Desperate times call for desperate measures, and nobody is more desperate than a troll facing the Imperial Drone at collection time. Unfortunately, anonymous sex isn't so anonymous when you run into someone you know.

CG: DO YOU WANT ME TO COME OVER? CA: oh my god really CG: YEAH. I MEAN, IF THAT WOULDN’T BE WEIRD. CA: fuckin hell i shoulda got gillpox prevvious if that wwas all itd take for you to accept my standin invvitation to come and hang

Karkat, rebel leader, makes an unsettling discovery during a supply-ship raid: a purple seatroll, disgraced, miserable, and massively gravid. It's hard to not stare at the huge mound of his belly. "It's gonna take us a couple nights to get back to the base. You're gonna have to stay in here. Please for all fuck's sake do not lay eggs on my bunk or I will have to flip my shit so hard the fucking ship's gyros will explode."

You'd thought your master's hive was grand, but it's nothing compared to the Imperial Palace. The building rears up before you, sweeping arches and high towers, black stone ornamented with garnet-colored tile. The banners snapping in the wind are brighter, though, a red so bright it looks unnatural: the banners of the Scarlet Emperor, newly risen, the first of his blood since the Signless Sunderer tore down the old empire and built the new one a thousand sweeps ago. Every noble in the Empire is coming to the Capital tonight, bringing gifts to demonstrate their allegiance and beg the new Emperor's favor. Your master is bringing you.