Chapter Text
Ant's instincts did not settle down as time went on.
He thought that they would, but watching Skeppy continue to succeed only seemed to lower his inhibitions, and he was fairly certain that he was affecting Skeppy too.
"Let's go to the royal box for a snack break," Tina advised when Grand Marquess Pete had called for a pause in the tournament to allow everyone time to recover. With the competition narrowing down, the knights had less time to relax between bouts, so this would give them an opportunity to rest while letting any antsy audience members stretch their legs.
"Fine," Ant sighed, because he guessed that was better than staring at the tunnel that Skeppy had retreated back into after he'd won in the hopes that the golem hybrid might duck back out and allow Ant another glimpse of him, even if that was something Skeppy had literally never done throughout the duration of this competition.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the worst," Tina sighed before ushering him onwards.
It wasn’t until they had gone into the hall and up the stairs that Ant came back to himself, forcing the bearer to release an embarrassed whine.
“Oh, sweet Prime,” Ant complained, burying his face in his hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Honestly, I think everyone else finds it very cute,” Tina offered with a few comforting pats. “But uh- maybe you should visit the washroom with your mom. You know- take the opportunity to freshen up while you can.”
Ant heard what she didn’t say, what she couldn’t say in the company of their guards and servants. This wasn’t a space where Ant could bemoan his instinct responses, but in the restricted washroom with Wilbur, he could at very least touch base.
“That’s a good idea,” Ant sniffed, making a show of straightening his hair as though struck with a sudden flare of vanity. It wasn’t even entirely feigned, was the embarrassing part. Even now, thoughts of Skeppy’s capabilities and his strength and handsome smile were shooting through the back of his mind, urging Ant to go down to the competitors resting area so he could dote on and reassure and support and maybe squeeze the arm of his chosen- ugh.
“I’m just full of them,” Tina said cheerfully as they approached the royal box doors.
Right, time for Ant to step up.
“Announce us,” he ordered the servant near the door. He only did so because Tina technically didn’t have permission to be up here, but if she was present as his guest while he had free access it would be fine, so long as Quackity and Wilbur were okay with it.
They obviously were, and Ant and Tina were allowed entry in short order.
“Darling,” Wilbur greeted, smile on his face as he waved off Ant and Tina’s attempts to offer proper greetings before motioning them to his side of the box. He was standing now, perhaps in anticipation of their visit, and had a very prickly Philza hovering next to him, the emperor’s cloak-covered wing wrapped around the bearer along with his arm, the avian’s gaze fixed out towards the crowds, likely in search of potential threats. “How are you doing?”
“Pretty well,” Ant lied, easing into a smile to put on a good performance for the nobles watching their box. “Hi, Phil.”
“Hi, Ant,” Phil said distractedly, one hand settled on the hilt of his sword, which apparently he had. Then again, Techno also had his axe, but Ant had assumed that was part of his ceremonial attire as a Blade. Perhaps it was a similar arrangement. “Skeppy’s doing well.”
“Skeppy’s doing the best,” Ant said, a wave of happy emotions shoving into him, leaving him pleased and contented. “He’s so handsome. I’m going to have his babies.”
“You already have a baby with him,” Wilbur reminded Ant while Tina choked on nothing probably- it was sort of unimportant in the wake of that realization.
“I do,” Ant whispered, feeling terribly pleased. “How much longer until this is over? I want to take him to bed.”
Phil startled, his narrowed pupils becoming slightly normal, and he eased into what seemed to be his first real smile of the day. “It’s not much longer now, Lord Frost,” he offered, seeming… fond? Well, of course he was, Ant was great. “I think if you wanted to skip out on the victory banquet, it would be entirely justified.”
“I’m just being so patient,” Ant explained. “And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being patient.”
His mama seemed to swallow a chuckle. “I’d likely feel the same way were Phil or Techno competing,” he admitted. “You’re doing so well, darling, you should be proud.”
“We are all uh- proud of Lord Frost, your majesty,” Tina said, clearing her throat to gain their attention. “Though Ant, didn’t you want to-”
“Oh!” Ant remembered now. “I need help with my hair!”
Right? Tina had mentioned something about it earlier. It felt important.
“You can use our private washroom,” Philza said, nodding behind him. “I’ll guard the door”
“Thank you, thank you,” Ant offered him with a pleased grin, gladly taking his mother’s hand so they could have some alone time. It was nice to get away from the eyes of the crowds into a place that was quieter, where they could finally be alone- “Ah- Prime,” Ant complained when he came back to himself again. “I’ve been like that all day, Wilbur.”
“It’s very understandable, pup,” Wilbur said, seeming to swallow back a laugh. “The excitement of the crowd is likely feeding into your instincts. Your protector is showing off how capable he is in front of everyone – it’s reasonable to respond to that.”
"Intellectually, I understand that," Ant sighed, slumping against the washroom counter, staring at his visage in the mirror.
Along with everything else, they had felt that it was important for Ant to have a distinct style difference between his time as a 'peacekeeper' and his time as a public bearer. He'd always cared about toiletries before, but now he could be more showy about it, could dress up more without it being critiqued as someone who thought they were too good for their station. He hadn't thought that was important to him, but he liked dressing nice and looking pretty and having silky, gleaming curls and shiny jewelry. He enjoyed all that stuff, and he shouldn't feel bad or odd about it, but of course he still did. The latent guilt that curdled in his stomach, perhaps compounded by the guilt of unresolved situations, combined with his behavior now, even if everyone said it was reasonable.
"In practice though, I'm just- worried," Ant admitted. "The finals are coming up soon, and Skeppy has to lose. I just don't know how I'm going to react."
Karl hadn't come back after he'd gone to meet Sapnap – keeping the blaze hybrid company during his medical checkup before they retreated to the royal box. Quackity and Techno had been fussing over him when Ant and Tina had come up. Without the bunny hybrid, Tina was alone in managing Ant's in-instinct self.
"I mean- badly, is my guess," Ant continued. "Which on one hand is good, because that will make it more believable for the audience, but if I get mad-" He winced, mind drifting back towards the last time he had entirely lost it, when they'd delivered news of Sam's death. He'd felt bad enough subjecting Josh to that screaming, but there were a lot of people here. Granted, he couldn't be as devastated now as he was then, but he was still anxious.
"Do you want to stay up here for the rest of the tournament?" Wilbur asked, making Ant pause. "You're already firmly in the crown faction – there's no hiding that – and Josh and Niki are doing a great job of appearing neutral and detached." He reached out, bracing a hand against Ant's shoulder. "I know you feel compelled to do your duty, that you want to help too, but it shouldn't be at the detriment of yourself. If you're truly worried just stay up here, and maybe I and your future father-in-law can help settle your nerves."
"But what if I upset you guys?" Ant asked, stricken by the thought of it. "Philza's already on edge as it is. What if I set him off?"
"If that was going to happen, it would occur regardless of whether you were in our box or not," Wilbur countered easily. "It's not as though you're that far away."
"Fair point," Ant said, nodding his head in accession. "But still, it's more intense up close-"
"Don't sacrifice yourself for our sake, pup," Wilbur ordered, his voice firm. "We're a pack, and packs work together. Let us do this much for you, please."
Ant paused, momentarily caught off guard by the words. It had not been the first time they were offered to them; it hadn't even been the first time they were conveyed with such earnest intention.
"Let me do this for you," Sam had urged once. "Please. I cannot imagine how difficult it might be to let people in after you've had to look after yourself for so long, but if you'd like me to be your protector, please allow me to actually protect you."
Ant swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he whispered at the new heat stinging in his eyes. "I'm so used to being alone- or just having Sam and Josh, it's hard to remember that I have more."
"I entirely understand," Wilbur soothed, shifting to wrap an arm around Ant's shoulders, allowing the cat hybrid to hug onto his side. "Trust me, I get it. It's hard shifting from being entirely self-sufficient, from fighting tooth and claw for your own protection, to suddenly becoming the magical glue that can hold together any community. To suddenly having all these people – strangers – deeply invested in everything you do. To having the packmates you had only ever dreamed of having by your side suddenly there. It’s so unspeakably hard to let go of those habits that kept us safe for so long, and Ant- no one holds that against you, not one of us, and that has nothing to do with your second sex. We all have terrible baggage and we're all just doing our best- we just want you to be happy."
"I am happy," Ant sniffed, wiping at his eyes. "And- And I'm allowed to lean on you."
"That, you are," Wilbur said. "Now, if being in the royal box is too overwhelming, you could always visit your baby brother in his box. I'm sure Niki could help keep your reactions in line."
Ant made a face. "I know it might sound awful, but I'm sort of more comfortable exposing you guys to angry me than Josh – he's dealt with that for more than enough in his lifetime."
"Then stay and cuddle with me," Wilbur said. "Pretend it's at my request. We can have the servants fetch Techno's cloak from your box and we can watch him puff up with pride while pretending not to."
"I do like it when he does that," Ant admitted, easing into a small smile. "I think I would like that."
"Then I'll have Philza shove two chairs together and get the servants to fetch a seat for Tina – that'll help him feel productive," Wilbur declared with a coy wink. "And then we can hold hands through the climax."
"I just think it's dumb that they have to lose," Ant grumbled, nuzzling his mom's shoulder.
It was nice that Punz and Skeppy could make it to the end, of course. It looked like the finalist from the second bracket was going to be one of the knights that Duke Gavin brought over from House Jones in Achieveburg – Freddo or something like that. There had been a small contingent of warriors that had sworn their loyalty directly to one of the former heads of the house (be it Gavin, Lindsay, or Mogar) rather than the house itself, and all of them had followed their masters over and were incorporated into House Awe. While Ant hoped that Punz and Skeppy ultimately fell to him, it was looking a lot like McChill from the Essempi lands was going to fight tooth and nail for the top spot. While it had seemed like Sapnap had worn McChill down significantly in their first match, the next time McChill had taken to the arena, he had seemed entirely recovered. It wreaked of potion-assisted recovery – the likes of which were outlawed in this tournament – but as the knight had been yet to be disqualified, Ant assumed that they could find no evidence of foul play. Instead of getting worn down as the tournament continued, McChill seemed to be getting stronger, which certainly wasn't helping Ant's nerves.
Lindsay had promised that Freddo was more than capable of taking down his opponents, and while Ant trusted them, McChill's ice biology seemed to be a substantial boost to his performance.
In short, Ant would be very glad when this was all over. He really did just want to take Skeppy to bed, to cuddle him in his nest or maybe share a bath and reassure himself that the golem hybrid was totally okay.
"Such is the way of politics," Wilbur consoled, allowing Ant a few more cuddles before they forced themselves back into the eyes of the public. They returned to the royal box to find Philza in the process of overseeing the rearrangement of chairs – a few more added, and three distinctly pushed together – Wilbur's, Philza's, and an extra.
"It is by no means an order," Philza was sure to murmur while maintaining a mask of neutrality, his gaze on the servants' work. "But I thought that you might like to stay for the final round."
"Oh Philza, you clever bean," Wilbur cooed, leaning down to press a kiss against his mate's cheek. "You guessed my wants exactly."
"Thanks, Phil," Ant said, feeling so very cared for.
He wasn't alone, and he didn't have to be – never again.
They would get through this together.
Much like Techno, Philza was prone to puffing up with pride while making a grand show of attempting not to do anything like it, leaving him with the appearance of one that was endlessly pleased. That soothed Ant's own instincts in turn, that he could watch his actions directly aid the pack in some capacity, which helped mitigate some of the anxiety swirling in his stomach. It wasn't over yet, this wasn't the end, but it was a nice reprieve, just as Tina had intended.
It only got better when they brought Techno's cloak up, and Ant could entirely encase himself in its wonderfully fluffy confines.
"Yeah, yeah, brag about it," Tina muttered, though she was wearing a broad smile as she draped a spare cape in Foolish's colors over her own winter coat. "Want me to keep an eye on your baby?"
"Please comfort Sapnap's wounded pride as best you can," Ant asked, doing his best not to glance the prince's way himself for to do so would be to potentially gaze upon Bad, and Ant couldn't handle that on top of everything else. Better for him to stay on this side of the arena.
"Will do," Tina chuckled, offering him a lazy wave before she moved on.
Wilbur settled into the chair beside Ant with Philza's help, releasing a low grunt as he finally got to lean back. "It should be starting up again soon," Wilbur murmured, reaching over to claim Ant's hand in his own. "If you need to leave, just go, alright? Don't worry about repercussions or public perception – hide in the washroom, if you need to – it isn't anyone's place to judge how a bearer responds to an important packmate being endangered."
"But-"
"No buts," Wilbur interrupted. "Take care of yourself first."
It was fair advice, for all that Ant burned from it. He knew that the best way to avoid making an unseemly display of himself was to engage in a tactful retreat, but the idea of abandoning his family didn't sit well with him. It was likely why Wilbur had spoken with him in the first place. Ant didn't need to do his duty to the point of detriment, it was just- he wasn't accustomed to such a thing. He had a proper pack now and he didn't want to fail them.
He supposed that the only way he could fail was if he didn't take care of himself. He just needed to reframe his thinking, but it was difficult after so many years of dismissing himself entirely.
"Thanks, mama," Ant murmured, grateful that he'd been given permission. He realized belatedly that any of his packmates would have offered the same, it just hit slightly different when it came to Wilbur, likely because the piglin hybrid knew what he was going through.
"Anytime, pup," Wilbur said, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze just as Grand Marquess Pete called for their attention once more.
This was it. They'd reached the finals.
All four contestants entered from different gates, each positioned at each primary direction. During the break, the tournament grounds had shifted, the wizards activated runes that changed the battlefield from an open arena to a sort of faux ruin area. Collapsed pillars, platforms, and staircases created a multi-level battleground which added another element into their combat.
"Ladies and gentlemen; our finalists!" Grand Marquess Pete called, his voice magically amplified so that it rang clearly throughout the stadium. "In the north entrance by the royal box is Sir Skepfeld Blade, royal knight and representative of the Blade March! At the east entrance is Sir Punz Blade, life partner of Lord Connor Blade and representative of the Antarctic Empire's First Division Knights! At the south entrance is Sir Michael McChill, representative of the Essempi Duchy! And at the west gate is Sir Freddo, representative of the Awe Duchy! The final round of competition will be a battle royal in an unconventional environment, with contestants yielding when blades are aimed at a vital point! The last knight standing will be dubbed champion and will be allowed to request their prize at the victory banquet! Are all contestants ready?"
Ant saw more than heard each of the knights shout their affirmations, each properly armed for battle. Along with their wooden swords they had shields, and each now properly donned a helmet, prepared for another intense round of competition.
"Prime," Ant breathed, twisting his free hand in the inner fur lining of Techno's cloak. "I wish this would end soon."
"It will, pup," Wilbur assured, though he seemed a bit tense himself. "Three out of the four people down there are in our corner."
But one of them wasn't, and he'd been drinking enough potions that he almost seemed to gleam in the light of the Antarctican afternoon, a low-level magic humming under his skin that could be attributed to his aura that was almost certainly a result of continued potions use.
Wilbur released a low growl. "How the hell they managed to get potions through our security, I'll never know."
"There aren't any," Philza said, his tone cool. "All contestants were checked before the finals. Pete and Ponk went themselves, and they couldn't find any trace of potions."
Wilbur stiffened. "Are you telling me that guy has a high-level magic user on his side?"
"It's that, or he ingested an experimental potion before he got to the arena," Philza confirmed. "Which, given that the McChills are a vassal of the Essempis, wouldn't be unlikely. The tests only reveal recent potion use, since lingering potions require ingredients that are both very rare and very expensive, and even with those safely in hand, it's even more difficult to produce a lingering potion. It requires an expert hand, though McChill seems to have connected with one somehow."
"He has something that makes a knight's aura stronger the more they exert themself?" Ant asked, bewildered by the thought. "If that's true, why wouldn't the Essempis use it all the time? They'd make a fortune."
Aside from the rare ingredients and difficult production time, even ten potions like that sold at an exorbitant price could produce a hefty profit.
"Because potions like that are illegal," Wilbur hissed in answer. "The immediate effects are useful, but the long-term cost is- if he used that kind of potion, there's a good chance that McChill will be retiring shortly after this."
"They want to win that badly?" Ant whispered. "But Freddo-"
"Is an Achieveburg native," Wilbur said. "A knight of Awe only in name. It would make sense that the Essempis would want the win to go to someone a bit more concretely on their side."
It wasn't the best balance, in the end. It really would have been better for Dream to step in as part of the neutral faction rather than Punz, but with him indisposed and Drista not even of age to enter secondary school, there had been no solid Wastaken candidates. At least, none so trusted as Punz. Punz had also been seen engaging with George a great deal recently, which made him a sort of bridge between the Blades and the Essempis. Perhaps Connor should have fought for Las Nevadas, but it was done now. They'd proceeded as best they could and now the match was set. Ant could only hope that the effects of McChill's potion would wear off sooner rather than later.
"Here we go," Wilbur said as the match was called and the four knights darted into the arena. "It's just a tournament. It's just an exhibition. It's not a war."
Ant wondered if any of the knights were having war flashbacks with this competition. It could at the very least be an excuse as to the odd lineup this year. Why there was no Wastaken in the final - few could argue those that needed time to recover from the actual battles they had faced.
"It's not a war," Ant agreed, giving his mother's fingers a squeeze. His gaze frantically searched for Skeppy, whose dark leather armor made it difficult to pick him out amongst the arena ruins. Each leather set had dyed accents to represent the knight's respective houses, but it wasn't enough to help Ant locate Skeppy at this distance.
There was a distant clang of combat, and Ant jerked his head to the side, gaze narrowing in on a bright explosion of aura on the far side of the arena. It seemed that Freddo and Punz had found each other, which meant-
There was a burst of blue in his peripherals, and Ant shifted his focus towards a single point, his entire world shrinking down to the face off of one Michael McChill against Skeppy – their blue aura shining bright. McChill's was icy, like the snow, where Skeppy's was a brighter aqua, and though Skeppy had breezed through a majority of his matches until this point, now he seemed to be actually exerting an effort. Ant's instincts didn't know what to make of it. Fear and anxiety were the predominant concerns and he scarcely felt aware of the world around him as he watched the two knights dart around different building remnants, each keeping an eye on their surroundings as they engaged each other.
"Skeppy, Skeppy, Skeppy," Ant chanted under his breath, heart pounding furiously in his chest. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
It was okay, it had to be okay, it had to be okay.
~:~
There was a certain electricity that lingered in the air of the arena, vibrating with a latent tension that was overpowered by the majority’s excitement for what appeared to be a harmless exhibition purely for the sake of entertainment and Antarctican pride. Skeppy had bought into the easy joviality of the event once himself, at least until he had risen high enough in the ranks among the castle knights to warrant participating in the tournament qualifiers. It was there that he had learned that there was far more to the competition than a simple test of skill. There had been plenty of talented knights, after all, of commoner origin who had never stood a chance at making it into the final tournament bracket. Sure, management would throw in a few of the more popular commoner-born knights for the sake of representation, to provide a people’s champion who might be allowed to win one match depending on who they were paired against, but for the most part, this competition had always been for nobility or those affiliated with noble houses and this was no exception. The fact that Skeppy himself had never managed to snag a competition spot until he had both been adopted by Techno and become engaged to a bearer spoke volumes. He’d initially claimed his position on paper due to his connection to Bad, but even that had been tenuous with the much more popular Sapnap available to represent the royal princes. The blaze hybrid was both already an official member of the royal family and a renowned war hero, and while Skeppy had spent the entirety of the Marburg war ‘safe’ in the capital carrying out the noble duty of watching after a bearer who was maintaining their privacy, it was no question that between the two of them, Sapnap was much better known and more positively received. Even with his engagement to Dream being officially annulled, Sapnap still held the people’s hearts, while Skeppy was just sort of there.
They didn’t need him to compete, not really. Sapnap was a fine representative of the crown faction, and Punz a greater representative for the commoner-born. It was more than obvious that the Blades were committed to the crown, for all that their family decree insisted upon a constant wariness of any members of strong authority. With that established, Skeppy had fully expected to be pulled from the tournament.
And then he wasn’t.
“It’s because of Ant,” Niki had explained. “You became engaged to a bearer in a very public way and you’re aligned with one of the most powerful families in the empire; it would be stranger to have you sit this out. Doing so would give arrows to the critics to declare you a coward and unfit for Ant’s hand.”
“So it’s about proving myself,” Skeppy surmised.
“Ant claimed you because he knew you were worthy,” Niki countered. “This is your chance to show the world that he chose true.”
While Skeppy had never mentioned it to Ant, it was because of his fiancé’s status that Skeppy was slated to advance to the finals whereas Sapnap would have to throw mid competition at some point. Skeppy wished they could have gone up against each other so they could show off the very best of themselves before Skeppy just managed to overpower his friend and long-time shift partner, but Puffy had felt that such a thing would be too obvious. Instead, Sapnap was destined to lose to a Wastaken vassal, who would then be forced to yield to one of the Essempis.
That Essempi was not supposed to be Michael McChill. McChill – for all that he was a rare hybrid – hadn’t even been on their radar. His skills were solidly average, as far as Skeppy had heard, not that he had heard much because the guy hadn’t been memorable. Hadn’t been of note until he had defeated Sapnap in the second round, and then came back in the third as though he’d never broken a single sweat.
“There’s no way that fucker’s not cheating,” Punz had muttered under his breath as he made a show of polishing his wooden sword. Debris wouldn’t necessarily lessen their efficiency, but it never hurt to be careful, and this entire event was all about appearances. “Gotta be some bad bullshit for him to get it past the tournament managers.”
“Damage is still done though,” Skeppy grumbled, allowing none of his frustration to show on his face. The only reason he and Punz could get away with this sort of congregating was due to their similar origins. It would be expected, and therefor safely eluded them from suspicion. Playing into the other knight’s inherent classism, who likely had no care what riffraff like them had to say – having only attained their advancements through pure luck of gaining the right connections in their eyes – also helped.
Skeppy was pissed. They’d been caught off guard; it was clear that McChill had been chosen as the expendable pawn purely because they would not be expecting him. Because of that, Sapnap had gone down too soon to be good for his reputation, even though he was sure the Wastakens would spin it in the best way possible, that didn’t dismiss the murmurs that were carrying on in the knights’ waiting area, words that would only be intensified and twisted by the opportunistic few.
“No wonder Wastaken abandoned him,” they whispered. “Maybe those war stories were exaggerated.”
“No way he took out a wither,” another voice agreed, and Skeppy wanted to snarl, wanted to rage, because Sapnap still had nightmares about that stupid fucking war and they wanted to dismiss his contributions as though they were nothing. It only made sense that most of the knights present were family representatives that weren’t an actual part of the royal army, not part of the reserve that had been summoned to fill the crown’s ranks. They hadn’t had to face Marburg, hadn’t had to slowly and methodically take them down. They only knew peace, not the civil unrest that had lingered during Skeppy’s childhood. It was a privilege Sapnap didn’t share, and they spoke as though they knew him.
“Use it to fuel you,” Punz murmured, eyes on his sword. “Remember Ant.”
As though Skeppy could forget the bearer watching him from so up high. The cat hybrid had been loudly cheering Skeppy on the entire tournament. Every match was met with the same enthusiasm, his second sex language somehow managing to carry to Skeppy’s ears.
It was hard, so very hard to do this without Bad, without acknowledging his love, without being able to use Bad as a motivation, picture the rose he could afford the Nether Demon after becoming a finalist, the way it was supposed to be, the way he had dreamed of for so long. He didn’t resent getting to do that for Ant and he knew Bad wouldn’t either, Skeppy just wished that he could be fighting for both of them.
It helped that Ant loved him. A bearer loved him. And the part of Skeppy that had been used solely as a gem producing factory for so long still struggled to believe that he could deserve such a thing, but Ant had felt that way too, had been scared too, but they trusted each other and had a family together and that was more than Skeppy had ever been able to hope for. It was a dream beyond measure, and he knew that one day Bad would be there too, that Ant had chosen the Nether Demon as well – one day, it would be less crazy, he just had to keep fighting for that peace. He couldn’t let these small things get to him.
It burned that they would likely all have to yield to McChill – assuming Freddo couldn’t take him – but Skeppy was past the point of allowing assholes effect his emotional wellbeing. Sapnap was healthy and was currently doing a fine job of being dashing and charismatic in the royal box, and Skeppy could do the same.
The finals seemed to arrive all too soon and not soon enough, and with a respectful nod, Punz and Skeppy parted ways. It was an unspoken rule that they would divide and conquer for the finals. One would put on a grand show with Freddo, the other would wear down McChill. He wouldn’t get a round to recover this time, if they pushed him into a corner, Freddo could swoop in to get the final blow, winning it for the Awes and bringing stability and reputation to the new duke. It was a looser plan that Skeppy would like – than Techno had trained him into forming – but it was the best they could do under the new conditions.
He was vaguely aware of Grand Marquess Pete formally announcing them to the audience. By this point, everyone knew who they were – this was but another part of the production, to remind the crowd which factions were being represented. There was McChill, for the aristocrats, Freddo as his supposed ally, though partially representing the innovators. There was Skeppy, who despite being a Blade was unquestionably standing in for the crown, and then Punz, who despite being a life partner to Connor (when had that happened? No matter how much Skeppy asked, the dog hybrid would not answer him- like that was a thing that could be waved off) was there for the commoners.
The challengers had been chosen. The stage had been set, and Skeppy had a bearer, a pup, and a family to represent. He had a father who loved him and a brother that would probably kill for him and more than that, he had a will as unyielding as the diamonds that grew from his skin.
Skeppy had a mission.
The match was called, and he sprinted into action to see it through.