Archive of Our Own

Narrator: “But it’s too late. Within moments, the hair-pulling and tumbling and, ugh, kissing is all over. You find yourself pinned down on your back, the pristine blade’s tip pointed at your chest.”

“The Princess is straddling you and she is quite a sight, her dress even filthier and more tattered than before, scratches and claw marks all over her face, shoulders, and chest, and her hair resembling nothing so much as a bird’s nest, complete with some of your own feathers tangled in it. She cackles a victorious laugh. Her deeply flushed face splits in a huge gleeful grin as she purrs down at you.”

“Now that was fun, you gorgeous wretch! But I win! I win!”

Hero: “Ohhh, we really shouldn’t have brought the blade down here… Maybe she won’t use it after all that? Maybe she'll be reasonable.”

Opportunist: “This is how it was always gonna go, it’s in our nature! But it should’ve been us with the blade. Still, gotta give it to her for outfoxing us.”

“Good job, you got me.”

Narrator: “The Princess’s smile turns truly wicked as she keeps the blade at your chest and lowers herself, whispering into your ear.”

“Yeah, I do. So… What do you think happens now?”

Hero: “We’re dead, aren’t we? No matter how sultry that whisper was, there’s a blade at our heart and death in her eyes.”

Opportunist: “We’re probably dead. But ‘probably dead’ is alive for now, and that means we can do something to make sure we stay that way.”

Hero: “Like what? If we try and snatch the blade from her, she can easily stab us first. She’s on top, she’s got all the leverage.”

Opportunist: “But do you hear her purr? She was having a good time, and we can make it last longer for her. She’s the one with the blade, after all, you should always make the one with the blade happy.”

Look. I don’t think that’s the best play here.

Opportunist: “Why not? It’s gotten us this far.”

“This far?” Pinned to the floor with a knife to our chest?

Opportunist: “No, alive. And I netted us some fun along the way, too!”

Hero: “No, I think he’s right. We should give her a reason not to kill us, and clearly, we haven’t yet. I think all we’ve done is make her trust us less.”

Narrator: “For once, I’m inclined to at least partially agree with that one. A front of sincerity may buy you enough time to get the blade and slay her.”

Opportunist: “You’re only saying that because you don’t want to describe any more.”

Narrator: “True as that is, it’s entirely beside the point.”

Opportunist: “She can tell if we’re lying anyways! We can’t put up an act here.”

Hero: “Only all the more reason to do the right thing.”

Narrator: “I think we have very different definitions of ‘the right thing’.”

“That’s up to you. No more fighting, no more playing dirty. If the way out’s your heart, then you need to find it there.”

Narrator: “You meant that again, didn’t you? You’re really leaving it entirely to the Princess’s whims.”

“And she seems as… taken aback as I am, withdrawing only slightly as she analyzes your expression, as if attempting to call a bluff in a game of cards.”

“Again, she lowers herself, and again, she… sniffs you.”

“I can’t get a read on you, wretch. It’s like there’s more than one person in that head of yours.”

“There is, but I’m the one talking. Let’s both get rid of that damned blade, and let’s leave here. Together.”

Opportunist: “Ooo, nice bit of emphasis there. Very sly, boss.”

Narrator: “And the Princess appears to notice it too. The blush on her face surges, and there almost seems to be a spark of purely innocent affection behind her eyes.”

“But both fade fast as she tries, and fails, to harden her heart.”

“She jolts the blade forward. But it stops just before it makes contact.”

Opportunist: “Whooah… a little close there, don’t you think?”

Narrator: “Withdrawing the blade only slightly, it lunges in her hand once more. But once more, it stops just short of your chest, her grip over it shaky and trembling.”

“Why are you just laying there and letting me do this?”

“Because I really, really like you. And if I can truly save you, one way or another, this feels like the way to do it.”

Narrator: “The Princess seems to pour over the thought, almost wistfully.”

“But unfortunately for you, and Me, and the world, it isn’t long before her choice is made.”

“Stealing her nerves only partially, she thrusts the blade into your heart.”

Hero: “What!? No. No, come on, that’s not right!”

Opportunist: “See, this is why we should’ve just tried to get in her-”

Narrator: “Don’t. This is already bad enough, I’d rather you not put that image in my head.”

Opportunist: “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Narrator: “I know. And that’s the problem.”

“For a moment, brief and fleeting, the Princess tries to form the beginnings of a smile. It looks unnatural and forced, as though she only expected to find some joy in the act.”

“And shortly, it fades as such, replaced by the clarity of what she’d just done. Tears begin to well in her concerned eyes.”

“W-why? Why!?”

“Because I…”

Narrator: “You can’t quite finish your inane affection for her as your voice, already only a whisper, fails you. But you just barely manage to mouth the rest.”

“With all your remaining life and will, you reach out your taloned hand and place it on her cheek. And as you do, she leans into your touch, placing her hand over yours. You can almost feel the remorse on her face.”

Words can’t come out. But your fading expression tells her everything.

‘It’s okay. I’ll be back.’

Narrator: “As the last of your strength gives out, your claw slips from her skin.”

“I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Everything goes dark, and you die.”

Chapter II

The Thorn

Narrator: “You’re on a path in the woods-”

Opportunist: “Now where did the ‘right thing’ get us there, eh boss? Definitely not to the top, I can tell you that much.”

“I’ve never been one for calling the shots, but I can guarantee my idea wouldn’t have gotten us a hole in the chest for our troubles.”

Hero: “I can’t believe she actually stabbed us after all that.”

Opportunist: “Can’t you? What was it you said earlier, ‘There’s a blade at our heart and death in her eyes’?”

Hero: “Okay, we get it. You’ve gotten your ‘I told you sos’ in. Now zip it.”

Opportunist: “I just want it known and understood that this would have all gone very differently if a certain someone took my suggestion earlier.”

Smitten: “Perhaps. But we need not clamber our way to whatever top you think betraying our heart will take us! Our heart is what led us here, and our heart is what will lead us both to something better.”

Opportunist: “Oohoh, you’ve piqued my interest. What do you have in mind?”

Smitten: “Love. True love. Embracing each other not to save ourselves or distract from a blade dirtied by the hate we shared, but because we and the Princess are meant to be.”

Opportunist: “Uh, yeah, we tried the whole ‘love’ thing. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, it didn’t really work out for us. Got us killed almost immediately, actually.”

Smitten: “Didn’t it? You saw just as well as I did her hesitation. The anguish in her eyes after she plunged that dagger in our heart.”

“To die again is but a small price to pay for our love.”

Hero: “Y’know. Maybe you’re right. She didn’t want to kill us. Not fully, anyway.”

“Maybe she’s come to terms with that now. Maybe she realized that we can change, and that it didn’t have to end like that.”

Narrator: “I’m sorry, am I missing something here? You do know I’ve been listening to you three this whole time, right?”

Smitten: “We have no need to hide our intentions in the shadows we conspire. Unlike You, the puppet master hiding behind the stage’s curtains, pulling our strings to betray our Princess in the cruelest and most hateful ways. We will save her!”

Narrator: “Are you done? Great. So you’ve obviously been here before. Since you’ve apparently died at least once-”

Hero: “Twice.”

Narrator: “Sure. Twice. Sigh. Then I’ll spare you the little introduction I had planned. You already know about the Princess, and clearly, you already know that she’s dangerous. So don’t muck this up, and don’t listen to that flowery little Voice. It’s bad enough this isn’t your first time through. Let alone that you’ve gotten it in your head you ‘love’ that world-ending monstrosity you call a Princess.”

Opportunist: “‘Flowery’? Oh, that’s just rich coming from you.”

We’ve done almost nothing but hurt each other, and it’s gotten us nowhere. Less than nowhere. We’re going to free her this time.

Narrator: “Sigh. Please don’t.”

Smitten: “You can’t stop us from our destiny, You snake!”

Opportunist: “I’m not opposed to saving her, maybe getting a little more from it for our troubles, but let’s not get ourselves killed this time. If it comes down to her or us, we should definitely choose us.”

Hero: “Stop sitting on the fence. Pick a side already.”

Opportunist: “I have picked a side! Our side. I’m here to make sure that, whatever happens, we’re the ones that wind up on top.”

Smitten: “Without her standing there with us, that top will mean nothing.”

Hero: “And it’s not like that’s gotten us very far before. You complain about how our choice got us killed, but you got us in that position to begin with.”

Opportunist: “And I would’ve gotten us out!”

Hero: “Yeah. Right.”

Narrator: “Ignore them, they’re just talking for talking’s sake. My position is the only one that matters. The Princess is a threat to you. She’s a threat to Me. And most importantly, she’s a threat to the world. You know what you have to do.”

Yes. Yes I do. [Proceed to the cabin.]

Narrator: “You make your way up the short path to the cabin. It isn’t long before you find yourself at its base. And not long after that before you find yourself at its door.”

“I think it’s clear where everyone stands at this point. I can only hope you change your mind, though.”

My mind is made. Whatever comes, we’re not going to kill her. [Proceed into the cabin.]

Narrator: “The interior of the cabin is hardly an interior at all anymore. The burned-out ruins merely suggest the shape of the structure that once stood here, charred wood still reeking of ash. But beneath it lies the fresh smell of spring growth after rain, the promise of new life in the wreckage of the old.”

“The only furniture of note is the crisped shell of what was once a table, a pristine- wait, this isn’t right. There’s supposed to be a pristine blade. Why isn’t there a pristine blade?”

Hero: “She took it from us last time. She… she can’t still have it, can she?”

Opportunist: “Well, it’s not here. And if she has it…”

Hero: “Let me guess. You wanna try to get in her skirt so we can take it without any fuss. As if you didn’t try that already.”

Opportunist: “Look, as far as I see it, if it’s between Him and her, I say we side with the one who has the weapon. It’s just the smart thing to do!”

Narrator: “Let’s not be so hasty. I’m sure the blade will turn up somewhere. She can’t have it, that’s not how this is supposed to work.”

Smitten: “If she does have it, that’s all the more reason to put our faith in her. We’ve already shown her our heart. Now she has to show us hers.”

Opportunist: “Assuming she doesn’t stab us in it. Which doesn’t seem unlikely. So yeah, let’s put on a smile for her! See how that goes.”

Narrator: “Again, ignore them. Blade or no blade, just get down there and slay her. Simplicity itself.”

Even if I had any intention to hurt her again, how do we get down there? The only thing I see is that mirror.

Hero: “You’re right. The mirror is back, and there isn’t anywhere for us to go.”

“Is the door to the basement… behind the mirror?”

Narrator: “There isn’t a mirror. And there isn’t a door to the basement, either, for that matter. The entrance is more of a burned out frame than anything else, and it’s right there, on the far side of the room. Do you really not see it?”

Opportunist: “I still don’t get His angle here.”

Smitten: “Either way, I say we have a look. After our last romp with our mistress, our feathers are no doubt dirty and out of place! We must put our best face forward if we’re to truly win her heart.”

Opportunist: “Yeah, we can’t go around looking disheveled! A real go-getter takes care of his appearance. Might earn us a few points with our buddy with the knife too.”

[Approach the mirror.]

Narrator: “You step forward and approach the scorched entryway leading to the basement, hesitating before you begin the descent.”

Smitten: “You know what you have to do. Wipe that grit and grime away from the glass, and tidy up our handsome features.”

Hero: “It went away when we touched it last time.”

It did, yeah. But there’s no reason not to try again this time. [Wipe the mirror clean.]

Narrator: “You reach forward and wave your hand through the hollow entrance leading to the basement.”

Just as your podotheca meets its surface, the mirror disappears like it was never there, revealing the passage hidden behind it.

Smitten: “Alas, our fine features remain unseen, and uncleaned. We’ll just have to trust she’ll find us beautiful as we are.”

Narrator: “You really thought there was a mirror there, didn’t you? That can’t be good. As if things weren’t unpredictable enough already.”

Hero: “Seems like the only way to go is forward, isn’t it?”

Opportunist: “Let’s put on a good face and have our wits about us.”

[Enter the basement.]

Narrator: “You step through the frame of scorched wood and make your way to the darkness below.”

“The stairs to the basement are covered in a fine layer of gritty ash. The air still feels warm, as if the fires that ruined this place had only recently been extinguished, yet fresh shoots of thorny branches are already weaving themselves through the soot-covered earth of the walls around you.”

“Their spines point courteously down towards the basement, so you’re able to brush past their jagged points with ease. At least on the way down. But you don’t need to think about that just yet, that’s a matter for after the world’s been saved.”

Smitten: “These thorns are an expression of her pain, I know it. She’s calling out for help!”

Narrator: “Not… quite, no. Her voice, worn down by pain, suspicion, and regret, hobbles up the stairs.”

“Well. There you are.”

“You can’t get away from me, can you? We kill each other, and you come back. You let me kill you, and you come back.”

“I don’t know why you’d let me do that. I can’t tell what you want from me anymore.”

Narrator: “Her voice, cracking slightly, drops to a low mumble. You can’t quite tell if she knows you can still hear her or not.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you.”

“I told you. I want to find our way out of here. I want to free you.”

“Well. I think you know how this goes. I’m down here, and I can’t leave. So come down and talk. It’s not like I’m going to stop you.”

[Proceed down the stairs.]

Narrator: “You continue down the basement stairs, brushing past the smooth edges of thorns that grow more and more plentiful as you make your way forward.”

“You step out into what was once a vast, open cavern, now overrun by hostile vegetation, thick with briars and prickles and thistles. Their creeping arms seem to shift subtly in their place, rustling as though disturbed by an imperceptible, underground wind.”

“And at the heart of it all, snared in a tight weave of vines, is the Princess, her bloody, trembling hands clutching a pristine blade.”

“Did you know this was going to happen to me? Is this penance for what I did? Is our cycle still going?”

Narrator: “You step towards her, carefully tip-toeing through the winding mess of sharp edges. And eventually, you find a small clearing in the brambles.”

“No. I don’t want to see you suffer, and I don’t want this going on any longer. I want to help you out of here. If you’ll let me.”

“I… I want to trust you.”

Narrator: “Her grip tightens on the blade.”

“But you’re hiding something, aren’t you? Why would you help me if you aren’t helping yourself?”

“I may not be in chains or vines, but I’m as trapped as you are. I think we need to leave together… and I want to leave together.”

“Besides… I couldn’t just leave something as beautiful as you behind.”

Narrator: “Ugh. Seriously? Despite her predicament, a glint of cheer and solace lights and softens her gloomy expression. Even if she tries to hide it. Her mouth curls with the makings of a soft, subtle smile, and rose seems to bloom from her cheeks, obscuring their scrapes and scratches, if only a little.”

“That sounds… nice. I’m so tired of the bad blood between us. And when it was just… us, together, rolling over each other in the dirt. It was the only fun I remember ever having. The only time I was happy… the only time I wasn’t alone.”

Opportunist: “Is… is that true?”

Narrator: “But her fleeting levity fades quickly, her face souring as she clutches the blade closer to her chest.”

“It’s just hard to let it all go. You’ve hurt me.”

Narrator: “Her eyes dart away from yours, if only for a brief moment.”

“And I’ve hurt you.”

“Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?”

“I… I don’t know. What can either of us really say at this point? How can we trust something as hollow as words?”

Smitten: “We don’t need words to send a message. It is through action that we can show her our adoration. our devotion, our kindness. Our love.”

Opportunist: “Yeah, there’s nothing left to say. So let’s just get a move on and do something.”

“Then maybe it’s past time for either of us to say anything. All that counts is action.” [Reach for the blade.]

Narrator: “You reach towards her bloodied hands, laying your palm on her trembling fingers.”

“For a moment, she clutches it even tighter, her knuckles going white with the effort.”

“But then the tension fades. Her grip finally loosens, and she allows you to take the weapon.”

“You carefully pull it free from the thorns, though they scrape at your skin, leaving red trickles of fresh blood all along your arms.”

Smitten: “She trusts us. She trusts us! Doesn’t that set your heart aflutter?”

Hero: “Yeah. A little. It could be nerves, I’ve always been one to fluster easily. And this brings back memories, both pleasant, and… less so. But it doesn’t feel bad. It feels good. Like we’re… special to her.”

Smitten: “We are special, to have gained an ounce of trust from a maiden so guarded. Now all that remains is to free her from her bindings.”

Hero: “Yeah, let’s do it! Let’s show her how much both of us have changed.”

Narrator: “I, for one, suggest you use the blade to slay her. Going off of what you all have said, it sounds to me she’s never been more vulnerable. And you may never again get the chance to after this.”

Opportunist: “No! I mean. Nah. Bad idea.”

Hero: “Are you objecting to that? Who are you, and what did you do with that opportunist I knew?”

Opportunist: “We just stand to gain more if we free her. That’s all.”

Narrator: “I can tell when your ‘boss’ is lying to me. And I can also tell when you are, little Voice.”

Hero: “I don’t even need that to figure it out. I’m terrible at spotting liars, and even I can tell something’s up with him.”

Smitten: “It matters not! Whether he bares his feelings openly or hides them behind a veil of his own false pretenses makes no difference. The lines have been drawn, and he’s one of us. One of the good guys.”

Opportunist: “I’m not hiding anything! I just think we’d be better off if we didn’t.”

You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?

Opportunist: “Uh… no comment.”

“So. Did you mean it? Or was I a fool to hand my life to you?”

[Cut her free.]

Narrator: “You take the blade to the thorny vines imprisoning the Princess, and she flinches, relaxing only slightly as the blade slices through the thick vegetation rather than her arm, red fluid pouring from it rather than from her.”

“And she flinches again as the last of the vines is cut away, as if, after all of that, she’s still expecting you to turn on her and stab her in the heart. But you’re not going to, are you? Still, all it would take is a single slip of the blade.”

Smitten: “Such a pathetic attempt at distraction and subterfuge! Our blade is a dashing sword, and every dashing sword is an extension of its hero. It won’t slip.”

Opportunist: “You’re right. He can’t even make it slip, can he? He’s a bit of a nobody. We’ve got all the power here, this is our world!”

Narrator: “The Princess falls into your arms, tears streaking down her cheeks. I can’t believe you’re making me describe this. I hate you."

“You actually meant it. You… rescued me.”

“Of course. I always did.”

Narrator: “Wait. No no no no no. No! Absolutely not!”

Hero: “What? What’s going on?”

Narrator: “The Princess… The Princess kisses you.”

[Reciprocate her kiss.]

Smitten: “And we - we kiss her back.”

Narrator: “This is unacceptable! This is ludicrous! You can’t be serious.”

Opportunist: “Why not? We wouldn’t want to throw away a chance for a special moment, now, would we?”

Narrator: “‘Why not’? Have you listened to a single word I’ve said? She’s going to end the world. Her existence is an existential threat!”

Smitten: “Well, are you going to describe our steamy, romantic kiss?”

Narrator: “I- Sigh. She leans in. And you kiss.”

Hero: “…And?”

Narrator: “You reciprocate. Enthusiastically. Are you happy now?”

Hero: “What’s it like? Is it different from last time?”

Narrator: “In case you’ve forgotten, I don’t know what happened last time, other than that you made at least one cataclysmic mistake.”

“Frankly, I’d rather not know any more than that. The implications of that inane question are bad enough.”

Smitten: “Come on now, give us the details! This is the big moment! There’s got to be better than that. We expect your all, just as we gave to her.”

Narrator: “Ugh! FINE. You and the Princess lock eyes and stare deeply into each other’s souls with all the roaring emotion that comes from letting what once was hatred turn into pure, unbridled passion.”

Hero: “Are you making fun of us?”

Narrator: “And then, as the two of you close your eyes, her lips close the distance with yours, and you kiss. Words can describe neither the nuclear fire, the mountainous high, nor the oceanic depth of your connection.”

Opportunist: “Please. I think he actually likes romance.”

Narrator: “If history itself were not about to end, historians would document this moment for the rest of time. Musicians would write era-defining ballads, and great artists would expend entire lifetimes trying to merely capture the spark you hold right now.”

Hero: “He’s making fun of us!”

Smitten: “It doesn’t matter either way, because this is good stuff.”

Narrator: “I’m aware of my skills.”

“But unfortunately for you… you two aren’t stopping. Why aren’t you stopping?”

Opportunist: “Lot of uh, pent up emotion from our last go around with her if I had to wager.”

Hero: “This is definitely a lot gentler though. More sincere.”

Smitten: “A gentler kiss from a gentler maiden.”

Narrator: “How far do you intend to take your… relations with the Princess?”

Smitten: “Our duty is to serve her! And we will see it through to whatever she desires.”

Opportunist: “At the moment, that’s looking more and more like taking it all the way. No turning back now, sorry Mr. Narrator.”

Narrator: “No. No. This is where I put my foot down. I’ve suffered quite enough from you four today, and I will not be coerced into describing your nauseating… coitus to you as you doom the world and everyone in it.”

Smitten: “Suit Yourself. I’ll take it from here, villain. May You never know the joy of love in Your heart for trying to so cruelly tear it from ours.”

Narrator: “Yeah, whatever. I need a stiff drink. If only so I can wash the taste of this out of my mouth.”

Opportunist: “This is new. I didn’t realize it was that easy.”

Hero: “Don’t be getting any ideas.”

Smitten: “Our lips locked with the Princess, passion roaring like a blast of fire in both our hearts as they beat and boom as one, we drop our weapon and take her in our loving arms to keep her steady. And, embracing us just the same, our feathers meet her flawless, pristine skin.”

Opportunist: “I wouldn’t say flawless or pristine.”

Hero: “Could you not?”

Opportunist: “What? I wasn’t insulting her. I for one like a woman that’s a little rough around the edges.”

Smitten: “Ahem.”

Hero: “Right. Yeah. My… his bad.”

Smitten: “We hold each other close in holy union, her hold on us tighter than her slight form seems capable. Powered not by her body, but by her heart.”

“And yet, before long, we part from her.”

“That was nice.”

Narrator: “Is… is it over now? Are you done?”

“Ugh. Finally.”

Opportunist: “I wouldn’t be so quick to celebrate.”

Smitten: “Gazing lovingly into her eyes, we speak again, our voice soft and low.”

“How far would you like to go here?”

“I don’t… I don’t really know.”

“Last time was all fun and games, but there’s more to it now. More to us now.”

Smitten: “Flustered but curious, a warm honey glow spreads across her perfect face. And though we try to hide it, we start to stir in restrained anticipation.”

“But I’ve been…”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I’ve been a bit confused. Ever since we… did all that.”

“Like I’m supposed to hate you, but it’s all that comes to mind when I think about you.”

“Pent up. Longing. Heated…”

“Excited?”

Smitten: “Our sweet mistress, turning her gaze away from us as her countenance reddens even further, sheepishly murmurs her response.”

“ …Yeah. ‘Excited’.”

Smitten: “Bringing a single finger to the side of her chin, we nudge her to face us once more. And without another word, without even the briefest hesitation, both our eyes shutter as we lean back in for another kiss.”

Narrator: [Audibly banging his head.]

Smitten: “We press into our embrace, our tongue testing her lip, both taking in its sweet and savory taste and prodding it, as though knocking on the door to her chamber and asking to come in.”

“And after a moment, her lips, now quivering, part for us, and our tongues meet between them.”

“Our hands explore every inch of each other’s forms. Including both of our most sensitive areas. Her fingers comb through our feathers, paying no mind to their disarray. And ours trace across her skin, taking note of its every mark and scratch. Not as flaws, but as features.”

Opportunist: “See, he gets it. I’m glad he’s the one describing it.”

Smitten: “Thank you, thank you. Someone needed to tell the story of our devotion, and I’ll be damned not to be the one with that voice!”

Opportunist: “Y’know, my romantic friend. I might not be as fluent in the language of love as you are, but if you don’t mind my interjecting, the blade’s still here, and there’s one thing left we haven’t done with it.”

Hero: “You’re not-”

Opportunist: “No! Of course not. Not every idea I have revolves around stabbing someone in the back.”

Hero: “Yeah, but most of them do.”

Opportunist: “Just… look at her collar.”

Hero: “Her… collar?”

Smitten: “Reluctantly, we pull back only slightly, our glance darting downward, before again meeting our love’s trusting eyes.”

“I almost forgot. There’s still one vine on you I haven’t cut yet.”

Smitten: “Puzzled, she curiously - and suspiciously - looks down at her royal clothes. It takes only a moment for her to realize it’s the thorny bodice winding across her chest.”

“She smiles back at us, her face, once shrouded in longing and despair, now pink and radiant with a warm blush. But despite her expression’s innocence, we can see a spark of a familiar mischief in her eyes.”

“Oh… How wretched of you.”

“You really have a way of bringing out the wildest in me.”

Smitten: “Both nervous and excited, the Princess’s trembling voice sinks to a meek whisper.”

“Come and free me then. My… my Prince.”

Hero: “P… Prince? Oh. Oh my.”

Smitten: “Ahh. I can hear the chime of our wedding bells already.”

Opportunist: “Really? I, for one, hear something a little more risque.”

Hero: “This is all going really fast. We should talk to her about this.”

Opportunist: “Nah, no need. She wants it, we want it. Everyone’s happy! Everyone that matters, anyway.”

Hero: “Look, I won’t pretend I don’t have any feelings for her too.”

“Unlike you.”

Opportunist: “Hey!”

Hero: “But when we get the chance, we should discuss all this with her.”

Opportunist: “Yeah, sure, whatever. Let’s just get to the good part now.”

Smitten: “Retrieving our righteous sword, eyes still locked with hers, we move to wind it around our Princess’s side, trained on the last tether to her life of isolation.”

“But, caught off guard, she flinches, shoving our arm away- quickly, say something before we lose her heart! Remedy this before it gets worse!”

“Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Smitten: “Shaken, the Princess tries to steady her breathing, a subtle ire fading quickly from her conflicted expression.”

“Y-yeah. I’m okay.”

“Just… please. Not the back.”

Smitten: “She places her scraped hand gently against our chest, finding purchase on the scar that now marks our heart… as hers. It stings, slightly, but not at all as badly as those she bares!”

“We place our own over hers, embracing it gently as our fingers curl ‘round.”

“Can I?”

Smitten: “And with the comfort of our touch and a deep breath, she relaxes, a meek smile returning to her.”

“…Yes. I trust you.”

“Sorry I… worried you.”

“No. I am.”

Smitten: “Keeping our excalibur in eyeshot of our Princess, we saw its sharp edge through her bodice, making light work of its vicious, jagged hold over her.”

“Without words, she looks to us with a face both timid and excited, before reaching her hands behind her back and undoing her ragged dress.”

“At last, as it loosens from her skin, she casts it off. Flustered, her smiling countenance is wreathed in red.”

Hero: “Oh. Oh my, wow. They’re…”

Opportunist: “Quite a sight, aren’t they?”

Smitten: “Divine.”

“You’re gorgeous, Princess.”

“That’s very… sweet of you. You-”

Smitten: “Her attentions turned suddenly elsewhere, the Princess glances down our body, and then, back up again. Ruffled and roused, she all but loses her composure.”

Hero: “Are we…?”

Opportunist: “Yes. Yes we are.”

“And it seems we’ve gotten ourselves a captive audience from it.”

Smitten: “Regaining her poise, her blush subsiding slightly, our fair Princess adjusts a strand of her hair, her hand scraped lightly by one of the vines wound into it.”

“You’re really stunning too.”

[Kiss the Princess.]

Smitten: “Again our mouth joins with that of our most beloved, with force and want and need. And taking her in our arms once more, she falls to the ground and brings us down with her, down on top of her. The bare skin of her back meets earth softer than it had been before, and all around us, the surrounding briars recede.”

“Splitting for a moment, we peer at her heated expression. And she stares back at us.”

“Good job. You got me.”

“Yeah. I do. So what do you think happens now?”

Smitten: “For a moment, we give our Princess room for pause. She shudders slightly.”

“But soon, desire and desperation taking over in equal measure, she rubs her wet warmth against us. And in answer, we do to her the same with our own stimulated member.”

“That’s up to you.”

“I’m sure the answer’s in your heart. And you’re going to have to find it there.”

Smitten: “Don’t you see the way she’s looking at us? Don’t keep her waiting. Bed her! Consummate our union!”

Opportunist: “Don’t keep us waiting either! I’m a very busy man, I’ll have you know.”

Hero: “Treat her right, okay? We owe her that much at least.”

[Lay the Princess.]

Smitten: “Eventually, finally, we ease our manhood deep, deep inside her. The sound of her moan is at once enchanting and intoxicating, and the sight of her expression even moreso.”

“Only when we’re completely sheathed do we pause, allowing her hot, welcoming interior to settle around us.”

Hero: “Ooh fuck, that’s intense.”

Opportunist: “Slipped right in there, didn’t it? Someone’s been waiting for us.”

“We’re… we’re really doing this.”

“Ahh. It feels so nice. It’s like you were made to be in me.”

“Who says I wasn’t?”

Smitten: “The Princess snickers breathily, her many scars seeming to fall away and disappear from her world, if for only this precious moment.”

“Maybe you were.”

Smitten: “Shifting her weight anxiously, her legs rubbing against ours, we can see and feel her tension.”

“But let’s not stop at just that.”

Smitten: “Slipping our fingers between hers, we take her hands and clasp them tightly. Laying over her, our face mere digits from her own, we set her arms out, bent and grounded over her head.”

“And saying nothing else, we work our way in and out of her passage, savoring each movement and sensation. Her moans and heavy sighs underscore our every motion, wordless praise for pleasing her so well.”

“Our beak presses against her neck, kissing and pecking it, as she tilts her head to the side in answer. And all the while, she fills our ear with a sensual song of our love.”

“Ngh. Gods I need it faster. I need it faster!”

Opportunist: “You heard her, boss. Who are we to say no to royalty?”

Hero: “Be careful with her though. Wouldn’t want to reopen any of those scratches.”

Opportunist: “With what happened last time, I’m not convinced she’d mind.”

Smitten: “Our lips and teeth and tongues joining anew, we drive our mouth back to hers. And, in service of our benevolent sovereign, our motions hasten, slow and gentle inching turning quickly to a rhythmic thrust.”

“Her legs lock around our waist, holding us tight as she withstands our force. And her hands dig into our skin and plumage, clinging to us and leaving light scratches, even pulling a few of our loose feathers free and making a mess of the rest.”

“Her moans and howls, at first channeled into our kiss, soon force it apart, as if breaking free.”

“Oh YES just like that. Keep going. Keep go… ingh. Going!”

“GODS itfeelssogood.”

Hero: “It’s almost like she’s a different person in bed.”

Opportunist: “I’m not complaining.”

“A-all that f-fighting, all the mistrust, th-hat hate and… agh! Death.”

“It doesn’t matt… m-matter anymore. None of it- hheh, none of it matters!”

“It’s just you and me and this and… UHNGH.”

Smitten: “Further still our movements quicken, pouring all our passion and desire and frustration into them, let loose like a tide through a broken dam. Her head arches back, her spine curling below her as we lay her.”

“None of it matters. None of it matters!”

Smitten: “Righting herself, her fragile poise wavering under our love, she peers up at us with the joy and fondness of a newlywed on their honeymoon.”

“L-let’s leave it all behind. Just us! J-just… just us!”

“A Princess a-aand her Prince…”

Smitten: “Her composure fails, overtaken by the mounting, sensual pleasure of our union.”

“Ugh! You feel AMAZING.”

Hero: “The way she’s talking is driving us wild. I don’t know how long we’re going to last here.”

Opportunist: “I’m sure she’ll love it when she cranks one out of us.”

“And besides, she doesn’t seem all that far from her grand finale either.”

Smitten: “As though on queue, we feel her begin to clench around us, the sultry walls of her sex pulsating against our intrusion.”

“And with that, a stress starts to rise in our own nethers, mounting as our manhood begins twitching and throbbing with our heart, hastened by the tight squeeze of her opening.”

“Fuck, Princess, I’m almost there. I’m almost… there!”

“Nggive it to me!”

“My hero… My kn-night.”

“My Prince!”

Opportunist: “This is it.”

Hero: “Oh fUCK.”

“Princess!”

You feel the building tension give as your Princess frees you, time seeming to slow comfortably around you.

For a moment, the world seems to fall away. For a moment, nothing exists save empty space, you, and her.

Warmth. Pleasure. Euphoria. A high greater than all the tallest mountains.

You look at her as you finish. Admiring her. This delicate yet rugged, strong yet vulnerable princess, at once feared and loved in every way you can.

Your greatest nightmare. Your worst fantasy. Your guardian angel of death.

She’s just as enraptured as you.

Her satisfied sigh pulls you back. The world around you returns, fading in from nothing.

You become aware of your Voices again.

Smitten: “-r love spills into her, leaving a piece of us with it.”

Opportunist: “Ahh. Now that was fun.”

Smitten: “Like Heaven itself.”

Hero: “I don’t even mind that we look like a mess now.”

Opportunist: “As if we didn’t before.”

Smitten: “Our Princess, panting and trembling as she recovers, looks up at us with a gleam in her eye. She presses her shaking hand against our cheek, and we lean into its touch, placing our own on top of hers.”

“Thank you. My sweet Prince.”

“Hheh. Hheh. I’ve needed that so much, you have no idea.”

“Don’t I?”

Smitten: “Comfortable for the first time in a life both drawn out and painful, our beloved bride-to-be laughs.”

Hero: “Ugh, that laugh. I’m in love.”

Smitten: “As are all of us.”

Opportunist: “Now now, it was fun, but…”

You’re still not fooling anyone.

Opportunist: “Sigh. Yeah. I know.”

“With how well you took care of me, maybe you do.”

“Or maybe you just needed it as much as me.”

Smitten: “We press our beak against the Princess’s nose, nuzzling it affectionately. And, on some strange instinct, we bring it to her hair to preen it like it was our own feathers, loosening the thorns and loose plant parts from it. Despite its messiness, it smells like roses blooming in spring.”

“Finally withdrawing, we tumble to her side, both of us staring up at the basement ceiling as we catch our breath. Her hand slips into ours.”

“Thank you for the second chance. For trusting me.”

“It wasn’t easy. But I… I’m glad I could.”

“Did you… mean it when you called me Prince? Or was that…”

“…Yes. I did.”

“I don’t know where or how any of this will go from here. But I want to be with you.”

“I do too.”

“But those… other people in your head. Do they want that?”

“Heh. Yeah, sure. Surprised you remembered that.”

“I think everyone up there’s on the same page about you now. About… us, now.”

“Except for one. But I don’t think He’s really one of us.”

“What’s the world like? Outside, I mean.”

“Y’know. Come to think of it, I don’t know. Everything before the path here is… hazy.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah. Seems like it.”

“Part of me was worried you were going to say that.”

“I guess we’ll just need to find out together.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“As long as you’ll be there… I wouldn’t either.”

[Kiss the Princess.]

Smitten: “Righting ourselves, we lean in and share one last soft, tender kiss before we leave.”

“Come on. As much as I just love the view of the ceiling down here, it doesn’t beat the sky. Let’s get out of here.”

Smitten: “And taking her hands in ours, we pull her up and help her to her feet.”

“We’re really leaving here together this time, aren’t we?”

Smitten: “Retrieving what’s left of our Princess’s garments, we bring them to her, allowing her to reclaim her modesty.”

“Once more, she reaches her hands behind her, poised to redo the seam at the back of her dress. But this time, she pauses, looking to us. And then, she turns her back… the scar on her shoulder never more visible.”

“Could you… help me put it back on, my noble prince?”

Opportunist: “…”

Hero: “What? You’re not gonna suggest stabbing her?”

Opportunist: “I admit it. Our… romantic Voice here was right. I want to be on top. With her.”

“Every king needs a queen afterall, right?”

Smitten: “And every princess needs a prince.”

Hero: “Seems we’re finally all in agreement then.”

[Help her redress.]

Smitten: “Approaching her cautiously from behind, our clawed fingers take hold of her gown’s seams.”

“For a moment, we hesitate. Looking at her wound, the memories of our vile act of betrayal worm their way back to the forefront of our mind.”

“Yet, as if feeling our apprehension and remorse, our Princess turns her head to us and answers it.”

“It’s okay. I… I forgive you.”

“Besides. I gave you one too.”

Smitten: “Her words bolstering our spirit, we close the dress’s seam, latching hooks back into place and tying a vine that acts as its lace.”

“Let’s go. We’re both meant for so much more than this.”

Narrator: “Suppose it is that time now, isn’t it? Time to damn the whole world to oblivion, I suppose.”

Opportunist: “Oh. Great. You’re back now.”

Narrator: “I never left. No matter how much I might have wanted to, I can’t leave.”

“And this, let it be known, has been a thoroughly miserable experience.”

“I died for this. And right now, I want nothing more than to do it again.”

Hero: “You what?”

Narrator: “…Nevermind that.”

“Her hand slips into yours, and the two of you walk side by side to the basement stairs. Some of your wings drape over her shoulders, part of them wrapping around her chest to cover her… eugh. Remaining exposure.”

“Shameful, really, that the same thorns that so graciously allowed you downstairs are now blocking-”

Smitten: “We step into the thorns, and they yield. And, as though guided up the ladder to Heaven by divine hand, we and our Princess ascend the stairs without obstacle.”

Narrator: “What? No, that can’t-”

Smitten: “Please. After all the trials we’ve been through, do You really think a few pointy sticks could stop us? Love is a weapon more powerful than our blade. More powerful than whatever barrier You put in front of it. We step through the thorns.”

Opportunist: “Sorry, outsider. This world is ours now.”

Narrator: “The second you step out of this cabin with her, ‘your’ world ends, do you hear me? What did the world ever do to you to deserve this?”

Smitten: “Your nightmare is our dream. Whatever world would condemn such star-crossed lovers as us to a cycle of violence and despair isn’t a world worth saving.”

“We’ll weave something new together. Something better.”

Narrator: “You and the Princess hesitate at the cabin door. This is your last chance.”

Hero, Smitten, and Opportunist: “We’ve already made our decision.”

[Step into your freedom.]

Narrator: “Hands clasped, the two of you open the door, and step out into a new day. The horizon burning with the last sunrise anyone will ever see. You irredeemable monsters.”

“After all that we’ve been through…”

“we finally left it all behind.”

“We’re starting anew. With love.”

Smitten: “Our Princess turns to us, and, with a sweet, glowing smile, begins to speak.”

“About earlier. About when I said I didn’t know how to feel about you.”

“I think I do now. I… love you.”

“My… sweet… Prince…”

But you don’t get the chance to say it back. Nor will you ever.

It’s time to leave. Memory returns.

“…I love you too.”

Your voice echoes in the cold and quiet. No one else is around to hear it.