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Emperor Darkstalker was the size of a mountain. There was no debate about that, it simply was a fact of the universe at this point. But of course when the emperor bent the rules of reality on a whim, facts were useless. Case in point, the emperor had enchanted himself to always fit in places, but to be bigger than anyone else in said places as to increase his “intimidation factor and aura tenfold”. When his palace was being designed, rooms were to be made “Normal in size, but large in emotional depth for intimacy.” This is something that no architect or construction worker could determine the proper meaning of so Darkstalker simply projected that knowledge directly into their minds. When the topic of his bedroom came up, he simply said, “I’ll handle it.” No-one understood what that meant, but no-one had the agency or time to ask, as the royal scribe would regularly burst into meetings constantly to complain about “underwater root vegetable metaphors” and other topics of similar nonsense. In reality Darkstalker’s bedroom, his real bedroom, not the one in the palace, lay in a pocket dimension so he could go to bed at his proper size. A bedroom of his proper mountainous size would be too large to keep in the narrow confines of Pyrrhia, the world didn’t need a fourth moon. Usually this fact didn’t really affect him, but ever since him and Turtle had become more and more intimate. The inevitable idea of sharing a bedroom had been looming closer and closer despite his efforts to ignore it. That’s how the Tyrant had found himself properly stupefied at the Breakfast table that morning.
“Excuse me?” He asked, wondering if he was hearing things.
“I want to share a bedroom with you.” Turtle repeated adamantly.
“Are you sure?” Darkstalker asked once more, hoping the Moons would do him a favor.
“Of course!” The Seawing replied, his voice keeping its determined tone. Darkstalker gave him a defeated look. “I guess you seem uncharacteristically hesitant.” His tone shifted. “Do you not want to? I thought you’d be incredibly enthusiastic about the idea.”
“I’m a little worried.” He said. “Wow, I haven’t been uncertain before, is this how you feel all the time?”
“You’re deflecting.” Turtle noted astutely. “If you’re really concerned, then I won’t bother you again.” He said with a smile. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
“No, I think I am. We can sleep together tonight.” Their day continued on like normal. Turtle was working on something he was writing and occasionally Darkstalker would harass him with enchanted pottery. But eventually the sun passed the horizon and the world began its nighttime stupor. Darkstalker tried to hide in the dark shade of a corner from Turtle, but he was far too big to fit, and Turtle has Night-vision anyway, so his attempt didn't matter in the end. He gave in easily as he guided Turtle towards his bedroom. He knocked on the door dramatically and a portal opened that they stepped through. Darkstalker immediately grew to his full size and Turtle became the size of his palm. Turtle looked very startled. “I’m sorry, is this too much?” Darkstalker asked.
“It’s fine… it just surprised me.” Turtle said, a grin coming to his face. “I want you to feel comfortable as your true self around me.” Turtle began flying and it took a minute for Turtle to actually reach the mattress. “I might need some help, though.” Darkstalker placed a claw out in front of the Seawing who climbed into his palm. He climbed onto the bed himself and laid down. “You’re kind of just a big friendly giant.”
“I’m sure the Icewing’s tired tap-dancing talons would disagree.” He quipped. “How do you want to do this?” He asked as he awkwardly shuffled into the center of the bed while balancing Turtle in his claw.
“Well, I want to cuddle.” Turtle answered, Darkstalker had to really strain his ears to hear him. It took Turtle a long moment, but eventually he flew and reached the center of Darkstalker’s chest. He pat Darkstalker’s scales beneath him like it was a pillow he was fluffing up. “Aren’t you going to make a quip about your perfectly sculpted chest, or something?”
“That would be in character.” He replied. “I’m experiencing performance anxiety, I suppose.”
“Well don’t worry, I think your titties are magnificent.”
“Well I already know that.” Darkstalker sighed. “Sleeping normally with someone else is weird… it’s strangely…”
“Domestic?” Turtle finished.
“Yeah.” Darkstalker was the Scourge of Seventeen Realms, The Terror of Icewing Dance Regiments, The Emperor of the World. Yet he had met his match, being normal. “That sounds about right. I’m also just… tired.”
“Then let's rest.” Darkstalker laid his head back against the small-town-sized-pillows at Turtle’s command, dulling himself to sleep with the quiet drone of Turtle’s Skyfire protected mind. Darkstalker was typically a still sleeper, always waking up in the same position as he fell into slumber. But as he woke up he realized one thing.
He had rolled over.
He frantically shot out of the bed, searching the white comforter for any splotches of green, or Moons forbid, red.
He found nothing.
Three Moons, the bed was so massive there could be an entire civilization of hole-dwelling Spiderwings in the mattress, or a colony of Scavengers who fled the Scorching by teleporting in there and they took Turtle. Or… or… or…
He sent out for help immediately. An expedition led by Moonwatcher delved into the depths of the bed, searching for the lost Prince Consort. He sobbed the only way he knew how, dramatically. He lounged against a falling sofa, with the back of his claw against his forehead. “Oh my poor husband.” He cried, completely genuine. Seventeen Skywings titled the “Handkerchief Commandos” flew a comically large cloth to Darkstalker’s face and wiped his tears.
Darkstalker, I found something. Moon’s voice rang through his head. His eyes shot open and a teardrop was flung fast at one of the Skywings holding the cloth. It hit him and he fell from the sky.
“Dear God.” Said one of the Skywings in a gruff voice. “Stay strong men, it’s what Ryan would’ve wanted.”
“Remember meeeeeeeeee!” Ryan called out as he fell from the sky, only to land on a pillow and bounce pitifully. “Wait, actually I’m fine.”
What is it Moon? Darkstalker asked through his thoughts. Have you found my terribly tiny husband yet?
No, but I found a lot of beets. She answered. Barry, the eldritch monstrosity that I can communicate with that IPCAS has forgotten about but Dgsruby hasn’t, says this is the work of the Beet Farmers Group.
Yes I suppose that would be the natural conclusion. Please only contact me if you’ve found my mortally miniature partner.
Barry says the Beet Farmers Group are an ancient enemy of all reality and that we should—
I’m ignoring you.
No wait please this is critical—
Darkstalker shoved a talon in both of his ears. La la la, I can’t hear you! Suddenly Foeslayer burst into the room carrying a tray of Piña Coladas.
“Sweetheart, I heard about the situation and I decided that bringing a rum-based cocktail with coconut milk and pineapple juice was the best choice.” She began to pass the piña coladas out to the Handkerchief Commandos. The one who previously called out took his before sighing and pouring it out.
“I’m pouring one out for Ryan.” He explained and the others soon followed. “I’ll miss him forever.”
“I’m right here you assholes.” He lifted his claws in defense. “Now you’ve dropped alcohol all over me for no good reason.”
“I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.”
“Thank you Mama.” Darkstalker took a drink from Foeslayer, it was tiny in his talons and he sipped at it lightly. “I really needed this.”
“What happened to your scarily small boyfriend?” She asked.
“Despite being pathetically portable he insisted on sleeping with me and now we’ve lost him in the eternal liminal backroom that is my mattress.” He explained. “All because I rolled in my sleep.”
“True, he is worryingly weeny.”
“Lamentably little.”
“Regrettably runtful.”
I’m a little hungry.
Sush Moon. Darkstalker commanded. Have you found my scarily small boyfriend yet?
You already used that one. She commented. And no I haven’t, but I just heard—Oh! A Scavenger! There was a pause and then some chewing noises. Stringy. Then another pause. Don’t tell Winter.
“Well I hope you weren’t up to any gadzookery in that bed while he was so small.” Foeslayer scolded.
“We didn't, it's not a bed for gadzookery.”
“I never even told him…” Said the leader of the Handkerchief Commandos.
“Told me what Sarge?”
“That I loved him.”
“Oh shit, fr?”
Good news!
You found my irritably infinitesimal companion?
No but I have slain a Beet Farmer. I spit at thee Dwight Schrute.
Dammit Moon!
“What’s bothering you honey?” Turtle asked, walking into the room holding a plate with scrambled eggs.
“I lost my ex-tsundare twink in the infinite dimensions that exist in my mattress.”
“That’s rough buddy.” Turtle sympathized. “Let me know if you find him.” Then he walked back out of the room.
“It occurs to me that we made a whole bit about coming up with alliterative and demeaning “puny” nicknames for your normal sized partner.” Foeslayer observed and Darkstalker gave her a look with an eye that was bigger than her entire body. “Just a thought.”
“I feel like I’m missing something.” Darkstalker expressed, “Like there’s something obvious right in front of me and I’m forgetting it.”
“Well, if it was important, you probably wouldn’t have forgotten about it.” Turtle said, reentering the room, this time with orange juice. “Still looking for your Twink?”
“Yeah, I’ve got Moon on the prowl.”
Darkstalker?
Yes Moon.
Because I slayed the evil Beet Farmer, now this small kingdom of Spiderwings is marrying me to their Prince for freeing them from slavery, or something.
I don’t care.
I mean I might actually just marry him and stay here now. She expressed. He’s kind of roguishly handsome. She paused. Don’t tell Qibli.
“And also, I’m pregnant.” Said Sarge.
“But you’re a guy.” Comment Ryan. “AND, we’re lizards. You’d be gravid.”
“It’s Ryan’s baby.”
“HOW, we’ve never had sex.”
“I fear we may have lost the plot.” Expressed Darkstalker.
“How so?” Asked Foeslayer, who had suddenly put on clown makeup.
“Darkstalker it’s me!” Shouted Moon, who burst out of a portal. “I’m from thirty minutes in the future you forgot—” Another Moon burst out of a similar portal.
“Darkstalker! It’s been twenty years.” She shouted, much older than the other. “That’s an impostor sent by Skynet to kill Sarge to stop John Connor from being born.”
“Darkstalker!” Shouted a third Moon who burst out of a third portal. “How are you, it’s been a while?”
“I think I miss my wife.” Darkstalker sighed. “I miss him a lot.”
“Oh that’s today!” Said the third Moon, who ducked as a blast of fire was shot from the second Moon at the first Moon. She turned her head to the left and Turtle handed her a glass of orange juice “I’m just going to give you a second.”
Darkstalker looked at Moon, then at Turtle, then at Ryan, then Sarge, back at Turtle, the the fighting Moons, back at Turtle again, to his mother who had thrown a cream pie at the members of the Handkerchief Commandos, back at Moon, to a barbershop quartet of Icewings who he’d refused to acknowledge initially, towards the mattresses, at the breakfast that was set on a plate on the bed, back at Turtle.
Turtle.
Turtle!
He dived at Turtle and wrapped him in his talons. Turtle yelped as he was picked up. “My terribly tiny, mortally miniature, scarily small, worryingly weeny, lamentably little, regrettably runtful, irritably infinitesimal, companion,” Darkstalker rambled. “WHERE WERE YOU?” Several members of the Handkerchief Commandos were sent flying by the force.
“I made breakfast.” Turtle answered, gesturing towards the table he’d been setting this whole time. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay everyone out!” Darkstalker commanded. All three Moons disappeared back into portals. The Handkerchief Commandos left for Ryan’s funeral and Ryan left to speak to HR. Foeslayer rode out on a unicycle chasing the Icewing quartet while throwing pies. Peril, who had only just arrived, set something on fire, then promptly left. “I thought I turned over in my sleep and crushed you into the infinite dimensions of my bed.”
“You probably could’ve just used magic to determine my location.”
“Ah.” Darkstalker realized. “That would’ve been more efficient.”
“I thought you’d resort to that first.”
“I think I have a hard time being small.” He shared. “Not literally of course, I can change size at will.” He began to grow and shrink randomly and rapidly. “Woo, look at me go.” He then paused around Turtle’s height. “But that’s besides the point. I don’t know if I can be… small? Meek? Not-a-drama-queen?” Turtle placed a talon on his face and embraced him in a kiss.
“If I was at all bothered that you were too dramatic, I probably would’ve jumped off a balcony a long time ago.” He assured Darkstalker morbidly. “You can be whatever, I just want you to be you.” Darkstalker took the hint and returned to his full size.
If you two are going to fuck, please remember that I now live in the mattress and will be in immense danger if it shakes too much.