Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They only realize the danger when the sentry bell rings, alerting the village of a mob attack. As their brave family beelines for the weapon rack, they try to think back on their family’s behavior throughout dinner. Father’s stiffness while stirring the pot. Uncle’s furtive glances at the curtained windows. Big Brother and Big Sister’s whispers of an approaching undead army and its mysterious general as they carried bowls of stew to the table. Mother smacking the two of them apart, hissing, “What if the youngest hears?”
In their defense, there shouldn’t have been anything to worry about. They had asked and had been met with their family yelping, “Nothing!” in unison. Reassured, they ignored their relatives’ skittishness and continued tucking into their meal.
But if everyone who can fight is running into the night armed and their uncle is frantically barricading possible points of entry with every piece of furniture in the house, there is something to worry about. “I want to see what’s happening!”
They tentatively reach for the curtain to peek outside, but their uncle immediately swoops down to pull them away from the frosty window. “Your parents and siblings are going to beat some mobs and soon they’ll be home alright, that’s what. While we wait for them, how about we play some games?”
They rub the lucky pendant around their neck in agitation. “You and everyone already said things were fine during dinner, but they aren’t.”
Uncle winces and mumbles, Sharp, aren’t you, but quickly schools his face into a more upbeat expression. “Don’t worry, you know I’m telling the truth this time. It’s just a cluster of mobs passing through as always. Soldiers take care of them all the time and no creeper can stand in their way. And your Big Sister’s grown so strong this past year, hasn’t she?“
They do know their parents and the other villagers frequently handle mob patrols quickly with no injuries at all. And Big Sister has been pretty insufferable about her rapid advancement in combat training lately. They relax and release their amulet. “Okay, I trust you, Uncle.”
The two of them add fuel to the fireplace and play charades. The child wins almost every time, which is fun at first, but an hour passes by and no one has returned. They fear the worst. Despite Uncle’s soothing words from earlier, he is worried enough to lift the curtain. He only reveals the icy glass for a moment, but both of them can clearly see the invading army. The streets have been overrun by the undead and their house won’t be safe for long. A few villagers are desperately hacking at zombies with blades, but many more of their neighbors lie unmoving in the streets. Please don’t let that one be Mother.
Uncle is struggling to keep his breathing even. “We’re going to have to make a quick trip to the villages at the base of the mountain.” Still keeping up the act, as if they hadn’t seen the carnage too.
They may be young and naive, but even they know that contacting the villages below is reserved for life and death emergencies. Their first instinct is to join in on Uncle’s panic attack, but they tamp it down. Staying strong is what their father would do. Is doing right now as he fights side by side with the rest of the family. They wrap their arms around Uncle’s sides as he heaves with ragged gasps. “Let’s get going, then. The sled is broken, so we can walk.”
Uncle’s hyperventilating slowly eases and he gives them a shaky smile filled with pride. “Comforted by the littlest one,” he chuckles, and hugs them back.
The two of them douse the fireplace, push aside the barricades, and grab swords. Well, they can’t lift a sword yet, so Uncle passes them a dagger. “Ready?”
They rub their pendant. Breathe in, breathe out. “Ready.”

Together, the duo steps out into the snowy night.

Chapter Text

“Wake.”

A distant voice yanks them back to consciousness. For the first time in who knows how long, they feel. Cold snow underneath them and the sting of freezing air through their cloak. The echo of pain from being pummeled by debris as the avalanche descended on them. And aching guilt when they realize they’ve failed their family and their village. They’re too tired to get up and face the shame. They ignore the voice and settle back into their previous state of numb, oblivious bliss.

“Wake.”

The voice is more immediate and insistent now. They mentally shove it aside, irritated by the disturbance and eager to sink back down into nothingness.

“WAKE.”

Against their will, they feel their limbs rising from the snow and hear a strange clattering. They’re lifted until they’re on their feet. Their vision flicks on like they’ve opened their eyes, but their eyelids never move. When they lift a hand to their eye, they see their hand and stare in shock at the sight of bare bone. Their clothes and flesh have withered away until nothing but the tattered scraps of their cloak and the skeletal remains of their fingers and arm are left. They clutch their eye, but their skeletal fingers scrape against a hollow socket instead of feeling a delicate eyelid. They realize in horror that the clatter was the rustling of their bones. They’ve been out for an impossible amount of time. How are they still alive?

“Because I brought you back from the dead.” They finally raise their head and meet the glowing white eyes of the man standing before them in the snow.