Regina could hear the sound of chaos raging behind them, as she and Neal made their way further into Castle Whitespire. They occasionally came across a drove of Gremlins as they fought their way through to where they suspected Stripe to be located, but Neal was quick to cut them down with his sword, while Regina left burned husks in their wake. Time lost all meaning as they forged ahead. The team of fighters they had come with had been left behind to stop the hordes of Gremlins that had infested the castle from following them, but they still couldn’t find the ringleader of this army of chaotic idiots.
Grunting in frustration, Regina extinguished the flames in her hands so she could put them on her hips. “Where is that little shit?” She was dressed in a pantsuit that was splattered with the blood and brain matter of several Gremlins, which she knew she was never going to get out, even with magic. She’d have to burn the outfit, later, after they found the amulet.
She was going to be so annoyed if Stripe wasn’t even here.
When it came to weapons, Neal had his pick - many to choose from out of his father’s magical hoard (which, granted, a lot of it had been cleaned out or warded off in prep for the opening of the bed and breakfast); he’d gone with a sword, of course, despite having the option of some kind of Wonder Woman-esque lasso and an enchanted bow and arrow set. It was a sleek blade, golden-hilted, and currently also painted with gremlin gore - much like the rest of him, which, uh. Gross.
He was pretty sure he’d seen this movie in the long-last days of the 1980s and it was supposed to be a firm bit of younger-self nostalgia, not something come to life in Vallo - but when did Vallo ever listen to anyone’s plans or desires or errant thoughts like ‘it would be nice to not potentially get killed today’?
“He’s gotta be hiding someplace - let’s keep going,” Neal encouraged, grip tightening on the sword with one hand. With the other, he rummaged at his belt - where he kept an arsenal of potions, small vials filled with liquids of varying bright colors, also a part of his father’s hoard; as soon as he saw that Stripe fucker, he was getting hit with a time-stop brew. And then promptly sucked back into the doom amulet where he belonged. “I’m not entirely familiar with this castle but maybe - in another dark hidey hole someplace?”
Castles were usually pretty dark and dank anyway, depending - not a lot of natural light filtered in, which was good if you were a gremlin.
One of the Magicians had drawn them a map and while they had checked the dungeons and throne room already, Regina finally suggested, "I'm going to taunt him. Make myself at home on that throne and see if that will draw him out. He wants to dominate the world? I'll give him some competition."
If there was anyone that knew how to play at being a power hungry monarch, it was Regina.
Raising her hands above her head, she slowly lowered them around her in a flourish, purple smoke covering her as her outfit transformed from the goop covered mess it was to a beautiful, chest accentuating black and purple gown, similar to ones she had worn as the Evil Queen. She raised an eyebrow at Neal, makeup bold and hair up in a complex bun. "Want to be my queensguard? Got a fancy new set of armor ready for you." Just maybe, a little bit of Regina lived for the drama.
Neal chuckled a little, sheathing the sword for the time being. “Well, why not?” he shrugged, since baiting a gremlin with an impressive filigree and shinies seemed as good of a plan as any. It was actually almost laughable, the idea of Vallo being taken over by those fugly little bastards - but they also had the ability to do plenty of damage with teeth and claws and sheer tenacity; those claws were sharp too, could rip through skin like a kitten’s claws through gift wrapping - he wasn’t in any mood to let this continue any longer than necessary.
They already did enough damage in the city, wrecking businesses and whirling through as if they were category 5 hurricanes. He didn’t even want to think of the insurance nightmares that would follow after these couple days of hell.
“Go for it, Your Majesty.” And to be honest, transfiguring his bloodstained clothing held more appeal than anything else - there wasn’t a hot enough shower to take care of his ‘I want to scrub my skin off’ problem.
The bonus of no longer being covered in disgusting gremlin bits was that she could properly smell again. Not that the castle smelled great before all the slaughtering Neal and her had committed, but all the same, it was nice not having gremlin guts under her nose.
Waving a hand at Neal, a cloud of purple encased him, swirling for a few seconds, before dissipating. What was left was Neal in a golden set of armor that wouldn’t have been out of place in Game of Thrones, honestly. Regina, happy with her work, nodded firmly and then clapped her hands. “Alright, lets get my monologuing on, shall we?” She started to walk off toward the throne room, but paused a few steps into her march, turning swiftly. “Oh, I forgot the most important part.”
Snapping her fingers, an ornate crown appeared in Neal’s hand. There were jewels encrusted in the inlay and it was, frankly, pretty gaudy. But it would be enough to attract the attention of someone like Stripe and that’s what they were banking on.
The armor was a nice touch and wow, check out that bling. Neal blinked, glanced down at the crown he was now holding in his hands - there was no way in hell he’d ever wear it (he wasn’t royalty anyway, just the son of two wool spinners who were, in all actuality, terrible people) and he knew Regina wouldn’t wear it either under normal circumstances. But the more high falutin’ they made this look, the better - Neal was no stranger to playing a role to get what he wanted. In the past, it involved robbing shop owners blind - right now, it was to end this gremlin guts bullshit.
“Okay, here we go - “ He followed Regina into the throne room and, with a grand gesture, held up the gaudy-ass headwear; he was prepared to place it upon her head while she sat, regally, upon her throne. Time to weave a speech off the cuff, and make it sound as ridiculous as possible. “Throughout this day, this very memorable day, rest assured - Your Majesty, Queen Regina, Ruler of All These Lands and Lands Beyond - “
Or something. Jesus Christ, what was his life.
“You are uplifted and sustained by the many reverent thoughts that are with you. Your people spread far and wide across these lands, the shining sparkles of the sea, to unite together and support you. All hail Queen Regina, no one else can compare,” he recited, words flowing like wine from a box. Was this working?
The cringe was very, very real. The second she sat on the throne, Regina felt the strangest sensation of ‘This is where I belong’ and ‘Good god, get me out of here.’ The two sides of her warred, but she calmed both because now was not the time to have any sort of internal conflict over what was happening. Right now, they had a mission to complete and it didn’t involve any identity crises,
Now was the time for her own monologue. Actually, no, a soliloquy because this was just for her, to be overheard by Stripe if they played this right.
Once Neal set the crown down on her head, Regina stood with a flourish that would have made Meryl Streep proud. And then she began to speak, taking a scene from Henry IV because she was dramatic down to her bones like that and the words didn’t really matter. It was the sparklies, the drama, the power in her words and in her pacing as she spoke, that mattered.
“How many thousand of my poorest subjects are at this hour asleep! O sleep, O gentle sleep, nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee. That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down and steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, upon uneasy pallets stretching thee. And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, than in the perfumed chambers of the great. Under the canopies of costly state, and lulled with sound of sweetest melody? O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile In loathsome beds and leavest the kingly couch a watch-case or a common ’larum bell? Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast seal up the shipboy’s eyes and rock his brains in cradle of the rude imperious surge. And in the visitation of the windsm, who take the ruffian billows by the top. Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them with deafening clamor in the slippery clouds that with the hurly death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and, in the calmest and most stillest night, with all appliances and means to boot, deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down. uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
She spoke like a king of a time long ago and ended on a bow, for an audience she was hoping was watching. Regina hoped it ruffled enough of that mangy Stripe’s fuzzy hair that he would come crawling out of that dark hole he was hiding in.
My god, it was a wonder Neal didn’t fall into a siesta at that pompous speech - a whole bunch of words, yeah, and none of them really made sense in the context of the situation - but nothing really made sense lately because here they were, in a weird castle, hunting the gremlin leader and baiting him out with a rousing monologue. “That was so beautiful,” he pretended to wipe a tear away. “Long live the Qu - “
And then crash, he barely had time to dodge the entire whole-ass chandelier which, prior to that, Stripe had been swinging on - Neal wasn’t sure where he came from but apparently the bait had worked because he was present now, in all his scaly, red-eyed glory. Pretty creepy too, with those eyes - they looked like the shade of freshly spilled blood, glimmering in their beady way. He spoke in gibberish, the typical language of gremlins, making these raspy and phlegm-ey sounds, vocal cords sandblasted.
“Caca!” was the lone word Neal recognized, and he just needed a clear shot to douse the fucker with a potion. He couldn’t tell if Stripe had the amulet on him or not, but Neal was going to hope that he did.
Regina was going to throw something at Neal’s head because he could at least pretend she had the audience of a king, but Stripe beat her to the punch. With a chandelier, like that little shit was Sia. Regina almost fell to the ground, just barely dodging the shards that went everywhere when she threw up a quick barrier to block them.
“Hey you piece of shit! You’re caca!” Regina shouted, pointing a finger at Stripe and glaring. God she was tired of this asshole. But she was also trying to get his attention on her, to give Neal the opening he needed to potion the creature. “Get out of my kingdom, you foul smelling wanna-be overlord,” Regina hissed,stalking closer, trying to see if she could see the amulet on the fucker.
Stripe hissed right back at her, crouching down a bit, like he was getting ready to spring at her. He shouted unintelligible nonsense at her, before brandishing a very sharp looking knife in one hand and a goddamn gun in the other. “Die!” He cackled, before springing forward at her.
Oh, it had a fucking gun, did it? What the shit?? The old timey castle vibe just wasn’t quite right with boomsticks (aesthetics didn’t match) but Neal didn’t really care - he wasn’t going to give Stripe a chance to fire. The bottle he went for hung off his belt, which had also transfigured when his ordinary clothes became Game of Thrones armor (not a queen, a khaleesi - or, well, let’s not summon the dragons) and inside liquid black as, well, ink sloshed against the vial.
That’s because it was squid ink - and, mixed with fairy dust and a couple of other ingredients that Neal didn’t have time to contemplate, it made for a potent freezing effect. Quick like a bunny, uncorked the vial and lunged forward to dump the contents all over Stripe’s head and that stupid tuft of hair. He was right in the middle of springing for Regina but he did some epic Matrix slowdown and just kind of hung there in mid-air, screeching angrily because he couldn’t even thrash about it.
“He’s got it!” Neal snatched the amulet in barely a blink too, because he didn’t need any magic to basically pickpocket someone. But the amulet was relinquished to Regina a second later; they didn’t have much time to get Stripe back in there - and he definitely didn’t know how.
Regina had been a second away from summoning a fireball and shoving it down Stripe’s throat, when Neal got his chance and froze him with his potion. The effect was something she hadn’t seen before and it was pretty amazing, given Neal’s distrust of magic generally. “Impressive,” she said, as she walked forward and around Stripe like he was a fascinating display at a museum. “You’re going to have to show me that one,” she added, as she accepted the amulet from Neal distractedly, while knocking the gun out of the gremlin’s hand.
Who brought a gun to a magic fight, honestly?
Looking down at the amulet, she spied the crack that had originally allowed Stripe to escape. Thankfully, a complicated fix wasn’t needed. Waving her free hand over the amulet, the crack stitched itself back together and the amulet was whole once more.
Then she turned back to Stripe, who was still spitting garbage at them. “Alright, back in you go, you garbage monster. Hope to see you never,” she said with a smirk, blowing Stripe a sarcastic kiss and then muttering a few words in a foreign language.
Stripe’s resulting screeching was unholy, but in a matter of seconds, he was sucked into the amulet, the knife he had been holding clattering to the ground where he was once suspended mere moments ago. “There,” she said, clutching the amulet before putting it in a hidden pocket in her dress. “All done.” She smiled wide at Neal.
Neal wasn’t sure what was the best part of this - Stripe vanishing back into the amulet, the hidden pockets of Regina’s dress that probably led to another dimension, or the knife he now gifted himself with after he picked up the gremlin’s weapon. Thanks for the blade, asshole.
“Nice work,” he complimented. “And, you know, there are a bunch of potions in dad’s hoarder castle. Be happy to catalog sometime.” It was something he did with a couple other folks but it seemed like the supply was never ending and constantly replenishing (maybe it was his imagination, but he definitely wasn’t making any more himself) - and in this case, he was glad. Having options to choose from seemed wise.
Point was, the gremlin was gone. Neal sheathed the knife, adding it to his weapon collection and placing it by the sword. “I’m assuming the rest of the gremlins disappeared too?”
“You too,” Regina said, returning the compliment with a slight incline of her head. “The rest should be gone too, but let’s go check on the rest of the team and see for ourselves.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Want to keep the outfit? I think it’s an improvement over the guts you were wearing before,” she teased, taking off the crown he had put on her head earlier and tossing it over her shoulder.
No need for that anymore.
The crown hit the stone floor with a clank, and Neal definitely didn’t look behind his shoulder to see it roll away or ultimately where it landed. Too gaudy, too eccentric, too - not his style. “Most anything’s an improvement over guts,” he chuckled. “I’ll definitely be keeping it. But yeah, let’s go find our intrepid team and then get the hell out of here.”
There was only so much time he could take in a creepy castle, slashing through scaly critters - it was now the perfect opportunity to switch to a moment of reflection and probably more than a couple of showers.