Chapter Text
Darrik looked around nervously as he entered the chamber. He’d been working in the stables when he had been summoned, and his experience in Queen Marica’s domain had taught him that a sudden change in routine typically meant that the Queen had thought of a new game that she wanted to play. These games could range from a pleasant break in his drudgery to a few days of nightmarish torments. The room he’d been called to this time was shrouded in shadow, which seemed like a bad sign.
His heart sank when he saw that three other Kinfolk servants were present, all of them people that he knew; more servants typically meant a less pleasant game. Gertrude was friendly enough; she had been a farmer who had been captured and sold to another fae by human slavers, and then lost to Marica in a game of chance. She was a short, round woman with thick braided hair, freckled from the bright heat of the ovens, wearing a slinky black dress and a perfectly white apron, both unsuited to her duties, and was disciplined for any soot or food that touched either. Khelil was a brown-furred kobold from Marica’s lands, who had been taken in exchange for his village’s tribute a few years back. His clear devotion to Marica, even as a slave, made him unsafe to confide in, but he was friendly enough if you were careful; he was wearing a sleek-cut suit with ruffled cuffs. And Hanari had been an adventurer who thought to challenge Marica’s domain a few years ago. She’d failed and been consigned to the farms, and took out her resentment at having to pretend to be an animal on the kin farmhands. Hanari was a gargoyle, blue-skinned and wiry, her wings bound behind her and her body clad in a shiny black suit and pony ears.
Light flared behind the four as Queen Marica descended a glass staircase towards them. All four Kin quickly sank to their knees, although Hanari did it a half-second behind the others. She was taller than any of them, her blue skin rippling like a watercolor painting, bleeding into the crimson of her hair. She looked down over the four, smiling pleasantly.
“A few weeks ago,” Marica said without preamble, “a group of adventurers succeeded in their challenge of my realm.”
Darrik swallowed. He’d heard rumors, of course, but little information had filtered down to the Kinfolk servants. The fae seemed worried about discussing the situation in-depth.
“As part of their boons,” Marica added, “I have agreed to give my Kin subjects one fair chance to leave this realm, each year and a day. The four of you were taken around the same month, so I have decided to align your chance.”
Darrik’s eyes widened, and he glanced over to the others to see their reaction. Khelil seemed confused, but Gertrude and Hanari were already exchanging similar looks.
Marica clapped her hands, and the lights came up on the room. It was a large treasure-hall, with dozens of artifacts on plinths, chests of gold coins, and vases filled with jewels. The reflected light was almost blinding. “Within this chamber,” Marica said, “are a number of treasures. The first two of you to claim a treasure and present it to me will be released and given the treasure as a reward for your years of service. Anyone who fails will have to wait for a year and a day for their next attempt.” She raised one finger. “If you fall into a trap, or claim a false treasure, you will be punished for as long as I deem appropriate, and I do not guarantee that two of you will win this game. But it is possible.” She smiled broadly, eyes glittering with amusement. “Begin.”
Hanari exploded into motion, wings twitching against their restraints as she raced into the treasure room. Darrik was a few steps behind her, with Gertrude and Khelil bringing up the rear. He’d already done the math; the trick to this game was to be quick enough to be one of the first to finish, but cautious enough not to trigger any of the traps.
Knowing his queen, there would be hints. She was mercurial and cruel, but mostly fair. Darrik’s eyes ran over the various artifacts. The gold coins seemed too obvious. They were treasure, but they weren’t treasures, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there were only two real treasures among the lot. He looked at a gleaming silver helm, engraved with runes, and saw something twitch inside it. Not that one.
There was a cry of surprise from his right. Darrik looked up to see that, in her haste, Hanari’s wings had brushed against one of the vases, and a set of gemstones had stuck to her. “No!” she screamed, staggering backwards. “No, no, no! Eheh! Ahahah!”
The gemstones skittered up her skin, spreading out tiny bristles that scratched at Hanari’s skin, digging into sensitive spots. They wrapped around the bindings on her wings, rubbing against the thin membranes, and she doubled over in a fit of giggles as they brushed along her. Hanari reared back, trying to scrape the gems off on the stone wall of the chamber, only to have her wings end up spread out and pinned to the wall like a butterfly, twitching with helpless laughter. As she struggled, a lattice of gemstones spread across her sleek costume, pressing it down against her body and creating a criss-crossing network of shimmering bonds, all of them spawning more bristles to assault her skin at every point, up and down her sides, across her stomach, twirling along the edges of her breasts as diamond rings wrapped around her nipples and pulled them taut, twitching back and forth with ticklish abandon. Hanari’s face was turning red, tears streaming from her eyes as she screamed with laughter. “AHAHHHAAHAHAH!!!”
A solid sheet of ruby folded over her face, and her expression froze in a panicked, laughing grin, breasts heaving for air as she helplessly, silently struggled against the ticklish frenzy besetting her. Queen Marica looked at her, and smiled thinly. “I suppose you found the thought of freedom too… pleasant,” she said.
The others had already taken advantage of the confusion to move further into the chamber. Khelil was carefully gauging the weapons one by one, looking at the figures engraved on them. He reached for a spear, and then cursed bitterly as it twisted in his hands, transforming into a twisting snake that began to wrap around him. The kobold tried to run, but the snake was growing tighter, and he fell over as it continued to expand, mummifying him in metal. Darrik couldn’t see how it targeted him, but he could see the metal statue shake as muffled, garbled laughter began to rise from within it.
Gertrude was focused on the gold, looking for a chest that was empty enough to be safely closed. Darrik forced himself back to the challenge - he didn’t want to spend another year here.
And then he saw Gertrude reach for one of the chests, and he saw the quiver of motion inside it. “Gertrude, no!” he shouted.
She turned to look at him, confusion turning to fear as her outstretched hand was met by a wave of gold as the chest erupted to life. Gertrude shrieked as the gold ran up her body, her tight dress exploding as an inch of gold shattered its stitches and coated her arm, running into her armpit as the metal vibrated against her most sensitive points. “Eheeheeee!” Gertrude shrieked in ticklish helplessness as the statue continued to coat her, subjecting every inch of her skin to scratching and vibration. She tried to pull back, but the chest came with her, and she staggered towards Darrik with fear in her eyes and a helpless smile breaking across her features. “Help me!” she cried. “Ahaheheheh! HEEEEE!!”
Darrik watched helplessly as the gold ran over her skin. Her shirt fell to the ground, revealing the curves of her breasts and the folds of her stomach. The gold rose up, and Gertrude tried to raise her face away from it as it coated her, mouth opening into a scream of laughter. Her dress fell down, and she let out a quiet squeal as gold flowed into her lower orificies, then gasped as it poured down her mouth. Within moments, she was as still as a statue, gold covering every inch of her body, golden hair cascading from her final, failed attempt to flee, eyes wide with panic and mouth open in a desperate laugh.
Darrik turned to Queen Marica. “Your majesty,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, “I thought that these traps were not meant to kill us.”
Marica glanced at Gertrude, and laughed. “She is not dead,” she said with a wave of her hand. “The magic of the gold will not allow her to finish suffocating. She cannot see, or hear, or feel anything but the feeling of the gold running endlessly over her skin. She would laugh, if she could, but that is also denied to her.” She looked back at Darrik. “You had best make your choice. Not all of my traps wait to be touched.”
Darrik swallowed. He looked back at the treasures filling the room, and thought about his queen and her ways. Cruel, but fair. Prone to…
He groaned to himself. In retrospect, the choice was obvious. He only hoped that it wasn’t too late.
Crossing the room, Darrik reached out and grabbed Gertrude, bracing himself as he strained to pull her. He felt the gold on her body begin to reach out, covering his hands as he dragged her statue out of the center of the chamber. It was reaching up his arms, now. If he was wrong, he was about to have a very bad few months.
“I claim Gertrude as my treasure,” he said, feeling the gold wrapping around his torso, shredding his shirt and climbing up his muscles, running ticklish fingers of cold metal across his skin.
For a moment, he thought he’d made a mistake. But as the gold began to climb up his neck, it stopped. And then, in a flash, Gertrude was standing naked next to him, gasping for breath, giggling with the last remnants of sensitivity.
Queen Marica smiled broadly, and gave a polite little clap. “Clever boy. I knew I liked you. How did you know?”
“Your majesty is wise. If all of us were to have a chance to escape, you would not limit the game to two winners. That was the clue,” Darrik responded.
Gertrude stared at him. “What?”
Darrik put an arm around her. “We were the treasures. The four of us.”
“Indeed,” Marica said. “Gertrude, I’m afraid that you picked the wrong thing, and failed the challenge. However, as Darrik chose correctly, he may take you from this place. If he wishes to.”
“I do, your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness.” Darrik very carefully did not look at the kobold struggling on the floor, or the struggling gargoyle hanging from the wall.
Marica nodded, waving her hand. “My servants will escort you to the borders of my domain. Best of luck to you.”
As the half-naked man and the naked woman beside him walked away, Gertrude leaned in. “You saved me,” she whispered. “I’ll have to find a way to thank you properly, later.”
“Your wish is my command,” Darrik replied with a smile.