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Sabbath had been sent to the kingdom as backup plan.
“If Creek fails,” Silos had said. “I need you to go and kill the new King. His grandmother, bless her poor old heart, just passed away.” His smile beneath the mask was delighted by the idea of the royal family’s suffering. “He’ll be vulnerable to an attack. The kingdom will have their best knights sent out, all too distracted by the prince’s disappearance to focus on much else.”
That much was clear when they came to the kingdom. It was easy – they had the strength, all those years of climbing the large trees in the Dark Woods by hand had given them the ability to be able to scale walls easily. They had to peer into multiple windows that night before they were able to find the king’s room. Sure enough, there he was.
King John Dory. Arguing with what Sabbath could only assume was his brothers.
Harsh words were thrown at the King for not letting them go and trying to save Floyd, or at the very least help with the search.
Sabbath stayed still and silently listened from the window’s balcony. Listening and waiting or the king to be alone.
A door slamming shut was all they needed to know. But then they waited a bit longer, knowing the easier way to slit the king’s throat was if the king was asleep, when he least expected an attack. Less chance of alerting any guards that might be outside his door.
A candle was blown out and the room went dark. Sabbath made their move then, quietly, and carefully opening the window before sneaking inside. Despite their size, they were able to keep the sound of their feet against the floor to a minimum. The king was there, lying in his bed asleep. But he did not appear to be resting well.
But that was not their concern.
They made their way over, reached for a blade at his side, long and sharp and rustic, before holding it over the king’s delicate throat.
The King’s reaction was… not at all what they were expecting. He didn’t scream or make a move of any sort of struggle. Instead, the king’s eyes met their own, and he almost seemed curious about this assassin that had managed to sneak into his chambers.
Sabbath knew they were in a world of trouble when they couldn’t bring themself to slit the king’s throat. When they left and returned the following night, again and again, the same as before. Each time they failed to do the one thing they were ordered to do, and they couldn’t understand why.
Part of them knew that at first, the King had been hoping to get information from them. It was obvious that this assassin was somehow, in some way, linked to Prince Floyd’s disappearance. He’d been right about that.
But each night that passed within those short few weeks, the two had grown… closer. Drawn together in a way neither of them could explain. John Dory did not have the heart to have Sabbath sent to prison. Sabbath did not have the heart to kill the king. It was a dance of sorts, playing with their lives, playing with valuable information that very well could mean life or death for Prince Floyd.
But finally, Sabbath had relented and told John Dory everything. About Creek, the failed plan, how Creek was most likely on the run with Floyd, somewhere, somehow. The only one who knew where to look was them.
And when Prince Branch had vanished as well, having snuck out of the kingdom on his own search, John Dory knew what he had to do.
He asked Sabbath for help.
“Please find my brothers… bring them home to me.” He clung to their much larger hand, desperation lacing his tone. “Please.”
Sabbath had agreed and left to find the two missing Princes.
--
That was a year ago now.
Sabbath had managed to rescue Creek, Floyd and Branch from the Vultures hide out in the Dark Woods. They all managed to make it back to the kingdom safely without much hassle. It seemed that had all been a thing of the past, a nightmare that they could all collectively wake up from. Sabbath and Creek were pardoned by John Dory for their pasts as Vultures, because, as John Dory and Floyd both came to find out, the two had no choice in the matter. Growing up with someone like Silos as a master… he beat the fear and obedience into them both.
But things had been going well enough for them. Creek continued as Prince Floyd’s Royal Guard, and Sabbath had been hand picked by John Dory to be his own personal Kings Guard. It took some adjusting for Sabbath to get used to such a role, but it was easy enough. They didn’t have to kill anymore, even if they wanted to at first (with anyone who dared to look at their king the wrong way). But they had Creek there as well to help guide them through their new role.
Everything had been just fine… until it was not. Come to find out that Sabbath had a trigger, of sorts. Something that could set them off into a blind rage within seconds. It had only happened twice, but the second time had caused them to hurt John Dory. Their king. Their heart.
So, Sabbath ran. They couldn’t stay, not when they were a risk to their King. What they hadn’t expected was for Creek to be the one to come after them.
“…he hates me now. I hurt him.”
“I can guarantee you the King does not hate you,” Creek reassured his friend, taking another hesitant step forward. He was trying with everything he had to keep Sabbath from making what could only be considered the worst mistake they could ever make. Even worse than what had led to all of this. The screams, the blood, their King on the floor with blood on him—his royal blood. Creek could see how haunted Sabbath appeared just by their stance, their shoulders slumped, as though given up. Trying to make themselves smaller.
Their mind was made up, it seemed.
“Look,” Creek sighed. “I won’t sugarcoat it. He is hurt, yes. It was something you did, but please understand… it wasn’t you.”
“But it was me!” It came out louder than intended, the sheer volume of their voice making the smaller troll flinch ever so slightly. “I hurt him!”
“But it’s not,” Creek tried to plead with them, his own tone raising with desperation. “Someone is deliberately trying to trigger you to do more damage. Whoever it is, they know what the trigger is. They know.” He felt his own hands tighten into fists, a surge of anger taking over for just a moment at the mere thought of who this troll was that was harming his friend.
They both had come a long way. Sabbath had come a long way. Now someone was trying to ruin that for them. And it wasn’t fair.
“There’s a rat in the castle and once I find them, I swear I’ll—”
“…but what if you can’t?”
“Then we’ll figure it out,” the smaller guard assured him, taking another step forward, trying to reach out to them. Desperately hoping he could change their mind by some miracle. “Please, Sabbath… just come back with me. Your King—” he stopped himself. “…John Dory needs you. Do you hear me? He needs you! Even more now than ever!”
Sabbath didn’t budge. If anything, they moved away from him. Their eyes downcast to the dirt at their feet.
Creek tried his best to ignore the Dark Woods that loomed in the distance, knowing what lies beyond there. What could happen if Sabbath choose to go back.
“Please,” he tried again. “Let’s just go home…”
Something seemed to hit the much larger troll with that word. Home. Home?
“Home?” Their golden eyes lifted slightly to meet Creek’s concerned gaze. “…home.” Repeating the word seemed to make their mind spin, suddenly unable to separate the two.
Home was with John Dory. Their King.
But home was also just miles away, deep in the Dark Woods… with their master waiting for them to return.
They could hear his voice. Silos. Cruel and calculating, watching them with eyes that always seemed to be planning. Always planning, always ready for anything, it seemed.
“A good dog will always return home. You and Creek will always belong to me.”
They realized then just how foolish they’d been to believe they could change. To believe they could have something so good, too good to be true. Their King deserved better.
“It’s time to return home… the both of you.”
Creek watched them carefully, his heart pounding with anticipation as he waited for Sabbath to make their choice. An unsettling nausea made his stomach turn, but he fought back the uncertainty the best he could. Something felt deeply wrong, he could tell just by looking at Sabbath now.
Especially when they took a step forward towards him.
“…Sabbath?” he tried to keep his tone as steady as possible. But the uncertainty only grew with each second. It didn’t help that the eyes staring back at him now felt uncomfortably familiar… empty golden eyes as they moved purely on instinct, on orders.
No…
“D-Don’t do anything foolish,” Creek said, hating how his voice trembled slightly. He took a step back, just as Sabbath took another step forward. “Please… just come home with me… don’t—” he swallowed hard. He felt small again, like a child, like before. “—don’t do this.”
He knew deep down what this was. He’d seen Sabbath like this before. Not in battle, not even when Sabbath was triggered and beat Creek to a bloody pulp, something which he used to hate them for, but had since forgiven them.
This was like those few times when Creek found the courage to try and leave. Tired of the beatings, tired of killing, tired of everything. Only twice did he try to run, try to escape…
And both times Sabbath stood as they stood before him now. Watching. Waiting. Ready to bring him back no matter the cost. On Silos’ orders.
“Sabbath…” Creek warned, trying to stand his ground. This wasn’t like before. He wasn’t a teenager trying to run. He was an adult. He was older and stronger now. He’d trained for years to become a royal guard when he came to the kingdom. He could surely defend himself now.
But against Sabbath of all trolls… he wasn’t so sure.
His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword at his side. Another step forward from Sabbath made Creek grip the handle, ready to pull out his sword at any moment. “…don’t do this. I’m warning you.”
Sabbath’s eyes flickered over to Creek’s hand, taking notice of how the royal guard gripped his sword tightly. Ready at any moment.
Finally, they spoke, and it wasn’t all the words Creek had hoped to hear.
“…I was foolish to think I could be anything more than just a dog.” A smile laced with bitterness stretched across their face. “He was right about me. He never truly let me go. He always had a leash around my throat.”
“No,” Creek said quickly, shaking his head. “You’re wrong, Sabbath. He was wrong! You are not a dog, and he does not own you! He does not own you, just as he does not own me! Not anymore!”
The silence that followed was heavy. Creek debated on what he should do. Does he run, or does he fight? He didn’t want to hurt Sabbath… but the idea of going back frightened him to no end.
He knew if they both went in, neither of them would ever come out.
“…you're wrong,” Sabbath said finally. Their tone was hollow. Just as empty as their eyes were. Void of any emotion, fueled only by orders. A dog obeying their master instinctively, even a year later. Like they’d never truly left. “Do you see what the others think of us? Do you hear what they call me? What they call you?”
Creek lowered his head slightly, pondering their words. It was true. Most trolls seemed to look down on them both. Now that everyone knew what they both were—previous Vultures trying to prove they could be more than what they were raised to be. Especially after what Creek had done. Letting the prince nearly get captured, only to save him, trying to get him home… only to be pulled back by Silos, and bringing Floyd by force with him. He nearly had his prince killed. Twice. Creek was reminded of it constantly.
But even so… he tried his best to ignore it. The accusatory stares and the whispers that followed.
Sabbath, it seemed, was not taking any of that well.
“They look at me like I’m scum.” Another step forward made Creek nearly stumble back. “And I am not scum. I'm a weapon.”
“J-John Dory doesn’t think that,” Creek said, his breathing tense and heavy as he forced the words out. “He doesn’t, he believes in you. So much.”
He pulled out his sword, holding the blade out until the pointed tip faced his friend. A warning to stay back.
“….he loves you, Sabbath. He wants you to come back.” Creek did his best to keep a ready stance. “Just as my prince wants me to return. So… please think rationally. Consider this. Consider what will happen if we…” he swallowed, the idea of going back making him shiver. “…go back. It won’t end well for either of us.”
“….you still think there’s hope for us there? For you? For me?” It was almost a plea for an answer. Almost. But they didn’t seem as certain or assured by Creek’s choice of words. “Even if they wish to keep me chained like the dog that I know I am? That’s exactly what they will do to me if I return.”
“Yes,” Creek breathed out, his hand shaking ever so slightly when Sabbath took another step closer, until the point of his sword was mere inches from their chest. With enough force, Sabbath could easily force the sword into their chest. Creek didn’t doubt they could do such a thing, and he was not about to let that happen. He would not let any of this happen, but he was running out of words to say to get his friend to change their mind. “There is still hope for us. For you. I have faith we’ll figure this out together, just… please think about this. John Dory will not let you be chained up like a dog. You know him as well as his brothers do. You know who he is. He would never do that to you.”
“….you don’t know that,” Sabbath said, their tone quieter now, just a bit. Just enough to make Creek’s hope start to crumble. They didn’t understand, even still. Their views were still skewed and tainted by Silos’ hand, and he wasn’t even here. The control the leader of the Vultures had on Sabbath was still there, deep down. “You didn’t hear what they said. They were going to vote on it.” They appeared more tense than before. Jaw clenched. Eyes narrowed. And yet, their next words were layered with a sadness in their tone. “….it’s better this way. I would rather live unchained as a dog than risk any harm to my—” there was a pause, as if choking on the words as they came out, so they corrected their mistake quickly. “—your King.”
Creek didn’t know what to say to that. Anything he said was not getting through to them.
“…so if you believe you can change for the better… so be it.” Much to Creek’s selfish relief that washed over him, Sabbath took a step back, as if no longer considering their plan to take him with them. “….turn and leave me be. If you leave now, I will let you go. But if you keep it up, I will take you with me.”
Creek didn’t doubt them. He knew they meant every word. And yet… he refused to turn away. His hand lowered his sword, slowly, as if unsure still.
“Sabbath… please.” He stared at his friend with a heavy heart, his throat growing tight with sorrow. “Please don’t go.”
Sabbath just stared at him, unmoving, unrelenting in their idea of what was best for them. They could see the hurt in Creek’s eyes, and hear it in his tone… but their mind was made up. This was for the best. Keep telling yourself that.
“….run home to your prince,” Sabbath said finally, their tone void of any emotion. They turned away from Creek, choosing to walk the opposite way—in the direction of their old home. Their next words were spoken much quieter, just barely a whisper that disappeared into the air was they came out. “…and tell the King that I’m sorry.”
Creek watched them start to walk away. He should have just turned and walked away. He should have. That would have been the better call. Sabbath was giving him mercy by letting him walk away.
But he couldn’t shake the memory of Sabbath saving him that night. Saving him and both Prince Floyd and Prince Branch. Silos would have killed Prince Floyd, and had his eyes set on turning Prince Branch into a Vulture just like them.
He knew Sabbath deserved better than the fate that waited for them. He knew if he let Sabbath go, they would never return. They would be forced at Silos’ side again, just like before.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Creek was not the type of troll to just act without thinking. He was always thinking, carefully outweighing different plans of actions before reacting. It helped in dire times. To think before acting. Think and take a breath. Concentrate. Plan. Then act.
He put away his sword. That much he thought to do. Sabbath held back on their threat, meaning that perhaps he didn’t need his weapon. They were walking away. There was still a chance of saving them. There was still a chance. Slim as it was, he was willing to try.
His legs carried him forward before he could fully comprehend the possible consequences of what could happen if he did this.
“No, you will tell the King yourself!”
His hand reached out for Sabbath’s. He only grazed their hand ever so slightly. It was mere seconds, but in those seconds, time seemed to grind to a halt.
Sabbath stopped walking, turning quickly on their heel. Their other hand reached out within an instant to grab Creek by the throat, cutting off any other words he might have had with a choked gasp.
A roar ripped from their throat and into the air as Creek was abruptly slammed down onto the dirt on his back. He coughed, some of the air being knocked out of his lungs simultaneously as the larger hand that held his throat tightened its grip.
His heart nearly caught in his throat as he looked up at Sabbath. For a moment it was like they were both children again, always the same, always ending up exactly this way. His body trembled at the void behind Sabbath’s eyes. Nothing was left. Only following orders.
Follow the orders.
“That’s a good dog.”
“S-Sabbath,” Creek managed to choke out, his eyes wide and his hands desperately gripping the other troll’s arms, trying to tear them away so he could breathe. “Please—!”
“—you should have just stayed away.”
Creek had faced plenty of trials and stakes in his lifetime. The night he nearly lost Floyd had been the worst of them.
But the memories that flooded through him at the sight of Sabbath pinning him down after losing a fight, just like when they were children… Sabbath won every fight, thanks to their size. Creek was always reduced to a bloody pulp, blood filling his mouth, falling from his nose. A broken arm and a broken leg here and there over the years.
The memories alone made Creek consider that maybe he had made a mistake. The dread felt heavy in his chest.
I might not see Floyd again.
His heart ached at the thought.
An even tighter squeeze against his throat made him grunt and kick out his legs, trying to get them off, but it did nothing. Sabbath had always been bigger than him and stronger.
There was no way out of this.
“Please,” he tried again, choking out the word the best he could. His head felt tight and pounded with blood at the pressure cutting off his air.
Sabbath’s response was not at all what he was expecting.
“…I’m sorry.”
Creek barely had time to process it. Sabbath’s other hand formed a fist and came down against his face hard. A brief explosion of pain was quickly followed by sheer darkness.