Archive of Our Own

As the last of the music fades from the chamber, Dipper keeps his sword uplifted in one untrembling hand.

The man at the head of the chamber has his back turned, hands hovering over the keys of the organ in an almost reverential manner. From here, all Dipper can see is the solid black of his cloak, and the broadness of his shoulders. Long fingers trail over the keys in a sinuous motion.

Many knights have faced the Dark Lord, but few have lived to tell the tale. 

Dipper’s hoping he’ll fall in the latter group. If not, this entire journey will have proved just as stupid as his sister told him. 

As the Dark Lord’s head turns, he catches sight of a single eye, pupil slit like a snake’s. A gaze filled with inhuman energy, and a hunger dark as his soul. 

Dipper hears his sabatons squeak against the stone floor as he involuntarily steps back. 

He knew that fighting a Dark Lord head on wasn’t exactly the most survivable scenario - but then, he wasn’t expecting Bill to be home, either.

No turning back now. The only choice is to face the music. 

He holds his sword in one hand, the other arm held tight to his side. Not for the first time, he wishes he’d remembered to bring his shield.

In one smooth motion, Dark Lord Bill Cipher rises from his bench, cloak sweeping back over his shoulder. He strips off both night-black gloves, tossing them aside, and the thin chainmail of his vest shifts softly with the motion. The fine dark mesh blends in with the rest of his vestments, save for the hint of gold twining among the metal. 

And slowly, his sharply handsome face splits into a smile, wide and white.

“Who dares enter my tower?” Bill’s voice is higher than expected; it doesn’t boom through the tower chamber, but instead rings through his ears and vibrates in his skull. Impossible to ignore.

Dipper grits his teeth, and sets his feet. Finding a solid stance is the first part of swordsmanship. If he can close the distance quickly, he’ll have one chance to get in and - 

“What, no intro?” Dark Lord Cipher cocks his head to one side. His smile widens, showing a hint of fang. “That’s hardly polite.”

“I-” Dipper glances from the evil mastermind to the back of the room, then around the chamber, suddenly uncertain. 

Giving your name to someone who can do magic ? Never. But there is a knight’s code he has to follow…

He hesitates a moment too long. The Dark Lord raises an eyebrow - then beams at him. 

“Oh, I get it.” Bill Cipher says cheerfully. “You’re busy admiring my massive organ. ” He waves at the admittedly huge instrument taking up the back of the hall. “I don’t blame ya, kid. Some say it’s the biggest ever!” 

And he winks.

Dipper’s grip on the hilt tightens until the leather wrapping creaks. One of his eyes twitches.

How the hell has nobody chopped this guy’s head off yet? He so clearly deserves it. 

“So! What brings a cutie like you to my tower of terror?” Cipher saunters away from the organ bench, collapsing on a nearby throne in a louche pile of limbs. “Business or pleasure?”

“A quest. ” Dipper says, forcefully. He lowers his sword to thump a fist against his breastplate. “I, Sir Pines, am here to defeat you and take back-”

“Sir Pines?” Now the demonic lord blinks in surprise. He sits up a little straighter, giving Dipper a critical look. “Huh! Thought you had long hair. And were more…” He makes a broad, round gesture over his own chest.

Dipper drops his sword another few inches, running one armor-clad hand down his face. Goddamnit. Not here, too. 

“ That Sir Pines is my sister.” He says, exhausted. “You know, the Twin Knights of Mysteria?”

“Oh yeah! The twin!” Cipher’s grin somehow widens, and he strokes his chin. “I get it, you’re the nerd one of the pair, aren’tcha? The one who took a term at wizard college!” He snaps his fingers a couple of times. “Now what was that name again… Dipstick? Dinnerplate?”

“Dipper.” This man is infuriating. Already he’s halfway towards the dais, carried by sheer irritation until he remembers to stop.

No, he can’t let himself get baited. That’s just what this guy wants. 

Shutting his eyes, Dipper tries to find his focus. Heading into this fight sword swinging, spells blasting, would be about the dumbest move he could make. He’s got to be clever about it.

Time to think.

The way that the Dark Lord  is dressed, the smug smile - that’s not the look of a man surprised to see an intruder in his tower. Bill must have known he was coming well in advance. With enough time to prepare, there’s no telling what he could have set up. 

So if he really wanted Dipper dead, he’d already be incinerated. 

There aren’t exactly rules about this kind of interaction, but there are traditions. The Dark Lord doesn’t leap into a fight without an introduction, nor does he engage without a proper challenge. Playing ominous music upon a knight’s arrival isn’t in any of the etiquette books - but somewhere deep in Cipher’s dark and sinister heart, he’s a showman first.

So Bill’s… probably extending the traditional Dark Lord courtesy. Just with extra dramatics.

“My cause is true, and my heart is righteous. You won’t get away with this scheme, Cipher,” Dipper uses the rote language, keeping his voice steady. “I’m here to stop you.”

“Ha! Now that’s bold.” Bill Cipher leans forward, clasping the arms of his throne. “Do you really think you can challenge me ? No offense kid, you’ve got some balls, but your reputation says you’re not gonna manage.”

Dipper’s eyes narrow. 

That was uncalled for. He’s great at fighting, it’s just that - Well, his twin has her own skills, and they don’t leave much room to show off.

But fine. Bill wants to go off-script for some low blows? Two can play at that game. 

“Hmmm. Let’s see.” Now Dipper taps his chin in mock thought. “Some guy named ‘Bill’ who spends his nights alone in a dark room, playing with his… organ.” He shakes his head, giving this jerk his most condescending look. “Doesn’t sound impressive to me.”

“Ha! Cute! Annoying, but cute.” Bill claps his thighs, looking amused. His eye flicks up and down Dipper in a quick evaluation. Whatever he finds makes the smile inch up another fraction. “You know what? I’m bored, you got a quest - Seems like we could work out a deal.”

“...I’m listening.” Dipper, watching the Dark Lord’s every move, slowly lowers his sword. 

So far, so good. This isn’t the showdown Dipper expected, or the one that most knights have faced. The floor hasn’t opened up into a spike pit, the sneer is more amused than condescending, and the flames definitely aren’t flying.

But hey, if Bill Cipher’s in the mood to negotiate instead of obliterate, Dipper’s not going to complain.

“Here’s your deal, demon.” Dipper stands up straight so the dim candlelight can gleam off his armor. “Release the woman, and I’ll let you keep your head.”

“Hmmmm.” One eyebrow goes up, and lingers there. After a moment, Bill casually starts examining his nails. “Nope! Can’t oblige you there.”

“Wh- Yes you can!” Dipper glares, throwing his arm out to the side for emphasis. “Just- go up to wherever you stashed the prisoner and let her out. Then I can take her back to-”

“Nah! See, there comes a time in every Dark Lord’s reign when he starts thinking about capturing a royal bride. And stealing one and running off with ‘em is the go-to move!” Bill smiles, looking up and off into the distance. He drums his fingers on the armrest. “But since you’re here- hm. Kinda changes things up.”

Aha. So Bill has been up to nefarious deeds. Secretive, nasty stuff that he tried to keep hidden, and didn’t quite manage.

Dipper knew it was the right choice to come here. 

Kidnapping unwilling maidens to marry should only be in storybooks, not real life. No matter how ‘romantic’ the image might be for some, there’s nothing giggle-worthy about being ‘stolen away’ because of ‘dark desires’. Nor is it helpful to think that ‘they always seem pretty happy to me!’ and ‘it probably gets arranged beforehand, Dipper, calm down’. 

The truth is that Dark Lords go about their weddings in a weird way. Even if it’s not always immoral. 

So if there’s any chance Dipper can mess with this jerk’s plans? He’s absolutely going to wipe the smug look off this bastard’s face.

Said Dark Lord has been watching him for a while. A slow, thoughtful observation, head tilted slightly to one side. His single golden eye catches the light in a strange manner, reflecting light from the inside like a cat’s.

Dipper glares, but he only gets that awful smile in return. No response.

“What’s with the holdup, Cipher?” Dipper takes a few more steps forward, until he can set one foot on the steps to the dais. “Scared to fight me?”

“Hardly! Just scoping out the goods.” Bill steeples his fingers. That strange, intense look stays focused on him, so sharp it feels like it’s trying to pry into his brain. “Looks like you’re reasonably athletic, pretty feisty, very determined - and I’m a big fan of games.”

“What are you playing at?” Cautiously, Dipper checks again for traps. He hasn’t seen any so far, and that’s more worrying than if he had.

“I’m saying, how ‘bout we do this the old-fashioned way? You know the playbook.” Bill jerks his thumb behind himself, gesturing at a low line of stairs leading to an ominous-looking wooden door. Heavy iron braces its spiked edges. “Hell, I already have the place set up!”

Ah, yes. That, Dipper can work with. 

Carefully, he sheaths his sword. If there isn’t going to be a fight, holding it out in front of him just looks stupid.

The role of ‘Dark Lord’ isn’t just about being a total evil nuisance. They also keep the peace, in their own weird way, by being a common enemy. When there’s always evil poking at your gates, it’s hard to muster up support to assault anyone else. Annoyance, as the great equalizer. The whole reason Dark Lords exist is to present problems for others to solve.

And not just on the country level either. A brave knight looking to prove that his sword is sharp, his wits are quick, and that his heart is true and righteous - might storm up to a Dark Lord’s lair in the middle of the night, and ask to be offered a trial. 

It’s usually a very stupid move. A Dark Lord’s trial is, by definition, dangerous, tricky, and usually very deadly. The number of knights who make it out both alive and sane can be counted on two hands, if said hands have seen a few kitchen accidents. 

But if you pass the test - it’s absolute proof that you’re worthy. 

Dipper nods once, though a little more eagerly than he’d like. “Then I press my right of challenge.”

During Bill Cipher’s reign as Dark Lord, he’s only offered a bare handful of trials. So far, nobody’s succeeded. Which means the first person who does win? Will have a lot to show for it.

“Ha! Fantastic!.” Bill bounds up from his seat with surprising energy - then coughs into his fist. After a moment he straightens up, face turning stern in the proper decorum.

“Ahem. Very well then, brave knight!” Bill throws his cloak around himself, sneering appropriately. “You may ascend the tower and face my trials! If you should succeed in this task - that’s a big ‘if’, by the way - then you may claim an incredible reward.” 

A trial. Terrible danger, levels of monsters and madness, a risk too insane for most to take. Completing it promises only recognition.

But with Bill offering a reward too? Dipper can’t pass that up. 

For a moment his mind swims with images of returning home, carrying the saved maiden on the back of his horse among the cheering crowd. And whatever proof of a completed trial is, he’d have it held aloft, waving it around-

He rises to attention, chin lifted as he says, “Do your worst.” 

Then he pauses, quickly throwing a hand up to amend. “Wait! Wait, not actually your- hey, what are you doing?”

The Dark Lord waves off his protest, frowning over a mass of glowing sigils. They hover in front of him like a curtain, shifting under his touch as he flicks a symbol here, then pokes another into place. “Yeah, yeah, hold on a sec. I wanna change some stuff.” 

“Hey! No fair changing things now.” Dipper trots up the stairs, but Bill just turns away before he can get in between him and the magical veil. “That was just a turn of phrase, not - Come on, man. Don’t be a dick.”

“How ‘bout you not be a wimp! You wanted a test? You’re getting one. Besides,” Bill raises his chin, looking rather haughty. “It ain’t a real trial unless it’s personal.”

“Fine,” Dipper relents, though his shoulders slump. “Do… whatever, I guess.” 

It’s not like he can stop the guy from changing his tower, he supposes. And Bill does have a point. As the one creating and proctoring the damn test, he has the power to decide how it goes.

Besides, the last thing Dipper needs is to actually pass the trial, only to have people think it didn’t count.

“Alright then! Let’s get you going,” Bill says, turning back towards Dipper and dropping a hand on his shoulder. A firm shove moves him in the direction of the door hard enough to make him stumble; the Dark Lord is even stronger than he looks. “No time like the present!”

As Bill guides him towards the door, the strange symbols move with him. They shift and rearrange with each touch in a rapid dance. His fingers move as quickly and skillfully over the sigils as they did on the keys of the organ, which is, okay. A little impressive.

Dipper leans into his personal space a bit to get a better view.

In the twisting magical sigils, there’s an outline of the tower itself. The spellcraft’s too complicated to fully interpret, but Dipper’s pretty sure this place is about fifteen stories tall. Each abstracted level shifts as Bill alters its spellwork, changing parts here and there, lingering for a moment as he does something fiddly on the seventh-

Then Bill jerks to a halt, a few feet from their goal. His eyebrows do something complicated, before he turns towards Dipper with a grin. “So! Any ideas for the honeymoon?” 

The question catches Dipper off guard. “I- what?” He blinks at that smug smile. “I mean, no. Why would there be a-?”

“Uh, hello ? You’re here to rescue a damsel in distress.” Bill sets fists on his hips, giving him a chiding look. “Brave knight charges in, fights monsters, saves the day,” He gestures forward in a sharp motion, as if wielding an invisible sword. “Then swoops his treasure up into his arms with a loving smile, and bam! They get married. It’s an old classic!”

“I, uh.” Dipper hesitates. “Well.”

Shit, Bill’s right. He hadn’t thought about that part. 

Wait a minute. If Dipper does make it through the trial, is that what Bill’s captive will be expecting? She’s probably nice and all, and likely very pretty - Dark Lords tend to keep a certain aesthetic - but that’s, like. Kind of a lot. Besides, he’s- 

Damn it. That’s another problem to handle, assuming he makes it through at all. A wife is the last thing he was looking for.

As Cipher claps his plane of magical sigils shut, Dipper raises a hand. Maybe he can head this off. “Uh… hold on. I’m not really interested in-” 

“Eh, you’ll figure it out along the way. Or more likely, you won’t!” Bill says, smiling wider now. He clicks his tongue, pushing Dipper forward towards the door. “‘Cause I’m betting you won’t make it past, hm…” He pauses to think. “Floor five. If that.”

“Shut up,” Dipper snaps, and storms forward. He takes the ominous door by the handle, and only stays like that for a second before pulling it open. Revealing…

Stairs. 

The stone steps lead upward in a slight curve, following the wall. A few thin windows show the glimmer of the stars through the slender openings. 

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Right. Ascending the tower is the trial. Each floor has another part of the test. The first floor was Bill himself. The next will be on the second story, then another and another, until he’s finally reached the top.

“In you go!” Bill says from behind, and shoves Dipper so firmly forward that he nearly falls on his face. 

Cursing, Dipper catches himself on the wall and reels on this asshole Dark Lord. Bill grins again, wiggling his fingers - and slams the door shut behind him with a deep, final clump.

Great. Couldn’t even get the last word in. He flips off the closed door before turning back around in a huff.

Fifteen stories. That’s not so bad. Right? There are tales of Dark Lord towers with a hundred flights or more. Dipper couldn’t even walk up that many sets of stairs wearing armor, trial or not. 

He stands in a short hall that quickly turns into stairs. It curves around in a slow arc with a shallow slope, winds around the building in a spiral. A dim, torchlit path leading upwards into unknown dangers.

He asked for a trial. There’s a lady to save. Someone needs a brave knight to come to their rescue, and Dipper can absolutely prove himself.

With a sharp nod, and a deep breath, he ascends the stairs. 

On the second floor, Dipper opens the door a bare sliver, bracing himself against the heavy wood. A lizardlike musk emanates from the crack and he recoils slightly from the smell.

Poking his sword through the gap a couple times, he waits with tense anticipation. When no heavy fangs snap at the blade, and no roars of an angry monster rumble through the room, he peeks in.

For a moment he doesn’t think there is anything in the room aside from some supporting columns, until he notices the strangely patterned floor keeps… shifting. 

Dipper glances down at the snakes.

A few dozen are slowly making their way over the tiles, while others stay curled up in whatever passes for a warm spot. Some of the larger specimens sit coiled on the thin windowsills, waiting for the morning sun. 

Carefully, Dipper shuffles forward, bonking a few snakes out of the way as he does. They slither off without even a hiss - and he starts to smile.

Ha. Some ‘snake pit’ this is. Half of these species aren’t venomous, most of them are tiny, and there aren’t nearly enough to carpet the floor. Nothing like facing off a huge monster version, which frankly he’d been half-expecting from the smell.

This should be easy. Most snakes don’t want to bite people. The biggest danger here is freaking out and stepping on one by accident.

Dipper makes his way towards the adjacent door with cautious footwork, keeping to empty patches of floor like a very strange game of hopscotch. 

Bill doesn’t think very highly of knights, does he? This is way too simple.

At the thought Dipper freezes mid-step, going rigid with alarm.

It is too simple. Isn’t it. 

He stays still, foot hovering in midair for several long moments. Without his armor making noise, he can hear it now. 

A soft, satiny sound. Scales moving over a hard surface. It isn’t coming from the animals below him, or the ones sitting in the windows around him. Instead it resonates through the chamber, as if coming from -

A drip of liquid falls and hits the floor next to his foot. It splats where it lands, leaving sizzling pockmarks in solid stone.

Dipper stares forward at the opposite door. Then turns his gaze slowly upwards, taking in the long mass of coils winding around the columns connecting to the ceiling. And at the massive, open mouth, huge fangs dripping with acidic venom.

Carefully, trying to not to make any sudden moves, Dipper draws his sword.

Okay, point to Bill. Pretty clever. It’s a snake pit alright. Not a big one or a lot of little ones, but the full combo meal.

Now he gets why it’d be hard not to step on anything. 

Later, with a splattering of holes still steaming on his armor and snake blood on his sword, Dipper leans back against the ironwrought door and lets himself slump.

Damn it. That was worse than he expected, and he was already expecting it to be bad. 

Fighting’s not a big deal. Dipper’s gotten pretty decent at it, he thinks. He’s just a little out of practice, what with not having to most of the time. 

If Mabel was here, she would have had that creature eating out of the palm of her hand instead of trying to eat her. She’s always been good at making friends. Even with monsters. Together they could have gotten out of there without a scratch. 

But this isn’t her trial. It’s his. 

It was his choice to take on this danger, his idea to go on this quest to prove himself, no matter what might happen. 

And to save someone. That’s important too.

Dipper straightens up, wipes his face clean, and heads up the stairs. 

Two floors down. Another thirteen to go.

In retrospect, he should have guessed that the Evil Tower of Nefarious And Deadly Plots would be exactly like this.

Not because of what it was called - All of Dark Lord Cipher’s evil constructions come with absurd names. The Super Rad Evil Lord Party Castle is an eyesore as well as annoying to say, and the all too aptly named Very Big Explosion Maker certainly made an impression on everyone. Especially the nearby mountain range. 

So no, it wasn't the advertising that drew Dipper into picking this fight. Even if he has a poster of the guy to use for knife-throwing practice.

It was a rumor.

Word abounded that Bill Cipher had finally given into the whims of matrimony. That he sought a spouse, and had even embodied the worst of the Dark Lord cliches by capturing a princess, of all things. 

Which caused some consternation, and considerably more confusion. 

For one, Cipher was widely known not to take captives - though perhaps romantic reasons could compel him otherwise. And for another, nobody of royal blood was missing. All princesses were accounted for, duchesses and baronesses safely tucked away in their mansions. Even the more feminine princes were still in place.

And since everything seemed in order, why do anything about it? Surely since no one of consequence had turned up missing, the sentiment was that this entire thing would blow over with, at worst, a more cheerful Dark Lord once the ceremony was complete.

Sir Pines (no, not her, the other one) wasn’t going to stand for that crap. 

Once he’d heard the rumor, and that nobody was taking action lest it annoy Bill enough to retaliate - he’d decided that all their waffling was stupid. Bill freakin’ Cipher had someone stored at his stupidly named tower, and it couldn’t be left alone.

That very evening he was on a horse and riding towards the tower before anyone could stop him. Certain sisters included.

Even if there weren’t any royals missing, someone might need help. An innocent person held prisoner for magical experiments, subjected to torment or trials - or worse, conversations with the most obnoxious Dark Lord ever.

Even if nobody else will defy the Dark Lord, Dipper has the courage to face him head-on. No matter what might lie in wait.

By the seventh floor, he’s not only sweating from exertion, but really, really annoyed.

He frowns at the puzzle again, then flips it over to keep making notes. His gauntlets and breastplate lie set aside on the extra table space for the moment. Walking around in full armor gets hot, and it’s hard to write with metal on your hands.

That jerk could have at least left some scratch paper to work on, but no. Everything has to be totally inconvenient.

There is a chair at least. Even if it’s rickety and creaks whenever he shifts his weight, it’s better than standing hunched over the table..

Not having to fight his way through every level is admittedly a relief. The lesser hydra sucked, the harpies were somehow worse, and he doesn’t think he’ll get the gelatinous cube’s slime out of his armor, like, ever. 

Though he should have known it wouldn’t be so easy as that. 

This is the second puzzle he’s encountered, and it’s already way more annoying than shoving heavy blocks around the third floor to unlock a magical seal. He’s not even sure what that was about. 

Here on the seventh floor, he emerged to see a single table and chair, with a sheet of paper lying on it. The message on it was scribbled in nonsense letters arranged in neat lines. Dipper was aware there would be more puzzles after the first. Ones both more complicated, and more infuriating - but this particular puzzle only took a second to clock. 

Obviously this was, well. A cipher. Thus adding ‘punning’ to Bill’s long, long list of crimes.

Dipper checks his notes again, then flips the paper over to keep jotting down the deciphered code. So if that is a T, and this is an L - There. He has it.

With one more flip, he reads the message:

THERE ONCE WAS A DARK LORD NAMED BILL

WHO WANTED A BIT OF A THRILL

A CUTE KNIGHT TRAVELLED MILES

TO TRY OUT HIS TRIALS
CAN HE MAKE IT THROUGH? DON’T THINK HE WILL!

PS: ONLY A TOTAL DWEEB WOULD ACTUALLY STOP TO DECODE THIS! THE DOOR’S UNLOCKED, DUMMY!

“Son of a-” Dipper balls up the paper viciously, throwing it to the ground with a smack before storming towards the stairway.

Two minutes later he skids back in to recover his breastplate and gauntlets, before charging back up, sword in hand, ready to face the manticore on floor eight.

By the end, Dipper understands why nobody in the right mind challenges a Dark Lord’s trial. 

This entire tower has been absolute bullshit.

Scraping some goo off his shoulder, he has to admit that his armor is a total loss. Holes and scorch marks, a piece of the backplate - he’s lucky to still be clothed at all after the fire from the miniature wyvern.

At least the sphinx was nice. There were cushions to sit on, the riddles were fun to solve, and she only tried to eat him a little bit after he got one right on a technicality. Dipper even got a cup of tea, a feather from her wing, and a cryptic warning out of the deal.

Though he doesn’t think he’ll ‘need this souvenir’ or that ‘reaching the end of the ordeal will only be the beginning of another’, it was still nice to have some minor moral support.

The fighting was bad. His armor’s a wreck, he’s exhausted, and that isn’t even mentioning the puzzles. Why were there- 

Well, no, Dipper gets that part, he’s just frustrated. It would hardly be a ‘trial’ if all it tested was brawn. Bill’s test in particular is set up to eliminate anyone who can’t match theirs with brains. Which is… jerkish, but fair-ish. There’s more to worth than just how good you are with a sword. 

Considering everything he’s been through, no wonder no knights have managed this before.

Dipper thumps up a few more steps, legs aching and feet sore - then braces himself against the wall, staring at the final few steps.

Wait. is it - 

Holy crap, he’s actually here. He has to be, he counted and everything, checking off every number in his head.

Fifteen floors. 

Fifteen terrible, awful schemes to prevent him from getting here, set up by an evil mastermind. 

And he’s left all of them conquered.

Now that he’s finally here near the rooftop, he can feel it in his grasp. Imagining the door opening into fresh air, the fresh morning breeze on his skin. The exhilaration of victory.

Taking several firm steps forward, Dipper breathes in. Taking the brass doorknob and hand, turning it slowly.

Then he tries turning it again. 

The knob clicks under his grip, moving a few degrees before it clacks against something. Another twist in the opposite direction doesn’t make it budge, and neither does pulling, or pushing, or slamming into this godawful door with his full weight.

Locked. 

Swearing, Dipper braces a foot against the wall and pulls with all his might, leaning back - then his foot slips, and he lands with a clang on the hard stone floor.

As he rubs at his side, yellow letters flash into life over the solid wood surface. 

Dipper stares for a second. This is… nonsense. Not a spell, or a ward, just some random - 

Cipher, right. The code from the seventh floor.

After a moment to think, and a bit of kicking the door just for the hell of it, he translates the message into: 

WANNA PROVE YOUR WORTH? THEN SHOW YOUR WORK!

Dipper glances down. Underneath the message, there’s a network of smaller symbols in the same glowing gold. Circles around small indentations of the wood on the door, niches where something could be placed. 

There’s one, two… The total comes to nine. But there are fifteen floors in this tower, how does that…?

Dipper blinks several times, looking off into the distance. 

But if he doesn’t count the puzzle floors, or the first level with Bill -

Oh no.  Nine insets. Nine monsters.

‘Show your work’, Bill says. ‘Prove it’, Bill says. And yeah, okay, yeah, there were a few he could have run past, but that can’t possibly be - It had better not be - 

With a glare, he shoves the sphinx’s feather into the proper floor slot, and watches as it blinks blue. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dipper slumps down, knees hitting the stone with a ‘clack’, and bonks his forehead against the door a couple times.

Of course there would be one last puzzle. Of course Bill wouldn’t just let someone skip any of the levels, including that stupid decoding one. Of course he’d add one last insult to injury. 

The good news is, Dipper didn’t run away from any of the monsters. They’re all very thoroughly defeated.

The bad news is he has to go up and down fifteen goddamn floors again.

It takes nearly an hour to storm all the back down to the snake floor and make his way back up, gathering bits of monsters for the gruesome ‘trophies’ - the sphinx gives him a sympathetic look as he passes - then stomp his way back to the stupid ‘puzzle’, cram the various bits and bobs into the crevices, until he can finally, finally open this goddamn door.

The knob turns so easily this time he nearly twists his wrist instead. The door glides open with a touch. 

Dipper stumbles into sunlight, and the late morning wind.

After the dim tower corridors, the light is nearly blinding. Blinking a few times to adjust, Dipper shades his eyes to take in the scene.

Wow. He’s really high up.

The wide tower rooftop overlooks the nearby fields and forests, lush green as far as he can see. Low rolling hills, the dark forest he travelled through to get her circling it like a belt. Up at these heights, a cool breeze drifts through the cracks in his armor and ruffles his hair. 

Dipper breathes in the refreshing air, clean and smelling of plants and life. Nothing like the torchlit halls he’s wandered for hours.

No knight has ever passed Bill Cipher’s trial, and yet here Dipper stands. In the clear bright sky, warmed by a sun that burns away the memory of the Dark Lord’s annoyingness.

He did it. He made it, he won.

Despite hours and blood and effort and sheer irritation, Dipper’s face cracks into a smile. 

After this, nobody can say he hasn’t proven himself. Not any of the knights back home, or the nobles of the surrounding kingdoms, or stupid old men in wizard towers. Even Bill will have to admit he did well, because that’s traditional, maybe with a mollified look on his stupid smug face, just before he releases that woman he’s - 

Shit, right. Princess. Captured. She has to be here somewhere.

Now that he’s remembered what he actually came here for, Dipper whirls around to examine the rooftop. 

Mostly rock, a couple ballistas currently unmanned poke through the lower parts of the parapets. Flat stone changes to a low staircase at the far end, rising to the highest point yet with a dais. 

And upon it lies a cage.

Though the angle’s a bit off, he can just about catch a glimpse of pink through the wide bars. A suggestion of lowered head with fair hair-

“My lady!” Dipper calls out, breaking into a run. 

Crap, he hopes she didn’t see him standing there like a moron. That hardly looked like a ‘selfless determined hero’ so much as ‘smug, distracted jerk’, and she’s likely had more than her fill of the latter.

He vaults the stairs two at a time, aching legs burning with this final effort. Got to get the girl and get out of here, lest the Dark Lord get any funny ideas. Bill’s a schemer if Dipper’s ever seen one, and he doesn’t trust him not to pull yet another dick move.

He skids to a halt just before hitting one of the bars, gauntlet clanging against it as he braces himself. 

In the cage, the captive coughs, once. Dipper glances over her, but - no, she seems unharmed. The pink dress spreads out around her legs like a flower, her fair hair close-cropped - did that dastard cut it, how dare he - and she keeps her face in her white-gloved hands as if in mourning. Even now, her shoulders shake as she leans into her palms.

God, he got here just in time, didn’t he? Before that jackass could do worse than a haircut. Who knows what else he could have gotten up to.

But this, now. This is time for the brave knight to shine.

“My lady,” Dipper repeats. “I, uh.” Clearing his throat, he pitches his voice a little lower and louder. “Fear not, fair maiden. Your captivity is over. I,” He thumps his breastplate, “Dipper Pines, am here to save…”

The damsel’s head rises. Her ears twitch. And as she turns to face him, Dipper’s words die in his throat.

“You.” He manages, a bit strangled. 

“Oh my stars! Doth the brave knight come to a helpless damsel’s aid?” With the back of one white glove pressed to his forehead, Bill Cipher simpers in a way that completely doesn’t fucking suit him. “How you capture my heart!”

And he gives Dipper the single most godawful, self-satisfied, completely smug jackass smirk he’s ever seen. 

Dipper  lets his gauntlet drop from the bars - which, now that he’s noticed, are so wide someone could literally walk through them - and it hits his side with a ‘clunk’.

“Such bravery and gallantry ! A true knight if I’ve ever seen one, ‘cause I know that wasn’t easy,” Bill continues, fluttering his eyelashes like a diseased moth. “Now c’mere and get your reward!” 

Bill leans through the bars, holding onto them with both hands to keep his balance, with his lips absurdly puckered up. He smacks them a couple times, eye shut. 

“I’m leaving,” Dipper says, and turns on his heel to do just that. 

Welp. What the hell else did he expect. 

Bill said he couldn’t release his captive. That Dipper could take a trial, if he wanted. But he never said there was a captive in the first place, or what awaited him. Loads of lies, without ever truly breaking the truth.

That’s Bill Cipher: Terrible Dark Lord, most effective annoyance in a century, puzzle-making, limerick-writing, frustration-creating bastard. 

Of course he’d be a total asshole about the finale.

At least Dipper can say he defeated the trial. Without that, this would have all been for nothing. Tearing off in the middle of the night to attempt this faceoff already didn’t look great. Going home emptyhanded because it was a baseless rumor is even worse, because it makes it look like…

Dipper sighs. Running a hand through his hair, he tilts his head back to look at the clear blue sky. 

Okay. Maybe he was looking for an excuse to do this. To feel like he’d really done something, and shown that he was worth… everything. And he managed, in the end.

Now if it just hadn’t been so annoying.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going!” A rapid tapping of soft shoes surges up behind him, and the pink menace emerges in Dipper’s view, skirts hiked up and fuming. “Don’tcha know it’s rude to leave a lady in the lurch?”

Dipper stares blankly at the man in front of him, then draws an armored hand slowly down his face for the second time that day. 

Yeah, he should have known better. Escaping the tower wasn’t going to be a walk in the park either.

“You’re no lady,” Dipper replies. But as long as Bill’s here, he might as well check. “Was there ever one here, or-?”

“Nope! No kidnapping yet!” says Bill, nonchalant. He drops his skirts, smoothing them out primly, and gives Dipper a surprised look. “Wait, is that what people are saying I’ve been up to? Hell, I haven’t been out storming any castles! No idea where that came from.”

Dipper raises one skeptical eyebrow. Because Dark Lords never have nefarious plots. “You’re sure you have no idea?”

“Well, unless you count a few personal ads in the local broadsheets,” Bill admits, with a totally unabashed grin. “But I specifically saidno princesses.” He stabs a finger into his other palm for emphasis, frowning. “Sounds like the rumor mill got the wrong end of the stick.”

“Really,” Dipper says dryly. “I never would have guessed.”

As if Bill’s outfit wasn’t a hint, his outright admission seals the deal. Though Dipper has to admit, the Dark Lord’s new clothes are finely tailored. Fitting his broad shoulders, and flattering his profile. In a way, Bill’s still sharply dressed - it’s just that pink taffeta is way less intimidating. 

“Right. Still leaving,” He says, striding towards the exit.

“Hey, hey, hold up!” Bill twirls around and catches up with him. “You’re a knight, kid! Ditching present company’s not very honorable.”

“Neither are Dark Lords.”

“Fair!” Bill shrugs, before grabbing Dipper’s elbow and tugging it towards him. “But why not play the escort for a skosh? Can’t hurt, right?”

Dipper rolls his eyes so hard it almost does hurt - but yeah, whatever. This is harmless. He crooks his arm a bit so he doesn’t pinch Bill’s fingers against his armor. 

So it was never real. Always a rumor. There’s plenty going around about Bill Cipher, so it wouldn’t be the first time that word has gotten around about some scheme that never manifested.

Though this one did have a hint of truth to it. Bill is looking for romance, just not in the usual Dark Lord places, or in their typical manor. 

Which is weird, because Mabel was kind of right about… some of her reasoning for rejecting this quest. Bill could have easily ransacked basically any castle, and had someone fling themselves into his arms. He’s got that kind of face. 

Still, curiosity has always driven Dipper, and Bill is pretty strange, even for a Dark Lord. There has to be a reason why he didn’t go the usual route.

“What I don’t get is just-” Everything, but that’s much too large a question. Dipper starts smaller instead. “It’d be easier to grab someone than post an ad.” He shrugs, gesturing vaguely in a kingdom-adjacent direction. “I mean, not ethical, but. Traditional? Sort of?” He waves vaguely at Bill, shrugging. “Dark Lords get away with that kind of thing.”

“Come on, have you seen the local crop of nobility?” Bill says, incredulous. He waves over the rolling field with a grimace. “Half of ‘em are meatheaded morons who only care about polishing their swords, and the other half are pudding-brained ninnies who think ‘bleeding’ is for the lower classes! A downright terrible selection!” He leans in, voice lowered and hand sheltering his mouth. “Pretty sure it’s all the inbreeding.”

Dipper snorts, then coughs into his fist to cover his smile. 

A Dark Lord’s plans annoy everybody on purpose, and gum up the works of every country. But just this once, Dipper’s pretty sure it only bugged the newspaper printing his probably too-long missive. 

Sure, it's a totally unconventional way to go about courtship, especially for a Dark Lord, but then Bill’s clearly not a very conventional guy. And the motive behind it is honest-ish. In that it’s purely based on companionship.

Which is, again, kind of fair and not that bad. Dipper can even relate.

He may not be heading home with a courageous rescue, but an explanation is almost better.

“See? You get it! For guys like us, the dating pool is crap.” Bill walks alongside him, counting off on his fingers. “The peasants are all homebodies, nobles have silver spoons shoved up their asses, and warriors think arm wrestling’s the height of culture. Not to mention the lack of bathing. And  ”

As he rambles, Dipper’s steps begin to slow. He’s still going to ditch this weirdo, but he finds himself lingering to hear the end of Bill’s rant. 

For one, it’s - well, accurate. Dipper can relate, because dating around here sucks. And the way Bill complains about it is entertaining enough to stick around.

“Sure, some clerics have the same proclivities, but they got this kinda,” Bill mimics a prayer, hands pressed together as he rolls his eye. “‘Oh, be saved, Dark One!’ thing going on. And the tonsures? Eugh.”

“Wizards aren’t much better,” Dipper adds. “Beards are basically a requirement.” 

And they’re unabashedly cliquey gatekeeping jerks. But Bill probably knows that. He’s magic himself.

“Oh man, wizards?” Bill throws an arm in the air, exasperated. “Don’t get me started on wizards! If they aren’t doddering old men they’re twiggy little pedants going ‘um, actually ’,” He mimes pushing up a pair of glasses, and sneers. “I’m not touching that crap. They can fondle their own orbs.”

A sharp laugh rings through the air. Bill pauses, and Dipper clears his throat and looks away. 

“Yeah, I get it.” He says finally. A strange impulse has him patting Bill’s hand where it rests on his arm. “Good luck with the spouse quest, I guess.” Pausing for a moment, he adds. “But I am going to stop you if you kidnap someone. Sorry, it’s a knight thing.”

“Eh, no biggie, that’s your deal.” Bill flashes a smile, and surprisingly it seems sincere. “You completed my trial, kid! Nobody’s doubting your valor.”

Dipper straightens up. A brief attempt at cleaning the burn marks, various holes and stains off his armor fails, but he hopes it’s shiny enough for the circumstances. 

“Well, uh,” He reaches for the best phrase, squeezing Bill’s hand carefully so as not to crush the long fingers under his gauntlet. “I mean, I - the duty of a knight is-”

As he stumbles over his words, Bill’s grin widens. “And what a knight you’ve proven to be! Pretty impressive!” 

He pats Dipper on the hand twice before sliding around in front of him. There’s a glint in his eye and fangs in his smile as he takes one more step back. 

Standing directly in front of the door.

Dipper blinks. They must have stopped at some point, because he hardly realized they were that close to the stairs.

“Which brings me to the interesting story of the Pines family line of succession.” Bill continues. 

A snap of his fingers later, a heavy book appears and plops into his other hand. The pages flip over until they reach a certain place.

Dipper goes very, very still. Though he’s been sweating for most of the day, now it runs in a thin cold line down his back. “Oh?”

“So! Right now you got Stanford and Stanley up top, arguing how to run the place,” Bill says, trailing a finger down a page. The brief glimpse Dipper gets of the yellowed pages show the squarish lines of a family tree. “And below them, your grandpa Shermie! But as the youngest of the three, he’s not in line to inherit.”

“Well, that’s-” Dipper evades, trying to inch around Bill and getting caught up in those too-wide skirts for his efforts.

“And since ol’ Stan’s marriages all failed, Ford never tried, and neither had any kids, well! Kingdoms like to keep it in the bloodline, as it were,” Bill continues, with relentless smug pleasure. He taps the final line at the bottom of the page. “That leaves the nieces and nephews next in line! Making Mabel Pines the presumed princess-in waiting. And you, technically speaking, a-”

“Ah. Ha ha, wow, interesting. I really should be going,” Dipper smiles insincerely, trying again to scoot around to the door. 

Through the mess of silk and fabric he gets a grip on the handle, only to find it locked tight. Several more attempts fail, it won’t turn.

Bill circles round, clapping the book shut. His grin is very, very wide. “Pretty convenient, huh?”

Slowly, carefully, Dipper takes one step back. Then another, hands held up in useless protest. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Bill says, stalking forward with an ominous rustle of skirts. The clinking of mail would be less intimidating. 

What a fool Dipper was. What an idiot. Whether it’s in pitch-black chainmail or bright pink silks, Bill Cipher is, and always will be, an awful tricky bastard.

He starts to speak, only to feel his arms clank into each other with sudden pressure. A sharp tug fails to separate them, and he stares down at the bright yellow chains surrounding his wrists.

Uh oh. 

He looks back up in alarm, finding Bill himself in his personal space, face so close he can feel the heat of his body, and catch a hint of expensive cologne.

“I should thank you, kid! Spared me a lot of time searching when a fun little princeling came right to my door.” Bill rests his white-gloved hand against his forehead again. There’s an awful glimmer in his golden eye. “Especially one so noble and virtuous.”

“I- Wow, okay, flattering,” Dipper starts, because it is, a little, if he ignores how intimidating literally every other aspect is. He shuffles back until he hits the wall with ‘clunk’, watching Bill close in further.  “You - Wait. there’s got to be someone better. More, uh.” Shit, he doesn’t even know what Bill likes. 

“Oh no, you’ll do perfectly! Hell, how could I resist?” Bill says, fluttering his eyelashes again before his face breaks out into a wicked smile. “You proved yourself so worthy.” 

Dipper’s eyes go wide. 

There is a reward for passing the trial, and, like an idiot, he never asked what it was.

“Oh no.” Dipper slumps against the tangling chains, which by now have found their insidious way around his ankles. 

“Oh yes.” Bill beams, clapping his hands together and rubbing them together with glee. 

With surprising strength, he hauls Dipper up over his shoulder and opens the door. Dipper swears, he kicks. Even bites once, but the taffeta doesn’t tear like he’d like, it clogs his mouth and makes it hard to curse Bill out. 

 “Now c’mon, kid.” Bill says cheerfully, adding a smack to Dipper’s armor-clad butt. “And stop struggling! We gotta lot of planning to do for the unholy ceremony.”

This presumptuous jackass can’t just - they haven’t even had a date, what the hell. 

Another kick barely phases Bill’s balance, so struggling clearly won’t work. Dipper sulks as he bounces in Bill’s grasp, heading down the stairs, hoping that hauling around a full suit of armor with a man inside it makes Bill’s stupid arms fall off. 

From far below, he can hear the organ start playing an all-too-familiar tune. A cheerful, triumphant march.

Dipper groans, and lowers his head to thunk against soft silk.

Trial succeeded? Great. Dark Lord? Total jackass as expected. And if Bill thinks he’s ‘won’ by roping Dipper into a stupid ceremony, then he’s going to find it far less simple than he thinks.

But how the hell is Dipper going to explain this to his sister?