less, Malenia would hear cries in the wind, and sigh, open up a small box containing some exotic, expensive gel, and leave the box open while she'd grab an adult sized curved sword and train, waiting for the moment her twin brother would pass the door, run to his bed, and bury his face in his pillow.

And this was exactly what was happening, and why Malenia was frustrated.
She loved and respected Miquella, being amazed by his ability to cast weird magics, or miracles as he called them. But, by the Order, he could be so annoyingly dense sometimes! His numerous attempts at trying to one-up their mother, and their subsequent feud that always ended in him getting spanked, for example! Why couldn't he just... stop? He wasn't going to win, all he was doing was burning the bridge between mother and himself even more thoroughly than Mother was spanking him!
"Miquella."
"What?"
"Have you considered giving up on your silly revenge-"
"Over my dead body!"
Malenia sighed, and let her gel-covered fingers rest on the purple marks on her twin brother's rear, where their mother hit him with a cane to "drive the lesson home".
"Mother started this, I will finish it."
"Remind me," she slipped her fingers under his butt, soothing the pain in his sitting spots. He'd be able to sit before night. "How many time has mother spanked you?"
"... hundreds forty..."
"I can't hear you, brother."
"A lot."
"Exactly." She delivered a little smack to his rear, making him wince. "And should you one-up her, what will you gain from it? One point to two hundreds forty seven spankings? Some of them bare bottomed, in front of the servants or the preceptors?"
He groaned to himself as Malenia closed the box, and put it back on her desk. It barely saw any use, the ink had long dried it, and a scroll about some barbarian warlord called Hoarah Loux was now collecting dust. "But I need to!"
"Miquella, you're my brother and I love you. But you must realise how childish you are acting here."
"Hmpf!" He buried his face in his pillow, and for half a second, Malenia saw red. She saw herself running to him, put her knee on his back, pinning him down, and spank him with her hand until he gave up. Now, with her belt!
"Pfouuuuh..." She expired slowly, causing her brother to turn to her with a curious look on his face.
"What's up, sister?"
"I just can't figure you out sometimes."
"How so?" He asked, while pulling down his tunic, his underwear still lowered to his knees.
"The people. They don't trust you to pull out any kind of sneaky thingy, but they still like you. Way more than Uncle Ricard-"
"Rykard."
"Uncle Rykard, or Aunt Tranni-"
"Ranni."
"Whatever! What I mean is that people like you, but the more they see you spanked, the more they don't take you seriously."
"I know that! And I think it's the Queen's plan, to make it impossible for me to be taken seriously."
He fell silent, and Malenia did not like it. He was thinking of something. "Whatever you're thinking, give it up."
"I have a good idea-"
"Miquella, NO!"
"I'll try to make a dream self, and-"
Malenia plugged her ears. The temptation to take her big brother over her lap became more and more intolerable every passing day.
How could someone like him, so smart and clever, could be so bloody petty and narrow minded?!?

Chapter Text

Malenia was turning in her bed, angry and puffing.
One more time, one of her twin brother's schemes backfired on him, and he found himself on the receiving hand of the Eternal Queen's hairbrush, receiving a spanking strict enough that Malenia could hear him from the garden where she was training. As soon as it stopped, she apologized to her teacher, and ran to her room, arriving just in time as Miquella collapsed on the bed, curled in a ball, holding his scarlet butt, crying loudly.
"Miquella, what did you do again?"
"I just asked if there were other magics than the miracles, that's all! And she spanked me!"
"Yeah, I could figure that last part. I heard you crying from the garden." "Well, I'm sorry! She had that stupid new hairbrush, it felt like I was being spanked with an iron sword!" Malenia opened her mouth to remark that a sword made out of iron would be very brittle and wouldn't retain its edge for long, but she knew better than to argue, and stayed silent as he began, again, to rub lotion on her twin brother's rear, trying to ignore the round, glistening buttcheeks and the trouble she felt whenever they'd shiver under her touch. "Ow! Curse, be more gentle, would you?" "I am as gentle as I can, Miquella. You're just overly sensitive." "Overly... Are you joking?" "No, I am not. The scarlet rot ate my sense of humour." He stayed silent as she kept on rubbing, trying to use her good hand, and not her rotten hand. She kept repeating herself that she wasn't enjoying touching her big brother's rear, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "...sorry, Malenia." "Don't worry about it. It is how it is." "I hate when you say this!" "Calm down, brother!" Without thinking, she gave him a smack, causing him to howl. "D-Don't start, you too. I already got enough of the queen!" "I-I'm sorry, Miquella, I just..." Lost patience? Felt like spanking you? Nothing she could think of would calm him. "No, it's my fault." He crossed his arms under his chin, tunic still rolled up. They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes, her caressing his butt (there were no more needs for lotions, she just liked doing it), and him seemingly trying to come up with something. "...I can tell you're troubled, brother. I can hear your thoughts, if not your theories." "I just..." He hesitated, before deciding to be frank. "Malenia. The Golden Order cannot help you. I have been studying it for so long now, and it just won't work. I've been thinking of studying some Carian sorceries, to see if I can at least relieve your pain by putting you to sleep when it gets overwhelming, but the queen..." He pointed at his butt with his butt. "...isn't encouraging sorceries." "What are you thinking?" "Well. The queen and Dad are the same person, right?" "Yes." Malenia didn't like where he was going. "I want to try something similar. Try to create a me able to research sorceries without the queen on my back constantly." "Well, she certainly is on your back. Or should I say, on your lower back-" "Malenia, jokes and you don't mix well." She gave him another slap. He howled, and threw a pillow at her.

A few days later, it happened. The memory of her brother's rear was too vivid in Malenia's mind, until it snapped in place, and she realized what was happening.
Her hand has grown bigger to a point that it covered her brother's rear. She was outgrowing him! Upon realizing this, her imagination went wild. She imagined herself, grown up, looking like a grown woman, holding her big little brother over her lap, and vigorously spanking him for every single time he caused her to worry, or annoyed her, or just was just too cute for his own good. In her imagination, she spanked and spanked, and spanked, all day long, and Miquella would only leave her lap to go fetch whatever implement she wanted to try next.
During the day, Malenia would focus on her lessons, studying history and swordsmanship, strategies and tactics. But at night, when she could hear her brother's soft breathing, and knew he was sleeping, she'd cross her arms under her head, and imagine. Imagining the noise every implement would make, and her adorable brother's reaction to each. Would he cry? Most likely, given how easily Mother's spankings got him howling.
At times, she'd feel bad about what she called her sadistic dreams, especially when she imagined her brother's tears-covered face. When that happened, she'd be a lot nicer to him in the waking world, much to his confusion. At day, she'd be herself, Malenia, beloving sister of Miquella the Honest, and overprotective to the point that she'd glare at any female servant talking too nicely to him. But at night, once she was alone with her thoughts, she'd be her brother's violent and mean-spirited disciplinarian, forcing him to get his life in order on pain of spankings.
Then, finally, it happened. Malenia fell asleep, still lost in her indecent thoughts, and found herself lost in darkness. She wasn't aware she was sleeping, there was no pain, no worry, and no... fascination for her brother's behind, only void. Then, a small purple light came to be. It felt like a candlelight, flickering and weak, but it felt familiar. Malenia moved forward, and held the flame between her hands. It stopped flickering, and began to grow, o so slowly.
The next day, it looked like a flower, still radiating light.
And the next day, it looked like Miquella. Or rather, she looked like Miquella. Except she had a mischievous smile, one that made Malenia smile, but made her hands itch.
"I am Trina. Good night to you, Malenia!"

Chapter Text

Malenia was dreaming.
Malenia was standing. No, Malenia was sitting. She was sitting on a wooden chair, very uncomfortable. No, she was sitting in a comfortable library armchair. She was in Lleyndell library, sitting comfortably in an armchair, and resting after a difficult bout with her teacher, that left her covered with bruises, but she had the satisfaction to see her teacher put more and more effort into fighting her back, to a point he's been panting by the time she had to abandon.
A small part of her knew this was a dream, but the satisfaction of finally catching up to her teacher was just too much for her, after pleading with him for so long to go all out and not treat her as if she was made of glass, he did as she asked. And utterly beat her black and black, much to Radagon's rage, who almost burnt the poor man alive.

In front of Malenia, was Miquella, sitting at a large table, reading a big book about something probably very interesting. She looked at him, and a fond smile formed on her lips. A thought, and she suddenly was adult, towering over him, and he still looked the same, small and hug-sized. Except for his hair, who seemed purple in the otherworldly lights of the dream library.
"Miquella." She said fondly. In a thought, she was next to him, and was passing her fingers through his hair, caressing him lovingly. She would never have been able to do this in the real world, he would be mortified to be treated like a child, especially by her.
"..." Miquella turned away from his book, facing her with a smile, and that's when Malenia realized.
"You are not my brother Miquella?" She asked, aware of how stupid she sounded, but that stranger just looked like him, except he looked different. Purple hair, a genuinely happy smile, rather than the forced one her brother would sometimes display, especially after being mocked, and eyes that shone in vibrant colours. For a moment, Malenia lost herself in these eyes, who seemed to radiate in a colour of of this world.
"Yes and no, Malenia. I am he, but also not he."
Malenia frowned. "Where is my brother?" She grabbed the intruder by the shoulders, and easily lifted him up.
"Your brother isn't here, Malenia. You are dreaming. He is caught in his own dreams." The intruder smiled some more, seemingly amused by the woman's confusion. "I am Trina, and you won't remember me when you'll wake up."
"Trina?" Malenia relaxed, but kept glaring, still holding the boy- no, the girl up. A girl with the face of her brother. Her hands started to slightly shake.
"That is my name. Do you like it? Miquella picked it for me." Then, the girl leaned in, and kissed Malenia, on the tip of her nose.
That was enough to make Malenia yelp and cover her face, blushing and backing away, while the girl elegantly floated down to her feet, laughing. Her laugh was like crystal in the silent library. "Why, you little...!"
Trina laughed again, half-closing her eyes while leaning toward Malenia. "Heh heh heh... Are you angry? Have I caused trouble?"
"Yes! If Miquella tried that, he would..." Malenia fell silent.
"Would whaaaat?" The smaller girl insisted, with a large grin.
"G... Got..."
"You can say it, you know. This is your dream, and you won't remember admitting to it." Trina's smile briefly faded as she encouraged her, but it came back once the last word left her mouth. She was waiting.
Malenia swallowed her saliva, and looked around, doing her best to remember the exercises her teacher taught her to not get emotional during a fight. "In a fight, you must stay cool-headed. The one who get angry get predictable."
"Exactly! Your teacher is a wise man!" Trina clapped her hands, skipping around Malenia, who suddenly regretted being so tall. Trina looked so small, so vulnerable, that a dark part of Malenia wanted nothing more than...
"I want to spank you."
"You said it!" She clapped again, a large smile on her face. If she was nervous, she hid it perfectly, for Malenia could only read pride on the girl's face.
"...it's not a problem, is it?"
Trina smile. "That's why I'm here. Make your pick!" She waved at the table, and Malenia realized with a shock that the book she was reading earlier disappeared. Now, the table was covered in various tools and implements, with wooden spoons, heavy leather straps, large belts, different kind of hairbrushes made with different materials, and even some long bathbrushes.
"Are these..." She blushed.
"Absolutely! Miquella haven't tried them all yet, but don't worry, it'll come." For a moment, Trina's smile waned. "...he has a long road in front of him, and Marika won't be the worst."

Her mouth dry, Malenia walked to the table, picking up several implements, squeezing them in her hand, smacking them against her palm, then putting them back. Her excitation was starting to grow, and she could feel her heart beat faster and faster, and louder and louder.
"A-And I can try them all?" She asked, her eyes falling on a wooden bathbrush. The handle was long, thin and curvy, but the end was ovale in design, flat, and the bristles seemed to be made out of boar fur.
"You do seem to have an attraction for curved weapons, do you? Even in your dreams, you pick a curved bathbrush." She floated and whispered to Malenia's ear. "Are you going to spank me with this?"
The girl's hot breath tickled Malenia's ear, and for a moment, she heard the noise. That horrible noise, that made her want to cry whenever she heard it in the waking world. The noise of a flat piece of shit hitting naked flesh. Except this time, the noise wasn't followed by cries and promises to behave, but by Trina's gasps.
Malenia blinked. She was sitting down, with Trina laying over her lap, her tunic rolled up, but still keeping her panties. Her arms were pulled behind her back, and Malenia was holding both her wrists in a tight grasp, while raising the bathbrush with her spare hand, way, way over her head, bringing it down with all her strength in a large swing, causing the girl's rear to wobble and rippled with every mighty strike.
The woman felt some irritation at the lack of echo, but the next strike resonated in the room, and upon looking up, Malenia saw that she was no longer in the royal library but in a corridor. Servants were staring at the scene, some smirking, other hiding their mouth in horror.
"Haah... S-So, you like an audience, do you?" Trina said between pained gasps, her voice seemingly on the verge of breaking into tears, but with still enough sass to reassure Malenia.
"Be silent, and take your spanking like a big boy, Miquella."
"Trina."
"Be silent, and take your spanking like a big girl, Trina." With a pleased smile, Malenia raised the bathbrush again, landing it on Trina's upper thights, which caused the girl to cry out in pain, before panting heavily, her snarky voice still audible through the pain.
"You'd prefer me taller? I can do that. But we both know you wouldn't like it that way, would you?" She turned her head as an unnatural angle to smile at Malenia. "Maybe next time, I'll play the naughty little sister."
"...be silent!" Malenia scolded her, but couldn't resist smiling as she resumed the spanking, smacking the girl's pale thighs, then moving up, focusing on the sensitive sitting spots. At first, Trina barely reacted, then, as if she read into Malenia's disappointement, started howling and kicking the air.
"Nooo, please, I'll be good, please! Not in front of everyoooone!"
Malenia's smile grew wicked. This is exactly what she wanted. She just had to stop before Trina got broken and could only cry and hiccup.
Which didn't take long, after a few seconds, Trina's body want limp. Looking over her shoulder, Malenia was relieved to not see any tears falling down. She pulled the purple-haired girl back up, making her sit on her lap (and enjoying her frown whenever she squeezed her red rear). "Thank you, Trina. Please don't say anything to Miquella..."
"It's a bit late to ask that, but I won't." The girl, despite her reddened eyes, still kept a sunny smile. "But you should wake up now."
"What? But I have so much to-" Malenia looked at the table, still full of implements.
"That will be tomorrow, my dear sister." Trina kissed her on the lips. It was just a quick peck, but Malenia's heart jumped in her chest.

She woke up suddenly sitting, accidentally headbutting Miquella.
"Ooow, my head... How do you feel, Malenia? You were sweating pretty heavily, I debated whether or not I should call Father."
"I... I'm fine. I'm mighty fine!" She said, her night gown sticking to her sweating body. "I'll just take a bath before breakfast!"
"But it's already here, that's why I..."
"Going!"
He sighed, and started to eat alone.
Malenia pranced to the royal bathroom, and started to wipe her face in front of the mirror, before her eyes fell on something dangling near the bathtub. It was a bathbrush, made out of common wood, with boar bristles. The handle was long, thin and curvy, and the end was oval and flat.
Malenia stared. She felt like she was on the verge of remembering something, something blissful. She squinted at the bathbrush, muttering to herself "Tell me your secrets, brush". But nothing came.
Her mood a bit doured from failing to remember such a pleasant dream, Malenia returned to her room once she was done cleaning herself, and got to "enjoy" listening to Miquella's lastest plan to try to one-up their mother.
She sighed. He was going to sleep on his belly again.

Chapter Text

Queen Marika the Eternal, supreme leader of the Golden Order and High Priestess of the Greater Will, was not happy.
Miquella was leaving her room, holding back tears and rubbing his butt after yet another spanking she gave him after another stupid request he made of opening the shunning grounds and allow these blasted Omens back in, and yet she could say that despite the paddling she gave him, he would ask again. Maybe not tomorrow, but surely, later this week, once his rear would recover, he'd ask again. And again. And again.
He's been going at this for a while now, trying to gather different kinds of undesirables under his wings, all of that to lose the moniker of Miquella the Honest. And what really annoyed Marika is that he was succeeding. More and more people, whether they were members of her Golden Order or not, were referring to him as Kind Miquella, and even the servants, rather than snicker and smile as he returned to his room, his eyes red and his butt sore, would instead look at him with sorry eyes.
Marika couldn't stand it. She was winning the battle to keep the shunning grounds closed, but Miquella was making himself a martyr, and was winning the hearts of the people. Such a thing was dangerous, if they liked Miquella, then they weren't respecting her. It was time to do something to ruin his reputation again, and definitely force him under her thumb, like Godwyn.

Unfortunately, for Marika, she had nobody to help her. Godwyn was useful, but for him, family was sacred, so if she was to ask him to act against a relative, he'd assume he misunderstood her, and would fail. A part of her suspected he did it on purpose, but she refused to entertain the thought that her only reliable child could sabotage her. Radagon could be another option, but when she started to enjoy spanking Miquella, he stopped talking to her entirely. She tried a few times to initiate an encounter by sitting next to him, but he'd always close his book and walk out of the room without saying a word. The first time, she was too shocked to react. The second time, she threw one of her stone tablets at him, which he dodged too late, and ended up passing through the window, forcing her to send knights to pick his remains.
A new tablet was placed on her office by a servant (next to the paddle she just used on Miquella). That one wasn't stone by wax, which meant it was her spymaster's. She broke the seal, opened it, and started reading, committing it to memory, before brushing over the wax with a small tool, deleting the words the spymaster sent her.
A halig tree, huh? Marika couldn't hide a nasty smile. She had Miquella by the hair with that, she only had to push him out. Once he "escaped" to his halig tree, it'd be too easy to paint him as a traitor to the order.

Malenia woke up with a smile, and an yawn. For some reason, she felt well rested, after having quite the pleasant sleep. She couldn't remember what he dream was about, but she remembered the colour purple, as well as the colour red. She stretched with intense satisfaction, and yet felt like returning to sleep.
Jumping out of bed, she gleefully hummed to herself, spinned around the room in a little dance, and opened the window.
"Miquella, wake up! It's the start of a wonderful day today!"
There was a low groan coming out of her brother's bed, followed by a low "...five minutes..."
"Five minutes! And I'll come back with breakfast!"
"...please do."
Still humming to herself, Malenia walked out of her bedroom, and eagerly waited in the corridor for the old servant to bring the twins' breakfast. After a few minutes, the old woman arrived, her wrinkled face turning into a surprised look of seeing the sickly Malenia already up, and smiling as radiantly as the grossly incandescent Erdtree.
"Hello there, princess."
"Good morning!"
The woman couldn't help but smile. "What got you in such a good mood?"
"I don't know! I just woke up on the right foot, I assume." She shrugged, still smiling.
"Well, I believe it's safe to say that everyone would be smiling a lot more if you smiled like this more often." She handed up the heavy plates to Malenia, who bowed slightly ("only the head, not the neck, you are royalty and shouldn't bow to anyone but the queen", said her étiquette teacher).
"I can only hope the news are as good as my mood!" She said, staring at the servant.
"The news, the news..." The old woman fidgeted a bit, before remembering the big topic among servants. "Right. They said that a purple-haired young girl appeared to one of the rock wizards, and he invented many spells after that."
"The rock wizards... You mean a Carian?"
"Yes, young lady. He claims she was a saint. Saint Trina, he called her."
Malenia stayed mute for a moment, before thanking the old lady, and returning to her room, more confused than anything.

"Miquella, the food is here. Come on, wake up! Who knows what you'll turn into if you never wake up!"
There was another groan, and finally, her brother's face emerged from under the blanket. "What is happening? You're not so lo... so chipper usually..."
"I had a good sleep, and a very good dream! Come on, there's bread, and butter, and honey!"
"Honey and butter..." Miquella felt his mouth watering at the mention of honey, and he crawled out of the blanket with difficulty, before settling on dragging it with it, deciding to pull his legs out after eating. Malenia laughed as she watched him crawling like a slug with arms. He blushed, a bit irritated, but his frustration disappeared when he realized how strange Malenia's laugh was, and when he realized that it sounded strange to him because he never heard her laugh before.
"Come on, lest I eat all of it."
"You better not, I'll have a lot of energy to burn today!" He finally made his way to the table, and started devouring his part of the breakfast, until his hunger was partially satiated, and he could afford to eat slowlier. "So, you had a good night's sleep?"
"Yes!" She smiled while biting in a large piece of white bread, the honey shining in the morning sun. "I don't know why, I just had a very pleasant dream."
"I see. Do you remember what it was about?" Unbeknown to her, he was eyeing her up and down, before smiling to himself. Trina was doing an excellent job at helping his sister. Or was Malenia their sister, now?
"No. I can only remember the colours purple and red. And an adorable little face, I think."
Miquella froze for a moment, before picking another slice of bread, trying to act nonchalantly. "Red, huh? Any idea where that one comes from?"
Malenia didn't answer at first, and only considered the question after noticing he was staring at her. She shrugged, and picked some of her hair with a questioning stare.
"Maybe your hair, yes." He said, before promising himself to ask Trina what that red meant. If it was something that could cheer Malenia in the waking world, it'd be worth researching.
"Mmm. Oh yes, I forgot, this might be of interest to you."
He turned to her, mouth full of honey.
"I heard of a girl called Saint Trina appearing to a sorcerer from Caria. He discovered new spells thanks to her."
He swallowed quickly, almost choking, then shouted. "EXCUSE ME?!"

Chapter Text

Miquella was furious.
In front of him, Trina was smirking mischievously, her purple eyes brimming with naughtiness.
"Oh come on, big brother! I just lent a hand to a struggling researcher. Do you have any idea how awful his dreams were?"
"No."
"Oh. Too bad, because I don't either. But he was so happy when I talked with him, I swear, he was ready to marry me in the second."
Miquella crossed his arms, causing her to frown.
"Ha, don't start looking so strict." Then the smile came back. "You know I'm weak to authoritative boys. If you start looking like that, I'll melt just for you!" As she spoke, she seemed to become smaller.
He just shook his head. "You are impossible."
"I'm just you."
"Is it how Marika sees me?"
"This is how Mother sees you, indeed."
He flinched. "If you're me, why are you-"
"Because I can see things from her perspective, Miquella. She's not perfect, far from it, but she's not the complete monster you imagine."
Miquella stared at Trina's face. She had stopped smiling, her face totally serious, which surprised him. She never took anything seriously. He would talk about Malenia's scarlet rot and how it's ruining her health and life, and Trina would giggle whenever he said "scarlet". He would talk about his lastest attempt at pulling one over Marika's eyes, and she'd laugh when asking if he succeeded, knowing full well he didn't. "I find this hard to believe."
Trina chewed her tongue, seemingly holding back a long rant, which definitely got him curious. "Believe me."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you see her dreams?"
She stared at him for a while, hesitating to answer. It did not please him. "To a point. I can only peek, and she's not having good dreams."
"Tell me more."
"No."
He glared at her, and repeated himself. "Tell me more."
"I won't. You'll try to use it against her, and you'll hurt her for real. And this time, she won't let you walk away. Do you really want to taste her whip so much?"
He shivered.
"She would. Trust me on that. You might think she punished you excessively, but..." Trina placed her hand on Miquella's shoulder, which was something Malenia would do whenever she wanted him to listen attentively. "...compared to what she dreams about, it's just childplay."
He frowned. "Are you sure she's not dreaming about what she wants to-"
"No." Her tone was icy. "She dreams of the past, Miquella. Trust me, the little spankings you get are nothing."
He glared further, then shrugged. "Fine, if you say so, I believe you."
"Good! Because if you didn't..."
Her flirty tone got him curious. "If I didn't...?"
With a smile, Trina just pointed over his shoulder. When Miquella turned around, his stomach dropped to his feet. In front of him, was his mother, the Queen Marika the Eternal, flanked by that kitchen servant girl Leda, and a tall red-haired woman with a blindfold. They all looked down at him with furious expressions, Leda looking positively livid, while Marika had a nasty smile on her lips. Taking a few steps back, Miquella fell on his butt, sobbing in terror. "N-No! Not again!"
They all quickly disappeared, and Trina ran to him, hugging him tight. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it was just a little joke, just a joke! I'm sorry!"
Miquella hugged her back, still shaking.

Chapter Text

Marika was smiling.
It was the pleasant, warm smile of a very busy and stressed person getting to finally did something she enjoyed, that provided entertainment and stress relief. The smile of a queen, constantly attacked on all sides from all kind of enemies, some fictionals, some born of her own trauma, finally getting to rest.
It was just very upsetting to Radagon that his half only had that kind of smile when spanking their last son. Miquella, on another hand, was clearly not enjoying himself one bit. Marika had rolled up his tunic and peeled his underwear off, and was smacking his naked rear with only her hand, but still most of her strength, leaving red handprints wherever her hand landed on Miquella's fleeing butt. Sometimes on his left cheek, sometimes the right, sometimes her hand covered both, and sometimes, she'd spank his sitting spots, making Radagon wince. When that'd happen, he'd open his mouth to protest, but Marika would immediately glare at him, and he'd close his mouth and let it happen.
After what felt like hours, Miquella's rear was nothing but red. Marika promptly put him back on his feet, and ordered him off. He was crying too much to even answer.

When they were finally alone, Radagon asked, his voice icy. "What did he do?"
The Queen shrugged. "Threw a tantrum."
He stood there, not moving, while his half picked up a stone tablet, and began reading, seemingly uncaring of the fact that her palm was red from all the slapping. "...what kind of tantrum?" He insisted.
"He wanted to go to Caria. I said no. He insisted. I corrected him."
"That, you did." Radagon said bitterly, causing her to raise an eyebrow.
"What are you mad about? I had a valid reason, this time."
"It's your happy smile that disturbs me."
She put down the stone tablet and crossed her fingers, resting her chin on her intertwined fingers. Radagon knew that smile. "What about it? Do tell me?"
"You always look so happy to spank Miquella."
"Because I am."
The answer left Radagon silent.

Miquella kicked the door open, walked in, and jumped on his bed. Malenia put down her wooden sword, went to close the door, and picked up the ointment.
"Say it."
"Miquella, don't vent your rage on me." She answered promptly, as irritated as he was.
He stayed silent for a moment, his teeth clenched, while she waited. "...sorry."
Satisfied, she rubbed the ointment on his red rear, a bit shocked to see just how red it was. From the bottom of the back to the upper thighs, their mother spanked him even more strictly than usual. "What happened?"
"We're not visiting Aunt Rennala."
Malenia said nothing, but her shoulders dropped, and she let out a small sigh that he heard.
"Sorry." He repeated. "I'll find a way."
"Please don't. I feel like Mother is having fun playing with you."
"I just need to win once. Just once."
Malenia's hand landed on his rear, causing the demigod to shout in pain, arching his back, a braid flying around with enough force to send the wooden little pot flying.

Chapter Text

Malenia was standing in the void.

No, this was not true. She was standing in front of a table, with a high chair behind her. The table was covered with all kind of spanking implements, and her hands were shaking just thinking about which one to pick up and try. The leather belt looked nasty, thick that it was, through the metallic buckle worried her, she'd have to fold it properly. The leather paddle appealed to her, it looked like one of these exotic weapons that her swordsmanship teacher showed her once, an urumi, if shorter, and her heart was beating fast at the idea of attempting to use her swordsmanship skill to spanking Trina.
Said Trina was nowhere in sight, but her presence could be felt. If she focused, Malenia could see her, peeking at the implements she picked up and tested, biting her lower lips in a nervous, but excited pout, or bending over the table to play with a hairbrush, her tunic and hair suddenly a lot shorter, as if to tease Malenia, who couldn't help but stare.
"That one looks nice." Malenia mumbled to herself, holding a strange implement, with a wooden handle, and a leather part, cut in two. Trina's whisper reminded her that it was a tawse, and she nodded happily. Some part of her remembered doing this over and over, over several dozens nights, but all these memories were blurred and blent together, only coming back when she found herself in Trina's domain once more. Trina herself was a mystery, Malenia couldn't remember accurately who she was, but she knew she could trust the girl. She was a friend, and in Malenia's eyes, that word meant a lot.
The implements and the table disappeared in the darkness, and Malenia found herself sitting in a chair, the royal library slowly appearing around her. She had a little smile, amused that Trina brought up the library, where a spanking would definitely be the last thing happening, given the librarians' dedication to silence and focus. Then again, Malenia was Malenia, Queen Marika's daughter, so she doubted anyone would dare to talk ill of her. Now, if Miquella was to do this, he'd definitely get in trouble, and get summoned to Queen Marika's room (or rather, dragged there kicking and screaming murder, which would get him double, or even triple if Marika was in a bad mood).

The door creaked, making Malenia jump, and Trina walked in, her usual smile hidden under a carefully-crafted contrite expression. Her pink hair reaching down to her naked feet. She closed the door after her, and slowly walked over to Malenia, her hands squeezing the hem of her tunic. Malenia couldn't help but smile, her playmate was definitely too sassy to even pretend she was sorry.
"Well, here you are." Malenia said, in a tone that was intended to sound severe, but came off as playful.
"Sorry..." Trina fidgeted, looking at the ground.
Melanie leaned forward, placing the tawse on her lap, as she saw her mother do with Miquella once, and opened her mouth. And immediately forgot her lines, staying motionless, flabbergasted.
Trina kept looking at the ground, before raising them, her act forgotten as she eyed her playmate with curiosity and confusion. Then she realized what was going on, and she exploded in laughter.
"Come on, I'm trying... I never scolded anyone before..." Malenia said, blushing at bit, but smiling at Trina's mirth.
"Sorry, sorry, it's just..." Trina wheezed a bit, barely catching her breath.
Malenia grumbled a bit, but more for the appearances than out of real frustration.
"Should we skip the play and get to it, then?" Trina asked, her sassy smile back on her lips, and Malenia realized that Trina was as tall as her.
She nodded.

Trina waved her hair, shortening them to her waist, and then she got over Malenia's lap.
Malenia held back a squeak at the sudden proximity, which caused Trina to smile. She couldn't tell how she knew that the girl was smiling, but Malenia knew somehow. "You always do this, and I never get tired of it."
"Hmpf." She raised her hand, and slapped the girl's clothed rear.
"Ah!" Trina let out a gasp, more surprised than pained, but Malenia still had the satisfaction of feeling her jumping against her lap.
So she continued, slapping slowly, enjoying Trina's fidgeting against her, giving the girl plenty of time to recover after every slap, through feeling the thick cloth muffling the spanking slowly got on Malenia's nerves. And so, after a decent warm-up, she rolled up Trina's tunic, and lowered her panties, just the minimum to bare her rear.
Then she picked the tawse. It felt heavier and larger than earlier in her hand, so she nervously swung it in the air, just to be sure. It was, indeed, heavier than she felt, but the noise as the two leather straps whistled through the air was also a lot more satisfying. It was when she swung it again, that Malenia noticed. Trina was clenching her butt whenever the leather whistled, as if preparing for the impact.
A nasty smile appeared on Malenia's face, and she kept swinging in the air, without saying a word, until the girl over her lap barely flinched at the noise. Then, in a gigantic move, Malenia raised the tawse way over her shoulder, way above her head, ccranking her arm as far as she could go, and brought it down with all the speed and strength that she could muster as an apprentice swordswoman. The leather made a low whistling sound as it cut through the non-existing dream air, and landed on Trina's naked rear with such strength that, for a second, the entire library, the chair, and the tawse flickered out.
"AAAH!" As Trina screamed, everything came back, and she began to push against Malenia's thigh, her feet kicking the air wildly, a perfectly scarlet couple of stripes fully covering her pale rear. "L-Let me get off! Please!"
Immediately, Malenia dropped the tawse (who seemed to fade through the floor and disappeared), and helped Trina back to her feet, and she immediately rubbed her butt. "Did I go too strong?"
"N-No." The repressed sob in Trina's voice did nothing to assuage Malenia's guilt. "I just... wasn't expecting this."
"Look, I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
"Of course I do, silly, but you have a lot of repressed anger, don't you?"
Trina's voice as she spoke was different. Different enough to cause a chill to run down Malenia's spine. But as she opened her mouth to answer, the room began to fade out, but instead of darkness, the world seemed to light up, turning grey, and Malenia felt herself sinking down.
"Curse, already morning. And we were just getting started." The girl, which shocked her playmate. "Okay, tomorrow, I'll put the tawse directly into your hand, okay?"
"I..." But because Malenia could answer, Trina jumped forward, and was hugging her.
"Please, don't get mad at Miquella. Get mad at me if you want, but forgive him, he really means well, this I can promise."

Before Malenia couldn't answer, Trina already disappeared. In her place, was Miquella, sleeping deeply, and hugging his sister in his sleep.
Malenia stretched, trying to move, but Miquella's hold on her tightened. She caressed his head, marvelling at his hair, never tangled, always so golden. Her beloved little brother, so smart, so cultured, and yet so stubborn, and so idiotic.
"I wonder what you'll do to get yourself over Mother's lap, today..."
Still, he was her brother.
So, for now, she would silence that frustrating feeling of something grandiose being left unfinished, and wake him up. They both had lessons starting immediately after breakfast, after all.

Chapter Text

Miquella opened his eyes with a gasp.

Then, he stretched, and tried to get up, to notice that his body felt weak. Impossible weak, as if he's been sleeping for hours. Then, he realized that the ceiling wasn't familiar. And that he seemed to be sleeping in a coffing, much to his horror.
"What in the-?"
Standing up hurriedly, he crawled out of the wooden coffin, before collapsing on his knees. He felt weak! So weak!
"M... Malenia? Guards? Anyone?"
He looked around, and hissed in annoyance when he realized where he was. He wasn't sure of the exact location, but all that stone around him? He clearly was back on the Lands Between, in his mother's territory. His own lands barely used any stone.
Uneasily, he looked around, almost expecting Marika to come out of the darkness, holding her accursed hairbrush, with this damnable smug grin on her face. But to his relief, nobody came out. He sat on the cold stone, trying to catch his breath. He felt tired, hungry and, more than everything else, very confused.
"Calm down, focus. What is the last thing you remember?"
Miquella put his head in his hands. He remembered his mother Marika, his beloved father, and his adorable sister, but little beyond this. Then, where did these memories of a halig tree that he would come home came from? This wasn't right, something was tempering with his memories, and carved large parts out of it.
"Miquella the Kind, this is who I am..."
Three words came back, striking fear in his heart, and causing him to place a protective hand on his rear. 'Miquella the Honest'. He let out a panicked yelp, almost begging for his mother's indulgence, before realizing he was alone. Well and truly alone.
Thankfully alone.
His face turned red as he felt grateful that nobody saw that embarrassing outburst.

"Right! Let's see!"
Miquella stood up, before stretching his arms and legs, lifting his tunic a bit for the exercise. It went all the way to his ankles, and would definitely be an hindrance if he had to run, jump, climb, or even walk a bit faster than the lazy stroll he was currently doing as he walked around the room.
"Clearly, I'm underground. And it seems to be a mausoleum of sort? Maybe a bonehoard?"
The lack of decorations annoyed him more than he was ready to admit.  He was trying to be humble, but the oversized wooden coffin he awoke in was just too much for him. Humble or not, he was still a demigod, and if he was to die, he expected more than old, rotten wood to infer his body.
"I wonder if Marika knows about it. Did she get me killed and dumped my body in a catacomb along with the commoners?"
Miquella refrained a shiver. He still remembered very vividly his mother's expression, the first time he refused to call her his mother. And he also remembered how quickly she pulled him over her lap, and how Godwyn tried to lure Malenia out of the room to offer Miquella some privacy. Afterward, even Godwyn scolded Miquella, and Malenia added her two runes as well. She looked really close to spanking him herself. Ever since, Miquella always shivered when he said his mother's name out loud, with that childish impression that he was doing something he shouldn't.
"I wonder, is Godwyn finally dead?" Said Miquella, his eyes moving to the walls of the room. There were many coffins, haphazardly thrown together. Here and here, a rotten plank would break, leaving a dessicated limb dangling. One of them was still firmly grasping a hand axe.
Miquelle swallowed, and came closer, before trying to snatch the axe, but the old hand refused to abandon it, and he still had the strength of a child.
"Damn! If I meet anyone hostile, I'm dead." He groaned, kicking the old hand petulantly, before crossing his arms and sitting. If he was unlucky, he'd come face to face with a gargoyle, or a ghost. One of these creatures who cared little for his words or his appearance. And if he was lucky, he would only meet one of Lleyndell's, and if that happened, he definitely could attempt to smooth things over.
"I can try. I don't fancy staying down there, be it capture or execution, it'll be a better end than staying here." Through he had little doubt that any capture would mean torture, and he wasn't looking forward to discovering what horrible spanking implements spawned in the Lands Between while he was... sleeping? Dead?

Chapter Text

Miquella blinked, and covered his eyes.

The fresh air felt warm after the coldness of the bonehoard, and his tunic finally felt comfortable. On uneasy feet, he walked forward, driven by an odd feeling. Finally, he saw it. A glitter of gold, drifting in the wind.
"How desperate are you, mother?" He asked bitterly, all too aware of what this was. Queen Marika's grace, her rotten gold, driving him to the destination she intended for him. But to guide him, of all people? Even a tarnished would be a better fit for whatever Marika plannd, and Marika hated the tarnished ones probably even more than she hated Miquella. Probably.
Well, Miquella didn't remember hearing anything about his mother spanking tarnished, so...

He walked closer to the golden grace, and waved his hand. It immediately illuminated, and Miquella's annoyance was replaced by an artificial serenity. He felt calm again.
"Greetings."
Miquella's heart jumped in his chest, but his body only leisurely reacted to the intrusion, his eyes lazily turning toward the cloaked woman who just appeared by the relaxing, soothing gold.
"I am Melina, and you, tarnished, are maidenless."
Miquella shook his head slowly, causing the newcomer to freeze, with only a slight raise of her eyebrows to show her surprise. "I am no tarnished, Melina. You have the wrong person."
A smile appeared on the woman's face. "You are but a child, allow me to adjust my speech so that you may understand."
"What?" Miquella started to frown, the soothing effect of the grace barely countering the irritation he felt as the woman removed her hood, staring at him with one eye.
"Me want go big tree. You want go there. So go." She spoke, slowly, as if speaking to an ox.
Finally, the unnatural, forced serenity disappeared, and Miquella felt unrestrained anger. "You know, for someone asking a favour, you have a weird way of doing so, talking to me like so!"
The woman's brows furrowed slightly. Has Miquella been more attentive, he would've noticed how angry she was. "You're pretty arrogant, you petulant child! Don't you know where you are?"
"Of course I do, I'm in..." He looked around, hesitated, then stood up, and looked around some more. Meanwhile, Melina's eye followed him, eventually falling on his rear, and a nasty smile formed on her lips. "Rot, this is Limgrave. It's a long way from Lleyndell."
"Cursing now? We can't have that, can we?"
Miquella stared at her, and slowly spoke as he crossed his arms, imitating Radagon whenever he'd get angry. "I feel like you're not taking me seriously."
"What ever gave you this idea?" A nasty smile still on her lips, she stood up as well, and crossed her arms, looking down on him.
Miquella's stare turned into a frowning glare.
"Drop that attitude, child. I don't know what house birthed you, but now you are but a kid."
"I am no child. I am likely older than you, Melina." Miquella's tone was icy.
Her eye was equally icy as she stared at him. Then, a nasty smile appeared on her lips as she uncrossed her arms. "Indeed, you look familiar. You remind me of one of Queen Marika's children, Miquella the Honest."
Miquella shivered when he heard that nickname. Then Melina grabbed his tunic and pulled him.

To his surprise, Miquella found himself with his head shoved in the grass. He absent-mindedly noticed that the grass has been grazed recently, a lot of the blades chewed short. Then he felt Melina's hand on his waist, pulling his butt up, before her leg landed on his calves, locking him in a weird position, as if he was prostrated on his knees. He weakly tried to struggle, but felt something close tighter around him, and realized that the woman, Melina, had him completely locked in what appeared to be a wrestling move?
"What- How- Who taught you that?!" He blubbered, more confused and surprised than worried.
"My brother did. He always said that a girl should be able to defend herself." Melina answered, before happily humming. Miquella become crimson when he felt her hand on his backside, caressing his rear through his tunic.
He opened his mouth to protest, but gave up with a sigh. When has it ever work? If anything, complaining would only motivate her to spank him even harder.
"Mmm." Melina's happy humming turned into a disappointed humming. Was she really expecting him to struggle? "Well, no matter."
The woman's hand left his butt, and came back smacking. The hit had enough strength behind it to push Miquella's waist forward, driving his face deeper in the grass. The noise of the smack didn't go far, but Melina's hand quickly left the sore print behind, and came back. Over, and over, and over, and over. Miquella clenched his teeth, focusing on keeping his body under control to not give Melina the satisfaction to see him cry or kick, but also because he knew from past experience with Marika that not showing any reaction would make her lose interest faster.
"You're no fun, "Miquella". I bet the real Miquella would be actually fun to spank. I'll give you this, though..." The spanking stopped, and Miquella felt her hand moving on his chastised rear. "You have a nice, bubbly butt."
Stubbornly keeping his mouth shut, Miquella felt a tingle of satisfaction at her frustration.
"Maybe I should get a switch and pull this tunic up, give you a real spanking." The way she insisted on the word "real" gave Miquella goosebumps.
Still, he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
"Fine, fine. You're really no fun. You might be the real Miquella, who knows?"
Miquella was released.

He immediately stood up, rubbing his butt, and wiping his face clean from the dirt. Melina was still sitting on the floor, and she was staring at him intensely with her single eye, studying his face with attention, before she slowly stood up, and leaned forward, her face brushing up against his.
He did not budge, staying in place, both hands on his sore butt. It wasn't the worst spanking he received, but he was still angry at the woman for spanking him, Miquella the Kind, demigod and son of Queen Marika the Eternal.
"You are Miquella, are you?" She finally asked.
He nodded, before bitterly adding. "I thought the golden eyes would be a giveaway."
Melina's reaction surprised Miquella. She did not grovel, beg for forgiveness, or look even remotely guilty. Instead, she frowned. "You are meant to be dead. Why are you alive again?"
"If you have a complain about it, ask Marika. She's the one who revived me, and I'm bound again to her will."
Again, Melina frowned, even harder this time. "I am sure Queen Marika had a good reason, even to a betrayer like you."
The realization that there was genuine anger in her voice surprised Miquella, but also irritated him as well. "Why do you care? Marika arrived centuries before you spawned, specter. You have nothing to gain by following whatever nefarious plan she dragged both of us in, not even your freedom. Neither of us will be free of her by following her will."
Melina clenched her teeth and, for a moment, Miquella thought she'd either spank him again, or downright attack him. But instead, she just put her hood back on, and disappeared, leaving Miquella alone.
"Is that all? You just coming here, and..." He blushed, and tried to sit down again, but he could still feel her hand on his rear.
Sighing, Miquella stood up, and began walking at random. The site of grace gave him a direction, but to the rot with it!

Chapter Text

Miquella was sulking.

After the debacle with Melina, he had found himself in too much pain to sit by the site of grace, so he found himself on the road again. A bit earlier, he spotted one of Lleyndell's sentinel, a heavily armored knight, just ahead on the road, and his first instinct was to wave to the knight, but then Miquella remembered that he was missing a lot of his memories, and that, therefore, him abandoning Lleyndell and escaping to the Halig Tree might be fresh in his memory, it wouldn't be for a knight loyal to his... to Marika. He had tried to peek into the future, and what he saw demoralized him. In nine futures out of ten, the knight would yank him up by his tunic, lay him over his saddle, and proceed to spank him vigorously while slowly making his way back to Lleyndell. In the last one, the knight would just chop him down in a single swing.
Therefore Miquella gave up on the idea, and left the road to hide in the bushes, waiting for the knight to be gone, before he resumed his walk. It was cowardly, yes, but Miquella never fancied himself a fighter. He had a basic training in using a sword, of course, as would anyone remotely noble, but when it was found that he had no peculiar talent for it and no real interest, Marika suspended fencing lessons for him, and warned him that from now on, he'd have to fight with a dagger if he ever was in trouble. Then, she spanked him. Miquella rubbed his butt, the memory still painful, he could still hear his own cries, and Marika's satisfied humming. Was it really a surprise that he couldn't bring himself to call this woman his mother?

Then, he spotted it, in the distance. An old, abandoned chapel, with the roof missing, but the light of a warm fire, and the call of a grace. Walking in, he couldn't help but frown heavily when he saw the big stone statue of the Queen Marika.
"Not a fan of the Golden Order, stranger?"
Miquella jumped at the voice. Near the fire, there was a man, currently repairing something that looked like a musical instrument.
"Oh, hehe, apologies, I didn't meant to scare you, child." The voice seemed almost reassuring, but there was a heavy dose of caution to it.
"Good morning, sir. If you're not fan of the Golden Order yourself, why seek refuge in one of their... place?" He almost said 'refuge'.
The merchant laughed, but his eyes weren't leaving Miquella. "Heh heh heh, we have to do with what we can, little one. What is a lad like you doing alone? You're not tarnished, are you?"
"I don't actually know." Miquella walked closer, and sat by the fire. He noticed the man moving to face him, holding his instrument closely. "I am not seeking to harm you, sir. I am unarmed myself." Miquella smiled, trying to be reassuring.
"By the flames! Your eyes! You're no tarnished, are you?" He stood up instantly.
The violent reaction surprised Miquella, and he stared at the man. "I haven't had time to check my eyes, I woke up today. What's wrong with them?"
"They're golden! But the tarnisheds have gloomy, dull eyes!"
"Please, my good sir, believe me when I say I don't know. I appeared to have been revived like any tarnished, but I have lost a great deal of my memories and I am at a loss."
The man observed him, calmed down but still cautious. Then, he sat down and started working on his instrument again. "I believe you, child. It is just as you say, I do not like the Golden Order, and I found myself on the road pretty often under pain of jail or worse."
"Yes, Marika's reign was very extreme. I never understood her disdain for these born without the grace of gold."
The man shrugged, then gave Miquella a side glance. "Say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about something called the Great Caravan, would you?"
"Only rumours, I'm afraid. Worshippers of the Frenzied Flame, they used to travel around the land to avoid capture."
Miquella did not notice the nasty look the man sent him. "Indeed, they worshipped the frenzied flame. It is still a better god to follow than the greater will."
"I can't disagree with that." Miquella said, warming his hand to the fire, the night falling quickly. "Marika's zeal in applying its tenets made her more enemies than friends. If she was here, she'd say she doesn't need friends."
"You seem to know Queen Marika rather well. A friend of yours?"
Miquella frowned. "I don't want to call her mother, but she is. She'll be a shadow on my life until I rest under the ground."
"Ha, so you're Miquella."
Miquella felt a shiver go down his spine. In a panic, he turned to the merchant, just in time to see that he was removing the strings from his musical bow, and was swinging it in the air. The whistle it made caused Miquella's stomach to tie in a knot.

He quickly stood up and tried to run, but before he could go, the man had already grabbed his tunic.
"I know it's unfair, but I have a lot of bones to pick with your mother, boy, and you're here."
Miquella felt the merchant pulling him under his arm, the thin arm coiling around his waist, his hand resting on Miquella's stomach as he held the demigod bent over, his legs and arms dangling. Then he felt the bow against his rear.
"Oh no, please. Not this!" He tried to beg, but the merchant didn't even dignify his begging with an answer.
The improvised cane went up, and came back on Miquella's clothed butt with a loud, high-pitched whistle, and a cracking noise, immediately followed by a loud cry.
"Don't bother crying, Miquella. I know Queen Marika used to do even worse to you."
The grasp around the demigod grew tighter, and the cane started moving in rhythm, every hit causing him to cry. The cane came down, leaving red stripes that neither Miquella nor the man could see, but who didn't seem to disappear, feeling very sore despite his desperate efforts to wiggle and fidget out of the way. Then, the cane came down again, the new line crossing over an existing one, and Miquella cried out loud, tears falling off his cheeks and landing on the floor, easily disappearing in the darkness of the falling night.

"Are you feeling better?"
"Leave me alone." Answered Miquella, curled in a foetal position, facing the wall. He was trying so hard to not caress his very painful butt out of pride.
With a sigh, the man stood up and walked closer. Miquella shuddered, fearing another spanking, but he instead felt a blanket being placed on him. "Just a loan, I'll take it back tomorrow."
Sniffing, Miquella held to the blanket, and shivered in the cold night. "Thanks."
"My name is Kalé. Sorry for not introducing myself."

Chapter Text

Miquella woke up in a jolt.
In front of him, on the other side of the fire, was sitting Kalé, eyeing him with surprise.
"Woah. Do you always wake up like that...?" He hesitated at the end of his question, clearly wondering how he should call Miquella.
"No. No I don't." Miquella panted, trying to recover his breath. In his dream, he felt great outrage, but directed toward him, as if he was blamed for something he forgot. He glared at the man. "But usually I don't get spanked before sleeping."
"Careful, boy." Kalé pretended to pull the string off his bow. "It's early in the morning, but I'm ready for another round."
Miquella tried to appear brave, but he shivered in fear. The man stared at him for a moment, yellow eyes versus golden eyes, and eventually broke the silence.
"Well, trust to be told, I think I should thank you."
Miquella glared even harder.
"Oh no, not for the entertainement, through it was fun!" Under his mask, the man was smiling. "No, I mean the company. I'm a yellow merchant, and I lost my kin. It's good sometimes to have someone around, even if they're just sleeping."
Miquella stared at him some more, trying to determine if the merchant was mocking him or not. After a while, the demigod was surprised to realize that the man was serious, and talking in good faith. "I'm glad you appreciate my company, through I'm afraid the pleasure was one-sided."
The merchant only laughed as Miquella properly folded the blanket he was loaned earlier, and left it on the floor.
"I have my own road to follow."
"Oh yeah. You still have a sister, right? I'm afraid I can't really be of help, I'm not even sure if your father is Godwyn or Radagon, but I think you can ask the Albinaurics for help. They had you in high regards, maybe they can help you?"
Miquella stared at Kalé, surprised. "You are... helping me?"
"Heh. Why not? After all, you're not the Miquella I heard of."
"And what did you hear about me?"
"That you're Miquella the Honest, too honest to pull even the smallest lie, too honest to do any of the backstabbing necessary to be a noble in Queen Marika's court, and way too honest to-"
"Thank you! I get it now! And by Marika's grave, I regret asking!"
Kalé laughed. "And I'm skipping the best part, since you already know the best part of your own legend."
Miquella clenched his teeth, and caressed his butt. He was sure he could feel the swollen stripes that the improvised cane left on his rear, cutting through his tunic as if it wasn't even here.

The demigod stomped away, sulking and fuming after Kalé. More than once, his fury against the yellow merchants almost had it walking into a sentinel or a highwayman, but he still couldn't let it rest. The fact that his tunic was rubbing constantly against his still sore butt did little to calm him down, too.
Even reaching another site of grace did not help with his anger. The calming warmth of the grace felt less potent than it was.
"Hah hah hah..."
And Melina's joyless laugh did not help, either.
"That was an interesting sight, surely."
"Don't you have better things to do than spy on me?"
"Not really."
He eyed her. "I wasn't expecting you to admit your powerlessness so easily."
A little twitch of her lips gave Miquella some satisfaction, he touched a sore spot. "You touched a sore spot, Miquella the Honest. I am but a specter, only carrying Queen Marika the Eternal's will."
"And yet you are unknown to me."
"Queen Marika had many secrets, young man. You don't know everything about her."
It was Miquella's turn to hide his irritation. Which, unfortunately, Melina noticed, if her joyless smile was any indication.
"You're not a tarnished, but you might be able to progress further than they did."
"I take it Marika's plans are not working."
"Queen Marika's plans are simple." There was a small emphasis on the word "queen".
"And they only involve causing pain and misery on a large scale, as always. This is why I didn't want to go alongside them."
"I have heard a different reason for your petty rebellion."
Miquella stared at Melina, but she returned the stare, unimpressed with his wrath. Worse even, she felt encouraged.
"Indeed, I have heard tales of little Miquella, attempting some intriguing, getting caught by the Queen Miquella, and firmly and strongly corrected in front of her entire court."
Miquella turned crimson as he remembered the scene. Radahn was doing his best to chat with Malenia, while Godwyn and Radagon looked at him with sorry eyes. The inquisitor Rikard and Ranni, while not really being part of Marika's court, were also staring, Rikard with a bored, deadpan expression, and Ranni seemed to radiate with glee. "How... What do you know?!"
It's when he saw Melina's smile grow that the demigod realized how much he screwed up. He shouldn't have asked. "My dearest Miquella, everything knew about this. Ranni talked to the maids and the servants, and they repeated it, and soon, all of Lleyndell knew about it. They knew how much went down, and how much of a crybaby you were."
"You!" Miquella stood up, and grabbed a handful of dirt, that he threw at Melina. She disappeared without an effort.

Chapter Text

Miquella was not having a good day.

He was currently bent over Melina's bony leg, his face resting on his elbow, while his other arm was being held and pulled out of the way by the woman's surprisingly strong grasp, and his legs were blocked, locked by her other leg, who coiled around them, like a snake. And when he brought up the comparaison, he could feel his tunic being rolled up, and realized with terror that the specter was about to spank him directly on his underwear.
As to confirm his fear, he heard an amused giggle, and vigorously struggled, trying to push and wiggle his way out of it, but all he got for his troubles was a sharp slap on his rear, almost directly on his bare ass. The palm landed on his underwear, the fingers on his naked buttcheek, and he let out a surprised and unhappy groan.
"I cannot explain why, but it's such an odd pleasure to spank you, Miquella."
Melina punctuated her sentence with more small slaps, her leg coiling around's Miquella's so tight that his knees bumped painfully into one another.
"I can understand why Queen Marika made it such a show. I only regret not being there myself."
He gritted his teeth. The worst wasn't the pain, since, after all, Marika went at him with belts, straps, and paddles, and left him howling in agony, and unable to even bear the weight of a silk sheet when he tried to sleep. No, the worst was the humiliation. Miquella wasn't as arrogant as his siblings, except maybe Morgott who had the self-esteem of a centipede, but he still understood his role in society as a member of the royal family.
Melina's out of character humming interrupted his thoughts, and, in the confusion, he relaxed his body. The next smack was especially hard, and he felt like her hand was suddenly made out of hardwood. The shock sent him forward, and he raised his feet, crying in pain. The following silence was deafening, the noise and the following cry resonating on the lake.
"This one really got to you, I see. Shame I cannot do it too often, it sounds like what you need to focus." There was a rustling, as if someone was shaking their hands while being burdened by a long sleeve. "A nice, good, hard, and long spanking." Every word was followed by a sharp smack. Sometimes landing on his butt, which was painful but manageable, and sometimes landing on his delicate sitting spots, which always made him kick the air. Going by Melina's amused snort, she enjoyed the show, and going by her focusing on his sitting spots, she enjoyed causing him pain.

After a few long, very long minutes, Miquella found himself fred from his tormentor's lap, and kneeling in the grass, with his tunic still up, caressing his sore butt feverishly. In front of him was standing Melina, all traces of amusement gone from her face as she scolded him.
"There is nothing for you here in Limgrave. You must head north toward Liurnia."
"But..." He tried to talk, his hands still holding his butt, his buttcheeks so warm that he felt like he was resting his hands on an oven.
"No."
"The people in the ruins-"
"Forget them." Melina's voice was cutting. "The more time you waste, the more people will suffer. Hurry and get to Lleyndell."
He opened his mouth again, ready to convince her with talks of raising armies, making her admit that he was alone and not really fit for combat.
She removed her belt, folded it, and cracked it loudly.
He closed his mouth. There were no needs for words.

Chapter Text

Roderika was not having a good day.
Having just escaped from Godrick's castle, with the screams of her friends still ringing in her ears, she found refuge in a desolate, shanty wooden cabin, where she collapsed, casted a quick spell of sanctuary, and finally collapsed, but this time, fully and totally. She cried and cried, thankful that the wind was still blowing hard enough to cover her cries, and only stopped when she felt too tired to keep going.

This is when she arrived. At first, Roderika didn't notice her walking in, and only realized someone was in when she rubbed her eyes, mistakingly believing the sun was rising. When she lowered her hand and saw it wasn't the sun, but some blonde, young girl, the woman felt so confused that she felt like crying again.
"Good day. I'm sorry, I thought I heard someone."
The girl smiled at her, and Roderika's heart leaped. "I... G... Good day."
She extended her hand, but Roderika did not move.
"D-Don't sully your hand, I-I'm a coward. They came with me, a-accross the sea, and they w-were taken, and grafted. Even their heads...taken. Taken and stuck to the spider." She lowered her head, tears threatening to come out.
There was a little silence, and the girl moved closer, sitting next to Roderika. The woman jumped when she felt a little hand resting on her shoulder. "They followed you all the way, so you must have been an amazing person, haven't you?"
"I-I don't think so. I want to be like everyone, b-but my arms, my legs, I don't want to lose them."
"I know of a person who lost a leg and an arm. She was still an amazing swordswoman." Roderika turned her head to face the newcomer, and she was met with an angelic face, bearing a confused but benevolent smile. "Why would you lose your limbs to a spider?"
"I-In the castle, there is a creature, like a butcher, but a flesh spider. It took my companions, and t-took their arms and legs. I wanted to join them, but I feared the pain."
The girl shivered, fidgeting a bit in her place, moving her buttocks around the cold, hard floor of the ruined cabin. "I see what you mean. We all want to avoid pain, as much as possible."
The wind howled again, and Roderika could swear she heard a cracking noise in the wind.
The girl's hand on her shoulder tightened. "S-Speaking of pain, I should really go! I'm in a hurry!"
"What do pain have to do with your travel, young one? Pain is what you'll find if you go to that castle, you know?"
She stood up, nervously smiling, and brushed some dust off her tunic. "I fear that, in my case, pain is what I risk if I wait too long. I have a certain person following me closely, and disapproving of any misadventure, after all." She mumbled to herself, but not quietly enough for Roderika to not hear her. "Getting belted would really suck, especially now."

Then, the girl left, disappearing behind a corner of the house. Roderika saw a golden glow slowly fade away in the distance, as if swallowed by the furious wind.
And the woman let out a loud sigh, and opened her hand. Her own nails finally stopped digging into her palms, the skin bruised and almost cut.
"What was wrong with this lad? What is wrong with me?" She whined.
"You have met with Miquella, your heart has been stolen by his kindness," said a whisper in the wind.
"W-What? Miquella? ...miquella?" She said, recognizing the name, before she shouted, as loudly as she could. "WAIT, 'HIS'?!"

Chapter Text

Miquella was not happy.

Walking through this old battlefield covered with swords was not making him happy. Getting insulted from afar was not making him happy either. Getting attacked by his half-brother Morgott, and repeatedly referred to as "foul tarnished", with his attempt at explaining himself earning him a nasty hit of the cane in the chest, causing him to run away did no wonders to his mood.
As he sat down at another site of grace, Miquella pulled on his tunic, and inspected his chest. A large bruise had formed where Morgott's stone cane landed. It didn't hurt enough for any of his ribs to have been broken, and the grace removed the pain. It took decades but Marika finally did something for him, he thought bitterly as the site worked its magic.
"Are you taking a break?"
The crack of the leather made Miquella stand up quickly. "No! I was just resting!"
On the other side of the site, was Melina, staring at him with her single eye. "Really now?"
"Yes, yes!"
She kept staring a bit longer, and relaxed suddenly, her shoulders dropping. Miquella swore he could hear her clicking her tongue.

Miquella walked through the guards room. One of the servants raised his hand to stop, but Miquella just smiled at him and the man's hand fell back on his side. Miquella pushed forward, jumping up and down the large castle, unable to hide a smile. Despite the current situation he found himself, this was really fun.
A few crows stared at him, but a smile and a little wave, and they stayed in their tree, looking at him with bemused eyes.
Eventually, Miquella up in the rafters, looking down at a most curious creature. At first, he believed it to be a crab. Then, he believed it to be a spider. Nausea took root in Miquella stomach when he realized that this was a giant flesh thing. It was extremely rude to call it a thing, and Miquella was a polite boy.
"What in the blaze?"
But even he had his limit, and the sheer size of the monster, coupled to its many limbs...
"How many people ended in this?"
"Too many to count, Miquella."
His hands clenched against the wooden railing as he looked down, doing his best to hide his surprise. "Melina."
"Miquella."
"Am I going too slowly for you?"
"Mmm..." He bit his lip, fearing the answer. "No, you're fine. No need for a reminder yet."
He let out a silent, relieved sigh. "Why come out?"
"I was bored."
The demigod glanced at her, but found himself confused by her expression. She hid it well, her face mostly unexpressive, but from little angles at the edge of the mouth and the eyebrows, she looked sad, her only eye staring at the thing below them. After a while, he forced a question. "How long was it?"
"It is not important." Her eye moved to study him, before it retreated to the thing again. "It has been too long."
"Who else did you contact? How many tarnisheds before me?"
"Speaking as if you weren't a tarnished, Miquella the Honest."
Losing patience, he grabbed her cheeks, and forced her to face him. "Look at my eyes, Melina. Are these the eyes of one who has lost the grace of gold?"
"No, certainly not." Her eye widened. She was panicking, but she hid it well.
"I thought so. Estranged from the Golden Order I may be, but I am still of gold."
He released her, causing her to back up a few steps. "You... How will you deal with this thing, Godrick's scion?"
"I assume..." The demigod walked closer, staring at the scuttering monster. "It's in pain. Can I alleviate it?"
"You mean killing it? You're no Queen Marika, she could fell it in a single swing."
Miquella nodded. "She definitely would, but I was thinking of something more humane."
"It's not human anymore. Barely above an Omen."
"I will see what I can do."
"Oh, and Miquella?"
He turned to her, a politely curious look on his face.
"Don't touch me ever again."
"You touched me first. On my butt. Several times."
"I know, but..." Melina shivered. "I'm a specter, I touch others, I'm not supposed to be tangible. You shouldn't be able to touch me unless I want it."
Miquella smiled smugly.

While Melina disappeared with a sigh, Miquella looked for stairs to go down.

Chapter Text

Miquella was not having a good day.
Fidgeting in place, he was trying to find a comfortable way to sit by the site of grace, the grace's usual soothing effect seemingly not working while he was in pain. He briefly passed a hand over his rear, thankful that the creature's rampage did not damage his clothes. Over his buttcheeks, he could feel swollen lines where the creature got to work on him.

"Well, that didn't go so well."
"No, not really." Miquella barely jumped at Melina's appearance, albeit he was grateful that she sounded sorry for him instead of mocking him as he expected her to. "I'm starting to fear I lost my touch when it comes to compelling people to do as I wish."
"Did you ever have it?"
"What do you mean?" He asked, a bit more defensively than he wanted to.
"What if you do not control people, but just make yourself endearing to them, in the way that they feel like trusting you, rather than be oppressed by the presence of a demigod?"
Miquella stared at the blank-faced woman, thoughtful.
"Is it just an idea. I certainly didn't get the impression that you stole this beast's heart."
"How much..." Miquella brought his knees to his face, trying to hide his embarrassed blush. His rear started aching, uncomfortable under the additional pressure on the swollen lines. "How much did you watch?"
She licked her lips before answering. "I stopped watching when you started screaming."
"That was before he smashes that table and used one of the planks, then."
Melina nodded.
Finally, Miquella broke the silence. "It was a cane. It pressed me on one of the tables, lifted my legs, and several of its hands grabbed these whippy long birches. Did you see them? The dried aromatic herbs?" He turned a bit on himself, raising his tunic to show off his rear.
"Wow." There was genuine surprise in the woman's voice, at the sight of Miquella's scarlet rear, made out of layers and layers of different kinds of red. Blurry handprints where the creature used its hands, then scarlet rectangular marks where the makeshift paddle was used, and finally, long, irregular lines where the birches were used, without any form of mercy. From the upper part of Miquella's rear to his upper thighs, the whole area was crimson.
"Alright." With a groan, Miquella pulled his tunic back down. If he noticed Melina's disappointed, he didn't show it. "Do you have any suggestion for how to deal with Godrick the Gardener?"
"That'd..." Melina gulped loudly. "That'd be Godwyn the Grafted by now. And I can offer no advice, beside sticking something sharp in him, repeatedly, until he dies."
Miquella frowned. Before the creature noticed him and grabbed him, turning his rear until a fireplace fit to cook eggs, he did see the pain in the creature's eyes. And while it grew to enjoy tormenting him, at first, it only lashed out in pain. Godwyn, no doubt, was a monster. "He's still family, I feel uncomfortable hurting him, let alone killing him."
"You would give up on the throne of Elden Lord to save... him?"
Miquella winced. "Let me rest a bit, I'll think about i-"
The high-pitched whistle of a fresh switch made him jump. While he was talking, Melina had walked to a nearby bush, and had broken a branch. "Are you sure you want to rest?"
"I'll be on my way!"