Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You look lovely today,” Pariah said, voice low and full of mirth. 

Clockwork bit his tongue, holding back the easy reply, the part of their back and forth game that was ingrained down to his inner workings, to the brass that chimed in his chest and even further, into his core. It wasn’t smart to let himself get distracted in a fight after all. 

He sliced his scythe in front of him, twisting the moment to just earlier and catching on the tail end of Pariah’s words. But Pariah dodged anyways, keeping just out of reach, almost predicting Clockwork’s tricks. 

It was frustrating. Fighting someone who knew him so well. 

Of course it worked the other way around too. When Pariah took a half step back, planting his foot firmly into the ground, Clockwork knew to move. To avoid the grabbing, skeletal hands that sprouted up from beneath him without even bothering to use his future sight. 

Pariah was still smiling at him and Clockwork bit back any retort he could make. Anything that might remind him of their shared history or of their connection. He failed.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he snapped, swiping again with his scythe and aiming for Pariah’s chest. He missed, just barely, just enough that it felt like a mockery. Like a soft caress between lovers that hardly brushed skin and left naught but goosebumps behind. 

Pariah’s smile turned into a much more obvious smirk and if that wasn’t infuriating then Clockwork didn’t understand the meaning of the word.

“How am I looking at you?” he asked, grabbing at Clockwork’s cloak. He dodged out of his grasp, twisting quickly behind him and holding the seconds between close to his chest. He let them go all at once for an attack at Pariah’s unguarded back, but even so it was not strong enough to pierce his armor. 

He grit his teeth. “Like you’re happy to see me.”

“I am,” Pariah grabbed the end of Clockwork’s scythe and used it to pull him closer, trying once more to get a hand on him. “I am always happy to see you, even at your most cruel you still look resplendent.”

Clockwork let go of the scythe, trying to gain distance and held what time he could completely still. It would not hold long, not here, in a lair this strong, but it would give him time to think. To plan.

This war had dragged on for so long. Much longer than Clockwork and his siblings had intended, and he was beginning to get impatient. It was why he had tried breaking into the Observants’ domain, to try and gather the weapons that had been stolen, torn from the bodies of strong, powerful ghosts that the little freaks had somehow managed to damage. 

He hadn’t expected Pariah here, defending them.

He should have.

His hold on time slipped and Pariah turned to face him once more. 

“I am not cruel, I am retrieving what was stolen from me- from us ,” Clockwork argued.

His eye was here, somewhere in the bowels of the Observants’ domain. As were many more missing pieces of his siblings. Used against them in this damn fight. He had thought to sneak in and steal them away, to leave Those Who Watch powerless and gloat as they finally lost all footing they had amongst the Realms, as their precious control slipped and everything fell once more to desperate anarchy. 

Pariah raised a brow, “You would say that knowing what your Chaos would do if you released her?”

“I am nothing if not filial-”

“You’re traitorous at best Clockwork, do not try and argue this is for anyone’s sake but your own.”

“So your conquering of the Realms is to the benefit of them then?”

Pariah grinned. “Of course not, it’s meant to benefit me alone. It’s fueled by my obsession and my desires.”

Clockwork glared at him, the energy around them was building, becoming heavier and there was something screaming in the back of his mind. Something that sounded an awful lot like threat .

“But I’ve never claimed otherwise.”

Clockwork felt it when the eyes turned towards him. Damn. He had gotten distracted by Pariah and the weasels that dare call themselves ghosts had been bought enough time to reach their fancy weapons and tools. He needed to leave. He could feel his grasp on this timeline slipping from his hands-

No. Not slipping. 

It was a tug of war, one against many and Clockwork hated that he might lose. Hated that these pathetic morsels and their damned obsession with watching and seeing could affect him and his Time .

He felt a warm hand curl around his wrist and sighed. Chaos. He knew better than to get distracted around Pariah. If any ghost could step aside and wait, patiently, for the perfect time to strike, it was him. 

“You don’t need to keep fighting us,” he murmured into Clockwork’s ear. The warmth of Pariah’s breath soothed something inside him, but that something ached with long repressed pain and there was nothing he could do but try to pull away. 

Pariah let him go. Oddly magnanimous for him, but Clockwork could see the future, not read minds, and the intricacies hidden in the depths of Pariah were a mystery to him. 

“I do as I must,” he lied. 

“You do as you wish,” Pariah corrected.

Clockwork bit his tongue once more. He glanced, frustratedly, towards the grand doors behind Pariah, then to Pariah himself, then to the future, parsing out the threads and rivers to see where they diverged or where they melded together. What decision should he make here? But before he could even get through a thousand different versions the vision faded and edged out and he scowled. 

He needed his screens to see beyond his own effects, and he needed his eye to see past the Observants’ barriers.

That left only one true decision for him to make. He wasn’t getting past Pariah today, and the last thing he needed was to be outnumbered as well. Slipping away between moments, Clockwork made his retreat. 

Pariah watched as he disappeared, moving in a way that no one could see without being bestowed his very own blessing, or stealing it, Pariah supposed. He turned to the small, pathetic things that had crawled almost literally from the woodwork as his beloved fled. 

“You won’t harm him,” he said.

The Observants’ eyes all swiveled towards him, some blown in shock, others narrowed in anger. He didn’t particularly care. 

“He seeks our destruction,” one of the larger, bloated ones argued. 

Pariah scowled, stepping forward as if his way was not blocked. They parted as expected and he strutted into the chamber Clockwork had just been trying to break into. They didn’t follow, but before the doors slammed behind him he caught the eye of the Observant who dared speak against him. 

“And I will be the one to ensure it.”

The slamming of the doors echoed down the long corridor as Pariah walked deeper into the decrepit amalgamation that was the Observants’ lair. 

He knew what they were whispering about. The prophecy. Those cursed spoken words that many believed spelled doom for the two of them. Three simple sentences that Clockwork had once waved off so easily. Like an innocent joke made amongst friends.

It was still a joke. 

Him losing his love? Impossible. His grip was too sure, too certain. Even on other sides of a war Pariah would not let go. 

Fright Knight was waiting for him in the chamber below, the messy storage room that held items more precious and powerful than any of the slithering creatures here could ever deserve. But still, they had their uses. 

Pariah could not fight the Ancients alone, not with the powers they held. It was imperative, truly, that he use the Observants and their tricks as much as possible. No one ghost could outrun Sojourn, but if you scatter them in different directions… Already being there was better than having to get there after all. 

They had already succeeded against Vortex, who, in his hubris, had tried to raze Pariah’s Keep to its very foundations. Even now his annoying screams and curses, demands to be set free, could be heard. It was why Pariah hadn’t allowed the prisoner to be kept in his own lair. 

One could only take so much before a headache would start to form after all. And the Observants served their purpose. 

“My Liege,” Fright Knight greeted him. Pariah nodded, signaling him to follow as they walked. 

“Clockwork just tried to break in,” he informed his Knight, “I want to know what he was looking for.”

Fright Knight lifted the fingers of his gauntlet to the base of his helmet, tilting it slightly as he thought. “It could be any number of things, my Liege. His brothers and sisters have been attacked many times and the Observants are nothing if not devout in their beliefs.”

Pariah stopped. “Explain.”

“There are pieces, from each of the Ancient ones, hidden away here and used as weapons, or tools,” Fright Knight said, hesitant and avoiding Pariah’s gaze. “Among which… Is the Ancient Clockwork’s very own left eye. Used by the Observants to block his vision and to give them an advantage over him.”

That was something he hadn’t known. Hadn’t thought to know. He had seen the scar of course, but had thought it was like his own, from battles or a life previously lived…

But Clockwork hadn’t lived a life before. Not like Pariah, or his Knight. No. He was made here in the Realms themselves, carved by hand out of the Chaos and given form just like his siblings. There was no reason for him to be scarred unless something had happened to him. And there was so little that could happen to a ghost even half as strong.

“Show me,” he growled and Fright Knight nodded obediently. 

They went down to the deeper catacombs of the Lair, where it was colder, and the ectoplasm more dense. It left a bitter taste on Pariah’s tongue, the different energies and powers melding together with no proper dilution or separation. It was a wonder the Observants were ever able to take care of themselves without Pariah. They were a mess.

The catacombs led out into a large chamber and in the center were seven half pillars for display, with cushions and artifacts set atop each one. The first one Pariah noticed was a bleached skull, mostly undamaged if not for the cracking and chipping at the base where it would normally meet the spine. 

Fright Knight was stiff beside him and Pariah moved on. The next was a doll, crocheted from thick translucent webs and frozen into a solid shape by ghost ice. It was quite clearly a child’s toy, and one that had been both precious and well loved. When he looked closer he saw a small spider trapped, frozen inside, and Pariah decided he didn't want to know the value of this particular toy, and that he’d actually much rather live in ignorance. 

Next was a compass of sorts, made quite obviously from a chip of skull. He remembered the last time he saw Sojourn, one of Clockwork’s less annoying siblings. He had a bright smile and a constant hum of eagerness and curiosity about him, finding it difficult to stay in one place for long. 

He’d started wearing a hood recently.

Pariah sighed. This war was dragging unnecessarily, and it was frustrating to see Clockwork fall to the violence of it. To watch as he became more jaded and defensive. Protective over his siblings as Pariah and the others took from them piece by piece. 

He had to end this quickly.

Next was a red gem. What Pariah had been looking for. He reached out to grab it, before stopping himself. Why did they have this? It hadn’t been shaped or molded into a weapon or a tool, had it? What possible use could they have for a simple red gem like this? 

He forced himself to walk past without taking it.

Having it on him would no doubt court Clockwork’s scorn unnecessarily, but it also posed a risk. If Clockwork was to find a way to retrieve his eye in a moment of weakness, he would be once more at an advantage. And one that Pariah could scarce afford. 

It would also serve to give the Observants reason to distrust him and that would get in the way of his plans.

The next item was unfamiliar. Crudely shaped and staring back at him with a frozen, serene expression. 

“It’s a mask...” Pariah picked it up, ignoring the tingling sensation on the back of his neck that beckoned him towards the gem he disregarded. 

Fright Knight stepped beside him, ever cognizant of when and when not to speak. “It is now, my Liege ”   he said, “Once it was something else.”

Disgusted, he placed it down. Leave it to the Observants and their so called impartial council to carve the face off a ghost. 

He ignored the rest of the trinkets and turned on his heel to leave. He knew what Clockwork was after now, that made this easier. His plans shifted to accommodate his new knowledge. 

Clockwork mumbled into his pillow as Nocturne cleaned another one of his wounds. The weapon that had stabbed him was laced through with plasma energy and with Clockwork’s liquid core, the reaction was festering. Better to cut out the damaged and infected ectoplasm so that Clockwork might heal himself properly.

It still hurt though.

“I wouldn’t need to be doing this if you hadn’t run off to rendezvous with your Lover, little brother,” Nocturne teased, digging his own blade, carved from the sharpest of yeti-ice, deep into flesh and causing Clockwork to grip tightly into his sheets. 

“I was trying to steal back what the Council stole . It was hardly a rendezvous when we were fighting the entire time.” The pillows muffled most of his words, but Nocturne understood him plenty. 

He hummed, setting the blade aside and picking up a bandage. It was made from Nocturne’s own domain and settled against Clockwork’s damaged skin like a comforting balm. 

“We’re fighting a war, Clockwork. We lose sometimes: battles, parts of ourselves, brothers…” Clockwork thought about Vortex, about the damage he suffered when he’d been caught in that ambush. How wild he’d seemed. He frowned into his pillow. 

Nocturne continued, “but we can’t throw ourselves alone into battle or we won’t win anything either. You know what Pariah would do to have you in his grasp.”

He wasn’t wrong. Soft, intimate memories of Pariah whispering possessive promises and romantic threats into his skin before the Realms split in two and everything fell apart started to play through Clockwork’s mind and he flinched as Nocturne tightened the last bandage and slapped him on the back for good measure. Bastard. 

It was romantic, before the war. The things Pariah whispered to him in their shared bed were moments he let his darker, more possessive side show and Clockwork had known his words were true. Had not realized, however, what that truth had meant for him, when futures such as this one played out. 

“You were the one who saw the prophecy Clockwork.” Nocturne stood up, walking away from the bed and conjuring a glass. He plucked something from the shadows of his cloak, blinking and slightly glowing, and dropped them in with little ceremony, popping them with a conjured straw and slowly mixing them into a liquid. “So why were you convinced it could be thwarted?”

“Any prophecy can be thwarted just as equally as it can come true. There is an infinite number of timelines where those damned words meant less than nothing, or weren’t said at all.”

Nocturne sipped his drink, unimpressed. “Just as there is an infinite number of timelines where nothing you do prevents it. Is every Clockwork in those timelines as blind and pigheaded as you are?”

Clockwork scoffed. 

Of course not. Some were much, much worse. But he wasn’t going to tell Nocturne that, he was enough of a smug bastard already and Clockwork honestly couldn’t handle him playing nursemaid if he thought there was even more dirt with which to bury Clockwork in his teasing. 

Pariah was making preparations in his head as the battle began, back up plans to back up plans, and every possibility taken into account. He knew what to do if the Ancients showed any of their faces, if Clockwork came alone or sent his siblings. 

He was prepared. 

That’s why the battle was leaning so heavily in his favor. Misery Vex had been the first to appear, slipping into the Observants’ ranks easily with that webbing of hers, hiding her from view as she set her traps and lay in wait. Sojourn had been sent in as a distraction. 

With that in mind, Pariah ignored him, focusing instead on following and cataloging the spider’s movements. Anything he missed, even the tiniest of details or smallest of moments, would be devastating to the force he had been building. 

He followed behind her slowly, tracing every movement and every step. It was difficult, she was tricky and found it child’s play to slip around corners or blend into crowds. But every small web she left, every tiny newborn spider, Pariah plucked from their places and destroyed with the flames of his ring. 

If he reached them early enough, before the traps set, it would be this simple. But as she gained distance and Pariah fell behind, eventually losing her entirely, the traps had more and more time to set. Each one became dangerous, and each time Pariah grew more rushed to get to the next one before it grew out of proportion. 

The last one he tore apart was growing slowly into a swamp. Its wet, sucking vines pulled Observants and other passing ghosts into its center to feed its own growth until Pariah was able to rip out the core, separating it from its growing power.

That’s when he heard the shout, the anguished scream. It was two familiar voices that had Pariah giving up his pursuit, leaving the last of it to his Knight, and following the cries.

It was Sojourn again, but this time beside him was Clockwork, as precious and resplendent as he would always be. They were surrounded by neon green, the color of freshly spilled ectoplasm- and there was a lot of it. 

Pariah felt the hum of his core stutter. Clockwork would never forgive him if his youngest sibling was Ended this way. 

He fought through the mess of battle, fleeing and fighting ghosts both in his way and blocking his path. Summoning a horde of skeletons from beneath his feet, Pariah put an end entirely to the fight.

It was an inelegant solution, and resulted in a significant drop in the power Pariah had available to him. Power he should be using in his own fight with the Ancients so that they might not finish him themselves and leave his side of the war at a loss for their leader. 

But it was fast, and allowed him full domination of the battlefield. 

He walked closer quickly so that he might render aid and take him back to his keep, perhaps as a prisoner, perhaps as a token of temporary truce so that he may speak to his beloved and try to move him once more to end this war. 

Either way he would find a way to turn this to his advantage. A battle won was an excellent prize, but a sturdy foundation in the war was superior. As he got close he saw Clockwork lift his head, his eyes filled with sorrow and mounting grief and Pariah’s steps paused. 

The battlefield was quiet, and if Pariah hadn’t known better he’d say Clockwork had paused time for the two of them alone. 

But it wasn’t so, and it wasn’t Pariah in his beloved’s gaze. 

He stepped closer again.

Clockwork was at his brother’s side in an instant, catching him and gently lowering him to the ground beneath them. He froze time, twisting it in place so that it wouldn’t move, even as he was distracted, and looked over Sojourn’s wounds. 

They were deep, and still oozing slightly. It was a wonder that his core still hummed, and that another ghost hadn’t been born from the violence. Then again, Clockwork checked the wound, the weapon used was different, something meant to splice and take pieces. His eyes went up towards his brother’s hood. 

Sojourn had only started wearing it recently, since he’d been caught off guard and attacked , before this war had even properly started. Back when it was the Observants who were trying to spread their Order and Pariah was not yet a player. 

Clockwork had to hold his emotions back and focus on doing what he could for the new wound, not get distracted by what had already happened. That was not the first injury Sojourn had endured, and it would not be the last. 

Not if Sohourn survived this.

He started by ripping pieces of his own clothing, imbuing it with stilled-time and tying it tightly around the wound. It would stop too much ectoplasm from leaking away and give his form time to heal and remerge. It would be close, but Sojourn was an optimistic ghost, with a strong obsession. He’d be okay. 

Letting time play around them once more by untwisting the knot he had made, Clockwork carried his brother in his arms and decided it best to leave the fight entirely. They’ve lost this one, but it was only one battle of many.

Pariah stood in his way.

“Move,” Clockwork hissed, but Pariah stood strong. “We’re leaving, we’ve lost the fight, move. ”

Pariah’s eyes flickered down, towards the oddly still figure in Clockwork’s arms and when he looked up to catch Clockwork’s eye he looked surprised by the fury in them. He raised his hands in a futile attempt to placate. “Stay, we can heal him quicker than you-”

“And use him for your experiments? Is he to be another weapon in your war against us? The same as Vortex, whom you’ve made into a bitter, raging parody of himself?!” Clockwork shouted.

Pariah did not flinch back, but stepped closer instead. “I would not let them do that to you.”

“It is not my self I am worried about. It is not only my self I care for. I am not you Pariah.”

“If you are going to insult me, it's better if you do so accurately,” Pariah took another step closer and Clockwork’s grip on his brother tightened. “You know as well as I that I care deeply for you.”

Did he? “It has not stopped you from waging this war.”

“I did not wage this war-”

“You seek to unite the Infinite Realms!”

“Should they not be united?” 

“NO!” Clockwork screamed his frustration, “Why should the Infinite be united? Is it not enough that it exists? Must everything find order?”

“Is it so wrong to seek a place for everything?”

“Can you stop shouting over my head please?” Sojourn mumbled into Clockwork’s shoulder, jolting him back to the present reality and away from the familiar argument. He looked back up to see Pariah, closer now and reaching for him. He stepped back, dodged his grasp, and flew away with his brother. 

Nocturne had been waiting for them, an Elder of the Frostbitten Tribe of the Far Frozen at his side. Clockwork quickly handed over Sojourn and was dragged away from his side as the Elder got to work on his wounds. 

“He will be okay,” Nocturne said, leading Clockwork deeper into the tunnels where they had hidden away once the peak of the war hit and their lairs were no longer viable options. Other than Misery, who had made her own more trap than home, each of them had been attacked, damaged or almost broken into. 

He let his brother comfort him. “I know, I see it.” Breathing he saw the futures where Sojourn came out of the other side of this wound okay. Happy, energetic and the same free spirit he’d always been, carried on the winds of his core and to the edges of the Realms. 

The difficulty was ignoring the other futures. The darker ones where his brother lost a piece of himself in this fight, floating aimlessly and lost as the Infinite swallowed him whole- desperately searching for something he once felt he’d had. 

Those futures would not come to be- Clockwork had prevented them when he brought his brother here to heal- but they whispered cruel torments nonetheless. 

Nocturne let him have that moment, not that he could steal such a thing from the Master of Time. He waited until Clockwork’s core quieted, and the emotions that stained the ambient ectoplasm around them settled. “We will win the war.”

“Yes,” Clockwork looked further, a future goal clear in his sights. “Everything is the way it’s supposed to be.”

Chapter Text

It was months of battles and swapping pieces in an ever growing and destructive chess game. Pariah had conquered the Far Frozen, leaving Clockwork and his chaos seeking cohorts with no access to their medical facilities. 

This time, when a piece falls they won’t be able to get back up. At least not without Pariah’s assistance. Clockwork would no longer be able to avoid him, hiding as he has behind mirrors and cursed prophecies. 

Pariah was currently looking for an artifact he’d heard rumors of, that was supposed to be able to trap any ghost, no matter how strong. He did not know its limitations, or how much the rumors had twisted its true purpose, but there had just been a particularly bloody battle and now both sides were in retreat and licking their wounds.

The perfect time to prepare.

He found what he was looking for, on the edge of the Story Lands. It was a decrepit lair, broken and practically cracked in half through the middle. The ghost that had once called this place home must have long been Ended, for their lair to look like that.

Pariah wasn’t even refused entry, easily pushing a creaking wooden door open and keeping a careful ear out for any unexpected sounds. An empty lair like this could house any number of creatures, from Will o’ Wisps darting around corners to blob ghosts huddling together under old decrepit furniture. They would not be particularly dangerous to a ghost as powerful as Pariah, but he’d still like not to step in them. 

The lair itself was similar to a manor house, with elegant 18th century architecture and large open flooring that led to smaller, more condensed halls and rooms. Pariah was not sure which Realm it paralleled, to have such an ancient lair host such a modern visage, but he also did not care.

The layout was tricky and almost labyrinthian, like most ghost’s lair’s, and Pariah found himself starting from one end and working meticulously through each door and hall until he reached the other. 

Honestly at this point he found himself surprised it wasn’t in any of the grander chambers, such as the ballroom or entrance way. Instead he’d found a nest of Spiderlings hiding away from their mother and a couple of honey-wasp nests tucked into the corners. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and thinking about how frustrated he would be if this was another lost cause or wild goose chase. Upstairs was next and once more Pariah swept from one side to the next, ending in the last room on the left side, which had turned out to be the Master suit- or a mimicry of one.

It was surprisingly intimate for so grand a house and Pariah was struck by the thought that this lair might not have belonged to an adult, but a child familiar with wealth instead. Either way the ghost was long gone, and their existence mattered less than what they may have left behind. 

He started with the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a small wooden music box. 

“You ransack other ghost’s lairs now?” A deep, familiar voice sneered from behind him. 

Pariah kept his grip on the music box. It appeared he found exactly what it was he’d been looking for- or at least something with value enough to drag his elusive Timekeeper out of hiding.

“I was repurposing something abandoned, I feel a kinship with abandoned things.” He turned to see Clockwork at the door, the darkness of his hood shading his face but doing nothing to hide the nervous shine in his red eye. At least not from Pariah. 

“You should get better at abandoning things yourself,” Clockwork didn’t move closer, didn’t subtly try and look for an opening the way any other ghost might have, with their eyes on the prize in Pariah’s hands. That was why he was so dangerous.

And why he was so desirable. 

“I am not one to throw away things of value.”

A scoff. “Perhaps you should throw something away for once,” he rebutted. “ Perhaps you can start with your war.”

“My war?” Pariah raised a brow, “so you’re no longer fighting then?”

Clockwork bared his teeth. “I would not need to fight if you would-“

Pariah cut him off. “I will not let you rouse Chaos, beloved.”

His mouth clicked shut, the venom in his eyes no weaker for having been silenced momentarily. “No. Instead you’d work with the Watchers of Every Little Thing and force something much worse upon us.”

“Order may do you some good,” Pariah mused, thinking of the oxymoron that would be an obedient Clockwork. 

“You seek control, Pariah , not order. Do not think me as foolish as those you preach to.”

He smiled softly. “I would not dare.”

Before he could even blink, Clockwork was before him, hand on the music box and gaze determined. Pariah clicked his tongue, frustrated that the moment he had decided to act was seen through so easily.

According to the rumors the music box he had in his hands could cause temporary obedience, but only once. By the end of the song its power would be lost and Pariah would be holding nothing more than a trinket. 

Clockwork spoke quickly, before Pariah could formulate in his mind what it was he wanted, and stole the music box’s power away.

“ Dance, ” he said, almost whispering it into Pariah’s ear. 

A jolt went through Pariah’s core, momentarily the thought of dancing the only desire he had, his obsession second to it in a way he had never once experienced.

Clockwork had an amused smirk, likely awaiting an embarrassing show of sorts, but Pariah already had a hand of his in his grasp. He had only ever been taught in the ballroom style for court, not the theatrical showy display of dancing by one’s self for another’s pleasure. 

His beloved was a fool, if he thought Pariah would dance alone. 

He felt the embers of the dying magic, leaking from the music box in their shared hands and ignited them with a whispered: “Dance with me.”

The music box played, the song wrapping around them like taught strings, pulling them into a familiar dance that Clockwork did not miss. Could not allow himself to miss. 

His clever scheme to waste Pariah’s time and leave him bereft of a powerful tool had backfired, though only slightly. It seemed that both of them would suffer wasted time, and even worse, such time would be wasted in the presence of the other. 

Pariah spoke, his lips far too close to Clockwork’s ear. “How long has it been since we danced like this beloved?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t kept track,” he lied, ignoring the warmth as Pariah held him closer, one of his hands like a brand across Clockwork’s lower back. 

There was a soft chuckle that tickled at the side of Clockwork’s neck and he tried to pull away, stepping instead into a pirouette that landed him right back in Pariah’s arms. Pressing even closer this time with the momentum of his twirl. 

“Suppose this song lasts forever?” Pariah hums, “what would you do?”

Clockwork lifted a brow and said dryly, “I suppose I would be dancing here with you until my siblings or your army comes knocking at the lair’s door and finds a way to End one of us.”

Pariah sighed. “You could have simply said we’d dance forever. It’s a romantic thought after all, and far less bitter than a reminder of war.”

“I’ve never been much of a romantic.”

“That, darling, is the most honest thing you’ve said all day.” This time it was Pariah that had them break, tossing Clockwork up and catching him gently before setting him to his feet and allowing the dance to continue. “It’s good then, that I’m more than romantic enough for the two of us.”

“I don’t see how a conquered realm is romantic.”

“It would be,” he mused, far too much amusement behind his eyes for Clockwork’s liking, “if I gifted it to you.”

Clockwork scoffed, truly offended now. “What use would I have for something you’ve … tamed ? When I can simply stop you from having it at all?”

“Because you can’t, beloved,” Pariah listened as the song slowly came to an end. “You won’t be fighting any longer.”

“What-?” His words were cut off as right when the song ended and Pariah pulled out the gem he had hidden so carefully on his person. 

Placing it gently where it belonged, in the eye of his beloved, he watched as Clockwork froze, his core reconnecting to his stolen eye. There were no doubt countless timelines and futures suddenly playing out in front of him and as Pariah predicted, it was too much at once when he hadn’t expected it.

He fell unconscious into Pariah’s arms.

Dropping the now useless trinket, Pariah carried his true prize back to his lair. 

“He hasn’t returned,” Misery said, chewing the nail of one of her less inhuman hands. “He was meant to be quick, in and out-“

“Worrying will not bring him back quicker.” Nocturne gently pried her hand away, wrapping a small bandage over the nail where she had bitten through. 

She watched him work and started chewing her bottom lip instead. “How much of our family must we lose to this war?”

When Nocturne looked up, he saw her now bloody lip as well and frowned. “We fight this war for our family, if mother-“

“If mother was here now,” she scoffed, “how disappointed she’d be. What’s left of her children scattered and defeated by ghosts as pathetic as-“

“If mother was here now we would not be scattered at all.” Undergrowth entered the room, each step blooming flowers beneath him. 

He saw Nocturne tending Misery’s self-inflicted wounds and sent a small vine to stop her teeth. They were sharp and she was prone to chewing when she was made nervous- as rare as it was. 

“He is right,” Nocturne stood to greet his brother. “We would not be fighting a war if Chaos had not been the first to fall.”

Misery grumbled behind her gag.

“If Clockwork was taken we simply fight on as we would if any of us were taken.” Undergrowth met both of their eyes, his gaze lingering on the scars they each received, on the things stolen from them in previous battles. “We keep fighting the way we did when Vortex was stolen.”

“We will get him back,” Nocturne said. It was not a prophecy gifted by Clockwork that gave him confidence, but his own determination. They would get their brothers back. They had to. 

Misery bit viciously through her gag, ripping it away so she could speak. “And what? Watch him as he prances about the realms half Mad and broken?”

“If that is what he wishes to do-“

“Enough fighting, please.”

All three turned to see Sojourn enter. His spirits were low, and his feet were firmly planted despite his usual preferences. He shared a small, broken smile. “We’ll lose each other quicker if we can’t get along.”

Nocturne hummed in agreement, quickly making his way to Sojourn’s side and looking him over for any lingering trace of damage. Since the battle he’d been injured in, Sojourn has yet to act his usual self. It left his siblings unnerved, worried that he might not heal fully or that he too might lose his reason as Vortex had.

It also made them doting, and their stifling behavior did little to help him readjust. But Misery was hard pressed to stop them or lessen her own doting in any way. She had seen Sojourn when he was in a critical condition, Clockwork handing him over to the Elders of the Far Frozen before being rushed away in his own fraught state. 

She was the one who had to stitch him back together, her webs the only thing holding her youngest brother in one piece as his core fought to stay alight. 

Looking at her brothers, the only ones left if Clockwork had fallen as she feared, Misery made a determination of her own. 

The next one to fall, if any of them, would be herself. She would not watch it happen to another, as selfish as it may be. There was strength in adversity, but they were not growing strong from this. And her apathy could only stretch so far. 

It was breaking them, and she felt like she might break as well. 

Clockwork woke up in a familiar room, pillowed comfortably on a plush bed and surrounded by fineries. He growled, fighting back the headache the sudden re-acquisition of his eye gifted him.

Of course Pariah knew about his eye. And of course he would return it in the worst possible way, reigniting a connection Clockwork thought lost to him and leaving him debilitated so that Pariah might take advantage. The streams of Time were still rushing past, catching Clockwork off guard and he struggled to stay afloat. 

He needed to adjust. He needed… time. Organic time, where he was not in the thick of it, twisting and manipulating the flow. 

What a clever trick by such a clever bastard. 

“Are you going to just watch me?” Clockwork drawled, looking up at the ghost that dragged him here. 

Pariah was smiling softly down at him, posed aside the king sized bed in a relaxed and comfortable manner. “Yes. I find my gaze drawn to you even when you’re still and sleeping.”

He grit his teeth. “Do you think flirting will fix this? Fix us?”

“Do you think we’re broken?”

Clockwork scoffed. “How are we not broken? We’ve fallen entirely apart.”

Pariah stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning towards Clockwork. His eyes were still gentle, no sign of malice or cruel intention and Clockwork couldn’t stop the thought that it made everything worse. How could the ghost he loved, who looked at him with such eyes, hurt those he called family? 

Was Vortex here, hidden in the dungeons of Pariah’s keep, lost to his own madness? Or was he caged in the Observants’ prison? Experimented on as they sought power above their station?

Did they keep Misery’s first child in the same place Pariah had found Clockwork’s eye? 

How could he not see what he was doing? 

A hand caressed Clockwork’s cheek, tilting his face towards Pariah. “I do not wish to be separated from you.”

“Why did you wage this war, Pariah?”

Pariah frowned. “Do you truly believe I did?”

Scoffing, Clockwork ripped his hand away. “Oh? Would you blame it solely on the Observants then?”

“No,” Pariah let him go, leaning back but not standing from the bed. “They have followed my lead as you know. But we did not start this war.”

Ridiculous. “You attacked-“

“A very important ceremony. I know.” Pariah’s eyes darkened. “A ceremony that would have thrust the entirety of the Infinite Realms into complete chaos.”

“The Realms were born from Chaos-“

“So naturally they must return to it?” Pariah rolled his eyes. “No child must return to its mother’s womb. They are expected to grow beyond that.”

Clockwork couldn’t look at him anymore. He cast his eyes down, at the fine fabric clenched beneath his fists. “You would keep us from our mother for an eternity-“

“It is common, amongst mortals, for the child to outlive their parents.” Pariah’s breath warmed Clockwork’s ear and he realized too late that he had drawn closer, close enough to pull Clockwork fully into his arms and run a soothing hand down his back. 

It only served to infuriate Clockwork. If Pariah thought this was comforting, he was sorely mistaken. He struggled in Pariah’s embrace. 

“So what? We aren’t mortal. You decided to wage war against-“

“Chaos. Yes. And my love for you will not end this war, any more than your love for me will deter my course.”

Of course Pariah cared more about his precious order than he did them . It should have been obvious with the way he carried himself, with every meticulous action he put forth. Pariah never did anything until he had seven moves ahead of his opponent and a complete understanding of the board.

He was impossible to dissuade from the course he chose and even further impossible to stop. 

Clockwork wanted to stop him. 

Had wanted everything, his mother, his siblings, his lover. 

Why must he always be forced to choose? 

Was it the curse of a ghost’s obsession that love must always be secondary? 

He sighed, losing the tension in his body and allowing his weight to rest entirely in Pariah’s arms. “I suppose you will not let me leave.”

“No. But I will not see you hurt, or suffer discomfort. I will end this war quickly and we will heal from there.”

Clockwork looked away, towards the opposite wall where a tasteful painting of some ancient battle had been displayed. He did not know if it was a true battle, if it was a memory of Pariah’s from a life lived eons ago. It did not matter. 

“If you think I will forgive you if you win this war, you do not know me very well.”

Pariah smiled against the back of his neck. “I know.”

Clockwork hummed. At least Pariah was no fool. He closed his eyes and began planning his escape.

Fright Knight was given a mission by his lord, to guard the Ancient Clockwork. Stationed at the entrance to the Keep Tower’s top floor he waited as Pariah and Clockwork held their discussion- or whatever else they were doing in their privacy. 

Once they were finished, and Pariah stepped out, Fright Knight took the chance to ask, “My Liege, why did you return his eye?”

He understood its use in detaining Clockwork, but there was no reason to leave it with him after he’d fallen unconscious. An eye once carved out would be simple to remove. 

Pariah stopped and looked back at him, amused. “Because it would infuriate him, torn between grateful to be whole and angry at me for having it in the first place.” 

Fright knight thought back to the chambers beneath the Observants’ collective lair, the trinkets torn and carved from the flesh and parts of powerful ghosts. The familiar bleached skull that had him consciously stopping his hand from reaching where his neck had once been.

He understood more than Pariah might suspect. But his loyalty stilled his tongue, and he stopped his questions there.

“Watch over him my Knight. He is conniving if nothing else, and his fear will make him desperate.” Pariah smiled a bit sardonically, “He should not be able to leave this room for now, but I doubt that will stop him from trying.”

Fright Knight nodded. 

Once Pariah walked away, Fright Knight entered the room. Sure enough Clockwork was there, practically clawing at the large stained glass window, his hood askew and his hair a mess.

He looked back at Fright Knight and straightened, looking down his nose at him. Fright Knight did not bother caring what was thought of him. He was far too used to being lesser and beneath. That was part of his curse.

Instead he focused on his goal, the goal he was sure he and this Ancient shared.

“You’re Pariah’s knight?” Clockwork asked, subtly fixing his hood and affecting an aloof air. “I do not believe we have met properly before.”

Fright Knight nodded, moving into a slight bow before straightening. “Ancient One,” he greeted. Clockwork nodded imperceptibly, a proper use of title always did much to soothe ruffled feathers. Respect was a powerful tool to use if one wanted to be heard. Fright Knight was a master of such tools, especially against those that think themselves above such petty and mundane things. 

“I suppose he’s placed you here to guard me then?” Fright Knight nodded again. “Very well, can you at least tell me how long I was unconscious?”

“Two beats of the inner core,” Fright Knight answered, using the only measurement of the Infinite Realms that would be equal across all parts.

It had been something close to a month at Pariah’s keep, the day and night still ever moving in his lair. A reminder that Pariah had once lived a mortal life, was the first in fact to enter the Infinite Realms without being born from them. At least, that was how the story went. Fright Knight himself was not nearly so Ancient as he and his knowledge was based on rumor and stories.

“Two beats…” Clockwork mumbled to himself, “they’ll certainly know by now then.”

Fright Knight watched as he paced around the room, making no attempt to fake obedience or hide his scheming. With his cunning personality and general defiance, Clockwork seemed a fitting match to Fright Knight’s Lord and he had to stop himself from thinking back to before the war. When the only thing that seemed to stand between Pariah and his intended was a vague prophecy about loss and greed. 

He wondered if Clockwork understood everything, if his vision allowed him that or if his own assumptions might get in the way the same as it would for any other. Was Clockwork aware of Pariah’s plans and trying to get ahead? Or was he fighting against something else, something only he could see?

This was all far above Fright Knight’s station though, so he simply stood guard and watched the ghost his Lord loved as he plotted and schemed against him. 

Pariah sat upon his throne, both delighted at his recent success and horribly bored as he continued his mundane duties. He had Clockwork now, safe and squared away so that no matter what he would not be harmed in the actions of this war. 

As such, he had taken the opportunity to be more ruthless, to push his forces further and harder and the speed of his conquest was growing exponentially. Ghosts from the varied conquered realms either fled and dispersed, or joined him, growing his army and easing his expansion.

The various groups that came forth to act as their Realm’s ambassadors were squabbling before him now. Each one arguing what the true definition of order was and how they might help Pariah implement this order in a way that left their Realms stable and not destroyed. They thought him a violent ghost dancing to the tune of his own sporadic whims. 

Pariah wondered how much of his own image had been confused with Clockwork’s and how much was hearsay alone. 

The only Realms that were not represented here were the ones that thoroughly sided with the Ancients despite everything. The ones that either thrived off Chaos, like the Barrens, or hated the Observants more than they desired any kind of coherency to their existence like the Far Frozen. The rest would grow into themselves given proper motivation and a solid base to build from. 

They would soon be able to govern themselves properly without having to bother Pariah with every single inane little detail of their problems. Hopefully. 

“The Drowned Quarter uses Doubloons as currency and we aren’t about to switch to Phoenix Feathers just because they have actual properties that make them valuable! That ignores the point of currency in the first place-”

“I am not letting my people exchange a useful barter based currency for a bunch of shitty coins that only have value cause you play pretend with them!”

Pariah pinched his nose. Perhaps he was being optimistic. Would it be better to just be the tyrant he’s feared as than this? 

… Maybe he should start delegating more tasks to the Observants. 

No. That was a horrible idea. The last thing those worms needed was any possible path to more power. Pariah stood up, putting a halt to the meeting and saying that the Drowned Quarter was responsible for having a solid backing for each of their Doubloons before they could be traded as currency with other realms. 

He dismissed them all and called Fright Knight to his side. He had entered the discussion chamber during the bickering, and proper as ever, had waited for Pariah to finish his duties. 

Sometimes he wished his Knight was the type to interrupt. 

“How is he?” 

“Sleeping, my Liege. He spent the day pacing and scheming as you predicted.” Fright Knight took his place by Pariah’s side. He was silent for a moment, but a sense of unease was tainting the ambient ectoplasm around them so Pariah gestured for him to speak further. “May I ask a question, my Liege?”

A rare request, Pariah mused for a moment, wondering what it was that had his Knight acting out of character. Usually he was content to do little but follow Pariah’s lead. It was a fantastic quality for a knight, and gave Pariah the comfort of having someone hold his absolute trust. So what had him asking questions now?

“You may, is it about Clockwork?” That would make the most sense. If memory served this was the first time his Knight had met his Beloved. Perhaps he would ask what Pariah had seen in him, or what his plans were. 

He should have known better than to think his Knight would care about that. 

“Why did you wage a war with the intent to unite the Realms?” he asked and Pariah blinked, surprised. Fright Knight had never questioned this decision before.

Looking over at his Knight he saw no judgement or hidden intent, not like Clockwork whenever he asked the same question. Perhaps he should share the truth then, with his trusted Knight.

“Before, in the time of Chaos, every ghost existed only by their own merit. Humans in the mortal realms, as I had once been, became great due to their inherent sociability. I believe if we can create community and make connections, single more powerful ghosts will not be the only ones able to exist freely and without fear. As proven when the first order, the Order of Observants, appeared and were able to defeat an Ancient- a feat once thought impossible.”

Fright Knight nodded, but his shoulders stayed stiff and soon enough he was speaking again. “But uniting the entire Infinite Realms…It’s impossible, my Liege.”

“Yes,” Pariah agreed easily, “the infinite is infinite.” 

His Knight’s helmet turned entirely towards him. “But you cannot stop once you have begun a task my Liege. It is against your nature. Since you have started this war you cannot stop.” If Pariah did not know better, did not know that Fright Knight’s loyalty would always outweigh any form of affection, he would think him worried.  

“This is true, I cannot stop fighting this war on my own terms, there is no doubt of that.” He leaned his chin on his palm and gazed bemusedly at his Knight. Would he be able to figure it out on his own?

“But you hurry to have it finished all the same,” he said, gesturing at the tables where the ambassadors had been squabbling earlier. It was true, Pariah was unlike his usual self: in a hurry to end this war so that he might mend the wounds between him and his beloved.

“Was the prophecy not clear? The longer the war drags on the further the lovers shall be forced apart.” It was ridiculous, bringing up that prophecy but damn near the entirety of the Infinite Realms had heard it or of it and he knew well his Knight had as well. It would be difficult to explain himself without at least alluding to it. 

Fright Knight nodded once more. “An eternal war means-”

“Eternal separation. Yes I must end this war quickly so that we might one day reconcile.”

“But… this is a war you cannot end. You have said so yourself.” 

“Yes my knight. I cannot end this war.”

Pariah watched as realization settled upon his Knight. He turned further towards Pariah, as if to disabuse him of the notion. He would not, nothing could. Once Pariah’s course was set there would be no changing it. There would be no stopping him. “…You mean to lose.”

“I fight this war with my entire core, and would never move myself to sabotage it,” Pariah said honestly. He was not fighting this war only for himself, though his main motivation was selfish. He did find he cared about those he made it his duty to care about. The more he could conquer, the more he could shape the budding civilizations, the stronger they would be. Especially since he had succeeded in stopping the Ancients from bringing back Chaos.

He wondered what his Knight would do with the knowledge he was now being given? That despite his desire for its end, Pariah must continue fighting it with everything he had, every scheme and strategy. How the war’s end had long since been decided despite it all.

But his Knight was a step ahead as always. “Are you sure even then that he will forgive you?”

Pariah smiled. “Clockwork has no patience, and a short memory despite everything. One day, perhaps sooner, perhaps not, I will have him willingly in my arms again.” That would make everything worth it. Every bloody battle, every moment spent apart, every biting word and piercing glare. He would savor them as they are, for they too are pieces of Time and of his beloved, but he waited earnestly for the return of the soft moments they once shared. 

“You gamble,” Fright Knight warns.

“I must”

“Why wage war at all then?”

“Because it is the only way I can have him.” Pariah admits, sitting back further into his chair. “You were not here back then, before order started making itself known. The ancients then were more concept than ghost, wild and untamed. Clockwork would change, devolving in his chaos into something out of my grasp, unreachable, untouchable… If I want him at all I must gamble everything. And I could not stop Chaos alone.”

There was a hitch of breath. “Then the prophecy-”

“Yes. It is Clockwork’s own greed that will be his downfall. It is his hubris that blinds him to it.” 

Fright Knight straightened, pacing a fist upon the breast of his armor. “I see. Your will is my command, my Liege.” 

Pariah chuckled. “I haven't ordered you to do anything at all.”  

“No,” his Knight agreed easily, “you most certainly have not.”

Chapter Text

Clockwork was watching a thousand different futures made from a thousand different decisions, ones that were optimistic, and ones he hoped to avoid at all costs. There was a knock on the door and he stopped, opening his eyes-both of them now- and sat up.

“You don’t have to knock when you’ve locked me in your own room, Pariah,” he said as his once lover opened the door.

Pariah looked as handsome as ever, if a bit disheveled from what must have been a long day of acting a tyrant. He walked in confidently and didn’t stop until he was within Clockwork’s reach. “I did not wish to disturb you if you were busy.”

Clockwork rolled his eyes. “Busy with what? Planning my escape?”

“Perhaps,” he responded, too easily amused. His success at Clockwork’s capture must have had him giddy. 

Sighing, Clockwork decided to put an end to whatever game Pariah was playing with him. “What do you want from me now?”

“I’d like you to join me-”

“Not if the Realms were burning to ash-” 

“For dinner.”

Clockwork blushed. Trying to find a way to salvage his pride he turned his head and said, “I’m not hungry.”

There was a soft chuckle from behind him and the bed dipped. Pariah’s hand went to Clockwork’s chin and tilted his head to face him. “You would truly prefer to spend all of your time in this room? Never leaving? Even to stretch your legs?”

Acting petty, Clockwork dissolved his legs into a spectral tail and brushed Pariah’s hand away. “I’m not hungry,” he said again.

“Humor me.” Pariah looked like he was moments from laughter and it was as infuriating as ever. He never seemed to take it seriously, this war that tore them apart, the prophecy that predicted their fall. All of it was child’s play to him, he truly didn’t understand why Clockwork was so angry, was so opposed to it all- because to him it was nothing.

Clockwork looked around his little bird cage and found his fight wearing thin. It had been weeks in Pariah’s Keep and he was right. Clockwork was going stir-crazy. “Fine,” he bit out, falling into a pout. At the very least the dining hall was bigger.

“Wonderful, shall we?” Pariah stood, holding his hand out for Clockwork to take. 

He ignored it and simply floated to the door himself, casting a glance back as if to say ‘coming?’

Pariah followed. 

The dining room was as grand as Clockwork remembered, and decorated in excess. The table was laid out with delicacies from some of the more exotic corners of the realms and Clockwork had to grit his teeth, thinking of all the places Pariah must have conquered to achieve a dinner like this. Was this his way of throwing his success in Clockwork’s face?

“I’m not hungry,” Clockwork said again, almost mimicking a broken record now and turned to fly away. 

Pariah caught his arm, steering him back towards the table and setting him to the left of the table’s head. It was surrounded by some of his favorites, a still warm cup of coraleander tea ready to drink. 

“I’m not hungry…” he almost whispered it this time. The memories too strong, the clear affection that Pariah still held for him fighting every bitter and twisted emotion. Why, he thought a little desperately, why did it come to this?

“Drink your tea beloved,” Pariah kissed him gently on the side of his head and Clockwork remembered he still had his hood down. He fixed that, pulling it up so that it might obscure his blush, and took his seat, carefully cradling the tea and hesitant to drink it. 

The dinner was pleasant and Clockwork felt the ache of it settle in his core. He played the words of the prophecy through his mind, over and over, trying once more to find a way to break it but it was clear. As long as this war was fought they would never be together- it didn’t matter how genuine or passionate their love had once been. 

He had to find a way to end this war- but Pariah was nothing if not thorough. He would fight this war to its bitter end the only way to end it was to-

Was to take Pariah out of the picture. 

That was it wasn’t it? Pariah was leading this war, even the Observants deferred to him despite their dislike of singularly powerful ghosts. If they got rid of Pariah… but how.

Clockwork, despite everything, would not be able to End him. And his failure would only serve to push them further apart. More bloodshed between them could not be the answer.

Pariah set down his silverware, taking a drink of forgotten mead and standing from his seat. Clockwork’s gaze followed him as he once more held out his hand. “Would you mind sharing a dance with me?” he asked and this time Clockwork took his hand and let him lead them to the ballroom. 

Pariah knew that what he did now would do little to change the outcome of this war. He knew he was playing at the risk this war would drag on further if he played to Clockwork’s affections instead of his anger. But he could not stop himself, the thought of having his beloved with him, fully in his arms, even if just for a day, was akin to a siren song and he could not find it in himself to resist. 

Dancing with him, this time with no spell to move them, was a slow, sensual affair. Pariah held him close, a hand settled on the small of Clockwork’s back to keep him from being able to pull away. 

“I miss this,” Pariah found himself whispering. He almost hoped his words would be lost in the sounds of the music, playing all around them as the Keep’s very walls tried in vain to hold the two lovers together. 

But Clockwork was keen, and Pariah was holding him close. “You could always stop. You could have it again if you stopped.”

“You know I cannot.”

He felt Clockwork’s grip tighten on his shoulder, felt him struggle to either pull Pariah closer or push them apart. “Why must you be this way? No other ghost was made so stubborn.”

“It is why I was made a ghost at all my love. It is also ingrained deep into my core. If I were not who I am you would not have fallen for me in the first place.”

Clockwork sighed, leaning his head into Pariah’s chest. “Perhaps this war would be easier fought then.”

“Perhaps.”

The dance was dragged out for as long as one dance could be, neither dancer willing to part but also unwilling to allow a second dance. But eventually, as all songs must, it came to an end. And Pariah led Clockwork back to the room to sleep. 

He had too much to do. Paperwork and strategies. He needed to make sure that the Observants would not take what was not theirs, be it power or authority and he needed to be sure of the other Ancients’ next moves. 

They would either act rashly, desperate now that half of them were taken from the battle, or they would be overly cautious and unwilling to add sacrifice. Honestly, it was the second option that worried him more. 

Perhaps he could incite them somehow? Maybe… Pariah thought back to the Ancient the Observants had captured at the beginning of the war, Vortex. Perhaps he could use that against them in some way. He’d long gone mad under the Order’s less than careful hands and if he were to release him on unoccupied territory it could force his remaining siblings to act. If not to try and regain his reason, then at least to stop his rampage.

Whistling, he set off for the Observants’ lair. A plan now formed and easy enough to execute. 

Clockwork was watching his own futures, as many as he could, limited as he was by the loss of his mirrors. They had been a gift from Sojourn, allowing him to look into the future of others beyond himself, stretching all the way to the infinite corners of the Realms. A gift that Clockwork had repaid with a trinket of his own, that allowed Sojourn to travel while stilling time-allowing his brother to be anywhere or everywhere at once. Their gifts had practically completed the other, growing their powers past their singular limitations. 

He felt those limitations now. There were far too many futures where Clockwork did nothing or was trapped here in this Keep. Where he didn’t see the outcomes and doesn’t know the sacrificial plays that made them possible. That, beyond anything else, was why he needed to escape. 

Waiting until he felt the Keep cool, a sign that Pariah (the lit hearth of the lair) had left, Clockwork slowly crept towards the door. It was locked, but not extensively so. Insulting, really, since it showed Pariah had not expected Clockwork to be genuine in his escape attempts. Or it showed Pariah’s own hubris at keeping him contained. 

It broke easily as Clockwork rewound its age, and he was able to leave. Or would have been, if Pariah’s loyal Knight had not been standing guard outside. Clockwork cursed. 

“If you are looking for our Liege he has left,” the Knight stated simply. 

Clockwork frowned. “He’s hardly my Liege to begin with.”

Fright Knight made no move to return Clockwork to the room though, so Clockwork made no move to return himself. He leaned against the door’s open frame and cast an assessing gaze over Pariah’s most trusted Knight.

“Why do you follow Pariah Dark?” he asked.

“I was cursed with eternity for my mistakes, and blessed with loyalty to spend my eternity with.”

An interesting way to describe it. “Wouldn’t most say it was the opposite? Cursed with loyalty and blessed with eternity?”

Fright Knight shook his head. “When is an eternity anything but a curse? Nothing was meant to last so long.”

“Time is.”

“Is it?”

This Knight spent too much time around Pariah, he was starting to gain his more infuriating mannerisms. “Whether it is or not doesn’t matter, are you stopping me or has Pariah given you some other order I am not privy to?”

“I would never go against the wishes of my King.” Fright Knight adjusted his stance, one gauntlet resting on his sword. “But I am not here to stop you either.”

“You’re not?” Clockwork asked, seeking out futures this decision had made and picking at different threads that pleased him. “Then what are you after little Knight?”

A gauntlet lifted to the space between Fright Knight’s helmet and his cuirass where his neck should have been. 

The Knight did not answer, but Clockwork pieced it together nonetheless. He did not need his brother’s ability to read minds to know the Observants had made an enemy here as well. It made sense, Fright Knight was a powerful ghost with a powerful domain. Pariah would not have taken him in otherwise. Those pathetic little Watchers could not abide by any singular ghost holding power beyond them.

“Would you join me on a stroll then?” Clockwork asked, a plan forming. 

He began walking towards the doors of the keep and Fright Knight followed.

It was easy enough to sneak into the Observants’ shared lair. Its connection was not as strong, split between countless ghosts as it was instead of beholden to one singular entity like Pariah’s Keep or Clockwork’s Long Now. Besides, whenever they feared capture, it was easy enough for Fright Knight to stand tall, his loyalty unquestioned and Clockwork’s capture well known. It helped when they were heading down to the prison.

That’s where the Observants were keeping his brother, and Fright Knight’s head.

Once the doors shut behind them Clockwork rushed forward, charging into the jumbled mess of a showroom where the pieces of his siblings were on display. He gathered them as carefully as he could and hid them away for later. 

Fright Knight walked slowly towards a bleached skull, his gauntlets shaking slightly and Clockwork looked away. He did not need to see what he did with it.

Their next stop was the prison, but it was empty and Clockwork turned to the Knight, furious. “You took me on a wild goose chase! Where is he?”

“My Liege has already released him, in hopes to bring your siblings out of hiding,” Fright Knight answered easily and Clockwork could not understand how this ghost was known for his loyalty when he was so easily giving secrets to his King’s enemy.

“Where?” 

“My Liege would not want you involved. He wishes to keep you safe-”

Clockwork grabbed the ghost and snarled, playing through countless futures and countless scenarios until his question was somehow answered and he flew off. Trying and failing to leave the Knight behind. 

“Why are you still following me?” he flew faster, only for the Knight to somehow match his speed. Perhaps allowing him his skull had been a mistake.

“My Liege would be upset if you came to harm. It is my job to guard you-”

Clockwork scoffed and stopped his questions. If he had to hear ‘my Liege’ one more time he might have to End Pariah’s trusted little Knight and that would be a horrible way to show appreciation for his escape. 

It did not make it not tempting.

By the time they arrived Vortex was in a complete rampage, destroying lairs and land, causing catastrophe after catastrophe even as Clockwork’s siblings tried to calm his rage. He saw Misery spin a web, looping it around one of Vortex’s arms only for Pariah’s sword to cut through it. She screamed in rage, throwing venom but Pariah dodged out of the way.

Undergrowth too, was trying to get their brother to stop, to realize who he was beyond his pain and his faltering obsession. Nocturne was working around the battle, moving lairs out of the path of destruction and getting ghosts to leave. 

When Pariah turned to see them his smug expression melted almost instantly from his features. Eyes wide he said, “Clockwork? Why are you-”

But Clockwork turned from him, worried more about his siblings, and ignored Pariah’s confusion, his rage and Fright Knight’s attempted explanations. He caught Nocturne’s gaze first, tossing him the mask that had been carved from his very own flesh, ignoring the way his brother’s eyes widened upon seeing it, or maybe him. 

He watched as Vortex raged and Clockwork flew closer, reaching out to try and help in any way he could. But it only served to bring Vortex’s attention towards him. His brother was no longer in those eyes, and Clockwork found himself stopped cold as lightning struck towards him. 

It hit, catching on the liquid of his core and stunning him painfully. He’d never suffered an attack from one of his siblings before- not like this. This one had a lifetime’s worth of rage and confusion behind it and it scrambled Clockwork’s core until he could no longer tell the difference between then and now. Fright Knight stepped in front of him and engaged Vortex in a duel as Pariah once more screamed his name. 

Foolish, it was not like something this small would kill him. A knife, carefully carved and enchanted sliced through his back to his front and Clockwork tasted ectoplasm on his lips. Oh. He… hadn’t foreseen this. 

“NO!” This time it was his sister screaming, and she was at his side in an instant. All six of her hands cradled him gently as she pulled him into her arms. He didn’t see what happened to the thing that stabbed him, but he heard it as it was pulled apart easily under Misery’s webs. 

He heard the fighting continue, Pariah arguing with his brothers as he too tried to get to Clockwork’s side. But when he tried to look, turning his head, Misery stopped him, shushing him gently as she mended his wound with her string. 

“Your core is unstable,” she said, gently working despite the chaos that surrounded them. If he thought of it that way, it was not unlike the past, where the only quiet moments were ones they made themselves in spite of their mother and everything she created. “Vortex is not in his right mind… this trial did not make him stronger.”

Don’t blame yourself . He tried to say, but it did not come. His thoughts were too jumbled and he lacked the energy to speak. His sister believed in growth, in learning through danger and tragedy. He did not want her to lose her driving force because of Vortex- it was dangerous for a ghost to lose what drove them forward. A ghost only existed so long as they felt they needed to. 

He heard a curse, Nocturne must have gotten hurt by Pariah. Clockwork closed his eyes and found himself once more wondering why it had come to this. He was sick of the inevitable, of futures that became impossible to escape. 

“Leave,” Pariah hissed and Clockwork opened his eyes again. Misery was still holding him, working on his wound and trying to soothe his core, but behind her and surrounding the fight entirely were countless numbers of Observants. 

Where had they- oh right. It seemed Clockwork and Fright Knight were not as subtle as he’d liked to believe, traipsing around the Observants’ lair as they had. One spoke and Clockwork felt as Misery’s hands shook. He looked at her face and saw that they were shaking with anger and not fright and lifted his own hand to soothe her. It did no such thing, only deepening her scowl as the Observants spoke on above them.

They were deriding Pariah, scolding him for releasing Vortex as if they had any power over him at all. As if they could possibly know strategy of any kind when it came to fighting a war. Pariah was ignoring them, focusing on the actual threat between Nocturne and Undergrowth, and Clockwork doubted they were doing anything beyond acting as an obnoxious distraction. 

Then he heard it. “If you are going to be so easily swayed by your emotions, perhaps we should eliminate your weakness now.”

What?

The Observants converged on him and Misery, more than he could count surrounding them. Pariah and his brothers were too far apart and even with the two of them, with Clockwork’s wounds it was unsure how well they’d do against sheer numbers. 

Clockwork felt his eye sting, a past memory of the last time he’d been surrounded by those who Watched and sought his destruction. Misery’s grip tightened and he expected her to let go so that she could fight, but instead she wrapped him quickly in her webs, tangling his limbs and slinging him quicker than he could fly out of range. 

Before the Observants could follow his impromptu course Misery pulled a hidden string she had been wearing that Clockwork had not noticed. A blast of light exploded from her, ripping apart ectoplasm and damaging every ghost in the vicinity, including Pariah. 

The damage was clear, with the exception of Pariah, who was only on the edge of the blast and had suffered the loss of only some of his ectoplasm, every ghost’s core was on display, especially Misery’s. 

She took advantage immediately, fighting through what must have been excruciating pain as she released countless venomous spiders and slung web after web. It was impossible, and impressive as she halved their forces in an instant. Fighting still as they surrounded her.

Had she done that to save Clockwork? He shook his head. He couldn’t let her. He didn’t want any more of his siblings to fall when the point of all of this was to be reunited as a family. Blinking back tears he struggled weakly against the webs Misery had trapped him in. His core was still aching, and Misery had used every fiber of desperation she had when she tossed him to the side. 

Her scream stopped his movement. Had she fallen? Truly? 

No. No no no no… he hadn’t seen this . 

He watched helplessly as Undergrowth turned away from Pariah, leaving the fight solely to Nocturne and started cutting swathes of Observants down. He watched as Fright Knight was thrown aside by Vortex, who moved towards Clockwork- whether because he saw a weakened adversary or because some small part of him remembered his brother, only Nocturne could possibly know. 

He watched as Pariah stepped between them, slicing his sword towards Vortex and forcing him back. And he watched as Nocturne took advantage of a distracted, weakened Pariah and laid his own trap. He slipped his mask on, reigniting powers long lost, and struck out, sending a deep, dreamless sleep towards Pariah, who was helpless to resist. 

Pariah dropped, and Clockwork stopped his struggles. At a loss for what he was struggling for. This was it, was it not? The moment they ended the war. So why did it feel so wrong?

The last of the Observants had scattered, content with the damage done and unwilling to risk further losses. His brother, so angry, but so gentle, walked towards their fallen sister, her core on display to the entirety of the realms as it desperately tried to draw in enough ectoplasm to recover itself. Undergrowth picked her up, careful not to cause further damage and brought her over to where Clockwork was, laying her beside him. 

Clockwork quickly reached for her, stilling any spillage from her wounds and checking the strength of her core. He didn’t notice Undergrowth walk away from them both, too caught up in doing for Misery what she had done for him only moments before. He took some of the webbing he had managed to rip off of himself and dissolved it into bandages, wrapping them gently around her chest. 

He did not know about Misery’s trap, what it was meant to do or how to heal from it. The only one who knew that was Misery herself and she was hardly fit to talk. Hopefully it would eventually heal, Clockwork ignored the possibility that she had made this trap in a way that it would not. She was strong, and toed the lines of risk and reward, but she was not and never had been suicidal. 

By the time he had stabilized her and freed himself from the tangle of webbing she’d gifted him, Vortex and Fright Knight had disappeared and the only ones left were him and his brothers. 

Picking Misery up into his arms he glided slowly towards Nocturne. “Is she okay?” his brother asked, expression hidden behind his mask. 

“No. But she is stable. We must take her to the Far Frozen, the only hope we have now are other frozen cores.” Those with Frozen cores, like Misery herself, were natural healers and would know more about her wounds and how to treat them than anyone else. Although the Far Frozen had fallen to Pariah, it was still the best place to seek treatment. 

In fact, Clockwork looked around, “Where is Pariah?” he asked and heard Undergrowth grunt in disapproval. 

“He will not be a factor in this war any longer,” Nocturne said soothingly and Clockwork felt trepidation build the longer his question went unanswered. 

“What do you mean? Where-”

Then he saw it. A wooden sarcophagus, newly made from twisting branches and thick vines. Undergrowth placed an arm on his shoulder, stopping him from getting any closer. “Worry no longer, please. He is unharmed. Take our sister and go, as you said, to the Far Frozen. We will take care of the King.”

“I didn’t want-” 

“ Go Clockwork,” Nocturne said. “This is delicate work and I can not promise a better solution should he escape.”

Biting his tongue, Clockwork turned to leave, hoping that everything would work out. That everything was the way it was meant to be. That Pariah would one day understand. 

By the time he arrived at the Far Frozen, word of Pariah’s defeat and the subsequent end of the war had spread somehow and the tribe was eager to allow him entry. He was rushed to the medical caves, where, to his surprise, Sojourn had been waiting. He was still fragile, healing from his own significant wounds but his eyes widened when he saw Misery and Clockwork’s states. 

Clockwork was content to just get Misery the medical attention she needed but the Elders would not hear of it and soon he too was being examined, his core checked for any lasting damage from Vortex’s attack and his other wounds tended to properly. Sojourn was torn between hovering worriedly over his own bedside and Misery’s and eventually Clockwork got up and laid down next to her, if only to stop his back and forth fretting. 

He sent what little energy he could to her, without overwhelming her core or draining his. Sojourn joined them, doing the same, and the three of them fell into a slumber.

Fright Knight continued fighting, his chest twisted in despair. He had failed, had misunderstood, broken the trust and loyalty that had been gifted to him. He continued fighting, even as the battle drew them further and further away. He sliced, parried, and dodged as the rampaging Ancient screamed and attacked. 

He did everything he could not to think of the last words his Liege had said to him.

“You’ve betrayed me.”

He continued to fight.

Nocturne watched his brother fly away with their sister. “He will not be happy,” he warned Undergrowth. 

“Well maybe he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Tyrant,” Undergrowth snapped. The only thing holding Pariah back from breaking this new prison was Nocturne’s spell of sleep, and if they did not finish carving and shaping it with the proper sigils and runes, it would not hold him long. 

“You cannot control who you fall in love with.” Nocturne frowned, fixing a glyph he had written incorrectly before moving on to the next one. 

Undergrowth rolled his eyes, and Nocturne couldn't help but to silently agree. It was frustrating to do all of this, everything, so their family might be happy and whole, but then to lose it all and more instead. Was the prophecy to blame?

Order and Chaos cannot both reign, and lovers caught between shall feel splitting pain. 

Jagged wounds will never be mended, if the war that made them is not quickly ended. 

If you ask for it all you’ll find you have none. If you give what you have you might be left one. 

It seemed once those words had left Clockwork’s lips, as accidental as they were, everything else became secondary. An accessory to a doomed romance. But Nocturne did not want his brother to suffer. He still did not. So he worked, sealing his brother’s lover in a sarcophagus of eternal sleep. 

“Do you have it?” he asked. 

Undergrowth pulled out the pocket watch Clockwork had gifted Sojourn long ago. “Of course, was this your plan all along?”

Nocturne shook his head. “No, I can’t plan ahead like that. I just thought it might give us an advantage in calming Vortex without risking Sojourn. But it is useful now as well.”

“We can use it to still time on the sarcophagus, leaving the King of the Infinite Realms trapped in an eternal sleep,” Undergrowth ventured.

“Yes,” Nocturne agreed, grabbing the trinket and imbuing its energy. “This way the spell of sleep will not end, and he will not fight his way into escape.”

“What if someone else opens it?”

That was true. Nocturne thought for a moment before spying the threads of Misery’s web that were lying discarded where she had thrown Clockwork in her foolish sacrificial play. He gathered them, forming them into a chain, then a lock, and then a key. He wrapped the chain around the sarcophagus and sealed the lock with the key before pocketing it. 

“There, now they can’t.” He smiled, sharing a look with his brother. “We can move on from this war and this prophecy.”

Undergrowth did not share his smile. “It will be hard, we have lost too much that we cannot regain.”

That was true. Pariah Dark and his army had made it impossible for them to ever call their mother back, and their siblings had been damaged far too significantly for either of them to say it would be alright. 

But that did not mean they could not heal in time, and that they could not try and repair what was broken. He grabbed one end of the sarcophagus and lifted it onto his back. “So where do we want to keep this then?”

His brother sighed. “I suppose Misery’s lair for now? Until she recovers and can build a suitable replacement.” He agreed, and Undergrowth grabbed the other end to share the weight. Together they hid away the sleeping King, and went to go visit their injured siblings. 

The war was over, but there was still more to do.