Chapter Text
Grian woke with yet another desperate shriek of terror, eyes darkening as he shot up so quickly his head throbbed. He blinked, heart racing as he squinted, lungs catching on uneven breaths. Darkness stretched endlessly around his body, thick with heat and dread. The void was still pulsing, glitching purple particles flickering around his vision every so often. Grian swallowed hard, a hand coming up to dig into his side. He expected to pull away and feel thick blood covering his fingers, but instead he was met with clean skin. The healing of a Watcher worked quickly, he supposed.
Grian jumped as a laugh echoed around him, a shrill noise that made him yank his side wings over his ears.
“Bravo Xelqua!” The Watcher hissed and he briefly noted that it wasn’t the usual one that greeted him after death. “One more to go for your little player, a shame you couldn’t die along with him. It would’ve made things so much easier for you.”
Grian grimaced, pausing for a moment before speaking. “What–” His voice was hoarse and cracked, “What do you mean I’m not dead? I died. I felt Ren stab me–how am I–”
“You were saved by the blue one, for some odd reason. I would’ve let you bleed out.” They pondered, the voice growing louder as the Watcher moved closer. Grian paid attention to the way feathers were ruffling, the noise faint but audible. “You’re simply unconscious right now and you know who wanted to make sure you were well aware of your goals still.”
So he really hadn’t died. Unfortunate.
But Scar did.
Was he scared? Was he wondering why Grian wasn’t awake yet? Regen was fairly easy when it came to these games, food and healing potions doing most of the work. (unless you were seriously injured, those look much more effort to heal.)
Grian briefly recalled the first time he had died. When he had woken, scared and disoriented, Scar had held him and cried that he was scared. Scared for Grian. He was worried that the avian wouldn’t wake up and that something had gone wrong with his respawn. Would that happen this time?
Grian hung on the thought for a second before shaking his head, he wouldn’t let it. He would comfort Scar and apologize for not being there soon enough. For being too slow.
“You do remember your task, correct, Xelqua?”
Grian hesitantly nodded, unsure what the Watcher was hinting at.
“Then do it better. You made a plan–you will finish it with efficiency or you will not finish it at all. We are getting bored of your games, all bleeding hearts and hopeless promises that we all know you are never going to fulfil. You’re pathetic, Xelqua.” they paused and Grian flinched, shrinking in on himself just a bit more. “We are all so disappointed in the way you turned out.”
Grian swallowed hard, feeling like something was stuck in his lungs. He knew they were right–he wasn’t going to be able to fulfil all of his promises to Scar. He would never be able to make it up to him, make it up to him for bringing him into this stupid game again.
But a disappointment?
That's where they were wrong.
Grian’s voice shook as he pushed himself up onto two feet, “You are so full of yourself! You think I give a damn if you lot think I’m a disappointment? I have made a name for myself and all you do is boss me around–I was never a Watcher in the first place so you have no say in how I choose to conduct my life!”
The Watcher simply sighed, warmth brushing up the feathers on Grian’s temples. “You never will learn, will you?”
Grian had a split second to brace himself, the void humming with the familiar tells of a server transportation, before he was falling through the darkness once more. One would think it got easier the more he did it, but the pain never really eased up.
Heat exploded throughout his body in an instant, starting deep in his core and burning out to the edges of his fingers. It tore through his wings like it wanted to rip them off, burn the feathers and leave him flightless once again. His chest seized, catching on a breath as his mouth opened to gasp for air. Agony started to spread, his spine arching as the sensation forced another pathetic whimper from his lips. The whimper soon turned into a wail, a sound of pure suffering that he couldn’t contain.
Eventually the pain got too great and Grian felt his mind start to slip, thoughts becoming fuzzy and hard to reach. He tried to grasp onto them but it was no use as his body succumbed to the agony, the world going dark once again.
—🚦—
Grian furrowed his brow, light seeping in through his closed eyes, thin and sharp. It was way too painful for something as simple as sunlight. There were words being said to him–he knew that much. They were muffled and tangled together, like he was underwater. He couldn’t make out the words being said, let alone who was speaking them.
“...He’s….wak..”
The sound faded in and out, washing over him as he tried to grasp onto their words. Grian groaned, shifting a little to the left and shoving his face into a pillow. The fabric was too rough. And it was so hot. Why was it so warm?
“Do you…he..hear us?”
So someone was talking to him.
“G…”
That voice was closer, familiar. It made him want to open his eyes and see who it was, but he couldn’t find the strength to.
Something warm came to rest on Grian’s cheek and he leaned into it without thinking. It pressed back, a steady pressure on his face that worked to ease some of his confusion.
“G…time to…up.”
The words were still warped, but they seemed clearer. He wanted to know who was talking to him. He had to know. Grian frowned, his brow tightening as he tried to follow the words, dragging himself through his own clouded mind.
He cracked his eyes open, light flooding in immediately, harsh and overwhelming. He shut them again with a pained groan before trying again, slower this time, blinking at the brightness until blurry shapes started to form.
There were two figures standing over him, more shadow than person at first. The closer one leaned in more, a familiar warmth flooding through Grian’s senses. He could feel their presence before his brain even registered who it was.
There were two red eyes staring down at him, the corners crinkled in a sad smile.
“Grian.” Scar sighed, voice thick with relief, the hand on his cheek squeezing a little as a thumb brushed over his skin.
Scar.
Right.
That made sense.
“Is he stable now?” another voice cut in–Jimmy, Grian realized a second later. It was heavy with worry, drawn too thin for his liking. “He’s still bleeding…”
“Mhm, the bandage will be gross for a little but he’s fine. It’s a good sign that he’s awake.” Scott replied, from somewhere on the side, tone controlled but it wasn’t enough to hide the underlying worry.
Grian tried to turn his head, he needed to be able to see Scar. “Sc-”
He had barely moved before pain erupted through his side, breath leaving his lungs as a hiss forced its way out through his clenched teeth. Grian felt his body jerk forward before he groaned, body falling back into the sheets with a dull thud.
“Oh–No no…don’t try to move, G.” Scar chided, though for how light it was Grian could hear the sense of urgency hidden underneath. His other hand came up, quickly wrapping itself around Grian’s and holding it in place.
Grian’s fingers curled weakly around Scar’s on instinct, clinging without meaning to. The pain didn’t fade completely, choosing to settle into a deep ache that pulsed with every breath.
“What–” He breathed, squinting as he tried to recall what had happened. “Happened?”
Scar’s thumb brushed over his knuckles, the hand on his cheek retreating, “you got hurt,” He said, too carefully for Grian’s liking, “pretty badly.”
Hurt?
Right. He was hurt…but how…
The memory was right there, right behind his eyes and yet he couldn’t reach it no matter how hard he tried. Was this something the Watchers did? Or was Grian just losing his mind with each passing…death?
No. He hadn’t died…the Watchers did tell him that.
Grian’s brow furrowed deeper, confusion sharpening despite the lazy haze still clinging to him. “I–” He paused, searching. There was something there, just out of reach. He knew it was hot, it was painful, and it was laced with a dread he would never forget. “I remember–”
Grian’s breath caught, air getting trapped in his lungs. His grip tightened suddenly around Scar’s hand, a flicker of panic cutting through the fog. His stomach lurched, suddenly feeling very nauseous.
“You–” He tilted his head, looking up at Scar, “you died. You died again!”
Scar’s expression softened, his grip tightening around Grian’s hand. “Yes, I did.”
Grian paused, feeling his chest tighten as Scar looked down at him with those eyes that he did. Those weird, accepting eyes that said: "I'm okay with this, you’re safe.”
But it wasn’t okay.
“You–” His breathing picked up again, uneven now. “No, I saw– I mean, I didn’t, I was too far. I didn’t warn you soon enough–I–” His thoughts tangled, slipping over each other as it all came rushing back. “You were there and then you weren’t and I–”
He had been running, and then there was Martyn and Ren and Grian had been stabbed
Grian flinched hard, recalling the noise when Scar had fallen, the feeling of his blade ramming deep into Ren’s side. He had won–hadn’t he? Ren was dead, but how was Grian alive? The Watchers said the blue one, that had to be Scott.
Grian tilted his head over to look at Scott, the blue haired man giving him a look of acknowledgement before frowning towards Scar.
“You weren’t supposed to–” he choked, his voice cracking apart. “That wasn’t– you–Martyn was meant to blow up, you were meant to run away!” he hissed, voice laced with depreciation. Scar looked taken aback, brows furrowing slightly.
“G, everything is fine. Don’t worry about me–or that fight.” Scar’s grip tightened on Grian’s hand, the other one coming to guide his gaze back to Scar’s face. “We need to worry about you right now, you’re the injured one, ignore the outside world right now. We can take care of that.”
Grian shook his head as much as he could, ignoring the pain flaring under his ribs. “No–no no no, that is not how this works. I worry about you and you will be reckless.” He paused, taking a second to catch his breath, “I mean–I didn’t even remember it happening! How could I forget?” He whispered, voice bordering on a plea.
Scar’s lips twitched into a sad smile, “I’m glad you didn’t see the whole thing, you didn’t need to see it.” he tilted his head, faintly reminding Grian of a lost puppy, “besides, I’m not mad with how things turned out.”
“That’s not–” Grian’s voice broke again, frustration and guilt tangling together. His grip trembled in Scar’s hand. “That’s not fair. You–you were there for me, you’re always there for me, and I don’t even–I don’t even know–”
“Grian.” Scar cut in, firmer than it was before. Grian assumed it was so he could catch the spiral before it took over, “none of that matters right now. All that matters is that you’re here and we’re all safe.”
Grian forced himself to take a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before the pain in his side became too much and he was forced to blow out. “Okay. Okay. But answer my one question, that's all.”
“Go on.”
“Did all of this,” he gestured around the room, “do anything other than start a war?”
Silence.
And that was enough of an answer for Grian.
Grian let out a shaky, uneven breath, blinking hard as tears blurred his vision despite himself. The room still felt too bright, everyone was too loud. His side hurt, he could feel his regeneration working to try and fix it up but it was working too slowly. (And feeling your own skin grow back into place wasn’t exactly pleasant.)
Grian bit down harder on his lip, the metallic taste somewhat grounding to his messed up mind. A tear slipped free anyway, carving a slow path down his cheek before he could stop it.
Pathetic.
The Watchers were right.
Grian was obviously and painfully pathetic.
He dragged in yet another dry breath, the action bringing more pain than comfort. This wasn’t what he could feel. Not like this. Not when every single action made to this point could be brought back to Grian.
This was his plan.
Every. Single. Piece.
Every risk was taken because he wanted it to be, every move was thought out, every possible outcome other than his own gain was dismissed because he’d been so certain that he could control it. That he could keep everyone just safe enough.
That he could get what he wanted out of someone else's death–or murder.
Cause and effect.
It was as simple as that.
So no, he didn’t get to cry over this situation that he had caused.
What right did he have to cry?
What right did he have to sit here and wallow in self pity when he should be comforting people like Scar.
Grian swallowed hard, the motion unsteady as he forced another breath in, slower this time. His chest was aching again–whther from injury or guilt he didn’t know. Apparently there was a lot he didn’t know.
He forced himself to turn his head, meeting Scar’s eyes once again. “Nothing I say will make you change your mind about my role in this, will it?” He cast the man a small smile, blinking.
Scar snorted, “nope. You’re guilt free in my book.”
Grian shook his head, glancing at Jimmy and Scott in the corner. At some point they had shuffled back, one of Jimmy’s wings wrapped around Scott’s frame like a shield. Scott nodded, offering Grian a smile.
“Fine,” Grian relented, the churning in his gut growing to something sickening, “we are talking about this later, though. You know that.”
Scar frowned, face twisting into faux annoyance, “yeah yeah, sure Birdy.”
There were a few seconds of silence before Scott walked over to Grian’s bed, boots tapping on the wooden floors. “I’m glad you’re awake, I really am, but we need to discuss our next steps. It’s unfortunate but I don’t think Ren is going to wait long,” He paused, letting the words settle in the air, “he knows you’re injured and now that he’s red he will be more willing to come after us, I’m assuming you were prepared for that?”
Grian paused, mind going disturbingly blank for a moment. Did he have a plan? He really only had one goal in mind: save Scar, get Ren out of the way before he could start Red Winter.
A wave of sickness rolled over Grian as his mind seemed to clear, skin going pale as Scar hovered all that closer. Grian had done jack shit to change the future. He had killed Ren, possibly even speeding up the process.
Grian opened his mouth before closing it, shaking his head.
“Void. I wasn’t thinking at all, was I?” He laughed, though it came out more of a sob. “I wasn’t thinking about anything other than changing what was already going to happen–I just sped it up! I–I sped it up and now I can’t avoid it, can I?” He turned to look at Scar, caught off guard for a moment at the confusion on the other man's face.
Scar's hand tightened around Grians as he moved to sit on the mattress. “What did you speed up, G?”
“No–” Grian shook his head, fighting the urge to spill his guts (metaphorically and physically), “you wouldn’t understand. You really wouldn’t–just know I’m so sorry and I never meant for any of this to happen–I didn’t want a war.” He whispered, trying to make himself believe the words he was saying.
Scott shook his head, brows knitted together as he moved a little closer to Grian’s bed. “We know you didn’t mean anything by it, we all wanted to go through with the plan because we thought it would work. You didn’t create a war, Grian, we all did.”
Grian fought the need to shake his head, to reassure them that this was all him, that they wouldn’t be in this mess if he wasn’t so selfish. He just sat there, eyes glued to the mattress as his fingers dug into the blankets so hard he feared the wool would tear.
When Grian didn’t reply, opting to stare at the blanket tangled around his legs, Scar decided to fill the silence for him.
“We can talk about this tomorrow, G here needs to heal.”
Scar took a breath, voice thin and tired as he spoke. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh, “Scott, do you happen to have that regeneration potion? I think one more and he should start to heal naturally, with food and–and other stuff, You know what I mean.” He waved a hand in the air, mumbling on his words.
Scott nodded, gesturing with his head to the door. Grian hadn’t noticed before, but he had been moved into Jimmy’s house again. Although the smell was different, reeking of old wood and herbs that had been shoved onto his body. He also took note that his shirt had been taken and replaced with a new, looser one. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his waist, restricting movement just enough to be annoying.
“It’s in a hidden chest, I can grab it in a minute.”
Scar nodded, giving Scott a grateful grin that didn’t quite match his regular ones.
“So–” Grian winced, his voice rough as he took yet another shallow breath, “how long do you think this will take?” He vaguely gestured to himself, raising his brows in question.
Jimmy hesitated, giving a small shrug, “once Scott gets the potion you should be okay…I think.” he grimaced once the words left his mouth, shrinking in on himself. “I mean..” He trailed off, brows knitting together as he tried to find a solid answer, one without as many holes.
“I think he’s trying to say that your body will heal quickly, but your mind won’t. You’ll be able to do things again relatively quickly but the fact that you were stabbed will probably hold you back mentally, with attacking and stuff.” Scott cut in, backing away from Grian’s bed and over to the door.
“You’ll second guess yourself, freeze when you don’t mean to. It’s all–all psychological..or something.” He nodded to himself, looking around the room as if searching for confirmation.
Jimmy nodded, grinning happily since someone was able to explain it.
Grian bit his lip, nodding slowly. “Yeah..yeah that's fine. I can deal with that.” he let out a long sigh, head flopping back onto the pillow. Scar’s hand loosened a bit, his thumb drawing small circles on the back of Grian’s hand.
“I’ll go grab the potion,” Scott added, hand resting on the doorframe “and start to build up the walls, Grian, once you feel okay I could use your help. I need to grab stuff for protection before Ren decides to kill us again.”
Grian replies with a nod, sitting up slightly and wincing when the wound is strained. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth while Scott stepped out into the hall, boots thudding against the wooden floorboards.
Finally, Alone.
The silence barely lasted a second.
“What were you thinking?!”
Scar hisses, one hand coming to grasp his cheek almost desperately, “You weren’t meant to fight, you were meant to run! Oh what am I saying–of course you would fight. But him of all people, Grian?” Scar pauses, taking a breath while Grian stares at him with wide eyes. “I wasn’t there to see the fight but I got the jist of it from Scott. You had to leave it alone”
Grian scoffed, nose wrinkling, “leave it alone? That's hypocritical of you. How was I meant to stay behind when you were meant to be running away! Instead you decided to do some hero martyr bullshit and die for the good of the team or something? Do not tell me to run when you can’t even listen to your own advice.” he spat. Grian knew this was pointless, he knew yelling at Scar was the least of his concerns, but he was so angry and he had to take it out on someone.
It didn’t matter who.
Scar laughed, a sarcastic laugh that burned Grian’s ears. “I’m hypocritical? You took on a fight that you didn’t need to. You were ready to kill yourself in the first stages of the plan, don’t think I forgot about that! G–I was so scared that you would lose more lives just because I lost. I was–” Scar took a breath, body shaking as he dragged his hands down his face.
“I want to be mad at you, I really do, but honestly’m just relieved you’re safe.” He choked out, leaning down so his elbows touched the bed. “Don’t get me wrong–you were stupid and arrogant and I have no idea why you thought it was a good idea to kill Ren, but I’m more upset that the plan didn’t go to action and we both messed up.”
Grian frowned, shuffling a little in bed. “No, Scar. The plan all along was to kill them both, to blow it up and make sure they had no resources. I agree–it did go to shit, void it was bad…but it doesn’t matter right now. We have to think of a counter strike because they are coming and it will hurt more than our first attack.”
Grian had a few ideas on how it could go, Ren dumping lava on the group, gathering more of the Dogwarts alliances and slaughtering the rest, or–or other things that he was a little fuzzy on. He knew they had to put up more defences and get back to the desert, if they were lucky they could try and blow it up again like last time. Of course, there would be other logistics this time but they could figure it out. Maybe. He hoped.
Grian jumped as the door flew open, Jimmy standing in its way with a pink jar in his hands. “You’re in luck, Scott found the chest!”
Jimmy stepped fully into the room, shoes thumping on the hollow wood. He waited until Scott re-entered to kick the door shut with his heel and hold out the potion like it would explode on him.
The liquid shimmered under the torch light, making it look like something out of a fairytale.
Scar sat up, hands clasping together. “Finally!”
“Make him drink the whole thing this time,” Scott cut in, crossing the room, “the half-doses we were giving him before won’t cut it this time.”
“That's…not concerning at all.” Grian choked out, slumping up even as his wound protested. He shoved the blanket off of him, leaning his shoulder on Scar’s just enough for him to be a support.
“It kinda is,” Jimmy grinned, giving Grian a smug look.
“Haha, funny. See how hard I’m laughing?” He snorted, watching as Jimmy came closer with the bottle. He didn’t really remember what it tasted like, but he sure as hell knew that it would hurt going down. When flesh is regenerated, you can feel the skin knit back together.
So no, not a pleasant experience.
Grian must have been making a face because Scar turned his eyes down and shook his head, “Grian, don’t start. You need to drink this. I know you want to.”
“First off, I’m not starting anything?? Second, I do want to–I don’t want to be an open wound for much longer thank you very much.”
“Mhm, with that face, you’re either going to do something stupid or refuse the drink.”
Jimmy nodded solemnly, “that is his stupid face.”
Grian grimaced, “I hate both of you. How could I almost die for a group like this?”
“Drink the potion.”
Grian crossed his arms–or tried to. The movement tugged painfully at the wound in his side, and he hissed through his teeth instead.
Scar hummed, “that looked like it hurt.”
“Thank you for the observation.” Grian grit out, forcing a grin.
“Why you’re welcome! Drink.”
After a few seconds of faux contemplation, Grian grabbed the bottle from Jimmy’s hand and popped the cork. Eager to get it over with, he rolled his eyes and tipped the bottle back.
Sadly, the regret hit almost immediately.
The liquid scorched down his throat, cooling but burning at the same time. He gagged, doubling over for a moment as he nearly coughed it back up due to reflex. Heat spread through his chest not even seconds later, sinking into his ribs and down into the stab wound.
Scar grabbed his shoulder, massaging circles into it. “It’ll be over soon, I know it burns.”
“Hurts–” he wheezed, waiting for the burning to adjust itself into something less agonizing.
“Well it must be working!” Jimmy added, though rather unhelpfully.
“Shut–up–”
The pain lasted for one more awful moment before giving in to something rather uncomfortable. He breathed through his nose as the skin was sewn back together, the magic forcing his torn muscles to be thrown into one at a speed they were not used to.
Grian sagged against Scar’s shoulder, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead as he let out a shaky exhale.
Scar studied him, reaching across his back to pull him closer. “Better?”
Grian nodded, fighting the urge to vomit, “slightly.”
“Good, I’ll take that.”
Jimmy leaned closer, inspecting the bandages still wrapped around his waist. “They look pretty much healed, your skin is back together at least. No more bleeding.”
Grian groaned, “this was such a pain.”
Jimmy nodded, flopping down on the floor and leaning his back against the bed. “I know right, I’m exhausted.”
“You didn’t even do anything?” Scar pointed out, pausing before adding, “well now. You were very helpful during the attack by blowing me up.”
Jimmy opened his mouth, scoffing, “you weren’t even meant to be there thank you very much! I did as I was told. And now, I was an emotional support to the group. Very tiring stuff.”
Scott let out a laugh, leaning against the wall. “Oh right, that’s a very important job Jimmy.”
Jimmy nodded, resting his head on the blankets.
“Yeah, very good job Timmy.” Grian grit out, mind growing foggy from the regeneration.
“Timmy?” He questioned, tilting his head.
Scott let out another soft laugh, “it fits!”
Jimmy scowled, though a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips, “of course you would say that.”
And for a little while, nobody spoke.
Grian stared at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at his limbs now that the adrenaline of everything was wearing off. His skin was back together, but there was still a faint ache settled into his bones.
Scar shuffled beside him, hand rubbing up and down his arm. Grian expected him to say something, but the other man was abnormally quiet.
Grian turned his head slightly, watching as Scar’s gaze shifted to the ground, his fingers nervously twisting in his lap.
“Hey…” Grian mumbled, taking a quick glance at Scott. Scott seemed to understand what he was saying, standing up and nodding at Jimmy.
“I’m going to go see if I can find anything to rebuild the walls, I may go into the mines later as well. Cobble or items from the nether would be helpful…” He trailed off, one hand resting on the doorframe, “nevermind, just meet me outside when you’re good and ready, Grian.”
Grian nodded his reply, choosing to sink deeper into the blankets as Scott dragged Jimmy off the floor and out the door.
Scar glanced up, shimmying away from Grian so he could look at the avian's face. Grian let out a sigh, biting at his cheek before speaking. “I’m sorry–don’t interrupt me–and I mean it. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, you were right.” he mumbled, the confession burning on his tongue. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to admit he was wrong, but he certainly didn’t like other people knowing he was wrong.
(did that make sense?)
Scar rubbed at the back of his head, hair that was previously tied into a bun being yanked down in a matter of seconds. “I mean, you were stabbed. You have some right to be dramatic."
“That’s not an excuse. You died and yet I’m the one being quote on quote dramatic.”
“That’s different, G. You can still feel it, I feel fine.” Scar argued, leaning back on the bed.
“No it’s not?” Grian laughed, though it sounded like a scoff, “I’m not stupid, I know you remember what dying felt like. I don’t know what happened but I know it wasn’t pleasant, Scott was right–don’t tell him I said that–you don’t just forget stuff like that.”
Grian of all people would know.
Scar shook his head, “I don’t remember the feeling of being stabbed. It was so quick that I barely knew what was going on…but the explosions.” Scar trailed off, eye fixating on something across the room.
Grian knew what he was talking about. Death was an easy thing to forget, especially in Hermitcraft. But the feeling of being blown up, your skin slowly peeling off your flesh as more and more sticks of TNT go off, is not a feeling one would soon forget.
Grian frowned as Scar continued, “it was just hot, hot and it burned–badly.”
“I know.”
“G I really thought that would kill me but then Martyn found me and–”
“I know."
Scar faltered, sucking in a breath between his teeth. “Okay…that's a topic for a different time. You need your rest.”
Grian frowned, he didn’t want Scar to leave, he wanted to reassure his partner that it was fine and he could comfort him as much as he wanted, but the promise of sleep sounded pleasant to his hazy mind. So he nodded, biting back a yawn when Scar dipped down to press a light kiss to his hair.
“I’m glad you’re safe, come out when you’re awake.” Scar smiled, tossing the door open and leaving Grian alone once more.
—🚦—
Scott really hated mining.
And mining after a semi-successful attack that very possibly led his group into war with another very powerful group? That same attack that killed one of his friends and rendered one useless and vulnerable for the time being? Safe to say his mind was elsewhere.
He wasn’t mad with how the attack went. In his mind it couldn’t have gone better actually. Well, Scar could’ve lived and Grian could’ve not run into save a dead man, but it went better than he thought it would’ve.
The important part is that Jimmy survived.
There were a few close calls when they were placing the TNT, a spider that decided it was a good time to attack, some random holes that either Ren or Marytn left in the ground, Jimmy’s wings smacking Scott in the face as he tried to put down a stack and almost blowing them up.
Many close calls.
Scott lifted his pickaxe again, digging into a particularly stubborn piece of stone. His goal was to mine until he found enough lava to create a sort of moat around either his base or the desert base. The more defenses he had at the moment the better.
Who knew when Ren would decide to attack again?
When the piece gave way, he took another step and began to dig away at a coal vein. Maybe he could borrow some of the cacti that Scar and Grian had, just to place it around the base like they did. It was a good strategy, forcing someone into a path you chose, slowing them down. Though he didn’t like to admit it, the duo did have some good ideas.
Chaotic, messy, and murderous ideas.
But good ideas nonetheless.
He didn’t know how to feel about Grian, let alone Scar.
Scar was easier to understand, at least on the surface level. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, every feeling laid out on his face before he even spoke. Sure, Scott caught him in a lie once or twice, but that doesn’t make him a bad person.
Grian however, Grian was harder to read.
Scott frowned faintly, digging his pickaxe into another loose block.
Maybe parts of it came from the uncomfortable resemblance he saw between their groups. Like a mirrored image, Scott and Jimmy, Grian and Scar. Two people desperately trying to survive and get each other out of this mess.
He saw the way Grian looked at Scar, saw the way they clung together like they were bound by some spell. And he understood that devotion all too well, maybe even more than he wanted to admit.
Maybe that's why they were so unsettling but so comforting at the same time.
Still, there was something off about Grian that Scott couldn’t put his finger on.
It was like Grian just knew things.
He was always too aware of the world around him, one could ignore it as the avian being observant, but Scott had the feeling that he knew something that everyone else didn’t.
He was always two steps ahead, jumping over stumps that someone new to the server wouldn’t know were there. He could avoid traps that no one knew existed. He had the ability to predict Scott's actions before Scott could even process what he was doing. Grian was just always watching.
He was good at watching people, Scott had figured that much out almost immediately. There were small glances from across the room, a flicker of doubt or anger in his eyes when he didn’t like someone's ideas, he had a habit of studying people before actually talking to them.
You can’t blame him for being weary of the guy.
Alas, Jimmy trusted him and therefore Scott did. It wasn’t like he thought Grian was going to betray them, loyalty was clearly something that the avian cherished deeply. And besides, he had never given Scott a reason to not trust him.
The issue was that Scott didn’t know where his loyalties began and ended. He clearly favoured Scar over everyone else–to the point that Scott was wondering if it was starting to become an obsession. When he looked at Scar it was like the rest of the server disappeared and no one else mattered.
So, was Grian loyal to their alliances?
Or just Scar.
Scott sighed, rolling his shoulders and looking back at his mine. He wasn’t any closer to lava and was beginning to wonder if it was even worth digging. He was too anxious nowadays–with the whole fighting and Grian situation. He didn’t have time to worry about his own alliances when he was so close to getting out of here.
He pulled out his communicator, taking note of the few new deaths. He skimmed over them, not bothering to actually take in what the words were.
“Scott! Grian’s up, come help us with the walls!”
Scott sighed, a low laugh bubbling in his chest. He bent down, gathering as much of the fallen ores as he could and stuffing them into his inventory.
"Coming! I couldn't find lava though, so we gotta go later!" He called back up, breaking a torch and starting to climb his make-shift staircase.
—🚦—
“We need to fix this!” Martyn hissed, throwing his hands into his hair. He shot up from his chair, pacing a few feet before stopping and turning to Ren, who was leaning against a tree.
“I know we do, my Hand,” Ren sighed, pulling a sword out of his inventory and swinging it absentmindedly. “But we also need to grow our inventories before heading out for another attack. We have nothing.”
Marytn groaned, walking around some stone scattered on the ground.
Their base had seen better days. A section of the walls had been blown to shreds, large holes spanning around the area. The mines had also been destroyed, most of their ores and precious items were thrown around and/or blown up. The air was stained with the stench of gunpowder and ash, every gust of wind blowing charred bits of their base around.
Thankfully, the house was mostly unobstructed as well as the platform Ren created. They did lose lots of food and weapons, but that can be regained.
“I’m aware, my King. But we need to do something before they decide to attack us again! We both lost two lives in the span of god knows how long–a short enough period to be concerning, we are losing honor and need to build that back along with our resources.” Martyn spat, gesturing at one of the holes in the wall.
“Listen to your King and be patient.” BigB mumbled, tilting his head to the side. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
Marytn groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “They will kill us again! They clearly think we are weak!”
Ren slowly stood from where he was resting, sword in hand as he made his way over to Martyn. He lazily swung the weapon as he moved, the metal cutting through air like butter. Marytn flinched as Ren’s hand landed on his arm, dragging him backwards until they were face to face.
“The Kingdom of Dogwarts will never lose its honor, I can assure you of that. But BigB is right, we must be patient and wait.” He explained carefully, though Martyn couldn’t look past the flash of bared teeth that faced him. His grip around Martyn’s arm tightened unconsciously, small claws pressing just enough through fabric to be felt.
“My King, I just fear for your life. Do not punish me for something so trivial.” Martyn sighed, trying to ignore the pressure on his arm.
This close, he could see Ren’s ears swivelling restlessly from side to side, twitching at every small noise. Martyn had come to learn that that particular movement meant his King was curious, if not a bit confused or agitated.
“Aye,” Ren blurted, “I fear it too.”
For a brief moment Ren’s voice lost the sharp edge it usually had, becoming almost sad. His gaze drifted over the ruins of Dogwarts, golden eyes taking in every little broken piece of their home.
“But fear never got anyone anywhere.” Ren decided, posture straightening, “Kings who lead with fear are kings that let their subjects die, and I refuse to be one of those lousy kings.” His grip finally loosened around Martyn's arm but he didn’t move away, “Remember that, My Hand.”
Martyn nodded immediately, “you have my word, my King.”
Marytn grinned, reveling in the warmth blooming in his chest. Even if it was for a short moment, Ren looked at him like he mattered. Like he was more than a servant, not just another loyal knight standing at his side. For one fleeting second, Ren looked at him like he was worthy of his trust.
It scared Martyn how welcome the feeling was, how much he treasured it.
Before he could say anything else, movement caught the corner of his eye. Etho had wandered into the ruins, stepping over the broken planks with practiced ease, hands shoved into his vest pockets.
Etho barked out a laugh, tilting his head back slightly.
The sudden sound had Ren jumping, ears pinning back in surprise before straightening again.
“They really messed this place up, huh?” Etho called, kicking over a piece of stone with the toe of his boot, “What’s the next move?”
Ren let out a sharp breath through his nose, close enough that Marytn could feel the warmth of it on his arm. “We rebuild and prepare to counter strike,” he paused, glancing at the walls, “after we gain resources and the strength to do so.” His tail lashed out behind him, decisive.
Etho whistled, glancing around at the destruction before giving one, hard nod, “Sounds like a plan.”
Ren laughed, genuine enough to make Martyn stare, and leaned back on his heels.
“It sure does.”
—🚦—
That night, Dogwarts was the quietest Marytn had ever known it to be.
All of their group had settled into an uneasy silence around scattered campfires in the area. They were far enough apart that if something happened at least someone would know. Despite this, conversations were still hushed, the entire group exhausted from the double attacks. Somewhere nearby, someone was snoring loudly enough for someone else to threaten to smother them with a pillow.
Marytn had decided to sit alone by one of the smaller fires, absentmindedly fiddling with the string of his bow. The crackle of flames were soothing and unsettling at the same time, the orange glow casting heat over his skin.
He was trying not to think too hard about the attacks.
About the explosions.
About the screams and cries from those around him.
About Ren dying when he was meant to protect him.
“My Hand,” a voice purred from behind him, footsteps thumping on the grass, “I have a favour to ask of you.”
Marytn looked up immediately, surprised. Ren never really asked for favours, he would rather do it himself.
A toothy grin spread over Martyn's face despite himself, shifting over and patting the empty spot next to him. turned around, “Anything, My King.”
Ren paused for a moment before sitting beside him slowly. He seemed oddly hesitant tonight, shoulders lacking their usual confidence.
He tried to not take note of how warm Ren was. But alas, the king was radiating enough heat that Martyn could feel it through the chilly air. Every so often his tail would brush up against Martyn’s back before flicking away again, the motion something Ren tended to do without thinking.
“Do you remember the names of the people that attacked us?” Ren asked, tilting his head to the left and studying the flames.
The question caught Martyn off guard.
“Er..” he scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck,” I know one was Scar,” pride managed to worm its way into his voice, “since I shot him and all.”
Ren snickered, nodding in amusement.
“And the ones to place down TNT were those flowery people.” He continued, slowly placing down his bow. He thread his fingers into the grass, pulling at the stands as he thought. “I didn’t catch all their names though, there was a lot of fighting going on.”
Ren nodded, his ears twitching. “There was another, an avian.”
Ren’s eyes darkened, Martyn assumed he was annoyed when recalling the memory.
“Grian” Ren said after a moment,”I think was his name.”
Martyn hummed in acknowledgement.
The fire popped loudly, sparks sending pieces of ash into the dark sky.
“He was important to Scar, correct?” Ren asked quietly, leaning to the side.
Martyn frowned, trying to recall every time he had seen the avian. He could remember hearing Scar call his name when he had shot him, just before he broke apart. It was a low, gurgling noise, but clearly a name. There had also been a scream from someways away once the notification went off, he could only assume the scream had come from Grian.
Marytn nodded, “I think they’re pretty close to each other."
Ren went silent, his tail flicking up Martyn's back and staying there. He glared into the fire, taking a sharp breath in before sighing.
“Good…good. I think I know what we have to do, my Hand.” Ren coughed.
Martyn squinted, biting on his lip. “Could you please be a little more clear, my King?”
Ren snorted, turning to look at Martyn. “I want Dogwarts to be remembered as strong. I think we all do, correct?”
Martyn nodded.
“Very good, then we must instil fear into people. Fear, as you must have learned, is very effective.” Ren continued, a grin tugging on his lips.
Ren went silent, looking away and staring into the fire. His golden eyes reflected the burning flames, a hunger like Martyn had never seen before spreading across his face.
And suddenly, Martyn understood exactly why Ren had asked.
“I’ll do whatever you wish, My King.”