Chapter Text
This time, Grian was able to recover from the vertigo and nausea much faster than before. When his vision swam back into focus, he found himself standing just outside a sort of fortress. All around him a dark oak forest spread out as far as he could see. A stone and stone brick wall stretched out in front of him, topped with deep slate spikes. From behind the wall, he could feel a force of old, powerful magic energy.
He glanced over at Scar as the man lowered the arm he had around him to find that he no longer held Ren’s hand. At that, a pressure seemed to ease from the back of his mind as Scar switched which hand held his cane before he stepped forward. Grian watched with a blank expression as Scar reached up and knocked on the wall three times. One slow, two fast. The hum of magic filled the air, and he flicked his ears up, Ren straightening in turn while Scar only looked ahead, patiently watching the wall.
Suddenly, the bricks off the wall fell away, as if they were folding into themselves, revealing a doorway, just large enough for one person to fit through.
He could see Scar perk up before he exclaimed, “Lizzie! It's been a while! How have you been?”
“Oh, you know it's just been great. Picking flowers in the shadow lands and all,” A woman's voice answered, seemingly uninterested. Since Scar’s attention was diverted, he allowed his Eyes to spread out, coming over the stone wall and into the Shadow Fort. Or at least, he tried to. Only he was blocked by a wall similar to the one around the room at the end of the hallway at Scar's. The only difference was that this wall was made to keep out malevolent spirits. Keep out any magic or magical creature which might try to bring harm to the fairy fort.
Grian pulled himself back to attention, Closing all his hidden eyes at the sound of a new male's voice.
“What about the other two?” the man's voice asked.
Scar stepped aside, and Grian could see the edge of a smile on his face of the man who continued looking at the two he was talking to while gesturing back to the two hybrids. “Oh, they're with me. I was actually hoping that you could use the favor you owe me to help one of them!” he exclaimed. His eyes still a little too sharp. However, Grian turned his attention to the woman who he was talking to. A pink haired fairy, with pale blue wings spread out behind her.
Dressed in a navy-blue skirt and short robe with a white undershirt. She hummed suspiciously, her blue eyes flicking between the two of them. “Okay,” she said slowly, here yes still flicking between the two. The fairy then pointed to Ren. “He can come on, but I want someone to keep an eye on him.”
Scar smiled; the edge still too sharp for Grian’s liking as he hurried to reply “Of course! But you—"
“But I don’t want Him allowed in here,” the fairy finished, pointing right at Grian. Scar faltered, staring at her for a moment, seemingly confused that she would ever say that.
“But Grian’s with me?” Scar said in a confused tone.
“I can feel the magic coming off of them,” the fairy began to explain. Grian flattened his wings against his back. He could tell where this was going. However, he kept his expression carefully blank as she continued. “The wolf's has been tainted by something. . . bad, but it's something that we can heal over time. Assuming he's the one you are talking about for this favor.”
Scar nodded and the fairy continued without missing a beat, “However the magic of the avian. . .” She paused, staring at him. Her wings slowly fluttering. Grian stared right back.
“There is something wicked within him.”
At those words, something about Scar changed. He straightened himself so he stood even taller than the fairy. Any hint of a grin or even a smile instantly erased from his face. It was like the person hidden by those too sharp smiles had finally revealed himself. This was the Scar Grian had gotten a glimpse of when he had first met the man. The Scar he had seen when Scott had shown up in his home. The Scar he had seen when he had made that deal—the one who was willing to sacrifice fifty years of his life, and sixty years of his sanity for the avian.
“Grian is with me. He will do anything I say, as my friend and ally. He means no harm, unless you give him a reason to,” Scar told her in a low voice. A silent threat hidden underneath that was clear to all.
“Scar, as you remember, we've already lost the Fairy Fort. I do not want anyone with dark magic in my Shadow Lands, not unless we already know they won’t use it to hurt us,” the fairy shot back.
“Are you saying you don’t trust us?” Scar asked coolly. His eyes pulsing with anger and the faint glow of magic. Grian glanced over to Ren who was watching the conversation unfold with a stilted expression. His ears pointed back and his tail still against his side. Grian looked back to the fairy as she responded.
“I don’t trust him, and quite frankly Scar I'm getting the impression that maybe I shouldn’t trust you either,” the fairy snapped back, her butterfly-like wings flaring out behind her. Grian taped his talons against the ground, waiting for Scar to respond as the man stared at her. His eyes sharp and Grian could tell that he was seething in anger.
“Lizzie, I would be very careful about your next words. As you said, you still remember what happened to the Fairy Fort. And even if I wasn’t the one who did it, that doesn’t mean I can’t make it happen again,” Scar treated in an icy voice, laced with anger. The fairy, Lizzie, simply continued to stare up at him, a frown on her face. Grian glanced between the two before finally stepping forward to defuse the tension.
“Scar, it's okay, I don’t mind waiting outside if that’s what Queen Lizzie wants,” Grian told him, placing his hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Scar looked down at him, his eyes widened in shock. The man opened his mouth to speak, but Grian had already turned his attention to Lizzie. “You are the Shadow Queen, yes?”
“Yes, I am,” she responded in a serious tone.
“So, if you don’t want me to come into the Shadow Lands, then I have to follow your rule, lest w—I suffer the consequences,” Grian explained, holding his arms out, palms open and facing up, allowing his wings to flick up. Trying to show openness, in contrast to the way he inwardly flinched at the wording. They had always spoken in plurals, spoken in a strange tongue. A direct translation from a language long past. He still remembered the pain of the back of one of Their black, dead hands for not speaking in the proper way.
THE DISRESPECT.
They had said.
TALKING IN THE TONGUE OF THE WEAK. IT IS IMPERFECT. AND WE ARE PERFECT.
They had told him. Grian knew that things weren’t like that, not anymore. That he wasn’t with them. But sometimes, it was hard not to fall back on old habits.
“And how do I know you aren’t saying this to get me to trust you?” he heard Lizzie’s voice question, pulling him from his thoughts. Grian’s head snapped in Scar's direction as the man stepped forward, ready to jump to his defense before he was interrupted by Ren clearing his throat.
“Now ladies and gentlemen, if it really is this much of an issue, can’t we just. . . do whatever out here?” Ren asked, looking between the four who had turned their attention to him. His ears flicking up hopefully. Most likely not wanting to be stuck in the middle of the conflict between Scar and Lizzie because of Grian’s magic.
“No,” Lizzie and Scar answered at the same time. Ren deflated as the two turned to glare at each other, both too stubborn to give up on their side of the argument. From behind her, Grian could see someone step out with a sigh. A black man in a navy sweater, his own pair of iron shoulder plates and a diamond sword at his waist.
“Scar, I am the Queen of the Shadow and if I say your avian companion is not allowed in here then that is that,” Lizzie said, pointing a finger at Scar's chest. Scar glared down at Lizzie, reaching up to push her hand away.
“Lizzie. I do not know what you think Grian is, but whatever—whoever you think he is, that is not him. I’ve met his friends, seen the way he acts,” Scar paused, stepping forward and leaning down so he was at eye level with Queen Lizzie. “He planted a poppy.” Lizzie’s eyes widened in shock as she pulled away and Scar straightened himself.
“Shadow Queen, if I may say something,” the black man asked, stepping forward so he was at Lizzie side.
“You may speak Shadow Berry,” Lizzie answered with a nod. The man leaned forward slightly so he stood level with the Queen even if she was by no accounts short. Probably about Grian’s same height.
“I once knew this avian, back when I lived in the town of Evo. He was only a kid at the time—went missing right before I left. But he was a good kid. If what Scar said is true, then Grian should still be a good person.” Lizzie looked from the man to Grian, then back and forth again before smiling at the avian.
“Well, if you knew Bigb here then I guess that’s okay!” Lizzie chirped, turning on her heels and heading into the Shadowlands. Her wings fluttered as she waved them in behind her. They didn’t notice the way Grian didn’t say anything, his eyes glued to the ground in front of them as he followed behind. (None, except for Scar, how glanced behind with sharp eyes, glowing a faint emerald as he took note of the avian's behavior. Before looking ahead with a smile on his face as he began to talk with Lizzie, to explain what had happened to Ren.)
~ ¤ ~
Grian allowed the others to continue ahead, going further into the South lands to continue their discussions, not wanting to intrude too much. He stood against the wall near the entrance, watching the inhabitants of the Shadowlands. Stretching off to the left of him was what could only be described as an enchanted faerie grove. Different types of colorful mushrooms the size of trees, with colorful bioluminescent lichen and smaller mushrooms growing underfoot. A grass path weaving between the giant mushrooms. Each with a door in the stem, windows going up it and a few lanterns hung along the path, further lighting the way.
Nearly every manner of fae flitting about amongst the mushrooms. However, the longer he watched them, the more he seemed to notice that something was. . . wrong. A shadowy mark, snaking up their necks or down their limbs. And depending on the type of fae, if he could see, spreading across their back or their chest. He watched them move about, almost all with the same type of shadowy mark on their bodies. Grian closed his eyes and reached out for their magic with his own.
Before recoiling almost instantly with a shiver, pulling his wings closer to himself. He didn’t like the way it had felt—it was familiar. Too familiar. Grian restrained from wrapping his arms around himself, wanting to hide from that magic as a keen began to try and claw its way out his throat. Luckily, he was able to push it back down. He was distracted by approaching footsteps followed by a friendly voice.
“Hey there Grian! It's been a long time, hasn’t it? How’ve you been?” the voice of Lizzie’s guard, Bigb, called in greeting as the man walked up to him. Grian kept his head down, half from trying to appear respectful, half because he didn’t want to meet the man’s gaze. Keeping his eyes glued to his grey talons.
“Good,” he answered in a voice stilted to his own ears.
“That’s good!” Bigb exclaimed, leaning against the wall next to him. “How long has it been? Fourteen, fifteen years?”
“Something like that,” he answered in an even voice. Suddenly, everything seemed so loud, and he couldn’t bear to look down any longer so with a ruffle of his wings, he shifted, looking up. To a hill, with a tall stone tower which reached into the sky sat on top. Easily a hundred feet tall and decorated with deep slate roofs and spruce detailing.
“Well look at you —all grown up now! What have you been doing all these years?” Bigb asked, leaning forward to try and meet the eyes of the avian. Grian only glanced over before looking back down at his talons. Watching the scores they left in the dirt as they tense and untense, close before letting go.
“Oh, you know. Just. . . been around,” Grian answered vaguely, waving his hand dismissively. “Doing the usual.”
Bigb stepped forward, leaning even further so he was noticeably at the edge of Grian’s vision. His brown eyes bright with concern. “Grian. . . is everything alright?” His head snapped up, ear feathers twitching with the desire to fan out.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well. . . you haven’t really been answering any of my questions, have you?” Grian only continued to stare at him, not really sure of what to say for or against that. “Grian,” Bigb moved even further forward and Grian refrained from flinching against the wall. “Do you not remember me?” His eyes flicked up, his wings pressed tight against his back, to meet the man's gaze. Who only watched him with concern, before looking past to the normal forest and homes of the rest of the fae.
Grian glanced back at Bigb before once again gluing his eyes to his talons.
“No. No, Bigb.” From the corner of his vision, he saw Bigb’s eyes sadden greatly and he flinched away.
“Oh Grian, what happened to you.” He didn’t have an answer for the man. Of course he knew what had happened. How could he ever forget? No matter how much he wished those memories could be torn from his mind and left to be forgotten forever (just like the rest of his childhood) he could never forget the pain he went through. The things they made him do to such faraway lands. No matter how much he wished, he could never remove the blood which stained his own dead hands.
Suddenly, Grian found arms wrapped tight around him, pinning his wings to his sides and he let put a startled squawk as he was pulled from his thoughts.
“I’m sorry no one found you,” Bigb murmured in his ear. Grian tried to struggle out of the man's grasp, but he only tightened his grip. He sighed in defeat, letting himself go limp in Bigb’s arms while the man tried to comfort him. He didn’t quite understand why Bigb would care to try and comfort him, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He figured that it would make the man happier for him not to struggle, and so he didn’t. Eventually Bigb let go with a sad look on his face, as if part of him blamed himself for not helping Grian, even if there was nothing he could have done.
“Well. . . would you like me to at least treat you to something?" Bigb asked, pointing behind him to where Grian guessed his house hid amongst the trees.
“I’m sure Grian would, but I’m afraid it's time for us to get going,” Grian heard Scar answer from behind before he found the man’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Grian glanced up to see him grinning brightly at Bigb. Only it seemed a little too sharp at the edges, not quite reaching his eyes. “You know we have things to do Mr. Bigb! Cookies to make and worlds to save!”
“Is that so?” he mused with his own friendly smile on his face. His own eyes just a little too sharp. Clearly picking up on Scar’s own animosity.
“Why yes, it is my dearest friend! I’m sure you would know, wouldn’t you?”
“I do, I do,” Bigb answered, nodding his head in solidarity.
“Well then birdie—now that we’ve got our friend settled, how would you like to head back home?” Scar asked, this time directing his attention to Grian. Grian blinked at the wording. Home. Of course, it was Scar’s home, but it was a strange concept. Scar thinking it to also be Grian’s home. It was strange, the idea of having two homes. And yet, he couldn’t deny that it was a nice one.
“Yes,” he answered bowing his head slightly to show Scar to lead the way. Scar’s mouth briefly twitched down in a frown, but as soon as he had noticed it, it had already passed. Waving goodbye to Bigb, Scar lead the two out of the shadow lands—Grian’s gaze wandering back to the shadow-scarred fae as they left through the magical doorway. Scar grabbed Grian’s hand with a warm smile on his face as he tapped his cane against the ground, and they were once again enveloped in a green light.
Only this time, they were heading home.
Only this time, Grian wished that he could feel the warmth of Scar’s hand in his own