Chapter Text
It was just a joke.
"Once we both lose our husbands to the war we can be free!"
They had both laughed it off, nothing but a sly remark to bring a bit of joy to their otherwise miserable situation.
It wasn't meant to come true, things like that are never meant to come true.
But somehow... They always do. Don't they?
A jinx, if you will. As if even mentioning the impossible, merely thinking about it on some occasions, can somehow cause it to happen in the worst way possible.
And that's what happened.
The Impossible.
-
"Scott, they're coming," Grian drew his bow, aiming the arrow toward their enemies just outside the borders of the desert in front of them.
Scott didn't reply verbally, instead, Grian saw him nod his head and raise his own weapon in response.
Grian didn't shoot first, nor did his partner; they couldn't of even if they wanted to. They were still green, so, they waited.
And waited.
For that inevitable first shot to be made, and soon enough, it was.
Dogwarts made a battle cry, that in all honesty scared Grian more than he thought it should've. He felt his heart drop into his stomach, but he did not lower his bow.
The first arrow was shot, and Grian watched as it landed sharply in the sand next to Scott. He wasn't sure who shot it, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that that was the start. They both let their own arrows fly in near sync; before both of them turn and ran further back toward the bunker.
They didn't need to look back to see the other side quickly approaching. Grian could hear them coming closer as he ran, he turned just enough to shoot another arrow in their direction without tripping over himself. More bullets from the opposing side rain from the sky around him as he continued to painstakingly make his way through the sand and to the bomb site.
There was a shout and a thump, but grian couldn't turn to look at his friend. Scott had been shot, but that was bound to happen, they planned for it to happen. So, he kept running.
He climbed another small hill of sand, and he spotted the tens of signs they'd placed around as a warning. He hesitated at the top for a moment.
Bad decision.
He felt it before he could even catch his breath, an arrow lodged itself in the back of his shoulder, knocking the wind out of him and making him gasp.
The force of it pushed him over the edge of the hill and Grian rolled down the side of it and into the danger zone.
Scott appeared next to him and grabbed his hand.
"Get up," Scott's words sounded strained as they left his mouth; and Grian could see why. He was bleeding, well they both were, so at least it was even.
Grian let Scott pull him up off the ground, and they both dusted the sand off of themselves before heading even closer to the warzone.
There was sand in Grian’s eyes, and it felt like it was in his lungs too. He was nervous, it was almost time, he looked up towards the bunker where Tim and Scar were peeking out. Both had their bows drawn and were attempting to give them cover fire. Grian smiled.
They made it to the blast zone, and he was ready. Together, Grian and Scott beckoned Dogwarts' army ever closer. They yelled taunts and screamed insults over the rushing wind and angry shouts.
"COME CLOSER," Grian had yelled, "WHAT'RE YOU? SCARED?"
Scott followed his lead, "COME ON PUPPYWARTS!"
It seemed as if that was enough to send them over the edge. They ran closer, approaching fast. There was a split second where he saw it before it happened.
An arrow hit Scott, a fatal bullet straight to the head, taking his first life. Grian didn't even have time to mourn, or watch Scott's body disintegrate; because it was time, they were finally close enough.
"PULL THE LEVER SCAR!"
He yelled to the wind, it took a few more shouts for his partner to get the picture but it worked eventually.
He heard the hissing of the TNT below and saw the confused faces and shouts of the other side before it blew.
He was blown back a few feet, landing on his back and smacking his heavy head against the sand. The impact shoved the arrow in his shoulder deeper and he winced. His vision blacked for a moment, and his ears were ringing. He thinks he could hear Scar and Timmy calling his name from a distance, but he couldn't tell.
Grian's head was pounding, it matched his racing heart. He, as quickly as he could, shoved himself to his feet. He swayed where he stood for only a second, catching his breath and trying to clear his fizzy head. His vision was blurry as he looked around, but he could make out a darkened figure climbing out of the crater and running toward him.
He let out a low gasp and ran, he sprinted despite his aching muscles as fast as he could. He ran past the bunker his allies were in and ducked behind it. Grian leaned himself against the wall and attempted to catch his breath. Then he felt the ground shift beneath him.
His stomach sunk as he fell into the lava pit below, it burned. Grian cursed as he landed, he screamed Tim's name; faintly remembering he was in charge of the moat’s drop mechanism. He could feel his clothes melting and burning into his skin. Tearing him apart from the outside. He gasped and screamed again.
Then there was a small reprieve. Cool water flowed down from somewhere above, instantly turning the molten fluid around him to stone, he couldn't feel his legs or even his torso. To be honest he wasn't sure how he was alive at all.
His throat closed up without warning and he choked on nothing. He looked down and saw the inflated pufferfish laying in the water next to his stomach, above where his legs were encased in stone. He forced his numb Fingers to grab the retched fish and throw it into the still-flowing lava on the other side of him.
His eyes blackened again as another spike of white-hot pain shot through his body, he unconsciously dug his nails into the rock below, letting out a loose half-sob.
There was a light splash, he felt the water droplets slap his cheeks and heard the water slosh as whoever dropped down here with him stalked ever closer.
He hung his head as he gasped for air. Grian couldn't care that there was someone near him, not with the fire lacing his lungs and coating his throat.
He felt sick.
There was a moment of silence, the calm before the storm.
With a disgusting squelch, a sword pierced through his skull, bending his neck backward in an unnatural position and pinning his head to the floor behind him.
"Long live the King."
The sword slid out without a fight.
Dust.
-
Grian awoke with a start. He shot up in the bed he was lying in, clutching the thin blanket in shaky hands he scanned his surroundings. Blank walls, a single chest, and a crafting table sat innocently across from him. Confusedly, he processed that he was in his respawn Bunker.
His head was pounding as he attempted to recall what had happened.
He sat for another few minutes, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, he tossed the blanket aside, despite its lack of thickness; its heat was somehow overwhelming.
Grian was too hot, he shuddered in a heavy breath, exhaling it out as slow as he could in a pitiful attempt to cool himself off.
He stood from the cot on wobbly legs, god he felt pathetic. He walked over to the chest and hesitantly peeked inside. The cavity held some supplies, just enough for him to survive if he stepped outside and onto the surface. He recalled setting it up; sparingly deciding what was worth sacrificing for a later date.
He stared at the contents for a tick before he grabbed everything. He slowly fashioned himself some armor and threw it on.
He glanced at the items he now held. Still unable to remember what caused his first death. But then the TNT in his hands sparked a memory.
The battle. Scott. The explosion. The moat.
Scar and Timmy, his Reds.
Shoot.
Grian's breath hitched, and he ran towards the exit of his little manmade cave. His feet pounded against the sandstone floor, his supplies jingling and knocking into each other with every step.
After only a few seconds, but what felt like hours, he reached the end of the tunnel. Sliding to an abrupt stop, he began climbing the rickety ladder there. Ignoring the hammering of his heart, and the pounding headache kicking around in his skull; he climbed.
Grabbing each wrung, placing each step, breathing every breath, every second he was in here spiked his worry further.
An eternity later, he reached the top. Shoving open the heavy trapdoor, and ducking his head to avoid the sand that rained down upon him, he took the last step and pulled himself up and out; and into the warm, almost cold but not quite, desert evening.
He looked around, eyes adjusting to the lower light level. Grian's heart skipped a beat when he spotted a figure in the distance with a bag hung over their torso, they were just barely emerging from the treeline. He almost panicked, but then he saw the light blue hair and let out a sigh of relief.
Scott.
He pushed himself to his feet and dusted himself off. The person in the distance seemed to also spot him and Grian saw him become visibly more relaxed.
They both began to jog toward each other. Sand kicked up and left a dusty train behind them as they ran, crashing into each other in a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh, thank goodness you're ok!"
"Are you alright?"
They let out a loose laugh as they clutched each other tighter.
Scott answered first, "I'm alright, what's an arrow to the face, am I right?"
"Same here," Grian smiled into Scott's shoulder.
They pulled apart.
"Are Scar and Jimmy ok?"
Grian's features hardened, and worry wiggled its way back into his mind.
"I'm not sure," he answered after a moment, a noticeable shake entering his voice, "They were fine before I died, but I don't-"
His voice caught in his throat, unable to finish.
Scott nodded in understanding and adjusted his bag to be steadier on his shoulder., "Come on, we have to check on them."
Grian hummed in agreement, and they began to run towards the bunker; or what was left of it.
When they arrived they couldn't see inside the broken-down building, it was partially destroyed in the front, and the rift surrounding it still flowed with thick, burning, lava.
They carefully built across the moat, being sure to not fall into the burning inferno below.
After a painstaking and tedious few moments of carefully constructing their bridge, they made it across.
Now that they were closer, they could see through the half windows that were dug in the un-collapsed wall. They peeked inside.
Blood.
Their Reds...