Chapter Text

Chapter 30b:

Sun couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, his red finger tips clacking together with a dull sound. In front of him stood his love, the Princess, with concern painting her optics a beautiful colour.

The apprehension in his core painted him an opposing, ugly tint. Dread pooled into his senses, filling his fuel lines with stagnant water. His mask furrowed into a horrible crease, dismay reflecting clearly through his optics.

He was terrified, but this needed to be done .

It was the only way he’d have forever with her.

The feeling of her dainty hands stilled his tremors, the soft sensation of satin coating his shakes like a soothing balm. He looked into her open, resplendent mask, and resigned himself to her beauty. He couldn’t live without her. He couldn’t bear to live in a world where she wasn’t real .

The realisation that his love, his exultant joy, was fake threatened to tear him apart from the inside. All their memories, all their shared caresses and laughter, were nothing more than a sham. The source of his love, his reason for being, crashed and shattered against the empty landscape of this reality.

He felt angry.

He felt furious.

He felt empty –Sun wasn’t aware it was possible to feel so many things at once, each contradicting the other. 

Every conscious moment brought more painful memories back to him, reminding him of the utter falseness of his relationship. He’d fallen in love with a sham. Whatever cables and gears that functioned as his heart were in ruins.

Sun watched as the Princess leaned down, pressing her delicate forehead to the place where their hands connected. Red fingertips threaded through deep shiny satin, and a crested jewel touched his knuckles. Through their proximity, he felt the Handler within the Princess breathe, and he fought not to recoil with shame.

“I know you’re scared,” came her calm, musical voice. “I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”

Sun felt like sobbing, the reality of his imminent actions shadowing his thoughts. He wasn’t built with the ability to cry. There would be no way to escape the feelings the horrible necessity of his actions would bring about.

Her rays sparkled in the low light, the generator fuelling only the bare minimum of bulbs to conserve power during the outage. Sun thought she looked all the more resplendent in the dim light, the din catching every sparkle of her mask, alighting her in silver shimmers. She looked like an ethereal creature, not of this earth. She looked every inch a ruler, every inch Sun’s love. A fey princess of a fairytale land.

But she wasn’t real. And Sun was going to change that.

He couldn’t get his vocaliser to activate, the words stuck in his voicebox. You’ll be fine , he wanted to say. It will be over quickly . 

But his sounds were silent, his hands still trembling underneath the Princess’s delicate digits. He wanted to feel disgust with the knowledge that there were wet, human hands piloting the metal endoskeleton, but Sun only felt disgust within himself. It would be a brief pain , he reasoned, this is the best and fastest way .

He loathed the fact that despite his abhorrent thoughts, the Princess (and Handler by proxy) was none the wiser. They still treated him with the utmost care, concern etched into every glimmering sparkle. There was no wariness in their posture, only a gentle regard to his state of body and mind. To watch this innocent creature, so full of trust and wonder, die to bring his love to life? Sun felt like his hands were already covered in blood and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

FazCo had done an impeccable job hiding their true revelation from the world, hidden amongst the robotic acclaims and record breaking profits. It was a wonder they hadn’t revealed it sooner, their solution to immortality hidden inside the proof of the existence of souls and their ability to be trapped inside an animatronic shell. 

It was horrifying, the details Sun unearthed while researching the only potential means of securing his happiness. Children had died, been murdered and stuffed into suits or so he’d read, and been born anew wearing the faces of his predecessors. Guests, young lords and ladies, that would never return home to share in the memories of their happy times at FazCo affiliated franchises.

Children and adults alike had allegedly been dying and animating suits since the 80’s, if Sun’s references were to be believed. Resulting in dozens of deaths and dozens of animated corpses. Some even inhabiting the same shell! The details would be too much to bear, if they didn’t provide Sun with the answer to his problem, and didn't give him the courage he needed.

Broken down into simple facts, his task seemed easy enough. 

Coax the Handler back into the Princess costume, check .

Convince them to exit onto the Royal platform with him, check .

Fall to their death and animate the Princess endo, therefore making his love real, next on his list .

The task seemed so simple in his headspace, the emotion core detaching in order to make decisions more manageable. With all of his systems back online, the task seemed infinitely more daunting, hardly the simple checklist his processor had designed for him. His core throbbed in pain with the utter wrongness of what he was about to do.

Despite all the equations, despite the fact it was the right thing to do , it was still difficult. Sun could never paint himself a murderer, nevermind the fact to the creature wearing his lover’s mask. He was programmed to entertain , to bring smiles to small children and guests of all sizes. He wasn’t meant to paint his hands red with the guilt of his coming actions. Despite the joy it would bring, his choice would still bring about suffering.

As his hands continued to rattle, he could hear the tell-tale thumping of the Handler’s heart, buried deep within the Princess’s chest behind a wall of metal. Distantly, Sun felt incredibly stupid that he had never noticed it before, never made the connection despite all the memories of their close proximity. The truth of his love felt like a slap to the face, a cold shock to his internals.

How many times had he held the Princess, spun her in his arms and pressed their masks together? How many times had he held her torso, whether flying with her in the air or twirling her in his arms?

How had he never realised? Sun never felt more foolish than he did in this very moment. The more he concentrated, the more sounds he could hear, trickling out from within the Princess’s internal confines.

The soft exhalation of breath.

The whirr of pulleys controlled by muscle rather than electricity.

The gentle creaking of bones.

The sound of veins pumping necessary blood to organs that shouldn’t even be there.

Sun felt so much disgust, he was full to the brim. He felt dirty inside and out, the sensation of the Princess’s hands causing rivulets of sour electricity to pulse through his cables. He felt unworthy to even touch her, his fingertips already stained with the violence they were capable of.

He had to do this. He had to.

Sun knew he was capable of violence, never entertaining the idea that he was above using his strength for the safety and protection of others. He’d used violence before, of course, but always for the Princess’s benefit. Defending his regent from brigands, such as the Knights, and using physical intimidation to get the results he needed to protect her.

How disgusting that he’d unknowingly harmed his Princess by harming the Handler by proxy. How vile that he’d harmed the very being he swore to protect above all costs.

Sun could barely bring himself to look at their clenched hands, wanting nothing more than to rip his soiled digits out from the Princess’s dainty grip. He was repugnant, loathsome, abominable…

But she loved him anyway.

And deep down Sun knew she would forgive him.

With all the effort he could muster, Sun took a small step forward, gently pushing the Handler inside the endo towards the edge of the platform. The bell at the end of his slipper rang quietly, muffled by the surrounding skirts, and Sun paused to judge his love’s reaction.

She still showed no concern other than for his sake, and Sun could feel a smile beneath her mask. Courage building, he took another step, and another.

They passed the throne, bypassing the symbol of the kingdom with barely more than a passing glance. The Princess hummed a soft tune under her breath, a happy melody that dug its claws into Sun’s core and refused to let go.

“You helped me love it up here again,” she breathed, damning herself. “Heights, I mean. I was never scared of them before, but you helped me be brave again.”

The cables in Sun’s voicebox clenched, static pulsing from within.

“I know you’re afraid,” hands squeezed gently, “If you’ll allow me, I’d like to help you be brave too.”

Dry, static crackles erupted from his vocaliser, threatening to spew sparks with how tight the cables felt. Apologies stuck behind his voicebox. He still hadn’t spoken a word.

“Being afraid is okay, it’s natural. Well, maybe not natural for you, but I promise it’s normal. We’ll find out what went wrong and fix it, I promise. I’ll be with you every step of the way, holding your hand.”

Gears stuttered and jammed within his chest piece, delicate pieces of machinery snagging and malfunctioning. He jerked, unable to stop himself, and the Princess didn’t even flinch. She squeezed his hands tighter in response.

“I love you Sun. I’m not going to leave you.”

Sun felt his teeth creak with the force of his clenching. How could she, despite everything, still treat him so kindly? When he was about to harm the only person he ever loved?

He faced his Princess, and the Pit, and summoned the vestiges of his courage to answer her.

_______________

Moon raced through the corridors, barely glancing back at the Knight’s exclamations and questions. 

He didn’t want to believe it, but the villain had a point. 

Moon had been witness to Sun harming the Handler. If he found out that his Princess and the Handler were the same, Moon couldn’t trust that his brother would react positively.

Sure, Sun loved all the lords and ladies that came to the Castle, the little ones especially, but he loved them in a detached, unromantic way. Humans were different from them, and in an odd way Sun considered them lesser . Moon had observed in the months of their activation that Sun treated humans differently than he treated his brother and the rest of the animatronics, regarding them as dirtier, wetter, squishier. All observations that Moon had turned a blind optic to, as it meant that Sun would never be a competitor for the Handler’s affections.

How wrong he was. Incorrect on all accounts.

There had only been one incident (two, his traitorous memory supplied, if one counted the incident on the platform that started it all) where Sun had shown real aggression towards the Handler. The first time could almost be forgotten, given that Moon was much the same at the time, his own regard of humans not yet changed, but whereas Moon had altered his perspective, Sun had not . 

Sun had harmed the Handler before. It was entirely possible he would do it again.

Sun still treated humans as beings wholly different from them. It mattered little to Moon since he was included in Sun’s little world, but only started feeling a little odd when the Handler became involved in the romantic scenario.

Things had changed once Sun had come to the conclusion that the Handler occupied a bigger part of the Princess than they initially realised (how foolish of him for believing such a theory as fact so quickly) and Sun started treating the Handler with a touch more respect. 

Moon knew it was for his sake that Sun was expanding his worldview to include the Handler, but he never considered that it could have been anything more than surface level. Moon had been entirely preoccupied with wooing his Songbird, finding only a few moments to truly consider the breadth of what the future could hold.

He raced through the hallways, the echo of his own footsteps in the dark following him.

He had to be the one to tell Sun the truth.

He needed to confirm the Handler’s safety.

Sun’s location ping situated him in the arena, a common area to find him dawdling after hours. That information alone wasn’t the cause of concern.

The fact that the Handler’s last passkey entry had been the Tower, was .

Now with the Tower included in their permitted access entry, Moon could see the arena in its entirety. But it also meant that there was nowhere that Sun didn’t have access to, and nowhere safe for the Handler to hide if Sun accidentally realised the truth.

Their respective locations were too close for comfort, Moon could only pray that his concerns were false.

_______________

Sun was unsure how long they’d been up on the platform. She was still, gently grasping at his hands, unafraid of the deadly drop behind her. Endlessly patient, even when faced with her doom.

He had to do it, it was so simple. Just call the wire and let her believe they were taking flight. 

But her grasp was welded into his own, despite the gentle grip. He could no more undo it than he could disconnect his own fuel cables, an impossible feat.

She was so soft with him, so cautious. Her touch felt like an iron brand, or a welder’s torch. Her touch brought him to life, and his would take hers away.

Like a phoenix , the dark reasoning in his processor supplied, born again from the ruin .

Her haunting words trailed off when he did not respond, his vocaliser dead in his chestplate. He could only spit out more static, a thousand apologies hidden behind the crackle of noise.

He wanted to say sorry.

He wanted to sob.

He wanted the pain to be over.

So he willed his accursed feet to take one more step further, titling his mask ever so slightly upward towards the rigging. In an agonisingly slow movement, the wire descended, and clicked mercilessly upon his back.

The Princess’s bright voice beamed at him. “Oh, would flying help you feel better?” she chirped, damning herself to his whims.

Sun could only squeeze her hands tighter, his mouth a grim line.

Oh, please forgive me , his traitorous mind whispered, I promise this is for the best .

He felt mute to the rest of the world, focusing only on the renegade thumping of the Handler’s heart. He could feel no touch but the Princess, and he could see nothing but her.

Sun wanted to hear her sing again, hear her lovely voice. But he felt undeserved. For what love could bring about such anguish, what pain could be worth all this?

Sun felt his wires twist inside him. His core processor felt like a mess of dead-end code messing up his social parameters. Involuntarily, he could hear his own internal fans revving up in speed.

The Handler was so close, he could feel the metal on the Princess’s faceplate warm from their breath. They looked at him with such intensity, their optics so near he could imagine seeing his own image reflected inside them. The sight was revolting.

Were they playing with him, playing along so long as they were the victor? What was their purpose? How did this all start? How was the winner chosen? Loose code bounced around his processor with no satisfactory answer. It confused and pained him.

The Handler refused to look away, never once obscuring their vision, suddenly totally focused on Sun's faceplate in front of them. They refused to look away, almost daring him to follow through with his actions. Their form completely relaxed, full of trust. 

Static broke out from his breaking voicebox, a brief but harsh, rattling sob escaping. Cracks of his own anguished voice leaked through, echoing loudly throughout the arena.

His hands shook so badly they rang the bell at her neck.

His bell.

Their bell.

And all at once his fear came crashing down upon him.

He couldn’t do this.

He was too weak to secure their happiness.

With an anger aimed solely at himself, he ripped the ribbon from her frail neck, pulling the fabric so furiously it tore. A shocked gasp escaped the Handler behind the Princess, and their hands leapt from their conjoined hands to their naked collar.

Quiet, sad whispers from the Handler fell upon deaf audials, begging for explanation and coated in fear. He wrenched the bell away and threw it behind him, not even bothering to cast it out of sight.

Sun was a coward who couldn’t even secure his own happiness. He wasn’t deserving of his Princess’s love. So he shoved his loving token away from him, away from her, and cast his heart into the pit.

In a broken heap, he collapsed, metal parts barely sentient falling into a pile at his lover’s feet. He couldn’t do this to Moon . Not when his brother loved the Handler so much . He couldn’t commit such an atrocity, even for all the future happiness in the world.

Sun was a jester, meant to brighten the day of every guest that walked through the Castle halls. He wasn’t meant to snuff the light of his brother’s only love. Only in his cowardice was he truly a clown.

Tearless wails resounded in the walls of the arena, stretching on endlessly. Sun wasn’t designed with the ability to weep, but his cries echoed in the stands, the carpet, the throne. He cried, shouting so strongly that he felt cables within himself snap and recoil, shooting sparks of pain inside his internal cavity. He cried on the floor of the royal platform, where he had no right to be. The Castle would be better without him, for failing at his one and only duty to the crown.

He couldn’t feel the gentle, worried touches of the Handler beneath the Princess visage, nor his brother’s terrified shout from deep below. Sun cried until his body was brittle, his systems failing, and then he knew only darkness. 

_______________

For a heartbeat, Moon felt like the world was ending.

He pushed open the arena curtains with harried force, the fabric curling into his claws. His body entered the expansive space at the same moment his optics focused on two shapes high above on the platform, the familiar silhouettes of the Princess and his brother bringing an eerie chill to his internal cables.

The position they were in was unsafe , wordlessly painting Sun’s intentions. Moon couldn’t see his brother’s expression from this far away, and he could no more stop his frantic shout than he could stop his feet from running.

Sun was going to kill them . And Moon wouldn’t be able to save them in time.

Moon’s static laced scream reverberated through the air, catching on the numerous silver suns that reflected his panic back at him. Sun had engaged the wire. His prior command took precedence over Moon’s. There would be no catching the Songbird when they fell.

The Handler donning the Princess did not turn at his shout, their focus entirely on his brother. Moon felt the world slow as he dreaded the fate that was unfurling to welcome his one and only love. He felt his futility when he saw Sun move, knowing the inevitable drop that would undoubtedly follow.

But instead of the Handler’s scream, he heard his brother’s sorrowful wail.

Moon watched as Sun dropped to his knees, sobbing into the skirts of the Princess’s dress. Moon had never heard such a sound from his brother before, one so full of despair and hopelessness. It caused his audials to ache, the reverberation so loud that it threatened to damage his audio inputs. It sounded like the cry of a broken heart, and without another moment, Moon rushed towards the Tower.

It was only when he ascended the staircase that the sound went silent.

_______________

You feel like you’re missing something very important. Like you have a puzzle in front of you, but you don’t understand what you’re seeing. The edges are frayed, incomplete, and the picture is blurry. A box of improperly fitted pieces, scattered and random and not belonging to the same image. There’s no reference to base the pieces off of, the original box lost somewhere to the fractals of memory. There aren’t enough pieces to allow you to fully comprehend what you’re seeing, the pieces scattered and ill-fitting.

This is different from Sun’s recent lapse. This is a full system crash. 

Moon’s arms wrap around you and pull you away from the edge (when did you get so close?), stepping around his brother like he’s nothing more than a customer’s forgotten coat. He barely casts his brother a glance, even turning his face away with a bitter expression, fully ignoring his brother’s motionless plight.

His focus is on you, entirely on you, and he pulls at your sleeves with a desperation that haunts his optics. Moon looks half-crazed with worry, relief, intensity. His expression is sick with relief, sick with joy.

You’re missing something important.

He tugs you into the Tower, leaving his brother on the ground, pushing you behind his tall frame as if his body was the only barrier between you and a starving beast.

Sun’s no beast. What on earth is happening?

When he tore the bell away, you felt a crushing despair. Was this his way of breaking up with you? What had you done wrong?

You’d begged, pleaded for some reason as to why he rescinded his token, finding no reasoning behind his actions or any words of explanation. Instead, his silence had devolved into cries, and the sound of his sadness and your confusion swallowed your brain whole. You watched his optics darken before your eyes, and felt the hands gripping your skirts go slack. He fell like a lead balloon at your feet.

You’re missing something important.

There was always something nagging at you, when it came to your jester loves. Something that you felt you could never truly understand, a factor that you chalked up to their robotic nature being so different from your own. An errant thought that didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time.

But seeing Sun collapse on the ground like that, after letting out such a heart-breaking wail, seeing how Moon is fully ignoring his brother in what appears to be your defence…

You’re missing something important.

Moon is touching you, hands worrying over your arms, your shoulders. Confusing comfort, baffling words.

“Did he hurt you?”

Your neck feels empty with a spectral ache where Sun had torn the symbol of your love. You’d barely had it for a whole shift, but the loss of the bell leaves behind a hollow sadness. It leaks a black hole into your guts.

Your throat feels simultaneously empty and seized. You find it hard to breathe, your eyes locked on the slumped shape of Sun on the floor. The door of the Tower closes slowly, blocking him from view.

What’s happening? You want to scream. What’s going on?

But your throat clenches, and your lungs suffocate. 

With wild, shaking hands you wrench the mask off your face, eager and desperate for clean air. The fastening ties fall apart easily, your hands thankfully practised. You don’t care how sweaty and confused you look underneath, you won’t help anyone if you can’t breathe .

Your eyes are glued to the door where Sun lays beyond, your periphery a blurred vision of Moon’s expression.

He looks briefly ill, like he’s seen something new and shocking. Like a fish sucking on a lemon or a teenager watching their first horror movie. It pulls your attention away, just briefly.

Quick, gasping breaths bring the air back to your lungs. You feel cold, and shaky. Your veins pump with adrenaline, your skin covered in a cold sheen of sweat.

You hadn’t realised how close you’d been to the edge, how quickly Sun’s emotions had shifted from fear to anger. You were afraid, but not for yourself. You were afraid for him. Whatever was happening, you don’t understand .

Moon holds you tightly, taking a brief static moment before wrapping his long arms around you. You’re caught in the folds of his cowl, the tiny silver bells chiming quietly against your endo. He shakes like a man who almost lost everything. You don’t understand.

His words are unintelligible, merging syllables together so fast that you cannot understand them. He’s muttering words that don’t make sense, confessions and apologies rolled into one. But you don’t get it, don’t understand the relevance of it all.

You’re missing something important.

His words are clear, but make no sense. Why would Sun try to kill you? Did he just break up with you? Was there some sort of virus making them act this way? Why is Moon apologising about something that he didn’t know?

Your brain is so frazzled with worry and exhaustion that you don’t notice Moon’s motion to place you on the couch, leaving you limp amongst the cushions.

You lay here with Sun a mere hour ago. 

Moon whispers that he’ll return, and caresses your cheek as you pass. His touch lingers, burns cold against your skin. His words bounce about your skull, ringing with confusion and not finding purchase.

You almost died? That doesn’t sound right.

Your eyes focus forward, staring into space. At the edges of your vision you can vaguely hear the sound of one of your lovers detaching the wire from your other lover (former lover?) and descend down into the arena with the wire reattached. 

A blurry image in your mind’s eye of Moon carrying Sun seems almost comedic–the darker brother containing the brighter brother in a cage of arms and legs. Sun isn’t moving. You’re worried that was the last you’ll ever see of him.

But you can do nothing but stare forward, your muscles dead around your bones. 

The Princess’s endoskeleton wraps around your body like a cold metal embrace, and you pray to the void for clarity.