Dark SBI & Fluffy Oneshots

A Little Bit of Poison Goes A Long Way

A/N

Whumptober day 8: poisoned/drugged!! Lets goooo we have more dark sbi

The beginning of this is a little rough (i realized i hadnt written any prologue last minute, but i promise it goes back to my usual good quality when the poison happens) so please bear with me!! <3

TWs: poisoning, dark elements, threats, alcholic character (Schlatt in the flashback), kidnapping 

Synopsis:  Tommy is sent to the Antartic Empire to try to kill the High King Philza. It doesn't go as he planned (forced adoption lmao)

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The royal dining room was, to say the very least, intimidating.

Great marble pillars, lined with a glistening gold on all sides, stretched towards the dome-shaped ceiling. Murals were hung across every wall, all depicting skewed history with a delicate hang of string and tied thread, matching stone-faced expressions woven onto the faces of the royal family. The grand table itself looked like it had taken years to build, with intricate carvings crawling across the sides and wrapping around the chairs, the thrones on either sides lined with solid jewels and arms of silver. Tommy felt unbelievably plain next to the blatant showcase of wealth.

And that wasn't even to mention the King that sat in front of him, a smile carved into his face like sculpted ice and a calculative look hiding beneath blue eyes. Great, legendary black wings were relaxed behind him, the feathers bright and shining in every flicker of chandelier light, a surprisingly simplistic chain of gold lining the rows of feathers. He wore a deep blue cloak that practically screamed luxury, the pure netherite sword strapped to his side only adding to the intimidating image that made every humane instinct Tommy shake with fear.

Philza, the Artic King, Emperor of the Antartic Empire.

The most vindictive ruler to ever live.

In his presence, Tommy, the Secondary Prince of the Esempi Kingdom, felt ever weaker.

The crown on lazily-styled blonde curls–a simple thing, with a single gem in the center wrapped with swirls of silver and faux netherite–weighed him down like a boulder in the presence of greatness. Though he was royalty himself, Tommy's finery felt like rags when he stood in such a gradious room. After all, who was he when faced with the treasure of the most viscous Kings to ever grace the Earth, all compacted into one room? Much less when he had been unexpectedly called to dine here himself; a duty he'd been dreading the past few weeks while staying in the Antartic Empire.

And it certainly didn't help that he had an empty vial of poison tucked away in his shirt pocket.

Tommy swallowed nervously as the large double doors slammed shut behind him, the dagger secretly strapped to his side weighing him down with every step closer to the table. The chair screeched as he took his seat. He did his best not to think about the fact that he was touching pure gold.

The King was entirely silent as he watched Tommy take his place.

Until, with a wave of his hand, there was the swift sound of shuffling.

People–no doubt servants, based on their simple and unadorned uniforms– that Tommy hadn't even realized were there began moving in unison. Large platters of steaming food were swiftly set on the table without a single word, large glasses of colored drinks soon to follow. The smell of rich meat permeated the air in an instant, making Tommy's mouth water as he clasped his hands neatly in front of him.

His attention couldn't help but gravitate to the glass of wine in front of him; nothing like the goblet set in front of the Antartic King.

The poison vial felt like it burned through the fabric of his dress shirt. His heart pounded increasingly fast in his chest; his skin cold and clammy even as heat radiated from the dinner in front of him.