Chapter Text
Worthless? That didn’t make sense, how had they worked before? Unless…
“Seems you’ve figured it out.”
“You.. you let us think that the crystals worked, that we’d found a way to bring Grian back, for what?! Just to rip him away from us again?! Is this all just a game to you?!! The man I love thinks he’s an uncontrollable monster because of you!” Scar snarled, anger shaking his voice as diamond blue sliced through the air towards them.
“He is an uncontrollable monster, and needs to be directed, commanded, tamed.”
Mumbo grit his teeth and only stopped as he felt fangs extend to deadly points, now he knew this was a load of poison. His best friend was not a monster! He made messaging systems, had a chicken alter-ego, built mega bases; he laughed, and joked, and created.
He was human.
Mumbo’s eyes flickered over to Scar, expecting to see the same outrage that danced red in his own eyes, and he wasn’t disappointed.
Scar’s whole body flickered with blue energy and cruel, jingling laughter, it was clear he wasn’t as used to the vex magic as he had been a while ago but that didn’t stop him from tearing through the bars like they were made of clay.
This had not been Scar’s smartest idea, Mumbo thought, and that was saying a lot given how many stupid ideas he had. Grian’s normal eyes may have been covered by white feathered wings, but every anger-glazed purple eye on his arms, legs, neck, locked onto the vex cursed man clinging to the broken cage, the saviour of a monster who didn’t want to be freed.
Then everything happened at once.
The Watcher raised an arm and lightning arced across the darkening sky, hitting the ground around wherever anyone was trying to hide or run, leaving trails of purple flame and screams in its wake.
Grian launched himself at Scar and the pair toppled back, crashing into the jagged bars in an explosion of purple and blue.
Mumbo drew his sword and leapt at the closest Watcher, the world a blur around him as he moved from debris to debris, a grain of sand large enough to support his weight for the split second it took to move on to the next level, higher higher higher, chasing the purple and white until he reached it.
Purple splashed across his vision—already blinded by ruby fury—as he slashed down across the monstrous being’s chest; ignoring the thousands of dagger-like feathers cutting into him like shards of glass.
Mumbo cried out and fell, fell, fell.
He fumbled through his inventory until he found a bucket and landed in the water that sloshed away quickly, ignoring how the mud it formed burnt his wounds.
There was a crash nearby and a scream of pain that made Mumbo’s heart sink.
It sounded like Scar.
Scar felt the magic in his armour flickering and a wave of nausea overwhelmed him for a moment, just long enough for Grian to slam them both into the broken bars, their blood flying, purple and blue colliding like stars across their faces.
His wooden shield felt like a pathetic defence against the screeching claws that ripped and tore and aimed to kill.
They tumbled through the cell, a cry of pain or rage at any collision with the endrian-white bars until a stray swing of Scar’s sword ended this dreadful cage match.
Grian’s screeching laughter echoed almost like a vex’s through his head as the man he loved toppled the pair of them out into the rushing open air, falling, falling, falling.
Even as they fell, a flash of lightning blinding them, they fought; sudden memories of desert heat overwhelmed him, though he wasn’t sure where they came from. There was blood and weakness in his mouth and it was all he could do to keep hold of Grian as they kept falling, falling, falling.
Scar made the mistake of looking around and saw the ground hurtling towards him—he felt claws dig into his chest and cried out as he braced for an impact that never came.
He slowly looked up, blood dripping down, and saw an agony on Gri’s face unlike anything he could describe, his wings—how many were there now? Five? Six?—were spread wide, stopping their fall dead in the air.
The wind was knocked from his chest as he fell the last few blocks. He lay on his back, staring up at the hurting friend above him.
Grian’s head hurt .
Purple blood drowned out his vision as he clawed at his own head, he couldn’t even stop destroying himself, he couldn’t think straight, he needed to kill Scar but he couldn’t, he just couldn’t.
He needed to- what? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.
He looked from the Watchers high above him to Scar panting below him. Bloodlust surged and what little control he’d raked back was gone like sand in the wind.
Kill! Hurt! Destroy!
It pounded like the blood in his head and void damn it if he didn’t love the rush of adrenaline that came from being like this. At least… that’s what his mind was telling him.
Grian snarled and threw himself on top of Scar, talons bared.
Pearl’s eyes fluttered open.
Everything felt fuzzy, slow, like she was seeing the world from underwater, two figures were hidden away in a corner—no, not hiding, they were blocking up windows, she tried to turn their head but everything hurt too much. Suddenly, despite still feeling like they were underwater, she was burning up, pain radiating and pulling her toward darkness with a power as strong as the void.
They fought it.
She grimaced and, on a count of three, threw themselves upright, gripping the edges of the table they’d been laid on so tightly that her arms quivered and knuckles faded white as snow.
“Woah there girlie, shishwammy’s been taking great care of you, but I’ve never seen a wound like this before.” Keralis? And Xisuma was the other blur moving closer? Thank void, maybe they could keep them alive long enough for her to figure all this out.
“Pearl, you need to lie back down, a Watcher did that to you, right? If you can speak I need to know who it was, was it the Commander? The one leading them out there?”
Pearl shook her head, swallowing back the nausea before it could pull them down into that dark oblivion.
“Gri… Scar, a transfer..” it was all they could utter, but from the way X’s eyes widened under his purple visor she knew he’d understood what they’d done.
“Void.. Pearl you- I mean how- what are you-“ he kept restarting himself, tapping his fingers across his suit, a nervous repetitive motion, swiftly interrupted by Keralis’s hands on his shoulders, their comfortable weight clearly calming him.
“How are you going to solve this?”
Heh. Practical as ever, Pearl wasn’t sure if there was a way to solve it, but they knew it would probably cause just as much pain as if she just succumbed to that void darkness calling out to them.
“Hey hey hey Pearl, you can’t pass out on us, that’s a reallllly bad idea, just stay awake and let papa k talk until you feel better, just don’t stress about the invas- uhhh-“ she glanced towards Xisuma who was frantically shaking his head.
“Invasion?” They closed their eyes and tried a trick she usually used for their builds, she felt their view expanding and saw the Watchers slowly moving forward; Scar and Grian locked in battle; Mumbo fighting the Commander all alone; her friends, all the other hermits, scrambling to survive.
Definitely an invasion.
Their wings flared and she tried to stand, only to fall right into Keralis’s waiting arms, “that’s a pretty bad idea as far as bad ideas go, you’re not going anywhere like this, you got a battle of your own to win, and if you go trying to fight theirs then everyone will lose.”
As much as it pained them to admit it, the throbbing wound in her abdomen had started radiating pain, she felt sluggish and weak, so nodded—though it was hard to raise their head again—and let herself be seated back on the makeshift bed.
Fine. If they couldn’t fight the Watchers, she’d make sure their friends didn’t have a tragedy to return to.
Mumbo pulled himself to his feet, threw the splintered pieces of his shield away and took a deep breath. Fine. He wasn’t giving up that easily. Whatever was happening with Scar and Grian he was certain they had it handled (at least that’s what he told himself.)
But this Watcher.. it was looking down at Mumbo like he wasn’t even deserving of a proper fight, and that made Mumbo furious. He didn’t get angry often, his reputation was one of a kind, fairly peaceful redstone creator; he wasn’t mischievous like Scar, powerful like Xisuma or Pearl, chaotic like Grian, he just was.
He hated being looked down on by this monster—and being as tall as he was, he didn’t get looked down on in any way often—and what it had done to his friends was unforgivable. He dusted himself off, spun his gleaming sword in his hand, and a stubborn spark twinkled in his eyes as the sun set around him, making the stormy sky even darker. Perfect timing.
Mumbo jumped. Well, to call it a jump would be a grave understatement, he soared without wings, higher higher higher until he landed on a piece of rubble that seemed to orbit the Watcher like planets around a star.
“You hurt my best friends, my server, and you have the audacity to look down at us?!” He launched himself up again and fell, the wind rushing past his ears as he plummeted towards the almost glowing white and purple being, sword aimed right at its face.
It was ready, but so was he.
It swung up, axe cutting through the air with a whistle, Mumbo used its momentum and threw himself off the tip of the handle, spinning through the air and slamming the sword into the Watcher’s back, hoping he’d cut deep enough to strike an organ.
He tried to leap clear but fumbled, and was hit with the full force of the axe handle to his chest. He felt his ribs break and then he fell. There was no water bucket or piece of rubble he could grab to save himself this time, nothing he could do but fall…
Scar tumbled backwards as his sword shattered beneath Grian’s talons,
“Hey! That was my backup sword!” A gleam entered Grian’s eyes at this exclamation, apparently he still had enough sentience—was that the right word for this? Scar wasn’t sure—to realise this left Scar without a proper weapon and threw himself on top of the shapeshifter who squirmed under his grip.
Since when was Grian this strong? Perhaps it was adrenaline, simply just how feral he’d become, or maybe something else entirely. Scar didn’t have the time to figure it out. He twisted his hips—ignoring the aching twinge—lifted one hand above his head and used the momentum to throw Grian off to the side. He kicked out and a gasp from Grian was a sure sign he’d hit his mark. Thank vex, it gave him precious seconds to scramble away to his feet, grabbing for anything in his inventory that he could use to fight:
A bow? No, they were too close together for him to be able to do substantial damage.
Pickaxe? Too heavy, too slow, especially against someone like Grian.
Hoe? He might as well just stand and fight with his bare hands.
Grian was back on his feet far too fast, and were his talons even sharper now? In fact every edge of his friend seemed more jagged, he felt like a predator, and Scar knew predators, he didn’t feel like being the prey.
Scar understood his patterns now at least, he saw the tension in Grian’s shoulders, legs, about to launch forward, he was ready this time. One leg back, more stable, fists clenched, his armour would hold, he hoped.
Grian flew forward, but too high, a twitch of his wings brought him over Scar’s guard, and only his preparation for something—anything—to change kept him from being knocked over again.
Scar dodged left, a stinging cut on his nose his reward for surviving just a little longer, for standing a little longer, though anyone could see the vex’s power in him was waning, he wouldn’t be able to move like this for much longer, at least not without his chair or his-
His cane.
He’d given it to Grian, and it was still strapped to his side, apparently when he’d surrendered all his items he hadn’t given up Scar’s final gift to him, which made his heart twinge in a way he didn’t have time to focus on right now.
A snarl was no warning, but it kept Scar alive for another moment, his back hit a broken wall of copper and he used it to vault forwards, his punch landing Grian square in his stomach.
His foot hit something and it went flying, skittering across the ground with a hiss and he was suddenly hit by a memory: a prank gone wrong, the cause of that starburst scar across his back that he hadn’t known its origin, his vision going yellow, then red.
He blocked a punch—Grian was punching? His talons would do far more damage, wouldn’t they?—and he was suddenly in the desert, surrounded by cacti, Grain’s apologies echoing in his ears even as his words turned to a screech and his fists turned to claws.
Grian was behind him now, above him too. Another memory. This one felt different—partly because he was wearing more clothes—and partly because Grian was stood against him, someone else was there but he didn’t care, he felt betrayed, alone, even as he signed away lives for friends again and again and again, he somehow knew this one hurt the most, though he hadn’t been friends with Grian this time around.
He leapt down and Scar only hesitated a moment; punching up at his stomach again, throwing him off balance. He flinched as blood dripped from his head where he landed, guilt swimming in his vision.
Suddenly he was surrounded by pandas, a dripstone falling on his head and Grian bleeding in sync with him. He didn’t know what it meant in the flashes of memories but he felt a strange combination of pain and happiness.
Grian screeched and in Scar’s confusion he couldn’t dodge the attack. Claws racked across his chest, but the screech was the part that really hurt him. He felt the scream of the warden, really felt it, bracing for its impact when the only thing that hit was the sting of claws.
Scar grit his teeth in a smile and, with the last of his waning strength, grabbed Grian’s arm and threw him over his shoulder, pointedly ignoring the cry of pain as he knelt down beside the man he loved.
Grian was injured, in landing he’d gained an ugly wound in his leg, and one of his bigger wings was clearly broken—though Scar wasn’t sure whether it was from him or not—yet he was still clawing at his enemy.
Scar leant down and kissed him (only slightly relishing in the way he melted beneath him), tears in his eyes as he smiled down at him and murmured:
“I’m sorry…”
As Grian stilled and vanished.
He pulled back the sword hidden in his cane and dropped it like it was lava-hot. Sobs wracked his chest, tears streamed down his face, his whole body shook with grief.
He’d killed him.
Scar had murdered Grian.
He’d killed the man he loved.
The man he loved. That was a joke. He’d known Grian ever since he stumbled into Hermitcraft, soared his way right into his heart from the first prank; and yet they always ended up on opposing sides of every conflict, ConCorp versus the G-Team versus STAR, H.E.P. versus the Resistance, hell, the first time they’d been on the same team was Boatem, and even then it barely held together with enough duct tape and common enemies until they could escape the moon.
This time… Scar thought maybe it would be different this season, maybe that incident that split a ravine between them wouldn’t happen, just like it didn’t happen last season, maybe it wasn’t a fluke, maybe it could happen again? Or at least it could’ve if he hadn’t just killed him.
Hiccups shattered the fragmenting air and Scar wasn’t sure whether he was laughing or just still sobbing.
Grian’s body was gone, normally that meant he’d respawned somewhere, but these were… unique circumstances to say the least and vex knew if he was ever coming back. Maybe Scar had killed him for good.
He felt arms and wings envelop him and for a brief moment he felt a million things at once and then he saw the snowy white and it was like he’d fallen right through to bedrock again.
He tried to explain but all that came out was a helpless croak.
“I know, Scar I know- my wound-“ he glanced back and saw their bandages were gone, only a large scar in their place.
“It’s healed because he’s gone..? Isn’t it?” His throat was raw, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been crying for before Pearl came.
Scar wished the world was quiet enough for his mind to sort through his grief, but the battle was still raging around them, offering not even a moment’s silent grief.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t FAIR!
“Scar? Pearl?”
The synchronised gasp between the pair may have been funny, if the Watcher standing before them wasn’t Grian.
Scar stood up to run and collapsed, caught by calloused, builders hands and soft red fabric, already wet with his tears.
Grian laughed, he had the audacity to laugh, but it was his laugh, his smile, him him him.
“I thought I’d be the one crying when I came back to myself-“ whatever Grian might’ve said next was lost to his own sobs as he broke down, wings folding, folding, folding around the trio.
Even the ever-confident Pearl couldn’t help but cry, unable to release their brother from her embrace, though he had substantially more wings than they were used to.
Suddenly there was a cry of pain and the twins lifted their heads in unison, gaze locking onto a plummeting vampire, and the Commander stood triumphant above him.
“Void- no no I can’t lose him-“ Grian’s tone, rather than being fearful, was full of a righteous determination, so unlike the feral anger from just a short while ago.
“We have to save him! It’s Mumbo!”
“We? Scar, you can hardly stand, this is on us, on me, for getting him into this to begin with..”
“I..” Scar wanted to argue, he desperately wanted to argue, but Grian was right, so he lay his forehead against the Watcher’s and murmured, “come back alive, okay my songbird?”
For some reason, Grian quite liked the nickname when it came from Scar, so he smiled back, just a little, and kissed him on the nose before spreading his wings—glad that his supporting wings were enough to compensate for the mangled one that his death couldn’t fix, couldn’t heal—and shot upwards, a shaft of sunset breaking through the clouds to encase him in golden light.
Pearl shot upwards after their brother, threw him a sword and drew her axe in one clean motion. Scar watched on from down below as they raced through the air, wondering how he’d never noticed how similar they were.
Then they split. Pearl flew up towards the Commander, Grian down after the screaming Mumbo. They collided in a single moment: the thundering clash of steel and dull thud of bodies crashing together sending a shockwave through the area.
Grian barely stopped to deposit Mumbo beside Scar before soaring up towards his sibling. His wing was agony, but flying felt as natural as walking as he joined the aerial combat.
Hermits seemed to notice Grian and Pearl’s fight and pushed back with renewed vigour, fighting in their home with whatever they could find, whilst Grian felt a surge of gratitude for his friends, here and elsewhere, in other worlds and this one.
Grian—for the first time in a while—knew exactly what was happening.
He was a hermit, he created, these were his friends. What was wrong with him? Nothing he couldn’t work through with them, and he was going to do whatever it took to keep them safe.
His sword clashed with the Commander’s axe as Pearl swept under and drove her axe up into the Watcher’s gut, its white robes turning blue with its own blood.
He pulled back the blade and spun over the falling axe, wings spreading wide to catch him as he flew by the Watcher, sword dragging through its shoulder, hubris too great to consider that anyone would get close enough to hurt it.
Pearl’s communicator crackled to life and Xisuma’s voice called through, they grinned and knew that this would be over soon; delivering a swift kick to the wound she’d just inflicted as their brother drew a line in blood down its face.
They collided with Grian, muttering the plan before they untangled and dodged a pathetic swing of the Commander’s battle axe.
Now it was Grian’s turn to smile, the plan was simple: lead all the Watchers to spawn, and Xisuma’s commands would take care of them all in one fell swoop.
Each chime of Pearl’s communicator was another Hermit getting Watchers within range, getting close enough for Xisuma’s plan to finish them. It went off again and again and again.
Soon enough the battle was done, the air was fracturing from the weight of magic, so many Watchers, so many hybrids, so much pain and strength in one place was putting pressure on the world, but everyone was prepared: hermits supported one another as—all at once—they felt creative energy flow through them, infinite resources and life momentarily at their control as lightning struck the crowd of Watchers and when the smoke cleared…they were gone, only a pit down to crumbling deep slate remained.
Grian felt himself drop back into survival mode and surged through the hermits, desperately checking again and again and again that everyone was here, everyone was still alive, everyone was safe.
He twisted past Gem and nearly lost his balance over the edge of the pit, caught around the middle by Scar (who was in turn caught and pulled away from the edge by Mumbo). He smiled at the tall shapeshifter, a smile that was tired, and soft, and full of love, but as he was held closer, Grian noticed there was still a twinkle of mischief in his gaze.
Then he kissed Grian; it was everything their past kisses hadn’t been, it was everything Grian had hoped it would be, it was honest, it was sweet, and it was all encompassing.
Neither of them noticed when Doc called out “About time!” From somewhere in the crowd, causing a ripple of laughter to move through the crowd.
When they finally broke apart Grian took a deep breath—holding the hand Scar wasn’t holding his cane with—and turned to face his hermits.
“This..” his words failed him for a moment, “this is my fault, those creatures, they’re called Watchers and I-“ this was harder than he’d been expecting, but he kept going, it was important, and he felt so guilty for all of this, whatever punishment they decided for him he’d take and do it, he had to, for their sake. “..I’m one of them, I didn’t think they’d be able to find me here but they did, and I put all of you in danger, I’m sorry-“
Mumbo scoffed, drawing attention from his place under an overhang nearby, though the sun was far from rising, a smile below heavy eye bags, “please Grian, we’re all just chuffed to bits that you’re back and you again, anything else can wait for us all to get things a tad more normal, alright?”
Grian surveyed the crowd and didn’t see one angry face, just sympathy and kindness and forgiveness; and exhaustion, Mumbo had been right, for now what everyone needed was a break, a rest, and then they could start to rebuild. And that was enough.
He was himself again.
—————
Three months later Grian soared down, his wings vibrant and finally healed, and spun through the legs of The Entity, laughing as he blew past Scar, dropping cherry petals around his boyfriend as he breezed by, he flapped his wings—only two of them now, the others had vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared—and shot up into the sky to survey the world: in the distance he could see his mega base, coming along more and more with each day, The Perimeter too, though much further way (and due for a prank), in fact everyone’s bases were growing, now that everything had been rebuilt and everyone head healed they could start to create new builds.
Speaking of rebuilding, below him the vast pit had been transformed by the hermits into an open lush cave, with pools of water flowing down into a lake full of shining, glowing crystals, of lily pads and dripleaves; an area was made from jagged drip stone like a dragon’s mouth and the sculk spread in from the sides; there was even a soft sandy beach at the bottom, where Grian and Scar had spent their last date.
It was gorgeous, and he was proud that he’d been able to help make it with his friends, his family.
They were safe.