Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Narrator: “You stand at the edge of a cliff. An abyss yawns beneath you, empty and endless, the only path forward a rusted metal bridge. The cabin looms on its far side. I think you already know what waits for you within.”

Voice of the Paranoid: “It’s like the world itself doesn’t want us to reach her.”

Voice of the Skeptic: “There’s nothing to find out here. Time to check in with the missus.”

The Narrator: “...I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call her that.”

· [Proceed into the cabin]

The Narrator: “Every surface of the cabin is draped in chains, the air filled with the mock birdsong of metallic clinks. Where there should be walls, you can only see endless ropes of metal with hooks dangling from their ends. A fitting cage for a monster destined to end the world. There’s nothing for you to do but step forward into the basement. You already have your weapon. Your objective awaits.”

· “I still think we should throw the blade away. Nothing good’s ever come of bringing it. The first time around the Princess used it to cut our throat and the second time she ended up decapitating herself with it.”

Skeptic: “That just means nothing good’s ever come of giving it to her. We need to make sure to keep it on ourselves this time. There has to be a reason we started with it already on us this time around.”

Paranoid: “Yeah! It’s an extension of our being, throwing it away would be like getting rid of a body part. The decision’s been made, stop whining about it already.”

Voice of the Hero: “You made the decision, but that’s not our job, it’s his.”

Skeptic: “Says who? Clearly we can decide, so why shouldn’t we when he makes irrational decisions like throwing away our implement?”

The Narrator: “You will need it if you want to do this right.”

· “Fine, if you wanna just keep doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, we’ll keep the blade.”

Skeptic: “It’s not like that, we just can’t go around throwing away the tools we have. We need to tackle this systematically, make a single change at a time, not have confounding variables ruin our chances to figure this out with scientific rigour.”

Hero: “Scientific rigour?”

Skeptic: “Yes, we’ll need to go through this loop again, and again, and again, making only small changes each time, for as many goes as it takes for us to puzzle it out.”

Paranoid: “That’s a nightmare! Think about what we’d have to go through every time…”

Hero: “And what the Princess has to go through!”

The Narrator: “What the Princess has to go through? I think you mean what the people of the worlds you condemn to oblivion have to go through! Your solution is staring you right in the face, and it sounds like you actually found it before killing yourself: slay the Princess!”

Skeptic: “None of this matters! It’ll all be worth it when we figure out the solution to this riddle and find a way out for both us and the Princess.”

· “All this arguing is getting us nowhere. Clearly we’re taking the blade, so let’s just get on with it.”

Hero: “If you’re resigned to it, then I guess I am too.”

Skeptic: “’Atta boy! You’ll see I’ve got our best interests at heart soon enough.”

· “You had all better listen to me when it comes down to it.” [Approach the mirror]

Skeptic: “As long as your decisions are rational, we’ll be right behind you.”

The Narrator: “You step out onto the floor. Or what should’ve been a floor.”

Hero: “Should have been?”

The Narrator: “Yes, unfortunately you realise too late that there’s no floor beneath the metal. There’s only a loose web of chains suspended over some unseen space. An unseen space that you’re now rapidly plummeting through.”

Paranoid: “Nothing’s solid here, is it? It’s all just a shifting mass waiting for us to drop our guard.”

The Narrator: “Your fall is suddenly, painfully halted as rusty chains pull taut against your skin, their hooks digging into your muscle. You find yourself suspended in what appears to be a vast, dark space, the glinting of yet more chains merely hinting at its full dimensions. You dangle a metre above the bare concrete floor. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favour. As your eyes adjust to your new surroundings, you make out a figure standing in the gloom, obscured in shadow. She watches you with the stillness of the grave.”

Paranoid: “It’s her, we fell right into her trap! Get out of here, quick!”

Skeptic: “Easy now, let her make the first move. We’ve got questions she’s got answers to.”

· “Princess! Why’d you cut your own head off?”

The Narrator: “The figure is silent as she stands there in the darkness, observing you. The only sounds are metallic clinks as you sway back and forth.”

Paranoid: “I really don’t like this silence… We’re a fly caught in her web.”

Skeptic: “Maybe. Or maybe someone else spun the web and she’s another caught fly. Isn’t that right, Mr. The Narrator, if that even is your real name?”

The Narrator: “Ignore this clown. The body of the Princess takes a slow step forward, straining her muscles against the chains restricting her movements, and there is an immediate pulling on the hooks in your flesh. Your limbs and head are bound a little tighter than before.”

Hero: “’The body of the Princess’ is a… weird way to refer to a person…”

The Narrator: “And yet it’s accurate. What stands before you is a chained body, dragging her head behind her in a cage, long hair flowing out and dragging behind her like a train.”

· “Uh, hey there. You’re up and walking about again. Without a head. Wait, should I have taken your head with me last time? Is that what you were trying to tell me?”

The Princess: “Yes. That was my plan, a plan I trusted you to understand and follow. But it’s okay. I know now that you couldn’t have done it.”

Skeptic: “I… thought she might be up to something like that.”

Hero: “...But we let our disgust ruin it. Shit.”

The Narrator: “Shoulders raised, she braces against her chains and takes another step forward, the rusty metal ropes twisted around you squeezing your bones and leaving bruises to blossom.”

The Princess: “I don’t think she’s happy to see you. But what do I know? I’m only a head.”

· “Princess, I’m sorry for messing up your plan. Please stop walking, I think our chains are connected and you’re hurting me.”

The Princess: “There’s nothing I can do for either of us. But you’re right about our chains being connected. In more ways than one.”

Paranoid: “She’s gonna rip us apart! Quick, we have to cut ourselves out of her trap!”

· [Try to cut yourself free]

Hero: “How? We only have a blade, how are we gonna cut these chains?”

Paranoid: “They’re just… they’re just figments of our imagination, haha! What if they weren’t real, what if they were just metaphorical chains, what if it’s all just… represents our fear or something?”

Hero: “O...kay. Yeah. Maybe we can?”

Skeptic: “Now hold on, these chains are obviously made of metal, not metaphors! We can’t just expect to cut through them with a dinky little knife, the solution has to lie somewhere else.”

The Narrator: “You twist your hand to try and cut into the chains around your wrist, but all it does is make the unpleasant sound of metal scraping on metal.”

Paranoid: “But what if… What if they were rusted?! He mentioned rust, they could be rusted all the way through, they could just be waiting to break!”

Skeptic: “Hmmm, if that’s so we might be able to cut through them…”

The Narrator: “With great difficulty, you manage to cut the blade into the nearest chains, the awkward angle making your sawing motions extremely difficult even as it does sink into a link.”

Paranoid: “Come on, come on, come on!”

· “Princess, if we work together, maybe we can find a way out!”

The Princess: “Once upon a time I would’ve said it’s cute that you think I have a say here. I don’t have a choice about anything that’s happened.”

The Narrator: “You finally manage to saw through a chain, the pressure on your arm decreasing a little. But there are still several wrapped around it, and the Princess takes another step forward like a bull pulling a plough, agonising tension on your body as a fierce strength pulls on the hooks dug into your joints.”

Paranoid: “Keep sawing, I don’t want to die like this!”

Skeptic: “Why does she think she doesn’t have a choice in this? That doesn’t sound much like the Princess we know.”

· “You think you don’t have a say in all of this? But last time you had a brilliant escape plan, I just didn’t pick up on it. And more to the point, you’re choosing violence right now!”

The Narrator: “The Princess sighs sadly.”

The Princess: “You’re distracted by details and missing the hand working the illusion. Everything we witness is just another shade of the same, endless cycle. I wake up in chains.”

The Narrator: “She takes another step forward with stubborn motions. The pressure on your neck and limbs is unbearable. The remaining chains on your left hand crush into your wrist, making the angle you need to turn the blade at to saw through them even more painful, though you still make slow progress.”

Paranoid: “Too slow! We need more time!”

The Princess: “You come to me, knife in hand.”

Skeptic: “Oh. Oh no.”

The Narrator: “Another chain snaps. Only one more is left tying up your arm, its hooks buried in the flesh between radius and ulna.”

· “I didn’t mean to bring the blade! I wanted to throw it away!”

The Princess: “But you didn’t. Next, you give me your implement. I cut myself ‘free’.”

Hero: “We’re almost through the final chain, why have we stopped cutting?”

The Narrator: “It could be from the agonising tension of the remaining chain on your wrist. It’s likely very little blood can flow to your hand now, and the angle you have to work at to cut into the crushing chain is almost impossible. Perhaps something has broken in your wrist, or your nerves have gotten pinched. Or maybe it’s just...”

Paranoid: “Hahahahaha. She’s not insane, is she? No she’s… she’s just right. It’s all… It’s all the same, hahahaha, the whole time it’s all been the same. We never had a say!”

The Narrator: “...Him.”

Hero: “Don’t give up hope!”

Paranoid: “There’s never been hope, don’t you see? What’s gonna happen even if we get that one wrist free? This was all doomed from the start!”

The Narrator: “The Princess takes another strained step forwards, your bones creak, and your trembling fingers let the blade slip out of them. It falls to the ground with an unceremonious clang. The Princess’s eyes follow it with quiet resignation.”

The Princess: “And there it is.”

The Narrator: “The Princess’s body braces her shoulders against the weight pulling back on her chains, but she relentlessly steps forward, towards the knife. You almost black out from the pain as your joints pop.”

Paranoid: “If she goes for the knife she’ll rip us apart!”

Skeptic: “Hmm, we’ve been talking to her head all along, but if it’s her body acting autonomously, maybe we should be talking to her instead!”

Hero: “How do we talk to a body? What do we even have to say to her?”

Skeptic: “We could always try and compliment her.”

Paranoid: “Yes, flatter her! Beg her for mercy!”

Hero: “Why are you both looking at me?”

Skeptic: “You’re the one who’s been having us make eyes at her since the first time we met.”

Hero: “Wh-what? I haven’t.”

Paranoid: “Oh, she’s so coldly beautiful! Is she really a threat to the world?”

Skeptic: “C’mon, lad, we can do it. Let’s put on the charms already.”

The Narrator: “Your neck is stretched, half-strangled, your vertebrae strained to their utter limit as the Princess takes another step.”

· “Princess, your body is so strong! I-I can feel it, your strength is gonna rip me apart! It’s, uh, not what I would’ve expected from somebody so elegant and beautiful!”

The Narrator: “The Princess raises her eyebrows and glances at her body.”

The Princess: “Yes, she’s pretty impressive, isn’t she? Shame she’s hurting you.”

· “Extremely impressive and gorgeous! But, y’know, normally people buy me a drink before tying me up.”

The Narrator: “What?”

The Princess: “What? Do they?”

· “Yeah, so why don’t you and you and I go do that too? Like, we could just go get a drink together and maybe we could return to the pattern later? Just you, me, and your hot bod?”

The Princess: “Heh. That sounds nice.”

The Narrator: “The Princess’s body lingers in place, your joints on the edge of popping out of their sockets and your skin pinched in a hundred painful points.”

Skeptic: “It’s working! Keep going!”

· “Princess, I know this is a weird time and place, but it might be my last chance to say this, and I just want you to know that the first time I saw you I thought to myself how coldly beautiful you were! Y-your body, um, your body is gorgeous! The way that dress clings to your curves, and wow, those strong legs! Do you squat?”

The Narrator: “The Princess, paused before you, stares up appreciatively at your own spread-out body, studying every piece of it with a dreamy expression on her face.”

The Princess: “I don't remember ever doing exercise, and neither did she. Your legs aren't bad either. You’ve got lovely thighs.”

Skeptic: “Look at her pose, one hand on her hip and the other waving at her neck stump. Is her body feeling… Enticed? Hot?”

Hero: “I, uh, yeah, I’d say so, judging by her, um, you know.”

Skeptic: “Heh, good eye. She could just be cold, but I doubt it. This is going well, even if our position is a little compromised.”

Paranoid: “She’s looking at us like a cut of meat strung up at a butcher shop.”

Hero: “I mean, can you blame her, the way we're hanging here? It’s as if we can feel her eyes move over our body. This is almost nice. Long as she doesn’t take another step forward anyway.”

· “Heh, look all you want, Princess. Not like I can do much about it right now anyway. A-and did you know your dress accentuates those strong, shapely shoulders gorgeously? I'd love to spend more time with you, that’s why I keep coming here, to see you again and find a way out for both of us.”

The Narrator: “The smile playing around the Princess’s lips shifts into a sad frown.”

The Princess: “Right. But that’s impossible, isn’t it? We’re both stuck in this pattern. Together, but… alone.”

The Narrator: “She steps forward yet again. The hooks drag paths through your flesh, your joints pop out of their sockets and your windpipe is crushed. Your vision goes blurry from lack of oxygen as your nerves scream.”

Hero: “Oh crap, she seemed so into us too... I don’t think we can hold on to you much longer.”

Paranoid: “It really was predictable, wasn’t it? How many times will we have to do this?”

Skeptic: “So close and yet so far… But if her body can move autonomously, maybe we’ll get to run around without a head too?”

· “Princess… Please…”

The Narrator: “The Princess closes her pitying eyes.”

The Princess: “Still you struggle. Give in with me. It’s inevitable. Pop.”

Your neck breaks, there’s a sickening stretching and tearing of flesh, and then you’re falling, the world spinning around you. You hit the ground, bouncing once, your body light in an incredibly wrong way, before you roll to a stop. The sound of rattling chains and a heavy thud as the rest of what was once you falls to the ground somewhere nearby.

· “Oww, my head…”

You’re unable to take action, unable to defend yourself, unable to even look around as the Princess’s body steps towards you. Her face is flat and resigned in her cage as she stoops down to pick you up. But a dark, feathery shape arises from the gloom, blade in hand.

The Princess: “And now, the cut.”

Your body violently throws itself at her before she can pick you up, bright red blood contrasting with the pale skin it’s drawn from. The Princess drops her caged head, leaving it right by you as she strikes back with hooked chains, cold metal meeting warm flesh and winning. The two of them circle each other in a maelstrom of violence.

· “You ripped off my head! All you had to do was stop walking forward!”

The Princess frowns.

The Princess: “How do you still not see? I couldn’t have done anything else. It was my body that ripped your body’s head off. I’m not responsible, just like you’re not responsible for your body attacking mine.”

· “That’s… such a depressing perspective.”

The Princess: “It’s not perspective, it’s truth. You and I are just powerless observers, watching while we fight. Look at us go, aren’t we beautiful?”

You sigh and close your eyes as your bodies dance their deadly dance. It’s cold without a body, even with the Princess’s head close enough that you’re lying on her silky hair, only separated by the bars of the cage. She might as well be a continent away. Your body is far off into the darkness, trying to kill hers. Your Voices are gone. Even the Narrator is.

· “Is this what you’ve felt like all along? So powerless and… lonely?”

Large eyes look into yours with pity.

The Princess: “We are powerless and lonely. It’s best not to fight it, it’s just one of the many things we can’t do anything about.”

The loud clangs of metal hammering on metal and flesh fill the silence.

· “What if… there is still something we can do?”

The Princess: “There isn’t.”

· “But what if there is? You’re lonely and I’m lonely, but… we can change that. We’re right here. Together.”

The Princess casts down her eyes.

The Princess: “But… we don’t even know each other. Not really.”

· “Then we can get to know each other.”

The Princess: “I’d… like that. But I don’t think we have the time. Our bodies will probably kill each other soon, and then the next loop will start. That’s how it always has been. And so it’s how it always will be. We have no agency, no power to change anything, even if we want to.”

· “You say we have no agency, but have you tried? What if we could break the pattern if we worked together?”

The Princess closes her eyes so sadly, with such pity.

The Princess: “You still haven’t accepted it. Trying will only hurt you. Hope will only hurt you. Give in with me.”

· “No. If you’re not in, then I’ll break the pattern myself. Hey! Hey body!”

There’s no reaction from the two bodies as they continue their deadly struggle, yours whipped by her chains and wrapped up in them and hers covered in bleeding cuts.

· “Hey, Voices? Are you still in there? Hero, Skeptic, Paranoid, can you hear me?”

Your body cautiously raises a fist and bobs it up and down like it’s nodding, signing ‘Yes.’

· “Fantastic! Stand down and stop fighting the Princess’s body.”

A chain whips at your body, which tries to parry it with the blade, only succeeding in getting the chain whipped around their hand instead. ‘We’re a little busy at the moment,’ they sign hurriedly.

· “Yes, you’re busy fighting the Princess’s body, which is exactly what I don’t want you to do. Just… give her the blade. Show her we mean no harm.”

The Princess’s body violently yanks them against her, their hand blossoming in bruises from the harsh chains wrapped around it. ‘Won’t work, that’s part of her pattern,’ your body signs confidently. ‘No distractions, please.’

· “Hey, that’s a good point. Princess, my body has the blade, not yours. Doesn’t that break your pattern?”

The Princess: “For now. Looks like she might capture it soon.”

· “But what if she didn’t? What if both our bodies just stood down?”

The Princess: “You know they can’t. Look at us, we’re so violent and angry. They’re taking it all out on each other.”

There’s something in her voice as she looks at them with cold, distant eyes, something that makes you think.

· “...Are you angry at me for leaving you behind?”

The Princess: “Of course not. My plan could never have worked.”

· “But if it could, then I’m the one who messed it up. And then surely you would have to be angry. What if your body isn’t attacking mine autonomously at all, what if it’s just acting on your emotions?”

The Princess’s brows furrow and she bites her lip uncertainly.

The Princess: “But… I can’t be angry at you, I shouldn’t be angry at you, you couldn’t have done anything about it, it’s just this place and this cycle…”

· “It’s okay to be angry! I’m pretty angry about you ripping my head off too, but we can’t take it out on each other. Let’s talk it out later, for now we need to get our bodies to stand down.”

The Princess’s eyes dart back and forth in a panicky rush, her lips moving to silent thoughts. Her body is frozen, just holding yours in her chains. Then she winces sadly and closes her eyes.

The Princess: “No. No, that can’t be the solution, I-I don’t think I’m angry, you’re just… setting us up for disappointment. Look at us. We can’t change the world.”

· “But we’ve changed it before and we can again. You would have changed it with your plan if only I hadn’t messed it up, so I’m gonna make up for that, whether or not you think I can do it.”

A sad smile comes to her face.

The Princess: “I will be here for you when you realise it’s futile, my chainbreaker.”

· “Voices, you heard us, we have to break the pattern. If you and she kill each other it’s just going to continue. I’m choosing to stand down.”

Your body managed to wrench its hand free from the chains, ripping off a finger in the process, and stumbles closer to your heads. The Princess’s body is in hot pursuit, whipping them with her chains and leaving nasty marks that make you wince. ‘Good thing you’re not making the choices any more, then,’ they sign at you with rapid, nervous movements.

‘Sorry,’ they sign cautiously, ‘they’re really committed to the blade.’

· “You don’t have to throw it away. Just stop using it. Skeptic, you said you wanted to find a way to get both us and the Princess out of here! Do you really think the solution to the puzzle is just mindlessly stabbing away at her with the blade? I thought you were the smart one.”

As their feet shuffle around your heads in their deadly dance, your body signs with less confidence. ‘I am. And I’m sure there’s another use for the blade. But what could it be?’

‘Don’t distract us!’ jittery hands sign. ‘She’ll kill us if you do. Can’t we even trust you? We could hear you being all charmed by her, whose side are you on?’

· “Paranoid, the Princess is not our enemy! She’s a fellow prisoner, we need to work together to escape the forces that imprisoned us both. By fighting her we’re playing right into their hands and making her our enemy.”

‘The Narrator’s saying you’re compromised,’ cautious hands sign, ‘but I think we all know we can trust-’

‘No!’ their hands sign sharply and rapidly. ‘There’s no-one we can trust here, not Him, not you, and certainly not her! All we can do is keep ourselves safe!’

Your body trips over the Princess’s cage, just barely dodging a swipe of her chains aimed at its neck. The Princess’s body, unbalanced by her chains, stumbles forward, right at you and swipes you from the ground, wrapping a chain around you harshly. Your body reacts in an instant and rips open the cage, taking the Princess’s head out by the hair and holding a knife to her. They circle each other in near silence, the clinking of the chains and heavy breaths all that is audible.

“Oh, we have hostages this time,” the Princess murmurs.

· “Don’t hurt her! No matter what, even if her body hurts me!”

The Princess: “You shouldn’t say things like that. It’ll weaken your body’s position in this stand-off.”

Your hands are occupied between the blade and the Princess. They cannot sign, it’s impossible to tell what they’re thinking, but the angry, trembling force on the chain digging into your cheek makes the feelings of the Princess’s body all too clear.

· “What if…? Hey Voices, try putting the Princess’s head on your shoulders. Slowly, please, so as not to startle her body.”

They freeze. You can picture what they’re saying in there. The Princess’s hands tremble, and she raises a curious eyebrow.

· “No, she won’t get to control you. You were able to make choices against my will when I was on there, remember? Please, just trust me on this. Put her on your neck. It will help her see, and it will help you be heard.”

Your body cautiously raises the Princess’s head, a fascination evident in their motions. The chain wrapped around you tightens nervously, slipping into your beak, its links grinding past your teeth. You can only watch, no longer able to speak with the chains gagging you, fully in the power of her deceptively strong body. Your own takes a step as if to attack her again in retaliation, and she tightens the chain even further, making it slip past your rear-most teeth and forcing your mouth wide-open. Eyes wide, you stare at them, silently begging them to please just listen for this one time. The silence is unbearable. And then, curiosity wins out. They raise her head to their shoulders and put her on your neck’s torn stump. Her eyes go wide.

The Princess: “Ohh? Hello? This is… Who are you? And you? And- Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. No, I’m not. I… this is strange. No, I don’t know either… Did you just say ‘wink’ out loud?”

· “Wriketh? Ah ou awwikh ou eh oitheth? Keh ou eah ehg?”

The Princess’s pale head on your dark, feathered body goes through a series of expressions, each more baffled than the last. Your free hand moves and twitches, as if she’s trying out whether she can move it but something inside you resists her attempts, no matter how inconsequential. Her body lets the pressure on the chain slack just a little.

The Princess: “Is this what it’s like to be you? All these Voices in your hea- body?”

· “Uh huh.”

A little smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she turns inwards again.

The Princess: “Thank you. You’re sweet. Yes, I agree, this is fascinating. I think I can, but that jumpy one keeps resisting me. It’s okay though. No, it really is, this wasn’t even my idea. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here, but it’s nice to meet you.”

Her body slackens its grip on the chain a bit more. Though she keeps it in your mouth, she holds you a bit higher, as if she’s studying you. Her head looks back at you, raising and lowering your feathers and flexing your free hand.

The Princess: “Sorry for cutting you out of the conversation there. They’re letting me control your body for now. Which, if I can control it… I wonder what that- What’s she doing?”

The Princess’s body raises your head up and puts it down on the collared stump of her neck. Your severed flesh and hers make contact and a torrent of emotions and sensations hits you. There are no Voices inside her, her body does not speak, yet its feelings roar. It’s like opening a bottle whose contents are under high pressure from having been shaken too much. A bitter anger, anger at this miserable place, the endless chains that always restrict her, the fool that made her sacrifice for nothing, the other fool that thinks she’s so clever but understands nothing, at an entire world that treats her this way. Her heart beats with a burning desire for home, whatever that may be, to escape and leave this place behind forever, a desire now rotten and turned to the despair of being hopelessly stuck. Perhaps most striking of all, a vast, cold pit of loneliness wringing itself around her guts. The cavernous solitude of knowing the one person she ever thought she connected with didn’t know her as she thought he did, left her to wallow alone and headless, only a passing acquaintance in a cold, harsh world of chains. The chasm is only made deeper and wider by the lack of even her own company in misery, the fact that she is so disconnected and aloof from herself that she can’t even truly feel any of this, only numb calmth. And with it, there’s a longing for something more, some vast emptiness in the back of her being that must be filled, a hole shaped like something unfathomable that she’ll never be complete without, something she’ll probably never find. But if it exists somewhere, it must be the home she longs for. She misses something she never had in the first place.

But there is a fascination too as she feels you and you feel her and you connect as you never have before, a feathered head on a featherless body. A strong heart that pounds faster as it experiences even this strange, brief connection with someone else. She is a storm wrapped in steel to pin her down, cold hard chain hooked into soft, warm flesh made to be loved, not hurt. You try to ease off the chain in your mouth, but find a fierce, powerful will resisting you easily. Now connected to her lungs, you draw a slow, deep breath that fills and stretches her cramped up body. You try to get tensed up muscles to relax, to let fingers clamped around chains until they can barely move in their white-knuckled agony ease off. You are not her enemy, you are a guest here in her body. You will only do what she allows you to.

You try again and this time she let you take the chain out of your beak, smacking and rolling your aching tongue now that it has the freedom to move once more. You bring a pale, bruised hand up to your eyes, turning it from side to side in fascination as soft fingers without scales or claws respond to your commands as if they were your own. It’s an intricate thing of beauty, and the sheer emotion of seeing it move makes tears sting in your eyes. It shouldn’t feel that strong, why is just seeing a hand move such a powerful feeling?

You remember the bottled up storm in her heart. Oh yeah. That’s why. The hand holding your head gently runs her fingers over your cheek and through your plumicorn, a painful relief filling her heart, the pain of a bandage gone foul a long time ago being ripped off. Finally someone understands her, who couldn’t communicate her feelings, couldn’t even acknowledge them herself. You find yourself crying her tears, touching her own hand to her cool, bare shoulder.

· “Hey… Hey, it’s okay, Princess.”

Your own body steps forward, the Princess’s eyes full of concern and fear.

The Princess: “What’s wrong? What’s happening? What is she doing to you?”

You sniff and look at her through the tears. Her own eyes are leaking too. A taloned hand reaches for her tears and catches them as she looks at them in confusion.

The Princess: “Why am I… crying?”

· “Why wouldn’t you cry? Look at this place, the things we’ve done to each other. Crying seems like a reasonable thing to do.”

The Princess stands there, an almost comical contrast between your feathered body and her head, long pale hair reaching all the way down to your waist. Both the bodies’ shoulders shake.

The Princess: “Bu-but why? Why now, why am I feeling so much when I was just okay before you got on my body?”

· “I don’t know. I think maybe you and your body were never really separate beings, and now you’re remembering that. Princess… Body, Voices. Let’s have a truce.”

The Princess: “W-we can, can’t we? Was there never a pattern? Was-was it just us? Just the things we did…”

The many stab wounds, cuts, and bruises on the Princess’s body sting sharply, bright red blood still leaking from them.

· “Yeah. I’m so sorry I left you behind. I could’ve stopped all this…”

Both of you in tears, your bodies stumble towards each other. You’re not even sure if you’re controlling the steps you take or if it’s the body herself making the choices, fueled by the lonely void in her heart, her aching desire to be complete once more. But you come together with a big thump, feathers against skin, your heads almost thrown off by the impact, only stabilised by a quick hand balancing them on your shoulders. You lean your foreheads against each other for stability and solace. Your bodies hold each other tightly, wrapped around each other with almost as much force as the Princess’s chains had been. You feel her tears drip onto the curiously exposed skin of her shoulder, not a single feather present to protect it from the coolness of the water.

The Princess: “I-I’m sorry you lost your head. I’m sorry it had to happen to you…”

She frowns and sniffs, then looks you straight in the eye from centimetres away.

The Princess: “No. It didn’t have to happen to you. I ripped your head off. I’m so sorry.”

There is a great weariness in her body, her legs weak and tense, the many cuts adding to the mental drain of the cycle she believed herself stuck in. Your own body looks terribly bruised, large bumps and rope burns visible under your feathers, your ripped off finger still bleeding.

· “Thanks. We really did a number on each other, huh?”

Your body rubs its own bruised and pierced arm.

The Princess: “We did… Can we just lay down for a moment? Your body needs it.”

The two of you sit and then lay down on the stone floor, and you discover the Princess’s body moves differently than you’re used to. It’s strong, light, and supple, able to carry her own weight easily even when wounded. Her muscles are smaller than yours, but possess a fierce wiry strength. There’s less fat on her body than on yours, except in particular places, causing a notable and slightly unpleasant bounce of her chest when you sit down rapidly. You lie down, finding the coldness of the ground unexpectedly sharp without feathers, the dress that’s always touching her skin and pressing on it offering little protection. Without the problem of gravity, there’s no more need to support your severed heads when you lie down. The Princess sniffs again, your arm trying to dry her tears, and you gingerly slide a hand over to hold hers. Or your own, anyway. The scales and the edges of your talons feel pleasantly rough on her soft skin.

· “It’s okay, Princess, let it all out. I… You’re feeling a lot right now. How are my Voices treating you?”

The Princess: “They’re being very sweet. Even that jittery one is really tender now. And your Narrator is… well, quiet mostly. I think he doesn’t know what to do with me crying… Yes, I understand you are just here to do a job, and me crying isn’t really part of that. You don’t believe that yourself, I’m not manipulating anyone. Heh. Well, that’s their words, not mine… Oh, you want me to say…? The curious one says you did a good job figuring out that conundrum.”

· “Thank you. For trusting me. And being so sweet to her.”

The Princess is silent for a moment, and then giggles coyly at something one of them says. But her mood swiftly turns. After a bit of silence, she takes a deep breath, your feathered chest heaving.

The Princess: “...Were you right? Am I angry with you? Maybe… maybe I am.”

Her body slams her fist into her own chest emphatically, a blunt pain slowly blossoming.

The Princess: “No, you’re right. I am. But… I guess I already ripped your head off about it. Should’ve just listened. To my feelings, to you.”

· “Yeah. And I should’ve listened to you, really listened, in our previous life. Guess we both have our faults and reasons to be angry.”

The Princess smiles warmly.

The Princess: “That nice voice is trying to take the blame for you.”

· “Yeah, that’s what he’s like. But I’m the one who decided, not him.”

The Princess: “And… I’m the one who decided to rip you apart. I probably could’ve stopped her if I’d just realised why I was doing it. I’m sorry.”

You give your scaly hand a fond squeeze, your heads turned to face each other. You can still feel so much yearning in her body, but it’s warmer than before, the warmth of a cold lonely cavern now warmed up by a campfire and a companion, a yearning to sit closer to them and banish the remnant of the cold for good.

· “Thanks. It means a lot. I guess I wouldn’t have gotten to be on your body without it though. It’s uh, pretty nice. To feel what it’s like to be you.”

The Princess: “It is nice, isn’t it? And I don’t just mean because I get to hear all these lovely Voices… Yeah you are. ”

A shiver goes through you. The Princess quirks an inquisitive eyebrow.

· “It’s nothing, just chilly without feathers. Makes me feel a bit exposed.”

The Princess: “Well, I’m actually the one who’s naked right now.”

Your feathers, both on your face and body, raise at that. It’s as if the Princess’s body tries to raise her feathers too, goosebumps appearing all over on pale skin. She chuckles.

The Princess: “Well, it’s true. You’ve got the body wearing the dress. We could switch back if you want to.”

· “I guess we could. This feels weirdly good , though, but if you wanted to-“

The Princess: “Or I could just do this to keep you warm.”

Your body extends a winged arm over the Princess’s chest, and then another over your waist, already warming you up a bit.

The Princess: “Your body can make for a nice little blanket, my chainbreaker.”

You giggle, feeling your arms and soft, black feathers cover her cold body, their touch sending a warm shiver through her to replace the cold ones. The Princess’s body, her heart pounding and her skin tingling, reaches for yours and pulls them closer to her, her strength making them flop half over her. You suddenly find yourself face to face with the Princess, surprise marked on her face as gravity pulls her off your neck stump. Your faces bump into each other, her cheekbone leaning on your cheek, lips almost brushing and eyes so close together it’s impossible to focus on hers.

The Princess: “Um, hi.”

· “Hihi, hello there.”

Your bodies are a little too busy to deal with your heads, as their cuddle turns into something of a romp, and your heads, once again unattached, roll off each other, the two of you lying next to each other looking up into the endless dangling chains above. The Princess sighs.

The Princess: “I have no idea how we’re supposed to get out of here.”

Her body takes a break from its horseplay to point up at the chains.

The Princess: “Oh, she can hoist us up using the chains. She’d be stuck here though, she’s attached to them...”

‘No problem, we can cut through her chains, they’re rusty,’ your body signs confidently before drawing its blade and setting itself upon her back. The Princess’s body reacts sharply and violently, shoving them off her and slamming them to the ground, harshly wrapping a chain around their arm to force them to drop the blade or have their bones broken.

The Princess: “Don’t hurt them! They’re just trying to free you!”

A huff escapes the Princess’s neck stump as she releases the chains. ‘Thanks for that,’ your body signs grumpily, ‘Why don’t you just put your head on backwards to watch us if you don’t trust us?’

She reaches for the heads and, pausing only a moment, takes yours in her cold hands and puts it on backwards before sitting down with her arms crossed. Both your body and the Princess’s head look confused about her decision.

· “Are you sure you want me for this and not-”

She takes you off her stump and resolutely hugs you to her soft chest, then puts you back, a little light-headed. Of all the sensations, the way she smells of metal, salt, and rust lingers most. It’s probably the scent of chains and blood, but it makes you think of the sea too. Your own body shrugs and gently puts the Princess’s head on its own neck, whipping her waist-length hair over their shoulders to get it out of the way. They sit down behind her, you and the Princess facing each other. With her eyes to guide them, your body reaches down for the hook in the Princess’s spine, stabilising it with one hand while the other goes to work sawing through the many chains attached to it. She draws a sharp breath at their touch.

The Princess: “...Why did she choose…?”

The Princess’s body huffs indignantly once more, the air escaping out of your beak this time. Her muscles are tense, a twang of frustration and isolation balling her fist. You gently stroke it with the other hand and feel warm gratitude and trust radiate from the touch.

· “I’m… not sure she wants me to tell you. I think this is between the two of you.”

The Princess: “The two of us? But we’re the same person, how can she not want me to know?”

Her body just huffs again and puts her hands on her hips, turned away from her head. The slow progress of the sawing reverberates through her spine.

The Princess: “Is she angry with me? She can’t be angry with me.”

You nudge her downwards with your eyes. The Princess’s own eyes widen in understanding, her mouth forming an ‘o’. She speaks downward, at her own tense shoulderblades this time instead of talking to you.

The Princess: “Hey, are you angry with me?”

Her body shrugs, your head wobbling precariously on her neck.

The Princess: “But why?”

Her body just sits there, crossing her arms again.

The Princess: “I can’t know what you’re feeling if you don’t tell me… Oh. Is that it? Are you upset that I can’t feel what you feel?”

She reaches up to your head and wiggles it side to side in a non-committal gesture.

The Princess: “But sometimes I do feel what you feel…”

A moody rumble originates somewhere deep inside her.

The Princess: “Is that the problem? Does it feel like I don’t listen to you? Oh, it’s because I won’t feel what you feel.”

Relief pumps through her synapses. Frustration finally come to a head. Her shoulders relax a bit.

The Princess: “It’s because I’m kind of detached from you, isn’t it? ...Heh, detached. Do you… want me to listen to our feelings more? Listen to you more?”

She reaches up to your head and makes you nod.

The Princess: “I… don’t think I know how. I thought our emotions were just external, that it was all you… But that’s not true, you are me too, and our emotions are mine too. It’s all part of me even if it doesn’t feel that way. I guess… we just end up hurting if I ignore you. I’m sorry.”

The Princess’s body reaches behind her and takes her head off your shoulders, holding it and hugging it to herself, her heart pounding warmly with love and the feeling of finally being recognised. More of her tears pour from your eyes.

The Princess: “Oh. Um, thank you. I… Ah, I love you too. I really do, even if I’m bad at showing it. Maybe we can work on my emotions together? You and me.”

A spark of eager excitement thrills her, and you feel the body gesture a bunch behind you.

The Princess: “And him and them? How do they fit into this?”

A hot flush goes through her body, her thighs rubbing together and her skin tingling. A shiver goes through her as the blade manages to cut through another chain, the hook in her spine shifting a bit. Your hand gives her back a little reassuring pat, and their touch sends yet another shiver through her, slightly quenching her bothered state yet only encouraging it. Being on her neck starts to feel rather intrusive.

· “Uh, you know, if you two have settled things, maybe I should go back to my own body?”

The Princess takes you off her shoulders and pets your cheek feathers tenderly.

The Princess: “I think she’s rather attached to you. It’s okay, I can return to the boys, they’re pretty fun.”

The Princess lays both of you on her lap, face-to-face, her hand hovering over you as she tries to choose which of you she wants to put on. A shock goes through her body as yours cuts the last of the chains attached to her back, emerging from behind her. ‘Done and done,’ it signs confidently. ‘No thanks to someone who took our eyes away. Head-hog.’

The Princess gets up with the two of you clutched under her arm, rubbing her side along your body, and gives them a playful shove. Your body pays her back in kind, and within a few seconds it turns into a shoving and poking and tickling match. You and the Princess wobble precariously, stacked under her right arm.

· “Alright, cut it out, you two, you’ll drop us.”

‘Not fair anyway. The Princess was losing with one arm occupied,’ your body signs. With a final, loving stroke to your cheek, the Princess hands them your head. They quickly put it back on their shoulders as she tries her own on as well.

Hero: “Welcome back! We’ve missed you!”

Skeptic: “Yeah, I guess we really did. It was interesting to make our decisions without an intermediary though.”

Paranoid: “No, it was terrifying! We had to suffer the consequences of everything we did! It was paralysing, we’re much better off having him make the choices.”

Skeptic: “Well… we did need some help from you to solve this one. Thanks for looking out for us. Maybe bringing the blade wasn’t the best idea.”

· “You’re welcome. You did do well in the end, you know.”

The Narrator: “You most certainly did not, you’ve all made an utter mess of this entire situation! But let me take this final chance to remind you that if the Princess gets out, she will-”

Paranoid: “Bet you didn’t miss Him much.”

Hero: “He’s been like this non-stop. Well, except when the Princess was crying. That seemed to shut him up for a- Hey, did you feel that?”

Paranoid: “A surprise attack!”

The Narrator: “In the worst way, yes. The Princess’s body, noticing you’re distracted, used the opportunity to give your butt a slap. And you… bashfully wiggle your tail about it. Was that really necessary?”

Skeptic: “She’s a frisky one, that body, isn’t she? Plenty of mysteries to explore there, I’m sure.”

Paranoid: “Yes, but first we need to finally get out of this prison full of horrible sharp objects.”

Hero: “Then let’s not waste any more time. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get her back for that.”

The Narrator: “The two of you try a couple of chains, figuring out which ones are attached to each other. When you find a decent bunch, you figure out a way to loop a couple under your legs for safety and stability, wrapping your legs together and placing your heads on them like a platform to keep them stable while you leave this place and doom the world.”

Hero: “Talk to you again soon. Or to the Princess. She was pretty fun to have on here. She, um, thought I was sweet.”

· “You are sweet.”

Before the flustered Voice can reply, you place your heads securely on the platform made of your intertwined legs. In your seated position, you heave each other up, the ground vanishing into the depths, you lifting her and she lifting you, ever upward.

· “How was being on your own body again?”

The Princess: “Honestly, less emotional than when you were on her. I was hoping it would make things clearer, but it didn’t. I guess it’s like you said, we always were a single being and I already felt whatever I was gonna feel. Shame. It would’ve made things easier. Guess I actually have to put in the effort.”

Occasionally, one of your heads wobbles, and a hand reaches out to stabilise them. And always, the hand lingers on hair or plumicorn, before slowly retreating and ‘accidentally’ brushing over the other’s thigh. The Princess, a beautiful smile on her face, contracts her brows quizzically. She whispers to you, soft enough that your bodies can’t hear.

The Princess: “Hey. Have you noticed our bodies are acting… strangely to each other?”

You decide to play at being oblivious and hide your smile.

· “Strangely? Surely this entire situation is strange.”

The Princess: “I know, but… Hmm.”

You finally reach the doorway out of the abyss you stepped into so casually, your bodies helping each other over the threshold with a little swing. They don’t let go of each other as they take a few steps away from the chained chasm before sitting down together to rest, sharp wooden structures decorated with more chains marking the landscape. But now that you’re with your Princess and her beatific smile, it doesn’t feel nearly as harsh and lonely. There’s a strange haunting beauty even to these unnatural woods.

The Princess: “I didn’t think I’d ever get to see this… We really made it.”

· “We’re free at last. No more chains for either of us.”

Your bodies hold each other tightly as you sit on their laps, smiling at each other. ‘We solved it,’ your body signs confidently. ‘Not really the solution I was expecting, but apparently you sometimes just have to wear each other’s heads for a bit. Gotta think outside the box.”

The Princess bumps a shoulder into them, they respond by slapping her butt, and their playfight starts up again as they put your heads in a comfortable spot to the side where you can lie face to face safely without their intervention. The Princess’s smile turns a little lopsided.

The Princess: “I think they like each other.”

You just giggle as the two bodies fool around behind you. A little gasp escapes the Princess and she shyly casts her eyes down.

The Princess: “Oh. Do you, um, like me?”

· “I do. I, uh, thought the Voices would’ve made that obvious.”

Her mouth moves a little, as she mouths old dialogue going through her memories.

The Princess: “Ohhh. Yeah, in hindsight they did! They were really obvious about it, actually.”

You share a giggle and glance at her lips, only a few centimetres away.

The Princess: “...Wait, do I like you? ...I think I like you too.”

· “Princess, may I kiss you?”

A series of expressions of joy and delight flash across her face before she settles into the most beautiful smile you’ve seen yet.

The Princess: “Yes. I think I’d really like that.”

You both close your eyes and get ready for the kiss with bated breath. Yet it doesn’t come. You open your eyes again to find that neither of you has moved forward and even pursing your lips, her tantalising kiss is just out of reach.

The Princess: “Oh. Right.”

· “Hey, bodies? Can you give us a hand?”

They don’t listen, you just hear them shuffle and rustle about behind you. The Princess raises an annoyed eyebrow.

The Princess: “Um, some help here, please?”

Your bodies continue to ignore you. The Princess pouts cutely.

The Princess: “Hey! Either get a room or help us kiss already!”

Hands reach for you and scoop the two of you up, bringing you to them. The Princess’s body is straddling yours, her dress a little disheveled. Your feathers are fluffed up cutely, both of them drawing quick breaths. ‘Sorry, little busy here,’ your body signs with lazy, drawling gestures, the Princess rubbing their thigh. The two of them hold one of you each between each other, bringing you in close. The Princess’s long hair falls over your face and you blow it away. She giggles.

The Princess: “Hi.”

· “Hey.”

The Princess: “Only one thing left to do, my chainbreaker.”

· [Kiss the Princess]

Her body lowers her onto you, cold, thin lips soft and comforting on yours. It’s a gentle, tender, almost chaste kiss, as if you’ve kissed thousands of times before and yet still enjoy this little expression of quiet love between you. And yet, as your bodies get back into their heavy petting, keeping a bit of their attention on you so they pilot you properly, your Princess slowly starts to pour more and more emotion into it, the passion of her cool kisses growing a little with each one. It’s a messy and slightly bumpy ride, sometimes you’re broken up unexpectedly or stay pressed together too long, distracted as your bodies are with their own fun. Sometimes you miss each other’s lips and end up kissing a nose, cheek, or chin instead, but you make it work, sharing giggles at the mishaps. And then, a moment of distraction is enough to make the Princess slip out of her own hand, falling past you with a shocked expression on her face, hair billowing around her. Fortunately, your free hand shoots out and catches her before she can hit the ground.

· "Careful, she's precious."

Your body brings both heads to their thickly feathered chest, bringing you face to face with a Princess grinning in relief and joy to be with you. But before they can make you kiss again, a pale hand swoops in and snatches you from their grip. With barely a moment's hesitation, the Princess's body puts you back on her neck, greeting you with another flood of emotion. She is a passionate firestorm, a gorgeous volcano, her heart and skin ablaze with desire, nervous butterflies making her stomach twist and contract at your every touch, whether it's your body's caress or this strange connection with your head. She is straddling your body already, and yet she desires so much more, and the link between you floods you both with joy, her eagerness to be as close to both your body and head as she possibly can all that drives her right at this moment. It feels good to be back with her, and you let yourself really experience the love and yearning evident in her every cell as well your own love for her, luxuriating in this incredibly direct union between you, the experience of your emotions mixing together an impossibly intimate one. The hand holding you in place pets your cheek tenderly. Being on her feels freer than before, and it takes you a moment to realise it's because she's only half-dressed now, the corset built into her dress undone, the unfamiliar feeling of cloth pressing on skin much less present this time.

Your body doesn't waste much time copying hers and putting the Princess on their own neck stump. A little hum of delight escapes her.

The Princess: "Hello again, boys. Did you miss me? Yeah, me too. Oh, don't You start again, it's not that weird. Heh, aren't you full of good ideas? Let's get them."

She looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, biting her lip, your body's feathers fluffed up and their pose coy and inviting. With your own desires and those of the Princess's body mingling, the strange creature composed of her head and your body held lovingly between her thighs, the perfect mirror of your own composite being, is the most beautiful sight you could ever have imagined, the hottest thing you have ever seen. Without further ado, you or her body, but probably both, choose to lower you down and press yourselves against them, you and the Princess finding each other in a passionate kiss as both heads and bodies love each other with burning affection. This time, there is no inhibition or chastity left in her kisses, they are passionate and free, her thin, yet soft lips on yours even as you feel her hands rake through warm plumage, feathers pressed all over her body as she holds herself against you, letting your warmth heat up soft cool skin so very eager for their every touch. You let the desire of her foreign and yet intimately familiar body guide you as you find yourself loving your own body and the Princess's head with tender yearning in your hard-won mutual freedom.

Eventually, their arms tire and your heads slip off, and you find yourselves next to them, cheekbone to cheekbone, the Princess’s hair wrapped around you like a warm scarf; perhaps another mishap due to their increasing distraction, or perhaps your bodies sensing you’re fine with taking a little break and the closest thing to a cuddle you can have as heads. You share a smile as you watch them hug and fondle each other, their passion evident in every stroke and rub.

The Princess: “Look at us go.”

· “Aren’t we beautiful?”