Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Surely there were better ways of turning his luck around than this. Roman braced himself on his cane as the crackling, whirling vortex of magic that swept through the musty wine cellar started looking like more trouble than it was worth. Maybe he should have stuck out poetry writing a little longer.

But after his permeant dismissal from the lord he had spent his life serving, Romans’ options were limited. His recent crippling did not help him find new work.

Even so…

To his left, Patton fumbled with the heavy tome that Logan had “uncovered” with a bit of help from Virgil. Patton’s cloak whipped around behind him, his light brown curls were tossed and tumbled into an adorable frizzy mess, but the ice blue glow in his eyes never wavered.  

He was a strong magic user, but magic wasn’t the issue. It was the using aspect.

“The ritual didn’t mention lightning!” Patton yelled above the clamor of thunder. With each roll his eyes grew brighter. “I read the spell right, I know I did!”

Standing across from Roman, looking paler than usual in his black hood and thinning leather vest, Virgil mouthed a swear that Roman couldn’t hear. He knew Virgil was more eager about getting the chance to swipe the book and the opportunity to piss off a stuffy noble than actually completing the sigil. Virgil must have said something else that was helpful because Logan at his right snapped his fingers.

“That’s right!” The slim bespectacled man in his dark blue tunic- desperately in need of a few new patches, shook his finger at Patton. He was looking thinner than usual. The tome sucked away their favorite nerd for days without end, without rest. “The note! In the back! About the-!

Before he could finish, a bolt jolted across the room mere centimeters from Logan’s fingertips. He let out an involuntary yelp and yanked his hand back.

Patton scrambled to flip through pages until he reached a tattered piece of paper. Pinching it tightly, his eyes darted from the script on the page to Logan nervously.

“But we could never decipher the last-“

Another bolt sprang out, close to Roman’s feet this time. His sluggish reflexes only made him tumble to the stone floor in response. A shot of pain sprang where he fell on his knees.

Roman made sure to not cry out, but Patton didn’t hesitate another second. Loudly, he shouted to the winds,

“Pro servitio tuo offero desideria… mea!!”

All at once the room slowed. The wind was present, in a way that still moved Virgil’s hood and Patton’s tunic. Like ripples in a bowl of water, they fanned in the air. It was as though time decided to take a deep breath.

The wind and crackling thunder stopped. The rolling yellow storm of magic that had circled their sigil on the floor dissipated. The candles which had been blown out before were relit once more by an unknown source.

It was quiet. They shared glances with one another. At least Patton’s eyes were returning back to normal.

It was strange. Roman wasn’t one to be taken by surprise often. He felt as though a fifth stood nearby. But as he looked around, he could not pin another presence.

Virgil licked his lips and shared a look with Roman. He felt it to. As pieces of Virgil’s hair continued to defy gravity, he cleared his throat. “Is that all Lo?”

“I…” Logan began to speak but teetered. Roman watched Logan’s eyes roll to the back of his head before he crumpled to the ground.

“No!” Roman cried. With a pained grunt he pulled himself towards the fallen man. “Logan, wake up!”

“Logan!” Patton squeaked jolting to his senses and moving to rush over. One step towards the pair and he too fell limp to the floor.

“Oh fuck! Roman what’s-” Roman looked over in time to see Virgil drop, unable to even fully finish his sentence.

Roman began to panic. What had he done!? Were they dead?? He had killed them! Why wasn’t he dead as well!??

“Not dead my little broken soldier.”

Roman felt his insides churning. A heavy weight covered his body and mind, and he slumped over on top of Logan as the voice echoed though his head.

“… just being borrowed.”

From the center of the sigil, a black shape began to form. A man stepped towards him.

All he could make out was a vibrant yellow pupil.

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Logan knew that wherever Roman went, he would go; as would Patton and Virgil. He loved them very much.

That was a fact.

Another fact that they faced was that they could not sustain their lives without jobs, and following Roman meant losing their jobs. Not that his job was much really. Logan felt that he did not contribute in any meaningful way besides information, but he had work.

While only a servant, with no long lines of noble blood to claim, no great heritage, no riches, he strove to squeeze his studies into each day. He hoarded knowledge like the lords in the halls hoarded wealth. He enjoyed the trails of information not found in books more; knowing which Lady was displeased with which of her maids, what allergy the self-righteous head Priest avoided, what rumors were passing through. And they were useful. It had lead to the mysterious book of magic.

But knowledge was the one thing he could afford in excess.

If he truly was on his own, he would have made enough to replace his coat once a year, purchase enough soap to keep him from being riddled with diseases, and barter for enough grain thatto stave off starvation- so long as the rats did not get into his store.

On the bright side—Patton reminded him to look on it often, he had never been in danger of grout.

Grout was the disease of the wealthy. Wealthy who ate without end, who drank from cups he refilled long into the night, and who wasted perfectly good food. At times, when the entertainment had come to a lull and they had drunk their fill, a game would start in the halls.

It started with coins, small ones but still of some value, and taunting. They would call for the maidens, sometimes manservants, those unwed and fresh, and laugh as they picked up pennies like pigeons picked up crumbs. They would encourage certain acts of…closeness for better coins.

Sometimes there were no coins. In the lean months it would simply be chunks of food and pages and maids with gaunt cheeks and visible ribs.

Either game brought the same amusement, the same raucous laughter and disgusting glee.

If it were not for the additional support of his partners, he wondered how long he could have gone before breaking.

His partners, where were they?

Gradually Logan came to his senses. A wonderful aroma greeted him and his mouth watered before he even opened his eyes.

A bounty was before him, more than enough to feed a village. A heavy table set with dishes of gold and silver bore the reddest apples and darkest grapes, cradled pots of bubbling soups, boasted whole roasted animals, yielded piles of still steaming breads and yet not a single soul was within sight.

He had never seen this amount of food, anywhere. Not even in the royal halls where he once served could have come afforded to set a table this large with a meal like this. Never had he been this close and seated to eat.

Was this a dream? His stomach lurched painfully. Dreams did not usually hurt so much. As he willed his hand to reach for a roll, he found his limb bound. Glancing down he saw a slim golden chain wrapped around his wrist tying it down to the chair he sat in. It wound across his arms, his chest, even his across his neck. It was so light he had not noticed it. He tugged again harder hoping it would snap, but it did not budge

This was a nightmare. A cruel one.

“Neither a nightmare, nor a dream. Something more real.”

Logan strained his ears to the voice. It echoed slightly from above, as if far away and high in the rafters like a performer at one of the temples Roman insisted they frequent.

“Who are you sir and where am I then?” Logan asked trying to keep his nerves calm. There was no hostility in the voice. There was no reason to believe he would be harmed.

“You are very polite for being tied down.” The voice said a hint of amusement running through his words. “Consider this my home. And you my brilliant scholar, are my guest.”

Was this a form of mockery? Logan couldn’t tell. Was he supposed to be flattered or irritated because he felt more of the latter.

“Do you regularly tie down your guests and hide yourself from them?”

There was a creak, heavy fabrics shifted. It was driving Logan crazy that he could not see who spoke to him.

“Not usually. But you are an unusual man, Logan.”

 Logan tried again to look to see who it was but it was no use. He jerked against his binds.

“How do you know my name? What is happening? Why are you doing this to me?” There was no room to look. He could not gather the information he needed. His fists clenched and unclenched and he felt a horrible feeling grow in the pit of his stomach.

The floor shook with a heavy thud. Logan grit his teeth as the table and his chair rattled. The dishes and the silverware clattered with each approaching pound. Coming from distant mist loomed an enormous figure he could just make out with his peripheral vision. His heart rate picked up as he felt the presence draw near. Squeezing his eyes shut, he could do no more than tense his body and hope the pain would be quick.

He flinched as he felt a light touch to his jawline.

“Logan, you told me your name when you created my sigil and you gave me permission to use it when you agreed to my terms.”

Logan’s eyes flew open. Standing to his side, within view, was the entity they had attempted to summon.

Whatever giant that had been there, was gone. This entity stood, now a much more human height- In fact, shorter than Logan himself, in sweeping thick robes of gold that trailed to the floor. He was regal, enticing. A small circlet of gold nestled in his hair, but his face was the most striking. A dual face, part man and snake, perhaps to symbolize the dual nature he and Patton had read about in the book. Green and glinting, scales trailed under his collar and perhaps continued down the rest of his body.

The half man tipped his head to one side and smirked.

“I’m pleased you are interested in what you see. You will see more later I assure you,” Logan was not blushing at all at having been caught checking the person, being- thing, out. “But right now, I want your pleasure.”

The response was enough to confuse Logan back into some semblance of calm.

“My-my what?”

The entity laughed, stepped closer, and positioned himself to look logan in the eyes. Logan could make out gold flecks in his green, more-human like eye.

“Your pleasure, scholar.” The snake reached  a gloved hand and smoothed a hand over his chest and ran it down to his stomach. Logan felt blood rushing down, though he wasn’t sure if that was of his own volition. “While I know you enjoy your books,” he continued, “and you certainly don’t mind the physical aspects of the living, I know your true desire.”

Logan shifted his eyes away from the snake to the table. His true desire? Was food?

“N-no. My true desires are my partners. Where are they?”

He lifted his hand and caressed Logan’s face.

He was warm for being of a half cold-blooded creature.

“I know you do love your partners, and while I give my word they are safe, your true desire is something they cannot give you.”

“Food?” He felt bold enough to scoff at such an assumption. “I assure you; Patton feeds us well.” When they had money for food. “I have eaten many meals with my partners and Virgil is an excellent hunter.” When they had money for a hunting license. “You are crazy.”

The entity leaned in close to his ear. Logan shuddered as he whispered the word to him.

“Power.”

The table was bathed in new light. The hunched forms of nobles he had served appeared in a hazy golden glow. They were thinned with starvation, boils spread over them, and heavy chains locked them to the ground. Their hands clawed up at the table they couldn’t reach.

Logan swallowed thickly. He felt a rush go through his head.

“Why don’t you have something to eat my scholar?” the snake hissed playfully into his ear. “Just a bite.”

Logan found himself nodding. He was too stunned at his own strangely twisted satisfaction to speak. Perhaps deep down there was a note of shame but it was squashed as his stomach lurched hungrily. None of them had eaten that day.

The entity dutifully took an empty plate and began to fill it with pieces from surrounding dishes.

“How am I to eat w-when,” Logan tugged halfheartedly at his chains. “I am bound, just like them.”

The snake stepped back to his side and rolled a grape between his fingers just in front of his nose.

“With me Logan, you will never be bound. Nothing is beyond my reach.” He leaned in. “You simply have to ask.”

Logan felt a hand go under his chin as his head was tilted up to look into the creature’s eyes. Although he did not say anything, Logan felt prompted to ask.

“Who are you?”

His smile had fangs, but that did not surprise Logan. “Call me Janus.”

The grape was rolled into his mouth before Logan could speak.

Logan chewed as Janus slid into his lap. The weight was comfortable, but Janus took care to not block his view of the golden royalty in their miserable shape. His gloved hand played with a lock of his hair. The other picked up a spoon and scooped up a bite of something that smelled otherworldly.

Logan had questions, but right now it was time to eat.

Chapter Text

“You’ll never make it as a Court Sorcerer.”

Patton shrunk back against the hiss of words. Where was he? Shadows loomed around him. A sense of dread began to build in his stomach as he inched backwards. Where was everyone? He was doing a summoning circle just moments ago. Where they—No! He wouldn’t think that. His eyes darted directionless into darkness trying to pin down the shifting figures when his elbow bumped into a door.

He turned and felt of wave of nausea. To anyone else, it would have been just a small wooden door, with slightly chipped paints and a name plastered at the top. To Patton it was more.

‘Patricus IronHarts.’

It was his. The familiar scrawl of his childish writing hung like a noose to a room he once felt safe in, felt ownership over. How easily such things were ripped away.

“Absolutely pathetic!”

Patton’s head whipped back at the approaching voice. The shadows were rushing at him.

 “Your brother was conjuring years before you could even chalk runes!”

Patton’s hand shook as he turned the knob and stepped in backwards. His stomach flipped as he tumbled through open air. The whole world swiftly spun round him and a chastising voice lundged after him.

“You burnt the dittany you stupid lump!”

“Tha-that was an accident!” Patton tried to defend, twisting in the air desperetly to keep his back away from his chastiser.

“Even the animals can sense you have no worth. You can’t even call a familiar!”

Tears stung his eyes. He had tried so hard that day, that week, alone in the woods.

“I don’t know why they don’t like me!”

“All you had to do was enchant the sword.” It hissed venomously. Patton could just make out the impression of a face leering at him. “You’ve destroyed that young knight’s career and brought shame to our family!

Patton shouted out a pain that, desperate as he was to bury, was again wrenched open. “He was hurting me!”

A fathom fire seared across his lower back where a hand had once pushed him across a bed into submission. His eyes flared and he gripped his hair tightly to get himself under control.

Patton landed roughly on the ground. There was a sensation of pain, but he wasn’t hurt. Pushing himself up, he saw the younger version of him outside the back gates to his family home, soot and blood still smeared his clothes. His face was a mess of snot and tears. The small version of him pounded against the bars desperate to get back.

“Please! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll try harder! Please sir!”

Patton almost wanted to hold his younger self. To embrace him when everyone was too afraid to, and to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But even he didn’t fully believe that.

“Patton!”

Patton started awake with a wet face and aching muscles. He choked down sobs and harshly pressed his hands over his mouth to muffle what he couldn’t stop. Tears spilled over his hands and squeezing his eyes shut did little to stop the flow.  It took what he considered too long to pull himself together. At least no one had seen him crying.

He dreaded the thought that he might accidently fall asleep in front of the others.

Dreams like that were the new normal, and the pain from that followed each time were all so vivid, it might as well have happened yesterday.

It used to be better, the nightmares. They began to ramp up after leaving the castle. He had heard Logan whispering to the others that it was stress.

 He rubbed his fists into his itching eyes and then felt around for his glasses. They brushed against unfamiliar blankets and pillows before feeling the wire frames to his glasses. Where was he?

With a soft sniff he grabbed his sandals and tied them on with shaking hands. Whoever had put him here had taken the time to remove his shoes and glasses, but there was no one in sight. In fact, he couldn’t see anything. Besides where he sat, everything around him was shrouded in a thick grey mist.

Gingerly, he untangled himself from the furs and crawled out. The floor was solid smooth and cool- an expensive stone.

This was the entity’s domain.

“Correct. Why don’t we have a chat my little caster?”

Patton braced himself against the voice in his head and looked around for the direction to go, but he didn’t have to guess as he felt a light tug on his wrist. Looking down, he saw wrapped around his arm a thin golden chain. It was more of a bracelet really. Before the tug, he hadn’t even noticed.  

With dragging feet, he followed the tug that came every few steps. It was pinched up slightly in the air as if being held by an unseen guide, but at least it didn’t seem to be in a hurry. The ritual, the storm that followed, and the adrenaline flow that came with using magic, had drained what little energy Patton had. But it didn’t take long for a glow from a solid light source to break through the fog.

The chain relaxed as he took the last few steps forward. A gasp slipped from his lips before he could remember his manners.

A beautiful and scary giant, with half the face of a snake, reclined in a much larger nest of furs. He was partially covered in a wrap of loose black cloth. A strange pair of muted yellow gloves covered his hands and, on his head, he wore a band of gold. To his side was a crackling pit of fire that cast a glow over the scales that trailed down his body.

Patton dropped to his knees and bowed. It had worked! He was pretty sure at least, and to be here- and not hurt or dead… meant the entity wasn’t entirely angry at them!

“I could never be angry with you, Patton.” The giant spoke, his voice stunningly soft. Patton was caught off guard.

Patton jolted. “I-“ What did he mean? And how could he hear these thoughts?

“You drew my sigil, you completed my circle, and you did it so very well my lovely caster.” The entity praised lavishly. “Surely you read the terms and agreements all the way?” But even as he asked, Patton felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The snake chuckled at his silence. “I see. I’ll try to ignore them. Come sit with me please.”

Patton lifted his head but hesitated. He spoke so...calmly. This being could easily do anything he wanted with him with his size alone.  And if he was here, where were the others?

Biting his lip Patton pulled enough grit and energy to push himself to his feet. There was no way of knowing if they were safe without asking.

“Oh great one, I-”

The giant cocked his head to the side and smirked. The fangs almost glinted. A shiver ran down Patton’s spine. “Great one? No need for that now, Caster. You are my guest.”

Patton flushed. He wasn’t sure what to feel about this. “What do I call you sir?”

“Isn’t that something you’re supposed to find out before you sign your desires away?” He teased. The snake held out his gloved hand to Patton, a hand large enough to crush him if he chose to. “Come caster and I’ll share my name as you share my cup.”

Patton wasn’t so sure anymore what they had summoned. He had assumed it was a minor demon but no history lesson recounted a demon so soft. Many recounted demons trying to seduce their victims or scare summoners into a contract, but this didn’t feel like that to Patton. No god or goddess was this relaxed either. Most liked to flaunt their power and bedazzle with shows of strength.

The reclined position this entity took, the lack of grandeur, it was different.

Patton walked into the hand, thinking that was where he was supposed to go and expecting to be grabbed, but the fingers didn’t immediately curl around him. The giant looked at him for a second then lightly ran his thumb over Patton’s cheek. Patton’s first instinct was to lean in but he remembered where he was.

“So very beautiful. Would you like me to hold you Caster?”  

Face burning, though he didn’t understand why, Patton nodded. What was wrong with him? 

“I-ah- Ok!” His voice pitched unexpectedly and he hoped it wasn’t noticed. A squeak slipped out as the fingers scooped him up and brought him over.

Those fingers curled around him protectively. The gloves were velvet soft and did not move very fast. With a steady hand, the snake settled him to sit on his chest and kept his hand cupped loosely behind him. He was incredibly warm to the touch.

Everything, the flickering light and heat of the fire, the steady beat of the giant’s heart, and the gentle words, Patton felt as though he could almost fall asleep as silly as that notion was.  

“Have a drink Patton.” The giant offered raising his cup to Patton’s head.

Patton felt he shouldn’t refuse. In a way, that was the first deal, right? A drink for a name? Whatever it was smelled sweet. Patton put his hands, as small and useless as they were against the sides of the enormous goblet, and bent his head to the rim as it was tipped. As he drank, it went down cool in his throat and made his head pleasantly light.

When the cup was set aside. Patton felt a bit bolder. He didn’t think he would meet trouble if he asked a question at least.

“May I ask a question?”

“I suspect you’ll want more than one. Ask away Caster.”

Patton didn’t expect him to be so generous. He blurted out. “Where are the others who helped me? Are they safe? Are they ok? Are they here?”

“Yes.” He said reassuringly. “They are safe and sound in my domain. They will not be harmed and when you wake you will find them at your side.”

“Oh ok! Thank you!” Patton felt a weight lift off him. They were safe, he would see them soon. He twitched in surprise as the giant grazed his fingers over his head. The back of his skull tingled at the contact.

“Relax Caster. It is only me. There is no one else to disturb our talk.” His thumb went over Patton’s chest and held him still as his fingers continued to play with his hair. “It has been a few centuries since I’ve had a guest. Much less four. You’re very powerful to have brought all of you over.”

Patton winced. A nagging inside told him he shouldn’t let the snake believe the lie. Slowly, Patton shook his head and tried to play it off.

“No sir. Not really. Magic doesn’t really like me.” He chuckled awkwardly. “I’m- I’m downright awful. I wouldn’t find a sprig of yarrow in a cup of dirt. I don’t deserve any of your kindness.”

“That is not the truth,” The thumb slid under Patton’s chin and tilted up to make Patton look him in the eyes. “Kindness does not follow those who deserve it, or is doled out to only those with skill. Even if it were, Patton, look at where you are.” With a smirk he prodded the pad of his finger into Patton’s cheek. “Does this feel like the human realm?”

Patton’s face fazed through several shades of red. He had no where to look but into the Giant’s eyes. The flecks of gold in his irises were nearly hypnotic.

“N-no. It doesn’t.” Patton grabbed hold of them velvety thumb and tried pushing it down. “But I can’t even summon a familiar.”

“Not every caster has one,” he shrugged and let his thumb be moved. “And not everyone that does calls it before their 16^th name day. If you have one, it will find you. Patience my Caster.”

Patton tried to listen. It was hard to fight when he felt so tired.

“I, I don’t know.” He said numbly. He wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ve messed up a lot.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps you simply did not have the right guide. You have been strong enough Patton. It is time to let someone give you rest.”

Patton felt his eyes water. He wiped them quickly and felt the giant’s fingers trail up and down his back.  

He was tired. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep, and it was almost as though the giant could sense his weariness. Patton found himself moved to lay down against the giant’s chest. The ever-present hand roll circles into his shoulders.

“Why do you call me that?” Patton fought against his heavy eyelids. “Caster?”

“That is what you are as much as you would like to ignore it. But I believe it suits you.”

But what did it mean? He tried to prop himself up, it was rude of him to fall asleep, but he found his body unwilling to cooperate. He asked another question.

“What is your name sir?”

“Janus. My name is Janus. And I think you have enough strength for one more question before you head back.”

Enough strength? One more question? Everything felt so nice. He rolled his shoulder into the soft stroking sensation. There was a reason they were here but he couldn’t pin one.

“Will you help us, Janus?”

His eyelids were winning. He struggled to keep conscious as he waited for the answer.

“Yes Caster. I will help.” Janus assured. “Go to sleep, and have no more dreams.”

A flare went up in Patton’s head but his body did not respond. Janus had seen his memories, his real nightmares. A tear of shame squeezed out as he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Virgil struggled with waking up. He was too comfortable. And that was a change. In his world it was eat or be eaten, . . .. fight or be fought? Whatever. He curled up and let his mind wander.

As far as anyone was concerned it didn’t matter where he came from. Back home Virgil was just one of the dozen faces with no good background and no real family. A place to hide was what he needed and slipping around underfoot in the servant passages suited him just fine.

Especially when there were so many opportunities in the Lord’s halls, just on the other side, to snatch something worthwhile.

It really should have ended sooner; Logan caught him sliding the ring off a passed-out Duke. Instead of reporting him to the guards to get his hand chopped off, Logan directed him to steal “more efficiently” from a place where no one would actually notice. Maybe it was the tired, defeated way he pointed to other treasure. Maybe he related to the feeling of being trodden on to well. Virgil decided to take his advice.

In the kitchens, getting chewed out by the same old prissy chef, is where Virgil often saw Patton. Patton looked back at Virgil with something that was not disgust and slipped him a roll when he slinked by. Sometime later that same loud chef was introduced, head first, to a well-placed bucket of mop water. Maybe Patton had a nice snort when he laugher. Maybe Virgil felt safe in those eyes. Virgil decided to take his bread.

And Roman… Honestly, he could have been worse being a knight and all. That sort usually had horrible personalities, so he tried not to hold it against him. Roman laughed at him. Roman said stupid things and read poetry—and that wasn’t very brawny of him. Roman pressed his buttons. But Roman also shielded him from others who tried to do worse. Roman took notice of when he had disappeared. Virgil decided to take his protection.

Roman The castle was a good place to hide in.  

Until it wasn’t.  

It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but they began to crumble.

Patton thrashed uncontrollably through the night, lashing out with magic none of them knew how to control, so they gave him space to get better. If Patton couldn’t take part in their nightly activities, why have them? Logan didn’t take care of himself unless they physically pinned him down to get a bite, but food was scarce and he refused to eat when there wasn’t enough. Why eat together when there was nothing to pass around?

They were busy looking for work, trying to survive, and Roman just wasn’t his usual self. He didn’t push buttons anymore, or read his poetry…he didn’t do anything.

There was no amount of food he could steal, no amount of space he could give that could fix that.

When Patton had hesitantly given his support for the spell book plan, Virgil jumped at the chance things would fall back to normal.

So now where was he?

Stirring a bit, Virgil realized his arms were pulled back and bound. Regardless of the amount of adrenaline that spiked through him, he wasn’t going to open his eyes and let whoever was stroking his hair catch on that he was awake.

It wasn’t the ground he was placed on, but something that gave slightly, like the padding of a chair. It felt almost like the slight curve of a lap but too large. He was leaning into something solid but soft, and he could feel rich fabric pressed against his cheek. It was comfortable here, better than the alleys he frequented in his youth, and better than the thin blankets they scraped together recently.

This wasn’t a good situation.

“How long are you planning on pretending to be asleep my little thief?” a smooth voice said, not too far above his head. “Shall we continue on as we are?”

This was a bad situation.

Despite giving up the façade and twisting his face into a scowl, the hand continued to card gently though his hair. When he threw his eyes open prepared to fight, he yelped and coiled back.

The -thing- that kept hold of him with abnormal oversized hands had the gall to laugh at him. It was scaled like a snake on one half of the face, and as his mouth opened with laughter, he caught the edge of fangs. His eyes were a mismatched yellow and green. His cheekbones rested high on each side, setting his face for a permanent smirk.  And he would have almost been handsome if he were not so smug looking.

He- or it- was currently smirking at him and helping him sit up. Its gloved hand, larger than his back, settled on his shoulders.

The giant casually adjusted some of its golden robes before sighing. “I understand this is quite the wake up for you.” It took hold of Virgil’s chin and tilted it up. “I can feel the adrenaline in your veins.”

The snake’s hand was warm, and his hold was firm. Still, Virgil tried twisting away.

“The fuck are you on?” Virgil growled back. “Let me go! Bring me Pat, Lo, and Roman right fucking now, and we’ll be on our way!”

Despite his very apparent demands, the hands stayed and the giant remained unfazed.

“Ah little thief. Have I apparently taken something of yours?” he squished his thumb into Virgil’s cheek teasingly and a burn started in Virgil’s ears. He was very touchy for a snake. “I believe it was you who came to me to meet.”

Realization struck Virgil like a slap and he his face morphed into shock. This was what they were trying to get to? The giant released his face and allowed him to look around his surroundings- at what little there was.

What the hell was this place? Was this hell?? Grey mist everything covered but the throne this pretentious reptile sat on and it was impossible to pin where they were. This weird demon or shit they were trying to reach was not worth all that lightning.

It arched an eyebrow up. “Shit? I assure you, of the pair of us, I am the least shit like.”

Virgil jerked his head back to look at the giant. “I didn’t- how did you-?!”

“Surely you’re usually smarter than this.” The snake tsked and looked at his gloved hands boredly. The edge of its lips tugged up. “You’re going soft I see.”

Virgil grit his teeth. “Fuck off.” He spat. “Is the only way you get people to talk to you is by tying them down? Cause that’s what I’m picking up.”

The giant looked affronted. He set a hand against its chest. “Excuse me? I have had hordes build palaces to me in frenzied drunken stupors. Kings have begged me for my name, offered empires for my blessings. Fortunes and lives have been spent in the pursuit of my sigil.” 

Virgil gave shit eating grin. This thing had an ego bigger than Roman if that was even possible.

“That drunkenness was probably their best shot at forgetting that face.” Virgil said flatly. He made an exaggerated sweep with his head. “But uh fortune, sure. Lots of riches I see. Fog cost a lot these days to maintain.”

The snake frowned. “This is my realm.” He said shortly. “To reveal it to your mortal eyes in its entirety would blind you.”  

“Is that what happened to your other eye when you turned the weather off? I thought it was jaundice.”

The snake looked aggravated. “Why!—Why you pathetic worm!”

“From one bug to another, it needed to be said. What kind of beetle are you by the way?”

“I’m a serpent!”

Virgil chortled. “A serpent? You aren’t very snake like. If it wasn’t green I’d think it was a rash. Is it contagious?”

The giant touched his scales as if concerned for a second. It disappeared as lips curled back in contempt. “Cheap shots. I could give much of the same. Did you steal that vest from a child, thief? It looks ready to burst. It’s a good thing you’re stick and bones. And your hair,” He tweaked a lock. “My gloves are stained from grease and flea droppings.”

Virgil shook his head like a dog and the giant lifted a hand as if to save itself from flying filth. “I’d rather look small and dirty than like a golden balloon. Yellow robes aren’t your color, and with your oversized ass, you need all the help you can get.”

This was ridiculous! It could have probably taken him in both hands and snapped him in two. Probably wouldn’t have been hard. What kind of play was this?

“I’d far rather be fat than riddled with fleas.” He looked Virgil over and hummed. “Perhaps I should take care of that.”

“Take care of what?” His stomach flipped as the giant suddenly stood and swung Virgil over his shoulder. He felt the binds on his arms fall off, but the hand on his back kept them pinned down all the same.

“What are you doing!? Put me down!” He squirmed and kicked as the giant continued into the mist. Virgil couldn’t see anything as the mist surrounded them but he felt two swift disapproving flicks on his rear that made his face burn.

“Stop squirming. As much as I enjoy our joust, I can only stomach your smell for so long.”

Virgil growled and muttered a string of curses under his breath, but didn’t dare kick.

“Oh?” The giant’s voice cut through his grumbled rant after a few moments. “Are a few flicks all that it takes to settle you down? Who knew you were just a brat?”

Virgil was mortified.

“You could tear me in two! Or-or crush my skull! Of course I’m going to stop!”

“And yet, that same sentiment did not stop our lovely conversation, did it?”

Virgil felt a pinch on his thigh and glowered, but his ears perked to the first natural sound he had heard this entire time. He could hear running water and it was starting to get warm. There was even a slight breeze. Had they stepped outside?

Janus shifted Virgil around to hold him tucked in one arm and Virgil saw the source of the noise.

The mist had broken and revealed a garden. Manicured plants, many which he had never seen before filled the spaces along the path Janus walked down. Stone structures set up in a way that would have interested Logan were strategically placed, and flowering trees hung heavy with fruit Patton would have loved. At the end of the path was a steaming pool. Water trickled in from the sides from sources buried in the fog. A sloped stone wall covered in ivy circled half the pool. Whisps of steam rose from the water.

It looked incredible.

The giant stepped over to the edge of the pool and spoke.

“Appetizing, isn’t it?” The monstrosity ruffled his hair. “You deserve some attention. You haven’t had any for a time now, have you?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh what?” He looked off at the water, face bright crimson. By attention did he mean…? “Uhm, I’m good. I don’t…I get plenty.”

His cheek was turned to look the giant in the eyes. “You haven’t had anyone take care of you properly in quite some time and carry a lot on your mind. To me, that much is clear.”

Virgil felt warm inside; the giant’s eyes were startling pretty while this close. But no, this wasn’t right. He couldn’t do this when everyone was struggling.

“I don’t know what you mean. I have enough attention!” It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember the last time they had eaten a whole meal together all four of them. “And even if I don’t so what? We got bigger problems right now!” He jerked his head free and crossed his arms. “So, screw off!” Virgil risked snapping.

There were bigger things than his loneliness to deal with.  He had dealt with loneliness most of his life, so it shouldn’t be such a big deal now.

“Virgil,”

“Here it comes.” He thought. He had finally broken the bemouth’s patience. Goodbye inner organs, prepare to become outer.

“It isn’t wrong to mourn what you never had, or to crave what once was.” The giant said softly. “You have summoned me. I am here to,” he paused and seemed to think of a word to use “aide you. To take the cares from your mind.”  

Virgil chewed his lower lip. He just wanted things to go back to normal. Was that so wrong? Part of him knew this was just him whining. He should have been better than this, tougher than this!

“Why do you care?” Virgil asked at last. “I-I don’t even know your name. Who are you?”

Kneeling, the giant set Virgil by the edge of the water. “You gave me yours as you stood at my sigil. My name however, is Janus.”

Virgil curled his knees up. “What if I don’t want this? What if I tell you to go fuck off?” Virgil asked.

Janus tipped his head in something akin to a bow. “Then I will leave and send you back as you are. No bartering, no questions.” Virgil was a breath away from doing so when Janus lifted his head and added, “However, I know this is what you need. It is my talent, you could say, knowing. And what you should know is that each of you are being fulfilled in one way or another.”

His “talent” so he said. Janus had probably just poked around in his head. Still, it was a bit bold of Janus to go right into this. Virgil pulled at the grass. This felt much more intimate than a one-night stand that he sometimes had, even while being with the others. It wasn’t that he was danger of crossing a boundary in their relationship, but he didn’t want to take when all the others were without.

“So, my little thief, do you want this enough to admit it?”

Virgil’s eyes flicked up to Janus. The surprising thing was that Virgil could picture himself getting picked apart by Janus. A large part of him wanted to let go for a minute. Janus seemed to want this too but was waiting on Virgil to decide. If this wasn’t his choice, Janus could certainly have started by now.

Did he say he was helping everyone? He didn’t imagine that looked the same for each, but maybe that was ok. Maybe it was ok to not think for a bit.

Nodding, Virgil turned his body more openly to him. “Yeah. I want this.”

A look panned across Janus’s face but Virgil couldn’t place it. It appeared as if he was deciding something. Slowly, a half smile took its place.

“As you wish.”

Janus’s fingers were surprisingly nimble despite the large size as he reached down and started untying the laces to Virgil’s vest.

It took moments for the vest to be slipped off his shoulders. Virgil felt the numbing ache across his chest release. It really had been tight. Once his shirt was pulled up over his head, he could see red imprints pushed against his visible ribs and streaks of dirt and sweat.

Janus wrapped his hand around almost the entirety of Virgil’s waist. His stomach flipped as Janus ran his fingers over him then slid his thumb down to tease his treasure trail.

“I must admit,” his eyes roved over Virgil. “Already I am intrigued. Just think of how much a bath will improve what I behold.” 

Virgil felt blood rush to his cock as Janus lazily stroked the space between his legs with his thumb. He could feel his half hard cock pushing uncomfortably against his to tight pants. Janus could feel it through the fabric.

“Eager I see, my little thief. We’ll use the color system.” He set the pad of his thumb on Virgil’s piece and didn’t move it. “I assume you know what I am referring to?”

Every nerve in his cock wanted Virgil to rut like a dog to get back what little friction there had been, but Virgil was stubborn. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

Janus kept his thumb still and pulled back at the waist to Virgil’s pants with the edge of his finger. “Let’s be respectful now little thief. Yes, you are familiar, what?”

Janus’s nail lightly scratched his side and he squirmed. His cock pulsed needlingly. Face bright red Virgil bent to Janus’s will.

“Yes, sir.” He mumbled barely able to look at even Janus’s fingers. A chuckle rolled from deep within Janus.

“Good boy.” He all but purred, and that praise did thing to Virgil’s head.

Janus picked his thumb up and using both hands, tugged down Virgil’s pants and underwear in one swift motion. The cool air bit into Virgil but it did little to stop his need.

Shifting back, Janus slid off his gloves and let them drop to the ground. He untied the cord holding his robes together and they slid off his shoulders. Virgil stared bewildered at Janus’s figure. His arms and legs were trunks; Curves and dips defined muscles as he moved. Janus really could have torn Virgil in two at any point in their one sided roasting. However, Virgil had missed no marks regarding his ass.

But what sent chills down to the pit of his loins was that cock. He wasn’t planning on using that whole thing on him, was he?

Janus snorted at Virgil’s face. Bending down, he scooped Virgil up in both hands and stepped into the pool.

“Not today little one.”

Each step Janus took put him a little deeper into the water, but it wasn’t until he turned around and sat, leaning against the wall, did Virgil realize this pool was the giant’s tub. The water came halfway up Janus’s sides and when Virgil was set on his leg, it came up to his shoulders.  

The water was perfectly hot. Virgil leaned back against the giant’s stomach and glanced up to see a multitude of arms branch out from his back.

That was different.

“Color little one?” Janus asked as his arms came wounding towards him.

“G-green.” He squeaked as two hands seized hold of him, lifting him up and angling him to rest on his stomach with his waist dropped into the pool. His legs dangled into open water until a third hand reached up between his thighs.  A thumb resettled against his cock re-granting Virgil that friction. Quickly, Virgil wrapped his legs around the oversized digit and squeezed it closer.

Janus tsked his tongue in reprimand.

“You’re going to sit still while I take care of you. I still insist on washing your hair.”

It took all of Virgil’s willpower, and a nail trailing lightly over his rear to make Virgil let go.

“Yes sir.”

It wasn’t without cause. Virgil felt Janus’s finger stroke down his length. He barely had the awareness to bite back most of his groan.

Janus ran his finger down his head in a petting motion. “I would enjoy hearing your pretty sounds, Virgil.” Down below in the water, Virgil felt something slim and squishy wrapping around his cock. Startled, he whipped his head around to look up at Janus.

“Shh shh, calm down. My domain is more active than most.” He reached down into the waters and pulled out a handful of green writhing snakes. No, not snakes, some sort of plants—vines of a sort. Janus let them slip back into the water. “You’re in expert care.”

Virgil thrusted unintentionally as the vine wrapped around the base of his cock. Though Janus’s hand moved to keep his hips in place, the vine almost slithered and touched his sensitive spots where Janus could not reach. He was already leaking.

“Fuck me.” he moaned.

“That’s the idea.”

Sensation kept Virgil busy. While Janus carefully dripped water and scrubbed soap into his hair and used extra hands to massage thumbs into his back, the vines below played with his cock. They rubbed up and over the head of his cock and pulsed with steady squeezing like motions at the base.

His toes curled tightly. Virgil was doing everything he could to stay patient. As another vine curled around his balls and began to rub them, Virgil started begging.

“Please sir, please- I just need—please please-”

“Not quite. You’re doing so well little one.”

Virgil felt the vines pull back and he whined in frustration. When he was in no danger o releasing, they wrapped around him again.

Scalp tingling as Janus gently scrubbed his hair, his muscles clenched and relaxed under the back massage and dick play. Virgil sank against the giant, a pliable doll to his whims both in size and will. His mind was hazy with stimulation.

The slow steady stroking continued. His dick was slick and pulsed for more. A few times, Virgil was brought to the brink he of release, the vines stilled. It was pointless to try to arch, to buck his hips for more as Janus kept hold of him, but he still tried.

By time Janus moved on to rinse Virgil’s hair, his whole body was trembling and he was quietly pleading. He felt like he would explode.

Sensing struggle, Janus began to murmur encouragement.

“You’re doing so very well Virgil. We’re almost done. Do you think you can keep it up?”

Virgil barely nodded his head in response. The hold around him loosened but the pace kept the same. His cock ached, throbbed with each touch, but it was not enough to send him over the edge. Janus had total control.

The giant spoke again, and this time, the words alone were just about enough to send Virgil over the brink.

“You’re so patient Virgil.” Janus’s hand left his hair. “Would you like your reward?”

Virgil felt like yelling. What he said was barely audible. “Pl-ple, please… sir, please…”  

The “reward” were two fingers going up to prod his ass. Virgil gasped sharply and renewed his squirming, eagerly trying to ram himself down on it. As the finger slipped up his hips jerked down as he felt it brush his prostrate.

“Easy little thief.” The hold around him retightened and he couldn’t move once again. Virgil couldn’t resist whining in protest.

Janus was being careful not to overwork his hole, but his teasing and brushing fingers made Virgil want to scream. He keened as both ass and cock were worked in sync; he knew he could not hold on much longer. Nearly sobbing, Virgil felt the fingers pick up the pace, but he wanted to wrench free of Janus’s hand and bounce into it.

He prayed the end was near.

“Please, please sir. Janus please.” He began to babble. “Give it to me, please. Please Janus. I’ve been good. Please. Please,”

Janus bent over and planted a kiss in his wet hair. “You certainly have. Go ahead little one.”

A few well-placed quick plunges from Janus, and Virgil spilled all over Janus’s hands with a cry. His shoulders heaved as he went slack. Hot sticky cum slicked his stomach and Janus’s palm.

Twitching still as Janus drew out, he felt Janus roll him over and clean him off in the water.

“You did such a wonderful job little one. You were exceptional.”

Virgil curled into his hands. He traced his finger over one of Janus’s pretty scales. He was exhausted, but he felt amazing.

 “Close your eyes and rest. I’ll take care of you.”

Virgil tiredly nodded and let his eyes slip shut.

Chapter Text

Drums no longer beat and horns had long been silenced. Instead, the ragged breath of dying heaved. Screams of men who tore their muscles apart rang free. Grunts, moans, yells mingled together in a chorus of battle; the steely clangs of weapon the orchestra.

Roman trembled with exertion. His shield was raised against the incoming horde, his sword was nearly fused with his hand. Tremors wracked his body as again, and again the clash of swords and maces rang through the air, and as they crashed against bodies, against armor, against him.  

Sweeping the battlefield after ridding the battle of one more opponent, Roman realized there was only a handful of his allied knights still standing.

Smoke stung his eyes. Every inch of his face and neck was smeared with sweat, dirt, and the blood of others. His muscles were seizing, but the battle was not done.

With a shove he threw off an assailer off and plunged his sword through an open slit at their neck.

He had no idea how much time had started since the invasion began. If he could only withstand, if he could only keep this up a little bit longer—help was supposed to be coming! Black and yellow flags began to pop up in his eyeline, signaling another wave.

He heaved back the vomit that threatened to spring up. His body was past the point of exhaustion; he was running solely on a thought held tightly at the forefront of his mind.

If he did not hold their position, they would breach the castle.

They would find Logan, Virgil, and Patton.

And they would break them.

The sound of a whistling from above caught his ear. It was followed by another, then several, but it was not reinforcements from behind but the surge in the front.

“Arrows!!” Roman remembered yelling.

It was too much. They were a group too few. Those who didn’t raise their shields up at the incoming volley were pierced through. He saw his lieutenant on the ground shaking their commanding captain. At his left, a young boy gagged and scraped his fingers at his throat, unable to grasp at the blood slick arrow sticking through. He crumpled to the ground in seconds.

Roman couldn’t remember all of what happened next.

He tasted iron, it was warm—and dirt. A terrible pain sprung up his side and he went down. Oddly enough he didn’t recall feeling pain in his leg.

In the back of his mind, he recognized the long low merciful horn of allies, but could not respond as he sank into darkness…

Immobile as he was after the battle, he was not immune to the whispers that floated through the recovery ward.

A severed tendon,

They hobbled him like a mule,

That’ll be his last battle,

What a waste.

It was his own fault. Mind muddled with exhaustion, he was not paying enough attention. He stepped too close to a fallen foe who had just enough in him to swing one last time.

“How” wasn’t the question. “Now what” was what was asked.

It would have been better to have a clean death. More honor was owed to the fallen. What good was a broken soldier? 

When he had recovered enough from his wounds to limp around with the help of a cane, he went to fulfill the summons of his Lord. It was there that he was officially cast aside for failing, for not being strong enough to defend the keep, and for coming back useless.

It was bad enough he had ruined his life, but in doing so he dragged down the lives of Patton, Virgil, and Logan.

Maybe his partners would have been better off not knowing him.

Had they chosen to remain in the castle, they would have had food, a roof over their heads, a mild fire in the hearth. He could not provide these for them anymore. Unable to earn money through labor in the fields or mines, with no instrument to play and a talent for words no serf wasted money on, and no noble would be willing to listen to,  

He was useless.

The others were miserable, and it was his fault.

“You’re right. They are miserable, you most of all.”  

Roman felt the cold before he opened his eyes and found himself in a gilded dance hall.

Ice was in the air. Every exhale he released froze in a hazy puff. Black marble floors gilded with streams of gold drained what little body heat he had. Glass mirrors lined the walls and though frost covered them, the glass still reflected the torches embedded in columns. Spiraling coils of chiseled snakes, the columns stretched upwards without end and disappeared into a dark patch of clouds.

As his eyes followed the columns up, it was only then he noticed that that hanging down over himself were golden chains, as delicate as strands from a spider web. The ends were bound on each of his limbs.

Roman hardly had time to defend himself as more dropped to entangle him.

He jerked his arms back and knocked his knuckles against a sword tied to his waist. Where had that come from??

Winding around him like snakes, the threads surged! Thrashing, Roman tried to fend them off but they were thin and numerous. Around his arms and legs, they tightened their grip, digging into his skin and within seconds he was trapped, unable to move!

This has to be a dream!

“Pathetic.” The same voice from before sneered. “Not a single enjoyable thought to give.”

Roman saw a figure dressed for a dance. His black suit was embroidered with yellow snakes that chased after topazes. Long yellow gloves tightly laced to his elbows. An accompanying black cape dropped over one shoulder, tied in place with a golden cord. 

They were embellishments that hardly distracted from his ragged scaled face.

The half viper spoke again.

“All that effort your charming companions put into getting my attention, and you come here, reeking of self-loathing.”

Roman sprang to life at the mention of the others despite the ties that held him and shouted up at the demon.

“Where are they!? What have you done with them! If you’ve so much as touch them I’ll-!”

“You’ll what??” he spat. “Complain and cry? Go hide? That will help them so much, Roman.” The viper drawled.

“Who are you!?” Roman snapped. A small voice told him to calm down. This being was dangerous and had the others locked away somewhere. Still, his temper got the best of him. “How do you know my name!?”

“I am many things.” He grinned and arms began to appear as he spoke. “Some call me the master of pain and pleasures, others say I am a demon, but my most important title is rarely mentioned I am afraid.”

Six arms held aloft for a moment, Roman stared at the creature before him a mingle of fear and awe. The limbs dropped back as the viper bent in a low sweeping bow.

“The god of truths and lies, at your service...but I suppose you may call me Janus.” Straightening back up Janus looked down his nose at Roman as if he were a mildly interesting toy. “And you, my little… broken… soldier, stain my domain with your lies.”

The arms flashed and, in their hands, appeared the wooden staves of a puppeteer. The golden strings hung empty but when one hand twisted, Roman found the chords binding him, move. Roman was lifted to his feet and forced to bow back to Janus.

“What are you doing?” Roman demanded to know, face still bent to the floor. He tried to keep his weight off his leg and twist his head up to keep an eye on this ‘god’. “What’s happening to me?”

Jerked upright on both legs, the strings pulled his arms to hold them out for an invisible partner. Cramps ran down his side as the heel was forced flat to the floor. He would have fallen right then and there were it not for the strings. A small noise of pain wormed its way out of Roman.

“Will you not cease you griping? I am giving you worth. The thing you most desire.”  

Janus’s arms dipped and pulled the strings, bending and turning what looked to be nothing, but Roman moved across the floor in a stiff one-man waltz.

Pain.

It was gradual at first, and Roman tried to ignore it as he attempted to piece together what in the world was going on! This was that demon they summoned? They had a goal but he couldn’t remember it; it was hard to think being moved like this!

He felt himself twisting in a spin, his heel bent sharply to the side and he clamped his teeth to keep from screaming. Still, a muffled shriek seemed to be the reaction the viper sought. Janus cackled.

Roman yelled out.

“Stop this! This is sick!” he jolted as the strings slackened putting weight on his legs. “It hurts!”

“Why? I thought I was doing you a favor? Giving you a use.”

Strings tensing once more, Roman was dragged back to the center of the floor to dance around.

Roman’s heel and achilles were throbbing. The pain filled his brain and any attempt of stopping this seemed impossible. Step after delicately placed step only built on that pain.

“This doesn’t give me a use! There’s no point to this!!”

The viper shrugged.

“It’s slightly entertaining,” Janus hummed to himself. “Although you are hardly moving as it is. Let’s see what else you can do.”

A ragged groan crawled free as Roman’s arms went up over his head, the center of his gravity and weight transferred more heavily upon his feet. Slowly his good leg was pulled back leaving the other to support himself alone.

“Please stop!” He gasped. “I can’t do this!”

Janus cocked his head to the side. “Why, I know. That is why I do it for you.” Roman shuddered as he felt the strings tug almost teasingly as he spoke. “I give you purpose that you so desperately crave.” Janus pulled his arms back. “I give you use.”  

Roman had to bite his tongue to keep from shrieking as he was tossed forwards in a jump and land on his toes. His leg wracked with fire as he sobbed.

“I-I already have a use!!”

The strings went completely loose and Roman crumpled to the floor. Trembling, Roman brought his hands to hover over his heel. He was afraid to touch it. The nerves were shooting off, he didn’t even know if there was anything he could do to stop the rampant pain in his leg.  

It took Roman’s vision completely blurring over to realized he was crying. As he sat hunched over his leg, footsteps came up behind him.

“What is your use then?” Janus asked.

Roman combed his brain for an answer. If this god was the one of truths and lies, he would know if he lied.

“I… I can fight. I’m good with a sword.”

Roman’s body stiffened as he felt a hand settle on his head. With a handful of hair in hold, Janus jerked his neck back to look at him. Roman moved to lift his hands and try to free himself. In response his chains went taunt and fastened his arms to the floor. Trapped in the tight angle his neck was bent at, held up only by Janus’s hold on his scalp, Roman felt like he was choking.

“Really? Funny. I can’t picture a creature like you lifting a sword to fight. It doesn’t seem befitting. What else?”

Roman couldn’t even fully make out the blob of colors he spoke to. Tears fell freely as he gasped out.  

“I-- write!” He choked out.

The answer seemed to appease the viper. His grip loosened and Roman was allowed to pull his head forwards.

“That is something you do, yes.” Janus watched Roman gulp down freezing air and settled his hand on top of his locks. “What’s something else?”  

Roman’s whole stomach turned with fear over what would happen if he did not answer correctly. He began to dig. What did he do? He hadn’t done much of anything for several months. It was too much. His identity, everything he had been born to do was gone. The only thing Roman had left was his family.

He hadn’t done much in the way of providing for them. Before, he could cover any cost, but as his station was taken, so was his ability to provide. Maybe this god would accept something small.

“I…I make Logan eat, pull his nose out of a book and have a bite.” Roman whispered. But when was the last time he had seen Logan even holding food?

Janus hummed. “That is very useful, Roman. What else?”

The demon’s hand rifled through his hair reminding Roman that the danger was not yet over.

“I hold Patton sometimes, to keep him from lashing out with magic in his sleep. And I uh, tease Virgil.” He didn’t know if that last one counted.

After several moments, Janus spoke.

“These are all true, but,” and Roman stiffened as his hand went still. Inside he knew what was coming. “Have you done any of these lately?”

Roman swallowed thickly. “No.”

“No.” Janus echoed. The hand moved down and settled on his shoulder. “And regardless of that, they still cling to you.”

Roman felt a fresh wave of tears spring up. His head turned away.

“You! You have no right-“  His words failed as a sob bubbled up. Shoulders shaking, he clenched his fists tight to his chest. “I-I can’t do what I used to anymore!”

Janus hummed, sounding as though he agreed with him.

“This is true. Humans usually are drawn to all things glittering and desirable. Why they stay with you is a mystery to me. But perhaps,… and this is just my most shallow trail of thought, they love you?” Janus made a disgusted sound. “I would not know anything of this, being much above you mortals. But you may consider the concept. After all, they miss your company and seek it despite the lack of provision.”

Roman sniffed and stared down at his leg.

This creature was no friend of his, imprisoning him, hurting him, but what he said was true.

He realized that he desperately missed them back.

“I want to see them.” He sniffed.” “I want to tell them I’m sorry and I love them and-and”

“Shh, I know my solider.” His hand smoothed over his hair one last time before dragging away as he stepped back. “But first you must free yourself.”

The golden strands clinked loosely against each other. How could he be free? Janus slowly circled to the front of him, standing just a few yards away. He hummed quietly as he plucked and straightened his marionette sticks. In Roman’s lap the chains twitched and jostled against his legs, bumping into the sword at his side, waiting to be pulled at the puppeteer’s whim.

But the sword was limp and motionless.

The sword.

For a second all was still. Roman’s eyes locked with Janus’s. Both looked down to the toy weapon hanging on Roman’s hip.

Roman seized it and without a moment of hesitation sprung to his feet. The god’s arms spread out ready to pull at the strings, but Roman lunged at him, swinging the steel at the puppet strings and slicing through them.

At the touch of the blade, the shackles broke open! The ribbons of chain fell lifeless to the ground.

Roman advanced, and though his ankle seared with pain, he found the strength to grab Janus by the front and shove him into a column.  

Panting, fighting through pain, he pushed the edge of his sword against Janus’s throat and towered over him. It seemed so easy now, to overpower the snake. Had he always been this short?

“How do I leave?”

“Why, that is so simple.” Janus grinned as if he did not have a sword digging into his neck. A drop of blood began to run down to his collar. “You already know my name, but you must grant me a favor.”

“What could a broken soldier do for a god?” Roman echoed his own words back at him.  

The viper’s eyes roved over as much of him as they could. “Not as broken as before I see. Fit for any number of tasks.”

Roman shuddered. It was best to get it over with quickly.

“What do you want?”

Janus raised his hand and Roman flinched

“I would like a dance with you,…someday.” The hand settled against his cheek. “When the time comes around, you will find me first before you dance with anyone else, understand?”

Roman highly doubted that he would ever dance again. Still, he nodded.

“I will grant you your request. If I ever dance again, you will be my first partner.”

His thumb stroked down Roman’s jawline. Roman was tempted to finish the job and lob off his head.

“Tell them all, my blessings will be with you. This is not the last time you will see me.”

Wrapping his arm around Roman’s neck he yanked him down into a kiss. Roman stumbled back after his shock and raised the sword back up.

“Listen here you! I don’t accept that just because I agreed… to dance…” He teetered but before he could fall Janus grabbed him.

“You poisoned me.” Roman accused. The world around him was spinning, his sword fell from his grasp. There was a red smile on Janus’s face- no, his neck. It stretched down as more blood flowed.

“Perhaps, but nothing you won’t sleep off.”

The last thing Roman saw was Janus growing. He was absolutely huge. Was he always that big?

Chapter Text

It was one at a time. Each of the four, Logan and Virgil, then Roman, followed last by Patton, came to cold damp awareness.

They were back at the circle they had drawn.

They were back?

“Is everyone alright?” Logan asked, sitting up with a wince. He lifted a fist to cover a soft belch. An ache rolled through his tight bulging stomach.

Virgil eyed him for a second but pushed himself up and nodded mutely. Something caught his attention and he started to examine his own arms and clothes.

“Yeah, uh. Not bad.” His eyes widened and swiftly he twisted his legs around to sit on his knees.

Patton yawned and stretched as he propped himself up.

“I feel great! How you feel... Virgil?” Patton tilted his head. “Did you…?” Patton’s words fell away as he stared at him with a confused squinted stare.

Virgil yanked his hood down over a reddening face.

“L-listen! It was a one time thing! I-It happened so fast!”

Patton tilted his head.

“What? What do you mean?”

Roman shot up and gave a hard snort of disgust. “Virgil did you sleep with that… thing??”

The enduring embarrassed silence was all the confirmation they needed.

Logan sighed and rubbed his stomach. “Was it consensual?”  

With a huff Virgil nodded.

A sigh of relief slipped from Logan. Patton squeaked, (I was only going to mention you look cleaner!), more to himself then as an explanation to anyone else.

Roman rolled his eyes.

“Really? I don’t see the appeal.” He said in an irritated tone.

“Hey now,” Patton soothed, “What’s wrong Ro? You’ve had an occasional friend—”

“No! Not that! I can’t believe he did it with that-that demon!” he threw his hands up. “Virgil, are you sure it was consensual?” He pressed.

“Oh my god,” Virgil groaned dragging a hand down his face. “Can we please stop talking about it? What’s got you so pressed hothead?”

Instead of snipping back with a nickname of his own, Roman stared off.

Patton got up and went to his side. He placed his hands on Roman’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Ro? What’s wrong kiddo?”

“It, Janus, gave me a message…”

Slowly, Roman clawed at his ankle and pulled.

“…he said his blessings would be with us…”

And as he pulled back his pant leg, Patton gasped. The flesh which was once scarred and puckered with both the laming strike and the botched attempts to repair, was smoothed over. It looked as whole and as strong as it had ever been with not a trace of that day’s battle remaining.

“…and we would see him again.”