Chapter Text
His velvety hair swayed along the chilly breeze proceeding from the thin ventilation opening facing his back. Shot with that sense of clarity the wind carried away, he continued forming thoughts over the walls of his empire, looking specifically nowhere but over everything, swinging his legs from time to time to stimulate his limbs, previously restless from having coursed miles away on a mission to recruit villagers.
He raised a hand, let it hover in the air, mentally caressing the sight of the living population ahead of him before dragging it just an inch down and pulling it back over his head, brushing the outer skin of his scalp as he compressed part of his hair. His fingers continued to run through his olive-colored hair with bleached-side strands as, just this once, he drifted his gaze back down to his own hanging leather shoes, comparing the height of the ground to his current position. Just the drop of a tear interrupted this vision, for a mere second.
Not that he was sad; his eyes were simply naturally streaked with tears. It was a trait he had been born with he couldn’t possibly get rid of, and it was somehow quite salubrious to him if you think about it. He had to get rid of all the excess highly mineralised water on his body anyway, and this one way worked. ‘That’s plausible’, he thought on his own.
Another drop, staining the artificial skin fabric over the top of his toes. Froggy barely lifted his head up; the fall and tilted angle of his skull eventually made his eyes get even more watery. I guess a bit was nice, but crying too much will just end up drying him up. He skipped that inconvenience.
Then a sound, akin to a quiet, thoughtful growl, resonated through his entrails, vibrating against his stomach, crawling up to his chest as soon as he squinched. He was arguably far enough up for the fall to be classified as mortal. The thought drummed in every inch of his brain as he correlated mortality with his rival, now seeming to show up unannounced in his mind, almost instinctively.
He’d imagine pushing him off the edge, plausibly gesturing at a natural, proud smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, mockingly, as he watched him fall, and somehow, stupidly enough, try to reach back up helplessly at the shadows of his figure, almost believing he had a chance to drag himself back up at his own feet before finally hitting the ground with the most satisfying crunch he had ever heard in his lifetime. Crushed by gravity, crushed as his loud and annoying ego would be.
Yeah, he had a scenario planned for every chance he had to murder him. It was amusing, even to himself; Despite not being excessively into killing people as he was, which was a huge lie coming from him, he still felt that huge relief when picturing the other’s finally, soon-to-be-achieved death.
If that was even possible.
Now, we’re talking about Froggydude and Grox’s bitter rivalry.
It’s Froggydude we’re watching dangle from one of the towers facing his underground civilisation, hidden beneath glowberry strings and vines, occasionally stained and peppered with the soft pollen dust of spore blossoms. Sometimes he imagined little flowers growing from the bits in his hair, although they never really did; it was against nature’s way. It was common sense even; they deserved firm soil to land and develop, just to slightly appeal a little differently than the original product. Height and direction influenced their production tons.
Sometimes he even wondered if his own villagers had once ever dreamed about being gardeners and botanists, just to grow millions equal to the flowers dangling over the empire. They hardly made Frog remember his home, and that slight bit made him like them even more. That’s a reason why he never really paid much mind to the stains in his hair, and however that substance proceeded from clumps of pollen made his hair stickier. He was rather used to it from birth, almost.
Something about even thinking about it eased his shoulders from tensing up against his will. It was certainly a deserved break after even opening the doors of his imagination to Grox’s figure. He flinched his head backwards, expressing disgust through the stick of his tongue and the clicking of his teeth, dismissing his rival’s “mighty” figure. Despite this just being another challenge experience after a bunch more featuring Grox in them, he had already grown tired enough to stand his presence for another second. He made sure to make that show.
Now, there he was. Dusted over with pollen like a seasoned chicken, hidden under herbs like a camouflaged soldier, watching over his villagers with keen eyes. He wouldn’t let himself lose any of his hard work against that mediocre excuse for a wither skeleton, no, never. ‘Not in a million years’, he croaked quietly in annoyance.
And he really wasn’t planning to. He leaned back, shifting the weight in the air holding him from falling as he pushed his shoes against the quartz bricks of the walls, kicking them and wasting their outer layers progressively as he pondered, and pondered.
Nothing cut him off from his thoughts other than the occasional shift in ambience. Leaves fell over him from time to time, making him shiver at the unexpected but constant strokes, shift uncomfortably in his seat, or simply flick them off of him with quick, deliberate moves. He’d also sometimes get distracted by the blow of the wind against his skin, pouncing at him with a sudden freeze that gave him goosebumps. He managed to wonder how far down they actually were and how, however the vents worked down here, the cold just didn’t filter and bit at them like leeches, at everybody. It was startling at times, but he’d also grow used to it.
‘Would Grox adapt equally to these changes as I do?’ He pretended to mutter in his head, reaching up high enough to twirl a glowberry vine around his index finger, the membranes hidden between the flesh of his finger structures translucent to the light the berries emitted. He began twisting until he helplessly twitched under the layers, struggling to articulate, covered by a dimmer shade of green, different to his skin tone, provoked by the long, rope-like plant.
He played for a bit before he slowly pulled away, untangling himself from the glowberry stem and sagging leaves. ‘Probably not’. He analyzed the glowberry dust the stems squeezed out against the palmar side of his index finger, barely squinting and dilating his pupils at the sight. For having such a complex nature of surviving in places like these, there really was no other way to elaborate their own pollen without the shine penetrating the core of his eyeball?
Frog was light-sensitive, really light-sensitive. He had figured this out the first time he got flash-banged. That hurt. Now glowberries, despite their admittedly pretty looks and dim lights on the fruit, had extremely bright pollen that hurt Frog’s eyes, making them burn for a brief period of time. He couldn’t stand looking at them for a moment too long.
He dismissively rubbed the pollen off his hand, stretching his hand out into the air, making sure it fell directly over the gardens in front of the castle walls for better pollination, despite it not exactly growing downside up on the grass. His pupils caught the flicker and sprinkles, bouncing light against one another in reflecting dashes that did him no good, as expected.
Without a rush, he turned his head to the side forty degrees, avoiding staring directly at his own hands for a second as he sighed.
And that singular thought sneaked into the back of his head before he could stop it. It seemed genuine, almost harmless, despite the chewing it did on his cerebral cortex. ‘He would like these’, almost hesitatingly precarious, he stabilized himself. Maybe he was thinking enough of him; maybe he disliked the shine in a way that reminded him of Grox, but he didn’t.
Froggy just couldn’t tolerate it at best, and imagined that was the case. He tied two points together for their slightest similarities, eventually scoring hints of genuine enmity towards his adversary, a rancor he was already aware of. Not that the poor berries were at fault; he just pitied the lame dictator for dragging across reasons to be just a little more irritated at his smallest inconveniences.
And he did that all too well, too.
It was infuriating, even.
— What a killjoy. — He rubbed his eyes only after successfully and entirely dusting off his hands of the remaining bits of pollen that had stuck to him. — Can he stop already? It’s starting to get annoying.
Frog continued to blame Grox, despite having been the one to elaborate on this situation. He huffed, dropping his head over his shoulder, defeated, as he shifted again, resting his hands over his legs, curling them into fists even after having supposedly calmed himself down. He didn’t budge, not a second before increasing the side of his throat in excess, bloating and croaking with certainty as he sighed.
Well, maybe his reason for resisting these ideas was fair enough to correlate them with the time they were holding hands with none other than the greatest outcome: the skeleton’s death. That sudden rush of adrenaline melted into relief at having gotten through his rarest and hardest achievement- the pride, the joy, all just to be quickly erased with the knowledge of another, yet-upcoming heartbeat from the dictator himself, the sight of his struggle to get up, that visible shock in his eyes; and gratitude to whatever gods he followed for having saved his life. His downfall followed by his comeback- that was what made his entire team’s effort of sneaking into the grand speech event in his territory and loading a gun aimed at his head practically useless.
And just that specifically: the sight of his disbelief, the way Grox looked around the stage, almost trying to land his eyes on the Frog himself just to share his incredulity at his failure. Oh, that made Froggy go mad.
But before he could stretch out his anger and grunt on his own at how that event reversal struck him, he realized he genuinely didn’t have to feel this way. Eventually, he’ll work his way through things and take Grox down; he just needed time. He understood that as far as the concern went.
With the flick of his eye shut at the breeze quickly surrounding him, he took a sharp breath in and pushed himself upwards, kneeling over the quartz brick wall stirred in Persian green, Greek-like pattern waves that crawled their way up to resemble fences in the wall, sprinkling them with slight decoration as the rest remained pretty much white.
The wasted bricks on the opening Froggy had sat on by the wall were subtly more notable after his break. He didn’t bother looking down at their state by now.
His suit flowed back down, contouring his figure as the slight folds caused by his previous sitting position melted over him. Their traces were almost visible but not entirely; just their lingering texture and presence followed the way it once scrunched. Froggy mimicked them with his nose instead, apparent in a superficial look of bother to all guests who decided to step through and hold a conversation with him, during his upcoming five seconds of recomposing himself and taking control from possibly freaking out again.
He watched just then again, for a fraction of time before he caught yet another sound, unfamiliar. His door was knocked on this time, the sound echoing past his chamber, stepping through like the arrival of a jury on judgement day, possibly quested to strike Froggy down that very same moment.
Froggy chose to sway his feet in place, holding himself back from opening the door for what felt like a lifetime. He knew whatever was on the other side would practically be harmless. Inside his empire, he was safe, safe for as long as he knew, and Grox? His only threat, he had no way to get at him.
Then, he walked past the pillars that held the opening to the tower, connected to one of the castle chambers by a short arched bridge, equally founded in quartz, white pavement, and bricks, surrounded by vines and flower pots, fed by the humidity that filtered and fell in the area, belonging to the various cave systems adjacent to the underground kingdom.
Inside the chamber, one of the smallest chandeliers hung from the ceiling, with the glass pieces tied to the top reflecting sparkling lights all around what seemed like a meeting hall. The chairs stuck out in darker woods, and the table aligned with their styling. A thin coat of linen hung from it, moss colored with lily stitches at the borders, compressed by certain scattered books over. He passed each of them.
Every approach took another step further to the door, until he opened it himself, letting his hand drop over the golden handle as he pulled it towards his stomach, peeking his head from the side curiously, eyeing for visitors, expecting them.
But no one came by.
Instead, a letter fell to his feet, dragged by the smallest remains of wind curling up around it, formed by the door slide.
He stared down at it.
— What’s this? — Froggy took one last look around outside of the chamber, first to the left, running his gaze across the lighter hallway, then to the right, facing the steps of the carpeted staircase leading down to different sections of the castle itself.
There was nobody around, to no surprise. He bent down this once, reaching out a hand towards the top of the letter, slightly sticking it to his fingers and palm as he held it carefully, wary of not dropping it a first time.
He inspected the letter, tucked inside a soft paper wrapping, sealed with a wax logo he found rather fancy. A red carving of a rosemary stem, slightly hinting at colored bits under the wax, tearing at the edges. He presumed the actual plant had been imprisoned under the layers to build that structure.
It had also been sprinkled with golden dust around the edges, each corner standing its ground. He caressed the edge of the envelope, and chose to open it sitting at one of the chairs that rested behind him by the meeting hall. Reading would take time, it always does, and he imagined no less from a letter this prepared to be opened.
He dragged himself away from the door, shutting it after his slow swaying, tilting his head towards the design just one last time before lifting his gaze back up at his way, following the chartreuse carpet under his feet, rubbing his heels before shifting his body weight against the backrest of the first chair he got to.
He sighed, stuffing his chest with time he had sworn to have wasted pacing around, taking a second breath before further commenting.
— Is this an invitation of some sort? This looks so fancy. — Frog chuckled through the air in his lungs, slightly tilting his torso forwards until his elbows touched the corner of the tablecloth. — Is it for me?
He dared to take one last glance around, expecting watching eyes to arrive and snap at him with assertive “ That’s mine! “ exclamations, but to no avail, nobody came again.
It was just him. — ..I might as well. — ‘Nobody even delivered it properly anyway; I should just take a look inside and give it to whoever it belongs to. Right, that’s a good idea’ Froggy muttered to his brain cells as he leaned down a step and began scratching at the wax that sealed it.
‘Well, maybe it’s for me.’ He’d attempted to guess as the envelope fractured, ripping under Froggy’s touch. The amphibian had been a little rough with it, as he ended up trashing the excess away and curling the edges of the actual deal inside the wrapper. Wasting time carefully sticking off the wax was of no use to him in moments like these; instead, he got it dealt with the fastest way possible.
— ...Your Highness, this is an invitation... Who the fuck wrote this shit? — Frog squinted his eyes as he read the fancy cursive tracing the front page of the letter, his thumb merely stained with fresh ink. Had this been written recently? Ah, maybe it’s the humidity of the place ruining the hard work.
It read, just then:
Your Highness,
This is an invitation to arrive at the community ball taking place at the Riverside Castle, hosted by Our Royal Highness PrinceZam to better introduce herself to his neighboring empires.
It would be a pleasure to have you turn up for this event; your presence is greatly respected in our land, and we ensure our other guests will have a great time getting to know you better.
This way, we support familiarization between the territories on our lands, while also having enough to amuse us all. We will then, by the time our castle doors open, be offering treats and dances to all who decide to show up. You’ll only be surrounded by figures as important as yours.
We look forward to the pleasure of your company next Friday, 10th February, at said castle, Riverside Springs, under PrinceZam’s empire, at 6:20 in the evening.
I have the honour to remain, Sir Froggydude, your Royal Highness’s most devoted.
PrinceZam.
— ... How the fuck did this guy get my address? — His heartbeat accelerated. He frantically paused before tilting the letter to the side along his head. — I mean, it’s nice, but I don’t have time for this.
He licked the inside of his mouth as he deciphered the letter further. He firmly stretched the paper as he turned it to the other side, reading blank over and through to hopefully encounter any additional messages behind the epistle he didn’t quite need but would suffice to distract himself from genuinely taking an opinion on it.
Instead, he met another rosemary stitched to the back, sewed on in ink and watercolor, presumably an expensive brand of colors to begin with. If PrinceZam had enough time to write in such an intricate handwriting, and stamp every envelope with that leaf, he had enough to waste on making something as precious.
Yeah, Froggy had to admit, the whole invitation ordeal had a nice touch to it. It’s unfortunate he’s in the middle of a war and does not have leisure to show up at the castle.
Nonetheless, he knew where this ball was located. He had been around the different civilisations all over the world, and knew all too well about PrinceZam’s empire. It’s the uncertainty, the lack of time, and the distrust he held towards the prince himself for having somehow found a way to deliver this letter at the hidden underground castle that prevented him from leaving and taking a look at whatever they had to offer.
The amphibian still had to deal with the wither skeleton either way, so it was a no. If only the events were displaced to a different week, different month, sometime his hundred days challenge wasn’t being active, he’d think it through, just maybe.
He wasn’t too into huge parties one way or another, so it’d be hard to get him in. Right now? Impossible.
— Sorry, Zam. — He folded the letter in half as it had previously been, then fit it into the remains of the envelope scattered across the meeting hall. He left it on the table just then, hastily forgetting to even save it elsewhere safer from the public as he gave up.
Froggydude, after, lifted his body, equally abandoning his seat as he stepped in a different direction, heading for the pretty hallways in his castle instead of slacking off for another few hours over the walls of the quartz tower connected to it.
His shoes dragged as, finally, the door, now open, shut after him.
Staring at the top carved designs on the ceiling, he turned right, his lucky side, heading elsewhere but towards the staircase on the left side. He wanted to continue looking around, as he’d only been here for fifteen days.
He dropped his hands on his sides, as he measuredly dragged his left across the room, caressing the layers of the waterfall-looking, pristine white colored blinds that hung from the top of the windows facing the core of the building; Behind the view, a garden that escalated over the walls, with different floors and hanging fruits from trees, trees a few villagers were watering and caring for.
The light entered the windows, half naturally generated by the same glowberries on the rocky, mossy ceiling of the empire, half artificial lighting. He pulled his gaze away, half-lidded eyes scanning his path as his figure fit under an arched door opening leading to a different area of the castle. This one was spread out better, followed by a staircase in the middle, surrounded by light oak fences, equally covered with a darker shade of green in the cloths that covered their upper.
He slightly shifted to the side, offering himself a better look at the staircase's landing. They stopped one floor down, followed by the same stairs contouring the previous ones to deeper grounds, somewhere around two floors away. They probably followed their course until they reached ground level, eventually dragging people over the carpet designs until the lobby of the palace.
Froggy gulped at his own saliva, tucking his tongue under his palate as he stepped back, landing both hands over said fences. He stared up and watched the paint of the placed paintings covering bricks on the wall melt over one another, shining against reflected light, giving a spotlight to the people framed in them.
One had a biblical design of two angels reaching out to each other, one being Froggy with white wings almost holding the hand of a villager icon with two moles on his nose. He admired it for a second before turning to another painting, dismissing the way he only had a strap of white cloth over him.
The second was one of Froggy again, this time hunched back, stabbing a long and brute-looking sharp sword right at a fallen Grox’s chest, stepping over him as if he were nothing of a matter to him, nothing meaningful, no more than a particle of dust yet to be cleaned off a countertop.
That one accurately represented their situation at the moment. He watched Grox’s expression, almost amused; he wondered if he’d get a chance to see this scene happen in action soon, just in first person.
A grin bothered its way over Froggy’s lips, grounding him with a sense of delight.
— He’d deserve it.
He scanned the art further, his eyes locked on Grox’s voidish representation of a visage, looking mortified. His pupils ran to gaze back at his chest, ripped and clawed by Froggy’s blade, bleeding some sort of lava-colored, blaze-powdered blood. ‘Does he really bleed like that?’ He tried to recall, imagining the shape of a roughed-up Grox struggling to stand up behind rubble after that same explosion his baby had caused to cover him up, shooting right at his head.
Right at his head… He continued visualizing Grox’s figure for the next few minutes, occasionally tidying up his murder attempting ideas, conceiving.
The way his arms trembled, the way he coughed back, holding his chest, hiding his face from the public before dragging that stupid smirk on his face for as long as possible, but Froggy had seen that crack in his facade, that moment of panic in his eyes consuming him as soon as he realized he was still alive.
The wood under his force-intensifying fists made a creaking sound, waking him up.
Froggydude halted, staring down at it and letting go quickly enough to watch for any cracks, but he didn’t seem to find any. He sighed, letting go of his previous thoughts after the sound had startled him.
— Well, I’ll be damned. — He muttered, adjusting the crown on his head as he clicked his teeth together. He stared ahead. — I need to get rid of him already. — The Frog admitted, finding it a certain nuisance to have Grox’s unfinished death roam around his head, settling in his lobe like a house of his own.
— I hate this, damn!
After protesting and raising his voice just enough for it to echo across the hallways that connected to the room, a smaller, nasal voice interrupted Froggy’s agitated trance.
— Daddy?
Baby villager. Froggy tilted his head forwards before shifting the weight on his shoulder down to his hips, looking over his back as he scanned the kid’s silhouette, standing over the ground aligning with the curved arch of the doorway behind him.
— Yo, baby villager! — The amphibian greeted, waving a hand as he fully looked down at the kid; He instinctively crouched on his knees to his level, expecting a high five from the younger villager.
Well, Frog wasn’t even sure if he truly was an infant or the spirit of a drip god taken over an orphan’s body. The things he did in their shared daily days were one big hint to doubt that. I mean, It’s crazier when you notice his death metal voice changes and the way he actually hits 360 no-scope snipe shots at his targets. He was no natural baby, for sure.
— What’s up? Any news?
The kid slid on his feet, occasionally skipping his way to Froggy, finally reaching up to his hand and hitting the high five with an unusual force. — Not really, everything’s alright down at the village, — The kid commented, later describing the current situation of the civilisation; Or rather, rambling about his own experiences around it.
— I actually dissed an iron golem. He was being mean!
— …You did? — A chuckle escaped the frog’s throat, he instinctively reached up to his lips, almost shielding his laughter.
— Yeah! I shot him down. — The infant watched with a plain face, waiting for an approving reaction, but instead:
— You did?! Baby villager, you can’t do that!
— He got on my nerves!
— We need them for security.
— We don’t need that many, no one’s gonna find us anyway!
— Grox might! — Froggy ran a hand over his face, inhaling sharply and breathing out the same air as he eased the weight the baby’s actions gave him. — You can’t be that reckless around here, baby villager..
He let go of his face, his then-spread fingers curling back up into a fist he let float just a few inches from his jaw he’d now adjust uncomfortably as he looked down at his adopted kid.
— Listen, I get you, but now’s not the time; we gotta focus, alright?
— …Okay, Daddy — The kid’s voice gruffled a little before he smiled back at his tutor, his eyes squinting as he rubbed at his bigger nose.
Froggy, lacking one himself, simply watched, croaking lightly in approval at their agreement as he lifted himself back up, standing over his feet, and merely swinging his body weight backwards.
— Specifically on training our people for the big day — Froggy admitted, raising a hand to support his chin as the words settled in the air between them. — He’s still alive out there, and we gotta get the job done.
Part of him retained to the letter he had received previous to his encounter with the baby villager, that fancy invitation to the hosted masquerade he hadn’t yet told anybody about, since he gave it little to no importance.
To be fair, despite it being a less likely spot to catch up to Grox, he did have a chance to wander around and step back from business for a bit, maybe even recruit more people and make deals with different kingdoms to take Froggy down. The thought icked back at him, stitching discomfort in every inch of his muscles in the shape of the skeleton’s superiority.
He despised believing there was a chance he plotted this through, even more the possibilities of an invitation to have fallen at the doorsteps of his castle. That damned hellish structure he remembered as nothing but the final destination of those who lacked the resources needed to pay their part of their stay at the kingdom.
That bloodshedding cruelty prison, home of the greedy, stupid, idiotic, useless throne–
— Well I think we’re ready!
The words resonated against the walls of his mindset, crumbling whatever brick wall he had built up to protect his sanity from overthinking anything and all about today’s sequence of events, specifically preventing him from planning various ways to infiltrate the dictator’s castle in an ambush in such selected velocity before Grox notices, in a way that does him wrong. It’s not exactly the norm to have the core of your brain burn from brainstorms.
And that letter, that letter was part of his troubles. He still had business with PrinceZam, he needed to know whatever’s up with him and figure out how in gods name he managed to catch at the location of Froggy’s base; Unless the envelope had been given to one of his villagers on the lookout, which he doubted, because they would show themselves at his door with the letter in hands instead of dropping it right at the meeting hall’s door for anybody else to take and show off.
So, someone had known about Froggydude’s sojourn in his team-built empire. PrinceZam figured, and somehow managed to also reach out to him.
His pupils marginally dilated as they landed over the baby villager’s head, a moment after clearing his throat.
— Maybe we are.
A pause,
— But I’m pretty sure our army isn’t; there’s still a way to go. — He stretched out his hand and patted the top of his kid’s head. — Until then, let’s go show our skills to our villagers and hope they learn a thing or two from us, alright?
Frog lead the way first, stepping past the room with a firm posture, his shoulders high and imposing, somewhat similar to a certain rival of his that we know of. That moment then, the way the light infiltrated the buttons on his suit, entering the staircase lobby with pretty hanging paintings on the walls, the way just his back darkened as his teammate followed behind, shadows sucking the two of them into the path of what will be their routine for the next few days until their army was set, ready to fight; Just that moment, that moment was one he dangerously resembled Grox.
His position, his title as the king of his empire, revolved around destroying another. Until then, he’d wait, wait for his moment to strike and pay back for the times he’s attacked his teammates and robbed him during his former stay at his villages through the fake ‘tax season’.
Until the day Grox dies by the work of his hands.
He’ll figure all about that invitation and PrinceZam’s mystery later. Baby villager and Froggy disappeared into the distance, a small mist forming and covering the bottom of the hallway blinds they had walked out of together. It’s time they mentored some of their soldiers, and time for Froggy to continue pushing forward.