Author's Note: This fic came from me binge reading Homestuck over the summer and becoming thoroughly addicted. I have my wonderful moirail Patatachip to love/blame for this. . Anyway, I was looking at the difference between certain characters on each side of the Scratch, like Signless x Disciple v. Kankri x Meulin. I realized that the latter would never happen, so I decided to change the former up. So, coming from Kurloz x Meulin, you all get some nice Grand Highblood x Disciple. *Raises goblet* Here's to a fine write, a fine read, and a fine wine *Tips back goblet*
She could tell the end was close when she was dragged in by two guards before Him . He was The Grand Highblood. He was The Most Feared Above All, The Most Mirthful Murderer, and a myriad of other titles. She was just a lowly olive, who'd let her blood-pumper lead her to a certain well-spoken candy-blooded mutant. Speaking of her love, she had not seen The Signless for a good twenty minutes. The same went for the Dolorosa and the. She was worried for all of her friends, but especially her spouse. Other trolls would call him her matespirit, but that didn't fully describe the deep connection they had. So, they made up a name to capture the complexity of their love. Their love was truly beyond definition by the quadrants. And that was the way they liked it.
Ignoring her emotional wounds, she accested her physical condition. The Disciple was bleeding from the side of her mouth in a steady stream which showed no signs of abating. Her left eye was shut due to swelling form the beating the authorities had given her. She was wearing the same outfit she always wore, with one major change. This new part of her ensemble was a long steam of teal. It came from when she had cut into an officer attempting to arrest her and her friends. His teal was proudly displayed across her breastplate. The officer, thought deserving of death, hadn't died. They had The Signless to thank for staying The Disciple's claws. The Signless supported civil disobedience and even self-defense, but never killing. This ban continued all the was up the hemospectrum, much to the disbelief of The Disciple.
The teal was one of 15 such officers. Another 5 blue-bloods finished out the arresting force. The Ψiioniic had struck down 2 of the blue-bloods. The Dolorossa took 3 teals. The arresting forces paid dearly to capture the small band alive. The officers would have culled The Signless and the Ψiioniic on the spot, if they didn't have explicit orders to capture both alive. The Disciple was saved for some reason. She was low enough to consider culling, but not low enough to require it. The Dolorossa was even more so. That was why she now was stuck in this room with these two guards and Him.
The most noticeable thing in the room was The Grand Highblood himself. The rest of the room was simple marble. It stood 12 feet tall, 25 across and 75 deep, roughly. Then everything changed atop His raised daïs. The Grand Highblood was all teeth and hair. His top row fangs extended all the way past his lower lip. His hair was so unruly that is just seemed to change and writhe as one looked at it; making it so that one could not see the true beginning or end, instead just the knot. The Grand Highblood's daïs included the throne he was reclining in. Behind it was an alcove. The one discernible pattern with the alcove was the hundreds of streaks of blood on it, covering every range of the spectrum. There was burgundy, brown, gold, olive (like her), jade, green, teal, blue, indigo, his own purple, violet, and even a few streaks of the penultimate fuchsia. The real shock was the purple. She thought he must have some sympathy for his own caste, but it seemed none were above his mirth.
The guards that brought the Disciple dropped her to the ground before the throne. They both bowed from the waist, turned 180 degrees over their outside shoulders sharply and departed, smooth as clockwork. The Disciple sighed and made to rise. Before she could finish the action, The Grand Highblood bellowed out a one word command. Well, command was a bit of an understatement. It was an expectation that the listener would do what he said, no questions asked. It was simply, "Kneel." She could feel the weight of the expectation while returning to her knees. It pressed on her mind a deep need to continue in this way, until The Grand Highblood issued another expectation to her.
He began, "The heretic mutant escaped our forces. You did not. If you give him up to us, we can be more lenient with you." He thought it as a very moderate offer, considering she should have been culled long before being brought to him.
She hissed and spat out, "Not going to happen. He means more to me then you could know, so you could do anything to me, I wouldn't ever break. Never." She meant every word she said, too. He could see the utter determination in her eyes. She knew that he saw it, as well. An impasse was reached. Even though she was kneeling, she held power over the towering tyrant, just as he obviously held power over her.
Suddenly, the Grand Highblood chuckled, darkly, "It funny you say that because I know one trick that is bound to make you talk." Silence slowly descended over the room, as his last words rang out. The Most Feared unveiled his trick. The Disciple could only gasp in pure shock.