B stands for Bondage, D for Dezechiel

Fantastasia awakens to the cold wind grazing her cheeks. She slowly opens her still hazy eyes, unaware quite where she is.

A bump on the road throws her up in her seat. Oh, she’s on a carriage. With three other men, no less, wait, is that Dezechiel, tied up and gagged in the corner, what the hell is…

She tries to say something, but to nobody’s surprise, Dezechiel isn’t the only one restrained head to toe. The rope tying her hands behind her back digs into her skin in an unpleasant way; though it would be much weirder if she found it pleasant. She doesn’t recall consenting to any of this! Not to kinkshame anyone who does, though.

The sturdy nordic-looking man opposite of her takes note of her squirming and finally breaks the silence.

“Hey, you! You’re finally awake!”

What the fuck is going on? She quickly darts her eyes back and forth, trying to figure out what sort of situation she’s in. First of all, they’re in some mysterious land covered by snow. She’s never seen this place before, but it has to be far enough north for your piss to freeze before it hits the ground.

“You were trying to cross the border, right?” the man continues his monologue in a tone so boring you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Walked right into that imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

Cross the border? Imperial ambush? Has this fella been smoking or is she just that bad at remembering? She has no recollection of any of this whatsoever. Either she’s had a few too many drinks last night, or…

Now that she thinks of it, her head does suspiciously hurt a lot. Not the ‘drinking gin tonic until three in the morning’ kind though. If her memory isn’t playing tricks on her, she was just in Dentalia, fighting a giant and… that fucker!

She looks over at her comrade. When he notices her gaze, he digs his eyes into the bottom of the carriage, basically admitting guilt, even though this kind of confession probably wouldn’t stand in the court of law.

She tries to speak, but to no avail. Magic doesn’t seem to be working either. What’s with this over-the-top in medias res setting?

Dezechiel is the only one who can cast spells with his mouth alone. So if he’s unable to even twitch a muscle, then they’re swimming in more shit than what flows in the river of any larger city.

She starts tossing and turning, kind of like a fish out of water. Before long, one of the guards leading the carriage takes note of this.

“Hey, cool it back there!” their unenthusiastic grumpy captor warns her. Too bad for him, she starts to panic even when she feels a bit of pain in an unusual area of her body. After all, anything could be cancer.

Fan-Fan tries to scream, but through the gag, it sounds more like a chicken dying. After a few minutes of her childlike protests, their ride finally comes to a halt and a soldier hops out to check on what the hell is going on.

“What’s up with this one?!” the guard asks, clearly unhappy to do this. He has an ugly mustache on his face which is honestly more reminiscent of genital hair and just as badly trimmed.

Despite this, the girl gives him a desperate look, clutching her legs and shaking the whole carriage. He sighs and decides to ungag her.

“I need to pee!” Fantastasia voices her bewildering thoughts.

“God, is that all? Just piss yourself on the spot if need be.” With that remark, he begins taking his walk of shame back to the front of her carriage. “Oh, and if you bother me again, I’m gonna have to force you to shut up.”

Tsk. His attitude isn’t any better than his grooming skills.

Still, the pink-haired demon girl smirks. On the surface, it might look like she has achieved nothing. But through humility, there’s a way.

She tries to prop herself up towards her buddy. With a few rather nonspecific eye signals, she tries to get the Nordic man in front of her to help out. At first, he’s confused, but quickly comes to understand what’s going on.

Dezechiel also realizes something is up. He crawls to the girl within his own scope of ability, almost like a worm digging through compost. Before long, they are sitting next to each other with the help of everyone in the carriage.

Fantastasia leans in closer to the silenced angel and bites his gag, gripping it in her teeth. With a bit of effort, she manages to pull it down.

Dezechiel smiles. He knows exactly what she’s thinking of. Closing his eyes and squeezing his lips, he inches his face closer to the girl.

“What the fuck are you doing, you idiotic perv!” she screams, headbutting the poor fella right in the teeth. He bites his lip, blood pouring out in streams, torn out of the sweet fantasy that existed only in his mind, utterly disconnected from reality.

“I thought you were trying to-” he attempts to defend himself.

“Do you ever think of anything normal, you pigeon brain?!?”

“Alright, I’m done with you guys in the back!”

The ride comes to a stop. Uh oh. The sound of a blade being unsheathed tells Fantastasia she should probably hurry the fuck up with her explanation, so she turns to Deze once more.

“You know, with the way you bit that gag off and that desperate look in your eyes, I thought… Like, maybe you wanted some action before we get executed…?”

“Executed?” The girl spurts out. “You imbecile, you realize we don’t have to get executed if you use your fucking mouth for something else than salivating over women, right?”

Dezechiel raises his brow, clearly intrigued. “Like what?”

“Like casting some fucking spells?!?”

The look of realization on his face is priceless. He turns his sight towards the incoming captor, then speaks but three words in an uncharacteristically deep and cold angelic tone.

“Be not afraid.”

Before the first syllable leaves his mouth, his eyes start gleaming like gold, their color turnt to a shade of orange. His expression becomes that of a carved statue- chiseled, calm, static. Behind him, an orb of fire materializes out of thin air. The heat it’s emitting begins to melt the surrounding snow almost immediately, rendering drops of sweat on the skin of his fellow prisoners. The guard jumps back with a squeak, putting his sword between himself and the angel.

“You monster, what are you?!” The panicked captor shouts at him, threatening to strike with his blade. With a mustache like that though, it is readily apparent he is pissing his pants at this very moment.

The awoken angel stands up, his restraints melted after the orb appeared behind him.

“Be not afraid,” he simply repeats.

“Good heavens…” the Nordic man produces an exaggerated gasp.

Fan-Fan backs up into the back of the carriage with a spooked expression. She has to admit, he looks really cool when he does this. And pretty fucking scary at the same time.

Unbothered and expressionless, the angel marches towards the soldier. The armed man finally comes to his senses and takes a swing at his unarmed opponent. Dezechiel simply lifts his hand and catches the attack with his bare palm, not even moving a brow all throughout.

Upon impacting him, the sword instantly turns white, then crumbles to fine dust. The guard tries to step back, but Dezechiel quickly embraces him with a warm smile, wrapping his arm around the disarmed man’s back.

“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Therefore, be not afraid.”

The pink-haired demon girl smirks. That sounds like a really cheesy pickup line. If not for the fact that the guy saying it has basically become an undefeatable wall, that is.

The orb of fire behind him dissipates and the strong aura is gone in an instance. The two men stand there, embracing one another until the angel finally breaks apart.

“Eh?” he lets out a surprised noise, his blue eyes glossing over the person in front of him. “Who are you?”

“M-Monster!!” The guard finally comes to, screaming as he flees, away from whatever that thing he just tried to fight is.

Dezechiel turns to the carriage looking quite confused. “What’s that guy's problem? And why are you people tied up?”

Fan-Fan sighs. It’s finally over.

“More importantly, could you cut us free already?” she asks, turning around and showing her restraints.

“Oh, right…” He hops onto the carriage, taking a good gander at the tied up girl. Speaking of, recently he saw a rather intriguing painting of a similar scene, though the woman in that one had significantly less clothing and a more sizable bust…

“Yuck,” Fan-Fan makes a disgusted expression, “you’re looking at me with those lecherous eyes again.”

Deze snaps back to reality. “Oh, what, noooo…” he scratches his chin, dodging direct eye contact with his partner, “I was just thinking of the best way to untie you without hurting your skin, that’s it.”

The girl squints her eyes. “It’s a rope, you dipshit, just cut it.”

“Fuck you.”

The nordic man chuckles. “You two must be really close to act like that,” he compliments their compatibility. A rookie mistake to make.

“Huh?” They blurt out in unison. The freshly freed pink-haired demon girl realizes the way they look when even their reactions match, so she stuffs her hand in Dezechiel’s face and turns to the nord.

“In any case, the closest the two of us have ever gotten are situations like these where I have to put him in his place.” She presses her hand even harder into the mouth of the angel who’s trying to mumble something.

“My apologies then, m’lady.”

She stops her bout of domestic violence and turns towards the last man on the carriage. He still has his gag in, simply staring her in the eye. His haircut is kind of funny.

“And who’s this goofy lookin’ ass,” she tilts her head in question.

“Watch your tongue!” the other nord harshly reprimands her. “You are speaking to Ulfric Mormsoak, the true High King of…”

“Yeah, I honestly don’t really care,” she dismisses the monologue while jumping off the cart.

“Huh?”

“He’s your friend, so take care of him, will ya?” With that remark, she starts taking her leave alongside her totally-not-romantically-related friend.

Before the confused nord has any time to retort, the two of them walk off, leaving him to his own devices, regardless of how flabbergasted he may be.

\\

Fanstastasia sighs. 

“The same as usual.”

“The same as usual?”

She gives him an unconvinced look. “You remember that time you were telling a tavern keeper I’m allergic to peanuts, but he didn’t understand what that was, so you tried to explain it for ten minutes while waving your hands around?”

“Eh? That happened?? And what does that even mean???”

“You looked like an imbecile,” she shuts him down with an unexpected remark.

“Whatever, at least I don’t have to check my food for traces of funny fruits or else I accidentally poison myself.”

Fan-Fan stops in her tracks. “Peanuts are fruit?”

“Yeah, you didn’t even know that? Haha.”

The girl grinds her teeth and grabs the angel by the collar. “Don’t ‘haha’ me like you’ve heard an above average joke, what has that pigeon-sized brain of yours been up to after you knocked me out? Why were we suddenly tied up in some carriage?”

Dezechiel looks away with a concerned expression while scratching his chin. His usual goofy composure turns uncharacteristically serious. 

“Knocked you out?” he asks when he meets her gaze again.

“Don’t play dumb dumb with me, you know what you did,” she fumes. “You lured me in with the premise of a cozy da-” 

The girl cuts off. Then closes her eyes. Then takes a deep breath.

“...the premise of a fine view,” she continues like she didn’t just randomly change her narrative, “and then slammed my unassuming stupid self into the pavement.”

Dezechiel digs his nails into his leg. “What? Where?”

“Dentalia, duh.”

The angel looks to the side and covers his mouth.

“What’s up??” Fan-Fan asks, confused.

“Fantastasia, that was two years ago.”

“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?!?”