So hey guys! :3 I just kind of randomly dreamed up this little AU from out of the deep pockets of my mind, so enjoy. Kind of Solkat-ish. Okay, yeah. It's totally a Solkat fic, but there should be other hints to ships hidden in. It started as a one-shot, I just kind of liked this Medieval!Stuck/Fantasy!Stuck AU idea, so there.

Prospit and Derse (Yes, it's Humanstuck, and each side has both trolls and Kids included) were at war for years until the Bard's power seized it's destined control over the continent. Suddenly Derse was to wiped off the map, their heroes, and soverenghty, and individualized cultures, all faded into Prospit and the newly former Skai Province. Karkat Vantas, Captain of the knights of Prospit now walks the Derse streets, adjusting to peace, two years after the end of the great war.

BASICALLY a slightly modern medievalstuck setting with everyone's dreamselves as humans. If that makes first chapter is in 3rd person, before I changed the writing style a little. I was just too lazy to re-write the first chapter.

(HintHintHint: Double Sollux. Kind of.)

It's been two long years since the end of the brutal war. Prospit had a clear advantage with their Bard, their trump card power, and the controller's will. Yes Prospit was destined for victory. Two years, and after the carapace purge, enlightenment, and the settling of Derse's capital city, there still is strife. Brutal mistreatment of people of all shapes and forms, brilliant men captured and forced into slavery, scientists stolen away for weapons development, not to mention the execution of their king and queen. And yet the purple tinted streets seem all too quiet at this hour. Night has finally fallen, and the time for children wandering the streets in search of their lost parents have passed.

Karkat Vantas had better things to do today than wander around this dark abyss called a city. As the captain of the knights of Prospit, his role and political power ended with the war. He now walks the streets, leading his division to keep the peace, as a designated general of sorts. He strides through the dirty town with polished boots, straight hair and sharp eyes as he spots the horrid scene across the way. Some of his soldiers, too. Pathetic.

As such a high leader in the Prospitian monarchy, his identity must be hidden. He wore a Gray suit, chain mail sufficiently hidden underneath, any and all signs clear from his figure. Burning red eyes peer down as two unnamed soldiers brutally kick at a shivering Dersite civilian. A scientist as he appears to be. They're abusing him, insulting everything from his appearance to the sounds pathetically bubbling from his lips. He earned the knight's pity. Unlike his soldiers, Karkat could really give two shits about who is from where, and who's allegiance falls to whom. If you'rr useful, then so be it.

He doesn't speak a word, but one of the soldiers finally glances back, to finally meet his piercing red eyes. His silence bring the other to cease his actions as well, staring, knowing exactly who is glaring up at him. They don't say a word; they're trained to not speak your identity, for fear of discovering the captain, and one of the most powerful of the Prospitian heroes. After a well hidden, but courteous bow, they were gone.

Oh he would enjoy punishing them later. Assaulting a civilian for no damn reason in the dead of night. Speaking of, the man cringed at the sudden silence, holding his stomach while curled up on the ground still. No bleeding, but his twitching form gave enough of a hint towards how brutally they beat him down. His black hair was messy and covered in dirt, but his eyes were the real spectacle, bright blue, staring up at the man in gray above him.

He let out a soft whimper, glancing around for the soldiers around him. Finally, he sat up, although it took quite a bit more effort than he seemed capable of. He was tall, taller than Karkat at least, and looked familiar actually. Like an old friend back on Prospit he wished you could visit right about now. Seoul Captor, a close friend since birth. Tall and lanky, just like this man, with bright red eyes to match his. The two were often considered relatives. And it might as well be as such, he loved his friend so very much. Seoul was a scientist as well, forced to stay behind in the golden city to care for his team. Their parting was bittersweet, since Derse was to be his new home.

He made a note to visit Seoul as this tall man finally stood, towering over his savior with a distraught air about him. This unknown scientist caked in dirt spat at the ground those soldiers stood above in spite. He liked his attitude.

"Rude, weren't they?" Karkat finally spoke, his booming voice making the man jump and turn back towards him. Red met blue and Karkat couldn't help but stare. They looked so much alike. A doppelganger of his close friend. After what seemed like hours of silence, the man sighs, glancing away. He looked ashamed of himself, as he probably should. Being saved by some stranger as immature churls (that were trained to protect his ass) beat him mercilessly and laughed it over, that's pretty embarrassing. For both men, actually.

"Yeah. Fuckerth didn't even have a reathon too do it, either." Oh god he has a lisp. Not so obvious as Seoul's accentuation of the letter I, but very different. He couldn't help but crack a smirk. And this man caught it almost immediately, lowering his head in shame. Karkat at least looked obviously Prospitian, donning a single golden ring. Although it wasn't apparent, his back donned the golden crest of the Cancer sign, while his front bore the Prospitian crest. All tattooed over his light skin in golden ink. Most are marked with similar signs, but in particular, the appearance of a bloody cut marked his collarbone in bright red ink. One thing he hated about his designated birth sign. It was a symbol of his destiny.

The Knight of Blood. A dark knight controlling the ruthless forces of the royal kingdom. Raised like a prince under the king's behest and stolen from his father's arms for training and education since childhood. Now the 25 year old man was a deadly hero to his people, and a mass murderer to this country, as the Manipulator of Rage. The Bard's Cradle. Karkat Vantas. Such an interesting title for this bloodthirsty knight. Whoever this scientist was would probably shake in fear if they knew exactly who he was. Behind his helmet no one knows this face, these eyes. Eyes he shares with his closest friend, The Prospitian Mage of Doom, a soothsayer who spends his day dabbling in the sciences these days. Seoul Captor.

Silence almost awkward erupted between the two, standing there staring at each other as night falls. Finally, Karkat speaks again. "You look like shit." Graceful as ever, Sir Vantas. The tall scientist's eyes are still fixated on the ground he once lay, too ashamed to look up, even as Karkat strives to continue speaking. "Which division are you based in?" Such a simple question left lofting in the distance as the man glances up at him curiously. Finally their eyes meet again and a spark of interest ignites within the shorter man.

"Two." He mutters, fixing his hair to at least look somewhat presentable in front of this man. "Divithion two." Karkat gives a nod, snickering under his breath. He can't help it, that lisp is surprisingly appealing. The man scowls down at him, crossing his arms. Not afraid of his intimidating appearance at all. He's smart to. Useful. Attractive.

Attractive? Oh god.

Interesting choice, Sir Vantas, really. There's bruises all over him, and he has an obvious black eye, not to mention a (cute) lisp. He's a complete wreck, and now somehow he is attractive in your eyes? Hell yes. Karkat was distracted by his own mind just enough to start escorting him back to his home.

"Tho… Who are you, anyway?" He asks, quietly. Even with all of his injuries his voice drips of sarcastic intent. God he's interesting. "Jutht thome random armored athhhole? You a vithitor from Prothpit?" Karkat rolled his eyes. That lisp is still appealing, but he could stand to chose his words at least a little better than he had. He's smart too, already figuring out so much of his knight. "Whath'th your name, anyway?"

"Karkat." He wouldn't dare give his last name. His infamous name as Sir Vantas the Cruel, as some call him in this town. Fuck no. "And your'th?" You couldn't help it. He glares back at his savior and all the man can do is crack a grin, leaving him to growl under his breath and answer him anyway.

"Tholluxth." Ha, why is that lisp still funny? And, naturally his name has an S sound somewhere in it. In fact, it has two. Ha.

So like any chivalrous man, Karkat escorted him to his home, a surprisingly well kept tower in Division two. He would have asked more about the situation, but the curfew hour drew near. Obviously, he would have to return to his chambers soon. The Bard does not have any sense of patience since losing his mind to the drug called peace, after all.

They said their farewells, but he felt those blue eyes bore into the back of his skull as he left, to the dark brown locks, slightly curled in the sudden humidity of this particular location. His intrigue grew as he glanced back to find him still there, still staring. Karkat makes a vague note to list where the man lives before an escort pulls around to retrieve him. Time to subdue the Rage before a mass murder disturbs this peace. And to punish those fuckers for even touching one hair on Tholluxth'th—Sollux's, obviously, head.

He needed to stop falling for pitiful idiots he runs into. It's obviously not healthy for him.

DawnAtSky