Chapter Text

Act 1:

Chap 1 

The heavens collided within the scorched stone walls of the Sorcerer’s tower. Astrological symbols gleamed fiercely and painted the abode in an array of celestial colours- shifting from an inky black hue to one strewn with an array of stars. The Sorcerer grinned at the display, his fangs reflecting rainbow hues in his bout of furious laughter.

“Submit to me, heavens!” he bellowed, “There are none stronger in this kingdom, and you will obey me!!”

He thrust his primary arms above him, curling his claws against the divine current. Aurora spun through his fingers like a tsunami of starlight, resisting his power and defying him until the end.

The Sorcerer continued to smile. There would be no triumph without effort. What he was attempting to accomplish was impossible–the dual nature of the commanding forces of the Sun and the Moon were long at odds, refusing to choose a single master. Their linked yet opposing existences were the lifeblood of all magic, the root of all power in the realm. The Sorcerer was confident that his observations and formulas were sound; he would be the single most powerful being in existence upon his success.

And he never planned to fail.

With a gnash of his teeth, the Sorcerer’s optics shuttered, conjuring the primal vestiges of his own limited power from within the depths of his internal mechanisms. His gears crunched and shuddered from deep within his chassis, swirling with every particle of power he possessed. He surged forward with a half yell, pushing against the starry forces of the celestial powers with his own internal might, causing cascades of stardust to swirl around him in a flurry of spent comet.

His internal components felt molten, the sheer force of the power pressing against every cable like the gravity of an entire star. The pain was immeasurable. It creaked and threatened to rip him asunder, but he would not surrender.

“You will bow to me!” he roared, his voice barely heard over the astral orchestra. Papers of formulas flew about the tower and were swiftly vaporized by the might of the divine powers.

But there, something new! Within the stardust, a form twinkled–the first hint of any possibility of success. He could barely see through his own faceplate creaking with glee.

A shape –no, a symbol . A circular glimmer of one of the celestial powers made real. The form of the Sun appeared in a brilliant flash of heat, his core sending painful warning alarms shooting up through his body, but he would not concede.

The Sorcerer could not stop from grinning all the while. The Sun, while prideful, had held no prior master. Confident in its solitary grand design, there were none that had succeeded in taming the fiery giant. None save for today. The Sorcerer gave himself to the primeval current, casting formulas as quick as flares, pouring his pride and promise and willingness to the forefront of his mind. 

The Sun would not be contracted so simply. None had ever succeeded in taming the celestial giant, its terms unknowable to history. The Sorcerer’s theory, that he had bet his very life upon, was showmanship–power and protection but on the centre stage. The Sun would not bow unless its master dazzled the entire world.

The Sorcerer shed all his formulas, all conjurings of magical research. He laid himself bare against the fiery current, smiling and laughing. Even if he were to fail, his husk would be found with a smile burned into his faceplate. If he were to cease to function, it would be combating against a worthy foe.

He felt his outer plating heat and char–blackened streaks growing and spreading across his body. His gears felt red-hot inside him, his living metal agonizingly malleable. All oil and liquids that made up his internals turned to dust against the full force of the Sun’s power, but the Sorcerer continued to grin. He smiled until his vision began to dull, and smiled all the while.

With the last vestiges of his power, he conjured the elements of strontium, sodium, barium–turning the burning rays into streaks of colour. With an unending smile, though his own optics could not see it, he wove symbols of stars into the fire with his blackened hands, bringing the same rainbow of astral colours to the mortal realm, borne of the Sun’s flames. 

He felt his sense of touch leave him, the fire burning the sensation out of his hands. If he ended in failure, he would at least remain as an eternal memory as the one who nearly conquered the Sun.

Numbness. Then, beginning without warning; warmth. Not the burning heat of the Sun, but a comforting fire in the dark. His vision began slowly returning, the colours that were once so bright they hurt to look at, muted to a softer, almost apologetic hue. Pain receded, and a new sensation tickled his core.

The Sun, inscribing its allegiance to the Sorcerer. The unknowable name etched forever against his core. 

With new, growing power he grinned wider, impossibly large teeth laughing as their shared power grew. New shoots of energy burned a trail through his cables, though his plating remained a sooty black.

The Sun had accepted a covenant. And with this the Sorcerer had made history.

Most wizards and the like would be satisfied with the taming of such a mythical celestial body. But the Sorcerer’s hypothesis did not end here. His dreams would not be sated by a single celestial deity.

The Sorcerer was greedy; he knew he was destined for more, for even greater heights. He would not be satisfied unless he crowned himself without equal, and for that he needed the Moon.

Unlike the Sun, with its pickier personality, the Moon had already entered a long covenant with the Royals of the kingdom. The previous Queen was known for her might in battle, her undefeated countenance as a warrior. She was known as the kingdom’s Unbreakable Sword before her death. Rumour had speculated as to how she had ever been vanquished in the first place. None knew for certain.

That left the Queen’s only heir the successor, but the Sorcerer was interested in more than the kingdom’s recent history.

For eons, the Royal family were only royal due to their lineage –both the family and the kingdom as a whole forgetting the who–or rather the what that put the crown on the family’s head to begin with.

This kingdom, from its inception to present, always bowed down to power . Power gifted to them by the Moon’s covenant. A covenant that, according to rumours, had been broken during the reign of the late Queen.

The Sorcerer felt the fiery licks of the Sun’s power enter his system, fuelling him with a flaming battery that burned through his optics. He felt his eye blaze with fire, turning his optics into the colours of a dancing bonfire. 

It still wasn’t enough. The Sun, solidified in essence before him, spun around his shoulders like a petulant child. It had accepted a master, yes–its first master, but flew in frustrated circles. Its pride was heavy in his systems, wasn’t one enough? Why was the Moon needed when the Sun had finally chosen a master?

The Sorcerer paid it no attention, instead channeling the full force of their new covenant through his scorched fingertips and calling more fervently to the heavens.

“They will not hear you! Only I am strong enough to command your might!” His claws reached forwards as if to grab through the starry nothingness and pluck the Moon from its resting place. “The Queen is fallen! Hear me and know me as your new master!”

The surging heat felt within his body suddenly flashed with cold, a blizzard of stars cascading down the open sky portal to rain icy space dust onto his outer plating. It was only the Sun’s power at his core that kept him upright.

The Moon was angry . The Sorcerer caught a silvery glint from within the darkness of the portal –an icy gleam that seemed to glare.

This was the hypothesis that he had dared to stake his life against. The ones closest to conquering both heavenly powers were the ones using the power of opposition to obtain the second. 

The Royal family were fools, signing a contract with a singular power and forbidding any attempt to the second. The powers were opposite but ultimately borne of the same flux. Celestial twins despising each other, yet forever drawn to the other.

But by using the Sun as a battery to combat the Moon’s icy powers, the Sorcerer’s own internal power nearly spent, he felt rejuvenated, empowered, nigh unstoppable. The vestiges of his magic that were spent in the Sun summoning were full to bursting with the solar wellspring of power.

“You will bow to me!” He roared once more, thrusting his hand through the portal and grabbing, taking, imprisoning . His fingers, despite the icy numbness, closed around a freezing shape, and he pulled –

The Moon resisted, sending icy sparks of rage straight into the vulnerable cracks in his plating. Frost built up atop his newly blackened layer, sending spirals of fractals against his living metal. It burned in an entirely different way to Sun’s flares–releasing waves of painful numbness that felt akin to ice-fire through his sensors. 

It screamed in a language unknown, defiant and angry. But he pulled and scrabbled and clutched with every iota of his remaining power.

With a silvery sheen it appeared in his grasp, pulling it through the portal and shining brightly like a mirror. Now in the realm of reality, the Sorcerer could capture it, releasing his secondary pair of arms to clasp around the enraged Moon, caging the divine being within his grasp.

The Sun flared its displeasure at the sight, but remained otherwise silent. Its pair shrieked in a celestial binary from within its automaton cage, sending frozen rivulets through his creaking digits.

The pain was immense, the power leaking from within the already heavily damaged cracks of his digits. The panels in his claws shuttered with weakness, threatening to bend the inner components with the full gravity of the heavens. Being burned molten and subsequently frozen left his metal exterior feeling brittle, the damage working against him.

The Sorcerer hissed, the pain kept behind clenched jaws. The Moon had yet to submit–it’s might still powerfully defiant. The Moon was unlike the Sun in its want of a dazzling performance–many rumours circulated as to what the Royal family agreed to when creating their covenant. The Sorcerer could not be certain, but if his hypothesis was to be proven right…

Metal panels fell away from the protected armour of his claws, clanging to the stone floor in a weary echo. Delicate, damaged coils met frozen air, still desperately grasping the fighting celestial. Every exposed wire was agony, he wanted to curl up and shelter his vulnerability from the world.

The turbulent winds had died, the portal closing, the only sound remaining being the shrieking star and the weary huff of the Sorcerer’s body. 

“Hear me…” the Sorcerer breathed, his words muffled through his pain. “Together we shall be the most powerful in the land –don’t you want that? Isn’t that the foundation on which this kingdom was created?” His fiery eyes burned as he looked at the struggling Moon, pleading with his own fraying fingers to hold on just a bit longer.

An icy gust was his reply, burning the tips of what remained of his hands’ internal components. They peeked out of the gaps of his fingertips like lightning scorched stumps, fried and charred and frozen. Worse than toxic rust.

But the gust felt weaker, the Moon either tiring or relenting. There would be no second chance.

“You created the might of this kingdom. Allow me to bring it into a new age.” The words were barely more than a huff, the radiant damage seeping through the pistons of his wrist, threatening to release.

The Sun surged heat back into his forearms, the metal warming, but could traverse no farther than his palms. The nerve lines from within his secondary hands were dead from the direct contact with the astral plane, but still refused to budge. Pity tickled his sensors, and the Sorcerer knew they were not from him.

A sound like glass shattering broke his concentration for an iota, causing the Sorcerer to blink into awareness for a split second. His hands, which refused to heed his commands, were open and firmly in their claw-like formation. The Moon nestled beside its brother at his side, and released a weary chime. A new name was inscribed against his core.

It had relented, and the contract was made. The strongest Sorcerer in the kingdom closed his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. No one would question his rule with the celestial powers at his disposal, not even the remnants of the Royal family.

He rested with a smile crested across his faceplate, icy frost tickling the arc of his faceplate. As he closed his eyes he envisioned a heavy crown atop his head, and dreamed of conquest.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The contract with both celestials had scorched his body beyond recognition, his previous colours washed away and replaced with a blackened husk. The Moon had painted an icy crescent atop the remains of his faceplate, and given him a new name. He shrouded himself in his darkest cloak, his covenants casting threads of the darkest starlight deep into the very weave of the fabric.

He wanted to make a striking impression for his first day as King.

With a wave of his claw, he conjured a dying star from the vestiges of space and hurled it towards the entry gate, suppressing the deadlier power of its gravitational force with willpower alone.

The resulting boom was deafening. In the depths of space sound cannot carry, thus bringing the force of the blast into the material plane created a sound that was unheard of in the annals of history. It rattled the melted stumps of the doorframe and billowed smoke into the main hall. The sound alone was enough to secure the attention of the Royal palace, but the resulting darkness ensured that the spotlight remained singularly on him.

“I am Eclipse!” he boomed, carving his name into the history texts with his own claws, “And I believe you are all trespassing in my castle.” 

He allowed a smug grin to adorn his faceplate as the first of the royal Knights to regain their senses after the blast rushed to brandish their sword at him. Eclipse’s stance was confident and relaxed, the smoking remains of the door coiling at his feet, unwilling to dare touching even his cloak. A sword approached, the tip aimed for Eclipse’s optic.

“Villain!” Clamored the first knight, his crocodilian mask scuffed with space dust. Eclipse could hear the venom in his tone. “How dare you utter such falsities. Command your army to stand down in the presence of her Majesty!”

The royal knight, with his limited magic, conjured seven spectral swords above his head, each pointing towards one of Eclipse’s vitals. A minor star covenant then, perhaps a constellation. This knight was barely even a minor inconvenience.

Eclipse’s chuckle started small, then grew into a raspy guffaw. His enclasped hands languidly spread to perform a haughty bow, and he walked by the knight without giving him a second glance. There was no army to be seen.

As the smoke cleared, the entrance hall to the palace revealed itself through the smog. Now, both the army of knights, nobles and Royal alike, could cast their optics upon their conqueror, and cower in fear.

Rows of alabaster stone adorned the sweeping walls; glittering chandeliers sparkling with depictions of lunar symbols were swallowed by the sweeping darkness that Eclipse brought with him. Veins of gold ribboned through the marble, creating trails of splendor that pointed him towards his final goal.

Silver knights emblazoned with the Moon’s sigil stood defiantly in his way, some cowering behind their leaders at the display, but few courageous enough to remain upright to face him. Antiquities from a bygone era. No matter, they would all bow in time.

Javelins, swords, and axes pointed in his direction, but gave him no pause in his conquering step. The throne, with their ruler so delicately perched, was a mere hundred feet away.

Smoke curled and beckoned around him like a ghostly entourage, his outstretched claw promising doom to whomever stepped forward next. The last remaining Royal, the only remaining heir of the late Queen, sat in final defiance on the throne against him.

Four Royal knights held their weapons valiantly against his person, close enough to hear the whisper of steel against the fabric of his cloak. 

Eclipse allowed his optics to flash with power, the fiery Sun and the icy Moon appearing in the depths of his optics. Their sigils–celestial bodies made material appeared at his side, spun in a display at his shoulders, cementing their master for all to see.

Some of the few nobles in attendance gasped, the symbol of the Moon known to the kingdom as a herald of the royal family. Eclipse’s grin grew. They knew what it meant.

“Impossible,” he heard, muttered from within the crowd.

“Is that why the Queen…?” 

“Then the Princess…”

The appearance of the Sun, its bright countenance known to none but impossible to overlook, blared heat at his right shoulder, daring any to approach for fear of fire. It dazzled under the noble’s fearful regard, a celebrity on stage.

To their credit, only two of the knights took a step back, retreating a step in awe and trepidation. Their leader, the famed Ursa Major himself, covenant of the constellation that shared his name, remained steadfast. The crocodilian knight also refused to drop his sword.

As he grew closer, more of the Heir’s details became clearer to him. He expected her to cry, or to beg for mercy–to her credit, she made no move to relinquish the throne. 

Eclipse captured the first stair approaching the throne, his heel grinding into the lush yet newly scorched carpet. He took this moment to regard his only real opponent, knowing intimately that though they would not be any match for his strength.

The Heir presented nothing of the late Queen’s ferocity, save for the ornate armour that adorned her form. A similar white marble made up the majority of the armature’s design, making it seem unnaturally heavy despite how the Royal carried herself so daintily. A near featureless mask that regarded him coolly.

Even sitting, there was an air of regality that Eclipse knew he could never imitate, a being borne of such low caste as himself. Her regard burned alongside Sun’s power within him, pride refusing to shake under her unblinking stare.

Her helm was nearly featureless, fashioned with a simple crown extending from her faceplate, and ribbons of gold casting fractures into her near perfect casing. She was alabaster incarnate–a near pure white being. She sat languidly noble against his pressing aura. He wanted nothing more than to mar her perfect face with pauper’s soot.

Eclipse refused to bow his head as he walked towards her.

“I believe,” he began, voice smooth and purring, “That you’re in my seat.”

She barely moved as he loomed over her, casting a black shadow over her pearl countenance. An inky stain on freshly fallen snow.

“And I believe,” her voice held a musical quality, “That we have yet to be properly introduced.”

Eclipse fought his body to still, refusing to budge under her shining eyes. The impertinence against his display of power grated at his internals. His fury simmered as she extended a dainty hand for him to greet.

Did her boldness know no bounds? Did she possess some secret covenant that could turn the tides of his invasion? His gears ground against themselves in aggravation. He could crush her armour with a single wave of his hand–he had the covenant of the two greatest celestials ! Was she truly prepared to lose life and limb for the sake of social propriety?

Sneering, he took her hand, capturing the dainty white digits within his blackened claws. His secondary arms twitched painfully from within their internal hiding place. The sight before his optics was akin to the Spider Nebula wrapping its pitch-black tendrils around a white dwarf star. He relished smearing her perfect panels with his inky pitch.

Leaning down with a sharp grin of his teeth, he pressed his mouth in greeting against her knuckles.

“I spoke my name when I entered, did I not?” he gravelled into her gauntlet, “Or were you merely too high upon my throne to hear me?”

“You may refer to me as your Highness, Lord Eclipse, and now we have been properly introduced.” At the touch of his teeth her white hand fell away. Eclipse watched it fall. “You seem to have some confusion as to your place here.”

Continuing to grin, Eclipse almost thanked the Princess for her perfect segue into addressing the nobles. With a sweep of his cloak, he stood to his full height, extending an arm to obstruct the Royal from view, instead turning to address the crowd. Not a single knight braved the stairs as he threatened their Royal. The spectral forms of the Sun and Moon saw to that.

“This kingdom,” Eclipse boomed, flashing the power within his optics at the trembling assembly, “has long since ruled by the power of covenant , not lineage. And though the celestial power of the Moon stood once in harmony with the Royal family, with you all as my witness, see that it heeds their words no longer!”

With a crash, the chandeliers shattered in a sparkle of starlight, but not a single gem touched the ground. The crystals hung like stars in the inky blackness that Eclipse had conjured in the room, turning the ceiling into an abyss of space.

Less than a thought was required to send the Moon twinkling into the reformed sky, casting a silvery glow upon Eclipse and an abyssal shadow upon the Heir.

“So you see,” he purred, relishing in the command of his words, “Not only does the Moon submit to my will, but the Sun as well!”

A second crash shook the false heavens, and waves of aurora crashed in an array of colours against the hovering jewels. 

Eclipse cast a side glance at the still-seated Royal, arching an eyebrow at their still silence. 

“The Moon chooses the ruler, and has deemed the Heir unworthy. By invoking the ancient magics of the kingdom, it is not lineage that governs a kingdom, but strength !”

He bellowed loudly, shaking the crystals that hung in the air with his shout. They chimed like bells in the inky vastness. “There are none here strong enough to confront me. There are none alive strong enough to combat me! Thus, I am your King !”

Some nobles trembled, others promptly fell to their knees. Their animatronic bodies shook with fear, their overly ornate panels clanking and shuttering at his words. Nearly all of them set their teary optics upon the pristine white figure that sat on the throne.

The knights, save for the four at the forefront, wavered. Their weapons shook in their grasp. Only the Ursa Major and his three closest remained steadfast.

Even they startled when the Princess raised her white hand, vanquishing the cloud of fear with a languid wave.

“Is that all?” came her amused voice.

Eclipse felt briefly shaken, the confidence in her tone impossibly commanding. Her calmness must be a mask–or did she truly have the power to combat him? Was there some secret that the Royal power kept in check that could subdue his magics?

He chose to sneer at her delicate facade. “You seem confident in your power, your Highness. Are you proposing a duel?”

Her immovable faceplate gave nothing of her inner workings away. Her surety was as solid as stone.

“You’re half-right.” she jutted her chin up to meet him, but made no move to budge from the throne. “ It is a proposal, though not a duel.”

Eclipse felt the fires of the Sun within his magic core flare with heat, feeling abruptly off-balance by her choice of words. Surely she couldn’t mean…He must have misheard. His limbs lay frozen in their shock.

To his stillness, the Princess finally stood, the tip of her crown barely reaching his chest. A white statue against his blackened hide.

“Marry me , Lord Eclipse, and have your kingdom and your throne. Become my Consort.”

She said it so plainly that Eclipse sucked in a breath. There would be no misunderstanding her meaning. She had well and truly lost her mind.

Eclipse fought the urge to scoff, but felt as frozen as the Moon’s icy flurries. Her gaze never wavered, twinkling with an unknown brightness underneath her heavy armour. Madness lay in those optics…or perhaps something else.

With more effort than he’d ever imagined, he ground his teeth with a reply.

“And what,” he started, his internal gears creaking, “would be the merits of accepting your offer, when I could just take the throne by force?” He waved his claw in a display of the near limitless power he possessed. 

Eclipse took a step forward and captured the wrist of the tiny Princess–a mere pinch of pressure and the inner workings of her hand would be severed, without the need to utilize any celestial power. “What makes you think I would accept such an offer from such a feeble fool ?”

Though she did not smile, the Princess gave no inclination that she felt any pain from his threat. Instead, she leaned in a little closer, the tips of her crown making gentle contact against his dark rays.

“Because this fool ,” she murmured, like a secret that only they could hear, “knows something you don’t .” There was no smile, but Eclipse could hear mirthful laughter in her tone.

She leaned back smugly, without even attempting to extract her wrist from its vulnerable position. Her optics twinkled with forbidden knowledge.

And Eclipse, ever the scholar, was hungry for it.

Taking the bait, he changed his tone from conqueror to troubadour. “Then pray, my Royal fool , what is it that I do not know? I, who have accomplished what no other soul in the history of this kingdom has won, the contracts of both this kingdom’s Celestial deities?”

“A much simpler puzzle. One that is blind from your vantage. A view that only I know, and those before me.” She gestured above her head to a vast nothingness, puzzling Eclipse further.

The more he stared the more emptiness he could see. She truly was mad. “I see nothing.” Eclipse replied blandly, his patience for games deteriorating. 

“I see a sword,” replied the Royal, “Hanging right above the throne. Dangling precariously. Do you know it?”

“The imaginary sword?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure it’s all in your head.”

The Princess laughed lightly, her voice like the chime of a funeral knell. “I assure you the sword is as real as you or I.” Her free hand raised to cover her mouth in mirth, though the panels on her faceplate had not moved an inch. “The sword dangles above every ruler of every kingdom.”

Eclipse’s brow furrowed, the tale of the sword of Damocles familiar to him only as myth. 

“Then you have lost, your Highness, for an invisible sword does little to frighten me. And thus you have lost my interest.”

Eclipse’s free hand raised, the Sun’s power surging in the centre of his palm. Heat radiated outward, casting the marble finish of the Heir’s armour in a warm glow, yet they still did not flinch at the display.

“Except, Lord Eclipse,” there was no hurry in her tone, “ that is not the knowledge you lack.”

Furious, he allowed the magic to subside in his grasp, allowing it to quiet and weaken but not altogether disappear. The threat was still present and tangible, only waiting for a chance to strike.

“Then get to the point , your Majesty, for I grow tired of your games.”

“A pity,” she sighed, and he felt her weariness through her delicate wrist components, “I had hoped for a more intriguing Consort.”

Eclipse got the impression that she was bored of him, and it only served to anger him further.

“The point!” he bellowed, losing his patience. Her crown rang with the vibrations of his shout.

Her voice, ever calm and gentle in comparison, drew his attention like flame to oil.

“The point,” she began slowly, almost a whisper, “is that you’ll never know a day's rest unless you obtain the throne lawfully .”

Eclipse could only blink at her audacity. She had the gumption to continue.

“For you see, a conquering king never holds his kingdom for long. The history books say that a conqueror only holds his kingdom for as much time as it takes for another conqueror to come and unseat him.”

The glow of his magic cast her eyes in an unknown colour. They beckoned to him beyond the cosmos. “Marry me , and you never have to worry about the sword above your head.”

Her words were like a spell, filled with power and secret magics. They wormed their way into his circuits like a virus, to waver from his plan for a stark moment, but that moment was all that was needed.

To obtain the throne rightfully, on the condition that the Heir remains alive and under his power? The idea had merit, and the clause was sound.

She was intriguing, the Heir–if not already infuriating. Her quick-wittedness to save her own life was impressive, notable. It became less a question how she had kept her seat of power despite her lack of the Moon’s royal covenant.

She could be kept alive, for now. A figurehead royal while he held the strings.

Besides, it would take only the slightest flick of his wrist to erase her from existence, so what did it matter if she was still alive? She could be the figurehead all she wanted, but the moment she outlived her usefulness he could easily be rid of her.

The Sun and Moon swirled around him, taking their places at his shoulders. He didn’t miss her optics flick up towards the Moon briefly, but kept his eyes trained on her every movement.

“A partnership then,” he lied, sugaring his words with sweet smoke.

“A marriage.” she stated, clenching her imprisoned hand in a fist. 

“Of course,” he purred, releasing her wrist finally. His fist felt empty without her delicate joints in his grasp. Taking a demure bow, he stepped to the side and mutely gestured for her to address the surrounding congregation.

The moment she outlived her usefulness, she was gone.

The Princess raised her white hands and swept them outward towards the crowd. “My subjects! This is a moment of celebration!” her sweeping voice silenced the trembling of the nobles and drew the eyes of the knights. “I have the pleasure of introducing you to my Royal Consort, Lord Eclipse. May our match herald the beginning of the most powerful era our empire has ever seen. I bid you welcome, Lord Eclipse,” she said, turning her helm to address him, “to our kingdom.”

His optics flashed, red and white, and he took his own bow. Grinning widely, he swept his cloak and carried her away.

Chapter Text

Chap 2

He expected screaming–a shriek or a call for help. Instead, the Heir sat demurely slung atop his shoulder pauldron and gripped his cloak with white marble gauntlets. Her armour was lighter than he expected. Dense metal inscribed with symbols that he could barely see from the corner of his optic as he spirited her away through the halls.

In truth, he didn’t know where he was going. It didn’t matter, for now this castle was now his domain. There was nowhere he wouldn’t, in time, know intimately, but for the moment, anywhere private would do. Away from prying eyes where he could finally detangle the mystery of the Princess’s cold exterior, perhaps finding a weakness through interrogation or exploitation. 

A tower would be too comfortable, too akin to his previous abode. That tower had burnt to cinders–the rocks and stones that made up the foundations little more than ashes now–and while the height would be comforting, it didn’t achieve any goal.

No, instead he scoured the palace for a simple room, devoid of servants or nobles. The silence that echoed from a nearby wing of the castle beckoned to him, it's quiet tainting the air with a funeral sound.

It didn’t take long for him to realize that the wing of the palace he was traipsing through was the late Queen’s wing. The solitude and pristine state of the furniture painted a blurry picture of the dead monarch. The Moon twitched at his side, its spectral body lost in recognition. No matter.

The Queen’s wing would do nicely. Let the Princess squirm in her late mother’s quarters. As the new King he would make good use of them in her stead.

With every step the Princess stiffened in his hold, no doubt her optics trailing against the relics holding memories of her mother. When Eclipse felt her relax for a moment, he knew he had found his goal–the Queen’s bedchamber. 

Using his ashen boot, he kicked the door, leaving a blackened stain on the gilded filigree. He deposited the Princess atop the bed and shut the door, thrusting the room into darkness. 

She was so white that her armour captured the tiniest sliver of light from beyond the heavy door, glowing like a spectre in the dark. Just like her kidnapping, she was silent as she regarded him, not a word for aid or otherwise.

“Well well Princess, we are finally alone.”

She craned her head delicately, showing no outward emotion in her expression. Her mask was well and truly stone.

“Do you intend to commit to your marital duties here and now? It seems I’ve misplaced your eagerness for impatience.” The Princess’s faceplate remained stony, her words blithe and uninterested. 

Swallowing his growing irritation, he responded. “Impatience? The fruits of my labour speak for themselves. There are none who work harder than me.” He gestured to the Sun and Moon symbols floating around him. He did not miss the way her optics followed the Moon intently.

“Eagerness it is then,” came her bland response. Was there truly nothing he could do to rile her? “In that you’ve only just been graced with a Royal title, I will get to work writing a missive establishing your rights and responsibilities. It’s not as if you gave me any time to do so.”

Eclipse loomed over her, planting two heavy claws beside her on the mattress. He dug his claws into the fabric, staining them.

“As your husband , I thought it beneficial to learn about my new spouse as my first priority.” He spat the word spouse like venom. For the first time, he watched as she flinched at his proximity. Eclipse took this opportunity to surge forward to rile her further. “For isn’t it my primary duty to lavish you with attention? As your Royal Consort?”

To his delight she turned away, refusing to meet his optics, her gaze instead opting for his hands. He fisted the blanket in revelry, his claws catching on the pale, silken threads.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? This whole proposal was your idea.” He leaned in further. “I am King while you get to live–isn’t that better than being a powerless monarch?” His mouth opened as he laughed cruelly, her face a mere breath away. 

She remained silent, though he could feel her trembling through the mattress. From fear, he hoped. She proved to be, thus far, a hard nut to crack.

“Not powerless anymore,” she interrupted his raucous laughter with a cocky rebuttal, her first crack of emotion. “I meant what I said in the audience chamber–our union will paint this kingdom in a new era of power. With the greatest Sorcerer in history as Consort, our forces will boast no equal.”

Her honest statement seemed uncharacteristically brutal from what little he knew of the Princess. But it carved a niche for him to fill, a crack for him to split. In the dark of the room, he urged his gears to cease their incessant whirring–the sound of excitement could serve to give him away.

“Mother dearest isn’t around to protect you anymore, little lamb. Her shadow casts wide over your weak facade. That armour is just for show, isn’t it? To save face in front of your subjects while you cower beneath your crown.”

He released the fabric with one of his hands, gripping the underside of her mask harshly so she met his eyes.

“I’m no dog you can command, your Highness. Carve it into your memory banks that I am the master here, not you. I’ll play along with your little game as it suits me, but never forget who holds the reins.” He thumbed the marble of her face, memorizing the pattern of the golden threads that wove through the mask.

Blazing optics full of disgust bored into his mismatched eyes. Let her hate him–it made her easier to understand, easier to control.

“Say it, Princess. Name me your King .”

She chuffed lightly, the vibration tickling his fingers. Infuriating to the last.

“Foolish Consort, have you learned nothing? To be lawfully named King, there must be a ceremony; a wedding. Until then, you’re merely Lord Eclipse. Ruler of none and Consort of mine .”

Fury boiled down his fuel lines as he gripped her face tighter. The stone mask creaked from the pressure. She gave no indication that she felt any pain. Before he could respond, she spoke further.

“And I highly doubt you’re the type to plan a Royal Wedding, so you can leave the intricacies of that to me. I’ll have a servant summon you should anything require your direct attention.”

He growled, mouth turning from a grin downwards into a scowl. Curse the Princess and her contingencies. It would be so much easier to deal with her now .

Her voice continued to grate with its tepid sweetness, “to earn the throne lawfully, you must abide by the law. Rest assured that the preparations will be as grand as you deserve; provided there are few distractions, I will be able to accomplish the task of planning swiftly. Unless you’d rather be the one planning the rings and the tablecloths?”

Her voice quirked higher in mirth, the query light and ignorant of the threat against her life. Profoundly baffling, this Princess.

“No.” he finally grit out. “Do what you need to do, but do not delay. Should I hear even a whisper of betrayal I will not hesitate to burn this castle to the ground . It would not be hard for me to start anew from the ashes, so pray you don’t test my patience any further.”

“Noted.” The Princess deadpanned. “Now release me so that I may do as requested.”

With drawling slickness he released her faceplate, slinking his fingers across the smooth planes of her cheeks. Fury still boiled in his innermost cables.

“Off you go then, lamb. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eclipse sneered at his opponent, the group of knights holding him once more at a blade’s edge. 

How enjoyable it would be to reduce the pride of the Royal guard before the Princess’s eyes. Would she cry for their mercy? Beg him to spare them? A glimmer of satisfaction shone in his mind at the fantasy.

“Tread lightly, cur,” the reptilian knight snarled from behind his leader. A bold mouth for such a cowardly position. His iron frame was half hidden behind the lurking bear knight holding Eclipse’s cloak with the tip of his sword.

The remainder of the knights encircled the Sorcerer, each with weapons drawn. There were four in total, hardly a threat. Their armour glowed like the pristine marble walls of the palace, looking down on Eclipse like a sooty stain on the carpet.

He smiled in response, fangs peeking out from his scorched faceplate. “Surely the one to tread lightly is you and yours, Knight of the Realm. Or do you need another demonstration?” 

Eclipse wasted no time in educating. In an instant, power surged from his fingertips, gravity increasing with every second passed. The space between them warped with a growing darkness, and the armour of his oppressors suddenly creaked in crushing agony.

The hall darkened, an inky pitch staining the brilliant white corridor. Flashes of purple and painful violet burned his opponent’s optics, pressing the gravity of a star into the feeble metal of the automaton knights.

Just as it began, it ceased. The power flux was brief, and Eclipse released his hold. Moon’s power was well known within the palace walls, but it wouldn’t do to show the full extent of his mastery over the celestials so early. There was still so much fun to be had.

To his credit, the Major had barely flinched, even after such a pressing display. There was evidence of Eclipse’s power; the faint denting of his shoulder pauldrons and vambraces, but was otherwise unscathed. His sword, still in the exact position it had been previously, tilted along the underside of Eclipse’s faceplate and touched the vulnerable cables of his neck mechanics. His glistening armour whirred with relieving pressure. The constellation that powered his covenant was greater than Eclipse had previously assumed. 

“I’ll say it once more, so listen well. Her Highness may have permitted you to stay, but you reside in this castle as a guest –nothing more. Any and all permissions are granted to you by her Highness, and can be stripped just as easily.” The sword lowered from his throat, but Eclipse continued to grin at the decorated Knight.

Blazing blue optics shone through the slats of the Major’s helm. They held within them a fury that Eclipse wished to smother with fear.

“Then allow me to introduce myself to you once more,” the urge to cackle was growing within him, warmed by Sun’s prideful flames. “I am Lord Eclipse , so dubbed by your lofty ruler, and Royal Consort to the Crown. Soon to be King of the Realm.” 

Eclipse leaned forward, forcing the sword back to its original placement at his neck. His optics burned an icy inferno. “And you will show me the respect I deserve .”

From the edge of his vision he could see the crocodilian animatronic stutter, and the bird tremble. Weak, simple-minded fools.

The Ursa Major stepped back, his sword lowering in defeat.

“For now,” the bear replied with a baritone rumble. “For now.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been three days of silence since his introduction. Three days of gleaming marble walls, ornate tapestries of the history of the kingdom, unrestricted access to the Royal archives, and three days of absolutely nothing .

He blasted the closest marble he could find, marring the surface with blacked, burned stripes. The Sun hummed happily at his outburst, but it did nothing to calm Eclipse’s growing fury.

He was in the palace! He could have anything he wanted. With the wave of his hand he could summon a servant to frighten or a lowly knight to terrify.

He was the strongest Sorcerer in history– a walking legend made real. He was the stuff of stories and songs, a god amongst lambs, but empty with no challenge to test him. He was stuck in a never ending, all-encompassing limbo of stagnation, he knew he was meant to accomplish so much more. Even in the burnt husk of a Tower he had books and dreams and formulas for conquest; while his time here he was reduced to waiting to be summoned.

The Princess proved to be an even more aggravating creature with her absence. To have the gall to propose and then vanish , leaving him in a stupor–royal duties consuming her every second.

Eclipse felt the need to rile her, or threaten her– anything to crack that stony mask. He was the ruler of this place, not her–no matter their arrangement. Perhaps she needed a reminder as to who the true conqueror was. Perhaps he just needed to blow off some steam.

With a thought he summoned the Sun and Moon, taking their places at his side as he strode through the halls like ink spilling unto holy water. The servants quaked at the sight of him, and a few foolish guards attempted to stop his march towards the Heir. Every corridor he walked through was strewn with trembling and fearful animatronics, his pace unrelenting and angry towards his goal.

Throwing open the council room doors with a heavy thrust, the Princess and a decorated general stood around a war table, their gazes averted from their complex planning. They appeared annoyed, if perturbed, but Eclipse did not have eyes for them.

“Oh Princess ,” he sing-songed, “should your Consort not be instructed on war matters? Your hands would be better suited dressing for your big day rather than gathering dust with these ancient machines.” 

The aged general moved to intercept, but the Princess held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Her marble face looked at him impassively, her voice tired.

“I don’t have time to deal with your tantrums, my Lord. Perhaps you can find your leisure in the castle library; I’ll send someone to entertain you.”

Bristling, his temper grew in outrage. A tantrum? Did she view him as no more than a young upstart, the newest annoyance in her royal lifetime? 

Sun fed his anger, turning his core molten with heat, begging to unleash its power. 

“May I remind you, your Highness,” Eclipse seethed through his teeth, “that my presence in this castle is due to your imploring suggestion. Should my presence prove unsatisfactory, I would happily resume my previous role.”

She raised her head as if to call his bluff, but there was no falsity in his words. This time there was no threat.

Magic fuelled by a celestial, Eclipse flexed his fingers and cast a mighty spell, increasing the gravity of the room until the general’s head collided with the floor. Every animatronic within eyesight, including those unlucky servants that prowled the halls, found themselves pressed into the ground with the force of a dying star–all save for the Princess.

Who looked at him with the most bored eyes, completely unaffected by his display of power. Eclipse fought the battle with his own expression upon gazing at the Princess, prim and proper without a speck out of place.

Her hands, so dainty amidst her armour, rested gracefully under her chin, where she regarded him blandly. “Are you quite done? We were in the middle of an important meeting.”

The general on the floor groaned and creaked in pain, impossibly frozen against the unrelenting stone, gravity increasing by the second. Their delicate internals cried out in pain, the gears whirring in effort. Eclipse felt his optics widen.

The symbols on her armour–the decorations glowed against the oppressive gravitational surge. They weren’t filigree; they were runes .

There must be thousands of them, layered and inscribed upon the metal in a madman’s scrawl. Who had created such a piece–how long did it take them to craft it? The weight of the protection runes created an impenetrable barrier against the power of the Sun, rendering Eclipse’s magic less than a summer’s breeze to her royal form.

The way she carried the armour like it weighed as much as a feather, the way she held herself as if untouchable–nothing had ever penetrated the dense barrier of that armour. 

And worse, Eclipse knew that he had no way to combat it. That many layers of protection would take eons to unravel in its entirety; there was no way she would be lax enough in his presence to allow him to study it.

Seething, he released the gravitational hold and stared down at his spouse-to-be. 

“Perhaps,” he breathed, careful to conceal his ire, “if it is war matters that keep you from your impending marital duties, then I can be of assistance. This is to be my kingdom, after all.”

The Princess paused contemplatively. The general that has been crushed into the carpet wheezed to his feet, stumbling to a nearby chair with shaky knee joints.

She tapped her fingers against the table, optics darting across the map of the realm at speed. Eclipse fought for the virtue of patience.

When she spoke, her tone was hesitant, uncertain. Eclipse could see right through her; why trust him with war matters? Was there any chance he could use this information against the kingdom? Eclipse was no fool, he could see her contemplation clear as day.

“There is an army from Vega, stationed at the First Point of Libra. The path there is not treacherous unless the pass is blocked. But the pass forces our knights into a tight vertical formation–the area is too dangerous with an approaching army. Yet the longer we wait, the more the citizens of that region suffer attacks from aggressors. Perhaps you have a better solution so that I may return to my ‘marital duties’?”

“An invasion?” Eclipse sat down in the nearest chair, pulling it out from underneath the general. The aged automaton was in the midst of returning to his seat before Eclipse had upended him. The old fool fell in a heap once more.

“A small army, hardly an invasion. But tactically knowledgeable in the region.”

“And your army– our army? What are our numbers in comparison?”

“Irrelevant. The pass would only serve to bottleneck our forces and reduce our strength. We need a play that can scatter their forces, or at the very least make them traverse the pass first, turning the tables.”

Eclipse thumbed the chin of his crescent with a black claw. His optics brightened over the battlemap.

With a finger, he drew a line from the pass to the valley. “You wish for them to enter the pass so that your forces may do unto them what they would unto you.” he hummed, the gravel of his tone reverberating through to his extended finger. He sighed.

“I confess that such delicate war matters are beyond my realm of study; I focused more on the celestial plane.”

The Princess sighed, her shoulder lax in disappointment rather than relief. She moved as if to dismiss him, but Eclipse interrupted her.

“But sometimes in order to see past the complexities, you need to opt for a simpler option.”

She craned her neck around to look at him, her hand relieved of the weight of her head. “Oh?”

“It sounds to me like they need a big scare ,” he grinned proudly with pointed teeth. “Our enemies must know sooner rather than later that any attempt on my kingdom will be met with the swiftest judgement. I’ll have to make an even grander entrance to our foes, won’t I?”

Cold optics stared at him, silence shocking the room. 

“You intend to go to the front?” Her voice lacked the quiver he was hoping for.

“I think behind is the more correct term. How soon can your forces be in formation to meet the approaching army at the pass?”

The Princess did not reply, her gaze only looking at him in silence, expecting this whole conversation to be a joke. She was getting easier and easier to read.

Before he could get his answer, the general stuttered, his gears creaking audibly. “You do not have the authorization–”

“I give it.” The Princess’s voice cut through the room like ice. It left no room for retort. If the power of her voice wasn’t enough, then the fierce look in her eyes left the general trembling.

“Our army will be in place at the moment of your choosing. I will accompany them to ensure that we move swiftly to mitigate the damage upon the local populace. I will see you on the battlefield.”

A shiver of excitement crept up his spine, fizzing in his cortex. A double blessing, to both stave off boredom by showing his deadly prowess, and to see this Princess in action.

“Marvellous,” Eclipse purred. “It’s a date then.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He rolled his shoulders, the raised pauldrons cracking from his recent strenuous effort. After so many days cooped up in a perpetual state of waiting, getting the opportunity to release his powers and dazzle the stage was a most satisfying feeling.

He knew he’d never forget the look on the invader’s faceplates; their expressions aghast with fear as he sent out flare after solar flare in their directions, steering them towards the pass. Eclipse had placed himself atop the mountain range, viewing the enemy army as mere cogs in a great machine, hurried and screaming from the force of his sinister magics.

The Sun covenant warmed against his core, the contract happy and sated. Such a public display of power was exactly what the solar celestial had agreed to, and Eclipse was happy to oblige. 

Seeing the plebeians scurry and scare beneath him was a satisfying feeling, rivalled only by the feeling of awe as the Princess’s royal army met their invaders head-on. He watched from afar as the dainty Princess took her place at the helm, wielding a greatshield emblazoned with her country’s crest. Her army was smaller than he’d expected, and she did the work of many.

Yet another anomaly, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. The previous Queen was a great warrior, and while there were no rumours of the Heir’s battle prowess, that did not mean she had none.

It had been a marvel to watch, his duty completed. Eclipse had only agreed to lead the army to the pass–not participate in the battle himself. He was to be a King–royals did not fight their own battles.

Save for the tiny Princess, her white armour gleaming against the enemy colours.

Turning his optics away, he cast them to the heavens, the stars glittering down upon the battle below. How many starry covenants were waiting to be bound in contract, how many unknowns were lost in the inky blackness.

He heard a cheer from down below, the clear sound of victory. The invaders of Vega had been beaten back, the Royal flag of this country ( their country) waving high.

For a brief moment of whimsy, Eclipse smiled. Let them celebrate. The plan could not have succeeded without his power.

With the tip of his finger, the Sorcerer spun compressed lunar power into a miniscule ball, freezing the element into a densely compact sphere. Hurling his arm upwards, he shot it into the sky. Chasing the moving object with his opposite hand, he threw a stray solar flare at the tiny marble, merging the solar and lunar powers with a crash that shook the heavens.

At the moment of collision, the energies combined in a flurry of colours, casting an aurora over the pass and the celebrating victors. Greens, blues, and purples danced across the sky, illuminating the landscape in a painter’s dream; a reminder of the identity of the true victor.

Smiling to himself, he resumed his lax position and gazed back down at the uproarious crowd.

The Moon covenant felt cool against his core, though he knew not why.

The feeling puzzled him all the way back to the castle.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’d never seen anything like it.”

The Princess’s voice was unusually soft, leagues different from her usual cold, calculating tones.

“For anyone other than me, it would have been impossible.” Eclipse matched her step through the castle gardens, the twinkling stars above casting their shadows onto the marble below.

The gardens were meticulously crafted, and even Eclipse had to admit that he would be remiss in damaging them. Glass fronds and flowers bloomed under the sparkling sky, catching small rays of light and reflecting an array of colours onto the pale ground below.

Flowers that held no purpose other than beauty. There were no covenants (to his current knowledge) that required such a finicky material, thus reducing them to nothing more than a feast for the eyes. Gardens that befit royalty, crafted and curated to exemplify wealth and power. Gardens that should make him scoff in disgust.

Gardens and flowers for the express purpose of walking through and admiring.

The Princess’s dainty steps clinked against the floors, her heels high and proud. Eclipse’s longer stride slowed so as to not overtake her.

“It is a power from your Sun covenant then? The fiery blazes could be seen for miles, I could see even the farthest villages doused in their light.”

“Partly,” Eclipse mused, caught up in the intricacies of his primary field of study, “The Sun covenant boasts itself as the object of admiration; even now it wishes to be at the forefront of attention. The colours of the flares are my own ingenuity, but it requires extensive control of the Moon covenant to create such a display.”

And the purpose? Eclipse waited for her obvious question, but it never came. Instead, she mused quietly at his side, her hands clasped together at her front.

“Fascinating…” her voice trailed off wistfully, gaze cast askance. He could see her fingers lace together and rub at the joints of her plating.

She looked fey against the darkened vegetation, the night sky casting beams of light atop her armour, giving her an ethereal glow. Eclipse fought to tear his optics away.

He found his mouth was moving before he had a chance to stop it. “The formula is simple once you have the specific elements aligned. By freezing the copper and strontium, I can separate the barium element in a greater volume, compressing it in a coating or shell. While frozen they are inert, requiring a flash heating device–or a precise solar flare–in order to activate it.”

The Sorcerer rambled incessantly, waiting for a bored look or a rude interruption. But instead, he found a captivated audience, divided between petting the glass vegetation and the boring gaze cast upon his faceplate.

Fans whirred inside him, their sound covered by the blabbering of his mouth. The malfunction was irritating, and wildly inappropriate for the setting.

“It was one of the few formulas I theorized before I entered my covenants. The addition of colour is my own design, a test I executed with no small degree of danger. With the aid of the covenants, it is a paltry thing.”

The Princess hummed thoughtfully, her optics raking over his form. The fans, damn them, whirred faster.

“So according to your theory, it is possible to recreate, albeit dangerously, without a covenant?”

Eclipse rolled his optics, scoffing into the night air. “Dangerous is putting it mildly. It took weeks of calibrations before I even attempted it for the first time, and even before that there was accruing damage. The elements must be kept separate from one another, and even the tiniest hint of heat can result in activation.” 

He wrung his hands together, feeling the ache in his secondary concealed arms. The nerve damage was extensive, even before the Moon covenant. His secondary set of fingers twitched in their hiding place.

She looked pensive at his warning, steps slowing even further. Eclipse turned around to face her fully, noting her distracted posture. 

Without a second thought, Eclipse brought his hand up slowly, clasping her chin gently between his fingers. With his height, she had to crane her head up to look at him, her optics like sparkling pools of night washing over him.

“Like starlight…” he murmured, the words barely a whisper. The thought escaped his processor before he had a chance to silence the words that escaped his mouth, and the Princess’s starry optics widened at his divulgence.

In a moment that should have been soft with sweetness and ripe for exploitation, the Royal Heir ripped herself away from his grasp, stepping backward awkwardly atop the garden vegetation, crunching a few leaves underfoot.

Embarrassment ripped through his core, swiftly smothering his expression in false smug pride. A sorrowful pang erupted through his cables, causing tremors to cascade down his arms and into his fists.

He forgot his place. He was here as a conqueror, not a husband. Her fearful reaction reminded him of the reason he was here in the first place.

The Princess made no move to approach him, nor extend her hand. It remained upright in apprehension, tension coursing through her small frame. In her silence, Eclipse fought to erase his pain with words.

“Danger is everywhere, Princess. Like the sword, I will always be overhead, waiting for the chance to strike.”

He growled in his anger, his fury within himself. “I am the shadow you cast upon your reign, it is too late for regrets now.”

Eclipse left her in the garden trembling, trying to stop his own tremors from reaching his outer plating.

Chapter Text

Chap 3

The dullness returned, dreary boredom settling in like a frost. Despite the lack of interesting pastimes, his mind whirred with complexities. 

Eclipse’s optics roamed over the throne room, its vast marble walls reaching a peak in an arch formation. Glittering chandeliers caught the light refracted in the room, spreading pinpricks of starlight onto the crisp, pure walls. 

Banners depicting the royal family’s crest adorned the chamber, moon symbolism clearly visible in the underlying design. There was a distinct lack of colour to the room–silvers and greys showing prominence in the palette, gilded with trims of gold and the most delicate blue. 

Despite his carefree lounge on the throne, the sorcerer never felt more out of place. Shouldn’t the castle be adorned in his image? Was this not his domain now? He walked the halls as much a king as a pariah; everywhere he roamed he felt like a stain. 

He’d saved the country from invasion–even if he wasn’t the king yet he was ostensibly a war hero. A hand that ruled in fear held fewer enemies, but what of the people? What did he care about the thoughts of his subjects–whether they looked at him in fear or adoration?

(Sun’s sigil against his core panged–Moon’s was numb with frost)

His inky claws gripped the edges of the ornate throne, black tips digging in to create grooves in swirling filigree. His secondary arms ached from their inner resting place, itching to stretch, to be exposed to open air. He kept his urges behind mental iron bars.

Although the throne room was empty, exposing them was too risky. His secondary arms were still badly damaged from his dual covenant–their inner wiring exposed and delicate. Any sensation felt like fire licking through his central nervous systems, their close connection to his inner core making them a liability. He kept them safe, hidden. He would not risk any weakness in the eyes of the kingdom.

In an effort to alleviate his boredom, he kicked his legs over the side and lounged inelegantly. The bounce in his knee joint gave away his inner restlessness, his posture all but the antithesis of a prim and proper ruler.

It didn’t matter. There was no one to judge his behaviour, and none further that would dare disrespect him by uttering a single word of disapproval. The throne was far from plush, most uncomfortable no matter his positioning. It was a nightmare disguised as a luxury.

The entrance of the throne room had been repaired from his grand entrance–the only evidence of the explosion being the errant blackened smears that were too high for any of the repair crew to repaint. The doors, which had been blown in quite spectacularly, were all but replaced. Not a single inch of the original gold leaf remained.

The carpets too, were replaced. Silver vines intermixed with stars were woven into the fabric, leading from the entrance all the way to the base of the throne stairs like a symbolic procession. With his elevated position, he could see it all from his rightful place as monarch, but it was all so dreadfully dull. Perhaps some more improvements could be incited, with the right incentive.

Eclipse waved his hand, summoning the material forms of his covenant. The Sun flashed brightly, the core from within Eclipse warming before flashing with cold at the arrival of its brother. The Moon chimed quietly near the Sorcerer’s left pauldron, a sense of quiet solitude emitting from its silvery form without a need for words.

Covenants did not need voices to communicate with their masters–the binding connection of the covenants serving as an innate cable of communication between them. Emotions, wants, and desires were conveyed easily, with each covenant resorting to specifically chosen sounds that best accentuated their points.

The Sun released a disappointed note–without any subjects in the throne room, there was no audience to behold its display of power. Disgruntled, bitter sensation flooded Eclipse’s core from the Sun’s covenant mark–why was it released if there was no one to behold its splendor?

The Moon remained quiet against Eclipse’s side, chiming a deprecating sound to its brother. The note was shrill and curt, boasting insult. The Sun blazed hotly at Eclipse’s opposite side, flaming in anger and screeching.

“Don’t you start,” Eclipse groaned, already tired of the endless tirades. Without a grand goal to accomplish, the two squabbled like the worst of siblings. Perhaps that was the real reason no covenant had succeeded at mastering the two of them before now.

The Sun flashed, communicating its dislike of the Moon’s tone. Eclipse rubbed his temples, his claws scratching at both sides of his faceplate. “Yes, I am aware there are no subjects to dazzle here–you don’t need an audience for everything .”

Magma pooled in his core, the Sun’s ire increasing. “Yes I know , but consider that the throne room is decorated with the Moon’s prior covenant, wouldn’t it be more modern to update the decor with our covenant’s symbols?”

The Moon spun angrily, chiming in a frosty flash. It refused to destroy the symbols of its previous covenant–the sacrilege of razing its own image in a needless fashion.

Their shared argument was loud and grating–like instruments clashing with no heed to any dignified notation. It was cacophony–loud, bracing, and unpleasant. Eclipse resisted the urge to plug his audials.

“It’s not sacrilege if the covenant no longer exists. The design that will be erected in its stead will be more true to form–more dazzling to be sure.”

They screeched louder in their celestial language, driving pain into his audio receptors. 

“I am the covenant master, you will obey me!”

Like petulant children, they pouted simultaneously, drooping from his shoulders but outright refusing to heed him.

Eclipse groaned–they were like wrangling newframes. His temper grew without any assistance from Sun’s intervention.

Closing his optics, he concentrated on the pull and push of his internal fuel lines. Inward circulation, outward circulation. He attempted to calm the budding rage in his core.

His attempt at meditation was interrupted by a soft sound, a bare breath of a laugh. 

Eclipse whipped around from the throne, spinning in place and glaring with all his muster.

The Princess stood behind the slate coloured curtains–her white figure half concealed by the heavy fabric. A hand was raised to her faceplate, mirth painted across her optics.

Any magics that he had prepared in attack died in his core, the power ebbing. 

They regarded each other a moment–him, lounged on her throne and her, caught in the act with a laugh.

The sound itself was puzzling, who knew she was capable of such a noise? All Eclipse had ever seen or heard from the Princess was cold and calculating or mocking; such an intonation went against the picture that Eclipse had painted of her. Of the living, functioning automaton that lay before his vision.

The Moon rang pleasantly, whizzing to her side in a burst of unexpected movement. Eclipse rarely saw it so energized, the speed of its flight underlying a sense of urgency or excitement. The Princess flinched slightly as it approached at speed, but then relaxed. The Sun moved to follow but Eclipse stopped it with a wave.

Brisk irritation flooded the bond, emitting from Eclipse. This was his covenant, he would not stand for insubordination.

The Princess raised her hand to gently touch the Moon’s material body, but Eclipse recalled it before she had a chance. The Sorcerer felt a wave of cold disappointment crash through his core, but it did not refuse. The Moon returned to its proper place at his side, and the Princess was left alone with her finger still raised.

“You would do well to remember whose covenant the Moon belongs to.” He warned, angry heat building behind his optics.

“How could I forget,” came her soft, sad reply. An alien pang reverberated in his core at the sound. 

Eclipse swung back around on the throne, surveying the expansive white emptiness once again. Steering himself away from errant thoughts, he directed the attention elsewhere–anywhere away from her eyes.

He summoned his proudest tone, “I was thinking of redecorating. This room is completely outdated–I think it’s high time for an upgrade.” 

Without his optics on her, it was difficult to discern her reaction. A low ‘hm’ was the only response.

“Everything is so archaic, antiquated. And I do believe a new royal crest needs to be designed to showcase the kingdom’s new ruler. A Sun to accompany the Moon–that is the reason you proposed an alliance of matrimony, isn’t it?”

He ensured that the wry smile could be heard in his voice. His core panged harsher pains that reverberated through his cables like living lightning.

“I’ll get right on it.” her voice was muffled by the nearby fabric and her whispered tone. Inexplicably, Eclipse missed the brief sound of her laughter. The thought bothered him so much that he waved a hand dismissively without even looking at her.

“That will be all.” he ignored the pooling disappointment that flooded his core at his own juxtaposition. 

Her fading steps only echoed the sensation in his audials, making the feeling worse.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The unrelenting steps were a comfort– a lulling, steady repetition that soothed familiar gears and pistons in his legs. The stairwell stretched onward mercilessly without a single window, the white marble of the main castle long forgotten behind the many floors behind him. Rough stone and dusty torchlights now lined the walls, unlit and unnecessary to Eclipse’s covenental powers. Step by step, he trudged on and on; the journey relaxing and the destination unexciting. His own feet took him upwards before he even realised where he was travelling.

It was an old comfort, one from before the successful covenant of the Sun and the Moon. How many nights had he spent in his former tower, huddled over books and tomes of magic, machinery and alchemy? How many history tomes had he poured over for a scrap of information that could help him achieve his goals? The steady pace and burning gears in his legs ascending the near endless steps were a mind-numbing meditation–one that was starkly absent during his brief time in the castle.

How long had he kept himself from this particular comfort, for a secluded tower where he could exist in his own solitude? Why had he kept himself from such a base amenity?

The stone steps were gritty from disuse, it was clear no one had made the trek in this particular tower in quite some time. The lack of golden and white adornments on the way made it clear that this was no ‘royal’ sector of the castle, but one only traversed by soldiers or prisoners. The former Queen was known for her lack of mercy on the battlefield–it made sense that the prisons would be in a similar state of disuse as her quarters.

Philosophical musings whirred inside Eclipse’s memory banks, the Princess’s words and actions refusing his peace with their constant confusing dance. 

They had met in the halls, passing each other like ships in the night, and he had jumped at the chance to pester her for more information concerning their upcoming nuptials. His secondary joy of grating on her nerves was a balm on his.

“My dear white lamb, what an unexpected treat it is to see you walking these halls. Shouldn’t there be some intricate royal wedding you should be planning?” He slunk to her side like an eel, grin full of guile.

She sighed reproachfully, mask in place. “As I previously mentioned many times, my lord , the longer you insist on vexing me for details, the longer it will take me to plan.” Her pace did not falter, her sparse but faithful knights following her steps while readying their weapons discreetly.

It only made him grin all the wider. “Ah, but tis excitement that brings me to you so often. Unless you’d rather entertain me in other ways.” His barbs fell upon icy responses but it did not quell his fortitude. “As you know, a patient being I am not.”

He draped the tone like a kerosine blanket over her shoulders, match ready to strike. He almost missed the tightening of her shoulders.

Her heels were sharp against the polished granite. They echoed reproachfully in his audials, their pace unrelenting. 

“Then as my future husband, you should know I don’t much care for your allegories. I am this kingdom’s shield, as my mother was its sword. I am far from a lamb to slaughter.”

Eclipse fought the urge to roll his optics, her prideful bearing once again rearing its head. “I can call my future spouse whatever I wish, especially considering she was never so considerate as to give me her proper introduction.”

The frigid pause that gave way could have frozen an iceberg, the stiffening of her shoulders now impossible to miss.

He knew he had caught her within her own rules of royal etiquette–she had demanded a proper introduction when they first met, which he had provided–that which she had forgone. Snaring her with her own net was disastrously satisfying. It had Eclipse wondering whether he should learn proper etiquette in order to indulge a repeat performance.

Eclipse ignored the shocked creaking from the knights in her attendance, all faceless automatons that either held small or no covenant at all. 

“I believe I introduced myself clearly.” she replied shrewdly.

“But not your name .” Eclipse clipped, “for we are equals, are we not? Unless you wish to defer to me, as we previously discussed.”

“‘Your Majesty’ is suitable.”

“Then I suppose ‘Princess’ is similarly suitable?”

“Call me ‘Princess’ if you so choose–I care not.”

Sharp fangs wrested into a smile, but another odd painful twang pierced his core. He ignored it in favour of irritating her further. Anything to disrupt her terse facade.

“Princess of the lambs, then.” 

She whipped around to glare at him. The fire in her eyes made him giddy

“Best hurry with your preparations then. This shepherd grows hungry. My patience empties like a broken chalice, chop chop!” He strode past her easily, overtaking her stride with long, confident steps. Waving rudely back at her, he almost wished he could see her infuriated expression.

But that would ruin his exit.

The memory faltered as he reached the apex of the tower, a menacing door fitted with iron locks marking his destination. It opened with a groan, revealing a sparse but large chamber. Dust covered the surface of the floor, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the moonlight pouring through a high window. 

Etchings and scratches lit up like secret scrawls upon the stone walls, the pitiful prayers of a long-repurposed prisoner. It was barely a wonder where the previous Queen had found parts to service her own repairs.

Eclipse stretched his arms wide, reaching upwards in a languid stretch. There was no one within the vicinity that was around to disturb him, and none that would dare follow him so far to such a desolate place.

But Eclipse found solace here. It was different from his previous tower, which had burned to the ground following his successful covenant, but it was similar enough that it relaxed him.

Seeing the stars from the high window, navy skies with glittering possible covenants, drew his gaze like a scholar’s manuscript. Every glimmer in the night sky reflected a possible power that could be drawn down by a scribe, a knight, or a nobody. So long as the information to call down a star was readily available, truly anyone could do it.

His core ached where the seal of his covenants rested. Such information was hardly common knowledge–it had taken him years of searching, researching, and coercion to get the materials and scriptures he needed to complete his goal. Those without power had to commit dastardly acts in order to gain even the smallest crumb of respect–but languishing in such thoughts was now beneath him. 

Above them all, high in his new tower, Eclipse now lorded over the entire kingdom. He would never be made to feel small or vulnerable again.

Perhaps in a while, he would descend and brush up on some stifling etiquette in the library to pester his bride some more. Here at the top, a wealth of information was available at the tips of his fingers, as easy to obtain as a shiver.

Yes, perhaps in a while. For now, he contented himself with a sky full of stars, and the company of his own self.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Was that really necessary?”

Eclipse turned from his tome, a small circle reading lens catching on the edge of his cheek plate.

“Your Highness, what an unexpected delight. To what do I owe this pleasure? Fancy a bit of light reading?” He held up his book from where he was reclined, eyes wry. Let her know that her presence mattered little to him.

The Princess looked the same as she always did, her armour gleaming in the low library light. Her posture was that of irritation, or fatigue. She had her small hands placed on her hips and looked down on him with a frown in her optics.

“The attendant I sent–all we needed was your approval on your wedding attire. You didn’t need to frighten them.”

Eclipse rolled his optics and returned to his reading, hiding his delight. 

It was rare that she sought him out, choosing instead to busy herself with whatever occupied her–often staying in the opposite wing of the castle in a futile attempt to avoid him. He sought her out only when his boredom reached new heights; there was little reason why wedding planning was taking this long.

“It was hardly a scare–you need brighter attendants.” A fang peeked out from underneath his lip, a small smile.

“You threatened to eradicate her lineage from the history annals. I think that’s a little more than ‘ a scare ’.”

“Is that what I said? Hardly one of my better ones. If she interrupted my reading any further, it wouldn’t have remained a threat.” Eclipse turned a page, optics scanning idly for keywords. “Her inquiry was hardly important.”

He heard a groan, and a small shift in her armour. Chainmail sleeves rang quietly in the dim library. 

There was nothing more entertaining lately than getting on her nerves.

“You want to be King, don’t you? Then it is in your best interest to expedite the process. Not hinder it.”

Eclipse turned the next page as slowly as possible, as if dragging a finger through a rotting wound. “Mhmm,” he said idly, tone blatantly disinterested. It took all his power not to grin outright.

She made a noise like a broken clock–gears grinding with ill-fitting effort. Eclipse stifled a laugh.

Waving a lazy hand, he summoned the Sun and Moon, their material bodies sparkling faintly in the low lamplight. Flexing his power always made him feel better, and the Princess would do well to remember that she was still subservient to him.

“Moon, fetch me that far tome on the leftmost shelf, would you? The one with the silver lining.” Eclipse didn’t even need to raise his gaze to know the shift in her posture–stiffening with fear, anticipating magical violence.

He waited for the accompanying chime of assent, but several beats passed without sound. He could feel the tension in the room ramp up with the accompanying silence, and he caught the Sun’s frozen position in the corner of his vision.

Turning to face the Moon, he was faced with utter insubordination.

Instead of fetching the tome and reminding the Princess of her place, the Moon instead drifted towards her, bobbing slightly. The Princess’s optics were wide at the display, her usual mask softer, with curious eyes peeking through.

Eclipse stood to his full height with a start, looming over both the Princess and his covenant. The tome he had previously been researching dropped to the floor in a dull thud –ringing like an assassin’s arrow.

His optics blazed a fire of red and blue–fury burning towards the two. The Sun hovered smartly at Eclipse’s shoulder, smugness oozing from his material body.

“ Obey your master,” Eclipse grit out, aiming his ire at the two cowering beings. His towering pauldrons cast a wide shadow over the Princess, and a note of discomfort rang in his core. The Moon was upset with him, but not enough to retaliate. It bobbed with repentance back to Eclipse’s opposite shoulder, and then beyond to the tome.

Eclipse paid it no heed, keeping the Princess pinned with his fiery gaze.

“Make no mistake, Your Highness. The Moon might have been a part of your family line for decades, but that line ended with you.” His words were bitter and cold. She looked up at him with ice in her eyes. “It is only by my hand that you can find redemption.”

He turned away from her, forgoing his research and striding from the room. Her presence had swiftly turned from a balm to a bomb, he could stand to be near her no longer. As he passed he caught a glimpse of her small white hands tight fists at her sides.

“Don’t bother me with inconsequentials, I trust you can do your duty to the kingdom and make me King .” His claws raked the wall, leaving grooves in the stone. 

Her returning silence was equally chilling, her posture shaking with repressed fury. She made no move against him, as was the wise decision, he would give her that much.

Turning his eyes away from her, he left the royal library and stalked down the halls.

Would it look like a coward’s retreat to leave her? No, but Eclipse needed somewhere private to converse with his covenant. Once was an act of chance, twice was a pattern. The Moon was his covenant, not the Princess’s. Eclipse had to stand firm with the separation.

The Sun was boiling smug sugar at his side, shooting pompous sounds at its brother. The Sorcerer waved it off in order to focus on the insubordinate sibling. His steps were angry as they stalked the halls.

He took as many steps as he could manage, frosty displeasure coating his internals. Each step growing colder and colder as he made evident the distance between himself and the library, until the freeze caused his steps to falter.

With a hand upon the stone wall, the discomfort grew in his core–frigid temperatures burning a mark into his very essence. The Moon did not take kindly to his treatment. It mattered little.

“You are my covenant– mine ! We entered a contract to achieve our goals together and you know better than I that she was not suitable ! Otherwise, you would be in her covenant now.” Eclipse seethed, his optics searching for an empty alcove where he might discipline his errant covenant. His voice was a few degrees short of a hiss.

“It is only with my power that we can rule this land, forget not that her intrusion is unessential! I don’t need her to solidify the terms of our contract.”

The sensation of an icy knife stabbed into his core, Moon’s actions sending waves of frost throbbing from the phantom wound. Eclipse’s knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself on the marble wall with a splayed claw.

Fury burned in his red optic, aimed at his insolent covenant. He refused to bow down to its challenge.

“ I am the master of this covenant, you bow to me ,” he hissed, optics narrowed into slits. The Moon rang defiantly in retaliation.

The air around them plummeted in temperature, frost forming in the water molecules. Icy veins began to grow up the marble columns, spreading floral fractals against the smooth surface.

Power crackled within the space, begging for violence–until Eclipse’s attention was diverted. It wasn’t a small sound like the sound of a small animal, or a similarly small creature–

It was the sound of someone trying to be quiet.

At first, Eclipse presumed it was the Princess returning to continue their brief argument–perhaps she thought better of her restraint and had finally reached the end of her patience.

But the sound lacked any of her usual tells; chainmail jingling, quick but proud footsteps. No, this sound was muted, cautious with a purpose. He recognized it as something nefarious in nature.

It wasn’t a sound Eclipse was accustomed to hearing within the castle.

Interest piqued, or perhaps looking for a diversion from their current argument, Eclipse followed the sound silently, his optics scanning the nearby areas for the source. Chastising Moon could wait, this would prove infinitely more fun.

Sun was ahead of him, silencing his footfalls with a simple spell. No sound could transmit in the vastness of the astral plane; it was easy to transfigure the air molecules surrounding them into similar shapes. Eclipse moved like a ghost through the halls, following the surprisingly swift perpetrator.

Grin building at the corner of his mouth, he hoped that it was someone he could scare. Anyone making an effort to be quiet in these halls was up to no good.

Weaving in and out of the shadows, Eclipse felt like he was gaining on them. A few times, it seemed like he had just missed them–the quiet pressing in like a guilty conscience. A few moments of silence would prevail and then that same soft noise in the distance, and the hunt would be on again.

A king should know his castle, after all.

The quiet intruder passed through the halls of the library where Eclipse had been previously, following the opposite passage leading towards the outer wings. After some time, he caught a second, more familiar sound; of the Princess’s clipped steps coming from the direction of the library.

A shimmer of colourless fabric glinted in the corner of his vision, and Eclipse acted out if pure instinct.

A black hand wrapped around the assassin’s wrist joints, a rusted blade poised to strike. A shroud of invisibility wrapped around the automaton’s person, a minor celestial sigil carved into their chest plate.

Eclipse threw them behind him, minding the deadly rusted blade, the knife clattering to the floor. Bits of poisonous toxic iron chipped from the edge, dusting the floor. He bared his fangs at the intruder.

The Princess gasped behind him.

The shadows grew underneath him, coating the walls in their inky darkness. The Sun sucked the light from the room, casting the world surrounding them into obsidian.

“One of yours, Highness?” Blazing twin stars of ice and fire bored into the trembling would-be butcher. In truth he didn’t require an answer.

The assassin trembled under the display of Eclipse’s power. It was evident they hadn’t expected such a retaliation–nor did they appear to be looking for backup. Wide, fearful optics stared up at him through the invisibility cloak.

“Filth like you doesn’t belong in my halls,” Eclipse continued, his heels clicking as he approached the cowardly assassin. His steps echoed a deadly tune. “Spreading disease in my castle? How dare you .”

The assassin’s shroud did little to cover their cowering. Even through the gossamer threads, Eclipse to taste the fear they saturated.

He reached a blackened claw towards the trembling figure, not letting them speak, claw tips catching on the fabric. Another celestial would return to the astral plane today, another contract severed.

He pulled them closer by the cowl, ignoring their mewling protests. Whatever words they pleaded, whatever whispers of mercy, Eclipse was deaf to them. Fury rang in his audials. He brought their face near his teeth, hissing low. 

“You face your doom, assassin. I will make an example of you.”

The clanking of armour resounded from behind him heralding the arrival of the Princess’s Royal Knights, but too late. With a deadly crunch Eclipse severed the connective fuel line from the assassin and let the body drop. Hardly a moment wasted, the danger dealt with. Eclipse never even gave the poor sod a chance to speak.

Repair technicians would make use of the materials in due time. They would swarm like rust contaminants to such bounty on display. The Sorcerer turned his head slowly to face the failure of the Knights. 

They surrounded the Princess like a cape, only the Major stepping in front as protection. Eclipse’s optics roamed over their prideful glances, cowering behind their pearly monarch, and growled low in his chassis.

“Your forces leave much to be desired, Major. I expected better.” The leader of the Knights met his gaze unyielding. The darkness summoned did not wane. “A lone assassin roaming the royal halls unaccompanied? Where is our pride as hosts?” Despite his words, his tone and expression were unkind; unsmiling. Eclipse could only see a sliver of the white Princess from behind the ursine knight.

Despite his protective posture, the Major showed his first hint of deference.

“You have my thanks, Lord.” A shy nod of his helm made the Major’s armour glint in the light. Eclipse waited for further explanation but was left wanting.

He hissed back with unrepressed fury. “This isn’t a charity . This is a failure of your leadership. See to it that you double the guards, or whatever it is you must do to ensure this filth stays out of palace business.”

The reptilian knight stiffened from behind his leader, and the Princess. This went beyond failure, this was sloppy . It was a wonder the Princess was functioning at all given to how close she was to being offlined.

What kind of castle was this where Royal guards were so painfully absent? 

“They wouldn’t have been able to harm me.” came the Princess’s gentle voice, a stark difference to the gravel tones of Eclipse and the Major. “You know that.” 

Her optics burned him, the knowledge she knew they shared. No mere poisoned blade would be able to harm her due to the runes that adorned her armour, but the implications still strangely irked him.

“It speaks volumes of a ruler when they can’t keep the rubbish out of their halls.” His eyes met the Heir’s and his fury refused to bank. “It’s evident that you’ve let your duties as ruler fall to the wayside. I will handle this matter henceforth.”

A chime of chainmail. A defiant step forward. Sun and Moon followed his movements like a magnet.

Eclipse raised his blackened hand, silencing her with the same hand that had severed the assassin’s lifeline. “I am to be King. This is a small matter that speaks ill of the kingdom I am set to rule. You will not sway me on this matter.”

Her words died in her voicebox, her fists tight as boulders at her sides. The Major too, was silent.

Mouth a grim line, his optics dared her to retaliate. Once again, she chose the smarter option.

“Clean up this mess.” Eclipse kicked the corpse, a dull ringing sound reverberating from his boot, “Call for a repair technician. Get this out of my sight.”

There was no grunted affirmative, no note that he had been heard. It didn’t matter, his orders would be carried out regardless. A rush of fuel pounded in his audials, a wave of magma in his cables.

None followed him as he left the scene, his pauldrons high and angry. Fury boiled in his fuel lines, his core hot and fuming. The Sun and Moon were silent at his sides, their sentiments matching, or perhaps adding to his own–his fans were whirring too hard to think straight.

He darkened every corridor he passed, storming deeper and deeper into the depths of the castle. His boots led him to the base of the tower stairs that he began to climb with less than a thought. Twisting and turning in the cramped column only alleviated some of the pressure in his chassis, leaking the pressure to his knee joints and the base of his heel. 

The walls closed in around him, lending little comfort.

The prison tower opened with an unholy screech, and Eclipse cast his eyes to the stars.  Flexing his claws, he stayed there until his fans quieted.

Chapter Text

Chap 4

To find the source of his irritation, the location of the would-be assassin’s hideout, Eclipse would have to leave the castle.

The thought that he could be denied reentry was laughable–nobody could stop his initial entry the first time. Other than the brief jaunt he had rescuing the outer peasants from invaders, he hadn’t stepped outside the castle grounds. 

Truthfully, he had been on such a blinding mission when he first arrived that he remembered very little of the capital city surrounding the castle. The citizens, houses, shops and streets were of little importance when he had a castle to command and conquer.

In truth, he didn’t need to. What would prompt a to-be king to leave his residence? There was little outside the grounds that required his attention, or even his interest. The castle, though boring, held all his goals cupped in a jeweled chalice; it was only a matter of time before they were all presented neatly on an organized silver platter. With a wedding on the horizon, perhaps he was due for a jaunt.

With that thought he left the castle gates behind and ventured forth into the capital. The cloistered, stifling boredom was behind him, and he cast himself in darkness to walk the streets as a would-be king. But he cobblestones beneath him ignored his inaugural steps, and there was no sea of peasants parting in awe.

The streets lay near empty before him, the late hour contributing to the vacancy of persons. A few peons, on their way to or from their place of business, huddled in the shadows and walked quickly past, sparing not a single glance in Eclipse’s foreboding direction. They were more polished than the peasants of the outskirts, but they were peasants all the same. Their distance was noted, but he couldn’t tell if it was intentional. They were either ignoring him out of fear, or they had better things to do. Both possibilities grated simultaneously on Eclipse’s nerves.

Did they not know they were being treated to the privilege of his illustrious presence? Had the Heir done nothing to inform their citizens of their upcoming nuptials? He expected banners and notices proclaiming the grandeur of their royal wedding–it was what was promised! Truly, there was something devious at work if his person did not strike awe the moment he left the castle gates.

Irritation built up within him, the fires of Sun’s anger fanned his inner flame. Eclipse quelled it with some effort–the Sun’s covenant demanded attention wherever he roamed–and Eclipse refused to feel ignored.

And that was the majority of what he felt, these days, in the castle.

Rather than sticking to the shadows, Eclipse walked under the moonlight and called for the forms of the Sun and Moon to accompany him. Perhaps the populace needed a visual reminder of their new king–or perhaps the capital was less educated than he had come to expect. With the opulence the castle showed, one would think that the education system of the capital’s citizens were of utmost importance, but evidently not.

Stone houses lit by shy starlight extended like a welcoming carpet as he strolled the various streets and alleyways, the city quietly readying itself for a nightly recharge. Puddles of oil and dusty parts piled in corners–stray banners stained with ink proclaiming sales, news, and gossip. The late Queen’s visage appeared quite a few times, but not once did Eclipse spy a single visual of himself or the Princess. 

A familiar pang lanced his core, an icy jab from the Moon. Eclipse turned to glare at his celestial covenant, the pangs becoming increasingly frequent as of late and almost always without warning or clue of source. The Moon bobbed next to him, casual as a cat, chiming a nonchalant tune. Eclipse forced his shoulders to soften, finding little energy to indulge its tantrums.

Covenants were such interesting, intricate things–the bringers of power and the bringers of doom combined into one. A bond between an automaton and a celestial star, bound in contract and powering each other until one or the other is extinguished. There were as many possible covenants as there were stars in the sky, but it took a special personality to capture interest.

Celestials were finicky creatures, borne of starlight and cosmic magics–a source of magic in and of themselves. Many philosophers had queried why the stars would even want to form a covenant with an automaton–what gains did that merit them? Of all the hypothesis aimed at celestials, this one theory remained as popular as it was constant:

The stars must be bored.

As sources of magic themselves, celestials looked down upon the sprawling kingdoms of the world and developed an interest in the beings that lived and suffered below. Sorcerers and scholars had deduced that the creation of the covenants were to filter out the unworthy or uninteresting automatons from the flock; to spend time with only the truly fascinating creatures from the world below.

Over the generations, the knowledge of covenants had grown, though with very few new celestials interested in covenants. To conjure a star and then make a demand of servitude–that took true insanity. But the rewards greatly outnumbered the risks, or so Eclipse had decided, and the nameless Sorcerer himself had achieved the greatest covenants in the realm. Whether by foolishness or bravery, he had accomplished what none had before.

Eclipse kicked a stone, the force driving it to collide with a nearby gutter, an echoing sound reverberating off the street. 

That did not explain the Princess.

He had two theories when it came to the Princess and her covenant. She either A: had one and kept it entirely secret, lending an audial to neither friend nor attendant, or B: had none at all.

The first theory was simultaneously a cause for concern and not. If the Heir’s covenant commanded some secret power, then it was either inconsequential to the power of Eclipse’s dual covenant, or held some sort of sway that was a cause for concern. Eclipse’s pride allowed him none of the concern, content in the knowledge that his power was unrivalled in any kingdom, in any history.

That left the second theory that was equally as concerning. If the Princess held no covenant, then it stood to reason that she may garner one in the near future. Perhaps that was the cause of her dawdling! Preparing ruthlessly to acquire a covenant that could best the Sun and the Moon.

Eclipse felt the pang a second time, shooting a half glare once more at his other covenant. The Moon chose this moment to glare in return, an aggravated hum emitting from its material form. 

Finicky creatures, celestials. Impossible to understand.

The Sun, at least, was easier than its sibling. Command attention, dazzle the stage; those were the contractual rules that were engraved upon his core. They were simple, without intricate fanfare, and not far removed from Eclipse’s own goals. Never again would he be made to feel small, invisible or vulnerable. That was a contract he made with himself long before the celestial twins.

The Sorcerer caught his reflection in a nearby window, a repair shop from the look of it. His own image reflected in the glass, sharp, dark and imposing. It looked foreign to him.

Past his reflection inside the shop, various parts dangled from the ceiling in a macabre display, arms and internal gears affixed to ceiling supports in order to showcase variety and extensive selection. The interior was cluttered and busy, whether by the influx of parts of the lack of potential buyers. Both possibilities boded ill. Eclipse turned his gaze away with a sick twist in his internal cables–better to carry on.

After what felt like hours, Eclipse stopped his directionless wandering, having found none to tremble at the sight of him and no source of discernment that may call an assassin to erase a royal. Perhaps it was merely a late night, or an unknown holiday, there was truly less than a soul on the streets.

His impatience cooled to a simmer, the night air lending itself to soothing his sharp thoughts. His mind hopped from speculation to speculation, more questions leading to dead ends than answers.

Silence surrounded the evening like a thick blanket, adding an eerieness to Eclipse’s contemplation. He needed answers, and thus far there was no one around to interrogate.

So he focused his mind. This was not his tower or the village on the outskirts, this was a city where he had no connections, and he needed to find someone willing to share information–or susceptible to threats.

The capital’s location was chosen for its waterfront access; wide, sprawling docks that could hold a fleet and a history of the Moon covenant controlling the tide. The Kingdom’s trade history was out of Eclipse’s depth of knowledge, but to his understanding there should always be a dock worker or two that remained on night watch.

He remembered looking out from his former tower at the sea, the stars cresting on the water creating an invisible seam. His view from the castle was different, but still achingly similar. A tightness coiled around his core–he refused to miss those days.

For every step he took, the buildings grew shabbier, less ornate with decorated stone. Eaves hewn with decorations turned to practicality over ornament, and the air blew the stench of seawater. Following the crisp breeze, Eclipse made his way to the entrance of the docks.

There were fewer ships than he expected–either the fleet was stationed elsewhere or in repair. The few ships that did remain looked more akin to barges, or trade ships. The docks were unsurprisingly empty of dinghies ferrying passengers to the larger ships. Stars twinkled on the water surrounding the submerged posts.

The shadow of a figure sat against one such post, knees dangling over the side, their plating orange with unkempt metal. Eclipse approached with steady, confident steps but remained at a distance in the event of rust contamination. The sound of his steps announced his approach.

The stranger spoke before him.

“Ye don’t look like ye need a ride, fellow.” The stranger’s voice was coarse with an odd accent. A foreigner? The voice was masculine, carrying a weariness of the world. Pointed audials and a long snout on the stranger’s faceplate made for a slew of queries, but none concerning Eclipse’s questions. Animalian automatons were hardly out of place among the capital’s populace.

That the stranger was a lower caste automaton, was certain.

“You are correct in that assumption.” Eclipse responded, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, readying magic.

“Then unless yer here to stargaze with a half blind sailor, there ain’t much I can do to help yer.” 

The Sun and Moon whirred to Eclipse’s shoulders, summoned close with a mere thought. The stranger gave no indication that he’d seen them. A blinding patch covered one of the stranger’s optics–the side facing Eclipse.

“I require information.”

The stranger barked out a laugh, high pitched and wheezing, “Information? From me ? Who do yer take me for that ye think anyone tells me anythin’.” Eclipse watched as the stranger lifted his leg from where it was slung over the side of the dock, revealing a putrid, rusted stump that ended at the knee joint. Eclipse fought not to physically recoil.

Another harking laugh, “that’s wha’ I though’.” the stranger's voice dipped low. 

The Sorcerer steadied himself, keeping his optics focused intently on the rusted leg and the potential particles that may be coasting on the air. “How can you be so sure you do not have the information I want?” 

His gaze was drawn to the shining movement of a hook where the stranger’s hand would be. It glinted in the starlight. A rudimentary solution perhaps, though decontaminating the rust would be the stranger’s best option. Eclipse couldn’t help but feel fortunate for the stranger’s online status–it would be much worse on the outskirts than the capital.

Finally, the stranger turned to look at Eclipse, one optic piercing while the other lay forgotten underneath a flap of fabric. The scrutiny was curious, standoffish.

“What do ye want to know?”

Finally he was getting somewhere.

“An assassin broke into the castle tonight.” Eclipse kept his voice measured. 

No reaction from the stranger. “And? Hardly the firs’ time.”

That was new information, and free to boot. The stranger hadn’t even charged a fee, although he should, considering how much he needed repair. The Sorcerer’s thoughts were interrupted by further queries from the stranger.

“Ye from the castle then? Yer no’ the first. Heard there was an invasion a while back, heard the ruckus myself, but then everything was business as usual. We lot figur’d the Queen’s kid ‘ad gone off’d, afore she was seen headin’ out a while after.”

Eclipse kept quiet, having learned quickly that this stranger was keen on rambling. His optics glowed like stars among the starlit docks.

“Thing’s’ve gone real south since ‘er mother pass’d–the kid’s got none ‘o the lust fer battle ‘o th’Queen. ‘N ain’t no business like war, y’understand.

“Barely knew what she look’d like, we did–the Queen kept ‘er real secret for a long time. We figgerd she was bein’ kept real nice an’ safe in the castle, little good that did ‘her now that the Queen’s offline.”

Eclipse’s eyes narrowed with scrutiny. The Princess wasn’t known? Eclipse thought back to his own meagre research that he’d done on the royal family, coming up with roughly similar information the stranger was giving him.

He had assumed that it was due to his distance from the capital that he knew so little of the Heir, but to hear that the capital knew similar amounts of nothing? It added further questions to his increasing leger.

“The Queen has been dead for some time.” Eclipse stated.

“An’ that’s why the assassin’s be goin’ in!” The stranger flashed his hooked prosthetic. “Sounds to me like we got the same information, fellow. Told ye I’d be useless to ye.”

“Do the assassins have a guild, an organization?” He pressed on, clenching his claws into fists.

“What are ye, one of the castle’s knights?” The stranger’s sole optic narrowed, signalling growing annoyance. “No’ a clue, go to a real information broker fer that, an’ stop botherin’ ol’Foxy. Leave ‘im in peace, lookin’ at the stars.” The stranger turned his faceplate away, facing the sea.

Eclipse’s fists were clenched so tightly they creaked, but he dared not step any closer. There was nothing else for him to do.

The waves swallowed the silence, sloshing sounds trudging against the docks. Eclipse turned away from the informant, leaving him to his solitude.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eclipse took more from the conversation than the weary sailor knew. His words might not be tailored for a royal audience’s approval, but he knew how to speak around the lower caste. Tailoring replies and letting your informant offer information they don’t think is relevant–that’s a skill Eclipse had developed from years of scrounging. He got the information he wanted, that would lead him to the information he needed .

The royal library would provide the rest.

He scoured the shelves for historical records, news documents, highlights of the century. There were tomes, untouched with uncracked spines loitering on the shelves waiting for historians to lovingly open them. There were sheafs of aluminum paper depicting gossip columns, probably read by some of the servants of the castle with much more worn corners, with illustrations depicting the late Queen’s visage during her many successful battles. 

There were documents of castle repairs, prisoners of battle, war strategies and notable historical records, but during all his searching, not a single sentence of the Princess was ever mentioned. Not even a single illustration depicting her in the annals. 

For whatever reason, the Queen had kept her Heir’s picture out of the spotlight–all of her shrouded in mystery and shadow. A direct contrast to the late Queen’s renown, particularly on the battlefield. Every automaton in the kingdom and beyond knew of The Kingdom’s Unbreakable Sword–the Conquering Queen.

Why would Queen Roxanne keep her sole Heir from the public?

Page after page, tome after tome, Eclipse could find nothing of the Princess that he passed regularly in the halls. Other than the shy generals, the royal knights, and the sparse but quiet nobility, did any of the public know her?

Life in the castle was clearly different from his own upbringing–he knew that before he arrived. Creation happened spontaneously among the race of automatons, family ties sometimes as flimsy as these aluminum sheafs. But even he had gained some rumours in the small village where he once dwelled–it was near impossible to keep rumours from spreading once started.

The fact that so little was known of the Princess told a story of containment rather than quietude. A considerable amount of effort had gone into keeping information of the Princess locked within the castle, leaving the public to speculate without proof of any matter concerning the Heir.

Eclipse’s claws sank into the stack of papers, denting the delicate documents.

But why?

It would take a person of great influence to be able to command such a containment; fear, perhaps, keeping the greater populace in the know quiet. There was only one such figure that sprung to Eclipse’s mind, and the proof was stacking up.

Why would the Queen keep her Heir a secret, in nothing including name?

With the Queen’s passing, the rumours could now circle freely–with her gone there was nothing to keep them at bay. And the Princess, whether or not she knew of her mother’s deeds, was intent on creating her own title outside of her mother’s shadow; an insurmountable feat.

The Sun and Moon, bobbing boredly at his pauldron released, in unison, a weary chime. He had been poring over texts for hours, their presence a simple ploy for company rather than achievement. But with their chime came a theory; a possible reason for the late Queen’s actions.

Perhaps the Princess held no covenant. And was thus vulnerable.

Sweeping his optics over Moon’s form, the evidence of the Princess’s failure stared at him with eyeless curiosity. Eclipse had already succeeded where the Princess had failed, and gained the Moon’s covenant, but did that leave her without a covenant, or with just a minor star to aid in her ruling?

Either way, the kingdom’s citizens wouldn’t be satisfied with a weak ruler after Queen Roxanne. It stood to reason that a ruler without a covenant, especially one following in the shadow of the late Queen Roxanne: The Unbreakable Sword and former holder of the Moon covenant, would not be looked upon favourably. The shadow she cast was wide.

There were no feelings of triumph in his findings, no surge of raucous joy that the object of his annoyance was in such a terrible public state. 

Instead, it had him looking at her actions with a different lens; battling on the frontlines like her mother for some crumb of prestige. Marrying the owner of the Moon covenant even if she loathed him.

How would that feel? Being tailored for ruling and yet kept in the shadows by the one who governs you most? To be borne for greatness and locked behind countless closed doors. To have every opportunity available to you, only to be ordered to remain still, quiet, and hidden.

Another chime, this time sharper. It coincided with a frigid lance to his core, like an attempt to gain his attention. Eclipse’s optics refocused on his covenants.

He wanted to be angry, to return to familiar supports of rage and righteous anger. He had to do unimaginable things to gain what crumbs of achievement he gained–but at least he had the ability to do so.

“This changes nothing,” he lied to them. “We just need to change our tactics.”

The Sun spun in a laugh, feeling the falsities in Eclipse’s core. The Sorcerer burned with embarrassment. The Moon echoed the same sound.

“Silence,” he muttered, empty of feeling. He felt at once weary and hyper energized.

He reclined in the chair further, his gaze dragging over the bookshelves. The mysteries of the Princess’s upbringing unraveling like a tapestry.

Eclipse knew nothing of the former Queen other than her fighting prowess. Queen Roxanne’s war accomplishments are what lead this kingdom to an era of prosperity, but also one drenched in battle. The informant at the docks was correct, there was no business like war.

But as a parent? A guide? He could barely imagine her as a nurturing presence. 

His optics roamed over the shelves of the library, smatterings of his hastily thrown research scattered in his vicinity. Some sections were empty of tomes, the culprit of their absence Eclipse himself, and others were inconsequential or unnecessary. 

The shelves containing myths and legends were stuffed full, fairy tales and stories mocking his vision. ‘ Tales of Humans ’ stood out starkly on the spine of a well-loved red book. He could scarcely imagine the Queen reading such a story to a newframe Princess, war-roughed fingertips turning page after page. 

A well of pity had sprung in his core. It bubbled over and spilled into his chassis, filling him to the brim. He cast his eyes away from the book, unwilling to face the emotions that spilled within him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next day brought forth queer curiosities. A Knight at his door, with a surprise invitation from the Princess.

“Her Highness would have sent a missive, but thought it prudent that I escort you myself.” The rabbit knight smiled earnestly from beneath his helm, faceplate open and warm. There was a shaky glimmer of underlying fear to his optics.

Eclipse’s eyes were immediately lidded, full of suspicion.

“For what reason?” He asked blandly, careful to keep his tone kingly. He looked down at the knight.

“A gift!” the messenger croaked, voice cracking. “ Ahem , I hear it is a gift. A pre-wedding present befitting a Royal Consort.”

Eclipse stood to his full height in the doorway, the arch slightly too low for his tall frame. He had to slouch to pass through. The knight cowered beneath his towering prominence.

“ A gift ? Well, in that case, I shouldn’t keep the Princess waiting. Who knows what sort of hideous thing she thinks is a befitting gift for my greatness.”

The knight laughed weakly, the plates of his ears clearly resisting the urge to flick downwards in discomfort. His posture was ramrod straight, and quivering like a mouse.

The castle really needed to invest in better security than this .

Strolling through the halls was nothing new to Eclipse, though having a willing escort was out of the ordinary. The occasional servant cowered at the first glimpse of him, tucking behind corners and running back the way they came. Such was his norm in the castle, and once more, Eclipse promised he’d invest in better servants once the wedding was over and done with.

Silver carpets led to more silver carpets, gold trim lining the walls, and they traipsed through the inner palace. Filigree depicting moons and stars littered the ornaments that lined the walls, the rare lamp depicting the sun much rarer.

The knight led him away from the main audience chamber, past the war rooms and council hall. He ventured onward towards the garden, but stopped at the entrance with a click of his heels. 

“Her Highness awaits you on the veranda.” The rabbit held traces of a stammer in his voice, but sounded overall proud that he had succeeded in his duty. Perhaps relieved that he could take his leave. Eclipse walked past him without a word.

He walked through the gardens in the dim morning starlight, the shadows hazy and the air warm. A familiar white figure in a chair sat demurely under a covered alcove.

It was like seeing her for the first time, his optics stuttering at the sight. She looked so small against the sky, her pure white countenance blinding to his optics. Pity pooled out of his core and coursed through his fuel lines with the knowledge he now had–it was like seeing her anew.

Her entreating voice was cold and cautious. She did not stand to greet him. “Lord Eclipse. You’re here.”

His fans whirred at her sound. “You summoned me. Something about a gift?” His words were empty of their usual barbs.

She gestured to a second chair to her right–he hadn’t noticed–with an inky fabric draped over the arm. He was unsure if the blanket was her gift, or if she was coaxing him to sit.

So he stood awkwardly, waiting for her next move. She sighed tiredly and took to her feet.

Stars, but she was small . The tip of her crown barely reaching the centre of his chest. This creature took to the battlefield? The front, no less?

She strode to the fabric, picking it up with dainty white hands. They sank into the pitch blackness of the fabric, sinking in like a black hole swallowing her fingertips. She hefted the material upwards, small, unknown details glittering in the morning light, a flash of gold.

Draping the fabric over her arm, she approached him, beckoning with a gracious hand. Numbly, he bent at the waist, better meeting her eyes in blind compliance.

The fabric was slung over his shoulders, with some effort, catching on the high points of his shoulders. Soft but firm hands smoothed out the creases, straightening the cuffs. A cloak lined with gold sat atop his shoulders, finer than he’d ever worn before. Bright golden stars twinkled upon his chest.

His eyes were lost in the luxury, and he missed her retreat back to the alcove. Eclipse opened his mouth to–what? Thank her? But his voicebox remained stubbornly mute.

The stars had mercy on him, for she quickly returned with a second gift; two gleaming metal pauldrons strewn with royal symbols. Her gifts were not to replace the identity he already owned, only adding to them, enhancing them. His fuel lines felt oddly hot, and he wondered if the Sun had anything to do with it.

The pauldrons sat handsomely atop his shoulders, the golden trim on the metal complementing the gold of the starry embellishments. He caught a brief glance of pride glimmering in the Princess’s eyes. Her gaze only made him feel hotter.

“I thought so…” she murmured so low he could barely hear it, Eclipse still bent at the waist. For a brief moment her optics lit up wide, a gasp caught in her voicebox. She then turned away from him, facing instead the sprawling gardens and addressing him without meeting his gaze.

She held the railing with tight grips, her posture steadfast and unyielding.

“It is customary for a royal to be fitted with garments of gold–the colour of our family. The Moon has always graced us with its splendor, but our gold we came by ourselves. Gold is what rulers wear, and you will be king .”

Eclipse felt stunned by her short speech, the words washing over him like the Moon’s tide. The pauldrons and fabric felt like a weight against his very core.

His thoughts whirred with the speed of his internal fans, flitting from one thought to another. Her expression was consistently frozen, but her voice held some pride–some bashful quality. For whatever reason, perhaps disgust, she refused to look at him.

He looked closely at her now, unburdened by her startlingly bright optics. The ribbons of gold that flowed through her armour like rivers of wealth, the starry cracks in her facade. The more he looked, the more he found layers and layers of the protective runes that covered her delicate plating, and for the first time he made no effort to unravel them.

Like the day before, he was relieved that she wore the armour, that she was unhurt by the assassin. That she couldn’t be hurt by such means.

“I wanted to thank you personally, also,” her voice flitted to a more casual, hesitant tone. It drew his attention to her faceplate like a moth to flame, but still her gaze was caught in the web of sprawling gardens.

She shook her head fitfully, hands clasped at her chest. “It was unnecessary, but I thank you regardless. It won’t happen again.”

Eclipse gripped his fist tight, hidden under the gifted cloak. “I will see to it that it doesn’t.” He grit out, fury from the assassin’s attempt resurfacing like a boiling furnace.

She hmm’d in response, moving closer to the railing and away from him. An intrusive thought pierced his mind like a lance–what would she do if he held her here?

He watched her walk away, those tiny hands barely reaching around the circumference of the railing. Eclipse thought for a moment that he might understand the late Queen, how could one send such a delicate creature to battle?

But he’d seen her on the battlefield, greatshield in tow. It was a great, hulking thing–even from a distance he could surmise its terrible weight. The fact that he had witnessed her wielding it with proficiency, were there truly no stories of the Princess’s might in battle?

Her mother’s shadow was its own terrible burden, and the Princess had been chained by it all her life.

“Is it customary…” Eclipse began, his words exiting his mouth before his mind had a chance to stop them, “for the gifts to be reciprocated?”

The Princess turned with a surprised start, her hands gripping the railing with some fierceness. Her optics were wide with curiosity, or perhaps shock.

“It is normally for the Consort to receive, so no.” Her optics remained wide as they collided with Eclipse’s mismatched pupils. “In truth, I didn’t think you’d ask.”

He wanted to retort, but his lies were muted. She knew him relatively well by now, such falsities wouldn’t work here.

“Perhaps you misjudge me.” Was what his mind decreed as a suitable answer. His core throbbed hot and cold. “Then there is no gift you would like to receive?”

For a brief, blinding moment she brightened, shining like a star. But all at once her light dimmed, the source of her light snuffing out like a candle. The cold and calculating voice returned, and she shook her head.

“No. You’ve done plenty.”

The sudden shift in emotion was a shock to Eclipse’s systems–leaving him well and truly reeling. She released her hands from the railing, her footsteps leading towards him and then passed with a furious pace. The Princess muttered something low as she passed, but his audials didn’t catch it.

The pain that lanced his core felt blazing hot and freezing cold at the same time. He watched her take her leave quickly, the veranda soon feeling as empty as a quiet battlefield. As her steps grew quieter and quieter, it left Eclipse’s thoughts screaming in the void.

Chapter Text

Chap 5

He threw himself into preparations.

She gave him a gift–a luxurious, custom, see-how-well-I-know-you , gift. One that he’d never received before, the extravagance nor the attention to detail. In truth, he couldn’t remember having ever received a gift before.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of reciprocating such a deed. Let it be known that Eclipse was never one to back down from a challenge.

There was no physical gift he could bestow upon her that she could not obtain herself, as she was royalty, borne and true. She grew up surrounded by opulence and splendor, dazzling gold and sparkling white. Eclipse was formed in the mud, surrounded by decay, their differences stark as black and white.

Eclipse had never given a gift before, never received anything that had not paid its rightful due. Sure, he had stolen from those unworthy in the past, but to give without measure? To bestow without debt? Eclipse would have this debt erased before she could haunt this over him.

The solution was a simple matter at its core; there were things that only he could accomplish, sights that only he could show. But would she like it? 

He shook his head, relieving himself of the intrepid thoughts. It didn’t matter. Why not down two birds with one stone, satisfy a contract and repay a debt? Eclipse was nothing if not cunning. Where others found complications, he found opportunity.

Planning the intricacies was a boon to his processor, dusting off old formulas from his memory banks to extricate nuggets of gold information. He’d spent too long idle–the castle pressing against his sharp exterior like a warm lounge-cat, smothering him with rest and relaxation. 

The tools needed were simple, or so he thought. He couldn’t just summon any servant to bring him the components he needed, half of them looked at him strangely or ran the other way. Getting them himself was out of the question–Eclipse did not know the bartering system of the capital, nor the who and where of the suppliers themselves. 

He needed a great deal of aluminum and magnesium, and a fair bit of sodium, though not in such greater amounts. Aluminum was easy enough to come by, but he would not risk the knowledge of the library being lost by using the papers as material. The display had to be spectacular, and specifically placed. Everything had to go off without a hitch, otherwise his illustrious plan would fail.

Eclipse, ever the scholar, was full of contingencies, but never planned to fail.

Conjuring the elements himself was simple business, but like all magic, there was a limit. Due to the sheer amount of specific metals he needed, it would be taxing on his body should he try to summon the full amount at once. And weakness, he reminded himself, was something a king should never show.

He debated conjuring the elements in a lax manner, but impatience won out. He’d rather be done with this debt sooner rather than later.

During his planning, Eclipse frequented his tower, the place he made for himself within the castle walls outside of his own quarters. He began scrawling his formulas on spare scraps he found in the library, filling the walls with symbols and equations. It was beginning to look more like his old tower, the sensation like a familiar flutter in his memory banks. 

It felt good to be working again, made him feel more like himself. No matter that the goal was to erase the peculiar sensation the Princess had cast upon the cloak, the phantoms of her delicate fingers caressing his shoulders whenever he adorned the garment.

It baffled him to have something that fit him so seamlessly–that despite their brief moments with each other she had come to know him so well. It irked him, to feel so known. 

His hands fell downward to the lining of the cloak, as they’d done a thousand times. It was an unconscious motion, as easy as functioning, tracing the fine embroidery and threading the water-like material through his claws.

The gift must be enchanted for it to have such an effect. A mad part of Eclipse’s mind wanted to throw it out the window and let it billow on the wind far away. But his claws kept going back to trace new discoveries during every idle session. The cloak felt a part of him, as nothing had before–the most magnificent gift he’d ever received. 

While he made it his business to aggravate her, she’d been carefully watching him.

It irked him to no end, the perfect weight and luxurious feel of the fabric melding perfectly with his form. The moment she placed the pauldrons on his shoulders, he felt intrinsically that he never wanted to remove it, that he would sooner burn the castle to the ground should it be taken from him.

The memory of her soft voice whispering her innermost thoughts tickling his audial from standing so close. The weight of her hands leaving his person.

The cloak must be enchanted for it to have such an effect on him.

And in order to repay the debt, Eclipse needed to get to work.

He left the comfort of his tower, scaling the stairs with ease. His long legs bounded down the twisting stairwell, glint of torchlight casting shadows onto his darkened lair.

The clanking of armour could be heard echoing through the halls. Perfect . Just who Eclipse was looking for.

The reptilian knight, the one with a bad attitude, skulked down the corridor, weapon in hand. Eclipse grinned toothily. 

“Ah, Sir Montgomery, just the cad I was looking for.” Eclipse slid to his side, casting his shadow over the knight’s bright armour.

The knight in question reeled at his name, orange optics narrowed and furious. His hand went immediately to his sword.

“Eclipse.” The cad assumed a useless battle ready position. Eclipse relaxed further, tutting at his tone.

“Now now, I believe we’ve been through this before. It’s Lord Eclipse, isn’t it? Soon to be King Eclipse?” he clicked his fangs, enunciating his point. The knight growled.

Eclipse rolled his eyes. Why must he always be faced with such insubordination? “Go on, say it, Sir knight. My Lord Eclipse.”

Sir Montgomery’s sword hand squeezed tightly around the hilt, metal creaking. Eclipse could hear the inner workings of his gears grinding with frustration. He responded to barbs so readily,  how fun!

“M’lord.” the knight practically spat, keeping a ready position. A thrill ran up Eclipse’s spine, though it was muted in comparison to the Princess’s responses. He straightened, pacified.

“Good enough. Listen, I need you to run some errands for me, like a good chap. Head into the city and find me an allomancer or a metal mage, one that specializes in aluminum and one in magnesium. I need both in large quantities. Bring them to me. Chop chop !” He clapped his hands in cheerful urgency.

The reptilian knight growled once more, continuously defiant. “I’m not your errand boy. I have a duty to fulfill. And who knows what kinds of nefarious deeds you’re planning to conduct with these large quantities of metal?”

Eclipse shrugged his shoulders casually, threading his claws betwixt themselves. “Ah yes, your duty . How could I forget?” He raised a finger to his mouth, a picture of pondering. “Your duty…that allowed an assassin to make an attempt on the Princess’s life a mere fortnight ago? The assassin that I dispatched? Forgive me if I hold little faith in your moral integrity to uphold your,” Eclipse wiggled his fingers in falsity, “ Duties .”

The brief flash of the knight’s crestfallen expression was delicious, Eclipse’s barb lancing the knight to his core. Who needed magic when the right words worked just as well?

“You see? You’re much better suited to be my errand boy.” For a brief moment, Eclipse considered patting him condescendingly on the helm. “I expect results before the evening stars grace the sky or there will be consequences. Ta-tah!”

Sweeping his cloak, he allowed the base to barely brush against the knight’s greaves, a luxury the poor fool would never know. Eclipse made his exit smoothly, leaving the reptilian knight shaking with rage.

Delegation was fun. He couldn’t wait until he could do it in an official capacity.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was to be his first deed as king, not counting his display warding off the enemy from Vega. This was what the populace would remember him by, his first royal presentation–given that they scarcely knew anything of him, as noted by the informant at the docks. He may not be king yet, but this would be a debut of sorts, so that everyone knew his name.

He would be known as more than just the most recent invader. A being that could command the heavens, string fire and colour through the sky? No mere conqueror could do that. He was to be a king that conquered the skies and ruled the land below, nothing was impossible for Eclipse.

(Yet there was a whisper of hesitation, a modicum of something that felt like unnecessary risk. Why was he doing this again? What purpose did it serve?)

He smothered those thoughts with predictions of triumph. What did it matter? If he was king to the kingdom, was he not also a conqueror to the Princess’s attentions?

A display like this would send her to her knees. He’d make sure of it.

A small thrill whirred through his systems, bringing a crazed grin to his faceplate. He couldn’t stop smiling, the factors keeping him occupied sending malfunctions to his expression facilitators. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face, no matter how hard he tried. So he shoved the unruly errors to the back of his mind and focused on his main task. Everything was coming together.

Cannons were repurposed for his goals, set with compartments full of active metals. The allomancer that the lizard knight brought to his door was a tiny but competent automaton, fluent in both aluminum and magnesium conjurings. His lack of fear was apparent by the wide smiling expression on his faceplate, his hands like circular discs clasped together in prayer. With an alchemical clap, the metals that Eclipse required in great amounts were summoned, and shaped into small, precise capsules. Those capsules would be deposited into the remade cannons, and frozen for safety. Eclipse was so delighted that his schematics were being followed to the letter that he threw himself into the following steps without delay.

The allomancer left after completing his duty, Eclipse barely noticing his absence until the silence became more prevalent. The morning stars had already arrived on the horizon, their twinkling lights heralding a new day. 

Lines of cannons decorated the outer walls of the castle, the towers holding the gate standing tall and proud against the sky. 

Who needed a royal proclamation when one held the powers of the two deity celestials?

He poured over the details, lining the cannons himself to control any outside influence. A scholar and a perfectionist; he would have none interfere with his grand design. There was to be no fault, and no distractions. And none to steal his schematics nor relay them back to the Princess.

The best kind of gift was a surprise.

After hours of delicate workmanship, Eclipse’s hands finally stilled. Fine tuning could only take him so far, and he had double and triple checked his formulas. His mind was abuzz with anticipation–the excitement of expectancy adding an extra charge to his processor. 

He gazed at his project, finalizing his checklist with final internal notes. The smile was still there. All that was left to do was wait for the night stars to arrive.

The Moon, who had been readily worked for the better part of the day, floated at his side with a weary note. Eclipse could feel no fatigue from their covenant, the simple act of freezing the malleable components a simple task for such a powerful being. The sound brought to mind impatience, a feeling that Eclipse agreed with, but steadily tried to ignore.

It bobbed lazily at his side, unseeing eyes contemplating the project that Eclipse had spent so much of its power on. For a moment it seemed so inconsequential, and yet so important. Eclipse would make his mark on history with this display, in an official setting. There would be no ignoring him now.

“I think it time,” Eclipse murmured to his lunar covenant, “that we extend our invitation to the Princess, no?”

He cupped the celestial deity gently with a curled claw, his secondary arms briefly lancing with pain. The Moon could no longer hurt him physically, now a partner as much as a pet. The Moon allowed the casual touch, eagerness pouring through his core like a winter fog. Eclipse’s smile softened, his optics lidding.

“Then let’s not keep her waiting.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There wasn’t time to send a missive, nor did he trust any of the knights to follow through without gracing her with their opinions. No, it was easiest to control all of the variables himself, including where to place the royal for the best view. His own presence would serve as the invitation, his own claws ensuring that she couldn’t refuse.

She was always easy to find within the castle, something within him drawing him to her like a magnet whenever he desired to see her. Even within the crisp, clean walls, she shone like a beacon, drawing him in with her light. The sound of her heels against the marble was becoming as soothing as a melody, alighting his fuel lines with energized charge.

As always, she was escorted by a meagre menagerie of guards, far too small for any royal. That would have to change once he became king–no harm would come to the Princess under his rule.

He found her in the corridor that separated the main castle body and the former Queen’s wing–now Eclipse’s quarters. She stood paused at the crossroads as if lost, contemplative. Swimming with eagerness, Eclipse swooped in to unbalance her.

His new cape brushed the floor soundlessly, his steps mute with a simple quieting spell. He descended upon her like a corrupt shadow against her pale glow, capturing her forearm panels within his sharp grip. Eclipse felt her stiffen under his palms.

“Your Highness,” he purred in her audial, feeling her internals jump, “Come quietly. I have a matter that cannot wait.”

Two faceless guards reached for their weapons, but none were drawn. It was clear that their concern for the Princess came second to saving their own hide. From the corner of his optic, Eclipse glared at them. 

“Your guards aren’t needed.” he stated, his tone infinitely colder than before. The gift wasn’t for them, it was for her . Their interference would ruin all his hard efforts. His words were a statement as much as they were an immediate order. Eclipse’s thumb idly caressed her wrist joint.

The Princess turned her head towards her attendants, voice still and emotionless. “Leave us.” she commanded, and they obeyed. Their scurrying exit was swift, their worth meaningless. Eclipse would not sully this moment with their presence a moment longer.

She made no move to escape his grip, but neither did she look at him. Instead, she watched the attendants leave with focused vision, even long after the shoddy guards had left her sight.

He felt that familiar urge to have her look at him again, the compulsion to have their eyes meet overriding his annoyance at the attendants. 

“You need better guards.” he chided, his words sounding more like barbs than a warning. 

“I doubt there are any guards in the entire kingdom that could defend against you .” she stated coldly, keeping her gaze trained on the now empty hall. “Is this it then? You’ve reached the end of your patience?”

Eclipse’s internals hummed with ardor, his anticipation growing with every passing second. So she had been expecting him to reciprocate a gift. “It is.” he responded, smiling though she refused to see.

She released a worldly sigh, a slight tremor escaping her ornate armour. Her head turned in his direction, but did not raise. The Princess closed her optics like she was heading to the gallows.

“Let us be off then. No sense in wasting time.” Her words and tone were at odds with each other, eagerness in her words tainted with the sound of resignation. Her limbs were as limp as they were stiff, perhaps nervous in the face of an unknown present. A frown carved its way in place of Eclipse’s smile, a bolt of confusion clouding his excited thoughts.

He vibrated with an aggravated growl–releasing like a rumbling engine. Was she not excited for the reciprocation? Did she think so little of his ability to provide? This resignation, for whatever reason, felt more like a death sentence.

Eclipse felt all the more impatient to show her the display, to ease her confusing response. She’d come to understand, she’d come to see things his way.

With perhaps too much eagerness, he held her forearms in a vice-like grip–his hands like shackles. Anticipation encouraged him to grip harder, pull faster, get the flurry of complex emotions to escape his core. Once she saw, she’d be pleased. Once it was done, she’d look at him properly.

He failed to notice her stumbling steps behind him, his furious pace pulling rather than escorting. 

They swiftly passed the Major, his expression high and concerned. Eclipse did not stop to greet him, and spared him no glance. Instead, Eclipse pulled the Princess closer, tighter, keeping her flush against his chestplate–there would be no interruptions. The Major moved to intercept, but stopped at the Princess’s expression. Whatever it was, it reflected on the Major’s face as devastation–his greaves heavy like stone against the floor.

Eclipse took her high and far to the gate towers, her heels clacking irregularly against the rough stone of the outer exterior. His new cloak billowed around them like wings, obscuring her small form within a black void. She made no sound of protest, no voice of eagerness to receive. Her silence set Eclipse’s teeth on edge.

The night stars had risen, mere small twinkles on the horizon. He could not wait. His core bled with a flurry of incomprehensible feeling, flashing hot and cold, and only this gift could set things to rights.

She stumbled onto the wall terrace, her armour heaving with effort. Eclipse released her arms and turned away from her, striding to the wall where he could look down and face the cannons for one final check. From the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of her rubbing her forearms with her tiny hands.

She was silent, and still refused to look at him. It irked him that she was still so defiant.

“Have you no words for me, your Highness? No thoughts to share with your beloved consort?”

She thumbed her joints where he’d held her, barely moving.

“Only that I thought I’d have more time.” 

He preened. “Of course, such a spectacle would take infinitely longer if it was led by anyone other than me. You should be proud that such accomplishments take me far less time than any of your best minds.”

She hmm’d , a sad, short sound. His core rattled like a rat in a cage. “You are unmatched, so I suppose this is to be expected.” A slight tremor rocked her body, clinking her chainmail sleeves. “If this is the end, I’m thankful that it is happening here. It will make for easier transport.”

Eclipse’s mind buzzed with confusion. He sought to correct her. “On the contrary, this is no end. This is merely the beginning.”

Finally she faced him, her optics fiery with holy light. An electric thrill went up his spine.

Her eyes tracked his hand movement, his easy summoning of the Sun and Moon with a gentle flourish of his claw. They entered the material plane like passing through a shimmering veil, one minute flat and then suddenly whole . Both spun around Eclipse as they arrived, and the Princess’s optics flickered with fire.

“Are you ready?” he asked, raising his arm skyward. 

She finally moved, adopting an odd, battle-ready stance. “ No , but it’s not like you’ve given me much choice.” Eclipse grinned.

“Then prepare yourself!” he laughed, throwing back his head. Solar energy warmed in his core. His hands felt hot, with claws grasping, tingling with solar flares. 

Her pose thrummed with energy, and like a ticking bomb, she lunged the moment he flexed his fingers.

Her pounce was unexpected, but it did not impede his precise flares. In a fraction of a second, he released multiple simultaneous sparks of heat from his fingertips, guided by the Sun’s fiery intent. They were aimed at the fuses of the cannons, sparking fire and sending energy coursing through the mechanism.

Her body weight hit him low, knocking him off balance. Eclipse fell to the ground, with the Princess’s armoured weight atop his waist and her sleeves curtaining his periphery. He gazed up at the sky, and her eyes, and felt her bodily flinch from his abdomen where she rested.

The cacophonous first blast shook the air, followed by a wisp of shrill acceleration. The Princess paused her movement, distracted and frozen by the sound, and whirled to face the source. Eclipse lay pinned beneath her, stunned in numerous ways, and widened his optics as his gift was released.

For a brief, quiet instant, the world froze. There was no sound, no light, no colour–only the dark stars haloing behind the Princess.

But then the world burst to life with colour, shapes and sound colliding in the air like an army in celebration, carving the heavens into symbols of victory–celestial change.

The sky was alight in story, symbols of the Sun and the Moon flashing in an aurora of colour across the horizon, followed by the Princess’s proud shield, strewn with golden stars. Fiery bursts of elemental reactions painting the sky in visions of the past, present and future–chemical recoil of reactive elements exploding in the air high above. 

The amount of time and effort Eclipse put into shaping and designing the display was exponential–each capsule placed specifically so that it might detonate at the right moment, creating the picture he envisioned. The picture he wanted her to see.

Eclipse could barely see the display he had worked on for so many days. His eyes were transfixed at the backlit beauty before him, the Princess’s sparkling eyes reflecting the colours of the heavens.

She was frozen above him, her hand raised in some sort of action, a statue reflecting the unnatural hues of his display. 

He lay there, back against the harsh stone, and couldn’t move, couldn’t interrupt her awed expression with any sharp remarks. His tongue felt like it had been transmuted to lead. It could no more function than he could tear his eyes away. They were frozen in an eternity of his own making, a moment blind to all others.

Amidst the booming sound, Eclipse’s internals whirred loudly, nearly audible despite the thundering clamor. He was sure she could feel the vibration of his gears working at triple speed, the excitement and anticipation, shock and wonder merging together inside his inner workings like a clockwork nightmare. He stuttered and felt brittle beneath her, despite his gift rendering her speechless. Everything was proceeding as intended, save for the dawning feelings that blossomed in his core.

Eternity lingered on, the long display showcasing the history of the kingdom from founding until present, all symbols of her house and lineage. A few dark glitters shone across the sky, a dark shadow glowing purple against the silver, sweeping forward and merging to create a new symbol; the new crest of the kingdom.

With a Sun and Moon combined, the eclipse-like symbol shone with a golden star at the centre, carving their place in history, and announcing to the entire kingdom their intent.

To unify the royal house with the Sun and the Moon. Their kingdom. Together.

He was so transfixed on her expression that he felt a stutter in his core when she finally turned to look at him, her eyes driving deep into his soul. The stutter originated from him entirely, no outside influence from his covenant. It vibrated with intent, like a rusted gear finally given lubricating oil. She turned his internals molten with her singular glance.

Her weight left his waist, her sleeve clinking as she got to her feet. Eclipse remained on the ground for a moment longer, the celestial display lingering in the vestiges of his peripherals. The booming sounds of the gift grew quieter around them, and Eclipse’s own noises grew more high pitched.

She stumbled over her words, her usual grace suddenly lacking. “I…you… what ?” The Princess seemed unsure of herself, off-balance in a way he’d never seen her before. 

“Do you not like your gift?” He queried quietly, burying his anxiety. A moment ago, she seemed dejected to possibly receive a gift at all, and now she was at a loss for words.

Her optics danced over the heavens, catching last-minute glimpses of the smoke and glittering sky fires as if committing them to frantic memory.

“This…was a gift?”

Eclipse felt his gears churn. “You don’t like it?” 

Her optics went wide, drinking in his form. “ No ! It’s just–I thought– You were going to –” her voice shook with emotion, fear and shock making clear markers in her tone.

She promptly went limp, her arms that were previously clenched in anticipation now dangling loosely at her sides. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I am…words fail me.” 

Eclipse got to his feet slowly, the dust of stone falling from his gifted pauldrons. His heels clicked against the rough tower floor.

He wanted to say something, but he too, felt wordless. So instead he turned his body away from her, but kept his eyes in her direction.

“You’re welcome.” he finally murmured, and the words felt heavy with unintentional meaning. The space between them felt like an impassible fortress, and he knew not the passphrase that might grant him entry. Sentiment unfurled in his core like a malfunctioning organ, simultaneously warming and cooling him at the same time. The Sun and Moon were absent, or perhaps just quiet. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her to search for them.

She stood silently across the towertop until the last plume of smoke disappeared from the sky, drinking in the memory like she could bring it back from the dead. Eclipse stayed silently next to her the entire time, and couldn’t stop his eyes from memorizing her every feature.

Newfound dread unfurled like a flower in his chest, bursting with light and colour. Despite his best efforts, his deepest fear had come true. 

He’d never look at her the same way again.

Chapter Text

Chap 6

He looked up into the canopy of his bedchamber, the former Queen’s room. It still didn’t suit him.

The enormity of the space was towering, the ceilings vast and tall enough to encompass his towering height. The doorways were another matter still, their arches proving a strain on his lower back plates. Celestial decorations lined the ceiling, small clusters of starry constellations and pockets of golden ornament. He left the ceiling untouched from his sparse but violent renovations, his eyes consistently trailing over them as he lay on his back and thought.

He expected more lunar motifs. Or swords. Or weapons of any kind. But instead, the former Queen seemed to be more minimalist–the quarters unused for everything except recharge. 

There was an armoire in the corner that he’d opened with glee when he’d first claimed the room as his own, hoping to find some legendary weapon or embarrassing secret inside. Instead, he found sword polishing whetstones, buffing cloths and dirty rags. There was barely anything of use , moreso than there was anything of value . For a Queen, she appeared to have had very little in the way of personal possessions.

Eclipse’s modifications of the room started with blithe chaos–turning what was white and pristine and smearing it with ash, gouging claw marks into reliefs to bestow upon the faces more interesting expressions. Anything that was pure was stained, anything pearly scuffed. Using a combination of explosive magical power and his own claws, he carved his identity into the very structure of the walls. 

The bedcovers were already marred, pools of soot gathering in the folds of the fabric. The bed was huge, with a vaulting curtain canopy affixed to the bedposts. Everything he touched, he ruined. Everything that was pure, he sullied.

A heaving sigh left his vents, pouring out through the cracks of his teeth. Delirious, confusing thoughts swam in his processor, images of the Princess looking at him with wide, wondrous eyes.

He summoned the Sun and the Moon, neither pleased when one was brought forth without the other. They frequently argued, for certain, but Eclipse could sense the jealousy when one was brought forth while the other remained in the celestial realm. Rather than be the cause of more squabbles, Eclipse took to habit summoning both simultaneously to alleviate the potential of future arguments. Their companionship had started to become a salve for his mental wellbeing. They shimmered into the material plane with a low hum in the air. The Sun whizzed to his side immediately while the Moon remained bobbing idly in place.

Eclipse laced his claws together, bringing them up to his mouth with a deep exhalation. “...She wasn’t part of the plan,” he confessed quietly, bringing his fears into the light. 

The Sun blazed a little brighter, its material form emitting some modicum of heat, some comfort. Eclipse closed his eyes. 

“This changes nothing.” 

An answering chime.

“I came here to conquer, not submit .” he ground his knuckle joints into his optics. “She was never meant to be part of the equation.”

The Sun whistled low, a note both humorous and understanding.

“ Both is not a possibility. I refuse to be cowed under some…powerless creature.”

A sharp but brief pain lanced his core, guilt flooding the wound at his words. Calling her powerless was to diminish everything that she was , everything he had observed of her . To lessen her achievements was to cast himself in the same fire. There were truly none more hard working.

His optics widened to the starry ceiling, the tidal stream of some galaxy painted in fresco across the surface.

“I will not be brought low, not when I have accomplished so much to get here.” He turned onto his front, bringing his threaded fingers under his faceplate as support. His cloak pooled beneath him.

The Sun twirled atop his pauldron, sending ribbons of affirmation through their bond. Eclipse titled his head.

“And she is to be my bride anyways. Better at my side, better– safer now, with me. Once my name is known far and wide, once my legacy is firm, there will be no swords hanging above her head–or mine . No dangers against our unity.” 

His optics shifted, going from wide and crazed to narrow and calculating. The Sun huffed a weary sigh.

The Moon, however, was oddly silent. It spun in lazy circles, as if observing the room. Eclipse watched it for a moment, distracted from his own thoughts, as it drank in the scenery of Eclipse’s quarters.

The former Queen’s quarters.

The Moon had been here before, hadn’t he? As the late Queen’s covenant, the lunar celestial would have more than a touch of familiarity with this room. How often had it bobbed at Queen Roxanne’s bedside, fatigued after a long battle? Were there places carved specifically for it, like a pet at the foot of the bed?

Eclipse called for it, his voice quiet and calm. “Moon.”

The celestial turned sharply, startled, as if lost in reverie. With a graceful swoop, the Moon ducked down near Eclipse’s faceplate, regarding him, awaiting order.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, he allowed his optics to soften. “Go, explore as you like, the both of you. I have no need for your powers at this moment, but be sure to come should I call.”

The Sun started, Eclipse’s offer glowing like an excited brand. “Make a place for yourself, or return to your familiar comforts should you have them. Think of this as…leisure time. You both have worked hard as of late.”

The Moon was silent, though incredulity pooled in his core, frosty and cold. Eclipse raised his eyebrows and lidded his optics.

“‘Tis no trick, I meant what I said. Enjoy your leisure, unless you’d rather I change my mind.”

The Sun needed no more warning than that, whizzing to the rafters and burning a corner with its radiating heat. The scorch marks blacked the stone tiles in streaks, creating a nebulous outline with the Sun at the centre. It basked happily on high where it could look over the quarters undisturbed.

Eclipse’s optics trailed back to the Moon, who moved a bit more slowly, with a modicum of reluctance. Using his eyes alone, the master of the covenant urged it onward, relaxed.

He watched as it roamed the room slowly, absorbing the memories that must have transpired during the late Queen’s reign. In truth, the Moon had no doubt roamed these halls for generations, it’s every nook and cranny known to the lunar covenant. It probably knew the castle better than any of its residents, past or present. The castle had always been its home on the material plane.

Specks of stardust fell upon the armoire, trailing along the various whetstones and dirty polishing rags. It trailed with weary wonder, trapped in memories and quickly forgetting its reluctance.

The room was dark, curtains drawn and lights unlit. But with two celestials in the room, the quarters were lit in a gentle light–the warm hues of the Sun washing over the tops of the sparse furniture, while the Moon’s cooler tones coated the floor like a silver carpet.

Certain areas were more steeped in memory than others, as evident by its lingering. The doorway was of little interest to the lunar covenant, but Eclipse’s interest was piqued when it stayed near the bedside table for more than a few beats longer than anywhere previously.

The drawers had long since been emptied, small oil marks marring the bottom of the inside drawer giving Eclipse an educated guess on what could have occupied it before. Self-repair tools were rare in the kingdom, and with a battle history as illustrious as the former Queen’s, Eclipse could easily imagine that certain damages were better maintained in private. It was a guess, to be sure, but an educated one. Even Queens needed their privacy, and there was no more obvious place for secrets than a bedside table drawer.

Eclipse had already scrounged around the room for royal secrets, finding nothing but lacklustre bores and self-explanatory tools for weapon upkeep. The Queen seemed without secrets, or at least any that she hid inside her own bedchamber.

That said, it stood to reason that her quarters were probably emptied after her demise, leaving only the furniture and nothing else of interest. It certainly fell in line with the rest of the castle’s sensibilities, though Eclipse could imagine the Princess finding fault with any attendant touching her late mother’s things.

He shifted his weight onto his side, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Did there used to be a place for the Moon covenant atop the bedside, kept close in the event the Queen needed it?

The more he stared, the more he tried to picture it, his vision coming up empty. Eclipse was watching the Moon trail away when the shadow of the small table split, revealing a darkened shape tucked in behind. Something the cleaning staff had missed during their cleaning when the Queen passed. Something secret, overlooked.

He moved quickly to snatch it up, feeling panic ripple through the Moon covenant like a frost sweeping over a field. It only made him all the more eager to discover what it had to hide.

Aluminum parchment, a sheaf that had fallen out of a diary or tome. Handwritten scrawl in an unfamiliar hand. A diagram of some sort.

The Moon moved quickly to intercept, rushing in front of the parchment and blaring light in order to blind Eclipse. The aluminum sheaf shimmered the aggressive reflected light. The Sun leapt from its corner to deflect its twin, coming to Eclipse’s aid by either loyalty or simply due to sibling rivalry.

Eclipse shooed them both off, turning the page over in his hands. It was a single page from no doubt a much more comprehensive diagram. The written scrawl was coarser than he expected, but contained a few flowering embellishments. The illustration however, was extraordinarily detailed.

It was only a portion, detailing necessary components in the construction of a gauntlet. The design was more delicate than he had assumed for the formidable Queen, the metals and inner mechanisms focusing on compression rather than weight. 

It was a deliriously interesting design. The more he stared at it, and altogether blindingly familiar. Small runic formulas began at the bottom of the page, no doubt continuing onto the next, and it shook Eclipse to his core at how much he wanted to see more.

But this diagram, could it be? What need would the Queen have to construct armour? Armour with internal mechanisms to contain, preserve . 

And the elements listed were immense , and in extreme quantities. Even a Queen would have trouble obtaining all these elements–pure unfiltered silver, radium, concentrated hydrogen, nitrogen and phosphorus in solid and vapid form. Elements that cost a fortune to hone, to conjure. Some elements so rare that he’d scarcely even heard of them.

These were only a few listed, the few of many needed for the gauntlet alone. 

Eclipse’s mind was spinning, the prospect of his theory gaining light as he stared. 

There had to be another reason she so frequently went into battle, armed to the teeth, desperate for victory. The prospect looked at him delicately from this single sheaf of parchment. 

No longer was the Queen a singular power-hungry, battle hardened warrior–no, she had a goal to accomplish. An objective to complete at all costs. But for what reason would she go this far?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The halls blurred together as he walked, their crisp outlines mocking even in his peripheral vision.

Theories buzzed in his mind like windswept flecks of rust, contaminating everything they touched. One theory lead to another, creating multitudes upon multitudes. Each one was more baffling, more asinine from the last. 

Truly, he was due for a recharge.

He needed air, he needed space, but everywhere he walked in this horrid, forsaken castle reminded him of how much he didn’t belong here. Every corner he passed was occupied with a scampering peon, or simply an empty, underutilized wing. Was there nowhere he could find some peace? 

The gardens lay a few corridors down, to the left and through the salley port. They beckoned with sweet and bitter memories, flashes of the Princess’s face, looking up through her lashes and casting herself away from him. Muttered words caught behind a still, unmoving, yet indescribably captivating mask.

No, the gardens would not do. Too distracting, too….improper. 

There was truly only one option remaining, and though Eclipse was loath to make the trek, he knew it was the only place he could find true solace.

Motivation renewed, he allowed his long legs to stride through the halls with determination; a goal to set his mind at ease. 

In the tower, he could be himself. In the tower, he could unravel the complexities of his theories in a constructive and organized manner. In the tower, he could spend as much time there as he liked, with no chance of interruption.

In the tower, where the space was all his own.

His own quarters, the former Queen’s chamber, were now sullied with mystery–yet another place where he felt usurped, secondary. The Moon had easily made its home there, and the Sun had followed. But no matter how much black smear he pressed into the stone walls, they remained white underneath. It would never be his space, just a room he commandeered; yet another shadow cast by the former Queen.

He grit his fangs together harshly, his clawed grip following suit. Damn them , and damn the royal family. 

It was so much harder to keep to his original plans.

Eclipse slowed his pace, his irate mood making itself known in his angry strides. He fought to calm himself, to retain an air of powerful calm. He took a deep in-vent, feeling the cool air soothe his raging systems. 

He could be a calm king. He could reach his goal with a relaxed gait.

The sound of his heels against the stone floor changed tempo, the steps slowing with purpose.

Eclipse recognized his own temper, having little need to subdue it during a life of solitude. This time at the castle, and the covenant summoning prior, were truly the most he’d been around repeated beings in his entire existence. And while the Sun and the Moon were entities that he’d studied and come to understand long before their covenant, the Princess and the rest of the castle were unfamiliar.

Moreso that Eclipse was the outsider here.

He was so buried in his own thoughts that he nearly missed the approaching steps, as swift and proud as his own.

The Princess, the torrid cloud of his thoughts, was fast approaching.

Eclipse, for whatever reason, felt that it wasn’t the right time to face the Princess. Anger boiled within his chest-plate like a sudden, violent chemical reaction, the thought that she might look at him with pity or scorn made him move .

He slunk down the nearest darkened hallway, covering the sound of his steps with an idle spell. He couldn’t bear to have her eyes set upon him, glittering with emotions that he’d rather not see.

Cursing inwardly, he theorized formulas in which to conjure a similar invisibility shroud the assassin had adorned, the machinations capturing his attention in a net and veering away from thoughts of the Princess. What alchemical conjurations could create the effect? Which chemical compounds were the correct combinations?

So, huddled in a corner and muttering possible chemical compounds, he stayed as still as possible as her footsteps got louder and louder.

The dark hid him well, the Princess approaching and passing without a glance in his direction. His core ached with faint pains as she entered and exited his view, a white pearl illuminating even against the equally white walls.

Eclipse willed all of his internals to quiet, holding still and tense as she passed him by and continued on, once more with not a single guard in her entourage. The fury at her presence and the aggravation of her weakness pressed into his internal cables like a bruise, kinked and painful. Fuel lines stuttered with emotion that he refused to commit time to understand.

He softened like cesium once her steps were out of audial range. Closing his optics, he attempted to erase his cowardly shame from his recent memory files. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Princess, as it turned out, was tenacious. She sought him out with a frequency that could only be called viral; she appeared when he least expected it and barrelled forth like an infection.

Each interaction brought forth the same fury, the same boiling anger that felt alien in his own body. So, in a gracious fashion, he benevolently gave her adequate space in order to save her from his conflicting emotions.

Alas, the Princess did not see the generosity of his actions.

She had only darkened his chamberstep once, and once had been enough. She stood there like a sentry demanding entry, and awaited him with the patience of a stone gargoyle. He had little excuse to evade her that instance, given that Eclipse’s chambers held no window to the outside (for strategic reasons, no doubt), thus he had no choice but to briefly engage and lose her down a twisting hallway, reciting some empty excuse that he was needed elsewhere, keeping his biting words behind his clenched teeth.

The Princess sought him out in the halls like a magnet, barely holding reprieve from one interaction to the next. All the while he sputtered, anger levels rising, and sought to leave her presence at his greatest urgency. 

But her persistence paid off when finally she barricaded him inside the royal library, shutting the heavy doors behind her and blockading his only exit.

Eclipse had let his guard down and went from an easy recline to a tense posture, his optics scanning for one, any possible exits, finding none. Emotion bubbled inside him like a cauldron threatening to spill.

She slammed the document onto the nearby table, scattering loose sheafs nearby by sheer force alone.

“ Enough .” Her voice was not loud, but it boomed with command. “You will cease your excuses, and sign this. Then I will be on my way and bother you no more.”

She straightened, fixing her sleeves as if they weren’t pristine. Her armour was tense with dissatisfaction, or perhaps disgust. To be forced to repeatedly fraternize with Eclipse’s common manners.

Eclipse masked the fury in his core with lax bravado. In truth, the contents of the document could be anything, and his mind stalled with the hundred theories on what it may contain.

Was it possible to have a divorce document created prior to the wedding? Did she finally see no more use of him, having such a bland reaction to his gift–did she finally wring him for all his worth? Or worse, was the engagement annulled or invalid? Was there some intricate rule that he missed when becoming engaged to a royal?

His core vibrated with unease, the stress travelling down to the tips of his claws. He hid them by clasping them behind his back. Ire coated his internals, relinquishing him of any witty retort. 

“Must I?” Eclipse sought to purr, which instead came out as a croak.

She sighed heavily, scratching the table with her delicate fingers, missing the foreboding document by fractions of an inch. “You must . It was your idea, after all.”

Ribbons of ice coated his cables, free of the Moon’s influence. 

What infernal thing had he said that she’d taken seriously? He wracked his memory for some clue, coming up with yet too many examples. The document lay on the table like an iron brand, and his optics stubbornly refused to look.

True to form, Eclipse’s mind only summoned the worst ideas as to what the document might contain. An annulment. A covenant slave contract. A royal order of restraint.

But deep in Eclipse’s mind, the worst possibility raised its head, worse than any prior. It brought to the surface a thought that Eclipse had buried under days of uncertainty, lancing his core with the force of the Heart nebula. His temper bolstered his fury, fuelling his bravery, if only to prove himself wrong. It seized his core in a vice and refused to let go.

With the commanding bravery of a king, he spared a glance to the document on the table, the aluminum sheaf crinkled on the sides from where the Princess had clutched it so close for so many failed interactions. The words were reversed and unintelligible, but the symbol in the centre made everything clear.

“You are…legalizing the crest I designed.” The words came out as a statement, though they coated the air with question.

“Yes.” The Princess relaxed a crumb, her sleeves tinkling with the gentlest sound. “It is the new symbol of the royal family, our lineage. From now forth, history will use this crest to represent our family in all matters concerning the kingdom.”

Eclipse’s dextrous claws reversed the page, turning it in his direction so that he might scan the passage. All at once the anger leaked out of him like warm fuel.

Legalizing henceforth…the Sun and the Moon dynasty…The union of Her Royal Highness the Princess and the sorcerer known henceforth as Royal Consort Eclipse…

The panicked energy within him flooded, venting the excess through expertly covered steam vents lining his back plates. They whistled unrestricted in the quiet of the library, startling the Princess slightly, her hands clasping to her front with a small jump.

His optics scanned the legal jargon, the various clauses that denoted whether the new union crest would be used in place of the previous crest, the commission of a new royal seal and banners to be made, the crest’s use in the upcoming royal wedding —

The royal wedding, proposed out of duty and fear, a desperate bid to save her kingdom by ensnaring a rogue wizard.

A royal wedding that he swore high and low was unnecessary and unwanted, citing impatience that he just wanted it over and done with. Details that were unimportant, efforts lacking in gratitude. A proposal that she initiated, to save her own life and for the benefit of her citizens. A Princess cast in the shadow of her mother.

A royal wedding that she wanted no part in, yet another burden to bear under her royal crown. Shackled by duty, to the creature she loathed most.

Such a royal that fought helm and sword to make herself known after a lifetime of concealment. To be as loved by her people as her mother, only to be treated with feelings worse than scorn or derision. To face multitudes of usurpers, assassins and thieves after losing her only family. A bright light in an endless cocoon of darkness.

He looked at the document, trailing his claws over their names and his soon-to-be title . Seeing King Eclipse written made him thrum with excitement, but it felt strangely muted next to the buzz of the written proof of their fast approaching union.

There was no pen worthy enough to sign the document, Eclipse instead coating his claw tip in his own inky essence, scrawling his name across the dotted line at the base. His signature looked as coarse as he was, rough and unrefined.

The components that comprised the interior of his chestplate seized, and felt heavy. “It is done.” He murmured, the weight of his actions leaking out like water in a cracked vessel. Eclipse felt brittle, as if the tiniest blow might reduce him to pieces onto the floor.

The Princess’s clasped hands relaxed, falling into a delighted state. “Thank you,” she breathed, gratitude pouring out. Her fingers unlaced to demurely retract the document, signed and now worth its weight in legal gold.

“I shall leave you to your tomes, as promised.” Her turned heel marked her exit, as abrupt as her entrance. Eclipse’s core lanced at the thought of her leaving.

His primary hands reached forward, stopping short of her wide pauldrons. Even his damaged secondary arms twinged with movement, phantom limbs urging him to reach further and ensnare, to hold, to keep .

Her swiftly retreating back showed no signs of notice, and he retracted his arms as silently as he conjured them. He ground his teeth together, spitting shavings onto the ground below. 

The Princess didn’t look back, her proud back marching down the hall until she left his sight. He stood dumbly, like a fool, and hated himself.

A flurry of furious feeling swept him in a tornado, cementing his thoughts and emotions in a singular truth;

He wanted her to look at him. He needed...

Chapter Text

Intermission

The gutter was dirty, filth and hardship strewn from edge to edge. Oil stains of vicious brawls and rusted gears lined the cracks of the worn cobblestones, the harshness of a lowly reality brought to life through the optics of those most unfortunate.

He could feel the grit grinding in his finger joints, small particles catching on the delicate mechanism, tight and painful. The discomfort was multiplied four times over with his primary and secondary arms–small pebbles and metal shavings causing hairline damage to the inner intricacies of his limbs.

The gutter was the same as it always was; dank, dirty, and depressing. He felt his optics unfocus from the lack of fuel, cables running on long empty. Uselessly long legs tumbled out past the threshold without any energy to retract them from oncoming feet. Nobody would dare approach him for fear of rust contamination, which was the only salvation he held close to his core in this miserable existence.

There were others, like him, that inhabited the gutter. Some small, some tall; all destitute. They were all newframes with no patron, no family to call their own. The gutter was their bed, their floor and their roof, and the upright, shiny automatons that gave them less than a second glance ignored their presence save for the occasional scorn.

He didn’t bother learning the others’ names; the gutter populace ever changing like the tide. Whether by infection or repair technicians, not one gutter scrap left the gutter for better places beyond. Promises and hopes dried up like fuel dust in the cobblestone cracks, and he’d rather be offline in the gutter here than in the basement of some crackpot repair technician.

Empty was the only word he knew for certain he felt. Other emotions, such as anger and sadness, took too much energy, his fuel reserves long since dry. 

Was he destined for this place from the start? Was there truly nothing more than the gutter and the filth that rattled about his systems?

A small tink resounded in the air, the pressure against his outer chassis sending a signal seconds too late. The delay was caused by his lack of signal output; lagging without any energy to expedite signals to his processor.

A pebble bounced across the road, catching and flinging itself sporadically on the uneven stones from where it had been lobbed against his chestplate. With the residual momentum it returned to the feet of a small, shiny automaton–

Not one of the gutter scrap.

“ Don’t ! You’ll get infected.” 

“Nah, this one can barely move. I was here yesterday, it hasn’t moved an inch since then.” 

Another pebble thrown against his chassis. Harsher this time.

Tink

Tink 

Tink .

He couldn’t even muster the energy to glare. His optics refused to focus.

“Young master, aren’t there better ways to spend your time? Your father would be furious if anything happened to you.”

A scoff.

“That dusty box of gears just wants me to learn his trade, just because we look alike. It’s boring . Let’s see if we can get this thing to do something fun.”

A sigh from the attendant. “Very well.”

A beat of silence passed as the servant contemplated his next move.

The sound of footsteps took a shy step forward, still far enough away to imbue caution. From above the feet he could hear a rattle of coins.

“You there, the one with the four arms . If you can entertain the young master, I’ll make it worth your while.” Another jingle from the coin bag.

He twitched an optic, the shutter stuttering. Now that got his attention. The promise of payment was too good to pass up, his empty systems clamoring like prisoners within a dull chamber. His chestplate echoed empty upon empty. Trying to get to his feet, or look up at the young patrons, he tried and failed to stand–the most he could muster was a twitching finger.

“ Look , it moved!”

The attendant jingled the coins more fervently, in an attempt to increase enticement. There was the soft sound of the bag opening, a single heavy coin clinking against its many shiny siblings.

Gutter scrap weren’t the most learned of automatons, but they weren’t all stupid. There wasn’t much else known to the gutter scrap save that coin could be used to exchange for fuel–some of the others resorting to theft despite the obvious dangers. The kingdom was a violent place with the War Queen at the helm, danger rampant in the streets. Too much notice and too much inconvenience meant any gutter scrap was fair picking for a repair technician with low stock, some vanishing in less than a day of their first theft.

He was too tall for thievery, too conspicuous with his many hands. Many hands that he’d been told countless times were perfect for stealing, but by those who were too stupid to see the dangers. By those he’d never never bother to learn their names. He didn’t want to give the repair techs any reason to seek him out.

But the prospect of refuelling, even just to sup, was too good to ignore.

Empty fuel lines whirred, vents blowing dust into the nearby gutter. Salvation in the form of a promise, or sustenance within arm’s reach. So with creaking joints, trembling limbs–he got to his feet slowly, catching himself against the wall.

The young master and his attendant trembled for a brief moment, the height of their victim shooting upwards beyond their expectation. A quick exchange of fear turned to intrigue was captured in the young master’s expression, the automaton in question grabbing the bag from his attendant and flashing the coin in the light.

“Good, good. Now entertain me, clown .”

He looked blankly ahead, at a loss. He’d seen buskers with instruments flaunting their talents, puppeteers telling vast stories to an audience, but these required skills and tools he did not have.

He was gutter scrap. He didn’t know what to do.

The young master was growing impatient with him, a growl forming deep within his quiet internals. He reached down for another pebble, a sizable one this time, and threw it violently.

The reverberation echoed, a dull exterior pain lancing his systems. The projectile knocked him off balance, and he stumbled, cowering.

The pebble looked at him venomously from the ground, refusing to bounce as its lighter siblings did. The new pain vibrated against his plating, the stone hateful. He picked it up instinctively, ready to throw it back.

But he stopped, the violent urge ebbing. Returning the stone in the same manner would only succeed in losing the potential of coin, the potential of fuel. Despite the tiny ember of anger that warmed his insides, he relaxed his grip around the stone, and threw it upwards.

The attendant gasped, initially flinching, but watched in awe as the stone was caught, tossed around by four limbs as dexterously as water. The stone flowed through the fingers, spinning and weaving, at being tossed without a care and dancing with simple joy.

Rapturous laughter pealed from the young master’s mouth as the spectacle unfolded. “ Hah , I knew you were good for something.” Reaching down, he picked up another stone, readying a second throw. “Let’s see how you manage two !”

Still in the depths of his juggling, the second stone barely missed a sensitive joint and joined its pair in the airborne dance. They weaved through the four arms so quickly they became a thread, braiding and entwining in grey, monochrome colour.

The young master continued to laugh, picking up another stone, and another. They flew towards him just as violently as the first, and as the partners in his spectacle grew, they became increasingly difficult to incorporate.

He missed his first one, the stone colliding with his elbow joint and causing him to falter, but not fail. A second hit his knee, then his neck, before a rock crashed into his optic.

At that the stones all fell, the performance ended, or perhaps failed. Exhaustion fizzed through his cables, unbalancing him–the prospect of failure pressing on what remained of his online systems.

The young master’s laugh echoed in the gutter, ringing hardly against his audials and harmonizing with the throbbing pain in his body.

Exhausted, and full of internal and external pain, he fell to the ground. His right optic flashed with static, the vision blurring, but not enough to fail to notice the shiny coin rolling in his direction.

The laughter faded in the distance as he scooped up his tiny prize, heaving slightly and feeling his gears grind together painfully.

The coin dug into his palm, sullied by the murk of the gutter.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The tome in his hands felt heavier than gold, his legs pumping madly through the crowded marketplace.

He just needed to get past the village limits. If he could make it past the gates he’d be safe , the repair techs wouldn’t be able to reach him. They held no jurisdiction past the boundary, and frankly they couldn’t be arsed to fetch one gutter thief when there were so many other spare parts walking around to harvest.

The merchant would think differently though, his merchandise stolen out from under his long snout. He could already imagine what the shopkeeper was thinking; what would a gutter scrap want with an alchemical tome anyway ? His long legs ran faster in panic and a hint of rabid glee–the idiot fool didn’t know the value of what was right under his nose.

So he stole it, breaking his one cardinal rule. Staying out of the repair technician's radar for so many years had been difficult, but had grown worse once they realised he was free from rust infection. The enticement of his many, long limbs was a jackpot to scavengers– a haughty noble would pay handsomely for an upgrade or even just the internal parts to use in repair.

But the tome . He could scarcely understand the lot of it, but what he did know was that it was next to useless to the vendor. A wizard could use this tome to craft unimaginable spells, making themselves indispensable with the proper materials. A scholar could use it to unearth new discoveries. A sorcerer could find clues to unimaginable power. 

He was convinced that anything he didn’t yet understand, he could learn. He could teach himself. All he had to do was get out of the village in one piece.

Shouts echoed behind him, automatons attending market day screeching as they jumped out of his way. For the first time he felt momentarily blessed to be gifted with such long legs, allowing him to run from danger, albeit the danger he placed upon himself. He struggled not to dislodge an ankle joint in the uneven cobblestones.

Merciless contradicting thoughts flew throughout his processor matching the speed of his pace. 

They didn’t deserve it. They were too dumb to understand– He couldn’t pay for it, not if he sold all four of his arms for parts.

It would help him build a new life, should he be successful– He’d need to still be functioning to continue living said life.

He jumped over carts, balefully glancing behind at his pursuers. For a brief moment he considered adding to his thieving talley– for once he broke his cardinal rule there was nothing keeping him from further theft. His optics danced over supplies as he ran, blindly considering whether it was worth it or not.

He couldn’t come back after this –there would be no safety in his gutter. If he left the village, it would be for good. He’d never return. So he needed all the supplies he could get, his processor working overtime to weigh the most prudent items accessible from the market stalls.

He’d lived here all his life as scrap, navigating the dirty corners like a lanky shadow. He’d be the first of his kind to leave, all because of the book in his grasp.

His remaining three hands scooped up as many fuel jugs as he could carry, their weight feeling immeasurably heavy, threatening to slow him down.

He urged his legs onwards, his pistons stuttering in effort. The shouting behind him grew louder, his new thefts adding fuel to their furious pursuit.

For the first time, he looked up at the faces of the village automatons, his body no longer hunched and cowering. Expressions of fear and anger reflected on their faceplates, a motley of faces he’d never had the courage to face before.

He could only carry three jugs of fuel, though it was more than he’d ever held before in one instance. Living for so many years between scarce refuellings, sometimes powering down in dangerous settings, he counted his lucky stars he was still online. 

And if he could make it out, everything could be different.

A clatter resounded to his left, a pursuer taking a nearby alley as a shortcut to catch up with him. Anxiety spiked in his core, vibrating like an overcharged battery. Their hands reached forward to grasp, to imprison –but he weaved out of the way with an awkward grace. His core stuttered in fear within his chest. If he was caught, it would be the end of him.

His audial thrummed with the frantic sound of his internal gears, whirring fans deafening the angry cries of the populace.

The village folk never bothered to look after anyone but themselves, turning a blind eye to the repair technicians harvesting the gutter scrap so long as it wasn’t them . It was a necessary part of society, sure–but here in this small village there was more demand with less supply. Recycling was a deadly and harsh reality.

He wanted to hate them–he did hate them. Blooming alongside his newfound courage was a seed of anger, a fury that had never existed before, bloomed within his chestplate. It licked flames of resentment towards the village-folk, those who scarcely looked upon him with anything but scorn. He grit his teeth, fangs bared to those faces he met. Let them remember him with fear, growling and dangerous. 

Stone buildings with scrap iron roofs cast long shadows as he ran, unfamiliar sights blurring in furious speed. Automatons that had more than they could appreciate; shelter where they could keep their gears clean; strong, sturdy walls to offer sanctuary. Luxuries that he could never afford, gutter scrap that he was.

He towered over them as he ran, his spine pistons straightening in an attempt to rebalance with the added weight of the fuel jugs. He heard weighted gasps by those who’d never given him a kind glance. Optics went wide at his height, the ferocity of his rage.

The merchant yelled one more time, their voice quieter from the distance and the chaos around him. The gate was within sight, just a few more blocks. 

Automatons now took a step back out of fear as he approached, none brave enough to get in his way. He was leaving , and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

He vaulted over the iron-wrought gate with a single leap, his own ability surprising him. And into the unknown he ventured, leaving behind clouds of dust and empty memories in his wake.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He learnt that the village was more remote than he’d originally surmised. 

Surrounding the boundary was a vast expanse of emptiness, a long fought battle rendering the ground worn and lifeless. It was no surprise there was a village nearby, with the prospect of newframes forming from the excess material; though it made for a much harsher living outside the safety of the village walls.

There were thankfully no corpses, though he supposed there wouldn’t be from the number of repair technicians that made their homes nearby. The thought did not disgust him, for it was likely he too, was one of the newframes that formed in the wake of this battle. Spontaneous creation was rampant in the aftermath of war, the excess of material creating newframes where oldframes were lost.

He ventured on into the war-torn plains with nothing but the stars for company. Hydrogen fog swept over the scenery like ocean waves, parting with a gentle breath. They obscured the far reaching landscape with a density too thick for ordinary optics to penetrate. He waited for the morning stars to dissipate them in order to keep track of his surroundings.

In his leisure, and truthfully there was much of it, he took to reading the tome. Pages upon pages of worn aluminum depicting formulas that he was slowly coming to understand. The majority was incomprehensible to him; materials he’d never heard of and theories that led to appendices that must be in a different volume. He learned sadly that this was not the first, nor the only tome of this particular series–that there were multiple by the same author.

Had he somehow missed them in his haste from the merchant? Or worse, were the other volumes locked behind some noble’s library door collecting dust?

Through his travel and research, he became increasingly concerned for the load he carried. Both for the inevitable end to his stolen fuel supply, and the longevity of his scavenged tome. For any other automaton, the weakness that came with being under fuelled was uncomfortable agony, but for him it was familiar as his own feet. He could last long out here with his meagre supply, but he worried more for the state of his tome. The hydrogen clouds could potentially damage the already delicate pages, marring the shine of the aluminum and rendering the text illegible. 

He had nothing but what his arms could hold, and not a scrap to waste. Alone in the silence, he could do naught but wander farther.

A mere star-change later, through the dense hydrogen cloud, a tall shadow parted. He had never seen any map of the surroundings, known no direction save for the cardinal placement of the morning and evening stars. He was aimless, and gave himself no fixed direction. The shadow seemed as good a destination as any.

As he grew closer,  the shadow revealed itself to be a lone standing sentry tower, the only one left standing from whatever battle befell this plain. It stood alone amongst the rubble, similar to himself, but he considered it no more than a place he could rest.

The stairs were worn with sword marks, arrow holes and blackened smears from the rare battle wizard. Every step threatened a vision of a rusted soldier decaying on the steps, but the more he climbed the less worried he became.

He was already tired from his swift exit from the village, not stopping until the silence of outside smothered him. From there he slowed to a walk, never stopping for fear of the unknown.

The steps were lengthy and unending, the burn in his leg joints pleading for a rest or a sip of fuel. He remained steadfast in his fast, the weight of the jugs tugging his finger joints with gravity’s kiss. 

After what felt like an age he summited, a sole lookout room with a lone window looking out onto the plain. With a single glance out, he could see the vastness of the space he travelled, the village a mere speck on the horizon.

There were no pursuers, the plains empty as a grave. For a brief moment, he felt safe, and that was all the signal his systems needed. He felt his body give way to exhaustion, and fell to the floor.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

His first conjuring was a miracle.

Not a miracle in that there was any disbelief in his abilities, no. A miracle he somehow had the right components nearby despite his reclusivity.

He had proven what he always knew–he wasn’t stupid. Far from it in fact, he was a genius! Entirely self taught with a singular tome as a reference, building upwards from the scrap he was sired from, soon to be capable of conjuring the stars themselves.

The process to success was a trial in and of itself. Writing and rewriting the formula in more comprehensive ways, scratching shortcuts onto the stone wall with a particularly sharp stone. Decoding alchemical shorthand and reorganizing tables of numbers, symbols, and definitions. Using his growing intellect to parse through the mundane and uncover true knowledge.

He worked fervently during the day, the morning stars allowing for just enough light in his secluded tower to illuminate the walls. He had a spell in mind for his first conjuring, so that he might not be bound by the morning stars for light. If he was successful ( when he was successful, he corrected himself), he would no longer be bound to time as an element in his research. And with time came more insight. With more time, he could do more, accomplish more, be more. 

The tome outlined what should have been a simple spell to an apprentice wizard; the spell to  create light . For weeks he poured over the writings, scratching at his faceplate. The words made sense in his processor, but in practice? He had no patron that could bestow upon him the tools of the trade, no beakers nor channeling wands. There was no collective of materials he could use for his experimentation, and his stolen fuel source was already a coveted and dwindling supply. 

He worked himself to the barest edge of morning starlight, exhaustive in his practice. The walls were soon filled to the brim, nary a corner left undisturbed by his writings. His processor scrambled for answers as to what next . He just needed a breakthrough.

He would not return to the village, he couldn’t . He’d be stripped for parts the moment he reentered for his crime alone. Many an evening was spent ignoring the death flag that hovered over his head, the armed guards ready to smite him at a glance. He’d go down in history as the most foolish thief the town had ever known.

He needed a win–a success to overwrite the losses he’d been dealt since creation. 

With a weary, frustrated sigh, he dragged his optics away from the page, the evening stars beginning the ascent on the horizon. Their light was dimmer than the morning stars, but they twinkled all the more silvery over the stretch of sea he could glean from his high vantage. It shimmered like a platinum line, glowing past the village. The sight was a comfort as much as it was a reminder to not waste time.

How unlucky to have been forged here, gutter scrap at the edge of the world. He slung his right primary arm over the side of the window, dragging his fingertips over the war-roughened exterior of the wall.

That’s all he needed, a little luck, a little extra stroke of genius. He had the components, in some rudimentary form–all he needed was the knowledge in how to process them. 

It should be simple; collect enough raw hydrogen in a container to alight. Apply heat and focus the reaction into a singular shape, thus creating a portable light source. And what existed right outside his door but a veritable plains-full of raw hydrogen?

He released another frustrated sigh, the stars lending little comfort to his plight. He closed his optics for a moment in an attempt to calm his mind from the building irritation.

There was a flash behind his optic shutters. He tore them open with a hungry curiosity.

One of the stars blinked brighter than the others, a long tail forming at the edge. It flew across the sky slowly, gaining momentum, before disappearing over the plain behind the silvery horizon.

Its long comet tail pointed like an arrow at the open field, lightly illuminating the detritus and war-misshapen landscape. It cast mild shadows over the pocked ground, dark holes peppering the scenery like shrapnel upon armour. It fell upon his processor like a bolt of inspiration.

A hill full of fog, impossible for any singular tiny vessel to grasp. Then why not create a vessel where the cloud could be trapped; was a cave not a larger version of a wizard’s vessel?

He scrambled to the stairwell, tripping over legs and skipping steps in his descent to reach the ground level. Using what remained of the evening stars, he ran out towards the plains and sunk his fingers into the soil.

Thus, with his own four hands, he dug into the dirt, shaping a vessel wherein he could synthesize pure hydrogen. Within the cave he could find a more condensed cloud of hydrogen, creating the perfect setting wherein to conjure his first spell.

Amidst his digging, he was fortunate to find a slightly larger than ordinary quartz crystal, his fingers catching on the sharp mineral where it had previously found only soil. Using his writing stone, he carved alchemical formulae into it, wearing a groove so that he might have a point of ignition for the heat portion of his spell. 

With all of his rudimentary tools and elements in place, he began chanting. The first flickers of power grew deep within his core, his very energy flowing forward following his intent. 

A scratch of stone, a confident word, and a spark –

A small flame simmered in the centre of the crystal, a light that could not be extinguished by elemental means. It flickered like a beacon, blossoming a twin flower of pride in his chassis. 

His first spell. His first success.

The fire was a comfort, a light, a victory. And henceforth, he could carry himself proudly as a wizard.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He held his head tall, the blackened tarp tied around his shoulders in a rudimentary cloak. It was necessary to conceal his secondary arms, though he surmised his height would draw unwanted attention regardless. 

He’d argued with himself for weeks over the dwindling fuel supply. Despite his research, his knowledge was still nowhere near the level he wanted. There was no philosopher’s stone that might conjure fuel from nothing.

The fuel jugs, as rationed as they were, were still finite. Before they reached fully empty, he needed to resupply. 

He’d lasted years on this singular theft, scrounging and fasting when his mind flurried with formulas. He lived like he used to, with large swaths of time between refuellings, only supping when it was absolutely necessary. 

But with no funds and nothing but three empty fuel jugs and a tome to his person, there wasn’t much else he could do.

The tome had proven invaluable, as he knew it would. He cradled it close to his chest as his prized possession. He’d practically memorized it, the scrawlings on his tower walls a testament to his learned nature. There wasn’t a page he hadn’t pored over, not a section left unravelled. He was the master of the tome, and having mastered it, found his mind as empty as his fuel reserves. It existed now only as a relic of what he had yet to learn.

He craved more knowledge, and required more fuel.

For weeks he tried to ignore his own furious needs, remaining steadfast with his valiant promise. He had vowed never to return to the village– they’d sooner destroy him than imprison him. He had left a criminal; with multiple felonies no doubt plastered across his wanted poster. To return was to affix shackles to his own wrists and walk to the dismantling bench himself.

But he’d scoured the landscape with a homemade seeing device for days looking for alternative places to barter, to trade. The sea had always been so close without his knowing during his time as gutter scrap, but it served as an impassable wall to his needs. There would be no travelling without a ship, and it brought back the necessity of re-entering the village.

However, he tried to convince himself he was more now, not the gutter scrap he once was. He was a wizard , capable of conjurings that the simple village populace could never hope to achieve. That gutter scrap was gone , offline. He carried himself with a higher purpose now.

He managed to convince himself that a meagre disguise was best. He had not the means for anything elaborate, but at the very least he could conceal some of his more noticeable aspects.

The walk to the village seemed shorter than his abrupt exit, his feet finding the gatefront is less time than it had taken him to try and talk himself out of the voyage. The iron-wrought gate seemed just as high as he remembered but flimsier in comparison to his memory. With anxiety pounding against his processor, he recited the elements he could observe from the manufactured exterior before him.

A sentry guard with their shiny back turned faced the inner marketplace. Truly, there was no need to face the barren plains when there were nothing but ghosts and emptiness out in the wilds, but he would make a change of that.

He vaulted over the gates easily, startling the guard with his swift and sudden descent. He expected a cry of ‘halt !’ or ‘ who goes there? ’ or something to that effect, but the guard was silent. He didn’t turn to see what expression was on its face, walking forward as if the norm.

With his cloak dragging across the ground, he clenched his secondary arms that were concealed behind his back. His anxiety caused his posture to appear ramrod straight, and his optics were wide with suppressed fear. He stepped onward pretending that he belonged.

None stopped him, only a few onlookers that craned their heads up to behold his terrible height and cowered back in fear. His optics scanned the walls feverishly for his wanted poster, any signs of proof of his criminality.

Posters depicting sales and market dates were haphazardly affixed to the walls, a few flyers proclaiming the latest victory of the Warring Queen. The more he walked the more he found banality, the lives of the villagers untouched by his aged crime.

Roaming optics scoured the market booths, idly searching for the merchant who had previously owned the tome. If there were any that remembered him, it would be those afflicted by his crime.

His gaze flickered over the wares of the booths, barely familiar yet previously unattainable goods lining the stalls. He scanned the trite items, some home decor or simple repair kits, flavoured fuels and aesthetic enhancers. Nothing that drove his interest.

The market-goers gave him a large berth, scooting around him with a large gap. Any that passed near shuffled quickly to remove themselves from his close proximity, scattering like vermin underfoot. They, for the greater purpose of market day, ignored him, or attempted to. They swarmed with their optics but went silent at the mouth.

His own optics caught a few familiar symbols of alchemy pressed onto a few sheafs of loose aluminum–edges torn as if removed from a larger volume. Amongst them were a few symbols he did not yet recognize. In a handwriting he knew like the back of his hand.

It took a single stride to overtake the milling populace and tower over the vendor’s booth. He pointed a finger down at the alchemical page, no doubt cut from a tome similar to his own–perhaps a volume in the same series.

“ This . Where did you get this .”

The merchant’s back turned forward, optics reaching upward to meet a potential patron. He caught the now-recognizable glimmer of fear in their eyes.

“That? Oh, um…I bought a coupl’a pages off’a guy a whiles back. Figure’d the whole thing’d be too expensive to sell, so why not just a few pages for a lark? Haha.” The merchant laughed weakly, a dull scratching adding a tinny sound to their voice box.

He could feel the ire growing in the pit of his core.

“Where’s. The rest ?” He attempted to keep calm, a growl beginning in his chest. The absolute disrespect to shear a page from an impossibly valuable tome–

All at once, the merchant turned feeble, hands clenched together and trembling. “O-oh! D-do you know of the book it came from, dear customer? I-I can assure you it wasn’t me who did the rippin’, I’s just tryin’ to find the original owner ‘s all. T-that’s why I be doin’ this, a’course.” 

The wretch simpered, adding to their pathetic tone. He could sense the will of the merchant fading before his eyes.

It was both a balm and a boon, the pages. Firstly, because it meant the rest of the tome, and hopefully the remaining pages, were nearby. But the sacrilege of destroying such an important compilation of knowledge, for the sake of mere bartering, was enough to drive him to anger.

The merchant continued to cower beneath his burning gaze. Silence scorched the air between them, pressing like a bonfire. His gaze was afire with sparks in his optics.

“Oh please, please, don’t harm lil’ol me. ‘M just here to help!”

He snarled at the merchant, his anger escaping with puffs of righteous steam. His joints cracked where his exterior heated.

He thrust a primary hand forward, grabbing the merchant by his ugly tie. 

“Do you know the value of these pages?”

A shivering shake of the head.

His fingers curled deeper into the delicate joints of the neck. “No, I didn’t think you did. Too much a fool for helping facilitate the destruction of such a tome.”

He slammed an opposite hand down onto the booth surface, pushing other items destructively to the soiled ground. The merchant whimpered. Passers averted their gaze.

“But you’re going to correct this injustice, aren’t you?” a large hand reached out to pet the merchant’s head menacingly. He could feel the plates on the merchant’s head tremble.

“Y-yes of course! Helping is what ah does best after all, haha …Just don’t hurt me… please .”

He kept his hand coiled around the merchant’s small head, keeping him close and vulnerable.

“Lead me to the tome from which these pages were torn, and you shall keep your head.” He threatened, the venom as easy as water. “Otherwise I will have to make quick work of you.”

He pulled the merchant from behind his stall, crowding him towards the small residence nearby. His tall height and foreboding stature cornered the smaller automaton, and his hydrogen crystal burned brighter inside its quartz captive prison. The merchant’s optics widened at the miniscule display, knees trembling and dragging his feet.

“T-the tome! The tome, yes ah course. Ah’ve got it right here at home, none’s a bother to me, haha.” Fingers scrabbled desperately where his primary fingers were wrapped around his neck.

“Please–ah! Do come in, come in. None’s trouble.” Eyes darted past him into the marketplace, searching for any help or assistance. Desperation bubbled under his captive hands.

The village was never one for altruism, never a place to seek help without payment. He watched the light of hope dim from the merchant’s optics, and the body slumped–resigning itself to his violence.

“I-f ye don’t hurt me…ye can have it.” The merchant’s lip trembled, eyes more vacant than a moment ago. A boon paid with violence. That suited him just fine.

Propping his prisoner in front of the doorframe, he released his claws in a mocking display. “Good, good. Now fetch .”

The merchant scurried into the residence, stumbling on the dirty stoop. He waited in the cramped entryway, gaze pointed forward and awaiting for any potential suspicious noise. The merchant returned with a battered and smaller tome than his prized possession, and he waited no longer to scoop it into his arms and begin reading.

Quivering like a circuit-mouse, the merchant stood awkwardly as if awaiting some punishment. 

The new tome was assuredly from the same author as his previously stolen prize, the pages and writing similar but altogether new . He buzzed with excitement, new knowledge bursting in his processor. He couldn’t help muttering the writings of a new spell, his core and crystal warming with fresh magic.

The merchant gasped in fear, his eyes wide at the occult blatherings. He knew no better, the imbecilic fool–couldn’t tell the difference between a fuel recipe and an alchemic fusion. A fool blind to the knowledge staring at him everyday from his cart.

He snapped the tome closed, the sound clapping like a thunderbolt in the small residence. The merchant jumped.

It had been that easy all along, fear carving a path towards resources. If only he’d seen the truth sooner.

The new tome was his, and new research could be done.

“I will return in a fortnight, merchant. Though you have done me a great service returning this tome to me, you have done me a great disservice by damaging it. I will return to equalize our transaction.”

He turned, using his free hand to clasp at the crystal strung upon his cloak.

“Should you choose to flee, let it be known that I will not be held responsible for my actions.” He conjured a tiny flame, flitting it within his fingers. The ember beckoned with danger, the merchant’s internal fuel the perfect substance to ignite.

Sneering eyes looked back at his quivering prey. “I think we will be very useful to each other, hmm?”

And closed the door behind.

Chapter Text

Act 2:

Chap 8

 “And the damaged carpets, have they been disposed of?”

“Yes, your Highness.” 

Your fingertips flutter over the documents, the words blurring together in a flurry of letters. There’s still so much to do, but little by little, it's getting done.

There’s no need to look up at your attendant, the familiar faces that remained after your mother’s passing are a sad comfort to you–those that decided to stay despite your paper-thin ties to the throne.

The repurposed desk feels like it’s yours, at least. Mother wasn’t a pages and documents kind of ruler, more of the sword and war-cry type. You know that she must’ve had to do some modicum of paperwork at some point, but in all your memories, you can’t picture it. There are far more memories of her polishing her greatsword with buffing oil as high as her vambrace, memories that you cherish and will hold dear until you too, cease to exist.

You close your eyes and release some of the tension that continues to build without mercy in your body. Every little bit counts. Every tiny job completed is one less to do tomorrow.

The paperwork seems to grow by the day; trade routes contested, military schools with low enrollment, border skirmishes, wedding invitations, private investigation results—

There’s so much still to do, so much that yet needs your attention. There isn’t a moment’s peace, even during the late hours of the evening stars. Everything had to proceed smoothly, at least until the wedding.

“Uh, your Highness?”

A new voice, one as familiar as your mother’s. You look up brightly.

“Lady Chica! I apologize, I didn’t hear you come in.” Stamping your approval on the latest document, you get to your feet and skirt around the desk. Your attendant quietly removes themself from the room, as you previously instructed, and grants you privacy with your knight.

Heels click as you approach her, extending your arms in casual greeting. She takes your hands within her much larger gauntlets, holding you gently like a glass flower. Though she is happy to see you, sadness still twinkles in her optics when she looks at you. Laughing cheerfully, you try to erase some of that sadness.

“Now, now, Lady Chica, you know I’m not made of cesium. I’m not going to break if you squeeze me a bit harder.” Painting your tone with mirth, you gently remind her of your indestructible exterior.

She laughs gently, “I know, I know, but I can’t help it. Your mother was always testing the limits further than I felt comfortable with. But she was right in the end,” a sad sigh, “she always was.”

Grief returns to her optics, her gaze cascading down like teartracks following the golden veins in your armour. 

You look up at her, the same grief no doubt painted in your own gaze. She’s so much smaller than Mother, but still gargantuan in comparison to you. Her hands hold you in a similar way, but nothing succeeds in chasing the mourning from your body.

Cutting back a building sniffle, you change the subject. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but is there a reason you’re here? Is there anything I can help you with?”

She perks up as if fighting her own tears, washing them away with a bright-sounding chirp. “Oh, right! Sorry, I guess I went down memory lane again. You know me.”

Titling your head, you smile. 

Wide gauntlets release your hands in lieu of reaching behind and retrieving a small, simple pouch. Its tied string is delicate in her hands, bunched taut so as to not lose the mysterious component inside.

For a moment, you unfurl your fingers, waiting for her to drop it into your hands. But she’s hesitant, curling armoured joints around the pouch like it’s her very core. Retracting your fingers, you can only wait for her to unveil what she has brought you.

There’s a slight tremble in her hands, almost imperceptible if you didn’t know her so well. It speaks of fear as well as hesitancy, and grief overpowering. You understand how hard it is for her to be in your presence as of late.

“Your mother and I…” she starts, voicebox cracking with static. A single harsh cough clears the imperfection. “We wanted…we never got the chance to use these. And I just thought…what with your wedding coming up…that she’d want you to have this.”

Her trembling is all the more noticeable now as she draws back the string of the pouch, revealing two simple golden bands. 

Your eyes shoot wide at the implication. You didn’t…you had no idea…

With effort, you drag your eyes from the rings to Chica’s face, expression high and concerning. “I couldn’t…these are yours .”

Chica chirps loudly, a chiding tone. “ Let me finish ! I’ve given this a lot of thought, and let me tell you,  I’m still not happy with this decision you’ve made. I don’t approve, and I don’t think your mother would either. Marrying that horrible man just because he has the Moon covenant? Darling, how could you ever think he’d make you happy?”

You take a step back, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. This argument again.

“It was my decision to make, and what’s best for the kingdom. You know as well as I do that this kingdom needs a strong ruler, and the Moon covenant is what’s held it together all these generations. What’s best for the kingdom comes first , before any of my needs.”

Her gauntlets clench over the rings. “But honey…”

Your eyes turn firm, your royal status bleeding through the cracks. “Enough of this. I’ve made my decision, and no force in this kingdom has the jurisdiction to overturn it.”

Chica’s returning squawk is sadder, quieter now. You hate pulling rank on her, as empty as it feels, but you refuse to entertain listening to this argument again. The wedding preparations are already well underway, and although your paperwork is seemingly unending, it is steadily dwindling. 

Her hands thumb over the delicate rings, far too big for your fingers anyway. It might fit his though…

“I just don’t think…your mother would have wanted you to be unhappy.” Your Mother’s knight confesses, that trickle of sadness returning to her voice. “She would have done anything for you– did everything she could. And even though I don’t like this…”

She thrusts her arms forward, rings cupped between her fingers like a half sprung trap. The golden bands sit demurely atop a bed of simple fabric, beckoning with their sentiment and memory.

That same sadness wells within you, the urge to accept and receive a token from your dearly beloved Mother. That she’d been so close to exchanging them with her knight, the one she loved so dearly. That the reason they’d never been exchanged was your fault. That your existence was more of a blemish than a blessing.

“She’d want you to have these. I know she would. So please…accept them? Before I start crying.”

You can hear the static in her voice, the hesitancy in her posture. Her arms are shaking, half begging you to refuse, half to accept. Her body and mind are at war with each other, and her soft inner core was probably one of the reasons your mother loved her so much.

There is a breaking in your chest, the well of sadness springing forth.

“I…I shouldn’t.”

Chica thrusts her arms closer, rattling her armour loudly in the royal office. Her next words make it impossible for you to refuse.

“ Please . Even if we couldn’t.” 

A sob builds in your body, but your control is like iron. You refuse to even let a drop escape as you extend your hands forth, shaking with sorrow, as you accept the rings. Chica curves her hands to drop them, the tiny halos of gold clinking against your more delicate armour.

The moment they leave her hands, Chica bursts into tears, crying as she rushes out of the room, blubbering all the way. The door slams shut behind her in a deafening sound, and you’re left alone with your anguish. You can scarcely hear her cries as she rushes down the hallway.

The inanimate objects in your palm are ignorant to the sorrows surrounding them. Wedding bands that were never properly exchanged. Rings too big to fit on any of your fingers.

It takes a while, but eventually you curl them towards your chestplate, keeping them close as if the mere proximity might bring the feeling of your mother back. They are deaf to your plight, your tragedy. You are unworthy of them.

But you know one thing for certain, and that is your mother would never approve of your decision to marry. In that stance, Lady Chica is wrong–but it will not shake your determination.

This kingdom needs a strong ruler, and try as you might, there is no substitute for the Moon covenant. No matter how dangerous he might be, your dedication to the kingdom comes before everything.

Even your own fate.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sidereal time is a fixed constant–the morning stars greeting you with their usual scintillations. Another night at the desk complete, another day where your own chambers go unused. 

It’s not good for you to miss any recharge cycles, lest the staff grow suspicious. There’s only so much you can accomplish without the necessary charging before rumours start to bud. It was easier when you weren’t in charge, when there was less work to do.

Nights spent in the royal office are common, and swiftly becoming a habit. The open window grants some reprieve from the clutter of the room, adding a balm of changeability with the rotation of the stars. Your office attendant, ever the ghostly presence, has a miraculous ability to add to your growing pile of documents when you’re not paying attention. You’ve scarcely seen them holding any new documents, let alone leaving and returning with more. Should they decide to ever step down, you’re certain finding a replacement as competent will be a nightmare.

The rings are still clutched in your left hand, tucked in the grooves of your finger joints. If you’re willing to go through with Chica’s plea, they’ll need to be resized. At least one of them–it’s unknown whether your fiance’s finger would fit the band.

It’s an ongoing struggle, your innate interest in him. Every inch of him screams danger to your senses, his height and powerful demeanor only solidifying proof of his threat level. His optics, fire bright and icy blue, haunt your mind with the memory.

He is a danger to you, but you strung the sword above your head yourself. For the good of the kingdom.

You allow a groan to escape, echoing softly in the room. You pray that your attendant is absent, though it would matter little if they were present. Everything is so busy and complicated, and you wish for the millionth time for your mother’s guidance.

She is not here to guide you.

Perhaps a change of scenery is in order, if only to falsify an early morning awakening from recharge. If you’re seen walking the gardens from the direction of your quarters, perhaps it would do some good to quell any burgeoning rumours.

Sweeping your sleeves, you tuck the rings behind your back in a royal posture, clenching them in a double fist. To any outside observer, you must uphold yourself as the pride of the kingdom, an immovable stature after your mother’s reign. This is a mantra you repeat daily, and it grows more wearisome by the day.

It is a blessing to walk the halls, your feet taking you along on a familiar route. Your armour glides soundlessly at the joints, the runes holding as they always do. You’ve been in the armour so long you can scarcely remember what it feels like to not don it. The feeling of the rings in your hand presses a weight onto your very being.

The castle gardens extend before you, the alcove still as if waiting for your arrival. Sinking into the chair, you allow some stress to leak out, your weary feet catching on the miniscule grooves of the flooring.

Perhaps you should call for the armourer to bring you your shield for maintenance. Even in a scheduled break of relaxation, your hands feel too idle. There is too much to do for you to be sitting around doing nothing. Your hands itch for something to do, even just to pass the time.

But as you’ve come to realize, the castle staff is spread thin, and there is no attendant to relay your message to the armourer. There are far less persons within the castle after your Mother’s passing–the majority having left for better opportunities elsewhere. You don’t blame them, and for the most part, you’re doubly glad for those that decided to stay despite everything. 

Passive clanging alerts you to the Major’s arrival, his armour shining brightly under the morning stars. It isn’t a surprise to see him here, and his presence is a comfort.

The expression on his face, however, is concern.

“Your Majesty.” His greeting is baritone low, and rumbles pleasantly despite his obvious worriment. His covenant wastes no time materializing like a cloud of stars around his head, spinning in a spiral nebula before wrapping themselves around your body.

Their light tickles, and you greet them and their host with a chuckle. “Hello hello, good morning to you as well. Did the Major allow you a restful eve?”

The Major in question sighs and takes his place as sentry next to you.

“You should know better than to walk the halls unaccompanied.” His chastisement is as gentle as his demeanor.

His stars spin around your fingers like moving ornamentation. “It is unnecessary.” You look up at him shrewdly, “Impenetrable, remember?”

The sigh that leaves his body is a heavy one, weary and overused. The weight of it presses guilt into the seams of your armour, adding pressure to already vulnerable areas.

“Your safety is, and will always remain, my highest priority.”

His constellations place themselves at the tips of your crown, twinkling prettily. You shake them off with a laugh. 

The concern in his voice hasn’t dissipated, and his tightly clasped gauntlets are the picture of nobility. The Major has always been a constant, and you trust him with your life. Part of the reason you still exist is due to his unyielding protection.

“Talked with Chica this morning, did you?”

He shook his head, helm shining in the light. “That has nothing to do with it.”

His constellation returned to his person, resuming their comfortable asterism above the Major’s helm.

“You know…” you begin, “You never bothered Mother as much with your insistence of guards.” Your voice is shrewd, and a touch biting. Perhaps the ill rest affected you more than you thought.

The Major’s pauldrons lower, tired. “That was a different circumstance and you know it.” You can hear him grip one gauntlet within the other, easing a modicum of tension. “It was your Mother that assigned me to your guard, and I would never shirk the late Queen’s order.”

“But you would ignore mine.” Chastisement rings in your tone, echoing between your armour and his. The air between you is once again charged with ire, and the garden is no longer as rejuvenating as you intended.

“There is no choosing between orders, your Highness. One order does not need to supersede the other.”

Your idle hand clenches at your sides, the facts slapping you in the face. But your rebuttal is just as quick.

“We are understaffed, Major. There are better uses of your time than to babysit an indestructible royal.”

Turning away from him, you face the sprawling gardens. Their shine and lustre do little to soothe the angry forces fighting inside your body. 

You hear him take a knee beside your chair, one part the guardian you’ve known since your mother’s reign, one part the knight that’s pledged himself to your service. You know better than anyone that his ties to you are one of the only things keeping your tie to the throne in place.The nobles and populace respect his title and his covenant–they have no need for a weak Princess in the wake of the Warrior Queen.

“Princess…” His voice is gentle, free of pride. He speaks to you as an equal while you pout like a newframe. “You know as well as I do that there is danger here in the castle that can harm you. He might not have yet, and it’s true he might never, but the probability of that is never zero.”

His gauntlet rests on the corner of your chair. “I only ask that you keep me close in the event of…an emergency. We have had too many incidents of late.”

The rings burn in your hand, the legacy of your mother heavy. 

“He didn’t harm me.” 

You can feel his eyes bore into the back of your head. You haven’t the courage to face him yet.

“Then why did you look so afraid?”

The memory soaks over you, the echo of resignation in what you thought were your final moments. Eclipse’s words had been so clearly violent, so final , and yet you had misunderstood them.

Words of retort are stuck, lies swallowed down. You thought you were going to die, and your silent acceptance had been clear in your eyes. The Major had seen you carted away by your fiendish fiance, and it had been your silent order that stopped him. 

His words ring with truth, surrounding and suffocating you. You were afraid. If there was any one creature capable of getting past the runes and harming you, it was him. You invited a monster into your family and expected to remain unharmed. 

The Major’s gentle fingers turn your chin to face him, and wide, frightened eyes meet through the slats of his helm. You had been afraid. That much was always certain.

“I will continue to defy your orders when it comes to your own safety. Don’t make me break my vow.”

Your chest is tight, constricting. It’s taking everything you have not to cry. 

Curse Major Fredbear and his ability to make you feel so vulnerable.

“I won’t.” You whisper. “I’m sorry.”

His hand leaves the chair and finds your fist, the gold bands hidden inside. His grasp is so gentle yet so warm.

“Thank you Princess.” he breathes, and you can feel his gratitude through your fingers. He stands with a creak of his joints and occupies his usual space as if nothing has passed between you. The garden swims with complex emotion, tangled among every leaf and petal. 

This hasn’t been the first time you’ve had this discussion, but you fear it might be the last. You are the loser of this argument, and the error of almost losing your beloved knight is a gamble you can’t risk. There are greater factors at play, and the Major’s influence could be the deciding component between survival and plenty.

He is the sole individual you can confide in within these walls.

But there are secrets that you keep, even from him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your feet bring you to him. Heels clack against marble tiles. A magnet pulls two metals together. He looks as surprised to see you as you do him; there is no reason whatsoever for you to seek him out.

His mismatched optics flicker to your crown, your mask, your armour. What he searches for on you, you have no idea, but it leaves you feeling like a rat in a trap. His tall stature overtakes even your tallest knights, towering over you. His pauldrons glint fiercely in the low light, and you feel a small spark of pride gazing upon them.

You see a question form in his mind, a wry quirk of the teeth that promises a battle of words. But your wit is as swift, and your mind as sharp. You conjure a reasoning from the empty space between you and beat him to the punch.

“Give me your hand.” extending your hand forward, your palm facing the sky. 

Eclipse looks briefly stunned, a bare flicker of confusion in his optics, before he smiles with his teeth.

“Why Princess, as always you’re so forward. You have already asked for my hand.”

Your mind screams while your mask remains stoically in place. In your speed, a glaring crack of double meaning slipped through. The battle of wits has begun, and at first bat you’re already on the losing side.

It’s cowardly, but you’d rather concede here rather than continue forward with further losses. “If you refuse, then we can find other means.” You ignore his coy response, choosing to redirect. Your palm lowers slowly. “It would only take a moment, and you hardly looked busy.”

It is the movement of your rejection that causes his hand to lurch forward, palm kissing palm. It is a wonder if he even heard your words.

He keeps you chained like a manacle. His grip is soft, yet iron.

“Now now, leaving so soon? You’ve only just arrived.”

Just like before, you can feel he’s dangerous . Dangerous to others, surely, but doubly for you. 

He is a danger to your psyche as well as your material body. His words have never made you feel safe.

Your mother would have hated him.

The thought of her is like a bucket of ice dropped on your head, cleansing you of traitorous heat and washing it away with purifying water. You drop your hand from his and return it to its rightful place behind your back. 

“It was not my intention to disturb you. I shall send an attendant to retrieve the information I seek.”

There is confusion in his optics dancing underneath the flutter of interest. It’s evident he doesn’t feel anything but predatory when you touch, but it's not impossible to think he feels nothing. There is certainly something else he feels, though you know not what.

He is a confounding creature, and every interaction paves the way with more questions.

He grits his teeth menacingly, grinding them with sharp incisors. His ire grows in your presence.

Finding comfort in his presence is a lie, a brief farce. Any comfort you find in his company is shrouded under his thick cloak of danger, and the longer you stay in his presence, the more exposed you are.

For the thousandth time, you curse your feet for bringing you to his step.

“I am never too busy for my intended.” His response is smooth, unnaturally so. Fury builds behind his teeth.

You scoff. “Your recent actions speak otherwise.” 

His expression stutters for a moment, static clouding his face. His emotions are not as carefully guarded as yours.

“A momentary lapse,” he murmurs, his optics dragging down your body. You feel scrutinized, and your armour heavy. The longer you are in his presence, the more risk. His knowledge of runes is unknown, but you’ve seen his dedication clearly. There is nothing his mind cannot uncover with time.

Perhaps it is best to take your leave.

Taking a step backward, you make clear your intention to remove yourself from his proximity. Coming here was a mistake, it always was. Curse your feet and the magnetic pull you feel.

He starts for a brief moment, lurching. His large hands twitch like they mean to grab you again.

A pulse of power thrums between you, and you feel the familiar crackle of power in the air. 

Fear battles curiosity in that fraction of a second, the tension of electricity spiking. You think for a moment he might conjure some magics to capture you here, or unleash some unimaginable force.

For a sorcerer with such unlimited power, he doesn’t wield it as casually as you initially expected. Perhaps it is your mother’s upbringing, but you know if you had his wealth of power, you’d be far more inclined to use it.

Through a glimmering reality curtain, the Sun and Moon are summoned forth, spinning about their contractor in a friendly dazzle of sparkles. They haven’t noticed you yet, and you are unsure why Eclipse summoned them at this moment.

It is the Sun that notices you first–a clear chime and a frantic spin like a compass’ arrow. The sound is without malice, but your eyes plead silently. The Moon notices a beat later, and moves to smother its brother.

Leave it to the Moon to always be your protector, even without your mother’s influence. He will keep your secret safe.

Their arrival stays your imminent exit, the question of why they’re here shining in your eyes. If Eclipse believes that intrigue will keep you captive, then he’s not far off the mark.

It would be easy for him to use their power to suppress you, contain you, cage you. But he doesn’t. Instead, he opens his mouth and chains you with his words.

“They need to know.” He speaks.

“What?” you can’t help but reply.

The feared sorcerer garbles like he’s stuck on his words. “Outside, I mean. We should make an appearance in the capital, notify the peasants of our impending union.” His hands clasp and open like kneading claws. “We’ve already made the announcement, we should confirm our match to the public in person.”

It leaves you briefly stunned, your immediate instinct rising to refuse. 

Going out is dangerous. Keep guards with you at all times. Stay out of the public eye, it will do you no good. Stay inside, where it is safe.

Your mother’s teachings echo solemnly through your casing.

But beneath them burbles a slowly rising truth; your mother is not here anymore . You can go outside as you please.

There is no one to stop you.

The truth hits you like an arrow, piercing through your armour like melted iron. The thought had never occurred to you, your mother’s words always considered law even after her passing.

She had always prioritized your safety over everything, coddling you like a delicate pane of glass. It was the reason you had your armour in the first place, the reason she worked so tirelessly to make it for you. 

It was loving, but equally stifling. Her caution remained even after the armour was complete, much to your disappointment.

The prospect of going outside, unimpeded , shoots sparks of excitement through your body. Your eyes widen slightly, and your arms loosen from behind your back, relaxing a meagre degree. 

It is all the reaction Eclipse needs, a grin forming at the sides of his mouth. His teeth flash with victory.

“We shall venture into the capital grandly, perhaps atop a palanquin? The city will quiver before our united presence, and our names will be spoken with awe by every citizen. 

“Your guard shall lead with a procession, proclaiming our upcoming nuptials and the advance of a new holiday. It’s not everyday that the kingdom is blessed by a union between the Sun and the Moon.”

He rambles excitedly, gesturing with his wide hands. The Sun spins excitedly at the prospect of attention, while the Moon floats more demurely.

You are caught in the web of excitement, his words painting a picture you have never before considered.

You , walking amongst the people. Free to meet your subjects without barrier or wall between you. 

Would they know? Would they see you any differently than one of them? Would you be able to blend in, not a shadow of a doubt in your identity?

Excitement courses through you. Though your mask is in place, you cannot stop the glitter in your eyes.

Eclipse continues to ramble, painting in broad strokes of his vision with his words while you tumble through his colourful paint. He places you as a prized piece amidst his canvas, titanium white to his ivory black.

“Should there be music? Some sort of triumphant manner to broadcast our arrival. I shall conjure some expounding spell for distance, ‘tis a paltry thing with my expertise.” The Sun swirls around his fingertips with bright, vibrant energy.

You struggle to retain your eloquence, but vibrate with excitement all the same. “That will be unnecessary,” the concept of large fanfare contrasting heavily against your timid vision, “we shall have the guard arrange the details. The city should be notified in advance of our outing, but only those necessary.”

Your dampening words do not diminish Eclipse’s fire in the least. His optics flash as he catches your gaze, no longer lost in the speculative planning. He continues to grin broadly, his eyes aflame with heat.

“Then we must notify them at once.” He grabs your hand once more, swallowing it inside his palm. The rings burn in your opposite hand.

Eclipse drags you down the hall with swift feet, fuelled by your agreement. It echoes your previous kidnapping at his hand, but feels sweeter knowing that your harm is far from his mind. The memory feels more like a bruise, the prior misunderstanding a scar against your pride. You’d misunderstood him plainly, and were still painting over your mistake.

He is dangerous, and you should stay away from him. But you smile as he drags you down the hall. 

Chapter Text

Act 2:

Chap 9

There is no palanquin. Truthfully, you don’t even think the castle has one, let alone the staff to carry one. 

When your mother ventured beyond the castle walls, she always left with her army on foot, steady with greatsword in hand. At least until reaching her warship, where she’d set forth to conquer the rest of the world.

Still, it is exciting. You haven’t had a reason to leave the castle for anything other than war-related matters since your ascension, and never before then. When mother was off fighting on some battlefield a continent away, you were under strict orders to stay inside–out of sight. The prospect of leaving freely sends flutters of electricity tickling your abdomen.

Major Fredbear doesn’t agree with your escapade, but he doesn’t forbid it either. Lady Chica is beside herself in tears with fears of you leaving; her anxiety fueled by your mother’s memory, doubled after her passing. 

Your guard is as large as it can be, considering the tight deadline. There is no time to detract from their other important duties, and only a scant few can be spared for this supplementary outing. As far as you’re aware, the capital public has been informed, but you’re unsure to what extent.

Will they be happy to see you? Frightened? In awe? Perhaps angry, or disappointed. Still, you can’t stop thinking about them; your subjects, your citizens, your people . Your body is a live wire and halfway ready to combust.

The castle main gates extend upward, touching the sky with solid stone walls that have remained as impenetrable as your armour during the time you’ve lived here. The stone is thick, grey, and coarse with compact layers. These walls have kept you safe all these years, and have kept you separate from the kingdom’s citizens all the same.

It’s stood as much a guard as any of your royal units, wholly immovable and steadfast. Prioritizing your mother’s order more than your own, and just as unyielding.

But not today. Today, you go freely, and even your guards cannot stand in your way.

Sir Montgomery holds a gilded flag to your left, fluttering with the new royal crest in golden embroidery wires. His copper-green armour is no less bright in the shade of the castle’s main gates.

Finding a royal goldmancer has been difficult since the last one left, and you can see the remaining threads used sparingly in his flag. It still billows with royal grace, but to a shrewd eye you can see the far less ostentatious ornament in comparison to your mother’s reign.

Upon further scrutiny, he looks a little greener than usual–his copper armour chipped and scuffed in noticeable corners. Did he lose a fight recently? The bright green plating looks scratched around the palms of his gauntlets, and there’s a scrape across his right vambrace. Whether he won or lost is of no concern to you, though it bodes ill that you are so far in the dark concerning the goings-on of one of your most elite guard. 

In truth, you’ve seen little of him since the latest assassination attempt. Even now he looks steadfastly forward, never turning to glance in your direction. 

He was always more casual with you, more lax than the other elite guards. With some dim sadness, you wonder what’s changed.

The Major stands with his own gilded flag to your right, and sends frequent worried glances in your direction at even intervals. He’s far more anxious than your green knight, and only looks in your direction with enough frequency as appropriate. You can sense his displeasure through the slats in his helmet, but a tender squeeze of your right hand interrupts your thoughts.

Your hand is engulfed in an inky blackness, a warmth leaking through the exterior panels of your armour. Long fingers curl around the circumference of your palm, claws at the end of digits tugging coiling around like a snake.

Eclipse brings your hand upwards, stopping just shy of his toothy maw. The anxious nerves that vibrate through your body leak through your fingers, only to be swallowed by his hand. You are prey, and he is the predator.

“Peace,” he breathes, the air suddenly warmer between you, “I am here. You shall not come to harm while I am with you.”

Anxiety turns to frustration in the span of a second. Did he so readily confuse your shivers with fearful anxiety? Does he believe you to be a weak waif that can’t fend for themself? Heat builds low, and whistles of steam begin their agitated high pitched frequency.

You fight the urge to shake off his hand, lest you lose a few fingers. Keeping your temper is better for your hale longevity, for you and your armour besides. There are no craftspeople that can repair your armour should you need replacement parts.

You choose instead, to scoff, “You think so little of me, my Lord. Did your observation of my battle prowess garner such little confidence?”

At your words, his grin only stretches wider, your fingers brought closer to the threatening teeth. 

“Quite the opposite, my dear. Though I confess I paid the battle little attention once I realised it was won. You’ll have to forgive me, it was difficult to see– your shield was blinding.”

Fever-heat screams through your body, venting puffs of steam through hairline seams of your armour. Words of retort dry up, and the hand surrounding yours squeezes tighter. He chuckles darkly, and the sound adds fuel to your fire.

“I only wish to reassure you. Of your safety at my side.” His optic flickers up shrewdly, falling briefly upon your green guard. If anything, he smirks impossibly wider, splitting his face like an angry crack in stone–a trait you’ve found impossible not to notice of late. “My track record speaks for itself.”

There is a stiff clank to your left, of armour standing to attention. You can hear a quiet rattle of Sir Montgomery’s enraged self-control.

Eclipse huffs a brief laugh, and lowers your hand without releasing it. The castle gates begin to open, their loud mechanism creaking and filling the air with discordant sound. Your betrothed’s jab at your knight did not go unnoticed, but there will be time to deal with that later. 

For now, the capital awaits.

The steel doors cast a shadow over the front line of the procession, a muted vocal announcement of your arrival shouted from atop the wall. Your prior simmer transmutes back to excited shakes–you are so excited you can barely hear.

The Major hoists his flag high, and Sir Montgomery raises his in turn. The morning stars twinkle above your royal procession, casting gentle shadows from their proud forms. The light from beyond the castle gates opens before your eyes, and you breathe in the sight of the capital.

A not-so insignificant sized crowd stands at the cusp of the gates, folded in a semicircle. Automatons without excess ornamentation stare widely at the royal group, their plating clean but plain. Faces you’ve never seen before, shapes you steadily commit to memory. Your people . Always so close and yet kept from you all this time. One of the primary reasons you’re here at all.

Eclipse’s optics scan the crowd with a focused energy; fuelled by some motivation or another. There is a quiet fury behind his eyes, a vengeance sparkling deep in his sharp iris. It is impossible to know if it is intentional, but subconsciously he squeezes your hand tighter, ready to throw you around if necessary. You trust his promise to keep you safe, as unnecessary as it is. If this is the closest he’ll get to chivalry, it’s not terrible.

This isn’t your first sojourn through the capital, but those excursions were only during the dead of night where only the evening stars light your way. They were empty of townsfolk then, merely facades of houses holding your most precious subjects within. Now, those same subjects are out here , and you can meet each other. You can promise them your best in person, and they will hear your earnest vow.

Your mask hides your smile, but you are elated to see them. Some smiles are reflected back at you, but most are aimed in other directions.

Many are aimed towards your Major; his imposing form distinguished and far renown. A few newframes, identified purely by their shiny exterior and close proximity to their family units, point and exclaim excitedly. 

“The Major! Y’know, from the stories? I hear his constellation has five whole celestials!”

“Nuh-uh, it’s seven!”

“You bolt-head, there’s 19 of them.”

The Major shows no sign of hearing them, the picture of knightly grace and professionalism. He holds your new family crest like it carries the weight of the entire world, and steps in formation with perfect posture.

The remaining lesser guards form a train behind you, walking in two thin ranks behind your royal group. You can hear, but cannot see them. A few errant clanks signal that some might be a little fresh in their armour.

By sound alone, it’s impossible to count them. You can only pray that they look presentable.

The newframes argue for a few moments more before gasping and freezing at the sight of Sir Montgomery. Their whispered reverie is heard clearly by the enunciations of their mouths.

“Wow…the dragon knight…”

“The Draco…”

Their reverently uttered words send your green guard immediately puffing up with pride, his prior bruise dealt by your fiance healed and forgotten. His posture is in direct contrast to his commander’s, with a proud smile fitted with equally proud teeth aimed at his adoring fans. His flag stands at an angle in his distraction; hardly professional, but you won’t rebuke him for it.

 A rumble is felt through your hand, emanating from your ill-tempered betrothed. You begin to feel a buzz underneath your armour–some growing charge in the air. Eclipse raises his hand as if to humiliate your slacking knight, before curling his free hand into a rotating claw. 

He conjures his covenant from the aether, and within an expertly controlled moment, captures the attention of all present. The crowd releases a synchronous gasp, and the show begins in earnest.

The Sun shoots off into the sky like reversed lightning, bursting up like cannon-fire and flaring so bright the morning stars become indistinguishable. It shimmers and blazes with such light that the entire sky is filled with new brightness and colour, cascading sparks down unto the crowd below. 

The Moon coils around its master, passing your shoulder pauldrons with shy grazes and sending frost fractals emitting from your feet. They stretch outward, creating a dazzling display on the ground and sky, and reflect the brilliant light of its twin in a halo centred around you and their covenantal master.

Eclipse stamps a heel against the icy surface and it shatters with a dissonant crack–sending the icy shards upwards and outward. The sparks turn to gentle snow as they float up, each glimmering like a gem and becoming indistinguishable from the Suns’ fiery falling sparks. The crowd is silenced by the majesty of Eclipse’s celestial control.

Not one automaton moves, not a single gear shifting to make any noise. For a brief moment there is a fear that he’s frozen all of them; turned their inner oil to ice. The stray clanks of your temporary guard are just as silent, stopped in awe of the beauty and terror at the power displayed. 

In an instant, Eclipse has made clear his power–his control and extent of his ability. Perhaps not the full extent, but enough to shock and awe all in attendance. Your betrothed is a terrifying being, but one that you hope will fight on behalf of your kingdom, and not against it.

Your mother had a similar ability to capture reverence, though her battle history had done much of the work for her. The capital would cry out cheers of victory when she left for battle, as much a celebrity as a queen. 

Every optic is trained on the man holding your hand, his grin forced and gritting. Nevertheless, he addresses the mass before him, and points with a crooked finger at the Major’s gilded flying banner.

“This is the new symbol of your kingdom, the crest which governs your very lives.” His voice booms with some subtle spell, clangorous and imposing. The breathy purr is gone from his voicebox, his tone clear and mildly threatening.

He hoists your entwined hands to the crowd, holding it high.

“Your Princess ,” he starts slowly, enunciating your title, “has offered me a crown in exchange for my governance.”

The first of small, quiet murmurs begin deep within the horde.

“And though the majority of you are uninteresting or unworthy folk,” Fury licks up your struts in defence of your subjects, “I have decided to accept.”

Winning the love of the subjects is clearly not high on his priority list. That, or benevolent charisma exists nowhere within the gears that control his body. You fight the urge to bury your mask in your free hand in embarrassment.

You elevated him to this height. It's one of your duties to ensure he is a good king. 

His optics continue to scan the crowd, catching on the occasional grimace or scowl. Not every subject is as excited to be here as the newframes, and you would argue the vast majority is here with judgemental intentions.

It was impossible to win the love of all of your subjects. But Eclipse’s speech isn’t helping your odds.

Eclipse gives no pause to allow you to soften his sharp words.

“You lot have no doubt seen, or perhaps heard rumour of my illustrious pact with the celestial deities. And while you are all familiar with the Moon covenant…” He waves a clawed hand, pulling the star known as the Sun from the sky, “the Sun is not one unwilling to outshine its sibling.”

It is an incredulous thing, the way he pulls down the celestial and how it seems to suck the light from the world. Your, and the collective optics of your citizens, were steadily growing used to the copious amount of light the Sun was emitting, and being thrust back into the meagre glitter of the morning stars was like putting a damper on light itself. The world felt inexplicably colder, and more foreboding.

Curious and semi-frightened stares gaze back from the audience. How easily he wields his power. How ferocious his unspoken threat. His display of ferocity is the sole aspect your mother would appreciate about him.

The murmurs grow within the populace, some scant words making their ways back to you. There is dissent in the throng, that much is clear, though you cannot discern towards whom it is directed.

Eclipse does not have that problem.

He whirls, hissing, aimed at the newframes. One jumps, startled from its clear whispering position–caught in the middle of muttering something to its companion.

Your lord lurches, releasing your hand and lunging forward towards the offending newframe. Whatever was spoken caused your betrothed to fly into a rage, and you lurch behind him in an attempt to stopper his fury.

The newframe is held at the neck, grasping and afraid. Eclipse’s height and long reach sends the poor youngster high into the air, all within Eclipse’s limited physical power. He needs no covenantal magic to put a newframe’s attitude in its proper place, but you move quickly to intercept.

The newframe’s companions tremble in fear, cowering and shuddering at the danger their friend occupies. They utter no defence in their stead.

“You shall not speak those words where I can hear them, lest I tear out your voice box so that you may suffer only silence instead.” Eclipse snarls, his arm straight and steady. He lifts the newframe like it is comprised of lithium, his threat on the edge of materializing.

The newframe begins to weep, curling in itself and dangling uselessly. Whatever apologies it attempts to speak dies within its fear-choked voicebox, and your fingers grasp the side of Eclipse’s gifted cloak in a wordless plea.

His fiery eye spins to sneer at you, teeth bared. 

“Permit me to rid this filth from our kingdom.” He seethes. You can feel the heat of the Sun’s rays warming him from the inside, threatening to boil. There is hope yet to temper his flame.

“I do not grant it.” your hands pull at the fabric, digging into the folds. Your mask is the picture of peace, but inside you are screaming. “They are young, and the young need time to nurture their proper ideals. There is no justice in the punishment of those who don’t know better.”

You hadn’t heard what was uttered, but you can guess. Your betrothed has a quick temper, and any words against him could easily send him off the rails. 

Steam hisses from Eclipse’s internals, escaping past his pauldrons and warping the air with heat. The Moon winks from behind you; a cooling balm to the Sun’s heat, and you can see the temperature sizzle between you. 

Even holding the cloak, you can feel the rage that builds and simmers inside Eclipse. 

“They will not learn. They never learn.” he sneers.

“Not if you do not allow them time .” You tug more insistently, fearing the worst for your young subject. Time is the one thing you cannot teach, and the one subject that teaches without discrimination. “Justice can only be dealt when the offending party is mature enough to understand the consequences of their words and actions.”

You dare not look away from Eclipse’s eyes. Any glance toward the newframe could be misconstrued as deflecting, or distracting. Your goal is to keep Eclipse’s attention centred on you, in effort to calm him.

An offending claw escapes from the confines of the newframe’s neck, coiling like a sharp tendril and caressing the side of their chin with threatening intent. They whimper, stretching their neck further in a futile attempt to lean further away, which only succeeds in exposing more of their tender wiring. Their optics are wide with fear, their silver aperture blown wide. Though their mouth does not move, you can sense the fervent prayers that wish to survive this ordeal.

With your fingers caught in the fabric of his cloak, you spy a warped reflection of your own mask in his pauldron out of the corner of your vision. The reflection is small, white, and gives the same impression of immaturity as the newframe. You are both vulnerable. It makes you feel tiny. You struggle not to meet your own gaze.

There must be a glint of something negative he sees, for you see his optics soften a fraction. Whatever he sees has displeased him in a separate, conflicting way, and it reigns in some of the ire he feels.

Relievingly, Eclipse’s arm lowers, and the newframe’s feet touch the ground. You relax slightly. He does not release them.

“If you truly desire justice, then wait until they are full frame.” Your eyes quickly flash to the victim, meeting watery, pitiable optics. “Should they still stand by their statement.” Your warning is evident.

The newframe shakes their head frantically, as much as they’re able, still trapped within Eclipse’s grasp. He turns to growl at them, facing them fully, before releasing them sharply.

“It is in your Regent’s mercy that you remain online, you careless fool. Keep it up and the next time you won’t be so fortunate.”

Dropping to the floor, the newframe crawls backwards into the crowd, keeping their eyes trained on Eclipse. They clatter with a cheerless noise, backing up from their offender. With eyes wide, they scamper behind legs and feet, seeking cover in the masses. Your lord heaves with a few stress relieving movements, before clenching and unclenching his extended claw.

Your hand reaches forward to grasp it, cupping the unnaturally thin wrist joint within your palm, trapping it from further violence.

“You can trust me,” there is something here you do not see, do not understand. But the words come to you nonetheless, and they feel right. “Believe in me, and I’ll believe in you, okay?”

Your words come out a whisper, something only the two of you (and the Sun and Moon) can hear. They bring out clarity in his optics, and turn to blanket you with their wide, mismatched stare. 

It is your duty to make him a decent ruler, one that rules with a heavy, but just hand. And by the looks of it, it seems like your duty might be successful.

Only now you have to clean up the mess he made.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The war room is busier than ever after your last victory at Vega, some of the lords from your mother’s reign making the trek to the castle for the first time since your speedy coronation. The elderly general from your past solo meetings is unusually quiet; a far cry from his constant disagreements. He looks smaller in the room, voice soft against the clamour. It is loud, and bracing, and you don’t have your mother’s large stature necessary to garnour their attentions.

They’re all talking over each other, speaking with overly commanding voices when the majority of them haven’t presided over a real battle since the early days of the Queen’s reign. It seems your intended’s presence on the battlefield has piqued their interest greatly; the prospect of a battle mage, especially one as powerful as Eclipse, inspiring many new goals. 

Somehow you doubt he would like being treated as a weapon. But you can’t help but feel envy that they did not view your usefulness with the same volume and sonority.

The subject of the meeting is a tricky one–the lords wish to go to battle against the neighbouring country to the West in exchange for their wealth of resources. 

It would be a risky battle for a number of reasons, all voiced quietly by you, crushed by the weight of the generals’ shouting. It is a wonder if they hear you at all, given their volume. You have nowhere near the number of soldiers nor the equipment to facilitate such a siege.

The lords speak over you, arguing that ‘ Aquila is weak, and we have bested them before with far less ’ and ‘ they have had ample time to hoard their resources; if they refuse to trade willingly then the only option remaining is war . They speak nothing of the fact your mother sat at the helm of each and every battle, bringing with her victory after victory, nor the legions she inspired that replenished the losses after every triumph.

A sharp first tightens under the war table, your ire rising. “My lords–” you start again, vying for the audial of even a single general. Your voice is swallowed by the many louder voices that outnumber yours. Nary a single glance is sent your way.

“Aquila has gold veins that run rich through their valleys; our castle’s coffers need to be replenished in order to bring about an era of prosperity once more! What remains in the vaults can be used to purchase the necessary armour to fit our best soldiers.” 

A few lords bang their fists on the table, scattering some soldier pieces atop the blameless war map. “Nay, to prepare for such a battle, a steelsmith is required! Our weapons must be in peak condition in order to achieve victory. Ten for every hundred soldiers!”

One lord barks out a stiff laugh, “The royal armourer will find himself stretched thin, poor sod. What’s he now, eighty? This battle may be his last if the siege lasts for too long.” 

A few fellow lords laugh while your body boils. Those who stayed after your mother left are infinitely more dear to you than these petulant knobs, but you cannot let yourself slip.

“Can’t the Black Sorcerer conjure the steel required for battle? Surely the Moon has dominion over that element, no?”

The voices in the room grow a mite quieter, but only a beat for inquiry. The same lord counts on his fingers, optics high and blind searching his memories for answers. “Did the Queen have dominion over steel? I cannot recall.”

“Titanium, Iron, Nickel…I can’t seem to recall if steel was among them.”

Your fury builds to a superheated degree, steam pressing ardently against your exterior plates. Keep calm, stay collected; you will have your chance to speak when these ingrates await your refusal.

“Regardless,” a rude lord waves a gilded gauntlet–all ornament and shiny with disuse, “The new Consort can handle those matters. Having him at the front will inspire the citizens doubly to enroll in our military schools; the battle at Vega will be trite in comparison.”

You can see him cast an ugly glance your way, just for a mere breath of a second. He sees you trembling with anger, and his eyes seem to dare you to lose your temper. Any heated word you utter will diminish your standing in the eyes of these military generals, and there is risk of some detracting their forces. 

The might of a kingdom is not wielded alone, a ruler must keep as many allies as necessary.

It bares its weight upon you, the crown pressing as heavily as an anvil composed of osmium. The argument against a single elderly general was nothing compared to this, and sadly you’re absolutely certain your mother had better control in the war room than you do now.

Every second that ticks by grates on your nerves, the war room feeling more akin to a riotous gentleman’s club than anything. You feel small and hot with anger, waiting patiently like a petulant newframe for your chance to speak.

Even your elderly general shoots you a brief glance of pity, his optics sad and sunken. His age and experience have aided the country greatly during your mother’s rule, and while he was frequently a thorn in your side for some of your military ideas, at least he stayed .

It is easy to feel out of place in such a room, amongst faces of strangers that gave you less than a second’s glance a few months prior during your mother’s rule. Ones that cowered behind her sword while risking life and limb for this kingdom. Her era of prosperity was won with oil and hard-earned effort. The more you have to listen to these clods, the more you wish you had your shield to hit them over the head with. She’d have approved of that. At least then you might gain their attention.

Your mother wouldn’t have stood for this. You learned your temper from her, and the only thing keeping it at bay is that you know you need them. Their resources are a boon to your understaffed castle, and their expertise–though inept–could bring further staff and allies to your empty residence.

Your mind wanders slightly, finding a moment of peace by imagining what your mother would have done in this situation; she would have probably stomped atop the table and grabbed the loudest general by the neck, pressed her greatsword against their most delicate cables. Her loud, booming voice would carry out past the doors of the war room and echo down the hall, reminding all exactly who was regent and who was a mere underling. The thoughts calm your rage but only slightly, the memory of your mother clouding the anger with a mellowing sorrow.

Eyes cast down, you become infinitely familiar with the surface of your corner of the table. Tiny scratches and grooves from centuries of use are beholden to you , who cannot trust themself to speak without letting their anger carry them.

The doors of the war room slam open, tearing your eyes away from the table and toward the noise. This isn’t the first war meeting he’s interrupted, and you silence a small spark of joy that twinkles within you.The generals and lords all turn their heads as well, some even showing a fraction of annoyance before the haughty expressions slough off their faceplates.

Eclipse hunches through the doorway, his claws dragging on the uppermost corner of the doorframe. Sharp etches scratch away hard-to-reach gold leaf embellishments that were untouched by time, fingers curling menacingly as he strides into the room.

It is all at once blessedly quiet, the visage of your Consort swallowing the ruckus like the sky swallowing the stars. He cranes his neck as he passes through the doorway, his joints smoothly oiled and near silent as he dominates the space.

Standing tall, he towers over even your biggest general. He is lithe in comparison to the self-flaunting lords, and his eyes graze over them with venom before falling upon you.

His optics turn to crescents as a smile splits his faceplate.

“Ah, there you are my dear. Why, I almost missed you.”

His barb digs deep into your already bruised pride. You have done so well so far, keeping your temper in check. Eclipse’s presence only adds a new variation to the anger you feel bubbling. Any joy you felt at his interrupting presence is swallowed by annoyance.

The lords take a step back to allow Eclipse room, his shadow casting wide. The Sun and Moon follow behind him like perfectly synchronous lackeys, and the sight of them present makes the room feel heavier with silent threat.

One general, the one that previously cast you the rude glance, grins widely at the arrival of your Consort. He claps his gauntlets together loudly to bring some of the attention back onto him, pressing his palms together like a merchant eager for a big sale.

“My Lord Sorcerer, what a delight it is to make your acquaintance.” He steps forward through the throng, dodging the lords that take a step back at Eclipse’s presence, and the chairs that have toppled in their robust argument.

He thrusts an armoured hand forward in greeting, his expression the picture of nobility and charm. Eclipse allows his optics to flicker away from your diminutive form, a twinkle of irritation present that only you seem to notice.

Quite obviously, Eclipse drags his optics up and down the lord’s form, measuring him up in some form or another, before slinking forward and snatching the offered hand like a viper.

“ Charmed ,” your Consort purrs, pulling the hand tight and shaking it firmly. “I must say I was quite distressed when my intended was nowhere to be found, only to find her squirreled away in a room filled with such eligible bachelors.”

Eclipse’s brand of charm sends a few of the generals puffing with pride, a few more shrinking under the Sorcerer’s gaze. His optics rake over them like a wildfire.

He does not release the lord’s hand. A different fire burns within you.

“Conducting a war meeting without me? I know I have yet to be properly crowned, but to not even receive an invitation?” The tone of his voice belied peace, while the fire in his optic spoke of violence. You wonder if your generals can tell the difference, or if that’s a skill you’ve come to learn naturally.

The rude general is none the wiser. “Rest assured, my Lord, we were merely discussing the more banal details of the upcoming battle–equipment, resource allocation,” He waves an idle hand, “Of course we would invite the future King to the strategy meeting once trivialities were over and done with.”

Eclipse’s eyes sparkle, the red eye looking bright and dangerous. “Upcoming battle, you say? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” Without moving his head, his optics snag on your hunched, furious posture. Without even needing to speak, it should be clear this is nothing you’ve agreed to.

Something different glimmers in Eclipse’s eyes, and you can feel a charge of electricity in the air. It’s near imperceptible, as inconsequential as a small charge of static, but it’s something you notice whenever you’re in the Sorcerer’s presence.

Specifically, when he’s about to use magic.

You stand abruptly, smashing your hands atop the table aggressively. The rude general has no idea how close he is to harm, and you’re the only thing standing between him and grievous injury.

Eclipse’s icy blue eye twinkles like you’re the quaintest thing he’s ever seen, small and angry amidst a sea of military gentlemen. The eye lingers for a moment, reluctant to look away, before piercing the offending lord with a look that can only be described as predatory .

“All the more reason I should have been notified.” He begins to squeeze the offending hand, the shriek of bending metal signalling the precipice of violence in the room.

The general holds his smarmy expression for a brief second before it erupts into pain, desperately pulling at his captured limb. At once, he transforms from a charming lord to a shrieking peon, scrambling and screaming with wordless sounds.

Eclipse does not allow him the reprieve.

The general’s arm turns to frost, and the room’s gravity begins to increase. Two spells activate simultaneously. You’ve seen this once before, and the elder general already knows what’s about to happen. Before the pressure grows too much, you see him scramble to exit through the already open doors.

The remaining lords have yet to notice, their shock and horror focused solely on the state of the screaming general’s gauntlet and vambrace. Licks of frost coil up and up, reaching the pauldron and leaving silvery scars in their wake. The room is quiet now, save for the desperate screams of the rude general.

Eclipse’s eyes are cold, unfeeling. “You would seek to use me; an instrument to your ‘ noble cause ’.” He flexes his free fingers in crude mimicry. Was he listening in on the meeting before he entered?

You can barely hear his words over the lord’s screaming. You must stop this at once, but you haven’t the foggiest idea how .

How do you stop violence that has already begun?

“ Look at me !” the Sorcerer shouts, “You think you can command me ? You think that your nobility and family lines grant you power?” Gravity increases more, the hum of pressure whistling through your armour. As always, you are unaffected. The heads of the generals begin to lower past your smaller height. They who disrespected you are beginning to bow their heads at the increasing gravitational weight.

“ I have conquered the Moon and the Sun and there is no force in this kingdom that may command me! Not on this day, nor any hereafter will I bow to anyone !”

The war table creaks, its aged legs surviving the first gravity onslaught but weary for the second. Generals are groaning, using their elbows to prop themselves atop the table. The frozen general’s arm has gone white with frost. His voice is still screaming, but have shifted from pain. His screams now echo his fear that the frost may reach his core.

Eclipse must be stopped before he can ruin anything further.

Stepping over a few chairs and generals, you skirt around the table and walk determinedly towards your Consort Sorcerer. His grin is unkind; it's clear he relishes punishing the once-charming lord.

“Eclipse.” You stand at his side, stopping just shy of touching him. You’re unsure if the frost would extend to your armour if you did.

He hisses at the general monstrously, keeping his eyes trained on the offensive frosty form. 

“Cease this. There is nothing to gain for you by doing this. Release him.”

Slowly, with great effort, his optics crawl their way back to you. His magic and his arm do not release their prisoner.

“ Filth like these don’t belong in my castle. Self-assured cretins that think they can order me. They can rust for all I care.”

Amidst the pained groaning, one low whimper can be heard from the crumbling generals. 

“ Eclipse .” You speak louder, with more command. “Save your strength for more important matters. This meeting was trite, but I believe it is over now. You can stop this.”

You attempt to sound bored, while your hands tremble in fists at your side. You keep his gaze steady in your optics, and pray he doesn’t look down and notice them shaking.

Like glass shattering, Eclipse unclenches his claw and releases the lord, dropping him with extra force from the increased gravity spell. He wipes off the residual frost using the inner corner of the cloak you gifted him, and assumes an elegant bow as if nothing untoward had transpired.

Offering the same arm to you, he lowers into a deep, gentlemanly bow. The threat of his frigid spell is clear as ice.

You take it without hesitation. His spell could never harm you anyway.

“Fine.” He clips, his tone no more than mildly perturbed, “but in return you must away from these fools, lest they dull your mind.”

The gravity spell is still active as you exit the room arm in arm, stepping over generals and pitiful furniture. “ Hmm .” is all you reply, but your more vengeful disposition is glad to see the lords groveling on the floor after how they disrespected you. Hopefully the glimmer of satisfaction you feel does not make it to your eyes.

You are unsure when the spell breaks, as you are far away from the war chambers when it does. All you hear is that the lords are quiet, and quiet is much preferred to the alternative. 

You try not to feel happy to see Eclipse after that.

Chapter Text

Act 2:

Chap 10

There is no handbook to ruling , your mother tells you. The nobles of the kingdom have long forgotten that. We are a race bound by legacy; with family ties as thin as aluminum sheafs. So many nobles choose their successors from an arbitrary series of these self-imposed criteria.

They choose their heirs based on similar outer casings, where they first emerged, or even factors as inconsequential as time of emergence. These nobles, chosen by random luck or circumstance, mean nothing. The ones chosen are no more, or less, noble than the ones who are not. 

Her grin is wolfish, her teeth sparkling brightly. I wasn’t born queen, and there was no one to teach me what I was supposed to do , she says, the memory of her voice still clear in your mind, when Moon came to me it changed everything, challenged every preconceived notion I thought I knew. He tried to tell me that perfection in the face of ruling was unattainable–

 But he’d never met anyone like me before . 

She is powerful; mighty and radiant with pride. Her armour gleams with fresh polish, shining as brilliantly as a star. She would draw attention even without the crown, so intrinsically vibrant that no one could glance at her and deem her as anything less than important .

Your mother is a presence that’s impossible to ignore, which makes her singular attention on you all the more energizing. You feel at once intensely scrutinized and deeply flattered. That despite words to the contrary, she still picked you to be her Heir.

It’s unheard of, especially among royalty. This kingdom’s crown has always been passed down to the next owner of the Moon covenant, and choosing an Heir before the passing of the covenant has never been done before. 

The nobles aren’t happy with her decision, but her unbreakable stance on the subject is unwavering. They don’t like it because it deprives them of the only power they occupy; that the nobles hold absolute power in the kingdom upon the loss of the Regent; at least until a new Moon Covenant is made. There are times when turnover is quite quick–a few mere days, and others that were lengthy. (The record is two years, eight months and seventeen days)

It doesn’t take a genius to discern that your mother’s decision in choosing you as Heir ( during her living reign, resolute proof of her ruling) is widely unfavoured amongst the nobles. 

Let them fuss , your mother shakes off your worries like scant motes of dust marring the shine of her freshly buffed pauldrons. I’ll teach you everything I’ve learned so that you’ll be ready . And when I’m done, you’ll be the best.

Her confidence in you is unwavering. It contrasts greatly with what you hear the nobles say.

It isn’t paperwork she teaches you. She isn’t that kind of Queen, isn’t that kind of parent. Instead, she carts you down to the armoury and demands you pick a weapon to meet her in the sparring arena. The royal armourer smiles with his permanent grin, squished small but comfortable in his dark space, and delicately pries the greatsword from your hands. With a wry shake of his head, he places a parrying shield in its place, and sends you off.

She’s backlit in the centre of the arena, the room somehow looking smaller with her dominating presence occupying most of the space. There is hesitation bubbling inside you, and excitement. Her sword glimmers in the low light, fierce and intimidating.

Moon will act as referee, and point keeper. She summons her covenant with a mere thought, his presence adding a silvery sheen to the room’s dim luminance. But mostly he’s here to make sure I don’t go overboard.

She winks at both of you, a knowing smile gracing her maw. With a proud stance she stands at the ready, and goes decidedly overboard.

She darts forward, quick and steady, with her sword pointing directly at your center. Her speed is unnaturally quick for her size, though the thuds of her boots shake the very ground beneath your feet. In an instant, the excitement is overwritten with full and sudden fear–that you are in danger, that you forget you cannot be hurt.

The look in her eyes shifts in a mere fraction of second, suddenly grinning more jovial and shifting her aim for a less deadly area. The first contact stops just short of your right pauldron, and she taps the armour with a gentle touch. Without giving you time to process, she moves again.

The first few clangs of her sword send painful vibrations shooting down your arms and send you flying. She helps you to her feet while sheathing her sword temporarily. Your mother laughs boisterously, and confesses she was going slow on purpose.

Try learning to dodge first, she tutors, eliciting a scoff from you. Your heels dig into the packed sand as you struggle to stand with wavering legs. She already knows what you’re about to say. Doesn’t matter if the armour can take it. And we don’t want to tempt anyone to test its indestructibility.

The armour is new, and you’re still getting used to it. Leave it to your mother to give it a test run as soon as she finished it.

With a lunge, she barrels forward again, as strong as cannon-fire. Her movements are still quick, still accurate. Every move of her sword reflects Moon’s cool light flashing into your eyes, catching you off guard and wearing down your focus. Her battle prowess unparalleled, and you pity any enemy that has faced down the end of her blade.

She’s not even using her usual greatsword, wielding instead a simple sparring rapier–a thin blade that looks completely out of place against her robust frame. You know she does it for your benefit, but the pointy end doesn’t make you any less nervous.

Between wide swings and your mother verbalizing her movements, you begin to pick up on her teachings. She sneaks in further related advice while brandishing her weapon above her head, ready to swing. 

Every ruler is different, every Queen or King rules in their own way. My way is by the sword, but when it is your time, you will choose your own way.

I’ll give you an irrefutable place here, even after I’m gone. 

The sword clears over your head with a deadly whistle, causing you to duck instinctively. Your arm shakes where it holds the parry shield. The memory wavers, blinking in and out of existence before righting itself.

Heels grit in the dust, weathering blow after blow, every tuck and tumble. Her onslaught is unwavering, and does not seem to tire. You don’t tire in a physical way, but you are weary. Dirt coagulates in your joints and the light of the room grows dimmer.

It feels like an age has passed when the Moon lets out a shrill whistle, calling for a break. You’ve never felt more relieved, and more wired with energy. Your legs give out beneath you, and clouds of airborne dirt funnel around your slumped form.

Your mother smiles and you smile back. The mask doesn’t let her see it, but she knows. 

She always knows.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’re restless.

There are a hundred things you could be doing that would positively impact the kingdom you govern. A hundred more documents that need your revisions, signatures, approvals, and yet you couldn’t be bothered to deal with any of them. It’s as if the office itself lies beyond the kingdom borders, in a forbidden part of your domain.

Because you’re not just restless, you’re conflicted . Negative emotions ping around your mind like stray arrows ricocheting off stone walls, and it leaves you feeling rattled and unsteady.

You may have been approaching The Eclipse Problem entirely wrong.

It wouldn’t be your first mistake when it comes to ruling, stars knowing that governing doesn’t come easy to you, despite the multitude of your mother’s teachings. 

Eclipse had proven, time and time again, that he was contradictory–refusing to bow to anyone and yet at the same time heeding your (rather desperate) demands. Every countermeasure you put into place to stop him from usurping you has been left untouched, collecting dust. For the most part, he stays cooped up in his room, or the prison tower he’s made his own, or hounding your steps at infrequent intervals. 

You don’t understand him.

He was a necessity based on a spur-of-the-moment decision. The moment he stormed through the doors and demanded your throne, you knew it was only a matter of time before he had it. 

You thought you were ready for the Moon covenant to return. You were wrong. 

Your split second resolution to both ensure your survival while protecting your citizens has left you stumbling off-kilter ever since. He would have killed you. Or worse , there’s no doubt about that. And the throne was his by right; there was no law that erased the fact that the holder of the Moon covenant was the de-facto Regent–your mother had supplanted your position yes, but had not erased the former law.

So, thinking quickly, you did what you thought was best in that moment. And began to lay in the groundwork for your plan from that moving forward.

There’s a small part of you that’s aware that casual and peaceful conversations with him are possible; that one eve in the garden proved that. Interactions, when he was still new in the castle, always started off hopeful, and ended with threat. It felt akin to the human tales where the ending was always worse than expected.

A similar, forbidden contradiction blooms within you, that you yearn for that easy, fledgeling companionship–yet remain starkly aware of his numerous threats (both spoken and physical) that he lords over you. His words cut sharper than knives, and leave bruises in your pride. 

You know him better now. And your plan is falling apart.

He stands at the door to your bedchamber in the early hours of the morning, still as a statue and resolute as a guard. His lithe shadow of a cloak casts shadow upon shadow, and for a brief second, you fear this is the start to an altercation.

Eclipse, as always, has a way of knocking you off-balance.

“Good morn, Princess.” He cranes his head delicately. The diadem above his brow flashes with the tiniest bit of light.

“Good morn, my Lord.” There is caution in your voice–for what could bring him to your step so early?

You didn’t even think he knew where your chambers were.

There is a shift of movement at his back, the clenching and unclenching of claws. You know better now that it is not the intimidation tactic that you had originally surmised, merely the errant trait of a buildup of energy. You’ve done much of the same, recognizing it has become easy. 

“I trust your recharge was adequate?” The question reeks of banality.

You nod demurely, still trepidacious. A lie, though he’ll never know it. He seems satisfied with your mute answer. He carries on right away.

“I had a thought following that most stodgy war meeting.  The gaps in my knowledge of this castle and its assets are…rather focused. Unrefined . And not altogether well-rounded.”

He pauses briefly, bringing one sharpened claw to his front and tapping the base of his faceplate. “Gaps I wish to remedy.”

You peer up at him, perplexed and unsteady. This line of inquiry can lead anywhere. A familiar trickle of danger tickles your senses. Tilting your head slightly, you beckon to elaborate.

Eclipse bends slightly backward, leaning away from you as if to briefly pray to the heavens. His expression is lost in the ceiling panels of the hallway. There is a groan, a wheeze of metal parts grinding somewhere in his body. They echo frustration and bitter sentiment.

His eyes flash down like a lightning strike, snagging you in a dual hued stare. The hesitation is gone, replaced with resolution. Whatever was grating him, he seems to have manually bypassed it.

“Show me the armoury.”

The Eclipse Problem rears its head. That all of your planning and preparation have gone to waste. The moment Eclipse shows an interest in military matters, the moment he chooses a warlord title over the crown you’ve promised him, is the moment you’ve dreaded. The moment he deems you unnecessary is the day danger truly rears its head for your kingdom.

But he is not there yet.

His arrival was an unexpected boon to your armies–that first plan rearing its ugly head. Eclipse’s power, with the Sun and the Moon covenant, made him unrivalled in terms of might and magic. He may have even proven a match against your mother, though perhaps not in swordplay.

Your army has already benefited from his power, and you understand the excitement that the nobles put on his covenantal assets. The dark words whisper that you can make this kingdom greater than even your mother’s rule move to cover you in their tempting embrace.

You placed him on a pedestal to protect your citizens, not use them as fodder. If you are not there to temper him, he would be akin to a plague to your people.

“Why?”

But he has proven that he can be tempered, that his ire can be cooled. Perhaps it is not yet time.

“To see what we have, to see what we need. Just because those ingrates have less intelligence than a common grain of dirt, doesn’t mean I should know less than them. A King should know his castle, no?”

His inquiry can be interpreted as so innocent, so honest. It almost makes you forget the previous threats to your person. It is so contradictory to everything else you’ve expected of him.

Would obliging his request be the catalyst that could cause him to fall down the warlord path? Would he fly into a rage at the lack your reign holds moreso than the plenty? 

The Eclipse Problem has proven to be a conundrum from the start. But maybe now’s the time to start over, and offer a clean slate.

So, against your better nature, you choose to trust him, just this once. Straightening your back, you regard him primly. 

“Very well.”

A spark appears in his optics, glittering with some elated emotion. It dims quickly as he bows at the waist, offering you a gentlemanly blackened arm.

“How gracious,” he purrs, gratitude pouring like simpering syrup, “For you to escort me yourself.”

He isn’t asking. And you’re not surprised. So you take his arm, and proceed downward.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Royal Armourer has been a resident of the castle since before even your mother’s reign. It was rumoured that the castle was built around him to accommodate for his impressive size; that the walls around him contain his great power and allow the kingdom to live in peace. His hands, each one larger than your largest knight, count four in number, but are as dextrous with fine detail as even the smallest artisan.

You know him as a gentle soul who merely wishes to keep to his craft in peace. He is one of the castle residents that you hold dear, one of the few who stayed, that you protect with your crown.

Dabih Jabbah prefers to work in darkness, shrouded by shadows where only the sparks of his craft emit any light. You can see how his reputation of fear precedes him, but he is well known to you as a pacifist who would never wield the weapons he makes against anyone.

His brightly coloured casing is nonetheless vibrant against the shadows he occupies.

Eclipse stiffens, meeting the only being that’s surpassed him by height. His arm pins yours against his torso, his other ready to conjure at a moment’s notice.

You break the tension with a simple greeting.

“Peace, and greetings DJ.” 

He responds musically in return, his pacifist demeanor leaking into his reluctance to speak. Words can be just as harmful as swords , he had once conveyed.

As Eclipse releases the tightened grip on your arm, you slip past your consort and reach forward to grip one of DJ’s fingers in greeting. He shakes it gently, and then taps your crown.

“Yes, it’s mine now. Well, ours . This is Lord Eclipse. I don’t believe you’ve met.”

A few musical notes, some curious but none negative, whistle from your armourer’s blunt teeth. Eclipse takes a hesitant step forward.

“Charmed,” your fiance blinks owlishly, with none of the oozing charm from his meeting with the nobles. He sounds more stunned than anything.

“Lord Eclipse wished to be informed of our weapons stock that we have available for upcoming battles, the supplies, and what needs to be replenished.” You make sure not to mention either covenant, lest you accidentally offer the elemental conjurings on behalf of your betrothed.

The royal armourer whistles low, a few disappointed notes flitting about with the rest. You’ve never had a problem understanding his musical language. 

You chuckle in response, “I’m sorry, it’s just business. Eclipse wishes to be well-informed.”

DJ turns his massive head to lock on to your consort–Eclipse, for the most part, remaining bravely upright. The first time you met the DJ you screamed, but quickly learned he’d cry for the better part of an hour upon hurting any creature by accident.

To your surprise, Eclipse extends his claws outward, beckoning forward in a similar greeting. DJ obliges, and the two automatons come to an understanding with each other. Whether by sheer size or by age, DJ is the only being you’ve seen Eclipse act immediately respectful to.

A smile creeps up the edge of his face, fangs peeking behind peeled lips, “I must say, I’m a fan of your work.”

Surprise shoots through your body, whipping your head swiftly to face your consort. He regards you out of the corner of his eye with a flicker of smugness.

DJ’s optics are dark but wide, waiting for elaboration. Eclipse smiles broadly.

“Why, her Highness’s shield! It is your work, is it not?”

Immediately, your massive armourer transformed into a bashful, preening, doting mess of arms and gratitude. His grin stretches wider still, cheek plates pulling with joy, as he receives honest appreciation for his work. From an intimidating figure to a reticent craftsman, he is remade before your eyes by the casual praise directed from your companion.

His wide, dark optics crinkle as he passes you a wry stare, before using two blunt fingers to rest on Eclipse’s pauldrons.

“Oh, these? They were a gift from the Princess.” DJ whistles shrilly. Eclipse’s eyes widen with recognition.

“Ah, so they are also of your work! I should have surmised. Your craftsmanship is unparalleled, evidently, be it armour or weaponry.”

You can feel your royal armourer’s massive gears whirring inside his gargantuan body, his core resting near to the floor where your feet carry the vibrations through to the rest of your body. DJ is fully and completely enraptured by the importance of his work, and so rarely receives recognition for it. Gratitude for praise ekes out of the slats of his outer casing.

Their communication is without need of your assistance. This meeting is going better than expected.

DJ’s whistles and notes amp up in speed, but Eclipse carries on like there is no trouble.

“Those ignorant war-pigs know nothing of your brilliance–why, you don’t look a day past two hundred.” DJ chimes a note you catch as a laugh, gleeful and ringing. You’ve rarely seen him in such a flattered mood.

Eclipse marvels at your old friend and confidant. All previous vacillation morphs to genuine intrigue and adulation.

“We have much in common–had I known you were down here earlier, I’d be hard pressed to leave.” A posh whistle is his bashful response. “I was under the impression none employed by the castle actually work . You know, with the state of those war meetings, it’s a wonder anything gets done at all.”

You hum in dull agreement as you take stock of the armoury supplies, granting the two leave to converse. Battle-ready gear line the base of the walls, organized by height and weight. Barrels of metals stand at attention surrounding the perimeter, as well as an enormous anvil that might very well have been a lodestone for an ancient castle. Every tool is organized neatly, hanging from the vast rafters in easy reach of their massive occupant.

DJ doesn’t want to leave; you’ve asked him multiple times if he’d acquiesce to being released from service. He’d responded with a shrill rebuke–that the last sword he made would be on the last day of his functioning. He has made a home for himself here, doing what he loves. He has a home here, shaped to his needs. He is want for nothing more.

The stone here is blackened with iron shavings; a hearth of dim coals constantly burning in the corner behind the armourer. What was one creature’s prison was another’s home, and there was no more truth in that than this. The grey-black stone echoed comfort and stability, which was all he wanted in the world.

It was the right decision to bring Eclipse here. You still can’t quite tell if the flattery is a means to get something, but you delight in seeing your old friend in such a happy state. They will work close at hand in the future, should Eclipse continue down the right path.

You tuck your hands gracefully together, unwilling to interrupt such a jovial interaction. Standing to the side, you attempt to hide your hopeful speculation.

You may have been approaching Eclipse entirely wrong this whole time. Rather than keeping him on a tight leash, granting him freedoms has done nothing but benefit your cause thus far. It is only when you keep him uninformed that situations take a turn for the worse. Eclipse kept in the dark strikes blindly, aimed at friend or foe. Enlighten a little, and he fights facing the right direction. Keeping him in the loop ensures that he makes an informed decision. 

Decisions that are willing to be tempered, for the most part.

Eclipse shakes his head, fanning his fingers, “I agree, they’re awful. Hardly worth the titles they parade around like gold finish. It only succeeds at disguising the rot underneath.” His words thus far fall in line with your own.

Until they don’t.

“I shall have to cut the rot at the root.”

Danger blares in your mind at his words, your eyes flashing at your consort in warning. DJ, for the most part, is silent in response, choosing to allow you to take the reins of this downward spiral, hopefully leading it back to calmer pastures.

“You shall do no such thing.”

Eclipse turns, his expression frozen in a face of neutral displeasure. 

“And what authority do you have to stop me?” He challenges, coaxing you to warm your temper. You take a step away from the armoury wall, the weapons gleaming and heightened with threat. You turn away, facing your opponent fully, and clasp your arms around your back placidly.

“No authority. Merely two partners against a familiar cause beginning a conversation,” threading your fingers together, you try to calm. One wrong word and this could end badly.

His optics sharpen, disbelief shining brightly. “So you agree that there is rot in the kingdom.”

“I would be a fool to refute it.”

Eclipse turns away from the armourer, straightening and pulling his body upward proudly. He stands like the conquering hero of an enemy army, planting himself onto your soil and declaring loudly who rules over whom.

“You may not be a fool, but there is a certain amount of immaturity present if you believe the rot will dispose of itself.”

You bristle, the heat of anger rising. 

“There is a correct way to rule in order to elicit a positive outcome. Erasing an entire ruling class–one with a plethora of supplies and aides–is foolhardy. Genocide is not the answer.” You have yet to discover your way of ruling–the crown thrust upon you too early, too quickly. Your way is not by the sword, and it most certainly isn’t this .

“The nobles of this kingdom are more of a thorn in its side than an asset; even without the legacy of your family’s history, it is easy to discern that they cause more harm than good. They should not be allowed any modicum of power if their position does not benefit the kingdom.”

“Are you proposing to overthrow them? Or offline them?” Your words are equally biting as his, the fury of your temper licking the corners of your words. It’s impossible to keep them all contained. 

Even though they are fools and idiots and insubordinate, they are still your citizens. In a way, you supplanted them .  It’s easy to empathize with them–you understand why they dislike you.

Eclipse’s response is a hiss, dripping with malice, “Whichever’s easier.”

Your poor armourer looks so awkward, caught in the middle between two heated individuals. In the entire history of the kingdom, there has never been two rulers vying for power–only one to govern over the rest as it has been since the dawn of this land.

Stamping your foot against the ground, you hold yourself steady. You will not be silent when your people are threatened.

“They would dethrone you ,” he sneers before you can retort, “happily and immediately . For all the good you do for this kingdom, they would cast you to the pit for less than scrap .”

You step forward, glaring upward at your venomous consort. His shoulder pauldrons cast a darkness that envelops your entire being, and you glower at him through the slats of your mask.

A scoff escapes, harsh and biting. Old scars bleed out with your words, “They can try .”

Eclipse growls, frustrated. His internal gears grind loudly within the stone walls of the armoury.  “Do not give them the opportunity! Dispatch of the rotten parts and build anew –better and clean. You cannot govern a kingdom where the rust lies within the walls of this very castle!”

He leans down, grasping your shoulder pauldrons with his wide, black hands. Threat against your person leaks through your armour with intensity. The heavy weight is pressing. “Assassins within the very walls of castle; a noble class that wants to be rid of you; an empty armoury and leagues of royal guards that are nowhere to be seen during times of strife– How can you not see that if you do not act quickly, there will be no kingdom left to govern .”

His optics blaze brightly in the shadow he creates, scorching and unceasing, “I am not your enemy –but if you do not allow my assistance willingly, then I will act accordingly without your permission.”

His grip tightens, the threat of violence leaking through and trickling a trail of fear through your struts.

“Make me your enemy and I will be your last enemy. But seeing how you treat your allies as your enemies…”

You watch as his teeth grind, furious and ready to bite.

“After this conversation ,” his nails bite into your plates, black talons etching the runic grooves on the metal, “know that you have no authority to stop me.”

Chapter Text

Act 2:

Chap 11

The threat looms, but has yet to come to pass. From what you’ve heard, Eclipse resumes his usual schedule of idly wandering the castle with a shrewd eye, but the nobles remain still functioning thus far. They seem to be on their best behaviour after personally witnessing the threatening display of Eclipse’s magic.

Terror beckons overhead, but the danger in the air wanes as time passes. Plans for the upcoming wedding stall with frustration, until there is no other paperwork left to distract you. 

There are questions concerning formalwear, room decorations, and date selections. Who to invite and where they should be seated. Banners trimmed with threads of gold that can be scavenged from older pieces to make up for the dwindling palace funds, and a second taller throne being carved and ornamented with the new symbols of your house.

It’s becoming real all too quickly. And you don’t know what to do.

In your haste to prepare for whatever Eclipse has planned , you have scarcely left your office–poring over document after document of non-wedding related inquiries in the event that you may not have time to later. 

Avoiding the wedding paperwork like a rust-plague, your supplementary work diminishes faster than it can arrive. Even your attendant is briefly shocked, the speed in which you finish your work is exemplary, and a touch concerning. You never leave your office, forgoing even the pretense of recharge. Whatever is coming, it must be coming soon–or so you think.

You both had let your tempers carry you too far down in the armoury. DJ’s knowing look as you left your separate ways was all that was needed to feel the seed of guilt bloom inside you–that your heated argument had pushed upon too many sore subjects.

You won’t allow Eclipse to harm your citizens. You won’t –that much is certain. But you had begun the conversation on equal ground; both willing to talk to the other to find a solution that benefitted both parties. Until the tempers spoke louder, and communication became impossible.

Due to the fact you’ve barely left your office, you haven’t seen him since the argument. The rings still burn a hole in the left drawer of your office desk, still cozy within their gifted holding pouch. It’s only natural that they spend their time here, rather than your sleeping quarters. You spend more time here anyway.

They still need to be fitted, if you’re willing to give them up. More and more lately, you still feel unsure.

It’s fear that rules your actions–fear that holds the crown shakily over your head. Fear of losing what your mother granted you, fear of disappointing her legacy, fear of the sword that hangs above you, and the obvious danger to one you’re betrothed to.

Your words do not warrant an apology. You fervently believe that none of your citizens deserve oblivion. But in conversation, in diplomatic discussion –you have failed. An apology will not make up for that.

Sparring will not fix this. Conversation has only made things worse. Eclipse will never be the one to apologize–not if he believes himself to be in the right. For the hundredth time, you yearn for the blunt earnestness of your mother; for she would never leave you to flounder like this.

You must find your own way to rule. And, with more difficulty, it must be one you can get Eclipse to agree to.

The most pressing documents weigh heavy upon your desk–at the bare minimum, you must choose a date for the wedding. A date for the execution set upon your head. A date where the shackles become permanent.

It is unfortunate, but you need Eclipse’s approval for a few of these matters. At the start of your arrangement, you had promised him that you would only pester him with important details that pertained to him for the wedding; all others you could handle yourself. You’ve stayed true to your word this whole time, but time in the hourglass is running out.

But without a designated date, you can’t proceed further. And to send any of your own staff would be akin to sending them on a suicide mission. You can’t do that to them. You have to handle this on your own. This noose around your neck can only be tied by your own hand.

The last time you approached him with document in hand, he avoided you like a plague. Was it so much to ask for the same treatment this time? Your traitorous mind hisses.

You shake your head, feeling the dark thoughts rattle around. That kind of thinking won’t get you anywhere. Eclipse will never apologize. You have to be the bigger person.

For the first time in days, you step outside your royal office, feeling the difference between the stale, stagnant air of the cloistered room and the breezy peace of the outside. The castle was constructed for maximum airflow–with looming columns and expansive walkways to accommodate even the largest automaton. Bright white marble pillars hold up the ceiling with decorated floral imagery, depictions of the moon littering the catenary arches as common as stars in the sky.

Any member of your staff; DJ, your loyal knights, can pass through these halls in comfort and serenity. Its foundation of powerful royalty protects the precious citizens that rest inside.

You love this castle, it's your territory–more than anywhere else. Your treasured memories are kept here, and while you loathe the fact it felt more like a prison as of late, it’s still your beloved home. 

With a resigned sigh, you step out into the hallway and begin your troubled walk to Eclipse’s tower, documents of dates and wedding details in hand. Your mind buzzes with troubles, both real and fabricated, all circulating around your problematic consort. 

This is quite the pit you’ve dug for yourself.

The sound of your heels against the stone walkways echo a regretful tempo. How do you even get him to talk to you if he refuses? Is conversation even possible without either of you losing your tempers?

How is this partnership going to last if you both can’t even communicate during the engagement period?

Deep down, you know the answer, and you hate it. Immature frustration builds within you like a flooded dam. As much as you pretend otherwise, you have a far less successful hand in comparison to Eclipse’s. The power you have in your corner is vastly inferior to the power he can wield against you–it is a miracle he has ever listened to you at all. Royal etiquette and political knowledge pale in comparison to brute magical force, and you both know it. It alights a dark question peeking around the corners of your mind, as to why he even agrees to this arrangement at all.

You’ve been so ready all this time for him to lose interest and be done with you. The threat of his person, even if he doesn’t know the extent of it, greatly unbalances the power scales between you. The tense agitation and fear that govern your day-to-day actions has kept you tense for so long, you suspect if you relaxed even a moment you’d fall to pieces.

The anxiety that has felt like a part of you for so long is now a full body ache, and weary resignation bites close at its heels.

Eclipse’s tower casts a darkness over the courtyard, seemingly dipped in shadow from the tip of an artist's brush. For all the years you’ve lived here, you’ve barely given it a second glance, and know it has become an unknown entity within the walls of your home. The tower is impossible to ignore now, feeling like an enemy stronghold that exists within your home.

Standing at the base, you resist the urge to ascend and confirm the inner workings of a place that is so closely tied to Eclipse’s mind. To erase the uncertainty and paint your memory with new pictures of what he’s been up to high in his prison tower.

The sconces that adorn the walls hold dead lanterns, further spreading the plague of darkness. Soot smudges the walls at face height–long streaks from the blackened claws that ascend and descend on a regular basis.

Your voice is hesitant, calling up the stairs at a volume slightly louder than your speaking voice.

“Lord Eclipse, I would speak with you.”

Your words barely echo up a floor’s worth. Silence leaks down in response alongside the darkness. A shiver bleeds through the armours circuitry. You try again, a little louder.

“Lord Eclipse, if you would please descend!”

The sound of your voice trails and drags a little longer, the echo carrying further. There is still no response.

You could ascend, and ascertain for yourself whether he is ignoring you. The stairs are steep and intimidating, but it is the reluctance of intruding upon his space without his permission that keeps your feet chained to the ground floor.

To call a third time would be past the realms of propriety. If he does not wish to answer, you shall just have to try him another time.

The documents crinkle slightly in your grasp, your disappointment and slight relief audible in the pages. You dare not intrude upon his sanctuary. You will not overstep where he has been so gracious.

It is possible he is still recharging, though the idea of visiting his chambers directly feels too forward. Both the fact that his chambers are your mother’s former bedchambers and that the little you have seen of it appears that he has destroyed it–

You resign yourself to your new destination. You are nothing if not determined.

The way there is dreadfully familiar to you, the paths and hallways routine as it had been when your mother was still here. Your feet and mind are conflicted, a burning and freezing sensation, knowing that you must bear the sorrow while mustering up your courage to seek Eclipse out. 

You fervently pray he isn’t there.

Lunar motifs grow in frequency in the late Queen’s wing, the soon to be King’s wing. At every corner you try and fail to convince yourself to turn around, but propriety demands you continue forth. The crown weighs heavy upon you the farther you go.

There are more black streaks here, more damaged stone and charred, sooty piles. It has been a long curiosity of yours why Eclipse continuously emits such pitch–perhaps a side effect of both celestial covenants?

The damage grows more extensive as you get closer. Are there no servants that are courageous enough to repair the damage in these halls? Or are you truly so understaffed?

You shake your head, allowing the thoughts to pass by without frustration. You would not command them for such a futile task. He would only damage the stone again. And your staff may end up a casualty.

The door of Eclipse’s chambers is in the worst state; long claw marks extending past the door frame, spreading like the damage of a wildfire. If you weren’t so intimately familiar with Eclipse’s talons, you may have suspected that some savage beast had caused such damage. But with a knowing shiver, the knowledge of Eclipse’s effortless vandalism is a casualty you’ll have to live with during this marriage. The heavy door itself is– was heavily gilded, with lunar and lupine imagery inlaid as stone reliefs. The faces are scratched and destroyed, the memory of your mother desecrated.

You try not to look too closely as your metal gauntlet raps on the door.

Silence greets you. Your metal hand vibrates.

He’s not in. And you don’t have the courage to try again.

Your feet need less thought to make their exit, turning quickly and diverting your eyes away from the extensive damage that you passed on the way in. 

You could try the library next, provided he hasn’t exhausted all the knowledge the castle holds. Other than his chambers and his tower, it’s the next-likely place he’d be. It’s the place you found him last time, and the last place you felt a tentative hope that this partnership could work . It hasn’t even been that long, and yet so much has happened since then.

The hallways feel at once stifling and cage-like, the marble pillars feeling like prison bars surrounding you on all sides….you’re thankful that you pass the gardens on the way to the library.

There is a desperate sprint to your pace, an anxious escape from a place that contains too many memories. Keeping your gaze trained down, you make your way to the gardens on autopilot, clenching the documents as hard as you dare.

The feeling of deja-vu passes over you, that you’ve walked these same steps with the same purpose. But whereas before you were frustrated and angry with your goal; now you are hesitant and resigned.

You hear the gentle tinkling of glass from the garden. Reprieve is approaching. You turn the corner desperately, in an attempt to escape the clutches of dark memory and leftover frustration.

One last pillar blocks your view of the garden of tranquility. From behind the shape, a dark shadow curls over your prized crystal blooms, with long dangerous claws reaching and threatening the irreplaceable flowers.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you freeze, fearful of what he may ruin next.

Eclipse bends over, his knees on the edge of the garden pathway, mere inches from where he could shatter the glass groundcover. His hands beckon forward with knitted fingers, threading talons together like lace and twisting them upward in confusing motions. The sound of delicate crystal tinking grows, but from your vantage point, you can’t see anything shattered. The bloom at his feet twinkles with delicate light from the overhead stars.

The Sun and Moon are present; conjured and waiting in the wings. Neither have noticed you, or made any note of your arrival, fully immersed in the complexities of Eclipse’s machinations. Their master’s mutterings keep them close and focused. You fear for the destructive magic that they might conjure here.

You catch a few frustrated curses, muttered darkly and facing your crystal garden. Your alarm for your place of peace grows exponentially, for there is no repairing the garden should it shatter. It is a miracle any remains at all.

Eclipse gestures to the Sun to approach closer, a grit of focus appearing in the corner of his mouth. With a single finger atop a blackened hand, he twirls his digit in an upwards fashion and something moves on the ground near his knee.

It starts as a glimmer, a shift of light, before your eyes can fully comprehend what it is.

A vine begins to grow, off-colour than the rest and slightly bent. It mimics the other crystalline plants in essence, but there is a beauty missing that the others contain. Leaves bud and expand along the strengthening stem, and a single blossom protrudes from the top. Delicate petals unfurl while Eclipse scowls with focus, curving his hands as if guiding the flower to grow.

Hidden vents puff the steam of exertion through the panels of your consort’s back plates, puffing the material of the cloak outward for a brief breath. This magic, though small and seemingly inconsequential, must take extreme focus and finesse, for you can see it in Eclipse’s frustrated posture. 

Whatever was he hoping to accomplish with this?

The Sun, who droops slightly after completing its task, chimes low and flies around its master in a low spin. It, too, sounds displeased with the outcome. This tiny spell must use more power than it appears. It twirls, circling along Eclipse’s lower backplates, illuminating the folds of his eternally black cloak.

It flashes brightly, suddenly reinvigorated. A glare of light falls upon your eyes, and you feel the second it has spotted you and alerted its master.

Pride takes hold of your reins, and you make your move first before Eclipse has fully turned. Practiced steps permit your heels a graceful cadence even amid the rough stone steps of the garden. The cracks could prove deadly to your flowers if someone with less finesse loses their balance, but thankfully you’ve never had that trouble.

You take this opportunity to join him, crouching at his side and getting a closer look at the new bloom. The space between you a mere couple inches, feeling like a chasm in the anxiety of your mind. Your sleeve chink on the stone path as your knees bend and you cross your hands over your legs. Every mechanism in the armour moves gracefully and without sound, adding to your practiced elegance. You don’t have the courage to meet his eyes yet.

After a beat of silence you tilt your head downwards, gesturing minutely to the newly manufactured blossom.

“The colour is different,” you say softly.

There is the sound of grinding fangs beside you, frustration building, and for a brief second you fear for violence.

“The temperature of the glass affects the colour, even a few degrees can decide the difference between the intended tint and a scorch.” You can feel his scowl even though you can’t see it. It burns next to you giving off heat like a solar flare. “Sun gives me the ability to focus heat on a specific area with precision in regards to area, but does not give me the same control over temperature. It’s like trying to write your name with gunpowder and a cannon.”

His hand reaches down to cup the bloom, the petals translucent. His stark black fingers show through the glass, warped through their brilliance.

You can’t help yourself. “It’s beautiful.” Imperfect. Pure creation.

He turns his head at you, expression aghast. “It’s hideous.” His disagreement is palpable.

Your sleeves chime with movement while you shake your head slightly. Misjudge your balance even a little and you could accidentally crush the flowers. “It’s a miracle. I didn’t know your magic was capable of this.”

A grunt, and a scowl. “It is a failure. It captures none of the elegance of the others.”

It’s true, but it doesn’t make it any less mesmerizing than the rest. Its difference makes it stand out from the rest, a flower trying its hardest to belong with the others. 

You can relate.

“I agree,” you laugh gently, as if too much volume could shatter the bloom into dust. “But that’s why I like it. It’s different . It’s the first new flower this garden has had in centuries.”

Eclipse’s knuckle joints curve around the frail blossom, threatening to end its existence with a sickening crunch. Its beauty could be so short lived, and that thought brings to mind such sadness that you feel you can’t bear it.

You finally work up the courage to look at him, pity glittering in your eyes. “Please, can it stay?”

Eclipse’s optics look confused, both stricken and consumed with some deeper emotion. You can hear the rejection begin deep in his voicebox, but it never escapes. This time, like many before, he begrudgingly relents to your request.

“Fine,” he bites out, “But in return, I must speak to the artisan who crafted this garden. I must have their notes for comparison.”

For all the patience he has bestowed upon you, you must reject him. There is the small sound of metal chiming as you shake your head sadly. “There are no such documents; the garden was made long before the castle stood. There is a theory that the castle was created around the garden, to keep it safe from damage.” You hum slightly, seeing the glass vibrate with your sound, “I think that’s my favourite founding theory.”

The darkened stem of Eclipse’s flower has a blackened gradient that fades into clarity as it ascends. A flower crafted from fire, bloomed by soot…It feels very fitting for him. A little bit of him, a little bit of you.

“There is truly no name, no known artisan, that crafted this?” Eclipse sounds genuinely distressed. 

“None in our history annals. This garden predates the castle, as shown by the surrounding architecture. Could you imagine the logistical nightmare of transporting these?” 

Your finger reaches out delicately, but stops a mere whisper from the petals. The other flowers suddenly have lesser meaning in comparison to the imperfect blossom. Your hand hovers in reverence, too scared to touch. Eclipse’s hand moves to recede, offering silent space between you.

“I suppose not,” comes Eclipse’s disappointed reply.

There is silence between you once more, the weight of your apology akin to an anvil atop your conscience.

“When I was young, I had a theory of my own,” you begin, hesitant. Vulnerability leaks out like flowing water. Eclipse offers his own silence in response, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You begin again, “I had a theory that the artisan hid their name somewhere in the foliage. Surely a master of such a craft would have some pride in their work, no?”

Your heels teeter, adjusting in balance on the edge of the garden. Your fingers feel the grit of the stone that lies beneath you. “I surmised that there must be some vines in the heart of the garden that spell out the artisans name, like a secret only they would know of; only visible from some secret vantage.”

“None would dare traipse through the garden to find it, so the name would be safe, hidden but proud.” You tsk yourself lightly, “it’s immature , I know.”

His mouth opens, but is once again silent of words.

“There’s another theory that they were crafted by humans, or some other ancient creature that has since fallen into myth. Or by some nameless celestial covenant.”

“There used to be more, smaller crystal gardens lining the walkways of the castle. Tiny blooms as delicate as these, creeping up the pillars and decorating the walls.” A wry, sad chuckle. “You can imagine they didn’t last very long with knights in full armour walking the halls.”

“Some think that the castle was erected to keep DJ contained, like some violent creature that needs to be caged. I’ve tried to erase those rumours, but I’m rarely successful. The truth is that he likes being down there. It’s his home as much as mine.”

The weight of your sentiment presses down like an anvil, the castle your home as much as your prison. Failure mixed into the grout. This kingdom and its people mean so much to you, and you would sacrifice yourself to protect them if it came down to it.

Perhaps your mother knew that when she constructed your armour.

“I know,” your consort murmurs softly, “he told me.”

The pressure of your past argument thickens the air. It chokes your voice with pressure. A savage threat of violence contrasted against these delicate, vulnerable flowers.

Though your armour protects you from outside threats, that doesn’t mean all your vulnerabilities lay within the charmed metal. Your weaknesses are plain to see, all around you. Your flowers, your citizens, your castle…Your armour can’t defend what you care about most.

There is no doubt that Eclipse holds the power here. You are beholden to him, his whims and commands. Every flower in the garden could be destroyed by a simple wave of his hand and there wouldn’t be anything you could do to stop him. 

With a painful pang, perhaps it is time to show him the deference he deserves. Put aside your pride and stop pretending you belong.

“I’ve always loved the garden.” you confess in a whisper. The apology drowns in your cowardice. 

Even though he didn’t mean to, he’s given you an irreplaceable gift. The newest crystal flower cannot be moved, and will remain in your garden for as long as you govern this kingdom. For however long he allows it to stay. For however long he allows you to stay.

“I’m sorry for ruining your outing.”

His apology casts you into a whirlwind of confusion, spinning you out of the world you thought you understood. You can only turn your head to stare at him, eyes wide and searching.

His optics remain trained on his failure of a flower. “I won’t apologize for defending your honour; the people need to respect you, otherwise they won’t listen.”

The newframe in the capital…

They were disparaging you .

“A ruler needs either fear or love to govern, and unfortunately, one is a lot easier than the other. If you have neither, then you’re only constructing your legacy using the foundations of failure. Use me, release your want of their love, and the people will listen. They are not worthy of the effort that you extend on their behalf.”

Are you hearing this correctly? 

“When the citizens respect you as they fear me, we can try again. Perhaps after the wedding when all other matters are dealt with. When it is safe .”

Despite all the knights in your guard, all the powers at your disposal, he’s painting himself as your protector . As shocking as it sounds, he sounds genuine. A black knight under the guise of a sorcerer.

“I didn’t realize…” you reply quietly, eyes searching your consort for any trace of lies. His words are so incredulous you can scarcely believe you heard him right. 

Disbelief paints your words with humour. You laugh gently, feeling lighter, the sound echoing off the crystal flowers. “Surely you haven’t forgotten my indestructibility. I’m not exactly delicate.”

Eclipse’s fingers dig into the soil, careful of the glass ground-covering leaves and vines. Small traces of dirt cling to his casing, the underside of his talons. Imagining Eclipse as a gardener sends your mind reeling.

His eyes scour the glass garden, burying themselves 

within the foliage. “I don’t doubt your battle prowess, I’ve seen it myself. But even you can’t prepare for every eventuality.”

You feel slightly miffed, humorously underestimated. You’ve been preparing for all possible outcomes your entire life; things he couldn’t even comprehend. The list of countermeasures grows by the day, and have existed ever since the day you came to call this castle home.

Still, the compliment feels good, especially coming from him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have a consort that covers what I lack, then.” Your body feels fluttery, warmth growing in waves. 

Eclipse stiffens next to you, caught off guard by your embarrassing sentiment. A soft whirring sound begins deep within his chassis.

It feels immature to want to fluster him further. Your royal duties rear their head, and remind you of the task at hand.

“Speaking of the wedding…” you draw out the documents from your captive hold slowly, non threateningly. The last time you sprung documents upon him, you had needed to trap him first.

He doesn’t flee at the sight of aluminum, peering over his pauldron at the script atop the page. His inquisitive optics scan the first few lines diligently, red and blue pupils tracing over letters in political grammar.

It’s almost cute .

“In order to plan another outing to the capital, I suppose we must get married first. Do you have any reservations concerning the dates outlined? Anything in particular that needs further preparation?”

You pass over the document to allow him to read the contents fully. His soil-dusted claws touch your armoured digits for a brief moment, passing some of the debris over. He looks disgusted with himself, but you don’t mind a little mess.

“Two weeks,” he murmurs, his tone a complex mesh of wonder and speculation. “Sooner than I expected.”

You shrug, prior hesitation evaporating, “You told me to expedite my preparations. Consider them expedited.”

He passes the document back, claws delicately placing the sheaf back into your grasp without damaging it. 

“I have no qualms with the efficiency of your work. The date is satisfactory, though I will have to expedite my own plans.”

“Oh?” your voice quirks upward, intrigue raising the octave of your voice. It chimes brightly with interest and curiosity. Interestingly, you feel no fear nor anxiety at the promise of Eclipse’s secretive planning. The thought alone should have you devising new plans to thwart it, but for the first time, you see no need. It doesn’t feel venomous in the slightest.

Eclipse grumbles, a scowl dusting his expression. “Think no more of it, I’ve already said too much.” He turns away, his faceplace curved towards the rest of the expansive crystal garden. In an alien way, he seems almost bashful.

Your knees are still tucked underneath your body, knelt in a vulnerable, small position. Even kneeling alongside you, Eclipse towers high overhead. A solitary being seeking solace in the peace of the garden, a figure not at all dissimilar to you.

You can feel a smile underneath your mask, free from the risk of observation. Your body sings in this moment of tranquility, of partnership. That you’ve gone this far without arguing is a miracle in and of itself.

The magic-conjured blossom reflects some of your own light back at you, spilling colours unto its neighbours. Prism rainbows dance alongside the leaves and vines, along the dirt. Some sparkles are swallowed by the depth of Eclipse’s cloak.

With the document in hand, and the information you sought now received, there is no further reason to remain here. But with a pause, you find yourself reluctant to leave. There have been so few instances where you and Eclipse have parted on positive terms, and you know the longer you stay the more likely it is to end in argument. That aside, the prospect of leaving gracefully while the usual animosity between you is absent feels wrong . Your inner instinct draws you to Eclipse like an angry magnet, outright forbidding your immediate exit.

The silence between you is warm, sending flutters of buzzing energy trickling through your body. The chasm between you that felt so insurmountable before is a mere movement away, and the magnet overrides your senses and pulls you together.

Resting your head against his pauldron, the cheek of your mask meets his metal. Your gaze is still downward, facing the blossom, and you can feel him stiffen underneath you like a magic spell turning him to stone. His fingers dig into the dirt like they anchor him there, and you hum musically.

“Very well,” you breathe gently, “I shall forget I heard anything. You may keep your secrets.”

A shiver races up his body, spilling into yours.

Your finger raises up its courage and delicately touches the bloom, spreading further colour amidst the radiant garden. Your hand makes a slight tink as it makes contact. Rainbows flicker on the underside of Eclipse’s mask.

He hums in response, sounding more cracked and shy than anything. Whatever words he wishes to say will have to wait for next time, since now you have a deadline to prepare for.

As you stand, those same fingers trace the edges of his pauldron and linger on his cloak. You must make your leave before the urge to stay becomes ungovernable. 

You turn the corner to leave the garden, the pillar blocking your view of the moment that you now hold in your heart. Hope blossoms once more, not unlike the flower that Eclipse has conjured into being.

This could work. You two can make this work.

Your heels click down the hall at a neutral pace, neither hurried nor reserved. The sound of fireworks booms as you walk back to your office.

Chapter Text

Act 2:

Chap 12

You’ve made your decision, the holding pouch tucked securely at your side, warmed by the heat of your body. The rings clink excitedly as you steady your pace as best you can, in an attempt to contain the excitement that bubbles within you. Propriety stands at the ready against its long time opponent; eagerness. Your heels click at an uneven pace as you steady yourself down the cavern steps.

The threads holding the pouch closed bounce against your side, a deep colour standing out against your white armour. As you descend the stairwell, the shadows deepen, sconces with torches lit with fire appearing above you with an increased frequency to stave off the deeper darkness. 

There is only one artisan you can trust to resize the rings.

Your erstwhile guard hurries his pace at your heels, doubling his steps to match your pace.

“I never liked it down here.” 

You turn your head slightly, shooting Sir Montgomery a scolding glance, but there is no anger in your eyes.

“Well, it's a good thing you don’t live down here then, isn’t it?” Your heels skip against the stone steps, calculated and graceful. “But DJ does. And he likes it, so there’s no problem”

The draconic knight rests his hand against the wall, steadying his heavy boots against each stair. The light from the torches reflects green onto the surrounding stone, casting a frightening shadow on the opposing wall.

Despite the intimidating sight, you spy a shiver building through his armour.

“I just don’t get why he likes it. He’s been down there, what–eighty years? More? Doesn’t it get cramped down there?”

When you shrug, your pauldrons drag your chainmail sleeves against the near wall. “Ask him yourself. My only concern is that he’s happy. And that if he ever needs anything, he can ask me.”

His tone is unrefined, bordering on callous. You’ve never minded. Or rather, you’ve gotten used to it over the years. 

“Couldn’t be me. Not for all the magic in the world.”

The walls begin to show a slight charred edge, burnt iron shavings dusting the edges of the stone blocks. Shadows deepen, and warm air rushes to meet you as you continue to descend. The outer layer of your armour warms by a gentle degree.

Your heel skips a step, skidding dangerously. Sir Montgomery’s gauntlet shoots out to steady you, catching your arm within his wide grasp. His motion is practiced, natural. All his training is in honing his physical skills, and all your grace leaves you for a small moment.

Better to disregard it than admit to your failing elegance. “And how’s that going? Any luck?”

A sound emits from his chest, a vibration akin to a deep bellow resounding within thick armour. Its frustration echoes in the close quarters, his opposite gauntlet digging into the rock. “Entering a covenant?”

You nod. Montgomery scowls at the wall. 

“To be honest, I kinda gave it a rest. Dunno if it’s something I really want , y’know? I’ve come a long way with my own magic, prepared a lot of useful spells in the event I gotta use ‘em. Spells that don’t need a covenant.”

His steps drag a touch slower, resounding heavier with contemplation. Your own steps slow in turn to listen. He can tell you’ve noticed. 

A harsh, barking laugh bites out of his chassis, relieving some of the frustration in the air with levity. “‘Sides, I earned my nickname without the use of a covenant. And better yet, I like it . If some celestial is willing to enter a covenant with me, the nickname can’t change, else I’m out.”

His pride is on full display, flashing brightly even within the dark corners of the castle. Ever the grand dreamer, this one. Any celestial would like him, find him interesting. 

He continues his explanation, “Listen, I earned my moniker without a covenant. I’ve proven that I don’t need one. And with Eclipse in the castle, it’s kinda redundant.”

A flash of pain bruises your pride, which you attempt to smother with a humorous tone. “I suppose the Draco does suit you. I can’t imagine you’d risk a change.”

He snorts, blind to his faux-pas. You prefer it that way.

“Of course. I’m not willing to risk a covenant just because I have the means at my disposal. It can still go wrong, and I’m not a gambler.” He pats the compartment nestled within his breastplate, where you know he has a few prepared spell components tucked away in the event of an emergency, “Nah, I’m satisfied with what I have.”

His gleaming spectral swords would be useful as a lightsource down here, but a useless waste of materials otherwise. In case of emergencies indeed.

“How unlike you. The Montgomery I once knew would have sought for renown above all else,” you chide.

It doesn’t take a genius to sense him frowning. “Yeah well…that was before .” he’s quieter now, more reserved. A tight frown builds underneath your mask. His reasoning is clear, but a painful reminder of how things changed after your mother’s rule. That you cannot inspire in the same way she did.

Your mother’s battle legacy follows you even here. 

The cavern opens up at the end of the stairwell–all the tight turns and widening steps leading to a sparse armoury. At the very end you can barely make out the shape of Dabih Jabbah hunched over his workbench, the hearth burning with nearly spent coals. He’s enraptured in his work, as he always is, fingers moving swiftly and materials changing hands. You take a step forward to greet him before Sir Montgomery’s gauntlet catches you once more.

“Listen, yer Highness, there’s a reason I decided to come with you today. A reason I could .”

His optics glow in the low light, desperate and burning. The hand around your arm squeezes.

“He’s planning something. I dunno what, but it’s never good. And he’s not sending me away for supplies or anything, meaning whatever he’s planned he has all the materials he needs already.”

There’s a glint of fear in your knight’s eyes. And worry. The stairwell swallows the words uttered, the stone capturing the sound so that it does not travel to unsuspecting audials.

“Whatever it is, it’s gonna be soon. He’s been keepin’ me away lately–doesn’t want me to see what he’s up to. Spends most of his time in his tower an’ keeps it locked with a spell. No one goes in or out ‘cept him. It’s why I could come today and why I had to tell ya.” 

The rings burn in their pouch at your side. They burn with guilt, with false hope. Are you doing the right thing?

You take your free arm and place your hand atop his gauntlet, with a touch that you hope is strong and comforting. No, you’ve decided to trust Eclipse. You won’t back out now based on some baseless warning.

Besides, didn’t Eclipse already inform you he was planning something?

“Thank you for informing me. You’ve done your duty well.” 

Sir Monty scowls, snapping with further retort, “You don’t understand–”

You cut him off, “And your concern has been received. You need not observe Eclipse for any longer. I have decided that it is no longer necessary.”

His hand unravels around your arm like a loose spool of thread.

“...you can’t be serious.”

Standing tall against his greater height is impossible, but you straighten anyway. Your royal etiquette coats your voice in dignity and authority. The casual air between you is gone, replaced with a Royal and their Knight.

“I have weighed the options, and have decided that the methods of keeping Eclipse at arm’s length are unsatisfactory to a successful partnership. Though it may still be fresh, I believe that informing Eclipse of the matters that pertain to him and this kingdom no longer need separation, and that he will be a better ruler if he has all the information available to him.”

Sir Montgomery stands shocked before you, his hand still raised in opposition.

“All previous methods of ensuring his presence is separate from palace business have gone awry–whereas most methods that have included his participation have thrived. Based on the data compiled at present, I have deemed it unnecessary to treat him as a criminal with crimes he has yet to commit.”

Your back is straight as a polearm, and twice as sharp. You stand as an immovable weapon against a wall of pride. A crown atop your mask glints, pointed as a blade.

The Knight in front of you sputters, armoured hands open and pleading, “I came down here to warn ya!” His voice is caught, strangled between a whisper and a shout. You will not be coerced, the hope for a successful partnership still warm in your body.

Your optics are cold and steady. “And consider your warning received.” A regal voice cutting with royal teachings. This conversation is over. Finality rings against the stone.

He reaches forward to grab you again, but you swat his hand with a gauntlet of your own. His armour may be bigger and denser, but yours is made of a stronger material. You both stand in the dark, lit by the dim light of DJ’s coals, with metal vibrating painfully. The loud clang sinks into the rock.

“Stand down , Sir Montgomery. I am not some peon to be led. You heed my words, not the other way ‘round.”

Spinning your heel, you turn to stride away, an angry gait now absorbing your prior excitement. DJ, for all his grace, has once again been forced to witness an argument within his cavern, against his wishes. You feel a drop of pity for him against an ocean of rage.

You stamp away from your guard, steps echoing angrily. The rings swing near silently in their pouch, quiet against the fury of your steps.

Sir Monty stands at the base of the stair, his arms no longer pleading. Instead, they rest at his sides in a formal obedient stance. You’ll hear no more of his ‘concerns’.

Without turning to look at him, you grab the pouch to silence their tranquil mockery. 

“Dismissed.” You order. Guilt eats at you from the inside.

You hear him snap to attention, followed by the heavy sound of his boots scraping along the stairs. You’ll have to make the trek back alone, with no escort. The warmth of the coals falls upon your frigid body, and the sensation of failure courses through you like an old friend. Yet another disappointment to add to your growing pile–you can’t even keep your temper when speaking with your guards. 

The hope within your body fades, with dread taking its place. Perhaps you were the problem all along.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Danger lingers in the corners of your psyche, pressing down with a weight that threatens to overwhelm you. An ill omen suspends itself in the air surrounding your crown, forming a cloud that blinds your senses with hesitation and fear.

It is unlike the previous weights, the ones you’ve grown used to after the passing of your mother. Those heavy feelings keep you solid, keep you grounded to where and when you are. The pressures of ruling, the legacy of your mother, the mask you wear at all times; heaviness kept you on your feet, anchored you to the ground where you are fortunate enough to walk. Tethered to the armour that your mother lovingly made for you, etched out of the bounty she fought for you.

This danger feels new, feels…foreboding. Like a helium cloud on the horizon, threatening to irradiate and decay the groundwork of your recent plans and tethers.

You try to shrug it off, try to shake it, but a vapour’s grip is impermeable. You grasp at nothing, and yet the cloud remains.

You want to be happier, want to be hopeful . But you’ve weathered through these thoughts before, and have made your decision.

Eclipse wants to see you. He sent Sir Bonnie with a formal missive, written in perfect formal speech and delivered with a seal. In terms of royal formality, his etiquette in this matter is perfect. But knowing Eclipse, it shows that he’s put forward the effort to learn . 

But for your sake, or for his? Either way, you feel warm at the implication.

The missive contains a simple request, one that you find hard to want to deny. 

‘Come to my Tower’ is the essence of the message. ‘ Come alone. Privacy is of import in this matter .’

You struggle to comprehend precisely what Eclipse wants. Is this what Sir Montgomery was warning you about? Does this have to do with the ‘preparation’ that Lord Eclipse had spoken of before? Or are they one and the same?

Either way, there is no clear reason to deny him. And your curiosity sings to know what he gets up to in that tower.

Rivers of dread trickle down the base of your spinal strut. You fight to ignore it. It’ll be fine . You’ve chosen to trust him.

The message’s seal is a broken, silver hue. A melted, softened metal formed into the new royal crest. With your thumbs, you chip it off the aluminum parchment and pass it over into your palm. It glitters with silver, alongside other metals sparkling in the seal like tiny stars.

The attention to detail is remarkable, and the metal used is impossible to identify at a glance. The Moon has dominion over many metals, and with the Sun’s covenant Eclipse has access to more, but the only way to make sure would be to ask him directly.

The metal seal falls into the pouch, clinking against the resized rings. A cold silvery metal contrasted against the warm golden bands.

DJ has outdone himself. The quality of the rings is seamless; it's impossible to tell that they’ve been melted down and restructured. They glow with new heat, remade for a new purpose. Yours now, though warmed with the memory of your mother. 

You want to be excited, but you’re inexplicably nervous. You want to believe that his plans are benign, or even good in nature. But dread looms, and you attempt to bury it under hesitant, fragile hope.

Sir Bonnie shares a moment with the Major as he makes his exit, his task complete, pausing only to greet his commanding officer in a salute. The exchange is brief, hardly more than a lingering stare, but there’s a heat that you can see bubbling in the depths of his optics. Major Fredbear returns the gesture calmly before returning the salute and turning to you for clarification. Sir Bonnie takes his leave, leaving you with the Major to deliberate the contents of the aluminum parchment.

Small fingers trace the ornate lettering of the missive. The Major’s voice is low and wise.

“And you’re certain?”

You hum musically. “I am. He wishes to speak with me alone.”

Though he makes no sound, it’s easy to tell that your Major is uneasy. Your words, though they feel true, do nothing to dissipate the turbulence that crawls through your armour. 

You’ve chosen to trust Eclipse. He won’t harm you. The disquiet is just in your mind.

He responds to the comment with a low noise. Doubt paints the tone. Impatiently, you hold your arm out for an escort. Though no order has been given, he can’t disobey you. No matter how much the disapproval spreads through the chamber like helium sinking into metal.

With a weary sigh, he takes it and stands at your side. “And he can’t be persuaded otherwise?”

You pat his vambrace gently, chiding though the motion feels empty. In your mind, you try to chase the feeling you felt in the garden, warm and shy with Eclipse at your side. You feel you understand him more now, and fervently pray this all goes well. Anxiety blankets the interior of your armour, smothering your delicate prayer of hope.

“I felt it prudent we offer Lord Eclipse some grace, and begin to include him in palace business as is his due.” you fight the hollow feeling in your body, pouring belief into your voice. 

You understand the Major’s hesitation. He takes the first hesitant step forward, rejection on his tongue.

“...I don’t like this.”

Your arm tightens underneath his vambrace. You want to feel excited, you do . The last time Eclipse had called for you alone it had gone so awry, when all he had wanted was to give you a gift. Your anxieties of that moment swell within you like an unrelenting tide, washing away any preconception of excitement and replacing it with your ever-waxing dread.

Despite your body’s warnings, you want to give him the benefit of the doubt this time.

White armoured fingers curl into the slats of his vambrace, squeezing in what you hope is a reassuring gesture.  “He has proven an asset of late, has he not? And do you not trust our armourer’s assessment?”

The Major’s body heaves with a heavy sigh, cool air escaping from various hidden vents. There is a hint of magic in the air, a constellation on the cusp of summoning. It’s taking everything he has not to disobey your orders and accompany you anyway.

His resignation feels like a hollow victory. You try to erase the past from your mind and focus on the present.

Words you’ve used to convince yourself come spilling out, “Besides, it’s not as if I’m leaving the castle grounds. You know exactly where I am, and there’s only one exit. We shan’t be disturbed, and Eclipse can have all the privacy he needs to show off whatever he has planned.” Your pace quickens slightly, an attempt to restart your excited anticipation.

“Protocol dictates–” he starts, but you don’t let him finish.

“-but I am accompanied. You will be with me unto the base of the tower, and then Eclipse will be with me.” Levity paints your tone in a transparent wash. It sounds thin and peeling.

Heels click against the stone, drowned out by the Major’s heavily booted feet. The walls begin to shift from your wing to the King’s wing, shifting from white to more silvery lunar tones. Staff become sparser, and the world transforms into a darker hue.

The Major rumbles low, reluctance muting his words in favour of pure audible resignation. You tap the back of his gauntlet with a finger, keeping hold of his elbow joint with your arm.

“He can’t hurt me. And if you’re that worried, you can wait for me at the base of the tower for my return.”

You turn your head upward, pleading with your eyes. You’ve chosen to trust Eclipse; now onto the task of strengthening your consort’s goodwill unto others.

The tower stands above you like a blackened spire, stretching upward and vanishing somewhere in the dark amongst the evening stars. The missive contained no timeframe, so you felt it prudent to arrive shortly after receiving it.

Your steps take you farther than where Major Fredbear dares to go, the transparent line on the ground keeping him from walking further. His duty keeps him halted, the invisible barrier strengthened by your command keeping his boots a few paces behind where you dare to venture.

With one last motion, you clasp his hand within both of yours, comforting and steady. Your fingers barely fit around his wide, warm gauntlets. They look white and brittle against his armour, though you try and prove your bravery with your words. Your mind races to find the right things to say to put him at ease.

“I’ll be fine,” is what you manage. “Wait right here.”

His hand squeezes back gently, warmth spreading shallow as if through a barrier.

You’re being brave. You can trust Eclipse. You can do this.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You’ve wanted to see what was up here ever since Eclipse made it his own. Before he took ownership of it, the tower was inconsequential; a lone sentry that had long sat unused. Ugly in contrast to the white columns of the royal halls. A place where horrors used to happen led by regents long passed. An eyesore until he found use of it.

Its steps are steep and winding, with only a few windows spilling forth evening light on the journey upwards. The many stairs would be tiring for anyone else, but the mechanism fuelling your armour is unyielding. It is only as the windows grow sparser and the torches grow dimmer, that at long last the excitement you’ve been chasing finally begins to bubble within you. 

What wonders has Eclipse created in this place? What discoveries has he made within these towering walls? Why here ?

He has to know you’re coming–your steps aren’t exactly silent. Each footfall echoes a little higher with every step you take, every heel click closer to your destination. The reticence of the stairway makes them sound deafening. You’ve been granted access to his personal space; you won’t take it for granted.

There’s a nervousness buzzing under your armour, partially fuelled by the mechanism, making it difficult to tell if its origin is positive or negative. As you wind farther and farther up the tower, the windows grow sparser and the few visible sconces are unlit. Light is all but indistinguishable. There’s no need, their master is of their essence, of shadow.

You walk blindly upward in the dark, led by nothing but hope and jitters.

When you finally reach the door, you almost crash right into it. If it weren’t for your outstretched hands, you would have collided with the handle. The barest hint of light escapes from the small seam at the base of the door, the light of the evening stars giving you the barest blue outline of the inside of the chamber.

Do you knock? Or just open the door? Thoughts swim, trying to find the balance between propriety and camaraderie.

Instead, you choose neither. 

“Lord Eclipse. You bade for me?”

The door opens with a creaky hinge, guided by a blinding shadow. A tingle of magic is felt in the air. Dim light spills onto the steps, gracing your eyes with gentle transition. The Sorcerer’s domain reveals itself to you.

The first thing that you notice is that there is a…tidy clutter. Tomes scavenged from the royal library line the base of the walls in pillars, some with sheafs poking out the fringes. Some you have never seen before. There is no furniture save a single small table and a bent, awkward stool–with a rusted shackle resting unused and connected to the floor. Residuals from the tower’s prior purpose. A raised ledge with a small window is all the light that the room dares to bequeath. You can see the stars twinkling gently in the sky outside.

But the walls– the walls . Every spare inch is covered in writing, down to the structural ceiling beams. Blackened marks of the Sorcerer’s shorthand decorate the walls in sporadic wallpaper; diagrams of star maps, elemental sigils, and chemical equations dance across every vertical surface, reaching as high as the curvature of the tower’s rafters.

The Sorcerer himself stands in the centre of the room, one arm rescinding from where he opened the door. His claw moves nervously to his side, tucking behind with an awkward formality. It’s a quick movement, easy to miss, but you catch it.

You can’t stop your eyes from widening in wonder at the chamber you’ve been given leave to enter.

“I bid you welcome, Princess,” he says, voice deep and reverent. His words insist you be grateful. It is a privilege to be here.

As much as the tower’s owner should be your focus, you cannot deny your burning curiosity. Your eyes travel, flowing from one swath of wall to the next, deciphering, studying, reading. In the rightmost corner of the room there is a section of the wall devoted entirely to the elements at the Sun’s disposal and their basic components. The trust in allowing you to lay eyes on this display is staggering–that he would let anyone enter this place, let alone invite them.

Your first step into the room brings forth a shiver, the room alighting slightly more with your presence. The refracted light of your bright armour brings more clarity to the genius written upon the walls.

There is such a wealth of information here that any scholar would pay handsomely to decipher it, even for a moment. Such knowledge could turn the tides of any scholarly conquest.

“...thank you.” you breathe, reverent all the same. Your core feels at once tight and elated.

He extends a hand forward, beckoning. “I’d bid us both sit, but unfortunately I hadn’t the mind to bring more than one.” gesturing towards the stool, he politely offers his guest a seat.

The rings feel heavy in their pouch. There’s no way he hasn’t noticed what was otherwise an empty space at your side. The bright colour of the pouch contrasts against your white armour.

You take the offered seat gracefully, mindful of the rattle of the shackle at the base. You wonder idly why he hasn’t furnished this place more to his liking.

He looks taller as you are seated, but with more of a nervous energy. Looking up at him, you notice how his hands quibble together nervously, the picture of green yet undoubtedly noble manners. The underside of his mask brings your attention to his rays, and how the pauldrons sit nicely upon his shoulders. He looks handsome–in a stiff, earnest way.

Waiting patiently, your eyes travel back to the wealth of knowledge coating the walls.

“You made all this?”

“A compilation of related diagrams taken from various tomes, combined with my own learnings. Anyone with similar access could accomplish much of the same.” Humility sounds false on his tongue, like a newframe begging for praise. His optics flicker from the walls to your mask.

“ No ,” Wonder must be evident in your eyes, “I must disagree. This is only possible by your hand.” 

He preens briefly, before wiping his grin away with a wave of decorum. He stands a touch straighter, a touch prouder, before shrugging off your praise.

“This isn’t why I’ve asked you here. Privacy is a necessity in this task. I bid you permit me to speak without interruption.”

This must be important then. You clap your knees together, threading your hands in focus. That same niggling dread threatens to cloud your senses, but you cast it away; granting him leave to continue unrestricted. Eclipse looks somehow more nervous than you feel. That makes you feel a little better. 

When he speaks, it sounds practiced, as though reading from a script. His words pour from his mouth with shaky focus.

“We both know that this alliance was formed under duress–that despite this kingdom’s wealth of history, there has rarely been a need for two rulers. I admit, quite candidly, your words captured my curiosity when we first met. Though with the knowledge I have gained during my time here, I now see and stand much clearer, and recognize it for what it truly was–a way to buy yourself time. I knew your true interest wasn’t me , but what I could provide for this kingdom.”

His optics seem lost, scattering around, unable to find your own. They dart around the room, blue and red irises dancing around the space surrounding your body, never finding your face.

“The sword you spoke of during our first meeting is very real. I see it clearly above my own head as well as yours. I was a fool to dismiss your words so early, when I was less learned in matters of ruling. I believe there is much I know better now.

“In my studies utilizing the royal library, I came across many interests that benefit ruling. Factors and learnings that I could have never dreamed of, with a wealth of information that would have otherwise remained useless to anyone outside the undeserving noble class. But in my learning, I discovered that the history of royalty in this kingdom is an interesting one. It shows, more than anything else, that it is not I who am the anomaly, even with my dual covenant, but rather you .”

He leans against a nearby wall, his nervousness seeping from his pose, a budding confidence taking its place. Eclipse looks more lax now, fully entrenched in his own words. Leaning in such a languid way, he threatens to scuff a portion of the knowledge he has scrawled upon the surface. You stiffen at the loss of possible written genius. His growing ease has only multiplied your restlessness.

“Your mother was an interesting figure. I admit, I knew little of her in my time before my covenant outside of what news was popular during her reign, and I can honestly admit now that I’m disappointed I never got to meet her. She was a remarkable queen, with curious goals.”

He looks pointedly at you, his blazing optics finding purchase on your mask.

“Power is what granted your mother her crown. But power is not what granted you yours. This union was built on the promise of power, and it is through power that we have any right to governance at all.”

His metal pauldron scratches on the wall as he slumps slightly, sinking deeper into his internalized observation. You flinch at the sound, at the scuff, but try to keep still to the best of your ability.

The room grows colder as he continues his speech.

“And since I have discerned it is not a thirst for power that rules your actions, as I had originally surmised, I found myself instead drawing closer to a truth that caught me completely by surprise.”

Red and blue optics skitter across the floor, lost in some memory. His voice turns quiet, purring with an unexpected gentleness. 

“When you first proposed this alliance, I quickly discovered it was because you were trying to save your position here. And,” he chuckles wryly, “ I fell for it , hook, line, and sinker. But the more time I spend with you, the more the concept of this sham of a marriage grates on me.”

His claws flit from weapons of destruction to harmless hands before your eyes, transforming your view of them with every spark of thought that enters your mind. However, at this moment, still , you cannot definitively call Eclipse a threat to your person.

Holding on to crumbs of hope, you try to keep a grip on your psyche with every passing moment. His growing pause adds to your unease, and you feel it slip through your fingers like warm iron sand.

You watch with horror as his claws descend, unbuckling the fastener that holds his betrothal gift together. Long, dextrous talons unbuckle the straps, allowing his pauldrons to fall from their place and be placed gently upon the floor. His gifted cloak drops next, transforming him from your Consort to the Invading Sorcerer you were first introduced to. Wearing his introductory garb; tall and towering and pointed.

Hysteria descends on your mind.

He’s rejecting your betrothal gift. He’s rescinding the engagement. You’re in danger, you should run, you need to leave —

Your eyes are wide when his gaze travels to find yours. You feel pinned by the weight of his eyes. “But over time I’ve come to realize I don’t want this to be a sham of a marriage, built on the pursuit of power –

“I want this to be a marriage built on trust . And perhaps even eventually… affection .”

He breathes the last word like the lightest vapour, like the noblest of gases. It transcends disbelief and skyrockets through the chamber like the gentlest bomb, rattling the very core of your belief.

Never would you have expected this. Especially not coming from him.

Had your mask a mouth, it would be agape. His confession rings in your head like a clamorous bell, vanquishing your fear like a solar flare and replacing it with new and gentle awe. Warmth spreads within you, bursting with light and colour. The danger takes a step back and allows new feelings to spring forth.

You can’t hide how his words make you feel. A new, positive hope for the future stands before you, and you cannot help how quickly you suddenly yearn for it. 

But Eclipse isn’t finished. His words seem to be the last step of him building up his courage, and he hasn’t yet given you leave to speak. His once slumped, confident pose turns stiff before you, immediately revealing itself to be a sham of morale. Whatever he has left to tell you is even harder to reveal than his shy confession, and his optics reveal a bravery that paints him in a light you’ve never seen before.

He doesn’t allow you a moment to contemplate his confession. Like the piercing of an arrow, he straightens, the panels in his back popping and hissing with sudden force. His spine elongates, vents whistling pent-up steam into the cold chamber. In your heated realization, you spy an odd movement upon his chestplate. A scorched panel moving underneath his garb. His arms continue their odd movement, blackened claws reaching forward and revealing the charred husk underneath.

The beautiful moment is then painted in char–bitterness cloying the air as he reveals more and more of his blackened interior. It is horrifying, the damage that Eclipse reveals as he peels away each layer. The fabric is nothing more than a visual impairment to the harm revealed underneath, the extent of the pain that he must have felt–must still feel.

The origin of the soot exposes itself before you. For a brief moment, you wish you could forget.

The nightmare continues as the panels shift outward, revealing more and more vulnerable machinery underneath–internal cables that should never see light, vital circuitry that only a repair technician would be able to name. A part of you wants him to stop, another wants to scream at the sights he’s showing you. For what purpose is he doing this, for what gain?

But underneath those cables…you spy a shape that makes no sense. The shape moves –and the Eclipse’s shoulder spikes seem to shrink in size.

Before your eyes, two more arms appear, similarly blackened but exceptionally more damaged. Unfolding from the blackened innards like dark tendrils of a nova, like the soot-born black flower he conjured in the garden. Fried circuits and exposed endoskeleton dimly glow under the light of the sole tower window, lit grotesquely like a repair cadaver on a recycling bench.

Eclipse reveals himself to you fully, four arms extended outwards, cradled and twitching, yet still huddled close enough to his body for protection. Soft and pitiful, trembling as they are exposed to air.

You want to sob. Just by his mere expression, you can tell that he’s in pain. They hurt . 

He lays himself bare before you, huffing back a strangled whimper.

“So, now you see,” he says, voice streaked with suppressed pain, “My vulnerability. My weakness . I am not as impervious as you.”

He has never sounded so small to you. Eclipse heaves with weary exertion, his optics foggy but still trained on your person. You want to stand, run to him, force him to put his arms away where they can be further protected–

But he asked for your silence until his speech was done. And you will obey his wishes. You only pray that you can keep your tears at bay for long enough for him to finish.

Sharp fingertips that could be misconstrued as claws clatter together, wincing with every movement. They are trapped in a neverending torment, that they shudder with pain, but that each shudder brings forth a new wave of discomfort. The secondary hands are smaller, less defined than Eclipse’s long claws, and you want dearly to hold them.

He takes a knee slowly, the pain consuming his remaining energies. His four arms extend towards you like a plea.

“I gift you this; power over me. That none, save you , shall know my frailty. To do with as you will, so that we may have power over each other . An equal partnership.”

His lower set of arms, damaged and frail, reveal a terrifyingly delicate endoskeleton underneath. They reach forward twitching, begging for a tender touch.

How could you deny them?

Slowly, as soft as the touch of a veil, you take his hands as gently as you can manage. Barely a lithium feather’s weight rests underneath the weathered hands, cupping them as if a mere thought could shatter them.

The sob building within you finally breaks free.

“Oh Eclipse,” your tone is watery and cracked, emotion spilling forth like a wave, “You didn’t have to… oh , you must be in such pain.”

He chuckles, a dark sound, but it is weary with discomfort. “I have gotten used to it.”

You wish you could properly showcase the depth of what he has gifted to you. To give you the knowledge of his pain–so that you may stand on equal ground in this partnership. A gift beyond measure.

His fingers curl gently inward, cupped by your much smaller hands. They stand out like scorched wrought iron, cradled like a vulnerable animal. Blackened stumps held by opalescent shells.

His digits twitch as you slowly stand, raising your height so that you can protect them better, bringing them closer to where your body can be used as a shield. 

“I only ask…” he begins, hesitant to the last, “That you show me a modicum of vulnerability as recompense. So that I can be certain we are of the same mind.”

Eclipse’s words strike like an enemy strike, embedding itself in your chest, lodging fear deep into your body. His next words descend like a guillotine.

“Proof of what I already suspect.”

Your mind explodes with fear, eyes turning wide. The tables turn as his painful trembles are dwarfed by your swiftly building terror, like frightened prey inside the maw of a ferocious creature.

Eclipse takes note of your despair, and sweetens his tone with soothing graces.

“Shh, shh shh . There’s nothing to be afraid of. All I’m seeking is balance . You won’t come to any harm.” His voice is sweet with falsehoods, your mind blind as it searches valiantly for an escape. “There is nothing that can harm you here, you’re safe . Gift me confirmation in return, and this kingdom will be prosperous–us ruling side by side. A show of faith, that we might trust each other fully.”

His spider’s grip is still cupped gently within your frozen white hands. The door is behind him, but both pairs of hands can grab you and bring you back in less than a moment. His range is too great for you to escape that way. The window at your back sheds its cooling evening breeze on your rigid spine.

“Peace,” he whispers, gentle as a sharp sword plunging into your body. “For your further ease, know that there is a silencing spell active in this room. There is no need to worry, we shan’t be overheard. Your secret remains in this room and this room alone, along with mine.”

Alarms blare in your mind, white hot and blazing. It sucks the heat from the room and pounds inside your head, the armour feeling simultaneously too small and too big.

“You need not be afraid, I will protect you. Allow me to protect you.”

Your voice is mute with horror, silent with fear. You’re blind to any chance of escape, eyes darting around the room for some idea, some alternative option that can rescue you from this trap. You look anywhere but Eclipse’s tender, sharp optics–deaf to the sweet tones that threaten to ensnare you. A trinket disguising a deadly weapon.

He is hungry, and only your confirmation will sate him.

“Be calm, see ? There is nothing to fear.” His hands turn ever so gently, mindful of his constant pain, in order to gently hold your hands in turn. The blackened stumps of his digits make the tenderest cage around your wrists, shackling you together.

Not even squeaks escape your voice, the despair all-encompassing. You can’t move, can’t think –for all your preparation, you have been caught completely unawares. That you trusted him at all, felt anything at all –

You watch as his primary right hand reaches inward and pulls out a single sheaf of aluminum from his chassis, folded delicately and crinkled on the edges alongside the cavern containing his core. With a single hand, he deftly unfolds it, revealing words you haven’t seen in years, written in your mother’s handwriting. A piece of your armour illustrated clearly on the page.

Your eyes widen more, impossibly huge and panicked. Your voice turns from mute to crying, erupting with fear, that you have been caught in such a well laid trap.

You should never have trusted him. And that was your fatal mistake.

The panic fuels your desperate, last chance at survival. All your knowledge tunnels toward the only answer that may save you in the long run, even if the chances are impossibly slim.

He has proof . And if you answer him, he’ll have confirmation. 

He’s a Sorcerer . You can’t trust a word he says. Everything out of his maw is dripping with falsity–to entrap you, to ensnare you. You can’t give him what he wants, or it’ll be the end of you.

Your shakes vibrate through the gift he has bestowed you, his damaged hands shaking with the force of your terror. Anxiety sinks its claws into your mind, blaring alarms that the danger around you is everywhere , and there’s nowhere to escape, nowhere to hide.

Through your blind fear you can feel the trap closing in around you, the last ray of light dissipating. Your freedom comes at a cost, and you would rather risk your own life than be enslaved to anyone.

You hold onto your last vestige of freedom, the lie you gift yourself. He may have evidence, but you’ll never give him your admission.

Terror sings in your body, cold like an icy river. Your voice is weak when you finally speak, and it's not what Eclipse wants to hear.

“ No… ” you whisper, revulsion poisoning Eclipse’s sweetness. You thought you could trust him, but it was all a lie. Your mother’s greatest fear stands before you, and she isn’t here to save you.

Abruptly, the tremors cease their journey through Eclipse’s secondary hands, isolating themselves solely in your arms. With nowhere to travel, they course back through your body and seize –clattering the pieces of your armour together in a melody of terrified sound.

Eclipse looms over you, your denial etching doom across your fate. His expression darkens, and his eyes glow wide. His voice is incredulous, punishingly slow.

“I ask for so little…” he starts, as if speaking solely to himself. Red and blue optics glaze over with contemplation, disbelief painting his features in a terrifying light.

“What more must I do !?” he shouts, claws suddenly gripping. A rage grows in his tone, raising the frequency of each word in a painful pitch. The walls ring with his violent sound, but true to his word, remain trapped within the walls. They echo around you like an army horn, spinning you dizzy with intimidation.

“You would deny me, reject my sincerity , even after serving you my weakness on a silver platter? ”

You blanch, his tone suddenly venomous. You have faced his anger before, but never like this. Your sleeves chime in harmony with your fear.

“Eclipse please–”

“ No !” he thunders, “I was wrong to grant you power over me, wrong to trust you when you will not offer me the same!”

He retracts his damaged arms, coiling them inward and away from you. Your body breaks in fear and sorrow.

“ Please –”

He jeers with a bared maw, undamaged arms swinging aggressively. You have no choice but to take a step back in panic.

“You reject my offer, and I reject your pleas ! It is you that tears this trust from our union, only you that casts a shade over the prosperity of this kingdom!”

His arms lurch forward, grasping the shoulders of your armour and pushing you downward on to the stool. Your feet skid awkwardly, the seat low, and it teeters backward, sending you sprawling. The end of your heel kicks the chain attached to the floor, and you see an idea brew in the depths of Eclipse’s eyes.

A wide palm stretches across your mask, filling the blank space above your chin. Fingers stretch around your head and squeeze, forcing you still and silent.

The chain rattles as his second set of arms attaches the oil-blackened shackle to your ankle joint.

He shouts, optics blind with anger. “I shall hear no more from you–not until you’ve seen sense !”

It feels heavy at your feet, weighty and imposing. But it does nothing in comparison to the grief that pours out over Eclipse’s words. Your captor, the one who holds your chains. But without final affirmation, he can’t fully entrap you.

“ Eclipse !” You screech, your voice shrill in an attempt to cut through his anger. Your mask vibrates under his palm. Fear paints your voice white.

“ You played me! If you deign me the monster of your kingdom then I shall rule it as a monster! No force may command me, and not even your flimsy tie to the throne shall keep me from taking what rightfully belongs to me! ”

His knees crunch as he stands, joints cracking with menace. He releases his hand grasping your face.

“ You cannot rule a kingdom alone.” he sneers, “but I can. Until you’ve proven that you’ve learned past your immaturity, I will rule alone . I doubt the nobles and peasants will mind either way.”

Your body goes cold, frigid at the prospect of his threat. Eclipse holds the life and wellbeing of your people in his clutches. Without you to temper him, the possibilities of his cruelty are endless.

The gentle Eclipse, with promises of shy affection, vanishes before your eyes like a mirage. He was never real to begin with.

“The kingdom doesn’t need you to rule, only me . Perhaps when you’ve had some time to think on your transgressions, you might be permitted to join me.”

He stands and claws at the door handle, gripping it tight. Talons poised to strike the killing blow.

“No…please…” you whimper. Tremors build inside you, spilling the percussion of trembling armour onto the rock. “Don’t…”

The shadows extend, swallowing the light in the room with his exit. A towering creature stands in the doorframe, sharp and dangerous. His diadem is a frightening spike upon his brow. It condemns you with the might of a tyrant king.

It’s no use. He won’t listen. With eyes pleading, words swallow up within you. 

“Learn from this.” he hisses, scratching the door. A glowing emblem appears on the surface of the stone–the locking spell. He takes a step down onto the first stair.

The door closes, and the spell activates. Tears spill under your mask, caught between your body and the armour that’s condemned you. You hang your head, defeated, weeping into your hands.

Eclipse will make himself King. The Eclipse Problem has come to pass.

Chapter Text

Act 3:

Chap 13

The rage crashed inside him, squeezing at his core with new and old pain. An inferno raged that could quell an army, spitting sparks and threatening to engulf his entire body in flames.

How dare she.

How dare she!

Claws gouged into the stone, ripping and tearing. Talons bit into granite. Anguish poured from every seam in his armour, the cloth of his inner robe feeling thin and threadbare. If he wasn’t already completely charred, new black streaks would surely stand out against the old soot. Black as the death of a star, warping the light around him in a gluttonous display.

She had rejected his proposal. Rejected his sincerity, rejected him .

Gritting his fangs, he felt a cry of fury build within him, at the thought he could trust her. That he’d been so certain she felt the same, wanted the same thing. 

But no, her thirst for power was too much–despite how deftly she had hidden it. Her years as a royal had seeped too deep into her psyche. She craved power, isn’t that why she wore a crown? Her need for it was unquenchable, and even Eclipse suffered from her parched appetite.

Never trust a royal. Never trust a noble. Don’t trust anyone but yourself. Wasn’t that his creed? The foundation of his success and belief?

He had thought–over the slowly passing months–that perhaps she was different. All those days, those soft moments where he witnessed her hard work but seemingly never sought power outside of her own due…they must have been a series of elaborate plays in order to ensnare him. Infuriating that he fell for her words once again !

There was no other choice but to contain her. Without admission of her own weakness, without trust , she was too dangerous. Now with knowledge she could use against him.

The stone cracked to his violence, crumbling to dust under his talons. A roar grew from the pits of his cables to his voicebox in a growling timbre, releasing in an explosion of rage that shook the foundation of the tower walls. He bellowed his anguish to the crumbling stone. The sound reverberated angrily off the rocks.

She wouldn’t hear it. The silencing spell still held. And Eclipse couldn’t care half a whit if any of the staff or knights heard; it's not as if any could stand against him.

His covenants were silent, muted in the celestial realm where they awaited his command. Eclipse had enough mind to forgo summoning them; their havoc too great to be wielded with a furious mind. The fury that he felt came from him and him alone–he would share none of the burden of his anguish.

Eclipse would keep to his promise. He’d be King , there was no need for some false Princess. He’d rule according to his wishes, his vision–there would be no gentle voice steering him astray with pride, sweetness, and gentle touches.

His roar tapered, feeding warmth in his baser cables with residual vibration. He steamed, releasing pockets of air from vents trapped beneath his thin robe, feeling all the more naked and vulnerable without his pauldron and cloak. They would remain on the tower floor with the Princess until she saw sense. Or until he could stand to look at them once more.

The stairway spiralled downward, spinning his steps in a hastened fury. There was so much to do, and he funnelled the rage to better uses.

He ran down, down, further from the comfortable dark and into the streaking brightness, the stairwell opening up into a courtyard full of stars. Even their dim light taunted him with twinkling eyes, countless celestials looking down mockingly at his failure, his emotional wounds. 

She shook him too close to the core. He had allowed her to get too close. He wouldn’t let her influence blind him anymore.

With a step on the ground floor he paused, gritting his talons harshly into his palms, imbedding imprints in the metal. He’d allowed her to cloud him. He’d allowed it. She squeezed through the cracks of his outer shell and slithered into his deepest cables, rewiring and changing him from the inside out.

Rage simmered, dimming in heat in the base of his body. He felt such rage–that she refused him. Her touch and voice were a trap fit for kings. Eclipse felt weakened by her presence, felt less of the pride he carried within himself. It was as if a great sorrow had taken root in his chassis, a cavern created in the shape of the Princess.

He had wanted….a future with her. 

He promised to protect her, wasn’t that enough? A single confession, to keep her safe from harm, uttered from the depths of his soul. Gentleness he never offered to anyone, tenderness and countermeasures that he practiced for days–cast away like some pauper’s charm.

Impenetrable indeed. The Princess was as cold as stone.

He couldn’t deny that he felt something towards the Princess. Protectiveness, certainly; she was a creature under constant danger and uncertainty, thrust into the spotlight when instead they should be kept secure at his side, where he’d made a loving space for her. 

At the very least she would be safe in the tower until she came to her senses. That he could offer her security–no, greater security than her mother’s residual legacy. 

The Moon was oddly silent whenever the Princess was mentioned, its chimes and bells muted in her presence. There was a companionship he had with the Sun that the Moon lacked, that the Moon denied him similar companionship. Their covenant allowed a certain amount of understanding, but where the Sun flourished with easy camaraderie, the Moon was reticent. Eclipse had no doubt that the former Queen had vowed him to some sort of secrecy concerning the Princess’s person.

Eclipse sobered slightly, the rage ebbing though only minutely. He had thought…that his sincerity would be enough. His honest words, spoken truly , would get through to her–she would have accepted him to keep her from harm for the rest of their days, ruling side by side. Something he could do for her , not her people. A token of his growing valour.

Akin to his damaged arms, his greatest weakness and vulnerability–open to her and inviting her touch. Tendons that hadn’t been exposed to air in months, held gingerly within her alabaster palms. That first touch, accepting and soothing and gentle , still with her humble facade, threatened to send his systems crashing. A soothing touch that he’d never felt before in his life, ever , emptied his nerves like sand in an hourglass. He felt, for that moment, completely at peace, the pain erased by her small hands cradling his own. 

He refused to go to any repair technician to undo the damage–there wasn’t a single one of their ilk that could be trusted. The capital technicians even moreso, for he still hadn’t found definitive confirmation that they’d be colluding with the assassins. Recycling was a necessary currency in blackmarket underworlds, with the repair technicians as the lords. But at least they could be reasoned with, if you had the skills and material to barter.

His own magics could not repair the damage, especially with his covenant as the cause, so he was limited in his recovery. Keeping them hidden for so long made them ache, and with a gentle touch to his most vulnerable area, it made him feel close to collapse.

He surged with new waves of betrayal, that she’d cast him aside with the knowledge of his vulnerability, his pain. He thought–perhaps with a similar show of vulnerability, she’d be more at ease to confide in him. Did their discussions, their time together, truly mean nothing?

The courtyard of the Tower was full of stars, of gentleness. It made his arms ache from where he was forced to resheath them. The secondary hands curled around his core that beat with agony, rejection and pain, in an attempt to soften the blow he felt from the inside.

He turned away, stomping through the vast halls with angry steps. Let the staff be warned in advance of his dark mood, that they might show their absence lest they end up on the wrong side of his magics.

Empty halls greeted him, pearlescent and glittering. They reminded him too much of her, perfect and fake and frightened.

Eclipse stormed into the heart of the castle, determined to make his point. Everyone in the kingdom would know who the true ruler was by morning. With tooth and claw, he will raze to the ground whomever chooses to stand in his way.

His core felt weak with strain the farther he walked away from the tower. Each step echoed solemn misery, choking his inner cables with discomfort. He blazed pointedly ahead, never looking back.

Let her stew in the choice she’d made. It was time to show the kingdom what a real monster was capable of.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sorrow builds, reaching a crescendo of tears. Your armour feels tight with the onslaught of despair, pressing uncomfortably at your sides, your core, your soul. Betrayal sits like an anvil, threatening to crush you under its weight. 

Today had started off so hopeful. You should know better than to be so optimistic.

Tears well and spill behind your mask, getting caught in the small grooves around your chin and neck plate. The armour surges with excess energy, wasted and useless in the battery cells.

You started this day a Princess, and are now reduced to a prisoner. Both a hostage of circumstance and a captive of your own design. In all your time in this kingdom, you’ve never felt less free. You thought your life before was constricting, but it pales in comparison to the physical and metaphorical shackles that chain you now. 

Glow spills from the cracks in your armour, sending rivers of light trickling outward and illuminating the dark prison chamber. A stray beam makes contact with the shine of Eclipse’s rejected shoulder pauldron, sending the light shooting back towards your optics with no remorse. The pauldrons and the cloak lay on the ground in mockery of your situation, tossed aside and discarded like unwanted recycled material. Useless until proven otherwise.

The walls no longer hold any spark of your interest, your eyes locked in a sorrowful battle with the floor. Your body hurts–it seizes with choked sorrow. That, for a moment, you thought things could be different, the future could be better –before the rug was unceremoniously pulled from beneath your feet. You should have seen the trap from the beginning, the tripwire strung tight enough to snap.

Your mind feels cloudy with anguish, your cries unheard. You are a small, weak little thing again, and your mother isn’t here to help you this time. No matter how hard you try to paint yourself in her image, your strength is a mere sham of hers. Your citizens remember the might of your mother, and how weak you are in comparison. You aren’t strong enough to contradict them.

Slowly but surely, your body slumps, exhausted from its endeavour. Minutes pass, or perhaps hours. Time slows and unspools without the tension of your concentration. Cracks of starlight spill through the narrow window, dancing through the sky in their nightly steps. New stars take their place and the evening stars deepen.

The fog of your mind is deep, flitting between fragments of memory. A glimpse of your mother’s proud teeth, the first time you held aloft your shield. Eclipse’s flower in the garden mutates into his enraged maw.

There is no peace, no reprieve. Only one vision transforming into the next, rippling with gaining emotion. Faces change and expressions shift, their scrutiny unbearable. Your mind holds you captive in a neverending gloom, thick enough to smother even the brightest of lights.

Did you even accomplish what you set out to do?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eclipse watched the rabbit knight cower, trembling under the fury of his gaze. Good . A frightened messenger made for the best prelude of his ascendance.

He’d given the quaking knight a second missive of the day, this one without the overdramatic restrictions of a royal letter. This one was simpler, straight to the point:

Nobles and Automaton of the Gentry, relinquish your positions or prepare a personal argument for your usefulness. I will see to it personally.

Your King commands it.

The missive was signed with a blackened signature, forgoing the newly minted royal crest. This message was purely from him–the Princess had no part to play. If she wished to rule beside him, then she would also have to make her own concessions.

Guilt was a new addition, a savage brand coursing new waves of pain through his internal cables. It eroded his insides with alarming speed, spreading an ache from within and leeching steadily outwards. What did he need to feel guilty about? For this time and all decisions prior, Eclipse had made all the right decisions.

She had to be locked up , he reasoned with himself, she had to be . Streams of logic peppered his mind, his genius mind linking together information, making sense. Her imprisonment was first and foremost for her own safety, and secondarily due to her inexorable decision concerning his weakness. 

Bitterness coursed through his insides, mixing with the soot and threatening to pour out his cracks in sandy streams. Eclipse felt like a cracked hourglass moments away from bursting.

His ever-present betrothal pauldrons were missing, the threadbare cloak that once draped over his form like a comfort now felt like an ill-fitting skin. He was a shedding creature with underbelly exposed, and he hated every moment without his treasured wedding cloak. In no time at all, it had become an irreplaceable part of his body, and he was bare without it. The sooner the Princess came to her senses, the sooner he could return it to his person without the guilt.

Eclipse shook his head angrily. The announcement of his kingship would be made shortly, the rushed preparations now all in place.

The nobles would fall and the peasants would crawl to his feet begging for mercy. He’d remake the kingdom from the ground up, more vibrant and lush than any before him. 

A painful pang lanced his core, his internal arms wincing. The tender touch of the Princess haunted him, the pain only dimmer when she touched them.

Anger at her rejection had cooled, simmered to a low boil. Superheated metal glowing red from the  extreme heat, but still firm and unyielding. Fury fizzed, popping in unexpected sparks, but he felt more rational than he did the hours prior. Having a goal to focus on did wonders in balming his temper, his mind clearer than before.

Perhaps he’d been too rash. He’d been known to have a temper, as did she , but the rejection felt more damaging than he’d expected. The storm of anger had flurried into a tempest before he could catch himself, the rejection an ill-aimed lance to his infected wound. He felt bruised–both physically and emotionally, fallen hope stinging like a welder’s brand. They’d been doing so well, getting so close…

No , he wasn’t wrong to imprison her. Who knew what she would do with the knowledge of his weakness if left unchecked. 

But it was possible it was all a ruse , his tempered past reminded him. Paranoia wasn’t a crutch, it was a precaution . And with his vulnerability on display, his choice was vindicated–without a necessary card he could play against her, their positions were hardly equal. Eclipse was never one to agree to a game he couldn’t guarantee winning, not when losing came with so many life-threatening risks. The Princess had many pawns at his disposal; Eclipse had only himself. He had shown his entire hand too early, while his opponent remained strategically mysterious. The Princess was a formidable player, but Eclipse wasn’t one to be underestimated.

A quiet voice slipped in past the neurosis. A shy chime, weary and silver toned.

The Moon transmitted its emotion through their covenantal bond, thrusting waves of discomfort and wrongness past the celestial barrier and barricading into Eclipse’s core.

I am not wrong . Eclipse blared back, assurance coating his belief in a thin lacquer. Which master do you serve?