Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a chill in the air. 

All the animals have fallen silent, as if they’re avoiding some sort of predator. 

The leaves rustle as the wind blows through them. Clouds start to gather in the sky, shading the sun. 

It’s unworldly. 

Grian grits his teeth against the shiver that runs down his spine. He’s never quite gotten used to this type of deal, even though it’s been well over a decade since he became acquainted with it. 

Beside him, Martyn shifts. His hands clutch tightly along his sword. 

“She said she’d be here at noon.” Martyn hisses. 

“I know.” Grian replies. “She will be.” 

“It’s nearly noon now, and none of our patrols have seen her-”

“She’ll be here.” Grian firmly interrupts. Martyn shoots him a dubious look, but Grian knows he’s not wrong. 

Behind him, several members of the Southlands’ guard are positioned. They’re not meant to show emotion while they’re on duty, but Grian can still sense their unease. He doesn’t blame them. 

“Do you think she’ll get past my secure entrance?” Mumbo asks quietly from Grian’s other side. Despite himself, Grian snorts. 

“She will.” 

“But-” 

He’s interrupted when the wind suddenly picks up. It seems to roar as it whips around the courtyard. Grian’s wings puff up instinctively to fight the chill. Mumbo shivers and draws his suit jacket tighter. 

The wind dies away and everything is silent. 

Martyn glances at Grian. “Do you think-” 

“Hello.” 

Grian does not jump, even though he desperately wants to. Several paces in front of him, where no-one had been mere seconds before, stands a woman. She’s tall with pointed ears and long pink hair. She has a set of wings behind her. They’re lace-like and delicate-looking, but Grian knows better than to assume they’re fragile or soft. 

He squares his shoulders and inclines his head. “Shadow Queen.” 

Lizzie, the Shadow Queen and leader of the Fae stares passively back at him. 

“So,” She drawls, her sharp teeth glinting in the light. “I’ve heard you’ve lost my brother.” 

Martyn bristles. “He’s our brother too! And Timmy got himself lost.” 

“Martyn.” Grian warns. He addresses Lizzie. “We did not lose our brother.” 

“Forgive me.” She sneers. “I hadn’t realized you knew where he was. Tell me, then, where can I find my brother?” 

Grian clenches his fists. “We don’t know where he is.” 

“But you just said you didn’t lose him.” 

“We didn’t!” Grian growls. “He went missing all on his own.” 

Lizzie’s glare somehow becomes icier. “Well, I remember escorting him to your border. I also remember that there was no one there to escort him from the border to the palace.” 

“He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.” Martyn says. 

“Clearly not, otherwise he wouldn’t be missing!” Lizzie snaps, her wings flaring. “I’m not sure why it surprises me that you aren’t worried about him - you can’t even get his name right, half the time!” 

“We are worried!” Grian protests. “He’s our brother too!”

“Then act like it!” 

“We just don’t baby him like you do.” Grian says. “It’s not our fault he's missing just because we don’t treat him like a five-year-old. We’re looking for him, we have patrols out constantly!” 

“And how long did it take you to realize he was missing?” Lizzie asks. 

Grian hesitates. “Well, admittedly, it took us a few hours before we realized he hadn’t arrived - but we weren’t worried because Timmy likes to run off!” 

“I’m tired of hearing all the different ways you’re incapable.” Lizzie says. “I am here out of courtesy to you. I will send my guards to search your lands whether you give us permission or not.”

“Fine.” Grian spits. “You can search wherever you’d like, as long as you’re not causing chaos or disrupting the public or anything.” 

Lizzie’s smile is anything but sweet. “Thank you.” 

She whistles sharply and several large wolves come running into the courtyard. Some of the servants and castle-workers nearby gasp or cry out when they enter. Grian’s known Lizzie long enough not to be worried. 

The largest of the wolves, a dark brown one with lighter tan streaks, pads up to her. The air around it shimmers, then there’s suddenly a man knelt at her feet. 

“My queen.” He rasps. 

“Search the kingdom for my brother. Start near the border, see if you can find a trail.” 

“Yes, my Queen.” 

Something in Lizzie’s expression softens, and it surprises Grian. He’s never seen Lizzie anything less than annoyed - not that that is surprising, Fae and Avian don’t generally get along. 

“Thank you, Ren.” She says, her voice lowered. “Now go.” 

“Yes, my Queen!” 

The air around the man shimmers again and the wolf reappears. He howls once, a long and piercing sound, and then runs out of the courtyard. The other wolves follow him silently. 

Lizzie turns back to look at Grian, her long hair waving in the wind. 

“I can have someone escort you to a guest room.” Grian offers. 

Lizzie shakes her head. “Don’t bother. I won’t be going into your little castle unless it’s to talk about finding Jimmy.” 

“Then we can escort you to our meeting room.” Grian amends. 

“Let’s get on with it.” 

Grian has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scowling. He’s glad he’s got better control of his wings than he used to, otherwise they’d be showing just how displeased he was feeling. Martyn’s wings, which have the patterns and gorgeous color of a blue jay, are ruffled. He briefly considers telling Martyn to go take a walk, but he doesn’t think that would go over easily. His younger brother hasn’t been one to follow orders (not that Grian or Jimmy are any different). 

It feels weird to lead Lizzie into the castle. Historically, Avians have gotten along with the Fae just as well as they have with Elves. Grian is old enough to remember the uproar that was caused when his father announced he would be marrying the Fae queen at the time - Lizzie’s mother. That’d been the first time that Grian had met Lizzie in person, too, and she was just as collected and cold then as she is now. Grian’s heard from others that she’s a very kind and gracious queen, but he wouldn't know (and he’s not sure he believes it). 

Passersby in the castle stop and stare - it’s not everyday they see a Fae in the Avian kingdom, let alone in the castle. Grian ignores the stares and whispering, as does Lizzie. He’s sure she’s fuming behind her cool facade.

“Here we are.” Grian pauses and gestures to the entranceway of the large meeting room. “Sit wherever you’d like.” 

Lizzie walks inside and sits down regally. Grian sits across from her, Martyn on his right and Mumbo on his left. Normally it would be Jimmy sitting on Grian’s left, but, well… he’s the reason they’re gathered together. 

Out of the corner of Grian’s eye, he catches sight of Impulse waving at him. Grian looks at him properly and Impulse points at himself. Grian nods at Impulse and his cousin smiles. He ducks into the room - he’s larger than most Avians - and sits down next to Martyn. 

“When was the last time you heard from Jimmy?” Lizzie asks, straight to the point. 

“When he wrote to say he’d be returning.” Grian answers. He looks to the others for confirmation and they nod. 

“So you didn’t speak to him at all after I dropped him off at the border?” 

“No.” 

Lizzie frowns and puts her hands together. “Then he’s been missing for at least three days. He’s never been away this long, especially without warning. He could be anywhere. If something happened to him…”

She trails off and frowns. Grian swallows. 

“Nothing happened to him.” He says quietly. “Timmy’s an idiot, but he’s stubborn. I’m sure he just got lost.” 

Lizzie meets his eyes, and for a moment Grian thinks he recognizes gratitude in her expression. 

Then the moment ends and Lizzie is back to her normal self. 

“I would like to invite someone to join in our discussions.” She says. “They care for Jimmy just as much as we do.” 

“Who would you like to invite?” Grian asks. He rakes his brain for who it is that Lizzie is referring to. As far as Grian knows, Jimmy’s parents are both dead (he actually knows for a fact that their shared father is deceased), and he doesn’t think that Jimmy and Lizzie have any other siblings or close family members.

“You’re aware of my recent marriage, I’m sure.” 

Grian squints and nods. Dread starts to build in his stomach - he thinks he knows where this is going.

“Then, I would like to invite my husband, the Mad Wizard, to attend.” 

Grian exchanges a quick glance with Martyn. He looks just as panicked as Grian feels. 

“Uh, the Southlands are not on the best terms with the Wizards.” He says cautiously. 

Lizzie’s eyes glint. “I know.” 

“What Grian is trying to say, is that the Wizards don’t really get along with us.” Mumbo pipes up, and really he’s the last person who should be trying to help. “We’ve had a couple of, er, skirmishes rather recently.”

“I am fully aware of that.” Lizzie replies, deadpan. 

It has to be a power play. Why would Lizzie ask to invite a wizard into this conversation when she knows the animosity between the Southlands and the Wizards?

Well, Grian decides, Two can play at that game.

“We would love to have the Wizards come over.” He says, forcing cheer into his tone. 

Martyn shoots him a look. “Grian, I don’t know-” 

“Excellent.” Lizzie claps her hands together, a smile on her lips. “I’ll send them a message at once-” 

“Only if we invite the Alchemists to join us as well, of course.” Grian continues. Impulse chokes, Mumbo stares at him with wide eyes, and Martyn lets out a howling laugh, but Grian doesn’t care. 

Lizzie’s staring at him. Her gaze is calculating as she leans back in her chair. 

“Very well.” 

Grian smirks to himself. “Excellent. We’ll send the invitations at once.” 

There is no real need for the Alchemists to be involved, but they dislike the Wizards even more than Grian does and so it’ll be interesting to see how this all plays out. He’s not about to let Lizzie win this battle of wits and will, not in Grian’s own home. 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, mate.” Mumbo says under his breath. 

“Don’t worry, Mumbo Jumbo.” Grian gleefully whispers back. “I’ve got this all under control.” 

* * * * *

Grian does not have this all under control. He paces in his room and tugs anxiously at his hair. 

“This was a stupid idea!” He bemoans. 

“It was.” Mumbo agrees. He turns a page in his notebook.

“Why did I think this could work?” 

“Wish I knew.” 

“This is going to end in disaster!” 

“Probably.” 

Grian whirls around. “Mumbo! I’m freaking out, would you be a little more supportive?!”

“Oh!” Mumbo jumps up and drops his notebook down into his chair. He wrings his hands. “Yes, of course! I - er - uh, don’t worry, Grian! I’m sure everything will work out.” 

Grian narrows his eyes at Mumbo.

“I feel like you’re lying.”

“Oh for goodness - Grian, everything will be okay, okay? Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Say it was all your fault?” Grian tries hopefully. 

Mumbo snorts a laugh. “Not a chance of that, mate. Think of something else.” 

Grian ponders for a moment, then he holds out his arms. Mumbo hugs him without a word. 

It’s nice, Grian thinks, to hug Mumbo. Mumbo’s just the perfect size for Grian to tuck his head under and he can wrap his arms around Mumbo’s thin frame. 

A second thought makes Grian frown. 

“You need to eat more.” He says. His voice is muffled by Mumbo’s clothes. 

“What?” 

“I said,” Grian leans back. “You need to eat more.” 

Mumbo frowns. “You think so? I thought I ate quite a lot, actually.”

“Nope.” Grian says. “You need more food.” 

Mumbo splutters as Grian pulls him to the door. 

“We’re going to get some food for you right now.” 

He throws the door open and jerks in surprise when he comes face-to-face with Impulse. 

“Oh, geez!” Impulse exclaims, wings tensed. He puts a hand on his chest. “You scared me!”

“You scared me!” Grian replies. “What are you doing, lurking about out here?” 

“I was coming to tell you that the Wizards have arrived.” 

“Just my luck.” Grian grouches, rubbing his head. “Any word on the Alchemists?”

Impulse winces. “They’ve also just arrived.” 

* * * * * 

It’s nearly a full-on war in the meeting room as Grian walks in. He’s reminded of why they never tried to form a four-way alliance, and why the relationship with the Fae is still so rocky even after a royal marriage and child. 

The Wizard group contains only two people - Joel and Scar. Just because their group is small does not mean that they should be taken for weak, however. Grian knows well enough how unhinged and powerful the two of them are, especially when they team up. He gives them a wide berth. 

The Wizards are both standing near Lizzie. Scar has a sort of smirk on his face as he leans against the wall while Joel viciously shouts at the Alchemists across the room. 

The Alchemists are a group of four: Skizz, Tango, Bdubs, and Etho. Bdubs and Skizz are the loudest of the group, and they’re yelling back at Joel. Tango seems heated, but restrained, and Etho is staring at his nails like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Everyone!” Grian shouts. “Shut up!” 

Every pair of eyes turns to him and he wants to shrink away. 

“I didn’t know they would be coming!” Joel says, glaring at the Alchemists. 

“Didn’t realize Grian was friends with a bunch of thieves and cheats!” Skizz shoots back. 

This was a horrible idea. The fighting starts back up again and it’s starting to give Grian a migraine. Luckily, Lizzie seems done with all the drama, too.

“Be quiet!” The Shadow Queen demands. “And sit down!”

Reluctantly, everyone takes a seat. Lizzie’s easily the most powerful being in the room, and no one is keen on testing her patience. 

Lizzie sits down too and puts her hands together. “We are speaking one at a time.” 

“Why are they here?!” Skizz demands instantly, waving an accusing finger at Joel and Scar. 

“I’m sure you’re aware that Joel is my husband, and Scar is his companion.” Lizzie cooly replies. 

“Yeah, I’m married to a hot Fairy. Why are you here?” Joel says. 

“Grian invited us.” Tango answers. 

“I thought they deserved to know what’s going on.” Grian shrugs. Lizzie clearly doesn’t fall for it.

“Why are we here?” Etho asks, his question directed at Grian. 

Grian and Lizzie exchange glances. She raises a brow at him. 

“Our younger brother is missing.” Grian explains. “Jimmy. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” 

“Couldn’t you have sent us a letter?” Bdubs says. “He’s just missing, right?”

“Well, technically yes.”

“So this is just a huge waste of our time.” Skizz says. 

“We don’t know that for sure-” 

“You called everyone here because your little brother is just missing?” Tango asks. “Skizz is right, crazily enough.”

Skizz shoots him an offended look. “Hey!”

“So, it’s agreed! The Alchemists don’t need to be here!” Scar proclaims. 

The room breaks out into chaos. 

“Woah, wait a sec-”

“That is not what I meant-”

“You don’t need to be here!”

“Fuck you, Scar!” 

“Hey-”

A howl pierces through the noise. Grian’s hair stands on end and he feels goosebumps appear on his arms. 

Four wolves run into the room. The largest one - Ren, Grian recognizes - pads up to Lizzie. There’s something yellow in his mouth, but Grian can’t get a good enough look -

Lizzie lets out a gasp and runs to Ren. Ren bows his head and gently releases whatever was in his mouth into Lizzie’s waiting hands. 

She holds it up for the room to see, and Grian feels the bottom of his stomach drop. 

It’s one large, blood-covered feather. The feather itself is yellow. The Royal Avian family is the only family to have colorful wings, and there’s only one member that has yellow wings. 

Jimmy. 

* * * * *

Jimmy’s head is throbbing. He tries to pry his eyes open, but it makes his head ache even worse. 

His whole body is sore, but especially his wings. They feel raw and chapped, and there are patches that sting horribly. 

Jimmy licks his lips. He tentatively reaches for his wings and brushes his hands against his wings. 

Immediately he lets out a cry. His wings burn. 

He knows what’s wrong, too. As clumsy as he is, he’s only pulled out his feathers a handful of times. Each time was absolute agony that left him flightless for a few weeks, at least. 

Wing- and feather-related injuries are some of the most severe for Avians. Jimmy may only be half-Avian, but his wings are just as sensitive. 

Jimmy’s missing a lot of feathers. He won’t be able to fly properly for a long time. 

This is bad. 

Jimmy forces his eyes open. He’s in a dark room, and a few moments of observation allow him to realize that he’s not actually in a room - he’s in a cell. He shifts, attempting to sit up, and white-hot pain shoots across his wrists and ankles. Jimmy lets out a haggard shout as he falls back and instinctively yanks his limbs away from the pain. 

The burning sensation follows him, but it begins to dull. 

Jimmy blinks back tears. He inspects his wrists and ankles and it quickly becomes obvious why they hurt so much. 

Someone has chained him in iron. Jimmy’s stomach rolls at the realization. Weaker Faes, like himself, are allergic to most metals. Iron is especially toxic and can harm even the more powerful Fairies if they’re not careful. 

Jimmy has been taken by someone intentionally. 

This is very bad. 

Chapter Text

Exor is happy, which means something is really, really wrong. 

Exor is never happy, not even when something good happens. 

Scott squints up at his uncle. He’s talking to a Council member animatedly. He waves his hands and smiles widely as he talks - he’s excited about something. 

What is he excited about? 

“What are we watching?” 

“Gods!” Scott exclaims, whirling around. His brother stands behind him with a wide grin. 

“You alright, Scott?” They ask playfully. 

Scott swats at him. “Don’t scare me like that!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Scott rolls his eyes and gestures back at their uncle. He’s still talking to the Council member. 

“Any idea why he’s so happy?” He questions. 

Xornoth shakes their head, staring thoughtfully at their uncle. 

Their uncle’s conversation lasts a few more minutes, then he gives the Council member a hardy pat on their back to send them on their way (even more suspicious). Exor nods to himself, looking pleased, and his eyes land on Scott. 

Oh, no. 

Exor’s grin widens significantly and he marches over to them. Behind Scott, Xornoth hisses out a curse. It’s too late for them to disappear - Exor already has their eyes on them. 

“Just the people I wanted to see!” He proclaims happily. “I have a special job for you two.” 

Scott stiffens. “I don’t know-”

“Excellent, let’s go!” 

Exor lays a hand on each of their shoulders and starts to guide them. 

“I have an excellent surprise!” He says. “Something that will completely change the course of the war forever!” 

Scott discreetly exchanges a dubious glance with his brother. Exor has been known to exaggerate before, but he’s never made a proclamation like this. 

Against his better judgment, Scott says, “What do you mean?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” Exor says. He pauses in the hallway and takes a step back so that he can face them both fully. “My advisors and I came up with a perfect plan and it was executed flawlessly!” 

Scott and Xornoth say nothing. 

Exor continues. “You recall that the late Queen of the Fae married the Avian King and had a son, yes? Since then, our troops have been struggling to hold out against the combined forces of the Avians and the Fae. I figured out a brilliant way to recover some power in this fight!” 

Exor starts walking again, his hands pushing Scott and Exor forward. 

It’s when they reach the entrance to the dungeon that Scott begins to sweat. Nothing ever good happens in a dungeon, and Exor’s misplaced excitement makes Scott even more nervous. 

Exor takes out his master key to unlock the entrance, then guides them inside. 

They first travel down a long, dark staircase as the room around them becomes progressively darker and damper. Soon, it’s only flickering torches on the wall that offer any light. The smell is absolutely disgusting. It’s a mix of blood and waste and rotting meat and Scott would rather not think too long about why it smells the way that it does.

He swallows at the sound of a drawn-out wail. The dungeons aren’t exactly hospitable for their prisoners. 

They reach the end of the staircase and begin to walk past the cells. Scott ignores the eyes of the prisoners as he passes by. He knows they’re staring at him. He knows they probably despise him. 

He knows most wouldn’t hesitate at the chance to kill him. 

Exor’s grip on Scott’s shoulder tightens as they continue forward. The dungeon goes one direction, but it’s separated into several parts with locked doors, that way if a prisoner does escape, they still have to get out past all the other prisoners and doors. It also means that there’s only one way in and out of the dungeon. 

The most dangerous of criminals - those wanted for horrible war crimes and for treason - are always kept at the very end of the dungeons. Scott’s stomach churns unpleasantly the farther they go. What kind of being are they going to be dealing with?

They come to the last cell and Exor releases Scott’s and Xornoth’s shoulders. He strolls up to the cell and nods approvingly. 

“Look what we have here.” He inclines his head. 

Scott shares a hesitant glance with Xornoth, then they both inch their way forward and peek inside. 

The room is barely lit - Scott blinks rapidly to adjust his eyes - and so it takes him a few seconds to recognize that there is a being curled up in the far corner of the room. 

Scott squints, trying to make out the details. There’s something covering the being, some sort of blanket or pillow or-

Scott can’t help but gasp and take a step away. He knows what it is. 

An Avian. 

Exor smiles at him (a truly terrifying sight in the flickering torchlight). 

“That’s an Avian!” Scott chokes out. He stares at his uncle for answers. He’s never seen an Avian in person, but he’s heard the horror stories. Avians will fight ruthlessly and dirtily. They’ve also got a nasty habit of being incredibly stubborn - most won’t stop trying to escape captivity until they’ve succeeded or they’ve killed themselves.

How has Exor managed this?

“He’s not just any little Avian.” Exor drawls. “Take a look at his wings.” 

“They’re yellow.” Xornoth quietly comments. 

Exor nods, his smirk growing. “That’s right. I’ve caught myself a little prince.” 

Scott’s throat goes dry. He swallows and licks his lips. “Which one?” 

“You should know this based on his wing color alone.” Exor chides. Scott winces, but Exor seems to be in a more forgiving mood than he normally is because he doesn’t rebuke Scott any further. 

“This one is James.” He explains. “He’s the youngest of the Avian princes, but he’s special because he-”

“He’s half-Fae, too.” Xornoth finishes. “Right?”

Exor’s eyes gleam. 

“That’s right.” 

And everything begins to fall into place for Scott. He understands Exor’s plan. 

This Avian is the greatest bargaining chip they could ever dream for. He’s a weakness for Rivendell’s two most powerful enemies. 

Exor was right. This is going to change the war. 

The Avian must have been asleep (or unconscious) because it begins to stir. It shuffles its wings and slowly uncurls itself. 

It notices them almost immediately. It lets out a strangled snarl and pushes itself against the wall. 

“What do you want?” It growls, its eyes darting around. 

Exor approaches the cell. 

“I want the world.” He answers, voice soft. “You’re going to help me.” 

“Not a chance!” The Avian proclaims.

Seems it’s inherited the stubbornness its people are known for, then. 

“We shall see.” Exor says, utterly unimpressed. “Do enjoy your stay here. Scott will be your personal guard.”

“Wait, what?” Scott asks as his eyes widen.  

“Consider this a promotion, Scott.” Exor croons. “You and Exor will be in charge of managing the Avian. You’ll be assigned other guards to your service, of course, to assist you when you can’t be here.” 

“How can I be promoted when I’m already the prince?” Scott asks. 

Exor’s expression narrows.

“I mean, thank you!” Scott hurriedly corrects. “We won’t let you down.”

Exor stares passively at him. “I should hope not. You can start your shift now. A guard will relieve you in a few hours. Come along, Xornoth.” 

Xornoth shoots Scott a look as they follow Exor towards the exit. They hesitate as they reach the first door, but Exor places a hand on their shoulder to guide them once again. The two leave and shut the door behind them. 

Scott is alone with the Avian. 

He takes a moment to compose himself. His heart is pounding and his fingers feel cold and shaky. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself to take deep breaths. 

He turns around. 

The Avian is still tucked into the corner of the cell. It’s eyeing Scott distrustfully, not that Scott blames it. It doesn’t look very dangerous, but Scott’s not going to make the mistake of assuming it’s harmless. 

He’s lost too many people to the ruthlessness of the Avians. 

“So, you’re the prince?” The Avian questions guardedly. 

Scott raises his chin. “I am.” 

“Why am I here?” It demands. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to shut up, actually.” 

The Avian scowls. “Let me go.” 

“Not a chance.” Scott answers. 

He watches as the Avian shifts around, maybe testing its bonds. It settles again and glares at Scott. 

“My family will come from me.” It says naively, stupidly. 

Scott meets its eyes cooly. 

“Maybe that’s what we want.” 

* * * * * 

“I don’t want my food anywhere near you, I don’t want to catch a horrible disease from your magic misuse.” 

“That is your problem, not mine. Feel free to go buy food outside of the castle.” 

“Wait, wait.” Grian interrupts as he holds a hand to his head. “What are you two on about now?” 

“He’s mad he has to eat the same food as me.” Joel answers, jabbing a thumb in Skizz’s direction. 

“Is that true?” Grian asks. 

Skizz nods. “Abso-freaking-lutely.” 

“Why?”

“I’ve heard about the nasty diseases that Wizards spread. Anytime magic is misused, bad things happen, including new, magical illnesses. I can only imagine what this Wizard is infected with.” 

“That is a stereotype.” Joel says. He sounds more bored than angry, which is good, but he’s just as stubborn as Skizz, which is bad. “And Scar and I don’t misuse magic. If anything, you’re the ones misusing magic by forcing it to work for you.” 

“No, we don’t! That’s what you do!”

Joel rolls his eyes. “We call upon natural magic. Seriously, this is, like, Wizarding One-Oh-One. We’re not brutes that hammer magic into their weapons and force it to make crap it’s not supposed to make.” 

“You take that back!”

“Both of you, shut up!” Grian shouts. “You’re giving me a migraine and this conversation is stupid, so that’s two reasons why you need to be quiet. Look, I don’t care which one of you is right or wrong, the next person to start an argument is getting sent to stay at a hotel. Got it?” 

Skizz and Joel do not look pleased in the slightest, but at least they nod and silently leave the room. Grian sighs in relief. He’s gotten them to finally be quiet - and, sure, he doesn’t think his threat is going to keep them back for long, but at least it’s bought him some time.

Grian is tired. 

Bone-tired. 

Absolutely, completely, full-bodiedly tired. 

He sighs and slouches against the wall. He’s hardly gotten a minute alone since the Alchemists and Wizards arrived, and he’s beginning to consider that maybe it was a mistake involving those two groups. They will not stop going at each others’ throats, and it always circles back to the damn Enchanting Table. They always come to him to be the mediator, too, and Grian thinks it’s because he’s a neutral party and that they’re too scared of Lizzie to go bother her with their bickering.

Grian sighs again and pushes himself up off the wall. He needs to get to his room before someone finds him and starts shouting at him. He tries to be inconspicuous as he darts around the hallways. He’s not sure he’s entirely successful, not when he has a pair of red parrot wings that follow him everywhere. They’re beautiful and flashy and he would never want to change them, but they suck for stealth. 

Grian’s rounding a corner and darting past the library when he hears a familiar voice. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m amazing at redstone.” 

Grian rolls his eyes even as he smiles fondly. Mumbo likes to deny how talented he is, and Grian hasn’t quite figured out if it’s because he’s humble or if it’s because he truly doesn’t see how smart he is. 

“No, no! I’m tellin’ ya, this is all amazin’!” 

The smile slips off of Grian’s face. He recognizes that voice too. Without a thought, Grian pushes open the heavy doors of the library and follows the direction of the conversation. 

“Er, thank you, that’s - uh - very kind of you to say.” 

“What’s going on over here?” Grian demands, hands on his hips. 

The scene is very suspicious. Mumbo is backed into a corner, notebook and several books in his arms. He’s red down to his neck and even his mustache looks flustered. Scar stands in front of him. He’s leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed and he’s two steps too close to Mumbo for Grian to be completely comfortable. Scar looks surprised to see Grian, but a smirk is slowly growing across his face. 

Grian hates it. 

“Grian!” Mumbo exclaims. He wiggles around Scar’s form and ducks behind Grian (ridiculous, since he’s so much taller). “We were just discussing redstone.” 

“Really?” Grian asks, raising a brow at Scar. “And here I thought that Scar was a man of magic, not redstone.”

“Oh, I’m a magic man, through and through.” Scar says, waving a shimmering hand. “But who’s to say a Wizard can’t have hobbies, hmm?”

Grian narrows his eyes. “Since when do you care about redstone?” 

“Since it started coming in tall, handsome packages.” Scar easily replies, winking at Mumbo. 

Mumbo lets out a strangled sound. “Handsome?!” 

“And did I mention adorable?” 

“Alright!” Grian interrupts. He points at Scar. “You leave him alone.” 

“What? What’s wrong with flirting?” Scar asks. “Mumbo loves it.” 

Grian replies as Mumbo splutters. “No, he doesn’t!” 

Scar blinks at Grian, then his eyes widen. He points to the two of them. 

“Oh, I see.” He says. “You guys are a couple! Well, why didn’t you say so?” 

“We are not!” Grian’s sure his face is beet-root red. “I just think it’s common decency not to flirt with another man’s - er - platonic best friend!” 

Scar laughs. “Puh-lease. If you guys aren’t a couple, then it shouldn’t bother you if I flirt with Mumbo, unless it’s bothering him.” 

Grian opens his mouth.

“Ah!” He says smartly.

Then he closes his mouth then whirls around to look at Mumbo. 

“Is it bothering you?” He demands. 

Mumbo looks panicked. His eyes dart to the exit, but Grian grabs ahold of his forearm before he can run. 

“Well?” He asks. 

“It’s not not bothering me.” Mumbo answers. He looks down at the ground and fiddles with his tie. 

“Aha!” Scar exclaims. “You see? No one can resist a beautiful Wizard.” 

Grian feels unexplainably betrayed. He communicates this by leveling his best glare at Scar. 

“Would it make you feel better if I flirted with you too?” Scar asks, his tone a tad too genuine.

“That’s it!” Grian throws his arms up in the air and starts to march away. “You two do whatever you’d like, I’m going to go look for my brother.” 

He ignores Mumbo’s calls and leaves the library with a huff. The whole interaction has left him feeling frustrated and, strangely enough, humiliated. He goes straight to his room and slams the door behind him for good measure. 

He doesn’t know why Scar flirting with Mumbo bothers him so much, but he resolves that he’s not going to think about it. He has more important things to worry over - mainly Timmy. 

At the thought, Grian groans. 

He loves his youngest brother, he really does, but the Avians are more of a tough-love type of race - fledglings are taught to fly by shoving them out of a tree or off of a building. 

So, yeah. Grian and Martyn pick on Jimmy. It’s in their nature, and Jimmy joins in on the teasing whenever someone else is at the butt of the joke. 

Jimmy’s always been a sort of lure for danger, Grian and Martyn used to joke and say it was because he has canary wings, but something like this has never happened before and Grian doesn't know how to handle it. 

There’s a quiet knock at his door and Grian looks up, his heart jumping. It’s usually only Mumbo who visits him in his room. 

“Come in!” He calls, tapping his finger with anticipation. 

It’s Martyn. 

Grian does his best not to show his disappointment. 

“Expecting someone else?” Martyn teases, seeing right through Grian’s carefully blank expression. 

“No, of course not.” Grian scoffs. “What are you doing here?” 

Martyn sombers and sits down on Grian’s sofa. He makes himself comfortable by kicking his feet up onto the table. Grian would scold, but he does the same thing. 

“Do you think that we should have done more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Lizzie thinks we’re horrible brothers, and in general I disagree with her about everything, but we both know Timmy’s not that strong and we still don’t send him a guard, or anything. Are we bad brothers?” 

Grian… doesn’t know how to answer that question. It’s the same one that’s been bouncing around his brain all day, except now it’s spoken aloud and it’s making him feel a hundred times worse than he did when it was just in his head. 

“I didn’t think so.” Grian says quietly. 

“But you do now?” 

Damn Martyn for asking difficult questions. 

Grian shrugs. “I don’t know. We love him, obviously. But I didn’t really consider that that might not be enough. Do you think we’re bad brothers?”

Martyn rubs a hand across his face. 

“I dunno, either.” He says. “I feel like that’s a question that only Timmy could answer.” 

“So, after we find him we can ask him.” 

“Right.” Martyn nods. “After we find him.” 

Grian offers Martyn a half-hearted smile that Martyn returns. 

They’re quiet after that. Grian fiddles with the papers on his desk while Martyn rests his head in his hands. Grian thinks that Martyn is tired of the others as well. Avians love their flocks, and outsiders aren’t often welcomed. 

The sun is beginning to go down when there’s another knock at Grian’s door. This time it is Mumbo, and he’s looking just as flustered as he was earlier. 

“There’s a message for you.” He says, not meeting Grian’s eyes. 

Grian wants to sit him down and force him to talk, but Martyn’s in the room and they’ve got no time for that. 

They follow Mumbo to the meeting room, where everyone else has already gathered. Unsurprisingly, the Alchemists and the Wizards are on opposite sides of the room. They’re not actively fighting, though, which Grian assumes is because they’re still heeding his warning. 

Grian takes a seat next to Impulse. 

“What’s this message?” He asks. 

Impulse nods to a servant and they bring the letter forward and hand it gingerly to Grian. It’s addressed to Grian specifically and Grian, his stomach already sinking, sees that it’s marked with the royal stamp of Rivendell. 

His fingers tremble as he opens the letter. 

“Lord Grian.” It reads. “I believe I have found something of yours. I’m very interested in keeping my find, but I am willing to negotiate a bargain with you if you’d like it back. I await your response (as does my find). Do hurry, I’d hate for something to happen. 

Exor.” 

The bottom of the page contains the Rivendell seal, and stuck in the wax is a yellow feather. 

Chapter Text

Another letter comes three days later (apparently, three days was long enough for Exor to realize he wouldn’t be getting a response). The second letter is far more direct. 

“I wouldn’t act so casually about matters such as this. I have no qualms in taking the life of an Avian. He is much more to me than a hostage for leverage. He can be an informant. 

He can be used to send a message. 

Think long and hard over your priorities. I expect your surrender.” 

Grian unfolds and folds the letter. He does it again. 

He hasn’t come to a correct answer. He knows what he wants to do, but he’s pretty sure it’s in conflict with what he should do. 

Grian’s confident that he knows what Exor wants. The Elves have been at their throats for centuries now. There’s really one way to end this war. 

He wishes he knew what Lizzie was thinking. There’s a reason that the other kingdoms fear her the most, and it’s because she’s the most perfect (or the most dangerous) combination of strategic and absolutely mental. The fact that she married the Mad Wizard is a prime example. 

Lizzie’s an excellent ruler of her kingdom (analytically and objectively speaking), but if she has one weakness it is their brother. 

Grian has his suspicions on why she’s so protective of him (namely that Lizzie’s mother and Grian’s father were killed only months after Jimmy was born), and he wonders to what extent she’d go for him. 

Grian unfolds and reads the letter again. 

He wishes he knew what to do. 

* * * * *

Rivendell is the most beautiful of the kingdoms, and Scott is definitely not biased. 

To be fair, he’d only ever visited the Alchemists once when he was much younger (before they became official enemies), but he is sure that his kingdom is the best. 

He sits on top of one of the castle’s tower, looking out across his kingdom, and takes a moment to breathe. 

The past week had been… hectic, to say the least. 

Exor’s no longer in a good mood, and so Scott’s been in a bad mood too. His uncle is upset that the Avians and Fae have, apparently, ignored his warnings. Scott wishes he were more surprised - but given all the tales he’s heard about the Fae and Avians and their savageness, it’s not a major shock that they’d abandon one of their own (even if it is a prince). 

Scott’s just grateful that Exor’s been taking his anger out on the Avian and not on him. 

“Hey, Scott.” 

Scott jumps and almost loses his balance. He glares as Xornoth laughs. 

“How do you always manage to sneak up on me?” Scott complains. “How did you even know I was here?” 

“I know everything, Scott.” They answer with a shrug and a grin. They sit down next to Scott and kick their legs over the side of the roof. 

“So,” They say. “What’re you up to?” 

“I thought you knew everything.” Scott drily replies. 

Xornoth rolls their eyes. “Come on, don’t be sassy.  What’s going on in that giant head of yours?” 

“Giant head?!” 

“It’s a compliment.” 

“No, it’s not!” Scott says. He lets out a huff. “And for your information, I’m not doing anything.” 

“You’re not?” Xornoth asks, and Scott realizes he gave the wrong answer because now Xornoth’s got a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Whatever you’re thinking-“

“Let’s go out to the forest!” Xornoth interrupts. “Right now.” 

Scott blinks. “What? Are you serious?” 

“Why not?” Xornoth questions. 

“Because we’re not allowed to go without guards.” 

“Aw, please, Scott!” Xornoth tries, whining. “Nothing’s going to happen to us, we’re going to be completely fine!” 

Scott hesitates. “We’ll get in trouble-“

“Only if we’re caught.” Xornoth interrupts. 

Scott stares at his brother.

“You’re insufferable.” He finally groans. He stands up as Xornoth lets out a cheer. 

“Okay, I know the perfect way to sneak out.” They say. “There’s, like, this old emergency escape route thing underneath the castle and the entrance is through the sewers.”

“Okay firstly, that is absolutely disgusting. Secondly, how in the world do you know that?” 

“I like to explore.” Xornoth shrugs. “Haven’t you ever wanted to see where the sewer goes?”

“No.” 

Xornoth shrugs again. “Your loss. Anyways, I’ve never seen anyone there, so I think that it’s been forgotten or something. You up for it? It’ll take us all the way out of Rivendell.”

Scott’s eyebrows raise. It was one thing to be able to sneak out of the castle, it was an entirely different thing to be able to sneak out of the whole city of Rivendell. 

Rivendell is massive - nearly the entire population of elves live within its walls. It is built upon a mountain, and there are three levels of the city. The top level has the castle, the second level is housing, and the final, bottom level has the markets and shops. 

Beyond the city is thick forest. To be able to take a tunnel all the way out of Rivendell was impressive. 

“I can tell you’re interested.” Xornoth says triumphantly. “Let’s go!”

“Fine.” Scott concedes. “Lead the way.” 

“Bring your bow and meet me in the back gardens.” Xornoth instructs as they run off.

Scott spares a final glance at the night sky and the kingdom below it, then he begins his climb down the wall and into the window below. He really wonders how Xornoth managed to climb up and sneak up on him. 

It’s not difficult for Scott to avoid the palace guards - he’s long since memorized their schedules and pathways. He goes to his room, grabs his bow, then sneaks out to the gardens. Scott enjoys the Rivendell Castle’s gardens, but he doesn't often explore all the way to the end. It’s eerie being out this late at night. Usually there are plenty of birds out chirping, but it’s silent. 

“Xornoth?” Scott whispers, ducking around a tree. “Xornoth?”

“Boo!” 

Scott lets out a gasp and whirls around, clutching at his chest. Xornoth hangs from a tree branch upside down, but Scott can still make out their large and stupid grin. 

“Again?” He demands, hissing. 

“It’s too easy.” Xornoth replies. They climb down from the tree. “Seriously, I get you so often.” 

Scott scowls at him. “Stop!” 

“Nope.” Xornoth says. “Ready to go?”

“Obviously.” 

“Okay, keep your voice down. It echoes.” 

Xornoth leads them further back, until the gardens begin to become sparse and less cultivated. Scott smells the sewers before he sees them and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

Xornoth laughs when he sees his face. “Yeah, it’s not great. Did you bring a mask?” 

Scott shakes his head. 

“I’ve got an extra.” Xornoth says. They take two triangular pieces of cloth out of their back pocket and show Scott how to tie it to keep the most amount of smell out. 

“It will still be really bad.” Xornoth warns. “But this should help keep you from passing out.” 

“Passing out?” Scott repeats, alarmed. 

“We’re here!” Xornoth pauses at an edge. 

There’s an opening to a dark space in front of them. Scott can barely make out the ground. 

“There’s walkways next to the main canals, but expect them to be wet. We can’t light any torches because the gasses could catch on fire and there isn’t much breathable air down there.” Xornoth explains. “I’ve been down a lot, just follow me and you’ll be fine.”

Scott swallows. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s nervous. 

Xornoth just looks excited. They sit down on the edge of the opening and then let themselves fall in.

“Easy!” Xornoth calls. 

Scott follows Xornoth’s lead. He sits down on the edge of the hole, takes a deep breath, then pushes himself in. 

The fall is short enough to surprise Scott, and he stumbles. He blinks in the dim lighting, but it doesn’t help much. The smell is absolutely dreadful and something squishes beneath Scott’s boots (he’d rather not consider what it may be). 

“Nice.” Xornoth says as they grab Scott’s forearm and start to lead them. Scott resists the motion. 

“Hold on.” He says. “How do you know that that’s the right way?” 

As far as he can tell, the sewer runs in two directions, and he has completely lost his orientation. 

“Just trust me.” Xornoth says. “That way leads to where the sewage of the castle empties out, next to the dungeons, and this way leads to the forest.” 

“Are you sure this was an escape path and not just a regular sewage tunnel?” Scott asks skeptically. 

“No, but why would they create a sewage system that leads directly to the castle and then leave it unguarded?” Xornoth replies. 

Scott has to admit that they have a point. 

“Just stop thinking for once in your life and follow me.” Xornoth grabs Scott by the arm and pulls him before he can protest. 

They stay silent as they walk. The last thing they want is to alert any passing guards or citizens that there might be someone in the sewers. That would be a whole mess that Scott does not want to deal with. 

Their journey is long, far longer than Scott expected. There are many twists and turns and he can’t really tell if the tunnel is leading one way or if it’s split into many directions. He hopes Xornoth really does know what they’re doing. 

It’s also completely dark. If Scott had found the garden eerie, he finds these tunnels absolutely terrifying. He can’t see a single thing, can’t tell where he’s going to step. He can only rely on Xornoth’s guiding hand. 

The only noise comes from the quiet tapping of their shoes and squeaks of rats. 

Scott shudders. 

Eventually, probably an hour or so later, a light begins to grow in front of him. At first, Scott thinks he’s gone a little crazy. Then he begins to realize that he’s seeing the exit. He speeds up without really meaning to and sprints to the end. 

Scott exits the tunnel into a forest. He slows and bends over, panting. He takes a deep breath, and he can still smell the filth of the sewer but it’s much less severe than a few moments ago. 

“Thank the gods we’re out.” Scott breathes. 

“Don’t thank them, they didn’t do anything.” Xornoth says. “Thank me instead.” 

“I’d thank you never to take me on this trip again, that was terrifying.” 

Xornoth looks amused. “You know we have to go back through there, right?” 

Scott blinks, horror dawning on him. Xornoth laughs and shoves Scott’s shoulder lightly. 

“Come on.” They say. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

“Yes, it was.” Scott gravely replies. 

Xornoth rolls their eyes. 

“Well, enjoy the forest while you can. We should probably head back in a couple of hours.” 

“Okay.” Scott looks around. “Where are we, exactly?” 

“Rivendell forest.” Xornoth says nonchalantly, like their answer helps to narrow down their location at all. 

“Yes, but where?” Scott prods. 

“Just south of the main entrance, I think.” Xornoth answers. “Come on, let’s get a better view.” 

They take a running jump into a nearby pine and scale up its side with nimble ease. 

“Scott! Hurry up!” They call. 

Scott looks around (just to be sure no one is around to witness his undignified behavior), then he follows his brother’s lead and climbs up the tree. Xornoth is seated along one of the thickest of the top branches and they scoot over to make room for Scott. 

“Check out the view.” Xornoth says. 

Scott steadies himself in the tree and then looks out and - 

His breath catches in his throat. 

Rivendell is beautiful. 

They’re much farther out than Scott thought they would be - he can see the whole of Rivendell. The moon, large and bright, is beginning to crest over Rivendell’s main mountain. Lights can be seen along the buildings, though they’re so far away that Scott can only discern the brightness and not the shape or size or true location of the lamps. 

“This is beautiful.” Scott says softly. “Do you do this all the time?” 

“I used to.” Xornoth answers. “I don’t get as much time now with the Avian.” 

Scott’s mood sours at the thought. He kicks his feet and lets out a little huff. 

“Right.” He says curtly. He feels Xornoth’s curious glance. 

“Not a fan of the Avian?” 

“No!” Scott says. “Are you?” 

Xornoth scoffs and answers, “No, of course not. But at least he’s here with us.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean-” Xornoth breaks off and shakes their head. “Don’t you hate them for what they did to us? For what they’ve done to the elves? Our friends? Our parents ?”

“I do.” Scott says earnestly. “That’s why I don’t want him here. I hate him.” 

“So do I! And now I can make him pay for what he’s done.” 

Scott blinks at his brother. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Xornoth lets out a frustrated sigh and runs a hand through their hair. 

“I’m not going to spell it out for you, Scott, you’re too smart for that. But I hate Avians and I’m going to make them pay.” They say. 

Scott doesn’t press after that. He thinks he’s beginning to understand what Xornoth is saying, but now he’s not sure he wants to understand. 

They’ve only fallen quiet for a minute at the most when a nearby bush rustles. Elves have exceptional hearing, and that is the only reason that both Scott and Xornoth notice the sound when they’re both up in the tree. 

“Scott.” Xornoth hisses. 

“I know.” Scott answers, already taking out his bow. He pulls back and aims, waiting. 

The bush rustles again. Scott steadies his breath.

A wolf ducks out from under the bush. It moves slowly across the ground, its ears alert and its back hunched. It clearly knows that it’s not alone, but it doesn’t seem to realize that Scott and Xornoth are up in the tree. 

Scott relaxes. It’s only a wolf. He mentally chides himself for being so paranoid and-

There’s a shiny flash across the body of the wolf and Scott’s instincts kick in. He aims and releases in one swift move, and the arrow hits its mark. 

The wolf howls in pain and runs back into the bushes. Its cries cut off abruptly. Either it’s dead or it’s intelligent enough to shut up. Scott won’t be pursuing it, in any matter.

Xornoth turns to him with wide eyes. “Was that a-”

“Fae.” Scott answers, his voice shaking. 

They hold each other's gaze. 

There should not be Fae this close to Rivendell. The fact that Scott found one so close is very alarming, to say the least - the Fae were getting braver and more dangerous. 

“Do we tell Exor?” Xornoth asked quietly. 

“He’ll realize we snuck out.” Scott says. 

“I know.” 

Scott makes up his mind. “We can’t tell him. He’ll never forgive us for sneaking out.” 

“But what about the Fae?” Xornoth asks, face twisting.

“We’ll just say we want to be involved in more patrols.” Scott answers. “Then we can report something. Okay?” 

Xornoth nods. “Okay.” 

Scott leans back and lets his eyes drift back to Rivendell. The city is still beautiful in the moonlight, but it may as well be covered by fog with how Scott is now feeling. 

His home is in danger. 

“We should get back.” Xornoth says.

“Yeah.” 

They climb down the tree and start back to the sewers. From the outside, it’s harder to see the entrance than Scott would have suspected. It’s built into the groove of a boulder that’s surrounded by larger boulders, and there’s layers of moss and lichen and vines covering the entrance. The smell and darkness is not something that Scott wants to experience again so soon, but he doesn't have a choice. 

Xornoth enters first. He grabs onto Scott’s forearm as he does so. 

Scott expects the trip back to be bad, but it won’t be what’s ruined his night. 

* * * * * 

Martyn’s wings twitch. He draws his sword and shifts from one foot to the other. 

Something’s wrong. 

Not three seconds later, howls fill the night air. Martyn holds up his blade and flares his wings. The howling grows louder as the wolves draw closer. 

Martyn grits his teeth in preparation. 

A wolf bursts through the undergrowth and immediately stumbles to a halt in front of Martyn. Its ears are pinned back and it’s panting and, most alarmingly, there’s a whole arrow sticking out of its hind leg. 

Martyn scrambles forward. He can recognize a Fae easily enough, but he’s pretty sure that this one is Lizzie’s general or commander, or whatever. 

“What’s happened?!” Martyn calls. 

The wolf whirls around and snaps at him, his teeth dangerously close to Martyn’s outstretched hand. 

Martyn jumps back with a shout, quickly drawing his hand up to his chest. The wolf crouches low, whining.

“I’m trying to help you.” Martyn says slowly and clearly, just in case the wolf can’t understand him well. 

It stares at him for a moment longer, then gives a short nod. 

Martyn kneels next to the wolf and eyes the wound. He doesn’t touch the arrow because it could make the wolf bleed out. 

“We need to get you back to the castle.” Martyn says. “Can you walk?” 

The wolf whines in response. 

Martyn purses his lips. “Would you let me carry you?” 

The wolf bares its teeth. 

“Well, how else are we getting home?” Martyn snaps. “You can’t walk, so you have to let me carry you or I’m leaving you here.” 

The wolf huffs. Martyn holds its glare. Then the wolf relents. It nods at its torso and shifts its body towards Martyn. Martyn lets out a breath of relief. He’s careful not to disturb the arrow as he picks up the wolf. He strains to pick it up. It’s much larger than most wolves - nearly the size of Martyn, even. 

The wolf stays still and patient as Martyn lifts it and takes a slow step forward. He uses his wings to balance himself as he begins to trek home. It takes so much time and energy to take just one step that Martyn wonders if it would have been faster for him to run back for help. 

It’s too late now. Martyn grits his teeth and pushes through the exhaustion. He wasn’t too far from the castle, but he’s still very lightheaded and out-of-breath by the time he gets back. 

“Wolf down!” Martyn calls. “We’ve got an injury!” 

The emergency bell rings as Martyn finally gets the wolf inside the walls of the castle. Lizzie appears from out of nowhere and runs to them. 

“Ren!” She gasps. She takes the wolf from Martyn with ease, and he blinks in surprise. 

“What's happened?” Lizzie demands. She turns to Martyn. “What did you do?!” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Martyn protests. “I helped him.” 

The wolf lets out a bark and catches Lizzie’s attention. It continues to grunt and growl at her and makes absolutely nonsense to Martyn, but Fae can understand many different animals and so he assumes that she knows what it’s saying. 

Lizzie looks grim when the wolf falls quiet. 

“Thank you for telling me.” She says. “You need to go to the infirmary.” 

She takes a few steps forward, pauses, then looks back at Martyn. 

“Thank you for helping him.” She says. 

She’s gone before Martyn can process what she’s said and it leaves him reeling in surprise. 

“What happened?” Impulse asks as he approaches Martyn. 

“Found one of Lizzie’s wolves in the woods and he’d been shot.” Martyn explains. “Where’s Grian?” 

Impulse winces. “He’s in his room. He’s trying to figure out what to reply to… you know.” 

“Oh.” 

Exor. 

“Has he said what he’s going to say?” Martyn questions. 

“No.” Impulse shakes his head. 

Martyn looks up at Grian’s tower. He knows it's a decision that won't come easily and he's glad the responsibility to choose has not fallen on him. He looks back at the courtyard and the crowd that gathered while the emergency bell was ringing. 

The Alchemists are at one end, talking amongst themselves. They seem unusually subdued (except for Etho, who’s always quiet). Joel’s at the other end, but Scar’s missing. If Joel’s the Mad Wizard, then Scar’s definitely the Mental Wizard, and the fact that he’s not around is very worrying. 

Scar appears not two minutes later with Mumbo of all people. 

Still suspicious - perhaps more suspicious. 

Martyn and the others loiter around the courtyard until Lizzie and Grian reappear. 

“Ren has brought me news from Rivendell.” Lizzie says. “Jimmy is currently alive and imprisoned, but Exor has threatened his safety if we don’t surrender our kingdoms.”

Grian continues. “We’ve come to a decision. We won’t be surrendering.” 

Martyn lets out his breath slowly through his teeth. It’s the choice he expected Grian to make, but now they have to wonder - what will happen to Jimmy?

Chapter Text

When Ren comes to, the first thing he sees is Lizzie.

“My Queen.” He rasps, throat dry. “I apologize for my current state.”

“Don’t apologize for that, Ren.” Lizzie answers. She stands from where she’s seated next to his bed and moves to inspect him. “How are you feeling?” 

Ren wets his lips. “Like I’ve been shot by a damned Elf.” 

Lizzie’s lips quirk a small smile at that, and Ren’s tail wags in response. 

“You were very far in Elven territory.” She muses. 

“I was.” Ren says. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do that?” 

Ren ducks his head, guilt flooding his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

Lizzie lets out a long sigh. 

“I’m not upset with you.” She says. “I just want to know why you did it.” 

“For you, my Queen.” Ren answers. “I want to do all that I can to save your brother.” 

“Ren.” Lizzie says. It almost sounds like she’s chiding him, but her tone is soft and almost sad. “I don’t want you to put yourself in needless danger at my expense.” 

“But you are my Queen. My life is yours.” Ren replies. 

“You know that I appreciate your loyalty, but you could have been seriously injured or killed. They could have captured you and tortured you.” 

“I would never betray my Queen.” Ren says quickly, in case Lizzie was worried about him revealing their information. 

“That’s not the point.” Lizzie says, shaking her head. “I know that you are loyal to me. I know that you would never betray me. But I need you to care more about your own well-being, okay? Do you understand?” 

Ren tilts his head. “Yes, but I must do all that I can to help you.” 

Lizzie looks more frustrated at that. “You can help me by not taking needless risks. You’re important to me too, Ren. I don’t want to see you hurt. Can you be a little more careful, please? I am so grateful for your dedication to me, but I want you to be okay.” 

Ren blinks at his Queen. He knows that she trusts him enough to be honest with him, but it still hurts him to see her so upset. 

“Of course.” Ren agrees. “I’ll be more careful.” 

The relief that spreads across Lizzie’s face is clear. 

“Thank you.” She says. 

“Have you decided what to do about your brother?” Ren asks. 

The sour look returns and Ren’s heart sinks. 

“Grian and I decided that we will not be surrendering.” Lizzie answers stiffly. 

Ah. 

“And Jimmy?” 

“We’ve been trying to contact Exor with alternative compromises.” Lizzie says.

“And?” 

“We’ve only just sent a message. We don’t expect a response for at least two days.” 

“I wish I could do more for you.” Ren says. 

“I wish I could do more for me.” Lizzie replies. She sits back down and drops her head into her hands. “Do you think I made the right choice?” 

“My Queen, it is not my place to pass judgment on your decisions-” 

“Ren,” Lizzie interrupts, looking up at him. “Tell me the truth. Am I making the right choice?” 

Ren pauses as he thinks. There were many factors to influence Lizzie’s decision and he tries to determine which is the most important.

“I think that you made the best choice for your people, my Queen, but I don’t think you made the best choice for yourself.” 

Lizzie’s face falls and tears fill her eyes. 

Ren hastens to apologize. “I’m sorry, I misspoke and-” 

“No, you’re right.” Lizzie says, sniffling. “I had to act like a queen and that has made me a horrible sister.” 

“You’re not a horrible sister!” Ren says. 

“I’m leaving my brother in the hands of our enemies.”

“You love him a lot! You don’t want to leave him.” 

“But we’re still making the decision to leave him behind, Grian and I.” Lizzie says. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad sister, my Queen.” Ren stubbornly replies. 

Lizzie offers him a tiny smile. “Thank you, Ren. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

Ren’s face goes warm. His tail thumps tellingly against the bed. 

“Uh, hellooo.” 

Ren stiffens as he looks to the door, alert. 

Martyn is in the entrance to the infirmary. He looks very uncomfortable as he shifts from one foot to the other. 

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks.

“No.” Lizzie stands. She wipes a hand across her face, somehow still regal and graceful. “I was just leaving. I’ll visit you later today, Ren, okay?” 

“Okay.” Ren agrees. He watches his Queen leave. She moves past Martyn without a word and disappears around the corner. 

He focuses his attention on Martyn. 

Martyn waves a hand. “‘Ello, again. Just coming to see how you’re doing.” 

“I owe you a ‘thank you.’” Ren says. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” Martyn replies airily, moving into the room. 

“You may have saved my life.” Ren replies. “I do not consider that nothing.” 

“Well, I guess that means I’m fantastic.” Martyn says. He takes a seat on Lizzie’s unoccupied chair and crosses his arms. “You’re doing better then?” 

“I think so.” Ren says. “I’ve just awoken.”

“Oh.” Martyn says. 

They stare at one another. 

“I am feeling better, not in as much pain.” Ren says. 

His injured leg is mostly numb - which is incredible because it had been burning like hell when he’d been running back from Rivendell. 

“How’d you get hurt?” Martyn asks curiously. 

“Got shot by a filthy Elf!” Ren exclaims. “Shot me right in the leg, my dude! I had to run all the way back with a dang arrow in my leg!” 

Martyn lets out a chuckle. “Huh, ho, ho! You’re lucky, my friend.” 

“It appears so.” Ren shrugs. “Thanks again, man, for helping me up.” 

“You weren’t really happy with me carrying you.” 

Ren groans and buries his head in his hands. “That’s because it’s freaking embarrassing.”

“As embarrassing as bleeding out in the woods?” Martyn quips. 

“Well,” Ren hesitates. “I guess not. Anyway, I’m really grateful to you. I’ll have to treat you to a meal and a drink sometime.” 

“Sounds good.” Martyn agrees. There’s another awkward pause before he continues. “I’ve got to go do princely duties, but I’ll see you ‘round.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Ren nods. “See you, my dude.” 

“Bye.” Martyn says as he stands. 

Ren watches him leave the infirmary, then he leans back into his bed. He’s starting to feel his eyelids droop - the healing potion he had before is still in his system and it’s making him sleepy. He’s completely bedridden, so there’s no excuse not to let himself doze off. 

* * * * * 

Mumbo cannot stop fidgeting. He’s not a fan of conflict at all, but that’s all there’s been since Jimmy was taken. 

Mumbo feels a twinge of pain and he glances at his lap. He was close with Jimmy - not as close as he was with Grian, of course, but he still enjoyed chatting with him. 

He looks up when Grian lightly pushes their shoulders together. Grian’s brows are furrowed with concern and he tilts his head inquiringly. 

“I’m fine.” Mumbo says quietly. He glances wearily back at the meeting table, where one of many fights is occurring. 

“We can’t just leave Jimmy behind.” Joel says, his eyes gleaming with magic. 

“And we can’t just run in there unprepared!” Tango protests.

“I have a question.” Scar says loudly over the noise. “Why are you guys still here? You don’t care about Jimmy.” 

“Hey!” Skizz shouts.

“You shut your mouth!” Bdubs follows, standing. He points a finger at Scar. “You don’t get to say a word about this!” 

Mumbo bites his lip and fidgets some more. 

“Scar is a friend of Jimmy’s and Joel’s companion.” Lizzie says evenly. 

“This affects us too, jerks!” Skizz says. “Those jerk-face elves are tryna tear us down one-by-one!” 

“We have to have a united front.” Tango agrees.

“That’s impossible as long as you say we’re not getting Jimmy.” Joel says stubbornly. 

Tango’s red eyes seem to glow an even deeper red. “I didn’t say that! I’m just saying we need to have a plan so we don’t run in there and get stabificated!” 

“He has a point.” Impulse says, and Joel rolls his eyes. 

“This is getting nowhere.” Grian mutters. “You guys have got to stop bickering over every single thing!” 

“As soon as Scar shuts his stupid mouth.” Skizz growls. 

Joel leans across the table. “Don’t talk about him like that-”

“Alright!” Grian stands up. “We’re taking a break. No more insulting each other! Got that? When we get back, you’re not allowed to be mean!” 

Mumbo appreciates Grian’s attempts, but he doesn’t think it’s going to help. As far as he knows (and that’s not very far), the issues between the Wizards and the Alchemists run far deeper than any petty argument. 

“Thirty minute break.” Lizzie agrees. 

The room murmurs their acceptance, then everyone begins to break off. Grian joins Martyn and Impulse in a hushed conversation. Mumbo purses his lips. He wants to join, but he’s not family the way that those three are. 

He’s not sure he’s meant to be there. 

Mumbo pushes himself up from his seat and walks quickly out of the meeting room. He heads in a random direction and focuses on his breathing. Somehow he makes it out into a courtyard. He finds a bench under a tree and sits down. He rests his elbows on his legs, cups his hands together, and then braces his head against them. 

Deep breaths. 

“Mumbo?”

Mumbo jerks and looks up at Scar.

“May I sit here?” The wizard asks.

Mumbo nods and Scar sits next to him.

“You alright, buddy?”

“I’m fine.” Mumbo says hoarsely. “Fighting just makes me… anxious.” 

“I understand.” Scar says. His tone is uncharacteristically soft and serious. “Needed a breather.” 

“Yeah.”

“Is it okay that I’m here?” 

“Yes, of course.” Mumbo says. He studies Scar. “Actually, could I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

He hesitates before asking. “Why do you and the Alchemists hate each other? Sorry if that’s insensitive.” 

Scar tilts his head. “You don’t know?”

“Didn’t grow up here.” Mumbo explains. “I’m Avian, but… Yeah, I didn’t grow up here.” 

His past wasn’t… pleasant, and it’s not something he likes to discuss with people (especially those he hardly knows). 

“Well,” Scar says, putting his hands out for emphasis (he likes to talk with his body language, Mumbo has found). “We both study magic, but we study it in two very different ways. Wizards believe in natural magic. Some people say we ‘harness’ the magic, but that’s not entirely accurate. Our power is built from mutual respect with nature and life. This is the basis of our abilities. For the Alchemists it’s different. They believe in studying and manipulating magic, like it’s a tool. They infuse magic into everyday items and weapons and armor. We don’t get along based on principles alone, but what really causes tension is the Enchanting Table.”

“Enchanting Table?” Mumbo asks. He’s heard it been mentioned before, but no one’s bothered to explain it.

“An ancient relic.” Scar explains, nodding. “No one knows for sure where it came from, but the Alchemists have always fought the Wizards over ownership. We believe it’s the purest form of natural magic, having been created naturally. The Alchemists believe it is the perfect instrument and example of alchemy, and they know how to use it to make their enchantments even more powerful. Our races have been fighting over the Table for centuries.” 

“So who has it now?” 

Scar smiles bitterly. “Nobody knows. We both keep blaming each other, but it hasn’t been seen in at least seventy years, as far as I know.” 

Mumbo startles at this information. “Wow, quite a while.” 

“Yep. We magic-users know how to hold a grudge.” Scar says with too much cheer. 

“So the Alchemists use magic incorrectly?” Mumbo asks. “How do you know that it’s wrong to use it their way?” 

Scar hums. “Well, it’s hard for me to be unbiased. It’s sort of an argument between emotion and academia. Wizards focus on their feelings and Alchemists focus on studying properties of magic. To Wizards, this completely objectifies and disrespects Magic, which is its own entity, in a way. Alchemists think we’re a crazy cult that uses dark magic.”

“And you can’t come to a compromise?” 

“I don’t think so.” Scar muses. “Our beliefs are so inherently conflicting that I don’t think we could ever be true allies.”

Mumbo feels a pang of loss in his chest. He doesn’t know each group very well, but he doesn’t like conflict. He’s spent more time chatting with Etho since BEST started their stay in the Southlands and he holds a lot of respect for the Alchemist. Mumbo feels a little bit like he’s in the middle and he has to choose and he hates feeling this way. 

“Mr. Mumbo Jumbo, you know it hurts me seeing your gorgeous face so down. How ‘bout a smile?” 

Mumbo blushes instead. “Scar, you’re ridiculous.” 

“You’re very pretty when you blush, too, so I can settle for that.” 

“Scar.” Mumbo groans, covering his face with a hand. 

Scar snickers to himself for a few minutes before nudging Mumbo’s knee with his own. 

“You know I like flirting with you.” He says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, unless you want it to.” 

Mumbo hesitates. 

“I’m not against it.” He says slowly. “It’s just that Grian…”

He lets his voice trail off. He thinks Scar will get what he means. When he meets Scar’s eyes, his heart clenches. Scar’s expression is soft and sad even as he smiles. 

“I understand.” He says easily. He reaches over and gives Mumbo’s hand a squeeze, then he stands up. “I’ll see you around, my intelligent friend.” 

Mumbo watches him leave and sighs. 

He really does not like being in the middle. 

* * * * * 

There’s something off as Scott travels down the corridor of the dungeons. The prisoners are unnaturally silent - even the usual screams are dampened into soft whimpers. It makes Scott’s hair stand on edge.

As he gets closer to the end of the corridor, a new sound begins to become apparent - a sort of slapping noise.

He pauses when he realizes the door to the end of the corridor is already locked and ajar. Tense, Scott grabs his bow and loads it. He pushes the door open the rest of the way with his foot and enters the room quickly, bow ready. 

There’s an Elf in the Avian’s cell, and Scott nearly lets the arrow fly before he realizes that the Elf is Exor. Exor turns to him, chest heaving as he pants, and Scott hesitantly lets his bow fall. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. 

“None of your business.” Exor snarls, wiping his face with a hand. Scott blinks, surprised, at the red streak his hand leaves behind. 

Blood. 

“What are you doing here?” Exor demands as he stomps out of the cell and slams the door shut behind him. The metal-to-metal clang rings out harshly in the small space, making Scott wince. 

“It’s my turn to keep watch.” Scott says. He backs up a step. “I thought-” 

“No, you didn’t.” Exor interrupts. “You and your brother, you never fucking think!” 

He approaches Scott in two large steps and throws out a hand, shoving Scott back. He grabs Scott by the shoulder and leans in. This close, Scott has no choice but to focus on his uncle’s wild, red-tinted eyes. His breath, metallic and thick, wafts across Scott’s face. 

“Do your damn job correctly.” He growls, punctuating each word with a harsh poke into Scott’s collarbone. 

Scott nods quickly. “I will. Sorry.”

Exor draws back. The red haze is still heavy in his eyes. 

“Fucking useless.” He spits. 

Then he stalks out of the room and slams the door behind him. 

Scott stays still for several long moments afterwards, his head reeling. Exor’s always been an angry Elf toying the line between assertive and violent. It’s been a while since he’s lashed out like that at Scott, though, and so it’s thrown Scott a little. 

Scott shakes his head and rubs at his bruising shoulder. He glances around the room and feels his heart jump when he finds the Avian staring at him from the corner of its cage. 

Warmth breaks out across Scott’s face and he glares sullenly at the ground. He feels humiliated to be talked to and treated like that in front of an Avian prisoner. 

“What are you looking at?” Scott growls, hand clenching around the handle of his sword. 

He hears the Avian inhale sharply. 

“That guy.” It rasps. “Is a dick.” 

Startled, Scott lets out a laugh. He slaps a hand over his mouth after, shocked by his reaction. The Avian is staring at him with wide eyes. It’s obvious that it is also surprised by Scott’s laugh. 

Scott forces his hand down to his side and decides he’s never, ever telling anyone about this moment, ever. He’s had enough shame for one day. 

“You okay?” The Avian asks. 

Scott schools his features. “Why do you care?”

He can see the Avian shrug. 

“Dunno.” It answers. Then it stays quiet. 

Without Exor in the cell, Scott finally gets a proper look at the Avian. It’s a mess compared to how it looked the last time Scott was here. It’s somehow dirtier, with dirt smudged into its skin and its wings basically brown. It’s angled away from Scott in the corner of the cell and it has its body tucked into a protective ball. Its hair is matted and wet with something obviously red, even in the dim lighting. One of its eyes is so swollen it's nearly shut. The biggest change is their wings - they’re held stiffly at two different angles and large expanses of them are bare of feathers. 

Exor really did a number on it. The thought makes Scott a little sick to the stomach, really. He understands the necessity of keeping the Avian hostage and imprisoned, but the brutality seems… unnecessary and unbecoming for a race as civilized as the Elves. 

“You have a brother?” It asks, breaking Scott from his thoughts.. 

“Why are you talking to me?” Scott demands heatedly. 

There’s a few minutes of silence, and Scott thinks the Avian has fallen asleep or passed out or something when it finally answers. 

“I’m lonely.” It says, voice small. 

“Well, I’m not here to keep you company.” Scott snaps. “Remember that.” 

He pushes down the twisting feelings of guilt and sympathy. This is an Avian, he doesn’t care about it at all. Its kind has murdered hundreds of Elves and Scott’s family. Scott’s not even completely convinced that it can feel loneliness - it might be making all of this up. 

He doesn't care what happens to it. 

Chapter Text

Jimmy can’t stop shaking.

He’s not sure if it’s from the chill from the cell, the pain throughout his body, or from some sort of infection, but in any way it is making him tremble nonstop. His teeth nearly chatter from the force of it and he has to consciously keep his jaw locked, lest he accidentally bite his tongue. 

He can’t stop shaking, and he hurts. The first few days, Jimmy spent most of his time crying. Then he was too dehydrated to keep crying and so now he just drily sobs into his arms and it’s not nearly as comforting. He’s never felt so horrible before. He knows without a doubt that his left wing is broken - one of the guards stomped on it while he was trying to eat (and Jimmy blacked out after that for an unknown amount of time). He’s got clumps and clumps of feathers missing and he grows nauseous at the memory of another guard plucking them off one at a time and laughing as he screamed his throat raw. 

The door opens and slams shut and Jimmy flinches. He glances up warily and sees Exor standing in front of his cell. 

His stomach turns and his heart begins to race. 

Exor is the cruelest of them all, because he likes to watch as other Elves hurt Jimmy. He instructs them, sometimes, with a quiet and calm voice. He praises them when Jimmy cries or screams. 

Jimmy shudders, not in pain or sickness but in fear, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“You’ve been causing me a lot of issues.” Exor says casually. “You were supposed to win me the war and instead you’ve only given me the upper hand.” 

The cell door squeaks as it’s slowly opened. Jimmy shies away from the approaching footsteps. 

Exor’s voice comes from right above him. “I do not settle for less than what I deserve.” 

Jimmy lets out a cry and his eyes fly open wide as Exor lifts him by the neck and slams him against the wall. He scrambles for purchase and claws weakly at Exor’s hands, vision going dark. 

“You will win me the war, or I swear I’ll make you wish you were never born.” 

Exor releases his grip and Jimmy falls. He heaves and coughs as he catches his breath, too distracted to notice Exor has put a hand on his wing until the burning pain courses through it. Jimmy wails against the blood in his mouth and Exor pulls out another feather. 

He leaves without saying another word, both doors shutting loudly behind him. 

Jimmy sniffles and spits out blood - he’s bitten his tongue. He shuffles and brings his legs up against his chest. 

He can’t stop shaking. 

* * * * * 

The message comes faster than Grian expects, which cannot mean anything good. He makes Impulse read it first because he’s, admittedly, very nervous about it all. 

He watches Impulse’s eyes scan the letter and come to the end.

“Well?” Grian prompts. 

“Exor wants to meet.” Impulse says. 

Grian’s heart jumps. “Alright.” 

“How?” Lizzie asks. 

“Says that he’s willing to have a cease-fire at the midpoint of the Southlands-Rivendell border.” 

“Okay, that is definitely a trap.” Skizz says.

No one argues with him. 

“We have to go.” Mumbo says. “What if he’s willing to negotiate?” 

“That’s so unlikely.” Skizz replies, shaking his head. 

“We have to be smart about this.” Grian muses. “We need to send at least one person on the chance that it’s not a trick.” 

“I doubt Exor will accept anyone other than you or me.” Lizzie sighs. 

“Yeah, right.” Tango drawls. “We’re going to send in the leaders of the two kingdoms he hates the most and expect nothing bad to happen.” 

Lizzie sends him an unimpressed look. “We don’t have another option. I’m strong enough to keep Exor alone from killing us, so we just have to meet out in an open area with no one else around.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Skizz protests. 

“No, wait.” Grian says, thinking. “We could plan something like that. We could bring backup in case things take a turn for the worse, but we’ll stay a certain distance away and only Exor and Lizzie and I will meet in the middle. Lizzie, could you keep arrows from hitting us?” 

“Easily.” Lizzie answers. 

“Okay.” Grian looks at Impulse and Martyn. “What do you think?”

“Uhhh, I think you’re kind of crazy, man.” Impulse says. 

“I think it’s nuts, but it’ll have to do.” Martyn says. 

Grian falters and glances at Mumbo. His mustached friend looks deep in thought. 

“Mumbo?” Grian asks. 

Mumbo sighs. “It sounds completely unsafe, but I can’t think of any other way to rectify this situation.” 

Grian counts that as support. Not many others look convinced, though. Joel and Scar in particular look like they’re on the edge of voicing their concerns. 

Joel proves him right, because he speaks up only a few seconds later. “Hold up. The two of you are going to face Exor alone and unarmed?” 

“I never said a thing about going unarmed.” Lizzie replies. “And we will have an army, but not near us.” 

“That sounds stupid.” 

Lizzie looks cross. “Have a better idea?” 

Joel frowns. 

“No.” He admits. 

“Moving on.” Lizzie says. “We can send our proposition to Exor and in the meantime someone can scout out an appropriate area.” 

“Hopefully he goes for it.” Grian sighs. “Could you write up the response, Impulse?” 

Impulse already has a quill and parchment out. He nods and needlessly says, “Sure!”

Grian meets Lizzie’s tired eyes across the table and nods at her. She nods back with a look that is far kinder than Grian is accustomed to and it makes him wonder if he’s starting to hallucinate. 

“You alright, mate?” Mumbo asks softly. 

Grian nods and murmurs his reply. “Just tired.”

“You haven’t been getting enough sleep.” Mumbo chastises him. “Go get some rest!”

“Yes, mom.” Grian replies with an eye roll. Mumbo ignores him and urges him up. 

“Going?” Martyn asks. 

“Mumbo’s being insistent.” Grian answers. “And by insistent, I mean annoying.”

“Hey!” Mumbo protests while both Grian and Martyn break into snickers. 

Mumbo continues to grumble whilst Grian laughs. He glances around the room as he ignores Martyn’s continued teasing and Mumbo’s complaining. 

The laughter in Grian’s throat dies out when he catches Scar’s gaze. The Wizard is staring at him intensely and he smiles when he realizes Grian has caught him. 

Grian blushes and finally allows Mumbo to guide him out of the room. He feels Scar’s eyes on the back of his neck the entire time. 

* * * * * 

Exor’s response comes a few days later (Grian really, really hates all the waiting around they’ve been doing lately) and they begin preparations to meet. Exor agreed to the terms - they may bring armies with them to their meeting spot but will stay a specified distance apart while Grian, Lizzie, and Exor alone meet in the center of the armies. Theoretically, no one should get hurt. 

Grian doesn’t have too much faith in that. 

The Alchemist and Wizards join them to the designated field, and Grian is grateful for the support. They even go through the effort of not fighting (at least, not in front of Grian). Impulse and Martyn stay back. They protested at first until Grian pointed out that they shouldn’t be leaving their kingdom unattended. 

They arrive at the meeting spot exactly on time, but Exor is nowhere to be found. 

“Did we get the date or time wrong?” Mumbo asks, voicing Grian’s fears. 

“There’s no way.” Joel replies. 

Grian begins to panic. Exor must show up. Grian isn’t surrendering his kingdom but that doesn’t mean he won’t try everything else he can get Jimmy back. 

Oh gods. 

What if Exor doesn’t show, but what if he does and Jimmy’s already dead and- 

“There!” Scar shouts. 

A figure appears over the far hill. Then that figure becomes two, then several, and then a whole army is on top of that hill. They don’t try approaching, which Grian believes is a good sign. He can hear the soldiers of his army tense, their armor and weapons clinking. 

This is it. 

Exor starts strolling down the hill and to the center of the field. His posture is at ease, like he hasn’t a care in the world. 

“Ready?” Lizzie asks quietly. 

“Yes.” Grian answers. “Are you?” 

“Of course.” 

They walk down together. Grian’s all-too-aware of how un-intimidating he must seem. Grian’s small for an Avian - and Avians are usually small to begin with (Impulse and Mumbo are just unnaturally large). He’s not as naturally strong as Fae and Elves are and he’s never been more aware of it. 

Exor reaches the center first and stops. 

Grian’s breathing picks up.

“Grian,” Lizzie says quietly, “Deep breaths. You’re okay.” 

Grian takes a deep breath. 

They reach the center and he gets a clear look at Exor. The elf is a pasty pale with dark, black hair and red eyes. He’s wearing a brown bulky coat and there’s a large sword at his side. 

“Shadow Queen.” Exor greets, dipping his head. “Grian.”

“Exor.” Lizzie replies. “Where is my brother?” 

“That’s none of your concern.” Exor replies. 

Grian scoffs. “Like hell. We-”

“I gave you two chances, and you scorned both.” Exor interrupts coldly. 

“Those were hardly chances.” Lizzie says, glaring. “You offered us a ridiculous solution.”

“Think it’s ridiculous, do you?” Exor sneers. “Ridiculous to save your brother?” 

“Ridiculous that you would expect two fully-functioning and powerful kingdoms to sacrifice everything for one person.” Lizzie says, and Grian has to keep himself from flinching. 

He knows that Lizzie cares, but right now it’s the political side of her that he’s seeing. 

Exor face twists into a truly furious expression. 

“It’s lovely to know you think so little of your brother.” He says. “Since that’s the case, I’m sure whatever I have to say next won’t make a difference to you.” 

He turns away, and Grian can’t help himself. 

“Wait,” He says, ignoring Lizzie’s sharp look, “What do you have to say?” 

Exor turns back around, an ugly smile across his mouth. “I have another proposition for you.” 

“What?” Lizzie demands. 

“You will default all of your land to my control. I will allow you both to act as the governing bodies of your kingdoms and I will allow your people to remain unmoved. You will obey any commands I give to you.” 

“That’s the same as if we surrendered!” Grian cries. 

Exor smirks. 

“Not quite.” He says. “You won’t have surrendered to me, your people will still have their freedom. You will have prevented the deaths of countless beings, including your own.” 

“You can’t promise our people will be safe, you could be lying.” Lizzie says. “This is just a trick to get us to hand over our power.” 

Exor’s smirk is replaced with a scowl. 

“You Fae.” He sneers. “You think you’re so clever, when all you are is a bunch of uneducated and uncivilized overpowered butterflies.” 

Grian’s breath catches at the sight of Lizzie’s murderous expression. He’s never been so grateful before that he’s not been on the receiving end of her true fury. It’s absolutely terrifying.

“Grian,” Exor says. “We both know the Fae are below us. They don’t understand the value of education and civilization. They do nothing but lounge around in the forest and eat berries while playing tricks on poor, unsuspecting folk. Surely you understand the merit of my offer.”

Grian had found Exor’s counteroffer pretty awful, actually, but if he hadn’t been against Exor before he most certainly would be now. As far as Grian knows, no sane or wise person would ever insult a Fae so intensely to their face. 

“No.” Grian says. “It's a bad offer.”

Sparks burst next to him, making Grian flinch. 

Exor starts to unclasp his coat. Grian watches in confusion and waits. Exor grasps the hood of his unclasped-coat and throws it completely off with dramatic flair. 

It takes Grian a second to focus on Exor’s outfit, but when he does he nearly loses his lunch. Exor had appeared so bulky before because he was wearing a cape underneath - only this cape is very unusual. 

It is made of hundreds of thousands of feathers, each of them carefully and precisely stitched together. 

Grian takes a step back, sickened at the sight. 

“Yes, my trophies.” Exor says, still smiling. “This is what I do to Avians. You should be fearing for your brother’s well-being. Plucking an Avian is no quick task - though, I’ve already started.” 

He spins around to fully display the expanse of his cape. Grian takes a shaky step back as his hand flies up to cover his mouth. 

There, displayed boldly at the top, are five of Jimmy’s yellow feathers. They stand out brightly amongst the browns and grays of the prey-bird feathers. They’re stained with blood, as many of the others are, but it twists something inside Grian. 

His vision goes red.

“You,” He says, voice trembling. “You’re a monster.” 

He takes a step forward, prepared to knock the smile off Exor’s face, but Lizzie grabs his arm. 

“Don’t.” She says, her expression unreadable. 

“He has his feathers.” Grian protests. 

“Grian, stay calm.” Lizzie replies. “If you attack him now, a battle begins.” 

Grian blinks, coming back to himself. He remembers - quite suddenly - that there are two armies separated only by the fragile promise of a diplomatic meeting. 

It burns Grian to step away, but he can’t risk losing his composure. 

Exor taunts, “I have to say that I am disappointed in the results of this meeting, and I’m sure Jimmy will be too. Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of him.”

Grian fumes. “You-” 

Exor walks away before Grian can finish his threat. He looks at Lizzie and waves his hands angrily. 

“That solved nothing!” 

“Don’t say anything until we’re back.” Lizzie replies curtly. She turns and begins trekking back to their armies. 

Grian follows after her, appalled by her easy dismissal. 

“Lizzie,” He says, “How can you not care?! You criticize Martyn and me all the time for not caring enough about Jimmy and here you are, walking away like it’s nothing- ” 

“Grian!” Lizzie snaps, whirling around at him. Grian shrinks back as the air around Lizzie fogs over and the temperature drops. Her eyes gleam brightly.

“We are discussing this later.” She says, her voice dangerously low. “Stop talking about it here.” 

Grian’s jaw feels suddenly stiff and the roof of his mouth is sticky. His eyes widen. 

He can’t talk. 

Lizzie continues towards their army without a second glance at Grian. He panics for a minute and tries to open his mouth - but it’s no use. He runs after Lizzie, ready to do anything he can to get her to remove the damn curse off of his face . 

Lizzie, however, has different ideas. As soon as she reaches the others, she disappears. They let out cries of alarm and whirl around. Joel and Scar are the only two to not react. 

“Grian!” Mumbo says, fretting. “What happened? We couldn’t hear you at all, but you looked upset!” 

Grian points at his face. 

“No, there’s nothing on your face.” 

Grian lets out a frustrated sigh through his nose. 

“Now, this is interesting.” Scar says, sliding up besides Mumbo. “Quite the spell you’ve got on there, Grian.” 

“Spell?” Mumbo repeats, voice pitching. “What happened? Is he hurt?!” 

“Not at all, my mustached friend.” Scar answers as he places a hand on Mumbo’s shoulder. “He’s got a little spell on him, courtesy of Lizzie.” 

“What?” Mumbo exclaims. 

Grian points at Scar. Luckily, Scar understands what he’s asking. 

“Sorry, buddy. I'm not powerful enough to break an emotionally fueled spell by Lizzie.”

Grian growls and clenches his hands. He focuses on breathing slowly through his nose - the last thing he wants to do is pass out because he's hyperventilating. 

“Where did Lizzie go?” Mumbo asks. 

“Probably back to the castle.” Joel answers, shrugging. He smiles sympathetically at Grian. “I’ve been there, bud.” 

“Me too!” Scar chirps. 

Grian spreads his wings and takes off before any of the others can say anything. It’s probably rude to leave everyone behind, especially since the Alchemists and Wizards can’t fly, but Grian doesn’t care. He needs this spell removed now. 

Lizzie’s standing alone in the courtyard when Grian gets back to the castle. He wonders, briefly, where all the guards and workers are, but it doesn't really matter. 

Grian lands in front of Lizzie and immediately stomps a foot. He levels his best glare at her and puts his hands on his hips. 

Lizzie waves a hand, her lips pursed. 

Grian’s jaw shakes loose. 

“Never do that again!” He snarls, pointing an accusing finger at her. “That is not okay!”

“You needed to be quiet!” Lizzie replies as her voice rises. “You were making a scene in front of Exor!” 

“I don’t care, this is important!”

“You can’t let him know that, Grian! He’s only going to rub it in our faces more or take it out on Jimmy!” 

“You don’t know that.” Grian protests. 

“And don’t you dare say I don’t care about Jimmy!” Lizzie continues. “I’m doing what’s best for my people and my kingdom! You can’t react like that, Grian, because all you’re doing is letting the enemy know that they have an advantage over you. You need to listen to me, I'm trying to get our brother back!” 

“You're doing a really bad job!” Grian shouts back.

“What’s going on?” Martyn’s voice rings through the courtyard. 

Lizzie spins around and marches away without another word. 

“How’d the meeting go?” Martyn asks. 

“Bad.” Grian answers. 

“Why? What happened?” 

Grian feels a sudden onslaught of tears. He blinks, surprised, and wipes at his face. 

“Are you crying?”

“Exor has a coat made entirely of Avian feathers.” Grian says before sniffling. It's like a damn is broken, and in mere moments Grian is fully breaking down. His chest burns and his eyes overflow with tears. 

Martyn looks properly horrified. “What did he say about Jimmy?” 

“He has Jimmy’s feathers.” Grian says, crying harder. “He said he’s going to plu- pluck him!” 

Martyn is so pale he’s near green, and Grian understands the sentiment. 

“Were you able to come to another agreement?” 

Grian shakes his head. “No!” 

“So… Jimmy’s still-”

“He’s still there.” Grian says, and he buries his head into his hands. 

“Grian!” Mumbo cries from somewhere above. “You shouldn’t just run off like that! I was so worried and - Grian?!” 

Grian blinks past the wetness in his eyes to watch Mumbo land clumsily in front of him. Mumbo fidgets and holds his hands up but doesn’t touch Grian - like he wants to comfort him but he doesn’t know how.

Grian practically flings himself in Mumbo’s arms and sobs into his suit. He’s making an absolute scene out there in the courtyard, but he couldn’t care less. 

He has much bigger things to worry about. 

Chapter Text

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Ren grumbles, glaring hatefully at his bandaged leg. He’d finally received the go-ahead to begin moving around again, but his leg is being difficult. He wishes he was a more powerful Fae, like Lizzie, and could use magic to heal. 

Ren trips as he takes a step down the stairs and slips. He lets out a gasp as he falls and lands on his side against the ground. 

“Bloody hell.” He grumbles, rubbing his hip. 

“Need a hand?”

Ren squints up at the top of the stairs. “Martyn! I would greatly appreciate your assistance!” 

Martyn smirks as he steps gracefully down the stairs. He takes Ren’s hand and easily hoists him up. 

“There we are, good as new!”

“Thank you, my Hand.” Ren says solemly. 

“Not a problem.” Martyn replies. “What were you doing on the floor?” 

“Fell because of my damn leg.” 

Martyn tsks. “Ah, that there’s a bummer! How long until you’re walking normally again?” 

“Too long.” Ren sighs. He leans against the wall and eyes Martyn. “What have you been up to?”

Martyn’s expression falls a little. He shrugs as he answers, “Ah, you know. Talking with Grian about Timmy.”

“Oh, of course.” Ren frowns. “What’s the latest news?”

“Well, Grian said that Exor was very uncooperative with him and Lizzie and that he showed up to the meeting with a coat made of feathers and-”

“Wait a mo’.” Ren interrupts. “What meeting?” 

Marytn blinks a few times.

“The meeting that Grian and Lizzie set up to negotiate with Exor. Surely you knew about it?” 

“No!” Ren answers, distressed. “Lizzie went and met with Exor in person?” 

“Yeah. She, Grian, the Wizards, and the Alchemists. You really didn’t know?” 

“Not at all.” Ren says, shaking his head. “Why would Lizzie keep that from me?” 

Martyn purses his lips. “Maybe she didn’t want to worry you?” 

Ren ponders that for a moment. He rubs his eyes and lets out a long sigh. 

“Yeah, probably that.” He admits. 

“Everyone was okay, besides being visually traumatized, I imagine.” 

Ren nods. He wants to be happy, but his heart is beating so quickly at just the thought of Lizzie, his Queen, up against Exor. She could have been horribly hurt!

“Hey,” Martyn says, his voice soft. “It’s all good now. You can go talk to her if you need to.”

Ren shakes his head. “Thank you, my Hand. I think that I’d rather calm down before I go to her. She doesn’t like when I get all worked up.” 

“Okay.” Martyn says. He still sounds concerned. “What will you do instead?”

“I’m supposed to be exercising my leg.” 

“Riveting.” Martyn dryly comments.

Ren hums in agreement. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like some company?” Martyn offers. “A walk would do good to clear my old head.” 

“Sure.” Ren agrees, smiling at the prospect. “I’m a bit slow at the moment.” 

“Not a bother! I can be a real slow walker, if I need to. Trust me, it’s a cooler skill than it sounds.” 

Ren chuckles. “Alright, Martyn, where should we go?” 

“Have you seen the gardens?” 

“No.” 

“Well, you’re in for an absolute treat, my friend.” 

* * * * * 

Jimmy has at least one broken rib, he is sure of it. He’s never been the greater of breathers - he’d always gotten respiratory diseases as a child (and as an adult, even) - but he knows his current state is impacted by a broken rib or two. It hurts immensely to breathe. There is a sort of piercing pain in his sternum and along his chest that makes him cough - aggravating his injuries. 

His breath whistles as he exhales. If he had a little more strength, he’d consider pushing himself into a more comfortable position. He’d been laying like this - sprawled out on his front with an arm tucked awkwardly underneath his body - since the latest guard had begun their shift. Most of the guards like to knock Jimmy around. 

The door to the room opens with an ominous squeak and Jimmy can't even find the energy to tense up.

“I’ve come to relieve you.” A familiar voice says. 

Jimmy blinks. He hasn’t forgotten the one guard that’d actually spoken to him like he was a person since he’d gotten there. He was strange because he seemed utterly uninterested in Jimmy, and he’d been the only one not to physically hurt him. 

Well, so far. 

The current guard murmurs a response and the door squeaks again as they, presumably, left - leaving Jimmy alone with the new guard. 

“I’ve brought you food and water.” 

Jimmy’s brain latches on instantly to the thought of water. His lips - dry and cracked and cut - part. 

“Hello?” 

Jimmy’s breath comes out in a rasp. He can't find his voice. 

“I shouldn’t have to be dealing with this.” The guard mutters. Then Jimmy hears the door to his cell open. His eyes fly open.

Two hands grab Jimmy under his arms and lift him. Alarmed, he is able to muster the energy to flutter his wings. It's a weak and pathetic attempt, and it only serves to make his wings ache. 

The guard lets out a gasp and lets go - and Jimmy falls back to the floor. He lets out a soft cry as his chin hits painfully against the stone. 

“Shit.” The guard says.

The hands return and slowly lift Jimmy. Jimmy stares up at the elf-guard, panicked. He waits to be hit or punched or something, but the guard only pulls Jimmy into a sitting position and leans him up against the wall. 

“That better?” The guard asks. “Sorry, you startled me. I thought you were unconscious, or something.” 

Jimmy blinks. 

The elf raises a brow. “Can you understand me?”

Slowly, Jimmy nods. 

“Good.” The elf says. “Can you hold a goatskin?” 

Jimmy doesn't actually know if he can - he glances down at his hands and clenches and unclenches them a few times. 

Apparently, the elf-guard takes this as confirmation. He turns around briefly and then looks back at Jimmy with a tray in his hands. There is a cup on the tray next to a bowl filled with some sort of porridge or oatmeal.

“Well?” He says expectantly. 

Jimmy waits, wondering if this was some sort of trick. When the guard does nothing, Jimmy shoots out his hand and snatches the cup. He probably spills half of the water in his desperation, but he doesn't care. He clumsily shoves the cup to his mouth and takes rapid gulps. 

“Stop!” 

Jimmy freezes, eyes darting to the elf. He looks horrified, or perhaps disgusted. 

“No, don’t stop.” The elf sighs and rubs his eyes. “Just slow down, okay? You’ll make yourself sick.” 

Jimmy starts drinking again, this time slower. He keeps his eyes on the guard the entire time. 

When he's done, he places the cup back down on the tray and then puts his hands in his lap. 

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Jimmy stares at the bowl as he considered the question. He is hungry, but his stomach is rolling in a sort of unpleasant way that warns him he shouldn’t be pushing himself. The last time he’d ignored that warning and eaten, he’d spent a terribly long time curled up in a ball in the corner as his stomach was raked with terrible cramps. 

He shakes his head. 

“Suit yourself.” The elf shrugs, turning away. 

Jimmy panics. He doesn't want this moment of peace to end. His distress made him a little (a lot) delirious because without his own permission he asks, “What’s your name?”

The elf freezes and Jimmy sucks in his breath. 

He hadn’t meant to speak, it’s just been so long since he’s had an interaction that wasn’t violent and-

“Scott.” The elf answers. 

The name is vaguely familiar, but Jimmy’s too shocked to really consider it. 

“You have a brother, right?” He presses. 

Scott hesitates before nodding. 

Jimmy lets out a breath. “That’s cool. Me too, two of them.” 

“I’ve heard.” Scott replies. “And a sister, right?” 

“Mhm.” Jimmy nods, his neck twinging. 

“Having a big family must be nice.” 

“Not always. They don’t get along so well, and I’m usually caught in the middle.” Jimmy says. 

Some small part of his brain is screaming for revealing things about himself to his captor, but he doesn't care anymore. He needs some sort of connection that doesn't involve fists.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Scott says. “I-”

The dungeon door swings open and violently rebounds off the wall. Exor stalks into the room, his eyes dark. He stops after only a few steps, looking between the two.

Jimmy’s breath catches in his throat. An icy chill works its way up his spine. 

“Scott.” Exor growls, his voice dangerously low. “What are you doing?” 

Scott stands so quickly he off-balances himself. 

“Just giving him his water.” Scott answeres. His voice trembles at the end. 

Exor works his jaw. “Get out of the cell.” 

Scott leaves without a word and moves to the back of the room. He crosses his arms and stares down at the ground. 

“I’m not sure you’ve heard yet,” Exor starts, pointing a finger at Jimmy, “I met with your family.” 

Lizzie? Grian? Martyn?

“You’re running out of use for me.” Exor growls. He enters Jimmy’s cell. Jimmy flattens himself against the wall, his wings jerking. Exor grabs him by the hair and effortlessly pulls him up. Jimmy cries and reaches to his head, trying to remove the elf’s grip. 

“Your family isn’t coming for you.” Exor spits, and a bead of spittle hits Jimmy’s cheek. “I offered your freedom and they refused. They don’t care about you at all. You’re fortunate you’re still alive.” 

Exor drops him and leaves without bothering to close the cell door again. Scott is the one to close it after several long moments of silence (save for Jimmy’s ragged breathing). Maybe a few months ago (or however long he’d been here) Jimmy would have tried to make a run for it. Now, he isn't sure his legs could handle more than a few steps. He slumps as the adrenaline leaves his system and grips the fabric of his clothes.

Jimmy is going to die here. 

* * * * * 

“Xornoth,” Scott says, and he pauses. 

“What?” Xornoth askes as they tilted their head.

Scott scrunches his nose in their direction. His brother is sitting upside-down on Scott’s sofa with their head dangling over the edge. They shove a sweet berry into their mouth and chew loudly, juice dribbling down their face. 

“That’s a health hazard and, more importantly, disgusting.” 

Xornoth shrugs and eats another berry. 

“Is this how you keep your hair purple?” Scott snarks. “You let berry juice drip into it?” 

Xornoth rolls his eyes. “What did you want to ask me, you prickly bastard?” 

Scott turns away and looks out his window. He is seated at his desk and the view is gorgeous and a decent way to distract himself from the mess in his head. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Xornoth asks. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I’m just… thinking.” 

“That can’t be good.” Xornoth jokes. 

Scott purses his lips. 

“What’s up?” 

“How do we know we’re doing the right thing?” He questions, glancing over his shoulder at his brother.

Xornoth flops onto their side and twists until they were sitting up straight. 

“What do you mean?” They ask guardedly. 

Scott waves his hands around. “I mean, for the war! I want us to win, of course, but are we doing this right?” 

“Well, we haven’t lost so we’re clearly not doing it wrong.” Xornoth answers dryly. 

“No, I mean-” Scott breaks himself off with a frustrated huff, “I mean morally.” 

“Morally?” 

“Like, the Avian that Exor caught.” Scott says. “He’s practically being tortured, Xornoth. Is that really something we should be doing?” 

Xornoth’s expression is unreadable, which Scott takes as a bad sign. He tries to explain himself. 

“It’s not that I think the Avians and Fae are right, it’s that I don’t feel like we should be treating our prisoners so violently.” 

“They would do the same for us, Scott.” Xornoth says. “They wouldn’t hesitate to hurt an Elf.”

“I know, but aren’t we supposed to be better than them?” Scott protests. “Exor’s always going on about how all of those other beings are beneath us because they’re not as sophisticated. How is what we’re doing any better than them?” 

“It’s different, Scott.” 

“But how?” 

“It just is!” Xornoth says He hasn’t quite shouted, but his voice is raised. Scott usually would let it go, but he just can't. 

“If we use the same methods that they do, how can we claim to be better?”

“We don’t murder their kind in cold-blood.” 

“Neither do they.” Scott argues. “It doesn’t count as cold-blood if it’s a fucking war.” 

“A war that they started!” Xornoth growls. 

“How do you know?!” 

Xornoth blinks. “What do you mean? Of course they started it! We’ve been learning about this war for years, Scott.” 

“Well, we never learned about the true cause! I checked the history books, Xornoth. All of them say that political differences are what caused the war, but none of them will name an exact event or situation that caused the conflict in the first place!” 

“Scott!” Xornoth shouts, rising. “Have you forgotten that they killed our parents?” 

Scott draws back and lets his gaze fall to the floor. 

“No.” He says quietly, heart twinging. “No, of course not. But that doesn’t change the fact that there’s no record on who started the war.” 

“Why does it matter?” Xornoth sighs. “How does that change anything? We’re at war with them, Scott. You can’t be sympathetic to the enemy.”

“I’m not sympathetic!” Scott says. “I just don’t think it’s right for Exor to act like Elves are superior to everyone else when we act exactly the same way! The only difference is how we look, and that’s a stupid thing to base decisions on.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Xornoth says firmly. “Exor is right. We are better than them. We live differently. They are prone to violence and cheating and they will destroy this world without going unchecked. We’ve been taught this for years, why are you questioning it now?” 

Scott chews on his lip. 

“I talked to the Avian.” He admits. 

“Why?” 

“To be fair, he talked to me first.” Scott says. “But he was nice.” 

“Nice.” Xornoth repeats, sounding incredulous. “Nice?” 

Scott nods. “Yes, he was nice. He was beaten up and in pain but he just wanted to talk to me.” 

“Have you considered that maybe he was trying to get information about us?” Xornoth questions as he pinched the bridge of their nose. 

Scott frowns. He feels his brother’s reaction is unfair. 

“That’s stupid.” He says bluntly and with a scoff. “He told me way more about himself than he asked from me.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing new or interesting.” Scott answers. “But you’re missing the point! He wasn’t animalistic or savage, he was just scared.”

“Of course he’s fucking scared! He’s captured in enemy territory!” Xornoth exclaims. “I honestly have no idea why we’re having this conversation, Scott, you’re usually not this much of an idiot.” 

Scott flinches, feeling stung. Bitter and frustrated feelings churn in his belly. 

“Why aren’t you listening?” He asks. “I’m asking legitimate and valid questions about our method of treatment and you don’t care!”

“That’s right!” Xornoth snaps. “You’re right, I don’t care, because he’s an Avian, Scott. I could not care less what happened to him and I have absolutely no doubt it would be anything less than he deserved.” 

Scott can barely process the betrayal and hurt he felt. He thought he could have trusted his brother to listen to him, at least. 

When had Xornoth gotten so stubborn? When had they started taking what Exor said to heart?

Xornoth lets out a slow breath. “Don’t bring any of this up to anyone else, okay? I know you don’t mean anything by it, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. You know how Exor is. He might think it’s treason, or something ridiculous. I don’t want you getting caught up in a mess. Let’s just never speak about this again.” 

“Fine.” Scott says. 

“Scott.” Xornoth sighs. Scott waits for them to continue, but they only shake their head and quietly leave the room. 

The situation leaves a horribly empty feeling in Scott’s chest. He’s always been able to trust Xornoth and now -

Now he doesn't know who he can trust or what to believe.

* * * * * 

The Avian-Fae prince is not helping out the way that Exor had hoped. It is incredibly frustrating. Exor had fully expected to have captured the capitals of the Fairy Forest and Southlands by this point, but he is no closer than he had been before he’d captured that damned Avian. 

He does, however, have one last plan. 

The cave around him is dark and damp and overall unpleasant. He wrinkles his nose in disgust as steps in a puddle. He hates these types of natural environments. When he finally takes over, he is going to clear out all of these spaces and build a magnificent kingdom. 

Soon, all of this land will be rightfully his. 

Exor stops at the designated meeting spot and taps his foot impatiently. He is taking a tremendous risk by being here, but he isn't concerned. He knows that he had appropriate leverage over the beings he was meeting. 

Exor has no outside view, so it is difficult to tell how much time had passed but eventually there comes noise from the path in front of him. 

Footsteps. 

Then quiet, murmuring voices. 

And, finally, light and faces. Four figures appear in front of Exor, their postures stiff with distrust. 

Exor smiles. 

“Hello, friends.” 

“Friends?” An Alchemist - one with scruffy, brown hair - scoffs. “Not likely, buddy. What did you want to see us for?” 

“I wanted to speak to you four alone.” Exor says. “I have more respect for you than the other beings. You understand the importance of academia and education. I appreciate your structure, both in your hierarchies and in your buildings. You’re not as lazy and impulsive as the Fae, nor are you as stubborn and annoying as the Avians. Your perception on magic is for more preferable than those damned Wizards and you’re not so volatile and unreasonable.” 

“Enough buttering us up.” The blonde Alchemist snaps. 

Exor offers them a toothy grin. “I want your assistance in this war.” 

“Why on earth would we do that?” The shortest Alchemist loudly scoffs. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“I think I can change your minds.” Exor says. He lickes his lips and reaches into his bag. There is only one item within its space, so it is easy for Exor to find. He takes his time, however, because he wants to make the Alchemists sweat. 

“How?” The first one finally asks. 

“There's a tool I’ve managed to stumble across.” Exor says with an air of nonchalance. He reveals the item with fanfare and shows it to the Alchemists. 

Their eyes widen. 

In Exor’s hands is a black, obsidian cube. It has red fabric crossed along the top with beautiful, blue diamonds implanted along each of the corners. A shimmering book sits on the surface, its pages turning by its own disposition. 

“Is that…” The masked one says. 

Exor smirks as he confirms their thoughts. 

“This, my friends, is your Enchanting Table.”

Chapter Text

Exor casually twirls the Enchanting Table in his hands.

“Where did you get that?” The short one demands. “That does not belong to you!” 

“It doesn’t belong to you, either.” Exor replies. 

The masked one grabs the small one by the arm when he moves forward. 

“Bdubs.” He cautions. 

“Yes, I know this is important to you.” Exor says. “I’m willing to make a deal. You can have access to the Enchanter if you aid me in the war. When we win, I will ensure that the Wizardy practices never take place again, and the Enchanter will be yours.” 

“Side with you?” The messy-haired Alchemist scoffs. “If you think we’d do that, you’ve got another thing coming, buddy.”

“Skizz, wait.” Bdubs says, eyeing the other. “Think about it.” 

Skizz turns to him. “Think about what? There’s nothing to even consider, dude. We’re not turning on the others like that!” 

“What does it matter?” Bdubs asks. “They treat us like crap and they put all their trust in the stupid Wizards. The Wizards and the Fae have already teamed up. Who do you think they’ll come after next?”

“Well, gentlemen.” Exor purrs. “What will it be? Respect and power and, most importantly, the ability to use the Enchanting Table? Or will you stay with your side when they don’t respect you or your culture?” 

The four Alchemists are quiet. 

Exor smiles. 

* * * * * 

Scott is assigned another shift with the Avian, and he awaits it with trepidation. 

He’d felt awful after his talk with Xornoth and they hadn’t spoken since - nearly three days already.

Scott doesn't agree with his brother. He doesn't think it was okay to hurt - torture - the Avian just because the Avians are brutal and uncivilized. 

The Elves are supposed to be better than that. 

And, quite honestly, Scott has yet to see why the Avian race was considered barbaric. He’d expected the Avian to be throwing himself against the bars - foaming at the mouth, perhaps - while he tried to bite the Elven guards. Even before the Avian had been tortured, he’d done nothing of the sort. He’d sat quietly in his corner. 

Scott can't figure out what made them so different from Elves, aside from the wings. 

There is an impatient-looking guard down in the dungeons when Scott enters. He nods curtly at Scott before leaving. Scott waits to make sure the Elf was well out of hearing range before he spoke. 

“Hello.” 

The Avian inside, Jimmy, visibly startles.

“You’re back.” He says. His voice is raspy and thick, like he's sick. It pulls a thread of concern in Scott that he hastily shoves away. 

“It’s my shift again.” Scott says. 

Jimmy’s eyes light. “Did you bring more water?” 

Scott grimaces and shakes his head.

“Oh.” Jimmy says, slumping. “Okay.” 

“Maybe the next guard.” Scott half-heartedly suggests. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Jimmy murmurs.

The air grows quiet with tense silence. It's broken only by Jimmy’s occasional cough. 

“How are your injuries?” Scott can't help but ask. 

“Why do you care?” The Avian responds. He lets out a tired sigh. “It’s your kind who did this to me.” 

Scott winces, guilt eating away at his chest. He bites his lip and stares down at his feet. 

“I don’t agree with them.” He quietly admits. 

“You don’t agree with them for what?”

“All the physical assault.” Scott explains as he gestured at Jimmy. “I don’t think it’s right for Elves to be doing that.” 

“I don’t think it’s right for anyone to be doing that.” Jimmy says. 

Scott blinks. “Well, of course. But Avians and Fae-” 

“Avians and Fae what?” Jimmy interrupts hotly. He's still limp on the ground, but his eyes are lit with a sort of spark that hasn't been around since the first few days after he’d been captured. 

Scott swallows. 

“Avians and Fae torture their prisoners and murder them for sport, don’t they?” He says. 

Jimmy scoffs. “What even? Where did you hear that?” 

“In classes.” Scott hesitantly replies. He suddenly feels stupid and small. 

“Your classes are shit.” 

“Hey-”

“No, no they are! They‘re horrible if you’re taught that we do anything brutal like that.” 

“But the books say-”

“Who cares what the books say?” Jimmy interrupts, scowling. “I’m a real-life Avian-Fae, and I know better than some stupid book!” 

Scott doesn't know what to say. He’d suspected that the descriptions of Avians and Fae had been exaggerated slightly, but if what Jimmy is saying is true, then most of the reasoning behind the war is unreliable. Exor had said, over and over, that the Avians and Fae and Wizards and Alchemists had to be stopped because they were cruel and aggressive and had started a war with the Elves to try and take over the world. Scott had already been questioning the true start of the war - and now with this… 

Why would Exor lie about something like this? Is the information just outdated? If the other beings are not as cruel and power-hungry as the Elves believed them to be, then there's no reason to keep fighting. Could they call off the war? 

A voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Xornoth reminds Scott that the Fae and Avian and all the others are untrustworthy. Jimmy might just be lying for sympathy or to trick Scott. 

He stays quiet long enough for Jimmy to speak again.

“You should look at your own kingdom before accusing mine.” He grumbles. 

He doesn't speak again and Scott doesn't try to bring up any topic. He has to remind himself to keep the boundaries clear - Jimmy is the prisoner. Scott shouldn’t - couldn’t - forget this, no matter what type of internal conflict he's going through. Xornoth was right when they’d said Exor wouldn’t understand. Scott’s uncle would be furious if he saw the way Scott was treating the Avian.

But Scott wishes he could share his concerns with someone. 

There has to be someone he could talk to about this - maybe ask them for advice or help - someone to help remind him the purpose of all this. He can't ask Xornoth, his brother had made it clear last time where their loyalties lay, and Exor is definitely out. Scott doesn't really have anyone else he could turn to. 

What a depressing realization. 

A small part of Scott wonders what it would be like to have his parents to talk to and confide in. They’d been killed while Scott was just a kid by the war. 

Could their deaths have been avoided if they’d realized sooner that the other beings were not so different? 

Scott is starting to think (or maybe realize) that this war was pointless, and something about it is not quite right.  

* * * * * 

Impulse had insisted that Grian take a break and go around the city a bit to take his mind off of things. Grian isn't one for being cooped up for long periods of time, so he agreed to let Impulse take over for a few hours while he left for a bit.

The B-Aha-Zaar is a lively city and shopping district. Despite the war and capture of the prince, the Avians in the city are energetic and full of life as they purchase, trade, and barter. 

Grian makes his way through the markets. He isn't really intending on buying anything, but he likes to look. The Avians are especially good with their fabrics - they prioritize soft and well-made material for nest-building. Grian sees a few brightly colored blankets and shawls as he passes by. There are also stands that have barrels nearly overflowing with grains, berries, and nuts. 

As a younger boy, Grian had often snuck out with Martyn so they could spend their allowance in town. He had fond memories of darting past guards and sneaking around alleyways so they could do or buy whatever they wanted - including loads of sugary sweets. 

Grian pauses by a small bird-scout who's selling oatmeal cookies and homemade friendship bracelets. The child-Avian, a sparrow by the look of their wings, stares up at Grian in undisguised awe. 

“Be polite.” Their parent gently reminds them.

“Would you li- like to buy so - some cookies or bracelets?” The Avian asks, ducking their head and shuffling their feet. “Your highness.” 

Grian kneels next to them and holds out his wrist. “I’d love a bracelet and a cookie.” 

A large grin breaks out across the Avian’s face and they hurriedly tie the bracelet around his wrist. 

“Here’s your cookie!” They say, carefully grabbing a cookie with a paper and handing it over. 

“Thank you very much.” Grian says. He stands and grabs a few coins from his pouch, then hands it to the kid. 

Their eyes widen. “That’s too much!” 

“It’s a special tip.” Grian says, smiling. “I love my new bracelet.” 

They let out a happy chirp and turn excitedly to show their parent. 

Grian continues on through the market. He catches the attention of several other Avians, but no one approaches him.

As Grian turns a corner, he overhears the last bit of a conversation. 

“She’s been down by the fountain all day!” A finch exclaims. 

“Really? A fairy, here?”

“Yeah! I’m telling you, if you go down there you’ll see her! Bright prink hair, she has. Her wings are so strange, too!” 

Grian’s blood freezes. 

Lizzie is here in town. 

Even though the Southlands have an alliance with the Fairy Fort, it was by paper alone. Most of the people of the two kingdoms still do not get along. If Lizzie is here, she must be causing chaos. 

Anger rises in Grian, and he storms towards the poor, unsuspecting Avian that had been talking. 

“By the fountain?” He demands.

“Your highness!” The finch stammers. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to disrupt you-”

“The Fae!” Grian interrupts. “She’s by the fountain?” 

“Yes!” 

Grian takes off. He flies through the alleys and roads down to the center of B-Aha-Zaar, where a magnificent quartz fountain lays. He lands on both feet and looks around for Lizzie.

It only takes Grian a moment to catch her brilliantly pink hair. She's on the opposite side of the fountain, sitting on its rim, with her back to Grian. A second glance shows that she's not alone. 

There are three small Avians around her, and Grian panics. He starts to run, ready to tell Lizzie off for harassing children, but something about the scene catches his attention. 

The children aren't scared or sad or upset at all. They seem happy. They are standing along the rim of the fountain directly behind Lizzie. Grian slowly moves around to see what's going on.

Two of the Avian children are positioned on either side. They each have half of Lizzie’s hair in their hands and they are braiding it. The third Avian child is touching Lizzie’s wings, lightly tracing the thin and lacey patterns with their finger. 

It's… not what Grian had expected. 

He continues to walk around the fountain. He stays out of Lizzie’s sight as he does so, not wanting to catch her attention. 

“Your hair is very pretty, Miss!” One kid says loudly. 

“Thank you.” Lizzie replies. 

“You should meet my dog.” Another child chats. “He’s small and furry and brown. My mom said Fae are weird, but you’re lovely!” 

Grian winces. 

“That is certainly an opinion.” Lizzie says. “You’re quite lovely too.” 

One of the young Avians finally catches sight of Grian. 

“The King!” They exclaim, clapping their hands together. “He’s here, the King!” 

Lizzie whirls around, her eyes wide. 

“Grian!” She says. “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long.” Grian answers. 

“King Grian!” A child says. “This is Lizzie the Fairy!” 

“Yes, I know her, but thank you for the introduction.” Grian says.

The Avian children are called away by their parents after that, leaving only Lizzie and Grian at the fountain. Other Avians are still in the town’s center, but they give Grian and Lizzie wide berth.

“What’re you doing down here?” Grian asks as he takes a seat. 

“Needed some time outside the castle.” Lizzie answers. “What about you?” 

“Same as you.” 

Lizzie hums. “And it seems we have matching friendship bracelets.” 

Grian blinks down at their wrists. He's surprised to see that Lizzie was right - they both have a friendship bracelet made by the bird-scout. 

“I’m sorry for using my magic against you.” Lizzie says. Her words are halting and quiet, but they seem genuine. 

“I’m sorry for not being very welcoming.” Grian replies. “We’re a pair of spoons, aren’t we?” 

“Yes.” Lizzie agrees. “I wish we weren’t, otherwise Jimmy might not be in this mess.” 

Grian nods, sobering. 

“Do you think he’ll get out of this alive?”

“I…” Lizzie trails off. “I don’t know. I’d like to think we’ll be able to save him, but he could be dead already.”

Grian swallows. “Do you blame us for not giving up our kingdoms?” 

“No.” Lizzie says immediately. “I know it was the right thing for our people, and I know Jimmy wouldn’t want us to give up for him.” 

“No, probably not. Timmy’s an idiot, but he’s a good man.” 

“He can be silly at times.” Lizzie agrees, and Grian gasps. 

“I’ve never heard you say something bad about him before!” 

Lizzie smiles a little at that. “I tease him a lot at home, just not as much as you and Martyn. I don’t quite understand why you insist on mocking and making fun of him all the time, but he’s never complained to me and he’s never been genuinely hurt by it.” 

“Of course.” Grian says. “Timmy and I are good pals, actually. He knows I don’t mean for him to take it to heart.” 

“It’s hard for me to tell when I see you only a few times a year.” Lizzie says, making Grian snicker. 

“Yeah, I guess that would be tricky. And we only ever see you when you’re upset.” 

“Grian, I’m not always upset, that’s just how my face looks.” 

“Oh.” Grian says, embarrassment heating his face. “Sorry.” 

To his surprise, Lizzie laughs. 

“It’s okay.” She says. “You’re hardly the first person to be scared of me. I don’t blame you, I’m very powerful.” 

She rises as Grian spluttered. 

“Scared of you!” He repeats, his pitch high. “I’m not scared of you.” 

Lizzie glances over her shoulder at him and grins. 

Oh.

Grian realizes she is joking again. 

“You’re the absolute worst.” He says. 

Lizzie laughs some more and nods towards the castle. 

“Let’s go, Grian.”

“Fairies.” Grian grumbles under his breath. “I’ll never understand them.” 

Lizzie turns around and sticks her tongue out at him. Then, with a whirl of her hair, she's gone. 

* * * * *

“So,” Exor presses, “Do we have an alliance? Your support for supervised use of the Enchanting Table?” 

The Alchemists look conflicted, as Exor expected they would be. 

Deep down, though, he knows they would fall. They're only joined with the Avians and Fae for selfish reasons, a ridiculous attempt at making themselves more powerful so they might gain any sort of control. 

Exor offers them substantial power that they desperately lack. 

“We can’t.” Skizz says. 

“But the Enchanting Table.” Bdubs protests.

“Yes.” Exor says. “The Enchanting Table. It will not remain untouched if you deny my request. I have the means, and the will, to destroy it forever.” 

His words are met with shouts of outrage from all four of the Alchemists. 

“You fucking-” Bdubs cuts himself off with a snarl. 

“You wouldn’t!” The blonde one yells. “You dirty liar, you wouldn’t!” 

“Wouldn’t I? What do I have to gain from keeping it around if it’s not in use? It’s only a weakness and a target.” 

“Don’t you dare talk about it like that!” Skizz snaps. “The Enchanting Table has more magic than your puny, little brain could ever hope to have!” 

A spark of anger strikes through Exor. He inhales deeply. 

“Careful with your words.” He growls. “If you value the Enchanting Table at all, then it is clear that you must join me.” 

He clenches his fists impatiently. 

“You know my vote, we can’t betray our friends.” Skizz says as he crossed his arms and glares at Exor. 

“I’m with Team Loyalty over here.” The blonde one agrees, nodding towards Skizz. 

“Me too.” The masked one says. 

Exor, along with the rest of the Alchemists, turn his attention to Bdubs. 

“Bubs?” The masked one quietly prompts. 

“Don’t use that voice on me.” Bdubs grumbles. “Ah, screw you jerks, making me feel bad. Fine. We can’t accept your terrible deal, Exor. Do whatever you want with the Enchanting Table, we want nothing to do with you.” 

The spark catches flame and becomes a roaring fire of rage. 

“Fine!” Exor screams, his voice echoing in many octaves. “You idiots, you’ve sealed your own fate! Fire!” 

He watches, hardly satisfied, as his Elven archers reveal themselves from their hiding spots and release their arrows. The Alchemists shout and run, but not before one is hit on his right shoulder. 

“Don’t bother pursuing them.” Exor spits, holding out his arm to stop his archers. “They are nothing without their Enchanting Table.” 

“Sir-”

“Head back at once!”

Exor releases a burst of raw, corrupting power and feels himself burst across the Void. His nerves are alight with pain for a tick of time before his being is reformed on the other side. 

He's in his throne room, alone. 

Exor pants and licks away the metallic liquid behind his teeth. He lets out an enraged shout when he musters the energy and storms out of the throne room. 

He goes straight to the dungeons and heads into the depths of them without a thought. Exor goes to the last room and kicks the door open. 

Scott jumps from where he’d been sitting. 

“Exor!” 

“You filthy rat!” Exor yells at the prone Avian in the cell. He unlocks it and goes inside, kicking the hybrid. “You worthless piece of shit! Your days are numbered, pest. You will die by my hands. I will make your wretched family pay for their mistakes!” 

“Exor!” Scott says again. 

Exor whirls upon him. “You! Make preparations right away! I’m killing this stupid bird in front of the entire kingdom. I want everyone in attendance, this is what happens when you cross me. We will send those fucking savages his head and I will wear his wings!” 

Exor turns around, fury still coursing through him. He leaves the cell, not bothering to close it, and exits the dungeon.

The Avian prince is going to die.

Chapter Text

“Well,” Jimmy croaks. “Could you try to tell my family I love them and it’s not their faults? I know you’re an Elf, and all, but I really need them to know I love them.” 

Scott grits his teeth. His heart is pounding and he needs to get his thoughts in order otherwise he's going to do something stupid and -

“No.” He says.

Jimmy flinches. “Please, I know we’re enemies, but I have to let them know it’s not their fault-”

“Shut up!” Scott snaps. He balls his hands into fists and then shoves them against his forehead. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” 

Scott paces. He doesn't have much time. He needed to do something. He didn’t know what he could do, but he knew he had to keep Jimmy alive. 

It isn't right to let him die.

“Scott?”

An idea slams into Scott like a runaway wagon. He stumbles to a halt and gapes at the wall. 

It's stupid - suicidal, even. 

But it can work. 

Scott has to take a chance. 

“I’m not telling your family anything, because you are going to tell them yourself.” 

Jimmy blinks and then lets out an incredulous laugh. “How in the world am I going to do that?” 

“I’m going to get you there.” Scott says. “I’m breaking you out.” 

“You’re what?! Scott, I can barely move my head. You can’t be strong enough to carry me all the way back.” 

“It’s not that far.” Scott insists. “I can’t let you die.” 

Jimmy stares at him. 

“Why not?” 

“I… I can’t just watch as Exor acts like this. He keeps preaching about how the Elves will be bringing good to the world by cutting out the violent beings, but he’s a hypocrite. I don’t want to support this needless bloodshed.” 

Slowly, it's almost indecipherable, Jimmy nods.

“Okay.” He says quietly. “But I still can’t move and we have no way of getting out of here.” 

“That’s not true.” Scott replies. “There’s a sewer system from the dungeons that connects to an old escape route. We can use that to get out of the city.” 

“And you’re going to carry me?” 

That's probably the most difficult obstacle to overcome at the moment. How is Scott going to get Jimmy out of here when he's so clearly injured?

“A healing potion.” Scott suggests. 

“From where?” 

“I have potions in my room, I brew them in my spare time.”

“That’s a little strange, not going to lie.” Jimmy says. “How am I getting to your room, then?” 

Scott shakes his head, thinking quickly. “No, you’re not going anywhere. I’m going to go get the potion and come back.”

“Are you for real? What if someone sees you?” 

“No one is going to see me.” Scott says firmly. “Listen, this is the only way it’s going to work. I’m going to go to my room and I’ll come back with the potion. You just have to trust me, okay?” 

Jimmy’s expression is unreadable in the low light. 

“Okay.” The Avian agrees. 

“Good. I’ll be right back.” 

Scott turns and leaves the room in quick strides. He's scheduled to keep guard over Jimmy for the next hour, but there's no telling if Exor or another guard would want to go check on the Avian. He has to act quickly. 

It's easy for Scott to sneak up to his room - he’d been doing it for years. He is, however, way more anxious about it than he has ever been before. 

Scott goes straight for his potions once he gets inside. He's lucky he’d already made a batch of regeneration and healing potions a few days ago. He shoves a few bottles of each into a bag and then starts gathering other supplies. His coin purse, a blanket, two cloaks, and a spare set of clothes is all he could shove into the bag. 

He takes a few steps, then stops. 

What is he thinking? Is he really going to help the Avian escape? That would be treason of the highest degree - if he's found the consequences will be dire. 

Exor will never forgive him again, let alone trust him. 

Is it worth it? Is Scott really willing to risk his entire life to help an Avian, the enemy, escape?

Scott wants to say, ‘no.’ He wants to stop and not act so stupidly, but he can't quiet the part of him that screams and says it's wrong to let Jimmy die like this. 

Scott has to do what's right. He pulls his satchel up and - 

Someone knocks on the door. Scott freezes. Someone knocks again and he only has a few seconds to panic. He shoves the bag underneath his bed and stands back up just as his door opened. 

Xornoth walks in. 

“Scott?” They says. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a shift right now?” 

“Yes, but I wanted a book.” Scott lies. 

Xornoth’s brows raise. “A book?” 

“Yep.” Scott says. “I was getting bored down there. How did you know I was in here?”

Xornoth rolls his eyes.

“I could hear someone stomping around in here, and I figured it was you.” They say. 

“Oh.”

“I, uh,” Xornoth scratches at the back of their neck. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Scott’s heart jolts and he fights to keep his voice even. “Oh? What about?” 

“I wanted to apologize for our fight.” They say quietly. 

Scott’s eyes widened. He can count on one hand the number of times Xornoth had willingly apologized to Scott for something they’d done.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset.” Xornoth says, sighing. “I just worry about you. Exor can be a dick sometimes, and I wouldn’t want him to have any reason to take it out on you.”

Scott’s chest aches. “You don’t need to watch out for me.” 

“You’re my little brother.” 

“By only a few minutes!”

“Still,” Exor shrugs. “I have to look out for you ‘cause you can be an idiot sometimes, no offense.” 

“Oh, none taken.” Scott replies drily. 

“Sorry if I hurt your feelings or anything the last time we spoke. I didn’t mean to, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. It was hard enough losing our parents.”

Scott swallows, his eyes suddenly wet. He and Xornoth had been very young when their parents had died, but he still remembers the all-encompassing loss and loneliness that had followed him around for so long afterward. Xornoth had really helped him to get out of his funk. They’d always seemed positive and adjusted, but Scott knew it was just a facade. 

“Listen, you can talk to me whenever you want. I promise I’ll try not to be a jerk or anything, just don’t say any of this stuff around someone who might tell Exor. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Scott agrees. “You can always talk to me too.” 

“I know.” Exor says, smiling. He takes a step towards the door. “Hurry and find your book before Exor realizes you’re gone. I’ll see you later.” 

“Bye.” Scott says weakly. 

He watches his brother go with the feeling of dread and guilt building up in his chest. He won't just be betraying Exor, he’ll be betraying Xornoth. 

And, truthfully, a single Avian isn't worth his brother’s trust - but this is more than just a single Avian. This is an entire war built on nothing but misunderstandings, and Scott needs to try to fix it in any way that he can. 

When he knows for sure Xornoth is gone, he retrieves his bag from under his bed and sneeks back to the dungeons.

He keeps an eye out for the entrance to the sewer as he passed down the hall and it takes him a while to realize the only entrance is through some grates. He panics before testing out one of the grates and realizing they could be moved rather easily - definitely an oversight on behalf of whoever had built the dungeons. It's almost too easy for a prisoner to escape. 

Luckily the entrance is near a few unoccupied cells, so none of the other prisoners will notice their escape. 

Jimmy’s cell is still unlocked when Scott got back, which is a huge relief. All of this is pointless as soon as the cell's closed because only Exor has the key.

“Here,” Scott says, walking into the cell. He helps Jimmy into a sitting position, wincing when he groans in pain. He takes out a bottle of healing and shoves it into Jimmy’s hands. Regen is probably better in the long run, but they need to be quick. 

“You came back.” Jimmy rasps. 

“Of course I did.” Scott says. “Drink the potion.” 

He watches Jimmy shakily bring the bottle to his lips and drink. 

The potion’s effects are instantly noticeable. The sickly pallor of Jimmy’s skin reduces and his eyes grow brighter. The potion isn't potent enough to fix everything, and it will likely wear off much too quickly, but it's strong enough to heal some of the shallower cuts and reduce bruising. 

“Wow.” Jimmy says, smacking his lips. “That’s good.” 

“Can you stand?” 

Jimmy’s brows furrow as he concentrates. Scott keeps his hands out in case Jimmy loses balance as he shoves himself to his feet. 

“I can, but I’m not sure how well I can walk.” Jimmy answers. 

“That’s fine.” Scott takes Jimmy’s arm and pulls it over his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you’re really doing this.” Jimmy says. 

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

Scott helps Jimmy out of the cell and they start hobbling back towards the sewer. He keeps an eye out for any other guards, but luckily the hallway is empty and dim. Scott’s shoes make light clicks against the stone, but that's the only noise they make (Jimmy’s feet are bare and Scott is pretty sure the loud pounding of his heart is only in his head). 

The grate squeaks a little as Scott pulls it up, making him wince and look around. He continues to hold his breath as he lowers Jimmy down into the sewer. The height isn't as great as the entrance from the gardens - Scott is able to hold the grate above his head and slip down into the sewer to close it from below. 

When the grate is quietly returned to its position, Scott pauses to calm himself down. Both he and Jimmy are panting and their breaths bounce off the walls. The sewers smell just as horrible as Scott remembers and he gags when he tries to breathe through his nose. It's nearly pitch-black and Scott is reminded with dismay that they’ll be walking the majority of their trip in the dark. 

“Now what?” Jimmy asks. 

“Now we walk.” 

“How far is it?” 

“Just be happy you’re out of the cell.” 

“I am!” Jimmy insists. “I am, really. Thank you.” 

Scott fights back his growing apprehension. “Let’s get out of here as quickly as possible.” 

He slips himself under Jimmy’s arm again and they begin their arduous journey. With every step Scott takes, he feels his anxiety spike further. 

What is he doing? 

There's no way he could go back after this. Where will he live? Where will he go? He’ll be shunned from the Elves at best, hunted for treason at worst. 

Scott's throwing his life away. 

He pauses, the realization washing over him like ice water. Bile rises to his throat suddenly, burning. 

“Scott?” Jimmy asks. 

“Give me a second.” Scott rasps. He extracts himself from Jimmy and turns away, bending at the waist as he tries to calm his stomach. 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’ve committed treason. I’m a traitor to my kingdom and my family.” 

Scott starts to laugh. His laughter, at first quiet chuckles, becomes hysterical giggles. He laughs until tears fills his eyes and until he loses all the air in his lungs. He continues to shake and tremble after, expelling air too quickly to get a proper breath. 

“Scott.” Jimmy’s hand lands on Scott’s shoulder. “Breathe, Scott.” 

Scott gasps for breath. He's hit with a wave of dizziness and he stumbles to the side. Jimmy tries to steady him, but instead they both fall over. 

The dull pain that comes from falling against the wall is enough to break Scott out of his delirious state. 

“Sorry.” He croaks. 

“We can…” Jimmy trails off and swallows. “We can go back. It’s not too late. You can just put me back and it will be like it never happened.” 

“No.” Scott says vehemently. “You’re not going back there. It’s not right.”

Jimmy's silent as Scott finishes composing himself. He wipes his face with the back of his arm. 

“Okay.” He says. “Let’s keep going.” 

* * * * * 

Walking through the sewers is not a feeling that Scott can get used to. He can't ignore the prominent darkness. There can be anything in these sewers, and there's no way to tell. 

“How far do these sewers go?” Jimmy asks in a hushed voice.

“Don’t know.” Scott answers. “We should be under the gardens by now.” 

As if on cue, the tunnel ahead begins to grow lighter. Scott tries not to let himself get too excited because he knows it's only the beginning of their trek. The light ahead is only the entrance from the gardens, so they still have a long walk in the sewers to go. Jimmy doens't say anything either, and Scott isn't sure if it's because he can pick up on Scott’s mood or if because he's too focused on putting one foot in front of the other. 

The garden entrance comes into sight and Scott looks up longingly at it. It would be so, so easy to escape the stupid sewers. 

Before Scott can properly entertain the idea, the sound of footsteps come from in front of him. He freezes, blood turning to ice in his veins. From the tunnel in front of them, the one that Scott is supposed to take Jimmy through, a figure appears. 

“Hello, Scott.”

Scott’s stomach sinks.

“Xornoth.” He says. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Xornoth replies. “Actually, I would ask, ‘What the hell are you doing?!’” 

Scott grimaces. “Xornoth,”

“No, Scott!” Xornoth hisses. “You’re so fucking stupid. What are you doing?”

“I have to!” Scott argues. “I can’t let Exor kill him! It’s not right!” 

“Who cares, Scott? This is your life! You’re wasting it away for him!”

“I’m wasting it away to try and stop a fucking war!” Scott snaps. “All of this is so pointless, okay? Exor keeps saying we need to fight to stop them from taking over everything but they don’t even want that!”

“Did he tell you that?” Xornoth asks bitterly. 

Scott hesitates. Technically, Jimmy hadn’t explicitly said anything like that but Scott had just assumed. 

“We’re not trying to take over everything, unlike you.” Jimmy says, practically growling. 

“He’s just getting in your head, Scott.” Xornoth insists. 

Scott ignores him. “How did you know I was here?” 

“I know you, Scott.” Xornoth says. “I know when you're lying. Even you wouldn’t leave to get a book.” 

“So you followed me?” 

“I went to check on you, actually, and you weren’t there.” Xornoth replies.

Scott grits his teeth. “And you ran out to this entrance?” 

“Yes.” 

Scott sighs. 

“What happens now?” He asks. “Are you going to turn us into Exor?” 

“It’s not too late to come home.” Xornoth says, his tone quieting. “The next shift isn’t for a while, we’d have enough time to get him back. No one would have to know.” 

“I-” Scott shakes his head. “I can’t. This isn’t right. Exor acts like we’re so much better and kinder, but it’s not true.” 

“Scott, please. If you do this, Exor won’t stop until you’re killed.” 

And if that doesn't scare the hell out of Scott. Since he was a kid, Scott had had a fear of Exor. His uncle is unpredictable and easily violent, and Scott never likes to get on his bad side. This is probably the worst thing Scott can do, by Exor’s standards. 

“I can’t serve a liar and hypocrite, Xornoth. You know as well as I how he’s really like. I can’t take it anymore.” 

Xornoth’s posture wilts. 

“What are you going to do?” Scott asks.

“I - I can’t stop you.” His brother says quietly - and Scott has never heard him so defeated before. It breaks his heart. 

“You can come with us.” Scott suggests. “You don’t have to put up with him anymore.” 

Xornoth looks away. 

“Xornoth, please.”

“I can’t stop you, but I can’t leave.” 

Scott draws back, inhaling sharply. 

He had thought - for a moment he’d believed that Xornoth would come with them.

“Stay safe.” Xornoth says. 

“You too.” Scott answers. “We’ll see each other again.” 

Xornoth lets out a bitter chuckle. 

“On the battlefield, maybe. Take care, Scott.” 

Xornoth walks past him and Jimmy without another word and climbs out of the sewer.

“Do you…” Jimmy’s voice is slow and uncertain. “Do you need a moment?” 

Scott works his jaw. 

“No.” He says firmly. He adjusts his grip on Jimmy and starts forward again. “We’re going.” 

He ignores the fact that he's leaving his whole world behind. He doesn't think about how crushed Xornoth seemed, or how disappointed they must have been in Scott. 

For nearly as long as Scott can remember, it's been just the two of them. They’ve stuck together in the toughest of times and Scott has never really been apart from him. 

It hurts. 

It hurts more than Scott had been expecting. He feels sick with the sense of betrayal. He wishes he’d gone to Xornoth sooner - maybe he could have convinced them that this was something worth leaving for. 

And, even if it isn't, at least Xornoth could have left for themself. In all honesty, Scott isn't so selfless. He wants to stop this war, sure, but that isn't the full motivation behind his choices. He knows he turned on Rivendell - Exor, really - a little too quickly for someone who was loyal to the kingdom, and it has everything to do with how Exor treats them. 

Exor isn't the worst person in the world - at least, he isn't to Scott - but he isn't a good person, either. All too often, Scott has ended up in his room without a meal or in the training room with blisters across his hands or sleepless with the amount of stress and homework he was assigned from classes. 

And for what? Exor had said it’d make Xornoth and him better Elves. He said it would build their character, turn them into respectable and responsible people. 

Scott hates all of it. He can't remember the time before his parent’s death very well, but he knows it was nothing like the rest of his life. He can recall softer moments with his mother or father, when they’d take time to play with him or entertain him. He knows they used to bake together (and Exor wouldn’t be caught dead cooking for himself). 

And maybe it's wrong to compare his life with his parents to his life under Exor’s care, but Scott can't help it. He’d felt loved before, and with Exor he feels like just another servant or soldier, not family. 

So it's possible his decision to help Jimmy isn't a true reflection of his feelings, but rather an excuse for Scott to hide behind. Maybe Jimmy is lying and Scott falls easily, but he's so unhappy, and whatever Jimmy said made him feel like there was hope for his life to change. 

Without the war, Exor can be happy again. He won't treat Scott and Xornoth like crap anymore - they can be a family…

Scott doesn't think he has a family to go back to. 

Not anymore. 

Chapter Text

The alarm bells went off, making Grian jump in surprise. He flew down from his room to the courtyard. People were gathering near the main entrance.

“What’s wrong?” He asked a nearby servant.

“The Alchemists, sir. It seems they’ve been attacked!” 

Near immediately, four figures stumbled through the entrance. They were quickly swarmed by servants and doctors. Grian pushed his way through the crowd. 

The four Alchemists were sweating and panting, like they’d been running a long way. Most noticeably, and most worrying, was the way that Tango was leaning heavily on Skizz. 

It only took a few seconds for Grian to realize that there was an arrow protruding from Tango’s right shoulder. 

“Tango!” Grian exclaimed. 

Tango waved a hand. 

“I’m fine.” He wheezed. “Missed anything important.” 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s lost a lot of blood.” Skizz hissed as he helped Tango to wrap an arm around an Avian. 

“Get him to the infirmary.” Grian ordered. “Now.” 

Several Avians dragged a protesting Tango away and into the castle. 

“What the hell happened?” Grian asked, turning to the others. 

“Exor.” Etho answered.

“He has the Enchanting Table.” Bdubs added. “Told us he was going to have it destroyed if we didn’t join him.” 

“He what?” Scar asked. 

“Join him?” Grian said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He contacted us to ask us to join him.” Skizz explained. 

“And you went?” Lizzie said, pushing forward. “Why would you do that?” 

“He said he had important information!” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” 

“The letter said not to!”

“And you thought that was a good idea?” Grian demanded. “How could we trust you after this?!” 

“Hey!” Skizz shouted, jabbing his finger into Grian’s chest. “We came back! We came back, because we’re loyal!” 

“Yeah!” Bdubs agreed. “If you couldn’t trust us, we’d be long gone with the Enchanting Table! We left it with fucking Exor so we could be back with you, and now he’s going to destroy it!”

“What do you mean he’s destroying it?” Scar pressed, his voice quivering. 

Bdubs gritted his teeth and looked away. Etho put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s real mad we wouldn’t side with him.” Skizz answered quietly. 

“So he’s going to destroy it?!” Joel said. “He - he can’t do that!”

“Apparently he can.” Etho sighed. He rubbed his free hand across his face. 

“Fuck.” Joel swore, turning away. 

“That’s not okay!” Scar said. “We have to do something about that!” 

“Like what, Scar?” Grian asked.

“I don’t know! Something!”

“There’s no point.” Mumbo murmured. “If he meant it, the Enchanting Table’s already gone.” 

Scar spun around and walked away, Joel hot on his heels. The Alchemists seemed to wilt. 

“Was anyone else hurt?” Grian asked. 

“No.” Skizz answered. 

“Why don’t you head to the infirmary anyways -  I’ll send someone with food and water.” 

The Alchemists headed off without a fuss, a sure sign of how tired they must have been. 

“So, Exor’s trying to turn us against each other.” Impulse said. 

Grian sighed. “Seems that way.” 

“Do you really not trust the Alchemists?” 

“I,” Grian cut himself off and ran a hand through his hair. “I do trust them, it’s just a tricky situation.” 

“Yeah.” Impulse agreed. “We should talk about how we want to retaliate.” 

“Alright. Let everyone know to go to the meeting room. Tell the Alchemists they don’t have to join right now if they don’t want to, we can do another meeting later.” 

The Alchemists ended up sending Etho as their representative while the others recuperated. Everyone gathered in the meeting room, though Scar and Joel trickled in a few minutes late. Scar looked frustrated and agitated - an expression Grian hadn’t seen on him before.

“Thank you for joining me.” Grian said. “We need to talk about Exor.” 

“He’s getting aggressive.” Martyn said. “More aggressive than usual.” 

“Something must not be going as planned.” Lizzie agreed. 

“Our decision not to bargain for Timmy probably put a damper on his day.”

“He sounded like he thought we’d join him.” Etho added. 

“He’s clearly aggravated, more so than usual.” Grian said. “What repercussions are there if he destroys the Enchanting Table?” 

Scar let out a humorless snort. “We lose thousands of years worth of history and the most magical item in existence.” 

“I don’t think he’ll destroy it.” Lizzie said. 

“Why not?” Grian asked. 

Lizzie pursed her lips. “I’m not a Wizard nor an Alchemist, but even the Fairy Fort is aware of the Enchanting Table’s magical properties and potentials. I don’t think Exor will destroy it, because I think he’s going to use it.” 

* * * * *

Scott was completely exhausted by the time they’d reached the end of the sewer, a couple hours later. It took significantly longer than when he’d gone with Xornoth because he was practically carrying Jimmy. The Avian had tried his best to walk and relieve some of his weight from Scott, but the potion wore off quickly and he couldn’t keep it up. 

“Oh, thank Aeor.” Scott breathed as they finally took a step into an open environment. The smell of the trees and grass were sweeter than it’d ever been before and Scott inhaled large amounts of the clean air. 

Jimmy wilted against him, making Scott stumble forward. 

“Sorry.” Jimmy said, panting. Beads of sweat were lining his forehead and his brows were furrowed with concentration. 

“It’s okay.” Scott replied as he gently lowered Jimmy to the ground. He took his satchel and pulled out a regen potion. “Drink this.” 

“Are you sure? How many do we have?” 

“Better to drink some and heal now to save us some time.” Scott replied. 

Jimmy drank the potion without another protest. It didn’t take effect as quickly as the other potion - it wasn’t supposed to - but hopefully it would heal some of the deeper, more severe injuries. 

“I need to take a break.” Scott said. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I didn’t bring any water so I need to find a stream.” 

“Go ahead.” Jimmy waved a hand. “If I get attacked, I’ll just scream.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.” 

He wandered a little deeper into the forest. He stayed alert, both to catch the sound of a stream or river and in case there were any dangers lurking nearby. Luckily, he found a river without a hitch. 

Scott first washed out the empty potion bottle, then he filled it. He drank all of the water in one long gulp. It was incredibly refreshing, and probably full of germs. Scott didn’t care, though. He was too thirsty. He filled the bottle twice more and drank it all, then he filled it a final time for Jimmy and stood and stretched. If Jimmy was still thirsty, Scott would just bring him to the river. 

There was a crackle of sound upstream, and Scott froze. His eyes darted towards the noise, seeking out the culprit. 

 Nothing. 

Then, a burst of flame from behind the treeline. 

Scott took off running. He knew the fire stemmed from torchlight, which meant there was a guard, probably several, nearby. He had no idea if they’d seen him, but he wasn’t about to slow down to find out. 

Jimmy hadn’t moved an inch since Scott had placed him down. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked. “Scott?”

“Guards.” Scott said. “We need to leave quickly.” 

Jimmy pushed his arms underneath himself and shoved himself up. Scott pulled him up the rest of the way. He shoved the water bottle into the satchel and flung it over his shoulder before slinging Jimmy’s arm around himself. They started forward at a swift, unstable pace. 

Scott didn’t know if the guard (guards?) had been part of a normal patrol or if they’d been sent by Exor. His shift with Jimmy had meant to end an hour ago, at most, so Exor must have known by then that Scott and Jimmy were missing. Was that enough time for him to send soldiers out to look for them? 

His chest ached from exertion and the constant thrumming of panic. He couldn’t stop, though. If they were caught… 

Scott could only imagine what lay in weight for them if the soldiers got them. It wouldn’t be a happy end - far from it. 

His fear gave him the motivation and adrenaline to keep moving forward. He didn’t stop until the dawn light began to peak over the treetops. It would be more difficult for them to travel in the daylight, when they were more visible, so Scott allowed himself a moment to pause. He propped Jimmy up against a tree and sat down next to him. 

Scott hadn’t heard any guards while they’d been moving, so he hadn’t been spotted back at the river. They weren’t in the clear quite yet, however. There was still the large possibility of running into a patrol, especially along the border. 

“Do you know how far we are from the border?” Jimmy asked quietly. 

Scott shook his head. “I know we’re not very far, but I have no idea how long it’ll take for us to get there. I’ve only been on a border patrol a few times.” 

“I’ve never been on a border patrol.” Jimmy said. 

Scott tilted his head.

“Really?” He asked. He had thought it customary for the heirs to gain at least some experience in patrolling, but perhaps the Avians and Fae worked differently. “Is it because they want to keep you safe?” 

Jimmy’s nose wrinkled. “Kind of? It’s like that for my sister.” 

“And your brothers?” Scott prompted. 

“For them, it’s more that they don’t really think I can handle it.” Jimmy admitted. “I’m not a very good Avian.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“I’m not as strong as them, especially when it comes to flying. My parents thought that their combined genetics would create strong offspring, but it didn’t work. That’s why I don’t have any younger siblings - well, that and the fact that they hated each other.” 

“Your parents hated each other?” Scott asked. 

Jimmy nodded. 

“Yeah.” He said. “They only were together for the alliance and they only had me because they thought I would be a powerful figure, but I wasn’t. I got sick a lot as a fledgling - from both Avian and Fae illnesses. My wing joints and muscles didn’t develop properly, so I can’t fly as well. My Fae magic is really weak because Avians don’t have magic. I’m sort of the worst of both worlds.” 

“That sounds like shit.”

Jimmy let out a laugh. “It was hard for me when I was growing up and I wasn’t as strong as my siblings, but I’ve come to terms with it.”

“Just because you’ve come to terms with it, doesn’t mean it doesn't suck.” Scott firmly replied. 

“There’s no real point for me to get upset, s’not like I can do much about it.” Jimmy said. “And even if my parents were disappointed in me, my siblings love me a lot. I didn’t grow up lonely or anything like that.” 

Scott felt a pang of loss as he considered Xornoth. 

“I understand what you mean. My parents died while I was young, but I had my twin brother. We’ve always cared for each other.” 

“He let us go, back in the sewers, right?” Jimmy asked, his voice growing softer. 

Scott nodded. “They did. I wish they’d come with us. I can kind of understand why they’d want to stay - they’re scared - but I still thought they’d trust me more to come with us.”

Jimmy hummed. 

“Sometimes siblings show that they care and trust you in strange ways.” He said. “Lizzie hardly ever lets me out of her sight ‘cause she’s so protective, but she trusts me when I’m cooking or baking. I’ve managed to set just about anything you can think of on fire, unless it’s in the kitchen. I’ve no idea why. My brothers like to follow me around and tease me, but they let me go exploring - and if I get hurt, they’ll help get me fixed up.

“If Xornoth really thought you’d get captured or killed, do you think they’d let you leave?” 

Scott was quiet as he thought it over. While Scott was better at archery, he had never managed to beat Xornoth in a hand-to-hand fight. Xornoth must have known he could have bested Scott and stopped him from leaving. It would have been so easy for them to fight Scott, call a few guards down, and make it look like Scott and them had caught Jimmy trying to escape. 

But did Xornoth let them go because he trusted Scott to survive, or because they loved him too much to try and stop him? 

Was it really that bad if it were the latter? 

It didn’t really matter more, Scott bitterly supposed, because he’d betrayed Xornoth by lying and leaving. He didn’t deserve Xornoth’s trust. 

And Xornoth would likely never forgive him. 

Pushing away his thoughts, Scott stood and stretched. He only had two regen and two healing potions left, so he needed to save them for later - which meant he’d be shouldering most of Jimmy’s weight as they continued. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asked. 

Jimmy nodded. He looked healthier, at least - less winded, less pale. His wings hadn’t been healed at all by the potions and it physically hurt Scott to look at them for too long. Many of the feathers had been torn out, leaving pinpricks of blood where they’d been pulled from the follicles. The remaining feathers were dirty or blood-stained - nothing like the pristine ones that Scott had always seen from afar, and yet exactly like the trophies of feathers that lined Exor’s favorite cape. 

Just thinking about that cape made Scott’s stomach roll. He’d witnessed the amount of pain it’d caused Jimmy for those feathers to be yanked out - for Exor to have collected so many…

It was easy for Scott to see how cruel and maniacal Exor truly was. 

Scott kneeled down and helped Jimmy to stand. The Avian was huffing by the point he was upright, but his mouth and eyes were set in a determined sort of expression. He put a lot of his own weight (well, not a lot - but more weight than before) onto his feet. 

“Ready?” Scott murmured. 

Jimmy nodded his confirmation and the pair began to walk. It was just as awkward and difficult as it’d been a few minutes before, but Jimmy had clearly regained some energy. Scott was a little concerned that Jimmy was going to wear himself out too quickly, but he didn’t say anything. 

They walked for hours, if the movement of the sun was anything to go by. Scott hadn’t managed to grab any food before they’d left Rivendell, so they snagged whatever sweet berries they could find. It wasn’t nearly enough, and Scott’s stomach ached with hunger. He knew Jimmy must have been feeling it worse since Scott had had a full meal a couple of hours before their escape and Jimmy hadn’t. Still, the Avian didn’t complain. 

The sun was near noon when Scott’s foot got caught in something and he tripped. He didn’t have time to catch himself and Jimmy before rope was being pulled taut around them and yanked up. Scott and Jimmy both cried out as the material - a hidden trap, Scott realized - ensnared them. They tumbled to the ground. Scott landed harshly against his back, and he coughed, eyes bulging, as the air left his chest. Beside him, Jimmy fared no better. The Avian was gasping for breath. 

“Are - are you alright?” Scott wheezed, turning. The rope-trap offered them no slack, so he couldn’t properly see Jimmy or move. 

“Scott!” Jimmy rasped in reply. “Dogs!” 

Scott jerked, panic flaring. “What?! Where?!” 

A howl sounded, followed by three more - all of them far too close. Scott thrashed, adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

“We have to get out of here!” He said as he grasped around desperately for something - anything - that might help them escape. 

“Scott.” Jimmy’s voice was trembling. “It’s no use, Scott. They’re already here.” 

The howling came again, so loud it hurt, and then a fuzzy head was in Scott’s vision. The dog was alert, teeth bared, as it stared them down.

“No.” Scott snarled. “No! We’re going to get out of here! I’m not letting us die in some fucking trap in the woods, not when we’ve made it this far. I swear we’ll-”

“Scott!” 

Scott froze as a footstep was heard against the dirt. Then another, and another. A shadow slowly fell over them. He was angled away, he couldn’t see who was over him. All he knew was that his heart was beating, pounding, in his chest with more force than he’d ever experienced and his stomach was twisting and tying itself in knots with anxiety. 

Not now! Not like this!

“Well, well, well.” A feminine voice drawled. “What do we have here?”

* * * * * 

Ren was slowly but surely healing. He’d be up and about in a few days, maybe a week, and then he’d be able to rejoin the war efforts. Just in the nick of time, it seemed, with Tango in the infirmary and the war beginning to escalate. 

Ren sighed as he wandered through the halls. His Queen was stressed and nervous, and nothing he did seemed to help. He hated seeing her so distressed and he hated that he couldn’t do more to relieve her worries. She never once took out her frustrations on him, though, and that only made Ren admire his Lady more. 

The Fae turned a random corner and stumbled over something. He let out a surprised cry as he fell over, catching himself on his hands mere centimeters from the stairway.

“Woah there!” A familiar voice exclaimed. “Can’t a fella sit in peace?!”

“Martyn?” Ren asked, looking over his shoulder.

The Avian was pressed up against the wall. He wore the expression he always did - stubborn, amused, perhaps a bit cocky - but his eyes were red and puffy. Ren twisted and untangled himself from Martyn’s legs. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Never been better!” Martyn jovially replied. “What are you doin’, tromping about like a fool?” 

“I was just trying to clear my head.” Ren answered. He sat down on the stairway. “What are you doing?” 

“Clearing my head as well.” Martyn replied. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Martyn let out a huff of a laugh. “I’m not much into sharing feelings. I’ll tell you what, though. Buy me an ale and we’ll have a nice, friendly chat - nothing too deep or personal.” 

Ren blinked. “I like sharing personal stories.” 

“Well, you can tell me something personal, and I’ll pretend I know exactly how a therapist would respond. I’m sure I could come up with something, I’m a bit of a genius.” 

“Okay.” Ren agreed, half because there was no reason not to and half because it meant he could spend time with Martyn. “Are you sure you’re alright, though? I swear I won’t judge.”

“I’m sure.” Martyn said. “Come along, my liege.” 

He stood and held out a hand. 

Ren took his hand as he said, “You know, you’re far closer to royalty than I. You’re a prince and I am but a lowly guard.” 

“You’re not lowly - if anything we’re equals. But I’m your Hand, remember? And that makes you my liege.” 

Ren shrugged. “Oh, okay. Whatever you say, dude.” 

“I say you’re buying me a drink.” Martyn said. “Let’s go.” 

Ren followed Martyn. It was easy to enjoy the Avian’s company - he was funny and witty and he had a laugh that made Ren want to laugh along. Only hours later, once Ren had walked (or drunkenly stumbled, more like) Martyn back to his room did he realize that he’d spent the whole evening with Martyn and hadn’t thought of Lizzie at all. 

Chapter Text

Mumbo fiddles anxiously with a piece of redstone dust. He isn’t happy with how the meeting had ended - far from it. Lizzie’s words are whirling around his head, pestering him like a fly that won’t go away. 

What is Exor going to do with the Enchanting Table? The relic, Mambo knows, is an extraordinarily powerful item. The fact that Exor has it only makes everything far more stressful and intimidating. There’s no telling what the Table might grant Exor. 

Besides what Lizzie said, there’s a sick feeling settling in Mumbo’s gut. He feels bad that Scar’s so upset. After Scar had left, Mumbo realized that what he’d said could have been too insensitive. He’s worried that he’s ruined his relationship (perhaps friendship, perhaps more?) with Scar.

Mumbo curses quietly as the redstone breaks into pieces and rains down on the floor. Time and time again, he’s made a mess this way, but he never learns. His pants were already stained with the powder, so there wasn’t much of a change, but the floor beneath him is now covered.

Mumbo glances about - there’s no one around. Before anyone comes and witnesses his mess, he dashes down the hall. In all honesty, there won’t be any debate on who made the mess, but he’d rather not be caught red-handed. He passes by the doors of the guest room, all too aware of why he’s in this section of the castle to begin with. 

He pauses by one door in particular, takes a deep breath, and knocks. 

“Coming!” Scar calls from within. Mumbo listens to him approach. He holds his breath as the door opens. 

“Mumbo?” Scar asks. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to apologize.” Mumbo says, swallowing. 

“What for?” 

“For how I spoke about the Enchanting Table. I know that it means a lot to you, I should have been more mindful about that.” 

Scar lets out a long sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay, seriously. I know you didn’t mean anything rude by it.” 

“I just wanted to see if… if you’re reconsidering our friendship.” 

“What?” Scar looks up, eyes wide. “Why in the world would I be reconsidering our friendship?” 

“I hurt your feelings earlier.” Mumbo says. 

Scar scoffs. “It’s going to take more than an off-hand comment to stop me, Mr. Jumbolio. I can assure you that I’m here to stay.” 

A weight seems to lift from Mumbo’s chest. He grins widely. 

“That’s a relief to hear.” He says, still smiling. “I was worried.” 

“Were you?” Scar asks, head tilting. “I have to say, I’m touched you care so much about me.” 

Mumbo feels his face grow red as he tries to stammer out a response. “Well, we’re friends! I wouldn’t want to lose our friendship over something like that.” 

“No, neither would I.” Scar agrees, his voice softening. 

Mumbo keeps his warm gaze for longer than is probably platonically acceptable. There’s something about Scar that just has Mumbo’s heart beating quickly in his chest. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” He asks. 

Scar frowns and Mumbo’s heart sinks. 

“I’m a little too tired for a walk.” Scar admits. “But you can come inside?” 

Oh. 

Mumbo’s eyes dart past Scar to his room. 

“Don’t worry, Mumbo, this is hardly a proposition.” Scar teases. “Trust me, if I were propositioning you, you would know.” 

“Ah.” Mumbo says, clearing his throat. “Right.” 

“You don’t have to come in, if you don’t want to.” Scar tells him. 

“No, I’d like to come in.” Mumbo replies. 

Scar smiles - something soft and private and brilliant - and Mumbo’s heart leaps in his chest. He knows he made the right decision. 

Scar moves to the side and gestures with his head. “Come on in.” 

“Thank you.” Mumbo slides past Scar and enters the guest room. There’s nothing very special about it, it’s got everything a normal guest room has: a bed, a closet, a bathroom, and even a few cupboards to hold any knicknacks one might bring back to the room. Mumbo sees several small stones on top of the stand next to the bed. They’re all brilliantly colored, and they seem to shine with an otherworldly glow. 

“Ah, my crystals!” Scar exclaims. He takes a seat on the bed and leans over to pick up the crystals. He’s careful as he handles them and holds up his hands so Mumbo can see them closely. 

“What do they do?” He asks. 

“Many different things! Each color represents a different type of crystal. The orange one, for example, is a courage crystal. It grants its holder the courage of a lion!” 

“The magic is engraved into the item?” Mumbo questions. “No offense, but I don’t really see how that’s any different from the Alchemists.” 

Instead of getting upset, Scar beams. “An astute observation! You see, most would assume that since the charm is magical, that we have used alchemy to create the crystal. This is far from the truth. We - that is, me and Joel - harness natural magic and use the crystals to anchor it to one point. This allows non-magical users to access the magic. It’s a key difference between alchemy and wizardry. Does that make sense?” 

“It does.” Mumbo answers honestly. He takes a closer look at the crystals. 

“Take one, if you’d like!”

“They’re all so lovely.” Mumbo muses. “How should I pick one?” 

“Some experience a connection to the charm they need the most. Pick whichever calls out to you, whichever feeds your soul.” 

Mumbo rolls his eyes at Scar’s theatrics. He brushes his fingers over the offered charms, stopping when he touches one of them. It seems to radiate warmth and it makes his hair stand on end. Intrigued, Mumbo takes the crystal and holds it up. It’s a light shade of pink. It has no discernible form to it, but it’s smooth around the edges, unlike some of the other crystals.

“That the one you’re picking?” Scar asks, brows raised. 

Mumbo nods. “What does it mean?” 

“You’ve picked an amazin’ one.” Scar says as he smirks. “That is my finest love crystal.” 

Pants. 

* * * * * 

“It seems you two have got yourselves in a pickle.” 

“Let us out!” Scott demands, squirming around on the ground like a helpless worm.  

“Big talk from someone caught in my trap.” The woman replies. “It’s not everyday you see an Avian over the border. Is he bothering you?” 

“Stay away from him.” Scott snaps. The dog growls, only several centimeters from Scott’s face.

“Tilly, heel. I wasn’t talking to you.” The woman says.

“Me?” Jimmy asks, voicing both of their surprise. 

The woman scoffs. “You’re the one that looks like you’ve been beaten and left for dead. Did this Elf hurt you?” 

“No!” Jimmy answers, and Scott releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Jimmy had the easiest opportunity to turn on Scott and he hadn’t. That must mean something, right? 

“What are you doing with an Avian?” The woman demands, addressing Scott. 

Scott can’t help but huff as he replies. “If you’d let me speak, you’d know that I’m helping him!” 

The woman lets a noise of disbelief from the back of her throat. 

“I am!” Scott insists. He rolls, trying to catch a glimpse of her. 

“What are you two doing out here? Why’s he all messed up?” 

Scott doesn’t answer right away. This stranger may care about Jimmy’s wellbeing, but who knows if they’re willing to turn them into Rivendell to make some money or gain honor. 

“He’s trying to get me across the border.” 

“Jimmy!” Scott hisses. “Don’t say anything to her!”

“Sorry!” Jimmy replies shrilly.

“Wait a dang minute. Did you say Jimmy? I don’t suppose this is the Prince Jimmy of the Southlands.” 

“Uh.” Jimmy says. 

“That’s what I thought.” The woman says. 

Scott screws his eyes shut as panic begins to fill his chest. This is it - the woman is going to call the guards, and then Jimmy’s going to be killed and Scott’s going to be locked away for the rest of his life (at best). 

His eyes fly back open when he feels the ropes tighten for a millisecond before going slack. They slip away, freeing his arms. In an instant, Scott is on his feet and standing protectively over Jimmy. He doesn’t have a weapon, so he just raises his fists and hopes he looks intimidating enough for the stranger to leave them alone.

By the unimpressed raise of her brow, Scott figures the stranger is not at all intimidated. 

“Are you finished yet?” She asks. She’s knelt beside Jimmy with strands of rope in her lap and a dagger in her hand. It takes Scott a second to recognize that she’s clearly just sliced through the robe trap to release them. 

Jimmy hasn’t moved much, besides shifting away from the stranger. Scott keeps his eyes trained on her as he lowers himself and helps Jimmy into a sitting position. 

“Are you alright?” He asks quietly. 

“Wasn’t like I could get much worse.” Jimmy answers.

“Last I heard,” The stranger says, “Prince Jimmy was in the hands of Exor.” 

“He’s obviously not anymore. What are you going to do?” Scott challenges. 

The stranger hums. “You helped him escape Rivendell?” 

Scott straightens. There’s really no point in lying by now. 

“Yes.” 

“Well then.” The stranger holds out a hand. “The name’s Pearl, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Scott stares at her until she rolls her eyes and waves her offered hand. Slowly, unsurely, Scott shakes her hand. 

“Scott.” He says. 

Pearl’s brows raise. “Not the Prince of Rivendell.” 

Scott grimaces. 

“You two have got yourself in a right mess, haven’t you?” 

“It’s not my fault.” Jimmy says sullenly. “I didn’t try to get kidnapped.” 

“How long have you been free?” Pearl asks. 

“Just the night.” Scott answers. 

Pearl’s mouth pulls into a tight line. She nods, expression full of concentration. “We need to get out of the open. Follow me.” 

She scoops up the remains of the rope trap and marches off in a seemingly random direction, the dog close to her side. 

Scott exchanges a look with Jimmy. They don’t have much of a choice but to follow. Scott slings Jimmy’s arm over his shoulders and follows after Pearl, careful to help keep Jimmy’s balance. 

“Hurry up!” Pearl calls over her shoulder. “And keep your stomping down!” 

“I’m basically carrying Jimmy!” Scott protests, receiving a very passionate shush from Pearl in return. He scowls to himself and continues to walk after Pearl. 

The land begins to slope and the forest grows thicker. Scott readjusts his hold on Jimmy. Pearl is careful not to get too far ahead of them, but it does get difficult to follow with the amount of trees that are around. Eventually, they come to a small clearing. There’s a house tucked into the crest of a hill. It’s a charming little cottage with a mossy roof and wooden posts. 

Tilly breaks into a run when the house comes into view. Three more dogs run out from behind the building, all of them barking with excitement. Pearl pauses and allows Scott to catch up with her. 

“You two can stay here.” She says. “I wouldn’t suggest staying long, though. Soldiers are bound to find this place eventually.” 

“Thank you.” Scott says. 

Pearl shrugs in response and guides them into the house. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze with the three of them and four dogs, but Scott maneuvers his way to a table in the corner and helps Jimmy to sit. 

“Lay him on the bed.” Pearl instructs. Scott takes in a breath as he moves Jimmy to the bed on the opposite side of the room. 

Jimmy’s gone pale again, his last potion clearly having run through its effects. His head dips every-so-often like he’s on the verge of falling asleep… or passing out. 

“Either of you vegetarian?” Pearl asks. 

“Not me.” Scott says. 

Jimmy shakes his head. 

“Steak for dinner, then.” Pearl turns to the kitchen and begins to ruffle through her chests. 

While she’s preoccupied, Scott digs through his bag for another regen potion. They’ll only have one after Jimmy drinks this one, but there’s no way to avoid that. Luckily, Jimmy still has the strength and energy to drink the potion without Scott’s assistance. 

“Are you alright?” Scott quietly asks him. 

Jimmy nods, blinking slowly. “Tired. Sore. I’m okay, though.” 

He coughs after that - a deep and wet cough that makes Scott nervous. The last thing they need is Jimmy getting sick, but it’s a strong possibility he’s already caught something from his imprisonment and from the stress of escaping. 

“Sleep.” Scott advises. “You’ll need all the energy you can get.”

Jimmy doesn’t bother protesting - a testament to how tired he must be feeling. Scott waits for him to drift off to sleep before he returns his attention to Pearl. 

She’s stood at the counter with all four of her dogs sitting around her. They stare up at her expectantly as she handles the meat.

“Need any help?” Scott offers.

“No, I’m nearly done.” Pearl replies. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any coins, though?” 

Scott glances at his pouch, where he knows his coin purse is hidden. “A few.” 

“Hand them over.” 

“What?” Scott asks, blinking. 

“I’m not about to turn you in, but I’m not giving you free charity.” Pearl replies as she shoots him a look. “You cost me a perfectly good rope trap and a few days worth of food, you know. It’s not easy living out here all alone, and I don’t have a farm or any shop - I survive off of selling hunted meat and pelts.” 

Scott winces, guilt rising in his chest. He didn’t really consider the cost it would take for Pearl to help them out, in addition to the treason she’s certainly put herself in by not turning them in. 

“You don’t have to give me all of it.” Pearl says a moment later. “In fact, if you don’t got much you can keep it. I care more about you getting outta here than a few coins.” 

“No, it’s okay.” Scott hurriedly replies. He grabs his pouch and digs around for his coin purse. He’s not brought along much of his savings, but there’s still a substantial amount - a perk of being a prince. He takes out a handful of golden coins and puts them down on the table. 

“Is that enough?” 

Pearl turns to look, and her eyes widen. “Gold?! You’ve been carrying golden coins with you? You’re just asking to get mugged!” 

Scott’s eyes dart to the coins. “Are there other types of coins?” 

“You know, I was wondering why you weren’t spoiled, but I’m starting to see that you are.” 

“I wasn’t allowed to go out much.” Scott protests, his face flushing. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that there were more than one type of coin. 

“Why do you have money if you weren’t allowed to go out?” 

“I don’t know.” Scott shrugs. “I think Exor just wanted to pacify us.” 

“So you never actually spent anything?” 

“Not exactly. Whenever we were allowed to go to the market, someone would come along to purchase what we wanted for us, as long as it was something Exor would approve.” 

“Hm.” Pearl says, humming thoughtfully. “That’s stupid.” 

Scott let out a laugh at that. “It wasn’t great. But it means I have money to give to you now.” 

“I do appreciate it, if you’re sure you won’t be needing coins later.” 

“I think we’re going to avoid towns as much as we can.” Scott says. “And I doubt the Southlands accept Rivendell currency.” 

“They don’t.” Pearl says. 

Scott tilted his head. “Have you been to the Southlands? I mean, you’re not an Elf. What are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Pearl raises a brow. “I do mind, actually. That’s pretty rude of you to ask.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t think-”

“Yes, you’re a sheltered prince, that’s obvious.” Pearl interrupts. “I’ll tell you anyway. I’m half-Elf.” 

Scott is taken aback. Pearl certainly didn’t look like an Elf - but, then, the longer he studies her the more he begins to pick out the defining features all Elves have. Pearl’s features are far less distinct, but they’re there. She has pointed ears, though they’re not as sharp as most Elves’. She’s tall compared to Jimmy, but Scott still has several inches on her. She’s missing the most obvious characteristics that Elves have - the brightly colored hair. Scott’s hair is a bright cyan and Xornoth’s hair is purple. Exor is the only Elf that Scott knows to have a more muted color. 

“What’s the other half?” 

Pearl’s eyes narrow and Scott hastily apologizes, “Sorry. Why are you living out here by yourself?” 

“It’s not like I can live in Rivendell.” Pearl replies. “I have enough trouble going into town to purchase supplies.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t look like an Elf. Most folks have an issue with that.” 

Anger builds up in Scott’s chest. “That’s so stupid.” 

“Obviously.” 

“Why do you still live in Rivendell’s borders if Elves judge you for how you look?” 

Pearl waves a hand at herself. “Well, it’s not like I can pass off as anything else, can I? I don’t look a lot like an Elf, but I look more like an Elf than anything else.” 

Scott purses his lips, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. It’s ridiculous - all of this that Scott has finally become aware of is just ridiculous. 

“Is that why you’re helping us?” Scott asks. 

“Mostly.” Pearl shrugs. “I don’t agree with the Elves on a lot of things, and I really disagree when it comes to the war. The few Avians I’ve come across have always been pleasant and kind to me - probably because they didn’t realize I’m a half-Elf.” 

Scott lets his gaze drift to Jimmy, asleep on the bed, considering. He has to admit that it’s a relief to hear his thoughts echoed in Pearl’s beliefs. It sort of vindicates his choices - makes him feel like he really is doing the right thing, and that all the sacrifices he’s made will be worth it if he can get Jimmy back safely. 

“You should get some rest.” Pearl says. “You can eat when you wake up. I’ll keep an eye out for any soldiers.” 

Scott nods and slowly stands. “Thank you, Pearl, really.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

There’s only one bed in the small house and so Scott’s going to have to share with Jimmy, but he’s too tired to care. Besides, he’s shared a bed with Xornoth plenty of times before (even though a large part of him cringes at the thought of comparing that to sharing a bed with Jimmy - it’s just different). 

He slips onto the bed next to Jimmy, careful to avoid bothering his wings, and relaxes. Jimmy makes no indication that Scott’s presence has disrupted him. He does, however, turn in his sleep and press his face into Scott’s shoulder. Scott’s heart rate beats quickly for a few seconds before it loses its energy and the warmth and comfort of the bed begins to pull at his eyelids. 

He falls asleep to Pearl quiet murmurs to her dogs and Jimmy’s soft breaths in his ear.  

Chapter Text

Scott wakes to deep, rasping coughs. 

“Drink this.” He hears Pearl quietly instruct. 

The space besides him shifts, making Scott turn and blink. He watches Jimmy prop himself up and hold out shaky hands. Pearl hands him a cup and Jimmy takes several long gulps from it. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, his voice croaking with sleep. 

“He’s sick.” Pearl says bluntly. 

Scott rubs his eyes and pushes himself up. Jimmy’s eyes are red and dreary. His mouth twists into an unpleasant frown after he finishes his drink. 

“He’s got some sort of cough.” Pearl tells Scott. “I think it’s probably pneumonia.”

Scott inhales sharply. Pneumonia can be deadly without proper medical attention, and they’re still going to be spending a long time in the wilderness as they try to get to the border. 

“Sorry.” Jimmy coughs. 

Pearl lets out a huff. “Well, don’t apologize. You don’t have much of a choice. Now that you’re both up, you can have some food.” 

She gets up and moves to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing in bed?” Jimmy asks Scott.

Scott tenses. “I was sleeping, Jimmy, obviously.” 

“No.” Jimmy shakes his head. “I meant, why are you in bed with me?” 

“Because there’s only one bed.” Scott responds. He’s trying as hard as possible to act casual about this, but his blood is racing. 

“Oh.” Jimmy blinks, then slumps in his spot. 

“Are you okay?” Scott asks. 

“Tired. Can’t breathe too well.” Jimmy answers. 

Scott works his lip and turns to look at Pearl. She’s putting some sort of meat onto several plates. 

She seems to notice his stare because she looks up at him and tilts her head. Scott shakes his own in response - to indicate that he’s not trying to get her attention - and looks back at Jimmy. The Avian’s eyes are shut and he’s slouched over. His hands are balled up into fists at his side. 

Without really thinking about it, Scott reaches out and takes Jimmy’s hand in his own. Jimmy’s eyes fly open and meet Scott’s. They stare at each other for a moment before Scott decides not to be deterred. He gives Jimmy’s hand a firm squeeze. He hopes he’s conveying enough encouragement to help keep Jimmy going. 

Jimmy leans back against the wall, eyes slipping shut once more, but he doesn’t pull away. 

Pearl reheats the meat over the hearth and brings two plates over to Scott and Jimmy. Scott quietly encourages Jimmy to have some before he starts eating his own meal. Jimmy only manages a few bites before his face takes on a dangerous shade of pale green and he has to stop. Scott, on the other hand, eats his share so quickly that he makes himself sick. 

It’s only as he was eating that he realized it had been a least a day and a half since he’d had a proper meal, and it was like the accumulated hunger hit him at once. 

Pearl reprimands him and makes him drink a lot of water (slowly, of course). Jimmy manages two cups of water, which Scott takes as a win. 

Pearl leaves briefly with a dog to reset her rope traps. She lives Tilly behind, along with the other two dogs, to protect Scott and Jimmy and alert them of any incoming danger. Nothing happens while Pearl is away, thankfully. 

When Pearl returns, Scott’s able to fall back asleep for a quick nap. Jimmy’s been asleep for most of the day, his breathing rough and ragged. Scott’s a little concerned he’ll catch Jimmy’s illness, but it’s really too late to care. Even if he was mindful of steering clear of Jimmy’s illness, there would be no way for Scott to avoid it when he and Jimmy made their way to the border again. 

As the sun begins to set, Scott manages to rouse himself enough to get up from the bed and lend Pearl a hand with supper. She sticks him with vegetable-cutting duties, and he has no problem with that. He’s brewed potions before, but he has little-to-no experience with cooking and baking. 

“So,” Pearl says conversationally. “What’s your plan?” 

Scott hums in consideration. “Well, I thought I do the cucumbers first and then move onto the carrots-” 

“No, not that.” Pearl says with a huff. 

“Then what?” Scott asks. He glances at her, confused, and awaits her response. 

“What’s your plan with Jimmy?”

“I thought we told you that we’re trying to get him over the border.”

Pearl pauses in her cooking to sigh and roll her eyes. “How exactly do you plan to get him over the border?” 

“I…” Scott falters. “I don’t know.” 

“No offense, I don’t think you can carry him that far.” 

“Well, I don’t really have a choice.” Scott replies drily. 

“I guess you don’t.” Pearl says. 

“I don’t suppose you know a safer way through the woods?” 

Pearl hums. “My mine can take you through these mountains, but it will bring you out too far to the north. Your closest empire will be the Alchemists. You’d have to travel through their land to get to the Southlands.”

“The Alchemists are teamed with the Southlands at the moment.” Scott says. “They’d help Jimmy.” 

“Are they even in their own territory?” Pearl asks.

This gives Scott pause. She makes a fair point - there are only four Alchemists, and if they’re all in the Southlands then they might not be able to receive Jimmy. 

“Do you think we’ll be able to stay here until he heals?” 

Pearl purses her lips. “No, not with Jimmy’s new illness. The guards will be here too soon.” 

“So we need to leave now.” Scott concedes. “Before Jimmy gets too sick to move, before the soldiers find us here.” 

“Yes, probably.” Pearl agrees. She turns to him, skillet in hand. “Have some dinner first.” 

“I’ll wake Jimmy.” 

Scott moves to the bed. Jimmy’s mouth is parted and he’s been drooling on Scott’s pillow. His face isn’t so pasty-looking anymore, but it’s red around the eyes and nose. 

He looks incredibly vulnerable, and Scott doesn’t want to wake him. He hears Pearl’s polite clearing of her throat, and he quickly nudges Jimmy’s shoulder. 

Jimmy’s face scrunches up before his eyes slowly open. 

“Scott?” Jimmy murmurs, yawning. He rubs at his eyes as he pushes himself up - and Scott quickly looks away when he catches himself thinking about how cute the motion is. 

“Time for dinner.” Scott says.

“‘Kay.” Jimmy says. “Can you, uh, give me a hand?” 

“Oh, right!” Scott spins around to help him out of the bed and to the table near the kitchen. 

“How are you feeling?” Pearl asks as she sets a plate and cup down in front of each of their seats. 

“Cold.” Jimmy answers. 

“Probably a fever.” 

“So I’m sick?” Jimmy says. He sounds miserable. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” Scott replies. 

“Sorry. It’s hard enough to move without being sick.” 

Scott sits down next to him. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault.” 

“Just focus on feeling better.” Pearl agrees. She puts a serving dish of meat and vegetables onto the table. “Serve yourselves, I’m not your maid.” 

“I never thought you were!” Jimmy protests. 

Scott serves himself and Jimmy (because he knows Jimmy would spill everything, otherwise). Pearl sits down with them and starts eating right away. Jimmy takes his time with his meal, carefully focused on keeping a steady grip on his fork. Scott, however, only picks at his food. He wishes he had a larger appetite because he knows that it won’t be long until he and Jimmy are starving in the woods, but the stress of the situation is churning his belly. 

“Eat your fill.” Pearl advises, practically reading his thoughts. “You’re leaving soon.” 

“We are?” Jimmy asks as his eyes dart to Scott. 

Scott nods. “It’s not safe to stay in one place for very long, even here, and we’ve been here the whole day. We’re going to start off again once we’ve finished.” 

Jimmy’s shoulders slump, but the Avian nods anyway. It hurts Scott to see Jimmy like that, it hurts in a way that he’s not used to or expecting. He wants to comfort Jimmy or assure him that this decision is truly for the best. 

Scott says nothing, and their final meal at Pearl’s house remains absolutely silent. 

Once Jimmy is properly fed (and Scott manages to eat another bite or two), they help Pearl clean up and prepare to leave. Pearl has a sort of somber look across her face as she watches them leave, leaning back against a wall with her arms crossed.

“Be careful.” She says - a needless warning. 

“We’ll try.” Scott responds. “Thank you for all your help.” 

“I wasn’t going to leave you out to die.” Pearl says. 

“Still, thank you.” 

Pearl nods. “Send me a letter when you get to the Southlands, yeah?” 

“You’re getting much more than a letter!” Jimmy promises, making Pearl grin. 

“Well, I hope to hear from you two soon.” 

Pearl gives them food and water for their trip, Scott shoves what he can into his satchel and slings it over his shoulder. Before they leave, he has Jimmy take the last regen potion. There may not be a better time to use it, and hopefully it will help to lessen the symptoms of his illness. 

“Border isn’t far from here.” Pearl tells them. “Probably just a three- or four-hours walk.” 

“Longer with me.” Jimmy points out. 

“Still, you’re nearly there.” 

Scott and Jimmy stand by the open door once they’ve gathered everything together. Jimmy’s arm is around Scott again, but he’s supporting most of his own weight. 

Tilly runs past them into the yard. She spins around in a few circles before running back and letting out an excited bark. The three other dogs go to meet her, and they take off in a game of chase.

“Thank you again.” Scott says loudly over the playing dogs. 

“Anytime.” Pearl says. “You two owe me dinner.” 

“Yeah, definitely.” Jimmy agrees. “Really, I can’t thank you enough.” 

Pearl waves a hand. “You two are being too repetitive. Get outta here before I make you stay longer and compliment me.” 

Scott smiles. “We’ll see you again, yeah?” 

“Of course.” Pearl replies, her tone softening. “Good luck getting back.” 

Scott stops himself before he thanks her for the billionth time. He nudges Jimmy. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” Jimmy replies. 

They leave the warmth and the light and the safety of Pearl’s small, comfortable cottage and begin their journey back through the woods. 

* * * * * 

Exor is having a really bad day. 

“Where,” He growls. “Is your fucking brother?”

Xornoth is scowling down at Exor’s desk. He crosses his arms as he answers. “I don’t know.” 

Exor lets out a humorless laugh. “You two have been attached at the hip since birth, and you expect me to believe that you don’t know where he is?” 

“It’s the truth.” Xornoth shrugs. He still won’t meet Exor’s eyes. 

“Fine.” Exor snaps. “Don’t tell me. Go to your room, and don’t even think about leaving it. I will fine Scott myself, and then you both will be in trouble.” 

Xornoth stalks away without another word, leaving Exor at his desk. 

Exor growls to himself and pinches the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he should have suspected Scott to become a traitor - he’d never been very happy to obey Exor. Still, the betrayal eats away at him in a way he didn't expect. Scott is own flesh and blood - he raised Scott - and this is how he repays him?! 

Exor's not going to let Scott get away with this. 

Unfortunately for the time being, Exor is left without his previously-obedient nephew and the Avian. 

He slams his hands down on his desk with a shout. His hands sting from the impact, but Exor ignores it. He stands, shoving his chair away, and marches over to where his bag is hanging by the wall. He shoves his hand into the bag and pulls out the Enchanting Table. It shimmers in the flickering lamplight - a blue sort of sheen that Exor finds absolutely hypnotizing. 

He’d told the Alchemists that he was going to destroy it, but he’s found a better use for it. He can use it to magnify his own power. 

Exor’s lessons involving magic were very limited, as magic of any type wasn’t a subject that Elves traditionally studied. Exor had had to seek out a tutor - and they’d been the best neither at teaching nor at magic. As such, Exor is incredibly limited in what he could do - magical theory, however, was far easier to gain access to, compared to magic itself. 

There are several things from the magical theory that are significant, and in the case of the Enchanting Table, one topic stands out. 

Exor trails his fingers around the rugged exterior of the Enchanting Table, then he taps them. The Enchanting Table is unique in that it is the strongest known magical source and magical conduit. One’s method of channeling reflects heavily on their abilities. 

Exor sneers at the thought of the Wizards. They use the natural magic of the world as a source. He’d studied it for a while back when he was young, but he’d learned that natural magic was too unpredictable, too independent. It had a mind of its own and it required too much ‘asking’ for Exor to like it. 

The Alchemists are far more respectable, in his opinion. They study magical properties and bend the magic of an object. He had been more drawn to alchemy while he was a student, but it proved to be inadequate. Alchemy requires years of precise training and ability that Exor simply had not had the time for (let alone a mentor that could teach him such a method). 

Exor’s practice is superior to the Wizards’ and the Alchemists’ methods. He uses his own life force as a source and his body to channel the magic. It allows him a wider threshold of magic in a shorter amount of time. He’s far, far more powerful than the other magic-users. The only beings that pose any sort of magical threat are the Fae. Their magic theory was always inaccessible to Exor because the Fae are incredibly protective and secretive of their ways, but he knows their techniques were similar to his own. The main difference is that they have natural reservoirs of magic that they can draw on and they’re built to channel magic. 

It’s no matter, Exor refuses to let himself be impeded by his natural lack of magic. He’s the most powerful Elf to ever exist. He’s forged his own way through magic and now, with the help of the Enchanting Table, he’s going to change the world forever. 

Exor places the Enchanting Table on his desk. He lays his hand on its surface and closes his eyes. The noise around him fades into a blur of echoes. The temperature of the room drops drastically - so much that it feels like the blood in his lungs have turned to ice. In contrast, his hand, where it’s in contact with the Enchanting Table, burns.

His heartbeat pounds in his ears.

His mind stills and everything quiets. It’s a purposeful silence, like something is waiting. 

Listening. 

Watching. 

“You know what I want.” Exor breathes, his breath frosty against his lips. 

There is nothing but silence. 

“You know what I want.” Exor insists. “Give it to me. I deserve it.” 

He draws the magic from within himself and forces it into the obsidian box under his hand. It shudders, trembles, in response. 

Then it yields to Exor. 

Magic - raw and sharp and fiery - crashes over Exor. He sucks in his breath, overwhelmed by the sheer power that pulses through him from the Enchanting Table. 

He gathers his thoughts quickly and pictures what he wants. He uses his own magic to guide along the Enchanting Table, to show It what he expects of It. 

His nerves crackle painfully as he draws from himself. He grits his teeth. The Enchanting Table unlocks so many options and possibilities with its magical source and channeling abilities, but It needs his instruction. He anchors himself - his will - in the Enchanting Table and pulls. 

The Table responds beautifully. Exor opens his eyes. 

Magic forms at his hands, shimmering and sparkling, and begins to swirl. 

“Come on.” He hisses. “Come on.” 

The swirling grows more intense until a tangible shape begins to form. The Table screams in Exor’s ears, and he shivers in delight at Its bewitching tune. 

He brings his hands together, cupping them, and waits expectantly. 

The magic begins to slow as a solid figure appears. It rests gently in Exor’s waiting hands. There’s a bright, almost blinding light, as the magic finishes his command. 

A sudden tug yanks viciously at Exor’s consciousness before fading into a dull throb. He blinks away the feeling and risks a look down at the object in his hands. 

It’s smaller than he thought it would be. 

The object is oblong and smooth against Exor’s skin. It feels delicate, fragile even. The surface is primarily a greenish blue, though there are spots of green along it. When he rubs his fingertips against the object, he feels heat pulse in return. There’s a sudden pressure on the other side of the object's surface - a pressure that stems from within. 

It would be so incredibly easy to smash the object against the ground and reveal its true potential. Exor resists the temptation. He needs to savor this magic - it should be revealed in battle, and not for some selfish pleasure. 

Carefully, Exor places the object down on his desk. He’s hesitant to let it out of his grasp completely because it has the potential to roll away and break. When he’s absolutely certain that the object is motionless, he lets his hands drop to his side.

His body sings with lingering magic. He’s never felt so powerful before - so alive. He may have been mistaken about the Avian and the Alchemist, but he knows that he made the right decision with the Enchanting Table. 

He casts It a pointed look, already imagining the magic he’s going to conjure up. This is the weapon of his dreams. 

The Enchanting Table’s magic wavers, but Exor tightens his hold. He takes the Table and packs it away. 

He has a battle to plan. 

Chapter Text

“You know, you probably shouldn’t be pushing yourself so hard.”

Ren huffs and sends Martyn a half-hearted glare. “I’m just doing a patrol, Martyn.” 

“Mhm.” Martyn hums, utterly unimpressed. “And wasn’t that how you ended up injured last time?” 

“I was much farther last time, past the border!” Ren protests. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Martyn says. 

“Don’t question me, Hand.” Ren says. “We’re off on a patrol! Let’s get a move on!” 

Martyn nods. “Right, then.”

Ren flashes him a toothy grin and leads the way through the trees. He enjoys Martyn’s company - Martyn is a funny and kind man, and he always plays along with Ren’s dramatic antics. 

It had been Martyn’s idea to go out and get some fresh air, but Ren had been the one to insist they go on a patrol. He’s itching from all the time he’s spent in the castle healing. 

Ren pushes away his urge to shift. He’s not been in his wolf form for quite some time (large wolves around the castle premises tend to freak people out), but it would be rude to shift with Martyn around. Ren doesn’t want to leave his friend without company. 

It’s a very nice evening. The summer days were, here in the Southlands, just on the wrong side between “warm” and “too hot.” The nights were cooler, but not too chilly. There’s a pleasant breeze in the air and it carries along the fresh scent of oak and roses. 

Ren pauses to bask in the crispness of it all, when a low groan carries through the undergrowth. He freezes and sees Martyn do the same. 

“What was that?” Ren hisses. 

“Don’t know.” Martyn answers. He draws his sword. 

Ren inches in the direction of the sound, ears alert, and sniffs tentatively at the air. The wind still hasn’t changed its scent, so they must be upwind of whatever made the noise - which is a bit of a danger. Being upwind gives the other side the advantage, and Ren needs to rectify this quickly. 

He nods his head at Martyn to grab his attention, then begins to creep towards the noise. He’s careful not to make a sound and to keep sniffing the air. 

Another groan - this time more growl-like - pierces through the air. It’s come from farther away, so whatever made it must not have noticed Ren and Martyn nearby. Ren continues in the groan’s direction. 

They’re treading along the border, so it’s possible that he and Martyn have come across one of Rivendell’s patrols. 

It’s also possible that they’ve come across Rivendell’s army. 

Ren grits his teeth. 

They stalk through the forest, careful not to make a noise. The land begins to slope and the trees begin to thin so Ren slows. His ears prick and he sniffs at the air. They’re still upwind. 

There’s a third groan, followed in quick procession by four more. This makes Ren freeze, because he’s very certain at least two of the groans overlapped - meaning that there are multiple beings about. 

“Ren,” Martyn says in a low voice. 

“I know.” Ren replies. “Do you want to go back?”

“I’m going wherever you go.” Martyn says resolutely, and Ren feels a burst of affection for his Avian-friend before he focuses himself again. 

They continue forward, until they come to the treeline. Carefully, Ren peers past the end of the trees. The land continues at a downward slope, creating a valley. Down in the valley, Ren catches sight of movement. It’s very dark but his eyes are well-adjusted to seeing in the dim lighting. He can make out figures stumbling around - and his heart stops. 

There are hundreds of these beings. 

The wind finally changes direction and Ren hears more groaning and moaning before his nose gets a good whiff of the beings’ scents. 

He recoils, gagging. There’s a horrid stench of rotting, decaying flesh. Stale blood and molding meat follow. 

It smells like Death. 

“We need to go.” Ren says, already turning away. “Now .” 

Martyn, bless his soul, obviously has questions - but he doesn’t voice any of them. He simply nods at Ren, and together the two of them run back to the Southlands castle.

Ren needs to speak with Lizzie. 

* * * * * 

Grian sighs. He feels like he’s come to a dead end. They really have no choice by this point but to wait and see what Exor does next - and it’s absolutely agonizing. 

He’s been considering sending someone in as a rescue mission, but it’s risky - incredibly risky. They’ve never done any sort of spying within Rivendell - their wings give them away - and so Grian has no idea how the city is laid out. He doesn’t know how they could get in and out with Jimmy without getting caught, and he knows that Exor would rather kill Jimmy than let him escape. 

Their best chance would be to send in a Fae because of their unique transportation abilities and their similar appearance to the Elves, but the distance would be very taxing on even the strongest of the Fae. 

Grian looks up when he hears a knock at his door.

“Come in!” He calls. 

The door opens and reveals Impulse. His cousin gives him a tired wave. 

“Hey, man, Martyn and Ren have called an emergency meeting.” 

Grian stands, brows furrowing. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Hm.” Grian follows Impulse out of his room and down the hall. He wonders what Martyn and Ren could want - it must be important, but lately there’s been so many disasters that Grian’s starting to become a little desensitized. 

The others have already gathered in the meeting room by the time Grian arrives. His eyes glance instinctively to Mumbo, and he frowns when the other Avian avoids his gaze. 

Grian takes a seat next to Martyn. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Ren begins in a deep rasp, “I have some very alarming news to share. Martyn and I were out patrolling-”

“Patrolling?” Lizzie interrupts. “Shouldn’t you have been resting and healing?” 

“I assure you, my Queen, I am perfectly well. However, we came across something that was truly despicable! As far as my wolf-eyes could see, were bodies - rotting, decaying things that reeked of death - in complete animation!”

“I can hardly understand him when he talks like that.” Mumbo huffs under his breath. 

“Do you mean to say you saw living corpses?” Lizzie asks. 

“No way.” Impulse shakes his head. “That’s impossible.” 

“It’s very possible, my Avian friend! I smelt it with my own wolf-nose, and Martyn was there to witness it all!”

“It’s true.” Martyn gravely agrees. 

Skizz leans forward. “But how? A necromancer” 

“If it was a necromancer's work, they should find a new profession.” Ren says. “It was absolutely disgusting, let me tell you.” 

“They didn’t have a good sense of smell, otherwise they’d have noticed us right away.” Martyn continues. 

“Where was all this?” Grian asks. 

“Down at the border, to the North near the Alchemists’ land.” 

“This has to be something Exor planned.” Tango says. He frowns and rubs at his bandaged shoulder. 

Scar is abnormally solemn as he leans forward. “What do we do?”

“We fight back, of course!” Bdubs proclaims. “We attack!”

“With what army?” Scar presses. “The Wizards and the Alchemists are already a dying race.”

There’s a deafening silence after his statement. It’s been an untold truth for decades - centuries, even - that the Wizards and the Alchemists will not last. Scar and Joel are the last of their kind, just as Bdubs, Etho, Skizz, and Tango. Their races have been diluted over centuries - and while those outside of Rivendell are far more accepting of their races mixing, true Wizards and Alchemists - those that have the strongest connection to their magics - have lost most of their populations to time.

“The Fae will fight.” Lizzie says quietly. “Jimmy is my brother, I will not send us into battle alone.” 

Grian nods. “The Avians, too.” 

“The Elves outnumber us, still, especially with the undead army.” 

“We will fight, anyways.” Skizz says, eyes alight with determination and magic. “This isn’t just for Jimmy, anymore. This is for us. Exor isn’t going to stop until he’s destroyed all of us - we have everything to lose by not trying.” 

“Skizz is right.” Impulse agrees. “I’ll work on contacting any rouges around here - I’m sure they’d be willing to join us, if temporarily, if it meant ensuring their freedom.”

“I’ll send word to Cleo and BigB at once.” Lizzie says. 

“What about the half-Wizards and half-Alchemists?” Martyn suggests. 

Joel frowns. “Their magic is really weak compared to ours.” 

“They know what swords are, right?” 

Joel rolls his eyes. 

“We’ll reach out to them.” Scar says. 

“So,” Grian looks around the table, “Are we ready to go to war?” 

He’s met with grim expressions. He knows everyone is determined to fight, determined to win - but it won’t be pretty. 

This isn’t something they can keep avoiding - it’s time for them to stand up and fight. 

* * * * * 

Ren leads them to where he and Martyn had first seen the undead. Grian had thought it best for them to attack sooner rather than later, before the enemy realized that they’d seen their army, so he’d gathered the Avian army. There hadn’t been time to gather everyone else’s armies, so it’s only the Avians. Martyn’s back at the castle, but both Impulse and Mumbo have joined Grian. Lizzie and the Alchemists and the Wizards have also come along. 

“Keep alert.” Ren instructs. He shimmers briefly, and then flashes once. In Ren’s place stands a wolf. He nods at them, then takes off in a swift trot. Grian follows quickly through the undergrowth, pushing aside bushes and shrubs.

As they continue, a sound begins to carry through the forest. Groans reverberate through the trees. They’re deep and raspy and send a chill down Grian spine. Ren lets out a soft growl and tosses his head at Lizzie. 

“He says we’re close.” Lizzie translates. 

They keep creeping forward. Grian’s body grows more tense by the second - he hasn’t been in a true battle in a while, it’s mostly been small, tentative skirmishes. 

He’s scared. 

The forest comes to an end and overlooks a small valley. Grian inhales quickly. 

There are hundreds of green bodies limping around the trough of the land. The whole area reeks of death and decay and it’s absolutely disgusting. The undead aren’t too close, but they’re near enough for Grian to make out the grayish-red of exposed, rotting flesh. 

He fights back a gag and turns away, eyes scrunching up tightly. 

“I’ve heard of things like this.” Scar murmurs. “When you use dark magic, it can lead to mistakes like zombification.” 

“Zombification?” Mumbo asks, his eyes wide.

“It’s when a corpse is reanimated and becomes hostile, like with a necromancer gone wrong. They lose all of their autonomy and become mindless beasts that crave living flesh.” Joel explains. 

Bdubs sounds horrified as he hisses, “Who would do this?! How are they all here?!”

“More importantly, why aren’t they attacking things?” Ethos asks. 

Grian frowns.

“I don’t know.” Tango says. “They shouldn’t be all gathered here together, they should be searching for food.” 

“Is something controlling them?” Impulse says. 

“That’s not possible.” Skizz replies. “It shouldn't be possible.”

“No matter, we should attack them now while they’re all together.” Ren says. 

“I agree.” Lizzie says. “We attack now.” 

She looks over to Grian after she speaks and tilts her head, and Grian feels a surge of exhilaration at the thought that she's looking at him for confirmation because she sees him as an equal. The exhilaration morphs quickly to adrenaline and anxiety. He nods. 

Grian lets out a low chirp. The Avians take their cue and echo the chirp throughout the group. As a unit they begin to spread around the entrance of the valley. They nock their arrows and aim, then fall silent. Grian draws back his own arrow and aims it for a zombie. He steadies his breathing and waits out the trembling in his hands. 

He exhales slowly through his mouth.

Grian lets out another chirp - one that’s more of a whistle - and the effect is immediate, every Avian releases the arrows at the same time and the arrows soar through the sky. 

Tens of zombies go down instantly. Tens more are hit and simply stumble back. The rest, and there are several hundred, immediately look up to their position. Grian and the others knew this would give away their position, they expected it. 

Grian chitters quickly and the Avians respond instantly. They fire at will, Grian included. In between his shots, he catches sight of the Alchemists and Wizards as they use their magic. The Wizards have harnessed wind and earth to push the zombies back and prevent them from climbing up the valley. The Alchemists use their enchanted spectral arrows and flame bows to outline the zombies and light them on fire. They’ve supplied the army and everyone with enchanted shields as well, though Joel and Scar politely declined. 

Lizzie and Ren haven’t attacked yet, but Grian knows they’re biding their time. Lizzie is nothing if not cunning and calculated. She’s smart in her attacks and Grian trusts her judgment. 

They’re able to take down many of the zombies, but many more still come forward. They are slowly making their way up the cliff, getting past Joel’s and Scar’s spells and the onslaught of arrows. It takes multiple arrows to take down the zombies unless they receive a direct shot to their heads. Grian realizes with a sick feeling in his stomach that they probably feel no pain - and so any attack that does not stop the organ that makes them function will not be effective. 

“Ren,” Lizzie says. “Now.” 

Ren places a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder and her eyes go a blinding white. In a matter of seconds, dark, rolling storm clouds have covered the sky. Thunder crashes once, then twice, and then-

Fire rains down from the sky in a violent vortex. It hits the earth in front of the zombies and spreads out into a barrier of flame. 

The zombies stumble to a halt, though some at the front aren’t nimble enough and they stumble over themselves and into the fire. 

The smell of rotten flesh is better only than the smell of rotten burning flesh. 

Lizzie’s eyes return to their normal state - and while Ren falls away, panting heavily, Lizzie continues to stand tall. Grian pauses to process a jolt of genuine shock at the extent of her ability. He catches Joel’s gaze and Joel smirks. 

“Hot.” The Wizards mouths. 

Grian rolls his eyes and continues to shoot. 

With the zombies closer and stopped by Lizzie’s wall of fire, it’s easier to get perfect shots and take them down. Their numbers begin to thin, and Grian feels a spark of hope. 

“They’ve reached the top!” 

Grian whirls around in the direction of the yell. The Avians on his left are aiming into the forest instead of down at the valley. 

“How did they get up here?!” He demands, trying to spot the creatures. 

“Reserve army!” Someone replies. 

Grian’s heart sinks - of course Exor would have a second army in reserve - this was either a trap or they had rotten luck and Exor had decided to reinforce this army at the worst time for them.

Grian lets out a trill, and for good measure he shouts, “Hold your ground!” 

He looks at his friends, desperate for help. 

“I’ll keep the valley blocked off!” Lizzie yells.

“We’ve got you!” Joel shouts to him, with Scar nodding along. They refocus their efforts, this time bending the trees and pushing them back to stop the approaching army. 

“We’ll split up!” Skizz says. “Etho and Bdubs, help Grian!” 

Impulse gives his own trill before shouting, “Front line, shields up!” 

The first line Avians let out a responding screech and raise their shields in unison. They’re trained to keep their shields up and remain tightly compacted to form a wall. 

Grian aims for the forest. The Alchemists’ spectral arrows help more than ever to highlight the zombies and make them easier to spot within the dense forest. 

They’re able to keep most of them back, but a few slip forward close enough to attack the shields of the front line. They’re shot down quickly enough, but it still springs terror in Grian’s chest. 

Then, new figures begin to emerge. The first few are killed before Grian can properly identify them, but they look different from the zombies. These new figures are a lighter, brighter green. They have black, bulging eyes and dark mouths that stand out starkly against their fur. They have elongated bodies and necks and walk on four legs. Their paws are massive and armed with deadly-looking claws. 

“What are those?” Grian asks, not expecting an answer. 

His Avians attack the new figures, but it doesn’t take long for one to slip past. It approaches the first line and begins to flicker. 

A sizzle crackles through the air. 

The figure explodes into fire and light. Avians scream as they’re sent flying back. 

Grian’s jaw drops in horror and it seems most of his army are equally shocked. More of these creeping figures begin to make their way out of the trees. They all flicker when they get close in proximity to the Elves and they explode only a few seconds later. It takes Grian longer than it should to recover from the jarringness of the first explosion and react.

He lets out a frantic chirp, instructing the Avians to take to the skies. They do so at his order and begin to shoot down onto the enemies. This isn’t a perfect strategy because the trees block the Avians from flying too high, lest they lose their target. It also leaves the grounded Avians exposed and vulnerable. At the very least, the creeping-things don’t seem to be able to explode with the flying Avians at that distance away.

Impulse chatters an order. Several med-Avians swoop down and lift up the injured Avians before they can be attacked by the zombies or exploded by the creeping-things. 

The reserve army continues to push forward, an endless supply from the trees. Grian’s beginning to grow desperate. His Avians can’t shoot them down quickly enough and more and more creepers have gotten close enough to the Alchemists to explode. They’re leaving horrible craters in the forest floor that are certainly deathtraps for anyone with the misfortune of falling in one whilst running away from a monster. 

Grian’s running low on arrows. He filled his quill before he left, but it’s not enough. Bdubs and Etho have already run out of their spectral arrows and are using regular arrows. Lizzie’s still keeping her wall of fire, but she’s beginning to sweat. Joel and Scar look similarly exhausted, and Mumbo and Impulse have a similar reserve of arrows as Grian. 

Grian makes a decision. 

“Retreat!” He shouts, chirping immediately after. “Retreat!” 

He stays back with the others long enough for his army to get a headstart to the castle, then they all begin their own retreat. 

As they run through the forest, back to the castle, they can only hope that nothing is following them. 

Chapter Text

Mumbo sighs into his hands. 

Their battle hadn’t gone well. 

No one had lost their life, but there were several serious injuries. They were lucky no one had been killed - they hadn’t been prepared at all for the fight. 

They could maybe handle the zombies, but those other things - they were being called creepers - were too unlike anything anyone had seen before. 

Mumbo had tried to talk to Grian after the battle, but his friend had locked himself away in his room and was refusing to come out. Martyn suggested they leave him be for a few hours and give him some space. Mumbo agreed, but it still tugged uncomfortably in his chest to have to leave Grian when he was so obviously upset. 

Mumbo leans against his desk and plays idly with the items that lay scattered about. He twiddles with a few quills and rolls around some pretty stones Grian had given him. Something pink and shiny catches his eyes. 

Mumbo pushes a book away to reveal the Love crystal that Scar had given him. Mumbo blushes at the memory and picks the stone up. It is just as warm and soothing as it’d been when he’d picked it. It’s cheesy to admit it - but the feeling he got from the crystal reminds him of how he feels when Grian smiles at him, or when he tugs Mumbo around by the hand, or when they sneak out in the evenings to enjoy the stars. 

And it’s even worse to admit that it sort of reminds him of Scar, how he blushes when Scar compliments him and how warm he feels whenever Scar looks at him like he’s something important. 

Mumbo shoves the stone into his pocket and stands up. He doesn’t have time to be thinking about these types of things - they’re at war. This is too distracting and Mumbo needs to be focused. 

He exits his room in a rush and starts walking to the library. Maybe he can find something that could help them in their battle against these new creatures. 

“Mumbo!” 

Mumbo stumbles in his tracks and glances over his shoulder at Impulse. 

“Hello.” Mumbo says.

“Hey, are you busy?” 

“I was about to go to the library, but not really.” Mumbo shrugs. “Why?” 

“I wanted to ask you something redstony.” 

Mumbo perks up. Redstone with Impulse - who’s probably one of the greatest at redstone - is always something Mumbo enjoys doing. 

“Yeah?” 

Impulse nods. “Is it okay if we get to my office?”

“Sure, of course.” 

Impulse’s office is far, far more organized than Mumbo’s. Everything is in its labeled position and his desk is clear of any mess. Mumbo always takes a moment to admire the look of it all and wonder how long it would take him to get his own office to this level of neatness. Impulse's desk is pushed up against a far well, next to a fireplace. The fireplace is already lit - which Mumbo thought was odd since it was still summer. 

Impulse pulls out a small purse and puts it down on the desk. He opens it up to reveal a gray powder. 

“What’s this?” Mumbo asks, bending near the powder. 

“Some of the Avians managed to collect it.” Impulse tells him. “They say that the creepers dropped it when they died. I’m calling it gunpowder.” 

“What does it do?”

“Watch.” Impulse takes a pinch of gunpowder and throws it into his fireplace. The fire immediately bursts in a small explosion of spark and flame. Mumbo flinches back. 

“It’s explosive, and I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way to hook it up with redstone.” 

Mumbo hums and takes a closer look at the powder. “Can you show me what you’ve done already?” 

“Sure thing.” 

They spend the evening fiddling around with gunpowder and it results in several burnt fingers, a few singed eyebrows, and a slightly scorched mustache. In the end, all Mumbo and Impulse determine is that fire and redstone charge can set it off. They’re not quite sure what to do with the information.

“What’s our end-goal, here?” Impulse asks. “It’s hard to figure out what to do when we don’t even know what we want to do.” 

Mumbo hums. “Maybe we could use it in battle? It would help to even the playing ground.” 

“Yeah, it would. But how do we set it off? ” Impulse says. 

“Fire.” 

“Like, a flint and steel?” Impulse asks. “That may take a few tries before we can light it.” 

Mumbo scratches his head. 

“The Alchemists make their flame bows that shoot flaming arrows.” He suggests. 

“Yeah, but that still relies on their aim and on the amount of flame bows we have.” 

“Hm.” Mumbo leans back in his chair as he thinks. “We need them to be able to explode on command. Could we make it so they explode when you touch them?” 

“I don’t know how.” Impulse says. “And how do we keep it from exploding when we handle it?”

“We need it to be encased in something, something that can also explode.” 

Mumbo drops his arms, defeated, and his hands brush against his pockets. He feels the outline of the crystal from Scar, and it gives him an idea. He turns to Impulse. 

“How well do you know the Alchemists?” 

* * * * * 

“You want me to what?” Skizz asks. 

“I want you to enchant redstone.” Mumbo repeats. “I need to release a charge just from touch.” 

Skizz looks between Mumbo and Impulse. 

“That’s crazy, dude.” 

“I know, but I think it will help us.” Mumbo insists. 

“C’mon, Skizz.” Impulse tries. “Can you give it a try?” 

Skizz groans and covers his eyes with his hands. 

“Fine.” He says. “Hand it over.” 

Mumbo eagerly gives him some redstone powder. He watches with unconcealed interest as Skizz closes his eyes and begins to murmur in a foreign language. The redstone in his hands starts to gleam. 

There’s a flash of blue light - and in Skizz’s hands are white shards. The shards are small and tear-shaped and seem to have an inward glow. 

“Put them down!” Mumbo says. 

Skizz puts the shards down on the table, and the shards lose their glow. Excited, Mumbo places normal redstone dust next to the shards. He touches one shard. The shard glows and lights up the redstone dust next to it. 

It’s sending a charge on contact.

“Holy cow.” Impulse breathes. “Touch-triggered redstone.”

“Thank you!” Mumbo says to Skizz. 

“Sure.” Skizz replies. “What are you going to use it for?” 

“We’re going to make an explosion.”

“What?” Skizz asks, alarmed. “Here?!”

“No, not here.” Mumbo says. “We’re making a weapon that can explode on the battlefield.”

Skizz’s eyes are wide. “Wow. Okay.” 

“I have an idea.” Mumbo says cheerfully. He grabs a small container from his bag - he’d gotten it prepared before he came to Skizz with Impulse - and he places it down on the table near the shards (it’s not too close, because Mumbo doesn't want to set off any accidental explosions). The container is primarily glass, but the bottom is bowl-shaped and obsidian.

“What’s that?” 

“I’m calling it an end crystal.” Mumbo says. “There’s gunpowder in the center of the container and a few lines of redstone. The idea is that you place the crystal down, then put the touch-activated shard into the container. It should send a redstone charge down the lines and light the gunpowder up - exploding the whole thing.”

“Won’t that explode you?” Skizz asks, sounding distressed.

“The lines will provide a small delay, and I’ve made the container so that the bottom won’t explode. It should direct the explosion up and out. You need to place the crystal, insert the shard, and then drop down. The closer you are, and the lower to the ground you are, the safer you are.” 

“You guys are insane.” Skizz says. 

“Probably.” Impulse shrugs. “Should we try it out?” 

“Not here!” 

“Of course not.” Mumbo tells Skizz. “Let’s go try it outside.” 

The crystal works beautifully, and they attract a lot of attention testing it out. It’s very dangerous, but Mumbo is confident in his ability to use them. He figures that as long as he finds a sort of incline or hill, he can place the crystal at the top and ignite it. The explosion sometimes snags him, but it’s usually just a quick flash of heat and a small amount of pressure. The real destruction comes in the surrounding area. Glass shards fly everywhere when the container explodes, and the heat from the explosion is far more intense. 

Mumbo’s created something amazing. 

Unfortunately, not everyone agrees - namely, the Wizards. 

“You can’t just use enchanted items like that!” Joel says. “That’s really dangerous!” 

Scar won’t meet Mumbo’s eye, which tells him that he agrees with Joel. It hurts Mumbo that Scar refuses to look at him, but he can’t back down - this weapon could give them a giant advantage in the war. 

“It can save hundreds of our lives.” He insists, practically pleading with Grian. 

Grian’s been watching for some time now, and he hasn’t said whether he agrees with Mumbo or not. 

“What do you think?” Grian asks Impulse. “You two were in on this together.” 

“I think it’s genius.” Impulse easily replies. “I also think it’s really dangerous for people who don’t know what they’re doing.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” Mumbo protests. 

Grian sighs. “Mumbo-” 

“Grian.” Mumbo interrupts. “I may be an absolute spoon at times, but not about this. Trust me.” 

Grian stares at him, his expression unreadable. 

Finally, he turns away. 

“Okay.” He agrees. “But only you are allowed to use them.” 

“Yes!” Mumbo cheers. “Thank you, G! I swear, I won’t let you down.”

“I’m not worried about you letting me down, Mumbo. I’m worried about you getting hurt. Promise you won’t get hurt with those stupid things.” 

“I promise.” Mumbo says. He smiles. 

He doesn’t see Scar turn away.

* * * * * 

Scott ran out of water a while ago, and he’s so thirsty. Jimmy hasn’t said or done much - aside from coughing - since they left Pearl’s house. It’s been a full day. They did not reach the border by dawn, so they’d been forced to stop and hide during the day. They hadn’t seen any soldiers around, which Scott chooses to believe is a good thing. He knows they’re close to the border by now - they have to be - but every step is a battle. 

Jimmy’s not in a good way. He’s really sick, and it’s scaring Scott. He can’t talk without breaking out into a coughing fit, and his breathing is extremely thick. He desperately needs medical attention - Scott’s already used the rest of his potions on Jimmy in a failed attempt to heal him from whatever respiratory sickness is ailing him. 

Jimmy doesn’t explicitly say it, but Scott can tell that he’s feeling worse. He can’t hold his own weight - Scott practically carries him when they walk. His injuries, the ones the potions couldn’t heal, are inflamed and discolored with infection. 

They’re running out of time. Scott’s not sure what will kill them first - Rivendell guards or Jimmy’s sicknesses.

It’s a few hours into the second night from Pearl’s home, if the location of the moon is anything to go by. Scott’s running on no sleep and no food and he’s wearing thin. He doesn’t know how long he can keep going before he collapses, and there’s no one there to help him back up. 

Jimmy trips over a root, and they both go down. Scott braces to catch them with his hands, and he gasps in pain when his palms are smashed against sharp stones. 

He lays there, panting, for way too long. Jimmy’s breathing is ragged and his heart is beating so forcefully that Scott can feel it in just the way they’re pressed together. 

“S’rry.” Jimmy mumbles. Scott’s heart clenches at how weak he sounds.

“It’s okay.” He replies. He closes his eyes as he tries to muster the strength to get up. He slips himself out from under Jimmy’s arms and pushes himself up onto his hands and knees. 

“I wish I brought more food with us.” Scott says idly. “And water. It would be worth carrying the extra weight if it meant I could eat something, what do you think?” 

There’s no response.

“Jimmy?” Scott looks over at his companion and finds that Jimmy’s eyes are shut and his mouth is parted as he breathes. “Jimmy!”

Scott reaches forward and presses the back of his hand against Jimmy’s head. He hisses and yanks away only a second later - Jimmy’s burning up. 

Scott tries not to panic. He doesn’t know if Jimmy’s fallen asleep because he’s exhausted or if he’s passed out because he’s so sick, but Scott figures he needs to wake Jimmy up now.

“Hey,” He says, shaking Jimmy’s shoulder. “We need to get going.” 

Jimmy does not wake up. 

“Jimmy.” Scott says, edging on alarmed. “Dammit, Jimmy, wake up.” 

Jimmy still does not wake up. 

Scott sucks in his breath. “Jimmy, please, we have to-”

A branch breaks and Scott freezes. 

More branches break, something is near them. 

“Shit!” Scott swears. He puts one arm under Jimmy’s knees and one arm under his neck, and he shoves both of them up. Adrenaline gives him strength and balance and he miraculously does not fall back over. He runs forward as quickly as he can, stumbling away from whatever was near them. 

Footsteps follow him, speeding up as Scott runs. 

“Shit.” Scott swears again. “Shit, shit!”

This is so, so bad. If he doesn’t get them over the border safely, they’re never having another chance to do this. Jimmy will be killed immediately and Scott might join him. 

Shouts come from the forest - all around them - and a wave of fear drowns him. 

He’s surrounded.

He doesn’t know what to do - he doesn’t know how to get out of here. 

A figure appears in front of Scott and he skids to a stop. He bares his teeth at the approaching figure. 

“Don’t touch him!” He snarls, holding Jimmy close to his chest. 

There’s a crackle behind him. Scott whirls around just in time to see a staff swinging towards him. 

It smacks against his head and Scott only feels a flash of blinding pain before everything is going black. 

* * * * *

Grian is terrified. 

A patrol had returned, broken and bruised, and had told them Rivendell’s army was moving south. 

The Fae army had arrived a few hours after the patrol, so Grian and the others decided to try attacking the Elves again. There was no word from the rogues that the Alchemists and Wizards had tried to contact, so this might be the largest and strongest their army got. 

Grian wants to be confident, but with how their last battle had turned out he can't help but feel like they were fighting a losing war. With Mumbo’s new weapon, he's even more on edge. He trusts Mumbo to handle it, but Grian doesn't know what he would do if anything happened to him. 

Everyone has joined the battle this time. Martyn is on one side of Grian and Impulse is on the other. The Avian and Fae armies have been supplied with as many enchanted items as the Alchemists could muster. Joel and Scar seem to be more on edge than they usually were, but they’d still volunteered to come. 

The upcoming battle is more obvious this time. Their army arrives at the edge of sprawling plains just as the Elven army appears on the opposite side. There will be no surprise attacks or sneaking up on one another. 

This is the greatest mark of their ability. If they don't win this, when they're at their strongest, then they don't have much of a shot at winning the war. This is the entire army. 

Rivendell sends the first shot, and all hell breaks loose. 

The Avians began to fire while the Fae prepared for magic and hand-to-hand combat. The Rivendell Elves prefer their bows, same as the Avians, but the zombies and the creepers attack from the ground. The Avian can’t hit the Elven archers from their positions, so their only option is to attack the center of the battlefield. 

The first line of zombies and creepers go down, but just like last time they start to get past the defenses. 

The Fae and Wizards use their magic to keep the hoards back as best they can. Lizzie waits with her three commanders, instead of just Ren. 

The Alchemist join the Avains again with their enchanted bows and arrows. The spectral arrows do a world of help by making it easier to figure out where one zombie stops and another begins. 

As the zombies and creepers start to get closer, Mumbo comes up to Grian. 

“Let me use the end crystals.” He says. 

Grian really doesn’t want him to, but he won’t deny that they need the extra help. He gives Mumbo a short nod and watches the other Avian take off down the field. 

Mumbo sets up his crystal quickly, and when the mobs begin to get in range, he lights it. 

The effect is immediate and way more severe than the practices had been. The explosion reached much farther away, killing tens of zombies and creepers, and Grian suspects that Mumbo added a bunch of gunpowder. He watches, heart in his throat, for Mumbo. 

Mumbo stands up, brushes soot off of himself, and waved at Grian.

Grian lets out a small sigh of relief. He turns his attention back to the field as Mumbo continues to set off crystals. The crystals are very effective in killing off the monsters, and Grian knows the Elves are running low on arrows with how their shooting has dialed back. It won’t belong before they engage in hand-to-hand combat. 

As the zombies and creepers start to die out, the Elven forces begin arranging themselves so there’s a gap in the center. Grian squints, trying to figure out why they’ve done that, when a large grayish body comes hurdling through the gap and down towards the battle. 

The creature is massive. It’s bulkier than three bulls and taller than their largest horse. Its horns extend as wide as Grian’s wingspan. It has large, serrated fangs.

The creature charges past the zombies and skeletons and aims straight for the Fae. They use fire and light tricks to distract it, but more of the creatures begin to appear and fly down the field. Arrows seem to have no effect on their thick, leathery skin. There’s easily a hundred, or more, creatures that appear out of nowhere. 

The damage is disastrous. The creatures ram themselves into the Fae, sending them soaring around, and gore anything they can with their massive horns. 

The Fae scream as some are knocked around and some are skewered and some are stampeded. 

“To the air!” Ren cries. The Fae quickly take to the skies, helping the ones that can’t. 

Lizzie steps forward, her eyes shining once again, with Ren and the two others (BigB and Cleo, Grian thinks) putting a hand on her back. Instead of flames from the sky, sparkles emit from Lizzie and snipe towards the creatures. The sparkles circle around the creatures’ faces and cloud their eyes. The creatures begin to attack one another instead of them. 

“Hurry!” Joel shouts. “While they’re confused!” 

It’s clearly not an easy spell for Lizzie to keep up, as she’s sweating and panting within a few minutes. Everyone else tries to kill off the creatures before they’ve regained control, but it’s difficult to avoid getting trampled and stabbed by the horns while also keeping an eye out for the Elves. Most of the creatures kill one another, and many more go down to Mumbo’s crystals. 

There’s less than twenty of the creatures when the Elves begin their own ground attack. Grian runs forward with the Avian, flinging himself into battle. He needs to keep the Elves back until the other creatures have been completely destroyed. 

Grian draws his sword and meets with an Elf. The Elf is at least a foot taller than him - and it’s more than a little intimidating. Grian does not back down. He raises his sword and lunges forward. The Elf parries his blow and shoves him back, taking a swipe at the same time. Grian whirls out of way, his wings flared for balance, and lunges again. He’s never been the best at sword fighting, but it seems that the Elf is no expert, either. They’re evenly matched - the Elf is stronger, but Grian is quicker. 

A Fae soldier comes to fight with Grian, and together they fight the Elf until the Fae manages to land a blow on their head. The Elf topples to the ground. They're still breathing, but they're very much unconscious. 

Panting, Grian nods at the Fae and then tries to find another opponent before they notice he’s vulnerable. 

There are swords and bloodshed everywhere. Grian winces as an Avian slices through an Elf’s arm. Feathers are scattered across the field, as well as the remains of the zombies and creepers. The monsters’ bodies have been compressed into the ground with the weight of the battle taking place on top of them. 

Grian’s so caught up in the surreal horror of it all, that he doesn’t notice the gray-creature targeting him.

Mumbo runs through the mess, shouting at people to back off. Grian steps out of the danger zone along with everyone else on his side. Mumbo waits until it’s only enemies in the radius, then he throws down a crystal and presses the activating shard to its surface.

Something barrels into Grian and he’s tossed into the air. 

Grian lets out a cry - he feels his ribs snapping until the sudden onslaught - and the pain is blinding when he lands. He chokes out a sob and squints past tears. His eyes focus on the crystal, gleaming in its charged state. 

He tries to shove himself away, but somewhere underneath his panic and pain, he knows it’s too late. He can’t get away from the crystal quickly enough and he can’t get close enough for the blast to miss him. 

He coughs around the blood in his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Grian!” 

Something else shoves him back just as a boom cracks through the air and pierces his skull. Everything goes blindingly white and Grian screams as he feels his eardrums bursting. 

The world is hazy and slow when the light fades. Grian can hear his own blinks. He stares hazily up at the sky. There’s still something on top of him, something that’s pinning him to the ground. He raises his head. 

Mumbo lays limply on top of him. He’s got shards of glass littering his chest and abdomen. His suit is torn and blood is staining its fabric. His hair is singed and his skin is red and blistering. Blood dribbles from his nose and from his mouth.

Mumbo is not breathing. 

Chapter Text

“Mumbo!” Grian pulls himself out from under Mumbo’s body and throws himself across him. He braces himself with his left hand and uses his right to prop Mumbo’s head up. 

“Mumbo.” Grian sobs. “Wake up.” 

He places Mumbo’s head down so he can pound a hand against Mumbo’s chest, above the wound. 

Mumbo coughs and his eyes fly open. 

This brings no relief for Grian - blood is still dripping from Mumbo’s mouth and lips. 

“Mumbo!” 

Mumbo blinks, panting. “Gr- Gri-”

He can’t seem to finish his words. 

“Don’t speak.” Grian says.

He brushes away tears before bracing himself and looking down at the rest of Mumbo. His wings are missing feathers and are burnt at the ends. The glass shards are fully littering his front. His suit is stained with blood. Grian tentatively brushes his fingers against the bloodiest area on Mumbo’s chest, wincing when Mumbo cries out. 

He pushes back the torn fabric to get a good look at the wound - and he has to suck in his breath. The glass has torn through an expansive part of his chest, near his heart. It’s practically gushing with blood and Grian catches sight of something suspiciously white. 

Bone. 

He’s sure his expression reflects his discovery. 

“That bad?” Mumbo asks. 

Grian swallows. “You’re going to have a scar.” 

“A- a scar is the lea- least of my worries. Are you oka- okay?” 

“You’re bleeding out and asking me if I’m okay?” 

“The End Crystal-”

“You protected me just fine from the crystal.” Grian snaps. “That was so stupid of you, Mumbo!” 

“Couldn’t let you get hurt.”

Grian squeezes his eyes shut to block more tears from building. 

There’s still a war going on around them, though it seems to be ending. Lizzie’s efforts with the creatures have paid off because most of them are dead and the few that remain have turned on the Elves. Many of the Elves, having lost their biggest asset, are retreating. 

Mumbo’s situation gathers more attention. 

“Mumbo!” Impulse shouts, running over to them. “Oh no.” 

“We need to bandage him up.” Grian says roughly. 

Impulse turns to him. “Grian-”

“Bandage him up!”

Impulse winces and turns away, presumably to grab some supplies. 

Grian looks back at Mumbo. The other Avian’s skin is near white and his eyes are half lidded. Grian’s heart skips a beat as he brushes a hand against Mumbo’s cheek. Mumbo blinks, to Grian’s relief. 

“Hey.” He says softly. “We’re going to get you bandaged up, then you’re going to be on bed rest for the next month, I reckon.” 

Mumbo inhales shallowly. “I don’t kno- know about that.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” Grian says. “We’ll get you home and-”

“Grian,” Mumbo interrupts, coughing. “It’s- it’s going to be okay.” 

Grian narrows his eyes. “I know it’s going to be okay. I was just saying that we’re going to take you home and get you back to normal.” 

“I not… I’m don’t think I’m going to make it.”  

Grian’s eyes burn and his throat contracts sharply. “Don’t you dare say something like that, Mumbo Jumbo. You’re going to be just fine.” 

Mumbo’s breathing through his mouth now, short breaths that can’t actually be bringing him much oxygen. His eyelids are beginning to droop. 

“Hey, stay awake.” Grian says (pleads). 

He shakes Mumbo a little. 

Mumbo winces. “Sor- sorry. I-”

“Don’t talk, save your strength.” 

“No.” Mumbo weakly shakes his head. “Have to- to tell you…”

Grian breaks. He ducks his head. He can’t hold back the sobs that have been building up in his chest. 

“What?” He croaks. 

There’s no response. 

Grian jerks his head back up. 

Mumbo’s eyes have shut again. His mouth is slightly parted and his face has lost all its tension. 

“Mumbo!” Grian screams. He cups Mumbo’s face in hand again, but Mumbo doesn’t wake. 

“Grian.” Impulse says. 

Grian cries brokenly and looks up at Impulse through his tears. 

“Grian, it’s too late.” 

“No!” Grian denies. He curls himself around Mumbo, as if to shield him. “He’s still alive!” 

“We won’t get back in time.” Impulse replies gently. His own eyes are wet and shining with tears. 

Grian looks around and spots Lizzie. 

“Heal him!” He says. “Please, heal him.”

Lizzie looks down. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I’ve already used too much magic, and not even the Fae can prevent death.” 

“No, you have to fix him.” Grian’s voice cracks. “Please, you have to!” 

“I can.” 

Grian whips his head around. Scar approaches them quickly and kneels next to them. He looks almost as distraught as Grian feels. 

“Scar, you can’t.” Joel says. “We’re not strong enough.” 

“I can if I channel the magic through my body.” Scar replies. 

“Scar!” Joel’s eyes go wide. “Scar, no. That’s way too dangerous.” 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“You could die!” 

“Die?!” Grian repeats, alarmed. As much as he loves Mumbo, he doesn’t want Scar to die for him (and Mumbo wouldn’t want to live at the expense of someone else). 

“Only if I push myself too hard.” Scar says. “Trust me, I know my own limits.” 

Grian looks at him. 

“Okay.” He says. 

Scar smiles and places a hand on Mumbo’s chest, directly above the wound. He shuts his eyes and his expression grows serious with concentration. 

Grian holds his breath. 

The glass begins to glow. The pieces disintegrate and the wounds start to close. Mumbo’s injuries shine brightest where they’re most severe. The smaller ones are healed easily, but the largest one - the one that’s killing him - takes a long time. 

It’s several minutes before the light fades away. Grian quickly checks the injury on Mumbo’s chest. 

Mumbo’s skin has completely stitched back together, leaving only thin, white scars in its wake. Grian pressed a finger to Mumbo’s neck. His chest tightens with apprehension. 

There’s a pulse beneath his fingers. 

Grian sobs out again and rests his forehead against Mumbo’s chest. 

“Thank you.” He cries. 

He turns to look at Scar and thank him properly just as Scar collapses. 

“Scar!” Grian shouts, joined with Joel and the others. 

“I’m fine!” Scar gasps. “I’m fine! Just a little tired.” 

“That was so stupid!” Joel scolds. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” Scar replies. “Helped that Mumbo’s been carrying around that crystal.” 

“The End Crystal?” Grian asks. “Why would that help?” 

Scar shakes his head at him. “No, the love crystal I gave him.” 

Grian’s mind goes blank. 

“The- the what?” 

Scar hesitates. “The love crystal. It’s in his pocket, I could feel it with my magic.” 

Grian reaches inside Mumbo’s pocket and takes out a small, pink crystal. He stares down at it. 

“You gave him this?” He asks, voice small. 

“Yes.” Scar answers softly. 

“Oh.” Grian stares at the crystal a moment longer before he puts it back in Mumbo’s pocket. “That’s… great.” 

“Wait, Grian, it doesn’t mean-” Scar cuts himself off with a startled noise. 

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks. Grian moves closer to Scar, eyes scanning him for injury. 

“I may have over exerted myself a little.” Scar says. He sounds strained. “I’m going to be needing a lift.” 

“What do you mean?” Grian asks. 

“Funny story! I can’t walk.” 

“What?” 

“I can’t walk.” Scar repeats. “It’s a long story, but I use my magic to support my legs, and right now my magic is very depleted.” 

“We can help with that.” Impulse says, already moving forward to help Joel pick him up. “We should get going.”

Grian glances around the battlefield. The Elves have fled, but it’s not a complete victory. The field is littered with bodies from soldiers of both sides, and it sickens Grian. 

He feels overwhelmingly guilty in an instant. He’s been crying over Mumbo, begging the others to help, when there are so many more who have lost their friends and family today. 

Grian focuses his attention back on his friend. Mumbo’s breathing, but he’s still unconscious. Grian figures it’ll remain that way for a while. He carefully squeezes his arms underneath Mumbo. He steadies himself on one knee, then stands in one smooth motion. His wings spread to steady himself. 

“Need help?” Martyn asks. 

Grian shakes head. He’s not the strongest Avian, but he’ll bring Mumbo home. 

* * * * * 

One of the Fae healers, Stress, gives Mumbo a thorough check once they get him to the infirmary. She tells Grian that Mumbo is in no danger of dying from his injuries. 

It’s a massive relief to Grian, and he knows he owes so much to Scar. 

Scar needs to be admitted in the infirmary, as well, since his magic-use left his reserves so depleted. Grian arranges for him and Mumbo to have a private room together. Grian wants them out of view of any prying eyes. 

Scar protests the entire time he’s moved to the infirmary. 

“I’m fine!” He insists. “I’m not even bleeding!”

“You ran out of magic.” Joel replies flatly. 

Scar rolls his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I thought your reserves were depleted?” Grian says. 

“Yes, but I’m not ‘out of magic.’” Scar says. “Magic is kind of like blood. You need a certain amount to stay healthy. You can lose a lot of blood and still be okay, but if you lose too much you’ll die. I’ve reached my limit of how much magic I can use safely.” 

Grian nods. “I think I get it. Is that how it is for all magic-users, or just you?” 

“As far as I know, it’s how it works for everyone. The Fae have the largest reserves because they’re made to channel magic through their own bodies. Alchemists and Wizards have to channel magic through something else if we want to use it safely. We aren’t made with the same natural protections that Fae have.”

“That’s why it’s really bad that Scar channeled magic through himself.” Joel interjects sternly. 

“Bodies are the best conduit for magic, besides the Enchanting Table.” Scar says. 

“Are we going to tell Mumbo that you almost died to save him?” Grian asks. 

“Please don’t.” Scar says, his face pale.

Grian’s not too keen on the idea, either. 

“I’m going to get some water for Scar.” Joel says, already walking out of the room. 

The room falls silent. 

“Thank you, again.” Grian says softly. “You put your life on the line for Mumbo - I don’t know what I would have done if…” 

“I understand. Well, I mean, I don’t understand exactly what the two of you have, but I know what it’s like to care for someone the way that you do.” Scar replies. 

“But we don’t really have anything.” Grian protests. “You two have your love crystal, right?” 

Scar shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be romantic, Grian. It’s supposed to be whatever he needs it to be.” 

“But it is romantic.” 

“For me.” Scar admits, smiling sadly. “But not for him.” 

Grian scoffs. “You two have been so close since you’ve got here - and that’s good! I’m glad to see the two of you happy with each other.” 

“Grian, he’s holding back because he loves you.” Scar says. 

Grian’s heart pounds at the notion, but he still shakes his head. “I know Mumbo better than anyone, and I know he’s got a massive crush on you.” 

“This is a silly argument.” Scar sighs. “Mumbo loves you, and maybe he’s got a crush on me, but it doesn’t matter, Grian. He’d choose you over a heartbeat.” 

“But he hasn’t.” Grian points out. “He hasn’t chosen me. I don’t think he wants to choose, Scar, and maybe I don’t want him to, either.” 

Scar blinks a few times before he tilts his head. “Do you mean-” 

Mumbo lets out a small groan and catches both of their attentions. 

“Mumbo?” Grian frets. 

Two eyes blink blearily up at him. 

“Grian?” Mumbo rasps. “Am I dead?” 

“No, you arse!” Grian exclaims as he flings himself over Mumbo and hugs him tightly. It’s a strange parallel to what had happened only a few hours earlier. 

“You gave it your best shot.” Scar informs him. 

Mumbo looks confused as he wraps his arms around Grian and stares at Scar. “What happened?” 

“Scar healed you.” Grian’s voice is muffled by Mumbo’s chest. “And he almost died.” 

Scar lets out a scandalized sound. “I did not!” 

“Scar?” Mumbo asks. 

“I simply used all my magical resources. I wouldn’t call that ‘almost dying.’”

Grian looks up at Mumbo in time to see the other Avian frown. He makes for a silly picture - his mustache is half burnt off and his eyebrows aren’t doing much better. 

Grian can’t help but laugh. Mumbo startles and glances down at him. Grian laughs a little harder at Mumbo’s affronted expression. Then, before he can really process what he’s doing, he leans forward and presses a kiss to Mumbo’s cheek. 

He pulls back quickly, head going dizzy as reality slams into him. 

Mumbo’s already burnt cheeks have gotten redder. His mouth is slightly agape as he stares at Grian. Grian swallows back the nervousness that twists in his belly. 

Scar clears his throat, making both of them jump. 

“I’ll let you two sort out all your feelings.” He says. He looks towards the door and then looks back at them, face flushed and sheepish. “Would you be so kind as to carry me out of here?” 

“Scar, no.” Grian says. He stands and walks over to Scar’s bed. “We need to talk. The three of us.” 

Scars eyes are wide and they dart between Grian and Mumbo. 

“I reckon he’s right.” Mumbo agrees quietly. Grian preens and sends him a wide smile. 

“Mumbo.” He says. “Do you like Scar?” 

Mumbo looks at his lap and nods. Grian hears Scar’s quiet intake of breath. 

“Do you like me?” He continues. 

Mumbo nods again. 

“Well, Scar and I both fancy you, for whatever reason. And, Scar,” He turns to the Wizard, “I know that you and I haven’t spent as much time together, but I know you well-enough to know that you’re a good man. You make Mumbo really happy, and I think if we give each other a chance we can make each other happy too. I want to get to know you more, romantically. Is that something you’d like too?” 

“Yeah.” Scar’s breathless as he answers. 

Grian looks back at Mumbo. “What do you think, Mumbo?” 

“Can we even do that? Be together, the three of us?” He asks. 

“Why not?” Grian replies. 

Mumbo blinks, and then he grins. “I think that’d be fantastic.” 

Grian’s heart flutters and his wings fluff. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Mumbo says. “Scar?” 

“Well, this is all very flattering!” Scar says - and his voice cracks a little. “So we’d be going out, the three of us?” 

“It doesn’t have to be anything very serious, not right away.” Mumbo says. “We can get to know each other more.” 

“That sounds amazin’.”

Grian grins and holds his face in his hands. “Right, you two have put me through an awful lot of emotions today. I’m going to see where Joel’s mucked off to and get you both some food.”

Just as he turns, he hears a soft knock on the door. An Avian servant peaks their head in. 

“Your Highness.” They say. “We have urgent news for you.” 

* * * * * 

Scott’s head is pounding. 

His face twists in discomfort and he rolls onto his side. The ground beneath him is tough and cold. 

Scott opens his eyes slowly. It takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in a cell, but not one that he recognizes.

This is irony - probably the highest form. 

Scott pushes himself up so he’s sitting and he rests his back on the stone wall behind him. The cell is dimly lit with torches. There’s no one on the other side of the bars, and Scott can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

He tries to remember what happened. He knows that someone, or multiple someones, was chasing him through the woods and that he was trying to get Jimmy over the border. 

Scott realizes with a jolt that Jimmy’s missing. He scrambles to his feet and practically throws himself against the bars. He shakes them, but - unsurprisingly - they don’t give. 

Scott’s breathing heavily, mind clouded with a pressing feel of dread and anxiety. He’s no idea where Jimmy is - the Elves could have killed him already. This may not be the castle dungeons, but Scott knows without a doubt that he’s been captured by the Elves. 

His eyes fill with tears and he wipes a hand across his eyes. 

He can’t have failed - he can’t. He was so close. 

He muffles a cry and turns away. He failed. He couldn’t save Jimmy, and now both of them are going to be executed and Exor’s going to take over the world and-

The door squeaks as it opens. 

Scott’s struck by shock as two Avians march inside. One is a blonde with long hair tied up in a ponytail. She has dark brown, nearly black, wings. The other Avian is far taller and broader. He has short brown hair and bright, purple wings. 

“Where am I?” Scott asks. 

“That’s the least of your worries.” The blonde Avian replies, crossing her arms. “What’s your name?” 

“Scott.” Scott answers. “Where’s Jimmy?” 

“The prince is none of your concern.” The brunette answers. 

“Is he okay?” Scott presses. 

Both Avian exchange glances. 

“Why do you care?” The blond asks with a raised brow. 

Scott swallows. He doesn’t have much to lose by this point - he’s already been captured. 

“I helped him escape.” He says. “I want to know that he’s okay. He’s really sick, his wings are infected.” 

“Why should we trust you?” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” Scott retorts, frustrated. “I’m all the way out here with him - and with no army!” 

The brunette glances at his companion. “He has a point.” 

“Impulse.” The other Avian sighs. “You can’t say things like that in front of prisoners.” 

“Just tell me if he’s alive.” Scott says. “Please.” 

The Avians look back at him. There’s something so intense, but not threatening, about their stares. He keeps their gazes firmly - he has nothing to hide. 

The blonde one finally offers him a hesitant smile. 

“Would you like to see for yourself?”

Chapter Text

Grian flies through the halls, not sparing a thought for the people he brushes past or the things he knocks over. Jimmy’s tower is too far from the infirmary. 

He practically crashes into the door of Jimmy’s room, startling the guards on duty. 

“Your Highness!” One of them explains. “Are you okay?!” 

Grian pushes himself off and gives them a nod as he pushes the doors open and marches into the room. 

And there - in bed - is Jimmy. He looks wrecked. 

Grian’s torn between relieved and so, so worried. His brother is finally back, finally safe, but he’s also incredibly hurt. 

“Oh, Timmy.” 

Grian walks numbly to his brother’s bedside. Jimmy’s pale and sickly-looking - he seems dead. Grian panics with the sudden thought that his brother is actually dead. The feeling is quickly alleviated when he sees Jimmy’s chest rise and sink. 

He pulls a chair near Jimmy’s bed and collapses into it. His mind is a jumbled mess. He wishes he were happier that Jimmy’s back, but his brother is so clearly injured that he can only feel worried and stressed. He’s covered in bruises and scratches - and he’s covered in filth. It’s the state of his wings that really gets to Grian.

Jimmy’s wings are broken and nearly bare. Grian feels phantom pain along his own wings and shudders at the thought. Wings are incredibly sensitive and important to Avians - to have them violated in such a way… 

Grian doesn’t enjoy the thought. 

He leans forward and hesitantly brushes his fingers through some of the remaining feathers. The feathers - brittle and dry - break under his careful touch. Jimmy desperately needs some oil for his wings. 

The door slams open and Grian jumps, his heart lurching in his chest. Lizzie runs into the room and beelines for Jimmy’s bed. 

“Jimmy!” Lizzie reaches out with trembling hands and pushes back the hair from Jimmy’s face. 

“He’s runnin’ a fever.” 

Grian looks back at the doorway as several other people pile in. Martyn and Ren come in first, then Stress - the Fae healer. Joel comes in last. He’s wringing his hands and looks more concerned than Grian’s ever seen him. 

Stress goes to Jimmy’s bed and clicks her tongue a few times in dismay. “He’ll need plenty of rest and potions.” 

“Is he going to be okay?” Martyn asks quietly. 

“He’ll live.” Stress answers. “But it will be a long road to recovery. I’ll need to work with an Avian healer for his wing diseases.”

“I’ll send for one.” Grian says. “Thank you for helping him.”

Stress offers him a smile. “Of course, love.” 

“How did they find him?” Lizzie asks. 

Stress shrugs. “I was only told that he was unconscious in the forest. He should be wakin’ soon, his fever is going down.” 

As if on cue, Jimmy’s face scrunches and he twists. Grian, Martyn, and Lizzie all jump forward and watch him intently. 

Jimmy’s eyes flutter open and blink dazedly around the room. Grian holds his breath. 

Jimmy focuses on him, and his eyes widen. 

“Grian?” He asks, voice dry and raspy. 

Grian melts. He slumps over Jimmy and balls his hands into the sheets. Tears flood his eyes and make their way down his cheeks. 

“I thought you were dead.” Grian breathes. “Gods, Jimmy, I’m so glad you’re here.” 

He hears Lizzie sniffle a few times and Martyn makes a small sound in the back of his throat. 

“You are?” 

Grian looks up at his brother incredulously. “Of course!” 

Jimmy’s looking down at the bedsheets. He tilts his head. 

“Exor said you didn’t care that I was taken - and I didn’t think he was telling the truth, but…” He trails off, sounding so unsure and broken and Grian aches. 

He grabs Jimmy’s hand and moves his head forward until he’s in Jimmy’s gaze. 

“We love you, Jim.” He says seriously. “All of us - we’ve been pulling our hair out trying to get you back, and I am so, so sorry we couldn’t save you.” 

Jimmy’s trembles, his eyes screwing shut. Lizzie leans forward and throws her arms around him. She buries her head into his shoulder and openly sobs. Jimmy lays his head gently against Lizzie’s and returns her hug.

“Sorry for doubting you.” He murmurs. 

“Don’t apologize.” Martyn replies, his voice rough. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, believe us. We’re just so happy you’re home.”

“Jimmy, lad,” Joel says as he steps forward. “Welcome back, mate.” 

Jimmy cracks a smile. “Hi, Joel. Hi, everyone.” 

“What happened? How did you get back?” Joel ass. 

Jimmy blinks, then sheer panic crosses his expression. He jerks up and falls towards the edge of the bed. Grian dashes forward to catch him, but Jimmy yanks away. 

“Where’s Scott?” Jimmy demands. His breath is coming out in short, quick huffs. 

“What?” Grian asks. 

“Who’s Scott?” Lizzie says. 

“Scott!” Jimmy cries. “I need to find Scott, I need to-”

A knock at the door silences everyone. The knock comes a second time before the door opens. A stranger walks inside, and the first thing Grian notices is their bright cyan hair. 

The second thing he notices is their pointed ears. 

“Elf!” He shouts, already moving. He’s pulled a dagger out and has slammed the Elf into the wall in less than five seconds. 

The Elf stares down at him with wide eyes. Their arms are held up and Grian holds his blade against their neck. 

“Grian, no!” Jimmy yells. 

Grian glances over his shoulder in time to see his brother topple out of the bed. 

“Jimmy!” Lizzie rushes to help him up, but Jimmy shoves her away and stumbles over to Grian. 

“Don’t hurt him!” Jimmy begs. “Please.” 

Grian stares at his brother, stunned. 

“Jimmy, this is an Elf!” 

“He saved my life!” Jimmy insists, eyeing Grian imploringly. “Please, Grian.” 

Grian swallows. He looks back at the Elf, who hasn’t moved a muscle or said a word. Gingerly, Grian releases his grip and takes a step back. 

Jimmy tumbles forward before anyone can stop him and hugs the Elf. 

“What the hell?” Martyn murmurs.

“Are you okay?” Jimmy asks. 

The Elf scoffs. “Are you okay? You fainted.” 

“I’m fine.” Jimmy says. 

“No ‘e’s not.” Stress interjects. She’s eyeing the Elf warily. “‘e needs to sit down.” 

“Jimmy.” The Elf says repimandingly. He half-helps-half-shoves Jimmy back into the bed.

“Who are you?” Joel asks the Elf. 

The Elf tenses as he glances around the room. 

“This is Scott.” Jimmy answers for him. “He saved my life.” 

“You did?” Lizzie asks. 

Scott nods, and Jimmy talks for him again. 

“He broke me out of jail.” He says. “He got me all the way out of Rivendell.” 

Lizzie takes a step towards the Elf and throws her arms around him. 

“Thank you!” She exclaims. 

Scott looks as shocked as Grian feels. He tentatively pats Lizzie’s back and sends Jimmy a panicked look.

Jimmy clears his throat. “This is Lizzie, my sister.” 

“The Shadow Queen?” Scott asks, his eyes going wide. 

Lizzie extracts herself from their embrace and nods politely at Scott. 

“Shadow Queen, pleasure to meet you.” She sends Grian a pointed look after.

“I’m Grian.” Grian says lamely. 

“He’s the Avian king.” Jimmy supplies. 

“And I’m Martyn.” Martyn adds. 

Scott stares around the room. His face has gone pale. 

Something tickles the back of Grian’s mind - there’s something familiar about Scott’s name. 

“You were a guard, then?” Lizzie asks. 

“Uh,” Scott exchanges a look with Jimmy. “More or less.” 

Martyn’s brows furrow. “No, wait. Isn’t one of the princes named Scott?” 

Neither Scott nor Jimmy respond. 

“You’re one of the princes?” 

“I am.” Scott answers. 

“He’s good, though!” Jimmy immediately saids. “I promise, he’s not like the other Elves!” 

“Why would you let Jimmy go?” Grian asks. 

Scott shakes his head. “What Exor is doing isn’t right. I couldn’t let it keep going.”

“What was Exor doing?” Impulse asks from the doorway. 

Scott makes a helpless gesture at Jimmy. 

“Look at him!” He says. 

Grian’s reminded of his brother’s state. Jimmy’s injuries were largely intentional - it was torture, really, and it sickens Grian to think about it. 

“Who let you up here?” Martyn asks. 

“Uh,” Impulse rubs at the back of his neck and raises his hand. “That was our fault.” 

He gestures at himself and False, the head of the Avian guard. 

“Kind of hard not to trust him when we found him carrying Jimmy toward the border.” False shrugs unapologetically. 

“And we’re just supposed to believe he’s gone against his kingdom and family?” Martyn scoffs. 

Scott’s posture becomes defensive. “I risked my life to get Jimmy here safely!” 

“He’s good!” Jimmy insists, nodding at Scott. “Martyn, I swear.” 

Martyn stares at Jimmy. “How can you think Elves can be good when they’ve treated you like this?” 

“Because Scott never treated me poorly!” Jimmy says. “He’s the only reason I’m here right now, none of you were able to help me!” 

Martyn’s mouth snaps shut and he turns away. 

Grian feels like the bottom of his stomach has dropped from his body. 

“I… I didn’t mean that.” Jimmy says quietly. 

Whether or not Jimmy meant it, Grian knows it’s true - they weren’t able to save Jimmy. He was left depending on the enemy to survive, and Grian’s not sure he’ll ever forgive himself for what his brother had to endure. 

“So… we just let an Elf wander around the Southlands?” Ren asks. “Is that really the smartest option?” 

“You can always put me back in the cell.” Scott offers. 

“No, no we’re not doing that.” Jimmy interrupts firmly. 

“I suppose he can stay in a guest room.” Grian says. “But you can’t leave the castle grounds, otherwise our people will panic.” 

“Fair enough.” Scott says. 

“You think he needs a guard?” Joel asks.

“No, I don’t think so.” Grian decides. “If he helped Jimmy this much, I think he’s earned himself some privacy.” 

Scott’s eyebrows raise - Grian figures he’s surprised by the decision, and judging by Joel’s and Martyn’s expressions, he’s not the only one. 

“How will we explain this to everyone else?” Ren asks. 

“We tell them the truth.” Lizzie answers. “This Elf helped Jimmy get home.”

“I want to help you more than that.” Scott says - his voice quiet, but determined. “I want to help you win the war.” 

“There’s no way he’s tellin’ the truth.” Ren looks around. “Right, my dudes? It’s too good to be true.” 

“Why would you want to help us win?” Lizzie asks. 

“I don’t think my uncle is truthful about the war - and he’s been spreading many rumors about non-Elves. I think the war is pointless, but I know Exor won’t stop until he’s taken over everything.” 

“So you’ll help us win?” Impulse asks. 

“On a condition.” Scott says. “Don’t take over Rivendell.” 

“How in the world would we win the war without taking over Rivendell?” Grian asks, astounded. 

“Remove Exor as king, but let the Elves appoint a new leader.” 

“Was that all this was? A way to succession, so that you’ll be king?” Martyn questions. 

Scott shakes his head. “No! Not at all. I don’t want to be king, but we need a new ruler.” 

“And how would you guarantee the new ruler wouldn’t do exactly as Exor’s been doing?” False asks. 

“I -” Scott breaks off and shakes his head. “I don’t know, but… please try.” 

Grian doesn’t feel completely convinced - it would be very elaborate and somewhat convoluted for Scott to help Jimmy escape and then turn on them, but maybe this is just a plan to gain their trust. 

As much as Grian wants to believe Scott, he isn’t there just yet. 

“We’ll consider it.” He says. “And if you decide not to help us without our agreement to your condition, we understand.”

“I don’t know.” Scott replies. It’s disappointing to Grian, but not unexpected. He was impressed that Scott offered in the first place. 

Ren lets out a sound - somewhat in between a hum and growl - that has Scott tensing. The Fae leaves without a word. Martyn glances hesitantly at Grian before going after Ren. 

The others in Jimmy’s room look uncertain. 

“For now,” Grian says. “You may move about the castle grounds. You may not leave the premises, and you are not allowed to attend any of our meetings. You’ll be assigned guards during those times. You won’t have a guard in any other times, unless you give us reason to believe you can’t be trusted.” 

“That sounds fair.” Scott agrees. 

Grian nods. “Okay, good.” 

No one else adds anything, but Grian’s sure he’s in for a right discussion during their next meeting. 

“Alright, alright.” Stress says. “That’s enough political talk. My patient needs ‘is rest!” 

Sure enough, Jimmy’s eyes are drooping and he’s clearly fighting to stay awake. 

“He needs a bath.” Joel teases. 

Jimmy scowls, even though they all know it’s true. Jimmy’s still covered in dirt and filth. He doesn’t have any blood on him, luckily, and Grian thinks the medics washed it off beforehand to make sure all the wounds were properly cleaned. 

“‘e’ll get a bath after ‘e gets some sleep.” Stress says firmly. 

Impulse and False leave first after welcoming Jimmy back. Lizzie, Joel, and Grian linger, however. 

Stress raises a brow at them. 

“Can’t we just stay here, make sure he’s alright?” Grian asks. 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Jimmy protests. “I am not a child!” 

“We’ll be quiet, won’t bother him at all.” Lizzie promises. Joel nods along. 

Stress eyes each of them before sighing. 

“I suppose some company wouldn’t hurt, as long as he sleeps.” She says. “You let me know if his fever spikes or his breathing gets worse.” 

“Of course!” Grian quickly agrees. 

“Good.” Stress says. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” 

Jimmy protests as she leaves. 

“It’s weird for you to watch me sleep!” He says. 

“Hush, you’re just being difficult.” Joel says. “Off to bed, like a good little lad.” 

Jimmy’s jaw drops. “You take that back!”

“Joel,” Lizzie reprimands. “We said we wouldn’t rile him up.” 

“But it’s so easy and so fun!” Joel says. 

“Joel.” Lizzie warns. 

“Fine, fine.” Joel takes a seat in a chair near the bed. 

“This is still weird.” Jimmy says. 

“Imagine we’re not here, Tim.” Grian says. 

Jimmy blinks, then sends Grian a small smile.

“What?” Grian asks, feathers twitching. 

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call me Tim in a while.” He says, almost shyly. 

Grian swallows, his face growing red. “Not true, I called you that earlier.” 

“What?” Jimmy tilts his head. 

Grian frowns as he thinks back. “Maybe you were asleep.” 

“That doesn’t count, then!” 

“Whatever, Tim.” Grian says with a wave of his hand. “It’s time for bed.” 

Jimmy grumbles but settles himself in his bed. 

“Whatever.” He mutters. He pulls the blankets high over. “I missed you guys.” 

Grian’s heart stutters and he has to look away before he starts to cry. 

“We’re so happy you’re home.” Lizzie says quietly. 

For all his protesting, Jimmy falls asleep rather quickly. No one says a word. They all simply lean back and watch - intent on making sure that their brother stays safe. 

* * * * * 

Scott’s new room isn’t as nice as Jimmy’s, but it’s far superior to his cell.

He takes his time inspecting the various sections of the room and running his hand over the fabrics. The blankets in particular are incredibly soft - and Scott remembers reading that the Avians export their fabrics. He hasn’t felt an Avian blanket before, but it’s like touching a cloud. 

Scott makes the mistake of testing out the bed, and after several horrible, exhausting days trekking through the woods, Scott falls asleep quickly in the overwhelming comfort. 

He wakes up an indescribable time later, confused and startled. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep - hadn’t even realized he was tired. 

But now he’s blinking awake, blearily wiping the sleep out of his eyes. He wonders what woke him, and then his stomach rumbles. He doesn’t know the last time he ate. 

Scott rubs his face and gets up slowly from the bed. He yawns and stretches, then walks to the door. Just as he opens the door, a figure falls through the doorway and collapses into Scott. Scott lets out a gasp as he falls back. He topples to the ground. 

“We, uh, we should stop meeting like this.” A voice says sheepishly from above Scott. 

Scott groans and rubs his back. His eyes are screwed shut. 

“Jimmy,” He says. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

“I wanted to check on you!”

He lets his breath out and opens his eyes. 

Scott inhales sharply. 

The man above him looks nothing like and exactly like Jimmy all at once. He’s clearly Jimmy - he’s got the same eyes and expressions and wings - but he’s not like the Avian that Scott broke out of the dungeons. 

He’s clean, for one, and he looks so much healthier and happier. His hair is golden and silky-looking, no longer the greasy, dirty mess it’d been before. His face is clear from all grime and blood - Jimmy has freckles and dimples. Jimmy still looks like he needs a nap and food, but his face isn’t so sunken and he’s not as pale-green. 

“You look beautiful.” Scott blurts. 

Jimmy blushes and looks away, and Scott’s suddenly very aware of their position. 

“When you’re not an absolute mess, I mean.” He quickly corrects, heart pounding in his chest. 

Jimmy glances at him again and smiles tentatively. 

Scott forgets how to breathe. 

“Thanks.” Jimmy says. He carefully extracts himself from their position and moves to help Scott up.

“What, uh, what are you doing here?” Scott asks. His voice cracks, much to his embarrassment. 

“I wanted to check on you.” Jimmy says.

“Are you even allowed to be out of bed?” 

Jimmy hesitates. “Yes.” 

Scott raises a brow. 

“No.” Jimmy concedes, slumping. “I snuck out to see you.” 

“Jimmy,” Scott says scoldingly. “Let’s get you back before they think you’ve gone missing.” 

“Fine.” Jimmy pouts. Scott rolls his eyes.

They walk back to Jimmy’s room together in silence. There’s so much going on in Scott’s head, but he’s not able to make proper sense of it all. 

Stress is coming out from Jimmy’s room as they get to it, her eyes wide. She freezes when she sees him. 

“You!” She exclaims, marching over. Scott instinctively tenses, sure that he’s about to be told off for helping Jimmy escape his room. 

“Jimmy Solidarity, you know better than this!” Stress says as she pokes Jimmy’s arm. Jimmy looks like a kicked puppy, staring forlornly down at the ground. 

“Sorry, Stress.” He murmurs. 

“Gave me a ‘eart attack, you did!” Stress continues. “What would your siblings think?! You get to bed right this instant, mister!” 

“Yes, Stress.” Jimmy says, obediently going back into his room. 

Stress sighs and turns to Scott. “He’s a rascal, but I’m sure you already know that.” 

Scott can’t help but laugh a little and he nods in response. Stress offers him a smile, then she leans in and says in a conspiratorial whisper, “I remember when the Elves and Fae still got along. I know yer not all bad, love, and I can tell yer one of the best.” 

Stress leaves and Scott’s left with warmth blooming in his chest. He waits a moment longer and tries to shake the feeling. When he’s composed himself a little bit more, he goes inside the room. 

Jimmy’s in bed once again with Stress fretting around him. She hands him a cup and waits for him to drink all of its contents. 

“You sneak out again, and I’ll ‘ave yer ‘ead!” Stress warns. 

“Sorry.” Jimmy says. 

“Finish the tea. As for you,” Stress turns to Scott. “You need some food in you. Sit down, I’ll send for something.” 

Scott blinks. “That’s really not necessary.” 

Stress glares at him and Scott withers. He takes a seat and immediately Stress throws a large blanket over him. 

“Rest up while we get you some food.” She says. “I’ll be back in a moment!” 

“Sorry about her.” Jimmy says after Stress has left. “She likes to smother.” 

“It’s no problem.” Scott answers. 

Truthfully, it’s kind of nice to have someone care so much about his well being. 

“She’s known me since I was a child.” Jimmy continues. “Sometimes I think she still sees me like one.” 

“Could be worse.” Scott says. 

Jimmy hums. “Yeah, yeah it could be.” 

They fall silent again. Despite the fact that Scott just woke up, he’s beginning to fall back asleep. He yawns and slumps back into the chair. The chair is far more comfortable than the average chair - it’s practically a small sofa. Without really meaning to, Scott slips back to sleep. 

Chapter Text

“So,” Martyn says. “We have an Elf in our midst.” 

“We heard about that.” Skizz says. “Remind me why he’s not in jail right now.” 

“Because he helped Jimmy escape.” Lizzie says. 

“We can’t just throw him in the dungeons when he’s done all that for Jimmy.” Joel agrees. 

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Tango asks. 

“We don’t.” Grian answers. 

“I don’t like this!” Bdubs declares. “He could be gathering evidence, or memorizing the layout and guard schedules. He could turn on us at any second!”

“I don’t think he will.” Lizzie insists. “He helped Jimmy back.” 

“And so that’s enough for you to trust him?” 

“Yes!”

Bdubs scoffs and turns away, crossing his arms. 

“Jimmy does trust him.” Grian points out. 

“Of course he does,” Joel says. “The lad was rescued by Scott.” 

“Why would an Elf help Jimmy get home? There was no guarantee that we would treat him kindly.” Etho says.

“It could just be an elaborate ruse that Exor came up with when he realized that we weren’t going to surrender for Jimmy.” Tango says. 

“Well, I’m not putting him in the dungeons.” Grian says firmly. “Whatever you all say, he deserves more than that.” 

“I don’t trust him walking around with no supervision.” Bdubs growls.

“He’s given no indication that we need to put a guard on him.” 

“He could still be a spy!” 

Grian sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He wishes he could ask Mumbo or Scar what they think, but they’re still on bedrest. 

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Impulse says, “But the others do have a point. As strange a plan it would be, there’s always the chance that Scott’s trying to gather evidence. If Exor realized that Jimmy was useless, he could have planned for Scott to help him 'escape' in order to gain our trust.” 

“Exactly!” Bdubs exclaims. 

“So what would you have me do?” Grian asks, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “You were the one to let him out in the first place.”

Impulse purses his lips. 

“I’m not sure.” He admits. “I don’t think he deserves to be in the dungeons, but maybe he shouldn’t have such unrestricted access to the castle.”

“Lizzie?” Grian asks, glancing over at the Fae. “I’m asking you as a fellow leader, and not Jimmy’s sister.” 

Lizzie frowns. “I trust Scott, only because he saved Jimmy, but I guess he could really be part of a mastermind in a plan to overthrow us.” 

“Just revoke his privilege to walk around without a supervisor.” Martyn suggests. “If he really is on our side, he shouldn’t have an issue with it.” 

Grian thinks it over. He supposes he may have been a tad hasty in deciding Scott could be trusted about the castle. 

“Okay.” He agrees. “Does anyone have a problem with this?”

No one speaks up, so Grian assumes they are all okay with it.

“We need to figure out what to do about the war.” He continues. 

“We were successful in the last battle.” Ren says. 

“I don’t think our forces can hold off these types of attacks much longer.” Impulse says. “If Exor keeps creating these creatures, we may not be able to hold them back. The newest ones - those giant bulls - practically ravaged everything.”

“Any word from the half-Wizards and half-Alchemists?” Grian asks. 

“A few Wizards have reached out, but not many.” Jeol answers. “We did receive word from the Tay family. They’re the strongest half-Wizard family. No match for us, at course, but they could do some decent damage. I think the other families will need to rely more on weapons than their magic.” 

“And Alchemists?” Grian looks at Skizz. 

“Just one, but she specializes in potions.” 

“Can potions be helpful?” Martyn asks. “We’ve never really used them.” 

“They’ve always been an Alchemist, and occasionally Elf, specialty because potion-making doesn't actually require channeling magic - it relies on natural magical components only.”

“Potions are useful, depending on the brewer.” Etho says. “It’s a very technical process. Most experienced brewers can make long-lasting potions that give strong buffs.” 

“Like what?” Ren asks. 

“Regeneration, healing, night vision, strength, swiftness.” Bdubs lists.

“There’s negative-effect potions, too, but they’re harder to manage. It’s easy to accidentally hit one of our own.” Tango adds. 

“Any idea on when they’ll arrive?” Grian questions. 

“Within the next few days.” Joel answers. 

“Same for us.” Skizz says. 

Grian nods. “That’s good. Keep sending out letters, it never hurts to keep trying. Hopefully more will join. Anything else that anyone wants to talk about?” 

No one brings up new topics, so Grian concludes the meeting. He mingles with his brother and cousin for a minute longer, then starts for the infirmary. He pauses before he gets very far and chews on his lip. He turns around and starts walking the other way - to Jimmy’s room. 

Grian’s spent most of his time with Jimmy, making sure his younger brother is being properly cared for (or, more accurately, babysitting Jimmy to make sure he doesn’t try to sneak off). 

He stops at Jimmy’s door and knocks - more of a polite gesture than anything else, because he walks in without waiting for a response. 

Grian freezes on the scene he comes across. There’s nothing wrong with it, per se, but strange and unexpected nonetheless.

Jimmy’s sitting upright on his bed, with his legs crossed. Behind him sits the Elf. Jimmy’s wings are partially unwrapped and Scott is delicately running his fingers through Jimmy’s feathers (well, what remains of them). 

He’s preening Jimmy’s wings. 

“Oh,” Jimmy says, his face red. “Hi, Grian.” 

“Hello.” Grian says slowly. He eyes Scott. 

“Hello.” Scott nods at him. 

Grian nods back. “What’s going on?” 

“Just helping Jimmy with his wings.” Scott answers easily. “He said they were bothering him.”

“I see.” 

“Scott’s being a good friend!” Jimmy says, his voice shrill. Scott looks at Jimmy, eyebrows raised, and Grian gets the impression that Scott doesn’t understand the implications of preening an Avian’s wings. 

“I’m not here to judge you.” Grian shrugs. “I wanted to check on you, make sure you weren’t mucking about.” 

“Hey!” Jimmy protests. 

“He tried to sneak out to the kitchen earlier, but he’s been here all morning.” Scott informs him. 

Jimmy turns to him, a betrayed expression on his face. “Scott!”

“Timmy.” Grian scolds. 

“I was hungry!” 

“Then ask for a meal! You shouldn’t be up yet!” 

“I’m getting better.” Jimmy says sullenly. As if to prove him wrong, he lets out a series of wet coughs that makes Grian cringe sympathetically. 

“Did you take your medicine?” Scott asks. 

“Yes.” Jimmy says.

“Jimmy.” 

“It’s gross.” Jimmy whines. “Seriously, Scott, it’s horrible!”

“You have to drink it if you want to get better.” 

Jimmy sighs. He reaches into his bedside cupboard and takes out a cup.

“It’s not hot anymore.” Jimmy says.

“Should have had it earlier, then.” 

Jimmy sends Scott a truly pathetic look, but Scott’s unmoved. 

“Drink it.” Scott says. “Or I’ll tell Stress. “

Jimmy’s eyes go wide with alarm. “Alright, alright!” 

He takes his medicine in one long gulp, then pulls the cup away with a shudder. 

Grian has to admit that he’s impressed - he’s never been able to get Jimmy to willingly take his medicine, their experiences have always ended up with Grian shoving his brother to the ground and force feeding him. 

“Grian,” Jimmy says, smacking his lips. “What brings you ‘round?” 

“I wanted to check on you.” Grian answers. “Now that I’m here, though, there is something I wanted to talk to Scott about.” 

“Oh?” Scott asks. 

“We made the decision in our meeting to assign a guard to you.” 

“What? You can trust him!” Jimmy protests. 

“Jimmy, we don’t know him. As much as we’d like to take what has happened at face-value, there’s always the chance that this is all a ploy.” Grian slides his eyes over to Scott. “No offense.” 

“Offense taken!” Jimmy answers for the Elf. 

Scott, however, places a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” He says to Grian. 

“I am sorry that we are revoking some of your privacy privileges and that we didn’t just do this from the start.” Grian says. 

Scott nods. “I’m not so sensitive as to be hurt that you don’t trust me, an Elf, historically your enemy.” 

Grian offers him an apologetic smile. “At the very least, I’ll be assigning the nicest guard I can think of.” 

Jimmy’s brows raise. 

“Who’s that?” 

* * * * * 

“Sweet faces!” Keralis exclaims. “I am so excited to see you two today!” 

“Hi, Keralis.” Jimmy waves. 

“I am so glad that you are back and well!” 

“Relatively well.” Scott drily intejects. 

Keralis grins widely at him. “It is so nice to meet you!” 

Scott blinks and exchanges a confused glance with Jimmy. Jimmy shrugs. 

“Thank you.” He says. “I’m Scott.” 

“Call me Keralis!” Keralis replies. 

Jimmy can’t help but smile fondly at Keralis. He’s one of the oldest guards - not in actual age, but in experience in the job - and he’s always been one to treat Jimmy with kindness. 

“What are we doing together?” Keralis asks. 

“I wanted to show Scott the gardens.” 

“You’re not supposed to be up yet.” Scott firmly reminds him. 

“Please!” He begs, shooting wide eyes at Scott. “It’s so pretty out there!” 

“Nope.” Scott answers. 

Jimmy switches tactics. “Keralis-” 

“Sorry, sweet face, Stress gave very clear instructions.” He shudders. “I do not want to face her wrath.” 

“Fine.” Jimmy says, wilting. “What do we do instead?” 

Scott shrugs, but a wide (and some might call it evil) grin crosses Keralis’s face. 

“Oh, I have all the juicy gossip from while you’ve been away.” 

Jimmy leans forward, excitement peeking. 

“Tell me everything.” 

* * * * * 

The Tay family arrives two days after the meeting - and Grian’s more than a little apprehensive to meet them. The Wizards’ and Alchemists’ claims to their lands are complicated and confusing, but as far as Grian understands it, half-Wizards and half-Alchemists are still welcomed in either territory. The Wizards and Alchemists don’t really have an official citizenship, but since they own the land, it’s expected that everyone in the territory follows the rules set forth by the ruling council and, on occasion, pay tribute. Joel and Scar are the ruling council of the Wizards, and they’re also the last two Wizards remaining. The same can be said with Etho, Skizz, Bdubs, and Tango. 

Grian knows that the relationships between the Wizards and half-Wizards are not the best - not necessarily because they have disagreements, but more that they’ve fallen out of touch and have lost their family relations over time. He doesn’t want to make anything worse. 

The Tay family consists of three members: a sister and her two younger brothers. The eldest, the sister, is a very pretty woman. Her bright red hair is tied neatly with a purple bow and is framed by a rather large and pointed hat. She smiles politely at Grian, and then shoves her elbow not-so-politely into her brother’s ribcage. He lets out a small sound and glares at her, but she just sends him a firm look. 

“Welcome, Tay family.” Grian says. “We are happy to have you here. I only wish it were under better circumstances.” 

“Thank you for the invitation. I must admit, we were surprised and honored to be asked to participate in this war.” The eldest responds pleasantly. 

To anyone without knowledge of Wizard history, this may seem like a passive aggressive statement, but Grian understands what the eldest Tay means. Half-Wizards are not as powerful as regular Wizards when it comes to magic, so most half-Wizards would not expect to be asked to fight. Joel’s and Scar’s letters were an acknowledgement that the Tay family is still strong, dependable, and important.

“I’m Grian.” Grian says. “My brothers, Martyn and Jimmy, were unable to greet you, and I apologize for their absences.”

The eldest smiles. “It’s no trouble at all. My name is Gem. My brothers are fWhip and Sausage.” 

fWhip, the one that Gem had hit, nods his head at Grian. His hair, though just as red as Gem’s, is wild and unkept. A pair of goggles with red-tinted glass lay firmly on his head. He wears a black leather coat and a red scarf. 

Sausage smiles at Grian. There’s a hint of something chaotic - or maybe, crazy - in his eyes. His hair is brown, though it has a reddish tint. He wears a red velvet cape and a scarf that matches fWhip’s. 

Joel steps forward. “Thank you for your response and haste. Your help is truly appreciated.” 

“Of course.” Gem says. “Anything to help keep our home.” 

Her brothers adopt determined expressions at Gem’s sentiment, and Grian knows that they’ve made some strong allies. 

Grian and Joel show the Tay family around. Scar manages enough magic to introduce himself and join them along the tour, though he does need a cane. The Tay family are shown to guest quarters and invited to join the next meeting, which they easily accept. 

The Half-Alchemist arrives the following day. 

“I’m Shelby.” She says with a bright smile. “I’m the Witch.” 

“Witch?” Grian repeats, sounding out the word. 

She nods, the brim of her large hat slipping past her eyes. “Mhm! It’s what I call myself instead of a half-Alchemist, ‘cause I don’t really do traditional Alchemy.” 

“Right.” Grian says. “Lovely to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to help.”

“Of course! Is there some place where I can put my stuff?” 

“Yes, of course.” Grian gestures. “You can come with me.” 

Etho, Bdubs, Skizz, and Tango follow Grian around and introduce themselves to Shelby. They seem excited by her presence, especially Bdubs and Skizz, who keep chatting with her about potions. Skizz even brings up how he has been experimenting with potion-like soups that he calls, “Suspicious Stew.” 

Grian’s never trying anything that Skizz makes. 

Shelby gets along very well with the Tay Siblings. fWhip hands her a potato, which Grian assumes is some odd greeting until Gem asks him why he was giving out potatoes. Sausage and Shelby bond over their mutual fear of demons. It’s a strange conversation to follow. 

Grian hosts another meeting and explains everything to Shelby and the Tay siblings. They’re reasonably alarmed by the recent developments. Neither have heard of the creatures that Grian explains, and they have no idea how Exor might be coming across them. 

Everyone tries to come up with strategies on how to defeat the monsters, but in the end the only real way to stop them is to figure out what Exor is doing. 

“Let’s ask the Elf.” Bdubs says. 

“Elf?” fWhip repeats, eyes glinting. 

Grian nods. “There is an Elf in the castle, but he’s on our side.” 

“That’s what he wants you to think.” Bdubs grumbles, and Grian ignores him. 

“How did you meet a friendly Elf?” Gem asks

“He saved my brother.” Grian says. “Broke him out of jail and got him back to the Southlands.” 

“Bdubs thinks it’s all a ploy.” Martyn says before Bdubs can chime in again. 

“It probably is!”

“It’s not that ridiculous.” Gem says thoughtfully. “I’ve known a few Elves and half-Elves that are tired of Exor.” 

“Half-Elves?” Grian asks. 

“This isn’t a common Elf, though.” Tango says. “This is the prince.” 

“Prince?” Shelby’s eyes go wide. 

“The Crown Prince?” Sausage asks. 

“No, the second one. Scott.” 

“Scott.” fWhip repeats. “He helped your brother escape?” 

“He saved Jimmy’s life.” Lizzie says. 

“But we don’t know if that’s just a way to gain our trust.” Bdubs points out. 

Gem nods and lets out a thoughtful hum. “That’s true. It would be a lot of work to gain our trust, but it’s still possible. Can we question him?” 

“Not as a prisoner.” Impulse says. “He’s just being monitored right now, but he’s allowed to go wherever he’d like, within reason.” 

“We could just sit him down and interrogate him anyways, maybe put some pressure on him.” fWhip suggests out. 

“I don’t think we should interrogate him after he saved Jimmy’s life.” Joel says. “He’s earned some more respect than that.” 

“And we can’t force him to tell us.” Shelby adds. 

“We can at least ask.” Gem says. “If he chooses not to answer, then that’s that.” 

There’s not much more to discuss after that - they’ve essentially gotten no closer to winning the war. Unless they can stop whatever magic Exor’s doing… no amount of allies will help. 

Grian does go talk to Scott, but the Elf says he doesn’t know how Exor’s been acquiring so many monsters. He and Jimmy are hanging out again, which really shouldn’t surprise Grian - but it still does. Grian wonders if it’s because Jimmy is the only being that Scott actually knows. 

They do sit awfully close together. 

Keralis gives him a friendly smile and a wave. Grian knows he made the right choice assigning Keralis to monitor Scott - he’s the sweetest person that Grian knows. False takes over the evening shift, so Keralis can get some rest, but he’s the one that spends the most time with Scott. Grian thinks they’re getting along well. 

Grian wanders back to the infirmary. Scar may be up and about, but Mumbo’s still confined to his bed. Nearly dying will do that to a person. 

Mumbo is sitting up in bed, sipping tea, as Scar animatedly tells him a story. Grian takes a moment to appreciate the scene. Mumbo watches Scar intently and his eyes dart back and forth to follow Scar’s wild hand motions. Scar is red and panting, obviously breathless from his excitement and energy. 

“Hello, hello.” Grian greets. 

Scar jumps and whirls around, his foot slipping. He lets out a cry as he loses his footing and falls backwards. Grian jumps forwards, but luckily Scar is near enough Mumbo that he ends up collapsing onto the dark-haired Avian. Mumbo sputters and squawks under the sudden weight. He lets out a small, “Oof!” 

Scar is practically sprawled out across Mumbo’s lap. He blinks, looks up at Mumbo, and smiles. 

“Well, hello there!”

Grian breaks into a fit of giggles. He bends over, holding his stomach as he laughs. 

“Oh, shut it.” Mumbo says, but there’s no heat in his voice.

Grian sniffs and wipes his eyes. He manages to douse his laughter enough to look back up at his boyfriends. Both are staring back at him with a fond sort of look that has butterflies building in Grian’s belly. He goes over to them and sits down next to Mumbo. 

“How was the meeting?” Mumbo asks. 

“It wasn’t awful.” Grian shrugs. He kicks his legs. “The half-Wizards and the Witch seem nice.”

“Sausage is a very eccentric fellow! I like him!” Scar agrees.

Grian rolls his eyes. “You just like him because he reminds you of yourself.” 

“Grian!” Scar exclaims, clutching at his chest. 

“He’s not wrong, mate.” Mumbo says. 

“Mumbo Jumbo! Not you too!” 

Mumbo shakes his head and focuses his attention on Grian again. “How do you feel about the war? Will they help?” 

“I don’t know.” Grian answers. “We still haven’t figured out how Exor’s creating all these creatures, and we can only assume he’s going to keep doing it. The help of a few more people won’t make much of a difference.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Scar says quietly.

“I'll make some more End Crystals.” Mumbo says. 

“No.” Grian immediately replies. “Absolutely not.” 

Mumbo grimaces. “Grian, they’re effective.” 

“They almost killed you. We are not using them again” 

“That won’t happen again. We need them, G.”

“Mumbo.” Grian snaps. “I said no.” 

The room seems to drop several degrees. Mumbo and Scar aren’t meeting Grian’s eyes, and Grian has a sick feeling curling in his throat. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs. “But I really can’t see you that hurt again.” 

Grian doesn’t think he could handle it if something happened to Mumbo - or Scar - and he’s not eager to see if the End Crystal incident repeats itself. 

“Okay. No End Crystals.” Mumbo agrees. 

Grian sucks in his breath. “I’m sorry, Mumbo. I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You’re not going to lose me.” Mumbo says. He reaches over and grabs Grian’s hand. “Scar and I aren’t going anywhere.” 

Scar nods and takes Grian’s free hand. Grian hastily blinks away a few lone tears. 

“Thanks.” He says. 

“‘Course.” Mumbo says. “Are you okay?” 

“I - I’m worried. I don’t know if we can defeat Exor.” 

“We can’t give up hope yet, G.” Scar says. “We’ll find a way.” 

Grian pushes his head against Mumbo’s shoulder and tightens his hold on Scar’s hand. He lets himself get lost in their warmth and comfort and love. 

He pushes away the feeling that all of this - Scar and Mumbo, his family, his kingdom - it’s all going to come to an end. 

Chapter Text

“Grian?” 

Grian jerks, his wings flaring. The sudden weight-change unbalances his precarious position at the edge of his seat and he slips to the side with a cry. 

Grian lands on his back hard enough to knock the air out his lungs. 

“Grian?!” 

Grian coughs. “Yes, Impulse?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Do I look okay?” Grian turns his head to glare at his cousin. 

Impulse winces. “I don’t know, I wanted to check.” 

“What do you want?” Grian sighs. He pushes himself up. 

“There’s a new half-Wizard to see you - or, actually, he might have been a half-Alchemist. I don’t remember. And it’s not just one, there’s a few of them.” 

“Okay.” Grian says. “Did they just get here?” 

“Yeah, they said they have information on Exor, but they’re only willing to talk to you.” 

Grian frowns. “Not the Wizards or the Alchemists?” 

“I guess not.” Impulse shrugs. “Bad blood, maybe?” 

“Okay.” Grian hums thoughtfully. 

“Are you busy? I can come get you later.” 

“No, let’s go.” Grian says.

Impulse leads Grian to the meeting room - and it really feels like Grian is spending all his time either sleeping or in this damn room. 

There are three strangers standing around the table. They’re huddled together and casting suspicious glances around the room. The shortest of the three has curly dark hair and a rather impressive beard. He’s wearing a cloak with the hood down. The tallest has blond hair with a black bandana tying it back. The last stranger is wearing a bright white tunic and black trousers. His hair is, oddly enough, a blueish color, though not the same tealish tint as Scott’s. 

“‘Lo.” Grian greets, waving. “I’m Grian, the, er, King of the Southlands.” 

The shortest stranger steps forward. 

“I’m xB.” He says. “This is Hypno and Jevin.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Grian nods at the three. “How can I help you?” 

“We’ve got some information on Exor.” xB answers. 

“Right, I’ve heard. What have you found?” 

xB shares a look with his companions, then takes something out from the folds of his cloak. He approaches Grian in swift, certain steps, and holds out his hand. 

“Exor’s been poking around the border between the Southlands, Alchemists, and Rivendell.” He says. “A few days ago, we saw him creating his army.” 

“Creating?” Grian interjects. “Not recruiting?” 

“No, it sure wasn’t recruiting. He was creating these creatures over and over. When he left, we went to scope the area out, and we found these.” 

Grian takes the offered items. They’re delicate and thin in his hands. There’s something familiar about their texture and appearance. Grian frowns and tilts his head. They look almost like-

“Eggshells?” Impulse asks. 

xB shrugs. “I guess.” 

“He was spawning the creatures from eggs?” Grian looks up at the group. 

“It looked that way.” xB answers. 

“Huh.” Grian stares down at the eggshells. They’re odd colors - one of them is blue and green and the other is lime green and black. “I want to ask the Alchemists about this.” 

“Do whatever.” Jevin says. 

“Thank you for bringing us this information. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.” Grian says. 

“We want to help you guys with the war.” xB replies. “We don’t have magic, but we’re a hell of a group of fighters.” 

Impulse nods. “We’ll take all the help we can get. I can show you to some guest rooms, if you’d like.” 

“Sure.”

“Grian, coming with us?” Impulse asks. 

“No, I want to get this to the Alchemists right away.” Grian answers. He waves at the newcomers and ducks quickly out of the meeting room. 

The Alchemists are easy to find - they often congregate around the armory. Tango and Skizz are already there, enchanting weapons. 

“Tango.” Grian greets. “Skizz. You think you guys can help me with something?”

“Depends on what it is.” Skizz answers, crossing his arms. 

“What’s up?” Tango asks. Grian directs his attention to him instead of Skizz. 

“Some half-Alchemists brought these to us. They’re eggshells, or something. Apparently they’re how Exor’s been getting all these monsters.” 

Tango holds out his hand and Grian carefully deposits the eggshells onto his palm. Tango squints down at them, his mouth pulling into a tight line. 

“Huh.” He says. 

“What is it?” 

“These are enchanted.” Tango says. He hands the eggshells to Skizz. “They’ve got alchemy all over them.” 

“So Exor has an Alchemist working for him?” Grian asks, alarmed. An Alchemist of that power working with Exor is a disaster. 

“Not necessarily.” Tango says. “All of the Alchemy lineages are accounted for, no Alchemist is powerful enough to do this type of stuff. Not alone, at least.” 

“What does that mean?” 

It’s Skizz who answers. “He means that Exor has some extra help.” 

There’s some sort of emotion written across his face - something between pain and outrage. 

“Extra help?” Grian’s almost afraid to ask. 

“The Enchanting Table.” 

“I thought he destroyed it.” 

“So did we.” Tango says. “I guess he changed his mind.” 

“So he’s using the Enchanting Table to make these creatures?” Grian’s far past alarmed by this point. If Exor’s using the Enchanting Table like this - there’s no way to limit his magic, except by taking the Enchanting Table back. 

“Yep.” Skizz says. “We, my friend, are royally screwed.” 

* * * * * 

“Stress told me you’re skipping out on your potions.” 

Jimmy sends him a truly wounded look. “She did?” 

“Mhm.” Scott hums. “She also told me to make you take them, or else she’ll be force-feeding you.” 

“I’m not a child anymore.” Jimmy grumbles. 

“Then take your medicine without complaining.” Scott retorts. He raises an eyebrow at Jimmy until the Avian takes his medicine. He shudders as he drinks it - the drama queen. 

“There, done.” Jimmy says. 

Scott’s voice is as dry as a desert as he replies. “I’m so proud of you.”

Jimmy grins at him. He stretches his arms and his wings, and Scott’s distracted by how pretty they are. They’re far healthier than they were in the dungeon. They’re bandaged because they’re still broken, but the feathers have started growing in, covering up the horrible scabs that’d been maring the delicate skin. 

The new feathers - still small and soft - are a bright yellow. They make Jimmy stand out even more, and Scott wants nothing more than to run his fingers through them. He loves to preen Jimmy’s wings, whenever Jimmy asks. The Avian is always so relaxed and content when Scott preens them. Sometimes Jimmy - and Scott would never say this out loud - will let out little chirps that Scott knows are subconscious. It’s adorable. 

“What do you want to do today?” Jimmy asks, yawning. 

“Not much that we can do.” Scott shrugs. 

Jimmy scratches his head. 

“Hm.” He says intelligently. “We can go to the gardens.” 

“We did that yesterday.” Scott replies, amused. 

“The library?” 

“The day before that.” 

Jimmy frowns. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, what do you normally do around here?” Scott asks. 

“I usually spend time with my siblings. We fly and race, and that type of stuff.”

“Can’t really do that now.” Scott muses. “What about when you’re alone?” 

“I like to bake sometimes.” Jimmy shrugs. “Nothing really interesting.” 

“Bake? I’ve never really done that before.”

Jimmy freezes and sends him a wide-eyed glance. “You haven’t?” 

“No,” Scott says, frowning. “Is it fun?”

“How did you get all of your sweets?” Jimmy presses. He sounds absolutely distraught. 

“I didn’t really have sweets. Exor preferred us to be on healthy diets.” 

“You - you’ve had some desserts though, right?” 

“Not really.” Scott answers. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.” 

Jimmy looks scandalized. “We need to fix this, now.” 

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“No, nope. Absolutely not, Scott. This needs to be changed.” Jimmy turns to the door and shouts. “Keralis!” 

Keralis is in the room in an instant. “Yes, sweet Prince?” 

“Scott has never had cake.” 

“What?!” Keralis turns his large eyes in Scott’s direction. “No cake? This is an outrage!” 

“It is!” Jimmy agrees. “We have to go down to the kitchen.” 

Scott raises a brow. “Jimmy, you’re supposed to be in bed. Tell him to stay in bed, Keralis.” 

“Unfortunately, this is a no-can-do, sweet face. The prince is correct, we must get you to the kitchen immediately.” Keralis responds. 

“But Stress said-”

“No, no, no.” Keralis interrupts. “This is much more important than what Stress said.” 

“I’m telling her you said that.” Scott says sullenly. 

Keralis pales, but Jimmy presses on. 

“C’mon.” He urges. “Let’s get Scott some cake!”

“Oh - of course, young prince!”

Jimmy makes a face at that, but he still gets up and the two of them start urging Scott to the door. 

“This is very unnecessary.” 

“No, Scott, you don’t understand! Cake is very important!”

“At least make this trip interesting. Keralis, what gossip do you have?”

“I have all of the gossip! Have you heard about Brian, Bumbo, and Scar?” 

Scott frowned. “Who?” 

“Brian is Grian.” Jimmy explains. “What’s up with them?” 

“They’re smooching!” 

“What?!”

Scott laughs at Jimmy’s reaction. Keralis nods along, though, only encouraging his fellow Avian. 

“Bumbo is another Avian and Scar is a Wizard.” Keralis says. “They are doing the k-i-s-s-i-n-g.” 

“Since when?” Jimmy demands. 

“Not too long ago.” Keralis says.

“I had no idea Grian had a crush on Mumbo.”

“Really?” Keralis pauses. “Prince, the whole castle knew!”

“No way.” 

“Mhmmm, yes way!” 

“Jimmy’s oblivious.” Scott chimes in. 

“Hey!” Jimmy protests. “No, I’m not! Tell him, Keralis!” 

“I cannot lie!” 

“Keralis!”

Keralis giggles again. 

Miraculously, they make it to the kitchen without Stress catching them. Jimmy walks him through the steps of baking a cake - because apparently he has it memorized. 

“How do you know how to do this?” Scott asks. 

“Didn’t go out much growing up.” Jimmy shrugs. “The other Avian and Fae didn’t like me, so I just found other hobbies.” 

Scott glances in Jimmy’s direction. The Avian has his eyes trained on the bowl of batter. 

“They didn’t like you?”

Jimmy shakes his head. 

“Why not?” 

“Well,” Jimmy’s mouth twists. “The Fae don’t like the Avian, and the Avian don’t like the Fae. I’m the worst of both worlds.” 

Scott’s heart sinks at the words. After getting to know Jimmy, Scott sort of assumed he’d been popular. He’s one of the kindest souls Scott’s ever met, and, sure, he could be derpy at times - but he was such a good person. 

“I’m sorry.” Scott says quietly. 

“Nothing to change now.” Jimmy replies. “Alright, let’s get our cakes in the oven.” 

They make frosting and then clean up while the cakes bake. Keralis is by the door to the kitchen, “keeping lookout.” Honestly, Scott thinks that Keralis is just trying to give them some privacy and space. 

It’s not as much of a task cleaning up as Scott assumed it’d be. Working together, they get done quickly. Jimmy manages to get soap bubbles in his hair, which is an added bonus - until he flings water at Scott. Scott is, of course, too proper to retaliate with water. He’ll get Jimmy back in some other way later. 

It doesn’t take long for a sweet smell to fill the air, and it reminds Scott of the times he’d spent as a child running around Rivendell’s Winter Solstice Fair - back when his parents were still alive and he still felt excited about living. 

His stomach rests funnily, it’s a mixture of nostalgia and bittersweet longing. Jimmy sends him a smile that makes him feel better, even as his heart does a strange flip in his chest. 

Once the cakes are finished, Jimmy carefully removes them from the oven. His tongue sticks out as he concentrates - it’s cute. He places the cakes down and inspects them.

“They look alright!” He says. 

“Should we decorate them?” 

“Not yet.” Jimmy says. “We need to wait for them to cool.” 

Scott has no idea what difference it will make, but he won’t complain to spending more time with Jimmy. 

The cakes don’t take too long to cool off. Jimmy shows him how to spread the frosting evenly over the cake. Then he adds food coloring in the remaining frosting and puts it into a piping bag. He and Scott pipe patterns onto their cakes. Scott tries going for antlers - the symbol of Rivendell’s stag god. It looks so dreadful that Scott fears he’s being sacrilegious. 

“God, this is hideous.” He says, unhappy with the appearance. 

“It looks great!” Jimmy says sweetly. 

Jimmy’s cake is actually good - he’s piped on poppies as a collar and a cod on top. It’s a weird choice of decorations, but it’s been done with such precision that Scott’s impressed. 

“I think mine would look better in my stomach.” Scott declares. 

Jimmy laughs at that. He cuts several slices from each cake and hands Scott a plate. 

“Take a bite!” Jimmy insists. 

Scott rolls his eyes and does as he’s told. 

He takes several more bites in quick succession. 

“Good?” Jimmy asks, a teasing tint to his tone. 

“This is amazing!” Scott exclaims through a mouthful. “Oh my god, this is delicious.” 

“Told you so.” 

“Arrogance isn’t becoming of you.” Scott says.

Jimmy chuckles and starts eating his own cake. “We should bring some in for Keralis.” 

Scott gives him a muffled affirmation. 

“Keralis!” Jimmy shouts. “Cake’s ready!”

Keralis takes a couple of minutes to enter the kitchen, and he’s followed by Impulse. Scott is immediately on edge. He puts his plate down and swallows down the rest of the cake - which has gone dry in his mouth. 

“Hello, sweet things.” He greets. “Impulse would like to talk with you.” 

Impulse smiles, but it looks half-hearted. “Hey, guys.” 

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks. 

Impulse hesitates. 

“We wanted to talk to you about Exor.” 

“Oh.” 

“Can't you leave him alone?” Jimmy snaps, catching all of their attention. His wings - bandaged and wounded as they are - flare. He’s glaring at Impulse in a way that Scott hadn’t expected. “He’s already told you all that he wants to share! You can’t force him to go against his own family and people! He saved me, isn’t that enough?” 

“Jimmy.” Keralis says gently. 

“It’s okay, Jimmy.” Scott nods in Impulse’s direction. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s about Exor’s source of power. Do you know if he’s been using the Enchanting Table?”

Scott raises a brow. “I don’t know. I hadn’t heard of anything like that, but Exor never really trusted me with war strategies.”

“See?” Jimmy says. “He doesn’t know anything.” 

Scott’s not so much offended as he is confused by Jimmy’s adamant hostility. These are Jimmy's people - his family - and it’s surprising he’s so upset on Scott’s behalf. 

It’s also a little warming, if Scott is being honest. 

“Okay, okay. I understand, but I have to ask.” Impulse says. “Do you know where he might keep the Enchanting Table?” 

“No.” Scott shakes his head. 

He wonders if he would tell them if he knew. 

Impulse seems to deflate. “Okay. Thank you for your help anyways.” 

“I wasn’t much help.” Scott replies. 

“You don’t have to be.” Jimmy says firmly. He lays a hand on Scott’s forearm and shoots Impulse a scowl.

“Jimmy,” Impulse says. “We have to ask Scott. We’re in a war and if we want any chance of surviving, we need to explore all of our options - including Scott as a resource. No offense, Scott.” 

“None taken, I understand.” 

Jimmy sulks at that. Impulse’s tired expression softens. 

“Look, none of us are saying he’s a bad guy. We just need a little help.” 

“Okay.” Jimmy says. “You’re not going to throw him in the dungeon?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help.” Scott says. 

“It was a long shot anyways.” Impulse sighs. “Thanks, Scott. Sorry for bothering you two, I’ll, uh, let you both get back to baking.”

Scott watches him leave, but the tension that’s built in his shoulders still remains. Keralis sends them a sad sort of smile before following after Impulse.

“I’m not really hungry anymore.” Jimmy murmurs, poking at his cake. 

Scott’s lost his appetite, too. 

“What do you think I should do?” He asks. 

“Well, we can save the cakes for later-” 

“Not about the cakes.” Scott interrupts, rolling his eyes. “For the war.” 

“Oh. What do you mean?” 

“I mean, should I help more? I want the war to end, and I want Exor to be dethroned, but… I don’t want Rivendell destroyed in the process. There are so many Elves that trust him and I know they would be horrified to learn what’s really going on in the castle. They wouldn’t stand for the torture and abuse he puts others through, even for the sake of the war. I wasn’t allowed to go out much, but Exor would always point out how ragged our people were - and he’d blame the Avians and the Fae for it.” 

“So you want the war to end without a winner.”

“Yes, but, I just don’t think it’s possible.” 

“I don’t know what you should do.” Jimmy says quietly. “What I do know is that everyday more of our people are killed. I don’t know what will happen to Rivendell if you help us win, but do you know what will happen to it if you don’t?” 

Scott inhales sharply. 

There’s not an easy option for him - either he lets the war remain forever, until one side is ultimately destroyed, or he tries to help the Avian and Fae win and trusts they will respect Rivendell and that the Elves won’t lose their culture.

“Would the Elves be forced to leave, if the Avian and Fae won?” 

“No,” Jimmy says instantly. “Of course not!” 

“Would they be citizens of the Southlands, then?” 

Jimmy hesitates before he answers. “I don’t know.” 

“Hmm.” 

Scott scratches at his chin. 

The Elves may lose their culture if he helps, but they’ll probably lose their lives if he doesn’t - and Exor has already started to wipe away their identity (if he tampered with the history books, like Scott suspected so long ago). 

So... he makes his choice, and he prays to Aeor it's the right one. 

Chapter Text

“So you’re going to help us?” 

“If you leave Rivendell as its own Empire.” Scott says firmly. 

Grian purses his lips and looks at the others in the room. The Alchemists, Wizards, and Fae have all joined the Avians for this meeting. Scott’s more than on edge - he’s downright anxious in this room with so many strong (ex?) enemies. 

“It could be done.” Impulse says thoughtfully. “The new ruler would have to sign some sort of treaty, of course, but if they did…” 

“What’s to stop the Elves from attacking again?” Skizz asks. 

“The threat of us ganging up again.” Joel answers. He sends Scott a truly scathing look. Next to him, Jimmy tenses. 

“I think it’s worth it.” Grian decides, meeting the other leaders’ eyes. “I think we should accept Scott’s help.” 

Lizzie only exchanges a brief glance with Ren before she nods. “I agree.” 

“Alright, fine.” Skizz sighs. “Count us in.” 

Everyone turns to look at Joel. He reddens and crosses his arms. 

“Look, I don’t like him.” He says, gesturing at Scott. “And I can’t make an official decision without Scar here, but I guess we can help.” 

Something settles in Scott’s stomach - hope? Dread? He’s not entirely sure how he feels about this. 

Grian nods. “Great. Scott, what should we do?” 

Scott takes a deep breath before speaking. He wants to be absolutely sure that what he’s about to share is worth it. 

“There’s a secret passage under the castle. I think it used to be some sort of escape route that was forgotten. It can take us to the castle gardens or to the dungeons. That’s how I got Jimmy out.” He says. 

“A forgotten tunnel? Really? Seems like a trap.” Tango says. 

“He’s telling the truth.” Jimmy replies. 

Lizzie looks pensive. “Are you sure it’s forgotten? No one else knows about it?” 

Scott hesitates. He trades a glance with Jimmy, but the blond Avian stays quiet.

“I’m sure.” He lies.

Ren leans back in his chair. 

“So is it settled?” He asks. “We go in through the secret tunnel and attack where’d they least expect?”

“I don’t think Exor’s keeping his entire army in the castle.” Tango remarks drily. 

“No,” Grian says, “But I reckon he keeps the Enchanting Table there.” 

The Alchemists and Joel are immediately alert, staring intently at Grian. 

“I know what we could do.” Grian continues. “We send someone in to grab the Enchanting Table, while the rest of us battle at the front of the city.” 

“How will we get to the front of the city without getting caught?” Impulse says. 

“We’ll have to send a decoy, or something, the other way.” Grian shrugs in response. 

“That might work.” Tango muses. “A decoy group at the border, while the rest of us slip around and attack from the front of the city. Then someone just needs to sneak into the castle to grab the Enchanting Table.”

“Who?” Skizz asks. 

“Me.” Scott answers. “I can do it.” 

Every pair of eyes is on him in an instant, and he swallows back his anxiety. 

“Oh, sure!” Bdubs exclaims. “Let the Elf run back to the castle to let Exor know of our plan!” 

“I’m the only one that knows the Castle by heart. I know where Exor’s room is.” Scott says.

“What’s to stop you from telling your king all about us?” Joel sneers. 

“He didn’t before.” Jimmy says. “He helped me escape, Joel, don’t you see? Scott’s tired of Exor and the war.” 

Joel scoffs. 

“Scott doesn’t have to go alone. We can send one or two more people with him, to provide backup.” Lizzie suggests. 

“I can go with him.” Jimmy offers. 

“Not a chance.” Scott immediately replies. “You’re not going back there, not over my dead body.”

Jimmy’s expression is full of surprise and Scott has to remind himself that he’s standing in front of a whole group of people that, at one point, would have happily sent him to the dungeon. When he glances back at the rest of them, he sees Lizzie’s got a slight smirk and Grian’s sharing a meaningful look with Martyn. 

Scott clears his throat. “Sorry.” 

“Lovers’ spat.” Martyn says. “No need to fret, we all understand.” 

Scott’s face goes red and Jimmy makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Lovers-”

“Anyway.” Grian firmly interrupts. “I will go with Scott. Who can lead the decoy? We need at least one so we don’t look suspicious.” 

“I can.” Martyn offers. 

“As can I.” Ren agrees. 

“And the rest of us will be with the main group.” Lizzie says. 

“It’s settled, then.” Grian says. “We’re going to get the Enchanting Table back.” 

* * * * * 

Grian’s nervous as he walks back to the private infirmary. In fact, he’s nearly sweating. He takes a minute to compose himself before going inside, and then he opens the door. 

Mumbo and Scar are sitting in Mumbo’s bed, across from one another. They both look up when Grian opens the door. Mumbo smiles and Scar lets out a cheerful greeting. 

“Hello, guys.” He says. 

“Excellent news!” Scar says. “I was able to walk again today, and Stress said I can move around without supervision.” 

“That’s great, Scar.” Grian says. He tried to force some enthusiasm into his tone, but by the looks on his partners’ faces, he hadn’t been very successful. 

“What’s wrong, Gri?” Mumbo asks. 

Grian sighs and rubs his eyes. “Nothing’s wrong, necessarily. We’ve just decided what we’re going to be doing about Exor.” 

“Oh.” Scar says. “What did you decide?” 

“We’re going to have a decoy army and a second army. The decoy army will fight near the border and the second army will try to sneak to the front of Rivendell. Scott’s going to sneak into the castle to try and steal the Enchanting Table back.” 

“That sounds…” Mumbo trails off. 

“Risky.” Scar finishes for him. 

“It is.” Grian agrees. “I’m going to be going with Scott.” 

“What?” Mumbo sits up straight. “Why?” 

“Some of the others don’t trust him, they want someone to make sure he doesn’t try to warn Exor.” 

“And so they’re sending you?” Mumbo’s voice takes a shrill tone. 

“I volunteered.” Grian admits, grimacing. 

“You what ? Why?!”

“Someone needs to go with Scott. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be me.” 

“But, Grian, you’ll be in the center of Exor’s territory - he could kill you, or you could end up li - like Jimmy!” 

Grian sucks in his breath. The image of his brother, bruised and bloodied, is still at the forefront of his mind. 

“Mumbo,” Scar says softly. “It’s okay.” 

“It bloody well isn’t, and you know it!” Mumbo snaps. 

“Mumbo, I’m going to be okay. I promise.” Grian says. 

Mumbo looks away, blinking quickly. 

“When will this be taking place?” Scar asks. 

“As soon as we can gather everyone - this afternoon or early this evening.” 

“I’m coming, too.” Scar says decisively. 

“No, Scar-” 

“I can walk again.” Scar cuts in. “I know my limits, Grian. If you’re going to Rivendell, so am I.” 

“Me too.” Mumbo says. 

“Absolutely not.” Grian replies. 

“Grian-” Mumbo protests. 

“No, he’s right.” Scar says. “You’re still healing from when you almost died, Mumbo.” 

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing while you two are in danger!”

“You can’t come.” Grian tells him, voice firm. “I’ll order here as the King, if I have to.” 

Mumbo shoots him a look of pure disbelief and betrayal - and Grian’s heart sinks. 

“You’re only up for a few hours at a time.” Scar says. “You can’t go into war like that.” 

“Please, Mumbo. We need to know you’re safe.” Grian says. 

“And what about me?” Mumbo asks. “How can I know if you’re both safe?”

Grian trades a glance with Scar. The other looks as conflicted as Grian feels. 

“Here, I have an idea.” Scar says. He digs into his pockets and takes out two crystals - one red and one green. He hands the red one to Grian. 

“What’s this for?” 

“Blow on it.” Scar instructs before promptly blowing on his own crystal. Grian lightly blows on his crystal, then looked back up at Scar. The Wizard had closed his eyes and was mouthing words. It took only a few seconds before the crystals started to glow. Mumbo’s breath hitched. 

“Here,” Scar handed his crystal to Mumbo. “These will glow while we’re alive, so you can keep an eye on us. I know it’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do.” 

Grian held his crystal out for Mumbo as well. Mumbo takes it hesitantly, and holds both crystals in his hands. 

“Thank you.” Mumbo murmurs. He pulls his hands against his chest and looks down. Scar shifts until he can wrap an arm around Mumbo’s back. Meanwhile, Grian reaches out and places his hand on Mumbo’s knee. 

“We’ll be safe, I promise.” He says. 

“You can’t promise that.” Mumbo replies sullenly. 

Grian swallows. He meets Scar’s gaze above Mumbo’s head. He sees his own uncertainty and fear reflected in Scar’s eyes. 

“We’ll be safe.” Scar repeats, and this time it feels like a promise to Grian too.

* * * * * 

Ren’s quieter than normal, Lizzie notices. Her second-in-command is usually quick with a story or joke, but he’s been silent since the meeting. 

“It was brave of you to volunteer to lead the decoy army.” Lizzie comments, observing Ren. 

“Thank you, my Queen.” Ren replies. 

“At least Martyn will be there with you.” Lizzie continues. She tilts her head. “That will be nice.” 

She knows she hit something by Ren’s reaction - he whips his head around to stare at her, his ears perked and tail still. 

“My Queen?” His voice pitches and sounds strained - an obvious tell.

“Please, Ren.” Lizzie says, grinning at him. “I know you’ve taken a fancy to him.” 

“I - That’s-” 

“In fact, I’m sure the whole castle knows.” 

“M - my Queen!” Ren stammers. He turns to face her fully. “I’m so sorry!” 

As Lizzie frowns, he drops to his knees and bows his head.

“Ren?” Lizzie asks, mouth pulled tight with worry. “What’s wrong?” 

Ren lets out a shuddering breath. “I’ve betrayed you, my Queen, in the most unforgivable way.”

Lizzie’s heart drops. “What?” 

“I’m so sorry.” Ren says, sniffling. “I never meant to, I would never harm you on purpose-”

“Ren,” Lizzie interrupts. “What did you do?”

“I’ve not been loyal to you, my Queen, I’ve given my heart to another!”

Lizzie blinks. 

“What?” She asks.

Ren nods, his ears flat and tail drooping. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for my love for you to be shared with another - I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s true that I’m enchanted by the Avian prince, Martyn.” 

Now that the initial fear has passed, Lizzie’s tension releases. She can’t help but smile as she kneels down next to Ren and gently guides his face up. His eyes are wet and his expression torn, and Lizzie aches for him.

“Ren,” She says, full of fondness. “How could I ever be upset with you for having so much love in your heart?”

Ren’s mouth parts, but Lizzie continues. 

“I love you, Ren, and I know that you love me - and I could never be hurt by your love for another. It’s okay, Ren. You haven’t betrayed me, in fact, I’m happy for you.”

“But… I can no longer be loyal to you alone.” 

“Ren, even with Martyn, I will never doubt your loyalty. If there comes a day where you must choose - I want you to choose what will make you the most happy. 

“And you’re more than just a loyal, reliable commander for me. You’re my friend. You’ve fought with me and have celebrated with me and have mourned with me for years. You will always hold a special place in my heart, but I want you to be with who you love - you should never feel obligated to stay by my side just because I love you. It’s okay to choose, Ren.” 

Ren’s properly crying by the end of that, and Lizzie’s shed a few tears as well.

“My Queen, I don’t deserve-”

“Oh, hush, Ren.” Lizzie says. “You deserve this. I’m just not sure Martyn deserves you.” 

Her tone has taken a teasing lift that Ren recognizes, if his wagging tail is any indication. 

“Of course he does.” Ren replies easily. “He’s my Hand.” 

Lizzie only hums. “Well, if you’re sure.” 

“My Queen, you’re not as upset as I expected. I thought you’d be, you know, mad about the whole Avian thing.” 

“Well,” Lizzie hummed. “I guess I’ve come to recognize that Avian’s aren’t all bad.” 

* * * * * 

Scott has a weird sense of deja vu by coming back here, only this time he’s not completely starving and exhausted. 

“The border runs right through this meadow, anything past that is officially Rivendell’s territory.” Impulse says. 

Grian nods. “Okay. Let’s wait until the sun’s completely set, then we’ll have the decoy go out.” 

“How can we be sure this works?” Skizz asks. “What if they spot us instead of the decoy, or both of us?”

“Then we retreat and try again later.” Grian replies. “It’s what the enchanted communication books are for.” 

Scott raises a brow at that. He watches, curious, as Grian holds out a small book. It has the faint purplish shimmer of an enchanted item - though Scott’s never seen an enchanted book before. 

“Who has one?” He can’t help but ask. 

Skizz and Joel immediately glare at him, both of them suspicious, but Grian just holds his book up for Scott to have a better look. 

“Each of the leaders.” He explains. “We’ll be able to tell each other what’s going on, even from a long distance. There’s no delay, either.” 

“And it has an emergency response if any of us can’t take the time to write out a message.” Skizz adds as he eyes Scott. Scott understands the implications. 

He has no intention or desire to betray Grian and the rest. He wants Exor gone just as much as they do - actually, probably not as much as they do, but he still wants Exor gone. He just also wants to make sure his kingdom isn’t completely destroyed in the end. 

“Alright.” Grian says a few minutes later. “It’s time.” 

Ren and Martyn signal their army and begin their careful crossing of the meadow. There should be a patrol of Rivendell spies nearby, if Scott’s memory on patrolling is accurate. 

It’s a nerve-wracking wait, but the decoy army eventually reaches the other end of the meadow and enters the woods. Once the last of the army disappears behind the trees, they all stare at the book, waiting for a response. 

Near ten minutes after the decoy crossed, the book flashed and magically flips to a page. Words appear on the page. 

“We’ve been spotted.”

“Okay, let’s go.” Grian says.

Impulse alerts the remaining army and they start their own crossing. They’ve headed in a more southerly direction than Ren and Martyn. The decoy was meant to lead Rivendell’s attention to the north. 

Scott feels incredibly vulnerable without the forest to cover them. He is constantly glancing around and over his shoulder - he feels like there’s something watching. It’s a relief to get to the forest on the other side. It’s dark in the dim moonlight, but it makes Scott feel safer. 

“Everyone across?” Grian hisses. 

There’s a confirming murmur from Impulse, Lizzie, Skizz, and Scar. 

“Good.” Grian makes eye-contact with Scott. “Scott and I are going to split up from you lot. Ready, Scott?” 

“Yes.” Scott nods.

“Be careful, you two.” Impulse says. “Let us know when you get there.” 

“We will.” 

Grian tilts his head at Scott. Scott takes the lead - he’s the one that knows the way to the secret entrance, after all. 

It’s far easier to traverse the woods without Jimmy’s deadweight and after fully resting. It still takes them several tense, silent hours to get to the edge of the Rivendell forest. By then, the moon is brightest and at its peak, so they have to be careful when coming out from the shade of the trees. 

They approach the base of the Rivendell mountain. Scott can’t remember exactly where the entrance is, so they have to circle round the side a few times. It’s Grian who spots it, in the end. 

“Is that it?” He asks, pointing at a large boulder near a concave portion of the mountain wall. 

“Uh.” Scott squints. “Yes, I think so.” 

They walk up to the entrance and pause. 

“It’s really dark.” Grian says. 

“Unfortunately so.” Scott replies. “Do you have any spare fabric?” 

Grian turns to look at him. “Some bandages, but that’s it. Why?” 

“We’re going to need them to cover our noses and mouths.”

“Cover our noses and mouths?” Grian repeats, sounding baffled. 

“To block out the smell.”

A pained sort of understanding flashes across Grian’s face. He digs out of a small pack at his side and takes out two bandages, passing one to Scott. They take a moment to tie the bandages loosely around their faces, then they head into the tunnel. 

The smell isn’t as bad as it was before - because of the bandages, no doubt - but it’s still no pleasant experience. This is Scott’s third time through these tunnels, and he hopes this is the last. 

They’ve put a lot of faith in the belief that the Enchanting Table will be back in the castle. They’ve also put a lot of faith in thinking that after they steal the Enchanting Table back, they’ll be able to beat Exor. 

Scott sincerely believes they have a chance - he knows that the combined armies of the Fae, Avian, Alchemists, and Wizards will be able to overcome the Elves. He just hopes that they’re quick enough and that Exor’s army isn’t too powerful with the new creatures. 

A light comes into view in the distance. 

“Is that it?” Grian asks. 

“No, that’s the gardens.” Scott replies. He eyes it as they pass by, the memory of Xornoth all too fresh in his mind. 

The irony of the events is not lost on Scott. He spent so long trying to escape with Jimmy, only to be back where he started. He’s got a queasy feeling building in his stomach as they get closer to the end. He knows his return, if spotted, won’t be a welcomed one. 

If he’s lucky, Exor will kill him quickly. If he’s not, well…

Scott would rather not think about it. 

He does, however, think about Xornoth. He wonders how his sibling has been - if they’ve been safe without Scott there, if they’ve been happy. He hopes so - his biggest regret has been betraying his sibling, and he’s not eager to repeat it. 

A second light comes into focus. 

“There it is.” Scott murmurs. Grian’s breath catches. The Avian is obviously ready to be out of the tunnel. 

The grate is still in place when Scott and Grian get to the end. For a terrible second, Scott wonders if they’ve made it more secure since Jimmy’s escape - if this whole trip has been for nothing because they can’t get through. 

But then he lifts his arms and carefully pushes it and the grate moves - and Scott sighs in relief. He pulls himself out of the sewer, then turns to help Grian, who’s not quite tall enough to get out alone. 

The dungeons are silent - save for the occasional clinking of chains or cries of its prisoners. A chill runs down Scott’s spine and he shudders. 

Grian writes in the enchanted book while Scott replaces the grate. 

“Everything’s going to plan, so far.” He whispers to Scott, his eyes scanning the book. “The main army has reached the city’s walls, and they’ve spotted Exor.” 

“Good.” Scott replies quietly. “Follow me.” 

They creep out of the dungeons and into the main halls. Every one of Scott’s hairs is standing on end, and his heart is pounding like he’s been running for hours. Cool, sickly sweat breaks out across his skin. Neither he nor Grian make a sound. 

Luckily, years of sneaking around the castle have not gone in vain. He’s able to guide Grian throughout the castle without an incident. He leads them to Exor’s chambers and looks through the keyhole. The main chamber is completely dark - not even a candle lit. He straightens, then pauses.

“The key.” He mutters, horror building in his chest. “I forgot he locks his chambers.” 

He turns to Grian, already panicking, but Grian just takes out two thin metal tools from his pouch. 

“Give me a second.” He says. He inserts the tools into the lock of the door and fiddles around. 

The lock clicks, and Grian opens the door. Scott stares at him, awed and impressed.

“Mumbo taught me how to do that.” He says proudly, putting his tools away.

The two enter the room carefully and close and lock the door behind them. Scott’s only been in Exor’s chambers a few times throughout his life, but he thinks he remembers the layout well enough. The bedroom is the room closest to the main entrance. There’s a large balcony across the living space. In the far back is an antechamber - and Scott has definitely never been allowed in there. He can guess it’s where Exor keeps his important items - including the Enchanting Table. With valuable items, Exor would either keep it as close to him as possible - or under lock and key at all times. Scott prays that for the Enchanting Table, it’s the latter. 

The antechamber is, predictably, locked, so Grian uses his tools again to open the door. 

Scott curiously pokes his head inside the chamber. It’s a small room with a variety of objects displayed proudly along the walls. There’s a desk in the center. There are papers scattered on it and an inkwell and quill are at the top right corner.

There’s something else on the desk - something small and squared. It’s dark with red fabric draping over it and diamonds encrusted on the top. 

“Is that it?” He asks.

“I think so.” Grian breathes. 

Scott can hardly contain the sudden swell of excitement and triumph. He dashes forward before he can think it through and grabs the Enchanting Table. 

An ear-piercing screech echoes through the room. Scott and Grian cry out in shock and pain. Scott slaps his free hand over his ear and stumbles away from the desk, toward the exit of the room. Grian follows. 

The noise is loud outside of the antechamber, and Scott realizes that it must be sounding throughout the entire castle, alerting everyone to their presence. 

Grian seems to realize the same thing. 

“We must have triggered some sort of magical alarm!” He shouts. 

There comes a pounding at the main door, and Scott whirls around. 

“Fuck !” Grian curses, spinning around. His feathers are puffed - like when Jimmy’s stressed. Scott thinks quickly. 

“The balcony!” He says, and he runs to it. He throws open the doors and exits. The balcony is large and near enough to some other parts of the roof where escaping would be very difficult, but not impossible. He’s snuck up onto the roof enough times to be able to maneuver his way down, but the guards will be everywhere by then - and Scott has no doubt that Exor already knows they’ve taken the Enchanting Table. 

“Grian…” Scott trails off. 

“Scott, hand me the Enchanting Table.” Grian says. 

Scott listens without hesitation. Grian nods at him and takes a deep breath. 

“I can fly this to the others.” He says. “But I can’t carry you.” 

A numbing sort of understanding washes over Scott. 

“Oh.” He says. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” Grian continues. “We can try to climb down the building, but…” 

“But you may not get the Enchanting Table to them quickly enough, or we could get caught.” Scott finishes. 

Grian, for what it’s worth, certainly looks conflicted. 

“Jimmy will kill me if I leave you here.” He continues. 

“You - you should go.” Scott says, his voice trembling. 

“Scott-” 

“No, you need to go. Now. I’ll be fine.” 

Grian purses his lips. “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Of course.” Scott answers. He tries to smile. “Go.” 

Grian’s wings twitch. He jolts forward and throws his arms around Scott in a quick hug. 

“Thank you.” He says. “We’ll win this, and we’ll come back for you.” 

“Take care of Jimmy.” Scott answers. 

Grian meets his eyes and nods. He goes to the edge of the balcony. With a jump and one powerful stroke of his wings, he lifts into the air and soars into the sky. 

Scott lets out a breath of relief as Grian disappears into the distance. He looks down at the roof around him. He needs to act quickly. 

He leaps over the side of the balcony and lands on the roof below. It wasn’t too big of a height difference, so he only needs a second to recover. He hugs the wall as he tiptoes across the roof. Exor’s tower is the highest, so he only needs to make his way down. 

He crouches before sliding carefully down the roof to the end. He lets himself fall to the floor below, then continues on. He’s on the opposite side of the gardens, so it would be really hard to get to the sewer exit without getting caught. He looks around. 

He sucks in his breath when he sees the window to his room. He hadn’t considered going back into the castle and hiding, but it may be the only way - no one would suspect him to return to the castle, right? 

He hears shouts from the floor above and he makes up his mind. He runs (as safely as he can) to his room. He presses on it - holding on his breath with the hope that it's unlocked - 

The windows fly open. 

Scott gasps and ducks into the room. He slams the window shut and slumps against the wall. 

Someone clears their throat, and Scott freezes. He looks up slowly. 

“Hello again, brother.” 

Chapter Text

“Xornoth.” Scott says. “Why are you here?” 

“Why am I here?” Xornoth scoffs. “I should be asking you that.” 

Scott grimaces. “How did you know I’d be here?” 

“There’s only one way the Avian and Fae could get in, and you’re the only one to know it besides me. It’s not that hard to figure out, Scott. Plus, your hair is bright teal, you realize. Not exactly great camouflage when you’re jumping around the roof.” 

Scott must make some sort of face, because Xornoth rolls their eyes. 

“Are you actually surprised I noticed you? You were running around the roof, Scott.” 

“And suddenly you’re so observant.” 

“There’s a fucking alarm going off all across the castle. It’s not hard to figure out.”

Scott inhales and tosses his head. “Cut it out, Xornoth. What are you going to do now? Turn me in?” 

“I let you go easily last time, I’m not stupid enough to do it again.” Xornoth says. “But I won’t be just turning you in.” 

“Then what?” 

“We’re going to fight.” 

Scott blinks. “What?” 

“I’m fucking pissed, Scott, and I’m going to fight you.” Xornoth says. 

“That doesn’t seem like a healthy coping mechanism.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” Xornoth shouts. “You left me! You abandoned me and you abandoned Rivendell, and then you return like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter that you hurt me and Exor.” 

“Exor wasn’t hurt, he doesn’t care about us.” Scott replies, even as his heart twinges painfully with guilt. 

“Well, I cared! I cared, and that was my mistake. So now we’re going to fight, because I’m so fucking pissed.” 

Scott’s stomach knots itself. “Okay. How do you want to fight?” 

“Use your sword, I’ll use mine.” 

Scott lets his eyes drift to the wall, where his sword - the one his parents had commissioned upon his birth - is proudly displayed. He’d left it behind in his haste last time, not that it would have helped a whole lot. 

“Okay.” He agrees. 

“Good.” Xornoth unsheathes their sword and holds it up. “Go get yours.” 

Scott’s hyper aware of Xornoth’s gaze on his back as he gets his sword. He tests the weight out in his hand. He hasn’t practiced with a blade since before he helped Jimmy, but he still has muscle memory. It hasn’t been that long. 

“Scott,” Xornoth growls when Scott’s taken too much time. 

“Alright, alright.” Scott snaps. 

He faces his sibling fully and raises the blade. 

Xornoth gives no verbal cue that they’re starting, but there’s a flash in their eyes and they inhale quickly - and it’s the sign Scott needs to brace himself before Xornoth is charging forward. 

Their blades meet with an audibly clang, the vibrations resonating down the blade and running shocks of pain up Scott’s arm. He hisses and shoves forward, forcing Xornoth back. Xornoth only takes half a second to recover before he’s swinging again. Scott parries one blow and tries to return, but there’s a problem that’s beginning to become obvious. 

Scott is pulling his punches, Xornoth is fighting to kill. 

Maybe they’re not actually aiming to kill, Scott tries to tell himself between hits, but they’re - at the very least - trying to hurt him. 

Scott ducks behind his bedframe just as Xornoth slices clean through it. Scott’s heart, already pounding in his chest, skips a beat. He quickly takes stock of his surroundings. His chambers are large, he was a prince after all, but they’re not that large. He’s running out of room. Something needs to change. 

Scott’s never been able to best Xornoth in hand-to-hand, and the thought weighs heavily on his brain. It’s enough of a distraction that he misses when Xornoth feints to the right, allowing them to spin around and stab at his unprotected left. Scott barely manages to bring his blade up in time, but the force of the blow along with his position has him toppling to the ground. 

Xornoth steps forward, foot coming down hard on Scott’s right wrist. He cries out and drops his sword. He tries to twist towards his right wrist, but Xornoth’s blade comes to rest underneath his jaw. Scott freezes. His chest rises and falls in quick succession. 

“Xornoth?” 

“Shut up.” Xornoth hisses. They grit their teeth, looking conflicted. “Shut up.” 

“Xornoth,” Scott murmurs, “Please.” 

Xornoth freezes. The weight on Scott’s right wrist lightens a tad - and it’s all he needs. He yanks his arm free, ignoring the sharp pain that follows, and rolls to his left, out from under Xornoth’s blade. He’s safe by only a millisecond. Xornoth topples forward as Scott removes his wrist, and Scott kicks back, just barely landing a hit to the back of Xornoth’s right calf. His sibling loses balance and falls. 

Scott doesn’t waste a second. Before Xornoth can get back up. Scott rolls back around and flings out his foot. It meets the base of Xornoth’s skull with a painful thud and Xornoth goes limp. He collapses back onto the ground, limbs splayed out. 

Scott pants. 

His heart is beating so quickly that he can feel it in his throat. He reaches forward with trembling hands and clasps onto Xornoth’s wrist. 

“Please,” He begs. “Please, don’t be dead. Please.” 

There’s a pulse beneath his fingers. 

“Oh thank the gods.” Scott breathes, falling back. He catches himself on his forearms and winces when his wrist throbs. He’ll be lucky if it’s not broken. 

There’s no telling how long Xornoth will be out or how long it will take for someone to come check his room, so Scott pushes himself up onto shaking legs. He bends down to grab his sword, then rights himself and heads for the door. 

He’s hesitant as he looks out into the hallway. There aren’t any guards in sight, but they’re likely patrolling the castle, looking for him. 

The dungeons would require going down several flights of stairs (and removing a grate), but the gardens are on the opposite side of the castle. 

There’s no obviously correct choice, so Scott goes with his gut. He starts running for the far end. He’ll still have to go down a few floors, but it will be easier to run away into the gardens than into the dungeons (he hopes). 

He stops at every end of every hall to peek around the corners in search of guards. Several times he sees them at the end and facing away, already having passed by his hall. There’s a harrowing moment where Scott has to duck behind an armor stand and hold his breath. Someone must be looking out for him, however, because he makes it to the entrance to the gardens without being spotted. There are a few guards outside, but most are focused on the entrances to the castle from the streets. Scott is able to hide behind bushes and trees as he makes his escape. 

There’s no one next to the sewer entrance to the tunnel, and Scott doesn’t bother to prepare himself before dropping in. His ankles protest at his rough landing, but he takes off running anyways. Once he makes it to the end of the tunnel, he’ll have to circle back to get to the front of Rivendell where, if he's lucky, Grian will be waiting.

* * * * * 

In any other situation, Grian would take time to appreciate the beauty of the view beneath him. Rivendell is a large kingdom with just as much color as its citizens’ hair. However, he’s not letting himself get distracted today. He needs to get the Enchanting Table back to the others. 

He’d spotted smoke almost immediately and had flown in its direction. 

As he soars above Rivendell, he tries to take note of the amount of soldiers coming to defend the entrance. While there are a fair amount of Elves, it shouldn’t be too overwhelming for their own forces. 

That is, if they manage to stop Exor from conjuring any more creatures. 

The smoke grows thicker as Grian approaches the battle - and perhaps flying directly to the battle hadn’t been Grian’s wisest choice. He’s just crossing over Rivendell’s army when something sharp pierces through his left wing. 

Grian cries out, plumage bursting into the air where his wing was hit. Grian spins out of control. He tries to keep himself afloat, but with only one wing it’s impossible. He spirals and loses altitude far too quickly. 

There’s nothing he can do to save himself. He’s too high up to land without serious injury (and even then, serious injuries would be lucky ), another Avian would never be able to take his weight and slow down their fall in time.

Grian curls in on himself, Enchanting Table held protectively against his chest, and prays that somehow he’ll survive the crash. 

Something hits him hard enough to startle an, “umph” out of him. Arms wrap around him, and Grian opens his eyes. 

Scar’s above him, his mouth pulled in a tight line as he concentrates. To Grian’s shock, they start slowing down. Their landing is still far from ideal - Grian’s bones protest at the quick stop - but they’re alive and, relatively, unharmed. 

“How?” Grian asks, eyes wide. 

Scar smirks and kicks up a foot. “Feather falling, one of the most useful enchantments.” 

“Scar,” Grian’s voice cracks. “Thank you. You saved my life.” 

Scar ducks his head, but not before Grian catches sight of the red that crosses his cheeks.

“Of course.” He says softly. “And it wasn’t just me, Impulse flew me up to you.” 

Grian blinks and looks around. He notices Impulse off to the side. His cousin has a tense expression that lightens when he meets Grian’s eyes. Grian nods at him, Impulse smiles in response. Then he turns back to the battle. 

Grian, too, focuses his attention on the war around them. 

“How are we holding up?” He asks. 

“Could be better.” Scar admits with a grimace. “The Fae, Half-Wizards, and Half-Alchemists are keeping back Exor’s creatures, but it’s not easy. One of the Tae brothers is already out of commission, and many Fae are wounded. There haven’t been too many Elves that have made it far, thanks to the Avians.” 

“Well, I have something for you.” Grian holds out the Enchanting Table - something he’d (in all honesty) forgotten in the chaos. Judging by the way Scar’s eyes grow wide, he’d forgotten too. 

“Is that…” He trails off.

“Here.” Grian shoves the Table into his hands. “I don’t know what to do with it, Scar, but you need to stop Exor.” 

For a brief second, something unfamiliar flashes across Scar’s eyes - something that’s full of greed and desire. 

Grian inhales quickly. 

It fades as quickly as it was there, and Scar blinks. He shakes himself a little, then looks up. He eyes the battlefield. 

“Skizz!” He shouts. 

The Alchemist in question raises his head. His hair is wild and untamed, and he has a smear of blood across his face that makes Grian shiver. His gaze lands on the Enchanting Table.

Skizz shouts and runs over. He’s going so quickly and without slowing that Grian fears he’s coming to fight them for the Table. Scar stands his ground. 

Skizz slides to a stop, dirt flying, and grabs Scar by the shoulders. 

“Dude.” He emphasizes. “Dude .” 

“I know.” Scar replies. “We need to figure out how to disrupt Exor’s connection to it.”

Skizz nods. He seems dazed. 

“We can do that.” He says. 

Scar glances at Grian. “G, go get your wing checked by a medic. We’ll figure this out.” 

Immense relief washes over Grian and he sags. Scar and Skizz run off, both talking quickly. Grian, however, does not go to a medic. Instead he searches out Lizzie and he joins her. 

She’s sweating and out of breath, and her companions are in similar form. 

“Grian,” she greets. “You’re alive.”

“Your confidence in me is heartwarming.” Grian quips. 

Lizzie rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. 

“And Scott?” She asks. 

Grian hesitates. He honestly hadn’t wanted to leave Scott behind - but it was the only way for him to get the Enchanting Table back in time. 

Lizzie’s face falls. “Is he…?” 

“No.” Grian says. “Not yet.” 

“Okay.” Lizzie purses her lip. “You’re lucky Jimmy’s not here.” 

“I am well aware.” Grian sighs. “Where’s Exor.” 

Lizzie turns to the battlefield. 

“Near the front.” She says, pointing. 

Grian follows her direction to the center of the battle. He spots Exors near immediately. The Elven ruler is a terrifying sight. He’s got a glowing aura around him that Grian can discern even from his distance. His eyes flash as he conjures up more creatures. 

“Fuck.” Grian swears. “I hope Scar and Skizz figure out that Enchanting Table.” 

“You found it?” Lizzie asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She lets out a long sigh and wipes her forehead. “I need to stay focused - Exor’s really pushing me.”

Grian frowns. “Oh?

“Yes, he-” 

A thunderous roar interrupts - one so loud that it ripples through Grian’s bones and makes his teeth clack. He looks for the sound, heart rate soaring. 

Exor has bits of white light sparking around him. His entire body glows for a moment. Then he throws something on the ground, and a form begins to take shape. 

It’s much, much larger than anything Grian has ever seen. He’s horrified as he watches black-blue skin and muscle form from nothing. A body becomes clear. There’s a gaping hole in its chest with glowing orbs. It has one giant nose in lieu of eyes, and two tentacles burst from its head. 

“Oh my gods.” Grian breathes. 

It’s a creature only heard about in legends - one that roots Grian to the ground with fear. 

“Warden!” Someone screams. “Another warden!” 

“Another ?” Grian chokes. He looks desperately at Lizzie for answers. 

The Shadow Queen grits her teeth and raises her hands. 

The sky rumbles. Clouds begin to swirl. Then, almost faster than Grian can comprehend, lighting strikes directly on the Warden. 

It bellows in rage, its voice carrying across the entire battlefield. 

Lizzie’s eyes flash and the lighting intensifies. It’s so bright that Grian can’t look at it anymore without hurting his eyes. The Warden continues to screech - though it grows quieter. 

There’s a final burst of overwhelming noise and light, and then it fades. There’s nothing left of the Warden, save for a silhouette of ash. 

Lizzie releases her breath and stumbles forward. Grian reaches for her just as her companions - BigB and Cleo - steady her. 

“That’s the fourth one.” Cleo hisses, hoisting Lizzie’s arm around her shoulders. “You can’t keep doing this.” 

“Don’t have much of a choice.” Lizzie grits. 

It’s with alarm that Grian begins to notice how exhausted she looks. Her hair isn’t as pink and vibrant as it normally is, and her wings lack their usual shine. She looks paler and deep purple bags mar the skin under her eyes. 

“I’ll see Scar.” He says. “Maybe they’ve figured out the Enchanting Table.” 

He takes off before Lizzie can respond, urgency flooding through him. His wings flutter uselessly behind him. His injured wing burns, but Grian shoves the thought aside. 

Scar and Skizz are holed up in the back, both leaning over the Table. 

“Scar!” Grian calls. 

Scar looks up. “G?” 

“Please, tell me you have something.” Grian begs. 

Skizz and Scar share a look that does not incite confidence. 

“What?” He demands. 

“We can’t do anything about Exor’s connection to the Table.” Skizz explains. “He’s already made a really strong bond to it, and we don’t have the power to break it.” 

Grian feels like his blood is draining from his body. Tears well up in his eyes. 

“So that’s it?” He asks, voice cracking with emotion. “We’re done? Exor wins.” 

Skizz winces. “I’m so sorry, G. We tried our best.” 

Grian sniffles. 

“There is something we can do.” Scar says quietly. Skizz looks at, surprised. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks. 

Scar chews his bottom lip. “Exor can’t channel through the Enchanting Table if there is no Enchanting Table to channel through.” 

Grian doesn’t understand what that means, but Skizz does (if his reaction is anything to go by). 

“No.” Skizz says, voice low and horrified. “You don’t mean-”

“It’s the only way.” Scar replies. “I can’t do it without you, Skizz.”

Skizz does not look convinced. 

“Please.” Scar says. 

“I - Scar,” 

“I know,” The Wizard interrupts. “Skizz, believe me I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it was the only way.” 

For a moment, only the distant cries of battle can be heard. 

“Fine.” Skizz relents. “Fine.” 

Scar loses the tension in his shoulders. “Thank you.” 

“What are you talking about?” Grian asks. 

Scar meets his eyes. 

“We’re going to destroy the Enchanting Table.” 

* * * * * 

Scott’s breathing so quickly that he can taste iron on the back of his tongue. He can’t stop - he needs to get back to the war. 

He comes to the end of the tunnel, but he doesn’t pause for breath. He continues, rounding the city’s outer boundaries and heading for the front. 

There’s smoke curling up in the sky. Scott uses it as a guide. He knows he’s close when he begins to hear shouts and clanging of metal. 

Something roars and Scott stumbles. 

Fear climbs up his spine. 

“What in the world?” He murmurs. 

Thunder crackles in the distance. Scott starts running again. 

He gets nearer to the wall until he’s running alongside it. He’s almost at the front when he comes across a crack in the stone barrier. He pauses and peers inside. 

There are Elven soldiers running back and forth, unaware of Scott’s presence. The crack itself isn’t very big - but Scott thinks he could squeeze through if he tried. 

He needs to be quick - he can’t risk anyone catching him. 

He takes a moment to steady himself, then pushes himself through the hole. He’s lucky nobody notices him. 

It’s only moments later that lighting falls from the sky in a way that Scott has never seen. It takes his breath away and stills him in awe. Multiple strands of lighting accumulate into one bolt striking down with the force of the gods. Scott starts towards it. 

No one bothers him - Scott assumes it’s because they recognize him as an Elf, but not as the traitor-prince.

He shoves past other Elves, mindful of their weapons or their wounds, and continues to follow the lightning. It cracks and sparks, then coalesces into one incredible display of light and energy. There’s an explosion of sorts - blue material goes flying - and the lightning disappears. 

Scott finally gets to the scene and finds only a strange mark of shoot along the ground. He kneels down to run his fingers through it.

A hand lands on his shoulder. 

“You.”  

Scott stills, and he has only one thought. 

He is so, totally fucked. 

“Scott.” Exor snarls. He yanks him up by his shoulder and spins him around. “You have some nerve . You betrayed me, your family, and helped out an Avian .” 

He spits and saliva lands on Scott’s cheek. He’s too afraid to try and wipe it, so it slowly drips down his face. He's gripping Exor's wrist in a futile attempt to remove his uncle's hold and it makes his wrist smart. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Exor demands. “Any pathetic lie or plead before I tear out your throat?!” 

Scott opens his mouth. 

Nothing comes out.

“Nothing?!” Exor exclaims. “Are you so pathetic that you can’t even say one word on your deathbed? Even your parents begged for their lives. You’re a coward - and they’re lucky I rid them from this world before they could witness your incompetence.”

He raises his blade to Scott’s neck and puts just enough pressure to draw blood. 

“I’m not pathetic.” Scott says. 

“What?” 

“I’m not pathetic.” Scott hisses. “I’d betray you again, Exor. I’d betray you over and over if it means I get to be with someone who cares about me - not someone who uses me for their own power.” 

Exor scoffs. His eyes gleam with contempt. “You’re an idiot, Scott, and you’re going to die for it.” 

Scott braces himself. 

He doesn’t know what will happen after he’s dead. 

He hopes that the others win the war. 

He hopes Exor never hurts another person again. 

He hopes there’s someone left to look after Jimmy. 

He hopes and he prays to any god that might be listening, and he waits for death. 

Nothing happens. 

Exor’s grip grows slack, and Scott peaks open an eye. 

Exor has a peculiar look on his face - his pupils are so far constricted that they’re just pin dots in his eyes. His mouth is wide open and he moves his lips ever so slightly. 

“No.” He hisses, falling back. Light tracks Exor’s veins and glows beneath his skin. His hair floats around him. “No! You - they wouldn’t - I-” 

He looks down at his hands, and Scott follows his gaze. Exor’s hands are growing black from his fingertips, the skin quickly darkening and rotting away. 

“You idiots! ” Exor snarls, and when Scott looks up at his face he sees blood leaking out from between his teeth. 

The light begins to burst through his skin and Exor turns away, screaming. He collapses onto his knees. Wisps of his hair detach and float away. 

Around them, hundreds of mobs - the ones sustained by Exor and the Enchanting Table - begin to glow. 

Exor screams again, his voice reaching new octaves and piercing through the sky. The rest of his skin blackens and rots away just as light tears through his flesh and scatters skin and blood. 

The pressure drops suddenly, making Scott’s ears pop painfully, and then the air around Exor shimmers. 

In the next second, everything goes dark. 

Scott blinks rapidly. The darkness clears away from his vision. 

Exor is gone. 

Scott stumbles forward and reaches out into the air - as if Exor will magically appear beneath his hands. 

“He’s gone.” He breathes. He turns. 

There are no more of Exor’s creatures and the Elves have stopped fighting. They’re all staring at Scott and the spot where Exor used to be. 

Scott looks past them to the others on the far side of the field. He can make out Lizzie’s pink hair and Grian’s red wings. 

Scot chokes out a laugh. 

“Exor’s gone!” 

Chapter Text

Everything is a blur. 

Scott is vaguely aware of someone grabbing his arm, pulling him away. He stumbles back from where Exor once stood - there’s a scorch mark along the ground that marks the exact place. 

“Scott.” 

Scott blinks and turns. His body feels sluggish, weighed down. It takes him a while to focus on who’s in front of him. 

He sees bright pink hair first, and then he recognizes Lizzie’s concerned expression. 

“Lizzie?” He asks. 

“Are you okay?” 

Scott stares at her and takes stock of himself. Physically, he’s relatively unharmed. 

Emotionally? Mentally? Scott doesn’t know where to start. 

The relief of not dying - of defeating Exor - has started to be replaced with a cold, rocky feeling in his belly. His hands are trembling. 

Lizzie’s expression softens. 

“Hey,” She says gently. “Let’s go.”

She grasps him carefully by the forearm and leads him along. By Lizzie’s guidance, Scott approaches where the others have gathered. 

“Scott,” Grian says, relief bleeding into his tone. “It’s good to see you alive.” 

“You too.” Scott returns. 

“I can’t believe that worked.” Scar says with a breathless laugh. “We really did it.”

“Yeah,” Skizz agrees. He sounds far less enthusiastic than he normally does. 

“Hey, man. You did what you had to do.” Impulse says as he rests a hand on Skizz’s shoulder. 

“Still.” Skizz sighs. “I wish it hadn’t come to that.”

“Come to what?” Scott asks. 

The Wizards and Alchemists exchange uncomfortable glances.

“What?” Scott presses. 

“We had to destroy the Enchanting Table.” Scar admits. 

Scott doesn’t have the same emotional attachment to the table that he knows the others have - but he still feels a pang of loss. The Enchanting Table was ancient and powerful - to destroy it was like destroying an actual being. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I know it was important to you.” 

“It was either that or lose to Exor.” Scar replies with an air of nonchalance. 

“What happens now?” Scott asks. “What happens to Rivendell and the Elves?” 

Grian purses his lips and shakes his head. 

“We don’t know.” He says. “I think we should leave Impulse and some of our army here just to be safe while we work on negotiations. You had a main council, right?” 

“Yes, but Exor had the last say.” Scott says. “I guess that power goes to Xornoth now.” 

“Right.” Grian hums thoughtfully. “Your sibling - are they likely to cooperate?” 

“Depends on what you’re trying to do.” 

“Just some form of a peace treaty, and likely war reparations.” 

“I can’t say for certain, but he’s not an idiot.” Scott says. 

Grian nods. “Okay. We’ll start on that as soon as we get back. You’ll be coming with us, right?” 

Scott hesitates. He feels like his responsibility should be with his people to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. 

“You should come back with us.” Lizzie says. “Any Elves who are still loyal to Exor are going to be out for your head.” 

Scott winces at the thought. He and Xornoth hadn’t parted on good terms, either. 

“Okay.” He agrees. Lizzie quirks her lips - a hint of a smile - and turns away to talk with the Fae. 

As the others talk, Scott takes in his surroundings. 

The Elf army is still present - though the Elves themselves have stopped fighting. They look uncertain and stressed. They eye the others with unconcealed apprehension. 

Scott swallows, and then he approaches them. Their eyes dart to him and they shift away. It hurts Scott to see his own people so openly afraid of him. 

“They’re not going to hurt anyone.” Scott tells them. “They just want to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.” 

“And why should we believe you?” One soldier scoffs. 

“I know that I haven’t given you much reason to trust me, but I only want what’s best for Rivendell - and being stuck in an eternal war to rule the entire world was not that.”

The Elves don’t look assured by this, but there’s not much more that Scott to say that will help them. He leaves them on their own again. Hopefully, with time, they’ll begin to trust him again. 

Grian’s beginning to slouch. Lizzie seems similarly drained. 

“We should probably get going.” Scar says. “Grian, you need to get your wing checked.” 

“It’s fine.” Grian says dismissively. Scott is no expert on wings, but he’s quite certain that Grian’s is not fine. 

“Grian.” Scar pleads. 

Grian sighs, slumping. 

“Fine, Scar.” He concedes. “Impulse, will you be okay without us?” 

“Don’t worry about it, G.” Impulse replies. “I’ve got it covered, and we can ask Ren and Martyn to send in anyone they can spare. We’ll stay here with anyone who’s able.” 

“Okay, okay.” Grian says. He swallows, then nods at Scar. “Let’s get back.”

Scott hesitates as much of their army begins to pack up and leave. He looks at the Elven army once again. 

“Come on, Scott.” Lizzie said, nudging his shoulder. “You want to see Jimmy, don’t you?” 

Jimmy. 

Scott perks up at the mention. Lizzie must notice, because a smirk crosses her lips. 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you too.” She says, rolling her eyes. “C’mon.” 

With one last glance over his shoulder at Rivendell, Scott follows Lizzie back to the Southlands. 

* * * * *

Grian is exhausted. 

He’s sweating more than he ever has. He thinks that the excitement of the evening is the only thing that’s keeping him going. Well, that and Scar’s supportive shoulder. 

“Almost there.” The Wizard murmurs in his ear. “One foot in front of the other.” 

“I know how to walk.” Grian tries to snark, but it comes out in a sad, breathless pant. “Wish I could fly.” 

“Not till your wings are looked at, pesky bird.” 

Grian sighs. 

Scar’s right of course, on multiple accounts. The trees are thinning around them, and it only takes a few more paces before they’ve stopped completely. 

The Bahazaar is bustling, but quieter than it normally is. As the army slowly fills the streets, the shoppers and sellers fall completely silent. They stare with open curiosity and concern. 

Grian musters what energy he has left to shout, “We’ve won!” 

The crowds immediately erupt in cheers. There’s yelling and shouting. Avians fly up into the air and hug one another. Some begin to throw ribbons, flowers, candies, and soft trinkets at the soldiers as they pass. 

It’s… unlike anything that Grian has seen before. He can’t ignore the way his heart begins to pound (with excitement instead of fear), and how pride begins to fill his chest. He holds himself a little bit higher and smiles at his citizens as he passes. 

Scar pokes a finger into Grian’s side hard enough to catch his attention but not enough to hurt. Grian turns to him, head tilted. 

“Good job, Highness.” He says, his voice lifting in a friendly tease. 

Grian rolls his eyes even as he blushes. He’d shove Scar away if he thought he could make it a few steps without collapsing. Instead, he settles for muttering under his breath.

They pass by the fanfare and leave the village with far more energy than when they entered. The guards at the Southlands castle are quick to let everyone in and call in the medics. 

Scar helps Grian past all the other people and into the castle. They slip past the hustling servants and doctors and make their way to the private infirmary. 

Mumbo’s standing by the window when they enter the room, and he turns when he hears their footsteps. 

“Guys!” Mumbo rushes forward and throws his arms around them. Grian winces as the hold brushes against his sensitive wing. 

“Careful there, Mumbo Jumbo.” Scar says. 

“Huh?” Mumbo steps back, his eyes widening. “Grian, your wing!” 

“I know.” Grian says. “We need to call a medic whenever one is free.” 

“Or right now!” 

“My injury isn’t life-threatening.” Grian dismisses. “I can wait a few more hours. Plus, Lizzie did some sort of disinfecting, healing, and numbing magic on it earlier so I don’t feel it much.” 

“Grian,” Mumbo breaks off and sends Scar a desperate look. 

“Just be grateful he’s here and resting.” Scar sighs. He helps Grian to the bed. Mumbo retreats to his own bed and watches them, looking far more lonely and desolate than he has any right to be.

“Come here.” Grian says, patting the bed next to him. Mumbo jumps up and quickly comes to sit next to Grian. 

“You should lay down.” Mumbo frets. 

“Not much space.” Grian replies. 

“I think we can fix that.” Scar says. “Are you two okay with pushing our beds together?”

Grian perks. “That’s an amazing idea! Mumbo?” 

He glances over at the mustached Avian and delights at the way that Mumbo’s face has got beet-red. 

“What’s wrong, Mumbo?” Grian asks, a sweet, fluttery feeling in his belly. “Looking awfully red, mate.”

“Uh, nothing.” Mumbo replies with a stammer. 

“Good!” Scar pushes Mumbo’s bed next to his own with little effort. 

Grian settles himself on his stomach in the middle of the bed. He’s careful to keep his injured wing aloft and out of the way. It’s still aching, even more so now that the adrenaline from the fighting has worn off. He’s too tired to make a fuss, though. He’s not actively bleeding - he’ll survive a few more hours. Scar easily tucks himself against Grian, and Grian feels a swell of affection for the Wizard. He glances over at Mumbo, who’s gone still. 

“Mumbo?” He asks. “We can move the beds back if it’s making you uncomfortable.” 

“No, it’s fine.” Mumbo clears his throat. He slowly leans back, but he’s still incredibly tense. 

Grian shakes his head and shifts so he’s resting on Mumbo’s shoulder. 

“Relax.” He murmurs. Mumbo shivers and closes his eyes tightly. “There you go.” 

It takes a few minutes before Mumbo has truly relaxed. Grian can tell because his brows unfurrow and his mustache loses its rigidity. 

The warmth of the bed and the bodies beside him are lulling Grian to sleep. He probably should stay awake long enough to ask for a medic - but he’s much too tired and comfortable. He trusts Lizzie’s magic to keep his wing relatively okay for a few more hours. 

Keeping that in mind, Grian lets himself drift to sleep. 

* * * * * 

Scott has plenty of time to think and to worry as they walk back to the Southlands. He wonders if he should have stayed behind. Maybe it would have been dangerous, but at least he wouldn’t feel like a coward. 

When they get back to the castle, Lizzie breaks away with Joel and the other Fae, leaving Scott alone. He shifts uneasily in the corner of the courtyard until bright, yellow wings catch his eye. Jimmy notices him at the same time he notices Jimmy - and Scott is privy to the way that Jimmy’s face absolutely lights up. 

“Scott!” Jimmy shouts, breaking out into a sprint. Scott is massively under prepared for the way that Jimmy flings himself at Scott, arms and wings coming to wrap around Scott. Scott stumbles back, and it’s only the courtyard wall that keeps the both of them upright. 

“Jimmy!” Scott returns. “I missed you too-” 

Scott is cut off by a pair of lips pressing against his own. They’re gone as quickly as they came, and in the next second Jimmy is pulling away and running back to the center of the courtyard. His hand grasps Scott’s and he pulls the Elf along. Scott, still dazed from the encounter, only manages to stumble towards where Lizzie and Joel are standing. 

“Lizzie!” Jimmy releases his grip on Scott’s hand to hug his sister. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“And what about me?” Joel complains. “I’m alive too, not that you would care.” 

Jimmy lets out a delighted laugh that is very cute, and he hugs Joel too. Joel stiffens for a moment, then he gives a small smile and pats Jimmy’s back. 

“Alright, Jim.” He says. “No need to get mushy about it.” 

“I’m so glad you guys are back! Everyone’s saying we won.” 

“We did!” Joel’s chest puffs out. “We stopped Exor.”

“Wow!” Jimmy’s eyes are wide. 

“And Grian left Scott for dead.” 

“Joel.” Scott protests.

Jimmy jerks. “He what?!”

“He did not leave me for dead.” Scott says. “It was the only way for him to get the Enchanting Table back to the others.” 

“He left you?!” 

“I told him it was okay.” Scott says. 

Jimmy steps back. “You told him it was okay?!” 

“Yes.” Scott replies, huffing. “It was the only way, Jimmy, and I’m fine now.” 

“Scott.” Jimmy sounds torn between distressed and infuriated. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done!” 

“I think the stupidest thing I’ve ever done was betraying my family and people to save you.” Scott snarks. 

Jimmy draws away, Lizzie inhales, and even Joel’s eyebrows raise. 

“I don’t regret it.” Scott hurriedly adds. “It’s just that it was logically the stupidest thing I could ever do.” 

Jimmy’s frowning now and his eyes have a sort of shine to them that has Scott’s stomach twisting. 

“Jimmy,” He tries. 

“I get it.” Jimmy says, shaking his head. “I - I’m going to go check on the others.” 

“Jimmy!” 

Jimmy ducks under Scott’s reach and skirts past Lizzie and Joel.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Scott says as he turns to Lizzie and Joel. 

Lizzie sighs and searches his face. 

“I know.” She finally decides. “Go talk to him.” 

“Shouldn’t I give him some space?” 

“He’s only going to wallow in self-pity.” Lizzie points out. 

“Go get your man.” Joel encourages, making Scott blush. 

“Jimmy’s hardly my man.” He says. 

Joel rolls his eyes. “You know everyone saw you two snogging, right?” 

Scott’s face grows warm. 

“That’s what I thought.” Joel laughs. “Go.” 

“You’re the worst.” Scott grumbles, already walking. He hears Joel laugh again and ignores the urge to flip off the Wizard. 

 Jimmy hasn’t gone far - just to the other side of the courtyard. Scott approaches him slowly. He briefly considers putting his hands up, but he figures that would be too much like approaching a wild animal. 

Jimmy frowns at him, his posture sinking. 

“What, Scott?” 

“I’m sorry.” Scott rushes out. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jimmy sighs. 

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t blame you for trying to help us win - if anything I should thank you. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“I don’t want to see you hurt, either.” Scott says. “And I was as safe as I could be.” 

Jimmy’s lips are drawn in a tight line, but he nods anyway. 

“And Grian really left you behind?” 

“He had to, Jimmy. We wouldn’t have won otherwise.” 

“Okay, fine.” Jimmy relents. “But I’m not happy about this one bit.” 

Something eases in Scott’s chest. He offers a tentative smile. “That’s fair. Now are we going to talk about the kissing thing?” 

Jimmy’s face goes bright red. He lets out a nervous laugh and scratches the back of his neck. 

“It felt right.” Jimmy explains, sounding sheepish. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.” 

“I think we should kiss again.” Scott says. 

Jimmy’s mouth parts and his eyes widen in surprise. “What?” 

“I think we should kiss again.” Scott firmly repeats. He waits to see how Jimmy’s expression changes.  

Ever so slowly, the Avian leans forward. He pauses halfway, eyes searching Scott’s, and Scott decides to meet him in the middle. 

Jimmy’s lips are soft and sweet against his own, and Scott can’t help but take a step closer - he wants to be nearer to Jimmy. Jimmy sighs and tilts his head. 

Scott wants to … to do something - something more - but he freezes when he hears someone make retching noises. 

“Get a room!” Joel calls, disgust bleeding into his tone. 

Scott and Jimmy both draw away, equally flustered and out of breath. Half the courtyard is watching them, to make things worse. 

“Should we, uh,” Jimmy breaks off, eyes slipping over to where Lizzie and Joel still stand. “Go somewhere else?” 

Scott nods. 

They’ve only taken a few steps when Skizz pushes his way through the crowd and lays a hand on Scott’s shoulder, stopping him.  

“Hey, Impy just messaged us.” He says. “Your brother-” 

“Sibling.” Scott corrects. 

“Shoot, sorry, sibling.” 

“What about them?” 

Skizz grimaces. “They’re missing.” 

* * * * *

“You should have gotten me sooner!” Stress scolds. 

Grian flinches in pain as she tightens the bandages and Mumbo winces in sympathy. 

“You're lucky you’re not losin’ a wing!”

“Sorry, Stress.” Grian says, properly scolded. “But you can save it, right?” 

“I can, with no thanks to you geezers. Honestly, I expected better of you!” 

Stress sends Mumbo a truly nasty glare that makes Mumbo want to curl back under the covers. 

“You are not flying for the next month, at least.” 

“Next month?” Grin exclaims. 

“At least! Probably more!” 

“But, Stress,” 

“Shoulda thought of that one before you decided not to get your injured wing taken care of!”

“I did get it taken care of! Lizzie did some healing magic.” 

Stress scoffs. “And did she say it was all fixed? Is she a healer?” 

“Well, no, but she’s the Queen-” 

“Is a queen the same as a healer?” 

“N- no.” Grian stammers. 

“The mark of a great queen is knowing her limits, and Lizzie knows that she’s not a healer. Now shut your mouth so I can work.” 

Grian falls silent, slumping in his seat. 

“Sorry, mate.” Mumbo murmurs. “At least Scar can’t fly - he’ll walk with you.” 

“We will all be walking.” Grian gravely informs him. 

“Me?” Mumbo asks. “My wings are nearly healed.” 

“Yes, but we’re in a relationship now, Mumbo. If I can’t fly, then none of us can.” 

“What? Grian!” Mumbo tries to protest. He doesn’t try very hard, though, because he long ago learned that arguing with a stubborn Grian is near pointless.

“I have a question.” Grian says. He pauses and glances at Stress. 

“I’m not listening.” Stress says, her eyes trained on Grian’s wing.

“Okay, well… What’s going to happen with us now?” 

“What do you mean, Gri?” Scar asks. 

“Well you’re going back with Joel, aren’t you?” 

“Oh.” Scar blinks a few times, obviously surprised by the question. “I guess I am.” 

“So what does that mean for us?” Grian circles his hand around. Mumbo, too, looks at Scar for guidance. He’s with Grian in that he doesn’t know how Scar leaving will change their relationship.

Scar speaks slowly when he answers. “Well, it doesn’t have to mean anything… I won’t be too far away, I can come visit - or you can come visit me. Joel and Lizzie make it work.” 

“Will that be enough?” Grian questions.

Scar smiles - a small, bashful thing.

“It is for me.” He says sincerely. “I’m happy to take whatever you’re both willing to give.” 

Mumbo’s heart swells with affection for the Wizard, and without really meaning to he leans forward and kisses Scar. 

Scar splutters, his eyes darting towards Stress as they pull away. Stress is pointedly not looking at them. 

“I’m okay with that.” Mumbo says. “And maybe you could use a Southlands Ambassador.” 

“Yeah!” Grian agrees, perking up. “Mumbo can be a Southlands Ambassador and I can go with him to make sure our new treaty is being fulfilled - and then you can be a Wizard Ambassador!” 

“Sounds like you three have figured it out.” Stress says as she steps away from Grian. “You’re all bandaged up properly, love. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you, but get me right away if it starts to burn or if you feel feverish.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Stress lets herself out of the room, leaving just the three of them. 

“You really think we’ll make it work?” Grian asks, his tone insecure and hushed. 

“Of course.” Scar replies. He’s lacking his usual over-the-top boisterousness. “Mumbo?” 

“We will.” Mumbo says. He’s not certain about many things in life, but he knows without a doubt that they will be able to make it. 

Another grin breaks out across Scar’s face, one that is equally fond and relieved, like the Wizard wasn’t sure what Mumbo would say. Mumbo reaches for his hand and gives it a squeeze. 

“Well, if I have to put up with someone, I’m glad it’s you two.” Grian decides. 

Mumbo doesn’t care to come up with a snarky retort. He just falls back against the pillows and snuggles into the sides of his partners. 

“I’m glad you two are okay.” He says quietly. 

“Like we’d ever leave you behind.” Scar responds. He also relaxes into the pillows. 

“We’ve only just woken up from our nap.” Grian complains. 

“Not like we’re going anywhere.” Scar points out.

Grian makes a face, but he settles and lets out a long, contented sigh. 

Here, where everything is soft and warm and sweet, Mumbo finds himself being lulled back to sleep. 

* * * * * 

Scott hasn’t said anything since Skizz told them Xornoth is missing. Jimmy has mixed feelings about all this. He never liked Xornoth - they’d been one of the Elves to hurt him - but they were also Scott’s sibling. 

How would Jimmy feel if one of his siblings went missing? He shudders at the thought. 

“Has Impulse talked to the Rivendell Council?” Scott’s voice cuts through the chaos with ease. 

The others fall silent and cast uncomfortable glances at one another. Beneath the table, Jimmy reaches out. His fingers brush against Scott’s, and to his relief the Elf flips his hand over so their fingers intertwine. 

“Impulse said he has.” Skizz says. The Alchemists’ enchanted books have made a giant impact already. 

“And what have they decided?”

Skizz scribbles something down, then reads through Impulse’s response. 

“They want to elect a new leader.” 

“They can’t!” Scott says sharply. “Xornoth is the heir, even before Exor!” 

“Xornoth’s gone.” Skizz replies, frowning. “They don’t really have a choice, buddy.” 

“Have they said who they’re electing?” 

Skizz writes the question down into the paper. Jimmy fidgets as they wait expectantly for a response. 

Skizz’s eyebrows raise. 

“Huh.” He says. 

“What?” Scott demands. 

“Looks like they want you.” 

“Me?!” Scott exclaims, straightening in his seat. “Why in the world would they want me?” 

Skizz shrugs. “Impulse says it’s ‘cause you’re the last of the royal bloodline left, and they want to keep the lineage in power.”

“Could it be a trap?” Lizzie asks. 

“They have to be smart enough to realize what killing Scott would do.” Tango says. 

Jimmy’s grip on Scott’s hand tightens. 

“They might just be out for blood.” Bdubs replies. “Maybe they’re not thinking straight.” 

“Or, maybe they do want Scott as their leader.” Etho says. “Is that so crazy?” 

Multiple pairs of eyes glance over at Scott and Jimmy feels how he tenses. 

“What do you think, Scott? Want to be a king?” 

“No.” Scott answers. “That position was never meant for me.” 

“Not sure that they care about that right now, man.” Skizz says. 

“It would definitely help with forming a treaty and with war reparations.” Joel points out. “And the only downside is that they might want to kill him.”

“Oh, thanks a lot!” Scott says, his voice shrill. 

“What? Just saying.” 

Lizzie lightly smacks Joel on the arm. “Now is not the time for jokes.”

“I’m serious! Having Scott in charge would make negotiations way easier - and all he has to do is make sure he’s not assassinated! We can just send some of our own as ambassadors to help keep Scott safe.” 

Lizzie’s expression turns contemplative. 

“That could work.” Skizz agrees. 

Everyone looks at Scott again. The Elf is sat stiffly, a blank expression across his face.

It’s Tango who breaks the hush. 

“Well? What’ll it be?” 

* * * * * 

“New orders from Lizzie.” Ren announces, staring down at his book. “We’re being asked to stay here as ambassadors.” 

“What, both of us?” Martyn leans over Ren’s shoulder to read over the text. “Huh.” 

“Will you be staying?” Ren asks. His throat is suddenly dry, and he has to fight back the urge to lie down and roll over on his back. 

“Will you?” 

Ren carefully watches Martyn’s expression as he replies. “If it’s what my Queen wishes, I am inclined to stay. However, if someone else were to ask me to go with them, I’d be inclined to that as well.” 

He must not be as subtle as he thinks, because a large grin crosses Marytn’s face. 

“Woah-ho-ho! Quite the proposition!" 

“I - well-” 

“I’m going to stay.” Martyn says. “If it’s what Grian needs, it’s what I’ll do. And I think you should stay as well - after all, where would a Hand be without his Lord?” 

Ren’s heart jumps in his chest, and he can’t keep his tail from wagging. 

“Very well, Hand. To our next adventure together.” 

Marytn’s expression is fond and amused. 

“To our next adventure.”

* * * * * 

Scott fiddles with his cloak as he stares at the mirror. The crown is an unfamiliar sight and weight on his head. It’s far heavier than he thought it would be, and far more comfortable. 

He turns away. 

His room is still a mess from his fight with Xornoth. He hasn’t bothered to clean up or to ask anyone to clean it up. He’ll be moving into a different section soon. Not Exor’s room - Scott would never want to be in Exor’s room - but a bigger one than the one he’s grown up with. Part of Scott wants to stay in his own room, but another part of him is trying not to cause any drama. He doesn’t want to annoy his Council or give anyone another reason to want him gone. 

He sweeps from one side of the room to the other. His armoire and jewelry box escaped the fight with Xornoth, which Scott notes with no small amount of relief. He runs his hand over the smooth, leather cover, then opens the box. 

A paper flutters out, surprising Scott. He stares down at it in confusion before picking it up and reading over the text. 

Scott, 

I’m sorry for… everything. I can’t stay here anymore. I can’t be king. You’re more suited for it, anyways. If you ever need me, I’ll be there. 

We will meet again. 

Xornoth

Scott’s hands tremble and he has to fight back the sudden onslaught of tears. He glances at his jewelry box to see if there were any more notes - any clue as to where Xornoth went. What he sees instead is a red earring, one half of Xornoth’s favorite pair. Scott carefully picks it up. He feels like one wrong move will cause the whole thing to crack and dissolve into pieces. 

The gem shines in the low lighting. There’s a distinctive warmth to it that Scott wouldn’t have expected - like Xornoth was just here. 

Before he can overthink it, Scott slides the earring into his own ear. He waits, half-expecting something to happen. 

The door slams open. 

“Oh my gods!” Scott exclaims as he whirls around and grasps at his chest. “Don’t do that!” 

“Sorry.” The intruder replies, without a hint of remorse. “Are you ready?” 

Scott sighs and lowers his arms. “Not really.” 

“Don’t worry, you’ll do great.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Scott scoffs. “I’ve never been a king before.” 

“And I’ve never been an ambassador before.” 

“They’re a little different, Jimmy.” Scott says. 

Jimmy hums and grin. “Well, at least I’ll be here to help you out.” 

Scott smiles in return, though his smile is sadder. Jimmy is here, in Rivendell, without being a prisoner. Scott wishes he could take advantage of it, he wants to show Jimmy the gardens and the library and the ballroom. He wants to show off the cod pond that he designed himself. 

But time doesn’t allow for that - Scott has a coronation to attend. 

“Cheer up, buttercup.” Jimmy chirps as he gives Scott a quick peck on his cheek and fits their hands together. “You’ve only got to do this once.” 

“But half the kingdom will be there.” Scott groans. “And most of them probably want me dead.” 

“Well, Martyn and Ren won’t let that happen. We need to get going before we’re late. They’ll wonder where we’ve been!” 

“They probably think we’re sneaking off to make out or something.” Scott muses. He enjoys the way that Jimmy flushes down to his neck. 

“You stop it now.” He says scoldingly. “You’re distracting.”

“Thank you.” Scott replies. 

They fall quiet, both knowing that Scott’s prolonged this as much as he can. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He concedes. 

Jimmy squeezes his hand, and that makes it a little bit better. 

The two make their way to the Throne Room. It’s already filled to the brim with politicians and civilians alike. There is a special row for the ambassadors and visiting rulers to sit, so Jimmy and Scott have to separate. 

“You’ll be fine.” Jimmy promises, his voice a low murmur. “And we’re all here for you.” 

Across Jimmy’s shoulder, Scott meets Lizzie’s and Grian’s eyes. They’re both dressed in fine clothing, and they nod when they notice his attention. 

“Thank you.” Scott says. 

“See you soon.” Jimmy says. He joins the others and sits down. 

Scott starts walking to the Throne, where he’s to be crowned. On a whim, he glances around the room again. 

A figure catches his eyes - one whose face is hidden in a bundle of robes. Scott continues to walk to the throne, but he keeps attention on the figure in the corner of his eye. 

His nerves feel alert and on edge. Scott can’t help but wonder if it’s a disgruntled citizen that’s come to kill him. 

When he reaches the throne, he takes a moment to properly assess the figure. They shift, head tilting to the side. Ever so slightly they brush back their hood just enough for their right ear to show. 

Red flashes across the room, and Scott’s lone earring suddenly feels even warmer. 

He freezes, breath catching in his throat, as the figure returns to their original spot. 

Scott tears his gaze away from the figure, swallowing. 

The coronation is supposed to be performed by whoever was retiring, but since Exor was dead, the High Rivendell Minister takes his place. 

“Your highness.” He says kindly. “Are you ready?” 

Scott takes a long, deep breath. He looks around the room once last time, gaze passing over Lizzie, Joel, Grian, Jimmy, and, finally, the figure at the end. 

The figure nods ever-so-slightly. 

Scott looks back at the minister. 

“Yes,” He says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m ready.”