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Beloved .
He was sure he had heard that word before. Its meaning has been changed though, now it’s been twisted, strung out, and tied in knots. It stretches from one heart to the other, bending and turning and pulling, bringing them closer to one another.
Oh how he wished he could change the rules of this game, but Scar was never one for setting them. He was never the type to write things down. He was just here to help break them.
Soulmate.
He covers his ears when he hears the word. Chases after fairies and pets and flora. He hopes against hope that he’s wrong, that they’re both wrong. He can’t accept this. He’d taken so much from his beloved the first time, even the decency of a painless victory. Scar had tried so hard to make it up to him, give him life after life the game after that. And he had been so close, his beloved had been so close to winning. But even losing was alright when the only pain was a scattered potion, and not the agony of having Scar by his side.
Scar cannot accept this. He cannot turn back to look at his beloved, he cannot doom his Eurydice to the underworld, he cannot-
“Look at me.”
And Scar could never deny him. He looks at Grian, those green eyes so painfully familiar, and the stalactite crashes into his shoulder.
They crumple to the ground at the same time, and Scar doesn’t know whether to curse or thank the universe for tying him once more to Grian.
He looks up, watches the sunlight catch and tangle in Grian’s golden hair, watches eyes brimming with life smile at him fondly, and he doesn’t think of lonely mountains or haunted deserts. No, the only thing in his heart is joy when his arms wrap around Grian’s waist, hearts finally beating in sync.
There won’t be any snakes at their wedding this time, he’ll make sure of it.
Apples.
Soulmates complete each other, where Scar lacks Grian completes, and where Grian needs help Scar is always ready to lend a helping hand. When Scar forgets the rules and admires the golden apple he found, Grian is quick to tell him the thing is useless. It will sever a bond, he says, and it makes Scar recoil and drop it. Grian laughs at him and he can’t get mad at such a beautiful sound, the thought sticks with him though. What a horrible idea, to sever oneself from their soulmate. What a horrible, dreadful idea.
Scar tucks the apple in his pocket shirt when Grian isn’t looking.
Gold .
Staying alive is difficult. An arrow from a skeleton each and suddenly they’re a misstep away from death. Staying together is dangerous, but to be apart is to be in agony. The uncertainty and panic at every scratch and scrape, was it a branch or was it a blade? Was it a stumble or did someone push them?
Scar feels Grian burn, the terrorizing pain that spreads first from his legs and then the entire left half of his body. Feels how the skin melts and burns and chars, how Grian dies with his body only partially submerged in magma, and Scar follows soon after.
When they wake up, Scar pulls Grian close to him. This time it’s Scar begging his beloved to look at him, to reassure him, to take care of him. The lava left no marks on his body, they will be alright, they will be alright. He holds him close, letting him gather his strength in his embrace, where he is safe. Despite everything, there was one promise Scar would never break, and that was that his beloved was safe in his arms.
Red.
He doesn’t remember how they ended up on red, there was too much chaos, devastation razing once peaceful homes to the ground. Clockwork scattered upon blood soaked earth, once shining crystals now reduced to rocks in the mud. Scar cannot recall it, the pull to violence stronger than it had ever been with his beloved beside him.
Even now, he cannot remember how they landed in this ditch, two arrows in his stomach and a bleeding gash in Grian’s leg. His beloved cannot move his legs from the fall, and Scar cannot reach for food to heal them. Blood, red as anything, flows freely from both of them as Grian reaches out to hold his hand.
Scar grasps it with all the strength he has left.
And he would have been content to die there, if it didn’t mean dragging Grian down with him. He had promised himself, he had promised them both he wouldn’t do that again.
“Beloved,” he says, his free hand reaching into his hidden jacket pocket.
“Yes Scar?” Grian’s voice is soft, and it’s that which breaks Scar’s heart most. The pain he knows Grain feels when he’s simply trying to form words.
“Do you remember the cactus ring?” he asks quietly, and Grian scoffs.
“God… Yes… Why?” the pain in his voice isn’t from the wounds this time.
“I threw myself into the needles,” he says, loud enough for only Grian to hear. “You have a funny habit of leaving your flank open after you hit twice, I left it untouched. Your feet get too close once you focus too much on your opponent, your-” he stops himself, he could go on for days listing the little things he notices from looking at Grian. “I don’t think I could’ve won if I tried, anyways, but I wanted you to win. For all that you had given me, I was never going to let it be a fair fight.”
He feels the way that tears burn once they reach the scratch on his face.
“I knew that already,” he shakes his head. “I was- was going to let you win instead, but-” lungs struggle beneath broken ribs, Scar feels how they tear and fill with blood. He doesn’t have much time left.
“Beloved,” Scar whispers, using the last of his strength to push himself up on his elbows. Grian’s eyes were red, but it reminded him of blossoming poppies rather than spilled blood. Beautiful, his beloved was always beautiful.
Grian doesn’t see the golden apple in Scar’s hand. “I’ve never believed in anyone like I’ve believed in you,” he says, but Grian has turned his face away from his, as if he knew. “Beloved,” he says, desperate. “Please.”
His tears fall on Grian’s cheek, causing him to finally, finally, look at him again. “I see you,” he says. “I believe in you,” he says.
“Scar?” Grian asks, panic in his voice as his eyes catch the gold glinting in Scar’s hand, but it’s too late. Scar lets go of Grian’s hand and slams his own into his stomach. Grian cries out in pain, but Scar fights through it, using the opportunity to push the golden apple between Grian’s teeth.
Golden apples. Ambrosia. The forbidden fruit of immortality. The surest and quickest way to sever a soulbond.
And its sweet nectar drips on Grian’s tongue and down his throat, healing all his wounds and severing his ties to Scar. A free little bird once more.
As he fades away Grian chokes on that horrible gift and spits it out, but it’s already too late. His wounds have healed and he was going to live, while Scar died, his arms wrapped around Grian still.
Victory.
Because all that word ever meant for Scar was keeping Grian alive, no matter the cost.