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He’s 14, all beanpole legs and bleach white skin, and he’s perched on a tree at the border of their forest home, arrow aimed at a traveler who wandered too close. He lets his breath out slowly - a wisp of air in the frigid snowscape – and the tension melts from his body as he concentrates.
He’s just about to let the arrow fly when someone jumps on top of him, and he yelps, arms flailing as he tries and fails to find purchase and falls into the snow beneath him.
“Elian!” He screeches indignantly, and the boy knelt above him laughs and laughs. “Hey, Viper.” Elian was older than the paler elf by a few summers, his pinkish tan skin and freckled face framed with rivers of red locks that contrast the younger’s white skin, and they’ve been friends for as long as they both can remember. They were always up to something, but now was NOT the time.
Elian is about to say something else, but is cut off with an annoyed grunt as Viper’s hand slams over his mouth. Behind them, the traveler looks around, frowning at the noise they swore they heard, before muttering under their breath and shaking their head, walking away.
“You idiot.” He hisses, and Elian shoves him back with a grin and they both laugh, now.
“Rude.” His friend huffs, crossing his arms with a playful pout. “Besides, you know you’re not supposed to attack anyone unless they’re actually in the forest. What did you think you were doing?”
Viper turns red, stuttering and stammering but failing to find a point to defend himself with, and his friend sighs, picking up his bow and giving it back to him.
“I won’t say anything this time.” He says, patting his shoulder helpfully. “But be careful. You only just finished your training. Just because you were the best in class doesn’t mean you have a pass on attacking innocent strangers.”
The pale boy rolls his eyes, but smiles, and says, “Alright, alright. I was just being careful. Didn’t you see the red scarf?” His friend helps him up off the snow, and shrugs. “Sure I did. But they weren’t looking for trouble, were they?”
The boy thinks, then sighs. “No, they weren’t.”
“Exactly.” Elian grins, ruffling the younger’s hair, and the boy squawks and pushes his hand away as his friend chuckles. “But it’s good to be wary. Just don’t attack unless you need to.”
A few weeks later, the forest is attacked. There’s a few casualties and a portion of the forest burns, but the red clothed criminals that started it soon flee with their tails between their legs.
Or, so they thought.
The same day their home is attacked, Viper goes missing, and Elian wishes he’d listened.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
He’s 27, all uniforms and hardened glares, and his life is only just getting turned around.
He hadn’t meant to wander into the forest, really – he was warned against entering entirely, due to the protective nature of its inhabitants – but he’d already gone deep within it before realizing where he was, and by then it was too late. Distantly, he wonders why he hasn’t gotten attacked yet, considering what he’d heard about what happened to travelers who’d wandered in too far, but then he hears a shuffle in one of the trees above him and he whips around, brandishing his sword.
“Who goes there?” He hisses, eyes flicking between the leaves of each tree, and an elf comes out from one of them, hopping down and holding up his hands sheepishly.
“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t sure at first, but… Viper?” The elf asks inquisitively, and the assassin’s eyes narrow. “Is that you?”
“Who are you? Why do you know my name?” Viper snarls, and the elf looks shocked.
“It’s me, Elian. Don’t you remember?” He takes a step forward, and Viper steps back in turn. “I know it’s been a while, but- we’ve barely changed. Where have you been all this time?”
“Whoever you think I am, I am not him.” He says, but falters, because Elian sounds so sure. In everything he thinks he knows, a crack forms. “I have never lived in this forest. I couldn’t possibly be the man you are looking for. I’m sorry.”
But Elian shakes his head, and approaches despite the weapon pointed at him. He puts a hand on his arm and Viper can't bring himself to stop him as he lowers his sword. This close, he can see there are tears in his eyes, and the assassin feels guilty, even though it isn’t his fault that the elf thinks he’s someone else.
“I wouldn’t forget you, Viper. Do you think I wouldn’t remember your eyes?” He looks up at the assassin - who’s slightly taller than him now, despite being younger - and a small smile graces the elf’s face. “Before you were captured, you tried to attack a wandering traveler, thinking them a Redbrand. Do you remember that? I stopped you and told you off for making assumptions, but now- now, I think you might’ve been right.”
Viper’s eyes widen, then he scowls, pulling away from Elian, but there is a waver in his voice when he next speaks. The crack widens.
“It wasn’t a Redbrand I tried to shoot, but a thief, and it was long before the Redbrands took me in and even longer after my parents died.” He says as he sheaths his sword, but his expression doesn’t hold the same confidence that his voice tries to convey. “Your story- it is similar to mine to an eerie degree, but it is wrong. I was alone. You were not there.”
The elf doesn’t approach again, and they stare at each other for a while – Elian, in disbelief, and Viper, in hesitant conviction – and as a tear falls down the elf’s face, he says, “Violet and Alder, wasn’t it?”
Crack. Viper’s breath hitches. “What?”
“Violet and Alder. Those were your parents’ names.”
Viper doesn’t speak, his thoughts racing at this sliver of information this stranger – f̶͙͆͗͋͜͜ṛ̷̔̇̾í̴̠̪̻͋́ế̴̟̗͍̾n̸̼̈́̎d̶͖̘͒́͋? – has given him.
Suddenly, the realization hits him, and he shatters.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
He’s 28, and he doesn’t work for the Redbrands anymore.
After finding out what they did to him, any loyalty they had was broken instantly along with his sense of self, and he left, destroying everything that dared get in his way. He plotted his revenge, for a while, when anger overtook any sense of grief or loss he had, but then that, too, faded into a bleak emptiness.
And now, he doesn’t know what to think.
He has friends, at least, something he never thought he would ever have outside what he called ‘companions’, but he feels empty, and he doesn’t know why.
He’d already gotten over his altered memories – after all, he couldn’t bring himself to grieve too much over something he never even remembered having, even though he wanted to – but now, he doesn’t even know who he is. He has no alliances, no purpose, no people to work for, and everything he thought he knew about himself was fabricated and false.
So, what a strange feeling it was, to feel lost. To feel lonely, even though he was not alone.
But now, he can only think of Elian and the forest, and feel bitter at the life that was ripped away from him so easily, without him even knowing.
He wishes that it hurt. That the loss of that life would pain him more than it does.
Maybe that would make it easier.
Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so empty.
But, unfortunately, he doesn't have that luxury.