"Where do seagulls go to die?" 

Over a year had passed since Doll first entered Her gaudy royal halls, a palace that would become a tomb for its former self. The Báncourte girl's identity had been stripped apart like carrion feasted upon by seagulls, and Doll felt so freed from the burdens of its undesirable history. It was far better to focus on the present, an aptly named moment in time crystallised in deep blue obsession. What a gift it was, to be Hers. Princess's strict tutelage, and loving care, brought a clarity of the self that washed over Doll and left its porcelain body pristine, giving it a perfect lustre it now presented on pillow with a smile more hollow than the bones of a gull. Hollow, yes, but not fake; the emptiness in Doll's expression spoke of adoration naked and plain, it no longer had to compromise its joy. 

Sometimes Doll could feel that happiness swirling in its loins, a commanding weakness that compelled it to touch when it knew Princess would not approve. As it sat upon the cushion, doing its Doll-best not to squirm with that worming, incessant need that never left it well alone, Doll found itself grateful for the metal belt Princess had placed it in. At the same time, Doll felt a twinge of embarrassment in needing protection from selfish need in the first place, and wished so dearly to perform obediently enough in the proceeding weeks to be freed of the imposed chastity. Not because doll wished to touch itself, though the physical compulsion was still doing a number on it in that regard, but because Princess's favourite thing harboured a great desire to prove it would no longer need the aid. Discipline was important for dolls, and impressing Princess was the only thing in the entire world that still mattered. Pale blue tincture was testing its self control, because whenever Doll laid eyes upon its owner's coat of starkissed skin, its mind went white and it felt an oozing lust accompany the permitted adoration. The Princess's visage—despite its deathlike pallor—was ethereal. There was nothing to compare it to, besides, perhaps, the Doll itself. 

Doll knelt dutifully, each of its smooth knees sinking into the crimson cushion it pressed its weight upon. These limbs could well have been ball-jointed, as they offered the same degree of rigid articulation. This was, naturally, a point of pride for the inhuman plaything that lost itself to tincture and shed the weight of what it once was. What was lost, really? A cold ruin, and a family who could no longer provide love. They were as useless to the Doll as it was to the palace staff. Doll was not a servant, it was simultaneously nothing but an object and also something far above their stations. Doll was treasure, and everyone knew to give it a wide berth on the rare occasion that it would be removed from the heiress' chambers. 

An even rarer occasion had occurred, on this particular afternoon. An unprecedented turn, even. Doll did its best to remain calm, even with its entire world having removed Herself so suddenly from the royal court—leaving it in a world of spiralling uncertainty. Without Princess, Doll saw nothing but greyscale. The world outside of Her no longer felt real at all, but it knew that lowering its head or closing its eyes would be improperly human of it. And so, the Doll gazed. It took in the sight of a reality separate from its own, a world of men, of strife and hardship. So many had gathered in the hall's depression, and it felt strange—yet right—for the Doll to be looking down at them. It proved to the Princess's property what the dead Báncourte girl had already surmised: These crowded folks were not truly people, either, but vermin gnawing upon the crown, or the regal cadaver that remained of such an institution. Royal benevolence was above them, bright and shining in spite of its decay, putting the ratfolk in their place.

The hall was much too large for Doll to stare out into without feeling nauseous at its grotesque breadth. Eyes used to looking only at Her now strained against those faraway corners, and soon flitted away to settle on the whispers of men before it. These were no peasants, and stood on the same level of floor that Doll's cushion rested on. They were few, mostly consisting of the king's good friend, bodyguard and counsel, Piotr, and his insignificant squire boy. There was only one other man in the room to round out the court's lax security, as Princess was herself untouchable on account of her cruel, supernatural gift. 

"Well I'll be... she's taken ill 'as she? Maybe we won't 'ave ta slide in the knife ourselves after all, eh? If she keeps spewin' her guts out maybe the freak'll do our job for us." The third man was not somebody whose name the Doll had ever been given any reason to learn, but it did recognise the face. He was a crass man, not so loyal to the king like Piotr, but resolute in matters of personal gain. His words perked the Doll up from its dull standby, though the physical reaction it gave was imperceptible. Doll continued to kneel, near-motionless, but its ear had been whet. Dramatically so.

Piotr cleared his throat urgently, giving his co-conspirator a blackened glare that could've killed were it any more intense. The ugly man had spoken in a hush, so as to not announce their plans of prevenient regicide to the plague of commoners below. Still, it was careless to breathe word of such treason aloud... and Piotr feared the Doll might have overheard. It certainly had, but when the ugly would-be assassin realised his abettor's concern, he could only return a snarl of a laugh in kind. 

"Hah... fuckin' hell, Piotr my friend. You really think there's still someone home in this creepy thing the mad bitch lugs around? Nah... nah nah I've see 'em around, no fuckin' clue what she did to this poor girl but she's positively braindead, just look at her. Thing can barely walk, it's obscene that we're expected to put up with shit like this... horrific don't even begin to describe it. We'll be doing the king's poor, insane daughter a favour when we—"

"Lower. Your. Voice. Now." Demanded the old knight. His tone spoke of a patience long worn down, and his palm rested threateningly on the pommel of his blade. Once his willingness to flash steel had been made perfectly clear with little more than body language and intimidating, veteran eyes, Piotr turned his gaze on the Doll and narrowed it with caution and scrutiny. He searched the thing for intelligence, knowing what it would mean were he to be made to cover for his accomplice's loose tongue. The Doll was untouchable, unless the very worst had come to pass. He prayed, fruitlessly, that the unsettling royal property had not understood their whispers. At least, the Doll assumed as much when pitted against that piercing stare. It understood much more than it was permitted to let on. 

Despite Piotr's intimidation effort, which did initially cause the other wretch to shrink back and hold his tongue, the nameless killer would soon retort with a nasty scoff that sounded too common to belong on this level of the room. "Don't you lose your fuckin' nerve now, Piotr. Not over something like this, eh? This bad lobotomy case ain't gonna spill shit, doubt she can even speak. Got a late cousin who lost all 'er motor function after she—"

The incensed knight almost growled at the other man as he turned to stare phantom daggers much less deep and puncturing than Princess Pincushion's. Still, his mouthy conspirator did not err. The cur had become emboldened, and defensive. 

"Look. Girl's just damned fuckin' flesh now, nothin' else. Normal, functioning people ain't still as dolls. It just ain't possible, so stop threating over bein' overheard by ghosts. Corpses keep the best secrets, sure, but we both know what'll 'appen if we cut this thing." The man who did not understand just how much he was hated reached over to the Doll and Piotr's hand fell down onto handle. The Doll could not be touched, it would spell disaster for the entire city. Ignoring the sound of shifting steel disturbed from its sheathe in warning, the man twined rough fingers into the Doll's snow white hair and tightened his grip into the loose strands.

Then, he yanked. 

The Doll did not so much as gasp, though its breath subtly hitched. Piotr was grinding his teeth, shielding the unfortunate scene from the crowd at his back with nothing more than the breadth of his body. In the overzealous assassin's hand sat a clump of white hair he summarily pocketed, for purposes one could only stab idle guesses at. "See? You really think there's a single thought left in this cunt's head? Tomorrow proceeds as planned, I'll kill the royal runt myself if I have to. I know you couldn't bear to spill the blood of your precious king. Piotr the pussy, don't get in the way of this... an' don't act like you tell me what I can and can't fuckin' do." Brazenly, the man brushed shoulders with the giant before him, returning to his side of the hall and as he spat onto the steps below him. 

It would be another ten minutes, Doll counted, before the Princess would return and whisk it away from the grey void the world became without Her presence. In that time, Doll's mind had begun to stir, and it thought more than it had in months. New thoughts, urgent thoughts. 

Princess's smile was as warm and soothing as ever, causing the Doll to see a world of luminous stars and colour. Everything began to make sense again, and it felt saved by the mere presence alone; rich perfume, simmering dulcet voice, and confidence that could cut through cloth had it the will to. 

With such clarity, came panic. Because now Doll harboured a great and terrible truth: Its universe was being threatened by the beasts at their backs. Princess was not acting the ill gull, She did not think to hide. Doll had to warn Her, or its entire existence would come crashing down and nothing would ever make sense to it again.

Perhaps then, it would finally become the living ghost these treasonous predators had hoped it to be. 

It was only once the Princess and her Doll had returned to their private chambers that the former noticed something strange. The difference in her doll should have been impossible to catch sight of, with just a small amount of hair plucked from one side, but to the obsessive Princess Pincushion the tarnished symmetry of Her perfect doll was glaringly apparent. Eyes widened in shock and nostrils flared as She pushed Her knees onto the pillow that Doll had instinctively gone to occupy; the one reserved for it by the throne that was not a throne had an appeal of its own, like all of the gifts bestowed to it by owner, but the one in the bedchambers was easily its favourite. This small lot of soft land was Doll's favourite place in the entire world, it cherished every single second it spent in this comfort area—even while being punished. Especially while being punished. 

"Doll. Explain." Princess clicked Her tongue, and Doll had never before seen the golden blonde so thoroughly vexed. The woman was so furious She almost frightened the tincture-stained mind before Her. Fingers ran through that ash-turned hair and the Princess struggled to contain her madness, wanting so desperately to unleash Her wrath on something... anything.

"Of course, Princess. If you need to hit this one to vent your frustration—" 

"Just. Explain. Wh-why is your pretty hair all... wrong? Tell me, Doll!" She was impressive in Her madness, to be so acutely aware of such insignificant little details that meant more than anything to Her in that ailing state. The obsession ran both ways, even before what would come to pass.

Princess was shaking violently, and Doll could not bear to see its world break down like that. It wanted to comfort, to soothe, but it knew better than to presume itself capable. "An ugly man tore it from this one's head with his grubby, fat little fingers." Doll did not know anything but smile, as it had been taught, and so the expression clicked naturally into place even though it seemed inappropriate in this instance. It was forgiven for not acting as a human should, though, usually even rewarded for it. 

"Ah... fucking filth... filth in my palace, everywhere they are. Oh, Doll. Tell me who it was! I know you cannot know, but details must be elucidated... his fingers... they were fat and little at the same time? H-how can that be?" The woman sounded delirious, pulling at Her spiralling golden locks until She too was losing hair. They often became mirrors of one another, this Mad Princess and Her treasured Doll. 

"They were stubby, I suppose." The Doll spoke in monotone, perfectly calm on the outside despite the urgency stirring in its heart. "And... they plan to kill you, Princess. Tomorrow. I know not when, precisely." Doll's voice lilted as it spoke, it was unable to separate the emotion from such a horrible sentence. The thought of Her being targeted for an assassination plot, let alone actually being murdered, made the precious plaything sick to its stomach. It could not live without Her anymore. 

"I care not for that! Many have tried before, I sense them coming from the moment their plots begin to turn. Killing intent carries an even more pungent scent than the shit-speckled citizenry I'm bound to rule over like I've any want for the damned responsibility!" Her own endangered mortality meant so very little in the face of Her Doll being touched by such unnamed filth. "Was it during court... must've been, there were only a handful of men by us... I told them before how I hated being surrounded by their ilk. Was it Piotr? Surely not, he's the only man in this world I know would not stoop to such lows. Once upon a time, he would sit at the foot of my bed during the night until I fell asleep because I expressed just how unsafe I felt as daddy's only heir... now he does well to avoid my gaze, but I trust in his loyalty regardless." She almost smiled, but then reminded Herself the grief she was feeling at the sight of Her defaced treasure. "One of... the other ones, then? I did not pay attention to who was there... I-I just wanted to stare at you all the while, but of course I had those commoners to address. Why do I even put up with that? It used to be a fun pastime, I suppose... but now that I have you it has grown oh so burdensome."

Princess was falling into pieces, and Doll knew not how to put Her back together. All it could think to do was risk facing a punishment it couldn't truly hate in the first place, as it spread its arms wide and pulled the trembling blonde into a warm embrace. Doll was so much warmer than its owner, an irony that was not lost on either of them despite their respective impairments and fixations. Radiant blonde hair spilled over the Doll's shoulder and Princess tentatively accepted the hug, though even here Her reciprocal touch had a razor's edge to it. Doll did not mind being cut, both metaphorically and physically, so let the poor girl sink into its arms and breathe deep its placating natural odour. Princess did not apply fragrance to Her Doll, She loved the way it was without. 

"If... if I can't tell who hurt you, I'll just kill them all..." The woman muttered under Her breath, clutching the Doll tight as hot pricks of pain seared into Her frail body and the pincushion took effect. This was unlike any demonstration Doll had witnessed in all its new life here in the palace.

Doll was spared the pain, but when the wailing began to haunt the palace halls, and soon the peasantry below, it soon realised it was the only one exempt from this punishment. Princess gripped Her Doll as an agonising yet indignant pain devastated Her nerves and projected the feeling to each and every man, woman and child that called this accursed cove their home.

"Ahhn... vile... the l-lot of them..." Doll's everything gasped out with intense pain, causing the pristine creature's practiced smile to drop; it was not truly etched, and the Doll could not deny its feelings. It felt horror at the sight of the Princess doubling over and falling deeper into its arms. It should have been perfect, beautiful. Typically, when She shared Her pain with Doll, the sight of perspiration trailing down Her iridescent skin—and the sounds of Her pained yet pleasured coos—utterly mesmerised the docile plaything. Here, it was all wrong. Princess was not sharing pain with Doll, She was simply hurting Herself, and Doll could barely contain its dismay at the sight. 

Something changed in Doll, as the unruly monarch rocked in its arms and doled righteous punishment to Her subjects. It realised, distantly, that the woman it loved could one day harm Herself in a way not so easily fixed. Sometimes, often times, the wounded bird does not emerge from its hiding place—and it dies away in obscurity. 

Doll could not have that.

"There, there." Spoke the last of the Báncourte bloodline, even if it no longer paid heed to such unnecessary trivia. The Doll stroked its pliable porcelain fingers through the pretty Princess's mess of golden hair, freshly tousled by Her own anxious plucking. The girl slowly, but surely, eased into that touch and began to breathe regularly once more.

One at a time, Her pins retreated and dissipated into gelid bedroom air; the palace only had one central furnace for heating the chambers, and it was so rarely used on account of the cove's good weather. It was just that Princess Pincushion's room seemed to expel all the heat from it, as though cursed by some malignant entity that had been taunting her since she was little. That, or the room was simply draughty. 

Princess was placated, and uncharacteristically docile, closing Her eyes as she silently allowed the Doll She felt so strongly for to comfort Her. The capital would not know that it was a nameless Doll who spared them from the terrible pain that had arrested them in their homes and places of work. Doll did not care for them in the slightest and so any gratitude was hardly warranted, it simply needed to keep its owner safe... even should that mean protecting the petulant thing from Her own self-destructive tendencies. Doll did not presume to know better, of course, but it acted on these instincts all the same. If Princess did not like it, She'd simply have to punish Her property later.

"I'm so tired, Doll." The sleepy thing spoke, nestled in those arms that held Her tight. "I'll never let you out of my sight again... damn the sickness that tore me away from my duties. The medicine woman tells me there is no clear ailment, that my ill pallor is purely of the mind, and that I'm simply malnourished on account of the way I've been acting. Hah... she really said that." The pretty, almost doll-like creature found a comfortable spot to rest on Her property's shoulder, letting out a soft sigh that had the Doll enamoured all over again. Everything about Her, volatile as She was, made the Doll flush. She was precious, and She needed saving. "Anyone else I'd have executed for such brazen speech, but I make exceptions for her and she bloody well knows it... that blue miracle she imports is a closely guarded secret and believe me I've tried to have it traced. Other methods of making you mine are just too damaging, especially in the long run." Her voice was so faint now, the woman was falling asleep in Doll's arms. Fingers brushed through Her hair, and the wilting Princess let out another soft little sigh that drove the Doll to new, sacrilegious imaginings. Its heart was pounding and its mind racing, the Doll remembering how the Princess brushed off its warning regarding the assassination plot.

They mean to kill Her. Doll could not push it from its mind, even if the Mad Princess had told it not to worry. Perhaps its owner secretly wished for Her own expiry? That's... She almost just hurt Herself, and She won't take these killers' plans seriously either. Doll was experiencing a dark epiphany that began to mutate its worldview, giving it newfound clarity and understanding. 

Sometimes Princess could be wrong. 

Not about Doll, of course, but certainly regarding matters pertaining to her own safety. She needed to be kept safe from herself, pristine and preserved. The only way Doll understood how to make this so, was the selfsame way Princess had ensured its own longevity. They really were mirrors of one another, in so many ways, and Doll could only imagine how perfect it would be to truly be of a kind. A pair of dolls, lustrous and free. Safe and saved. 

After all, what need would the assassins have to take out the Princess if she was no longer able to rule in the first place? If she posed no threat to their designs, Princess could live on... and be with Doll forever! It was all so perfect—a plan as flawless as the Doll itself. 

"Princess..." Spoke the Doll, noticing that the weak little thing in its arms had grown so quiet. Her breathing came out in short little puffs of air from lightly parted lips, and Doll could barely contain itself. She had fallen asleep, and seemed so vulnerable in that moment compared to the imposing persona she would typically put on when alone with her Doll. When Doll confirmed that the object of its obsession, and loyalty, was no longer awake, it tilted its head and glanced the table behind her. 

Tincture. 

It had watched owner prepare the dollifying concoction so many times over these many months of still servitude, that it was more or less confident in its ability to mix it properly. This was something Doll knew it needed permission for, and it was yet intelligent enough to understand Princess would not give her blessing. The Doll's love, panic and devotion, overrode its compulsion to obey the typical rules that bound it. Princess taught the Doll, perhaps unwisely, that it would always be forgiven for its mistakes should it accept due punishment. Doll knew this, and had come to enjoy its admonishments perhaps more than it should have, so there was absolutely nothing left preventing it from keeping Princess safe the only way it knew how. And what of Doll's compassion for the blonde's identity? No, Doll was also taught what a gift the tincture was. Why should its world not be able to enjoy such wonderful oblivion too? 

Everything was starting to make sense to Doll, as it carefully freed itself from those limp, skinny arms that held it and rested Princess reverently atop the cushion it loved almost as much as her. Doll was fortunate to have learned such still, soft movements, walking across the room while making almost no sound at all. Its fingers wrapped around the bottle of pale blue medicine and pulled free the glass cork keeping it fresh. Next was the ethanol, which sat in metal flask, Doll unscrewing the lid and breathing deep the dizzying alcohol scent. This all felt so right, it had no doubt in its mind what was necessary to ensure the Princess's survival. Certainty was a drug of its own. 

"Doll's going to save you... like you saved it. Lovely Princess... more precious than the rarest of metals, or the brightest gemstone. More vast and beautiful than the deep blue sea." Doll's eyes were shimmering orbs reflecting the pale blue tincture it mixed with purpose. It did not know the precise ratio of blue to clear, but it measured by the taps it remembered its Princess always making. Those taps had burned into its mind, it could never forget the sequence and repeated it thus—though did so much more quietly. It had nobody to perform for, secretly preparing the drug that would rescue them both from dire straits. The Princess and her Doll, immortal in the clear blue skies, drifting endlessly towards nirvana. Tap, tap, tap.

Princess was slumped over the cushion, sleeping peacefully despite the lack of a Doll to wrap herself around as she usually would. Her chest rose, and fell, with the heavy burden of personhood. Doll smiled, filling the oral syringe in its hand with completed tincture and feeling flush with excitement at the heroic act it was about to perform. Princess would understand, in time, and if not—Doll was just as eager to receive its beating. 

Carefully, with the grace expected of an inhuman, beautiful thing like Doll, the Princess's treasure lowered its knees back onto the cushion and cradled the slumped form of perfection incarnate. Devotion stirred it onwards, and Doll tenderly pushed down on the woman's chin to open her mouth ready for her treatment. Knees pushed closer, touch grew firmer, and soon enough the metal tip began to slide itself without consent into the sleeping Princess's open mouth. Doll was buzzing with a mixture of its own: excitement, dread and resolve. There was—of course—pleasure, too. 

"Mmh..." The small sound from Princess caused the Doll to panic and press firm on the syringe until every last drop of cerulean kindness spilled free into her waiting maw. As the strong taste flooded Princess's mouth, her eyes shot wide open and the golden blonde jolted awake. It coated her tongue and rolled back towards her throat, the woman spluttering and quickly attempting to spit the tincture out. Doll could not have that, it knew this was a necessary act of disobedience to ensure the survival of its beloved Princess. A muggy hand clamped around the heiress' mouth and held it shut by force, the Doll pulling its impetuous owner close against it as the oral syringe clattered onto the floor beneath them. There, in Doll's precious pillow world, the two engaged in a short lived struggle that could have only ended one way. Despite the atrophy in its muscles, and its own relative weakness to begin with: Doll was still much stronger than the frail Princess. Sure, her kicks and punches hurt, but her actual strength was as lacking as it appeared. There was no contest, only inevitable loss. More than strength, Doll simply had better endurance; it was used to physical tolls, and Princess's familiarity with invisible pain did not translate here. 

Princess swallowed reflexively in her panic, and Doll dropped its head onto the other's shoulder with a small whine of disapproval. "Y-You're supposed to hold it under your tongue for half a minute first, but... that's okay. Doll's here with you, to help you ride this out." Of course, the blonde thrashed like a child being forced to eat their vegetables at dinner. It brought a nostalgic smile to the Doll's face, as it was reminded of a past life in which some noble girl had to trick her sisters into eating their greens unwittingly. Now Princess was being made to ingest blue, it was life saving medicine after all and so Doll could not give in to the childish protest on display. 

Next came the pincushion. Again, Doll's resolve was strong. It knew well how to endure pain in the interest of pleasing its owner, its universe, and so it did not err. The pain broadcast by its Princess's supernatural ability had been dulled in any case, which proved to Doll that the medicine must be taking effect. The pain was numbing, but not sharp, as though owner's invisible needles were starting to dull against that drug in her system. 

"Mmmmph!" Still, she struggled. Poor Princess, thought the Doll, wanting to make this as quick and painless as it possibly could. It knew that once the tincture began to expand Princess's mind, crack open her world, that she'd forgive the Doll for the violation it was presently committing. Good Dolls make good decisions. 

"There, there, Princess. This one has you. Struggling like this will only help the tincture circulate, right? It's okay, you're okay, everything's okay. It'll brush your hair if you sit still for Doll..." It spoke with affection it could not bear to hide any more, feeling euphoric when the struggle began to subside. Princess's resistance was in a state of cathartic deliquescence, deep inhales through her nostrils sucking in the suddenly stuffy air and bringing her to heel. She was beginning to fall, sinking into arms that loved her unlike anything else in this world knew how to love. 

Soon enough, she'd stop falling, and learn to float up high.

The tightly clamping hand tentatively removed itself from the woman's mouth, and Princess took greedy breaths to try and regain some semblance of certainty. She would not find her footing, however, and her thoughts only continued to spiral further. She felt so unbearably dizzy, though it did not make her as sick as the typical nausea would. In fact, when she let it, the spinning sensation that refused to let up almost felt good. It was akin to being heavily inebriated after a long night of drinking wine, and Princess almost had the mind to giggle. Instead, she groaned. 

"Hhhhnnnhg... Dolllll..." The woman's facial muscles were slack, and her voice became terribly slurred as a result. It still sounded as pretty and perfect as ever to the royal Doll, who smiled pleasantly at having been addressed. It was too early for Princess to understand, accept and thank her for this act of salvation—Doll knew this—but it was still happy to be on the woman's tongue, hoping it did not taste too sour in the present moment.

"It's okay. There, there." The Doll continued to speak, reaching over for the nearby hairbrush and gliding it expertly through the blonde's messy hair. It was typically the one to receive a brushing at this stage in the evening, given that it was just a Doll in truth, but it had learned the softness of its owner's technique and repeated that here. Princess slumped back against the Doll, which hummed a tune it did not know the origin of, blushing madly at the feeling of the woman's weight falling back into it so passively. 

"You... d-druuugged meee..." Slurred the heiress, Doll deciding to play ignorant and interpret the plainly accusatory tone for one more grateful and understanding. Doll would indulge in this, because it felt lightheaded from the sudden, unprecedented power. 

"You're very welcome, Princess." The brush removed knots from hair and smoothed it down to uniform strands. "The first time was very overwhelming for Doll, the tincture is wonderful but it is also very demanding. It is all encompassing, it robs the corners of the room, the outside voices. It centres you. It makes you focus not on the particulars of your environment, but on everything all at once... hehe... it's like a new reality birthed inside the pink flesh that makes your thoughts. Your brain, Doll's brain, become as eggs... cracking open to birth a new universe of expanded thought. It makes Milky Way of your mind. Like it says, lovely Princess... adjusting will feel so very intense at first. Do you remember how unresponsive doll was after the initial dose? It had never felt so alive! And at the same time... it felt as though it was experiencing a hundred fresh deaths every second." 

Princess's body could not decide whether to lock up and clench every single muscle, or grow limp as a cadaver. She alternated, uncontrollably, between the two. Her pupils dilated into growing black holes, their event horizons merging with inspiral stare that pooled with new inspirations of thought. The walls of the room began to twinkle, and Princess was in awe of the way every little thought in her head began to grow, or shrink, or die. Some words gained new definitions, while others no longer meant anything at all. Her body became sluggish and numbed, and at the same time it had never been more astir. It was a play of contradictory thoughts and feelings, with Princess cast in every single part. It was fracturing, but the broken pieces would slowly arrange themselves into pretty patterns that would show the truth of her. Just as they had for the Doll.

"Good... let Doll take care of you, Princess. You're so wary... this one can see it, that you need someone... or something, to keep you safe and well groomed. We can be Dolls together, how does that sound?" Doll's excitement had been growing, and was now clearly too perverse to be acting on benevolence alone. The authority it now held over the woman who had been staunchly dominant for its entire second life was infecting reason, and the Doll desperately wanted to do things it knew would be wrong of it. It wished, shamefully, to play with its docile owner's slumping form. 

"What? I... ahhnn... mmmyyy mmmmminnndd isss..." Princess was spinning out of control, she needed grounding or she might've disappeared into the stars forever. Doll turned the Princess's head and assaulted her mouth lovingly, benevolently, giving into temptation with the flimsy excuse of helping anchor the woman tripping on a substance stronger than any other discovered in this continent. The kiss was long and slow, both passionate and practical, a Doll indulging in its duty and a wilting flower that could not refuse the stimulation. When Doll pulled back for breath, more the Princess's than its own, the golden blonde in its arms looked completely gone. Her expression contained an equal measure of bliss, simplicity and meek annihilation that showed how scared she was to let go of who she was. And then, her eyes traced someone, something, that she could use to set herself free. The words she chose gave the Doll pause, but only for the briefest of moments. "Ahnn... M-mama?"

...

"Is that what you need to take care of you, dear one?"

Princess shifted and squirmed like a baby bird in the safety of her Doll's arms, beginning to give in to the feelings that were coursing through her. There was so much emptiness in her mind in that moment, yet she has just as many active thoughts; they were simply expanding into the new mass that made her mind, each thought spacing further apart and becoming more difficult to grasp without direction, guidance, or permission. She needed her mother, the only woman in this world who even tried to understand her. Princess did so love The Queen, one of the two human beings she ever admired—though she knew better than to keep the other human for long. Her mother had fallen ill, and Princess was no longer permitted to enter the woman's chambers in those long and painful weeks leading up to her death. 

The Queen was a dying seagull, hiding away to perish in solitude. Shortly after, Princess's supernatural ability emerged—and so, too, did her intense paranoia. 

"Mmmhhh... yhou're warrrrm." The sunken blonde snuggled against the object cradling her, starting to smile like she did back then. It was a smile void of its usual sickness: Innocent and pure. 

Doll was bursting with love, a painful want in the plaything's gut commanding it to claim its owner's mouth a second time. Perhaps soon, it thought, stroking the delicate girl's pale cheek and buzzing with something more reverent than mere excitement. Doll worshipped its Princess, she was a saviour figure, but she was also someone whom Doll felt unbearable attraction towards. Seeing her there, drugged out of her mind—literally so—and indulging in the fantasy of being whole again, of being a daughter, Doll could no longer remember the rules that had bound its behaviour until now. Mothers know best, do they not?

"You may enjoy this warmth, little one. It's all for you, only for you... it's good you've learned calm, the headaches that come in the following morning if you struggle to accept the tincture are nightmarish. Please just rest, you're doing so wonderfully well for mama. Good girl." Doll pushed its thighs together in a tight squeeze, and was given an uncomfortable reminder of the clunky metal belt that still locked away its dripping need. In this state, Doll could no doubt convince the Princess to fetch her key and unlock for Doll a new world of pleasure... but Doll was still, even now, loyal to its owner's commands. It may have known better, being the fresh mother that it was, but Princess was still almost never wrong. They were a paradox of a pair, and the contradictions only pulled them closer. A singularity of master and subject, where none could tell where one's rule ended and the other's began. 

The sweet girl's eyes softened and adjusted to the tincture wreaking havoc on her higher thought, impossibly wide pupils like the black marbles of a Doll's immutable stare fixed onto her caregiver's warm smile, and Princess mirrored the expression faultlessly. Everything was starting to make sense, as it had for Doll, clicking into place the sublimation of selfhood and the start of a new entwined existence. Princess was Doll's owner, but also its daughter. The Dollmother was her pretty porcelain playmate, but also something that would always take care of her and smother her silly with boundless, unconditional love.

When Doll caressed Princess's cheek, the frail thing pushed into the touch meekly, desperate for mother's affection. She had gone without for all too long, and this fantasy was swallowing her whole; it was beginning to take shape and form her new reality, no longer a dream but a constant truth she had the good fortune to live in forevermore. A forever of a fall, inverted, sending her ever higher to that soaring kingdom of easy, weightless bliss. Her mind was up in clouds, while Dollmother's hand drifted experimentally between her thighs. At long last, the Princess was warmer than the Doll, heat radiating against that porcelain touch from soft thighs that were all too easy to pry open. 

And when a daring Doll digit touched upon the silk covered mound that had already begun to develop a visible damp spot, the girl shuddered uncontrollably in her new parent's hold. Princess was so wet for Doll, it made the tincture-fucked property's face tint darker than it surely ever had, the ashen haired beauty grinning like a teenager once again. Its Princess was wet for Doll. For her mama. No other feeling could ever hope to compete with that, Doll losing its composure entirely and feeling the intensity increase tenfold when Princess suddenly lifted her hips up into that touch with a soft whine. 

Permission. 

Tears began to run down the Doll's cheeks as it thanked the pale blue goddess under its breath, and of course its mistress too. Even the medicine woman was not spared the Doll's undying gratitude, as it delicately worked to remove its owner's expensive underwear and tasted the air with a look of love-drunk euphoria on its pretty face. Princess, similarly, was falling more and more for that soft maternal smile its own ailing mind projected onto the Doll. She was deeply enamoured with that new sensation of peace she felt, after so many years of paranoia and plain derangement. For the first time since she was a child, Princess felt completely sane—laying against her Dollmother, spit leaking from the corner of her mouth and hips bucking insatiably into fingers that dared to bury themselves into her womanhood. Princess was no demure virgin, no untainted flower, but in this moment she felt one. It was just that no loving touch could feel as divine and exhilarating as her mother's, Princess's mind reeling at the intensity of that blistering hot sensation between her legs. Fingers bore into her blossoming cunt, and treated each petal with all the love and care a mother could give—which seemed to be an endless reserve in this moment. 

Princess's mind was tentatively tethered to the face of reality by a pull cord pulled taut. It was close to snapping, but that was okay; Dollmother's touch was a ripcord, and its love would parachute. The two could drift, endlessly, towards a bottom that never was. 

"M-Mama..." Keep me safe. 

"Sweet girl... lovely Princess." Doll felt the maternal instincts imposed on it settling into place like dust covering its thoughts. Its mind was malleable like that, because the tincture made it so. "Remember when we first met, child? You told this one to never stop loving you and... and it never could. You are endlessly lovable, all this one can think to do is smother you with it again and again until you stop hurting yourself so. Please let mama take care of you from now on, nobody will ever take you away from Doll. And... Doll will never leave your side." Both of their eyes were sparkling and dim all at once, both firmly leaving the bounds of mundane human thought. Rejecting the reality that had shackled them, the Princess and Toy—Doll and Daughter—forged a new existence that was only made for them. The rest of this world would have to understand. 

Every inch of the Princess's shining, starry skin was buzzing with new delight, forbidden pleasure, the tincture forcing strict new dependencies upon her as it stole away the autonomy that had kept her from the love that now ruined her. The two had been simplified in places that made independence an impracticality, but they could lean on each other now to fill in those blanks. They were a puzzle with two pieces, the Princess burying her face into the other's chest and placating herself against it. That dizzy, spinning sensation the tincture forced upon her went away in an instant. There were no fraying corners in Doll's chest, no dazzling walls that hurt to look at for too long. There was only simple pleasure, warmth and uncompromising comfort. Princess loved Dollmother's chest, nuzzling into it like she never meant to leave and letting her breaths fall heavy and slow even as those fingers worked her lower body. 

Princess was dripping onto the pillow, hips twitching in delight that her upper body seemed almost unaware of in this moment; another separation of the self, a fracture that would rearrange itself later. She was placated, perfectly, by the bosom of her kind and loving caregiver. 

Only, Doll was not so selfless anymore. It wanted Princess too badly to be content simply being nuzzled. Doll's mind was very good at justifying its wants as benevolence, of course, aided by tincture that told it such nurturing would be good for its Princess Daughter. Only some conditioning was beginning to unravel, while the rest held true. 

"You're being such a good girl for mama, Princess. Here, this is... what you want, r-right?" Doll's eagerness was palpable as it slid the white of its dress over its shoulder and revealed unto Princess a perfectly round breast to fixate on. Doll decided to go with the one not presently bruised, though understood well that it would not remain unmarred for long given its proposal. It had no milk to give, but would teach its young to latch all the same. It was the charade they both needed, a nurturing pantomime that made lust-drunk fools of them both. 

The heiress' chin was coated in spit, and she only began to salivate more wantonly at the sight before her. The teat presented to her pure, inviolate safety. It was a gift that promised take away all of her life's heavy burdens, for a time. For a long time, maybe. Forever, one could hope. The blissful, blonde creature blushed innocently at the sight and Doll could only match the tint as it considered just how precious its storybook Princess appeared in this moment. She was not a person, but a dream, a fantasy that purged itself of the waking world that had weighed upon it. The dream gave a ditzy grin and the colour on its cheeks told Doll that everything it had done thus far was so very right. Regrets were for the living. 

And then, Princess's face turned to meet that waiting breast properly, her dull smile parting to open wide and latch around her mother's supple flesh. Teeth sank into Doll's nipple, but the thing's tolerance for pain was arguably unmatched in this kingdom. It smiled, proudly, and stroked its adorable daughter's hair. Princess lost herself against that warm softness in her mouth, increasing suction and proving, with great need to impress her Dollmother, that she was very good at latching. It was then that Doll noticed just how badly Princess craved its attention, and the praise that would surely follow. 

"Good girl." 

A reverberation of happy giggles, and pleasured groans, crashed into the Doll's breast as Princess rode the high of being told exactly what she was. It occurred to Doll that this frail, weak thing before it was just as desperate for escape as that Báncourte girl had been when she first arrived here in the palace. It had ignored the heiress' cries for help so many times in its need to see her as perfect, and for the first time all evening Doll finally felt a twinge of guilt for its actions. Doll felt ashamed of itself for not giving this freedom to its master sooner. 

While Princess suckled on her Dollmother's teat with wet smacking noises coming from her overeager mouth, she rolled her hips whorishly into the other's curling digits. It felt so good, being fucked into a brainless puddle by her favourite person thing in the entire world. It was fucking perfect. Princess gasped, then let out another delirious giggle against the flesh she was beginning to bruise with her needy little mouth. Doll's technique down below was as sloppy as the mewling, sucking kisses up above, but it got Princess off all the same—she was just that pathetic, washed over with chemical compliance and turned into a heater by enkindled motherly love. 

It wasn't long before the blonde reached that edge, but this one had no razor finish. It was soft, blunted and special. Princess rode her property's fingers like a desperate criminal attempting to flee justice from the capital atop a stolen horse. She buckled, she groaned, and she came pathetically hard against her mother's hand. 

"Ahhn..." The girl was dizzy and exhausted, dropping her raised up hips and slumping into the Doll's lap with a sleepy little sigh that told her caretaker it was time for bed. Doll still saw a stretch of starkissed skin, even now, more iridescent than ever in fact. Its breast was soaked in spit and covered in dark blemishes, but it barely felt any pain at all. It was proud to have finally saved its Princess. 

Tomorrow, Doll would prove that there was nothing left worth killing. It would keep its lovely Princess safe, forever, no matter what tough decisions it now had to make for her.