Another story? Yeah... though this is a bit of a silly one. Just something I came up with while taking a walk in the local park and listening to Arctic Monkeys – Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino two days ago. Same as that song, this fic will be a trip. Now I'm gonna ramble some more about how I came up with this craziness. Feel free to skip it. xD

So... someone commented on IAmBitch how they thought it was the most wholesome Shield Hero romance story and wished that there was a story with similar themes, only with Raphtalia as the main love interest (minus the hate fucks). I have to say, I agree. Some solid Naofumi/Raphtalia stories wouldn't be amiss. And though I have enough stories as it is, the thought kinda stuck with me, and I thought, Why not write a time travel story where an adult Raphtalia dies at the confrontation with the Pope and gets sent back to before the Summoning and tries to save Naofumi? Well, the thought wasn't too bad, and while I had some funny scenes in my mind, the story felt like it would go nowhere (and would be weird to make it smutty without feeling forced). It also got me into this awkward position where Malty kinda has to be the stupid antagonist, or else there's no good conflict. And I obviously resent that. So I wondered, What if Malty travels back in time as well? Hmm... so another threesome story? No. Even without the threesome part. Just no. No matter how I spun it, it was just stupid. Only the scenario where it's only Malty being sent back made sense after a while. Then I remembered an old story idea where Malty is a lazy drunk who just wants to be left alone, and it seemed like the perfect mix. Yeah... Does anyone know Korean Webcomics, also known as Manhwa? (If you don't, be glad and stay away from them, especially the 18+ ones.) Anyway, there are those where someone gets reincarnated as the villainess in a novel (a novel so terrible, plotless, and chliché that it would never get published), and they try everything to stay out of the plot but fail and fall in love with the Hero or Heroine. xD They're all freaking terrible (at least the ones I read), but the idea certainly has potential. Anyway, that's where the title (and some of the themes) come from. Also, I really wanted to write some Malty/Raphtalia, and while I have two other potential story ideas for the pairing (which I've outlined some time ago), I'm too lazy to write those; they are too serious. And any romance between Malty and Raphtalia in BitchSlayer is about 200-300k words away. So yeah...

Rated M for language and too much drinking. And sex, of course. Some violence too, I guess. Oh, and character death.

Naofumi pairing is Naofumi/Keel/Rifana, but it's not the focus of the fic. Malty/Raphtalia is. There'll only be F/F smut.

Crouching, Malty clutched her chest, phantom pain cursing through her where that damn Demi had just struck her with her stupid Magic Sword. She felt a little ill from losing so much mana all of a sudden. Around her, the battle continued. The Shield Hero's Filolial abomination was screeching some nonsense; Naofumi and Motoyasu were arguing, weapons clashing.

Can't they shut up? Malty thought, groaning. Someone made to grab her arm but she shook them off violently. She breathed in and out. In and out. Then it was suddenly silent, only muffled voices being audible above the steady humming of the Electric Cage she'd summoned. What's going on? She looked around. Everyone was gone. In the center of the Electric Cage stood that skill of the Shield Hero: Shield Prison. Why was everyone inside there? Faint arguing originated from the metal construct. What was going on? Something green in the sky drew her attention. It was another of the Shield Hero's skills: Air Strike Shield. A second one appeared above, both parallel to the ground and directly above the Shield Prison. Frowning, Malty shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand...and all the blood drained from her face at what she saw.

"No," she gasped. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. She must be imagining things. There was no way they'd actually... But there it was in the sky, a distant light, coming closer. She'd heard of stories of powerful rituals being used in wartime to wipe out whole armies. She'd never thought she'd actually see one of those first-hand. At the very least not directed at her.

Those bastards! How dare they! Malty fumed, frantically shooting to her feet. It was their plan all along. They never cared for my goals! I was just the bait! She raced toward the Shield Prison, not wasting any time to bang at it with a fist.

"Let me inside!" she demanded. "Open this damn thing! Please!"

"I can't, stupid Bitch," the Shield Hero's muffled voice came from inside. "And even if I could, I wou—"

"Naofumi!" Motoyasu snapped. "You open this up or—"

"Or nothing! Or we'll all die. I can't summon another so quickly!"

They kept arguing, screaming. Malty kept banging against the thick metal. "Please! Help me! PLEASE!" Tears started gathering in her eyes, her heart hammering like never before in her life. The hum of the magic from above intensified. "Please! I'll do anything! I'll admit to everything! Please, Naofumi! NAOFUMI!"

"I can't."

Malty suppressed the urge to curse them all, stopped her efforts, and turned around, pushing herself off the metal ball. She made toward the Electric Cage, breaking into a sprint. Please God, please! With a desperate scream she jumped, arms raised to shield her face. Pain shot through her when she made contact with the electricity, and she was thrown backward, landing harshly on the dirt. She rolled, body spasming, the taste of blood in her mouth. When she regained her bearings and looked up, she saw the ritual spell rapidly descending upon her. She screamed. The Air Strike Shields shattered one by one. She screamed some more, afraid. So afraid, like never before in her life. The spell hit, and the world went white. Then nothing.

Malty screamed. And still, she screamed. Suddenly, she realized how she wasn't outside anymore. It was darker. She was sitting in a big four-poster bed...and people were gathered around her, regarding her with expressions of worry and exhaustion.

A dream? she thought, heart palpitating, breathing erratically. She confirmed that, yes, she was in a bed, wearing her red nightgown. I died, or didn't I? Did I really just dream all of that? Then why wasn't she in her tent or some inn room? No, the room she was in was definitely her room in the castle; there was her portrait smiling at her from the opposite wall. And she recognized the people that were all talking above one another, asking whether she was fine and if she needed anything: her servants.

What's going on? was her last thought before she fainted.

When Malty awoke the next time, it was with a calm mind. She was still in her bedroom. Only one of the servants was sitting next to her bed: A middle-aged woman, a maid. Malty didn't know her name. If she ever had, she had forgotten.

"What happened?" Malty asked. I died. The Church betrayed me. Killed me. Just a stepping stone in their insane plan to wipe out the "Shield Devil".

The maid smiled. "You had a nightmare, Princess. But don't worry, everything's fine now. Would you like something to drink?"

"I... Yes, please." Malty greedily gulped down the proffered water, then sat back against the headboard with a sigh. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the situation.

A knock sounded against the double doors that led from her living room to her bedroom.

"Yes?" she called instinctively.

A well-dressed, middle-aged man entered. He was one of her father's servants, sometimes sent to her rooms to summon her for dinner or other events. "Princess," he said. "Urgent news of the Wave and Lord Seaetto has arrived. Would you please make yourself presentable and join your father in the throne room?"

A sense of deja-vu hit her, and Malty had to gasp at the implications. She pinched herself; it hurt.

"I'm..." she said. "I'm not feeling well. Please leave."

The man bowed and obeyed, the double doors falling shut behind him. Malty remembered this day. She'd lived it once before, after all. It was a few days after the first Wave had hit. Mirellia had left two weeks ago to meet with the other countries' leaders, and reports of the damage would now be delivered to her father. Last time, Malty had rejoiced that it was that Demi-human village that had been destroyed in the Wave. Had called it divine justice. Now, she was too shocked to think anything.

She was back. Back in time. But how? She'd heard stories of people claiming to travel through time, but she'd thought them fabricated. A cheap way to impress.

A slow grin spread across her face.

"Princess?"

Oh, the woman was still there. "Leave," Malty ordered.

As soon as the door closed after the servant, Malty shot up and practically jumped out of her bed, landing barefoot on the soft, carpeted floor. A giggle escaped her, and it didn't take long for it to change into full-blown laughter.

She knew exactly what had happened: She'd been sent back in time—given a second chance—because the universe knew that her death there hadn't been right. Because it was her destiny to be Queen. It just confirmed what she'd always known: That she was special. That she was destined for greatness.

I'm going to make them all pay! Malty thought, cackling, strutting back and forth on the carpet, nightgown brushing against her calves. I'm gonna use my future knowledge to show them their place! That bastard Naofumi, for making my life difficult every step of the way! And those bastards of the Church, for betraying their rightful ruler!

Malty stopped laughing and had to gasp for breath. She let herself fall back on her bed and stared at the canopy, wiping tears out of her eyes, a wide smile splitting her face.

But first, she thought, I'm going to relax.

It was as she laid there in her wonderfully comfortable bed that a thought occurred to her: I'm going to have to do it all again, don't I? All those hours spent on the road, chasing after the Shield Hero and trying to defame him. Chasing her sister. Sleeping like a commoner, in cheap inn beds or her tent when they were still on the road by nighttime. All those times manipulating Motoyasu, playing the cute girl Myne. She'd have to do that all again?

Uhhh... What a bother. And now that she knew the Church wasn't to be trusted, what would she even do? Last time, she'd turned to them for help. But now, she couldn't do that. What could she do, then? Even with future knowledge? That damned Shield Hero has proven so resourceful; he'd just refute her plans once again, even if she changed them up.

But they have to pay! Malty fumed. They have to suffer for what they did to me! Or didn't they? What if she hadn't truly traveled back in time, but it was actually just a very vivid vision of the future. A premonition. That sounded more plausible than time travel. And perhaps it wasn't a sign of her divine right to be Queen, but a warning? That there was only death awaiting her on her current path? A premonition of death?

What am I thinking? Malty wondered, and she could feel the headache approaching. Giving up? Let Mother and that little brat win?! Ridiculous!

She sat up, shook her head, and resolved to think about it at a later date, then grabbed the little bell on her bedside table and rang.

A servant—the same woman as before—entered after a few moments.

"Have some breakfast prepared for me, please."

The maid curtsied and went to turn away, but Malty wasn't done yet.

"And I wish to take a long bath. And... I'd like some wine for my breakfast. And... send for a masseuse. And... send someone to my father, telling him that I don't wish to be bothered today."

The maid was now staring at her oddly.

"That's all. Off you go then. Shoo." Malty made a careless hand gesture, and the maid left.

The Heroes wouldn't be summoned for another week. She'd have time to think about what to do until then.

After two days of long baths, extensive breakfasts, wonderful massages, drinking way too much wine, and other indulgences, the thought of giving up her ambitions didn't sound so unreasonable anymore.

Malty released a long, pleased groan as the masseuse's skilled hands dug wonderfully into her skin somewhere around her shoulders. Especially those thumbs were doing wonders. God, how I love those thumbs. Completely bare, she was lying face-down on a lounger she'd let bring to her rooms for exactly this purpose. It was probably the size of a small bed, and pillows were placed in such a way that she could lie face-down for prolonged periods of time without putting too much pressure on her breasts. She'd, more than once, fallen asleep like that. Naked when anyone could enter. She just didn't care anymore.

I've missed this so much, Malty thought, releasing a pleased hum as the masseuse's hands wandered slowly down her back, wonderfully kneading her muscles. This is what life is all about. Pleasure. Just...relaxing and indulging.

She'd extensively contemplated her situation these past two days. And she'd come to the conclusion that she'd just keep going like this...and not care about being Queen anymore.

Really, why did she even want to be Queen? Have all that responsibility? Be pestered by people all the time? To lead a country? Organize the defense of the Waves? She'd have no free time! No more massages. No more taking naps during the day. No more drinking whenever she wanted. To put in all that effort, only to achieve a less desirable state? To risk her life for it? It was kind of ridiculous, if she was being honest.

The Malty from the future was an idiot, Malty decided. I'm just going to stay out of things and enjoy life however I damn well please. Naofumi and the Pope can kill each other, and I'll just watch on the sidelines with a glass of wine in my hand. I'll have the last laugh.

"Hmmm..."

The masseuse's hands were doing wonders on her ass now, but regrettably, didn't linger there for long and moved on to her thighs.

"Go up again, please."

"Princess?"

"Give my butt some more love, will you?"

"Of— of course, Princess."

Malty released a pleased hum as her ass cheeks were getting kneaded. Perhaps it was more of a moan. She had the urge to spread her legs and just did it, not questioning anything when it came to pleasure. Would the masseuse pick up on it and massage her where Malty wanted?

Unfortunately, she didn't.

Malty just released a sad sigh, too content and too drunk to get mad about it.

"Is... is that enough, Princess?"

"Hmmmm-hmmm."

Malty enjoyed the rest of her massage, then readjusted the pillows beneath her and repositioned onto her back.

The masseuse was packing up her things now. She was a pretty girl, a little older than Malty. Over the past two days, her straight, shoulder-length black hair, dark blue eyes, button nose, and lovely, graceful hands had been a reoccurring part of Malty's daydreams. She often wondered how good it would feel to have those hands massage more...forbidden...places. To stare into those blue eyes while skillful fingers pleasured her.

Malty let out a shaky breath.

Perhaps she wasn't content and drunk enough to let those daydreams be daydreams anymore, after all. A towel to cover herself—as well as new clothes—lay nearby, but Malty ignored them. An excited grin on her face, she reclined on her lounger and spread her legs wide open.

"Wait," Malty called when the masseuse made to leave.

The girl turned around...and immediately averted her eyes. "P-princess?"

"Come here."

Keeping her eyes lowered, she obeyed.

"Look at me. What is your name?"

"Lula, Your Highness."

"Lula... I have a favor to ask.

"A favor?"

"Yes... I want you to take your lovely hands...and put them on my pussy. Can you do that for me, Lula?"

"I, I... Princess, please..." Lula averted her eyes, blushing.

"Better yet, I want you to put your head in-between my legs and give me a good lick. And...massage my breasts while you do it." Yes, that sounded good. She expected to breach new heights of pleasure like that.

"I... I'm sorry, Your Grace, but I'm not a sex worker."

Irritation coursed through Malty. She pursed her lips. "What's the big deal? I don't see a problem. I'm well-groomed and clean, I assure you. You'll receive extra payment, naturally."

The girl met her eyes with fear in her lovely blue ones.

Malty truly didn't understand the girl's hesitation. Why would anyone refuse this generous offer? If Malty was a servant and in the fortunate position of Lula where she had a mistress of unparalleled beauty, she'd jump at the opportunity Malty was offering now. To have her hands all across her beautiful mistress's body, and then being allowed to taste that sweetness between her legs and fondle those perfectly round breasts... What was not to like? Hell, she'd do it even without extra payment!

A little moan escaped Malty.

Lula squeaked. "I'm sorry. S-sorry, Your Highness." She turned, grabbed her things, and stumbled toward the door, uttering apologies all the while. "Please don't hurt me!" was the last thing she said before vanishing behind the door.

Malty stared, dumbfounded. Hurt her? Why would she do that? Arousal gone, Malty covered herself with the towel, relaxed against the pillows, and reached for her wine goblet, which stood on a table next to her lounger among an assortment of wine bottles from all over the kingdom.

The guard in front of her door briefly poked his head inside to ask if everything was alright, and she told him off, contemplating Lula's reaction.

An annoyed pout slowly worked itself on her face. It was probably a result of Past-Malty's stupid actions. She'd had a penchant for changing toys quickly...and getting rid of them once they bored her. Perhaps she'd even let someone be beaten for offending her. She didn't think she'd ever gotten someone killed—Mirellia would have prevented that—but she was probably responsible for more than a few staff changes around the castle grounds.

Well, no more. Malty congratulated herself on how, during the past two days, she hadn't once snapped at a servant. What if one of them took offense and tried to hurt her back? Poisoned her wine? She didn't fancy dying stupidly like Future-Malty and made it an effort to be nice to everyone, within reason.

Malty let her head loll to the left, staring at the wall where her armor and sword hung beside a large ornate mirror. She'd sent someone with specific instructions to procure that from Erhard's shop this morning. Now it adorned the wall in her living room, acting as a constant reminder of the strenuous life that would never be. And it also immensely reduced the temptation to betray Naofumi after all, now that she was already in possession of it.

She raised her wine goblet. "To a long, peaceful, and pleasureful life full of laziness," she toasted her distorted reflection on the breastplate and downed the rest of her wine. She set the goblet aside, closed her eyes, and relaxed back into the pillows with a long sigh. Perhaps she'd take a short nap and then join her father for dinner? She hadn't spoken with him since waking up that day. It didn't take long for her to doze off, and when she regained her bearings, she picked up her bell and rung for servants to help her get dressed.

Aultcray was, of course, ecstatic about the presence of his favorite daughter. Malty assured him that everything was alright, and he brought her up to date with the current situation of the Church and the planned Hero summoning.

Then, Aultcray, a frown on his aged face, told her of a confused, distraught woman who had quit her job and left the castle in a hurry earlier. Malty was afraid to ask, but when curiosity got the better of her and she so did anyway, it turned out that it was indeed her masseuse.

"What's the matter, my daughter? Did something happen with that woman?"

"I..." Malty kept her gaze on her half-eaten plate of exquisite food. There was the urge to lie, to say that it was all the masseuse's fault. But what did it matter? She wasn't pretending to be the perfect daughter anymore. She didn't care about reclaiming her title anymore. There was no reason to hide her misdeeds anymore. She had nothing to prove. Nothing to hide.

"It's my fault," Malty told her father, carefully watching his reaction. "I've demanded something unreasonable from her and wouldn't take no for an answer. I probably made her feel threatened, though it wasn't my intention. I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Aultcray smiled. "We all make mistakes."

Malty was a bit confused that there was no disappointment in her father's gaze but didn't think too much of it. "Could you... could you please make someone send a note to her and explain that it was just a misunderstanding and that I'm sorry?" It wouldn't do if the masseuse held a grudge that could come back to bite her in the ass someday.

"Of course. Though I'll say, an apology is best delivered personally. I'm not saying you should chase after some commoner, but it wouldn't go amiss if you were to compose the letter yourself."

"You're right." Malty smiled, glad for her wise father. "I shall do that."

Aultrcray nodded. "And I shall ensure she receives it."

"Thank you, father. For understanding."

"Always. My sweet child. Always."

Malty smiled, thinking hard. "Say, Papa, do we keep track of all the servants that ever worked here and why they were dismissed and punished, if they were?"

"Uhm..." Aultrcray scratched his beard. "I suppose. But you shouldn't bore yourself with such—"

Malty interrupted him with a raised hand. She'd already started now; why not confess some more of her sins? It was kind of freeing. "Please don't be mad, Papa, but some of the servants you dismissed on my account probably didn't do anything wrong. Sometimes, I lied to get them into trouble." She smiled guiltily and shrugged.

He was staring at her, mouth hanging open a little.

"Anyway, I'm sorry about that. And I want to make sure that everyone who has fallen victim to my lies will get compensated and receives an apology." She wasn't going to take any chances this time around.

"I... I'm not sure what to say, Malty. I..." Aultcray looked a little shaken now. After a few seconds of having a deep frown on his face, he cleared his throat. "Well, whatever the reasons, I'm glad you're trying to make up for it now."

Malty smiled. "So, about those records...?"

"Ahem, yes, I'll have someone show them to you."

Now? she thought with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Perhaps I didn't think this through. Indeed, on second thought, it sounded like a lot of work: to read through various records, rack her brain if anyone among those was due to her actions, and then take actions to compensate the offended party. She released a pained groan.

"I'll..." Malty said. "I'll start tomorrow. Thank you for listening. And good night, father." She nodded and excused herself. As she made the strenuous ascent to her rooms on the third floor—dinner had been on the second—she contemplated what to do next. Perhaps she'd spend the time before bedtime relaxing in a steaming bath with a goblet of good wine at the ready while she dictated for a servant to write her apology to Lula? Yes, that sounded good. Efficiently lazy.

But more importantly: What wine should she drink?

Maybe I'll try that one from the Seaetto region? she thought as she reentered her rooms, a little out of breath. You can say what you want about Demis, but they know how to make some tasty wine.

Short chapters, yay. (It's kind of refreshing when you don't have to plan each individual chapter's structure.) The story is a bit random for now, but what do you think of this madness? I've got it almost completely planned out, but I'd love to hear any speculation, thoughts, and suggestions, anyway. :)