Chapter Text
Roman really should have known a lock wouldn’t last him forever.
To be fair, he did know that, and he’d known it the minute he imagined the extra bolts onto his bedroom door a few weeks ago; it’s just that a very hopeful and arguably naive part of him dutifully ignored that knowledge. It’s not like the locks hadn’t worked - they were very useful, in fact, or at least he was led to believe so since no one else had gotten into his room since they were installed (which was a tad surprising, considering the... force he was attempting to block happened to have the same, possibly more, imaginative power as he did, and he didn’t really expect a few bolts to stop anything) - they just weren’t quite enough. Of course, in the end, debating the locks’ usefulness didn’t even really matter. It was his own carelessness that got him into a raging mess.
The day had started off perfectly usual: he woke up, got breakfast when he heard Logan and Patton get up so he wouldn’t be walking alone to the kitchen, and lounged in the Commons with Patton, who was very interested in knitting what Roman assumed was supposed to be a sweater (though it looked a little more like a lopsided blanket for an exceptionally short person), for a good few hours. He was just staring at a new page of his notebook, racking his brain for a story idea, when he heard someone calling his name from upstairs.
“Sounds like Virge,” Patton offered when Roman just stared at where the voice had come from, eyebrows furrowed and posture stiff.
“Ah.” The tension dissipated from his shoulders as soon as it had come. Patton gave him a curious look, fumbling another stitch on his, eh, sweater, though he didn’t seem to mind (which explained a lot).
“He’s probably returning my Grimm’s fairy tales book,” Roman surmised, “which he borrowed, like, two weeks ago!” He shouted the last bit towards the stairs in the hopes that Virgil would hear - seriously, he’d been badgering the anxious side to return the book for a week now, so it was about time he actually got it back. “I’ll be right back, Padre.”
He set his notebook down on the couch cushion and headed up the stairs, bobbing along to the little tune Patton hummed as he returned to his knitting. He half expected to see Virgil waiting near his door when he reached the top of the steps, but the hallway was empty; he wasn’t exactly keen on having to venture into the anxious side’s room, but if it was just to retrieve something and get out, he’d probably be fine.
Oh, but what if Virgil wanted to discuss one of the stories? He probably wouldn’t feel like leaving his bedroom if he hadn’t already… perhaps Roman could sink them out to the commons, to make for an easier transition? Or maybe he could just endure the bedroom long enough for a teeny-tiny discussion? His easy stride faltered as he considered what his limit was for the powers of Virgil’s room, and therein lay his mistake.
In the few seconds he stood paused, just over a foot from Virgil’s door, he felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck, felt a shiver of something sharply wrong and all too familiar shoot up his spine. He knew immediately that he needed to move, to the side or forward or somewhere other than where he was right then- but he was too slow.
There was a rough tug on the back of his sash, and he stumbled backwards, flailing his arms to struggle for any semblance of balance as the heel of his boot caught in the carpet and sent him back even farther; he crashed into the figure behind him and the grip on his sash was instantly around him instead, just below his shoulders, and then there was another hand over his mouth - Virgil’s door was so close, he could have just said a word and the anxious side surely would have heard him - and a singsong hiss in his ear: “Hello, my dear brother!”
Roman could just barely see the embellishments on Remus’ sleeves in his peripheral, gaudy and sparkling even under the dim lighting in the hallway. There was a subtle dig in his back from the crystals and teeth (he shuddered to himself) on his brother’s jacket, which turned into an almost painful dig as Remus tightened his grip; the foreboding in Roman’s chest melted away to panic as he tried and failed to separate himself from his brother.
“Long time, no see,” Remus continued cheerily, though his voice was hardly above a whisper, confirming Roman’s suspicions that Virgil was close enough to possibly help. He just had to reach the door somehow, or get Remus’ hand off his mouth and shout- “You know, with as little as we’ve seen each other since Thomathy’s last video, I’d almost think you’ve been avoiding me! That’s deplorable etiquette, truly, and I will admit that I expected better from you, but alas.”
Roman had half a mind to try and bite him, but then again, he didn’t really want to interact with whatever Remus messed around with in his side of the Mindscape, so kicking it was.
He tugged forward, lurching enough to pull Remus along with a stumbling step, and kicked out, trying his best to aim for the doorknob as hard as he could. Hitting the door would be fine, the wall beside it a little less so, but if he kicked the knob, it would surely make a loud enough noise in Virgil’s room to alert the anxious side-
But he missed, just by an inch, and before he could try again, Remus gave a laugh that sounded like air fleeing from a crushed balloon. The arm around Roman’s shoulders vanished and reappeared as a curled grip in his hair; Remus pulled, hard, and the door, Roman’s only chance at getting out of his brother’s vise unless one of the other Sides just happened upon them right then, was out of reach again as his vision blurred with pain.
“Did I get ol’ Virgie’s voice right, then?” Remus hissed in his ear. “It’s been a while since I’ve imitated him, but I think I hit it spot on, right?”
It took a second for Roman to understand the question - Virgil hadn’t called for him. He wouldn’t even know to be waiting for the prince to knock on his door. A sliver of hope crumbled away in his heart.
“Well, we don’t want to bother him now. Why don’t we have a little chat in my side of the ‘scape?”
The familiar sensation of sinking out, a tug in his core, brought another strike of panic in his chest - being stuck in a hallway with Remus was bad enough, but it was a picnic compared to being stuck in the Dark Sides’ part of the Mindscape with him. Roman made a noise in the back of his throat, a strangled, last-ditch effort to alert Virgil behind his door or Patton down in the common area or even Logan in his room at the far end of the hall, forcing down a wince as Remus’ fingers curled tighter in his hair to focus all his energy on resisting the command to sink out. He was Creativity, too - he could fight his brother, push back with his own force.
For a split second, he felt like it worked. The tug in his middle lessened like a weight being lifted from his shoulders; he felt his feet stabilize on the hallway floor once more.
“You make this too easy,” Remus grinned, and they were gone.
Deceit had learned, throughout many, many years of being stuck and forced to deal with him in the “Dark”-scape (he much preferred to call it the Otherscape, if only for the Coraline ring it had), to simply expect the unexpected with Remus.
Well, calling this “unexpected” would be an understatement.
Remus looked as unhinged as was normal as he appeared in their little commons area that afternoon, his smile far too wide and eyes a bit more open than should be the default, which Deceit was well used to and in fact hardly fazed by anymore, but the duke didn’t usually bring his brother in tow - and from the looks of it, Roman most definitely did not come willingly.
His face was pinched with pain as he wriggled in his brother’s hold, and as Deceit scanned the scene, he realized Remus had a white-knuckled grip on his hair and wrist. It was… disconcerting, to say the least.
“Remus,” Deceit started, flipping his book shut slowly and setting it in his lap, “what do you think you’re doing?”
Remus peeked over Roman’s shoulder and grinned. It was, as usual, a feral expression; Deceit had the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and hope either he or Remus would disappear, but he barely trusted Remus to behave when he was looking. Clearly.
“Nagini!” Remus greeted with irreverent cheer, “I didn’t see you there! How are you today?”
“I’m fine.” A lie now, not that Remus would notice (or care). “What are you doing?”
“Oh, nothing important, don’t worry. My beloved brother and I,” he yanked at Roman’s hair as the prince tried to pull away, and Roman winced, “are just going to have a little chat. He’s been avoiding me, you see-”
“I wonder why,” Roman seethed.
“-and that’s simply dreadful for sibling bonding and whatnot, so I thought we’d hash it out all, eh, diploma…ly.”
Deceit stared at him. “Diplomatically.”
“That’s it! You know, you and I make a great team-”
“Diplomats don’t use force, Remus,” Deceit continued in a deadpan, eyes flickering over the struggling prince in Remus’ grip once more - he met Roman’s gaze and saw a flash of something desperately hopeful, a silent plea, in his eyes. “And I hate to be the one to inform you, but Thomas is rather destitute without your brother at hand, so I’d suggest you leave your chat for a later time or a larger audience.”
Roman raised his eyebrows as his gaze flickered to the side, clearly awaiting Remus’ response, and Deceit finally noticed just how shallow his breathing was; he’d never seen Roman panic. He couldn’t say he enjoyed it now.
After a few seconds, he realized the room had fallen silent. He looked to Remus and found the duke staring at him, smile all but faded completely - the look itself didn’t unnerve Deceit, since he’d been on the receiving end of it more times than he could count, but with Roman still locked in place, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d thoroughly screwed up.
“Destitute,” Remus echoed, his voice suddenly hollow. His gaze slipped to the floor before traveling back up to Roman’s face, and he gave a small, empty smile. “Well, you hear that, Ro?” he said softly, tilting his head to the side as if considering something. “You’re pretty important. Must be nice.
“In fact,” he continued, either ignoring or missing Roman’s attempt at responding; the glimmer in Remus’ eyes gave Deceit an inexplicable urge to stand up and reach for the prince himself, tug him from his brother’s grasp before things went south. Or further south, he supposed. “In fact, why don’t we see just how important you are? Won’t that be fun? It’ll be like a game!”
“Remus,” Deceit tried, but Remus’ attention was solely on his brother, whose eyes had gone wide as he tried to pull his wrist from Remus’ hold.
“Say, you’re still a sap for fairy tales, right?”
“Remus-”
“Where does Rapunzel rank on your list?”
“Wait,” Roman choked out.
“No waiting, Roman,” said Remus, his mouth upturned in a grin once more. “I’m too excited to start already. And you,” he said, turning back to Deceit, who watched with a blend of panic and confusion, “no spoilers! I want to see how long it takes the no-fun Sides to realize they’re a prince short.” He gave a delighted shrug of his shoulders. “Tata for now, then! We have a game to begin!”
Deceit’s book went flying off his lap as he finally stood and reached a gloved hand out - he could keep them here if he just grabbed Roman’s arm, he had no doubt he could overpower Remus’ command to sink out - but Remus was quick, much quicker than Deceit expected. The last thing the snake-faced side saw before they were gone completely was the look Roman gave him, all wide eyes and clear desperation, painfully discordant on a face so usually adorned with confidence.
And then Deceit was alone again.
Alone, and extraordinarily pissed off.
“Get the hell out.”
Deceit didn’t falter at the less-than-gracious greeting as he entered the “Light” side of the Mindscape; Remus may have proven spontaneous, but Virgil was almost comfortingly predictable.
Three pairs of eyes were on him when he glanced around - he’d found them in the commons, which was significantly warmer and more homely than in the Otherscape, littered with random books and colorful pillows and a positively horrendous knit… thing on the couch cushion beside Patton (was it a blanket? It looked like a blanket for a penniless lawn gnome). His eyes fell onto a golden notebook sitting on the arm of the couch, opened to a blank page. He stared at it for a moment.
“Hello?” Virgil snapped, waving an arm to catch Deceit’s gaze. “I said get out! Leave! Go!”
“What are you doing here, Deceit?” Logan sighed as he sent Virgil an even glance; the anxious side frowned and crossed his arms across his chest, huffing a stray hair out of his eyes. “We’re in the middle of something right now.”
“I’m sure. Get up.”
“...Excuse me?”
“All of you, get up,” Deceit repeated, motioning for them to stand when they just kept staring at him. “We’re leaving now. Get up.”
Virgil made a face at him. “Um, I think not. You-”
“It wasn’t a request, and if you want to find Roman soon then you’ll listen to me and get up now.”
Virgil’s protest died out instantly. Logan and Patton sent each other a glance, something silent traveling between their gazes (they seemed to do that a lot, Deceit noticed) as Patton’s eyes went a little wide.
“What do you mean, find him?” the moral Side asked slowly, wringing his wrists in his lap.
What do I- Deceit forced a deep breath in and out; he had to stay patient for now, sane enough to explain it to them, but he’d been here for just over a minute and he was already close to snapping. Patient. Sane. Composed.
“I mean,” he started through grit teeth, “that he is missing, if you haven’t noticed - which I’m assuming you have, judging by this oh-so-lovely consecration in your living room - and when someone is missing, you have to go out and find them. Do you follow?”
“Where is he?”
No, yeah, he was definitely going to go insane if they didn’t get going soon. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d have told you already?”
“How did you know he was gone?” Virgil spat, eyes narrowed.
Deceit leveled his gaze at the anxious Side, narrowing his eyes right back. “Leave the accusation to rest, Virgil, it’s Remus you’re after.” Patton sucked in a breath, and Logan at least had the grace to look annoyed - good; let this situation get some semblance of an appropriate reaction. “He appeared with Roman and went rambling on about a game, then disappeared. My guess is they’re in the Imagination,” he finished, straightening his capelet, garnering a little satisfaction at the shocked silence he received.
But Virgil stared at him still, gaze cold and unreadable even as Deceit stared back.
“Why are you telling us?” he said finally, lowly.
“Because I trust Remus about as far as I can throw him.” It wasn’t a lie, just... not quite the whole truth, but he wasn’t about to get into that with someone who clearly wanted to run him through with a kitchen knife. “Plus, he told me not to tell you all, so of course,” he gave a bright smile, “here I am.”
If Virgil was dissatisfied with that answer, he didn’t announce it; he just looked to Patton and Logan, who did that talking-without-talking thing again (seriously, did they practice that in their off time?) and nodded at the same time.
“Let’s go, then,” Logan conceded, standing and brushing imaginary dirt from his pants before offering Patton a hand. He gave Deceit a reluctant nod. “Lead the way.”
“Thank you,” Deceit said haughtily, and turned with a sweep of his cape to start up the stairs.
They traveled in relative silence up the steps and down the hallway; he heard some whispering between Patton and Virgil, but as long as they were still following him, he didn’t care enough to listen in or cut them off. They passed a couple doors, one so dark Deceit felt a pang of nostalgia in his chest from when he slept across from a very similar room, and another decorated with a star that reminded him of a celebrity dressing room and, of course, Roman- and there, at the end of the hall, was a plain white door with an iron knob and a distinct, airy shimmer, much more pleasant to look at than the one in the Otherscape (which was black and shifted with a thick murkiness that made Deceit’s head swim whenever he stared at it too long; needless to say, he didn’t stare at it often).
“I don’t suppose one of you would like to open it,” he called over his shoulder, eyes flickering over the pale wisps that danced about the doorway.
Virgil snorted from behind him, but it was Patton who shouldered past and turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping into the Imagination first.
“Oh, that’s… huh.”
Deceit strode in behind him and promptly froze.
He’d been to the Imagination before. He’d been a few times, actually, since it was a relatively guaranteed reprieve from the antics of the… others, not to mention is was relaxing all on its own; sometimes he went and just strolled through whatever landscape it had become that day - a meadow, a forest, a highland dotted with wildflowers, whatever.
So seeing it now was, admittedly, a bit of a shock.
It was a forest, at least, but it was dark and overgrown, tree trunks blackened and ground strewn with dead leaves and something crunchy that Deceit wasn’t keen on identifying as he shivered with a sudden breeze; there were no woodland creatures roaming around, no wildflowers dotting the forest floor, no sunshine dripping down through the canopy above, and (not that he expected it to be so easy) no Roman.
He went to tug at his capelet and found there was more fabric than usual - with a glance down at his outfit, he found a longer cape, a black outfit much more medieval than his own (and with far less yellow, he noted bitterly), and a leather belt at his waist, laden with a hilt and what he guessed was a sword. Patton’s outfit had also changed into some draped tunic and long shirt and pants underneath; the other two probably got a wardrobe update as well.
So much for ‘expect the unexpected’.
He heard Logan and Virgil enter behind him, heard their footsteps stop as they took in the scenery.
“This is a bit,” Logan paused, frowning at the landscape, “extra.”
“It’s definitely Remus,” Virgil commented drily.
“You bet your little emo heart it is!”
Deceit startled at the shrill voice - not as much as Patton, who literally jumped - and glanced to its origin: Remus stood in the center of the path before them, arms and smile wide in greeting as he waited for their attention. The purpley-blue shadows around his eyes seemed ten shades darker in the eerie lighting of the forest, his skin nearly luminescent, though it was still ashen, leeched of color compared to Roman’s freckled tan.
“I’m absotively euphoric to see you’ve all arrived,” Remus cheered - his voice seemed to echo around the forest, coming from every direction at once. “And so quickly- I’m impressed!” His gaze found Deceit’s, and he tsked, shaking his head. “But I told you no spoilers, Dee. You’ve ruined a part of the game.”
Deceit just raised an eyebrow. “They already knew he was missing, Remus. All I did was make them move faster.”
“Speaking of him,” Virgil cut in, shoving past Deceit to stare Remus down, eyes aflame, “where is Roman?”
“Oh, there’s the fire!” Remus gave a delighted laugh and clapped his hands, ignoring the low growl Virgil responded with. “I do so miss your temper around our side of the Mindscape, Virgie, it really added some life to the place. Now I’m stuck with Stickler Sanders over here,” he jabbed a thumb in Deceit’s direction, “and he’s just hardly any fun, you can imagine-”
“Remus,” Virgil snapped.
“Right, right, my brother. It’s always about him, isn’t it? And that’s just so tiring sometimes. I’m perfectly entertaining myself, you know!” With a dramatic sigh and a hand to his heart, Remus glanced at them again, scanning their faces for reactions and rolling his eyes when he got none. “He’s royalty,” he said, plastering another grin onto his face. “Come on now, Virgil, don’t think I don’t know you fawn over those fairy tales, too - you know exactly where he is.”
Deceit glanced over at the anxious side, followed his gaze as it traveled over the treetops and into the distance; there, on a hill that rose just over the forest, was a tower, though the sky was so dark it nearly blended together with the obsidian stone. That explained the Rapunzel reference, he guessed.
“You want your little prince so bad?” Remus shrugged. “Go get him.”
He gave a toothy grin and fluttering wave, and he was gone.
Virgil stared at the empty spot, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists. “Motherfu-”
“Virgil,” Logan said carefully. The anxious side glanced over at him and back at the path, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a second, the tension in his shoulders remaining but lessening ever so slightly. “He’s trying to rile us up. The longer we stay calm, the better we’ll be able to navigate the forest and get to Roman- and we will get to him, alright?”
Virgil took another breath, then nodded. Patton reached a hand out, patted his shoulder, and sent Logan a grateful smile, which Logan responded to with a small nod, though his face went a little pink when Patton looked away.
Deceit just watched with a single eyebrow still raised - he knew they were a domestic little ensemble, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever had to deal with it for any extended amount of time. He wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to.
“Well,” he cut into their contented silence, and Virgil gave him a patented dirty look. “We should get going as soon as possible, yes?”
“Right,” Logan agreed. (He was tolerable, Deceit decided, if a little stingy.) “The best course of action as of right now is to simply follow the path, unless anyone has any prior knowledge they’d like to share before we get started?” That was definitely directed at Deceit, but he was - reluctantly - as clueless as the rest of them, so he just shrugged along with Patton and Virgil. “Right then, let’s get started.”
Virgil stood at the front of the group and glanced one last time at the tower over the trees, his gaze unreadable once more as they set out down the path.
“We’ve got a prince to rescue.”