Archive of Our Own

Royal Injustice & Matching Tattoos

Safe rooms were supposed to feel safe, but tonight the quiet pressed in like a held breath. Katia sat alone at the guild table, letting her shoulders drop for the first time all day, the heavy door shutting out the madness of the dungeon outside.

The door clicked open, and Carl and Donut walked in. Donut marched ahead with a comically fierce, determined scowl etched across her feline face. Carl followed a few paces behind, a soft, amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Carl leaned against the edge of the table, looking down at Katia with fond, easy warmth in his eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, tilting his head. "You got a minute? There's something I was hoping you could help me with."

Donut immediately stepped forward, with a dramatic turn of her shoulders that ensured an appropriately dramatic swish of her shawl.

"Katia, this is a crisis of royal proportions!" she declared, her voice ringing with barely contained emotion. "We must right a terrible wrong and make this cruel world a fair place once again!"

Carl let out a quiet, genuine laugh, shaking his head at the cat's theatrics. Katia looked between the two of them, a genuine smile breaking through her fatigue as intrigue sparked in her eyes.

"Oh yeah? What kind of critical mission are we talking about?"

Donut’s expression instantly twisted into one of supreme, dramatic devastation. She closed her eyes and flattened her ears on her head, her voice trembling with emotion.

"An unspeakable act was committed, Katia. I now bear a trauma so profound it will haunt me for the rest of my life." She lowered her voice to a horrified whisper. "I was forced – forced! - to get a dog tattooed on my royal backside."

Katia blinked, completely caught off guard. Donut pointed an accusing glare at Carl, her fur poofed out and her tail twitching in her outrage. "And the only reason I ended up agreed to such an egregious violation of my majestic dignity was because Carl promised, swore on his life, that he would get a matching one."

Katia stared at them for a fraction of a second before throwing her head back and bursting into a loud, bright laugh that echoed off the concrete walls, the heavy weight of the day’s chaos lifting just a fraction. Donut closed her eyes and turned around with a dramatic sigh to show her tattoo to Katia.

"I can’t even bear to look at it myself", Donut said, her voice thick with emotion. Right there, on the right of her back side, almost invisible through the long flowy fur, was a small shaved patch of hairless skin, sporting a stylish outline of a (rather cute) dog.

"You want me to tattoo your butt? » Katia snorted, looking up with disbelief in her eyes.

Carl smiled, a hint of amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, can you do it? Yes or no? It doesn’t absolutely need to be on my butt, we can do my thigh instead"

Donut immediately turned back and started pacing like a caged lion on the verge of a breakdown: "No, Carl! It has to be authentic! It has to be a matching set!"

Carl flushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck as he muttered, "Well... maybe Katia doesn't want to look at my butt that long."

Katia let out a warm chuckle, and with a teasing note in her voice she sided firmly with Donut. "Come on, Carl? I agree with Donut. It absolutely needs to be there. It defeats the whole point if you put it anywhere else."

Carl let out a reluctant grunt. "Okay…?" He looked around the safe room, completely unsure how to proceed, his eyes darting between the floor and the couch. He certainly wasn't going to do this standing up with his boxers around his ankles…?

Katia took the lead with a bright smile, swiftly clearing the table and pulling the tattoo kit straight out of her inventory.

"Alright, lie down on the table," she told him.

Carl hesitated, looking back at her with sudden doubt. "On the table? Are you sure? Maybe the couch…?"

"No," Katia said with a grin. "Well, I'm not bending over and straining my back so you can be comfy on the couch, so on the table it is."

Nearby, Donut was practically vibrating with malicious, joyful excitement, her tail thrashing against the floor. Carl gingerly climbed onto the table, lying face down on the cold surface. He propped his upper body up on his elbows to look back at them, still looking a bit unsure, though he couldn't help but smile at Donut's uncontainable excitement.

"Are you guys absolutely sure about this?" Carl asked, his voice laced with amusement and lingering doubt.

"Positive, Carl! And you promised!" Donut chirped, pacing back and forth near the table like a tiny and furry menace.

Carl opened his mouth, intending to ask Katia if he should lower his boxers now, but she didn't give him the opportunity. A playful, mischievous glint flashed in her eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, she stepped up to the table, hooked her fingers deftly into the waistband of his boxers, and smoothly lowered them down to his thighs.

Carl jumped a little and then froze, his ears instantly turning a deep shade of crimson. "Whoa! Hey! A little warning next time?" he sputtered, hiding his face in his arms with a laugh.

"What?" she asked with mock innocence. "It’s not like the whole galaxy hasn’t already seen your junk at the end of the third floor" Katia teased, her voice bright and melodic as she unlatched the tattoo kit. A groan sounded from where Carl’s face was buried in his arms, sounding a lot like "Don’t remind me"

Donut immediately scrambled up, leaping onto the table beside Katia, her whiskers twitching as she leaned dangerously close to Carl’s exposed backside.

"Right here," Donut said, tapping a paw decisively against Carl's right cheek. "Right on the apex of the right cheek, so it wiggles when he walks!"

Katia squinted at it, tilting her head. "I don't know, Donut, if it's too high up, it might look distorted. Maybe a little lower and closer to the center?"

"No, no! If it's too low, it will not be visible enough, not unless someone is looking right up at his butt from below!" Donut argued back, waving her tail in agitation.

Carl was still blushing furiously down in his arms, alternating between muffled groans of laughter and burying his face deeper against the cold metal of the table. He’d known he would regret that promise… but when he shifted slightly, turning his head to look up at them, his expression softened. Through his profound embarrassment, he watched the two of them, Katia smiling warmly as she debated proportions with a tiny, hyper-focused royal cat over the exact size of the stupid dog tattoo. The tight, ever-present defensive knot in his chest loosened. The river quieted. His annoyed expression was slowly replaced by a genuine, quiet smile. There was so much noise and horror just outside these walls, but right here, this was home.

"Alright, fine, right cheek it is," Katia conceded to the cat, her smile widening.

Without missing a beat, Katia planted her left hand firmly right on Carl's butt to steady her working angle. Carl froze instantly, a fresh jolt shooting up his spine as he wasn't entirely sure how to process the sudden, casual warmth of her hand right … there.

"Don't move. You're twitching," Katia warned softly, clicking the magical tattoo tool. She brought the tip down and started tracing the outline.

Immediately, Donut leaned in so close her whiskers nearly brushed Katia's fingers. "No, no, Katia, the ear is too pointy! You're making it look like a fox! A dog has floppy ears! More droop, less alertness!"

"Donut, it's a stylistic outline, it's literally three lines," Katia murmured, her voice dripping with an easy, unshakeable calm as she adjusted the angle without breaking rhythm.

"I don't care! Look at the snout, it's too pug-like! Carl snores like a pug when he's sleeping, but the tattoo shouldn't look like that!" Donut critiqued, her head darting back and forth between the tattoo and Katia.

Katia just chuckled, taking the critique entirely in stride, her movements steady and infinitely patient. The cat’s unending critics had seriously grated on her nerves on the earlier floors, but by now, Katia was so used to it it just rolled on her back like water on a duck.

The safe room door clicked open, and Mordecai walked in, looking exhausted from the day's horrors. He stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the bizarre tableau: Katia leaning over a prone Carl with a tattoo kit, and Donut supervising like a drill instructor.

Mordecai blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know what’s going on here?"

"Mordecai! Come quick!" Donut bellowed loudly, bopping her head up and down excitedly. "Come and see Carl's butt tattoo!"

Katia burst out laughing, dropping her shoulders as the humor of the situation hit her all over again, while Carl let out a long, muffled groan into his crossed arms.

Mordecai blinked again. He took one look at Carl's exposed lower half, shook his head, and deadpanned, "No thanks." He immediately turned around and walked straight toward his room, the door clicking shut behind him with finality.

"His loss," Donut sniffed dismissively.

Working with steady, practiced hands, Katia applied the finishing touches and lifted the magical tattoo tool. She leaned back, wiping a speck of ink from her wrist. Donut inspected the work closely, from every angle, circling the table twice before sitting down. She looked pleased, though her ego wouldn't allow her to admit it genuinely. With an exaggerated, superior flick of her tail, she declared, "Well. I suppose that will have to do."

Katia chuckled softly. Without really thinking about it, she placed her hand back on Carl's right cheek and gently brushed her thumb over the fresh ink, admiring the clean, minimalist lines of the little dog outline. A second later, reality caught up to her. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized where her hand was resting, and she quickly pulled it back, clearing her throat.

Carl, still pressed face-down against the table, remained a glowing shade of crimson. His heart beat a little faster against the cold metal, a strange mixture of embarrassment, lingering warmth, and contradictory feelings scrambling his thoughts. Black against his reddened skin, the little dog tattoo seemed to grin up at the ceiling, a silent, permanent reminder of a ridiculous moment shared among three people who had somehow become everything to each other.

"Are you both done now?" Carl muttered, his voice muffled slightly against the table as he stayed prone, bracing himself.

"Yep, all finished," Katia said. Without a trace of hesitation or ceremony, she hooked her index fingers right back into the waistband of his boxers and smoothly snapped them up to his waist, finishing the motion with two playful, condescending pats on his hip.

Carl let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-laugh, pushing himself up off the cold surface. He smoothed his jacket down, his face still lingering at a soft shade of pink, and turned to where Katia had already dropped into a chair. He sat down gingerly beside her, nudging her shoulder lightly with his as they exchanged a smile.

"So," Carl asked, casting a sideways glance at the royal cat. "Are you happy now, Your Highness? Do you feel better?"

Donut preened, lifting her chin with a dramatic, haughty cluck of her tongue, though her tail gave away her secret satisfaction as it flicked happily against the floor. "I am quite pleased with the outcome. Considering I was forced to endure the absolute trauma of being permanently disfigured, it is only fair and just that I am not alone in my suffering. And," she added, her tone softening with a rare shred of genuine approval, "I must admit, Carl, I am deeply impressed that you actually honored our agreement instead of backing out like a coward."

Carl chuckled, shaking his head and reaching out to scratch Donut’s chin. Before Katia could reach over to pack away the magical tattooing kit sitting on the table, Carl hesitated. He cleared his throat, suddenly shifting awkwardly in his seat.

"Hey, Katia?" he started, his voice dropping a fraction as he rubbed the back of his neck again. "You... uh, you still got a little time?"

Katia paused, her hand hovering over the kit. She looked over at him curiously, her head tilting to the side. On the table, Donut looked at him with a curious, yet somewhat accusing glare. Carl stammered a little, unusually self-conscious under their combined gazes. He looked down at his lap before forcing himself to meet Katia’s eyes. "I... I was wondering if you could do one more for me. A real one. Not for a spell, or a quest, or a ridiculous promise. Just... just because I want it."

Katia blinked, genuine surprise flickering across her features. She stared at him for a second, knowing full well how much he usually loathed to be imposed with the absurd dungeon tattoos. "A real one? From choice? You hated getting the other ones."

"I know," Carl muttered, looking away for a fraction of a second. "Just... humor me."

"Well, what do you want?" Katia asked, her intrigue growing as she leaned in slightly. "You want it on your other cheek?"

"No," Carl said quickly with a snort, shaking his head. He didn't answer her question about the design. Instead, he shifted in his seat and turned toward her slowly, as if the movement itself weighed something. He extended his right arm across the table between them, palm open, fingers slightly curled; an invitation and a confession all at once. "I want it somewhere I'll see it all the time. Maybe... a forearm?"

Donut suddenly let out an audible gasp of betrayal, leaping to her feet. "A tattoo?! By your own free will?! Carl, have you lost your mind? You are willingly submitting to body modification without a threat to your life? The dungeon has finally broken him, Katia, write it down!"

Katia smiled a bit smugly, her playfulness chasing away some of the heavy air in the room. She looked down at his outstretched arm, then back up at his face, a teasing glint returning to her eyes. "Alright, Mr. Spontaneous. Let’s say I'm picking the spot on your forearm, what are we talking about here? A flaming skull? A traditional sailor's anchor? A tiny pinup fairy?"

Carl kept his arm steady on the table. For a second, all the playfulness drained entirely from his posture. His expression softened, his eyes locking onto hers with a quiet, heavy sincerity that caught Katia completely off guard.

"I want you to pick something for me," Carl said softly, his voice steady. "Something you like. Something that... will remind me of you."

The room went completely still. Katia’s breath caught. For a moment she simply stared at his open palm, the meaning settling over her like a physical weight.

The implication hung silently between them, dense and aching. Soon, too soon, Katia was going to eat the orchid, accepting the goddess's blessing of motherhood that would trigger her immediate ejection from the dungeon and send her back up to the Earth’s surface. Saving Katia and Donut had been Carl's deepest desire since the early, brutal floors of the dungeon, when they both seeped into the cracks of his walls and became his anchors. He was profoundly happy for Katia: this was a good thing, she deserved to get out, and she deserved a chance away from the horror and the slaughter. But looking at her now, the reality of what was coming pressed down on them like lead. Donut loved her fiercely; Carl loved her with everything he had left. They were both going to be left behind in the nightmare, separated from Katia by what seemed an unthinkable distance.

Donut stopped pacing on the table, her eyes darting between the two of them, the playful theatricality vanishing from her small frame. She silently curled her tail tightly around herself, suddenly feeling very small.

Katia's breath hitched. She looked down at Carl's open palm resting on the table, and then slowly raised her gaze back to his face. Her throat felt tight, and for a moment, she couldn't find her voice. The ambiguity of what they were, what they might have been, echoed loudly in the quiet space. Slowly, Katia's expression softened into something achingly tender. She reached out, her fingers trembling just a fraction, and gently rested her hand over his open palm, grabbing his hand in hers.

"Yeah," Katia whispered, a bittersweet smile touching her lips as her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I can do that, Carl."

For a moment, the silence in the safe room was heavy enough to touch. Then, blinking rapidly against the wetness in her eyes, Katia abruptly pulled back, forcing a bright, playful facade back onto her features.

"Okay, turn around. No peeking," she said, her voice wobbling just a fraction before steadying. She gently grabbed his right arm, unceremoniously turning him slightly and positioning his forearm so he couldn't see what she was about to do. Carl humored her, letting out a soft breath as he relaxed his posture against the table, offering a small, understanding smile. "All right, I’m not looking. I swear. Total surprise."

Katia picked up the tattooing tool, her brow furrowing as she fell into deep concentration. She thought for a long moment, mapping out the design against his skin before she finally touched the tip of the tool to the inside of his right forearm. The quiet noise of the device hitting his skin was the only sound in the room. On the edge of the table, Donut crept closer. For once, the royal cat didn't offer a single critique, a single complaint, or a single demand for stronger lines or a fancier vibe. She just sat there, completely still, peering over Katia's work with big round eyes that looked suspiciously teary. The weight of the impending goodbye settled over all three of them, just like the ashes of the last battles had settled like a blanket of grey and red snow over the ground of 9th floor.

While Katia worked delicately against his skin, Carl stared blankly at the metal surface of the table, his chest aching. He thought of how much he was going to miss her; the way she kept them grounded, the quiet strength she carried, the anchor she had become in a world gone completely mad. He didn't know how he was expected them to keep moving forward when their little found family was about to be ripped away, sent opposite ways on a planet that barely resembled anything they could remember anymore.

After a few tense, careful minutes, Katia finally put the tool aside. She wiped the excess ink away with a cloth, giving the skin a gentle pat. Donut stepped in closer, leaning her head sideways to inspect the fresh ink. She sniffed softly, her aristocratic pride fighting a losing battle against raw emotion.

"Well. It looks nice," Donut grudgingly admitted, her voice unusually low and quiet. "Not that I approve of body modifications, because tattoos are completely barbaric. But... if I had to like a tattoo, I suppose it would be this one."

Katia smiled softly, leaning back and moving out of the way so Carl could finally see. Carl turned his arm over, lifting it into the light. Etched neatly into the inside of his forearm was a small, delicate cluster of artwork. Not just one design, but three tiny tattoos grouped closely together:

The first was a miniature pair of heart-patterned boxers. Right beside it was a dainty, perfect cat paw print representing Donut. And tucked right next to them was a sleek, stylish outline of a head sporting a fierce, unmistakable Mohawk, the exact look Katia wore when she was in her towering battle form.

Carl stared at it, a wave of profound emotion washing over him, completely overriding the lingering awkwardness. His eyes shone a little too brightly, but his lips curved into a wide, genuine smile. "I love it, Katia. I really, really love it."

Katia offered a soft, lopsided smile of her own, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Good," she murmured softly, gesturing toward the Mohawk outline. «I know you have a soft spot for the head spikes, more than for my blond or black hair."

Carl let out a wet, genuine chuckle, rubbing his thumb lightly over the fresh ink to steady his voice. He looked up at her, a spark of his usual dry humor returning to mask the ache in his chest. "The boxers, really? You had to pick the boxers to represent me? Not a bomb? Not a stick of dynamite or something even remotely cool?"

Katia laughed wetly, the sound cutting through the grief in the room like a ray of sunlight. "Are you kidding? The boxers are way funnier" she teased, her eyes sparkling. "That’s what you get for letting me choose"

Donut let out an indignant huff, shaking her head with a devilish smile. "Well, she's not wrong about the boxers, Carl. It is funny and I will greatly enjoy looking at it from your shoulder."

Smiling softly, Katia pushed the small tattooing kit across the metal surface toward Carl and said, "Your turn."

Without missing a beat, she mirrored his earlier gesture, extending her left arm right across the table, palm open and facing upward. Carl looked up, blinking in genuine confusion. "Wait, what? My turn what?"

Katia looked back at him with a soft, steady smile, her eyes reflecting all the quiet, complicated weight of the room. She repeated his words right back to him, her voice a gentle, rhythmic echo: "I want it somewhere I will see it all the time. Pick something you like... that will make me think of you."

Across the table, Donut’s ears shot straight up, her eyes wide with sudden alarm. She scrambled closer, peering down at Katia’s arm as if it were about to detonate. "Wait, hold on! Katia, are you entirely sure about this?" Donut demanded, her voice laced with an undercurrent of panic and worry. "Because Carl is really bad at artsy things. Like, really really bad. It’s going to be hideously ugly!"

Carl immediately flushed, shrinking back just a fraction with a self-conscious wince. He raised his hands defensively, though he didn’t have time to say anything. Donut shot back, waving a paw in absolute scandal. "You cannot be trusted with permanent body modification tools! She will be disfigured for life!"

"She's kinda right, I'm terrible at this," Carl muttered, looking down at the tattooing kit nervously, then back up at Katia. "Katia, seriously, you should rethink this. I’m gonna ruin your arm."

Katia just smiled softly, her eyes warm and unbothered. She shook her head, her gaze never leaving his. "I don’t care if it’s crooked or ugly. If it’s yours, I’ll love it.”

The playful bickering evaporated instantly, replaced by a heavy, breathless warmth that settled right in the center of the room. Carl swallowed hard, a tight knot forming in his throat as the profound reality of what she was saying, and what was coming in just a couple of days, pressed down on him. "Okay," he whispered, his voice softening.

He reached out and carefully grabbed the tattooing kit, his fingers feeling too big against the cold metal. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, channeling her earlier energy with a crooked, tentative smile.

"All right. Turn around. No peeking," Carl instructed gently.

Katia smiled, a soft, trusting expression curving her lips. She nodded, turning her back to him and resting her arm comfortably on the table, willingly handing over control. Donut settled down beside her, leaning in close with a critical squint, though thankfully, the fierce little cat kept her mouth shut, watching closely as Carl turned the tool in his hands and prepared to leave his mark. He thought for a long moment, staring down at the blank canvas of her arm before carefully beginning to work. His movements were slow, clumsy, unsure, and completely lacking any professional polish, but the heavy focus in his eyes showed he was trying with every ounce of his being to do his best. Donut remained completely silent, watching his awkward, trembling grip on the tool with uncharacteristic intensity.

At some point, breaking the heavy tension in the room, Katia turned her head slightly and joked, "You better not be drawing a dick on my arm, Carl."

They both laughed, the sound bubbling up nervously. "I hadn't even thought of it," Carl grinned, his tension easing a fraction as he humored her. "Though now that you mention it... I suppose it's not too late to add one."

Donut scoffed, raising her nose with royal disdain. "Please. Do you honestly think he would even be able to draw a dick with his exceptionally limited artistic talents? It would probably look like a deformed mushroom, Katia."

Katia kept her eyes on the wall at the far end of the room and added "Okay, now I'm actually worried."

A few careful, agonizing minutes passed by in quiet concentration until Carl finally put the tool aside. He wiped away the excess ink with a gentle sweep of his thumb, holding his breath before looking up at Katia.

For a few seconds, no one moved.

Then Katia slowly turned her arm over, holding it up to see what he had done. True to himself, Carl had cooked up something entirely outside the box. It wasn't a drawing at all. Stamped permanently onto the inside of her arm, written in a rough, uneven, clumsy handwriting that could only belong to Carl, were four simple words:

You are my person

The words sat stark and uneven against her skin, as if carved straight out of Carl’s heart. Katia stared at the ink, the breath instantly catching in her throat. It was what Donut had told Carl a long time ago on an early floor to express how utterly important he was to her, trying to put a name to their weird, unbreakable bond, because he wasn't her master or her owner, yet something special that was so much more than a friend. Carl had picked those words because they applied just as deeply to what he had grown to feel for Katia, and because they carried Donut inside them too, wrapped in the history of everything they had survived together.

Donut crept closer, squinting at the words. Her eyes shined as she looked down that her own words, spoken at a time that felt so long ago. For once, she didn't mock his handwriting. She just swallowed hard, her ears dropping slightly.

"You... you wrote that," Katia whispered, her voice cracking as a tear slipped down her cheek. She looked up at him, her chest heaving with the overwhelming weight of it.

Carl offered a soft, vulnerable smile, his own eyes shining. "Yeah," he murmured quietly. "Because you are. Both of you."

Katia leaned forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressed her forehead gently against his. The cool metal of the table and the sting of the fresh ink in their arms faded into background noise as the warmth of her skin met his.

Without a word, Donut sprang lightly off the edge of the table, landing squarely on Carl’s broad shoulder before stepping across to drape her furry body halfway over Katia’s. She pressed against Katia's shoulder, letting out a deep, rumbling purr as she gave the side of her head a firm, affectionate head butt. Katia closed her eyes, her breath catching softly. She wrapped her arms around Carl, reaching out to put her hand on Donut.

"I will miss you so much," Katia murmured, her voice thick with emotion, a quiet whisper brushing against Carl's skin. "Both of you."

The dungeon chaos roared outside the safe room walls, but inside, the three of them stayed close, ink drying on their skin, warmth lingering in their arms, and a bond that felt stronger than anything the floors could throw at them.

Epilogue:

The guild room was buzzing with low-level chatter when Elle sauntered over, a cup of something that was definitely stronger than coffee in one hand. Word had traveled fast, thanks entirely to Donut, who had proudly told everyone about the tattoos within less than an hour.

Elle stopped right in front of Katia, her sharp eyes scanning her before dropping straight to the inside of her right forearm. She stared at the rough, clumsy handwriting stamped permanently into her skin for a long beat. Then, she let out a sharp, incredulous snort. "Oh my god. You Carled it. You absolutely Carled it."

Katia and Carl looked up at her questioningly, both of them instantly stiffening. Carl let out a self conscious "What?"

Elle tapped a dainty finger against Katia's arm, a wicked, knowing smirk spreading across her face as she gestured to the words.

“This is… this is the most Carl thing I’ve ever seen. It’s chaotic. It’s messy. It’s emotionally unhinged. It’s perfect and it is SO you” Elle drawled, her tone dripping with amused disbelief.