Chapter Text
Tags: Canon typical violence, Hurt/Comfort
Fitzroy has a rough night and his partners not only love him, but understand him as well.
He was back in that room, sitting in that wingbacked chair.
Fitzroy took a deep breath to steady himself, trying not to let his anxiety show outwardly and braced himself for whatever obnoxious entrance Chaos was sure to make. An unnaturally colored light seeped in from the draped windows, casting the room in odd, tall shadows. He tried and failed not to look too closely at anything, just trying to keep himself centered, but the minutes ticked on and the silence in the room only thickened. He was growing more and more antsy as the tension grew, feeling latent chaos magic humming in his veins, making his skin crawl. A clock ticked somewhere in the distance.
Suddenly, finally - a crash sounded from somewhere in the building behind him, and with it a shout.
"Argo?" Fitzroy whispered to himself, already on his feet. He would know that voice anywhere. He breathed deeply again, knowing he was probably walking into a trap, but unable to stay still when his partner could be in danger. He made his way quickly and quietly down the lavish hall, masterpieces lining the walls and checkerboards beneath his feet, but it was all lost to him as he was scanning for danger. Several tall pairs of doors lined the halls, but all remained closed and seemed unimportant until he neared the farthest wall, revealing that the last door was cracked open.
What is this, some overdramatic horror story? He grimaced before gently putting a hand to the door to listen, trying to Detect Magic as he did so. Immediately his senses were overwhelmed; the entire place was made of pure magic. He put out the spell quickly, slightly dazed, but hearing nothing he slowly pushed opened the door and was immediately confused.
The room was completely empty, quite literally. It was as if he was looking into a void of pure white, devoid of shadow. Before he could take another step something whizzed past his head and he dodged automatically. Immediately he was on the offense, electricity buzzing in his palms.
A featureless shadowy figure stepped out from behind the door (which was now the only physical object anywhere in the vicinity), and levelled a sword at him, but before he could attack it split into two; another identical shadowy figure now stood beside it. "Great," was all Fitzroy could mutter before they attacked. He hurled a Chromatic Orb at the original one while the other slashed, catching his arm with a razor-sharp blade.
Before he could lobby a counter-attack he was suddenly grabbed from behind with talon-like hands and he gasped, trying to pry himself free. Wild magic surged beneath his skin as fear gripped him and he shoved it down forcefully. He didn't know what Chaos was getting at in this dream, but he didn't need that awful magic awake or asleep. It had ruined enough of his life already.
By the time he freed himself and looked up, two shadowy figures had become four, and he hadn't had nearly enough time to process how many were behind him. He cast Thunderbolt, knocking back three, but they didn't seem particularly damaged, and it was getting harder to cast magic without losing control. Whirling around to avoid being attacked from behind, his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. Behind him stood Argo, but his eyes were pure white and swirling with opalescence. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to attack a caricature of his partner, no matter how real or fake it might be, and he was just... standing there.
His hesitation cost him as he was whacked over the head with a blunt object and he hit his hands and knees, gritting his teeth in pain. When he looked up, what was in front of him was completely different than it had been the moment before. Suddenly the Firbolg was there, held captive by several large, shadowy figures that were becoming less and less humanoid as the moments ticked on. "No!" he shouted and scrambled to his feet instinctively, throwing a Firebolt. It's a dream, stupid! In his moment of distraction his chaos magic surged and suddenly cacophonous noise surrounded him from every side. He staggered, disoriented, trying to get any kind of bearing on the situation but the scene was different every time he blinked, and he kept thinking he heard his partners crying out for help but he couldn’t tell over the noise, spiraling into a full on panic until-
He woke up in darkness alone, gasping, ears still ringing - the dream felt only inches away. He sat up and put his feet to the cold floor, intending to find some water. Faint starlight came through the window of his personal dorm and he blinked, grayscale vision adjusting to the darkness. Expertly, he avoided the creaky parts of the floor so as to not wake up Argo and Firbolg, who were sleeping next to him.
He opened the door. Argo and Firbolg. Hadn’t he fallen asleep in their room? “Sleep deprivation is a helluva drug,” he muttered as he padded into the kitchenette, those noises from his dream muted now but still not fully leaving him. He sighed as he opened the fridge, before very suddenly getting slammed against the countertops by an aggressive shove. He yelped as the door slammed closed from the force of it, glass objects shattering, and silhouetted in the darkness was the familiar shape of the Firbolg, standing over him. “What-” was all he had time to say before he was grabbed by Firbolg’s thorn whipped and thrown to the ground.
From the ground he could make out Firbolg’s eyes, which were glowing eerily white in the darkness, with an opalescent sheen. “Oh no,” he gasped as he tried to stand, before the distinct sound of a blade being unsheathed cut through the noise just to his right. Backing up, he realized he was cornered, pressing into the counters as panic crawled right back up his throat where he had barely managed to quench it from the dream. “Argo, what is this, what happened?”
Argo didn’t respond, and with a sudden movement and flash of silver, Fitzroy’s world went dark.
Fitzroy sat up with a shout, struggling to breathe. What the fuck what the FUCK- His vision blurred with fear as he tried to understand what just happened. Caught up in his own blankets, he struggled to untangle himself when he elbowed someone who was laying by his side. “Ow, hey-” someone complained, but in an instant Fitzroy was free and shot to the other side of the room, far too afraid to parse what was happening.
"Fitzroy?" said a voice from the place he had just left. A figure stood up and started to make its way towards him.
"No no no- get away!" Fitzroy knew he sounded much more pathetic and terrified than he intended.
"Fitz, it's me-" The figure came a step closer and without even meaning to, Fitzroy shot off a bolt of wild magic, his eyes reflecting the sudden light. He couldn't tell if it hit, but the approaching figure backed off immediately, and the clutches of anxiety loosened ever so slightly.
The person retreated back to the other side of the room and started making gestures that he almost thought he recognized, but couldn't quite make out. Then, the clear silhouette of the Firbolg stood up and started moving closer to him, very slowly. "Fiiiiitzroy," they rumbled gently, "you are safe. Do you know where you are?"
He intended to lie, but he was already shaking his head no. It was difficult to lie to Firbolg, even when panicked. He tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come; though that was pretty normal, it did nothing to convince him of whether this was a dream or reality.
“You are in our dorm at Wiggenstaffs. You must have been dreaming. I promise, you are safe.”
Sounds like what someone who was trying to lure me into a false sense of security would say, Fitzroy’s brain provided unhelpfully. Tears pricked at his eyes as he pressed himself under his desk in an attempt to hide.
“I am going to become… cat. This would be less intimidating, I think.” Sure enough, Firbolg did as he said and with a whiff of magic became much smaller, into the form of a fluffy, blue house cat. Very carefully he padded forward, in an ironic caricature of a small animal trying to comfort a full grown half-elf. He purred loudly, and though Fitzroy tensed he didn’t panic as Firbolg gently rubbed his head against his leg.
Slowly, carefully, Fitz reached out a hand to his head, and soon enough Firbolg had settled into his lap and was gently being pet as Fitzroy tried to calm down. Everything was as he remembered it before he fell asleep; the mattresses from the two beds in the sidekick room were pushed together on the floor, making a space large enough for all three of them to sleep. Soft moonlight, which had been distinctly absent the last time he “woke up”, was casting everything in a silver glow, including Argo as he sat in the center of their bed, hair down and falling over his shoulders like a cascading waterfall. He was worrying the blankets and looking up at him every few moments, concern clear on his face.
The Firbolg was a solid, warm presence against him, patiently allowing himself to be petted by Fitzroy’s shaking hands. Slowly he managed to calm, getting control of his breathing and accepting that this was real, and his partners weren’t going to hurt him. He reached a hand out towards Argo, waving slightly to get his attention. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he gestured.
Argo smiled slightly and shook his head. “You didn’t,” he signed back, then, “Can I come over?” Fitzroy nodded so Argo went over to him and gently helped him out from under the desk, and soon after some transformation and gentle coaxing, everyone was back in bed and curled together comfortably.
“I love ya, Fitz,” Argo whispered quietly.
“I love you as well,” Firbolg murmured.
“Thank you,” Fitzroy answered back before falling atrance, save and loved.