## Preface

Kiss the Nightmare
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at https://archiveofourown.org/works/58505818.

Rating:
  Mature
Archive Warnings:
  Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Category:
  F/M
Fandom:
  Slay the Princess (Visual Novel)
Relationships:
  The Long Quiet/The Nightmare (Slay the Princess), The Long Quiet/The Princess (Slay the Princess), The Player | The Hero/The Nightmare (Slay the Princess), The Player | The Hero/The Princess (Slay the Princess), Voice of the Smitten/The Nightmare (Slay the Princess)
Characters:
  The Nightmare (Slay the Princess), The Princess (Slay the Princess), The Long Quiet (Slay the Princess), The Player | The Hero (Slay the Princess), Voice of the Hero (Slay the Princess), Voice of the Paranoid (Slay the Princess), Voice of the Smitten (Slay the Princess), Voice of the Cold (Slay the Princess), The Narrator (Slay the Princess)
Additional Tags:
  Horror, Toxic Relationships, psychological abuse, Angst without a happy ending, Body Horror, Eye Trauma, Dancing, Ballroom Dancing, Set somewhere in the thousands of forgotten lives between Nightmare and MoC, Two people making each other extremely unhappy, Gets pretty horrific towards the end, All the Voices are here but half of them are assigned to the heart lungs liver nerves squad, to keep the chatter down, Kind of a prequel to Moment of Clarity, Sympathy for Nightmare's pain and loneliness, but not for her cruelty and abusiveness, TLQ gets pretty bad too, Basically everyone sucks here, The Voices are all a bit broken by this point, teeth horror, Manipulation, leg kisses, Consensual yet extremely fucked up kisses, Self-Harm, Temporary character death (it's not that easy, he's still got Moment of Clarity to go through), Leggy Nightmare
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 8 of Kiss the Princess
Stats:
  Published: 2024-08-27 Words: 8,225 Chapters: 1/1

# Kiss the Nightmare

by Vickysaurus

Summary

> After having suffered and died at Nightmare's hands for so many lives that he can't even remember them all, the Slayer decides to try and start over with her and invites her to dance. It will not lead them anywhere nice.

> (What if you could kiss the Nightmare?)

Notes

> First of all, content warnings because this one gets a lot nastier than my usual: toxic relationships, manipulation, body horror, eye trauma/horror, teeth trauma/horror, threats of suicide, and self-harm. Tread with care, and if you want to skip this one I'll see you for the next Kiss the Princess.

> This one is set somewhere deep within the thousands of unseen and forgotten lives between Nightmare and Moment of Clarity.

See the end of the work for more notes

## Kiss the Nightmare

The Narrator: “You’re on a path in the woods-”

Voice of the Cold: “As usual. This is awfully boring.”

Voice of the Paranoid: “Oh, I’m sorry, are you not entertained while we die horrible deaths over and over and over again?”

Voice of the Smitten: “Don’t let it get you down, at least every horrible deaths allows us to look at the Princess's haunting beauty once more!”

The Narrator: “Wait, you're not supposed to know about the Princess yet! Not until I... Oh no, you’ve been here before. How many times?”

Voice of the Broken: “So many…”

Voice of the Cheated: “I think this is… seven? No, twelve.”

Voice of the Hero: “I… I can’t remember. I think… three? But it feels like so much more than three.”

Voice of the Skeptic: “I lost count somewhere in the eighties and that was a long, long time ago.”

Voice of the Opportunist: “No need to be so glum, team! I think it's only our second.”

Voice of the Hunted: “I remember when you first appeared and that was dozens of lifetimes ago. Do not try to play games with us, we need to be able to trust ourselves.”

Voice of the Stubborn: “It’s no use dwelling on the past, we just need to get back to her.”

Voice of the Contrarian: “We’re already walking back to the cabin… Saves us time. Not like there’s anything else to do. It always ends in the basement.”

The Narrator: “This is all horribly wrong, what happened to you?”

Paranoid: “The Princess happened.”

Cold: “Our own weakness happened. The Princess couldn't do anything to us if we were simply numb to her.”

Smitten: “Rather than numbing ourselves to our feelings, we should turn our pain into pleasure. There is only one way our of this hell, and it is through the power of love.”

Hero: “You can’t mean… loving the Princess?”

Paranoid: “In case you forgot, the Princess is a cruel, monstrous incarnation of all our worst nightmares whose very presence kills us. Painfully.”

Smitten: “She is indeed a cruel and beautiful goddess, but her heart is her weakness.”

Stubborn: “So we should stab her in it?”

Smitten: “Not at all, we should open ours! We can change our nightmare to a sweet dream with the power of love!”

Paranoid: “We lost it, didn’t we? We lost it a long time ago.”

The Narrator: “What a mess. These little Voices are nothing but useless distractions, inane babble that fills your mind. But as you enter the cabin, I’m sure you know what you need to do by now. The blade is your implement, take it and use it. End all this.”

Cheated: “Wow, yeah, thanks, shockingly we’ve tried that! We’ve tried fighting her, we’ve tried slaying ourself, we’ve tried giving the blade to her as a sign of trust, we’ve tried making marks with it so we might find a way out, but nothing works!”

Hero: “I… think we even tried throwing the blade? I don’t… remember what happened though.”

Contrarian: “Nothing good, I’m sure. Just like nothing good will come of this or any other idea.”

· [Enter the basement]

The Narrator: “You cross over the threshold, and onto a series of isolated steps suspended in darkness. The air seeping up from below reminds you of fresh lightning and static, as if you’re descending into a place that isn’t meant for a creature of flesh and blood. If the Princess lives here, slaying her would probably be doing her a favour.”

Contrarian: “That one’s getting real old.”

The Narrator: “Her cruel and playful voice prances up the stairs.”

The Princess: “Welcome back, dear, are you ready for some more fun?”

Smitten: “A sign of affection! What an honour it is for such a cruel maiden to address us with a term of endearment.”

Paranoid: “More like a term of endangerment.”

Smitten: “This is our chance. Return her affection, show her the love she truly desires!”

Paranoid: “I think what she desires is to torture us again and again and again.”

Smitten: “My dear fellow, surely you must have noticed how she greets our every return with cruel delight? How lonely she must be without us in the harsh basement we've imprisoned her in. And yet she always approaches us closely, dances around us, teasingly touches us. She has flirted with us from the very beginning, and it’s about time we reciprocated her affection.”

Paranoid: “Her 'affection' kills us, you absolute lunatic, of all the ideas we’ve had this one’s the very worst!”

Hero: “I just don’t know how we can uh, seduce her if we can’t even move in her presence.”

Opportunist: “So then we’ve decided on a plan and now we’re just debating on the hows, excellent.”

Paranoid: “No, I refuse! She’s just gonna break my concentration immediately anyway, so if you go for this madness, I’m not even gonna try and keep the autonomous nervous system going!”

Hero: “Come on, don’t be like that, we need you.”

Paranoid: “Exactly, and I’m going on strike! See how long we live without me.”

Stubborn: “What, like it’s hard? Heart! Lungs! Liver! Nerves!”

Hero: “Woah, that packs a punch.”

Opportunist: “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. We don’t need you.”

Cheated: “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Hey, we could get a whole team together, see if she can still break us then!”

Contrarian: “Spleen. Stomach. Left kidney. Pituitary gland!”

Hunted: “Don’t get us killed. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.”

Hero: “I’m no good at this stuff, but with all of you guys on it, I guess we can actually do this? She’ll have a much harder time breaking all of your concentration than just his.”

Paranoid: “I see how it is, you lot will let me work to keep you alive hundreds of times but when it comes to actually listening to me? Nooo, shut up and just let us seduce the twisted abomination, there’s no way it’ll end in tears!”

Broken: “Maybe this will actually work. It’s only our fear for her that hurts us, if we can just learn to love her instead we might no longer be hurt.”

Smitten: “Glad to have you on board, I’m sure this will go swimmingly!”

Opportunist: “Alright team, all together now:”

Stubborn, Opportunist, Hunted, Cheated, and Skeptic: “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.”

· “I’m back, darling! Did you miss me?”

The Narrator: “A cruel laugh echoes from below.”

The Princess: “And why would I miss a worthless coward like you?”

Smitten: "She doesn't mean that. Let us answer her jest with a declaration of our love!"

Cold: "If we are committed to this plan, we'll need to put on a good performance. Let her think we really do care about her. Do give it your best shot."

· “Because we’ve been through so much together. I know whenever I’m out there my heart always carries me back to you, I miss seeing your beautiful eyes, your tall, elegant form, your haunting presence. Don’t you think we’re really starting to bond?”

The Princess: “You’re good entertainment at least, like my personal jester. Come on down and dance for me.”

Paranoid: “You know she’s just going to torment us again, right? She hates us.”

Smitten: “Her inviting us to dance for her means she cares for us. She loves dancing, you've seen the way she’s always twirling around. To associate it with us is surely a sign of her affection. You really must learn to read between the lines.”

· “I would love to dance with you! Come to me, and let's dance together!”

The Narrator: “You emerge into a vast maze-like space composed of loose rows of white planks suspended in nothingness, paths of cobblestones forming the closest thing to solid ground.”

The Princess: “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be there very soon, because-”

· [Sing along with the Princess] “~You’re going to find meeee!~”

The Narrator: “The Princess’s giggle echoes through the strange space as you walk in a random direction.”

The Princess: “I don’t know what’s come over you, but it sounds like I broke you in the most amusing way, dear.”

· “Love is what’s come over me! I now know that it’s the reason I always come back here, no matter what, even when I try to leave.”

The Princess: “...You tried to leave me again?”

The Narrator: “The Princess is suddenly upon you, drawing up to her full spindly height. A pair of enormous doll eyes glare down at you from behind an impassive mask of her own face. Terror washes over you, freezing your muscles, its static grasp squeezing around each of your organs in turn and coagulating your blood.”

Stubborn, Opportunist, Hunted, Cheated, and Skeptic: “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.”

The Narrator: “And yet, your body keeps working, your muscles thaw; slow and stiff, yet you remain capable of movement.”

Hero: “Woah, it actually works! Keep going, you guys!”

Smitten: “Never mind that, we made a foolish admission and now our darling is angry at us! We must apologise at once.”

Broken: "We shouldn't have said that... We shouldn't have been so cruel."

· “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, my point is I came back here regardless. I just wanted to see what the cabin’s surroundings are like.”

Hero: "I mean, we came back cause whatever cave or dark copse we entered at some point would just... turn out to be the cabin on the inside. But don't tell her that."

The Princess: “Aww, isn’t that just so sweet? You get to go sight-seeing while keeping me locked up down here! What lovely sights did you see, dear?”

The Narrator: “The Princess comes right up to you, her mask mere centimetres away as she snaps at you, tapping her fingers on your heart one by one. Every tap sends a horrible jolt of static pain through your entire system, every nerve overloading, your bloodstream backing up.”

Cheated: “AAARGH! H-heart!”

Opportunist: “Make her stop, make her stop! Lungs!”

Stubborn: “Liver! Nerves! We can -Hnn!- keep going!”

· “Just some trees and stuff, it's actually really boring out there! Nothing nearly as lovely as your masked visage, I assure you, I’m so sorry!”

The Princess: “You’re a worthless liar, but I already knew that. Let. Me. Out!”

Smitten: “We cannot keep our beloved-”

Hero: “We’ve been over this. Yes, we can keep her in here. We have to. We decided to, a long time ago, to protect the world from her.”

Broken: “She’s going to break us eventually and then we’ll let her out… Why not do it now?”

Cold: “We don’t owe the world anything. But we did decide to keep her locked up. We’re in charge here, and we’re not changing our mind just because she hurts us a bit.”

· “I’m sorry, you know I just can’t do that. But I’m here to keep you company, you shouldn’t be alone at least.”

The Princess: “You had no qualms about leaving me alone the first time, and I know you would still let me rot if you could. Maybe you need a little lesson in what happens to liars?”

The Narrator: “The Princess stops poking you. Instead, she lets a single finger hover over your throat, enjoying watching you squirm in terror. Then she gently lays it on your artery and slowly traces it down your neck, your shoulders, your chest. It is agony. You feel your blood crystallise and pierce your veins under her touch, your nerves seize up, your skin withers, your lungs fill with ice. And yet you manage to remain standing.”

Skeptic: “Urgh, how can a mere touch hurt so much?”

Stubborn: “Heart! Lungs! Liver! Nerves! Don’t just let her treat us like this! Heart! Lungs! Liver! Nerves!”

Cold: “Yes, let her have a taste of her own medicine.”

· “I could leave you to rot in here if I wanted to!”

The Princess: “No, we both know you can’t. No matter what, you can't escape me.”

· “You think so? What if every time I came upon the cabin, I took the blade and killed myself? I’d never get far enough to come down here and I’d die softer deaths than at your hands.”

The Narrator: “The Princess freezes, her eyes wide.”

Cold: “Oh, that struck a chord, didn’t it? She doesn’t like that.”

· “Or maybe I could step out into the void the moment I come down the stairs. It’d take me days to die of hunger every time, and you’d be alone all along. I could leave you alone if I wanted to.”

The Princess: “You’re… just bluffing, you’re, you’re just using powerless words to hurt me, and you won’t succeed.”

· “I’ve always come back so far, but maybe next time I’ll just start killing myself to keep away from you, leave you all alone down here. I don’t want to, but if you keep acting like this, maybe you’ll make me do it.”

The Narrator: “Fury and hate shine in the Princess’s eyes, tiny tears glimmering in their corners, and yet she doesn’t attack, stays rooted to the spot, arms clutched around herself.”

· “Or, maybe you could play nice for once. Maybe we could have some actual fun together, make the most of our time together. Maybe… maybe if you really showed me how nice you can be, I’d even let you out in the end?”

Hero: “What? No, we can’t do that, no way.”

Smitten: “Perhaps we couldn’t set our beloved free as she was, but if we could change her for the better, then why wouldn’t we let her have her freedom?”

The Narrator: “You can’t change what the Princess is, setting her free will always be the end of the world, even if she didn’t seem so obviously evil.”

Cold: “Perhaps. But a little carrot to dangle in front of her might make our stay oh so much nicer… even if she will never have that carrot.”

Paranoid: “So is this the big plan? To become like she is? Why don’t we just go find ourselves a mask while we’re at it?”

The Narrator: “The Princess paces in front of you, but then she comes to a stop, draws up closer, hovers over you with dark eyes wide.”

The Princess: “I’ve always played nice. In all this time, I’ve never killed you once, have I? It’s always been your own heart exploding because you just can’t handle me, or you doing ridiculous things like stabbing yourself or falling into the void. So sure, I can be nice. But if you think you can manipulate me, this is a truly pathetic attempt, but it’s very charming that you even try.”

· “Forget it, I just mean… Why don’t we try starting over? Let go of the bad blood and have some fun together. You like dancing, right? Come on, dance with me, it’d be so much fun together.”

Paranoid: “Oh real smart, invite her to touch us a bunch more.”

Stubborn: “We can handle it, can’t we lads?”

Skeptic: “I don’t know, I’ve got some concerns over how our body is responding to her even with all of us working together to keep us going.”

Smitten: “It’s just for a little while. Once we truly open our heart to her and lose our fear, her mere presence will no longer be death to us.”

Broken: "The pain is all our own fault."

The Narrator: “The Princess squints at you, her hands behind her back, then giggles and twirls around in the air.”

The Princess: “If you think you can keep up with me, then let’s dance! I think it’ll be very funny. But not here in the corridor, follow me to the ballroom, dear!”

The Narrator: “In the blink of an eye, she’s way down the corridor, waiting at a side passage to make sure you see her. You follow. Slowly, taking your time to catch your breath, you make your way down the corridor.”

Hero: “That went better than expected. She’s not tormenting us anyway.”

Smitten: “And now we get to impress her with our dazzling moves.”

Cold: “I think our threats already impressed her. We should do that more often. Show her who’s really in control of the situation.”

The Narrator: “Behind the passage the Princess disappeared into you find a round, cavernous empty space where a cold wind howls. With plenty of imagination, it could be seen as a ballroom. And in the middle of it all stands the Princess, tall and slender, her black hair billowing around her mask, her smoky dress revealing an equally smoky pair of legs in ebony high heels. You step towards the Princess resolutely, hiding your mounting fear.”

· “Princess, may I have this dance?”

The Narrator: “The Princess grabs you around the waist and by the hand, pulling you into her. Pain and static flood your body as she begins to sway and twirl with you.”

Stubborn, Opportunist, Hunted, Cheated, and Skeptic: “Heart, lungs-”

Hunted: “Aaargh! It hurts so much to be in her grasp!”

Stubborn: “Just. Keep. Us. Going.”

The Narrator: “You try to move your cramping muscles along with the Princess’s moves, but it’s a hopeless effort. It isn’t long before your foot bumps into hers. She angrily drops you to the ground, towering over you with her long legs and bending down to glare into your face.”

The Princess: “You clumsy oaf! Why do you invite me to dance if you’re terrible at it?”

Contrarian: “Wait, since when does she even have legs for us to bump into?”

Hero: “Surely she’s always had them? It’s hard to remember but I think you gotta have legs.”

Contrarian: “I guess this is the first time we’ve had a good view of them? What a lovely thing to have missed.”

Smitten: “They’re a dancer’s legs: long, strong, and shapely!”

· “I can dance too! Watch this.”

The Narrator: “Lying on the ground, you begin by raising your crest and spreading your wings. You rhythmically bob your head and crest as you get up, rolling out from under the gate formed by the Princess’s legs. You tap your feet, spread your wings wide, spin, and wave your tail around, getting as close to her as you dare.”

Contrarian: “Oh, I think I know this one! Are we doing our courtship dance?”

Smitten: “Indeed we are! And who could possibly be a better audience for it?”

Paranoid: “Literally anyone else. What’s next, wasting The Look on her?”

The Princess: “You look ridiculous, this is delightful! Keep going, this is a fun show.”

The Narrator: “Suddenly she’s lying on her side on some planks, glove on a prominent hip, watching your ridiculous dance intently. You keep on doing your bizarre rhythmic, undulating moves, your fluffed up feathers making you look both large and elegant as you caw, your tail emphasising your hips’ motion. With a final flourish you finish your ludicrous display. The Princess laughs and applauds, rolling to her feet with her legs crossing themselves altogether too many times during the roll.”

Hero: “Uhh, that’s definitely not natural. I get a headache just looking at it.”

Contrarian: “Ohh that’s why her legs are so nice, they aren’t natural! She’s got phantom legs and cursebearing hips!”

Smitten: “Yes, it would appear our beloved’s legs and skirt are one and the same. That’s why they both have that smoky colour and texture, and perhaps why her dress seems to be shorter since we entered this room and first laid eyes on her shapely legs. She reconstituted part of it into legs to dance with.”

· “See? I can dance, I just didn’t have the rhythm right. It’s tough without music.”

The Princess: “Well, if you'd like to hear music, let me just take care of that…”

The Narrator: “Suddenly, she is upon you, her lips at your ear, her fingers stroking your shoulder.”

Stubborn, Opportunist, Hunted, Cheated, and Skeptic: “Aaargh! Heart, l-lungs, liver, nerves!”

The Narrator: “The Princess whispers something in your ear, something you can’t understand a word of yet makes you queasy to the pit of your stomach, something that seeps into you. Black smoke fills your ear and saturates your eardrum like water saturates a towel. You scream as chunky black ooze begins to flow out of your ear, the world going silent on that side. But then you hear the Princess’s voice humming a simple three-beat rhythm. You turn to look at her, but she is already gone, standing in front of you offering her hand, even as you hear the rhythm continue.”

The Princess: “Now that that’s been solved, may I have this dance?”

The Narrator: “You take her hand and she puts her arm around your waist, pressing you to her chest as the ethereal rhythm hummed by her voice continues in your ear. Pain erupts throughout your body, but as your Voices repeat their tooth-gritted chorus over and over, you manage to remain standing and even move along with her swaying steps as you whirl around each other.”

Paranoid: “Why do you keep letting her do this to us? Every single moment of being with her is torture, and I don’t even know what she’s done to our ear but it’s oozing all over our shoulder.”

Smitten: “Come now, what could feel better than a beautiful woman holding us against her breast as we dance the night away? Let it invigorate you, let it banish your fear once and for all!”

Paranoid: “What could be better than a beautiful woman holding us? One who doesn’t hate us and snap at everything we do and doesn’t melt our organs and deliberately hurt us! I don’t care how long her weird spooky legs are if she’s gonna turn into an absolute terror at a moment’s notice!”

Cold: “The mushy one is right about one thing. The pain is purely in our heads. If we just numb ourselves to the fear, she can’t do anything to us.”

The Princess: “Time to step it up! Keep up, dear!”

The Narrator: “The simple rhythm the Princess hums right into your eardrum speeds up, and the waltz gets faster and more involved. The Princess twirls you around the ballroom in an invigorating hurricane of pain and joy, the moves becoming more complex and intense. It’s all you can do just to keep up with the footwork, your body feeling like it’s melting and seizing up in her grip. You are a mere puppet to her as she dips you, a joyful fire burning in her eyes as they stare into yours from behind her mask. The way her body presses against yours brings you equal amounts of agony and excitement. Yet you slowly regain the ability to move, make the waltz more of a dance between equals and less of a grim exercise in puppeteering. As your dance proceeds through the vast ballroom, you notice feathers detaching, fluttering down to the ground like autumn leaves with every whirl. In the spots where the Princess touches you – your chest, your waist, your arm – your skin is withered and decaying, shedding dead feathers rapidly and turning patchy. Even your talons look grey and lifeless and as you pay attention to them, one of your claws comes loose, falls to the ground, leaving behind a dry greyish-red nailbed that doesn’t even bother to shed blood.”

Paranoid: “This is what touching the Princess means! This is what dancing with her means, what loving her means.”

Smitten: “Only as long as we cling to our fear. If we can just let ourselves love her as she deserves to be loved, see her for who she truly is, we won’t be hurt any more. Open our heart, she's simply dancing with us, it’s not our beloved’s fault if it hurts us.”

Broken: "We shouldn't blame her for it, we just don't love her as much as we should."

· “Princess, this is so much fun, but can we switch it up a little?”

The Narrator: “The Princess lets go and you both spin out, facing each other and catching your breath, wheezing into painfully cramped lungs despite your Voices’ best efforts to keep you going. Although the Princess’s mask is impassive as ever, the way she cocks her head and her eyes shine are not.”

Smitten: “Indeed, that would be a look of love and enticement.”

Paranoid: “Or fury at us telling her what to do. She’s gonna hurt us again…”

The Narrator: “She claps her hands twice and the a capella tune she hums into your ear changes to a four beat rhythm with a stirring little romantic tune hummed over it. You bite your lip as you see the look she flashes you and the way she sways her hips as she walks towards you.”

Smitten: “A tango! Yes.”

Opportunist: “Oh no, a tango. Here we go keeping us alive again, boys. Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.”

The Princess: “Yes, let’s change things up a bit. This will be fun.”

The Narrator: “The Princess takes your hand and pulls to spin you into her. She’s even taller than before, her legs further lengthened and her skirt shortened, and you only reach the grey crook of her neck in her high heels. She clearly savours the height difference as she pulls your body tightly against hers from hip to shoulders, looking down into your eyes with a smug light in hers. As the dance starts in earnest, sensual and intense, you realise that even though your body erupts in pain and static at the Princess’s deep touches, you are much more capable of moving than before. Your muscles feel looser than before, less seized up in fear. Compared to the earlier torment, it’s almost exhilarating, and as her legs and yours cross and rub against each other, your bodies tightly intertwined during some of the moves, you actually find yourself cracking a smile.”

The Princess: “Enjoying ourself, are we? You’re cute when you smile, my little ragdoll.”

Smitten: “Doesn’t it feel so sensual and delightful to have her body all over us?”

Hero: “I-I guess, yeah. It’s almost not really painful any more, it just tingles a lot.”

Contrarian: “It’s defrightful!”

Paranoid: “It does still hurt, you thirst-brained idiots! That tingling is our nerves dying despite their best efforts.”

The Narrator: “I’m inclined to agree with that little Voice, yet you keep telling yourself the pain is getting less with every move, every touch, you keep imagining her presence less toxic to your entire being even as a chorus of little Voices struggles to keep you alive. The Princess, on the other hand, is having a great time. She croons and giggles as your intimate dance comes to an end, the music in your deafened right ear ceasing. And as you stand there catching your breath and smiling through the pain, a mischievous twinkle enters her eye.”

The Princess: “Catch!”

The Narrator: “The Princess leaps at you, throwing her spectral legs around your waist. Your lower torso erupts in agony, you wobble on your legs, already exhausted and about to drop.”

Opportunist: “Aaargh! Heart, lungs… l-legs… Uh, nerves?”

Stubborn: “Focus! Heart, lungs, liver, nerves!”

Hunted: “Our own legs need the help! Heart, lungs, legs, nerves! Everyone!”

Stubborn, Opportunist, Hunted, Cheated, and Skeptic: “Heart. Lungs. Legs. Nerves.”

The Princess: “Hihihi, don’t you drop me! You’ll beg me for death if you drop me.”

Hero: “Th-that’s just teasing, right? She’s not actually serious?”

Cold: “Oh, she’s quite serious. It’s a test.”

The Narrator: “You manage to stabilise for just a moment, but you’re on the edge of collapsing, even the Princess’s light weight far too much for your exhausted, agonised body. Your knees weaken as you look up into her eyes, intense jolts of pain flooding your lower spine as her legs hold on tightly.”

· “V-very funny, Princess, haha, can I put you down now?”

The Narrator: “The Princess laughs a coy laugh with a sliver of ice hidden under the surface. She runs her hands over your scalp gently, and yet it’s like nails are being driven into your skull. Her lilting voice answers in singsong tones.”

The Princess: “Not yet, dear! You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you? ~Drop me and suffer!~”

The Narrator: “Your lower body is both numb and in agony at the same time, like a folded up arm you slept on all night long. Your blood coagulates and pools in your pelvis. You shake and you shudder, your entire being focused on staying up just a little longer, anything to delay the inevitable, but your terror keeps you standing against all odds. You move your hands to her upper thighs in a vain attempt to divide her weight better, and her eyes widen a little.”

Paranoid: “She’s gonna hurt us for that!”

The Narrator: “But the Princess giggles.”

The Princess: “Cheeky!”

Smitten: “Stand firm, we simply cannot disappoint our darling! She believes in us and so do I! We can be strong for her.”

The Narrator: “With every wheezing breath the black creeps in further, leaving a smaller and smaller tunnel vision centred on the Princess’s eyes. You’re standing more on bone than muscle, all of your remaining energy going to just keeping yourself standing.”

· “Princess… Please…”

The Princess: “Hmmm, just one more moment, dear. I could get used to this… Ahh, fine.”

The Narrator: “The Princess hops down, and you instantly collapse to the ground, utterly drained, your vision going black and the world spinning. As you lie there wheezing the Princess sits down with a musical laugh, resting her head on arms folded on one leg’s knee while the other is stretched out past you.”

The Princess: “That was adorable, you really gave it your all for me. And the dancing was so much more fun with a partner!”

The Narrator: “You manage to sit up and smile at the Princess. She almost looks soft and friendly, sitting there with a strangely fond gaze in her doll eyes.”

· “That’s me, your dance partner. It’s why I stayed with you, to be with you, to have fun with you. We can have good times together, right?”

Contrarian: “She does put the ‘fun’ in ‘funeral’ and the ‘laughter’ in ‘slaughter’, not to mention the ‘hot’ in ‘psychotropic influence slowly breaking our mind with her mere presence’.”

The Princess: “Sure, though I’ve had plenty of delightful times with you already.”

Cold: “Ignore that. She needs us. Remind her of it.”

Smitten: “Yes, reach out to her, let her know it’s okay.”

· “I know. That’s why I’m here, so you don’t have to be lonely.”

The Narrator: “The Princess’s soft look becomes a bit more guarded.”

The Princess: “Who says I’m lonely? I’m just fine without you.”

· “Princess, it’s okay, look at this place, of course you’d hate it here alone. That’s why I decided to stay with you, but I went about things the wrong way, and now we can change for the better!”

The Princess: “How do you mean?”

· “Well, I know you don’t want to hurt me. I know you just lash out because you’re lonely, and sad, and angry, but you don’t have to be any more! I’m here for you.”

The Narrator: “The Princess draws up her shoulders and looks away from you.”

The Princess: “Are you?”

· “Yes, and we can dance the pain away together. I stayed, I always found my way back to you, because I love you.”

The Narrator: “The Princess, eyes wide, looks at you sharply. As always, it’s impossible to tell what’s going on below her mask, but she’s probably incredulous at the nonsense you just said, as am I.”

The Princess: “You… love me?”

· “I do, how could I not fall for your big gorgeous eyes, your elegant motions, your strength in the face of adversity, your whole aesthetic, your wicked sense of humour?”

The Princess: “Prove it. Kiss me.”

Hero: “Uhh, that’s a bit of a problem, isn’t it?”

Smitten: “What, because of the mask? Nonsense, my dear fellow, let us sweep our stunning stygian sweetheart off her feet and remove her mask, unveil the gorgeous face that assuredly-”

Paranoid: “NO! NONONO, DON’T DO THAT!”

Hero: “NO, WE CAN’T DO THAT, WE CAN’T REMOVE HER MASK!”

Cold: “...And why couldn’t we? Aren’t you curious to see what she’s hiding?”

Hero: “NO, I’M NOT, I JUST KNOW… I just know taking off her mask would be a terrible mistake.”

Paranoid: “It’s the first sensible thing he’s said all day, I’m with him, whatever you do, don’t take off the fucking mask, I’m begging you. Can’t you all feel that terrible sense of doom?”

Broken: “No. I think she wants us to take off the mask, so we should take it off.”

Hero: “I’m not letting us take off the mask.”

Smitten: “Very well, then we shall have to be a little more creative with our kiss.”

· [Kiss the Princess’s leg]

The Narrator: “You could have taken the blade and saved yourself all these Voices debating by just slaying her here. But unfortunately for everyone, you did not. Instead, you put a hand to her soft calf and your lips to her knee. A little gasp escapes the Princess. Her smoky, grey leg feels odd, as if it isn’t quite real, as if you can just slightly press into its edges, just as you can see through it a bit. And yet kissing it feels pleasant, intimate even.”

Hero: “Yeah… Hey, actually, it barely hurts, does it? The pain is really getting better!”

Smitten: “Of course it is, love can change all. All we need to do is open our heart that last little bit, love her for who she truly is, and banish what remains of our fear.”

Broken: “The problem always lay with us. It was always that easy.”

Paranoid: “You’re all just letting her get into our head! You’re just convincing yourselves her presence isn’t a deadly toxin, but we’ll all remember next time she snaps.”

Smitten: “Don’t let your fears rule you. Come, enjoy this moment with us as we open our hearts to the Princess and kiss a path up her strong, yet soft thigh as highly as she will allow us.”

The Narrator: “As you slowly kiss your way up her thigh, your fingers follow suit, gently petting and stroking upward. Strange and smoky though its grey texture is, it is yet highly reminiscent of actual flesh."

Smitten: "Clearly it is, in a way. We can feel muscles twitch and shiver nervously as we reach higher, yet her breath is slow and contented even as we move her skirt up further and further and her thigh becomes thicker and softer. She is wonderfully tender and warm under our lips and fingers as we caress her, comfy and soft beyond all imagination."

The Narrator: "After a happy while, a velvet glove cups your chin, gently making you look up at the Princess’s masked face. There's an incredible softness to her dark eyes as you just hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds. When she talks, her voice is kind, a pleasant whisper compared to its usual lilting cruelty.”

The Princess: “Thank you. Maybe… maybe I am a bit lonely. It’s… so hard down here. I’d been here for so long and then you came and you just… left me behind again. I know I reacted… sharply, but I felt so betrayed, you can’t even imagine. Being stuck in this basement is torture to me. Still, I’m sorry you fear me so much it hurts you.”

· “It’s okay, it’s getting better and better! And you don’t ever have to be alone any more, I’m with you, and I always will be.”

The Princess: “Then please, dear, deliver me from my nightmare. Let’s leave this place, hand in hand. Please... let me out.”

Smitten: “Yes, it’s time to save our beloved from the cruel fate we played such a large part in.”

Hero: “I wish it was that easy, but just ‘cause she’s being nice to us now doesn’t mean she’s gonna be nice to the world. Remember how cruel she was in all those lives along the way? Remember what she said she wanted to do to the world? We can’t let her out.”

Broken: “She was only like that because we made her that way.”

Smitten: “Indeed. Love has changed her.”

Cold: “We chose our path a long time ago. The Princess will stay in the basement.”

· “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. But let's not think about that, let's instead think of how nice we could make this basement together! Oh, and we should dance again!"

The Narrator: “The Princess draws a sharp breath and raises her emaciated shoulders as all softness leaves her eyes. In an instant, the pain of touching her is back. Your chorus of Voices, who have been taking it easy with their rhythm, are taken by surprise, and you half black out into her lap. Your hand on her inner thigh burns and withers in agony, another claw falling off.”

The Princess: “So that’s it, then. That’s all I get for my trust, I get to be locked up forever. But not to worry, your snivelling, cowardly presence will definitely gild the cage!”

· “Nono, it’s not like that-”

The Princess: “Then let me out!”

Hero: "We're not doing that, there's too much at stake."

Cold: "We've got her right where we want her. We'd be fools to give up our power over her."

· “Listen, Princess, I get it and if you're very nice, maybe eventually I'll let you out? I just feel it hasn't been long enough yet, you've made such a good start, and if you just keep going like this and stay nice to me, then-"

The Narrator: “The Princess shoves you to the ground, her ebony heel on your chest as she stands up, kneeling down over your supine body, the darkness around her form swelling, consuming the ballroom around you. Your blood congeals, your nerves are electrified, your lungs fill with ice. If you weren’t lying down, even the five Voices doing their best to keep you alive wouldn’t be able to keep you standing.”

The Princess: “Yes, if I’m ‘nice’ to you, oh I know exactly what you mean by that! You want a pretty little doll locked up in her pretty little dollhouse, for you to visit and use whenever you like, as you tell her your pretty little lies, don’t you? Lies like ‘I love you.’”

· “No, it’s not like that, I really do love you!”

The Narrator: “The Princess laughs a laugh covered in deep frost.”

The Princess: “If you do love me, why does your body react to me like this? Why are you lying there with your organs melting and your skin crawling? I’ve never actually attacked you, never struck or kicked or stabbed you, but your own cowardice hurts you when I simply touch you gently! If you love me, why do you react to me like that? Why can’t you just love me properly? And why won’t you just LET-“

The Narrator: “The Princess pokes your shoulder, and an intense jolt of pain spreads out across your entire right side by thousands of sharply branching paths in an instant.”

The Princess: “ME!”

The Narrator: “She pokes the same spot. The pain splits muscles, severs tendons, and crystallises nerves as it spreads out along its fractal pathways.”

The Princess: “OUT!”

The Narrator: “The Princess pokes you again, and with a horrific, explosive agony, your shoulder and arm shatter like glass, a thousand sharp pieces of flesh dropping onto the ground. And despite their sharp, glass-like fractures, they are still very much flesh, their edges and points soft and weeping thick, congealed blood. As you look at the bare, fleshy angles of your shattered shoulder, the pain is indescribable.”

· “What have you done?!”

The Narrator: “The Princess stumbles and falls back, tears springing into her eyes as she looks at your shattered arm.”

The Princess: “No, I-I didn’t want to- I didn’t want to do that, it’s just you- your stupid fear, you hurt yourself, you made me angry, you made me do it! I don’t want to hurt you, I never do, but you make me, you forced me to hurt you by keeping me imprisoned! Don’t you understand, I just wanted to leave together, but you made me hurt you! Why do you do this to me?!”

The Narrator: “She’s openly weeping, tears pouring from behind her mask.”

Smitten: “Ignore our pain, the pain in her heart must be so much worse. Comfort her.”

· “Princess, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I love you.”

Paranoid: “…We meant it… We actually meant it. I don’t think we can tell love and hate apart any more.”

Broken: “There never was a difference.”

The Narrator: “Using your remaining arm, you push yourself up from the pool of blood leaking out of a thousand shards of what was you. You stumble to her, and you put your single arm around her shoulders. Your flesh already begins to wither, the touch of hers making both your arms match each other in pain. Yet you pull her shaking, emaciated shoulders against you.”

The Princess: “How can you love me when you won’t even grant me my only wish and let me escape my nightmare? You’re a jailer, not a lover. How much longer do we have to put ourselves through this? Just let me out… Why won't you ever just let me out?”

Paranoid: “It’s always like this. There’s just no escape… Not for us, and not even for her.”

Smitten: "And isn't that wonderful? Isn't that just the most beautiful and romantic thing you can imagine?"

Cold: "One way or another, we'll be together forever."

· “It’ll get better. If we love each other, we’ll stop hurting. I know you didn’t mean it, I know you want us to be happy just like I do, and so we will be, eventually. Every relationship has its difficulties.”

The Narrator: “The Princess, still sobbing, throws her arms around you, your every nerve firing in pain, your feathers drying out, dying, and shedding, your very skin sloughing off from her toxic presence. And yet you keep holding her as your flesh withers and unravels. Her eyes red and swollen with tears, her mask finds your face and kisses you. There is a bizarrely soft, lifelike quality to the porcelain, like there is actual skin, warm flesh, the distant pulse of a beating heart present in it. Through the mouth opening, the Princess’s lips touch yours. They are soft and big, warm and caressing, yet it is like kissing Death herself. At their moist touch, your own lips wither, crack, and split into deep gorges that spread across the rest of your face, oozing blood gone thick and dark, and yet you keep kissing her, drunk on a bitter cocktail of agony and ecstasy. Her luscious lips slowly part against yours and a tongue comes through the mask. But what a tongue it is. A swollen, abhorrent slug enters your willing mouth, your husks of lips parting eagerly for its fetid, molassy bulk, its every touch like it's made of molten magma, pure decay. As it gently, lovingly slithers past your teeth, they rot and fall out on the spot, your molars split down the middle, shattering as parts of them fall out while the jagged brown ruins of other parts remain in their sockets. A sensual lick to the inside of your mouth makes your gums retreat, exposing dried out tissue and bits of bone. Her thick, juicy tongue proceeds to wrestle with yours, which swells to match hers, growing numb and pustulent. As your tongues dance an unctuous dance, yours finally bursts, filling your ruin of a mouth with liquid black tar that pours out from between you two. She laps up a bit of the viscous liquid as you part. You catch just a glimpse of the horrid inky thing retreating behind her mask’s lips, now wiped of their lipstick. As you cough up tar and teeth, the Princess’s dark eyes shine with a mad desire even as tears pour out from underneath her mask. It's a desire that despite everything, you too are filled with.”

Smitten: “Yes, we are. We keep going. Nothing could be more wonderful and more terrible than her love."

Broken: "It is worth dying a thousand deaths for.”

The Princess: "M-maybe there is some solace in you, dear..."

The Narrator: “Lost in your deranged desires, the Princess reaches a velvet glove for her mask, moving to take it off.”

Hero: “NO, NO STOP HER, WE CAN’T SEE HER FACE AGAIN!”

Paranoid: “ANYTHING BUT THAT, ANYTHING!”

Cold: “We can’t stop her, so we’re in for an interesting experience no matter what. You two have made me so very curious.”

Smitten: “Yes, at last we shall lay eyes on her gorgeous visage!”

Hero: “No. No... Then there’s only one thing for it. I’m sorry, everyone.”

· [Claw out your eyes]

The Narrator: “Just as the Princess’s mask begins to come off, the remaining claws on your hand find your eye sockets and pierce deep into the soft orbs they find there. It’s like clawing into two small tomatoes, their tough corneas resisting your talons for just a moment before you pierce them, your nails driving right through lens and iris. The fluids inside leak out through the holes you tore, their outer skins wrinkling and deflating under your pressure as it does so. And yet you dig your claws deeper and deeper, desperate as you are to avoid any chance you might still see something. You rip through retinas until you scrape against the tough bone of your eyesockets, then you curve your fingers and drag them along the bone until you emerge with what once were two eyeballs impaled on your claws. One of them falls to the ground with a wet ‘plop’, the other dangles uselessly from some remaining tissue connecting it to the depths of your socket. Mercifully, you see nothing but black as you feel warm blood wash down from your eyes just as tar flows from your mouth. The Princess is silent for a long time, her touch removed from you. When her voice comes, it is as deflated as your eyes; cold and lonely and miserable.”

The Princess: “…You really are a worthless coward. There is nothing as terrifying as sharing your true face with someone. And this is how you respond to my vulnerability? To my love? You say you love me, but you can't even bear to look at me.”

Smitten: “I’m so sorry, my love, I don’t know what came over us, I wish we could apologise a thousand times for this insult.”

Hero: “I don’t. We had to. We couldn’t… not again…”

Paranoid: “Yeah. Not again. Or was this the first time? It’s so hard to remember.”

Broken: “We’ve never needed her to hurt us… We hurt us. This just makes it more obvious.”

The Narrator: “You try to stammer out words of solace, but the deflated sack that was once your tongue can’t make words any more.”

The Princess: “Hold this.”

The Narrator: “She hands you her mask as you hear a rustle of fabric, but your withered, declawed fingers tremble and drop it. You hear the sound of shattering porcelain in the void.”

The Princess: “You… you broke it. You broke it! Can’t you do anything right?! Why are you…”

The Narrator: “She sighs a depressed sigh.”

The Princess: “It doesn't matter. Maybe nothing matters. There’s only one thing that could be worse than being stuck with you forever… and it’s being stuck alone forever. Maybe that’s what love is.”

Smitten: “I know it is. Because that’s exactly how we feel, and we love her with all our heart.”

The Narrator: “There are no more words to be said. A gloveless hand cups your face, bare skin igniting it in agony even her gloved touches didn't prepare you for. And yet worse is to come when her maskless lips find yours, the feeling of her face - or is that a face? - on yours sending every one of your Voices screaming, all they can do just to keep you alive a little longer, your body frozen and your mind on the edge of perishing. What’s left of your face decays rapidly, withering and rotting and liquifying and sticking to hers. And as you feel her bare body all over yours, an intense amount of skin contact everywhere sloughs your flesh off, rotting it away. You melt into her body, your pain and terror becoming one with hers as what’s left of you liquifies, your brittle skull sizzling and shattering without even so much as an impact, just a gentle kiss. After enough agony to fill a hundred lifetimes, finally your brain turns into goo, sticking to her. One pointless Voice after another goes silent, their useless screams and ideas and rhythms vanishing one by one. By the time death comes, you no longer have any concept of it, only of her, the one you love and hate so much more than you love and hate even yourself, and who you now know you will be stuck together with for the rest of eternity.”

## Afterword

End Notes

> This chapter's illustration can be found at https://www.tumblr.com/vickysaurus-art/773288776422375424/the-princess-so-thats-it-then-thats-all-i?source=share

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