Chapter Text
TF found himself in a dark, cold empty room. His feet were squashed under his weight and felt numb, his fingers stung from the rough and icy ground and his body felt heavy as if the whole world was pressing the life out of him.
He tried to move his limbs but didn't succeed. It took another minute of effort to get the feeling back into his feet and arms. When he tried to sit up his stomach twisted and pulled him backwards but he went through it and suddenly it hit him as hard as the pain in his throat was.
What has happened, where he was and why. And that Malcolm was gone. He was gone. Everything ended in that one moment.
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It was the hugest heist of all history of robbery for TF and Graves and it was going suspiciously good. They went past the guards as always without them noticing, cracked several doors open and with that weird magic trick of Tobias which Malcolm never understood they got even past the safe door, which only one person had access to. Everything was too easy. Something was definitely off, thought TF but Graves was too distracted to care. They had a lot of easy heists but it could not be this one. Not stealing the most valued, best guarded and locked item in Runeterra.
The Deathcrown of Rabadon. It increases the power of any magic you can imagine and makes even poor magicians undefeatable. And that is why it is locked, in the hands of an ignorant Runeterra would be endangered.
Guarded it is by a man who is known for his cruelty to intimidate everyone to not even try and get it. This man is Priggs.
He has the safest known prison for humankind and magic in Runeterra. No one managed to break out of there ever. Not with magic, not with strength.
And that is of course the other reason why the Deathcrown was given to Priggs, he surely knows how to lock things up so they don't slip away.
Of course Priggs is also supervised, he is a simple man and can be easily beaten by the union of the strongest magicians, so he himself won't even dream about using that Deathcrown.
It would be really strange if we got out of here unharmed, thought TF.
"Heh, gotta change yer hat now TF, so they can't ever catch us", joked Graves and TF thought it was a really good idea. It would definitely be safer if he just switched his hat so his magic would be more powerful, just to get out of here and so he did. He felt ridiculous.
He grinned towards Graves and he just snorted without commentary while they continued running towards the exit. But they didn't knew.
They didn't knew they needed to neutralise the hat if they ever wanted to get out of there. They were so light headed they didn't notice the magic barrier that lied within this prison. A magic barrier which could detect any magical spell happening in the whole estate of jail, cast by the union of the strongest magicians.
From the moment that TF entered the safe room with his teleportation spell Priggs knew. He knew what and where was happening and could have planned the route to catch them at least 4 times by now.
His guards were standing, hidden in the magically erected walls that could not be seen by common eye.
And they were so close to the exit. It was only one step left for TF and Graves until freedom and a life in wealth. This step took all life from them, when they ran against the magic barrier. They were shocked and thrown away from that massive charged barrier and lay on the ground still waiting for the stun spell to wear off.
Instantly TF reached back and tried to charge a golden card, waiting for the first enemy to show up but nothing happened.
His gold card remained in that yellow greyish tone and didn't emit a literal golden dazing glow. TF panicked and looked at his card and concentrated again. Nothing happened again. Then it hit him, how could they be so stupid not noticing it. Of course there would be a magic barrier which could be activated and deactivated as the inhabitant wished.
As an immediate reaction TF threw a spinning card and slit the throat of the culprit.
Turning around to his partner to seek his gaze and his jaw dropped. They were already surrounded by dozens of men, how did he not notice this? And that glance was the last one they ever would have and it was spent afraid of their own lives. Another magic wall spawned, split them up and left both of them on their own.
It was legit impossible for TF to eliminate every single one of them without magic. He could only hope that every single card would hit their throats with precision and kill them off instantly but it was just not possible. He decided to just take out as much as he could and see what happened later.
But as soon as he reached back he felt a dull object hit his occiput and everything turned black.
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TF woke up and smelled blood. His head was hurting as if he was shot and he was feeling dizzy from trying to move it. The whole room was spinning and that was definitely better than seeing what was in that room. A lot of torture instruments were hanging from the wall, knives that were longer, shorter, sharper, more blunt, toothed ones and smooth ones. All of them were bloody and TF realised why this room did not only smell of fresh blood but also of dried up, fouled blood. He didn't want to know how many people were here before him and he didn't care but he definitely didn't want to end up all bloody as his predecessors so he tried to move only to realise that he was chained to a wall with his arms up. The chains were too short and he struggled a little longer, rubbing his wrists bloody before he simply gave up on that.
He closed his eyes again and tried to breathe in and out hoping to black out again.
A grinding sound woke him up and he almost didn't remember what exactly had happened and where he was but, it was back in his head faster than he wanted it to be. He carefully opened one eye and took a glimpse at the man grinding a long thin knife.
"Who are you", asked Fate.
The man wore gloves and a suit, he had grey hair and a slightly croaked back. As he turned around to get a lockjaw from a hook TF could see that his appearance was neater than expected.
"Are you Priggs?"
The other just looked at him indifferently and began to speak.
"Your partner wasn't that curious"
A shudder ran over TF.
Malcolm...
Suddenly angry: "Where is he!? What did you do to him??"
"Let’s say he's in a better place", said Priggs in a teasing voice.
Fate felt his heart crumble into little pieces and fall onto his guts as burning as ice splinters that would cut his innards open.
"...no...", he lost his voice, staring blankly onto the ground.
"Oh yes, and he was very tough, lasted a long time, even screamed your name. But he was only wasting his energy", Priggs hissed voraciously.
Fates guts were turning and he felt sick. His best friend was dead, probably tortured to death and still tried to fight for his freedom, but Fate just didn’t care any longer. There was no person he could return to. The only person that ever mattered was dead and couldn’t be brought back. He loosened his posture and cried. He hoped that Priggs would be generous enough to kill him fast, so he didn’t need to be alone that long. Soon he would meet Graves again…
"You have a pretty smooth voice, let me fix that for you", Priggs smiled but TF didn't react, he already lost his will to live anyways.
All he remembered after that was that the lockjaw was fixed onto him, and that the blade was descended down his throat into his trachea. After that there was only excruciating pain and another blackout.
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Finally remembering what happened Fate began to cry again. When a sob tried to escape him he felt that horrible pain again in his throat, because his vocal cords were cut. The mixture of endless misery and pain made him throw up which made everything worse. He tried to scream but no sound came out, only another wave of unspeakable came over him with the burning sensation of the vomit. He wished for another blackout. He could not stand the pain, his body was trembling, everything was killing him right now but the worst was that Malcolm was dead.
Fate pressed his palm into fists and tightened them, hoping to distract him from the unmeasurable despair he was in. The skin on his face felt like breaking apart because he was crying so hard that he overstrained every single muscle in his head. He got another headache.
Malcolm... why... I need you...
They never had the chance to be together for real, they spent years together but they were not /together/. Fate lay on his side and could not move, he stared blankly onto his opposite stone wall and thought.
Malcolm please take me from here, I can't stand it... I want to be with you, please...
His heart was aching, it was as though thousand needles were pinned into it and slowly started sinking into it. It was aching for Malcolms’ voice, his touch, his eyes, just his presence. Malcolms’ voice never was smooth or as enticing as Fates but he still loved it.
It always sent shivers over Fates body when Graves voice became hoarse due to the booze and talked to Fate in a slightly deeper and silent way in some corner of a bar. He never realised that, but he always enjoyed it.
Graves touch, a pat on the back after an successful heist, leaning on each other when there was nothing comfortable nearby, every though brought heat over Fates skin and made him glow.
Graves eyes, how can green be so deep and present at a time? Every time Fate looked into them he saw a meadow with all it's beauty in spring, how the sun shined and a golden glow emitted the corners of his pupils without any help of magic and how the center of them looked as green as a mile deep sea on a sunny day. How can such a man have such beautiful eyes. Every card game they played he watched them attentively, waiting for another nuance of color to gleam upon him.
He missed everything, only a day or a few hours passed and he wanted to die with the thought of never getting to relive those beautiful moments again.
His whole body started to sting because he lay too long in the same position and the hard pain returned again. Why can't his body just stay numb forever.
He lay there for another day without moving and still stared at the wall. Thinking about everything he lost was not wise but how could he even care now what was the best decision, it was over anyways. His life was over forever.
He remembered every single moment in the past decade together with Malcolm, how they met, how they captured their first ship and spent a lot of years sailing and ravaging Bilgewater and Runeterra. They were known everywhere for their crime and tricks and gamble. Their relationship started off rocky but they found many good points in each other soon and learned that they can rely on each other with no need to fear for their own safety, just trusting they soon became best friends. They didn't care about the rumours that spread around that they were not only partners in crime, because it were only rumours and they were just too young to care about that. They never were lovers.
Getting drunk together and having fun afterwards trying to process a rational thought was enough for both, it was too much fun and trust to risk for them.
Fate regretted not having tried to get even closer, just to see what happens, but he also never thought all his life would end that soon and fast without anything to do against it.
He fell asleep with pooled tears in his eyes and sad thoughts.