Chapter Text
The torchlight flickered against obsidian walls. ParrotX2's footsteps echoed through the prison corridor, each one a reminder that everything had changed. He was a king now. The crown sat heavy on his head, heavier still in his chest.
The celebration above had been loud. His allies had cheered his name. King ParrotX2. He'd smiled, waved, given the speech they all needed.
But the moment he could slip away, he had.
Now he stood before the iron door at the end of the corridor. Behind it sat the man who had nearly destroyed everything. The man who had twisted justice into a weapon. The man who, despite everything, Parrot couldn't bring himself to hate.
He pushed open the door.
The cell was bare. Just stone and cold air. (Parrot told himself he would get a bed in there soon.) LettuceK sat on the floor in the corner, knees drawn up, back against the wall. His caracal ears were flat against his skull. His eyes were closed like he was trying to shut out the world.
What remained of his tail lay motionless beside him.
Parrot's gaze caught there. The skeletal remains of what had once been a proud caracal's tail. Just bone now. Immobile. Broken. Half the length it should have been. He remembered that night with Fymada.
Flame's fire had charred the flesh beyond saving. Wemmbu's maces had shattered what remained. And Parrot had cut away the dead tissue with shaking hands while Fymada held Lettuce down.
We saved his life, he'd told himself.
Looking at it now, he wasn't sure if that had been mercy or cruelty.
Parrot stood in the doorway, watching. The rise and fall of Lettuce's chest. Steady.
Like a man meditating rather than a prisoner.
Then quietly, Parrot turned and sat down outside the cell. His back against the bars. His wings folded carefully.
The silence stretched between them.
Lettuce's ear twitched. Then the other. Slowly, his eyes opened. Green, dull where they'd once burned bright. They glowed in the dark a little. He didn't turn his head but Parrot could feel that gaze.
He looked miserable. Hollow. But he was quiet.
Minutes passed. Parrot closed his own eyes, head resting back against the cool iron. The celebration echoed faintly from above. Victory. Justice. A new beginning. But down here, in this cold cell, it all felt hollow.
"I just wanted to serve justice, Parrot."
The words came as a whisper. Soft and broken. There was no defiance in Lettuce's voice. Just regret. Raw and terrible.
Parrot's eyes opened. He stared at the stone ceiling.
"I know," he said.
The silence returned. Heavy and thick. Parrot could hear the distant drip of water somewhere in the prison's depths. Could hear Lettuce's breathing, shallow and controlled. Could hear his own heartbeat, steady in his ears.
He thought about the vote. That moment when they'd all stood there, weapons drawn. Lettuce standing in the center his armour stripped and his tail barely attached, bleeding and ruined. Execute him or let him live. It had been close. So close.
Wemmbu had been the tiebreaker. Wemmbu, who had every reason to want Lettuce dead. Standing with his maces in hand, both weapons stained with Lettuce's blood.
Parrot shifted against the bars. His wings shuffled.
The familiar phantom pain of something lost and adapted to. He'd learned to fly again, in his own way. Found a new path forward when the old one was taken from him.
Maybe Lettuce could do the same.
The thought felt strange. Generous, maybe too generous. But sitting here in the quiet, Parrot couldn't help but remember the person Lettuce had been before. The friend who had lived alongside him once. Who had genuinely wanted to protect people.
"Your intentions weren't wrong," Parrot said quietly.
Lettuce's head turned slightly. Not enough to look at him, but enough to show he was listening.
"You wanted to protect people. You wanted justice. You wanted to make the server safe." Parrot's voice was soft. "Those weren't wrong goals, Lettuce. They were good. They were right."
"Then how did I—" Lettuce's voice cracked. He stopped.
"It was the way you did it." Parrot closed his eyes again.
Lettuce was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "I thought I was doing the right thing. Every single time, I thought—" He broke off with a bitter laugh. "But that's the problem, isn't it? I never stopped to question whether I should have that power at all."
"You were a good person," Parrot said. The words felt important somehow. Like they needed to be said. "You still are, underneath all of this. The person who wanted to help people—that was real. That mattered."
"Does it matter if the result was the same?" Lettuce's destroyed tail scraped against stone as he shifted. "Good intentions don't undo the harm I caused."
"No. They don't." Parrot opened his eyes, staring at the flickering torchlight on the ceiling. "But they mean you can understand what went wrong. They mean you can learn from it. Maybe even—" He paused. "Maybe even help others avoid the same mistakes."
Silence fell again. Deeper this time. Parrot could feel Lettuce thinking, processing. The caracal hybrid's ears twitched occasionally, the only sign of movement.
"I'm scared," Lettuce whispered finally. "I'm scared that it doesn't matter. That good intentions mean nothing when the outcome is evil. That I'm just... beyond redemption."
"I don't think anyone is beyond redemption." Parrot's voice was firm. "Redemption doesn't mean the consequences go away. It doesn't mean you're forgiven by everyone you hurt. But it means you can try to be better. Even from here. Even from a cell."
"How?" The word came out desperate. "How do I do that when I'm locked away from the world?"
Parrot thought about that. About the crown on his head and the responsibility it carried. About the fears he had of becoming what Lettuce became.
"You remember," he said slowly. "You remember what it felt like to lose your way. And when I come to visit—" He paused. "When I come to visit, you remind me. You help me stay on the right path."
"You'd trust me to do that?" Lettuce's voice was thick with emotion. "After everything?"
"I'd trust you to know what not to do." Parrot smiled slightly, even though Lettuce couldn't see it. "You paid the price for that knowledge. Might as well use it for something good."
Lettuce let out a shaky breath. It might have been a laugh or a sob or something in between. "That's more mercy than I deserve."
"Maybe." Parrot shrugged, wings shifting on his back. "But I'm going to give it anyway."
The silence that followed was different. Softer somehow. Less fraught with anger and pain. Parrot felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The crown still sat heavy on his head, but the weight felt a bit more bearable.
He thought about the server above. About all the people who were counting on him now. About the responsibility he'd accepted. About the dangers of power and certainty and believing too strongly in your own righteousness.
Lettuce had been a cautionary tale. A warning. But he'd also been a friend once. And maybe, just maybe, he could be something useful again. Not free, not forgiven by everyone, but purposeful. A reminder of what could go wrong when good intentions met unchecked power.
"I should go," Parrot said finally. He stood slowly, his joints protesting from sitting on cold stone. "They'll be wondering where I went."
"Of course." Lettuce's voice was quiet. "You should be celebrating."
"Yeah." Parrot moved toward the door, then paused. His hand on the iron handle. The torchlight cast long shadows across the cell.
He turned back slightly. Not enough to look directly at Lettuce, but enough to show he was listening.
The silence stretched. Then Lettuce spoke, his voice soft but clear.
"You'll— You are a good king, ParrotX2. Go make Unstable proud."
The words settled over Parrot like a benediction. Like a passing of something important from one person to another. He felt the weight of them in his chest, heavy and real.
He smiled.
"I'll try," he said simply.
Then he walked out of the room.
The door closed behind him with a quiet click. The lock engaged with a soft sound that echoed through the corridor. Parrot stood there for a moment, hand still on the door, feeling the cool metal beneath his palm.
Then he turned and walked toward the stairs.