Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A broken lyre remains in the expanse of white, a domain you had become uncomfortably used to seeing in the past —past what? Years? Centuries? Decades? Time was nothing but a concept, a figment of an imaginative mind. 

The distant bells of the Intoners chimed at your arrival, a gentle wind brushing your face with such warmth, such kindness, that it made you want to puke. 

Black flowers sprouted around the lyre, giving a voice to prayers drenched in blood; the voice of someone you once held dearly was the lead chorus, repeating prayers of disaster over and over. 

“Get a hold of yourself.”

The black flowers wilted immediately. Red chrysanthemums bloomed in their stead, twisting into the lyre that was now swapped places with him: Inuart. 

Inuart’s smile was kind with a grim undertone that you could easily catch.

“It’s been a while since you visited,” he said your name with palpable sadness.  It took you a moment to register that was your name.  It’s been a long while since someone has said it, especially with such warmth as he had. 

Inuart extended a hand, pity written all over his face as your clear weariness in both body and soul. “Why won’t you come with me and Furiae? We both yearn for your presence, dear friend.”

Perhaps a couple years ago you would’ve snarled and slapped his hand away. Perhaps, in another time, you would have simply shook your head with a frown; a time where purpose was your very existence, your drive to save surpassing your desires that most would consider damning to mankind. 

You took his hand. 

He disappeared. 

With a distant cry of begging repentance, the song of bells halted, as did the gentle swaying of flowers that had been beneath and around Inuart’s feet. 

Instead of him, it was Zero. Lady Zero. Your master. 

What was extended in front of you was no longer the welcoming hand of Inuart, but cold steel of the sword Zero wielded, her eyes just as cold. You lowered your hand. 

“You’ve reversed time yet again, Six. You’re aware you're just making everything worse?”

“Lady Zero, you know I had no other way.” You remembered it clearly, the way the world had burst into flames, the way your song could do little to quell the inferno caused by the beating wings of vengeful corpses of dragons, enemies of a bygone era. “That was the only choice I could make, and you know it.”

“And that’s because you keep fucking rewinding time! 

“Then you do it!” You raised your own sword, harshly slapping it against the side of hers. “I’ve told you since the days of Midgard that keeping the earth whole is impossible!”

“Shut up and try again!” She thrust her sword forward, but you swiftly blocked it. “I gave you a petal of the flower because this is your purpose!”

You didn’t try to dodge the next strike. Technically, you’re more of a skilled swordswoman than Zero, but you lacked the drive to continue this petty fight. The sword hovered over your abdomen. Leaning in, she hissed with a feral grin on her face. “Plus, I’ll give you a doll from the past this time—wouldn’t that be lovely?!”

Zero jumped backwards, and before her, mist weaved into each other to form a familiar face, clothed yet barren of life. 

It was Caim. 

Flashes of your past slammed into you, just as Caim’s body (which was surprisingly warm) did. The days where honeysuckle were vibrant and red apples were sweet, the days before flowers of black pierced innocent dreams and monsters had yet to wreak havoc.

The days where you, Inuart, Caim and Furiae sat at the feet of a quiet cathedral, chattering away with sweets in your pockets. The days where the sky was a beautiful blue, the days where war was nonexistent and peace was what lulled the days.

Caim didn't deserve to face cruel adversaries yet again.

“You bitch..!” Caim’s body slumped onto you. Catching him, you glared at Zero who had a triumphant look on her face, pleased with the situation. You rarely ever lashed out at this scale, especially to her. “Put him back! I don’t want him to come— please !”

“Then do as I tell you.” Her voice was frosty and unyielding. “You’re gonna get rid of all the pests or I will start adding to your roster. I wonder, who would you prefer—the songster or his wife?”

Tinkling laughter echoed in the air, laughter that Zero allowed just this once. 

“...Fine.”

“Good.”

She snapped her fingers: the world disappeared. 

The song you hadn’t realized was echoing had ceased. 

Now, the world around you wasn’t a blank white, but rather the place you had been in before reversing time: the grassy meadow with stray moose plucking the grass with silent munching filling the dead air.

Caim, who was slumped against your arms, roused from his unconscious state. 

He didn’t say anything, a quiet groan rumbling in his throat more than enough to tell you he was regaining his senses. Waiting patiently, you observed as his face (full of nicks and scars that only enhanced what you’d deem as his beautiful face) scrunched up for a moment from the sun that penetrated his eyes.

Slowly blinking, you saw that his left eye was a milky color. Right. He had been wounded there centuries ago. 

Lady Zero didn't even bother fixing that for him? 

Still leaning against you, he opened his eyes. He stared at you. You stared back. 

“I’m sorry, Caim.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he finally stood on his own two feet, gazing at you with an uncaring expression. 

You were surprised; he just didn’t care? He’s fine? 

Well, this was Caim, the grown, cold Caim. He didn’t really care for anything beyond bloodshed.

“Is Angelus here?”

...And Angelus. 

Why were you even surprised? Did you really expect him to care, or even regard you with any sliver of kindness or even compassion as he did in the past? You should feel the same. You will feel the same, you swore to yourself that. 

“No. Dragons are considered fictitious for the past generations.”

He didn’t respond, yet again. 

With the same silence, you handed him a broadsword that was slung on your back. “Take this, and fight only battles that are necessary.”

He took the sword with the same wordlessness as before. 

“And my name is Six.”

That caught his attention, with the way he perked up his head, and his eyes widened just a smidge. Just the slightest fraction. 

He probably remembers how you tried to refuse your coronation as the Sixth and final Intoner. 

“Let’s get going. And also, stick with me—if you have any questions, ask.”

* * * * *

Caim had asked only spoken once during the first hour upon arrival in this absolutely new place, and that is for you to “get the fuck away” when he ran forward and cut down several robots flawlessly with a grin on his face. 

You convinced yourself that no, you weren’t sullen that someone you once cared for so damn deeply didn’t care about you. You had faced much worse adversaries, had lost people that no longer existed, yet the current ache in your heart was unlike the feeling of emptiness or loss like before. 

There was no sense of companionship nor camaraderie when the two of you cut down robots that charged forward, no partnership when you shoved him back away from a stray plasma ball, nor was there any congratulatory or encouraging words when all the foes were vanquished. 

He would simply stare at you with that same frown, as if saying to ‘get on with it’. 

And that, you did. 

You pulled out the map you constantly used (the wear and tear on the edges proved that) and confirmed that yes, you didn’t waste two hours of walking + running.

Caim peered over your shoulder, a shadow being cast over you and the map. 

“Resistance camp?” He breathed, a slight rasp in his voice. 

“Yeah. We’re gonna stock up on supplies before getting on to the main objective.”

Again, you didn’t receive an answer nor a sound of acknowledgement. Stifling a sigh, you rolled the map and stuffed it back into the satchel you had tied around your waist (not much of a fashion statement, but at least it's convenient). 

“Let’s get going, we’re nearby.”

* * * * *

The entrance of the resistance camp was small and practically unnoticeable for the stray eye, but you’ve been here more times than you could admit. This place had been what you’d consider a safe haven.

Entering the camp, eyes of many shot onto you and Caim. Some simply didn’t care or didn’t notice, absorbed in their respective roles and jobs in the camp.

Right. 

They wouldn’t recognize nor know you. 

Caim swiftly stood by your side, matching their stares. You cleared your throat. You’ve done this 3 times already, it wasn’t that hard.

“May I speak to Anemone?”

You didn’t notice Caim’s hand that had been twitching towards the hilt of the broadsword loosen. 

A woman with a hood that covered half her face approached you. You knew her, but she certainly wouldn’t know you. 

“No, I’ve just heard of her from the leader of the robot village—Pascal’s their name, I believe.”

The frown on the woman flipped. “Ohhh, okay, okay. So you’re not here to fuck shit up, right?”

A practiced smile fell on your lips. “Of course not. I just quickly want to speak to Anemone and I’ll be on my way.”

The eyes that had been pinned on you finally turned away. 

She extended a hand, a lax smile on her face. “The name’s Jackass.”

Caim snorted. 

“I’m Six, the pleasure is mine—and my companion here is Caim.” You pat his shoulder. He stiffened under your casual touch. 

“Cool, cool.” She gestured to you to follow. “Lemme get you to Anemone, she’s not really busy right now.”

You nodded, and you and Caim followed as she brought you to an anxious looking woman, pressing a bunch of stuff into a strange-looking device. Glancing up, the woman nodded to Jackass. 

“I’ll take it from here—you are?”

“Six and Caim.”

“Okay, okay, what do you want?”

The question wasn’t rude, it was just that: a question. 

Now this was your first crossroad: the past times you’d been here, you hinted to Anemone the destruction of the world. The past three times, it had driven her to the point of insanity as she tried to fix a problem beyond her ability. 

So, you opted to do the opposite.

“The world’ll be at peace soon enough. Don’t stress nor worry about it—what you’re doing now is more than enough.”

She cast you a puzzled look.

“You’ll understand what I mean soon enough. For now, keep to yourself and don’t try to meddle with things beyond your control.”

Slipping a hand, you cast a translucent sigil onto her palm, something only your eyes can see. Her eyes clouded, and she nodded. 

“I won’t try to meddle with things beyond my control…”

“Wonderful. This has been a wonderful conversation.”

Caim watched as you pulled away, and the woman—Anemone—slowly regained her senses once more. 

What the hell did you do? 

Not waiting for Anemone to speak up from her momentary stupor, you swiftly turned on your heel and head straight for the guy who you knew held all the helpful stuff: remedies, enhancements, and so on. 

Caim spoke up when you had finally paid the merchant and were a fair distance away from anyone. His voice made you freeze.

“This little quest, how long will it take to complete?”

A bitter smile formed on your face. Stuffing the items you bought a little harshly in your satchel, you responded with the same quiet voice. 

“It’s been several millennia since I started this quest, and I’ve yet to even near its completion.”

Although Caim did not say anything, you could feel the same pitying stare burn into your skull as the one Inuart had given you. You pretended not to notice, just like pretending not to notice the pointed stares of a pair androids you were incredibly fond of. 

Chapter Text

Caim had never been one for sentimentality , especially after having watched his parents get eaten alive by a dragon with scales darker than night (and especially after the man he considered a brother formed a pact with that dragon) but with you, it was a little different (just a little). 

It was probably the odd optimism you had that wasn’t as irritating as Seere’s, but certainly there; even after watching a child get eaten by that bitch he couldn’t quite remember the name of, he remembers you collecting the remnants of flesh and bone and burying it in the last flower field that wasn’t just shriveled clumps of grass and smiled a sad smile, gesturing him to come over with those same bloodied hands. 

“You never got to sit and grieve over your parent's death, right?”

He remembered the way Angelus pushed him forward with her scaly snout, and the three of you had sat around the makeshift graves. 

Angelus had simply wrapped a tail around Caim. He knew Angelus didn’t like you that much, and he later found out why. 

Actually, he found out just two hours later. 

“Caim, can I tell you something?”

The world was facing the mid-stages of its destruction, he had become allies with a man who probably molests children, and Goddesses,  was he was so tired. Weary to the bone, every muscle screaming its own chant of agony. 

So, he simply nodded.

“I… I’m gonna take Furiae’s place as the Goddess.”

He was still. 

“Also, uhm… How do I say this as casually as possible?” Your smile that had been sheepish was now a mix of nervousness and dread (dread of his reaction, or the news itself, he did not know). 

“I’m now the Sixth Intoner.”

Emphasis was put when you ran a thumb on your forehead, an inky black tattoo that can stick out like a thumb even in the darkest shades of skin that said ‘VI’ appeared.

Disbelief was what he felt. Disbelief, then soon the affirmation that no, he doesn’t need something as fickle as ‘ friends’ solidified. He didn’t say nor try to express anything as he rose from his previous sitting position and hopped onto Angelus, who was now glaring at you with smoke trailing out of her nose. 

You didn’t bother trying to explain your reasoning; he remembered how you simply closed your eyes, the same sad smile as before strewn on your lips as Angelus spread her wings and flew high into the mute sky.

“Caim,” Angelus rasped, up in the sky, soaring through the gray world in mere seconds. “She is not worth your agony. Let that feeling go.”

That, he did. Angelus seems to be the only one in that wretched world that understood him beyond battle, beyond the dullness that prodded him after slaughtering an army of child soldiers, beyond… 

Everything. 

Yet, his thoughts always jump back to you, to the memories of your dopey grins and your tendency to overthink, tendency to be too eager and too expressive.

It’s strange, because now, and even before when he found himself in your arms when you had slain the queen grotesque when he failed, you were completely different: an indifferent, omniscient husk of your former self. Your smiles did not hold truth, but rather honeyed lies in the act of emotion. He knew such an expression like the back of his hand, because he too is the same.

You were dead. You were dead. You were dead. 

Yet, he couldn't help but pity you. He pitied a woman who wasn’t even there.

“Caim?”

Your voice, hushed and slow, pulled him out of his thoughts. He noticed your stare, intense—piercing, curious. 

“It’s unlike you to be so… Lost in thought.”

He couldn’t contain the scoff that escaped him. (You dare act like you know him to such an extent?) 

Not bothering to care about his attitude, you changed the subject. “Anyway, we need to get going; I need to set up a Song over a river of lunar tears. Such a task would be rather difficult considering the number of monsters and robots alike that lurk, but…” 

Your eyes trailed back to the two androids that he noticed were staring at you earlier, who were now buying stuff at the weapon trader. “It wouldn’t hurt to get two pairs of hands, right?”

“It would.”

“Huh?”

Caim didn’t know what was possessing him, but he continued with another scoff, this time, more comical. “Relying on others will be your downfall.”

You paused, mulling over his words. A mere syllable of truth was in that sentence, but a syllable was more than enough.

But…

Then again...

Your eyes trailed back to the pair, with the shorter one chattering to the taller one who was hiding her interest. 

Caim waited. He observed the way you bit a small patch of skin on your lips, tearing the bit of it. Your brows slightly furrowed, causing the bandage wrapped around your forehead to very slightly wiggle at the movement. 

That’s when he noticed the small strands of white hair on your head—you clearly weren’t old, but maybe you traversing through time fucked up your bodily functions somehow? Or was it some Intoner thing he wasn’t aware of?

Yet again, you snapped him out of his thoughts, breaking into a sigh. “Fine; for now, we’ll leave them be.” You glanced up at him, eyes as dull as ever. “ For now.”

Caim nodded. 

Satisfied, you turned back to the entrance of the Resistance Camp and walked towards it without another word. He did the same, just barely a step behind you, sword ready to be unsheathed at any sight of stray robots. 

There were no robots nearby. Even with one eye, he had sharp sight; there was no way they’d encounter a robot soon. He knew you probably knew too, judging by the relaxed slope of your shoulders. 

Well, as relaxed as they can get. 

“We need to head west, towards a tall tower that houses robot worshippers.”

Robot worshippers? Such a thing exists? 

“What exactly do they worship?” He queried in that same cold and quiet voice. Noticing your head snapping up to him brought a weird sense of satisfaction. 

“I believe they worship, uhm… Grimoire Weiss.”

“They worship a book?”

You bit your lip again. That tripled his curiosity. What was also funny was your lip-biting habit was still prevalent even with the ages that have passed. 

“What exactly is this grimoire weiss?”

“It’s just a book, of…” You exhaled. “Something. You don’t need to know.”

As much as it brought Caim a sick sense of joy to watch you squirm under his questions, perhaps laying off of you was best for now. 

His curiosity has been caught by these worshiping machines.