A dastardly rogue is turned right-side up.
tags: gender bender, heroic azuras, karla & lucia, reverse corruption, transformation
artwork by aliz
“YOU’RE TOO LATE, YOU FOOLS,” Archwitch Devara, Despoiler of Caledon and Bane of the Silver Order, shouted down at that very Silver Order. “THE WARDS OF CHANGE HAVE BEEN INVOKED! RAISE A HOSTILE HAND AGAINST ME, AND LET’S SEE WHAT PERVERSITY FATE WILL MAKE OF YOU!”
Satisfied that the typical formalities had been fulfilled, the archwitch retreated off the balcony and back into her keep. This was the dance they did: she would commit some terrible affront to gods and man, the Silver Order would chase her back to her lair, she would threaten them with spells of change, and then they would spend the afternoon philosophizing amongst themselves about whether striking her down would make them the true villains, both literally and metaphorically. Then they would angrily shake their fists and be on their way.
A half-hearted clap accompanied the witch’s return to her inner chambers. “As always, a performance befitting one of your stature,” her bound demonic familiar, Lucia, drawled. Other demons might have leaned into the double-meaning with an affected tone of praise; by her second week of service to the witch, Lucia had settled into a permanent bored detachment.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” Devara airily replied, too self-centered to detect even the most overt disrespect. “As always, Lucia, if one of these simpletons strikes me down, my final command is to see that dramatic irony is served by my killer being transformed into their opposite… their… opp…”
A tiny trickle of blood pooled in the corner of the witch’s mouth, and a moment later Archwitch Devara collapsed to her well-deserved death.
“Heh. Now that’s ironic,” the assassin chuckled as he stepped from the shadows.
Her erstwhile mistress dead at her feet, Lucia was finally stirred to anger. “That wasn’t dramatic irony in the slightest!”
“Well, yeah it was,” the interloper replied, kneeling to collect his knife from the witch’s back. “She said ‘dramatic irony,’ and then she died.”
Lucia, who had spent the better part of her thralldom to Devara engaged in a correspondence course on Caledon literature, was incensed. “No! Words mean things, colloquial usage be damned! If I had known you were creeping in the shadows, and then Devara talked about her dying wishes, which were then interrupted by her dying, that would have been dramatic irony. And technically, Devara used it incorrectly, too, because everyone already knows about the spell she cast, and dramatic irony requires some level of ignorance.”
The assassin flipped back his hood, revealing a shocked and surprisingly sallow human face. “What spell?”
The demon smirked. “Now that’s ironic.”
The human blinked, and then the concern drained from his face, and he shrugged. “Eh, whatever. Won’t be the first time I’ve been cursed.” And then he turned and began to rifle through the room’s treasures. “Don’t even really know what irony is, anyways.”
Lucia tried to process what she was watching. “Are you… with the Silver Order?”
“Those stuck-up do-gooders? Nah. Just an enterprising free agent who happened to be in the exact right place to take advantage of their distraction. And now I’m going to pay myself for it.”
Well, that made sense, Lucia acknowledged. The cloaked man in front of her had already demonstrated more cunning and commitment than Lucia was used to seeing from the Silver Order. “So you’re just here for the gold?”
“Well, I’m definitely not here for the books,” he chatted away. “Can’t even read. Literacy is a professional liability, what with strange curses and stuff. Never know what you might accidentally read.”
“But… you were just cursed. You illiteracy didn’t prevent that.”
“Well, you can’t win ‘em all. Lots of professional liabilities in my line of murder-thievery.” He looked up from the desk he was pilfering. “Just to be clear, I got no problem with you, though. We all gotta do something to get by, and you don’t have a bounty on yer head.”
“That’s very generous of you,” the demon said dryly.
“And as for the gold… well, I am bad, dishonest, unscrupulous, stupid; but money is honored, and hence its possessor.”
“That’s… remarkably well spoken.”
“Yeah, I read it somewhere once.”
Lucia grimaced. “But you just said—”
“I say lots of things, lots of lies. Keeps people—”
He lunged, knife drawn, at the demon.
But Lucia was prepared. Good thieves and assassins didn’t draw attention to themselves. Better thieves and assassins draw attention to themselves to keep their mark from seeing something else. The man’s rambling gregariousness had been one sign, his seeming indifference to being cursed another, all efforts to keep Lucia’s eyes off his hands.
“—distracted,” the man gasped out, now suspended half a meter off the ground by a choke hold around his neck, his knife dropping away. “Aaaahhh, fuck.”
“Now why’d you have to go and do that?”
“Don’t like curses,” he gagged. “Lied. Bounty on Devara’s assistants, too. Just business.”
“I never liked the witch, and I had no reason to legitimately curse her murderer. We could have worked something out, you know? Made you literate, fixed your bad teeth, something technically opposite. But now?”
Lucia’s lips curled into a hungry grin. “This is going to be fun.”
She tossed him into one of the bookshelves, heavy tomes crashing around him. Around her swirled the power of the curse, growing with her own eagerness. Her eyes turned completely black, and in her palms stygian fire coalesced. “What’s your name, man?”
“K-Karl Rymer,” the downed rogue said, tendrils of dark smoke beginning to bind him in place.
“Any last requests, Karl? Which parts of your identity should I keep the same?”
“I… like money. And I like how good I am with the blade. Maybe let me keep those things?” he asked, a habitual bargainer to the end.
“How absolutely pathetic,” Lucia rebuked. “But why not.”
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
SHE TOOK THE STEPS TWO AT A TIME, hurling herself toward freedom. Devara was dead, Karl was being transformed by her sickeningly wholesome curse. All the demon had to do was get past the stupid knights of the Silver Order, who were too cowardly to—
—correction: who had at least two members heroic enough to start storming Devara’s keep. They almost ran into each other on a narrow set of curving stairs, and Lucia panicked. “I was being held against my will by the witch,” she blurted out, which was actually the truth.
The paladins held their swords very, very still.
“She’s dead, and I’m escaping,” she continued, still telling the truth, remarkably.
“Well, that sounds reasonable,” the lead paladin replied. “You’re free to go.”
“I’m what?”
“She’s what?” the second paladin echoed.
“Well, think about what Karla would do,” the first paladin said, and Lucia smirked at what the use of that name signified, feeling the tendrils of the curse trickling out into the world. “It’s like she always tells us: it’s important to use empathy and judgement in every situation, even and especially if the outcome seems obvious. Sure, this here is a demon, charging down a flight of stairs at a pair of paladins—but look at her wrists and ankles. You can just barely make out the marks left by magical manacles. On top of that, Devara has a reputation for binding unwilling familiars. In fact…”
The paladin had already sheathed his sword, and was now digging around in his purse. He tossed a gold coin to Lucia, probably three days’ wages. “It’s not much, but there’s a tavern about half a league down the road from here, serves all sorts of demis and fey-folk. If you’re not headed back to the infernal realms any time soon, they could point you in the direction of gainful employment.”
The demon looked at the coin in complete bewilderment. This was most certainly not the run-in with the Silver Order she was expecting.
“But I’m obligated to tell you that if you do set upon an evil way, we’ll be there to set things right,” the paladin finished, taking a more serious tone. “The evil Devara made you do isn’t your fault, but what happens from now will be your responsibility.”
Lucia’s mouth flapped opened and closed, the demon rendered speechless by this unexpected sincerity. This man was a fool, clearly, but he was so certain in his wholesome foolishness that it left her flustered. “I—”
“Well I’ll be,” a voice boomed from further up the stairs, loud but kind and touched with an edge of humor. “David, I think we’ll make a paladin out of you yet.”
Lucia slowly turned to see a wall of burnished metal descending the stairs—a figure of simple steel and silver, imposing not because of their ornamentation but because of its absence. It was the practical and well-maintained armor of a true public servant.
The truest public servant.
The ideal public servant.
“Oh. Oh no,” Lucia murmured.
The figure stopped to pull off their helmet—her helmet, it immediately became apparent—and in that moment, Lucia swore that a light breeze blew through the stairwell and ruffled the warrior’s perfectly coiffed auburn hair. Her face was serene, a mixture of freckles and scars and a nose that had clearly been broken twice too many times fighting for love and kindness and justice.
And then the paladin opened her perfect hazel eyes, and their eyes met—
—and the paladin winked at her.
“Karla!” the other two knights shouted in jubilation. “We didn’t know you were here,” David added.
“Well, friends,” Karla smiled, and the hall seemed to lighten. Lucia felt her cheeks flush. “While you two valiantly drew the archwitch’s ire, I scaled the keep’s outer wall and stormed her lair. The fight was tough, but the Order was victorious this day. And we owe it all to you, demon. Thank you for your assistance.”
“I did what,” the demon replied in deadpan, but no one seemed to notice.
“You did what?!” the second paladin exclaimed, ignoring Lucia.
“I know, Holly, I know,” Karla said, hands raised in apology. “It’s incredibly dangerous to scale a sheer wall in full armor without any belay, but no more dangerous than what was asked of you. I’m just glad that I happened to be in the exact right place to do some good.”
The other two warriors cooed.
“Now if you two will excuse me,” Karla continued, “I’d like to personally thank my new demon friend for her help.” With a final smile and wink, the mighty paladin slipped a hand around Lucia’s waist and guided her down the stairs, past David and Holly, toward freedom.
“Gosh, that Karla,” Holly sighed.
“What a gal,” David agreed.
“What is going ooonnnnnnnn,” the demon moaned. And then, after a few steps: “Wait wait wait!”
David and Holly and Karla all stopped, turning to face her.
Beads of sweat were forming on Lucia’s brow, and she could feel the icy touch of the curse curling around all four of them. “David. Holly. Are you in relationships? Are you married?”
“Well, not to each other,” David replied.
“And that’s a very personal question,” Holly continued. “Are you married?”
“No,” the demon replied. And that’s the problem, she mentally added.
“Well, I don’t think it’s out of line to say that David here is in a committed relationship with an orc trading clan,” Karla volunteered, smoothing over the tension.
David gave an embarrassed aww shucks shrug, and Lucia was grudgingly impressed that such an ordinary looking man apparently had the stamina to wed one orc, much less a clan.
“And Holly. Well, they’re single—”
“Whew!” Lucia sighed, relieved.
“—because their one true love is justice.”
“What.”
“That’s right, boss!” Holly chirped. “I’m just too committed to fighting the good fight! I’m definitely not an eligible bachelor or bachelorette!”
“Oh come on,” Lucia hissed. “Are you serious?”
“Well, that’s a little closed-minded,” Karla answered, misunderstanding the question. “The Silver Order does not require paladins renounce personal relationships. But Holly’s choice is just as valid as any of ours, and we fully support their commitment to the ideals—”
“Shut up shut up shut up.” Lucia shoved past the paladin, panicking. She could feel the last vestige of Devara’s parting curse curl around her own heart, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. “No no no no. This can’t be happening,” she blurted, and fled down the steps.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
“WHOA, WHOA THERE. It’s okay. Take some deep breaths. Here, sip from my flask.”
Lucia’s head throbbed, her ears ringing from the incredible pain. What had Devara done to her this—
Then it all came flooding back. Devara’s death, Karl’s transformation, Karla’s entrance. And that fucking curse, twisting back onto her.
The demon knocked away the proffered waterskin, then tried to take in her surroundings. She was on a plush animal skin, in what appeared to be a tent fit for a Rajatin prince. Kneeling above her was the regal Karla, her beauty made all the more striking by the worry clouding her hazel—
“Gods dammit, you’re still here,” Lucia blurted out, interrupting her own thoughts. When the paladin responded with a kind smile, the demon lamely continued. “Where is here? Is this your tent?”
“You collapsed after you ran outside the tower. Lucia, is it? You seemed to be rebuking yourself, ranting about curses. From my time studying demon physiology at the Imperial University—”
“You studied demon physiology. Of course you did.”
“—I recognized that you were dealing with the aftereffects of some sort of death curse, probably cast by Devara when she was slain.” Close enough. “I hurried you to my tent, to help ensure your fever broke.”
Then the paladin blushed. “And it’s not really my tent. I’m simply in temporary possession of it. As I was making my way toward Devara’s tower, I ran into the Bandit King of Levor—”
“The Bandit King of Levor?”
“—and once he understood the immorality of preying upon the weak, he threw away his wealth and swore himself to a life of abnegation. His ill-gotten gold was repatriated easily enough, but I didn’t have the time to find an appropriate venue to donate his extravagant tent to.” The source of the paladin’s discomfort was now clear. “It was very pleasant to bivouac in, but it’s entirely inappropriate for me to keep.”
Lucia laughed wearily. “Well isn’t this just ironic as fuck.”
Not following what the demon meant, Karla tried to be helpful. “That depends on what you expected from Levor, and what kind of irony we’re talking about. Successful dramatic irony usually requires some level of igno—”
“Oh, now you know that! Of course you do. You godsdamn idiot,” she cursed at them both.
Feeling she was saying something wrong, Karla transitioned to another topic. “Well, I wanted to thank you for your assistance with Devara. You saved my life.”
The demon covered her eyes, the better to not see Karla’s stupid, sexy face. “What, exactly, do you think happened in that tower?”
“Well, I… don’t really know. I remember scaling the exterior wall. I remember Devara. I remember stepping out of the shadows and then… nothing. When I came to, she was dead, and you had fled. I have to assume she knocked me unconscious, and you intervened and saved my life.”
“That’s… not at all what happened. You killed Devara.”
“Hmmm. I had hoped to turn her from her wicked path, but sometimes that… isn’t possible.” Karla’s tone made it clear that she was disappointed in herself.
“You killed her for the bounty.”
“I would do no such thing. But that money will help keep the Salantine Orphanage open another year, and the Rosco Miniature Horse Rescue in Huldage could use the financial assistance, and…”
Lucia snorted, and Karla raised an eyebrow. “It’s nothing, nothing. Just… there was a death curse, Karla. A curse of change. You—”
The truth choked in Lucia’s throat. What could she say? The demon knew, intimately, the kind of woman she had crafted. A woman who understood the value of coin, and so gave every coin away. The best bladeswoman in the kingdom, but who only ever drew her sword as a last resort. The ideal of a paladin, just and true and noble, an inspiration and example for everyone who met her, even bandit kings and demons. A woman who was kind and generous and self-effacing, who was every synonym of “foolish” that Lucia had learned in her Caledon literature correspondence course.
The kind of woman who would be devastated to learn that she had come into existence at the expense of another soul, regardless of how undeserving that wretch of a man had been. A hero who would undo herself to see Karl restored to existence.
“Your teeth were not always so straight,” Lucia said, a technical truth. And then one more, more important truth: “And… because you were single, I directed the curse to… to have you and the first eligible bachelor or bachelorette you laid eyes on fall in love.”
“Huh. That last one is a surprise. But like I said earlier, David and Holly are both in… oh. Oh. I understand.” The paladin lapsed into silence.
“It was supposed to be another paladin,” Lucia added, quietly. “I tried to hurry out of there, before you awoke, but…”
She peeked through the hands covering her eyes, and to her surprise, looked into Karla’s smiling face. Of course she would be taking this in stride.
“In my experience, you can only exchange love for love, and trust for trust, and the truest loves are those that evoke love in return. You can never really explain who you fall in love with, or why you do. Call the connection between us what you will. That doesn’t change the fact that I’d like… I mean, if you want…”
The charismatic paladin tripped over her words, then quickly regained her confidence. “I don’t know if we have a future together, but I’d like to learn more about you. Maybe we could… travel together for a time? You could readjust to the world outside of Devara’s tower, and we could see how our feelings for each other develop. I don’t want you to feel compelled to say yes; just because I saved you, doesn’t mean you owe me anything. Your future is yours to chart. But maybe we could… chart out the next leg of the journey together, even if it’s only a temporary arrangement?”
And in that instant, Lucia could see how her future would play out. It wouldn’t be temporary. It would be a growing, grudging love for this walking hunk of wholesome stupidity. Adventures and escapes and daring rescues, all to help the weak and the tiny and the poor. So many cute animals and cute children, saved from suffering and immiseration. Righteous fury, in the face of injustice, and the elation of justice served.
And love, so much love.
So much godsdamned love.
“No,” the demon croaked, her mouth dry. “No, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“Well.” Karla nodded once, then smiled. “I understand.”
The paladin stood and gestured to the surrounding tent. “It looks like I found the right person to give this tent to—it’s yours. If you sell it, the gold will be able to take you anywhere in the empire; if you keep it, you have a perfect, mobile home. Either way, you will be set up for success here in Azuras.”
She paused at the tent flap. “It was—” and for a fraction of a second, Karla’s voice cracked, “—a pleasure to meet you, Lucia. I wish you the best.”
And then she was gone.
The demon stared at the empty tent flap for a long, long moment, trying to process what just happened. Then she leapt out after Karla, her confusion changed to sudden blind anger.
“Wait,” she shouted at the retreating paladin. “Wait. You’re just going to leave like that?”
Karla turned, confused at the demon’s indignation. “Yes?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to just… give up.”
“You’re a beautiful and intelligent demon, and even though we’ve just met, I feel like we have a real and natural connection. But the Prime Cathedral is frequented by many couples who felt they had real and natural connections, and now want annulments.” Karla gave a melancholy sigh, the first true negative feeling Lucia had seen Karla emote. “In my experience, it’s best not to dwell on supposed feelings, especially if they’re not reciprocated. I must… apologize for behaving so indecorously, spell or not.”
“No, that is completely, one hundred percent bullshit.” The demon’s passion surprised them both. “I don’t accept this. You’re a stupid fucking fool, is what you are.”
“I’ve been called worse things,” Karla said, magnanimous. “And I am foolish, in many ways.”
“Well, right now is one of those ways, you damn fool. I know for a fact that we are perfect for each other. And you can feel it, too, that special connection between us. But because of your damned ideals and your sense of responsibility, you’re going to convince yourself its not real and run away, and then you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”
Karla looked on, not understanding. “I don’t—I’m the one that asked you if you wanted to travel with me? You’re the one that said no, and I wanted to respect your—”
“And,” the demon continued, growing more agitated, “your fear of commitment is going to fuck this all up. Like, who really cares if it’s a curse or if it’s love? I mean, what is love, except a curse that wraps itself around your heart, and makes it hurt when you see that special someone? Right? And maybe it’s not the life you were expecting this morning, but it’s a going to be a life filled with love and happiness and miniature ponies, and all you need to do is have the courage to say yes to it. Why the hells can’t you do that, you idiot?!”
“I followed you for the first part, but… are we still talking about me? Because it sounds like—”
“Oh shut up,” Lucia groaned, and kissed her.
That’s right, friends. I absolutely did quote Karl Marx’s 1844 essay “The Power of Money“—twice! And this is absolutely an extended reference to Red Dwarf, because Karla is absolutely inspired by Ace Rimmer. The adorable artwork was created by @aliz_sf; commission her through her Ko-fi!