Work Text:
“My crystals?” Scar turned to him, an odd smile on his lips. “Well, if you wanted to buy some you should have told me ages ago! I have some up in my house” — he turned to glare at Joel, who scoffed and turned his gaze toward their destination — “that I can give to you!”
Grian sighed. “I don’t want to buy any. I just need to know how they work, Scar.”
Scar gasped. “Grian! You know a good salesman has to keep his secrets!”
“Don’t you mean magician?” Joel commented.
“Nope!” Scar walked backwards on the path, keeping eye-contact with him. Grian smiled unconsciously. “But, uh… to answer your question” — Scar lifted a hand to play with his hair, an awkward smile on his lips — “I’m not entirely sure how they’re made, you see!”
Grian frowned, but before he could comment Joel spoke up. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I meant what I said!” Scar turned to face Joel instead, still walking backwards. They were slowly walking toward a tree. Grian sighed, and walked faster to help Scar maneuver out of the way. Scar turned to him with a familiar grin. “Oh, thanks, Gri!”
“No problem.”
It was too easy to fall back into old habits. He couldn’t let Scar’s smiles fool him twice— couldn’t let himself fall into his old friend’s arms again.
“Could you make us a crystal?” Joel asked. “A new one?”
Scar hesitated, stumbling backward. “Uh… I mean… are you sure you don’t want a Boogey Detector? Or…” Scar frowned, now. For the first time since the conversation started. For the first time since—
(A shallow lake. Screams. Betrayer Scar! A smile, fading into a grimace.
You can kill me.)
Grian didn’t want to remember the last time Scar’s confidence had left him.
“I’m sure.” Joel turned to look at him. Grian didn’t have the heart to look him in the eyes. Not while Scar stared at him with those eyes. With a smile too kind and too cruel.
Grian was tempted to say something. To back up Joel. To back off of Scar. To leave.
But, he couldn’t. Not while red eyes bore into his own. Scar looked at him, confidence fading into a more neutral expression.
Scar was looking for something in his eyes. An admission of guilt? A sadness? Happiness? What did he want from him?
Scar sighed. He sounded defeated. For a brief moment, Grian couldn’t breathe. His chest burned with shame. In another world, he would have rushed to make Scar smile. In this one, he kept his distance.
(No matter what choice he made, Scar always wound up dying in front of him.)
Scar’s eyes shone with disappointment. He looked toward Joel.
“What crystal do you want?”
Joel had always been better at this— at not getting attached. At seeing rationally. So, of course, he would make the best choice here. The smartest one.
A crystal to break everything.
“A soul crystal.”
Scar stopped walking entirely. “No— no, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I— I can’t— I don’t want to die, Joel!” Scar stepped toward Joel, anger burning in his eyes. “Why can’t you understand that?”
Grian smiled. “What about those soul crystals you made me and Mumbo?”
“Those— those didn’t count!” Scar sputtered, his hands held high in the air. “They didn’t really have my soul in them!”
“They had a soul in them, though,” Grian pointed out. “But… not yours?”
“No,” Scar lowered his hands as he turned around, staring straight up at his home. At their destination just a few minutes away— at Magical Mountain. “They didn’t have my soul in them.”
A pause.
“I’ll do it.”
That isn’t right, Grian thought. This shouldn’t be happening.
Despite everything he built,— every line of code, every block placed with precision— a fireball sat in Scar’s palm. He held it in front of him as he inspected the hole in his roof. He didn’t treat it as the glitch— the miracle— it was.
The laws of gravity— the laws Grian built with his own two hands— didn’t seem to affect it. No matter how much he stared, it never gave a hint of burning out. It just floated there, unbothered by the wind.
No matter how long he stared, Grian couldn’t figure it out. How had Scar broken his world so much? Was it on purpose? A con to get Grian to care again?
To look him in the eye and tell him how much he cared,— how much he missed him— moments before turning and betraying him?
Scar didn’t care about him. He didn’t have the capacity for it. He could only care for himself.
And, now… Scar only cared about how his newfound powers could help him. For now, it’s best use was a torch. It could do so many things,— could cause carnage and grief— but Scar wasn’t interested in that.
(Once, Scar preferred Grian as a friend. Someone who yelled at him to wear armor. Someone for him to give flowers to.
Now, he kept him at arm's length. As an enemy. As a kindness to his former friend, Grian didn’t challenge it.)
Grian was almost insulted at how little Scar cared. About him. About his powers.
Scar didn’t treat it like the impossibility it was. Didn’t marvel at its mere presence in his palm.
This magic was a tool for Scar, and… maybe that was why he had it. Scar expected it to work, so it did.
No, Grian thought. That’s too easy of an explanation.
And, still, he stared at the fireball. It was beautiful, in a terrible way. He would have to get rid of it soon. If Scar couldn’t show him a good way to work around it, then he would have to do the next best thing.
Grian would have to kill Scar. Permanently.
Scar smirked when he saw Grian’s gaze. A smirk that reminded him of past lives. Of deserts and llamas and winning.
“Remembering the past?” Scar’s tone was matter-of-fact. As if he knew Grian was thinking about it. Thinking about them. And… any other time, he would be right. Any other time, he would be staring at Scar and remembering long nights in the desert; huddled by each other’s sides.
But, Scar had something now— something worth more than deserts and life debts... something worth dying for.
Scar had a mystery. Grian was going to solve it— even if he had to kill Scar again. Even if he had to have his friend’s blood under his nails once again.
No one was allowed to break the rules. Not again.
And so, Grian stayed by Scar’s side. Ignored Joel’s worried glances. Smiled when he needed to. Laughed when it was appropriate. All the while, his eyes focused on the crystals around Scar’s chest. Each was a different color and likely had a different usage.
He was tempted to ask about it, but—
No.
Soon.
He would know in time.
He just had to wait until Scar started the ritual. (Whatever it was.) And then, he would know.
And then, he would know whether he got to see Scar smile again or if he would hear his sobs once more.
(I’m sorry, it hurts so much.)
Grian’s hands shook. His nails dug into his palms.
He didn’t want to kill Scar.
“Okay.” Scar smiled, holding a crystal close to his chest. He sighed, closing his eyes. “It’s time.”
An odd hum enveloped the room. Scar clenched his fists around the crystal.
Grian watched, terror settling in the back of his mind. Something was happening here. Something…
Something he couldn’t describe with words.
A familiarity, maybe.
Between Scar’s fingers, the lavender faded into a juniper hue. The air thickened; a danger filled the air.
Scar’s hands slackened around the crystal. His face smoothed out. A cold breeze blew through the hole in Scar’s roof.
A chill swept through his body. Goosebumps sprang up over his arms. Something was wrong.
Joel crossed his arms over his chest. Grian resisted the urge to mimic him.
His eyes were fixated on Scar, still. He couldn’t look away until it was over. Until Scar had made a life out of nothing.
The world was quiet.
Scar smiled.
The wind picked up, blowing his cloak open. Folds previously hidden revealed before his eyes. Eyes— once closed and invisible— opened in front of him. Thousands of them, staring at Grian.
Grian stared in horror as old memories returned.
He stared in horror as Scar’s eyes opened. Purple replaced red. A smile, nothing like Scar’s.
“Hello again,” it murmured. “You’re doing well, we see.”
It glanced around the room, its eyes lingering on the hole in the roof. It frowned, before looking back at Grian. A smile quirked on its lips. On Scar’s lips.
It was nothing like his smile. Not joyful— not genuine. It was more manipulative than Scar could ever be. More likely to kill him than Scar. More likely to destroy his world.
The world he’d spent days— weeks, months— of work on. It would destroy it without a second thought.
A punishment worthy of divinity such as himself.
Grian opened his mouth to reply. To demand it leave Scar’s body— to demand it never return. To hope it would listen.
In the end, it wasn’t his voice echoing feeble around Scar’s home.
It was Joel’s.
“Scar?” He took a step closer to it. Grian reached a hand out to stop him, but the monster allowed it. “Are you alright?”
Purple eyes turned to Joel. Its smile flattened into a neutral expression.
“Scar is fine.” Joel’s worried frown evened out into something calmer— something befitting a red life.
The monster wearing Scar’s skin stepped closer, reaching out to Joel. It took one step, then another; until its hand pressed flat against Joel’s forehead.
Within a second, all the energy left Joel’s body. He blinked, confused, before his legs gave out under him. He crumbled to the ground like a puppet.
Grian stared at the monster in front of him. Scar’s cloak hid most of its body from view. All that was visible were his hands— and those eyes.
His hands shook. His wings tucked close to his back. Grian gritted his teeth and took a step closer to it.
Confidence is key, Scar taught him a lifetime ago.
He didn’t dare to smile. Not yet, at least. His eyes rose to meet it.
Red met purple.
Watcher met Watcher.
It smiled. “Your world is impressive.”
“Thank you.” Grian let his face relax— allowed the tension to leave his body. If he gave it even an inch, the Watcher would destroy all his work. The server— the death loop— he’d created would be gone within a breath.
“You’re possessing my friend.” Its smile widened further. Mockingly. “I want you to leave his body.”
Leave my world.
“No.” Grian took a step closer, his wings flaring out around him. An intimidation tactic they’d taught him. Flare your wings. Be bigger than them.
It growled. His hands balled into fists. Grian could barely breathe. He glared at the Watcher. Scar’s face— all signs of his trademark grin gone— glared back with hatred.
(“Whoever gets this, I won’t kill.”
Scar couldn’t even look him in the eye.)
“How about this?” Grian stepped within arms reach. It looked him up and down, considering. “You leave my friend alone” — he gripped its shoulder, grinning at its discomfort — “and I won’t kill him.”
It stayed silent.
Grian smiled. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To bring Scar to the final two again— for a fair match?”
Grian knew it would never take the deal. It knew he could never kill Scar.
Hurt him, yes. Kill him? Never again.
The Watcher narrowed its eyes. Purple eyes stared into his own.
It laughed. A cruel imitation of Scar’s light, joyful tones.
Grian yearned to hear Scar’s voice again. It would be a blessing to his ears. Anything was better than this monster’s voice.
Grian always put Scar before himself— even if they weren’t allied, he would always be Scar’s shield. Even if he was possessed by a Watcher, he couldn’t hurt him.
So, he did the next best thing.
“Leave him alone, and…” The offer hovered in the air. He gritted his teeth. “I’ll die. I’ll stop influencing the game.”
It stared at him for a long time.
“All games. No more interference.”
This was for Scar. It was all for Scar.
“Yes.”
It nodded and closed its eyes. The air was still. Scar’s cloak fell back to the ground. No matter how much he stared, he couldn’t see the eyes he knew were there.
Grian’s legs shook from the terror and the cold and the realization of the stupid, stupid deal he’d made. He’d thrown away everything for Scar.
Grian smiled bitterly.
What else had he expected?
Scar blinked once, twice. Grian readied himself for the purple to still be there, mocking him.
Instead, Scar smiled. A familiar smile— something the Watcher could never replicate.
Red eyes met his.
Scar raised a hand to massage his cheek, a sheepish smile on his lips. “Did it work?”
In Scar’s palm, a crystal hummed with power. Grian glanced at it, grimacing. The Watcher had done what Scar wanted.
It created an artificial soul.
Grian sighed. “Yeah, Scar. It worked.”
Silently, Grian laid his head on Scar’s chest. He listened closely for Scar’s heartbeat. It was a calming sound, one he’d missed this time around.
He smiled.
Scar reached his arms around his back, pulling him in closer. His chin dug into Grian’s skull. Grian smiled at the sensation. He took a deep breath, taking in the peaceful moment.
Scar had yet to notice Joel’s unconscious body. Had yet to realize what Grian had paid for his safety.
He would never know.
Grian clenched his fists around Scar’s cloak, holding back tears. There would be time to cry later. When he was dead. When Scar couldn’t remember his face anymore.
For now, he held Scar close— reveling in the contact.
(Just a few hours later, Grian died to one of Joel’s traps. Blown up. Quick. Painless.
Joel mourned a friend— and Scar mourned his soulmate.)