Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermitcraft was one thing.

In Hermitcraft, Grian could lie to himself that he existed alongside the players because it was easier to Watch from the ground level. He could convince himself — and more importantly Them, if They caught him — that he was just immersing himself in the world so it would be easier to meddle in the players' affairs.

Third Life was another thing altogether.

In Third Life, Grian was a player in every sense of the word. The Server would have made Them proud. It was anarchy in its purest form by the end. It would have been a masterpiece of a Server in Their eyes, if only Xelqua was Watching instead of Grian playing.

But now that Third Life was over, Grian was beginning to wonder if it had more consequences than he expected. He had expected the difference to be jarring between a world with infinite respawns and a world where death was permanent, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite so traumatic.

It’s just a game, he had reminded himself when he caused the first death on the Server. It’s just a game, he said as Scar went from yellow to red and he went from green to yellow. It became his mantra through every hellish day of that place: Just a game. It’s just a game. At first, he loved the mischief and chaos, especially as he was able to act like a red life without the danger of truly being one. Now, as he decorated his starter house in Boatem, he wondered if he’d ever wash Scar’s blood from his hands.

The nightmares, however, were the least of his worries. After all, Scar was just across the field in his not-so-starter starter base. Grian had near-constant confirmation that Scar was alive and well, that they had safely returned to Hermitcraft without repercussions. And it wasn’t like Scar held a grudge, either. He had grown a bit more distant to Grian in the weeks following their return, sure, but there wasn’t any animosity between them. Scar was too forgiving for his own good, and he would not hold blame against Grian as he should.

No, the real worries came down to the instincts that Grian had been suppressing since before he joined Hermitcraft. That little voice in the back of his head; Xelqua banging on the bars of the cell Grian had locked him in. Grian wasn't an idiot; he knew he had to return to Xelqua every once and a while, but he tried to line it up with when the avian side of him sent him into heat. That way he could calmly excuse himself for a week or two without anyone batting an eye.

A few days every few months where he would cast Grian aside and let Xelqua take the reins, far enough from any of the Hermits to risk endangering them or himself.

He had taken one such break just before departing for Third Life. He shouldn't have needed another for at least a month. And yet here he was, struggling to focus on sorting his chests while power surged within him and the voice in his head got louder.

"Grian?" He turned around to see Mumbo standing in his doorway. "You alright, man? I called your name like four times."

He quickly shoved his thoughts aside. He had been with the Hermits for years without raising suspicion. He wouldn't start now. "Yeah, sorry. Got caught up looking for my silk touch pick. I can't remember where I put it." Hopefully, he'd buy that. Lots of Hermits lost important things to disorganization, and Grian was one of the messiest (second to Scar, of course). "Anyway, did you need something?"

"I was just wondering if you'd be up for a bit of caving. I don't feel like it's the safest idea for me to go alone when I can't really fight back against mobs."

Right. It was all peace, love, and plants with Mumbo this season.

Foolish player. It's kill or be killed for you.

He shook his head as if he could rattle the thought from his head. "Sure. Just let me find my pickaxe and I'll be right there. I'll need a lot of stone for my megabase anyway."

The pickaxe in question was already in his inventory, so Grian spent time collecting torches and food instead. He wasn't exactly in the mood to go mining, but he knew he needed the distraction. Besides, Mumbo was the member of Boatem least likely to push questioning if he was okay since he hadn't seen Third Life, and he wasn't, well, Pearl. And he really did need a lot of stone for the megabase he had in mind.

The trip proved more fruitful than he was expecting, returning with two double chests of stone, a few stacks of iron, and nearly a stack of diamonds. It was a worthwhile adventure, at least if he ignored the growing discomfort in his wings that Mumbo had made a point of bringing up every hour or so. Branch mining was cramped, and even the ravine they found was hardly any better.

Seeing the moon high in the sky made Grian think twice about flying off as soon as he reached the surface, but he gave in when the uncomfortable stiffness still hadn't faded by the time he'd emptied his inventory into chests.

There was something peaceful about flying through the night sky. The voice in the back of his head felt quieter. So much so that Grian wondered briefly if the Watcher instinct had finally settled down like he wanted. Maybe the dark sky reminded him of the void. Maybe feeling the wind against his wings was similar to how it felt when Xelqua went flying. Either way, Grian was glad for the reprieve.

That was, at least, until phantoms started chasing him. Power surged in his chest on reflex, and Grian knew that one look at the Watcher and the phantoms would never bother him again. But he would not be a Watcher. Not now. Not anytime soon.

Grian returned home before the phantoms could hurt him and fell into his bed. Maybe he could trick the phantoms into leaving him alone. Sleep would mean risking nightmares, and he really didn't want to watch Scar die again.

Chapter Text

Scar rummaged through the dozens of chests and barrels in the Swaggon. It wasn't a chest monster — not yet, at least — but the contents were far from organized.

As frustrating as it usually was, Scar didn't mind the time-consuming task of finding his items now. Everything he did in the past few weeks had been to keep his mind busy.

All of his fellow Hermits seemed to have moved on from Third Life. In most ways, he had, too. He hardly gave any thought now to the Server itself. It was easy to forget, except for one thing.

Grian.

Oh, Grian. Their alliance in Third Life had been an unintended one, but he had appreciated it all the same. It brought an unintended closeness to their relationship as they huddled together for warmth on the surprisingly cold nights in the desert. He would never forget how Grian had come back for him when he became a yellow life, even though he didn't need to. And he would never, ever forget the look of horror and grief on Grian's face as he held Scar's dying body in his arms.

All he wanted in that moment was to make Grian stop crying.

But now Third Life was behind them. "It's over. And it doesn't change anything between us, you know. You're still my friend." Scar had been the one to say those words. To put everything in the past, never to be touched again. And maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to regret it.

His interactions with Grian since had been awkward. He couldn't find the right tone to speak in or the right distance to keep when talking. Some small impulse wanted to reach out and hold Grian's hand. He almost did once, but then he saw the look in Grian's eyes. The bitter, pained look that betrayed his smile which Scar had believed to be genuine just moments before.

So now here he was, doing anything to keep his mind off of Grian without outright avoiding him. He could only hope that the time away would help him sort out his feelings, whatever they were. He preoccupied himself with projects and meetings with other Hermits and tried to convince himself that he didn't miss Grian. After all, how could he miss someone who lived right next door? (And if he looked longingly out of his window as a certain avian flew off towards the stars, then that was his business.)

When Impulse called a Boatem meeting, his heart dropped. It was one thing to awkwardly dance around Grian in their one-on-one encounters. Grian and Scar both knew there was an unspoken something between them, but they had made a silent agreement to not acknowledge it. But to pretend that nothing had changed in front of other people, however… It would be particularly difficult with the rest of the Boatem crew. They were their closest friends and neighbors this season, so what seemed like minor discrepancies in attitude to other Hermits would be glaring differences to them.

Impulse had wanted to show off the "Boatem Hole" — a new safety hazard to the already very crashable boatem pole. Scar fell in almost immediately. He could see Grian wince as he respawned nearby, but it was quickly replaced by panicked yelling as Impulse pushed him just hard enough to make him fall in. He flew out with ease once he'd collected himself, only to then push Impulse in while Mumbo had to sit down from laughing so hard.

Grian's laugh warmed Scar to his core. It was jovial, beautiful, and, most importantly, genuine. It made Scar's heart ache in all the right ways. Maybe meeting as a group wasn't so bad. They could make Grian happy without the uneasy tension that Scar usually brought.

"I can already see the dozens of ways this will kill me," he said to Impulse as the others dispersed.

"You and me both, buddy," Impulse laughed. "At least it got Grian to loosen up for once. Poor man looks like he hasn't slept in weeks."

"Yeah..." Scar's tone fell flat as he stared toward where Grian had flown away.

And oh void was that thought going to stick. He tried to brush it off as he went back to his projects, and he was still doing well at distracting himself during the day. Once the sun went down and the sky turned dark, however, he found himself looking out of his window toward Grian's house. Seeing no phantoms, Scar tried to hope for the best. However, it wasn't long before the phantoms appeared, and there weren't just a few. Easily a dozen of them were circling above Grian's roof.

Help him. He needed to help him. Scar barely hesitated to act on the thought, nearly falling on his face as he rushed out of the Swaggon. He wanted to be polite. He wanted to give Grian the chance to turn him away. The phantoms that were now targeting him had other ideas.

Scar ran inside for safety, although he tried to not make too much noise. "Grian?" He called out quietly, well aware that Grian was both present and awake. When he got no response, he went looking.

Grian was sitting on his bed with his wings wrapped around him. "Grian?" Scar tried again, keeping his voice gentle. He could hear Grian sniffle as he pulled his wings tighter around himself.

"It's okay," Scar reassured softly. He didn't know what to say to comfort Grian when he had no clue what had upset him in the first place. "Having trouble sleeping?" he offered since the phantoms were as good a starting point as any.

Grian peeked at him from between his wings. "...Scar?" The wings slowly separated as Grian looked him up and down as if he was unsure if Scar was really there.

"It's me. I'm here. Are you okay?"

Grian choked on his tears for a moment before stammering, "You're... alive?"

The impulse to grab Grian's hand rippled through Scar again, and this time his hand was already on Grian's wrist before he could dismiss the idea. In one fluid movement, hindered only by Grian's surprise, Scar placed Grian's hand firmly against his chest. "I'm here, Grian. I'm alive. It's okay."

Grian processed for a moment before pulling Scar close and wrapping his wings around both of them. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I–"

Scar hugged Grian close, being careful to not touch his wings. He thought he had made it expressly clear that he didn't hold anything against Grian for killing him in Third Life, but it clearly didn't sink in. "It's okay." He hoped that repeating it would help Grian believe it. "You did what you had to. I'm not upset with you."

"I killed you, Scar! It doesn't matter if I had to. I shouldn't have, and I'll never make up for it, and I—"

"Grian." Scar's voice was stern, but it still managed to sound soft around the edges; just enough force to stop Grian mid-thought. Emotion swelled in his voice, "I forgive you."

Those three words made something in Grian snap, and he stopped trying to protest and instead sobbed into Scar's shirt. Scar felt surprisingly calm in the midst of it all, but it may have just been the warm feeling of safety and comfort that came from holding Grian and being wrapped in his wings.

By the time Grian stopped crying, he looked exhausted. Scar pulled back gently to let him lie down. "Rest," he whispered. "You need some sleep."

Scar tried to get up from the bed, but a wing suddenly blocked his path. "Stay?"

He turned back to look at the avian and was met by a stare that pulled at every one of his heartstrings. He wanted nothing more than to stay, to be close with Grian again, but he also had this sinking feeling that he was taking advantage of Grian's vulnerable state. "Are you sure?"

"Please."

Scar laid beside Grian, finding himself neatly tucked under a wing. This is what peace feels like. He carefully grabbed Grian's hand and intertwined their fingers. "You can rest. We're safe."

Chapter Text

He was warm. Not under-a-blanket warm. More like by-the-fire warm. Grian blinked the sleep from his eyes to try and find the source of the heat, and he came face to face with a sleeping Scar. What. He gradually remembered last night... the nightmare, Scar's visit, and Grian somehow convincing him to stay.

He shouldn't have done that. He really shouldn't have done that. His avian instincts warred with his Watcher instincts. (No, not instincts, compulsions, for they were nurture not nature.) The avian side was possessive, silently swearing to care for and protect Scar as a wing spread across him against Grian's will. He forced the unruly appendage back where it belonged behind him.

The Watcher side found the whole situation disgusting. "Watchers aren't supposed to have attachments," Grian repeated the teaching in his head. "It gives you a weakness; something others can wield against you."

For once, his conscious, controlled thoughts were in some sort of agreement with his Watcher compulsions. Getting this close to Scar was dangerous.

He had loved Scar for a long time — having started falling for him only moments after they first met, but Grian had long since accepted that he would only ever love Scar from a distance. Scar was a wonder who deserved the world, and Grian could never give it to him. Scar deserved better, so Grian kept his feelings to himself. Of course, Third Life had made a mess of that along with everything else.

Despite knowing he shouldn't, despite knowing it would encourage the possessive protectiveness coursing through him, Grian took a moment to just stare and appreciate Scar. He was unlikely to ever get another chance.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he carefully pried himself from Scar's hold so he could get out of bed. The taller Hermit made a sad noise, curling up in Grian's absence. Grian sighed. He'll be okay.

Of course, he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted to do once he got out of bed. He just knew he had to get away from Scar so he could clear his head. That's how he ended up walking out of his base without paying the slightest attention to where he was going or who was nearby. That's how he walked into the Hermit he had been going out of his way to avoid since her arrival.

"Grian?" The guarded hope in her voice ripped him apart. He decided then that even if he was going to avoid her for the rest of her time on Hermitcraft to the best of his ability, Grian at least owed her an apology.

He turned to face her. "Hey, Pearl."

"Would you, uh, want to come in for a bit? I could make tea." She gestured toward the boat she had built to live in.

Grian only nodded, trying to stop wearing his emotions on his sleeve — or his wings, rather, as they were getting riled up as anxiety bloomed in his chest. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he followed Pearl into her house.

She gestured over to the table for Grian to sit while she put together tea. "You've been avoiding me."

Grian couldn't see her face, but it was probably for the best. His own face was riddled with guilt. He was more than happy to see Pearl again, to know that she was alive, but it left him with way too many thoughts and feelings that he had yet to sort out. Until he was ready to face her, a reminder of EVO and everything since, he had been doing his best to avoid her.

"I suppose I deserve it after leaving you for dead."

She was blaming herself for saving herself, and he would have none of that. "I thought you were dead, too." They never outright confessed to killing the other EVOlutionists, but They left Grian to fill in the blanks in Their omissions.

Pearl shook her head as she came over to the table. "We're all okay," she reassured. "You saved us. They let the rest of us go." She finally looked him in the eye for the first time in years. "Grian... What happened?"

"They stole me." They gave him power beyond his wildest dreams. "They hurt me." They taught him discipline and gratitude. They saved him. "But it wasn't all bad. I'm alive, aren't I?" It was the worst thing he had ever experienced, and he wanted to die at the time.

Pearl reached out and rested her hand over Grian's. "I'm sorry we never came looking for you."

"And I'm sorry I never came back for you."

Pearl nodded in a sort of understanding. Her expression was sad, but not quite pity. It was the look of someone who knew more about him than anyone else ever would and yet knew almost nothing about him at all.

"I've missed you."

"It's good to see you again." Grian tried to force a happy feeling into the words, hoping it would make them sound truthful. After all, it was a partial truth at least. Grian was glad to see her, even if the memories she pulled to the surface caused him pain. He had agreed to go with Them to protect her and the others, so seeing her again made that fight or flight reaction flare up. Except this time he had Xelqua's power to protect her.

Watchers do not have attachments.

It makes you weak.

Grian pulled his hand away, sipping his tea in an attempt to hide the jerky action. Pearl looked down at the table. "As much as I'd like to be friends with you again," she said, "I understand if you want to keep your distance."

An ache panged in Grian's chest. Watchers do not have attachments. He wanted to befriend Pearl again, but it would be a perilous line to walk. His thoughts scolded him, but it didn't stop the emotions from running rampant. "I want to be friends," he admitted, forcing down the nausea that accompanied the words, "but this is a lot. I've done my best to bury everything, to forget—" As if he ever could. He was a living reminder. "—but you..."

"Bring it all back," Pearl finished. "I won't bother you too much, but my door is always open."

Grian nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. He left without another word. He was struggling to stay afloat in his flooding mind. Talking with Pearl should've brought him closure, but her words were stitches over a burn wound. What would've helped in other circumstances was only another layer of pain for him. After everything that had happened with Scar, Grian's mind was overloaded, and yet only two surface-level thoughts remained:

Watchers do not have attachments.

Run away.

Not ready to leave Boatem, Grian dove headfirst into starting his megabase. When Hermits got deep into a project, it was considered best to leave bothering them to a minimum. And if it meant he didn't sleep for a week, no one would be concerned. They all had their moments when they got wrapped up in things.

If only it would make his thoughts be quiet.

It wasn't unbearable yet. He wasn't thinking in galactic, but he was getting that itch in his wings that he always knew meant that Xelqua was closer to the surface than he should be.

Not much changed when he fully became Xelqua. Many of his friends could probably still recognize him (if they weren't too busy cowering in fear or trying to kill him). His wings went from bright and vibrant to a dark inky color, almost as if they'd been dipped in the void. His eyes also turned purple, and more eyes would start to open depending on what extent of his power was in use.

Grian was glad he knew the signs, though, because he couldn't risk getting caught. It would be all too easy to match his "player" form to his Watcher one, especially with Pearl here. He couldn't afford to go back to Them, but he also knew he didn't have it in him to hurt Xisuma if he tried to kick him out. Grian liked him too much. He was too attached, and it made him weak.

It was with that knowledge that he flew away under the cover of night. He wasn't leaving, not yet, but he could at least escape for the night. It made Xelqua calmer each time he flew, so Grian hoped the pattern would persist.

He couldn't afford to get caught.

Chapter Text

It had been two weeks since Scar woke up alone in Grian's bed. He had initially panicked about the smaller Hermit's absence, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw him leaving Pearl's house.

He hadn't seen Grian since. It really should've made him feel better. Grian should've been out of sight and out of mind. Instead, it was growing the pit of unease in Scar's stomach. He knew Grian still hadn't fully recovered from Third Life, but the avian seemed determined to suffer in silence unless Scar sought him out. However, the beginnings of a cave had appeared between where he and Mumbo had been planning their megabases, so he hoped Grian just got caught up in the project. Still, he found himself longing to see Grian, even if only to check that he was doing okay.

"You alright there, Scar?"

He was startled out of his thoughts. "Mumbo! You scared me!" He clutched a hand over his chest as he laughed. "I uh..." He looked around, trying to figure out what he had been doing. "It seems I'm lost. Did you need something?"

"Oh, I just thought I'd say hi. You can come with me to Big Eyes if you want something to do. I heard they have shops set up."

"Well, I am running low on a few supplies..." And he really needed to get out of his thoughts. Besides, Mumbo knew Grian best. He could probably reassure Scar that everything was fine. So Scar grabbed his diamonds (one of the few things he hadn't lost to his growing chest monster) and followed along.

"So what's on your mind?" Mumbo asked once they were just outside of Boatem. Was he really that easy to read? ...Yes he was; who was he kidding.

"Grian." He paused, unsure how exactly to elaborate. "I'm worried about him. He hasn't gotten back to himself since Third Life."

"That's the Server you guys hopped to near the end of last season, right? The death games? Grian had sounded excited about it before you guys left."

"Yeah. And he was excited at the beginning. I think he enjoyed it most of the time; it was just the ending that, well... I think he's been having nightmares."

"What happened?" Mumbo's voice filled with concern, and it was reflected in his expression.

"We ended up being partners. Everyone split into factions, and we somehow ended up as the last ones left. But there could only be one winner, so he killed me. Not to say he betrayed me! He didn't! If anything, he tried to give me a fair fight when I was willing to just let him win."

"You were partners." Mumbo sounded stunned. "Like shared food and materials, fought together, shared a base kind of partners?"

"Yes?" Why did he sound so shocked?

"And he killed you. Yeah, I can see how that could be traumatizing on a Server without infinite respawn."

"Things were awkward between us when we first got back, but I thought things would be back to normal by now. I want him to be happy. And I miss him."

"Scar." Mumbo stared directly at him. "Do you think you just got used to having him in close proximity all the time? That maybe, possible nightmares aside, this is 'back to normal?'"

Scar's mind slammed to a halt. Did he want more from Grian, with Grian, than before? Did Third Life just make him reevaluate their relationship?

"Oh my god."

Mumbo gradually started laughing. "I've never been in your shoes before, so I'm not going to be the best for giving advice, but I'm glad I could at least help you with that."

"...What? What do my shoes have to do with—"

Mumbo only laughed harder. "No, no, no. I meant I've never been in your situation before. You know, in love with someone."

"I love Grian?" Confusion was laced in his tone, wondering how Mumbo had gotten quite that far. But void did it sound right. "I love Grian," he repeated. The words sank comfortably into him.

The feeling quickly turned sour. "I can't tell him," he thought out loud. "Not now, at least. Not until he's okay again. I... I probably shouldn't tell him ever. I wouldn't want to ruin our friendship over this, and I don't think I'd handle rejection well."

"Maybe hold off until Grian is level-headed," Mumbo agreed, "but I think it would go better than you're expecting if you told him. He might not outright reciprocate the confession, but I doubt he'd reject you either if the sheer amount he talks about you is anything to go by."

Grian talked about him to other people? Why was that such a surprise? They were friends. Although Mumbo seemed to be suggesting more than that.

The mustached man nudged his shoulder. "Come on. Big Eyes awaits. Then we can go check on Grian."

The pair made their way through the available shops in relative silence. Scar was glad to have brought his diamonds as he bought out most of Tango's copper. The new building supplies in his inventory lifted Scar's spirits, but they did little to slow the ramping up of his nerves as he and Mumbo returned to Boatem.

Thankfully, Grian was easier to spot now than he had been in the past few days. He was inside his cave, working on extending the roof. For as much work as Grian had completed in the past week, the Hermit seemed very unfocused. His wings kept fidgeting unevenly and he was talking to himself. Scar couldn't catch much, only something about not usually being like this and needing to calm down .

"Hey, Grian." It was Mumbo's voice that broke the tension. Grian whirled around to face them, visibly alarmed even in the poorly lit cave. Mumbo gave Scar a glance that the latter interpreted as "I guess you were right, Grian is off."

"Hey," Grian replied. His voice seemed to quiver with uncertainty. "What's up?"

"We just wanted to check up on you," Mumbo answered. "Nobody's seen you in days."

Grian answered with a hushed, "Oh." He glanced around at his cave as if this was the first time he'd seen it.

"When was the last time you slept? Come on, bud, you need a break."

Grian finally looked at Scar, a mix of emotions on his face, then lowered his gaze to the floor. "Yeah. You're right. I should rest." He looked up at the roof. "Just let me finish this section first."

"Alright," Mumbo settled. "And you know that all of Boatem is here for you if you ever need anything, right?" Scar nodded along, wanting it to be clear that he was included in that. Scar would always be there for Grian, regardless of any awkward tension.

"I know." Grian's wings continued to fidget, and he reached back to grab one harshly. Were they making him uncomfortable?

"And even if you don't want our help, I'm sure any of the other Hermits would be happy to help," Scar said, hoping that the alternative offer might be beneficial, even if it hurt to think Grian wouldn't want Boatem's involvement (or his involvement). "You don't need to isolate yourself."

Grian didn't answer Scar like he did Mumbo, this time only nodding in response. Mumbo rested a hand on Scar's shoulder as if to calm his concern and unease. "Okay. We'll leave you to it then."

As they left the cave, Scar couldn't help but wonder if Grian would actually rest and if the sleep would help him recover. He missed seeing Grian happy.

Chapter Text

Every little twitch was noticeable when someone was watching closely. Even when Grian felt his best — usually after a midnight flight — there were red flags. If it wasn't his constantly twitching wings, then it was the way he avoided other people. If it wasn't his on-edge attitude, then it was the tiredness he carried on his shoulders from too many sleepless nights.

And he hated feeling watched.

There was little he could do. He knew from experience that once some of the Hermits were worried about one of their friends, very little could persuade them that there was no reason to worry.

(But was he one of their friends? He knew he wasn't supposed to be; ∴ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷ∷ᓭ do not have attachments, but he foolishly hoped he was their friend anyway.)

They would be gentle about it at first, "Are you sure you're okay"s at every encounter and silent, knowing nods when he lied about being fine. However, Grian knew it was only a matter of time before someone — if not everyone — in Boatem staged an intervention. He knew he was running out of time. He needed to either get better or be prepared for when the others demanded an explanation. The latter wasn't a feasible option, not if he wanted any chance of staying on Hermitcraft, so he would have to go with the "getting better" route.

There was only one problem: Grian only knew one way to get better. He needed to give into the Watcher compulsions. To break his already fragile facade as Grian. As far as he knew, he could do so under Xisuma's radar — it was a Watcher's nature to go unnoticed, after all — but he wasn't sure how much of that was just luck. Xisuma didn't know that Hermitcraft was housing a Watcher; he didn't even have reason to suspect it. But all it took was him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and  ̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ would be caught.

But he needed to do something. He was running against two deadlines. Firstly, however long he had until the Hermits tried to forcefully attempt to help him. If that was the shorter timeframe, then it would likely accelerate the other: however long he had until his facade as Grian crumbled and Xelqua took the reins by force. Both outcomes were far closer than he liked.

The tipping point came during one of his trips to gather supplies for his megabase. He had briefly caught his reflection in the window of his starter base. He almost didn't catch the difference in his appearance, but the feeling that something was wrong made him hesitate. And then he saw it. Some of the feathers at the bottom of his wings were fluctuating between their avian state and their Watcher state. It made Grian's skin crawl.

That would be a dead giveaway. He couldn't have that. He could probably explain it away as something avian. Maybe it would even excuse his off behavior. But someone would know. He needed to do something now.

He ran to the nearest Nether portal and went to one of his far-off locations he used to gather resources. He sprinted like his life depended on it. Maybe it did. The portals made him nauseous, but he couldn't find it in him to care. He took off into flight across the desert the portal had dropped him in.

Grian could feel the change wash over him one wave at a time. His wings felt lighter, even as they got larger (and some small part of his mind groaned at how sore that would leave him later). The desert sun no longer soaked his feathers in heat despite their darker color, and Grian couldn't help but acknowledge the irony that he felt relieved at the change when the void his wings resembled was where light and life went to die.

He eased himself into what he knew would be sensory overload if he didn't take his time. His vision splintered as more eyes opened, and he redirected them one at a time to Watch where he couldn't see — the portal he took to get here, his house and megabase in Boatem, and a distant view of Xisuma — to make sure that no one caught him. He kept the rest of his eyes focused on the land ahead of him so he wouldn't get overwhelmed. Thankfully, there wasn't much to hear, smell, or touch in the desert. It was just wind, sun, and sand all the way to the horizon.

Grian was stressed. There was a lingering paranoia crawling along his spine as he flew over the dunes. He couldn't help but remind himself that he was putting more than just his life on the line by doing this. But, with a guilty conscience, he sighed in relief.

In one way, embracing his Watcher powers felt like being in chains. This was a part of his life that They would always have control over. He didn't think a day would ever come where he didn't look over his shoulder in fear. But, in another way, Grian felt free. They may have given him this power, but he would never use it how they wanted him to.

Was there such a thing as a "good Watcher?"

As much as he hated it, Grian — or Xelqua, he supposed, for they were one and the same — felt like himself. He felt like he could think clearly again, even if his thoughts were mostly in galactic. He did get lost in his head though, and he didn't notice as the dusty yellow ground beneath him became a deep blue or as the sun set. And why did he have so many eyes on Boatem? Had something subconsciously caught his attention?

No, he realized several moments too late, those were his real eyes. He had flown home on reflex. He abruptly landed on the nearest safe surface: the windowsill of Scar's swaggon. Panic surged in Grian's chest, and all of his eyes looked in the window. Thankfully, Scar was asleep and hadn't seen him, but he needed to hurry. He was already pushing his luck much further than he was comfortable with. If someone saw him, then it would be all over.

Focus, Xel. Calm down. He gradually pulled his senses in one at a time, ending with his sight. He didn't change his wings back to normal, though. He hadn't changed clothes before running off, so the wings were the only thing that hid him. (Void, did he miss the days when changing into Watcher robes like magic was just a natural part of being in Watcher form.) He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, so he hid away before completing the change.

And Grian felt like himself again. Everything was going to be fine.

Chapter Text

Pearl knew what she saw. Did she have to make sure she wasn't dreaming? Maybe. But she knew a Watcher when she saw one. The purple eyes would haunt her until the day she permadied.

She should've been sleeping, but by luck — time would tell if it was good or bad luck — she had been looking for something in her starter base. The feeling of being watched came suddenly. As she would come to realize, the fine line between being watched and being Watched was only the fact that the Watcher's focus was fully on Scar.

A million thoughts had run through her head when she saw Them. Between the survival reflexes, she had chosen "freeze" over fight or flight because she knew from experience that the only way to survive a Watcher unscathed was to go unnoticed. This was borderline impossible since They Saw everything, but this particular Watcher seemed a little frenzied. Pearl clung to the hope that They would make the rookie mistake of letting her live.

She got to see the sunrise, and she immediately flew to where Xisuma had set up shop for the season. She yelled his name before even reaching his front door, her voice trembling as much as the rest of her. X wasn't home, but he was fortunately close enough to hear her shout. He only took one look at her before bringing her inside.

"Okay," he said gently. "I want you to tell me what's going on, but you need to breathe first. Can you do that for me? Take a few deep breaths."

Pearl tried to rein in her panic. This would sound no more believable than a nightmare if she didn't calm down. "You need to understand that I was entirely awake for this and that I know what I saw," she started. "Do you know what the Watchers are?"

Xisuma's jaw tightened. "I'm familiar with the myth."

Pearl scoffed. "Okay. First, not a myth. Almost led to my permadeath on my last Server. And I saw one in Boatem last night."

X's face filled with concern. "What were they doing?"

"I don't know. I didn't see which direction they came from, but it seemed like they were stalking Scar." She took another few deep breaths while Xisuma stared at her in thought. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I believe you saw something that terrified you enough to come running to me for help. I don't want anyone to live in fear on Hermitcraft, so that makes this worth looking into, Watcher or not."

Pearl sighed a little in relief. "Thank you."

"Can you show me where you saw it?"

She led him back to Boatem and landed outside her starter base. "I was just inside, and it landed up there." She pointed first to the window she had seen it through, then pointed up to Scar's windowsill. "It watched him for a while before flying out of sight."

"Hey, Xisuma! Long time no see! What are you doing here?"

Pearl went stiff at the sound of Grian's voice. He shouldn't know. Once Xisuma found proof of the Watcher, then she would tell him. There was no point in reminding Grian of traumatic memories if there wasn't a danger to worry about.

"Oh, Pearl was just—"

"—showing him around Boatem!" Pearl finished quickly before X could say too much. "I don't think he's ever seen our town before."

Grian nodded with a smile. "Well, I'll leave you to it then!"

Xisuma leveled her with a stare as Grian left. "If there is a danger here, then the others need to know, Pearl."

"If. I don't want to make Grian think about Watchers until you know there's one here. Not when he finally seems a bit more like himself again."

Xisuma nodded, although he didn't look pleased about it. "I'll look into it for you and let you know if I find anything."

= = = = = 

Scar barely saw Xisuma before he left Boatem. He did note that Grian seemed more lively today as he saw the group from a distance, but the blonde pointedly avoided him when he passed by. There was a look of fear in Grian's eyes that rivaled the first time they'd seen each other after Third Life. Were the nightmares back?

His focus turned to Pearl as he headed toward his starter base. She was staring after Grian as he walked away.

"You too?" Scar asked. When Pearl gave him a confused stare, he elaborated, "I know that look." He knew it probably didn't mean the same thing for Pearl, but it was close enough. "He's avoiding you, isn't he?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I kind of expect him to, though. He'll come around in his own time."

"He's usually so welcoming to new people," Scar frowned, "although the avoidance might have something to do with the Server we just came from."

"I don't think I count as a new person. And what do you mean? What Server?"

"Third Life. Or 'the death games,' as Mumbo called it. A three-strikes-and-you're-out kind of deal. It got pretty violent and traumatic at the end." Scar mentally backtracked. "What do you mean you're not a new person? Have you and Grian met outside Hermitcraft?" He doubted she had been a Hermit before, and this was only Grian's third season.

Pearl's lips pressed together tightly before she waved for Scar to follow her into her house. (Was it a house? Well, if he could make a house out of a wagon, then he supposed she could make a house out of a boat.)

"Grian and I used to be on a Server together," Pearl said after they had sat down inside. "Nothing as peaceful as Hermitcraft. In fact, I probably spent more days there fearing for my life than I did feeling remotely safe. But we were really good friends."

Grian almost never talked about his life before Hermitcraft. There would be an occasional comment here and there (— "Starter bases were so much simpler with a 1.4 block palette," Scar remembered from the start of season seven —) that suggested Grian had been on another server previously, but any extent of questioning made the man shut down. Scar wondered if Xisuma even knew.

"If you were friends, then why would he be avoiding you?"

"Before meeting here on Hermitcraft, we were both under the impression that the other was dead."

Scar realized two things simultaneously in that moment. First, the impact it must've had on Grian to lose one of his friends. Seeing Pearl probably brought him feelings of grief along with the relief of her being alive. Second, the fact that Grian had an experience that led others to believe he was permanently dead. Scar could only imagine the trauma he had been through.

As he got up to offer Pearl a hug, a mission formed in his head. He was going to talk to Grian tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Chapter Text

Grian's megabase was coming along nicely, now that he could look at it with a clear mind. Building was coming easier, and even talking to the other Hermits when he needed suggestions wasn't too hard (with, of course, the exceptions of Pearl and Scar, the latter of which he had become particularly jumpy around since the whole "landing on his windowsill" incident).

He prided himself on the fact that he barely flinched when he heard footsteps coming into the cave. But then a voice accompanied them, and Grian froze.

"Oh, this place looks like it's going to be amazin'!"

"You like it?" Grian asked, looking over the building he had been working on instead of looking at Scar.

"The outside could use some terraforming, but I guess that'll have to wait until the rest of us have done our part. I really like all the colors you have going on, though!"

Grian finally turned to look at him. He let go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding when he saw the bright smile on Scar's face. Every so often, Grian would forget how much he loved Scar. Then Scar would just look at him like that, and he would wonder how he ever forgot in the first place.

"Is there a reason you came to visit?" Grian asked eventually. He let himself be hopeful that this visit wouldn't end horribly.

Scar paused, seemingly at a loss for words. He then walked up to Grian and wrapped him in a hug. Grian locked up, surprised by the sudden gesture, but Scar didn't let go, and it gave him time to loosely hug back. His wings also wrapped around Scar, but Grian didn't try to pull them back. Just this once, Grian told himself, pushing down the thoughts that scolded him about ↸ᔑリ⊣ᒷ∷ and attachments, risks and ∴ᒷᔑꖌリᒷᓭᓭᒷᓭ.

"It's good to see you're feeling a bit like yourself again," Scar said quietly. He leaned back a little – not enough to fully let go, but enough to make Grian's wings retreat to give him space. Scar stared at them for a moment before asking, "Are those still bothering you?"

Grian looked back at his wings. They were still a bit twitchy, and void were they sore from the other night's temporary growth spurt into his Watcher wings. "A bit," he admitted, "I guess."

"I could help. If you wanted, I mean." Scar's voice was questioning, and it had Grian's mind slamming on the brakes. The sudden halt left him feeling a little disoriented.

"Are you– Scar, are you offering to preen my wings?" His voice nearly cracked.

Scar stepped back, letting him go. "Yes? But no pressure! I know it's a really personal thing, and I totally get it if you'd rather do it yourself, but I–"

"Okay." Scar's face lit up, and Grian couldn't help but feel like he'd signed his own death warrant. He grabbed Scar's wrist and dragged the taller man back to his starter house. (His megabase lacked a bedroom, after all.) He'd never been so glad to see Boatem so empty; there was no one to see his horribly flustered expression as he pulled Scar into his house.

Grian hesitated before sitting on the bed. "Do you even know how to do this, or am I going to have to explain it to you?"

"I've read into it, but I've never actually tried before. So uh, just guide me as I go and let me know if I do anything wrong, I guess?"

Grian wasn't sure how to process that Scar had read about wing preening. There'd never been an avian on Hermitcraft before him, had there? He elected to ignore it for now, instead focusing on taking off his sweater, sitting on the bed, and making sure Scar had enough room behind him.

Scar settled behind him. "Do you want me to start in the middle and work my way out or start with the primaries and work towards your spine?"

"Middle," he answered immediately. Grian already knew that he'd be a bird-brained mess by the end of this, and he didn't know if he could take the feeling of Scar's hands on his feathers and skin at the same time by then.

Grian gasped a little when Scar first touched his wings. He'd never had someone else preen them before. If Scar had any reaction, he didn't verbalize it. In fact, Scar was being uncharacteristically quiet as he combed his fingers gently through Grian's scapulars and marginal coverts. He felt like he had to break the silence while he could still control his voice.

"So, you've read about preening feathers, huh?"

Scar hummed quietly in affirmation. "I read up on avians when you joined Hermitcraft. I always like to research whenever the Server adds another hybrid to its ranks. Well, I suppose most of the hybrids were here before me, but still. Mumbo actually teased me about it, asking what I had learned only a week into season six."

Grian's mind slowly processed that. Scar had looked into avians for Grian. ...Okay, maybe just for his own curiosity, but still. But that led to a slightly more scary thought. Grian had accepted this interaction with a slightly guilty conscience under the pretense that Scar didn't know what he was getting into.

"You know what this means, then?" His throat felt raw and his stomach twisted into knots while the rest of his body relaxed under Scar's touch.

"That I'm preening your wings?" Grian answered with a broken hum as Scar fixed a particularly uncomfortable feather. "It means you trust me," Scar answered. "Avians usually only let a very select few people preen their wings. Typically only family and partners." There was a slight questioning in his tone, so Grian nodded to confirm that he was right.

Scar knew what he was getting into, Grian's mind screamed. He asked to preen his wings, well-aware of the intimacy of the offer. Was Scar inadvertently asking him out, or was he just trying to help a friend who seemed uncomfortable? Was there an emphasis on "typically" that Grian's hopeful mind had missed?

His train of thought broke as a chirp rose from his throat in response to one of Scar's actions. Another, more disappointed-sounding coo came a moment later when Scar suddenly stopped touching him. "Scar?"

Scar was silent for a moment before he said in a whisper, "Sorry. It's nothing. I'll keep going."

Scar went back to preening, and the quiet bird noises slowly became more frequent. Grian would normally be upset with his avian instincts for obstructing his clear thoughts, but his mind was a mess at the moment anyway. However, maybe if his mind had been clearer, then he would've noticed the thoughts slowly transitioning into more galactic than common.

Scar stopped again, and Grian bit back a whine at the loss of contact. "That..." Scar went quiet for a moment. "That's not normal, is it? Your feathers changing color?"

Avian instincts suppressed in an instant, Grian whipped his head around to stare at what he could see of his wings. Right in Scar's hand was a void-painted feather that had definitely not been that color an hour ago. More dark feathers were scattered in his wings. This couldn't be happening. He sprinted out of the house, out of Boatem, before he could even think about what Scar knowing would mean.

Chapter Text

Scar watched as Grian ran out the door. What was he supposed to do? Grian had looked afraid when he saw the different colored feathers. Scar had expected him to rush to fix whatever was wrong, but he just bolted from the house.

He'd follow him, Scar decided. He figured Grian would want a bit of space, so he ran after him just enough to see which way he went, then he waited. Once he felt Grian had enough of a headstart, Scar equipped his elytra, grabbed his rockets, and flew off in the direction the avian had gone.

He crossed the ocean to a new land, one covered in snow and mountain peaks. Scar hoped Grian had kept going; it was freezing here for Scar and his many layers of clothes, and the poor blond was still shirtless. Scar slowed slightly when he saw a dark silhouette walking through the snow. It wasn't exactly humanoid, but if Scar accounted for wings...

A large purple eye opened on the back of one of the wings, and Scar was paralyzed with fear that only became more crippling as the creature turned toward him. Wings, too many eyes, all of which were purple. Scar's heart stopped as he was reminded of childhood nightmares.

A Watcher.

Scar realized far too late what his fear had done. He was dropping from the sky like a rock. He closed his eyes and waited for the ground to meet him. It would be a better death than at the hands of a Watcher. The abrupt impact came from his side instead of beneath him, and suddenly he was tumbling through the air. When he finally hit the ground, he found himself relatively unharmed.

He opened his eyes and scrambled to his feet. The Watcher was laying on the ground. It caught him. Why would it do that? Watchers were deadly creatures, known for the way they tormented players, not saved them. Scar repressed the urge to run, but not before taking several more steps away. Half a dozen eyes stared at him and tracked his movement while the rest remained closed.

Scar's subconscious mind continued to panic, adrenaline pumping to prepare for escape as it screamed that this was a predator and Scar was its prey. His conscious mind, however, was on a completely different page. Wings with dark feathers, dirty blond hair, black trousers, and no shirt.

"Grian?"

He hadn't even realized he'd spoken until another six eyes opened and locked onto him. These included his actual — but still purple — eyes. The Watcher (maybe Grian? He didn't know yet and wasn't sure he wanted to find out–) sat up and stared at him. Scar moved another few steps back.

The Watcher rubbed a hand on their head with a grimace. (Watchers are known for being borderline emotionless and never showing weakness, Scar adds to his growing list of inconsistencies.) They started talking to him, but Scar didn't understand any of it. At the least, the tone wasn't threatening. A few of the eyes on their wings started to disappear.

The regular eyes blinked at him in confusion (and the others blinked out of sync with one another, but Scar tried not to think about that). Realization then dawned on their face. "Sorry," they said, and it sounded creepy and unnatural, but there was an undertone of Grian there if he listened hard enough. They flinched at their own voice and made a sound of disgust before adding, "Common sounds gross like this," and then muttering something else in the other language.

They refocused on Scar when he took another step back, so there were now a couple of meters between them. "You saved me," Scar managed to force out. "Why?"

"I wasn't going to just watch you die." Only four eyes remained now, the real ones and two more that were looking anywhere but Scar.

He tried to push his courage while it lasted. "You are Grian, aren't you?"

That proved to be harder than just a yes or no answer. "Xelqua," they decided eventually, and Scar's heart dropped. "Xelqua like this, but yes, still Grian."

Scar forced down the lump in his throat. "Are you hurt?"

Xelqua/Grian blinked at him again. "Aren't you scared of me?" They sounded a lot more like Grian then, and it broke his heart.

"Absolutely," he said before he could stop himself. "But," he quickly amended, "I think I'll get over it just fine. You're still the Grian I love, even if you happen to be, well, whatever Watchers are." A gust of wind kicked up the snow around them, bringing Scar back to his senses about the cold weather. He took off his coat and repeated, "Are you hurt?"

"A little, but it's nothing a health potion or two won't fix."

Scar offered out his coat. "Here. Cover up until we can get somewhere warmer or out of the elements. You can put it on backwards if you need so your wings can have space." They looked skeptically between him and the coat in his hand. "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured.

Something akin to a snarl came from their mouth as they pushed themselves to their feet. Four open eyes reappeared on Xelqua's wings while their real eyes squinted shut. Scar froze, his subconscious panic rising to the surface. He didn't say anything else because he was worried he'd set them off.

He had no sense of time passing as he waited for each eye to close. It could've been minutes or hours until they opened their real eyes again, but when they did, the irises were no longer purple.

"I'm sorry," Grian whispered. His voice sounded far more natural now, with only an undertone of distortion. "I didn't mean to–"

Scar thrust the coat toward him. "No. Enough of that. You're going to die of frostbite out here." He sighed a little when Grian took the coat and put it on backwards.

"Snow sucks," Grian muttered. "I don't think I can fly until I'm dry." He made a show of shaking some snow from one of his wings, which was now smattered with a handful of colored feathers.

"I can make us a boat. Come on." Scar began the trek back to the shore, feeling simultaneously peaceful and uneasy as the avian Watcher beside him wrapped a wing around him to protect him from the icy wind. Neither of them spoke until they were sailing into the ocean.

"Please don't tell the others," Grian whispered. "Xisuma will try to send me back."

This snapped a fact into Scar's mind. Xisuma didn't know. Scar had been wondering if he knew, because since when did their admin not know everything, but it seemed he was just as out of the loop.

Scar stopped rowing and turned around to face Grian. The blond had curled in on himself, brightly colored wings tucked tightly around him. Scar reached toward him with slow, telegraphed movements and rested a hand on his cheek. "I won't tell them," he reassured. "And I think Xisuma would understand, but even if he doesn't, I won't let him take you."

Grian nodded a little before taking Scar's hand and placing it back on the oar, effectively turning him back around. Scar would've been miffed at the dismissal, but then Grian shifted to hug him from behind and rested his forehead against his back.

"You can ask," he said softly, nerves clear in his voice. "I know you have questions."

Oh, he had dozens of questions. However, words were failing him, so he verbalized the first thing that came to mind, "Does Pearl know?" Grian obviously didn't just become a Watcher during his stay in Hermitcraft, so she would be the only possibility if none of the other Hermits knew.

Grian's grip tightened. "I don't know. She knows They took me, but I don't know if she's pieced together what They did, what They turned me into."

His near-death experience, Scar's mind supplied. He briefly rested a hand on Grian's. Cogs turning again, he asked, "You've clearly hidden this for a long time. What changed?"

"I think it was Third Life. How do I explain this?" He paused for a moment. "Think like an energy conduit. There's probably a good redstone comparison to make here, but I don't think either of us know enough about redstone for that." He laughed dryly before continuing, "I have all this power in me all the time, and I can't just keep it locked away. When it reaches a certain threshold, I have to expel it somehow, usually by turning into, well, you saw. I used to have it down to a system. I used to leave every few months to handle it, and I excused it under avian instincts or whatever and everyone bought into that. But ever since we've come back from Third Life, it's like the threshold got lower."

"Is that why your wings were all twitchy?" Scar could already guess the feathers changing color were part of it.

"Yeah. A Watcher's wingspan is larger than an avian's." Grian lifted his head to rest his chin on Scar's shoulder. "Are we going to address the part where you said you loved me?"

Heat rose to Scar's face. "That. Um. That's not how I was going to tell you. I—" Well, he was technically planning to not tell Grian at all, but Grian didn't need to know that.

Grian laughed. It was genuine, joyful, and unashamed. "I love you, too, you dork." He kissed Scar's cheek, and Scar was convinced he would be unable to stop smiling for the next week.

When the pair made it back to Boatem, Scar followed Grian back to his house. "I never did get to finish preening your wings," he thought out loud as Grian took off his coat.

"You might have to start over," Grian said as he knelt on the bed and started looking through the small pile of feathers that had accumulated from the earlier preening. "I know the fall tore out a few, and I can feel that a few of them are misaligned." He picked up a particularly bright feather and smiled, then offered it out to Scar.

"You– You're giving me one of your feathers?" That was essentially the same as asking him out, wasn't it? Or rather, a sign that he was serious about them being partners, as if they were already dating.

"If you want it. I'm not going to force you. I'd be more than fortunate if you even decided to just stay friends with me after everything you've seen today."

Scar immediately took the feather and tucked it securely into his shirt. He'd put it on a necklace or something later, but for now he didn't want to risk losing it. He wanted to have it on him as long as Grian would let him.

"Now. Let's see if I can fix up those beautiful wings of yours, hm?"

Chapter Text

When Pearl had told him she'd seen a Watcher, Xisuma was more than a little skeptical. It wasn't impossible, but the chances were slim.

There were lots of myths about Watchers and how they came to Servers. Some said they originated with the Servers, that they were there when the Servers were created. If that were the case with Hermitcraft, the Watcher would've either been with them since season one, or it had been on one of the worlds they'd jumped to since. The latter was far more likely, since there were gaps in the Server's protection during the transfer between seasons, but Xisuma always kept a very close eye during that period. He didn't like the idea that something malicious had slipped in unnoticed.

Another theory was that Watchers could simply walk in whenever they felt like. This was an even slimmer possibility. Hermitcraft was meant to be a safe haven, which meant it was armed to the teeth with protections. He didn't think even a god could get past the firewalls.

That left the third option: Xisuma had let it in. That would mean the Watcher was on the whitelist. Which was a complex thought. Either he had been manipulated, or they were a runaway. And what was Hermitcraft if not the home of runaways?

Unfortunately, he had to assume the worst. Better safe than sorry. He couldn't risk the safety of the Hermits. And so he looked into the code. And there was certainly something in Boatem on the night Pearl claimed to have seen the Watcher. The difference was minuscule. X probably wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been looking. It was proof that something was wrong, but it wasn't enough to attest to a Watcher's existence on Hermitcraft.

However, it was only two days later that the flicker of code reappeared. It lasted longer and was easier to track down. It wasn't on the main island this time, but it was just off the coast. Xisuma felt like he was being taunted.

He didn't want to risk running into a Watcher unprepared, so he waited until the next morning before going to investigate where the abnormality had occurred. Of course, it just had to be in the snow where any evidence could be lost to the weather. X kicked up the snow in the area. Just as he was debating if he wanted to find proof or not, something dark stood out in the snow. It wasn't exactly black, but was instead like the void, like he was staring at a hole in the Server.

It was a feather. And there were more than just the one. The snow underneath them was compact. A crash landing? But how? Why? He looked around for more evidence, but any trace of footprints had long since been erased by the wind. The feathers only likely stayed in place by being buried under more snow.

This left Xisuma with nothing more to go on than the knowledge that there was undeniably a Watcher on Hermitcraft (although he, and many others, would try to deny it in the coming hours). He needed to tell everyone. He wouldn't have casualties from this if he could help it.

He flew back to Boatem, messaging them to meet in their town center. They were gathering around the Boatem hole when he arrived.

"Please tell me this isn't the bad news I think it is," Pearl said as soon as he had landed. He held up one of the feathers so she could see it.

He glanced at Grian at the same time she did. Pearl had explicitly said that she didn't want to make Grian think about Watchers until X had proof. The blond was quickly losing color, and he looked like he could pass out any second. Scar grabbed his hand, and Grian immediately clung to Scar like his life depended on it. (Xisuma briefly noted that Scar was wearing one of Grian's feathers and made a mental side note to congratulate them later when they didn't have bigger fish to fry.)

"For those of us who are out of the loop," Impulse said, "what's so important about a feather? Why's that bad news?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we have a Watcher on Hermitcraft."

"The bloody many-eyed monsters of myth?" Mumbo asked, his tone laced with disbelief and fear. "The kind that torture players and destroy worlds for entertainment? That kind of Watcher?"

Xisuma sighed. "Yes. And the fact that I even know that means one of two things. Either this Watcher is not good at their work and foolishly left tracks, or it means it's powerful enough to taunt us and not care about the repercussions. While the second is more likely, I'm trying really hard to be hopeful that we've lucked out."

"So what do we do?" Impulse asked.

"Fortunately, we have some people who have experience dealing with this." He gave a quick side glance to Pearl and Grian. "I would appreciate it if you two–" he looked between Impulse and Mumbo "– could spread the news to the other Hermits. We need this to stay strictly via word of mouth. I can only assume that the Watcher can see our coms logs. Tell everyone to keep their eyes out, but that if they see it, they are to contact me immediately and not engage with the Watcher unless in self-defense."

Impulse and Mumbo nodded and flew off together. Xisuma turned to the remaining members of Boatem. Grian let go of Scar and started pacing. "Alright, you guys. I know Pearl has experience with Watchers, and I'm guessing by your reaction Grian—"

The blond let out a stark laugh. "If being kidnapped counts as experience, yeah." Void, what had these two been through?

"I really hate to do this to you, but we need to know what we're dealing with."

"Watchers aren't exactly something you 'deal with,' X," Pearl said. "You run and hope they let you go." 

Well that was entirely unhelpful. "And let's say that doesn't happen? Give me some foundational knowledge here."

"Well, you'll recognize them on sight," she offered. "Not every Watcher looks the same, but they all have wings and the signature purple eyes, as well as a mask on their face with the Watcher symbol. They're emotionless and manipulative — they'll try to rile you up so you act irrationally, and they'll probably attempt to use us against one another, like holding someone hostage."

"Watchers do not have attachments," Grian muttered. He then spoke louder with hand gestures accompanying his out-loud thinking. "Let's consider your two paths here, X. Ideally, the Watcher was just foolish enough to leave evidence. Perhaps this is the first world they've Watched, or maybe they just aren't good at controlling their powers yet. Then you have a chance. You could either outsmart them in combat or they will try to avoid fighting you. Do not, under any circumstances, try to beat them with simple brute force. Even with a new Watcher, your chances of winning by brawn alone are almost zero.

"On the other hand, let's suppose they are powerful enough to taunt you. Then you've got two routes. Route one is if the Watcher has a specific target here on Hermitcraft." Grian gestured between himself and Pearl. "There is little to no hope that their target won't be collected, dead or alive depending on the Watcher's orders. Sucks to be that person, but it's the best hope for the rest of you. Route two is if they are just here to Watch. If that's the case and they've decided to start interfering..." Grian stopped pacing and directly faced Xisuma. "Then what's your quickest way off Hermitcraft, because everyone here is already as good as dead."

Chapter Text

Scar didn't sleep that night. The air of panic and fear that Xisuma had brought with the news of a Watcher had left him exhausted, but he still didn't sleep. Grian had only stopped pacing twice during the talks — once to ask where the proof of the Watcher had been found and then again when Scar pulled him into a hug.

The pair of them knew from what Pearl and Xisuma had said that the Watcher in question had to be Grian. That was, as much as they hated it, good news. Grian had been far more panicked over the idea of another Watcher on Hermitcraft than the possibility of his friends finding out. (Scar didn't ask, but it made him wonder just how bad Grian's time with the Watchers had to have been for the idea of his friends trying to kill him to be the better alternative.)

Things got no better when he eventually got Grian to sleep. However bad Scar thought Grian's nightmares about Third Life had been, they were nothing in comparison to whatever haunted him now. The blond never yelled, but he whimpered in the way of someone who had accepted their fate, someone who had run out of energy to scream or call for help.

Scar made a point of waking him up when the trembling got particularly bad. Then he would gently comb his hands through Grian's hair, soothing the smaller man with gentle touches and reassurances that everything was okay. He promised himself that if a Watcher ever came for Grian, then he would give them a taste of their own medicine.

Scar would regret the night he finally fell asleep. He was exhausted, sleeping well into the later hours of morning. He woke up to find one missed message on coms from Pearl to the general chat: "X. Boatem, now." He had no time reference for when it had been sent, but he hoped that it was recent as alarm bells started ringing in his head.

The alarms got exponentially louder when he saw the main floor of Grian's house. It looked like a fight had broken out. Chairs were knocked over, decorations were broken, and, most notably, there were feathers everywhere. Some of the feathers even looked bloody, though it was hard for him to tell. From anyone else's view, it would look like Grian had gotten into a fight with the Watcher. Scar knew better.

He followed the trail of blood outside. North. Of course he would go north. It was easier to lose people in the snow. Scar flew off without time to think. He presumed Pearl and Xisuma were already after Grian. Time wasn't on his side. He'd have to plan on the way. He knew he had little chance of winning a fight against Pearl and the admin, but he would cross that bridge if he got to it. As long as he could stall them long enough for Grian to be safe, that was all that mattered.

He had already torn through a stack of rockets by the time he saw two flying figures on the horizon. The one on the left — Pearl, he guessed, since Xisuma's armor could stand out anywhere — had readied a bow and arrow.

Scar didn't see her target until the arrow made contact, piercing straight through Grian's left wing. He spammed at least a dozen rockets in an attempt to get to Grian's spiraling form before he hit the ground, but he wasn't fast enough. It wasn't until Scar heard Grian hit the ground with a sound that made him sick that he realized just how fast he was going. He would be no good to Grian dead. He forced himself to cut back so he could land safely, then sprinted the rest of the way.

Grian was in full Watcher form — complete with a black hoodie instead of his usual red sweater — with easily two dozen eyes open on his wings. Wings that made Scar feel ill not for their Watcher qualities, but rather their tattered state. The snow beneath him was slowly turning red.

"Hey, Gri," Scar whispered. "You still with me?" Several of the eyes were watching him closely. He slowly reached toward Grian's head when he got no response. Head and neck injuries were the most common method of death in a flying accident.

If Grian died like this, would he respawn? Would the whitelist recognize him?

Scar pushed that dreadful thought down when one of Grian's arms reached weakly up to push him away. "Okay," he breathed, "I won't touch. I know you're scared. I won't let them hurt you anymore."

He stood as he heard two people land behind him. "Did it tell you where Grian is?" Pearl asked, her voice heated.

"It?" Scar burst, "He's barely conscious, thanks to you!" He didn't face her yet, wanting to be certain that Grian would survive long enough for him to deal with this.

"And I'll gladly kill them when we get the information we need. What's your point?"

Every fiber of rage Scar had ever possessed snapped in an instant. He wheeled on Pearl with his sword raised. "Don't you dare touch him."

Scar was scaring himself, and the others even more so, but Pearl's anger overpowered her fear. "What's wrong with you?" she spat. "Why are you defending it? It's a monster! It stole Grian! It'll kill you!"

"Scar." The single word from Grian (— or Xelqua, since it sounded almost nothing like Grian's voice except for the emotion behind it —) poured water over the lava of Scar's fury. He took note of the figure now standing behind him, just barely within his peripheral vision. The rest of the words spoken were in the other language Scar didn't know, but he was able to pick out Xisuma's name near the end of it.

Xisuma glanced between Scar and Pearl when they both stared at him. "You don't understand him?" It was phrased more like a realization than a question. So X understood him. That could be helpful.

"I know it can speak common," Pearl said. "It just might need a few stab wounds to pay attention."

"Pearl, I will send you to a respawn if you even try that," Scar shot, his anger immediately returning, "and that's your only warning."

Scar felt a cold touch on his arm and glanced down to see Grian's hand. He was saying more things that Scar didn't understand, but he could identify the sad tone behind the words.

Xisuma sheathed his sword in response. He still looked terrified, but he was calm enough to let down his guard. He rested a hand on Pearl's shoulder, then said gently, "You don't beat a Watcher with brute force. Think, Pearl. What's wrong here?"

"They're not attacking us. But they may just be too injured, content to let us fight each other." Her gaze burned into Scar.

"Try a little deeper than that."

Pearl built off of her point of them fighting one another, "They're cold and detached. They think emotions and relationships are weaknesses."

Scar reached back blindly, not daring to take his eyes off of Pearl, and Grian gently held his hand. "So that answers that," Xisuma said. "No mask, no robes... Not much of a Watcher, hm?" X waited a few moments for Pearl to calm down a little before continuing, "So we have two questions. First, where is Grian? Second, why is Scar, Grian's boyfriend, defending the Watcher that supposedly stole him?"

Pearl gestured at Scar with her sword. "You better start talking quickly."

He spared a proper look at Grian for the first time since Pearl had threatened him. The eyes on the wings were gone, leaving only his real eyes alongside four more on his face. Grian nodded and spoke again. Scar looked to Xisuma for a translation.

"He says that either she finds out or she kills him; that you can tell her."

Scar looked back for confirmation and received another nod. He then faced Pearl, trying to ease the anger from his system. "He didn't take Grian. He is Grian."

"What?" The anger in Pearl's voice was gone, overtaken by confusion and concern.

Scar could see Grian lower his hood out of the corner of his eye. The extra eyes had all disappeared from his face, but his regular eyes remained purple and almost glowing. Scar's heart tugged when Grian let go of his hand, but he willingly released his hold to allow Grian to kneel in front of Pearl.

The blond bowed his head and said plainly, "Go on." His voice sounded strangled over all the layers of distortion, but it sounded much less like Xelqua and much more like Grian.

Pearl's sword hit the ground with a thud. As did Pearl. Then she had Grian in her arms, and both were in tears. Xisuma carefully walked around them to Scar. "You can relax now." He rested a hand on Scar's shoulder.

Scar tried to calm his nerves with only minimal success. "You won't hurt him or send him away, right?" He couldn't even start to relax until he knew Grian was going to be safe.

X shook his head. "When I found out we had a Watcher here, I was all guns blazing because it's my job to protect you all. But that's not a threat. It's just Grian. And he's included in the people I protect, Watcher or not."

Scar muttered quiet thanks before turning to look at the admin. His mind was just beginning to process everything that had happened. "How did you know that Grian and I were...?"

Xisuma gestured to his necklace, which was currently tucked safely under his shirt. "The feather and the way Grian was clinging to you the other day made me assume. And congrats. Grian's a good guy, and I think he definitely lucked out with someone like you to protect him."

Pearl's voice interrupted their moment. "Guys?" The slight tremor in her call snapped Scar back into the survival mindset. Grian was out cold in her arms.

X opened a handful of admin panels. "He's just asleep for now, but his health is still dropping. We need to stop the bleeding."

Pearl opened her inventory with shaky hands, offering a bottle over to Scar. It would be more effective if Grian could drink it, but that wasn't an option now. Scar carefully spread the healing potion over the wings, trying not to think about the blood on his hands. "We need to get him out of the cold."

"I'll fly back to Boatem," Xisuma said. "Then I can teleport the rest of you into Grian's house from there." Pearl nodded, and X took off.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should've known."

Scar shook his head. "You can apologize to him later. That's a conversation for you two and none of my business."

"If he doesn't make it—"

He cut Pearl off with a glare. He didn't want to go down that train of thought again. Grian would make it. He had to.

Scar suddenly found himself kneeling on the floor of Grian's house. He quickly carried the builder upstairs to bed without taking the time to even acknowledge the temperature difference. Pearl rushed after him with armfuls of bandages, and Scar was more thankful for his knowledge about avians then than ever before. His brain was nearly running on autopilot to recreate the medical diagrams of how to properly bind wings to facilitate healing and limit the risk of further injury. It wasn't exactly the same with Watcher wings, but it was close enough.

He collapsed at Grian's bedside when the work was done. With his adrenaline gone, Scar was quickly crashing into exhaustion. Xisuma quietly made his way over and sat beside him.

"Grian's stable for now. You should rest. We'll look after him."

"What are you going to tell the others?" Scar asked, already closing his eyes.

"That the Watcher's been dealt with and that they can rest easy. I'll also ask them to steer clear of Boatem until otherwise told and let Grian decide when he's ready to see people. He won't have to tell anyone what happened unless he wants to."

Scar agreed to that plan with a quiet hum, already falling asleep with his fingers intertwined with Grian's. There was a long road ahead of them, one surely full of hurdles and a few too many restless nights, but they would get through it as long as they had each other.

Third Life was one thing.

In Third Life, time was short, danger was fabricated, and feelings were left unsaid. There could only be one survivor.

Hermitcraft was another thing altogether.

In Hermitcraft, time was precious but seemingly endless, danger was real but conquerable, and feelings could be out in the open. They could thrive. Together.