Game Theory [Podfic]: Recent Episodes
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A podfic of not_poignant's Game Theory, as posted on ao3, complete with character voices and special effects. This is part of a long-term pet project of mine which was previously hosted elsewhere, and which I have enjoyed tremendously as a growing experience.
Summary: Six months have passed since Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the Seelie fae, has defeated the King of the Unseelie, fae waterhorse Augus Each Uisge. Remembering their first encounter, centuries ago, Gwyn cannot bring himself to execute Augus, and has instead kept him prisoner in a cell in the depths of the Seelie Court. In a difficult position himself, ruling an unwanted throne and waiting out the years between until the time he can step down as King, Gwyn finds himself unable to stay away.
The future of the entire Unseelie kingdom is in Gwyn's hands. He may feel inadequate. He may fear failure. He may also fear what his relationship with Augus may lead to. But before all that, he must first face the new King of the Seelie, King Albion, and try to prove that the Unseelie have not fallen yet...
The responsibility of King will be a heavy one indeed for Gwyn. And what will Augus' role be? Will he be a hindrance? Or a help?
After a discouraging evaluation from a healer, and an unhappy disagreement with Augus, Gwyn doesn't know what his role should be at the Unseelie Court. He must make himself useful somehow though, if he is to stay. And so, he sets out to lend his expertise on what can be done to rebuild the Court.
For the first time in his life, Gwyn is visiting the Unseelie Court. And though it is a twisted shell of the glories of previous Courts, it is still a long-awaited homecoming in more ways than one for him.
At long last reunited, Gwyn and Augus spend the night together at Augus' new underwater home. But all is not ease and simplicity, as each carries new scars from their struggles and they must relearn to navigate their relationship as equals.
When even his best efforts to locate Gwyn fail to yield any results, Augus struggles to maintain the hope that Gwyn is alive and can be found. But inspiration may yet come from a surprising corner.
 A starving Gwyn flees from place to place, struggling desperately to stay one step ahead of the soldiers pursuing him, as well as finding food and shelter on a near-daily basis. But all it takes is one moment of relaxing his guard, for things to go from difficult to impossible...
Gwyn has been found out. And there is no escape for him now. There is nothing left to do but to face the wrath of the Seelie Court with all the stoicism he can muster...
Ash has returned, with the piece of Old Lore that Gwyn sent him to find; the final piece needed to secure Augus' release.
After a diplomatic meeting with the Seelie Court to discuss Gwyn goes sour, Augus, faced with Gulvi's indifference and Ash's antipathy, realizes that the task of finding Gwyn alive and well rests solely on his own shoulders. But is that desire enough to sustain him?
Gwyn has been demoted and imprisoned in the Seelie Court. Having never been the lowest status before, he finds the physical and mental fragility both startling and frustrating. But – he is also finding a surprising desire to live welling up inside of him.
Augus has been reunited with his brother, and is once more at the Unseelie Court. It should be simple to put his time at the Seelie Court behind him. Yet, with all the tension with Ash, Gulvi, and the appearance of the Unseelie Court itself, he finds his thoughts constantly straying back to Gwyn, and the surprising comfort of his presence.
The time has come. With Gwyn increasingly sure that he is on the verge of losing his Kingship, he makes the decision to release Augus. To finally give him his freedom.
But Augus finds that the Unseelie Court is not quite the haven he'd expected it to be...and that his thoughts turn back often to the equally-imprisoned captor he left behind.
What do you do with a misbehaving waterhorse and a trouble-plagued King? Well, spanking is a great physical outlet – if you're the one delivering it, that is.
Tensions are mounting and stresses are building, and Augus and Gwyn can both feel it. At length, Augus convinces Gwyn of the benefits of a break from the Seelie Court – and Gwyn takes him to a special cabin all his own.
In the wake of Gwyn's ordeal, Augus finds he can't bear the idea that Gwyn may never know what true gentleness is. And so he becomes determined to show it to him – though the experience may be a torture all its own.
The second part of the plan to release Augus involves a torturous trade with another fae for a new power. When Gwyn finally manages to return to the Seelie Court, barely in one piece, Augus is nearly beside himself with worry, and the concern he shows seems almost genuine. But Gwyn knows it can't be real...
Can it?
Augus begins to practice the new power given to him by Gwyn. And the results are very nearly fatal for him.
Finding himself more and more uncomfortable with his role as Augus' captor, Gwyn begins to search for a way to secure his semi-prisoner's release. Augus, meanwhile, has a more particular way to make Gwyn feel uncomfortable: he wishes to use his waterhorse compulsions to make Gwyn bring himself off while he watches.
Augus has begun to genuinely care about Gwyn (though any kind of a relationship with him should be more trouble than it's worth), and finds himself offering moments from his own past in exchange for some of Gwyn's – in particular, stories of Ash for those of Mafydd.
Augus swears in blood that he will keep Gwyn's secret. But Gwyn knows that his very existence breaks the most fundamental of fae laws. How can he possibly believe Augus will keep his word?
It wasn't so much that Gwyn forgot the truth about himself, so much as he...just didn't think about it. But now Augus is a daily reminder of all his flaws and failures, causing other uncomfortable memories to surface as well.
Gwyn puts the first steps of his plan to release Augus into motion, attempting to enlist the help of a reluctant Ash. But when it takes longer than he would like, his frustration at the delay continues to build until Augus suggests an unusual outlet: letting loose his light for the first time since childhood.
If Gwyn hadn't been so tired...if he hadn't just had that terrible nightmare...if Augus hadn't been so persistent...if, if, if...then perhaps Gwyn would not have accidentally revealed his darkest secret....
Tensions in the Seelie Court are spiraling higher. And Gwyn just wants to let go for once, to not have to think about it. Unfortunately, Augus is still fighting demons of his own, and his idea of play, to switch the roles of captor and captive, might not be one borne of an entirely stable mind...
Augus had always thought Gwyn to be a simplistic, commonplace soldier. But the more he finds out about him, the more curious he becomes about this strange fae creature. There are so many more layers to Gwyn than he ever expected, and Augus becomes determined to drag those secrets out of him – starting with his mysterious light.
An accidental sighting of Augus by two of Gwyn's soldiers leads to a deadly confrontation – and a surprisingly possessive side of Gwyn.
Gwyn's style has always been fast and rough. But he's caught a glimpse of what Augus is like under slow and focused. Now, he's determined to achieve that effect himself, to see Augus undone completely. But does Gwyn himself have the patience for it?
A fear of the dark...is there anything more primal? Yet, what kind of torture could a waterhorse like Augus have lived through to give that fear such intensity? Gwyn thought he needed to know, but when a vulnerable Augus unwillingly divulges some of his time under the Nightmare King's captivity, Gwyn isn't so sure that he's ready to hear it.
Augus knows Gwyn is amusingly predictable. Always stressed, always resisting, but really he'll always get off to whatever Augus does to him. But after a very slight (okay, maybe not so slight) error in judgment, he discovers that Gwyn is both far more complex and far more damaged than he ever realised.
Well, every relationship has its ups and downs, right?
Augus wants to get a certain response from Gwyn, wants to see if he can make him let go properly. But the play he wishes to use is a bit of an extreme one, and there's only one specific context in which Gwyn would even tolerate it... Can Augus get him to ask for it?
After the successful (dreadful) Display from earlier, Augus has withdrawn into himself so far as to become completely unresponsive. Knowing that he is responsible, Gwyn offers the one thing he feels least qualified to give: comfort.
Curiosity may have killed the cat, but waterhorses are far more resilient. And if an activity like sounding makes Augus remember his place in relation to Gwyn, all the better.
Of course, that's assuming that things always go the way that Gwyn plans.
In order to prove that Augus has been properly cowed, the Seelie Court demands that he be chained and exhibited for an evening. And Gwyn has no choice but to comply, lest he weaken his own tenuous position as King.
Augus has noticed Gwyn's increasing instability lately, though he does not know the cause. But when Gwyn decides to relieve that stress with a hunt, with Augus as the quarry, Augus must use every skill at his disposal if he wishes to survive this madness.
Gwyn knows that he doesn't require such a banal thing as aftercare. There are far more pressing demands on his time. (More to the point, he knows that he doesn't deserve such attention.) But this is one stipulation that Augus is absolutely unwilling to compromise on.
Augus takes control for the first time in a very long time. And Gwyn finds that he doesn't mind it nearly as much as he should...
A brutal murder, a rash decision, and a deadly poison all lead to a decision that Gwyn may have cause to regret.
Augus is nothing anymore, just a prisoner, a spoil to be used. And Gwyn is his captor, a King, and certainly not a conflicted creature desperate for any means to escape the stress of Court.
If Augus wants to see the cruel and vindictive side of Gwyn, then Gwyn will show it. He will not allow himself to fall into the same trap as before. And he knows that Augus has nothing with which to bargain to keep him from doing as he pleases.
Or does he?
For Gwyn, it began as a moment of curiosity. For Augus, it became a situation too similar to that of a previous captor. And he would do anything to avoid being in such a position again – no matter how vicious.
Who knew that a single bucket of water could be such a powerful motivator for a dehydrated waterhorse?
After Gwyn inadvertently discovers something that shatters Augus' seemingly implacable mien, he proposes an equally terrible alternative: comfort.
Augus, before he was deposed, decimated entire regions of land, caused the deaths of countless fae. Unchecked, he would have destroyed the world. So Gwyn is entirely within his rights to ensure that Augus can never do anything like that again. It's only fitting, only fair, it's justice.
Isn't it?
"Ah, so you wish for a story? A story then, shall be told. But not of nightmare kings and frost spirits...no, this is a tale of fae rulers and forsaken captives... But which are the rulers and which are the captives? That you must decide for yourself."