Chapter Text
Grian’s heart was hammering in his chest. He was shaking, adrenaline pumping through his veins like poison, and his head felt a little bit floaty. He was quite sure that the men flanking him on either side could feel them shivering, as they were holding his arms behind him tightly as they walked, but they didn’t acknowledge it.
He was being walked down the halls of what he was pretty sure was a massive castle by two bulky guards. They hadn’t handcuffed him - he wasn’t sure if they even knew what handcuffs were - but their grip was enough. Besides, he was too exhausted to run any more than he already had that day. He glanced at one of the guards - they had gotten along, briefly, and Grian was rather sad to have that little bit of light gone. The guard looked back at him for a moment. The X-shaped scars on his face were stark against his tanned skin. Then he looked forward once again.
Grian anxiously surveyed the area as they walked, hoping to perhaps find a way to escape that wouldn’t involve a massive chase. The floors as well as the pillars and beams of the ceiling were a gorgeous dark wood; covering most of the ground, reminding Grian of the red carpets celebrities walked down, were plush pink rugs with small, swirling sun designs around the rims. On every pillar was a pink banner matching the rugs with a sun logo on it, and lining the off-white drywall were decorations such as paintings and statues. On his right was a plain wall, with a door leading into a side room every few yards. To his left were stained glass windows, brilliantly casting pink and gold light into the hallways and depicting sunrises and sunsets. Ornate golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, holding candles. The well-dressed staff passed him and the guards occasionally, bustling by as they glanced his way suspiciously.
On any other occasion, Grian would have been wowed by the architecture and magnificence of the place. Indeed, the wide halls and high, arched ceilings made him feel small, and the air itself seemed to hold authority. But as it stood, he could be nothing but terrified. Another shudder ran up his spine like ice, but the guards only urged him on faster. He nearly tripped, not used to the haste with which they walked.
Eventually, the trio came to a pair of grand doors. They were wooden, with metal detailing swirling in a complex pattern. The doorknobs were the cleanest, brightest gold Grian had ever seen. Two more guards standing on the sides of the doors opened them, allowing entry into the room beyond.
Grian blinked in the brightness as he entered. The pink carpets formed a path up a set of marble stairs, to a giant throne. It was pink and gold, with a pillow to sit on and a sun centerpiece above the head. It looked like it was made of crystal somehow, shimmering as it did. The throne was empty, but beside it was a smaller throne. This one was silver and blue, with a moon atop it. This throne wasn’t empty, but the room around Grian was too amazing to pay attention to the person sitting there.
The rest of the floor was some sort of dark stone that Grian didn’t recognize. It was so clean that he could see the reflection of the walls in it. The walls, just as the left side of the hallway behind him, were both lined with stained glass. In the throne room, the pictures displayed what seemed to be the story of a redheaded warrior leading an army in a battle. The warm colors used made Grian think the story took place during golden hour. And behind the thrones, there was a mural of a thousand suns, with amber trees and pale grass taking the foreground. Craning his head, Grian found the ceiling to be immensely tall and ornate as well. He couldn’t imagine how people had gotten that high, nor how they had managed to make the ribs.
“Advisor, Sir,” one of the guards said suddenly. Grian’s focus snapped back to the present. They stood at the foot of the stairs, standing up at the man on the small blue throne. He looked rather posh - small, dark eyes, pale, well-dressed in black robes, and wearing a well-kempt mustache. He looked more like a cartoon character than a real person. “We caught up to the man causing a ruckus.”
“I can see that,” the Advisor mused. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a fuss.”
“Uh…” The guard hesitated and Grian winced. Seeing their reactions, the Advisor moved on quickly.
“I see. Well, stranger, what should we call you?”
Grian blinked, surprised. “Aren’t you going to execute me?”
The Advisor’s eyes widened. “Good heavens- why in the world would we do that?”
“I dunno,” Grian said, stumbling over his words. “I thought that was what you royal types do.”
“I’m no royalty,” the Advisor assured him. And our Princess would never do such a thing before hearing a person out.” He gestured with a hand to the empty throne. “Would it make you feel better if I introduced myself first? My name is Mumbo Jumbo, I’m the royal Advisor to this country. And you are?”
Grian, despite himself, nearly broke into an incredulous grin. Such a goofy name for a fancy man! He forced his facial expression to be neutral. “Grian.”
Mumbo nodded. “Well, Grian. What do you have to say for yourself? You’ve caused quite a scene in our palace, I’m sure you know.”
“Yes,” Grian said, hanging his head. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think you’d believe my story, even if I told it.”
“Really?” Mumbo asked. He paused for a moment, seemingly thinking. Then, “Guards, there’s no need to hold him any longer. He can come up here. Grian, do you want a chair?”
The guards exchanged a look, obviously surprised, but let Grian go. He immediately rotated his shoulders, stretching them, and rubbed his arms. He had red marks where they had been holding him. “Um… No?” His knees were shaking.
Mumbo sighed. “Bring a chair, please,” he requested. “Come on up, Grian.”
Grian did as he was told, too intimidated to do anything otherwise. Those guards had swords, he had seen them, and he was sure this Mumbo wasn’t unarmed himself. From the elevated stage-like platform, the throne room felt even more impressive.
“Now, Grian,” Mumbo said. “While we wait for them.”
“I really don’t think you’d believe me,” Grian said uneasily.
“Don’t assume anything. You come in here with your strange clothing-” he motioned to Grian’s red t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and red high-top Converse shoes- “cause a massive scene, and don’t seem to be even slightly familiar with our royalty or country. I think whatever story you have will be outlandish, but I’d like to hear it.”
A guard came back with a chair, and Grian sat down gratefully despite himself. His legs felt like jelly, and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from quaking. “It’s a long story,” he argued weakly.
“Luckily for you, we have time,” Mumbo replied firmly.
“Fine. Here’s what happened.”
⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹
When Grian had awoken that morning, he almost immediately realized that something was off. He didn’t register that something was wrong for a few minutes more, though. He was too comfortable. The sheets and blankets were soft and cozy; the mattress felt like a pillow; the air felt pleasantly cool and smelled of lavender; the early rays of sunrise were gently shining through the window.
Wait a moment.
With startling clarity, Grian suddenly realized just how many things were off. He wasn’t normally so comfy upon waking; his apartment was normally quite hot; and the window faced the wall of another building, meaning not much sunlight got through. Not to mention he didn’t own anything lavender-scented and his bed was as far away from any light source as it could be.
His eyes shot open and he rocketed to sitting up, nearly flying to his feet altogether. He paled when he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was. Grian was still in yesterday’s clothes, with his shoes on to boot, and he was in a strange place.
The room was long and lined with beds, all neatly made and fluffy. It was a barracks of some sort, a fancy one. The floors were hardwood, beams clean and shining. White walls rose up around him to a curved ceiling, the occasional wooden beam breaking up the monochrome. Directly to his side were floor-to-ceiling windows, and he leaned over to look at them.
The windows overlooked a large courtyard, full of bushes and blooming flowers. Surrounding the courtyard were majestic passageways and sprawling away were more equally fancy buildings. Beyond that, Grian could see the roofs of other buildings. It looked like a town, but certainly not a modern one.
I’m not in Kansas anymore , he thought irrationally. He didn’t even live in Kansas.
Behind him, someone cleared their throat. Grian whirled around. Behind him was a tall, bulky, intimidating man. He wore the armor of a medieval guard or knight, had brown hair neatly cut, and an X-shaped scar on his face. He looked confused, not threatening, but Grian shrunk back anyway.
“Uh…” The mystery man began, trailing off. “Are you okay?”
“Where am I?” Grian demanded.
“Nice to meet you, too,” the man replied. “You’re in the guard quarters. How do you not know?” He looked Grian up and down. “I haven’t seen you around before.” He held out a hand. “Name’s Scar.”
Grian eyed the hand for a minute before taking it. They shook hands, and Grian responded as he climbed to his feet. “G-Grian."
Scar nodded with a small smile. He didn’t seem dangerous, Grian thought. “Good to meetcha. Are you new? First day?”
Grian hesitated, glancing out the window behind him again. He had no idea where he was and only one way to find out. By playing along. “Yeah. Brand new. I’ve got no idea what’s going on.” A half-truth.
Scar brightened like a light bulb. “Oh! Awesome! Welcome aboard. Do you have an assigned person to follow around?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Guess you’re with me, then.” Scar’s eyes twinkled with excitement. Maybe this guy wasn’t so scary, after all. “Do you have a uniform yet? No? No problem. I’ll show you the ropes, no problem at all. Right this way, new friend!”
Grian reluctantly followed Scar out of the room, gaping around at the huge halls and extravagant decor. Everything around him looked otherworldly. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t dreaming. Or in a coma. Or he was having the most vivid hallucination in the world.
Was he in the world? Maybe he had died and this was the afterlife. Maybe the universe had glitched and thrown him into another dimension.
His theories were getting more outlandish by the second. Luckily, Scar’s never-ending chatter cut them off.
“When you’re on patrol,” Scar was explaining enthusiastically, “you just walk up and down the halls or wherever else the Captain wants you to go. This area is really peaceful, so I don’t think you’ll have to take up sword and shield anytime soon. Not that you have them… We’ll work on that. But if you’re assigned to patrol the town, that’s when things get chaotic. There’s never not something going on.”
“I thought you said it’s peaceful here,” Grian implored.
“Oh, it is! But nowhere is safe from a stray bandit or two,” Scar corrected. “That’s all I mean.” He lead Grian onward, into a plain room that appeared to be a kitchen. There were shelves upon shelves of baking ingredients, a large brick oven, and several chefs bustling around. The workers didn’t pay the duo any mind. “This is the kitchen. It’s a good shortcut to the other side of the building.”
“Do you ever sneak food?” Grian asked quietly. Scar seemed like the type. Sure enough, the taller man shushed him and rushed them on. Grian couldn’t help but laugh despite the panic.
“Don’t expose me like that,” Scar scolded, but he was smiling, too.
Just then, a bell tolled. It sounded big and echoed throughout the hall - Grian could bet it could be heard from just about anywhere. He had an image in his head of a bell the size of a car, like the ones in old cathedrals, that needed multiple people to ring it. “What’s that?” He questioned.
“The clock tolls every hour. It’s…” He paused and counted the tolls. “Eight. Come along, then.”
“Where are we going?” Grian asked, trailing behind Scar as he set off.
“Guard meeting,” Scar said. “There’s one every morning and evening to keep people up to date.”
Grian nearly froze. It took all of his willpower to keep walking. The fear he had managed to fight into the background came flooding back. Scar hadn’t figured out that he wasn’t, in fact, a guard, likely because the guy seemed very trusting, but Grian would surely be discovered at a meeting. But what else could he do? If he ran, then Scar would immediately know that he didn’t belong.
In his mind, he was a dead man either way. He followed Scar, wanting to keep some peace for a few beats longer.
The meeting room, as Grian found, was more like a small ballroom, devoid of anything except for a pale pink rug and an overabundance of guards. They stood around, talking quietly, in no particular formation or reasonable pattern. That was good for Grian, at least. He could potentially hide amongst them. A man stepped forward as Grian and Scar joined the group, and to Grian’s dismay, everyone stepped aside to stand in a clumsy circle. He still tucked himself behind Scar as well as he could.
Grian had to assume the man who stood in the center was the Captain, as Scar had mentioned previously. He was decorated with all sorts of badges and accessories over his armor and wore a pink cape that swept across the floor as he moved. “Good morning, everyone,” he said. His voice was deep and grumbling. The room was quiet, not out of fear but from respect. “There isn’t much to report or cover today, as usual. You bunch have been doing a good job of keeping this place safe, as of late.”
He strolled around, eyeing everyone casually. Grian sunk deeper into Scar’s shadow. “Don’t forget to be vigilant, however. Just because tomorrow was smooth doesn’t mean…” He trailed off, and Grian felt his heart sink into the floor. The Captain was looking directly at him. It was unsurprising that he stood out like a sore thumb - he was very clearly not a guard - but he had been hoping despite logic. “And who might you be?”
Grian’s breath caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He took a step back, head spinning, but to his surprise, the Captain stepped back as well.
“Whoa, calm down,” he said. “Are you a new employee here? Are you lost?”
“He’s a new guard!” Scar chimed in cheerfully, the tension in the room completely flying over his head. Grian shot a glare at the back of his head, even though he knew Scar wasn’t at fault.
“Is he?” The Captain questioned. “That’s odd. We haven’t taken any new guards on since the last academy graduation.”
Grian took another step back. How was he meant to defend himself in this situation? There was no way. He was in over his head, he had been from the moment he woke up in that god-forsaken alternate dimension or whatever it was. He was intimately aware of the amount of swords in the room.
“Nah, he’s just the new kid! Right, Grian?” Scar turned, grinning, but his smile dimmed when he saw the panic in Grian’s eyes. “...Grian?”
Grian couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t do it. He turned tail and ran, faster than he ever knew he could. His shoes pounded on the rugs beneath him as he threw the doors open and raced down the hall from whence he had just come. Behind him came the sound of shouts as the entirety of the guard force realized they had an intruder and quickly organized themselves.
Grian rushed through the kitchen next. A chef had been walking, carrying a huge bag of flour. He crashed into them, sending them to the floor with a shout. Flour went flying, spreading throughout the room like bright white fog and scattered about in a way that distantly reminded Grian of the cloudy blue skies of his childhood. The remaining chefs scattered, shocked by his sudden appearance, but Grian had no time to linger. He could hear what sounded like a mob behind him. “Sorry!” He screeched over his shoulder as he darted away.
He scanned the grand hallways desperately. There was barely a cohesive thought in his head, so he dashed into a side room. It seemed to be a sitting room, with large windows and plush couches, but he didn’t have the time to care. Instead, he took the door across the room. It opened, to his dismay, into another vast hallway.
It was just his luck that he had been transported into another universe and a labyrinth.
He hesitated for barely a second, but that second was long enough. A sudden weight slammed into his back and he went down with a yelp. Try as he might, he couldn’t struggle. The person was too heavy, and soon, he was surrounded by an overabundance of guards. Dragged to his feet roughly by his arm, he found that Scar had been the one to tackle him.
“Sorry,” Scar whispered, keeping a firm grasp on Grian’s arm. Although Grian had lied to and betrayed him, there was genuine sympathy in his eyes.
Grian bowed his head, defeated. He was trembling and out of breath, not to mention breaking into a cold sweat. He had lost, and whatever the consequences were, he would have to take them.
⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹
While Grian was telling his story, slowly calming down as he sat on the chair brought for him under Mumbo’s keen eye, he was well aware that the guard who had fetched the chair hadn’t left. They seemed to be listening. Grian could feel their gaze on the back of his head. He didn’t bother to turn until he finished speaking, however, because he didn’t have enough mental or physical energy. Once the room fell silent, he finally twisted around to look.
Scar was standing behind him, looking altogether enchanted. When they made eye contact, Grian couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glimmering with excitement.
Mumbo spoke before Scar could get a word in. He sounded slightly amused. “You know you wouldn’t have been chased if you hadn’t run, right? The Captain is a fair man. He would have helped you.”
Grian scowled. “And how was I meant to know that?”
Mumbo raised his hands. “I digress.” He sighed. “Scar, you look like you’re positively bursting.” Scar startled upon being addressed. “Scar and I went to the academy together,” Mumbo added. “He’s very easy to read. Do you have something to say?”
Scar seemed so excited that he was nearly hopping. “You’re from another world?” He asked in awe.
“Uh… Yeah.” Grian still couldn’t get used to that. Scar looked at Grian like he was a miracle. Maybe he was. “I don’t know what else to say about it.” Grian gave a small chuckle, but it was forced and sounded empty. “I think I’m still in shock about it, probably.”
Mumbo gazed at him for a moment. “Do you want to rest, or do you want answers?” He asked softly. Grian whipped around.
“You know how I got here?” He asked.
“Not exactly,” Mumbo corrected. Grian slumped slightly, disappointed, so he quickly continued. “The universe has its way of drawing the people it needs to the place it needs, and we have no right to question it. I do think, however, I know why you’ve been brought here.”
Grian looked up at him, slightly weary. “Oh?” He still didn't entirely trust Mumbo. He wasn't royalty and looked a bit like a twig, but he seemed to have authority. "Why, then?
"No need to be so serious." Mumbo stood from his throne and strolled over to a small bookshelf Grian hadn't noticed. It was half hidden behind the throne and looked to mostly be filled with books Mumbo simply found entertaining, not useful. But from it, he pulled out a history book and flipped it open. "A long time ago, there was a prophecy of sorts."
Grian simultaneously felt his heart leap and sink at the same time. He hadn't known that was possible. "And…?"
"Prophecies are important business," Mumbo asserted. He sat once more. "It detailed that a man would come to save our country." He seemed to finally find the page he was looking for and read aloud. "'The otherworldly one will come, as red as blood and loud as a mockingbird, to bring daylight to the dark.'"
Grian raised his eyebrows. "This place looks sunny enough to me," he observed.
Scar let out a laugh from behind him. "Don't take it so literally!" He said. Grian shrugged. He was pretty sure that normally he would be incredibly excited by this, but he was still getting over his exciting enough morning.
"Do you know anything about this country? Well- of course you don't." Mumbo closed the book. "This fair land is called Dawn, due to the way the early sun is so bright and the cherry blossom forests that surround us. You’re currently in the Dawn castle. It's a peaceful country, and is normally led by Princess Gem."
Grian looked at the empty throne. "But it's not right now," he assumed.
"Correct. She was set under a curse - not on purpose, it was fully an accident - while exploring some ruins in the forests nearby. She is asleep, and no one can wake her, nor even move her." Mumbo gazed at the stained windows. "Her magic is what keeps this such a pleasant country. And slowly, it's getting worse. We've taken on more guards to keep the citizens secure. Not to mention that without her, the cherry blossom forest is slowly growing dark."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Grian said sincerely. "But I still don't understand what you want me to do." He paused. “Wait. Bring daylight to the dark…” Mumbo gave him a slightly sympathetic look. “You want me to wake the Princess, don’t you?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Mumbo replied. “We’ve tried everything, but I believe you’re the only one who can do it.”
“Am I going to have to kiss her, like in Sleeping Beauty?” Grian asked, paling significantly.
“Wh- No!” Mumbo spluttered, shocked. Behind them, Scar made a choked sound. “Why in the world would you ever think that?”
“Well, there’s a children’s story about- never mind.” Grian decided it would be too much effort to explain. “What do I do, then?”
“You have her eat this.” Mumbo held out his hand and, to Grian’s amazement, a purple star with a lime green stem atop it appeared from thin air. “This is called a Stardrop. It’s a rare magical fruit with blessing abilities. It, combined with you, should wake her.”
“And how do you know it’s me?” Grian asked nervously.
Scar answered that question. He bounded up to Grian and Mumbo, reminding the former of an excitable puppy. “Who else would be the ‘otherworldly one’ in red?” He cried. “And you did some in loudly - you nearly sent this whole place into a panic. It can’t not be you, man.”
“Scar’s right.” Mumbo held the fruit out further. Grian cautiously took it, holding it carefully like it would disintegrate at the slightest touch. It made the skin on his hand tingle slightly. “It has to be you.”