In my defense, I didn't plan the escape.
It just… happened.
One moment I was tucked inside a velvet nest of outrageously expensive cushions, basking in the warmth of a villainess who hadn't killed me yet. The next, Arwen Nightveil—the very same imperial doomspawn I was now soulbonded to—left the room.
The door didn't shut behind her.
It stayed cracked open.
A sliver of hallway.
A breeze.
A whisper of freedom.
And I, a creature of glorious instinct and barely-formed motor control, heard the call.
> [Soulbond Proximity: 13.2 meters]
[Warning: Attempting to leave bond radius may result in Magical Feedback™ and mild existential screaming.]
I didn't care.
I was done being someone's lap fungus.
---
The first step of my escape plan involved heroically flopping out of the nest.
I rolled off the pillow and hit the floor like a dropped dumpling.
Thud.
Phase One: a stunning success. Only minor tail trauma.
Phase Two: stealth mode.
I waddled. Slowly. Gracefully. With the kind of poise only a newly-hatched soul beast shaped like a pinecone-plushie could muster.
Every few feet, I paused to check for guards. There were none.
Unless you count the crossbow rack on the wall. Which I did. Emotionally.
The polished obsidian tiles were cold beneath my feet, but determination fueled me.
Six feet down. Fourteen to go.
I would make it.
---
Then I hit the rug.
Or rather, the rug hit me.
It caught my tail and dragged me back like a clingy ex. I squawked in outrage, thrashed, twisted, tried to bite the fabric. No use. I was wedged like a feathered sausage under velvet tyranny.
> [Trait Activated: Tiny Rage]
+3 to indignant squealing
-1 to dignity
And that was the precise moment Arwen returned.
---
She stared.
Just stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes unreadable, as I flailed halfway under a throw rug like a disgraced mop.
"You're not even subtle," she said at last.
I puffed up. Which, in my defense, is all I really could do. I puffed with the force of moral outrage and thwarted independence.
Arwen walked over, knelt down, and lifted the rug.
She didn't mock me. Not like earlier.
Instead, she sighed.
"Of course you'd be the type to get tangled in upholstery during your first jailbreak."
She scooped me up and brushed dust from my fur with one gloved finger.
"I should've ordered that fox after all."
---
That stung.
I didn't know why. It's not like I wanted to be her familiar. I barely wanted to be alive right now. But the idea of her comparing me to some elegant, silver-maned, imperial-certified soul fox?
Unfair.
"I was supposed to get a sleek, intelligent snow-tuft," she murmured. "Would've matched my aesthetic. Would've sat politely on my shoulder during executions."
She looked down at me.
"You tried to chew your way through a rug."
I chirped defiantly.
She didn't smile.
Not yet.
Instead, she walked us back to her reading nook—an artfully worn velvet settee in front of a fireplace made from glowrock and shadowflame—and placed me on a cushion. Then she disappeared behind a folding screen.
---
I eyed the door again.
Could I make it?
Maybe if I built a ramp out of books and launched myself like a tactical fluff missile—
"There," Arwen said, emerging with a linen bundle.
She dropped it in front of me.
Inside: food.
Specifically, a small ceramic dish filled with dried spirit berries, crushed blueleaf wafers, and a suspiciously steaming sliver of marinated beast jerky.
I sniffed it.
> [Instincts: Activated]
Your spirit beast body recognizes this as nourishment.
Your human mind recognizes this as bribery.
Results: You eat it anyway.
---
As I munched, Arwen sat back on her heels and watched me with an unreadable expression.
"You're more trouble than you're worth," she said.
I blinked up at her, a berry hanging from my beak.
"Which is saying something. Considering what I paid for your egg."
She paused, then added:
"I'll name you later."
> [Warning: Naming Threshold Approaching]
Bond Permanency: 87%
Caution: You are dangerously close to permanent petdom.
I flopped onto my side in protest.
She didn't seem to care.
"You're not ready," she murmured instead, voice quieter now. "Not yet."
---
The fire crackled beside us.
She stood and walked to a shelf, running her fingers across a row of spellbound books. Her fingers paused at a dark red volume—one without a title. She pulled it down, opened it, and sat again.
I watched her in silence.
She read with focus. Calm. Eyes scanning, lips moving just slightly, her hand idly stroking my back every so often like she forgot she was doing it.
And then, softly, she spoke.
"Do you know why I wanted a familiar?"
I didn't answer. Mostly because I lacked the vocal cords.
But also because I suspected I didn't want to know.
"I wanted something loyal," she said. "Something that wouldn't lie. Or leave. Or betray me when the court decided it was convenient."
Her tone didn't change. Not much.
But the bond shivered.
Not with power. With memory.
---
Something sharp flickered at the edge of her aura.
Old hurt. Maybe grief.
The kind that doesn't scream. The kind that festers quietly in the corners of royal halls.
"I don't need your obedience," she said. "Just… don't vanish."
I twitched.
Not because I understood.
But because I felt it.
This girl, this future villainess of calamity and catastrophe... wasn't evil.
Not yet.
She was just lonely.
And powerful.
And unkind in the way people become when they've been betrayed too often.
---
> [Bond Status: Deepening]
Passive Perk Gained: [Mood Mimic]
You instinctively reflect Arwen's emotions.
Warning: This may lead to unintentional snuggling.
I scooted closer.
Not because I liked her.
Just for warmth. That's all.
She didn't react. But her hand moved again. Scratched under my chin. I made an embarrassingly satisfied chirp.
"You're ridiculous," she whispered.
---
Later that night, I sat at the windowsill watching the stars.
They were different here.
Too bright. Too orderly.
Like even the sky in this empire had been shackled.
Arwen was asleep by then, draped over a velvet chaise like a cat in human form, her book half-fallen from her lap.
She didn't look like a villainess.
Not in that moment.
She looked like a girl raised on power and suspicion, who didn't know what it meant to be chosen for something that didn't require strategy.
I curled into my cushion.
I still didn't know what I was.
Or what I would become.
But I knew one thing now.
She wasn't what the stories had said.
---
> [Soulbond Status: 92%]
Name: Pending
Escape Desire: …Complicated
New Passive Perk: [Soft Place to Land]
You gain +5 emotional resistance when Arwen is within range.
---
I didn't dream of dying that night.
Instead, I dreamt of a throne room, long abandoned—
—and a girl standing at its center, waiting for someone who never arrived.
Maybe next time, I would.