Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Mei~!"

Mei looks down at her lap, holding the book she was reading up to look at her cute girlfriend laying on her. "Yes, what's-?" Mei's eyes widen, and she snorts. "What are you doing?"

Using her lap as a pillow, Kiana has pulled a portion of Mei's long dark hair over her face, a long strand laying on the space below her nose and above her mouth, almost resembling...

Kiana giggles, grinning madly. "It's a Mei-stache."

Mei lets out a small snort. "Oh. My god." She giggles. "That's horrible." It escalates to a jubilant roar of laughter. "You're horrible."

Kiana smiles. "You know you love me."

Mei kisses her girlfriend. "Yes. Yes I do."

Chapter Text

Deep within the lowest depths of the White Palace, its great king had long passed out from a night of tinkering in his workshop. Of course, one could hardly call his projects "tinkering". Working with Void was never an easy process, even for someone as (regrettably) as experienced as him. 

But to someone who knew nothing of the plight of Hallownest, Wyrm's slumber was almost...peaceful. A single white spot in a workshop of inky black Rpainted a fascinating picture. In fact, some (Root) would have found the Pale King's current appearance to be rather adorable. His little claws serving as a pillow for his head, his tail swishing occasionally as he rested, and the faintest snores could be heard echoing through the workshop. 

"Father."

The Pale King stirs from his slumber, groggily rubbing his eyes as he awakens. "Hm? Root? Its Third Day. Cuddle time is Fourth...SWEET ME!"

The Pale King jumps, startled by the new presence in his workshop, clutching his chest. "Hornet, sweetie...how did you get in here?"

His weaver child stares at him, beady blacks eyes expressionless, like pools of void. Hornet looks at his own cloak, and pulls at it, trying to get his attention. "Father."

"Yes Hornet I'm listening."

Hornet, without warning, shoves something fluffy and red into his face. "I made you sweater."

The Pale King does not fully register Hornet's gift initially, as he is tired and now has a blob of red shoved in his face. But once he's pried the foreign object from him, and opened it up to properly see, the Pale King realizes that yes, Hornet did give him a sweater. 

Its made of silk, like all weaver clothing, but knitted in such a sway that it would cover most of the Pale King's torso, and had patterns not unlike the his own crest. It was actually quite impressive, the king realized upon further observation. Not a single thread was out of place, and he could feel the faint hum of Weaver magic embedded within. A protection charm, perhaps?

"This is very nice," the Pale King complimented his daughter, genuinely impressed. However, the rest of his worries return to him. "But how did you get in here-?"

"SHAW!" Hornet shouts, once again spooking the king as she began running back to the main entrance, crawling on the ceiling like she was hunting something. Most likely? She intended to wake Root and give her a similar gift, if she hadn't already. Although the Pale King was uncertain how a child could create enough silk to cover his significantly larger partner.

The king stared at where Hornet used to be, then at the sweater, and then back at his desk. He reaches for a ink, and scribbles down the words, "Note to self, add more sawblades. Need better security".

The Pale King yawns, and then lies back down to sleep, resting peacefully on his daughter's gift.

Chapter Text

"Why do you think they gave Christ a crown of thorns?" 

Kallen looks up from the flower crown she was making, staring at Otto with her wide and bright blue eyes. "Um...aren't you the genius?"

Otto pouts, "Well I understand the symbolical significance and the allegory. Christ was being sacrificed for the sins of mankind-a martyr for humanity." A scapegoat, the teenager thinks blasphemously. "He was also the king of kings, hence the concept of the crown." He flips through the pages of his bible. "But why would the Romans do that for a heretic? There's no reason to do that for, who was in their eyes, a criminal. You know, the logic behind it?"

Kallen clearly had no idea what he was talking about, muttering "allegory? martyr?" in confused whispers. It was his own fault-he used big words for a twelve year old. "A allegory is a story that can represent something else. Like Christ death and resurrection was an allegory for humanity being forgiven for the first human's sins and now allowed to go to heaven." Not that Otto believed any of that. He'd long begun to suspect that religion was just something the houses used to keep the common people under control. 

But Kallen believed in God, and Otto wouldn't ruin that for her. "A martyr," Otto continued, "Is a person who dies due to their beliefs. Christ is a perfect example of this-he was preaching the word of god, which went against the mainstream, and was betrayed and executed for it. But his faith and devotion was rewarded by his father, and he was resurrected."

Kallen nods, seemingly getting most of what Otto was saying. "But now God is everywhere, and the Romans are long gone."

Kallen always found new ways to impress him. "Huh, I never thought about it that way. But you're not wrong. Public opinion is always subject to change. The great hero could be a villain tomorrow, and a wicked man could become a become a philanthropist in an instant."

"Phila-Than-???"

"Don't think about it too hard."

Kallen stands up, and puts the flower crown on his head. "Well not us! We'll be the same forever!"

Otto touches the crown gently, as to not damage the precious gift. Edelwise is what Kallen had picked today. It was a long lasting flower, so if Otto was careful, he could preserve it so that it would last forever. 

He hope like the flower, Kallen would remain the same, like she claimed. He hoped she would never see the evil of the church, or the sins of their families. He hoped she would be like the mountain valley they were playing in-timeless, and untouched by humanity. 

Kallen flops onto the ground, looking up at the sky. A gentle breeze brushes past them, sending leaves and petals into the vast ether. "...It's not a bad thing, I guess. Being a martyr. Dad was a martyr."

"But Sir Francis didn't due for his beliefs," Otto pointed out with a slight panic in his voice. They had killed him, by following him into battle. 

But Kallen couldn't believe that. She couldn't know of sin, of guilt, of debt. 

"He died a hero," Otto attempted to reassure her. He didn't believe it. The Chevalier should have let them die, or fought harder to live. 

"But he died for being a Kaslana-for our house's beliefs," Kallen countered. 

"Every Kaslana Bold Must Live By Their Oath. Purge The Vile Honkai And Smash The False Gods.

Your Sires Sleep In The Fields As Humanity's Brave Shields.

By The Judgement Of Shamash, Kaslana's Die And Never Yield"

It was a speech Otto knew by heart, and despised. It would take Kallen from him, just as it had took Sir Francis from the both of them. 

But Kallen loved the Kaslana Ideal, so what could he say?

Kallen grabs his ankle, causing the the blonde to squeak as Kallen pulls him down so he can lay on the grass with her. Otto is about to protest, until he see the thoughtful, far off look in her eyes. Kallen hardly ever though too hard about things-it was her greatest strength and worst weakness. 

"Otto," she asks him, "Never change, okay? Even if everything else does, don't leave, okay?" 

Otto tilts his head. He would never leave Kallen. And if she wanted, he would remain her genius inventor forever. 

The two children watch the clouds, staying the moment lost to time. 

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Centuries later, Otto Apocalypse would be met with the hallucination of Kallen wearing a crown of thorns, not unlike the Holy Son that Otto had long stopped believing in. The flower crown of his childhood had long since rotted, and the mountain valley had become a parking lot. Kallen never saved the world, and Otto had made it worse.

And Otto had keep his promise to Kallen, unchanging even after all these years. 

And not once was Otto ever a constant in the Holy Maid's life-the truth intent of her words her realize far too late. 

Chapter Text

What does one see when they stare into the Abyss?

What do you do when you are faced with great evil?

What can you say against the tides of death?

If sinners are born only to sin, does redemption stand a chance? If humans are only capable of destruction, how can creation be possible? If all beings hate, what place does love have-?

The lights the kitchen of the Imperial Library flash on, earning hisses from the two sole occupants. Tokuda Shuusei stands in the doorway, confused and too tired to be dealing with whatever the heck this was. "Dazai, Akutagawa, what the hell are you doing? It's four in the morning?!"

His two fellow writers blink tiredly at him, having obviously been standing in the kitchen for several hours. Akutagawa was wearing his usual sleeping yukata, and was, as usual, smoking. Dazai, however, had opted for a simple tee green shirt and shorts, with the shirt having the English phrase "brat". Shuusei was decently certain someone had given it as a gift to him, and had somehow managed to convince him it meant something other than the obvious. 

Akutagawa took a puff of his cigarette. "Staring into the abyss."

Dazai nods. "Yeah. What Sensei said!" 

Dazai looks so proud of himself for agreeing with Akutagawa that in Shuusei's sleep deprived state he just wants to smack him. Just to see what the little shit would do. He knew he was responsible for this, somehow.

Shuusei pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what is the abyss in this context."

The redhead fool point behind him. "Ango's coffee."

Yep, it was Dazai. Or, it was one of Dazai's questionable companions. Shuusei should have known Ango was involved. His cooking had a fifty fifty chance of taking you to heaven...or sending you to hell. 

"Akutagawa-sensei was having trouble writing a particularly dark scene, so I said, "why not look at Ango's cooking? Nothing darker than that." The nervous chuckle Dazai lets out indicates that he had clearly said it as a joke and Akutagawa had taken it literally. "But loe and behold! Ango made coffee!" He looks back at the coffee pot. "It is something..."

Curious, Shuusei approaches, looking past the two to observe the infamous coffee...and yeah, it was something. Dark and murky, like the ink that fell from Taints. The pot exhibited a foul odor, and emitted a purple miasma. Shuusei was decently certain he saw something move in it. 

Dazai continues to stare at the pot, mesmerized. "It's so gross...but you can't look away, you know?"

Shuusei did know, and agreed. It was a fascinating liquid. If you looked carefully, you could see the faint color differentiations in the muk-greens, purples, blues-and how it would bubble under the low heat. There was something oddly beautiful about it. 

Akutagawa nods, taking another sip of his coffee...

Shuusei's brain does a double take. He turns to stare at his taller junior, who smiles serenely, like he wasn't a complicate idiot. He then whips his head around to study Dazai, who, behind him on the counter, as an empty mug next to him. "...Did you two drink it?"

"Obviously," Akutagawa says a matter a factly. "In order to understand the dark, you must drink of it."

"And if Akutagawa-sensei drinks some, I have to to!" Dazai declares happily, puffing out his chest. Akutagawa smiles at the action. 

Shuusei's mouth hangs open like a dead fish's, his eye twitching at the sheer stupidity of his collegues. "Throw up," he orders them. 

Akutagawa and Dazai exchange a glance, before turning back to Shuusei. "Huh?" Dazai asks. 

Shuusei attacks, reaching into Dazai's mouth, much to the latter's protest. "Throw up!"

Dazai begins to squirm, shouting madly. Akutagawa watches on, intrigued, and is about to drink more of the caffeinated poison, only for Shuusei to kick it with his foot out of his hands. "Hey! I was drinking that!" Akutagawa protests. 

Shuusei tries to shove his fingers into the redheads mouth to get him to vomit. "RANPO!" He shouts. 

Out of nowhere, Edogawaw Ranpo descends from the vents in the ceiling, landing on Akutagawa's shoulders, wrapping his legs around his torso, and mimicking Shuusei's action, resulting four people screaming instead of one, and waking the rest of the library.

--

The Chief Librarian stares down Shuusei, Ranpo, Akutagawa, and Dazai, with a disappointed yet absolutely dumbfounded expression. He purses his lips, and asks, "So how did you know Edogawa-san was in the vents?"

"I didn't. I just assumed he was doing something weird in the middle of the night, and he's hear me when I called him."

"It's true!" Ranpo confirmed with a cheerful grin. Akutagawa and Dazai glare at him. 

The Chief Librarian puts his head in his hands. Next to him, Ao looks up from his clipboard and asks, "Should I make another Safety video?"

The older man nods sadly. 

Dazai turns to Akutagawa, overjoyed. "Sensei! That'll be the third video we'll be in together this month!"

Akutagawa smiles and the two exchange a high-five. Shuusei groans. "The library has suffered since you two started to get along."