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Ace Trappola, arguably the least favorite card soldier among Riddle Rosehearts’ spread deck, was frantically sprinting through the Heartslabyul rose maze—desperate to put distance between his own self and that thing.
That thing that claimed it resembled Riddle Rosehearts. Perhaps it really was the being that resided underneath the now shedded skin of the Queendom of Roses’ most accomplished student. Ace couldn’t care less to truly muse on it. Whatever he was—he couldn’t stand the boy in any form he came in.
He meant it full well when he challenged the Heartslabyul Housewarden for his role and title alongside his unlikely friend-of-sorts Deuce Spade, and he meant full well his argumentative outlash at Riddle for his tyrannical and almost puppetry-like hold he exuded over the card soldier students of Heartslabyul. A tyrant. That’s what his Housewarden was. A rose-red tyrant.
But what became of Riddle after their duel, after a brave student chucked a raw egg at the red-haired boy’s head—that thus ensued a disastrous food fight between Riddle against most all of Heartslabyul save for Trey, Cater, Deuce, Yuu, Grim, Headmaster Crowley, and himself as much as he would’ve enjoyed. The complete and utter revolution of the students at the Unbirthday Party sent Housewarden Rosehearts into a fury, even a panic, where he began spewing horrendous threats and words, revealing disturbing imagery of his home life and childhood. Under different circumstances, Ace maybe would’ve laughed. The tiny boy, the red haired runt of Night Raven College’s housewardens, having a tantrum because his students find his incessant rules and regulations undeniably unbearable. He had been on his little knees, clutching his head as soggy, yellow egg yolk cascaded down his hair. It was deserved—certainly?
But an overblot?
Ace had only scarcely heard of overblotting in the past, perhaps something his elder brother had mentioned that Ace had shrugged off or simply never tuned his ears to listen in to. The ginger haired first year could’ve vomited at the sight of black, liquid blot streaming from Riddle’s forehead, like black tears surging from his lightless grey eyes. A monster erupted from the form of the lithe boy’s body, full of hate, contempt, domination. It sought out to command everyone present within the celebratory Unbirthday Party, lock in everyone’s heads that weren’t his reliable—and afraid—third years, and emanate complete control. Riddle was mad with his rules and upholding his unconventional approaches. But this wasn’t Riddle. This was a beast of nightmares.
When the blotted monster began screaming “Off With Your Head!” and spewed spells towards the closest students within viable distance, although distance hardly meant a thing to the incredibly impressive mage that Riddle was, Ace Trappola turned on his heel and began sprinting in the opposite direction. His neck ached from where he had been ‘beheaded’ for far too long, but he brushed off the immense choking sensation and jumped bright green bushes with their bleeding, prickly roses. No wonder the Housewarden had a last name as true as his. Small, red, and anxious to scar anyone who dared got too close. Just how bandaged were Trey and Cater from his abusive treatment over the past two years?
Ace had hardly been at Night Raven College for a week, so his knowledge of the mapping of the rose maze was very unfamiliar to him which was not going well for him. Looking right and left, having to make impulsive and spur-of-the-moment decisions based on what sorta feels right. It never occurred to him that just maybe his Housewarden would go berserk and he’d need to be able to locate an exit route to save his skin from being skewered. And what made it worse, is that Riddle clearly noticed his absence from the little group he had procured for the duel. And Riddle was furious that his disobedient card soldier had taken off without so much as a pleasant and polite ‘goodbye’. Wasn’t it 4:00 PM!? Why couldn’t he sit back and enjoy a cup of tea while Ace booked it the hell out of Heartslabyul and got help from the other dorms?
“Ace Trappola!” A voice boomed across the rose maze. Ace momentarily paused in horror at the vibrato of the monstrous voice, ducking under the nearest bush to collect himself. The little rose-red tyrant had a high, boyish voice that was otherwise, maybe, pleasant to listen to when it wasn’t spewing insults and ridiculous rule violations. Which was all of the time. Which made his voice characteristically not cute and unbearable. But now, his voice resonated with a lower, darker tone that was somehow more dominating than his day-to-day one. It wasn’t Riddle. That thing wasn’t Riddle.
Ace had also come to the realization that it wasn’t just Riddle that was chasing him now, but a hoard of collared card soldiers. Unbeknownst to him, for his focus was not on the Queen’s rules, he had deliberately invoked Rule Number 63: Anyone who incurs the Queen’s wrath in the court of law must be chased through the rose maze by card soldiers. Sure, the duel wasn’t exactly a court of law, but Ace had definitely incurred Riddle’s wrath—the closest thing to the Queen by far—, so it made well enough sense that he was now being hunted for sport by both the overblotted queen and his card soldiers. He frowned at the thought of his fellow students, armed, on orders of finding and restraining Ace Trappola. Were they really doing it of their own consent? Does Riddle’s Ultimate Magic of ‘Off With Your Head!’ also end up controlling the beheaded? Or is this some sickening side effect of having overblotted, that your own magic turns against its legitimacy?
He was hurting his head thinking so extensively that he clasped his head with his hands and furiously shook it back and forth, coming back to his senses that he was indeed being chased for his life.
“Not it, not it, not it.” He murmured to himself before pushing his body back up and began to run again. Jumping over and sliding past bushes, trimmed and cut perfectly into forms and shapes that related to Heartslabyul such as different card symbols and the Queen herself. They’d all have to be redone given everything within Riddle’s vicinity was uprooted, levitating, and destroyed. His power was immeasurable. He was going to tear Heartslabyul apart.
“Ace Trappola, come on out. I know you’re there. Do you want your punishment to be more severe than it already is?” Overblotted Riddle hissed, and Ace shuddered as he realized the voice was only getting closer. He yelped at the rose thorns snagging at his checkered shirt, his skin splitting across his biceps as he slid past lustrous green leaves. He would’ve snarkily yelled an, “Over here!”, any other day and would’ve laughed at his chaser getting frustrated with his elusive and foxy gait, unable to grasp at and find the mischievous boy within the maze. But not today. Not when his life depended on staying out of Riddle’s grip, when he already was almost impaled by roots just minutes earlier.
“Ace! Where are you? Tell me where you are! This is for your own benefit. Ace!!”
His red eyes widened slightly as he believed he was at the very edge of the rose maze, his running quickened as the mirror was certainly a few yards ahead. Ace was beyond thankful, as he felt his bloody arms pressing against his majority white shirt, knowing full well that he would need a new dorm uniform when this was all over with—although, that would be the least of the school’s worries when it came to Heartslabyul if Riddle was subdued. His leg muscles ached, running for however many long minutes it had been throughout a winding and confusing maze with a crazy boy on his heels. And for whatever uncounted reason, calling out to him as if he were desperate for the Ace Trappola. Probably to behead him—that could be the only viable reason. The mirror laid just up ahead, certainly. There he would escape, there he could get help, rid himself of the impossibly infuriating ‘Riddle Rosehearts’—
He stopped shortly as he found himself within the center of Heartslabyul’s rose maze, staring up at a perfectly crafted stone statue of the Queen of Hearts. Before the horror sunk in that he ended up right where Riddle wanted him, he frowned at the stone figure. Surely he didn’t belong here, with her spirit of strictness.
Something in him wished he was not placed in Heartslabyul whatsoever. Then there would’ve never been this mess he now finds himself and his friends in.
He didn’t have to hear the overblotted monster’s voice to know he arrived just behind Ace, and a shiver ran up the torn shirt of Ace’s as he sensed a dark and sinister smile slowly bloom across the black, painted lips of Riddle Rosehearts.
“Ace, there you are, thank goodness. You caused me quite the ruckus chasing you down.” The monster’s voice settled, now much more Riddle-like but still with an almost strained, echoey effect. Ace despised it. Ace despised it in its entirety. He hated the sudden softness that the monster treated him with, as if he were a lowly ant that needed to be accounted for and cared about. If anyone was the crybaby here, it was certainly Riddle, not Ace that needed to be treated more diligently with—everyone already walks on eggshells with the Heartslabyul Housewarden around, anyway. He sparingly recalled taunting the redhead with ‘mommy, mommy’, and wondered what pile of crap he landed himself in now that it was just him and the rose-red tyrant. No collared card soldiers were in sight nor within ear shot. Perhaps Riddle had quietly called them off, now having caught his prey himself.
So much for invoking card soldiers.
The ginger-haired first-year clamped his mouth shut, only doing the service of turning around to face the slightly levitating boy with his scratched arms crossed across his chest. He hated to admit it, but the appearance of his newly-formed Housewarden was nothing short of infatuating. Did all mages that experience overblot turn into such macabre versions of themselves, or was Riddle’s distinguishably curated magic the reason why he developed such a change in appearance?
The usually up-kept clothing style of Riddle’s was vastly violated in this blot form, with the shirt being strung open to expose his pale collarbones and upper chest. It certainly wasn’t Riddle for how conservative the boy usually was with clothing… Shirts buttoned up all the way, always wear both of the gloves the school had handed out with the uniform, wearing the black dress jacket over your dorm’s colored vest, to Riddle even slightly altering his school uniform’s bow with attaching a little, golden crown pendant. As if he couldn’t further not separate himself from the Queen of Hearts. He had persistently harped on his students fully buttoning up their undershirts in their uniforms, as well as being meticulous about every other aspect of dressing to ensure Heartslabyul looks the most impressively put together as compared to other dorms, but only Deuce actually listened and was bent on really impressing his Housewarden—to which Riddle had silently really enjoyed, anyone could obviously see it. As for his newly curated outfit, if it wasn’t any more apparent that the boy based his personality off of the Queen of Hearts, it was definitely visible now for any eyes. A heart emblem on his chest, sharpened hearts that extended from his back, hearts on the belts strapped across his chest, the hearts that decorated the top of his now blackened high heels. Stacked cards cascading from his figure, as if symbolizing the card soldiers’ dedication and attachment to their now, new overblotted queen. White roses painted black, when Riddle insisted they should be red for the Unbirthday Party. It was all so wrong.
It was almost sad for Ace. Almost pathetic too, that Riddle couldn’t realize his own personality and figure could be separate from the Queen of Hearts he aspired to be. To Ace, Riddle should instead apply herself to him, rather than apply himself to her, etching in a false persona he could never truly become. As much as the first year obviously blamed the redhead for his own actions, his sucky and unbearable mom had a part to play in this too. Just how much mind-controlling brainwashing must one exude over their child for their child to grow up believing they need to find comfort in appearing and acting as someone aside from their own self? Not only the Queen of Hearts herself in that sense, but also his own mom too. Riddle would only ever see himself as some extension of someone else, never his own person. In any other amicable situation, perhaps it could be dealt with. Ace wouldn’t want to come within a mile of Riddle’s healing as things were right now, but he didn’t cruelly think he didn’t deserve it. Even if it was messy, Riddle ought to just be his own self—it would be undeniably better than whatever this circumstance was.. If he truly became on par with one of the Seven, Ace would lose it. A dorm based off of Riddle Rosehearts’ beliefs and personality!? Unlivable! Let me out! He’d personally beg Dire Crowley on his knees to make it not happen so.
Riddle’s sickening smile turned into a frown, and his dark red eyebrows began to twitch. “Acknowledge me, Ace. I am your Housewarden. Or are you still beguiled with the frivolous fantasy of being Heartslabyul’s crown ruler yourself?” The monster bellowed, inching himself closer to the ginger before they were at a distance of a foot, eye-to-eye. Ace’s eyebrows themselves narrowed, also hating the notion that Riddle was playing with his height against the naturally taller first year.
How he bit back the image that used to reside in his head of his own self dressed in the Heartslabyul Housewarden outfit with Riddle apologizing to him for his tyranny. This outcome was entirely different than the one he went into the duel with.
“What gives you the right, huh? You abuse me and the rest of your students and want to be accepted with loving arms once you’re unbeatable? Load of crap, Riddle-ryouchou.” Ace hissed, his crossed arms conveying his defiant and stubborn nature. Riddle may have him skewered, but he refused to play and kiss up to the small boy even if he is in the overblotted form he is now. He was unnerved by their closeness—Ace could still clearly see the slightly darkened bruise on Riddle’s left cheek on an otherwise perfect and untouched face where Ace had punched him earlier in a fury.
The monster that wore Riddle Rosehearts’ face twitched in annoyance, as if it were trying to contain what appeared to be a soft composure which baffled Ace Trappola. Why was the being trying to come off as friendly?
“Good grief, if you had just listened to me earlier, you wouldn’t be in such a pathetic and sad state now, would you?” Riddle sighed, extending an arm with black claw-like extensions of blot on his pale hands, and lightly touched a gash on Ace’s arm. Surprised and almost disgusted by the questionably kind endeavor, he pushed away the monster’s hand and swung himself away, stepping back with a furious expression.
Riddle only matched his look as blood rushed to his face angrily, painting it a disturbing shade of characteristic red. “Don’t you dare treat your queen that way! My fondness for you goes unchecked, and you have the audacity to push me away!” Overblotted Riddle yelled, as if he were cursing both himself and the ginger first-year. Ace froze at his words, confused and lost as his chapped lips parted in question. Riddle huffed and closed the distance again, this time grabbing onto Ace’s arms with a sacrosanct exudence of strength. His grip tightened, as if to keep Ace in place without a twitch of defiance. The black claws dug into his gashes, and the card soldier bit back a cry out of pain.
“My fondness for you, yes…” The now calmed boy sighed in relief, his black thumbs rubbing what should’ve—could’ve—been comforting circles into his now-marred skin. But his injuries ached, and he was full of contempt for the monster, so it was a painful sensation that he only bit back a snarky retort in case that Riddle’s content expression turned back into a ruthless and murderous one if he did so. “I am fond of you, Ace Trappola. You are nothing but a rambunctious, idiotic, infuriating student of mine, and I should harbor nothing but disgust for you—so why! Why do I hate to see you turn and run away from me so much? When I needed you most!?” Riddle howled, distress bubbling underneath his pale skin that was now painted with intricate designs of blot across his right eye, as if the boy was finding himself in his own personal circle of purgatory. Ace was befuddled in what to say or do, with what appeared to be some kind of confession from his Housewarden. Was it a confession? Did he attempt to calm him to get him to release the younger boy? Or turn and run once more now that he’s distracted with his own self-anguish?
Ace apathetically took the latter option of the two.
As Riddle sniffled back a cry, Ace reared his head back and smacked his skull right into Riddle’s forehead. Riddle screamed out in pain as he instinctively released the ginger, bringing up his blackened hands to hold his now double-bruised face. Ace took this moment of diversion and began to run again—to his expectation that he could get away from the overblotted being.
Rose bush roots grew out from the ground and quickly clasped Ace’s legs in a restraining, swallowing manner as the boy tripped and fell flat on his face. Oh, he was screwed.
“HOW DARE YOU!?” The overblotted monster screeched, angrily advancing towards the ginger first-year and ripped his head upwards from the ground by his orange bangs. Ace cried out in pain at the violation of his neck, still affected by the choking sensation left by the collar. Riddle was seething, shaking and red from anger. The card soldier was thrown from his stomach and on to his back, and he gulped at what this could mean. Riddle would behead him now, for real, and no one would be able to stop him. Yuu, Grim, Deuce, Trey, and Cater were certainly still at the dueling spot or somewhere scattered within the Heartslabyul’s rose maze. Headmaster Crowley had pitifully taken off. No one could save Ace from being killed by Riddle for his defiance of the Queen’s rules and what he believed in. He gulped, eyes furiously shutting in not wanting to witness his own demise at the hands of the small tyrant. The tyrannical printed output of untreated mommy issues, bubbling out of one tiny body.
So when Riddle pressed his mouth to Ace’s, his red eyes shot open in utter, bewildering shock at the exchange of touch. He, despite being a ferocious being of clear magic prowess, clearly had no idea what he was doing with a kiss. Riddle held Ace close, as if suspecting resistance from the younger boy, in wanting to keep him right where he was. One hand restrained his collarbone to the ground whilst his other blackened hand held his right cheek rather strongly. To his cheeky relief, it didn’t seem to go any further than a kiss.
But he was still appalled!
Ace only had ever had one girlfriend in the past and yet he found himself utterly unentertained by the girl so he never bestowed any romantic advances. So his strict, unbearable, infuriating, monster of a housewarden had become his first kiss?!
But, there was no time for the first-year card soldier to question boy-on-boy affection when Riddle almost had him skewered on thorns just minutes ago for disobeying him.
Ace flailed and fought against the smaller boy, only finding the roots began to close in and tighten on him more intensely with every defying movement he twitched out. The redhead saw this moment as a leeway to deepen the kiss, which only added insult to injury further for Ace—physically and mentally. He was wholly stuck in a not-consented intimate moment with Riddle Rosehearts. It didn’t feel bad, but it certainly felt wrong for the predicament the two of them were in. At least quit overblotting before you take me out!
Finally, the tyrannical boy drew his head away and panted heavily after the kiss. Clearly, despite being a monster consumed by blot and uncontrollable magic, it did not alleviate him from human functions such as breathing. Ace instinctively rolled his tongue around in his mouth and tasted a disturbing and disgusting substance. He wished he could check if blot had got into his mouth, if the black liquid dribbled out of his lips, but he did not have the liberty to check at the given moment. His ginger eyebrows twitched in fury and he collected saliva to spit in Riddle’s face. Riddle wailed like a baby, wiping his face down after housing his own look of confusion post-kiss. He swung a clenched, clawed hand down on the ground, clearly meant to punch the first-year in the face but unsteadily missed as Ace pushed himself out of the way, thorns pressing into his cheeks and face.
“Why are you so, so, disobedient? You get along, getting into trouble with Deuce and Yuu. You get along with my third years, making a chestnut tart with Trey—“ he muttered, an uncharacteristic twinge of hurt swimming in his tone of voice over the breaking of Rule 562 still, and began to turn away from Ace to stand and meditate on his own out loud. He clearly was still affected by human emotions in this form, and was hesitant and unyielding in protecting them and keeping them away from the publicity of others’ ears. The roots continued to grow tighter and tighter, swallowing up Ace’s limbs. “So what’s wrong with me? Why don’t you enjoy my company? Am I not good enough? What have I done that instigates that idea? I’ve done so much… So much for myself and so much for everyone around me, including you.”
“If only I had really approached you and Deuce Spade after the first ceremony, make you really understand the Queen’s rules and their importance. You wouldn’t have ended up like this. Just look at yourself.” He spat, shaking hands coming up to his own cheeks to pat them gently.
“Riddle—“ Ace muttered, the roots growing around his neck unbearably close.
“It was my job as Housewarden to treat you as such, and not let you go down the path of treachery and misdemeanor. It was my fault. But I can make it up to you now, Ace Trappola. If you just take my hand.” Riddle murmured, sickeningly sweetly, his hands clasping against the bare skin of his collarbones.
“Riddle—! Please!”
“You’ll be mine, and you’ll never make another mistake with the Queen’s rules. Isn’t that wonderful? I should’ve done this from the start. Riddle, you stupid, good-for nothing, misbehaving child of Mother—“
“Riddle-ryouchou! Housewarden! Queen!” Ace choked out any words that may appeal to the short boy that still stood negligently of his form, turned away as the rose bush roots swallowed him whole and grasped his throat with immeasurable strength—thus silencing him.
“Hm? Oh, my dear card soldier!” The overblotted monster cried out, turning around and at once having the roots release Ace, the ginger sputtering and coughing where he was choked before. Riddle came over to him and grasped the ginger’s body against his own small chest, Ace too busy heaving breaths to care that he was being snuggled to the rose-red tyrant. Riddle smiled against the first year’s hair, the sensation causing a chill to run down Ace’s spine. “Thank the Seven, you’re not too far gone and lost. I can still make this work, we can still make this work. Can’t we, Ace?” His housewarden giddily grinned, his clawed hands coming up to clasp Ace’s face to force him to stare up at the embodiment of the Queen of Hearts, clearly beyond jovial that he was finally referred to as a ‘queen’. He pressed a kiss to Ace’s forehead, this time much more gentle and soothing than his first, and Ace couldn’t fight back, sinking and relaxing into Riddle’s hold. The first-year didn’t understand how a being of such violence and monstrosity could procure such a soft and affectionate gesture. Was it because Riddle was truly calmed down now, did he finally find himself despite the blot? Was this really Riddle then, what he wanted to do and say to Ace? And he didn’t want to admit it, but the overwhelming amount of blot must curate some warmth because the monster he was snuggled with now was unbearably quite comfortable, despite him being nicked and scratched from head to toe from thorns and roses. Ace’s face was pressed together with Riddle’s hands, and he focused in on Riddle’s own slight inhale and exhale with his exposed chest. He was still human, this was still a human that clasped him so and was underneath the beast that had procured itself from his convoluted feelings and emotions. Although, before his dreary eyelids could shut from being hypnotized by the rose-red tyrant’s presence, Ace forced them open and shoved Riddle away, sloppily falling back onto the stone pavement in an exasperated exchange of motion.
“Get away… From me…” He heaved, fixing to stand up despite his injuries. “I can hardly stand my Housewarden, and you’re him but ten times worse. I’m not your little card soldier to play around with for stupid Unbirthday tea parties.” He muttered, breathing heavily.
“Nonsense.” Overblot Riddle smiled darkly, the blot monster behind him just as amused with the situation as the short redhead was. “I am your Queen, you said so yourself. Don’t worry, you won’t be alone. Trey and the others have already pledged their obedience. You’ll only be quite special to me… My Knave of Hearts.” Riddle’s thin arm then struck and grabbed Ace’s throat with uncanny strength, but released his grip before Ace could grab and swat it away. Suddenly, a light weight was placed upon his neck. Sweating, he felt around the choker’s design to see that it clearly matched Riddle’s own—a heart with dripping blot. His red eyes widened in horror, at the choker, at everything Riddle had done since the day Ace had stepped foot in Night Raven College.
He was a sadistic monstrosity.
The small boy was only cheerful smiles compared to the boiling awe that Ace was cooking underneath his skin. “Now we match~ A Queen and his favorite card soldier. A Queen of Hearts deserves his card of hearts, no?” He playfully pouted, but this time kept a respectable distance from Ace.
He thought of Riddle Rosehearts, a troubled and unkind student that takes out the stress he gets from his mother and projects it onto the students he claims he wants to protect and cherish. He looked at the overblotted monster with its shadowy, Queen figure that always stood just behind it. A figure born of the intense emotions that Riddle felt and experienced, an amalgamation of being betrayed by his Heartslabyul students and a criticism of his mother’s fearful teachings. Both insufferable beings, but one with the potential of being saved. Ace gritted his teeth, shakily standing and approaching Riddle on his own volition. Riddle’s grey eyes widened a little, his pretty lips parting ever so slightly in what looked like childlike excitement. With what he sparingly knew about Riddle’s background and childhood, perhaps this was a rare sight to be awed at and appreciated for its rarity. However, Ace was anything but it.
“Yes, my Queen.”