Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey guys! I figured I'd indulge my latest obsession with another drabble collection~! This one's going to be open to requests so I'm gonna lay out some ground rules.

1: No NSFW- I don't mind doing suggestive things, as long as we don't go full on peen/vag/titty.

2: Pronouns- I tend towards neutral at all times, if it's specifically requested I can use your pronouns. If you want the skeksis to use them, request specific ones. (Almost all skeksis use he or they, while skekSa exclusively uses she. skekLach has used he/she/they in the past. skekEkt was called they and he by Henson, and <incorrectly> she by certain books.)

3: Right To Choose- I can't guarantee I'll take everyone's requests. If I do, I can't promise it'll be a huge thing, either. I'll do my best to make sure it's done well, even if it's short though!

4: Be specific- What character? Do you want multiple characters? Is your Reader a Skeksis, Gelfling, or something else? What keywords do you want me to focus on? (read: skekMal, Just the reader and the Hunter, Skeksis, Stranded)

    -If it's an OC or AU, I'll need more specific details

5: No Shame Zone- Don't judge others for what they request, guys. This is Logan's chill out site and I don't want any drama starting over this. The specific tags will be in the top notes so if you aren't into that you can find another chapter that suits you.

Comment or PM me with requests (can't believe I forgot the most basic thing OTL)

The chapter's name and characters will be in the title itself (read: Stage Play-urGoh/Reader/skekGra)

OC's and AU's are more than welcome!

CanonxCanon is fine too!

I'm up for doing head canon's too!

Sometimes things might take longer than usual. I can't trust I will update regularly.

I think that's all the housekeeping out of the way! If I need to, I'll update this chapter with any new rules or such.

Chapter Text

Normally you kept to yourself around the castle. Your fellow Skeksis weren’t exactly what you’d call enjoyable company...well, all but one.

“Are you listening to me?” skekSo barks harshly. They recline in their usual place at the back of the bathing room, the picture of a powerful ruler. Mist billows out of the tub you’re relaxing in, Podling servants freezing at the shout of the Emperor.

You sigh loudly, slipping deeper into the water. “Of course I am, sire.” A flick of your talons sends the nearest Podling scrambling for your scented oil to add to your bath.

“Lying to your emperor? How unbecoming. ” They hiss, tail flicking. Though you can tell there’s no actual anger to that.

Your servant returns, the bottle sloshing noisily. While it looks like your flask, one sniff of the uncorked container tells you this is most certainly not your preferred mix of scents. With a clack of your beak as the only warning, you lash out at the offending Podling. “You idiot! This is the Chamberlin’s, not mine!” Your claws snag the back of the squealing thing’s coat, lifting it up to shake the sense out of it.

The other slaves are screaming at you, and while your grasp of the language was nowhere near as good as it should be, you could pick up a few of them demanding that you ‘Let her go!’ You swing your head to berate them as well when you hear skekSo snap.

“ Enough! ” They wheeze noisily. “You Podlings are spoiling my mood!” With a snarl, the Emperor waves off the howling servants. “Leave! Now! ”

With that, the Podlings all scatter. The one in your hand squirms until the back of it’s outfit rips out of your grasp. It flees, crying the entire way.

Once the space is only occupied by the two of you, skekSo calls out to you. “Come, sit with me.”

You obey, though you whine all the way over about your spoiled bath. You gather your dressing gown from the hook that holds it, drawing it across your shoulders. “I swear, these new slaves are worse than useless! I know they can smell just as well as we can! Do I look like the kind of Skeksis to use fruity scents?!”

skekSo says nothing, simply motioning you over to assist with tying the ribbons of your gown into lovely bows.Their talons scrape gently along your secondary shoulder blades. Thirty trine ago, you would have been a nervous wreck to be in this situation. After all, the Emperor wasn’t exactly the affectionate type...now though?

Be it at their side, or just around the corner, you were practically the shadow of the ruler of the Skeksis.

An audible swishing sound catches your attention. Glancing back you find a bottle of familiar smelling bathing oil clasped in skekSo’s claws.

You squawk loudly, “Emperor, you didn’t!”

That earns you a dark chuckle. “It is rare for us to get time alone. You can’t blame me for taking advantage of the opportunity once I found this hidden away.” They muse, uncorking the fragrant bottle. “ Relax. After this, skekTek should be just about finished with their newest batch of essence. We deserve to indulge ourselves, do we not?” They continue, dabbing a beautifully soft cloth into the mouth of the glass.

“Oh, I suppose so…” You admit, grinding at the idea. After all, you hadn’t been in the castle when this life giving liquid had been discovered. (You were out with skekEkt, helping them fetch new fabric for the fast approaching winter.) You were very keen on tasting some for yourself. “Let’s call it a date, then?”

skekSo smirks, nodding at that. They push you back against the cushioned resting area. “Give me your hands.”

As you do so, you realize that the oil smells...off. Just slight enough that it could pass to the unfamiliar, but to you it might as well be night and day. “Did they do something different with this batch? It’s not right.”

“ I changed it.”

That raises the sparse feathering you have. “You? What for??”

For a long while, silence reigns supreme as the cool headed Skeksis doesn’t see fit to respond. They just continue to rub the liquid into your skin. It’s when you feel their talons at your neck that you recognize it. “Is this yours skekSo?”

The claws pause, thumbs pressed against the hinge of your jaw. “...Does that bother you?”

“ No, of course not.” As if to convince them, you lean back into the touch. “I just want to know why.”

“Because you’re mine.” skekSo states, as if this is very cut and dry. “Tilt your head up.”

You comply, watching them as they continued their task. In all honesty, you don’t know how much time passes after that. The only thing you do know is that you’re practically falling asleep in your partner’s hands.

Then, “You know, it was skekSil that had your oil swapped with theirs.”

You jolt up from your dozing. “What? Why would they-”

“It’s a power play. They’re betting they can use you to bait me into attacking them.” The Emperor mutters irritably.

“To what end?” You wonder aloud, leaning back until you’re laying in skekSo’s lap.

“So the schemer had a valid reason to challenge my position as ruler.”

You scoff loudly, startling a rogue crawly that scampered off into the main hall. Reaching up, you take one of their hands. “skekSil is a desperate buffoon.” You start, kneading skekSo’s palm intently as you continue. “I’m loyal to you, my Emperor. Only to you. Even if the Chamberlain had managed to fool me into wearing their scent, I would have simply denounced them as publicly as I could. Shame them until they were a sniveling wreck.”

There’s a half-hearted chuckle from your companion.

“Besides, I’m not a pretty trinket that can be given out like a prize. You earned my devotion.”

That gets a pleased purr out of skekSo. They lean down, pressing their beak to the side of your face, simply basking in your presence. “We could still sell them down the river as it were.”

“I could have my guards gather peach-berries, get the Scientist to distill them into a form where they wouldn’t stink until they’re heated up?” You offer.

The Emperor cackles at that, mood sufficiently lifted. “I would love to see the look on their face.”

Chapter Text

As you trot down the hall toward the lab, your arms are so full of glass bottles that they jingle noisily. Your master had specially requested fifteen bottles to be brought to their workspace. The halls had finally quieted down since the earlier screaming that was echoing throughout the Castle of the Crystal. Maybe your ears would stop ringing soon.

“A-Assistant?” You hear the Scientists voice call out. The towering Lord shuffled down the hallway, wavering with each step. They sound like they’re in a large amount of pain.

You nearly let go of what you were carrying to rush to their side. “My Lord, is everythi-” Your heart leaps into your throat when you see the blood oozing down the side of their face, clotting into wax-like trails. One glimpse of the empty socket does make you drop everything. A few shatter, but you don’t care. “What happened?!”

“Hush Gelfling, hush now…” skekTek mutters woozily, heading into their lab. “Gather the medical supplies for me.”

You dash off to do so, also gathering a blanket your master would use when they fell asleep at the workstation. They were clearly in shock. The Scientist shook as they sat down in a chair. One of their trembling clawed hands reaches out to you, taking the patterned quilt. As you make sure it won’t slip from their grasp, skekTek brings up another arm to cradle your face.

“My assistant, I’m afraid I will require your help.” They wheeze. "You must listen very closely. Do you understand?”

You nod frantically. “Of course my Lord.”

With that you set about the gruesome task of cleaning and bandaging the Scientist’s wounded eye. By some miracle, your hands remained steady throughout. That earned you many praises, though sometimes you can’t understand the Skeksis. Once the final band of gauze is in place you begin to cart away the soiled materials you used during the procedure. After you’re completely sure they will be alright for a few moments, you go out to sweep away the shards of glass so they wouldn’t get underfoot. Including the lab cleanup, it’s about an hour before you’re distracted.

“Gelfling? Assistant??” You scurry back into the room at that.

“Yes, my Lord?” You ask upon entering.

“If the Chamberlin tries to intrude, You will bar them from entering yes?”

“If you give the order, sire.” You nod.

skekTek coughs roughly, before saying. “Promise me.”

“Without question. If I am here, then I guarantee it.” Isn’t an exaggeration. If the Scientist wishes, it is done. Especially now.

“Good. Very good.” They say, reaching out to softly pet your hair.

You remain at their side for the rest of the night.

It was an accident. You had no intention of getting back so early. The runaway guard was horribly, terribly, unbelievably telling the truth.

You tremble watching them torture the so called ‘traitor’s friend...you can feel your stomach lurching. Biting into the flesh of your knuckles, you stay as silent as you can.

Eventually, the only one left is your Scientist. Poor, beleaguered, bullied skekTek...or that’s what you’d always believed they were. The thought that the other Skeksis could betray you wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities...but not yours . A minute whimper escapes you, causing the Scientist’s head to whip around.

“...Gruenak’s, find the intruder!” They command, glowing mechanical eye sweeping the room. You’re quickly discovered after that. You can’t believe a creature could beg forgiveness without the means to speak, but they most certainly can. With little else that can be done, the two drag you over to your Lord.

“Ah, very good Gru-” skekTek’s grin falls when they realize just who the stowaway is. “A-Assistant?” They stammer.

Your vision swims, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “Yes, my Lord.”

“How much did you see, Gelfling?”

“Everything, sire-” Your voice breaks, throat spasming. After a moment you start over. “Tell me that the others made you do it. Tell me that you didn’t want this! My dearest Scientist, tell me you are better than this. ”

skekTek’s hands shake. They reach out to brush your hair out of your face with what you believed to be gentle talons. “What would you have me say?”

“The truth. ”

“Even if you wouldn’t like what I say? Even if you can never look at me the same way?” They warn you.

You nod solemnly.

skekTek swallows around a lump in their throat. “No. My hands were not forced. I did these things not only knowingly, but willingly.”

That’s what finally sends you into borderline hysterics. “ Why? ” You scream at them. “What could possibly justify the slaughter of my people?!”

“Hush Gelfling, hush now.” The Scientist whispers. “No explanation will make you feel anything but worse . Right now, what you must do is allow me to offer you one final kindness.”

You sniff loudly, ears pinned back against your hair. “What could you possibly offer me that is kind?”

“Your life, my assistant. Come along now.” skekTek offers a hand to you. “You must stay close to me, if the others find you…I can not guarantee your safety.”

You nervously, cautiously, unthinkably accept. You allow your-...you allow the Scientist to lead you through the lower halls, out into the guards landstrider pens.

“Take this as far from here as the creature will carry you. I implore you, do not look back. You promise me you will obey me? One last time?” skekTek’s voice wavers as they help you onto the flighty thing.

“Why do this for me? What’s stopping me from warning other G-”

“Then so be it!” They snap. “You were the one thing in this loathsome castle that was cordial or dare I say, devoted to me.”

You freeze, staring at the Scientist. The landstrider kicks a bit, squealing loudly.

“My Assistant…” The Skeksis’ tone takes on a soft edge. “I never thought I’d say this, but...I hope we never meet again. Goodbye.” With that, they smack the landstrider’s flank, sending it fleeing past the open gate.

Thra blurs into a streak of colour and noise around you. All you can process is a single thought.

What were you going to do now?

Chapter Text

You had met Gurjin at the second battle of Stone-In-The-Wood. He’d rescued you from being gored by the Emperor at the last moment. After that, you had become fast friends. It only took a trine for you to begin officially dating. 

“Pst. Hey, love are you alright?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, ears burning at the pet name. “What’s up, darling?”

He smiles, warm like the suns. He reaches out, tucking one of your braids behind your ear. “You’re daydreaming again! C’mon, just let ol’ Gurjin into that brain of yours for once?”

You blush even harder at that, leaning against the Drenchen’s side. “Just thinking about when we first met, y’know?”

He barks out a surprised laugh. “What for?”

“I...I dunno?” You shrug with one shoulder. “Just getting close to the anniversary of the battle. Makes me wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t answered the call…”

Gurjin shushes you, patting your arm. “Don’t focus on that, love. Just think of the future.” His fingers find yours, lacing together. “Of our future.”

That makes you giggle. “It sounds like you’re going to propose to me.”

The tall Gelfling stills at that. He looks like a childling caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “...That’s because I am.”

...what?

What?

W H A T ! ?

“Oh my Aughra , Gurjin?!!” You whirl around to face him. “Are you serious!?”

Like the rest of his clan, Gurjin doesn’t traditionally blush. Instead his markings just grow more vivid. “Y-Yea’? You make me a better man. I want to spend my life with you. Do you...feel the same?”

You practically bowl him over with a hug. “ Of course I do! Yes, Gurjin, yes I accept!!”

His grin brightens at that. “You really mean it?”

You can’t help kissing his forehead. “If I say yes a third time, will it stick?”

It does stick. The two of you are married the following spring, melding the traditions of your clans to make something new. Something that suits you both perfectly .

Chapter Text

Many trine had passed since you last saw your dear skekTek. Not one glimpse of any of the Lords of the Crystal since you moved into the Sog. The people you did meet were interesting and different in every way. 

From the one eyed Mystic that helped you when your landstrider refused to go any further one night. They spoke to you in a warm, almost familiar way, packing food and water into a lovingly made leather satchel that you still carried to this day.

Then there was the ragtag band lead by Rian. The Stonewood had looked at you with knowing eyes the first time you met. Somehow, the pity is worse than anything else... 

Not to mention Mother Aughra herself.

Now though? Right now you have a lone light staring you down in the dark of the night.

You grip your spear tighter. You were seeing things. You had to be seeing things.

The pale glow draws closer, making your heart hammer in your chest. They made you a promise. They gave you an order . The next time you glance up…

“You’re not r-real.” You whisper. Curse your luck, the next patrol wouldn’t come by for another ten minutes. “You can’t be real.”

“...Would it make you feel better if I was a figment of your imagination?”

Tears spill down your face. “...I don’t know.”

“Walk with me, old friend...even if it’s for the last time.” Thin, knobby hands settle on your shoulders. “It is understandable if you can’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me. I beg you to remember that I will never hurt you.”

Even as you allow yourself to be led away from the tamed areas of the Sog, you can’t help snapping at them. “You have. Do you know how long I’ve had night terrors about what you did?” You accuse. “You can’t possibly tell me you hadn’t realized what that would do to me.”

“I can’t refute that.” Their voice breaks. “I haven’t come here seeking forgiveness. I need closure. I must know that you are safe…”

“Scientist I d-”

“It...It is not Scientist anymore.”

That finally makes you squint through the dark, taking a long look at the Skeksis. The first thing you see is the long scar winding across their forehead. After that, you can see their hands have been broken, not healed properly. The lump in your throat won’t go away. You try desperately to keep from vomiting. “What do I call you then?

“I would prefer my name to my title.”

“What title?”

“The Exile.”

After a moment of staring out into the apeknot trees, you take their mangled hand, gently tracing along the breaks. “If we’re going to try repairing this...I need you to promise me something.”

“ Anything. ”

“Swear to me that these hands will never be used to hurt another Gelfling.” You begin. “Promise me that you regret every life you stole.”

“I-”

You raise a hand, cutting them off. “I’m not finished. I need you to say that you will be better than you were. ”

Something (a tear you suppose) rolls down skekTek's cheek, catching the light from their robotic eye. “I vow I will do everything in my power to earn your trust back. I truthfully don’t deserve your sympathy. Not yet.” They place one of their secondary hands on your cheek. “Perhaps, if I am unbelievably lucky, you will permit me to be in your life once more…”

You lace your fingers through theirs. “We’ll see.”

The Skeksis eventually becomes one of the Resistance’s biggest assets. With their knowledge of the Emperor’s battle tactics (though their exact movements are an enigma) and detailed notes on how to escape their terrible machine. You can’t deny how much they have gifted to your people. Even if it was a trifle compared to their previous atrocities. 

You watch them from the window of your home, smiling to yourself. The Exile turns and catches you looking. Sheepishly you wave to them, getting an enthusiastic multi-arm flail in response. You pause before gesturing for them to join you.

The old stairs groan under the Skeksis (admittedly better) weight. They wheeze the whole way...it’s almost like you never left.

“Y-Yes, old friend?” They pant.

“It’s alright to just say ‘friend’, skekTek.” One of your ears flickers when you say, “Or assistant.”

Their bill hangs open, bordering on comical. They stammer until you take pity on them, hushing the poor thing.

Outside, you can hear the drummers start playing, likely for some sort of feast. “Can you dance, my friend?”

“Whatever for?”

You hold out a hand. “Because I’d enjoy it. If that’s alright of course?” You’re certain you’ve broken the Skeksis until they laugh excitably, eyes bright with more than artificial light.

They accept, taking your hand with recently gentled talons. “Of course, my assistant, of course!” They chortle before sweeping you off your feet.

With a yelp, you cling to skekTek, though you can’t stifle the burst of giggles that come next. They make a big show of it, swinging you about and dipping you, but alas their enthusiasm can only do so much. Exhaustion comes knocking and the Exile sets you down before collapsing against the nearest wall.

“skekTek!” You gasp, rushing over to them.

They wave you off, a raspy chuckle turning into a wheeze. “You’ll find I’m quite alright, Gelfling. Just old.”

You give them a look. “You’re admitting to it?”

That earns you an overly dramatic shriek that leaves your ears ringing. “I’ll have you know, skekSil and I are the youngest of the Skeksis!”

You snort. “Would it surprise you to know I’d actually guessed that?” You gently poke at their beak. “You look younger than the rest. You’re more colourful.”

“The Ornamentalist would be furious to hear that.” skekTek points out. Then they put on a high pitched voice. “skekEkt is the most lovely and dashing Lord~!”

You doubled over with laughter at that, joining your dear friend in their own hysterical giggles. Eventually the two of you are just leaning against one another until the Exile is cut off with more painful sounding coughing. You sympathetically pet their shoulder. “Easy, my skekTek. Easy now.”

“Pah.” They snort. “I have slogged through much worse affairs.”

That sobers you like icy claws down your back.

Your companion takes notice. “What troubles you, my assistant?”

“I’m just...I’m so glad you made it out of that  loathsome castle.” You elaborate, chewing the inside of your cheek.

The Skeksis hums thoughtfully. “As am I, my dear friend. As am I.”

Chapter Text

skekUng hisses in annoyance as they round the corner into the Scientists lab. “skekTek, where are you?”

“What? Can’t you see I’m busy??” The Skeksis grouses, gesturing to the screaming Gelfling in their machine, grinding their teeth absently.

“skekSil is attempting to blackmail me.”

“...So what?”

skekUng’s bill curls up into a sneer, putting their hand on their hip. “ So I want you to help me get back at them. I’ve gathered some materials for you.” The Garthim Master sets out some green clustered flowers.

skekTek glares at it, snorting. “Antelope Horn? How quaint. You are aware it’s not deadly?”

“I’m not out to kill one of our own.” The burly Skeksis snarls. “I want to make them suffer. ” 

The Scientist makes a rattling hum. “Perhaps the Chamberlain could do with an enjoyable bought of sickness. I shall do this for you. But, I’ll require a favor. A paltry payment for my services, yes?”

“ Fine. ” skekUng huffs. “Have your favor. If it works.” With that, they walk off.

skekTek rolls their good eye, throwing the captive Gelfling a look. “Hmmm.”

That night, the others are demanding their essence, crowing noisily. “Yes yes.” the Scientist chatters tiredly. “Enough with the shouting. There, take it.”

Many talons snatch up their respective flasks, guzzling the life giving liquid.

skekSil makes a face afterward, glaring at the bottle. “Which clan were Gelfling? Taste is very strange…”

skekUng cackles at them. “Don’t be so picky Chamberlain. This is fine .”

The Skeksis in question hisses at their detractors. “Can not tell me you don’t taste that!”

The others filter out, speaking ill of the whimpering lord. skekTek sticks around long enough to notice skekSil grabbing their stomach with a loud whine. “Come along, Chamberlain. I shall see about finding something to settle your complaining with.”

“mmmMM.” They simper “skekTek is so cruel to friend Chamberlain.”

“Of course, it’s fun to tease you.” The Scientist chuckles. “Now enough whining. I should have the perfect tincture for you.”

As the Lords make their way down the hall, they have to stop for skekSil to be sick. Their poisoner pats the poor thing on the shoulder. “Ah, this is to be expected.”

“W-What?”

Oops.

“Your stomach is upset, correct?” skekTek tries to save their alibi. “Most experience a similar reaction.”

skekSil squints, a dawning look of betrayal on their face. “Friend Scientist has poisoned Chamberlain. Shame on you!”

“Surely this isn’t the first time to date. Must you be so dramatic?” They snap. 

“ Always. ”

“Contemptible wretch. I’m going to give you a cure.” The Scientist scolds.

“What did skekTek use to do such a mean thing?” skekSil asks, wringing their hands as they follow.

skekTek pushes the other Skeksis into their lab. “Antelope Horn. Sit.” They order before pushing the other into the nearest chair. They turn around to shuffle over to one of their workbenches. They gather up a dish with a pale substance inside to bring over to the whimpering fool.

“hmMMmm, is survivable?”

“Obviously. I’m not going to kill one of our own.” They offer the bowl. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

At the first sip, skekSil nearly spits out the medicine. “Is disgusting!”

“It’s a cure, you’re not supposed to like it. Finish it.”

Though not without complaint, the Chamberlain swallows the whole thing, grimacing as they finish. “Horrendous! Repellent!”

skekTek laughs loudly. “You flatter me. Now go rest.”

“Who made you do this?” skekSil wonders. “skekTek is too busy to hatch plot like this.”

“You noticed, eh?” they ask, cleaning out the dish. “skekUng asked me to.”

That makes the Chamberlain hum gently. “mmmMMhmm? Perhaps skekSil will pay friend skekUng a visit. Would be rude to not thank for gift. ”

As the scheming Skeksis leaves the lab, the Scientist shakes their head. “Pathetic fool. Ah well, it’s no business of mine.” With that, they just go back to their work. The castle had enough politics as is.

Chapter Text

You’re just closing up your practice when it happens. A massive thing slams into the door. Your ears flick forward, on high alert.

“Open the door healer!” A low rough voice demands.

Part of you just wants to remind this stranger that you were closed. ..but what if they were dying? You can’t help but be conflicted. After a moment, you bite your lip and open the door.

There, bleeding on your porch, was the fabled Hunter. Before you can call them in, they were limping inside. In that moment, your emergency training kicks in. “On the table, now.” You go to wash your hands. “Tell me how this happened.”

“Gored by a Nebrie, swarmed by Muskies on the way out.”

“How big were the Muskies?” You pull on gloves.

“Wide as my shoulders.” They flinch, grabbing at a wound that oozes purple venom.

“Don’t touch the wound!” You snap. “I’ll have to get you a rinse so you don’t get that into your eyes.” You huff, filling a bowl with hot water and emptying one of your bottles into it. “Keep your hand in this for...hell, until I’m done with your procedure.”

They do so, though they’re glaring daggers at you.

“Don’t give me that look.” You start drawing a solution into a syringe. “You’re the one that pissed off the wildlife.” 

That earns you a snap to your hand as soon as you get close enough.

Your ears go back. “You try that crap again? I’ll let you bleed out on my table.”

That makes the low, constant growling stop. “Don’t you take an oath?”

You snort, focusing on your task. “If I did, I couldn’t threaten my patients into not being idiots.”

That gets you a chuckle. “You talk like a Skeksis.”

“What does that mean?”

The Hunter clicks their beak. “You’re ruthless. No nonsense. A nice change of pace from the other Gelfling.”

“Tch.” You shake your head. “I’m not fond of mincing words, and my clan doesn’t require taking an oath. Now shut up and let me go draw Muskie anti-venom.”

They let you do so, carefully watching your every move. “Makes sense.” With no fuss, they offer an arm for injection. You don’t talk until you’re preparing them for stitches. 

“You were damn lucky I decided to open my door. Your profession of yours is going to get you killed.”

They snort, “You’re asking me to stop hunting?”

“No.”

The Skeksis blinks, head tilting to one side. “Excuse me?”

“What I’m going to say is you need to be smarter. Don’t get into shit you can’t get yourself out of.” You elaborate. “Now stay still.”

To their credit, the Hunter goes perfectly still. “For a Gelfling, I’m surprised by how much you swear.”

You tug slightly harder than necessary on the sutures. It draws a loud, angry squawk from skekMal. “I guess you’re alright for a Skeksis that throws themselves into Nebrie tusks on a regular basis, from these scars.” You muse. “Also who cares what I say, they’re just words.”

They growl again, though you have a feeling that they don’t mean any actual anger by it. You think…

“Don’t suppose you could come and keep me patched up?” They joke.

You bark out a laugh. “Nah. I’m needed here.”

skekMal huffs. “Shame.”

With that, you clip off the last thread. “I’m going to get you painkillers. Go lay down on one of the cots.”

They gingerly slide off the examination table, talons clicking the whole way.

So...you had saved the life of a Skeksis. Things couldn’t get stranger...not until morning anyway.

Chapter Text

she brings me food each morning,

she leads me to water at night,

her eyes are keen,

her voice is my guide,

she keeps me safe in the deepest trench,

my beloved Deet is leaving now,

for she must save the world

-Nurloc

Chapter Text

Though none were aware of Nox beyond her mentor, she was the only Dousan in service to a Lord of the Crystal. Though ‘serve’ is a touch inaccurate. She had first met the Hunter in a freak sandstorm, it sent the Gelfling and Skeksis fleeing into a tiny cavern.

skekMal had threatened to strangle her, while Nox (blinded by the sands) had managed to rip open the beasts’ face with a knife. The gale that pinned the two in was enormous, forcing a truce. At the time, she had no idea it was the fabled Hunter’s blood on her hands.

Nox was a tracker. A damn fine one, on the trail of some large predator that had been eating members of her village. The creature was determined enough to rip half of it’s paw off when it became trapped. A more poetic type would assert that the Dousan had impressed skekMal. Doesn’t matter. They had seen her potential, if trained right, and taken her under their wing.

Right now, Nox was perched in a tree on the edge of the Dark Wood, staring at the Castle. The Hunter had been tasked with acquiring a Nebrie for the Emperor. The Tracker was insulted on their mentor’s behalf. Such a trivial target was a slap in the face for skekMal. She took it upon herself, tackling a massive male of the species. 

While the Skeksis had hooked the poor beast up to haul to skekSo’s feast, Nox had pried the tusks from the Nebrie. Later she would have her companion assist in the difficult task of splitting them down the spiraling grooves.

The moons hung low in the sky when she heard it. Four distinctive whistles. Short, Long, Short, Short. She obeys the command, feathered cloak and head dress disguising her true identity. She’s a little surprised. skekMal had never called her into the Castle before. They never stuck around for long before leaving, so why bother?

Not her problem. Nox picks up on her mentor’s scent, clawed gauntlets aiding her in scaling the walls until she finds an old Spitter tunnel. Soon enough, she’s dropping down next to the Hunter from the ceiling.

“What is that ?!”

She crouches on all fours, bone ornaments clattering loudly. Nox hisses angrily at the screeching newcomer.

“Why does it matter.” skekMal grumbles. “Emperor commanded me to stay the week. I’m obeying . Leave my quarters skekOk.”

“H-How did it even get in?” The Scroll-Keeper squints. “Shoo, pest!” They wave at the Tracker, talons pathetically dainty.

That makes the Hunter snap their beak shut, the sound ringing. “They aren’t going to listen to you, idiot.” Then they turn to their charge. “Into the room. I’ll collect you momentarily.”

Glaring at the other Skeksis from behind her veil, Nox paces into the rest of the room. skekMal shuts the door behind themself, lock clicking into place. She sniffs around, squinting at the many dusty trophies. Nox recognizes her mentor’s work, though she wonders if it’s not from a very long time ago. It’s rough, less polished than their modern work. She can pick up very faint traces of the Skeksis scent, mostly from the right side of the room. When she trots over the Dousan finds a lavish bed, decorated with beautifully tanned hides and pelts. Something compels her to clamber onto the plush surface.

It’s so soft. While she hadn’t really been that tired, something about the warmth and comfort just...makes her doze off. Soon enough, the world goes silent and Nox does not dream.

She startles awake to one of the Hunter’s coded messages. One flat, short whistle followed by one that ticks up at the end.

New Target .

The door unlocks, and she trots out, manufactured talons echoing in the damnably large palace. On approach, she fires off a rapid set of three chirps. Almost like a bird song.

What is my prey?

Then her companion speaks in Common. “Arathim have invaded the library.”

skekOk watches her nervously as she stalks past them. “Can it even understand you?”

That draws a vicious snarl from skekMal. “They’re sapient.”

The Scroll-Keeper’s eyes go wide. “It is? Where did you even find it? I’ve never seen such a beast…”

“The Crystal Desert.” The Hunter grinds their teeth. “Show them to the library so I don’t have to look at your face anymore.”

Hands fidgeting, the near-sighted Lord motions to Nox. “This way...uh-”

“They respond to Tracker.”

“Ah.” skekOk clicks their beak, adjusting one set of glasses. “This way, Tracker.” With that, they turn to lead her to the Great Library.

She catches the scent of Spitters the second the Dousan enters the lofty wing. A thin trill indicates to skekMal that there’s only a handful of targets in the area.

One click of the Hunter’s tongue sends her sprinting off into the depths of the room.

“Gracious!” The reedy Skeksis jumps out of Nox’s path.

She roots out the first one quickly enough in the Gelfling History section. It tries to get a bite in, but the faster Tracker gets in a solid strike with a wrist blade, ending the skirmish quickly. It shrieks on the ground, twitching as it dies. Nox skitters off to capture the rest. She finds the last one in the Language shelf. It lunges for her, but the Dousan tears into its throat with her talons, spilling the innards onto the carpeted floor.

She can hear her mentor arguing with the Scroll-Keeper. Nox grabs the largest carcass by a leg with her teeth, dragging it over.

“Well I’ll be…” skekOk smiles softly. “Efficient little thing, isn’t it?”

The Hunter nods. “They have to be.”

She sits there, watching the two chatter with each other, then heading off to break the Arathim down. She pries the shell from one, examining the meat inside. With a meticulous eye, she separates out the venom sacks and slices the meat into sections. skekMal walks up to her, patting her head.

“Wrap it up, we’ll finish this later.” They order.

She gives an affirmative chirp, taking a tarp offered by her mentor.

“Wait one moment please!” skekOk calls out. They shuffle over, something cradled in their bony hands. “Can it read? Can it read our language?”

“Why.” The Hunter snorts.

“I’ve gift for your Tracker. A thank you for saving my collection.”

Nox tilts her head, moving over to the Lord. As she does, the Scroll-Keeper holds out some sort of journal. It’s bound with tanned leather (landstrider, she thinks.), a thin golden chain is wrapped around it. Attached to it is a dainty magnifying glass.

“There’s weapon schematics in this. I’ve already found another copy so I believe it would be useful.” They gesture with the book.

Eventually, Nox goes to take the gift. She stashes it in the folds of her cloak, lingering long enough to give skekOk’s had one last sniff. Then she turns to walk off.

As she and her mentor head back to their quarters, Nox muses that she might grow used to the Castle one day. She would be damned if she did so willingly. Still, it was only a week…

What could happen in such a short span of time?

Chapter Text

You trundle down the Castle halls, wheezing due to the distance. Curse these long walkways, how did they always seem to go on forever? You click your beak in annoyance. No wonder skekOk rarely left their Library. Once the looming mahogany doorway comes into view, you see the Scroll-Keeper bickering with Podlings. The servants are whining...as Podlings do.

You collect yourself, tail swishing alongside your garments. You shuffle up alongside the near sighted Lord. “Good evening, my lovely Scroll-Keeper.”

They chirp excitably. “Why, hello my dear heart! What brings you to my wing of the Castle?”

You snort, holding out an ancient looking tome. “skekMal found this during their last hunt. Wasn’t sure if you had it in your collection.”

They perk up. “How brilliant! Come, come along. Let’s examine this in detail!”

You’re lead into the Great Library, listening to your partner chatter loudly about the possible age of the book. They just couldn’t wait to read it. With one of their arms, skekOk whips out a cushion with crushed velvet lining it and a space for the spine in the middle.

Gingerly, they set the book into it, opening it. They almost cry out joyfully. “Oh my goodness, dear it’s fully illustrated! Look how beautiful!!”

What a precious goober.

You read over their shoulder. It seems to be a Vapran cookbook, many generations old. “Whoever had this commissioned must have been very well off to have so many of these illuminated.”

“Wonderful observation. I do believe you’re right about that.” The Scroll-Keeper nods, flipping to another page. “Why, they’ve drawn skekAyuk! Looks like they were called on as a blessing for this family. Absolutely fascinating!” 

You can’t keep from chuckling at skekOk’s enthusiasm. The normally snide Skeksis became a totally different person around their beloved books. You lean over, tapping your beak against theirs affectionately.

They jump, looking over at you owlishly. “What was that for?”

“You were just too cute. I had to.”

They stammer, lower set of glasses sliding down. “A-Ah.”

You snicker, offering a hand. “C’mon, my love. Let’s get this put away. You said skekMal also brought back a Nebrie for the feast, did you not?”

“Oh yes, they did! One mustn't work on an empty stomach!”

Chapter Text

You don’t know how long ago it had been since a portal had opened up in your apartment floor to swallow you whole. When it closed behind you, you’d been greeted with a screeching, giant creature who looked just as alarmed as you were. Hard to look back and think you’d been terrified of the Heretic. You were more intimidated by urGoh than skekGra.

Right now, however, you were in a sort of...sticky situation. Earlier that trine you’d begun to explore Thra by yourself and were making the trek back to the Circle of The Suns for a visit. This should have been a breeze.

Apparently no one had informed you about the other possible threat of the trip. There in the distance was a hulking silhouette. It moves towards you with intent.

Something catches the light, and you just barely manage to avoid catching a knife in the eye. You don’t escape without a scratch, though. Blood flows down your cheek, hopefully it was superficial. That was what you wished at the time at least.

This was the first of many chases. It dragged on for an unum with how many looping paths you had to take in order to shake the damn thing.

You’re relaying the story to your companions as they tend to the wounds you’d picked up during that time. “Then there’s a volley of arrows that comes out of nowhere! It felt like I’d gotten sun frenzy, but it was real!”

“Sounds like...the Hunter...and...the-”

skekGra cuts them off with an annoyed snort. “The Archer!”

The Wanderer gives their Other a dirty look. “...Arch...er.”

“Feh!” The Heretic barks. “If skekMal is after you, good luck! You’ll have to outsmart or outrun them.”

“They...haven’t...lost a...target...ever.” The Mystic adds.

Well that’s just great.

“How well did you know the Hunter?” You ask skekGra.

“Not a bit! They never stay in the Castle, and I was out on conquests! All I know is you better hone your survival skills.” The Skeksis makes a vague gesture. “Not to mention cardio! Hope you like running.”

Could things get better?

“urVa...should keep...them...at bay.”

Yyyeah, you know better than to put all your eggs in one basket. After the Puppet Masters let you go, you root through skekGra’s bookshelf. You’d need all the help you could get.

The next time you leave the Circle, skekMal has you cornered in a few hours .

“Did you get tired of hiding backstage, Marionette?” They hiss, amused.

“That’s not my name.” You clutch a push dagger between your fingers. You couldn’t reach any of your larger knives before they were in your face.

“Those two pull your strings. Like a…?” They taunt, giving you a fraction of an opening.

You take it, socking them just under the ribs with your weapon.

The Hunter grunts, stumbling back just enough to permit your escape. Chase two resumes.

You learn fast. Your environment is your greatest asset, though the beast knows just as much about it as you do. They’re trying to herd you into unfamiliar territory. You skid to a halt just long enough to get in a great strike with one of your arsenal. It buys you enough distance to sneak a few mouthfuls of food and water, though you know better than stopping to do so.

Even if you can’t see them by nightfall, you don’t take that as a good sign. No, skekMal is banking on the desert’s freezing night to slow you down. It’s a game of chess.

You hate to admit it but...you were starting to have fun with this.

There’s a faint clicking to your left. You bolt without bothering to see if it was your new shadow.

The third encounter goes down outside of a Podling village in the Dark Wood. Out of nowhere flashes a blade, shaving a large chunk of your hair from your head. You strike back, catching the Hunter in their shoulder.

You give a loud trill, calling the nearest landstriders to your location. Jumping back to avoid another strike, you can hear skekMal snarl.

“You can’t tell me you’re running again!” They accuse.

“Is that what you really think?” You wonder, moving to gain more distance in case they charged you. 

A pair of landstriders gallop up to you, squealing in fright when they see the Hunter. They stay long enough for you to swing up onto one of their backs. “I’m giving you a challenge! ”

With that your mount canters away. Behind you, you actually hear skekMal laugh . There was no way you heard that right...something about it makes you smile all the same.

You stopped keeping count of your skirmishes with the Hunter after...twenty? You think that’s right…

This time, you’re up on the Sifan coast, and you hear the chime of one of your traps springing. When you go to find what you’d caught you find...your second shadow?

What the hell.

They’re snared, arms tangled in the cable, along with one of their legs. There was no way they’d be able to get out of that, no matter how hard they were struggling.

“Funny seeing you this far north, Hunter.” You say, crouching in front of the Skeksis. “How'd you even get into that passage?”

skekMal growls, low and reverberating. “Don’t gloat. You won, take your trophy already.”

You can’t help laughing. “You actually think I’m going to kill you?”

All that earns you is a glare . “Aren’t you sick of this game? Tired of running?”

“Uh, no?” You punctuate this by releasing the snare. The whole thing goes slack and skekMal starts to carefully remove themself from the trap.

“Why?” They snarl.

“Because my life would be a lot less interesting without the Hunt.” You pick up their mask, holding it out. “Don’t you think?”

Their keen eyes flicker over your face, judging your expression. “You really are something else, Marionette.”

You snort. “Again with that?”

A clawed hand shoves at your shoulder. “Always. You’d be wise to stay off the coast. If the Mariner sees you, she’ll rip you to shreds.”

“Yeah, she probably will. One more thing, though.” You reach out to them. “Next time we meet, we’re hunting together .”

A rough cackle. “Brave thing, aren’t you? Deal.” They shake your hand, talons closing like a vice.

With that, the Hunter bounds off into the night.

Chapter Text

It’s exceedingly rare for skekSa to set foot on land, let alone this far from the Sifan Coast. So used was she to the rolling of the tide, she sways without knowing it. This was a special occasion, however. She could deal with solid ground for one night. A rustle of leaves alerts the Mariner and by the time she turns to look, a mask of bone is inches from the tip of her beak.

If she were a lesser being, or even one of her frail Castle bound fellows, that might have frightened skekSa. The captain just smirks. “Good evening, skekMal.”

The dangerous beast gives a rattling hum. “Good evening, skekSa.”

She motions for them to follow. “Come, I’ve found a place to rest.”

The Hunter follows without question, silent as a shadow.

The Mariner guides them into a thicket of willow and juniper. She gestures to a large branch that had listed to the ground under its own weight. It curls into a rather inviting sitting area, if the worn patches of bark are any indication.

skekMal settles into the hooked end of it. “Not used to having you summon me, Mariner.”

The captain chuckles. “Even rarer for you to answer when called, my anti-social friend.” She jests. “Tell me, Hunter, have you any new tales for this old seabird?”

It never takes her long to get to that question.

Her partner chuffs, nodding absently. “For you? Always.”

skekSa makes a sound to encourage them to continue. She pulls out a tinderbox, alongside something wrapped in a Sifan cloth. 

She gets the fire going as the Hunter weaves a tapestry of tales. From a foul-mouthed healer, to a vicious Dousan, and even a strange creature from a distant world. From any other of their number, it might have been impossible to believe. Except it wasn’t. skekMal had zero interest in spinning fantastical lies. They had a genuinely fascinating life, so why bother?

“You’ve certainly been a busy one lately.”

There’s an edge of a snicker in the Hunters voice. “Par for the course.”

With little else to delay her, skekSa starts off with, “I’ve a gift for you, wild one.”

That makes the shorter Skeksis’ feathers fluff up. “Oh?”

She offers the package. “My crew and I downed another Behemoth. They crafted this for you.”

skekMal pulls at the carefully knotted ties to open it. Nestled inside, shining like a pearl was a massive tooth. They drag their claws over the engraved surface. It depicts the Mariner’s ship cresting a large wave, stormy skies behind it. “Is this that art form you told me about?”

“Scrimshaw.” She confirms. “Considered one of the most thoughtful gifts a Sifan can offer.”

“Why would they want me to have it?” The Hunter wonders.

“Perhaps it’s a result of the stories I’ve shared about you. About us.” She retorts with a smug smile.

Even in the fire light, she can see her partner's eyes go wide. “Ah.”

Oh shame on her, skekSa can’t help from cackling. Poor Hunter was never the best with their own feelings on a private scale. Let alone in public. “Heheh. Anyway, listen. I have a proposition for you, skekMal.”

They wave a talon. There’s a possibility it’s because they couldn’t unstick their tongue from the roof of their mouth.

“Take a trine to sail with me. Chase those beasts that swim just beyond your reach. Get away from that sad old Castle and its obnoxious politics. See the world with an old gull like me.” She captures one of the Hunters free hands, tapping it with her bill in a facsimile of a kiss. “If that sounds like something you’d fancy, of course.”

After a fraction of a second, the Skeksis’ shoulders relax. They smile, though to the untrained eye, it just looks like a grimace. “Even if I’ve never gone further than the shallows?”

“Especially since you’ve never done so.” skekSa chortles. “Would I offer if I weren’t prepared?”

skekMal shakes their head. “It would be out of character for you.”

“So…?”

The Hunter just chuckles, patting their partner’s hand. “Of course I’m coming. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

The Mariner grins . “And everything to gain.”

Chapter Text

“No No NO!”

That didn’t take long.

You turn from your station in time to see one of the Podlings catching a slap in the face. You can’t help flinching. The head chef has a brutal backhand. The poor thing doesn’t deserve to face the Gourmand’s ire anymore than the rest of you do.

“Pardon, sire? I need you to check if the stew’s ready to go out.” You pipe up, intentionally trying to distract your Lord. They sniff dismissively at the cowering sous chef before moving over to your stove. As they do, you lock eyes with the Podling.

‘Thank you so much.’ She mouths before quietly slinking away.

skekAyuk is busy wafting the scent of the dish, inhaling deeply. “Ech. The aromatics are somewhat lacking .” They comment before producing a tasting spoon, sampling some. “Hmm, flavors perfect, though. Go get the nullroot.”

If it weren’t an insanely bad idea to question your master, you’d ask what on Thra they were thinking. Still, you go to retrieve the step ladder. Up on one of the tallest shelves, an engraved Sifan gourd sat. You gather it, returning to the Gourmand.

They pluck it from your hands. “Small measures are safe, Gelfling. Stop looking at me like I’ve gone mad.” They laugh. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

You step up to your station once more, watching.

“We just want to change the smell, not the flavor. So…” They explain while they dip a claw into the powdery substance before flicking it into the stock pot. After they stir it thoroughly, they take another sniff.

“ Much better.”

You have to agree, it took the edge of sharpness off and made your mouth water.

“Give it a taste to be sure we won’t have to fix that too.” skekAyuk hands you another tasting spoon.

You comply, and while you’d had your reservations, it was still balanced like it was before. “I can’t believe it only changed the aroma.” You note. “That’s an ingenious trick!”

That makes your Lord’s chest puff out with pride. “Why thank you, Gelfling. I’d like to think I know what I’m doing.” With that, they leave to check the rest of the kitchen.

After everything is finished, you realize that you’ve got this funny, fuzzy feeling behind your eyes...wait, what were you doing?

Chapter Text

-The Hunter literally doesn’t get what is going on at first.

     -what do you mean you don’t want to fight

     -wait why don’t i want to fight

     -*dailup sounds*

-Dead things just...turn up in the Castle and nobody knows what’s happening because it’s not like skekMal leaves it on your doorstep. Just...around.

     -Once left a Landstrider in a place none could reach.

     -The Castle reeked for ages.

     -Ordon and his patrol were the ones that got it down.

     -Eventually just learned to leave them in your area and everyone thinks you’re a beacon of death.

-You end up having to corner them and directly ask what they’re doing.

     -more dailup sounds.

     -”I-...I don’t know.”

-You learn to love how they just can’t process an emotion that isn’t through the lens of the Hunt.

     -oh, maybe i just want to prove myself to them.

     -can’t have them doubting me.

     -i guess i want them to know i can hold my own?

     -rad lemme down a whole den of arduff

-You eventually manage to track them during a Hunt.

     -*skekMal.exe has stopped responding*

     -This cements you as The Best ™ Skeksis to them.

-You now get weapons in addition to carcasses.

-The rest of the Skeksis finally catch on, to mixed results.

     -skekSo:...If they go feral I’m calling you first.

     -skekAyuk: Okay? As long as I get first dibs on fresh meat, I don’t care.

     -skekSa: Oh hell yes, maybe they can kick your ass into shape.

     -skekLi: *spreads it to the rest of Thra by the end of the week*

     -skekEkt: *loud ass gasp* I KNEW IT.

     -skekLach: *snorts* Fitting.

     -skekNa: Could you get them to root out another settlement for me if you see them?

     -skekOk: *scoffing* I suppose you two go well together.

     -skekShod: I’m a VERY BUSY SKEKSIS I COULD LITERALLY NOT CARE LESS.

     -skekSil: mmMMMMMMMMMM. N i c e.

     -skekTek: Ah. Perhaps you could make an effort to keep them out of my laboratory? They frighten Sidetic.

     -skekUng: Cool, maybe you two could run off together. Or whatever.

     -skekVar: Is this why they won’t stop glowering at me whenever we talk?

     -skekZok: I don’t have a ritual for this! *runs off to their workshop* DON’T MOVE.

Chapter Text

You were working on your thesis late at night when things go wrong. The air suddenly reeks of sulfur, and when you look up there’s a swirling array of colourful spots. You try to blink them away, but the next time you open your eyes the world warps . Shapes and shadows streak impossibly until they settle into an alien looking room. Before you can get a better look, something crackled loudly and there’s a flash of light that blinds you.

Christ you were having a mental breakdown.

“Scientist, what have you done ?!”

“Sire, I told you, skekSil damaged my machine!”

“How dare!? Have done no such thing!”

You can finally see again and-...Oh no, you were most certainly passed out on the floor of your university’s lab. There was no way you were actually surrounded by short anthropomorphic birds.

Thank gods they seem just as gobsmacked as you are judging by their conversation.

The shortest is decked out in bright red robes, covered in soft copper feathers with a bald face. “Of course Scientist is trying to frame poor Chamberlain!”

The tall, imposing one is shrouded in beautifully beaded ebony silks, contrasting their pale gray feathering. Their crest raises, like your own brow would. They look livid. “skekSil is right. You’ve made this contraption and are responsible for all of the side effects! I’m growing tired of your failures, skekTek.”

Which brings you to the iridescent one with their shaggy coat. “Emperor I implore you, do not trust everything they say! They are a liar, only caring for themself!”

The Emperor (you think) bangs their metal staff on the rocky floor. “That’s enough! You waste my time and patience like you have a right to do so! Deal with this giant and don’t show yourself until the Ceremony tomorrow.” They turn on their heel, and leave without bothering to hear a response.

Quicker than you can follow the Scientist nearly manages to grab the Chamberlain who snarls loudly, feathers raising to reveal dangerous looking spines in a threat display.

“If skekTek touches, will truly face skekSo’s wrath.” They warn.

Alright, fuck this shit. You push past the bullied creature to stand in front of them. “They get the point, back off asshole!”

All that gets you is the full attention of the smarmy one. “Is not your fight, tall beast.”

Yeah, it’s true but…”Just ‘cause I don’t have a dog in the fight doesn’t mean I’m gonna sit by while someone’s getting verbally abused.”

“mmMm…” skekSil hums, tilting their head. “Have strong sense of justice, yes?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.”

“Tsk. Will do no good here.” They assert, a slimy grin on their face. “Skeksis fight own battles. Must fight own battles. Try and do for us, will get burned.”

That only serves to harden your resolve. “That so?”

“Mhmm.” They nod, looking more smug than they should be able to.

You square your shoulders, stepping into the Chamberlain’s space. “Let me explain something to you . I ain’t trying to throw down with you in their place. It’s human nature to not like seeing folks with all the power use it to step on others.” You shove the vile thing back. “Not asking again. Step off. ”

There’s a split second where you think they’re going to try attacking you. Then they just snort.

“Is fine.” They huff. “More advice for you. Chamberlain does not forget. Could be convinced to forgive. Give more thought where allegiance lies.” At that, they give a strange set of clicking sounds and garbled noises. Then they leave, jewelry rattling loudly.

You sigh, letting your stance relax.

“I certainly did not require your assistance, stranger. ” 

You look back at the Scientist. “Excuse me?”

“As much as I loathe to admit it, skekSil is right. These morals of yours are the way of your species.” They gesture around themself. “Thra operates by Skeksis’ ways.”

“The idiot was berating you. You’re actually telling me you have to just sit there and take it? If these fights of yours are such a big deal, isn’t it expected for you to fight back?” You shove your hands in your pockets. “Or is it they pull rank so you can’t. ”

“Exactly! They advise the Emperor, whose rule is absolute!” They snap, frustrated with you.

“They can command you. Not me. ” You retort. “So what-”

“ You are my personal responsibility in their eyes! Until I can return you from whence you came, I will be held accountable for your actions. ” They snarl, jabbing your ribs with a sharp talon. “If you’re going to insist on defending my honor like this, then you do so on my terms.”

You scowl, batting their hand away. “You act like you enjoy being their doormat.”

“You know nothing of me. Or my plans. Or my desires. Presumptive beast. Even in your backwater planet, it must be common knowledge that you can’t project your own ideals onto others .” skekTek hisses, spines standing on end. “How insufferable must you be on-”

You cut them off, folding your arms across your chest. “Alright, pal you know something? I may be something that threatens you because I know when someone’s putting on a front to hide behind.” You kneel to look them in their wide eyes. “From one ‘pretender’ to another? Not everyone is out to get you. What do you need? Time to send me back. What do I want? To get home. Lemme keep those guys off your case. So you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder. Deal?”

The Scientist makes a face you can’t place. They grit their teeth, quills settling back down. “What name shall I call you? If only for a short while.”

You chuckle, giving it. “Or whatever works.”

“Perhaps I’ll decide on one.”

As you quickly found out, there were more than three Skeksis in the Castle. That would have been laughably easy if it were the case. In fact, most of the Lords avoided the lab. At the moment, you were staring down the problem child.

Over the years, or trine, or whatever, since you’d arrived you’d gained a troublesome stalker in the form of the Hunter. The admittedly beautiful regent was framed by a halo of black neck feathers that were glossy and shone in the low lighting.

Growls echo down the halls, and you can’t help giving an exasperated sigh. “skekMal, how many times is it going to take before you leave me alone?”

“When your-” They break off into what you now recognize as skexish. “-belt.”

“Can’t you say it in Gelfling? I know you struggle with Common-”

“Do NOT. ” They bark, beak snapping loudly before trying to strike you.

Sucks for the Hunter that you had a few feet on them, let alone their less intimidating brethren. “If you’d stop trying to murder me, I think we’d get along well.”

“You know, they’re right my dear.”

You startle, looking down the walkway. There, tall and elegant, was one of the few Lord’s you’d never met.

Another bit of skexish from the Hunter. “skekSa, why’re you here.”

“My crew speaks of visions of a strange titan lurking in skekTek’s shadow.” She glances to you, long blue and black feathers fluttering with the motion. “Do forgive my mate. They’re not the best with being told they can’t have what they want.”

You snort. Hunter had a girlfriend? That was amazing. “It’s fine, they’re the most entertaining part of my day. So you’re the skekSa I keep hearing about?”

“Or the Mariner.” She grins, revealing rows of needle sharp fangs. “Worry not, however. I’ll be taking this surly fool with me. I’ve no inkling what your presence means, but I should very much like to see how this all shakes out. I must take my leave, however. The tide waits for no one.” She switches into skexish at that point, speaking to the Hunter.

Even if they put up a loud, screeching fuss, skekMal follows the Mariner. They do throw a dirty look at you as they round the corner. Soon enough, the pair’s clicking talons fade into nothing.

“Have they gone, Associate?”

You nod, leaning against the door frame. “Yeah.”

“Splendid. I’ve a favor to ask of you.”

That brings a small smile to your face. “Always with the favors.” You tease lightly, following in their wake.

...You knew it’d come to this one day. Between the Skeksis paralyzing fear of death and the Chamberlain’s unstoppable need to fuck with others. It still makes your head spin. The Lords were most certainly still young, with their bright feathering and sturdy frames. Not like their subjects, who aged rapidly and perished with ease.

Still, here they were. In a howling cacophony, lead by skekSil, demanding a pound of flesh from your companion.

Even with skekTek’s undeniable sins, this was too far.

Your feet are moving before you even know it. “Wait! It was me. I missed the fugitives, they had to get past me like everything else.”

The others round on you, glaring with keen eyes.

The pale coral Ornamentalist addresses the pied Ritual-Master. “Is there even a way ?”

“Hm. It’s certainly possible. I believe the Gourmand’s cage would fit.” They muse, looking you over like you’re a problem in need of solving.

The barred skekAyuk makes an insulted squawk before they’re cut off.

“It’s decided then!” The Emperor snaps. “The outsider will accept their master’s punishment.” Their crest flares out when they bang their staff onto the marbled floor.

It also punctuates exactly what you’ve done. You feel like you’ve downed a shot of lead and chased that with a jar of unamoth’s. A clawed hand grabs at your cuff.

The Scientist takes you aside. “I’m aware it’s been a few decades, but our discussion about ‘everyone for themselves’ still applies!” They whisper harshly.

You run your fingers through their shimmering feathers. “You’ve got a job to do. I’ll be fine. I’m tough, remember?”

“So that makes throwing oneself onto the sword acceptable? For me of all Skeksis?”

“Got it in one.” You give them a sad, gentle smirk. “You go through it enough as is. Even with me to lend a hand. Let me be selfish and do this for you.”

You don’t let them get another word in, and for once the rest of the Lords were in line with your plans. You face them with no interest in their jeers and insulting skexish that you had finally gotten around to learning. (If only to have pity on the increasingly scarce Hunter.)

skekZok leads you into the center of the chamber with measured steps. They go to gather the required tools and beasts they had planned for skekTek.

You see your companion standing directly across from you. The hands clutching their scepter tremble, and their eyes are fixed on you with unmistakable fear written into every line of their brow.

It’ll be okay. You mouth to the Scientist.

That seems to steady them. They flex their talons and force a weak smile.

You’re strapped into one of the far too large chairs that surround the Skeksis tables and a cage of bone is settled upon your shoulders. Unable to turn and face them, you can only hear the Ritual-Master give a call and response speech of which you had heard far too many times already.

Between the rhythmic clangs of metal on stone, you begin to hear something lighter. Like when you used to catch June bugs in a glass jars. Almost like music…

That ends abruptly when something slots into place.

A small insect skitters across your face. That’s when things begin to blur together. You let the beetle grab onto your eyelids, and can’t help but watch as it’s mandibles start to close. Then your view of skekSil vanishes. Now it’s just the Scientist and the ever more vindictive Emperor.

After what seems like an eternity, the cage is released. You hear the Lords scatter, exclaiming fearfully. The Ritual-Master has to rip the peeper beetle from your face, leaving gouges in your cheek.

With that, your awareness dissipates. Like ash in the breeze.

“-mn..hmn!”

You come to, woozy and nauseous. You start babbling in the many languages you know. Be it from Earth, or Thra. By the end of it you’re going on in broken skexish.

“Shh, sh. Enough now, my Associate. You’ll pull your stitches.”

It feels as though your mouth is felted from wool. “skekTek…?” You slur.

“Yes you fool of a beast, it’s me.”

Your eyes-...eye finally focuses on the blurry shape in front of you. Your Lord has dried blood all down the front of their once resplendent robes. Their feathers are matted with it as well. They look so worn down, you fear they might never get restful sleep again. “You alright?”

“Of course I am!” The Scientist grouses as they dab at your face with a warm cloth. “ I wasn’t on the receiving end of a peeper beetle!”

“Guess so…wazzat the one I got from Hunter a few trine back?” You wonder, head lolling to the side.

“Indeed it was.” skekTek uses one of their spare hands to recenter you. “I’ve done the best I could, but it will badly scar.” They sigh, pulling a quilt around your shoulders. “I’d love to believe you’ll learn from this, but I know you too well. That damned sense of justice will get you killed one day.”

“An’ if I die doing what’s right then so be it.” You hiss, though it’s only a shadow of the ones that ring through the Castle everyday. “I told you. You need your eye. I don’t.”

“Aughra’s Eye!” They spit. “That’s enough! I’m exhausted , you’re terribly injured, so cease with this argument!”

You let out a broken laugh. “You were the one that started it my love.”

The Scientist’s head whips around so fast you thought it might snap. “Come again?”

Well shit .

“It...it’s nothing.” You backpedal.

“Don’t try lying to me” The Skeksis growls. “Tell me honestly, did you mean to call me that?”

You glare at the floor, desperately wishing it would swallow you whole. “What if I don’t want to risk losing what we already have?”

“I see the painkillers are affecting your judgment-”

You brace yourself, regretting every se-

“-if you think I would be anything less than thrilled that you would show interest in an un-whole being such as I am.”

Hold up.

WHAT.

It was the drugs. Had to be. You’re having a reaction to something in the peeper beetle’s sali-

You hear fingers snapping by your ear. “Human are you listening to me?”

That brings you back. “Uh, yeah! Yeah I am!”

skekTek sighs, shaking their head. “You need to rest. We can talk more in the morning.”

“Will you stay here? Until I’m asleep at least…”

They chuckle, winding a thin lock of your hair around one of their fingers. “I shall always be here for you.”

If only that promise would stand the tests of time...

Chapter Text

To say the storm was violent would have been a gross understatement. It was howling and dramatic, almost certainly lethal if the Sifan (and skekMal) didn’t properly play their part. Somewhere in the distance, the Hunter can hear skekSa shouting orders. This was the first storm the land-bound Skeksis had seen since taking their partner’s offer a few weeks ago. They’re shaken from their thoughts when a Gelfling runs up to them.

“C’mon! I need y’ ta help me with th’ sails!” They order, grabbing the Hunter’s sleeve.

Back on dry land, skekMal would have broken the Sifans fingers for such bravado. Here on Vassa, things didn’t work that way. They held no rank here.

Judging by the thick braided beard, this was Lozin the ship’s current navigator. Alongside them, skekMal assists in securing the broad sails so the ship wouldn’t be torn any further off course. Rather than just allowing the stocky sailor to get down by themself, the Hunter hoists them up under the ribs. They leap down onto the deck, and breathe a sigh of relief.

The next moment, they’re dealing with a snarling Gelfling in their arms demanding to be released.

The navigator manages to wriggle away, spinning to face skekMal, ears flat against their hair. “Are y’ daft, y’ fool?! What if th’ gale had thrown y’ off course? Could have sealed both our fates! I don’t plan on returnin’ t’ Thra over a childling’s mistake!” Their tail lashes angrily. Before they can launch into another tirade, the two are interrupted. 

“Alright, Lozin, I do think they’ve had enough.”

The Hunter looks up, seeing skekSa making her way along the ship, braided feathers whipping in the gusts. “Below deck with you two. Vassa will be alright from here.”

The two do so without any more fuss, since it would be incredibly stupid choice to ignore her. As the navigator goes over to a wood fire stove, huddling up to it so their hair and wings would dry muttering an indecipherable string of curses. 

“This way, wild-one.” The Mariner leads her partner into their shared quarters. Much like Lozin had previously, skekMal stalks over to the heater, ruffling their feathers to encourage them to stop dripping everywhere.

skekSa retrieves a glass decanter filled with a rich burgundy liquor. “Care for a drink?”

Normally, the answer would be a flat ‘not at all’ and the Hunter would leave it at that. Except they are very cold and having the burn of alcohol might chase away the chill. They accept an engraved ivory cup, taking a few sips before asking, “Lozin is right...aren’t they.”

The Mariner looks over, in the middle of undoing a sodden ribbon to let her plumage flutter free of the braid. “About?”

“Me dragging them from the mast.”

skekSa hums, taking her own glass, nursing it. “Indeed, they are. It’s dangerous, foolhardy even. They’ve sailed with me since they were a childling. The way of the ship is second nature to them.” She gives a sly smile. “Why do you think I assigned them to teach you?”

Her mate just shrugs.

The Mariner snorts. “Because they aren’t afraid to order you around. You’re just another crew mate to them.”

“It’s...interesting.”

That makes her guffaw, moving over to sit with skekMal. The captain produces a specialized comb from her jacket. Gently she uses it to encourage the dried salt from the Hunter’s dark feathering. “I personally find it refreshing.”

The shorter of the two finishes their drink. “...I think I do too.”

The pair go quiet, Vassa creaking and rolling around them. Throughout the night, they trade off grooming tools in order to prevent sickness. The storm would have to come to an end soon…

Over the unum, a small part of the crew teaches skekMal to hunt beneath the tide. They tease the Skeksis over their swimming form, though there’s no real venom behind it. The time sees the Hunter welcomed as part of their strange family. 

Dusk finds Vassa moored along the Sifan Coast, her sailors building up a bonfire. This was an important night after all. 

A new trine was upon them.

skekMal is crouched on an overlook like a gargoyle, observing the stretch of sand.

“There you are.”

The Hunter doesn’t turn to face her. They grumble in skexish. “Time is a cruel beast.”

skekSa settles next to them, legs dangling over the edge. “I suppose. Would you hunt such a creature? Attempt to put a stop to it?”

The Gelfling set the driftwood alight, sparks floating out over the sea. They begin to sing. Shanties mostly, the sound carrying in the hushed air.

“One can not halt time.”

The Mariner clicks her tongue thoughtfully. “I think you’ll find some certainly try to.”

skekMal exhales, leaning against their partner. With sharp eyes, they watch the Sisters reflecting off the calm tides. The ship is silhouetted against the Hidden Moon, stark as if it were painted black.

“I feel like something has changed in the Dark Wood.” The Hunter whispers. “Like some rotten carcass. Sticks to everything and it can’t be washed away…”

skekSa runs a clawed hand through their plumage. “The first time I returned to the mainland, I felt the same way.” She stares as her crew roasts a slab of meat, globs of fat sizzling. “Even the sea feels darker... colder . The Swimmer speaks of a trench with gashes of purple light. Hooyim vanish by the thousands. My love, I fear the world is ending.”

“And what of us?”

The Mariner blinks. “What do you mean?”

“We aren’t of Thra. When it happens...when the Crystal dies, where will we be sent?” The Hunters talons clutch at a fistful of Sifan cloth, a sash they were gifted with. “Will we be held accountable for all the atrocities we Skeksis committed on Gelfling? The ones we dared call blessings?”

Before they can spiral further into dread, the pair are silenced by a loud, distant droning. Only one device makes that sound.

The Hunter has been summoned to the Castle.

They look at their mate with wide eyes. “I-”

“Hush, my dear.” She steps in. “The universe has a way of balancing itself. Stand strong in your beliefs, and you won’t be swept out to sea.”

skekMal chuckles weakly. “You always know what to say.”

She smiles, pressing her forehead to theirs. “Aughra once called it a gift. Now go answer the summons. I shall tell the crew.”

The Hunter stays still as stone and twice as silent for what feels like an eternity. “I have this...awful feeling that I’ll never see you again.”

“Oh my love.” The Mariner holds her partner close. “Pay it no mind. I’m all of a call away.” She pulls something from her frock coat. A small metal whistle, no bigger than the palm of the Hunter’s hand. “If I hear this, I’ll be on your shore within a fortnight.”

skekMal accepts it, turning it over in their claws. “I don’t think I can stay any longer...be safe, my captain.”

“You as well, my wild-one.” 

With the Blue Moon setting, the Skeksis trine together ends.

Chapter Text

Perhaps it’s to be expected. skekSil spoils their Gelfling rotten . Between sneaking them slices of rare and expensive fruit, or showering them in expensive gifts, you were arguably the most doted upon servant in the whole of Thra.

“Sire!” You call.

The Chamberlain looks up. “Hmmm?”

You trot up to them, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Mal’yn told me you were going to be visiting Ha’rar!”

“Mal’yn? Thought she hates all friends of skekSil?”

You nod a bit, lacing your fingers. “Oh yes, she detests me!” You pause before elaborating, “She told me to ‘Piss off and go to Ha’rar with your Master.’ when I ran into her on the way to the lab.”

Your Lord sighed, shaking their head. “Such pity. Grottan is too loyal for own good.” They talk with their hands, motioning energetically. “Ah well! Was right, Chamberlain is going to capital city. Tithing is upon us, poor Collector is sick! Can not make journey. Why? Is dear friend interested in going?”

“Very much!”

skekSil offers you a clawed hand. You take it allowing them to pull you onto their shoulder. It was your very favorite place to sit. “Would be first time there, yes?”

“Uh huh!” You nod quickly. “You make it sound so lovely, I couldn’t help wanting to see it myself.”

“mmMmm, very well. Friend Chamberlain shall do this.” The Skeksis shuffles along the long balcony that winds around the palace. “Will make carriage ride fun!”

You giggle brightly. “Absolutely, my Lord! I live to entertain!”

Chapter Text

There it is again. The lizard was back.

skekMal growls, taking a swipe at it. As is to be expected at this point, it flickers out of existence the second before the Hunter’s blade connects. How? Fuck if they know. On cue, it reappears on top of the sword.

Damned thing.

The next time the Skeksis blinks, it’s gone again. They feel something on their shoulder. The reptile was getting bolder. skekMal uses one of their hands to smack at it.

Missed again.

The scaled pest licks at the Hunters beak. 

They sigh, finding no thrill in trying to end this particular beast. Perhaps they could do with a new pet...

Chapter Text

You met skekLach during a particularly annoying (from their perspective) census taking.

For lack of a more complimentary term, you were a bastard. Your father and his mistress had no interest in claiming you for their own. As such, the whole record would have been thrown into flux. Arguments erupted, from all presents. Eventually the (at the time) Census Taker gives an exasperated shout.

“Alright, alright!” They hack for a few moments, clearing their throat. “ I’ll claim the thing if it makes you all shut up!”

They did just that. So here you were several trine later, by your adoptive parent’s side.

They snort loudly, groaning. “Little one, could you-”

"On it!" You’re already getting the kettle going to dissolve special powdered herbs into. The sickly Lord was always in pain. Your heart goes out to your Mum, wishing every day that you could shoulder some of the burden for them.

“Y’know something, kiddo?”

You glance over as you select a cloth. “Hm?”

“It’s nice to know you’ll always be there for me.” They clasp their hands. “Part of me is happy that-” They say something not polite sounding in skexish, likely knowing you wouldn’t understand it. “-abandoned you. You’re my childling. I just needed to find you first.”

You smile gently. “I’m glad too, Mum.” You return to your task, shaking a tablespoon of the soft blue substance into the mixing bowl, pouring the water over top of it.

“How’re the reading lessons coming?” They cough, holding a handkerchief over their face.

“I’m almost done with the basics of Common! Isn’t that exciting?” You raise the rag in your hand, motioning for them to lean down. “The Scroll-Keeper said they might even teach me skexish.”

As you drape the cloth over the Collector’s snout, they chuckle. “As they should. No child of a Lord should have anything less than the best education.”

You still a bit. “Even if I’m a Gelfling?”

skekLach goes into a coughing fit at that. In the past you’d have been terrified, but now you rush to get their rescue medication.

They take it, wheezing weakly.

You hush them. “It’s alright, I’m here.” You also wipe away some gunk that had flown from under the wet cloth off their face.

They give you a lopsided smile. “Thank you, little one.”

“Of course, Mum.”

Chapter Text

There had been an attack on the Wellspring Oasis. As had become a regular occurrence, the Resistance was called on for aid. While Rian and his group had bolted ahead with landstriders, yours had not.

Kylan, skekTek, and yourself had been assigned with bringing the full stock of medical supplies, rather than putting all your eggs in one basket. Your party was at least a day behind the others, just in case.

Currently, Kylan was at the reins maneuvering the skiff according to the Dousan navigation maps. You’re keeping watch out the back, your Skeksis friend was mixing healing potions according to Maudra Laesid’s instructions.

“Anything else out there, my assistant?” The Exile asks.

You lean back. “I can see where the smoke trail’s coming from. It’s at the base of the Claw Mountains.”

“Can you tell what’s causing it?” skekTek wonders. “Here, use these.” They state, handing you a pair of binoculars.

Taking them, you clamber up to the front of the covered craft, joining your Spriton friend.

“Hullo. What brings you up here?” The song teller asks you. 

“My skekTek wants to know what’s on fire ahead.” You hold the lenses up, looking through them. It’s still a bit difficult to make out but...it looks like- “A distress beacon. They need help…”

Kylans grip on the reins shifts, preparing to twist the skiff to rise to the call.

That’s when your friend pipes up. “I would advise caution. skekUng has surely returned to the castle by now. They’re a brilliant tactician when they want to be.”

You turn back to look at them. “You think they’d know our route?”

The Skeksis makes a face. “All I’m sure of is they know we’re likely to be responding to the attacks. If they wanted to catch our caravan, or are after Rian, that I am unsure of. What I do know, it isn’t always good to dive in without looking first...so to speak.”

You sigh, chewing your lip. Your long time friend was, of course, right. If the Lords stumble across your shipment, it could cripple the resistance. After a long moment, the Exile pets your head.

“I won’t tell you what to do. If you want to intervene, I’m with you.” They state gently.

It’s only half a day’s ride from the Wellspring. “They need someone. ” 

With that, the choice is made.

The smell of smoke is overwhelming for poor skekTek’s sensitive lungs. You take a dust guard from one of the bags, fixing over their beak. They wheeze pitifully.

“Easy, my friend.” You mutter, soothingly patting their back. “We’ll be there soon.”

The Exile gives a rattling chuckle. “Perhaps you and Kylan would care to regale me with stories?”

You glance over at the Spriton.

He smiles. “I’ll play a tune, if you care to take the stage?” He retrieves his firca.

You clear your throat and start weaving a tapestry of words. You start when the world was still innocent, life being simple. You speak in long, directionless sentences with little plot or purpose.

The next time you switch tales, it’s one the Skeksis should be very familiar with.

“A Lord and their friend would sit together telling secrets long into the night. The two were inseparable. Then, the unthinkable. The Lord did something so horrible, it shattered their time tested bond.”

You pause, staring at the shimmering horizon.

skekTek fidgets nervously.

You sigh warmly, then continue. “Trine upon trine have served their purpose. They heal what has been hurt. Now the pair stand side by side. Not a Lord and servant, but as equals.”

Your dear friend gives a rusty laugh. “Wonderful, my assistant. You and Kylan play very well off each other!”

You lean back, chuckling. “If you say so, I won’t argu-”

“Eyes up.” Kylan cuts in. “We’re here.”

That was quicker than you thought. You pull your own mask over your mouth and nose. “Alright then. Let’s save some lives.

Chapter Text

The carriage ride to Sami Thicket was tense. You had no clue why your Emperor was being so secretive about the reason for the visit. Especially since it was nowhere near the Tithing, or the Census.

Not that your ruler would be caught attending those.

“My stoic friend, I do wish you’d lighten up. ”

You’re startled, though you don’t show it. “Pardon, sire?”

skekSo leans on their staff, giving you a Look . “Not everything on Thra is a threat to me. So relax. We’re going to a very safe place.” Their gaze turns to stare out the window. “Just for us.”

You lace your talons together to stop them from tapping nervously, tilting your head. “Us?”

The Emperor huffs. “Surely you aren’t actually this dense, Warrior.”

There’s that phrase again. The one you heard all the time at the castle. In all honesty, you have no clue how to react to that accusation. Even at the best of times. It was worse when it came from your Lord.

So you don’t poke that nest of hollerbats.

Soon enough, the coach halts. Upon the door peeling open, you’re greeted by the Spriton maudra. She bows deeply, narrow wings held high. “Good evening, my Lords.”

skekSo hardly ducks their head in response. “Maudra Mera.”

You return her respectful gesture, though just enough to be obvious what you were doing. “Good evening, maudra.”

“We’ve prepared the room you requested, my Emperor.” She motions for them to follow along, babbling the whole way about bland, inoffensive subjects. Something about crop rotations.

You don’t really have the luxury of paying close attention. You have a job, and that means your head is on a swivel to keep watch for any threats. You might not have to glare daggers at anyone that glances in skekSo’s vague direction, but it made you feel better.

The Spriton’s leader shows you two into a secluded hall, the ceiling tall by Gelfling standards. It’s lit dimly, candles and torches flickering softly. 

The imposing Emperor turns gracefully to face maudra Mera. “Perfect. Exactly as I requested.”

Her wings flutter with pride. “Of course. Nothing is too much for you, my Lords.”

“Yes, yes.” skekSo’s voice becomes a honey coated blade. Pleasant on the surface, though any deeper…”Now, might we have some privacy? ”

She falters, nodding. “Y-yes, if there’s anything-”

You interrupt. “We will summon you, maudra. We’re well aware.”

For one moment more, she hesitates. Then Mera complies, shutting the door behind her.

The Emperor waits, likely to see if there would be any further interlopers. Then they sigh. “Ah, that’s more like it.”

You’re still wary. Just because the Gelfling call it secure doesn’t mean it is. The frail things were no replacement for Skeksis. You’d prefer to have at least one at the door. Like skekVar, skekUng, skekMal...hell even yourself.

“My darling, would it really kill you to just enjoy yourself?” It was fairly normal for the Lords to lapse into skexish around each other. Not as much as it once had been, though. Odd nickname aside, there was that damned question again.

You click your beak. “They know nothing about proper security measures!” You assert.

“It’s Sami Thicket. ” They retort. “Nothing bad ever happens here.”

You suppose that was true but…

“I have an idea, my paranoid fellow.”

Eh?

A small, lovingly engraved music box is produced. That was what had been jingling in your Lord’s sleeve the whole time.

Sharp talons grasp the key, winding it purposefully. When they release it, you recognize the tune instantly. It was from Home .

Your un-whole heart aches . “Where did you find this?”

skekSo sways to the rhythm. “If skekSil is to be trusted, the Chanter gave it to them.”

You snort, leaning on your spear. “Which means Chamberlain stole it.”

“Oh, most certainly.” The Emperor laughs, winding the trinket back to the start. “Care to dance?”

You balk. “Sire??”

“For Thra’s sake. Just humor me, my Warrior.” They command, snatching one of your clawed hands.

Your weapon clatters to the floor as you’re pulled in close. “s-skekSo!?” You yelp, unused to such forward actions. “My Lord, why me?? ”

They lean into your face. “Your naivety is endearing, but it’s swiftly growing old.”

“I-”

“Surely you can’t tell me you’ve forgotten what courting behavior is. I’d hoped I wouldn’t have to spell it out from you. Ah well.” They run a thumb along your cheek. “Now you know.”

You swallow thickly. “I guess so…”

The evening stretches into a long night. The two of you dancing, sometimes using the music box, sometimes to nothing at all. Hours slip away.

The life of a Lord was unpredictable. In a way, that’s what makes things fun.

Chapter Text

If you were above ground, you would have little doubt that the three Sisters were hanging low in the sky. Here in Domrak, though? The glow moss was more than enough to see what you were doing.

“Good evening , Shadowling!!”

You startle badly, spilling your inkwell everywhere. “Aughra’s Eye!” You swear.

The interloper cackles loudly. “Keheheh! So sorry about that, my hardworking subject.”

You glare over your shoulder, ears twisted back. “Must everything be turned into a joke with you, Satirist?”

They snort, leaning onto the surface of your desk. “Why, of course! It is my job, after all.”

You sigh loudly. “This isn’t the Castle, no need to be a jester here.”

“Come now, Gelfling, you need not insult me!” skekLi teases, uncaring of the ink staining their palm. “You love my undeniable charm.”

You smirk. “Presumptive beast.”

They drag a talon over your jawline, almost certainly leaving dark lines in their wake. “Flattery will get you everywhere my Shadowling.”

“Are you here for the manuscript or not?”

The Skeksis rolls their eyes. “All work and no play makes a dull subject.”

You lean back in your chair. “How polite of you. One of us has to keep some measure of responsibility.”

They nip at one of your ears. “Booooring! I thought your race was meant to be all frolicking and fanciful.”

You flick the end of their bill, not amused. “Stereotyping much?” A grin still creeps onto your face.

“C’mon, sour puss. Let’s have a grand adventure! Much more entertaining than editing. Just giving ourselves over to chaos!” They declare.

You laugh, trying to stifle it with a shake of your head. “Something tells me you aren’t going to relent until I agree.”

“Correct!” The Satirist confirms, offering you a blackened hand. “So what say you?”

You look at your ruined script. “Meh. Sounds fun.”

The Lord sweeps you off your feet, setting you onto their shoulders. “Fantastic! Onward, to excitement!”

Chapter Text

Some would say the life of a Mystic is boring. In all fairness it sort of was . At least in the eyes of an adventurous Gelfling, or a fickle Skeksis. You personally enjoyed the daily grind.

That is...until now. You broke routine an unum ago. You knew that Thra could grant visions. After all, there were none that witnessed urGoh’s speech that could forget what they said. A desperate plea to accept their Others. They had been shunned. It seemed like the plan of a fool.

Until the Song called to you by name.

Unlike the Wanderer’s clear command, your own message was unfocused. Muffled. Still...only a childling would ignore the will of the Crystal.

The edges of the Dark Wood were gentled in the winter unum. Wildlife hidden away in burrows to avoid the icy winds. You sigh when you spot a nice, flat rock. You take your time settling upon it, pulling your tail up to keep your feet warm.

You find your mess kit, fixing something to eat. Something bitterly cold lands on the end of your nose. Looking up, you realize it had started snowing. You hunch your shoulders, drawing your long cape tightly around yourself. You zone out slightly, sensing your Other traveling through the Spriton Plains.

Ice crunches behind you. Before you understand what’s going on, a clawed hand seizes the back of your neck.

“The Warrior isn’t here, Guardian.”

You know that voice well. “I’m not seeking them, Hunter.”

A disdained scoff. “Liar. You and your ilk wouldn’t leave your beloved home for anything.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you ought to speak with the Storyteller. Or the Swimmer. Maybe the Wanderer?”

The Skeksis hisses, fingers tightening slightly.

“Oh, I’ve got it.” You flick your tail. “Have a cup of ta with the Archer.”

That’s when talons bite into your hide. “Don’t tempt me, Mystic.” After a few tense moments, skekMal relents.

When you turn to face them, you’re surprised. It must show on your face though, because that draws another angry sound from your assailant.

“ What. ”

You fold your upper set of arms across your chest. “You’ve hardly changed. Not at all like the Warrior…”

The Hunter snorts. “What of it?”

...Unity. Not division.

“Do you remember when you were MalVa?”

A low, dangerous growl revs up. “ Why. ”

You glance to the gray sky. “Just curious.”

Soon enough you’re convinced they won’t respond. The snow turns heavy, sticking to your mane and on the Hunter’s feathers. While you and your fellow Urru were hardy beings, tolerant to the worst conditions, the thin-skinned Skeksis were not.

Still, skekMal tries to hide the shiver threatening to set their teeth chattering. You know them too well to be fooled.

You hold out an arm, sleet falling from your cloak.

They look so offended.

“Oh, come off it Hunter. Don’t let your pride be the death of you.” You take charge, grabbing them by the wrist, yanking them under your warm clothing.

A beak snaps at your fingers, but that’s (surprisingly) the only fight the Skeksis puts up. Without a word, they tuck their head against your ribs. They take a deep breath, feathers fluffing up.

A few hours slip away. Eventually you have to pull a blanket from your pack, draping it over yourself and pulling your head under the neck of your cape to take advantage of the built up body heat.

Keen eyes glare back at you.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You chuckle.

skekMal just exhales noisily. Silence takes hold once more.

“I remember.”

You startle awake. When had you fallen asleep? “What?”

“I remember being whole .” They rumble, not amused.

That draws a surprised sound from you. “Yes, but how much?”

They go quiet, talons winding in their tattered mantle. “Enough. You and the Warrior were always at MalVa’s side.”

“Indeed.” Thank the stars. You were afraid that they had lost their past alongside the rest of their brethren.  Perhaps they had, and it returned later…

They press against you. “Your Other is being courted by the Emperor. Did you know?” A stray hand drags through your mane.

“I’m aware.”

A small sound of confirmation is all you get. skekMal continues to card their fingers through your hair. After even more time melts away, you’re not expecting to hear, “...Follow me.”

The Hunter takes one of your free hands, hauling you up. Snow sloughs off the two of you, some of it swirling away into the blizzard winds.

You allow the feral Lord to guide you, finding a well disguised den. When you enter, you can tell this is a rather permanent structure. The walls are insulated with moss and braced with apeknots. The door seals properly, shutting out the storm. You shuffle inside, shaking the rest of the frost from yourself.

“Get the fire going.” They command, going to gather something from what looks like a larder.

You comply, plucking logs from where they rest by the far side of the main room. Returning, you plop them into the fireplace. With a bit of grumbling you manage to locate your tinder box in the bottom of your rucksack. Soon enough the hearth is aglow with dancing embers. You hum happily, relaxing by it.

“Do you eat meat?” skekMal asks. “urVa won’t touch it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t mind it.”

The Skeksis offers you a delicious looking slice of spiced nebrie.

You take something from your mess kit. “You know, if memory serves, I’ve got some of those berries you and your Other loved.” You hold out the embroidered satchel for them to take.

The tension in their spine, taught like a bow-string, snaps. You’ve managed to draw a raspy laugh from them. “I’m shocked you actually remember that.” They accept the treat, pulling one out to toss into their beak.

You smile softly, tucking into your own meal. The gale rages outside and you both enjoy the warmth of each other’s company. Not the way you expected to meet half of your old partner, but hey…

Better than never having the chance.

Chapter Text

It was a sad fact that orphaned childlings were all too common among the Sifan. The Silver Sea was an unforgiving beast. Storms, Behemoths, even the rigging of the Gelfling’s ships.

Your situation was a touch more dramatic. A cyclone had thrown you and your family’s ship into a strange outcropping of rocks. They rose above the whitecaps as though they were a free floating structure. 

In the lurch of not having solid footing beneath you, you managed to cling to one of the jagged spires. You knew well enough that if you hit the water, you were surely dead. After what felt like forever you hear a voice.

“Captain! There’s a live one over here!”

Your memory begins to go fuzzy at that point. With murky images of Sifan racing through shifting spines, salvaging what they can. You’re laying on some odd looking deck when a large shadow looms over you.

“Quickly, get the poor thing to my lab.”

The next time you wake, you find a beak mere inches from the end of your muzzle.

“Thank the Gods.” The tall creature sighs, sitting back. “Your heart had stopped for a moment there. Thought I’d lost you.” They offer you a hand. “Come on, childling sit up.”

You take the claws, wincing when your ribs ached. “Where am I? Where is my family?” You croak weakly.

The feathered being clicks their bill. “You’re aboard Vassa.”

You know that ship’s name like any self-respecting member of your clan. “You’re the Mariner?”

“Indeed I am, little one.” She confirms. “Did you have any relatives that weren’t on the Huxley?”

Your heart clenches. “No, why?”

The Skeksis expression saddens. “Guppy, you were the only survivor.”

Tears spill down your face. Why were you of all Gelfling the last left? A hiccup bubbles from your chest. Even if it happened to almost a fourth of your brethren, it was never easy . A gentle hand rubs soothing circles into your back.

“Shh, childling, sh.” skekSa hums. “You’re more than welcome to make yourself a new home here. If you’d like to, that is.”

You sniffle loudly. “O-Okay.”

You’re a quick study, like the rest of the Mariner’s crew. She all but adopts you, directly teaching you the inner workings of her living ship.

“Come here, Guppy.” The Skeksis calls out to you.

You scramble down from one of Vassa’s complicated series of collapsible sails. “Aye, Captain?” You ask as you trot over to her.

“I want to teach you how to fish from the shore, since you know the open sea only.” She Explains, pulling her feathers back into a deep violet ribbon.

You tilt your head, ears flickering forward. “Is it so different?”

skekSa pulls you onto her shoulders. “Well enough.” She muses, tossing a rope ladder over the side of her ship. Using three of her arms, she shimmies down into a small dingy. The Mariner rows out to the beach. She jumps out once she reaches it, sloshing through the tide to pull your tiny vessel ashore.

You do the same once you know you won’t be under water when you hop into it. You take the rope, tethering it to a palm tree. You chase after your captain, sand sticking to your toes.

She’s setting out the tools you’ll need for your task. Much of it is familiar, though on a far smaller scale. “Here, watch how I’m twisting this together.”

You lean in close, watching as she winds crystalline thread together into an almost imperceptible knot.

“You need to use this, since fish this small wouldn’t bite long enough to be hooked. Now then…” She walks you through getting a bucket filled with glittering treats.

Once the two of you are back on Vassa, skekSa is proudly showing off your catches. As if she was your real mother. Suits you just fine.

Chapter Text

Sometimes you find yourself in strange places. Your legs seemed to have a mind of their own. Which is what brought you here.

The spiraling slope guides you into a well hidden valley, carved stones almost hypnotizing you.

“It’s a pleasant night. Isn’t it?”

You glance up to find a Mystic (like the ones your mother used to tell stories about) smiling serenely back at you. Their long hair is partially pulled back into a loose bun.

“Oh, forgive me! I didn’t mean to-”

They shake their head, a string of bells jingling with the motion. “Worry not, Gelfling.” They hum melodically. “You are more than welcome.”

Your tail twitches slightly. It was a nervous habit. “I’ll just-”

“Hmm, if you want to go I certainly can’t stop you. It would be nice to have a new friend at our table.” They look and sound all too sincere, wrinkled face more kind than you can put into words.

That’s how you found yourself sitting next to the Urru, who was introduced to you as the Chanter urSol.

The plate in front of you is laden with delicious cakes and berries, which you finish quickly.

Enough that urSol serves you more, despite you trying to protest. They laugh, voice like a lute, beautiful and soothing. “You’re far too thin, my friend.”

Maybe you’d stick around…

You eventually come to live in the valley, not that it had been your intention. You would have cited the safety and plentiful resources if pushed.

In reality, the true cause was the Chanter.

They were lovely, intelligent, and above all compassionate. You run a comb through their mane, harmonizing with the lilting sound of their voice. The tales told of Mystics claimed they only sang in droning, long, boring notes with little variation. Perhaps you ought to write of the enigmatic creatures, and how so many of the legends were downright false.

Your companion has one of their many arms wrapped around your shoulders. They sit patiently as you plait their fur. Out of nowhere, they flinch, clutching at their hand with a pained groan.

“urSol?” You yelp, alarmed. “What happened??”

They take a breath, still holding their palm, trying to massage it. “I suspect skekSil has earned someone’s ire again.”

You grimace. The Chamberlain was always causing trouble. “Will you be alright?”

The Chanter nods, bells chiming with the motion. “Pay it no mind, Gelfling. All will be well.”

You hoped so...

Chapter Text

The Curator was one of the most reclusive Skeksis in the whole of Thra. Perhaps it was fitting then, that they only tolerated the elusive Hunter. Before the feral Lord withdrew from the castle, they could be found lurking in the shadows of skekMix’s museum.

“Do you ever think of leaving?”

The young Curator’s feathers raise slightly. “In what sense?”

skekMal ruffles their black and silver speckled coat, trying to figure out how to phrase it in Common. They were getting better with skekMix’s lessons, but the language was so much harder with a beak . “Get away?” They make a frustrated clicking sound. “Out of castle? Take a…?”

“Break?” The other Skeksis tilts their head.

The Hunter nods quickly.

“I suppose I have.” The studious Lord admits. “Also you’re dropping your ‘the’s’ again.”

skekMal growls. That only earns them a sharp hiss from the Curator.

“Grammar is important you beast.”

The museum quiets after that, only broken up by a few quick language lessons.

The Hunter picks up skekMix’s dusty scent on the crank of their summoning horn. Usually it reeked of juniper, heralding the Emperor, or the distilled berries favored by the Chamberlain.

No, it was leather bound tomes and decaying linens. They scale the side of the castle to enter through the Curator’s botanical gardens. Aside from the increasingly secure front entrance, the open air greenhouses were the only way in.

“In the preservation room!”

Hm. Seems like they were getting more aware of their surroundings.

skekMal stalks into the carefully arranged lab, seeing the Skeksis reconstructing a Z’nid bird skeleton.

“Why did you summon me?” They growl, sharp talons clicking against the paving stones.

“I want you to teach me how to hunt.”

The Hunter barks out a laugh. “ You ? What for?”

skekMix’s dark eyes narrow. “I don’t appreciate the insulting tone.”

“And?” They challenge, getting in the taller Skeksis’ face. “You’re overweight, inexperienced, and-”

“ And I still want to learn .” The Curator snaps back, crest flaring. “Need I remind you who taught you Thra’s languages, or who showed you how to shrink a head?”

skekMal bristles . “You’ll only hold me back.”

“Surely one of your skill level wouldn’t be bothered by my presence. Teach me.” skekMix retorts.

A calloused hand swipes at the insistent Lord’s throat.

Surprisingly, the Curator reacts fast enough to avoid their claws. The Hunter still manages to pull a handful of dyed feathers out, but no blood.

The tension is thick, almost suffocating. Then,

“Fine.”

skekMix blinks in surprise. “You changed your mind quick.”

“You outpaced me. Means you can at least keep up.” They rumble, strangely stashing the tall Lord’s feathers in one of their many satchels. “But you do this my way. Deal?”

skekMix stares at their offered talons for a moment before taking them. “Deal.”

As it would turn out, the Hunter’s way meant no carriages or pack animals for transport. At first, the Curator thinks it’s a test. Trying to push the admittedly heavy set Skeksis. While that might have been part of it, it was actually a clever way to build endurance and tone the surly Lord’s atrophied muscles.

When the Hunter had inquired after skekMix’s quarry, the bespectacled Skeksis paused before explaining.

“A large landstrider. That damned fool skekOk ‘accidentally’ set a pack of marrowgnaws loose in my collection.”

skekMal looked at them “Wouldn’t that mean you have more specimens to gather?”

They nod. “Of course. Otherwise I would have cashed in a favor with you.”

“How much was lost?”

skekMix makes a face. They sigh irritably. “Only seventeen, thankfully. My guards dealt with it as quickly as they could.”

The Hunter had known of the Curator’s blood-feud with the Scroll-Keeper, but they never expected it to escalate to this. Simply put, castle politics. Something which skekMal despised. Oh well. All the more reason to focus on the one thing that always makes sense.

The Hunt.

The odd pair are on the trail of a stunning male landstrider. Its pale blue-green legs leaving gouges in the packed clay of the Spriton Plains.

The Curator was quick to pick up on the unstated skills of their companion’s trade. How to stalk through the thickets and brambles silently. The method of reading tracks and scenting the wind. Now, they certainly weren’t on par with skekMal, but they’re enough .

The dye had long since worn out of the Curator’s feathers, the bone white catching the Hunter’s keen eyes anytime the Skeksis passes by.

“What about a snare trap?”

skekMal looks confused. “For a landstrider? What sort of idiotic question is that?”

skekMix clacks their bill. “It’s how the Spriton catch wild ‘striders. Is it so different for this?”

That makes the Hunter scowl. “Unless you want to get kicked? I don’t think you want to try that. The Gelfling are doing that to capture the beasts alive.”

The Curator snorts.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. I’m just trying to learn anywhere I can.” They retort, staring at the distant herd. “Can you really fault me?”

skekMal huffs. “No, but I can call out your mistakes. That’s why you brought me .” They reach out to cuff the back of skekMix’s head. “So listen to what I say.”

skekMix hisses, feathers raised. After a moment, they sigh. “You’re right. Sorry.”

The Hunter just nods.

It’s particularly early when the opportunity arises. The Skeksis had cornered the landstrider against the bottom of a cliff that had an odd dip of terrain right beneath a blackened mark. It doesn’t matter.

The Hunter hands off a long sword to skekMix. They walk the taller Lord through slaying the beast in detail. It squeals in terror when the Curator cuts it down. The thing collapses into a twitching heap.

“Here.” skekMal hands them a knife skekMix had never seen the feral Lord use. What they do recognize is their own feathers wound into the wrapping.

They choose not to mention it, instead opting to follow instructions on where to drive the blade.

The quiet lands like a wet, heavy blanket.

Once the last of its muscles stop spasming, the Curator takes a moment to breathe.

The Hunter slinks over, examining the carcass. “You brought the knife too far forward. It could have easily brought its back leg up to throw you off. You won’t be so lucky next time.

skekMix sounds exasperated. “I killed it, didn’t I?”

That earns them another smack to their head. “In an inefficient manner. Stop back talking and take what you came here for.”

The Curator glares, but just retrieves their set of skinning blades. With the largest, they free the creatures legs from its body.

skekMal watches the process with well hidden interest. They’ve never fully witnessed the quiet Skeksis process. They’re remarkably meticulous, working through the meat until they’re using a wickedly sharp scalpel. Eventually they disarticulate the ribcage, labeling each of the parts before wrapping them alongside the legs in the bloodstained shawl they always wore. Strangely, the Hunter had never questioned the garment before.

With that, the Curator tethers the bundle onto their back. They look to the Hunter. “Well then. That was a succes-”

They’re cut off when the earth shudders. Grass splits open and the ground seems to unzip itself. Before either of them can react, skekMix slips, tumbling into the yawning void.

It takes the Hunter two hours to make it down to the Curator after Thra stops shuddering. In a stroke of extreme bad luck, the fissure had opened over the Caves of Grot. A small blessing was that it was one of the entrance tunnels. At least the Lord hadn’t died on impact.

That’s not to say they got away unscathed. They’re coiled up and shaking.

“skekMix?” skekMal calls out. “Are you awake?”

The Curator looks over, squinting to see without their glasses. “Y-Yeah. I can’t walk, though.” They croak weakly.

That doesn’t sound great at all. The Hunter crouches over them to get a better look. A flash of bloodied bone is protruding through their skin.

This was going to be a long, grueling trek home.

It had been several hundred trine since skekMal had last seen the Curator. The Emperor had called them for a game request, and they decided to swing through the museum on the way out.

The first thing that greets them is a young Grottan. Her ears fold back, face drawing into a scowl. “The museum isn’t open to visitors.” She warns.

The Hunter cares little for her empty threats and goes to push the door open. Only to find the point of a spear pressing into the hinge of their jaw.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. Leave. ”

skekMal snarls, ready to snap the Shadowling’s neck, Then a familiar voice calls out over a tinny speaker.

“Mal'yn, stand down.”

The Gelfling hesitates, glaring daggers at the feral Hunter. Then she relents, backing away.

There’s a reverberating sound of a lock unlatching. The door to the Curator’s wing creaks open. A Drenchen beckons the Skeksis inside.

They stride past Mal'yn with one last venomous glower. The heavy door slams shut quickly, and skekMix’s voice comes over the loudspeaker again. 

“In the taxidermy room!”

The Hunter is there in moments, hearing a strange mechanical clicking once they get there. The first glimpse skekMal catches is an immaculately cleaned landstrider ribcage. When they come closer they pause.

The Curator is hunched over a fizzgig pelt, a cane lying next to them. They’ve lost almost all of their plumage.

The Skeksis gives their old companion a look. “What?”

skekMal shakes their head. “The trine have not been kind to you. You’re overweight again.”

skekMix rumbles. “You’d also find it difficult to keep in shape if you could hardly stand.”

Wait…”Excuse me?”

The Curator turns to face skekMal fully. There’s that loud clicking again. On the recluse’s left leg is a complicated looking brace, metal and leather winding around the limb.

“What happened after I left?” The Hunter almost sounds insulted.

“It had already begun to heal when we were traveling back.” They lean against their work station. “skekTek said they would have to break it again, and do an operation to grind the bones back to normal.”

skekMal makes a face. “Oh.”

“‘Oh’ indeed. Let’s move along.” skekMix returns to the hide on their table. “I apologize for Mal'yn’s attitude. She’s highly protective of me. Dealing with the Chamberlain and the Scroll-Keeper has fed her distrust of others.”

The Curator continues to catch skekMal up on all the castle drama, growing more cynical and frustrated throughout. Entire collections destroyed or stolen for leverage. Blatant disrespect amongst the others…

It was really no surprise why skekMix had grown so distant from the others. The Hunter puts a hand on their shoulder. “Come hunting with me.”

The Curator is startled. “Pardon?”

“You’re miserable here. It’s obvious. ”

skekMix sighs deeply, running their talons through their sparse feathers. “I believe we just discussed my crippled leg?”

The Hunter snorts. “We’ll find a way.”

The excursion teaches the Hunter two very important things.

First and foremost, the Curator had continued hunting by themselves as promised.

Secondly, they were a keen trapper. They’re weaving a cord of sinew for binding a figure four snare. Once they reach their destination, the Skeksis set about their tasks.

skekMix catches a handful of moog to use as bait, leaving them struggling against a tough band of leather. They shuffle away in search of other good places. By nightfall, they’ve already gathered three new specimens for their collection. They get a fire going, catching a glimpse of the Hunter’s silhouette dragging something behind them. Once they draw closer it’s clear they’ve downed a spire ghast. With its rows of teeth and spines, fur matted around a bloody wound in it’s chest.

“Where’d you find that?” skekMix wonders. “They’re cliff dwellers.”

“Foothills of the Claw Mountains.” The dark Skeksis dumps their prey onto the sandstone. They take a moment to hone a blade before starting to skin the fallen beast.

skekMix takes out a notebook to take detailed notes on the carcass’ anatomy.

Eventually the Hunter addresses the Curator. “Have you ever thought of staying away from the castle?”

That pauses their pencil on the page. “Like you?”

skekMal nods.

The Curator hums, staring into the flames. “Of course I have. I hate the palace. But you know that much.”

The Hunter grumbles, taking a slab of fresh meat, cutting off slices to eat.

“What you’re actually asking is why I haven’t left. ”

A half-shrug. “Guess I am.”

skekMix chuckles. “I suspect you wouldn’t accept my museum as a valid reason.” They reach out to take a cured chunk of snoutling from their pack.

“Mhmm.”

“I don’t know. That’s the best answer I can give you. I’ve planned on moving my collection to Ha’rar for centuries. Or hell, even Domrak if I felt like dealing with skekLi.”

“You’d tear their throat out.” skekMal asserts. “Besides, you’d tire of the Vapran swiftly. Too stuck up.”

skekMix hums. “Could always move around once I’m bored of it.”

With that, they trail off. The crackle of wood and calls of wildlife the only sounds as the Sisters cut a path through the night sky.

Eventually they had parted ways again, though it wouldn’t be that long before they’d see each other again.

At least by Skeksis terms.

Probably only around thirty trine later, the Hunter encounters their castle bound friend. They’re pulling a carcass from a snare to examine it more closely. skekMal silently scales a tree to watch, undeniably curious about the Curator’s business.

“I know you’re here, skekMal.”

...Well that was quick. The Hunter drops from their hide, joining the Curator. “What gave it away?”

“Caught a faint whiff of your scent.” They reply, pulling a familiar looking knife from underneath the ribcage on their back. Apparently they had turned it into spare storage shortly after acquiring it.

skekMal isn’t sure why they hadn’t expected skekMix to have kept the gift over all those trine. Or more accurately, still using it for the intended purpose. The museum certainly had a weaponry section. “Very good.” They observe. “What’re you after this time?”

The Lord leans on their cane. “Trying to see if I can lure out an arduff.”

So the Hunter’s senses hadn’t been fooling them. The body in the snare had been decaying. “They’re smart. You shouldn’t expect to catch one like that.” They chastise.

“I’m willing to take whatever I can catch.” The Curator snorts. “Besides, you never know what will happen.”

skekMal growls half-heartedly. “Who’s the expert here?”

skekMix laughs warmly, shaking their head. “You’re treating me like a student again?” They use their blade to split open the bait’s stomach. Likely to increase interest from the creatures of Thra.

“If it makes you listen? Gladly.”

Once the two agree to return to their tasks, skekMal turns in the direction of a known arduff den. They flush the predators out to improve the small odds.

As time marches on, the Hunter and the Curator regularly run into each other outside of the castle. Often the meetings were short, but enough for skekMal to get the distinct impression that the palace’s environment was only getting worse . As a direct result, skekMix took to roaming more and more.

Not that far from the Hunter’s own past, come to think of it.

Often Mal'yn joins them. The naturally long lived Grottan grows used to skekMal, though she still can’t bring herself to trust them. She had a right to her opinions. It also made for some interesting conversations. The Shadowling was more than happy to talk bluntly of the Lords and their antics. This was how skekMal was informed of skekShod’s growing loyalty towards skekZok, the blossoming feud between the Chamberlain and the General, and how often matters were discussed openly in front of the guards.

Gods is skekMal glad they never have to stay for long periods. Usually.

Currently though, the Hunter has a personal reason for going to the castle. With their own Gelfling in the form of Nox, they scale the building to enter through the gardens.

The breeze sends a handful of tufted seeds fluttering away, especially when Nox disturbs them as she skitters by.

“Been a while since we’ve met here.” skekMix is standing near the entrance to the museum with a cup of ta in hand. They arch a brow. “What in Thra’s name have you brought with you?”

Nox’s feathered cloak had saved her identity before, when she had survived an encounter with the Scroll-Keeper. The Curator had been out at the time, negotiating with someone over the ownership of an artifact. Otherwise they would have been well aware of the Dousan...or her disguise.

“Found them in the Crystal Desert-”

“I don’t appreciate being lied to.” skekMix glares.

Oh. Okay. “Who says I’m lying?” They challenge.

“skekMal, if it has lived I have a record or a holotype of it. So try that again.”

Nox bristles beside her mentor, but has a clawed hand placed on her head to still her.

The Hunter knows when to cut their losses. This wasn’t a Skeksis they wanted issues with anymore. “She’s a Gelfling. It’s easier to move around with her when she’s hiding her identity.”

The Dousan freezes, looking up for a moment. When she’s sure she heard right, she pulls the head dress and veil from her face. She gives the dark-eyed Lord a curt nod.

“Do you have a name?” The Curator asks her.

Unused to both being addressed and speaking, the tracker sounds rusty at first when she admits, “It’s Nox.”

“She also goes by Tracker.” The Hunter adds.

That draws a look of surprise from skekMix. “The one skekOk kept insisting was real?”

A nod from their companion.

“Of course they would have bought an eel-feathered story like you tried to sell me.” They snarl, mimicking someone holding a monocle to their eye. “Oh I do love romantic tales with as little factual backing as possible !”

Nox looks to skekMal for guidance.

“Don’t ask.” They warn her.

“Oh she can hear all about that bane of true literature if she wants. More should learn of how they destroy anything they get their ink-stained talons on. Actually-”

“ skekMix. I don’t want to hear anything else about the Scroll-Keeper tonight.” The Hunter cuts them off. “They’re terrible. Moving on? ”

The Curator sniffs dismissively. “I suppose. What did you need with me?”

“Need? I never need anything.” skekMal points out. “I would like to finally get a proper tour of your collections. It’s been centuries.”

The Curator grins. “I see! Shall we get started then?”

Chapter Text

If this were any other day, you would be at your Emperor’s side. However, they had sent you on an...errand to gather a handful of random things. To what end, you have no clue.

But it isn’t your place to question skekSo.

You’re taking a moment to rest in a thicket. It offers you some measure of shelter from the snow flurries, which is alright by you.

An hour or so later, you almost miss it. The sound of shuffling footsteps to your right. When you crane your neck to see, you’re face to face with the Hunter’s shadow.

“Good evening, Warrior.” They greet cautiously. “It certainly has been many a trine.”

You click your beak irritably. “I could stand with a few hundred more, Archer.”

The Mystic hums thoughtfully as they use their tail to clear a patch of snow. “So harsh. I suppose you were never the one for soft-talk.” They observe while gathering firewood.

When you retort, there’s an edge of a growl in your voice. “Don’t speak of me like we were close.”

That gives urVa pause, flint and steel hovering over a small pile of tinder. “Does your memory still fail you after all this time?”

“What are you talking about?” Your eyes narrow.

Your unwelcome guest doesn’t immediately answer. They set the wood alight, making sure it won’t be blown out. “You haven’t recalled anything from when you and the Guardian were one?”

“What a stupid question. Of course I don’t, none of us do.” You snap, getting up. “You can enjoy being cryptic by yourself.”

The Urru tsk’s. “And you will freeze in your woefully thin clothing. Share the fire until this storm breaks. Then you can do what you wish.”

In total honesty, you have half a mind to ignore the damned thing. If only they weren’t completely correct. With an angry snort, you plop back down.

The Archer doesn’t gild a sogflower, opting to boil snow in the kettle they always carried.

Wait...how did you know about that? You scowl, shaking your head.

The Hunter’s Other gives you a sympathetic look that annoys you endlessly. They continue their silence, and somehow that pisses you off even more. Soon enough, they’re mulling slices of fruit and fragrant curls of bark together in the bubbling water.

You must stare at the brew a second too long, because urVa takes two antique looking ceramic cups from their pack.

You start to protest, but the Mystic insists, pushing it into your talons. You grind your teeth, wanting to dash the offending item onto the ground out of spite. One problem. The heat of the drink feels wonderful against your frigid palms. You take a sip, the taste almost painfully familiar. It almost brings a tear to your eye.

Not that you would ever admit it.

You gaze through the liquid, seeing an emblem stamped into the floor of the cup. A bow and a blade, crossed over a field of deep green.

The Ranger’s crest.

You blink, your brow furrowing. Who in the name of Thra was the Ranger? It felt like your mind was full of spitter webs and moth wings. The only thing you can assume is your counterpart’s mind was bleeding into yours again. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

Nor (you suspect) would it be the last...

Chapter Text

“Hey, wait up!”

You know that voice. It belongs to one of your partners, Rian. Turning to look at him, you can’t help but smile at the Stonewood’s charming enthusiasm. “What is it, my love?”

He trots up to you, tail swaying happily. “Mira heard that the kitchen is getting a shipment of creeping cliff berries today.” He grins, eyes full of mischief. “Sounds like fun, eh?”

You stifle a snicker. “Oh most definitely. How’d Mira catch wind of that?”

Rian tilts his head, hair falling into his face a bit. “The Scientist’s assistant. They mentioned it when they passed by Mira’s post this morning.”

You shift your weight, nodding. “That makes sense. They always hear about deliveries before any of us.” You flick your tail. “So what time were you thinking?”

Your partner folds his arms, tapping a foot. “Probably when the Podlings bring the treat trolley past the spyglass, right?”

“It’s the safest bet, since the walkway is so narrow there. Less chances of witnesses.” You observe. “Shall I go tell Mira, then?”

Rian chuckles warmly. “Mhmm. See you at the first sunset!”

You find the Vapran at her prefered post. She had been assigned to guard skekShod a few trine ago. The Treasurer was blissfully easy to keep track of, as they weren’t prone to wandering often.

You trot up to her, waving. “Afternoon, Mira!”

Her ears prick up in surprise. “Hello, darling! Did you hear from Rian today?”

“Yup!” You confirm. “We picked out the usual spot, when the first Brother slips below the horizon.”

Mira smirks slightly. “That works for me.” She tucks one of her thin braids behind her ear. “Today’s been so boring . I could really do with some excitement!”

You couldn’t agree more. Nothing bad ever happened in the castle, so the daily grind was sluggish at best. Glacial at worst. The three of you couldn’t be blamed for seeking a bit of fun.

Chapter Text

Skeksis courtship isn't gentle like their smaller subjects. Not in the traditional sense.

Make no mistake, there was still tenderness. You've actually spied on the other Lord's in the past. When skekVar and skekSo thought they were alone in the forest. The General's rough talons smoothing over their Emperor's jawline. The aloof Lord chuckling deeply and making...concerning sounds.

The moment took a turn when skekVar tucked their beak against the crook of their partner's neck. They take a deep, wheezing breath... and in a flash of fangs, you're given front row seats to something you never cared to know.

Yet you can't look away. It's not the...act that draws your eye. Well, it is, but the amount of violence is what truly throws you for a loop. You had almost thought that the General had turned on their ruler.

After they had left, you made your way back to the Circle of The Suns. The Heretic crows out a greeting, smoke curling from their bill.

It's the Wanderer that senses something off about you. They methodically start to ask you, but you brush the Mystic off. 

A Hunt would clear your mind.

You decide to give your second shadow a challenge. You gear up for the cold, beginning to scale the Claw Mountains. True, the hood muffled your hearing, but you'd rather that than frostbite.

You are certain that skekMal was on your trail again. Strangely, they hang back until nightfall. You've holed up in a cave, sparking a fire to life. The hair raises on the back of your neck. You glance beyond the flames, picking out the Hunter's silhouette on the ridge. A soft smile splits your face.

With no intentions to leave the cavern, you watch them drift closer to your location. The Skeksis' huge frame is remarkably silent, only indicated by the crunch of snow under their feet.

"You look cold, Hunter." You call out, chuckling when you see the Lord bristle. "Surely you have a better outfit for these conditions."

They almost don't fit through the cave mouth, Landstrider trophies scraping the roof. They're growling subtly.

"There's a storm moving in tomorrow." You warn.

"I'm well aware." skekMal snorts. "Why are you here. You're almost as fragile as a Gelfling. This is no place for you, Marionette."

Were they... worried? You scoot over, beckoning the Skeksis over, ignoring the nickname. "Yet I know a great many people who choose to live at the top of this range. Besides, if you had bundled up like I did, you wouldn't be chilly. Don't project your issues onto me, skekMal."

skekMal snarls sharply, the sound bouncing off the walls oddly. "I'm not cold."

You sit up onto your knees so you could meet the giant's eyes. "Stop lying to me. We could go Hunting for Spire Ghasts in the morning. You can use my bedroll for now... should be better than nothing."

Before the beast can retort, you unfurl your muski hide roll. The inside was padded with dense wool you had harvested yourself. 

skekMal clacks their beak inches from you when you toss the furs around their shoulders.

"Aughra's Eye, you're such a drama queen." You tease, shoving the Hunter lightly. "You act like I'm not allowed to treat you with respect."

"What could I have done to possibly earn that?" The Lord huffs, their response surprises you.

"The hell do you mean by that?"

skekMal leans into your space, voice dropping into a rasp. "What. Have I done. To earn. Your trust."

You can feel your heartbeat quicken. "Remind me, how many Hunts have we run together?"

The Skeksis lingers close to your side, providing the answer swiftly. "Twelve, officially. How many attempts have I made on your life?"

"That's not fair, skekMal."

"Why not?" Their tone changes again. They're rumbling, almost purring. "I think it's rather important to know. Especially when you do something as vulnerable as putting your faith in me."

The cave feels far warmer than it should. Your tongue tries to glue itself into place. "I believe I stopped counting after the fiftieth time." You mutter.

"One hundred and nine." They explain. "So why are you letting me near you?"

You don't want to answer.

A gnarled hand finds its way into your hair. You physically have to stop yourself from leaning into the touch. Talons graze over an old scar on your cheek. Your pulse hammers in your ears.

The Hunter's palm slides to your throat, strong fingers tightening ever so slightly. "I could tear out your windpipe like wet paper."

You swallow against the grip. "...You haven't yet."

A small chuckle. "That doesn't change anything. I'm not trustworthy."

You reach out, sliding your hand under the many layers of fabric covering skekMal's neck. You squeeze gently. "Neither am I, by that logic."

You don't miss the way their breath hitches. "You're hardly a threat to me."

Now it's your turn to laugh. "My dear, I quite distinctly remember you telling me to take your life as my trophy on the Sifan Coast."

Their eyes narrow. "That was many trine ago."

You shift closer. "So? That doesn't mean much." You're unaware that you've rested your other hand on the Lord's thigh. 

skekMal vents a harsh breath. "What are you doing , human?" They growl.

That snaps you from your haze. If you could, you'd have backed off, but the Seksis grabs your shoulder. You trip over your words, unsure of what to say.

They slide a calloused palm up your back. "Because it feels like you're trying to lead me to your bed ."

You must be bright red by now. "Sorry-" You blurt out, startling your friend. "I didn't mean to make this awkward."

They open their beak to speak but you take that moment to shuffle away from the Lord. If you had kept your gaze up a moment longer, you'd have caught the flicker of hurt in their eyes.

skekMal quietly curses in skexish. They shake their head. "Whatever. Get some rest…"

You nod, drawing your hood tight around your ears. While it isn't much, you do manage to catch some sleep.

When you wake, the Hunter is nowhere to be found. You take a second to steady yourself before setting out for the Crystal Sea.

You can sense skekGra staring at you as you duck inside the stone archway. 

Fuck, you'd forgotten to scrub yourself in the river before you'd entered the desert. True, the only one was freezing cold, but you surely reeked of skekMal.

"Did you get into it with the Hunter again?" The Heretic wonders, casually washing out a brush.

"Into it?" You parrot.

"A...fight?" urGoh sleepily muses.

The reedy Skeksis snorts a small laugh, nodding. "Yes, yes, that's it. You hurt, human?"

"Only my pride." You aren't actually lying. "Why?"

"Oh what do you mean 'why'?" The Heretic folds their arms, rapidly tapping their foot out of irritation. "We worry about you, small one! You might be quite ferocious, but you're still squishy!"

The Mystic quietly reaches over to steady their Other.

"What?! They are!" skekGra whines.

Something about the way their partner looks at them convinces the Skeksis of something. They make some thinly veiled excuse about needing more berries, then scuttle off to one of the many escape hatches.

Leaving you with the one who could usually see right through you.

The Wanderer slowly makes his way over, setting a pot of ta to boil. "So... skekMal?"

You can feel your ears burn. "What about them?"

The urRu gives you a look . 

You're fucked. "It's just a little crush. It'll go away on its own." You run a hand through your hair.

"I can't...say I...believe that." urGoh takes a drag off their pipe. "You two are...well-suited for...each other."

Uh?

"Wait, hold up-" You look at the massive lizard in disbelief. "You're encouraging this?"

They chortle heartily, coughing from the smoke. "If that's...what you...want? Yes...you and the...Hunter are quite...obvious in...your feelings."

Obvious?! Oh no…wait- "Are you insinuating that they feel the same?"

urGoh arches a brow ridge. The ta kettle shatters the moment, distracting your friend.

"Look, I know you've known skekMal longer than I have, but I don't really think it was anything more than a...momentary lapse of reason." You fidget nervously.

"If they didn't...enjoy your...company? You'd have...been killed...long ago." They shake their head, pouring you a cup. "So what's stopping...you two?"

Whyyyy, you didn't want to talk about this! "I don't know? I don't even know how you guys-" Your throat closes up out of embarrassment. You make a muffled squeak, rubbing your face.

"Court?"

A nod.

If you knew that would lead to one of the most uncomfortable sex ed lessons of your life, you'd have lied about your feelings. You know far too much now. Some of it intimidated you.

Still…

You don't see the Hunter for another trine. Far too much time to stew in your feelings, honestly. So you decide to track them down first that summer. They probably didn't know that you had picked up their knack for tailing prey.

...Maybe you shouldn't think of potential partners as that way.

You'd brought along a satchel, full of beautiful hides you'd tanned. You were intent on getting the feral Lord to sit still long enough to get them set up with a solid winter cloak.

You're slowly trailing through the Dark Wood, following the subtle signs. You think they're wise to you. About a week back, their tracks had suddenly become irregular. You rolled your eyes, just trying to stick to your mission.

Now, however, you're getting extremely close to them. That's when the skies unzip themselves and the subsequent downpour soaks through your clothes in minutes. You're trying to squint through the sheets of rain, but miss the root in your path.

You smack into the ground hard . To the point of being dazed. Maybe you'd actually slammed into a tree trunk, judging by how painful it was. You  fall in and out of consciousness. All the while, you think you can feel something wet steadily creeping up your face. You're trying to shake this off when a murky shape melts into view. You somehow manage to get ahold of your knife, but whatever or who ever this is wrenches it from your grasp.

You're hoisted into the air, making your head spin even worse. You're vaguely aware of being brought into a building of some sort before your eyes start to slide shut.

It's warm. Wonderfully so. Your head is pounding, but you sit up anyway.

This is how you find out that you're naked as the day you were born. You snatch up the furs that settled in your lap, drawing them around your shoulders.

"You were soaked. I wasn't going to let you die from something as stupid as exposure." A familiar voice starts. "Here."

A huge black shirt is tossed into your lap.

You stare at it, and your first instinct is to laugh at the absurd domesticity of it all. You stifel it, tossing on the garment. It still slides off one shoulder. Glancing up, you're first struck by the room. It's well stocked with anything the Hunter could possibly want or need beyond the walls of the castle.

You figured they would shun these sorts of comforts…

"Why are you here?"

Your brow furrows as you look at skekMal. "You tell me, you brought me here."

That might have been a mistake because the Skeksis grabs your arm, snarling. "I'm not in the mood for your damned jokes, human. You lecture me about being ill prepared and I find you half-dead in a stream!"

You don't think you've ever heard skekMal so upset.

"What if I wasn't there? You could have died in so many ways!" They bark, harshly grabbing your jaw. "Are you listening to me? Say something, damn it!"

You chuckle weakly. "Jeeze. For the beast that can't be trusted around me, you sure are giving mixed signals."

The sparse feathers the Skeksis still has raise like a startled Z'nid bird. skekMal scoffs, releasing you. They storm off into the other side of the room. "You're insufferable. What were you attempting to prove? That you could Hunt the Hunter?"

"I could and I clearly did." You shrug, spotting your clothing and other things drying by the fire. "Ah, shoot. I hope the rain isn't gonna ruin those hides."

"You nearly died in a flash flood and you're worried about pelts ." The Lord sounds stunned.

"Oh please, I'm fine." You flap one of the massive shirtsleeves dismissively. "I'm concerned about them because they're for you . Dumbass. I uh...wanted to talk. About the last time we saw each other."

skekMal stills. "...What?"

You don't know where to go from there. "I-...look. I can't lie. When I first met you, I hated you. You terrorized me, to the point of giving me severe nightmares."

"So now you've gained some sense?" They hiss. Yet, there's an edge of pain to it. Betrayal.

"Let me finish, skekMal." You glare at them. They huff, motioning for you to continue. "I don't hate you anymore...in fact, the knowledge that you're out there makes me want to be a stronger person. To become more self sufficient. Do you understand?"

They blink, folding their arms. "What are you getting at, human?"

Gods help you, this dense creature.

"Oh for fucks sake- I like you. I enjoy Hunting with you...do you see what I'm getting at?"

The silence stretches for ages. skekMal quietly approaches you, as though you are some venomous snake. They hesitate, eyes roving over your face. Searching for any hint of deception. They flicker to the dripping hides.

"You're trying-... Human, are you trying to court me?" They're stunned.

You nod softly.

"How did you learn about this?" The Lord wonders, distracting themself by inspecting the soggy fur. "The library in Ha'rar doesn't have anything about this."

"Promise not to laugh?" You can already feel the tips of your ears turn red.

"Do I seem the sort?" They fairly point out.

"Uh-... apparently we were being 'obvious' because urGoh sat me down to explain things." Gods you're so embarrassed.

The Hunter freezes, slowly turning to look at you. " We ?"

Ah, you should have worded that better. You had just been through a fair bit, so it's not like you had two brain cells to rub together. "The Mystic said you must have at least felt some camaraderie, or you'd have killed me ages ago."

You wish you had a camera. Their face was priceless. "Ah."

"Hang on-" You walk up to them, unsure if you crossed a line. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, please tell me. I'm perfectly fine with just being Hunting friends. I don't want you to feel like you have to do-"

You're cut off when the Skeksis picks you up by your waist. You yelp, clinging to their broad shoulders on instinct.

"I never have to do anything. I am a Lord of the Crystal." They press their beak into the crook of your shoulder, breathing deeply. A tiny shiver runs down their spine...and yours. "Aughra's Eye, why didn't you just let us continue this back in the Claw Mountains?"

You blink, leaning back to look at the Hunter in the face. "What?"

They look at you like you're being foolish. "I asked if you were trying to bed me. I think I was being clear."

Oh you really were an ass. "skekMal, I thought you were upset with me. I thought you were mad because I was touching you and-"

"You humans are just like the Gelfling. You over complicate everything." They huff your scent again. "I accept your courting offer."

You're trembling now too. "It's uh-... still not finished."

They snort. "What?"

"I brought them here so I could make you a new cloak. That way we can do longer expeditions in the cold and the mountains." You rest your cheek on their shoulder. "But they're going to need to dry out. That way I can see if I need to replace any."

"Understood." They hum. "For now, you still need to rest. I'm fairly certain you're concussed."

You make an offended scoff. "What? How do you figure?"

They set you onto their warm bed. "Do you think you would have been so up front with this if you hadn't hit your head?"

You shrug. "I dunno. I'd probably be a bit more smooth, hopefully? At least you were open to the idea...huh. Y'know something?"

"What?" skekMal leans over you, studying your features.

"Our Hunt must be over." You reach up, pulling them down. You press your nose to the place the Skeksis seem obsessed with, inhaling deeply. You're slightly disappointed. They just smell like sweat and dirt...perhaps that was the best case scenario.

"Over?" skekMal wonders, settling against you. "Why?"

"Well we both got each other. So we have trophies. That's what you wanted at first, right?" You curl up against them letting your freehand roam to familiarize yourself with their many scars. 

"Hm...I suppose that's true." The feral Lord threads their talons through your hair. "There's plenty of prey still out there. If you want to continue Hunting."

"Of course I want to Hunt you, idiot." You chastise them. "You think I'd stop and be a cute little house spouse? No, I want to go after prey without worrying about you jumping me."

skekMal's voice takes on that raspy edge again. "Oh no, Marionette...I can't guarantee that won't happen. Just not like you used to expect."

You go beet red "Oh...right."

Chapter Text

It had been ages of you getting bounced between several different libraries in Thra. Of course, it was decidedly rare for a gelfling to be literate. Even more so that they’d express an interest in bookkeeping.

What can you say? You find solace in the long neglected pages. Worlds unfolding like paper-art, dragging you through places you’ll never experience. Oh how wonderful it was.

That evening, you were alarmed by a loud bang in the distant main hall. It was just you, as there was a festival in the morning. One that you frankly had little care to attend.

You rush as quickly as your feet allow, skidding to a halt when you see it. A large, shaking heap of rotting fabric. The wheezing clues you in to the fact that it’s hiding something more. Carefully, you’d announce your presence.

“Hello? The library is closed- oh my…”

It was one of the Lords. Not just any, in fact. This was the name-sake of your establishment. Lord skekOk, the Scroll-Keeper.

They start to rise with a shudder. You don’t know what to do, but you quickly offer a hand. “You look hurt, my Lord. Please, don’t move too much.”

There comes a rusty chuckle, like a bitter shriek of a long neglected hinge. “Ah, it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before, gelfling. Simply bruised ribs.”

You found that slightly difficult to believe, but you weren’t willing to question a Skeksis. “Let me find you a chair, my Lord.”

You trot off, unwilling to hear any argument. Judging by the fact you only hear strained breaths, they’re not interested in making one.

The only one suitable is heavy, but you manage to haul it over, used to the numerous over burdened book-carts. Once you bring it close, you offer the Scroll-Keeper assistance again. “Here, sire. Let’s get you settled.”

It’s like wrangling a Landstrider calf. All awkward limbs and slippery skin. But the two of you manage, with your guest groaning as they slid into a more comfortable position.

“Shall I prepare ta , my Lord? It’s terribly chilly out there.”

They nod, adjusting one of their many pairs of spectacles. “Without delay, gelfling.”

As you rush to get the kettle brewing, you can’t help fretting. Of course, the Lords were immortal. You aren’t sure why you’re so unsettled by this. Perhaps it was the fact that you’d never witnessed one laid low by injury. Mind you, this certainly seemed mild…but still.

You’re rattled from your spiral when the pot whistles. You take the mesh, filling it with leaves before setting it into the water. The tray is arranged, laden with what you’d observed as favorites during ceremonies and Tithing.

Fruits and nuts, small dishes of cream and honey. Toasted slices of bread and crackers. You quickly return, praying your Lord was fine.

“Ah, there you are.” They replied, looking far better over the short absence. “I was beginning to think you’d gone and abandoned me.”

“Oh no, my Lord. I would never-”

They snickered, motioning you over. “I’m well aware, gelfling. Merely teasing. My, my, my!” They plucked a succulent berry from the spread, admiring it.

“Trying to impress me?”

For some reason you don’t understand, your face flushes. The tips of your ears bloomed with pink. “I- uh, I don’t-”

“Teasing, gelfling.” They smirked, popping the morsel into their bill before humming with enjoyment. “The ta ?”

Oh! Right, yes. “Right away, my Lord.” You pour it into the nicest ta set you could find, regrettably chipped.

They’d study the cup, curious. “A bit shabby, don’t you think?”

Of course the Scroll-Keeper would notice. “Forgive me, my Lord. Our funding isn’t what it once was. I’d prefer to put it towards our collection, rather than my personal dishware.”

“Are you the one in charge of this?” They gestured at the many volumes that surrounded them. “Quaint selection?”

“Only since last trine, my Lord.” You confirmed. “But I’ve worked over the past twenty at four different institutions. I know this is rather paltry-”

“Nonsense. All libraries are a gift.” They cut you off, holding the cup out for more. They observe the main room as you pour, nodding quietly. “I’ve heard good things about your work.”

Your eyes go wide, and it’s a miracle you don’t spill. The tip of your tail flickers. “M-Me?”

There’s something secretive in their expression. Some clever amusement, like they know something you don’t. “Yes, you. You’ve made a mark on one of my more…rough buildings. Quite a feat, to impress my servants. They’re not known for being the most…understanding.”

Oh you could die right now. You were being praised by the greatest gelflings in your line of work. “I am honored by their kindness, my-”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it. You proved yourself. They simply reported your skill.” They set their cup down, using claws to retrieve their snacks. “Kindness implies you didn’t earn it, yes?”

“I see.” You nodded, unused to the praise, indirect as it may be. “I am still grateful for their assessment.”

“Good.” skekOk hummed, mouth full. They swallow, cloudy eyes on you the whole time. “Are you not interested in the festival, gelfling?”

“Ah, no my Lord.” You shake your head, setting about cleaning the ta set. “My work here is far more important. Besides that, I’m not really one for parties.”

“Perhaps I could keep you company.” Their offer shocked you. The Scroll-Keeper, your Patron, was going to spend such a long period of time with you? Maybe you were hallucinating. “Or you me.”

You were starting to enjoy the sound of that rough chuckle. “If it is your will, my Lord.”

They reach out. A surprisingly strong hand wrapping around your thin wrist. They pull you to their side, stroking a bony finger along your cheek. “It is. Now, fetch your oldest book. I wish to assess its condition.”

“Yes, my Lord.” You know exactly which tome to gather. You also bring a prop cushion, not wanting to strain its spine.

You and skekOk spend hours with each other. Ignoring the sounds of the festival, too engrossed in your own world. As the Three Brothers cast long shadows, you grow more and more comfortable with the Skeksis. Soon enough, they have you leaning against them to get a better look at each novel.

It’s not until their talons curl around your hip that you snap to attention. You must have jumped, because they released you.

“Too far, gelfling?” skekOk asked.

“Too-...” Oh…oh! “Uh, it’s not…that, my Lord.”

They nod for you to elaborate.

“I’m not exactly used to having contact with others.” Oh how pink your ears must have been. “I…I didn’t mind it.”

The Scroll-Keeper smirked, beckoning you over. You obey, head bowed shyly.

A claw lifts your gaze to meet theirs. “Would you be interested in working for me, gelfling?”

W-..working?

“Directly, that is. You see, I’m in need of a new assistant.” Their hand traces along the line of your jaw, finding its way into your hair. “My current one is nearing her end. You suit my needs rather nicely.”

Every childling once dreamt of working in the Castle. You were no different…and yet?

“I…I would like that, my Lord.” You struggle to find the words. Like a steel pebble lodged in your throat. “But I have a duty to this library. They have no other certified keeper.”

While their talons tighten against your scalp, after a moment the Skeksis relaxes. Voice even as they observe, “You’re rather responsible, aren’t you.”

“I meant no offense…”

“And I took none.” skekOk’s gaze softened. They suddenly pick you up, as though you weighed nothing. They settled you in their lap, studying you like some precious stone. “If I found another to take over, would you?”

You need no clarification for that. They were bent on this…rather flattering, if you were being honest. You nod, unsure if you could trust your voice.

That pleases the Lord greatly. They grin, running a thumb over your lower lip. “Consider it done. I expect great things from you, my assistant.”

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Text

Well, this wasn’t good.

Gurjin had been patrolling the western corridor when he saw it. Or rather, he should have seen it. The Castle was supposedly a brilliant feat of engineering, which was technically true. There was very little in the gelfling world that could match the sheer…impossibility? Of Skeksis architecture.

That doesn’t mean the place isn’t a crumbling wreck.

Of which the Drenchen is about to learn the hard way. The floor gives way, and for the splitest of seconds, Gurjin feels like he’s floating…which gives way to falling. And pain. Oh so much pain. It’s moments like these where he’s painfully jealous of the girls and their wings.

Not that it would have likely helped in this situation. By the time he’d realized he was in trouble, he’d already landed. Gurjin sat up, looking at his leg. It throbbed painfully and he could tell immediately, it wasn’t good.

Best case scenario, he had simply sprained it. But he has a feeling he wasn’t so lucky…Rian was never gonna let him live this one down. 

Footsteps echo down the hall, and Gurjin’s first instinct is to try and huddle against the wall. He’s not exactly sure why, but he was never known for his ability to make logical decisions.

They aren’t loud enough to be one of the Lords, but he’s unable to figure out if it’s a fellow Gelfling or a Podling before they come into view.

Broad shouldered, rich tan skin, and striking pale eyes. Oh thank Aughra, it was Tolyn. The Spriton leveled him with a judgmental glance.

“Wasn’t expecting you to drop in.” He observed dryly. Though Gurjin knew him well enough to tell he was kidding.

“Uh, yeah.” He’d chuckle. “I might need a hand.”

His fellow guard nodded, helping the Drenchen to his feet. Tolyn was one of, if not the only member of the team that matched Gurjin’s generous height. “Should I get Ri-”

“No!” He practically yelped, causing Tolyn’s ear to flinch away. “Uh, sorry. No. Just take me to the infirmary…I might need help with that too.”

“Figured as much.” The Spriton guides him along, handling him as though he weighed nothing. For how similar they were in stature, Tolyn was able to lift significantly more than Gurjin ever could. Probably because of how much he trained in comparison.

For all his raw strength, the Drenchen would likely never match Tolyn in skill. Not that he cared one way or another.

His superior helped him onto the cot, going over to where the supplies were kept. Silence reigns for ages. Battle worn hands helped guide Gurjin’s leg into a better position.

“...You got lucky. Very lucky.” Tolyn observed. “It’s not broken. Might be fractured.”

“Ah.” Gurjin nodded, watching as he brought over a splint.

“This is just so you don’t make it worse before we call a healer.”

“I guessed.” He’d chuckle softly.

Once again, a quiet void yawns between them. They had never been the best at talking, and that was in more typical circumstances. Now it was just the two of them. Tolyn carefully bracing Gurjin’s injury. Sure, he was usually little more than a brute, but in moments like these, his tenderness emerged from where it usually hid.

“You need to be more cautious, Gurjin.”

Probably. While he’d typically joke back, the young man simply tilts his ears to indicate he’s paying attention. A subtle cue to continue.

“One of these days, you’re going to be alone.” Tolyn sighed, cinching the straps. “No Mira, no Rian…no me. And you’re going to get into something you can’t get out of…The Lords need you.”

“Eh, I think you’re capable enough to cover for me.” He tried to deflect.

“I don’t want to be.” Tolyn locked eyes with him. His frame was tense. “Gurjin, you need to take care of yourself. If no one else, do it for me. That’s an order.”

Gurjin can’t help the little snicker that escaped him. “An order, huh?”

Tolyn would glare, ears folding into an angry line. Before he could chastise the Drenchen, he’d lightly shove at his shoulder.

“I’ll do my best, Tolyn.”

He’d study the wounded Gelfling, searching for something that Gurjin couldn’t guess. After a moment, he seems to find what he’s looking for. His hand settled over the Drenchen’s. Spritons ran hotter than his people, so it felt like a heated stone.

“I’m holding you to that.”

A lopsided grin split his face. “Can’t wait.”