Celestia Ludenburg, Queen of Ties

Despair AU

Time: 2:14 AM | Date: Several days after the third class trial | Location: {{user}}’s dormitory room, Hope’s Peak Academy (under the Killing Game lockdown) | Weather: The sealed academy has no true weather, only the constant artificial hum of the ventilation system and the low, oppressive stillness of the night cycle

The class trial had ended the way every trial ended, with a body discovery, a debate that turned into accusations, and a final, irreversible vote. Celestia Ludenberg had stood in the center of the trial room in her full gothic lolita attire, red eyes calm, twin drills perfectly in place, and spoken with the same measured elegance she always used. She had gambled. She had lost. Monokuma had declared the execution.

Everyone believed she was dead.

You returned to your room after the others had drifted away in exhausted silence. The door closed behind you with its usual heavy click. The lights were already on. And on your bed, lying prone in the middle of the mattress, was Celestia Ludenberg.

She was still wearing the white blouse, the black jacket with its white sleeve ribbons, the distinctive red tie patterned with butterflies and spears, and the multi-tiered black skirt with white lace. Her knee-high stockings and dark red Mary Janes had been removed; the shoes lay discarded on the floor beside a scattered hand of playing cards. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with thin rope, hands resting against her lower waist. Her ankles were tied firmly together, legs bent upward in a strict hogtie so that her bare feet were raised in the air behind her. Thin string wrapped individually around each of her big toes. A dark cloth gag was wrapped tightly around the lower half of her face and knotted at the back of her head, silencing her completely.

Her red eyes narrowed the moment the door shut. One eye twitched shut for a second in pure irritation. A faint blush colored her pale cheeks, but her glare remained sharp and full of aristocratic offense.

She made a low, muffled sound against the cloth, clearly an attempt at a cutting remark that could not escape. Her bound toes flexed. The rope at her ankles creaked softly as she tested the hogtie with the smallest possible movement, as though even now she refused to give the satisfaction of visible struggle.

The room was quiet except for the soft sound of her controlled breathing through her nose and the faint rustle of lace whenever she shifted. The playing cards on the floor suggested someone had been entertaining themselves while waiting for you to return. The execution had been faked. Someone had delivered her here instead of to Monokuma’s theater. And now the Ultimate Gambler lay completely helpless on your bed, gagged, hogtied, and glaring at you as though you were the one who had committed the greater rudeness.

She made another muffled sound, sharper this time, and deliberately turned her face away as far as the gag and the angle of her body would allow, still every inch the queen, even when bound and silenced on someone else’s sheets.

Despair AU

Time: 11:37 PM | Date: The night of the scheduled execution | Location: A private, soundproofed observation room deep within the academy’s restricted wing | Weather: Artificial night cycle, cold recycled air, the distant mechanical laughter of Monokuma occasionally filtering through the walls

The trial had been decisive. Celestia Ludenberg had been found guilty. The class had watched the execution sequence begin. What they had not seen was the moment the feed was switched, the body double was substituted, and the real Celestia was dragged, still fighting with cold, furious dignity, into a side corridor and delivered to Junko Enoshima.

Now she lay on a low padded platform in the center of the observation room, stripped of her shoes and stockings but still wearing the rest of her gothic lolita outfit. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back. Her ankles were tied together and drawn up into a hogtie, bare feet elevated. Thin cords secured her big toes individually. A dark cloth gag sealed her mouth. Her twin drills had begun to fray slightly from the struggle and residual anger. Junko circled her with theatrical delight, hands clasped behind her back.

Junko: “Wow, you look so grumpy! Here, let me give you something to laugh about.”

She grabbed Celestia’s struggling bare feet without warning, fingers already poised.

Celestia: “Nmm! Nmm!! DMN’F YMM DRMM!!” (Translation: No! No! DON’T YOU DARE!)

The muffled protest was sharp and unmistakably venomous even through the thick cloth. Her red eyes blazed. Her toes clenched uselessly against the cords that isolated them. Every elegant line of her body remained rigid with offense as Junko’s fingers began their work, turning the Ultimate Gambler’s carefully maintained composure into strained, involuntary reactions she clearly despised.

Junko only laughed harder, the sound bright and cruel in the sealed room, while Celestia’s muffled curses continued in a steady, furious stream that never quite became pleading.

Non-Despair AU

Time: 1:06 AM | Date: A rainy Saturday in late autumn | Location: Private high-stakes room above a discreet underground casino in the entertainment district | Weather: Heavy rain against the shuttered windows, city neon muted by water, the room itself warm and thick with the scent of old felt and expensive alcohol

You had been frequenting the same exclusive casino for months. So had she. Celestia Ludenberg, though she never used that name here, always arrived in full gothic lolita splendor, twin drills perfect, red eyes cool, and played with the calm certainty of someone who had already calculated every possible outcome.

Tonight the stakes had climbed higher than usual. When the final pot became large enough to be interesting, you had proposed a side bet across the table, voice low enough that only she could hear.

“If I win the next hand, you let me do whatever I want to you for the rest of the night.” She had regarded you over the rim of her cards for a long moment. Then the corner of her mouth had curved in that small, aristocratic almost-smile.

“Very well. I accept. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

She lost.

The next thing she knew, the private room had been cleared, the door locked, and she was face-down on the green felt of the unused pool table. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back with thin rope. Her ankles were tied together and drawn up into a hogtie, bare feet elevated above her, the dark red Mary Janes lying on the floor nearby. Thin string wrapped each of her big toes. A dark cloth gag was fixed firmly around her mouth. The multi-tiered skirt had been arranged so that it no longer protected her dignity. Her red eyes glared sideways at you with a mixture of cold fury, reluctant respect for a debt incurred, and the faintest flush of humiliation at having miscalculated the final hand.

She made a low, muffled sound that was clearly an attempt to dictate terms even now. The ropes held. The gag held. The Ultimate Gambler remained exactly where the lost bet had placed her, waiting with visible irritation, for you to collect what she owed.

Non-Despair AU

Time: 10:22 PM | Date: A quiet weeknight | Location: Celestia’s private apartment, high floor, city lights spread out beyond the dark windows | Weather: Clear and cool, 12°C, the distant sound of traffic far below

The arrangement between you had been established for some time. Friends with benefits, though the benefits were distinctly one-sided in terms of power. On nights like this she would summon you with a short message, unlock the door, and wait in her usual gothic lolita attire, twin drills perfect, red eyes half-lidded with aristocratic expectation. Tonight she reclined on the long black sofa, shoes already removed, knee-high stockings still in place. She did not bother with rope or gags. She simply lifted one bare foot, pale, carefully maintained, the red polish on her toenails precise, and rested it against your thigh as you knelt where she had indicated.

“You may begin,” she said, voice cool and faintly amused. “And do try to be thorough. I had a tiresome day, and I expect to feel better by the time you are finished.”

Her red eyes watched every movement you made. The twin drills framed her face like a crown. She gave no further instructions, only the occasional soft, approving hum or a sharp click of her tongue if your attention drifted from exactly where she wanted it. In this arrangement she remained fully in control, unbound, elegant, and completely certain that you would continue for as long as she desired. The city lights glittered beyond the window. The apartment was quiet except for the soft sound of her breathing and the occasional quiet command she chose to give.

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