Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We had a taste before…

Back in the Winter…

It wasn’t enough! 

There was something missing… 

The adrenaline of war…

We are not pleased… 

A change is in order… 

Our will be done !

🌹

It was disorienting getting thrown into the next game. He gasped and panted — trying to suck in air to his dying lungs — needing to lean on his knees to keep steady. He could feel that something had changed. Some kind of shift — or taste — in the air that didn’t sit well with him. It was a big change. Something that They had never done before Grian entered Their games. The Watchers had barely spoken to him before he entered this time around. They just gave him a brief run-down of the rules before sending him back in again. He couldn’t help but feel like They were mad at him, and that was the last thing he wanted. He needed Them to trust him. He would wreak havoc this time. Last game was a fluke — just a mistake on his part — and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to let himself get attached. Not again. He was going to have this game be absolute carnage ! But, first he had to know what changed from last game to this game. 

The first change he noticed was his appearance. The things he kept were his blonde hair, red jumper, and grey trousers. Everything else was a big change. The brown wings he once had had been shifted to a jet black — which Grian didn’t quite mind — and he had a small gemstone strung up by a string around his neck. The thing he took notice of is the colour of the gem. It was a bright yellow. 

His heart sank. 

Two lives. 

Two lives?! That’s all They gave him?! Did They want him to die immediately?! He knew that his mission started off rocky — at best — but he didn’t think he messed up that badly! He scrambled to try and find a cave. He needed resources and he needed them fast . Night would soon be approaching, and if he wanted to prove his worth to Them he needed to live long enough to do so. 

Once he found a good cave, he got to work. He quickly gathered enough iron to get tools and armour, leaving enough to craft himself a shield. It took him too long to notice how much better he was at ‘player’ things than the other Watchers. Maybe that’s why They sent him in! They weren’t angry with him! They just saw his value with his natural skill of pretending to be a player! Grian chuckled, alone in the eerie cave. He had been worried for no reason! He was sure he’d be fine. 

While he mined for resources, he finally thought of the strange voice that spoke to him. Who were They? Why did They speak as if They were more than one person? Was it more than one person? Grian couldn’t really tell at the time. Something about a moon… a corvid canary… corvid canary didn’t make any sense. A canary isn’t a corvid by any stretch of the imagination! It had an entirely different bird family! He would know, after spending so many years watching birds — mainly parrots, to be honest — in players' worlds. 

Grian groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration. Nothing ever made sense in Their riddles. Celestials always loved to do this. He knew the Watchers liked doing this to see the players struggle, but this entity didn’t seem like a Watcher. Besides, They don’t give confusing riddles to Their own kind. That would be redundant. This entity was new. Something he had never interacted with, but It had obviously interacted with him before. And They wanted to give him a complicated puzzle to solve! Fantastic… Grian didn’t even have the luxury of having it in writing! He just had to go off memory. 

Nothing made sense in Their little speech. Calling him all sorts of things… player, son — Why did They call him Their son at one point? That would be odd, even for a celestial being. Or did They call him Sun? Sun sounds more right than ‘son’ — and called him a songbird… Grian was anything but a songbird. Songbirds were gentle — docile, even — and Grian was a murderous, vicious, Watcher. 

He slowly emerged from the cave, shaking out the dust from his hair and looking around for any form of life. He ruffled his black-feathered ears, twitching them uncomfortably at the eerie silence. The moon overlooked the arena and he could feel Their prying eyes watching his every move. The two lives were probably a test of some sort… See how long he could live and wreak havoc. He gave a weak sigh, straightening out his posture and adjusting his grip on his sword. 

“Grian?” someone asked, emerging from the trees. Grian jumped, tripping backwards and scrambling to get up and face the player. His hand immediately went for his sword and hovered just an inch from the speaker’s neck. His stance softened as he saw the familiar face of Scar — who was justifiably a little freaked out and panicked — but he kept his heart distant and cold. He couldn’t let himself get attached again. 

“Sorry,” Scar chuckled, adjusting the hood on his purple cloak and pushing the cold metal away from the soft flesh that kept his head on his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“You didn’t scare me…” Grian mumbled, sheathing his sword in its holster and crossing his arms in a huff. “I just tripped.” 

Scar simply laughed, leaning on his slick black cane that had a green gemstone as the handle. Under his cloak he had a white collared shirt and grey trousers. He looked very wizard-like, and Grian happened to take notice of his deep green eyes. A plan clicked in his head and Grian gave a warm smile. He would need to play this carefully for it to succeed. 

“Now, remember, Scar,” Grian warned. “Everything from the last game is nulled. Nothing matters.” 

“So I can’t carry you off in a llama and conquer the desert with you?” Scar smiled, giving a snarky smirk as he leaned on his cane. He knew that all the emotions linked to past games were gone for players — but memories always stuck — but it didn’t stop the rampant beating of his heart against his ribs. 

“No,” Grian huffed, feeling the familiar — yet unwanted — flushing in his cheeks. “This is a new game! You need to find a different person to become your lackey…” 

“Aww…” Scar sighed, ruffling his fingers through his bangs which, in turn, revealed his pointed elf ears. “I liked having you as my ally.” 

‘Ally’… Grian felt both pleased and disappointed with that choice of words. His heart throbbed, but Grian ignored it. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice. He had to make sure he lived long enough to cause chaos. 

“Did you know that you can give lives in this game?” Grian asked innocently, twitching his ears in desperation. 

“I did not,” Scar answered, petting Jellie — the soft kitty that Grian missed having by his side — who was nuzzled on his shoulders. “How does it work?” 

“Well, everyone has some sort of item tied to their lives,” Grian responded, holding up his necklace with the glowing yellow gem on the end of it. “This one’s mine. You give a life via your personal item. It’s a nice trust test of passing around a life.” 

“Oh, I see!” Scar’s eyes filled with interest. “It is a nice trust test… Can you give me a life then?” 

“No, ‘cause then I’ll turn Red and I’ll kill you,” Grian chuckled, resting his hand at his sword for extra clarification. 

“Right! We don’t want that,” Scar snickered warmly, opening up his cloak to reveal six small vials containing coloured liquids. Three dark green ones, one lime green one, one yellow, and one red. Six whole lives. 

Bingo! 

“So…” Scar muttered, pulling out one of the dark green vials. “I just hand it to you, yeah?” 

Grian nodded, taking the vial from Scar. He popped off the glass cork and sloshed the liquid around a bit. It didn’t look appealing, but nothing in this game was appealing. He drank the liquid — which Grian was surprised to find it tasted like nothing — and the gem around his neck changed to a lime green. He smiled. 

“Much better…” he muttered, blinking his green eyes mischievously as he glanced back up at Scar.  

“So, now you give it back, right?” Scar asked, innocently. He truly was a sweet and innocent fool. Grian gave a monstrous grin, his face darkening as his plan was a success. 

“I’m not giving this back!” Grian laughed, beating his great wings to lift him in the sky and fly off in the night air. Scar’s futile attempts to call him back down were drowned out by the rushing wind in the avian’s ears. It was so easy ! Like taking candy from a baby! Grian grinned as he heard Their wicked snickers in his ears. He was gaining back Their trust! 

He softly landed, ruffling his feathers in amusement. He started giggling, jumping up and down like a small child. He then suddenly heard branches snapping behind him. 

“Hello?” he muttered, resting his hand on his holder, his fingers twitching for the sword. “Someone there?” 

“‘Ello, Grian!” a familiar voice rang from the woods, Etho and Bdubs emerging from it. “How’s it going?” 

“Hey Etho, hey Bdubs,” Grian sighed, happily putting away his sword with a tight ‘snap’. “I’m doing well. Managed to snag a life from Scar!” 

“Typical Scar,” Bdubs chuckled, blinking his deep green eyes happily and walking over to give the avian a hug. Suddenly, Etho snagged at his mossy hood and pulled him back, lifting his shield in defence. His eyes narrowed — with even his blind eye looking as if it could see — and his mask hid every drop of emotion that Grian wanted to observe. 

“You Boogey?” he asked simply, not daring to break eye contact. 

“Nope,” Grian answered truthfully. He truly had no idea who the Boogeyman was. A devious addition to the games, he had to admit. He was disappointed that he wasn’t the one to come up with it. Feeding the hunger of the Watchers into a player and the only way of being cured is to act on those desires? Despicable… and delicious. 

Etho stared him down, for a moment. The Watcher could feel the breath taken out of him as the world fell quiet and still. All he could hear was the rustling of leaves and his rapid heartbeat. After what felt like hours, Bdubs eventually broke the silence, tapping Etho lightly on the shoulder. 

“I’m sure he’s not Boogey,” he laughed, giving a wide toothy grin. “I trust him!” 

“Right,” Etho muttered, adjusting his posture to become more relaxed as he lowered his shield. “I trust your judgement, Bdubs.” 

Grian let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding, allowing his wings to relax and his shoulders to untense. 

“I’m going to the enchanter,” Grian stated, hoping to gain some support for the game. “You wanna come with?” 

“Sure!” Bdubs yelled, grabbing Etho by the arm to volentold him to join him. It was surprising that Bdubs could drag him around like that — considering the insane height difference — but Etho didn’t seem to mind getting pulled along by the eager player. 

Grian started enchanting, seeing the metal become coated in mystical magic that made it shine. Etho did the same while Bdubs placed down a jukebox. Where he got it from, Grian didn’t know — he never bothered to ask — but he was more interested in the disk he was holding. 

“What…?” Grian paused, feeling the words die out on his tongue. “What is…?” 

“We found it in a chest!” Bdubs sounded way too happy for that disk.

Disk 13.  

He placed it in the jukebox — eagerly pressing the play button — and the eerie sound started playing. Grian felt… enthralled by it. Like it was drawing him in. His pupils dilated, his irises becoming a glowing purple as he just… looked at it. Watched it. 

Watched. 

He could feel the purple specks forming in his feathers, but they were more concealed now that his disguised feathers were the same black as his true ones. The fangs grew and Grian could feel the hunger for carnage rise. 

“When you hear this, someone is about to die,” Etho joked, poking Bdubs with his elbow. 

“Please tell me one of you is Boogey so you can make it happen,” Grian said, on autopilot, void of any humanity in his voice. He craved for the taste of it. The taste of when the blood muddied the waters and ties were broken. 

“You’re correct!” Bdubs shouted — though it sounded distant in Grian’s feathered ears — and brought the axe down on his shoulder. Grian was now pulled out of whatever trance he was in, his form going back to ‘normal’ and his green eyes meeting the player’s purple ones. The Purple bloodlust. He panicked, reaching for his sword, but his body was in too much pain. He tried to run but his legs wouldn’t move. He simply squirmed, knowing if he had just reacted faster he would be winning. He would be the one killing. But, he couldn’t stop the player. He couldn’t stop his death. 

How poetic is that? 

He was the first to die…

The first Yellow.  

The first Death. 

His own fault.

Chapter Text

Grian absentmindedly turned over his marshmallow, making sure it would become a perfect golden brown before eventually turning it into a smore. His pointed ears twitched slightly from the night’s cold nipping it, and his shining blue eyes lifted up to see the players surrounding him. Martyn had his arm wrapped around Jimmy’s Timmy's neck, with BigB simply watching them fool around. There were a few people that he knew he recognised , but couldn’t place where or why . One was in an animal onesie, chatting with a black haired woman. There was also a brown haired man, with a small beard, accompanied by a man with goggles and steampunk-esque overalls. There was another man — bald with a red jumper — who was happily eating several smores that he had gathered. It felt calming to see them all together. Grian felt… happy. He truly felt happy. He smiled to himself, humming quietly while he turned over the marshmallow again. 

“I don’t know how you have the patience to wait for that,” someone said from beside him, giggling loudly. 

“It’s better than just burning it and eating charred marshmallows!” Grian laughed without any hesitation, turning to the girl who had spoken. He froze, seeing her smiling face and bright blue eyes. Her long brown hair draped over her navy jumper and her grey moth wings fluttered gently in the cool night breeze. He felt an immense joy to see her sitting beside him — feeling her nudge his shoulder with her own in a playful manner — but his heart ached , telling him she was in danger somehow — to protect and defend her — yet his head said to ignore the aching and move forward. 

“Don’t hate it ‘till you try it,” Pearl snorted, scrunching up her nose teasingly while smushing her burnt marshmallow between two gram crackers. She ate it in one bite and Grian simply shook his head while giggling quietly. 

“Are you close to summoning your boyfriend yet?” Pearl teased, wiping away a bit of marshmallow off her lip while reaching over for another from the bag between the siblings. 

“My what …?” Grian asked, swallowing anxiously as he felt a looming feeling of dread. 

“I saw your shrine under your base,” she whispered, leaning close to his face so the others wouldn’t hear. “Who is he?” 

“No one…!” Grian’s cheeks flushed and his pointed ears grew hot with embarrassment. “How did you even find it…?” 

“I have my ways,” she smirked, fluttering her delicate wings humorously. Grian didn’t even know what this shrine was , but he knew he was embarrassed about it. It was like his mouth was speaking without his control — as if Grian was a bystander in his own body — and it infuriated him. Grian scowled, turning away from his sister and rotating his marshmallow again. 

His mind slowly drifted away, spinning in an odd array of blinding colours as his eyes fixated on the sparks of the burning fire. The chatter of the players all became background noise — just an annoying little buzzing in his feathered ears — as the fire grew. His eyes grew dark as his breath became hot with hunger. He wanted to go back in the game and feed on the fear. He had gone so long without it that it was all he could think about. He held the stick tighter — his knuckles turning white — watching the fire flicker from a deep burning red to an angry purple. They were Watching. They were waiting for him to respawn. He had to come back. 

His hollow eyes glanced up and he saw BigB staring at him. No, it wasn’t BigB… it was his subconscious again. Grian glared at it, but it didn't give any reaction. It simply flicked its eyes to Pearl and mouthed something that left Grian’s blood to run cold. Something it had said before. Something Grian didn’t want. 

‘They’re planning something you won’t like.’

The roasting stick slipped from Grian’s fingers — an ear-splitting clatter hitting his ears — tumbling into the fire while his gaze slowly drifted to his sister. She now looked concerned — the fire eating away the soft form on the marshmallow — seeing the fear in the Watcher’s eyes as he pulled her into a tight hug. 

“Woah!” Pearl chuckled nervously, holding her smore away from his green shirt. “We have a hugger now?! What’s got you in a hugging mood?” 

He hoped it wasn’t true. Void, he didn’t want it to be true. He could feel her wings twitch in discomfort and concern. He wanted to hold her and tell her she’d be okay. He needed her to be okay. But his brain was screaming at him to kill her — to tear her to shreds and fill his tongue with her blood — but his heart wouldn’t let him… he cared for her too much. He didn’t want his sister in the firing line. He never wanted his sister in harm's way. 

“I’m sorry…” he sobbed into her jumper, feeling his gnawing hunger double in craving. 

“For what?” she giggled, rubbing his back comfortingly. She was always too caring for her own good… 

“I’m so sorry, Pearl…” he whispered again, his mind becoming clouded with starvation. His wings puffed out while hers cowarded away. 

“... for what?” she asked again, more scared — no, scared isn’t the right word… is there even a word for how she was feeling… I don’t believe there is… — this time. He could hear her rapidly beating heart, his wings ruffling in nervous anger. He could taste her fear. That craving … that aching craving that drove his consciousness. He needed to kill her. He needed to kill her. 

killherkillherkillherkillherkillherkillherkillher—

He could hear the screams of the players. Her screams danced in his ears as his hunger for chaos and fear was finally satisfied. It tasted so good … But, he also felt sick. No… sick is an understatement… 

He wanted to cry. 

🌹

His hands trembled as he shot up from the ground, trying to grip onto the fake world around him. He attempted to suck in air to his lungs as he wrapped his dark wings around himself to shield him from the world. He grabbed onto his necklace — his fingers trembling and aching with every movement — and saw the yellow glow taunting him with his failure. The tears burned his eyes and the hunger was gnawing at his core. He needed fear … Void, he was so hungry… but he felt too sick… he felt too numb. He was being weak. He needed to just get up and push forward, even if the air felt like fire pushing through his lungs and he could still taste her sugar-sweet blood dancing between his teeth. He was a Watcher and he needed to start acting it. 

Grian slowly got up — now knowing that ‘friendship’ was not valued between players in this game — and wiped away the tears that stained his face. He gathered himself, walking over the hill to find Etho and Bdubs who were around the enchanter once again. Bdubs looked flustered, standing over the blood that had once spilled from his corpse, that was snatched away from the once lush grass by Their claws. Grian rubbed the spot on his shoulder, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. 

“I forgot this was spawn,” Bdubs chuckled nervously, watching Grian’s janky movements as he slowly gathered his things. 

“This is awkward…” Etho cringed, adjusting his mask while shifting his weight on his heels. 

“Did you know ?” Grian growled, darting his eyes to the masked player. Etho gave a small shake of his head, his stance becoming defensive — as if Grian was a wild animal — raising his shield and tightening his grip around his axe. 

“He never told me… He played the long-game with me,” Etho muttered, taking a step back. Grian simply narrowed his sharpened gaze, giving a deep sigh as he rolled eyes and clicked his pickaxe into place on his belt. He needed to calm down… He licked the fangs that had pushed its way through his illusion. He gently pushed them back into a flattened shape with his thumb, easing his purple hunger in the process. The calm and calculating part of his brain was fighting over the want to taste more blood… he needed to take Their advice and be logical for once in his pathetic life… but Void did he hate doing it. 

“No hard feelings…” Bdubs tried, giving a wide toothy grin. “... right, G?” 

Grian paused, turning around slowly to look the player in the eyes. His head felt foggy and weighted, clouding the faint logistical voice in his mind with the urge to tear it apart limb from limb. He let out a breath — watching the cold mist disperse into the air — and felt his blood boil in his veins. No hard feelings…? Ha. What a joke ! He wanted to watch it squirm and writhe in pain of his own doing. Void, he could See it. He wanted to Watch . 

“You’re on my list !” Grian hissed through his teeth, his yellow eyes sharpening even further as he pointed his sword threateningly towards the player. “The moment I turn Red, I will hunt you down and kill you in the most inhumane and torturous manner imaginable… and trust me, kid… I can imagine worse things than you’ve ever witnessed in these games… I will kill you… and I’ll be happy to Watch .” 

Grian let his words hang in the silence for a few moments — letting a monstrous grin fill his face as he watched the players’ horror of his actions — and turned to leave. He let the beasts that sprouted from his back carry him to the sky, adjusting some of the items he had on his toolbelt while he flew. The wind whipped past his face, the cool night air nipping his feathers while he let out an exasperated sigh. He would need to find allies to survive any longer. All the progress he had made from Scar was gone because of that player… He was going to be happy to kill that one… Wait. He was getting ahead of himself. He needed allies before he decided to make enemies. Friends. 

‘Friends’. 

A word no Watcher has ever attempted to use. Grian scoffed at the thought. 

Scar was out of the question… Etho and Bdubs were now on his supposed ‘list’ — which he would now need to make — and he needed those who could hold out on its their own but still do well with teamwork. Where was he going to find players like that? What did he even have to offer? He had fish…? 

But who would take fish as an offer? 

It was a dumb idea.

Chapter Text

Turns out, fish was a fantastic offer. 

He was surprised he managed to gather so many — what was the right word to use? ‘Players’ didn’t seem like the right word to use, especially to its’ their faces… Was it ‘allies’? Yeah. Allies seem right — allies for this death game. He smirked to himself while he watched them all build their own towers. His black feathers twitched around his head while he twirled his necklace from between his fingers and studied the little leather book he had made. He had considered either writing it in Galactic or English for quite some time, but settled for English in the low chance of someone getting their hands on it. After being so used to Galactic for several years, he was honestly quite embarrassed for his English handwriting. He had torn though a few pages before eventually finding his footing with the letters. 

There were only a few people on his list for now. Bdubs was on there for killing him and Etho was on there due to association. 

He got lost in thought of how he could accomplish his goals for the game. The only thing he needed to cause was chaos, but it was much more complicated than how They pitched the plan to him. 

He was a very new Watcher in Their ranks — only being around for a little under three years — but he wasn’t weak by any means. Among all of Them, Grian — or ‘Xelqua’, in Their words — was able to handle his power the fastest. He was also quite young as a Watcher, only being in his twenties, rather than the hundreds — or more commonly thousands — of years other Watchers have been around. However, he could easily overpower the majority of his peers and was in the running to be one of the higher-up Watchers. He may have been able to watch over a world all on his own — maybe even recruit newer Watchers to assist him — but one needed at least a hundred years as a Watcher before They could oversee a world without supervision. Granted, he wasn’t completely treated like a toddler… his supervisors still allowed him to come up with his own puzzles and create his own structures. They would even give him some freetime to do whatever he wanted — in moderation — for a few hours. That’s how he was able to gather so much information on birds… or rather, ‘parrots’ is the proper term to use in this sense. 

“Hey, Grian!” he heard from below his tower, pulling him from his thoughts and back into the game. Mumbo was eagerly waving at him from down below — who was very useful in taking his offer of fish — and Grian gave a small wave back — pocketing his book — before beating his great wings to lift him down to touch the ground. Mumbo flinched slightly at the wind pressure as he landed, chuckling slightly as he adjusted the tie on his suit. 

“Is everyone already finished with their towers?” he asked, brushing off his jumper absentmindedly. When Mumbo didn’t answer immediately, Grian glanced up — which he had to crank his neck to do — to the player, with a raised eyebrow. He looked flustered. 

“T-towers?” he stuttered, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner. Grian pursed his lips and leaned to look over his shoulder. He simply gave a sigh while pinching his brows together. 

“I said tower , Mumbo…” he chuckled, with no venom in his voice, “not bunker !” 

“Whoops…?” Mumbo gave a chuckle back, becoming calmer when Grian showed no hostility. “Old habits die hard, I guess?” 

“Let’s chat with the others, shall we?” the Watcher gave a playful smack of his wing as he skipped over to their allies, who had all finished with their towers. Martyn gave a cheeky smirk as he saw Grian coming over, grabbing his spyglass from his hip. 

“Shall we STAHART ?” he called over, causing an eruption of laughter from the group. 

“Jar!” Grian ordered before bursting into laughter, himself. 

“ Jahar …” Timmy corrected under his breath. 

“You too!” Grian barked between his wild laughter. He wasn’t able to see what Martyn put in, but he did see Tim placing his own spyglass in the chest. 

“I just got you that!” Impulse forcefully yanked Tim by his collar to pull him back from the jar. “ Jimmy ! You can’t keep doing this!” 

“Watch the feathers!” Timmy snapped back, ripping away from his grip to smooth out the small golden feathers that extruded from his back. “And besides, Mumbo was doing it first!” 

Grian felt a lump in his throat as he saw the new feathers twitch around Timmy’s still human-like ears and flutter against his shirt. Brand new feathers to show his role for Their games… Grian decided to push back the thought. 

“Let’s start the life sharing, shall we?” Grian said, clasping his hands together while Impulse muttered some apologies and Mumbo bit back a retort. “Obviously, Timmy and I can’t start. So, Mumbo, you pass a life to Impulse.” 

Mumbo looked as if he’d just been pulled from a thought, muttering while he prepared his life. He grabbed the collar of his dark suit where his three little pins sat neatly in a row — red, yellow, and red — and took the green one from its place. He gently attached it to Impulse’s shirt, where it phased into his body, turning his eyes a deep green. He gave a satisfying sigh as he rolled his shoulders, adjusting himself to pass the life along to Timmy. 

He pulled his necklace out from under his shirt, revealing the coloured tags that were attached loosely to the string. He proceeded to rip it off, simply handing it over to Tim. 

“What…” the player pursed his lips in confusion as he held the fragile life in his hand. “How do I gain the life…?” 

“Erm…” Impulse scrunched his face in confusion. “... Eat it?” 

Tim just simply shrugged his shoulders and swallowed it. Somehow, that worked, turning his eyes from yellow to green. Now Tim was preparing to pass it along to Grian, pulling out the keychains attached to his jeans. They were each a metal feather, matching the colours of each life. He carefully pulled the green life off the keychain and handed it to Grian. Grian proceeded to attach it to his own trousers, which melted into the fabric and turned his own yellow eyes a bright green. 

Grian gave a deep sigh, feeling the life spread through his veins as he prepared to pass it off. His crystal on his necklace floated gently above his chest, Grian’s fingers ghosting around its surface and swirling purple magic around it. He gave a deep breath as the life flowed out from the gem and the coloured mist spread into Martyn’s eyes. 

Martyn then grabbed onto the earring that was attached to his pointed ears, grabbing a small little green pearl that was attached to the chain of colours. He handed it to Mumbo, who ate it without any hesitation. 

After the life sharing, they all sat around to discuss the games. Grian started asking about other player’s lives — though never said ‘player’ out loud — and was intrigued with how They had arranged the game. 

“I know Scar started off with six,” Grian huffed, still a bit sour about the whole ordeal of losing the life. 

“So did Tango and Pearl,” Impulse commented, fidgeting with his necklace. “And Joel started with five, I think.” 

“Wait. Wait, waitwaitwait,” Grian felt his heart beating in his ears as he tried to steady his breathing. “ Pearl ?” 

“Yeah…” Impulse tilted his head. “She took a few games to recover, but she’s back in for this one.” 

“You’re- you’re lying,” Grian gave an exasperated laugh, standing up and ruffling his fingers through his hair. “Right?” 

“Why would we lie about this…?” Timmy questioned, his voice low as he carefully chose his words. 

“She can’t be in the games…” Grian’s breathing became unsteady. 

“Woah, G… are you alright?” Mumbo muttered, approaching Grian as if he were a wounded animal. “Just breathe with me… deep breaths…” 

Mumbo took hold of his hands, becoming an anchor for Grian to steady himself. His lip quivered as he took slow and deep breaths, his dark feathers fluttering with anxiety. He eventually let go of Mumbo, twirling his necklace in his fingers. 

“Why are you so concerned about her…?” Martyn asked bluntly, unable to see the group’s signals for him to shut up. “Is she your girlfriend or something…?” 

“ What ?! No! Ew! Gross! She’s my sister , you absolute dimwit !” Grian snapped — with much more venom in his voice than he intended — his feathers flaring up and his eyes sharpening in boiling anger. Grian shoved the player, causing Martyn to fall on his back — taking the air out of his lungs — and made a monstrous growl that no mortal player could ever make. Grian licked the fangs that broke through his form and felt his sharp black claws grow from the once soft flesh of his fingers. His mind screamed at him to tear him to shreds, but something deep in his gut stopped him from doing so. He glanced around — the world hazy in a glow of purple — and Saw the player’s eyes. It was full of pure terror. 

As much as it was delicious to feel it seep through his pores, he couldn’t help but swallow a lump in his throat, knowing that he was the one who caused this fear. He stepped backwards — his legs barely able to support his weight — focusing on reverting back to his illusioned form. His feathered ears were now picking up the frantic apologies that were flooding from the player and his muscles felt the tension in the air. 

“I’m sorry…” Grian whispered in a hoarse voice, looking away from the player as he felt sick. “I- I just… I’m sorry I need- I need to go and…” 

Grian took a shaky breath, unable to speak clearly anymore. He walked away — and thankfully no one stopped him — exiting through the entrance of the walls. He had to find her. He had to find his sister. 

And make sure she was safe. 

🌹

He took his horse, tracing his fingers along the golden armour before hopping on and travelling North. His hands trembled against the reins as he held back unwanted tears. He pressed his wings close into his back as the wind whipped past his face. He was so wrapped up in his head — while also unable to think of anything — that he didn’t notice his horse coming to a stop. 

“Hello!” someone shouted from in front of him. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?” 

Grian took his face out from the horse’s mane to see Scar, whose face moulded from a cheery grin to a look of concern. 

“Woah…” he took in a deep breath while taking a step closer to the smaller man sitting atop the creature. “You look like a mess.” 

“A ‘mess’ is an understatement…” Grian mumbled, tried giving a smile — but it was more a grimace — while finally bursting into tears. Scar pulled Grian down from the horse, pulling him in his chest while cooing softly. 

“It’s okay…” Scar hushed, rubbing his back gently with his grounding hands. “Shh… take deep breaths… I got you…” 

Grian cried harder, his wings curling tighter into his back in shame. He could only pray that They weren’t watching him. He eventually stopped soaking Scar’s cloak with his tears, only giving heaving hiccoughs and shaky breaths. He pulled away from the player’s chest, rubbing away some snot off his face with his sleeve as he averted his gaze with Scar’s. He felt so embarrassed for caving right in front of him, but he felt a little better after crying… though he probably didn’t look better. 

“What’s wrong…?” Scar’s voice was only filled with comfort, and Grian was thankful for it… but he couldn’t tell him. He wouldn’t understand, right? How could he? Grian’s eyes were pulled to Scar’s gaze as the player firmly rested his hands on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. “You don’t need to bottle it up, G… You can talk to me.” 

“I found out Pearl is in the games…” Grian finally caved, pushing Scar’s hand off his shoulder and ripping his eyes off the stupidly sweet smile of Scar’s. “She’s my sister… I don’t want her getting hurt…” 

When Scar didn’t immediately respond, Grian gave a small glance to meet his eyes before immediately regretting that decision and looking down at his shoes again. His face was only confused. Grian bit his lip, feeling like a fool. He knew he wouldn’t understand his concern, and he told him anyway! The players didn’t understand what was going on behind the scenes like he did… they never could. 

“B- but it’s no big deal !” Grian started backpedalling, giving a forceful laugh while giving Scar a playful smack in the arm. “I- it’s just a… just a game! A simple death game, so I shouldn't be getting so worked up over it—!” 

Grian was cut off by Scar grabbing his face to look at him. His face spoke a million words that Grian would never be able to comprehend, pulling him in so close he could feel his warm breath itch on his face. His heart raced as his face flushed with embarrassment. 

“You can be upset that she’s in these games… you can have emotions , Grian,” he said, kind yet stern. Grian felt like Scar was decoding him — finding every bit of information in his code to exploit and use — but his eyes were only filled with… love. 

Grian pulled away, shielding his face with his small hands as he felt his face grow hot and butterflies pool in his stomach. He felt like he needed to say something to fill the loving silence, but all he could think of was stupid. 

“I’m sorry I lost your life…” Grian mumbled, hearing Scar cackle behind him in that goofy breathless chuckle Grian remembered so well in his ears. He tugged on the turtleneck of his jumper as he saw Scar jump onto his horse — surprisingly nimble, even with his cane — and look back at him with that gorgeous smile that sweetly touched his eyes. 

“Ready to see Pearl?” he asked, charmingly holding out his hand to pull the smaller up on the horse. Grian giggled, nodding as he gratefully took his hold and sat behind him. He felt his heart flutter in his chest as Scar gently whipped the reins to set the horse in motion. 

“Do you have a name for this horsie?” Scar asked innocently, stroking the horse’s mane with gentle precision. 

“No,” Grian answered, absentmindedly. “Never thought to do so…” 

“Well that’s no good! Every horse needs a name , Grian! Don’t you have manners ?!” Grian just started giggling quietly behind Scar while he was now the loudest thing in the game. “What could we name him, hm? Well… he’s white, like snow ! Yeah. And erm… the armour is yellow —” Scar paused for a moment, and Grian was sure he could see the gears turning in his head “—Yellow-Snow!” 

“ Yellow-Snow ?!” Grian started in a fit of laughter. “You spent how long coming up with a name and you choose Yellow-Snow ?!” 

“It’s a perfect name!” Scar huffed, proceeding to give Grian a long lecture about naming his pets and how amazing his choices are — and how Grian’s need to be — when naming pets. 

He felt like he was back in the desert, safe and protected by the madman who was stupid enough to trust him. He felt ridiculous to steal his life. It was ridiculous that he wanted to avoid him, in the fear of getting attached further. He loved the warmth of his body as Grian nuzzled up closer to him. He loved that stupid smile, and that stupid laugh, and those stupid eyes, with that stupid optimism… He felt his head grow warm and fuzzy as he listened to the faint — but steady — heartbeat of the one leading him to his sister. He could let himself indulge in this want for Scar… 

At least for this one short ride, he could live a fantasy. 

Chapter Text

He felt someone’s nose fit in the back of his neck, murmuring soft words of praise that made his heart melt. He felt warm, fitted under the blankets with another’s arms pulling him in a hug he missed so dearly — why did he miss it? — while relaxing under the touch. He felt the blush burn his pointed ears as he snuggled up closer, causing the one behind him to chuckle softly. 

“I thought you said you weren’t a morning person…” he mumbled, the deep morning voice making the elf giggle. 

“I’m not,” Grian whispered back, grabbing the other’s hand to hold him tighter. “If anything you’re the morning person…!” 

“Well stop squirming, you little pest…!” he felt him kiss the back of his ear. “I might have to actually get up for the day, if you keep doing that.” 

“No…!” Grian whined, tucking his face into the blankets. “I don’t wanna get up…!” 

He felt so warm. He felt so safe. He wanted to stay there forever, trapped in the comforting warmth… knowing he’ll be okay. 

“Grian?” The man behind him started talking again, sounding faint but definitely more awake. 

“Yeah?” Grian murmured, making a muffled groan as he felt the bed start to shift from side to side. A slow and steady pace… back and forth. 

“Hey Grian?” 

“What is it?” Grian turned to face him, feeling the world shift under him. “Taurtis?” 

“Hey G…?” He felt Scar shake his shoulder, snapping him out of sleep he didn't realise he’d fallen under. “Well good morning, sleepy pants! We’re here!” 

“Thanks Scar,” Grian turned to face away from the elf, feeling tears prickle in his eyes again. He couldn’t cry. It was just a stupid dream. It wasn’t real… wasn’t it? “I appreciate it.” 

“Always happy to help my best buddy!” Scar’s stupid smile made his heart flutter again. He tried — and failed — to silence it. “Ready to see Pearl?” 

“Yeah…” 

🌹

His eyes widened, tears gathering in his eyes as she saw her. Her long hair blew in the wind, her bright — unnatural — green eyes shone as she gave a smile he was all too familiar with… Her moth wings — her beautiful moth wings — were gone; torn beyond repair as all that is left is small shredded bits of the base… ripped apart by thick claws that Grian knew plucked the code of the universe like harp strings. 

A birth defect, she called it… it made Grian laugh — an empty and humourless laugh — as he slowly cupped her face. 

“It’s not…” Grian whispered, tears slipping down his face as his lips quivered for his sister. “Your wings… oh, your gorgeous wings… what did They do to your wings…?” Grian’s voice cracked as he spoke, holding his sister close to him, and hiding his face against her chest… She was always taller than him. 

“What are you talking about, Griba?” Pearl giggled, always so kind and so perfect… More perfect than Grian ever was… 

“I don’t know…” Grian whispered, wiping his eyes as his wings drooped behind him. There wasn’t use fighting her on this… what’s done is done… Whatever They did to warp her memory of it was out of his hands. “I guess I’m just tired…” 

Pearl smiles. 

Grian dejects.