Long Live - Chapter 6 - HopefulSapphic (2024)

Chapter Text

Being a prince had never been very fun, despite what Chad would tell the tabloids. Charmaine was a relatively big kingdom, with relatively traditional values, and so Chad had to be very particular about his image. His PR team was very thorough, and also coincidentally not very fond of him. He harbored way too many pesky attributes for their tastes; like thoughts and opinions. Things he had to iron down and fit snugly into a polished and semi-conservative box. So really being a prince wasn't very fun at all - it was quite a lot of f*cking work actually.

But that was fine. He had a plan.

He loved plans.

He'd play by their game until he was of age, smile at the cameras, wink at his suitors, carefully pluck the thoughts from his eyes. Everything was very purposeful. His playboy persona was the perfect excuse to turn down serious relationships, his airheaded act meant he would be underestimated and his ‘prince of the people’ title meant he was liked well enough to get away with sly sh*t. In the meantime, he’d draft bills and amendments. Try to clean up the legal mess that was his government. He'd have to ease the more liberal stuff in, hide and muddy it with long-winded sentences and flowery wording, but that was well within his capabilities.

It only got easier when he and Audrey started dating. He'd always loved her - literally how could he not - brilliant and brave Audria Rose. Ben was a fool to let her go, but Chad was more than happy to be there for her as she grieved their relationship. With her around he didn't have to deal with groupie princesses and fawning suitors trying to win his affection and his kingdom. Plus Audrey was quite literally the smartest person he knew. Together they were an unstoppable force. They would sit in the library for hours running ideas past each other, poking holes in each other's drafts until everything was air tight. They were a great team and they had a great system. They were going to usher their two kingdoms into a more progressive future. Slowly but surely, they would mend what was broken. They had a plan.

And then everything went to sh*t.

“Let's get you to your room, Chad.” Ben mutters, concern painting his handsome features. The half-beast was stubbornly insistent upon supporting most of Chad's weight, one of his sturdy muscular arms hugging his waist. It was everything his thirteen year old self could ever dream of. It was actually driving him kind of crazy right now. His body was plenty confused nowadays, there was no need to worsen his condition with pretty boy ex-best friends.

“Ben, I can walk myself to my room.” He says for maybe the millionth time. “I'm not drunk anymore.” And he wasn't - for the most part anyway. He was a responsible drunk, the kind that drank plenty of water and made sure to snack on carbs beforehand. Princes like him didn't do sloppy drunk, and they didn't do hangovers. Not enough time in the day and too many skeletons in his closet.

But he wasn't that type of prince anymore. He wasn't any type of prince. He wasn't really sure what he was anymore.

If you asked someone who actually f*cking mattered, he was a dog.

Which was demeaning, and insane and becoming more and more true every single day he spent in this damned castle, which was confusing and frightening and maybe he just wanted to stop f*cking thinking about it for two seconds. Maybe Doug was twelve drinks in and drunk out of his mind, and looking ten times happier because of it. Maybe Chad wanted to see what sloppy drunk was like. And then maybe he got scared and puss*ed out and had just started drinking his weight in water when Ben swooped him up like a slightly aggravating and very beautiful guardian angel and decided he was done for the night.

And maybe Chad knew, despite the liquor in his system, in the very back of his mind, that Ben had not decided on his own that Chad needed an escort. Maybe he knew that one of the people holding his very short leash was watching him and didn't like what they saw and decided to send good cop on over to handle a slightly drunk him tonight, so that they could bad cop all over sober him in the morning. Maybe that was a sobering thought.

Whatever the case may be, he wasn’t drunk anymore - not in the ways that mattered. He was more than capable of walking himself to his own room, where he could collapse on his bed, stare at the ceiling and wait for Audrey to come back. It wouldn’t be long before she realized he had been escorted away and she followed him back to their room. They never went to bed without each other. Never again.

“I believe you, really I do.” Ben says. Chad isn’t sober enough to tamper down the following scoff. Ben stops their already maddeningly slow pace to look him in the face. Ben's eyes age him. They’re a shining glassy brown, so light they’re practically green, deep, inquisitive, and knowing. They’ve watched cities burn and seen men take their last desperate heaving breath. And yet they’re still so gentle when he looks at Chad. Ben looks at Chad - bent and crooked and broken, laughably weak and painfully cynical - like he’s some treasure he wants to preserve. Like he was worth a damn. Chad's resolve is quickly disintegrating.

“I do believe you.” Ben is basically pleading with him now, those huge earnest eyes full of care and concern and damn it all to hell, it was plain unfair. “Just please, love, humor me.”

And so Chad shuts the f*ck up and lets Ben play hero because he’s never been able to tell Ben no in his entire stupid lousy life. Especially not when he was looking at him like he hung the stars and moon, and calling him love. He commits to the bit, letting himself stumble over his own two feet so Ben can feel important, and not like a child sent after a time consuming but all together useless task so they’d stay out of the adults way. He also does it to feel the addictive pressure of Ben’s arm tightening around his waist in a valiant attempt at steadying him. He considers it a reward for playing nice.

When they finally make it to his door Ben insists on walking him inside and physically putting him into bed. He lets the half-beast gently hoist him up, arrange his tired limbs across the bed, and fret over his hair. He answers the beautiful idiot's numerous questions - ( yes he feels okay, no he doesn't need any pain meds or potions, no he wasn't high on anything, yes he knew he could tell him if he was) - and enjoys the warm weight of Ben's hands engulfing his own. Eventually Ben is placated, after making him promise he wouldn't try to leave his room - honestly how drunk did this man think he was - and he bids him goodbye with a fond smile and a warm electrifying kiss pressed to his forehead.

“Stay.” He pleads in his mind. He would reach out his hand and it wouldn't tremble and Ben would take it and peer at him with that damned earnest, open, dreamy look in his stupidly pretty eyes. “Please stay, don't leave me alone here, I can't handle being alone ever again. Stay and look at me like I matter some more.”

Chad says nothing.

He waits til the door closes before sitting back up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Sighs so heavily he's sure his chest will cave in. Left to his own devices, he’s suddenly aware of how much discomfort his clothes were causing him, several layers of fabric stuck flush against his skin, damp with sweat. Gross. He addresses the item that's bothering him the most - a pair of fingerless leather gloves that chafed the valleys between his fingers and made writing, eating and any other basic fine motor skill a major pain in his ass. They were a gift from Jay. He peels them off with no small sense of relief, more than eager to be rid of them.

Ben must have been pretty far gone himself if he hadn’t thought to change Chad out of even one of the several layers of leather and body paint he was sporting. He looked like an edgy circus clown's wet dream, and he was f*cking filthy. If Chad really was too drunk to function, he’d be f*cked.

Well, Chad was f*cked nonetheless after tonight. Ridiculously, horrendously f*cked, in more ways than one.

“Light's f*cking sake.” He muttered, neatly folding the gloves into themselves and sticking them in his bedside drawer. As much as he hated the damn things, Jay seemed to have a minor obsession with seeing them on Chad - which just had to be a form of narcissism. Unfortunately, Chad was really starting to give a f*ck about making Jay happy. Beyond that, he was starting to really crave the heavy gaze and lingering fingers that those gloves tended to yield. It was endlessly frustrating. It was admittedly pathetic. Nonetheless he took good care of the damned things.

Now that the main contributor to his discomfort was taken care of, it was truly tempting to just lay on the bed and rot until Audrey returned. Staring at walls and retreating into his mind was an activity he got well acquainted with while he was still in captivity. It was the only thing he could manage to do, in between lukewarm meals and visits from his betters. It was the only thing he could find a shred of solace in. He wasn't like Audrey - moving around, pacing, screaming at walls and punching her cot, all of the things that kept her spirit wild, and provided her comfort would have only served to make him more depressed. Remind him just how cramped his cage was.

And unfortunately it was a difficult habit to break. Being present and in the moment was laborious even at the best of times, downright torturous at the worst of them. He and Audrey had coping mechanisms in place - things to help him when he was so deep in his own head he may as well be locked up again. He’d taught a handful of them to Ben, at the man’s insistence. It was harder when he was alone to try and pull himself out of it. His willpower was woefully flimsy when it came to matters of his own well-being. His body ached with the urge to lay back down, to stare at the ceiling until the lines of reality blurred and his mind shut the f*ck up.

Instead he shakes his head and immediately grimaces at the feeling of his damp curls flying in the process. He needs a f*cking shower. Isle inhabitants running Auradon meant that formal balls were traded in for wild, Isle style blowout parties, which meant significantly more sweat, drugs, music and alcohol and significantly less fabric. He wasn’t even wearing a real f*cking shirt, it was some sort of mesh affair that Evie had designed that always made Mal’s hands linger along his torso, and a sleeveless leather vest marked clearly with Carlos’ colors. The ensemble was practically glued to his skin at this point, damp with sweat, alcohol, and anything else that had been ‘accidentally’ spilled on him throughout the night. Audrey would kick his ass for laying in bed like this. He was disgusting.

With a long suffering sigh he pushes himself onto his feet, wringing his hands nervously. I’m in deep sh*t tomorrow, he thinks grimly, shrugging himself out of the vest and throwing it to the ground. He can’t even manage a single step before he stops again. He stares at the vest - narrows his eyes at it in a halfhearted attempt at a glare. Then he sighs, picking it back up and putting it on a hanger. Old habits die hard and all.

Peeling off the mesh is more satisfying than it has any right to be. It’s studded with gems, which look admittedly good on him despite how gaudy it may be, but feels less than ideal after a long night. He doesn’t hang it up, it’s so damp it’s practically dripping, and he shoves it right in the laundry basket where it belongs. He’d burn it if he could. He sheds his pants as well, tossing them into the laundry and trudging off to the bathroom to start the shower. He leaves the door open - privacy was an illusion to him at this point. Or a sick joke. Mal kept constant surveillance by means of Evie’s magic mirror, he was half convinced they were always watching. Any conversation or compromising position could be captured and played back.

Besides, they had already seen every inch of his body by this point. Knowing Jay there was probably an archive of video footage dedicated to it. Perverted bastard.

He ran the water as hot as it would go, eager to wash the paint, sweat and grime from his skin. Body paint was another uniquely Isle thing, another opportunity for him to showcase his villainous lover’s signature colors in traditional Isle stakes of ownership. Today he sported deep yellowish gold - Jay’s markings that the thief had been more than pleased to make himself, tracing his fingers in bold strokes across Chad’s torso, face and neck, while the asshole flirted and made teasing comments. It ended up looking like billowing smoke was climbing up his chest, eager to consume and claim every inch of his skin. The sight of it ignited a stir in his gut that he chose not to acknowledge. He’d done his makeup to match, gold glitter streaked across his eyelids and cheekbones.

He took his role of pretty little royal eye candy very seriously. He had to get a bit of pride and amusem*nt from something.

Stepping under the burning stream after the night he had felt like stepping into a sacred temple - he was more than eager to purge tonight's events from his body. Sure it wasn’t exactly his healthiest coping mechanism, but the line between what was good for him and what wasn’t had grown so damn blurry that he’d go mad trying to solidify it. There were worse ways to cope.

Once the water hit his skin it was like a switch had been flipped. His aching muscles finally relax, his line of sight goes blurry around the edges. He stares at the soap sitting neatly in its shower caddy. He likes that soap. They get it imported from Charmaine just for him - a privilege he'd earned from good behavior. He tells his arm to reach out for it, yet his limbs stay loosely at his side. His eyes stare blankly past the bright colored bottle and soft focus on the tile behind it. It’s rich purple instead of a tasteful eggshell or cream, which meant that Mal had to have had the bathroom remodeled at some point while he was locked up in a cell losing his mind. The first time he saw it was the very same day he'd learned he wouldn't be doomed to spend the rest of his days staring at walls, trying to swallow down crippling loneliness. He'd rolled his eyes. Just like everything else about the dark fae's reign though, it somehow feels right now that he’s used to it. He can't imagine it being any other color. Scorching water batters at his skin, coloring his milky complexion bright pink. It rides the line between oddly pleasant and too painful to stand. He continues to stare.

The soap doesn’t get any closer.

The familiar feeling of acrylics dragging down his spine - just hard enough to hurt without actually leaving a mark - shakes him out of his trance. He turns, a smile immediately tugging on his lips. Audria Rose's soft smile is reflected back to him, her mocha eyes framed with smoky purple glitter. Mal’s purple is streaked across her neck in carefully painted claw marks, climbing up her face and framing her soft features. The lines are much too precise for the queen to have used her fingers, Mal must have used one of her beloved paintbrushes to decorate her. He knows for a fact that she was sporting Evie’s colors on her clothes earlier, but here and now she’s as naked as the day she was born. Looking at her like this, gentle and happy and brighter than the sun itself, he can understand why some people pray.

He’s immediately leaning down to kiss her, thanking every deity that would listen when her lips happily meet his. It wasn’t by any means sweet or chaste - neither of them were even close to sober enough to entertain the notion - but it was languid and loving, if not a bit sloppy. Despite his urge to grab and grasp at every inch of exposed and perfectly slick skin in front of him, Chad’s hands stay resolutely by his side. Audrey is in charge. The former princess - who always did enjoy calling the shots - seldom got a chance at control in much of anything anymore. So like always, Chad allows Audrey to set the pace. Enjoys the feeling of her gentle hands trailing up his paint stained torso, all the way up to the expanse of his chest. Her acrylics just barely linger over his nipples, a pressure so light it’s practically cruel. He shudders, wanting desperately to fall into her skin and drown there. To lose himself forever in her touch.

She chuckles - it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard - and trails her hands back down his body. One of her hands finds his, and guides it to her hip. He revels in the touch, gladly exploring the small patch of skin he’s been granted. She taps his other hand and he takes the hint, mirroring the gesture so he had a firm grip on both her hips. He can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes into his head. She makes a breathy noise of satisfaction and all his self restraint seems to disappear. He makes a noise like a wounded animal, leaning down fervently to kiss her again. They slot together like a lock and key. She taps the back of his head and he takes the silent permission to begin kissing down her jawline until he arrives at her neck, where he worships the skin like a sinner desperate for redemption. He breathes her in like air, grips at her like she's the very blood that runs through his veins.

“Beautiful.” He whispers breathlessly. If he doesn't verbalize himself he may keel over and die where he stands. It'd be a hell of a way to go.

“Chad.” She says in that same breathy tone and he groans, completely beside himself with want. The slow familiar grind of their slick bodies together is damn near enough to make him tumble over the edge. He's desperately pent up these days - between the extensive training regiment they were on in an attempt to gain back all the muscle and skill they'd lost in captivity, and the physiological torment they were being put through because all four of their benevolent dictators had a nasty sad*stic streak and a sick sense of humor to match, they didn't exactly have a lot of time for stuff like this. Funny how that worked. And as if regular good old fashioned hormones weren't enough, Jay and Evie were both diabolically attractive freaks whose weapon of choice was pure, concentrated, unbearable sexual tension followed by abrupt cruel denial. The amount of times Jay had gotten him all riled up only to leave him panting and sick with want had to be considered physiological warfare at this point. Always with some muttered bullsh*t about how he could earn more if he behaved.

As if he didn't spend every moment of every day trying to f*cking behave.

“Gorgeous.” He says into her warm skin, mouthing over old hickies, ones he didn't give her. He wonders sometimes if he should be jealous - knows it would be completely normal to - but jealousy has never been his thing, and normal got thrown to the wolves the moment he had been dragged out of his dorm on some random tuesday afternoon and found himself in a cell come nightfall. He couldn't give less of a damn who else was pleasing her, as long as she was pleased and as long as he still got the privilege. Besides who was he to judge when he had bruises of a similar caliber climbing up his own neck. “Beautiful f*cking princess.”

Audrey pushes the heel of her palm into his chest, and he drops his hands immediately, stepping back and putting a few inches between them. No matter how pent up he was, the universal signal for ‘stop’ was blazingly obvious, and he'd sooner chop off his own dick than put his needs over hers. He looks at her, all thoughts of skin on skin and the growing heat in his gut grinding to a screeching halt. There's nothing but fear on her face, her eyes blown in a panic he's all too sickeningly familiar with.

He's confused first, concerned he may have gone too fast or touched something he shouldn't have. Auradonian purity standards were hard to unlearn, and he was willing to go at whatever pace Audrey needed from day to day. He replays the last couple minutes in his mind, free from the hazy lust-drunk filter he was previously seeing through.

“Oh.” The realization of what he's done sits heavy in his stomach like a stone. A boner killing stone. A very hot stone that was burning everything it touched and making his guts bubble and churn.

“You can't call me that.” She whispers insistently, stating the obvious. The hot water pounding against his back is all too suddenly unbearable, but he can't bring himself to move. His heart quickens in his chest. “I'm not a princess anymore - Chad what if they-”

Both of their eyes flit over the door. The closed door - Audrey wasn't like him, she always shut doors behind her, fought for every scrap of privacy she could claw out of their hands. She'd closed the door when she came in. Probably locked it too.

They both knew it didn't make much of a difference.

They'd been punished for things said behind closed doors before. Sly comments, reckless statements whispered under the false pretense of secrecy. It didn't always happen, sometimes they said something and it was never brought up again, sometimes they got away with it. But when it did happen there usually wasn't any explicit explanation - no one would sit and explain exactly what they'd done. Everyone would just know. Punishment was delivered in subtle cruelty; Carlos would stop pulling punches in training, Jay would withhold his physical affection and his voice would harden over around the edges, Evie would give them the cold shoulder entirely. A couple times their bids for an escort - which they needed to roam the castle - would be denied or ignored, leaving them stuck in their room. Usually until dinner, though one truly chilling time it lasted through the night.

That day was particularly terrifying. After an entire day of radio silence, Jay had come by with a familiar tray containing two bowls of oatmeal and four hard boiled eggs with two bottles of water and dropped it off by the front door. Barely even stopped in his stride long enough to knock. By the time Chad opened the door, Jay was halfway down the hall. Chad had been so anxious and stir crazy he tried to catch up to him, but he only got to take two or three steps before Jay stopped him in his tracks.

“Go back to your f*cking room.” Jay didn't even turn around when he said it, didn't even stop. Despite its calmness, his voice lacked its usual flirty inflection, scrubbed from every hint of fondness it once harbored. It sounded like an entirely different person. It made Chad's blood go cold and his heart stop beating. He'd retreated like a wounded animal. An angry Jay was dangerous, and Chad had nothing to defend himself but the hope that his submission would appease. The sound of his voice still haunted him to this day.

They couldn't sleep at all that night - minds too plagued with the idea of being reduced to captivity once again. The next morning Evie came to get them for breakfast like it never happened. Jay still took his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles like every morning. Chad bid him a polite good morning as usual, but his voice had wavered, tears prickling the corners of his eyes and threatening to spill. Jay had smirked, amusem*nt dancing in his eyes.

“f*ck.” Chad muttered, running a damp hand over his face. “f*ck - I'm sorry, my bad Audrey I didn't mean-”

“You didn't mean it.” She said definitively, giving him a look.

“I didn't mean it.” He nods, sounding just as finite. His eyes glance again at the door. “I was just caught up in the moment. I never should have said that.”

Nothing happens. They both exhale.

Audrey sighs, pushing wet hair out of his face with a shaky but nonetheless genuine smile. “You left the party.”

“I was escorted out.” He corrects, rolling his eyes. “By our very own local beast.”

“Beauty and the bouncer.” Audrey jokes, tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. He chuckles.

“Beauty was the bouncer. The only reason I let him drag me out of there is those pretty brown eyes and the stupid massive biceps Carlos has managed to put on him.”

“It's like some f*cked up kind of trade off.” Audrey shakes her head. “The longer you spend here breaking down under their thumb, the hotter you get. Lonnie's never been more attractive.”

He scoffs. “Jane took off her shirt during training last week and I was so distracted I almost impaled myself on Jay's sword. She's got abs now, Auds. She couldn't even style her hair before High Queen Mal started talking to her.”

“Training with Jane just isn't fair.” Audrey pouts. Her hand has taken purchase in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp. “Her fae magic is so strong now it's basically a drug. It's some real sick sh*t, the more I start to like her, the more doped up I feel around her.”

Chad could understand the sentiment. “Queen's magic is even worse. When it gets strong enough I can't even think straight. I'm pretty sure I'd nosedive off a cliff if she asked me to. It's scary as hell.”

Chad had studied magic back before Auradon was taken over. It was one of his more rebellious hobbies, and perhaps the most dangerous, but some part of him just couldn't leave it alone. It was slow work - magical artifacts were locked up in the museum with only one or two baseline fun facts to supplement the excessive narrative that magic was dangerous and unpredictable. Books that went into the details of magic were either restricted, vague or blatant propaganda. Fae magic was basically impossible to learn about outside of word of mouth - it was way too powerful for Adam's taste, and so information about it was greatly suppressed. Despite his best effort, the only reason he'd learned anything at all was because he went to Jane and asked, and even she only had the limited information her mom was willing to share - that is to say the bare f*cking minimum.

After spending so much time in the dark, morbidly curious and thirsting for knowledge, Chad was practically salivating to learn. Fortunately for him, knowledge seemed to be the one privilege Mal didn't believe in taking away. He'd been starved, sleep deprived and beaten, but he couldn't remember a single time he'd been denied access to a book. As long as someone was willing to escort him to the library - and someone usually was - he had the entire massive collection of books inside the castle at his disposal. Books on magic were in abundance with Mal on the throne - the queen spent a good portion of her time teaching Jane magic, and even more time studying it. With the ban on magic lifted, it was easier than ever to import once forbidden books and resources.

He'd started small, afraid his interest could be misinterpreted as rebellion. If Mal thought he would even consider trying to find her weakness and exploit it, his newfound freedom would reach an abrupt and likely gruesome end. He'd approach Jane after her lessons, wringing his hands nervously and softly pleading with her to indulge his curiosity. Jane, a kind soul at heart despite the recent mean streak Mal's teachings seem to pull out of her, gladly agreed. For weeks he'd trail after her, notebook in hand and listen with rapt attention as she went on and on about her lessons. He was under no impression that his little extracurricular was unbeknownst to the queen. He wasn't a total idiot.

He'd still been surprised when he came back to his room one night to find the fae sitting on his bed, his notebook in hand as she idly flipped through the pages.

“You're a quick learner.” Mal hummed, licking the pad of a slender finger to turn a page while Chad's stomach dropped to his ass. “And an avid note taker. Is this a diagram?”

She was flipping the book over to point at the page, but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention. “I'm sorry.”

“You're not.” Mal seemed to realize he wasn’t going to look and turned the notebook back over, giving it another once-over. “But fortunately for you, you haven't done anything wrong.”

His heart started working again, resuming the flow of blood to his brain. Ice cold fear was replaced by confusion.

Mal chuckled, rising to her full height. She'd gotten taller since the old days. When he first noticed it he thought he was going crazy, or that it was some psychological effect of the perverse power dynamic between the two of them. Recently he learned it was because her magic was growing stronger, and it was shifting her form, much like her new sharpened nails and teeth. She was taller than Chad by now, an observation that made his cheeks shamefully flush. She closed the book and handed it to him.

“As long as you behave, I'll let you sit in on the lessons. If I catch you trying to practice the magic you learn, I'll rip the very fibers of your mind apart and let the soulless husk that remains loose into the forbidden forest.” She leaned in close, patting his chest. “Understood, Scout?”

He shuddered. “Yes, My Queen. Thank you.”

“Beautiful. Keep up the good work, hobbies enrich the mind, you know.”

Learning about magic directly from the queen of the fae was unironically one of the biggest honors he'd ever been bestowed. Mal made him sit on the floor for the first couple of weeks - always one for a visible power imbalance. Months in a cell had him well accustomed to the floor. He really couldn't care less, not when he was finally finally learning without the heavy weight of censorship. No historical rewrites, no biased framing, no conveniently missing pages or blacked out paragraphs. It was liberating. Everything his nerdy little heart could ever want.

Fae magic in particular stood out to him. He was sure he'd never learn about it, completely written off the idea. Surely Mal would send him away when the topic came up, there was just no way that the queen of fae would allow her very own spoil of war to even begin to learn about her weaknesses. He was prepared to be cast out of the lesson one day, his body was always slightly tensed in anticipation, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It never dropped. He would quickly come to realize that Mal didn't give a sh*t whether he learned her weaknesses or not because she didn't have any. Not any that mattered, none that weren't rendered null and void due to the godly blood pumping through her veins. She wasn't full fae so she could lie just fine. Iron just gave her a mild rash that could be countered with Evie's potions.

Didn't matter very much to him. Chad was never very concerned with what Mal couldn't do. He found much more interest in she could.

Fae magic was complex, elusive, and over all else, strong. All fae were blessed with enhanced intelligence, strength and speed. Their magic tended to extend outside of the body the stronger it grew, manifesting itself into horns, claws, rows of sharp teeth, glittering wings, and in some cases a couple extra inches in height. They were most known for their trickery, but really it was more like the power of persuasion. Fae magic was practically intoxicating to mortals, even a drop of human blood could make you susceptible. How much sway a faerie could hold over your judgment varied. Your relationship to the faerie, the strength of their magic, your biological makeup and even the time of day mattered. Taking gifts, giving up your name, eating their food. All of it could send you deeper into a trance.

And that's just scratching the surface.

It had to be both the most fascinating and most frightening thing he'd ever witnessed. He'd ever felt. Jane was overflowing with it, not yet able to tamper it down without the help of magical supplements. She hated being on her pills and no one was around to force them onto her, so they sat collecting dust in case of emergency. Her raw uncut magical energy was free to explore, leeching onto everything that would take to it - including the soft and pliable human minds that came too close.

Mal's was stronger, more insistent. More often than not, very intentional. The way a fae views a person also affects how much power they hold over them. Chad was a possession, and so when prompted her magic had no problem wiping his mind of all logical thought and leaving behind a pleasant, mindless, foggy haze. It used to happen more frequently. Any time his dry humor was less than appreciated, or he hesitated too long to obey an order, his mind would suddenly go blank and all cohesive thoughts would become so distant that he couldn't string a sentence together if he tried. She'd let it linger for a couple of minutes before it wore off and he was properly cowed. Mal often likened it to picking up a fallen book, or straightening a crooked painting. Correction.

It wasn't until later that he discovered she could deliver it in smaller doses. Complete mindlessness was traded in for a gentle imposed calm. Thoughts took longer to form, making it harder to overthink. And the haze was never unpleasant to begin with. It was much more manageable and way less creepy. He even asked for it sometimes, grateful for a chance to just breathe and be. Mal was happy to indulge him if he behaved.

He's far from that mindlessness at the moment. Thoughts ran at a mile a minute as he stared at Audrey, eyes tracing her wet hair down her damp body. Her hair looked much healthier now that they'd been out of captivity for so long. Its fullness had finally returned. His gaze rises back to her face as she studies him in turn. Her eyes are beautiful.

“Are we in a fairytale?” It's sudden - random - but the words spill out of his mouth before he has the good sense to stop them. He - like every other kid across the United Kingdoms of Auradon - had always dreamed of being remarkable enough to star in his very own fairytale. One fit for the storybooks. He'd lost some of that childish whimsy when he grew old enough to grasp the clusterf*ck that was the current political-sphere, but there was still a bit of that naive hope.

Audrey laughs, harsh and a little mean, but that's her real laugh - the one that's not been practiced in the mirror and scrutinized by her bitch grandmother - so he doesn't mind. “Yeah. A really f*cked up fairytale. Something long, poetic and stockholm-y.”

“A novel then.” He supplies, leaning into it. “A classic. We're the long-suffering tragic heros, damned by our own hubris.”

“Yeah Chad.” She cups the back of his neck, pulling gently until they’re face to face. She presses her warm, plush lips to his. “That's what we are. Tragic, tragic heros.”

“Come face to face with terribly beautiful villains.” Chad says wistfully. “It’s what we deserve, I guess.”

“What, are you high?” There's no judgment in her voice as she reaches around him, grabbing the soap and his washcloth. She squeezes a sizable amount onto the damp towel, rubs it together to get a good lather and begins to drag the fabric against his skin.

“Funny, Ben asked me the exact same thing.” One of Audrey's hands rests on his hip while the other meticulously scrubs away the body paint climbing his stomach. It's grounding and also one of his favorite feelings in the world - her bare skin against his. He'd sooner give up his right to walk than his right to this.

“Why'd you…” She trailed off, though her busy hand never stopped moving. This paint was not easy to remove, it was made to survive the test of sweat, liquor and other varying party fluids.

“I didn't.” He said testily. Guilt was immediately biting at his heels, but the words still clawed their way up his throat. “I didn't do anything, what the hell was I supposed to do about it?”

Audrey pulls her lips into a tight line and says nothing. She dutifully scrubs at the paint as they let the sound of water drown out the silence.

VKs, generally speaking, didn't like Chad. He'd been cussed at, spit at, threatened, mocked and belittled more times than he could count under this new world order. Belonging to the crown helped - it meant they couldn't follow through with those threats - but it was still glaringly obvious that to most VKs he was not a person. What he was instead depended solely on which one you asked. He was a symbol to some, the very representation of the oppressive backwards system that resulted in their robbed childhoods and bloody hands. To others he was nothing, the dirt under their boot, a rock they'd kick aside on the street. To some he was the spoiled dog of the crown, in desperate need of being knocked down a few pegs, as if Mal would ever let him keep a shred of his dignity.

All of it unpleasant, most of it irreversible until he could prove himself, but he could deal with it. He wasn’t a child anymore. He could deal with scorn, hatred and violence. Nothing any VK could threaten or wish upon him was worse than what Mal or Carlos could, would and have done to him. It all paled in comparison. No one was crueler than the monarchs that held his leash.

No, what really made his blood boil were the ones who saw him as a novelty. A toy. Something to poke at and play with and harass. There was a subsection of very bold VKs who looked at Chad and saw this fun little game they could play, where they get to make him as uncomfortable and unsettled as possible and he just had to take it.

Unfortunately for him, there were plenty of that particular brand of VK in attendance to damn near every party he'd been dressed up and forced to attend. Usually he was pretty good at avoiding them, or at least cutting his unsavory interactions with them short. Last night's guest had been particularly determined though. Had boxed him into a corner and talked his f*cking ear off, flirting, pushing more alcohol onto him, offering him small colorful pills with the promise of loosening him up, laughed at him when he tried to turn them down. She'd even managed to find a way to touch him, a feat not many outside of his four wardens could manage. The crown was pretty strict about that particular rule; no one touched what belonged to them. But this woman, she would stumble into him, ‘accidentally’ graze his hand with her own, reach out to grab imaginary debris from his hair.

And it's not like Chad could have pushed her off. Chad had no rights, he had no status, he had no power. He was a pawn and an accessory to the crown, a shiny trophy, and this woman had grown up on the f*cking Isle. If it came down to a physical altercation, he would lose, and he would lose miserably. And then he'd be making a scene without permission, and then he'd open himself up to whatever punishment Mal could cook up for him. He'd much rather deal with a few unwanted advances.

Except the holders of his leash were territorial as sh*t, and it was now somehow his fault he had spent a quarter of the night being harassed. Because of course it f*cking was.

Maybe he was a bit irritable.

His skin was pink and tender by the time the last specks of gold were lost down the drain. Audrey's slender fingers linger around his throat, applying a gentle pressure in the way that reminds him painfully of Jay. He relaxes into it. Her other hand snakes behind his back, dragging the soapy cloth along the skin with small circular motions, thorough and gentle. He presses his face into her neck, sighing deeply.

“I'm sorry.” He mutters into her warm skin, shame making his face flush.

“It's not your fault.” She hums simply.

“Not yours either. I shouldn't take it out on you.”

Audrey laughs - snorts actually in a way that would most certainly result in a lecture from her grandmother if the bitch was still around to nag.

“Babe, if that's your version of taking it out on me, I think we're good. I've been suffering through dysregulated royals and their misplaced anger since I was old enough to raise a mascara wand to my eye.” She scratches her nails against the base of his neck, still applying pressure so it's just barely painful. His knees buckle just like when Evie does it to him. “You're more like a little kitten that's meowing in fury than anything else.”

He grunted in disagreement. “A dog. You know ‘m a dog.”

“A puppy.” She concedes, pressing a kiss into the hot skin of his neck. “I'm here. Whatever happens tomorrow I'll stand by your side.”

He sighs, squeezing her once before disengaging himself from her. He looks into her eyes and his entire world stares right back at him. “You can't defend me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Chad don't do this.”

“No, Audrey, I'm serious. If I get punished, it's gonna be my punishment to take. Not yours. Don't defend me, don't stand up for me, don’t try to argue or barter, just let it happen.”

“I can't do that.” She says fiercely, eyes on fire. This firecracker, this brick wall of a woman, always ready to go to bat for him. Chadwick Charming the doormat and Audria Rose, the f*cking sun.

“Please.”

“You know I can't.”

“Audrey please.” He says even though he already knows he’s losing. That this argument was doomed from the start.

“Chad. I will always choose to suffer with you. I'd walk through hell with you before I went to heaven without you. You'd do the same for me.”

“Just-” There’s tears catching in his eyes because he would. He would - has - done anything in his power to share her load as much as he could. He’d gone to bat for her. He’d taken punishments for her - begged and pleaded with their captors to be hurt instead of allowing harm to befall the one good thing in his life. How could he tell her not to do what they’d always done for each other? What right did he have? “If they tell you to stand down, you yield. At the very least.”

“I can’t promise you that.” There’s tears choking her voice up, and it’s like a knife to his heart.

“Promise not to trade with me then.” He pleads. “Swear it. The very bare minimum; all I’m asking from you Audrey, is that you don’t offer yourself up to suffer while I have to stand by unscathed. While they make me watch, and then I have to hold you and pick up the pieces after Audrey that is worse -” his voice catches and he takes a moment to compose himself. “That is worse than anything they can do to me. Nothing is more painful. Nothing is Audrey, so please don’t. If it gets to that point, you yield okay?”

Audrey frowns, eyes glassy and looking like she wants to say so much more. Instead she reaches for his hand and he supplies it easily. “Okay.” She says.

“Yeah?” He brings their clasped hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her skin.

“Yeah. You have my word.” She looks crestfallen and it tugs viciously at his heartstrings, but he can’t help but feel instant relief at the solemn promise. There really was nothing worse than watching Audrey take a punishment for something he had done - it was one of the cruelest systems Mal had ever presented them with. He knew it tore her up just the same when the tables were turned.

He wills his breathing to even out - there’s no point in getting himself so worked up about something that hadn’t even happened yet. With the air properly returned to his lungs, he grabs another washcloth, douses it in a generous amount of soap, lathers it until it produces suds and starts the reverent process of scrubbing Audrey clean of the purple climbing up her chest.

“Jane said it was pretty bad.” Audrey whispers, her voice carefully dry.

“You talked to Jane?” A disbelieving laugh spilled past his lips. One of his hands rests in the groove of her waist while the other works steadily at its task. Purple tinted suds trickle down the drain as inch after meticulous inch of tawny brown skin is left unmarked. “I can’t f*cking believe it - I’m castle gossip. Again.”

“Yeah,” Audrey laughs too - bless her and her similarly f*cked up sense of humor. “She said that woman even managed to touch you.”

Annoyance settles deep in his core and threatens to poison his bloodstream until all he’s capable of pumping through his veins is pure toxin. “That bitch touched my f*cking hair.”

Audrey’s hand flies down to grip at the one currently cleaning her. “You’re f*cking kidding me.”

“I wish I was!” Chad huffs, bringing his non-soap-riddled hand up to push her hair out of her face in a mockery of what the rotten bitch had done to him, adopting the condescending lilt of her tone. “You’ve had the same speck of sauce or somethin’ in your hair for the past 20 somethin’ odd minutes - it’s drivin’ me crazy.” He runs his fingers through the same spot a couple times, silently seething as he recalls the words. “ I can’t believe someone as prissy as you used to be didn’t notice. You must be used to things spilling near your face now, huh? Still you’d think the crown would keep their prized pooch well groomed. Tell her Majesty I said you’re welcome.”

“She didn't,” Audrey gaped.

“She f*cking did! Light sake, do you know how pissed off King DeVil is gonna be?” He ran a hand through his own hair, practically sick with frustration.

“Yeah, Jane said he was pretty pissed off. All of them actually - said Queen Evelyn looked over and the smile on her face just dropped. Apparently King Jay almost caused a scene - the High Queen herself had to reel him in, but she wasn’t thrilled either. You know - allegedly.”

“f*ck.” He groans, low and long suffering because of course the four of them were all pissed off at him at the same time. The no touching rule was put into effect immediately after he and Audrey had been taken into the castle full-time. It was a policy they shared with the birds - they were property of the crown and as such they were valuable, coveted and above all untouchable. Don’t go around touching other VKs without permission, go straight to one of them if the opposite happens. No exceptions. The royal court was possessive if nothing else, fiercely protective over their own, and like it or not Chad was one of theirs now.

And it just had to be his f*cking hair - probably one of the worst places she could have let her boldness lead her to explore. Chad would have honestly rather she’d grabbed him by the hand than repeatedly run her fingers through his hair. His hair was their domain, which was the very reason it was so well looked after. In captivity his hair had grown long and wild. With none of the typical products he used to keep them shiny and bouncy, it had grown dull and matted. Once he was released, he was given hair product again, but he'd been instructed by Evie not to cut it. In fact, the queen spent plenty of time checking on the state of his hair - asking him questions about his old routine, giving him potions for damage reduction, having him switch products when they weren't giving her the desired effect and going as far as to take notes in a physical journal about his progress. Audrey had a good chunk of hers cut off right after they'd been let out of their cell - leaving it shoulder length - but was given otherwise similar surveillance and maintenance with the added condition that she wasn't allowed to straighten out her natural curl pattern anymore. Something about heat damage. He'd chalked it up to her wanting to thoroughly erase the markings of captivity from their person - it was supposed to be a secret that they'd been held in the castle after all, they were supposed to be spokesmen for the people.

He knew now it was because they'd always planned on keeping him and Audrey - or at least they'd planned to for a very long time. It was one of the first markers of control they'd planted.

He still wasn't permitted to cut his own hair. Evie would give him a trim when his split ends got bad, but that was rare considering the extensive hair care routine she had them on. Their bathroom was crammed with so many oils, potions and creams between the two of them it was absurd. He had the longest hair after Doug - who didn't cut his hair because of dwarfian traditions and had the genetic advantage. It took a little getting used to seeing as he'd never kept his hair past shoulder length before, but he didn't mind it nearly enough to bother arguing about it. He kinda liked it if he was honest. The long hair suited him, similar to how the mid length did Audrey many favors.

His villainous overlords f*cking loved it.

Evie loved to sit him down and work the oils into his hair herself, scratching gently at his scalp and muttering how pretty he was. Something about not having access to real dolls on the Isle. Not with hair she could brush and style like his. Jay liked to rest his hand at the nape of his neck and let his fingers wander up into his hair - to lead him down a hallway, or keep him still so he didn't fidget in a meeting, even just a present reminder who was in charge when they cuddled or kissed. Carlos was obsessed with grabbing handfuls of his hair and pulling. It started in captivity - as a way to grab his attention or force eye contact or correct a behavioral problem - and never really stopped. He'd grab a good handful at the root and tug him like he was on a leash, even if he hadn’t particularly done anything to displease him. In his gentler moods, he'd scratch at his scalp or run his fingers through his hair. Chad learned to enjoy both sides of the coin.

Even Mal liked to bury her fingers in his roots and rest her hand at the top of his head when he was sitting at a low enough vantage point. Which was often - he was rarely afforded a chair outside of mealtimes and meetings, and even the latter was sometimes spent with him sitting idly on the floor. Her nails were too sharp for her to idly scratch at his scalp like the others, if she didn't focus on the task at hand she'd surely draw blood from him - which thankfully she wanted to avoid if not for Evie's sake. So her hand just sat there. Chad suspected she just liked the contrast of his pale soft blond hair and her pitch black nails, sharp as a blade and weapons in their own right. She probably also liked the fact that Chad was able to even remotely relax while she had such dangerous wares so close to such a vulnerable part of his body. Trust, power, control. More of the same sh*t.

They were so persnickety about how he touched his own damn hair he couldn't so much as pick the style of rubber band he was permitted to use, and this random f*cking D list menace with a twangy accent was sticking her grubby fingers into it and as if that wasn't insulting enough, she was throwing unoriginal, painfully unfunny sex jokes his way while she did it.

If they didn't kill him, he was going to kill her.

“It had to be the hair.” Audrey voices exactly what he was internally bemoaning. She had plenty of experience in the VK’s odd hair fixation, though she wasn't getting yanked around quite so much thankfully. Not by her hair anyway.

“She could have kissed me and it would've been more preferable.” He says.

“Oh, you're so dramatic Chadwick.” He gave a vague grunt of concession and directed his attention back to scrubbing her clean. It was much less stressful.

The silence between them was familiar and weighty, but not uncomfortable. There was a mountain of things left unsaid - fear, uncertainty, frustration and wisps of resentment all conveyed by a brief moment of eye contact and an audible release of breath. It was a well practiced dance the two of them perfected, from even before this whole mess. Being a royal meant learning how to hide in plain sight, how to communicate without a word. It meant knowing how to adapt.

Just his luck that he would be stripped of his status, title, properties, assets, home and dignity, and yet still have to traverse the nightmare that was the political-sphere.

The last of the purple came away under his patient fingers, and his hands continued in their ministrations despite the fact. Usually this is where it would stop. As lovely as it sounded to scrub your lover clean, it was an entirely inefficient process once you moved past the torso area. They had two separate towels for a reason - this is where they were supposed to step back and diverge. Make some casual conversation, bitch about their days, make appreciative comments on their naked bodies that were only gaining more muscle by the day. But today wasn't a usual day. And they weren't talking.

So instead Chad pays his compliments silently, with the slow slide of his sud slick hands, deliberately covering every inch of her torso he could reach. He trails fingers over the taunt lines of her stomach, over the curve of her hips, and then back up tracing her waist. He makes certain not to miss a spot - as fun as this little game was she'd be pissed off if he did all this and never actually got her clean. She was vocal about her appreciation, humming in contentment under his attention.

She didn't turn when he'd touched every inch of skin in his immediate line of sight. She raises an eyebrow, a little smirk on her face. Never one to back down to a challenge, he crowds even closer into her space, pulling her body flush to his and reaching around to clean her back, peppering kisses to her neck and jawline. Audrey's hand was at the nape of his neck, her grip firm but not rough, her fingers venturing into his hair. Her acrylics felt nice.

After the entire expanse of her back and shoulders was covered in suds, Chad pulled back enough to face her. He glanced down and then back up. He co*cked his head to the side. Audrey smiled, and then she nodded.

“Go ahead baby.”

Chad smiled back at her, perfectly content for just a moment to stare in the face of the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The reason his heart beats was standing right in front of him, nude and damp and willing to have him despite everything. For just a moment, he wondered at his luck. And then he lowered himself down, kneeled in front of her and dove face first into his favorite distraction.

When he'd lapped up every last sound Audrey was willing to offer him, he made quick and gentle work of cleaning up behind himself.

Stepping out of the shower broke whatever miraculous spell giving him the energy to stand. As soon as the soles of his feet touched the plush bath mat he was boneless, the night of music, alcohol and stress finally weighing down on him. Audrey tutted softly, supporting his weight while they staggered to the mirror. She sat him down on the bench, draping a towel around his shoulders for his hair to drip on and doing the same for her own.

She hummed a soft tune that sounded suspiciously like her mother's old song while she took two cotton pads, soaked them both in oil based cleanser and took to their faces with it. The make up came away easily, if not a bit messily. He had gold and blue in wild streaks across his face. Audrey had a blotchy red and purple mess. She repeated the process, completely undeterred. When most of their faces were streak free she tossed the cotton pads, and began to lather her hands in foaming cleanser.

“Close your eyes, love.” She had barely let him follow the prompt before she was rubbing the sudsy solution into his skin in circular motions. She resumed her humming. He relaxed into her hands. This was familiar - her soft hands making patterns on his cheeks, her melodic voice taking root in the forefront of his mind, even the skincare he was used to. Evie gave them a potion to promote clear skin that they took every other morning - it tasted vile and had a sickly pink hue, but he'd taken worse - though effective, it could only do so much at the dosage they were taking, and if they took any more the side effects would start outweighing the benefit. Thus they were required to supplement with an extensive skincare routine.

Audrey applied the toners, creams and oils with practiced efficiency and gentle care, then repeated the process on her own face. Their haircare routines were totally different - Chad didn't have a drop of melanin in his body and with the ban on straightening her natural 3c hair, Audrey had about 6 products she used that would absolutely ruin his curl pattern but only seemed to strengthen hers. Regardless, he knew every step of hers, and she knew every step of his, so she had no problem completing them both within the span of a very impressive fifteen minutes.

He had just enough strength in him to conserve the dignity to dry his own body, but it was Audrey who guided his legs into his satin sleep shorts - which he really thinks he only has because Jay was a massive pervert - and Audrey who has to shimmy a shirt over his head.

He holds his own toothbrush to wash the taste of alcohol off his breath and then he kisses her until his head swims.

“Alright.” She chuckles, her palm resting gently on his chest. “To bed. We have a very interesting day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Interesting.” He repeats dryly, letting himself get hauled to his feet once again. “That's one way to put it.”

In bed he draws her to his chest so urgently she may as well be air. “I think,” he wets his lips, frowning into her hair. “I think that I love them. The royal court.”

“Me too.” She whispers into his shirt, fingers tracing gentle patterns across his chest.

“Actually, like really love them. Isn't that so f*cked up?”

“Yeah.” She agrees. “But I think we were always doomed to. They always get what they want.”

He can't keep the awe out of his voice. “And they wanted us.”

They fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and sheets, her face tucked into the crook of his neck. It was a peaceful sleep.

—-----

The next morning he was much less tired and much more sober, which unfortunately meant the full weight of yesterday's train wreck was finally able to rest squarely on his head. His head that he wants to bash repeatedly into the tiled walls of the shower until the white meat peeks through and his liquefied brains slosh around in his skull. He bravely ignores the urge, groaning softly as he rolls out of bed and pads over to their shared vanity to kiss an already awake, already very beautiful Audrey.

“I was going to wake you soon.” She says in lieu of good morning. “I figured you deserved to sleep last night off a bit.”

To sleep last night off he'd have to fall under Maleficent's curse himself. “Thanks love.” He says instead of saying so. He figures it wouldn't go over well.

She tips her head back so he can kiss her, and he does. Softly once on the lips, chaste so she doesn't have to endure morning breath. Then again on her forehead. She rights herself, already halfway through her makeup routine, but she isn't looking at herself in the mirror. They're making careful eye contact in the reflection.

“You're okay?” She asks tentatively, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Terrified actually.” He answers, feeling particularly truthful this morning. “There's this expansive black hole of apprehension and cold dead fear growing in my stomach as we speak.” He gives her outfit a once over. Ruby red and navy blue, her earrings a sparkling gold. “I should rep the dragon today.”

“You should.” She agrees. She's trying really hard not to allow her face to betray how worried she is. It almost works - would work for anyone who knew her less. Anyone but him.

“No point putting it off.” He sighs, rolling his shoulders, kissing her one last time, this time on the top of her head, and then making his way to the bathroom. His morning breath must really be killer after a night like that.

He feels a little more human and a little less melodramatic once he brushes his teeth, washes his face and does something decent with his hair. He's decided to let it fall naturally down his shoulders, only adjusting it with a few bobby pins so it framed his face better. He'd briefly considered putting it up, but he quickly dismissed the thought just as soon as it arrived. His hair would be pulled this morning, he was certain of it, and he'd very much like to avoid being dragged around the castle by a ponytail if he could help it. Even the bobby pins were at the risk of being torn out and lost to time forever, so he'd used plain ones instead of any decorative ones he'd been gifted.

It was a shame really, playing into Evie's odd doll fixation would be pretty useful at the moment.

The goal for today's outfit is ass kissing, to an absolutely, undeniably, bordering on desperately shameless degree. Was it pathetic? Obviously. But that wasn't going to stop him from catering to as many of their weird little quirks and preferences as possible - not when it had such a brilliant track record of lessening his consequences. He opts for black leather pants instead of khaki, despite the fact that he literally has to jump to get material over his thighs. Mal and Evie always talked about him looking delectable in tight leather, so gets a pair as tight as he can manage without hindering himself during training, which would not only piss Carlos off, but also put him at a dangerous disadvantage. Ben had a nasty right hook with all that beastly strength, and they weren't allowed to hold back. Plain black tank top today - tight to his frame with the added benefit of no sleeves so that his tattoo is proudly on display like the brand it was. There's been a couple times where he'd been made to pull his sleeves up to show off the mark of the dragon, and they all seemed pleased whenever he would wear something that cut out the middle man. After the resentment wore off he could admit it was a pretty cool tat all things considered - Mal was a talented artist, the colors were vibrant and the linework was flawless. Keeping in line with the theme, the vest he selects is a deep purple with striking green claw marks curving around his sides. The leather of the vest sinks in where the claw design is, and the green underneath sparkles in a way that almost looks like the emerald glow of Mal's magic. It's a custom piece that Evie made herself.

Next comes accessories. A pair of silver earrings shaped like bones that he was ninety eight percent sure Carlos gifted him just to humiliate him, but he wore semi-frequently anyway because the tech genius seemed to get a sick kick out of it and Chad was starving for any drop of approval he could get from the man. He had another pair, gifted about a month and some change later that looked similar save for a cluster of small shimmering ruby shards that made the bone look like it had been freshly ripped from its suffering victim, but that also meant they were subsequently both more expensive and more thoughtful than the last pair. They likely had to be commissioned, and Chad found himself weirdly touched by the gift, seeing it as a sort of odd stamp of approval. Like he'd been promoted from something to be displayed to something to be shown off. The only reason he didn’t wear those today is because they didn't match his outfit.

Necklaces were a no-go outside of parties and ceremonies - they were too easy to grab and Chad wasn't nearly trained enough to defend himself in the case of a terrifyingly likely attempt on his life. Chokers were usually fine, and Chad did have a few, but that came with the same apprehension as the ponytail fiasco, except being led around by a band snaking around his neck sounded even more mortifying . He slid on the fingerless gloves that Jay loved so much, a handful of rings and a couple of bracelets Evie had gifted him, including the one embedded with Mal's magic that alerted them if he was to ever be in danger or try to leave the castle.

“You look hot.” Audrey hums after she herds him away from the closet and onto the bench in front of their vanity. She hadn't said a word as she wordlessly began his makeup routine, and he'd been both helpless and unwilling to stop her. She's currently using an impressively steady hand to carefully pencil eyeliner along his waterline. He knows how to do it himself, but that's besides the point. He's pretty sure Audrey just wants an excuse to touch his face - to remember he's here and unharmed - and he's more than happy to let her.

“So do you.” He smiles despite himself because she really does. She's wearing blue leather pants with a detachable trim that flares behind her like a skirt, colored a stunning deep red. Her shirt is the same dark blue as the pants, decorated with zippers and buttons, the only spec of red being a sole poison apple motif sitting right above the breast pocket. It's so tight it looks like it needed to be poured on her. “You look like you really want a certain Queen to kiss you.”

Audrey glares, but she's also blushing, which is adorable so he can't manage to be too intimidated. “And you look like you want a replica of those claw marks down your back.”

“The vibe I was going for is ‘I'm sorry someone touched me, but trust me I remember I'm yours, you make it pretty damn hard to forget’.” He flashes her a smile that he knows doesn't quite reach his eyes. “But I wouldn't mind what you said.”

She kisses him, slightly more indulgent now that his breath smelled like mint instead of stale booze and regret. “I’m sure they'll be much too enticed to be mad.”

Evidently Audrey is not in a very honest mood this morning. They'd seen first hand that the High Court of Auradon were quite capable of being both enticed and incredibly pissed off. Chad ignores that in favor of another kiss.

No sooner than the mascara had been capped was there a knock at their door. Chad raised an eyebrow. Knocking meant there was a bird at the door - he couldn't remember the last time a VK knocked.

“It's unlocked.” Calls Audrey as she pushes to her feet. At her acknowledgement the door opens up to Jane, who smiles warmly at them both. Chad exhales.

“Morning Audrey, morning Chad.” She waves, taking a moment to look them both over appraisingly. “You both look like total smokeshows. I'm glad you're dressed. I've been sent to escort you.”

And to think this fae was once shy. He can't help but chuckle. “Just let me finish this up and I'll be set.”

Jane's smile faltered, something veering dangerously close to pity in her eyes. Her magic started to send waves of calm through the air, already attempting to soothe them. “They actually only sent me for Audrey. They want you to wait here.”

His heart stopped beating. “Oh.”

“I'll stay here too then.” Audrey says immediately, her posture already stiff and determined.

Jane frowned. Her obvious displeasure leaked into her magical signature, contradicting the calm she was trying to encourage until it soured over to intense unease. Immediately she fixes her mistake, but her frown remains.

“Yeah, I guess it's not surprising you'd say that. Look Audrey, I'll level with you. I'm under orders to leave this room with you in tow and not to let Chad follow. And I like you, I really really do, but not enough to disobey a direct order.”

“I understand your allegiance to your duty.” Audrey concedes. She doesn't sound even angry, just very driven, which is scarier in his experience. “And my allegiance is to Chad. I won't just leave him and you can't make me.”

“I can.” Jane says very matter-of-factly, though there's empathy in her eyes. “I'm the most powerful light fae of our time, and I'm apprenticing under the most powerful dark fae of our time. I was pretty good at getting what I want before, but with my magic in tact and unrestrained, my powers of persuasion are strong enough to get you to take a nosedive into a volcano with a smile on your face. I can make you leave if I really want to.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. She was so small and yet just brimming with dangerous, gorgeous magic. If Chad were more mentally stable he'd find it unnerving. As it stands he just found her beautiful. It was becoming a pattern at this point. “I just really don't want to. And I don't think you want to spend breakfast too doped up on magic to even remember his name, much less how he might need you after all is said and done.”

“It's that bad?” The words are steam rolling out of his mouth before he can even think. The calming suggestive was really doing its job, but unfortunately that meant it was also dropping the walls he usually built around himself. He was lucky to be able to trust Jane, magic like this would be devastating to an enemy. “Are they that angry?”

The pitying look is back again. “They're…they aren't thrilled Chad, but they aren't exactly fuming. I've seen them way angrier.”

“How comforting.” He bites his lip. The magic gets stronger, lapping gently at his mind seemingly asking permission to be let through. He relaxes into it, inviting it in and finds he has the ability to take a deep breath again. “You have to go with her Auds. There's no getting around it.”

Audrey's frown deepens. “But-”

“She can make you. She will if she has to, and none of us want that. One of them will probably come get me after a while. For lunch or something.”

“They won't make you skip breakfast.” Jane says, sounding pretty sure of herself. “I heard them discussing you earlier, and High Queen Maleficent spoke of talking to you this morning when she sees you. She's got back to back meetings right after breakfast so if you're made to skip she won't actually see you until well past noon. She usually says what she means when it comes to that sort of thing y’know?”

Well at least there's that. Despite the anxiety gnawing at his gut like a wild animal he was absolutely starving, and he was wholly unaccustomed to skipping meals now after so long with good behavior. He would put on a brave face for Audrey, but he was pretty sure his stomach would eat himself if he'd earned himself a morning without breakfast.

And that anxiety was rising as he watched Audrey and Jane face off, all hard lines and clenched fists, magic like gentle rainfall filling the room, the familiar feeling of it crawling up his back and leaving warmth in its wake. Her magical signature was swelling, an intimidation technique not unlike Mal and her staring contests. Audrey did not falter. An unstoppable force against an immovable object. Audrey was the strongest woman he knew, for as long as he could remember. She was bold, bordering on brazen, stubborn as a mule, calm and collected under pressure, clever and witty, always one step ahead of everyone. A lesser woman would have crumbled under all she's been through; a loving but absent father, a mother so lost in her own mind she couldn’t bother with her own child, a grandmother with mile high expectations and a cruel tongue. She'd carried all that, along with the weight of two kingdoms on her shoulders, only for it all to be ripped away, for her to spend endless months in cold dark solitude and still come out of it just as fierce. She was f*cking amazing.

And then there was Jane. Who had always been too driven for her own good, and more clever than anyone would ever give her credit for. Jane who decided early in the game, years ago, that she was sick of living in the shadows, of hiding away her nature, who had always been kind, but was tired of being nice. She'd carved out a place for herself in this new world order, not long after Ben and much more intentionally than the half-beast could ever manage. Jane had proven herself to be strong, powerful, and most surprisingly, the tiny fae with the soft spoken shy demeanor and conservative bob he once knew had proven herself to be ruthless. Chad had watched the change before his very eyes, had seen what she was capable of. Had watched her drive a man mad without even touching him, seen her magic kill. Jane was terrifying and yet she was brave, she was beautiful, she was kind. And unlike her mentor, Jane was no sad*st.

It was the fae who ended up breaking the tense staring contest, smiling softly and extending a hand. “I really don't want to force your hand Audrey. I feel like it would ruin this thing we're starting to have, and I'd hate that. I've really enjoyed getting to know you again. I know you want Chad to be safe. I do too. It's hard to believe it at first I know, but the High Court has our best interest at heart. They won't throw anything his way that he can't handle - if you can't trust them yet, at least trust Chad. We both know he's the most resilient, unshakable man to ever step out of Charmaine.”

He was pretty sure she was giving him far too much credit, but he wisely kept that to himself. Jane flexed her fingers, alight with the gentle blue glow of her magic. It was shimmery, reflective in the light as it danced in her hand, absolutely mesmerizing. Apparently it was even prettier to fae and other magical folk; the human eye was simply not complex enough to witness its true form. Despite being unable to look away from it, Chad couldn't feel it. Usually this close up, when the magic was corporal enough to see he wouldn't be able to think straight anymore, if he could even manage a thought at all. Jane was dampening the effects. She was offering a choice.

“It won't make you forget him.” Jane explained. “It won't even make you forget the trouble he's in. It'll just make the fear easier to cope with until he's in your line of sight again. You'll be calm enough to eat your breakfast, and listen to the morning gossip. And you don't have to take my hand if you don't want to - I just want to make you feel better.” Her gaze shifted slightly, to something more stern than understanding. “But you do have to come with me.”

He can see Audrey's resolve faltering at the sincerity. Her eyes flicker back to his and he gives her a small smile. “It's okay Audrey. I'm not ready anyway. You'll see me soon, it's not a crime to calm down. I promise.”

She releases a breath, like his permission was lifting a weight off her shoulders. Her hand shakes a bit as she places it in Jane's, who pretends not to notice. Immediately Audrey's shoulders untense, and her other hand, which was previously balled tight in a fist, falls limp at her side. Her frown remains.

“I'll see you soon.” She repeats. Thankfully she sounds like she believes herself. She turns her head back to Jane and offers a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Jane says with a degree of seriousness that again makes him thank his lucky stars she was on their side for the millionth time. She gives him an apologetic look. “Once I get far enough away my suggestive magic will stop working on you. I'm still not the best at making it stick to a person once they leave my presence. I wish I could help more.”

“You've helped plenty, Jane.” He says, a familiar fondness in his chest. “I'll see you at breakfast.”

The girls shut the door behind them as they go, leaving him alone to his eyeshadow and thoughts. He counts to a hundred and five before he feels Jane's magic drop all at once, and he manages a smile through his first shaky inhale. She beat her previous record by about fifteen seconds. He hopes he can remember to let her know when he sees her later.

Breathing quickly becomes laborious as her warmth and peace leave him. He has to fight with his lungs to intake air, his brain full of static as the urge to dissociate crashes into him like an ocean wave. His limbs feel heavy and leaden, his eyes sting. He puts his face in his hand, leans his elbows against the vanity and makes himself breathe. Count and breathe. In and out. Nice and slow.

Jane was right - which was equal parts comforting and horrifying. They wouldn't inflict something on him he couldn't recover from. Not fundamentally at least. Whatever this was, he would get through it. And then he would find that dumb bitch with the tacky drawl and string her up by her teeth for getting him into this mess.

Light, when did his thoughts become so violent?

He's not sure how much time goes by before he's finally able to get his brain to make that grim promise so he can pick up a brush and finish his makeup, but he figures it must have been a little while. He emphasizes his black eyeliner with a dark blue shimmery eyeshadow - usually the one bit of individuality he was allowed, seeing as he was an official accessory. His hand barely shakes at all when he puts the brush back down. He crosses his legs. He waits.

It's not long at all before he hears a knock at the door, and he has just enough time to stand and wonder if a heart really could beat out of one's chest before he realizes.

A knock?

Confusion quickly outweighs fear when he opens the door to a sheepishly concerned Ben. Exasperation soon follows. “I'm not going to let you get in trouble just to check on me Ben.” He says, trying not to sound annoyed as he attempts to shut the door in the idiot's face.

Ben's arm comes to stop the door - not his foot because that would be too efficient and make too much sense and Ben could do neither of those things lest he combust - and Chad just barely manages to halt its momentum in time. “I'm here under orders.” He promises. Chad heaves a sigh as he opens the door wide again. He really isn't sure he could handle beautiful morons with a nasty habit of making his heart rate increase in this condition. “I'm just worried.”

“Right. Sorry, there's been a lot of martyrdom in this palace lately.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing one foot over the other. “You're here to, uh, what exactly? Escort me to my cell, deliver my eggs and oatmeal?”

Ben winces and Chad tries not to feel like the scum of the earth. He's not very successful. “No, to take you to breakfast.”

Chad blinks, reminding himself that it's quite rude to stare blankly at your childhood crush, even though he's pretty sure that's what he's doing anyway. “And that's it?”

“That's it.” Ben says, looking similarly unsure. “That's all they told me to do at least.”

“That.” Chad eyes dart past Ben, into the hallway as if he expects Mal to be waiting there. “That doesn't sound….right.”

Ben has the common sense to look equally put off. “Yeah, I'm not sure why they haven't…but hey let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, right?”

Chad was really missing alcohol at the moment. He sighs. “Right. Okay, Benny.” He decides to spend his last moments on this earthly plane being bold, looping his arm with Ben's and relishing the warmth that follows. “Let's go to breakfast.”

Ben chuckles, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Chad's face immediately heats by about a hundred degrees and the jerk has the nerve to look pleased with himself. “Let's.”

The castle is buzzing with life as they traverse the halls. The VKs are throwing some sort of festival, some kind of Isle tradition that he knows nothing about and tries not to worry himself with. Staff are working overtime tending to visiting guests, and making sure said guests aren't stealing anything too expensive. Ben takes him down a less traveled route, which he's infinitely grateful for, all things considered. Though he can hear some clamoring throughout the castle, he barely has to see anybody.

Between the lack of villainous voyeurs, and the warm press of Ben's bare bicep on his, his anxiety was starting to subside a bit. Perhaps he could avoid any serious consequences of last night's blunder until after breakfast. Mal would sneer at his direction, give a lecture about following orders and tap him on the wrist. It would be fine. He could at least have a final meal.

That pipedream died the moment he saw Jay and Carlos swaggering down the hall, unmistakably headed right towards them. Jay was smirking. Carlos was scowling. Chad cursed under his breath.

Ben tightened his grip just a fraction despite his attempt at a disarming smile. “Is breakfast over already?”

“Nah, we just missed our boys.” Jay winks, barely even glancing at Ben. His eyes rake across Chad's body, and suddenly he feels exposed. He knows he's blushing, and despite being thoroughly mortified he doesn't move to cover anything. Jay's eyes linger on Chad and Ben's linked arms, and then again on the fingerless gloves. Somehow his smirk widens.

“You can go Ben.” Carlos says simply, his eyes also zeroed in on their linked arms. “We can walk him to breakfast.”

“I can walk with y’all, I really don't mind.” Ben tried, going for casual despite the tension in his shoulders.

“We want a word with our pretty boy for a second.” Jay says in a tone that suggests way more than a word will be had. “We'll bring him by after.”

“But-”

“You're dismissed, Ben.” Carlos says, his voice not quite cold, but definitively firm. It surely leaves no room for negotiation.

“Okay then.” Ben deflates. Chad tries not to collapse to the ground once Ben is no longer touching him. He'll have plenty of time for pathetic shows of weakness in about three minutes he figures. Ben, for his credit, also looks like the breach in contact physically pains him. He squeezes his shoulder once before stepping away. “I'll see you soon.”

“Okay.” He's appalled by how scared he sounds. Honestly this was nothing compared to what he had faced - this wasn't even his fault. Which he could simply explain, with a few well placed tears and flowery words about how it just felt so wrong having someone else touch him. He was not above playing weepy damsel.

He watched Ben's back as he left, the shining example of a successfully executed weepy damsel. Being in towns and cities during his tour, he heard a lot of things. His job was to sway public opinion after all, and he was good at his job, so he knew all about the things people said. Ben was stupid, naive, love drunk and blind. He was cowardly and weak, this simpering little puppy dragging at the heels of these powerful figures. It was all wrong.

Ben had always been good at manipulation. The best manipulators manage to avoid a reputation of being one after all. Ben could cry on cue, could spin a tall tale without even flinching, hell Ben's whole campaign had been carefully constructed to get people to like him. If the general public thought that Benjamin Florian genuinely enjoyed setting up shop in crowded cafes and reading poetry, just to end up flocked with suitors and coat riders flinging himself at him they were sorely mistaken.

And if Mal and the others thought that clever instinct just went away because Ben loved them, then they were fools.

It's Carlos who approaches him first, mouth pulled into a tight line as he stalks forward. Jay lingers back to hug the other wall and watch his demise with a smug smirk. Chad backs up until he hits the wall and he realizes he can't get any further back, feeling very much like a cornered animal at the moment. Carlos doesn't slow, advancing until there’s only a couple feet between them.

“Sit down.” He says simply.

“What?” Chad's eyes dart around the hall, looking for some context even as his body was already sinking to the floor because as much as he seldom understood Carlos’ orders, he disobeyed them even less. He's still just as confused when his ass hits the ground. The leather doesn't do much to protect him from the chill of the castle floor, and he has to crane his head up to look at his terrifying ruler for further instruction, which might be the whole point.

“Stand up.”

And his confusion expands tenfold. VKs were allergic to making sense, they repelled logic like water on oil. They got off on confusing him, they had to.

He doesn't voice his very valid concerns that Carlos had finally completed the cycle and taken after his mother in her madness because he likes his life. He does raise an eyebrow as he rises to stand on shaky legs though, because he always did bear the curse of expressive features. It was terribly inconvenient when you were scheming and lying all the time like he used to, but he'd managed pretty well.

He doesn't even rise to his full height for a full two seconds before he gets the monotone order to sit again. He complies with no further questions. He's told to stand again and he begins to wonder if this tedious one man human seesaw is his punishment. That would really suck.

The second his back is straight again, Carlos raises his own eyebrow. “Oh, so you do know how to follow orders.” He says. Neither of them acknowledge the snorting laughter from Jay's end, but he does take a minute to worry that this would not be the usual good cop bad cop situation. This was looking suspiciously and terrifyingly like a bad cop bad cop thing and Chad was feeling woefully unequipped.

His back slams against the wall before he can even process Carlos had moved at all, all the air snatched from his lungs with a groan. His head hits the wall hard enough for him to wince in pain, but not so hard he fears brain damage, which means that Carlos was definitely holding back. The man wanted to scare him more than he wanted to hurt him. Still Chad winces, bracing himself for a strike that never comes. Instead when he pries his eyes open he's met with Carlos’ now scowling face an inch away from his. He'd usually have to look down to see Carlos. Despite being strong, lithe and overall terrifying, Carlos DeVil was still shorter than him. However the shorter man had taken a liking to platform shoes lately, and Chad was currently cowering so they were pretty much face to face. Carlos had his forearm pressed firmly into Chad's windpipe, the muscle tense enough to make him anxiously unsure if the pressure would increase.

He smells nice, like sandalwood and something expensive. Evie picks his cologne.

“Do we have to spray paint ‘property of the crown’ across your f*cking forehead, Charming?” Carlos sounds calm, which is never a good sign in Chad's opinion.

Chad swallows around nothing. “Could've sworn you etched it into my shoulder already, Your Majesty.”

Carlos glances down at the dragon tattoo sitting proudly on his shoulder, then back again. “You think you're funny.” It's not a question.

“Usually you also think so, Sir.” Which is true, but unsurprisingly Carlos is not in the mood to be reminded of the fact. The pressure on his neck gets strong enough that he has to fight to get air in his lungs and he very wisely decides it's time for him to stop opening his f*cking mouth because apparently he had some sort of masoch*stic subconscious death wish. Somewhere behind them, Jay laughs again, much louder than last time. At least one person still thinks he's funny, too bad the person in question is a massive dick.

“Usually you're not whoring yourself out to the first eager bitch to bat their eyes at you.” Carlos sounds like he was one more clever quip away from letting go of the last shred of self restraint he had and crushing Chad's windpipe. He also sounds dead f*cking serious, like he hadn’t just said the most absurd thing Chad has ever heard in all of his unfortunate years of living.

He's done a lot of things under this new world order; he's lied, stolen, manipulated, and hurt too many people to even count at this point - he'd done anything he needed to do to complete the task he was given, to survive. But Chad Charming had never stooped so low as to whor*. Not unless you count his desperate bids for approval from the very four people who tormented and imprisoned him, but he tries not to think about that too often. He can’t hide the look of utter offense on his face. Jay snickers.

Chad has enough survival instinct to tamper down his immediate response - “Are you f*cking serious?” - and remember that his quality of life directly depends on him minding his manners. “She came onto me, Sir. Not the other way around.” She also wasn't the first to bat her eyes, just the most obnoxious. He doesn't say because he values his safety.

“You let her touch you.” It's an accusation more than a statement.

“What the f*ck was I supposed to do about it?” He says before his brain can catch up with his mouth. f*ck. “Respectfully, Sir I couldn't really -”

His backpedaling is cut off completely and abruptly, right along with his ability to breathe as Carlos presses harder. He's not even scowling as he chokes the life out of Chad. He's the very picture of calm, except his eyes which reflect the steely anger Chad knows is brewing inside. Carlos’ temper was notoriously short, his anger notoriously deadly and as Chad's eyesight begins to dim around the edges he wonders if his smart mouth had finally led to him becoming a cautionary tale that mothers whispered to their children about the king’s ire.

Carlos grabs a handful of blond hair in the same moment that he lets his forearm off of Chad's neck. Which hurts - he registers somewhere mildly in the back of his head - but he doesn't mind too much, as he's much too busy gulping in greedy mouthfuls of air to fill his burning lungs. Carlos flicks his hand around so his hair wraps around his fingers which tighten and yank, forcing Chad's head closer to his own and making him hiss at the familiar pain. The bobby pins in his hair clatter to the ground, officially lost.

“I'm sorry.” He gasps, fighting the urge to reach up and try to lessen the grip on his curls. He knows from experience it will only make Carlos pull harder.

“You like to piss me off don't you?” The calm does not reach Carlos’ voice. “Huh?”

“No!” He insists. Carlos’ fingers twist again and he cries out. “I don't, I promise I don't.”

“You do. You have to, it's the only explanation. You get off on pissing me the f*ck off Charming, that's why you do it so f*cking often.”

Chad doesn't reply - has figured out he wasn't meant to. Carlos wasn't interested in an explanation from him, he was interested in him taking a verbal lashing. Which was much preferable to any physical punishment he could think up, so he considered himself lucky in a f*cked up kind of way.

“You let her put her f*cking hands on my property.” Carlos says, moving his hand from the back of his head to the front. He runs his fingers through the section of hair that hangs closest to his face - the hair she'd touched. “I am restraining myself right now. I'd like to kick the sh*t out of you for your f*cking ineptitude and your bratty attitude. But I'm not going to.”

Unsurprisingly, Carlos tugs on the hair he was previously running his fingers through. “I'm not even going to cut this off. I want to, and you deserve it. But luckily for you Scout, I'm reluctant to f*ck up Evie's little dolly, so I'll let it slide this once.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He says because he's supposed to. This pleases Carlos enough that he stops pulling and goes back to playing in his hair instead. He guides Chad's head from side to side and he lets him, calming his breathing in the process. Carlos is staring at him, a look of quiet consideration on his face. Chad had seen him stare at blueprints and legislation drafts the same exact way before and he's torn between being unsettled at the scrutiny and some sick sense of pride at being important enough to scrutinize.

“I'm dyeing it black.” Carlos says finally. He tugs lightly on the hair still in his hand, just enough to grab attention, not enough to hurt. “And I'm dying this red. You let someone else touch it and I'll burn it off, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good.” He drops the hair, looking Chad over once again. He scoffs. “Jay. Get your boy before I get him. I'm not in the mood to play nice right now.”

And with that he stalks off, presumably to join the others at the breakfast table. Chad takes a shuddering breath in and releases it slowly. That was Carlos playing nice. He hates that he knows it's the truth, and not some wild exaggeration meant to scare him. That could have gone so much worse - he expected it to go so much worse.

He rests his head against the stone wall, taking deep breaths and looking up at the high ceilings. Mal had murals painted on them around the three month mark, he remembers Jay coming to his cell and telling him about it. Grand illustrations of important milestones of history, both light and dark. The one directly above him is a swirling portrait detailing the end result of Mal and Maleficent's mighty face-off. Mal with her eyes glowing green, standing victorious with her mother's head in her hands, holding it up by the horns. It was just as beautiful as it was gory.

He doesn’t bother to move from his spot, he can feel Jay's weighty gaze, the way his eyes meticulously drag up his body. He'll inevitably just end up crowded up against the wall again anyway. He was perfectly content at the moment to stand there and let Jay stare at him for as long as the thief deemed necessary. Tendrils of excitement are snaking their way up his spine and he tries to tamper them before it shows up on his face and Jay pounces on the weakness.

Jay finally breaks the silence with a low whistle of appreciation. “Well don't you just look edible.” His boots are heavy, they make dull thuds as he advances on him. “Apology is a good look on you, Scout. Too bad you're in the doghouse right now, I'd love to reward you for looking this good.”

Chad takes one more deep breath to steel his nerve before he rights his gaze once again so he can look Jay in the face. He instantly regrets his decision when he sees the hunger in the agrahben man's face. He feels absolutely pinned in place under such a hot gaze and he can already feel blood rushing to his cheeks. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Kiss ass.” Jay laughs, and even that is attractive because he's an insufferable bastard, and really dealing with this is a punishment enough in Chad's opinion. Everything else is most certainly overkill.

“Proper form for someone in the doghouse.” Carlos may not appreciate his attitude, but Jay always had. And Jay liking his attitude was one of the primary reasons Chad was still alive to be in trouble in the first place, so he indulged the thief in banter whenever he could get away with it. He was grateful to be able to keep that piece of his true self.

“And you were doing so good before last night.” Jay fakes a pout that quickly rights itself into a smirk as he stops a couple inches from Chad. He's so close Chad can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He has to look up slightly to meet his eyes, and that alone makes him a little weak in the knees, especially because he could smell the cologne on him. Different than Carlos’, more woody and amber forward. That and he's wearing a compression top because he's not yet dressed for the day - he doesn't have to be when he's the king - so his arms are bare and he basically looks like walking sex. It's unfair for him to look like that while talking to him like this. Utterly unfair.

Jay, who has never cared about fairness a day in his life, raises a hand to Chad's face, brushing his thumb over his jawline with a smug glint in his eyes. “You can never behave for too long, can you Chad? Just can't help yourself.” He mutters almost absent-mindedly, voice low. His fingers trace a gentle line up his face and then linger near his brows. Chad suppresses a shudder at the gentle touch, such a harsh juxtaposition to Carlos’ treatment just minutes ago. “What do you think about an eyebrow piercing?”

“I think I don't have a choice in the matter.” When Auradon was first taken over he had a grand total of zero piercings. His PR team had forbidden any vaguely “feminine” trait he possessed, including his affinity towards most jewelry. Earrings were completely out of the question. Jay pierced his ears the same day Mal tattooed him. The fact that he'd always wanted his ears pierced was a happy coincidence, considering Jay never once asked his opinion. Even now out of his ever-growing collection of earrings he himself had only picked three of them personally, and even then he had no money of his own so they still had to be approved for him to buy.

“You don't.” Jay nods. “But I'm nice enough to pretend to care how you feel anyway.” More like he loves hearing from his own mouth just how readily Chad will bend over backwards just to please him. “So? I think a barbell would suit you well.”

Chad wets his lips, staring up at Jay. “Silver?”

“Gold facial jewelry would wash you out.” Jay's other hand comes up to hold his jaw. Gently he moves Chad's face from side to side, and Chad lets him, silently preening under the attention. “If I want gold on your face I'll stick to the paint.”

“Sounds good.” His voice is a little raspy, he feels parched all of a sudden. “Sounds pretty. You'd know best.” Shameless pandering. Chad's not even embarrassed, doesn't really care as long as Jay keeps touching him like that.

Jay chuckles, low and mean, and Chad's heart stutters. “Anything for my attention, huh?”

Chad flushes brilliantly at being so blatantly called out, and Jay only laughs again. The fingers near his brow glide back down his face to cup his cheek. The hand holding his jaw drags down to his body torturously slow, leaving warmth in its wake and finally resting on his hip. With a firmness that never quite borders into rough, Jay leans forward and the force of his much stronger frame effectively pins Chad against the wall for the second time in the past five minutes. This is decidedly the more enjoyable time. The blood currently rushing through his veins isn't sure if it should continue pooling in his cheeks or if it has other prospects to attend further south.

“I've got you figured out, Charming. Poor thing. It's not that you're trying to piss us off, we're just not giving you enough attention, huh? That's all you want, a little bit of attention.” Jay slides his fingers under Chad's tank top, introducing his bare skin to the tips of his fingerpads. Chad's breath hitches at the contact - light as it is. “A dog that can't play gets bored, right? Restless. Do you feel restless baby?”

Jay leans down, speaking so close to his ear he can feel his warm breath on the outer shell. “Is that why you can't manage to tell greedy bitches with delusions of grandeur to keep their hands to themselves? That they shouldn't touch what's not theirs. You're ours aren't you? You're mine?”

“Yes.” He can barely get his voice above a whisper. “I'm yours.”

“So it's just the attention.” Jay leans back, but only slightly. Only enough to see his face when the thumb of the hand cupping his jaw presses gently against his bottom lip and it falls open with no resistance. Jay laughs again, then he leans down and kisses Chad so fiercely his head spins. He kisses like a brand, hot and all consuming and inescapable, and Chad loves every second of it. Air was overrated, all he wanted was Jay's mouth on his and his hands on his waist and his stupid tight compression shirt on the floor.

“We just need to give you a little more attention.” Jay breaks off long enough to say. Chad tries to chase his mouth with his own and gets Jay's thumb pressing against his bottom lip for the trouble. He lets it rest there, fighting the urge to dart his tongue out and lap at the digit because despite the heavy fog of arousal clouding his brain, he can sense the other shoe about to drop. He was in trouble after all. Most of the time Jay wouldn't even touch him when he was in trouble this deep. Something was wrong here.

“Or maybe you're getting too much attention.” Jay presses on, kissing down his jawline. “Maybe with having the cameras, and glamor and personas back, someone is getting a little too big for their britches. Maybe somewhere along the way some of that extra attention is filling your head with dangerous thoughts. Making you feel like you deserve more than you're owed. Maybe that's making you think you can entertain other people.”

“I'm not-” A well placed bite fries his brain and shuts him up, but the part of his mind that's still capable of logical thought is screaming. I'm not entertaining anyone. She entertained herself with me. If I could have pushed her away, I would have. Jay bites so hard that the skin is sure to bruise, and nothing short of a turtleneck would cover it, which he knows is the point, but Jay presses kisses to the inflamed skin afterwards in apology.

“Maybe you're so desperate to chase that extra bit of attention that you're willing to disrespect your King in order to get it. Maybe you think you can get what you need somewhere else.” When he manages to look in Jay's eyes again there's a malicious glint there that makes his heart stop. That look always meant danger. “Maybe not. Either we don't give you enough attention, or you're getting too much of it from somewhere else and it's making you think you don't need us. Either way, this problem is ending. I'm a pretty reasonable man, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I think you want to behave, Charming, I think you're just having trouble. So I'll tell you what. There are two days left of festival. When someone tries to touch you again - and they will. No VK worth their weight in salt would be able to resist someone as pretty and breakable as you, especially when they just watched some home on the range hick with balls of steel lay hands on you and get away with it.”

Chad's eyes drop to stare intently at Jay's chest, the weighty look in his eyes officially becoming too much to bear. Jay angles his face upwards, forcing eye contact once again. He looks so much taller now, it feels like he's looming over him. That probably had something to do with the way Chad was cowering. Why was this more unsettling than his interaction with Carlos?

“When it happens, you're going to put a stop to it. Nip it in the bud - I don't care how. You're a very smart pup, Scout, I'm sure you'll figure it out. If you do, I'll take you up to our room later and I'll give you so much attention your brain will melt out of your ears and your voice won't come back for a week. I'll even let you spend the night, Audrey can stay with the birds.”

“Oh.” Chad whispers dumbly. That sounded suspiciously like a reward. A very good reward, a reward he very much wanted, but a reward nonetheless. Which wasn't unheard of, he got rewards all the time - the VKs believed in positive reinforcement just as much as they did negative. But he had never been offered a reward after f*cking up, and the fact that he was getting such a perfect one offered up to him on a silver platter after the way Carlos was acting was actually f*cking terrifying.

“But if you can't manage that.” Jay's smile is sharp around the edges, that malicious glint prominent in his dark brown eyes. “Then I'm going to separate you and Audrey's rooms and place a curfew on both of you. Let's say, hm 6? 6:30 on weekends. Unless you have an event of course, I'm not unreasonable. That should cut down on some of that extra attention.”

Chad jerks immediately, trying to right his posture and get away from Jay's embrace, but the other man is bigger and stronger by miles and seems to anticipate this happening. Jay holds fast and Chad is immobilized, left to choke on his horror in stillness. He and Audrey spend the mornings together getting ready, they walk to breakfast together and then most days they're separated. The training cycle was engineered for efficiency, which meant different sparring partners every couple of days, which meant they were rarely paired together. Most of his microdosing sessions were one on one, and the ones that weren't were never spent with Audrey because it'd be inconvenient to have both dogs sick at the same time if they had adverse reactions. They saw each other at mealtimes, during interviews or public appearances and at night when they were dismissed to their room. That was it. Jay wasn't just threatening to make them sleep apart. What he was suggesting would effectively separate them. It would cut their time together by more than half, their alone time would be nonexistent.

Chad can already feel tears stinging the corner of his eyes. This was worse than any punishment he could have possibly thought of. He'd rather be beaten than have Audrey taken from him.

“Please.” His voice is this small, wet, pathetic little thing and he can't even be bothered to feel shame. “Please don't.”

“Don't cry, baby.” Jay cooes, his voice thick with theatric sympathy. The pad of his thumb moves from his lips to the corner of his eye to wipe away the tears falling slowly.

“I'm sorry.” He promises. “I'm so sorry.”

“I know.” Light, Chad is so f*cked up. He's so f*cking doomed. Jay sounds every bit like he's enjoying himself, like delivering this devastating blow to Chad's emotional state and having him reduced to tears in his arms fed a deep sad*stic part of his soul. And as much as that makes his stomach turn, all he wants is to stay here. All he wants is to melt into Jay’s arms and cry and feed right into that desire, because Jay is warm and familiar and somewhere along the way something broke inside of him and he started to consider this man safe. Jay was wiping at tears that he had caused and Chad was leaning closer like he was his lifeline.

“I know baby, you're real sorry, huh?” His voice is so soft it feels like a mockery, but Chad nods anyway, sniffling.

“I can't…” The words are stuck in his throat, his hands are shaking. He can't live apart from Audrey. He hasn't had to since he'd been locked in a cell, sure that at any moment he'd be led in front of a crowd to have his death televised.

“You won't have to if you just behave yourself.” Jay angles down to kiss him, their lips just centimeters away from each other, but he doesn't force them together. He waits. Jay has never once made Chad kiss him. It was the one thing he always had a choice about. Chad connects their lips with a desperation he hasn't known in months. Jay makes a pleased hum in the back of his throat, and it lights a fire in Chad's gut, but he just keeps pressing in like a man starved. The kiss is every bit a mark of ownership, just like the purpling bruise on his neck and the vibrant dragon on his arm, and the sparkling jewelry in his ear. And despite the fear coursing through his body like ice in his veins, he loves every second of it.

It's Jay who breaks away first, dragging Chad's body flush to his and speaking in his ear again. “Make me happy, and I'll give you the world.” The anger that Chad knows is there finally peaks through in his tone. “And if you ever think you can entertain some low rank, second rate f*cking wannabe ever again, you remember that I can take the world away from you just as easily.”

Chad shakes in his arms, his hands bunching at every scrap of fabric he can find. He has to hold something or he'll fall apart. Anyone could walk past them right now and see him breaking into a million pieces right here in the arms of the king. “Okay.”

“C'mon baby, you know what I wanna hear.” Jay puts a hand on the back of his head, his fingers scratching gently at his scalp, letting his tears wet his shirt.

“Yes, My King. I promise, I can make you happy.”

“I know you can. You do it everyday.” That only warms his heart and makes him cry harder, because he's the most pathetic man to walk the planet. How was he ever going to run a kingdom if he broke apart like this? He's not even strong enough to hate the man who destroyed his life. “Shh, it's okay, let it out. Let it out, and then I'll walk you down for breakfast. I'm gonna pierce you after.”

He cries until his throat hurts and his eyes are dry. Jay wipes his tears away without smudging his makeup, kisses the top of his head and then walks him down the hall by the nape of his neck like a scruffed puppy. Mal doesn't lecture him at breakfast. She takes one look at his red-rimmed eyes, and his anxious fidgeting and throws an approving look Jay's way with a smirk. The thief gives a two finger salute back, looking more than pleased with himself. Evie slides a cup of hot tea his way, and it's intercepted by Jane who adds two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a squeeze of lemon before floating it over to his placemat. When he thanks them, his voice is a raspy mess that even he winces at. Audrey's eyes burn a hole in his head.

He isn't hungry at all anymore, but he still dutifully lifts his fork to his mouth in lagging mechanical motions when Carlos gives him the one word order to eat. The food tastes like nothing, but he chews and swallows all the same until the plate is empty. He doesn't speak again throughout the entire meal, but he does let a few tears roll down his face.

Audrey hugs him after breakfast while Ben and Doug hover anxiously around the two of them, obviously curious as to what's going on. Chad holds Audrey so tight he's almost scared he'll crush her, and then he has to let go so he can follow after Jay, who true to his word, comes to escort him away right after he finishes his meal. Mal comes with them to the renovated king's suite that they've taken over and immediately sinks her magic into him. His muscles laxen in forced calm and he sits perfectly still as Jay strikes a needle through his face and slides a small barbell piercing in, muttering praises that warm his face.

Mal grabs his face to move his head from side to side, digging her sharp nails into the tender flesh of his cheeks which isn't at all necessary because he doesn't even begin to put up a fight, but he knows the dark fae has a bloodlust that was truly frightening and he considered himself lucky that this was the worst he saw of it lately. Her nails were even dulled slightly so she must not be too upset with him.

They both spend a good couple of minutes admiring Jay's work before they finally produce a hand mirror and let him see for himself. The skin around the metal is slightly raised and a bit red, but the actual barbell is pure silver and remarkably shiny. Chad pokes gently at the piercing, even though he knows he really shouldn't, but they both let him so it can't be too bad for it. It won't make it reject or anything.

“How do you like it, Scout?” Jay asks, sounding suspiciously like he actually cares about the answer. “Does it live up to your expectations?”

“It's pretty.” He affirms. It's funny, looking at his own reflection in front of them he almost feels shy. “Thank you Sir.”

“You're welcome, pretty boy.” Jay snorts, gently prying the mirror away.

“It suits you.” Mal says approvingly, nodding her head. She shifts her attention to Jay. “We should stick his ear again.”

“Another day.” Jay promises. When he looks at Chad again, his eyes dance with mirth. “He's under some emotional distress today. ‘Sides, Los still wants to dye his hair and stuff.”

“I heard you two did quite a number on our boy in blue.” Mal sounds every bit as amused as Jay had been in the moment. The mischievous nature of fae really scared the sh*t out of him sometimes.

Jay makes direct eye contact with him, all the playfulness drained from his face. “I meant what I said.”

“I know.” He whispers.

“Don't disappoint me, Scout.”

“I won't, Sir.” Failure wasn't an option for him. Not with stakes this high. He was going to make Jay happy if it f*cking killed him.

Jay smiles again, ruffling his hair. “Good boy. Sit tight, Los and Eves should be here soon.”

Chad watches him walk away, disappearing into the huge walk in closet to finally put on his outfit for the day. Mal lingers behind, grabbing his face again with a lot less force. He leans into her touch. He feels her magic as soon as she touches him. There's tendrils of calm, but it wasn't nearly enough to account for all the power he can feel thrumming around her.

She must sense his confusion. “Protection for your piercing. With Eves and Carlos about to fill your head with product and dye I don't want it infected.” She pats his cheek twice, bids him an amused reminder to behave and ducks out of the room, leaving him to wait for the other two.

He didn't have to wait very long.

“You're still sulking.” Carlos scoffs. He rolls his shoulder, loosening a bag full of shampoos and dyes. “Unbelievable. I hope you know you got off easy. Jay talked me down from a ledge.”

“I think the punishment Jay provided is perfectly suitable.” Evie says, looking right at him. She isn't smiling, her eyes unkind. “Don't you?”

Chad nods, not trusting his words at the moment. He doesn't think he could form the words if he tried.

Evie's face softens at the conflicted look accompanying the agreement. She rests her knee beside him on the bench, crowding in his space and bringing both hands to cup his face. He sighs in quiet relief. “You look pretty, baby.”

“Thank you.” He breathes, relishing her soft skin and warm scent. Like vanilla and caramel. The smell was almost as comforting as Mal's magic at this point.

“You baby him.” Carlos says, disapproving but with no real heat. He can never seem to manage any for Evie specifically. Carlos takes a careful handful of hair and tugs with barely any force. When Chad obediently cranes his head up and looks at him, he has a pleased smile on his face.

“Spoiled brat.” He says fondly. Chad offers a small smile, his heart swelling. “Looks good.”

“Can Audrey's hair take dye yet?” Evie leads them into the massive bathroom and taps his vest with two fingers. He slides it off, folds it over and hands it to her, leaving him in his tank top which he apparently gets to keep. From her pocket she produces a vial full of bright blue liquid which she hands to him. He downs it like a shot and hands the empty glass back to her with no questions or complaints.

Carlos tilts his head slightly, thinking. “I wouldn't try anything with bleach. A darker color should be fine. We'd have to wait at least two to three weeks.” He pats Chad's cheek a couple of times. “To make it clear that this is a statement and not a whim.”

“It’ll be better if we wait like a month.” Evie agrees. She starts the sink, and Carlos hands him a towel which he immediately drapes over his shoulders. He's never dyed his hair before, but he's smart enough to get the gist of what he should be doing. Evie runs her fingers through the length of his hair with a contemplative look. “We're not cutting it are we?”

“The goal is to punish him, not you Eves.” Carlos rolls his eyes. “Besides, you know where I sleep. I wouldn't be safe if I cut your doll's hair.”

Evie sticks her tongue out, the picture of royal elegance. “This is less of a punishment and more of a consequence.” She muses. He moves his head back at her gentle push and lets her soak his hair under the spray. “Like putting a name tag on a dog's collar.”

It was exactly that. He would be semi-permanently wearing Carlos’ colors for the next couple of months at the least. Likely for the better part of a year. The message couldn’t be more clear, and it was just as much for the public as it was for Chad. He was claimed. He belonged to someone. He decided rather firmly that he would have no opinion on the matter either way, for the sake of his sanity.

They dye his hair with some fancy treatment from the Tremaine hair salon. Their main store isn't very far; despite their family origins the youngest of the Tremaines had no loyalty to Charmaine having never visited it, and she hadn't wanted to be far from Evie, so they operated out of Central Auradon. Her business was beyond successful last he'd checked, with even native Auradonians unable to hold their biases against such a young and charismatic entrepreneur. Dizzy was usually fully booked, but she always made exceptions for the royal family. They could have been there and back in a couple hours, well before the festivities tonight.

There was some significance in them doing it themselves he's sure. Some grand statement about ownership and possession and power and control that he honestly couldn't care less about. Evie’s acrylics felt nice and Carlos’ voice was rumbly in his ear as they made casual conversation over him. He enjoys the feeling of being crowded in by two warm bodies and pretends he doesn't hear the edge of mockery saddled up beside Evie’s fondness. Being helpless stopped bothering him ages ago. He was nothing if not adaptive.

Eventually he's let up from the sink and Evie straddles his lap to blow dry his hair. “Personally, I'm rooting for you, pup.” She says into his ear so he can hear her over the machine. He's already a blushing mess with her in his lap, one of her hands resting casually against his bare shoulder. His own hands are kind of hovering in the air, unsure what he's allowed to touch. Carlos is suitably amused by this if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. “I'd love to give you a little bit more attention.”

“See where that attitude goes when his mouth is full.” He just barely hears Carlos say over the dryer. He buries his face into Evie's shoulder, face burning red, the following laughter ringing in his ears. Light, he should hate these assholes. Why doesn't he hate them?

What was it about them that made it so impossible? These people who had taken his kingdom, his title, his freedom away from him, these people that he loved so much it kept him up at night. These people whose approval he craved like oxygen and whose disappointment stung like needles. What would it take to make his weak foolish mind finally muster up some disdain for these people?

“Get out of your head.” Carlos thumps his forehead lightly. “It's been well established that you don't know how to use it anyway.”

Chad opens his mouth, then wisely closes it. He nods, leaning into Carlos’ hand. He's genuinely but pleasantly surprised when the other man indulges him, his thumb rubbing smooth circles against his skin.

“Some hair dye and a needle and you're downright docile.” Carlos scoffs, thoroughly amused. “You're lucky you're pretty.”

I've heard. “Thank you.” Carlos seems to be able to tell he was biting his tongue and he nods in acknowledgement to the effort.

His hair is dry within the hour, and when Evie slides out of his lap, he sits dutifully still while the two villainous royals examine his new appearance.

“I like it.” Evie says with a massive grin on her face. “This was a good idea ‘Los.”

Carlos was staring at him like he wanted to eat him alive, and it was taking everything in Chad not to hide his head in his hands like a flustered schoolgirl. Evie glanced between the two of them and giggled, bumping her shoulder up against Carlos’ with a sly smile. Carlos managed to tear his eyes away from Chad long enough to throw Evie a feral grin before he was descended on.

Unsurprisingly Carlos also kissed him like he wanted to eat him alive, but Chad was more than happy to be devoured. It was rare for Carlos to lose his composure like this, and Chad wanted to milk every last drop of satisfaction he could from being the cause of it. Carlos has climbed right into the vacant spot Evie left in his lap, his muscular legs tightly hugging Chad's hips, one hand buried in his hair while the other roamed up his chest.

“I am going to be so pissed off if we have to change your hair again anytime soon.” The terrifying force of nature on his lap stops kissing him long enough to say. “So I suggest whatever little challenge Jay has provided you with, you rise to the f*cking occasion. If someone else touches you while you look this damn good, and this f*cking claimed, Jay and his psychological warfare will be the least of your worries, I promise you that.”

Chad shivers, nodding dumbly. He absolutely believes him, he's certain Carlos would make it his mission to make Chad's life as miserable as possible if he managed to f*ck this up again. The fact that it didn't dampen the fire burning in his gut was a testament to how pathetic he really was.

Eventually the kissing stops for long enough that Chad can turn around and finally see what spurred it on in the first place. He barely recognizes the person who stares back at him in the mirror. But he can admit though - the person is pretty. Beautiful even. And when Evie cheerfully helps him back into his vest, he sees exactly why she was congratulating Carlos on his fabulous idea.

What had Jane called him? A smokeshow.

His PR team would have a heart attack. Chad carefully raises a hand to the newly dark curls, running gentle fingers through it in awe. He has a streak of blood red framing the left side of his face. He can't help the small smile growing on his face, nervous but genuine nonetheless. Less of a punishment, more of a consequence.

“Thank you.” He whispers. “I love it.”

Carlos seems genuinely caught off guard by the sincerity, but Evie only smiles, leaning down and kissing his cheek, this knowing glint in her eyes. “You’re very welcome.”

She turns his face in order to get a proper kiss out of him, then pats him on the bottom twice and shoos him toward the door. “Go on, you know when you're expected to report back. Go find Audrey, let her know the boys haven't murdered you.”

“Don't I need an escort?” He tries to keep the apprehension out of his voice, but he can tell he isn't doing a very good job. He isn't exactly too eager to get himself in more trouble for failing such a simple test. Carlos snickers.

Evie pulls her magic mirror out of her pocket, looking at it for a couple seconds and then nodding, seemingly unsurprised at the outcome. “Audrey is with the birds, they're all sitting out in the garden. Go straight there, no detours.”

“We'll know.” Carlos nods at the bracelet tracker.

“I really don't need anyone to walk me?” Carlos rolls his eyes and Chad holds up his hands in surrender. “Right, yeah - no looking gift horses in the mouth. Straight there, no detours. Got it.”

He's only one tentative step toward the door when Evie says, “Wait.” He turns back to her immediately, still nervous he'd just failed some sort of trial.

Evie doesn't look upset though, or particularly devious. She looks concerned if anything, something soft and genuine in her face that confuses him and has him shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Last night with Charlotte.” So that was the woman's name. Chad waited for the anger to come. Evie was no brute, though she always seemed at least mildly amused at the other's antics. She preferred a psychological torment, sometimes with a magical aid. When she got particularly wicked or he got particularly out of line she'd give him a potion that made him horribly sick and hold him through it while they waited for it to get out of his system. She'd comb her fingers through his hair while he pukes his guts out, crooning about how she knew it hurt with this little smile on her face.

The witch hadn't taken her pound of flesh by altering his physical appearance like Jay and Carlos had been so hellbent to do or even by hurting him. He could still feel the little divots Mal left in his skin, something the fae could have easily healed but had chosen not to. Maybe she'd let it scar over. Evie was the only one left who hadn't physically expressed her displeasure, and honestly Chad was sort of relieved she was going to get it over with now so he didn't have to walk the day quite so tense.

He resolves to take it on the chin, but when Evie lifts her hand, it's to cup his face. “Did she hurt you?”

“What? No. No she didn't really - no.” Being bold enough to touch the secondary court was bravery, possibly arrogance. Being bold enough to try and hurt them was suicide.

“Did she threaten you?”

What the hell is this anyway? What kind of mind game is going on here, and why did Chad feel so completely clueless as to how it was going to pan out. He knows he should have done something, he's got a new hole in his face to remind him of it everyday. He can't be bothered to hide his confusion, even as it's bordering on frustration. Evie had never punished him for negative emotions. At some point he was certain she harvested negative emotions and that's what kept her hair so silky and teeth so white.

“No.”

Her hands don't grab and her eyes don't harden and Chad remains confused at the gentle stroke of her thumb over his clammy skin. “Did you feel threatened?”

All his frustration disappears in an instant, replaced with cold shock. Did Evie actually care about his feelings? Sure he knew she cared about him, in the way that you care for the plant you water every Wednesday and Saturday, or the trophy you kept on your mantle. But he was just that. A decorative statement, an accessory. This whole thing - the entire reason they were so upset is because someone had touched their property. What did his feelings have to do with any of it? Even Carlos didn't interject to express his disdain for this ridiculous, useless question. Even he was waiting for an answer.

But refusing them an answer was never really an option for him, no matter how stupid the question was. And he'd never actually stopped for long enough to think about it, what with being too busy being drunk, and then annoyed as all hell and then terrified.

Did he feel threatened? When this woman, who was obviously attracted to him or at least got a kick out of pretending she was, and who could easily overpower him backed him into a corner? He takes a moment to really think about it, to remember the feeling of being trapped, not being able to see the exits anymore through the crowds of people. Whatever perfume she wore was too strong, it hung over them like a cloud as she pushed into his space. And her smile was too wide, too similar to the baring of teeth Mal’s natural grin was akin to. Whenever he would try to get around her she'd firmly move her body in front of his, and there was this look in her eyes, daring him to do what he was obviously so unwilling to attempt. To use brute force. Push her, shove his way through. And he never did because she knew as well as he did that if it came down to a physical altercation between the two of them he would lose, and he would lose badly. His stomach twisted every time she would push another drink his way, and he couldn't think of a way to refuse. He'd been so disgusted with his own cowardice. And when she produced those little multicolor pills, his heart damn near stopped. He'd stoutly refused, and she laughed and for a single terrifying second he was sure she would force him to take it. What could he possibly do to stop her?

“Yes.” When had his voice gotten so shaky? Why did he always have to be so f*cking pathetic? He was lucky they found it amusing. “Yes I felt - she never actually said anything you'd actually consider a threat it's just - yes. Yes I did feel threatened.” He swallows the desperate, needy I'm sorry that begs to follow.

Evie’s frown deepens, and she brings a hand up to wipe the tears - when did he start crying? - from his cheeks. “Okay. It's okay baby. It's alright.”

Except it wasn't alright because he could still remember how it felt when her hand grazed his, the way her fingers felt in his hair and it wasn't right. It burned like acid, nothing like the familiar heat of the hands that usually touched his body. Hands that at least found value in the skin they were touching, who at least pretended he was something worth a damn.

For the second time today he finds himself desperately clutching at the warm body in front of him as he sobs. Evie wraps him up in her arms, smaller and less solid than Jay, but just as fierce. He hears Carlos cuss loudly, followed shortly by the dull thwack of something hitting the wall.

“What did she say to you?” Carlos demands, and his tone is so scathing that Chad flinches back. He's never been able to make Carlos this mad before, the only time he even got remotely close was when he'd made the mistake of denying him his title the very first time. “What exactly did she say?”

“Carlos.” Evie snaps, and light she sounds mad as well. “Take that sh*t out on the shampoo bottles, not on him.”

“I'm not-”

“Later.” She says firmly, leaving no room for debate. “You can ask questions later. When Mal can keep him regulated. Maybe with Audrey in the room. Definitely not now.”

“Yeah fine.” Carlos agrees, but he doesn't sound happy about it.

He slowly lets go of the white knuckled fistfuls of Evie's shirt, sniffling as he tries to calm his breathing again. “I'm sorry. I'm not trying to get out of trouble or anything I swear. I can tell you what happened if you want me to.”

Evie gives him a small smile that doesn't reach her eyes in the slightest. “Go find Audrey. Smoke with the birds.”

He looks between the two of them, feeling miserable at their agitated expressions. “I promise I can -”

“Charming.” Carlos says tightly. “Go.”

It takes a good deal of strength not to break down sobbing again, and an even greater deal to walk through the door instead of begging for forgiveness, but he manages. He has tears blurring his vision, but he knows this castle like the back of his hand by now. He walks so fast he's practically jogging, taking the shortest route to the garden despite the heavy foot traffic. The staff seeing him cry was just a normal Tuesday, and any VK vindictive enough to watch him can enjoy the free show for all he cares.

He's damn near knocked over by a flash of blue and red when he walks into the greenhouse, and he's never been happier to wrap his arms around Audrey in his life. He buries his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of cherries hanging off her. He immediately vanishes the stray thought that he may not wake up to that scent anymore in three days time. He's had enough crying for one morning.

He makes himself untangle their limbs after a chaste kiss, waving sheepishly at the others. They're all crowded around one of the large wooden tables the greenhouse had to offer, seated in wicker chairs with large plush cushions, except for Ben and Jane, who share the bench along with a tightly rolled joint. Sitting on the table, notably closest to Li Lonnie, is an open and half empty bottle of mead. There's a suspicious lack of cups. It seemed everyone was turning to their vices this morning.

“You're alone.” It's not a question, but Jane still sounds confused about it. It makes sense, she could sense his presence once he got close enough and could probably also sense that none of the VKs were trailing after him.

“Queen Evelyn told me you guys were here.” He answers her unasked question. “I got permission to come without an escort as long as I came straight here.”

“Any damage?” Audrey's voice doesn't waver when she asks, but her hand does shake when she lifts it tentatively towards him. Her eyes roam his face, lingering on the new piercing and even longer on his hair.

“New hole in my face.” He decides to acknowledge the obvious first. “It hurts a bit still, but not nearly as much as it probably should so I think Queen Evie gave me something for it. High Queen sunk her claws into me and I bled a little, but it wasn't too bad considering what she's capable of. I think she may let it scar over instead of healing me. And uh, the hair. It doesn't hurt, but it's y’know…different.”

“Who…?” Doug trails off, looking sheepish at the slightly invasive question.

“His Majesty DeVil.” He answers. “He wanted to cut it off - or uh, burn it actually, but y'know they have that hair thing.” He laughs half-heartedly even though nothing was even remotely funny. Doug frowns.

“Okay, alright sit down the both of you.” Ben, the beautiful angel, is already offering up the lit joint when he cuts in. “Let's let Chad breathe before bombarding him.”

He takes the offering graciously. “I love you, have my babies.” He takes a deep inhale, eyes fluttering while Ben's face quickly turns scarlet. He forgos the bench entirely, sitting on the floor in between the end of the bench Ben rests on and what was obviously Audrey's empty chair. Having half of his available escorts not respect him in the slightest had gotten him quite used to the ground considering how often he warmed the floor at meetings, and it was a small price to pay to rest in between the three most comforting things in the room.

“Thank you also works just fine you know.” Ben mutters, glancing off shyly. It's adorable that he can still manage to be embarrassed with Jay and Evie as lovers, and Chad intends to milk it for as long as it lasts.

He gives Ben his best shot at a serious expression. “Thank you also I love you, have my babies.” The attempt at earnestness crumbles in the face of Ben's wide eyed bashfulness and gives way to a truly wicked grin that would make Mal proud. Jane giggles, trying in vain to smother the noise with her hand. Audrey playfully taps his head as she comes to sit down, and Chad leans on her leg contently.

“Wait so-” Doug cuts himself off, obviously looking conflicted. Chad sighs.

“Go ahead and ask.” He inhales one last time before handing the joint over to Audrey, who gladly takes it, puffs once and hands it off to Doug.

“A piercing and a hair change spell?” Doug takes the offered joint only to pass it off to Lonnie, who hands it to Jane.

“They dyed it themselves actually.” He clarifies. “Dried it manually too. Very intimate experience, equal parts sexy and dangerous. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

Jane looks puzzled for a second, her eyebrows furrowing before smoothing out again as it dawns on her.

“So a brand and a power play? That's it?” Doug's frown deepens, concern clear on his face. “That doesn't sound like them.”

“Because it's not.” He chuckles dryly, pressing his forehead into the meat of Audrey's thigh. The texture of the smooth fabric on his forehead serves as a much needed grounding element. “Of course that's not it, that would be insane.”

“No what's insane is whatever the f*ck happened last night.” Lonnie finally speaks up. He looks up at the sound of glass sliding across wood, and sees that she's pushed the bottle over within his reach. He reaches up and takes it. “What the f*ck were you thinking?”

“Li Lonnie!” Ben admonishes, sounding appalled.

“Don't ‘Li Lonnie’ me, that was the saddest suicide note I've ever seen and we watched him write it in real time.” Someone with less experience might think the woman's brazen attitude had come from a few sips too many, but everyone in this room knew better. The warrior was like this all the time. Chad takes a deep drink from the bottle. “Seriously, I know you're not dumb enough to piss them off on purpose, so what the hell was that? Did she threaten you or something?”

“No.” He frowns, frustration steadily climbing up his throat like bile. “Yes. Kind of - it's complicated okay?”

“What the hell is so complicated about ‘don't let anyone touch you’? It's probably the least complicated rule we have besides ‘don’t leave the castle’.”

“Lots of things - I just…I got scared okay? Alright?” He runs a hand through his freshly dyed curls, fingers clutching at handfuls of hair and tugging. Grounding. Grounding. Stay calm. “Light's f*cking sake, she was all up in my face and - and telling me all these things, making all these jokes. Oh you have something on your shirt, you'd think they take better care of their royal f*cking handbag, let me help you. You're so tense, here take these pills, they'll loosen you up. No? I guess you still have some prude leftover, I thought they would have gotten rid of that by now. Let me strategically position myself to be always in your line of sight, let me block you off from seeing the only four people in the room who would give a f*ck enough to save you from me. I froze okay? I froze.”

A hand is tugging at his arm, gently urging his hand away from his own head. His eyes flick over to Ben, the half-beast trying his best not to look too distraught as he detaches Chad's fingers from his hair with gentle patience. “Chad.” He says with this unbearable earnestness that makes him want to scream.

“Please don't.” His voice is thick, bordering on watery and it drives him crazy. He wants to tear out his own vocal chords, claw out his useless tear ducts. “I know I f*cked up okay? I f*cked up, and now people think they can touch me, and if I can't fix this then they're gonna separate us.” He looks up at Audrey, shame welling up inside of him. “Before they dropped me off at breakfast, His Majesty Jay said that if I can't nip this in the bud myself then he'd separate our rooms and give us early curfew. I'm sorry Auds. I'm so sorry this is all my f*cking fault-”

“Chad.” Ben is firmer this time. To his absolute horror, the former prince has crouched down in front of him on the floor, face set in some grim mix of concern and determination. “She couldn't hurt you.”

“I know, I was being stupid it's just -”

“No. No, Chad listen to me. She couldn't hurt you.” Ben speaks slowly, endlessly patient despite the glaringly obvious fact that he doesn't deserve an ounce of it. “Vile people like that get off on making you believe that they can. She found the illusion of power in making you feel scared and helpless, but that's just it. It was an illusion. You held the power in that situation and she didn't like that. You're the untouchable one, not her.”

What?

Light, he hates being confused. That's all he does lately, be hopelessly confused, be inconsolably sad, be laughably pathetic. Rinse and repeat.

It's Lonnie of all people who's merciful enough to enlighten him. “Look, I get it okay? We all had to kind of learn this lesson the hard way.” She frowns, rolling her eyes. “Granted not quite as hard as you.” Doug smacks her shoulder lightly, which she ignores. She fixes Chad with a hard look, intense but not unkind. “No matter how much a VK wants to - no matter how much they glare or flirt or flex or brag - no matter how badly they hate you or want you, they can't touch you. Mal and the others just won't let it happen. I know it's hard to believe, especially when you're in the moment with a scowling villain in your face. To be honest, it'd be a whole hell of a lot easier if they didn't let jackasses all up in our faces in the first place.”

“It's a trust thing.” Jane cuts in, reaching over Ben to hand the joint back to him. Audrey gently pries the bottle out of his hands so he can take it.

“It's always a trust thing.” Audrey rolls her eyes, taking a long swig from the bottle in her hand. “Trust, power and control. When they're old and wrinkly it's the only three words they'll still know how to say.”

“And sort of a reputation thing.” Jane says.

“No yeah reputation will definitely be on the old and wrinkly list.” Lonnie scoffs. “Along with ego and wicked.”

Jane ignores them both, entirely focused on Chad. “It's more for our reputation than theirs. If the royal court got involved every single time some asshole with a vendetta against light made a pass at us, they'd have to do it every second of every public event we ever had. We get glared at, insulted and berated in every VK oriented space we enter, and at this point some of the Auradonian centered ones too. It'd be a huge waste of time, they'd never get anything done, but more importantly it'd be a huge disservice to us. We'd never learn to stand up for ourselves, and the public assumes we can't protect ourselves without them around. We become a liability to the crown and a danger to ourselves. Especially for those of us like Ben who have a softer public persona or like you who VKs had a particular disdain for beforehand. No offense.”

“None taken.” He waves a hand, completely unbothered. It was no secret that most Isle goers despised him. All they had to go on was his PR approved public personality, and Chad hated that dimwitted asshole too.

“It's important that any VK who's important enough to be in our vicinity knows that we can defend ourselves. Or at least thinks we have some sort of backbone.” He tries to pass the joint back, but she shakes her head. Beside her, Ben is already pulling another pre-roll from his pocket and beginning to light it. Evie has to approve everything they smoke, and more often than not just packs their joints for them in the process. “Just because Mal and the others don't intervene doesn't mean they don't see it and it doesn't mean they don't care. They want us to earn our own respect, but there are limits to what they'll allow. A VK can talk all the sh*t they want to us, but the second they raise a hand against us? Isle rules say that's fair game for your crew to get involved. We're a part of their crew. Kind of. It's the best way I can explain it. The reason Charlotte was able to get away with what she did is because she was very careful about it. Every touch she initiated could easily be explained as an accident. If the court stepped in she could have easily spun it to look like they were dramatically defending their defenseless weak link. I'll admit she got pretty bold with your hair, that was mostly a he-said she-said gamble - she was probably going to pin it on you making advances on her or something and bank on you being too flustered to oppose her.”

“So it doesn't matter if I froze or not? No matter what I just had to take it?” It was just a matter of getting thicker skin then. That f*cking sucked, but he could manage it. Maybe Carlos could add a training session for learning how to take an insult to the chin, the asshole would love that.

“Not exactly.” Jane frowned, obviously trying to find a way to verbalize.

Lonnie beat her to it. “You're the stupidest smart person I know, Chadwick.” She said dryly. “Put it to you this way: I insult you all the time, and you just fire back at me with the same energy. Why don't you talk back to Mal like you do with me?”

“Because she would smack the everloving sh*t out of me.” He paused at Lonnie's raised eyebrow, remembering the many times the warrior had deigned it necessary to smack some sense into him. “And I can't hit her back.”

Lonnie looks at him expectantly, as if some grand epiphany was supposed to occur. He co*cked his head to the side, taking a deep puff from his now solo joint. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and he got the sense she would have probably smacked him if he were in arms length. “Chad you f*cking moron, Charlotte can't smack you at all. She's practically your equal! In fact you're technically her superior, you can say whatever the hell you want to her and she can't do jacksh*t!”

“Usually that pisses a VK off enough that they back off on their own.” Doug saves him from any more verbal abuse from his fiery lover. “Especially if you're good enough at comebacks that you manage to strike a nerve. It's a bit of a learning curve.”

Oh.

Oh.

Chad was a f*cking idiot. His head falls in his hands as he groans loudly. Light's sake, the answer had been so simple the whole time. He was so busy being a puss* he didn't even stop to consider what was right in front of his face. Of course he knew no one but the court could actually hurt him, but he'd been so unfocused and scared and -

“I used to be smart.” He bemoaned, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke into his palms. He feels Ben rub his back placatingly.

“You're still smart Chad.” He says.

“Yeah,” says Jane. “Just a little slow on the uptake.”

“Hey!” He shoots up and glares at the fae, who's grinning with a twinkle in her eye. Adorable little jerk.

“That's why they're pissed off. I was supposed to tell her to f*ck off or something.”

“Your bud is still burning.” Jane supplies helpfully. He takes another puff, trying his hardest not to pout.

“Honestly it's a little ridiculous they just expected you to know that.” Doug huffs, rolling his eyes. He was never shy about voicing his disagreement with the court's more innovative ways of teaching. “You didn't have that problem on your propaganda tour, and they never gave you a debrief or anything. Don't beat yourself up about it.”

“Too late.” He says grimly. “I'm whooping my own ass about it as we speak.”

“Smoke your weed.” Lonnie demands, which is about the closest to offering comfort she was going to get. He complies, and then gratefully takes the bottle when she offers it again.

“I think Queen Evelyn realized I didn't know near the end of my dye job.”

“She's usually the most level headed.” Doug nods, and fondness joins the agitation on his face. “They're so damn possessive.”

“It's ridiculous.” Lonnie says bluntly. “We literally have tattoos marking us, we're not going anywhere.”

“You said early curfew. How early is early?” Ben asked cautiously.

Chad winced. “6. 6:30 on weekends.”

“Oh f*ck no.” He still wasn't quite used to hearing Jane curse so brazenly. “That's not happening.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to take Audrey away from you all. I know it's not fair.”

Lonnie loosened a ring from her finger - some shiny gold affair Jay no doubt gifted her - and threw it squarely at his head. He didn't move in time and it thwacked him on the forehead, narrowly missing his new piercing.

“Ow, Lonnie what the hell?”

“You're too far for me to smack.” She said fiercely. “We'd miss both of you, you self deprecating idiot. I know it's hard for you to believe but I actually like having your dumbass around sometimes. You act like if the threat only stood for you, we'd be completely unbothered.”

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. That's exactly what he thought. Sure Ben may miss him a bit, and maybe Doug, but they both had much more interesting lovers to tend to. Chad would obviously miss all of them. Bubbly and witty Jane, sweet and kind Ben, smart and reserved Doug, even Lonnie with her boldness and dry humor. Every day he grew more and more fond of the four beautiful and bright birds, and every day that made it harder for him to stay in a dog's place. The level of closeness he was allowed with them was a massive grey area that no one seemed to want to acknowledge, but Chad figured it didn't matter because his feelings were largely unrequited.

The birds weren't stupid, he was sure they knew of his feelings. They just happened to be kind enough to tolerate it. Occasionally indulge him. He was grateful for it, and he was content with friendship, except all of them were kind of looking at him crazy at the moment.

Audrey sighed, dropping a hand to his head to begin scratching lightly. “They like you just as much as they like me, you dumb blond.” She paused briefly. “I can't really call you that anymore…damn, they managed to punish me too.”

“I love you.” Ben clarified, sounding very serious. Then he flicked his eyes upwards at Audrey, deciding to drape himself over Chad's lap instead of returning to his seat. “Don't worry, he's a blond at heart.”

“Of course we'd miss you, pretty boy.” Jane scoffs while he flushes at hearing that nickname from someone other than his villainous lovers. “Duh.”

“You think we hang out with you because we have to?” Doug pushes up his glasses, giving him a dubious look. “We don't have to y’know. You two need escorts to go down the hall, it would be, like really easy to avoid you if we wanted to. If anything, we have to try harder to spend as much time with you as we do.”

“I always figured you wanted to hang out with Audrey and just felt bad leaving me in the room alone. She's objectively like way cooler than me.”

Ben pushes his arm up with his forehead. “Smoke your weed.” He reiterates, rolling his eyes. “We gift you a whole roll and you let it burn out because you're too busy being ridiculous.”

“It doesn't matter anyway.” Lonnie says with finality. “You're not getting an early curfew because you're going to tell Charlotte to go back to humping cows and lassoing cactuses.”

“Cacti.” Doug says.

“Oh my light, who the hell cares?” Lonnie snaps. Doug chuckles, pleased to have made a nerdy nuisance of himself once again.

“Technically both are grammatically correct.” Jane clarifies. Ben hands her the newly lit joint and she gives a pleased little hum.

“You'll probably have to be a little harsher than that.” Ben snickers, a gleam in his eyes. “Remember when I told Harry Hook to go back to raiding the wharf rat's panty drawer?”

“Yes!” Jane erupts in laughter. “Oh my gosh, his whole arm was shaking, he wanted to hook you so bad. He had to take a lap.”

Chad barely holds back his laughter, thoroughly enjoying the mental image of the sh*t eating grin Ben was no doubt proudly wearing at the moment.

Doug's mouth quirks up in a rare smirk. “Or that time Crank made fun of me for playing chess so I told them maybe they'd know Jay also plays chess if they ever saw him with the lights on.”

Above him Audrey snorts. “You didn't!”

“They still snub me in interviews for it.” Doug doesn't sound the slightest bit remorseful. “Not my fault Jay never kept them around when the sun came up.”

“Rude, Dougie.” Jane says with a smile.

“Wicked.” The half dwarf corrects her. “I learned from the best.”

The six of them lounge peacefully, the birds recounting times they'd traded barbs with VKs and come out on top. Chad finishes his joint around the same time Jane and Ben finish their shared one, and the fae immediately lights a new one. Between all of them the bottle is empty within the next hour. Somehow Jane also produces another one of those, although Chad's not quite sure from where.

“So question,” he says when the bud and the bottle have loosened his lips enough. “How exactly is Jay - His Majesty - in bed?”

“Goodness.” Doug huffs. “He's - yeah he's good.”

“As good as he brags about being.” Jane winks. “Which is impressive, considering how much he brags.”

Chad nods. Jay does brag a lot about his sexual prowess and past escapades. He's heard more stories than he could even begin to recount, and he'd seen firsthand just how desperately some of his old bedmates would cling to what they once had. All sorts of people -strong, capable, pretty damn scary people who looked like they knew thirty ways to kill a man - would find Jay at parties or social events and fling themselves at him. Clinging to him like he hadn't made it abundantly clear he didn't bed anyone outside of his court anymore, desperately pretending the thief’s light- hearted flirting meant something like Jay wouldn't flirt with a potted plant if he got bored enough. It was like watching a train-wreck in slow motion. Jay fed on the attention like a succubus.

“Wait,” Ben pushes himself up on one arm to stare incredulously up at him, as if he'd come upon some grand realization. His elbow is digging into the meat of Chad's thigh, but somehow he doesn't mind too much. “You're telling me he's never…”

Chad shakes his head.

Ben presses his forehead into Chad's chest, looking solemn. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Ridiculous.” Lonnie says. “All of you are ridiculous.”

“So he's not good?” Audrey quirks a brow.

Lonnie scoffs, waving a hand. “Of course he's good, look around the party at all the practice he's gotten.”

Audrey's hand flies to her mouth, desperate to hold in a laugh. In his lap, Ben's whole body is shaking from the force of his chuckling.

“Why the sudden interest?” Jane wiggles her eyebrows. “I mean I know he teases and is all around an insatiable bastard, but you've never been curious enough to ask before.”

“The curfew separation threat is my punishment if I fail to curb the touching problem.” Despite himself Chad feels his face slowly heating up. Suddenly he's very aware of the warm heat of Ben's body pressed into the lower half of his. “If I succeed he said he'd take me back to his room for some - uh one on one attention. Except, probably not one on one because of the whole pack mentality thing they have, and Queen Evelyn said something about wanting me to succeed so that she can - and I'm pretty sure having me wear his colors like permanently for the time being got His Majesty DeVil all hot and bothered and uh…” He could practically feel the whole room staring at him incredulously. “And he said he'd let me spend the night.”

“With them?” Ben asks, eyes lighting up.

“They haven't let either of you spend a single night outside of your room to date.” Jane is grinning like Christmas came early for some reason. “That's big.”

“That's so unfair.” Audrey's pout is good-natured but he sees the small bit of sadness in her eyes. “You get a hot and heavy villain orgy-”

“Auds-!”

“And I have to spend the night alone.”

“No.” He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the image of hot and heavy villain orgy from his mind before he got too sidetracked to function properly. “No he said if I stay with them, you get to spend the night with the birds.”

“We get Audrey?” Ben says, his voice taking up a deeper timbre at the thought alone.

“Oh ho ho - you are definitely succeeding in this challenge.” Jane says, rubbing her hands together with a manic grin. Her magical signature begins to swell, her excitement quite literally infectious. “We are getting you laid, and we are getting that gorgeous woman in our bed.”

“Guys.” Audrey groans. Chad knows better, poking her lightly in the side with a cheeky grin. She loves the attention - and she damn well deserves it.

“It's a win-win” Jane ironically pays her no mind. “Plus the avoidance of that totally bogus punishment so it's a win-win-win.”

“Add another win for poor Chad's hair.” Doug pipes up with a grin of his own. “I think if Carlos finally pulls it in bed like he's obviously been dying to do, maybe he'll stop yanking Chad through the halls. Win-win-win-win”

“Doug!” Chad protests, clutching his own curls in protest.

“Unlikely.” Lonnie scoffs. She isn't grinning, but her smirk is as clear as day. “Carlos would let us chain-smoke cigs at the breakfast table before he gives up his favorite leash.”

“Lonnie!” Chad whips his head around to her, feeling betrayed as his face reaches temperatures it's never known before.

“It's okay Chad.” Ben says solemnly. “He pulls mine too.”

The resulting laughter is loud and a little obnoxious and so full of joy and comfort Chad could cry. Ben stays splayed across his lap, long limbs reaching up intermittently to press his palm into his chest or throw an arm around his neck. At some point he grabs Chad's hand and doesn't turn it loose unless it's to gesture briefly. Audrey rests her hand in his hair, scratching softly. Eventually it moves to rest on the nape of his neck, providing a gentle pressure. And all six of them laugh and gossip and tease, and slowly but surely the roiling pit of anxiety that's been bubbling in Chad's stomach all morning dissipates, replaced with something warm and heavy and safe.

—---

Chad was undoubtedly nervous when he was getting ready for the second night of festival, but Audrey did a great job of distracting him by kissing him until his head spins and his eyes blur around the edges. Jane and Doug show up at their door to escort them down, the former quickly shooting down his suggestion that he shouldn't drink tonight because no one deserved to be sober at an Isle-run event.

Doug, for his part, staunchly agrees and passes him a flask that he can only stomach one swig from before he's coughing and grasping at his throat. The dwarf-kin winks as he grabs his hand and drags him along, Jane and Audrey trailing shortly after.

Ben literally crushes him in a hug when he sees them, obviously a shot or two in and unaware of his own beastly strength. Chad grins and bears it anyway, happy to have an armful of Ben whenever it was offered. Lonnie also looks pretty pleased to see him, though she of course shows it by flicking his ear and handing him a shot.

Isle parties were always a rambunctious affair. It was early enough in the night that the music was still live - a small band of guitar, drums and tambourine with a lead singer. Eventually they'll all get too drunk to play, and either someone will take over or Carlos would get the speakers going. That was the beauty of having access to pre-recorded music. Sometimes Doug would get up there with his electric guitar and a microphone and give a few solo performances, the usually reserved songbird reveling in the way the whole crowd would cheer and salivate over him. Chad particularly enjoyed those nights. With his dwarfian alcohol tolerance, there was no such thing as too drunk to perform to him, just a steadily bolder Doug as the night went on. It was a wonder to see.

The music was loud, the bodies were hot and slick and the liquor flowed. People danced in packs, some wild and unfocused, some choreographed and clean, obviously having some sort of tradition. Some split off into couples and grinded on each other, two bodies moving smoothly together in tandem to the beat. Chad rarely danced - hadn't worked up the courage yet - but he thoroughly enjoyed watching Jane and Ben join the mirage of couples moving as one on the floor. There were plenty of people in corners doing drugs or coming down from the effects of them, or packs of people doing both. Chad stayed away from those corners. They had a strict rule about taking substances from anyone that wasn't the court, but even if they didn't Chad wasn't interested in anything harder than the weed he smoked. He liked having his wits about him too much for hallucinogens.

All things considered it was pretty impossible for anyone to keep an eye on everyone at any given time, and so no one was crazy enough to try. As a rule of thumb they tried to keep one of the four royals within eyeshot, and another member of the secondary court close enough to reach them in an emergency. Right now Ben and Jane were hovering near his perimeter while they danced with a very enthused Gil.

“You're always hugging a wall or somethin’.” The woman - Charlotte leans against the wall next to him, giving him a sly grin. She's wearing a shirt with a plunge so dramatic he can see her belly button, and all he can think is how Evie wore something similar about a month ago and it looked so much better on her. He raises an eyebrow at her, mouth pulled into a tight line. “You still shy after all this time?”

“Not shy.” He says evenly. Despite the residual nervousness trying to revolt in his stomach, he finds he isn't scared of this woman. Not anymore. In hindsight she was just some attention whor* who made her own lack of charm his problem. If anything he was deeply annoyed she thought she could target him two nights in a row. He really needed to work on his reputation. “Just like watching.”

Charlotte laughs, loud and obnoxious and Chad briefly wonders what her head would sound like bouncing against concrete. “I bet you do, Charming.” She reaches out a hand to brush his shoulder like you'd do to a friend, and he shifts his body so it just swipes air.

“Okay, this was cute last night, but it's getting sad now.” It's been a little bit since he's said anything on camera, but he still falls easily into his Isle-influenced public persona. He manages a laugh and finds it to be more real than fake. “And a little desperate. I mean I figured last night when you trailed after me like a fruit fly on a mango - wait you know what those are right? You've managed to read up on those since the Isle?”

It was a low-blow - and one he personally didn't find relevant since he had no illusion of superiority over Isle-born seeing as four of them had clearly proved time and time again that they could run circles around him intellectually - but the birds made it pretty clear that there was no too far when it came to these people. They said things they didn't agree with all the time - the important part was that it pissed their opponent off and based on the curling scowl of her painted lips he'd hit the mark.

“You think you're better than me because you're an Auradon-bred pony?” She demands. She has an ugly scowl, but not everyone could be Carlos he supposed.

“I think I'm better than you because I bed the royal court, wear the mark of the dragon and live in the castle, while you travel the countryside in search of the attention you lacked in childhood.” He replies, a smug smirk sliding on his face like an old glove. It was his default expression on camera, well practiced and perfected. “Let me guess; Daddy walked out the door so Mommy was resentful? Or Mommy was strung out on any pill she could get her hands on? Daddy found peace at the bottom of the bottle? You gotta tell me when I nail it, I'm no mind reader babe.”

“You're getting real bold, aren't ya Charming?” Her twitching hand is hovering over her hip, where she undoubtedly has some sort of weapon. He doesn't know many VKs that travel unarmed. A spike of nervousness crests inside him, but his poker face is long suffering and has stood up against much worse than a cowgirl with a blade.

“Whatever the case may be, you weren't getting enough hugs as a kid, so you turned to external sources to get your dopamine fix.” He holds up his hand, showing off the glittering rings that were undeniably Jay's preference, nodding across the room where the royal himself is twirling a blushing man across the dancefloor in intricate patterns. This was - he had to admit - just a guess, but it was a pretty good one considering just how many Isle-dwellers seemed to be in love or at least in deep-lust with Jay. He watches unease and discomfort flicker through her eyes through all the anger and his smirk gets meaner. Bingo. “Must sting that you didn't make the cut for him either, huh? Guess you're not his type.”

“You think you're tough just because you're somebody's trophy?” She so obviously wants to reach for whatever's concealed in her hip pocket, but manages restraint. “The only reason you get to be a smart-ass is because your masters will protect their precious pup from getting kicked. If you weren't kept -”

“But I am.” Chad cut in, quickly boring of the same old spiel. Honestly, he really wishes folks would get better material. He had made peace with being owned a long while ago, it barely mattered in the grand scheme of things. There were plenty of more valid things to insult him about. “I was chosen, and you weren't. You're crueler, bolder, and stronger, but you'll never be better. And doesn't that just drive you f*cking crazy? That I could never beat you, but I'll always win.”

Charlotte's hand shakes so badly he wonders if he'd gone too far and gave the woman a stroke, her face scarlet red in anger. He also wonders for a brief moment if he'll have to watch this stupid woman die in front of his face because she made the mistake of attempting to destroy one of the Crown’s prized possessions in their clear line of sight. Thankfully he doesn't have to wonder for long. With a low growl of frustration that could truly rival Carlos, she swiftly turned on her heel and flounced into the crowd before she could do something she couldn't take back.

He snickers at her back as she huffs away, and for once the flippant amusem*nt he exhibits is rooted in something real. Watching Charlotte so obviously enraged yet so painfully aware of how powerless she was in the face of his status - it was funny. More than that it was hilarious. He'd never enjoyed lording his power over others before, always found it petty and rude.

Well both of those attributes just so happened to be highly encouraged. Petty, rude, vindictive and cruel, that's what he was told to strive for. Wickedness. It seemed so ridiculous six months ago. And here he was reveling in it. Mal would be proud of him.

“You did it!” Ben descends on him like a bird of prey, pulling him into another crushing hug, practically bouncing with excitement. “I knew you had it in you.”

Before he could even register what was happening and poke fun at the man for sounding so cheesy about Chad winning what was essentially a roast battle, Ben separates them just long enough to press his lips fervently against his own. It’s incessant and needy, a release of tension long time built between the two of them. Chad only stiffens for a second before he's immediately melting into the kiss, and the firm hands that grip his hips, and the solid wall of soft skin, taunt muscle and glitter his body is falling into because f*cking finally.

Kissing Ben is every single bit as exhilarating as he'd always imagined. Ever since he was young enough to still hold his mother's hand across the street but old enough to know he could never be allowed to love Ben in the way Audrey was supposed to. Boys were off limits, but Ben was extra off limits. Kind, soft, smart, beautiful Ben - who was way too good for Chad.

Who was kissing him like his very life depended on it.

Oh sh*t.

Chad pushes lightly at his chest - its all the pressure he can manage and even that takes all of his willpower to achieve. Ben steps back like a force field had been activated, though he still wears a goofy triumphant grin on his face.

“Were we allowed to do that?” His eyes are already darting around the party again, trying to find Mal amidst the chaos.

“I'm not sure.” Ben, for his part, doesn't sound the least bit worried. “ I'll take the fall for it if not. This was definitely a beg for forgiveness, not ask for permission type of deal. There's no way I wasn't going to kiss you after that - hearing you mouth off like that was ridiculously attractive.”

“How did you even hear me? You two were all the way over there.” Chad rolls his eyes, absolutely refusing to acknowledge the pink in his cheeks.

Jane raises an eyebrow. “Most powerful light fae of our time? Hello?” Her magical signature gets just the slightest bit stronger as she says it, not enough to influence their emotions but more than enough to feel the shift. She was showing off, the little showboater.

“Ah yes.” He says dryly. “Silly me. How could I forget?”

Jane grins, and Chad can't help but think - not for the first time - that something is missing in her smile. It took him a while to figure out it was her teeth that made her grin feel incomplete. When Mal grinned it was all sharp points and angles, her natural teeth unashamedly on display with not a glamour in sight. She could, of course, make them less sharp when she wanted to, but Chad knew for a fact the dark fae enjoyed the air of danger the sharpness gave her. Jane unfortunately didn't have that option anymore. Her teeth had been filed down at a young age in an effort to make her look ‘less threatening’.

Which was just silly. Jane was one of the sweetest, kindest, most terrifying girls he knew, and he figured that rare and somehow harmonious juxtaposition deserved every last rare and harmonious physical attribute that came along with it. Jane would absolutely suit having wide kind eyes and a viciously sharp smile, and he told her as much whenever the topic came about.

That grin grows just a fraction when her hand darts out to smack him firmly on the rear.

“Hey!” He yelps.

“Sorry.” Jane says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic. “I figure if Ben gets in trouble for touching you, I should too. Y’know out of solidarity. That and I've really wanted to do that for a very long time.” She turns her attention to Ben, smacking him on the shoulder. “Dougie is gonna be pissed at you.”

Ben smiles sheepishly, eyes darting around as if trying to scout the musician like a spooked antelope. “He, uh, had dibs?” He explains. “He wanted to kiss you first. Like he really wanted to kiss you first. Aw, man he's gonna kill me.”

Light, Chad was surrounded by the goofiest, most half-witted, beautiful amazing people he'd ever known. It's more than he deserves, the f*cking idiots.

“Speaking of killing things, here comes His Majesty.” Jane winks at him, grabbing Ben's hand and pulling him away with a mischievous smile. “Bye Chad, have fun!”

He shakes his head as he watches them go. Fae were such assholes. Likable, gorgeous assholes. Ben looks back long enough to wiggle his eyebrows. Stupid, beautiful man.

Jay, the supreme overlord of all assholes, wraps his arms around Chad's waist from behind which slows all brain functions to a screeching halt. “That was quite a little performance you just put on.” He presses his mouth into the crook of Chad's neck, speaks directly into the skin like the giant jerk he is. “You must have really wanted my attention.”

“Well I've got it now, don't I? I take it my performance was up to your standards then?” He manages. Jay chuckles, the vibrations spending shivers down his spine in a way that was completely unfair and entirely inappropriate for such a public place.

“You, Chad Charming, are an insufferable little smartass, and you're lucky I find that attractive.”

“Yeah?” He's not sure what emboldens him. His recent petty victory over Charlotte, his childhood daydream finally coming to fruition, or the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. “How attractive?”

“You'll find out soon enough won't you, Scout? You have fun, baby.”

Jay lets him go abruptly, disappearing into the crowd just as quickly as he'd appeared. Chad doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a colossal effort on his part. He slinks off in the opposite direction in search of Audrey so he could tell her the good news and hopefully press her against a wall and kiss her until the room went fuzzy. Maybe he could find Doug too. If he was going to get in trouble for the Ben thing, he may as well even everything out. It just so happened that Chad found him just as kissable as the former prince, and he was dying to find out what his hands felt like on his hips.

Unlike Auradonian etiquette standards, there really wasn't an expectation for the host of an Isle party to stay through the whole event. Around three hours into the festivities that were sure to last well into the dawn, Chad is gently led with a familiar ringed hand by the nape of his neck out of the party and straight to the master bedroom.

Very. The answer to his question is very attractive.

He doesn't get very much sleep that night, but when he finally does doze off, he's surrounded by warm bodies and his heart is pleasantly full.