Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You don’t look at the actors.

You don’t look at the Housemaiden that sits where Mira would have sat, the Fighter that has taken Isa’s place, as you walk past them. You don’t enter the shop to see the Researcher standing where Odile would, you don’t walk east to see the Kid leaning on the fence that Bon usually claims as their own, admiring the crops that Bon usually admires.

You don’t look at the actors.

You don’t look at them. 

You don’t look at any of them.

You walk as fast as you can, your footsteps a steady rhythm on the oft-tread path.

You ignore the Housemaiden as she tries to talk to you about a sleepover, you ignore the Fighter as he calls your name, then again as he tries to rope you into conversation, then yet again as he asks what’s wrong. 

When he starts to trail after you, you steamroll the conversation with a “Sorry Isa, I need to do the Favour Tree thing!” and stride past him as he sputters out rapid apologies. You hear his footsteps pitter patter away from you and you don’t listen and you don’t bother looking back. 

You know what he would have said anyway, even if you didn’t pay attention this time. 

It doesn’t matter.

None of it matters.

You don’t bother waiting for the footsteps to fade before beelining to the tree, plucking the first leaf that stands in your path. There is no point in a slow approach, no point in being picky with the leaf. The Universe leads after all!!! You’re just here to blinding follow. The Universe will guide you to the right leaf, and if it doesn’t, then you were never meant for the Universe after all, were YOU ?

You pick a leaf, and hold it to your mouth, and you breathe. 

You wish, you wish, you wish, you wish you wish you wish you wish you wish YOU WISH YOU WISH YOU WISH YOU WISH YOU WISH YOU WISH YOU WISH -

You

You don’t wish for anything.

You don’t even know what to wish for. 

There’s so much. So much you could wish for. But words are difficult and you can’t form them in your mouth, your tongue heavy like you’ve just woken up from a long, long sleep. You don’t even know where to start with the wish. You don’t know why this is the first place you headed to upon waking up in Dormont again. You don’t know anything .

Ha.

But it’s not like it’ll matter, anyway. 

There’s no wish that could get you out of this endless hell. You’re stuck here for the rest of eternity and there’s no escape and there will never be one. You’re stuck, you’re trapped, you can’t let go. 

You don’t bother folding the leaf closed and just let it go. 

It falls to the ground, light as a feather and heavy like the weight of a guillotine bearing down on your neck. There is no wind to carry it away, to guide it to The Universe, to bring it to a greater beyond. If your heels crush it on your way back into Dormont, well, that’s just how The Universe willed it, right?

This is it.

there’s nothing   you    can       do.

you 

zone 

out. 

Ha. You really are a stars-damned idiot for hoping.

You zone out so hard that the next thing you know, it’s dark out. And you- You’re-

You’re not at the Clocktower. Of course you’re not. Why would you be. Why would ANYTHING ever work out-

The Fighter isn’t lying next to you, calling your name. The actors aren’t seated across the table from you, eating the samosas the Kid made for dinner. There is no buzz of conversation. The Housemaiden isn’t making a speech about- (You don’t remember what the speech is about.)

You’re back by the Favour Tree again. …Why are you back here? What did The Universe deem so blinding important to bring you back here again?

…

…It’s nice here, though. 

It’s peaceful. There’s no one here to disturb you but yourself, so you duck under the canopy of the branches and make yourself comfortable as you settle in on a large root. 

You tuck yourself against the tree. 

You’re not tired.

You don’t get tired, not anymore.

You don’t remember the last time you fell asleep at the Clocktower anyway. Maybe a change of scenery will help you fall asleep, teehee~

You’re not tired, but the bottomless black hole that is your stomach- Well, that makes itself known with a loud growl.

It’s alright though, you’re an old hat (HA!) at ignoring the hunger crawling up your throat. You can eat, but you wouldn’t be able to stomach it long anyway.

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

It’s fine. 

You dream. 

The void is around you. The world is broken. The world is rotting. The world is falling apart. And you are at the epicenter. The eye of the storm. 

The stars run circles around you and laugh, a mockery of the laughter of your loved ones, of your party, your real party, not the actors that have replaced them. It is a noise you will never hear again, not genuinely. 

And then the laughter fades.

This is how it goes. 

There is a star.

It is brighter than all the others. Kinder than the others, even. It sees you. It acknowledges you. You have suffered plenty, haven’t you? It takes pity on you. 

It floats down slowly, gently, heading down right towards you. Right to a spot in front of you. You know what it wants. You know it from the top of your hat to the tips of your toes. You know .

You cup your hands together, waiting. The star takes its time, but that’s fine. It’s a star, and you’re just you, after all. It is an envoy of The Universe, and all you have to do, all you can do, is follow. 

You catch the star. It is warm in the palms of your hands, a source of ambient heat in the large expanse of the void. It is your last remaining anchor in this collapsing world and you know what to do.

You bring it to your mouth and hold it close. It’s not warm anymore. It’s hot. It’ll burn your lips off if you’re not careful. Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to get burnt.  

You open your mouth and you make a wish. 

You wish for it to be over. You wish for someone to help you. You wish to be out of here. 

All you want is a world where you can’t mess things up with your party.

You fold the star, and you let it go. 

Chapter Text

This is how it goes. 

There is a star.

It is brighter than all the others.

It floats down slowly.

You cup your hands together.

You catch the star. 

You bring it to your mouth.

You open your mouth and-

You.

Make.

A Wish.

You startle awake, the sun bright in your eyes. Augh. Too bright, even, but you use it to calm down from your weird dream, soft clouds floating by in the light sky. 

For a long, quiet moment, it’s peaceful. Too peaceful, almost. What were you even dreaming about? What made you snap awake? Surely, it can’t have been that important, if you just forgot about it… Surely, you have nothing else you need to do on this wonderfully warm day… Surely, you can just slip back into the comfortable void that is sleep…

You close your eyes.

“-frin!”

And hear Mirabelle’s voice calling for you, bright and cheery.

“Siffrin! …Siffrin?”

A shadow is cast over you, blocking out the trickles of sunlight burning through your eyelids. You open your eyes, bleary as you stare up at your friend. Mirabelle stares down at you, a smile on her face. 

“Good morning!” She says. “Well, more like, good afternoon, I guess… Were you taking a nap? That’s just like you… Only you could sleep peacefully at a time like this, hehe!” She chuckles into her hand. 

“I guess that’s smart…” She continues. “We better get some rest while we can! We have to be ready for tomorrow, so we can finally face the King!”

You don’t mean to, but you yawn. …So many words… All of them fly right over your head and the sweet embrace of sleep calls for you. Too sleepy to talk, too sleepy to listen… 

You close your eyes again.

Mirabelle pauses. “...You’re still half-asleep, aren’t you?”

You grumble, incoherent. Sleepy…

The grass next to you rustles. 

“...Hm. Okay, then. You can sleep for a little longer, but not too long! I’ll be waiting! Right! Here!” 

You yawn, again. In fact, you yawn so hard your jaw cracks. Ah, you were having such a nice rest too… But no, you can’t spend the rest of the day sleeping, that would be a waste of precious time - time that you could be spending with your friends. 

Wake up, Siffrin. You have a country to save. 

With that affirmation in mind, you push yourself up and open your eyes. 

Mirabelle is seated next to you, grass pressed gently underneath her palms as she stares up at the sky. You look up too, at the clouds drifting past, leisurely and peacefully without a care in the world. You wonder what it’d be like to be a cloud. 

You think it’d be lonely. 

“Hey Mira,” you say. 

She looks back at you, and beams. “Hey Siffrin! You’re up!” You can’t help it - another yawn bubbles out of your mouth despite your best efforts, and you cover it with a hand. Mirabelle laughs. “How was your nap?”

Seven, on a scale of one to ten, but it’s Mirabelle who’s asking, so… 

“On a scale of one to ten? One,” you decide, teasing. “A certain someone woke me up…”

She makes a face. “I-I'm sorry!” She says, wringing her hands together as she talks. “I-it's just, that there's a lot to do, and-”

“How dare you wake me from my slumber.”

“A-ah?” That stops her in her tracks.

“Punishment for a hundred years.” 

She catches on and laughs. “Hehehe, noooo! Not one hundred years!” She’s happy. Good! Mission complete! You smile at her, and she smiles back.

“So,” you say, in an attempt to restart conversation. “How are you feeling?”

She laughs, awkwardly. “How I’m feeling…? Oh, being in Dormont, you mean?” You nod. She shrugs. “It’s nostalgic… This is where I lived before, after all. When I wasn’t studying or working at the House, that is!” 

There’s a pause, and you watch as she glances back towards the town. “Dormont itself hasn’t changed much, but the House…” 

You both sit in silence. 

“...We can see it from the village, you know. How distorted it’s become,” she murmurs, fingers picking at the grass. “I was the only one to escape the House when the King attacked… So many people must be hurt, or…” Her voice falters. “Maybe they’re all…”

Mira… 

You breathe in, and out. “We’ll save them all tomorrow.”

She sighs. “...Yes. You’re right. I should stay positive… Sorry.”

You both sit in silence for a bit, before her eyes widen in realisation. 

“Oh, wait!” Mirabelle says. “I had something I wanted to ask you!!!”

You nod, encouragingly.

“Um, I have an idea for tonight... This will be the night before we go fight the King, so I felt like we could make it special somehow… So, I was thinking, how about a sleepover? Let's all eat good food together! Sleep in the same room! Maybe tell stories!!!”

She beams at you. “It would be nice, wouldn't it?” 

“...Okay…?” …How’s that different from what you normally do, though? 

She falters. “Ah. …You think it’s silly, don’t you…?” She curls her fingers into the grass, hunching in on herself. “I'm sorry... I was trying to find something fun to do tonight, but that's all I could think of… It was... It was a stupid idea, wasn't it...? Maybe we should forget about it…” 

…Oh no.

OH NO. 

YOUR LACK OF ENTHUSIASM MADE MIRABELLE UPSET!!!!!!!

You need to fix it!!!! Now!!!

"N-no, I think it's fun!!! Let's do it!!!"

She hesitates. “...Are you sure…?” You nod rapidly. “Alright then… Um... So if we're doing it, can you let everyone know...? I... I don't think I could convince everyone…”

Well. You kind of have to, now. You put on an easy smile. “Of course, Mira.”

“Okay!” She cheers. “...Let me think. Madame should be in the shop buying items, Bonnie should be near the fields to the east, and Isabeau is at the Favour Tree to the west!” And then she pauses, footsteps faltering as she stares at you in concern. “...That was a lot of names and places. Will you remember?”

“...I always remember things,” you say, false confidence flowing through you. Already, more than half the locations have slipped from your mind. Mirabelle doesn’t quite look like she believes you either.

“...Well, unrelated to your memory…” She says, and fumbles in her pocket, pulling out a note and offering it to you. “Here's a note with everyone's location! Just in case! You! Forget!!!”

Yeah. Smart. 

Despite your conversation coming to a sort of end, Mirabelle hasn’t made a move to get up. Neither have you. It’s comfortable here, like this field is separate from all the not-so-great things due to happen within the next two days. Some part of you - irrationally, perhaps - feels like something horrible will happen the moment you step out of the field. 

It’s silly, really. 

You look up at the sky again. And the Universe looks back.  

Maybe Mirabelle feels the same way too. 

-

“I’ll see you at the Clocktower later!” Isabeau says, as he waves goodbye to you, walking off towards Dormont proper. You beam and wave back. Spending time with Isabeau always makes you feel better, a little more settled within yourself. 

You cross him from the reminder note. 

That makes everything! You’ve talked to all of your friends, you’ve given Isabeau a flower, you’ve picked up a drawing of you and your friends. You’ve talked to what must be everyone in town, even! One of the other kids gave you a leaf and everything. 

And, speaking of leaves…

There’s just one thing left for you to do.

The Favour Tree looms over you.

There’s nothing but chirping birds and the rustling of leaves as you walk closer to it, the grass crunching softly under your careful steps as you make your way closer to the trunk of the tree. There’s so many leaves, and not all of them are within your reach. 

You need a leaf to ask the Favour Tree for something, after all. 

You look around for a leaf you like, and catch sight of one a little higher up. Despite being hidden under the canopy of the tree, the rays of the sun still glint off of it, making it almost shimmer in what little light there is. Some part of you preens at the idea of that being your leaf. It’s out of direct reach, though, but you think you’d be able to reach it if you climbed.

And so, as you make your way up, you think. 

Hm… 

Asking for a favour from a higher power, even if it is just a big tree, sounds pretty close to a wish to you. Even if you’re not really sure if it is one. 

A wish, a wish, a wish…

The Favour Trees must be popular among the people in Vaugarde, especially so lately. If people came to make a wish, you’re pretty sure they’d wish for Vaugarde to be saved, or something along those lines. So… You don’t need to add another wish like that to the pile. The trees are probably already on it.

But, also, you’d feel bad for wishing for something big and taking away focus from everyone’s wish to save Vaugarde.

Something small, then.

Something simple.

Something nice.

You perch yourself on the branch of the tree, making sure it holds your weight comfortably. The leaf flutters about from where it's attached to its branch, still shimmering ever so slightly. 

A wish. 

You have a few ideas, but… you should only choose one. It’s rude to ask for too much, after all.

Your thoughts linger on Bonnie. 

They’ve been distant from you lately, which is kind of a nice way of saying it. Sometimes, you’re pretty sure they hate you. You’re not quite sure what you did wrong, what grave offense you committed that deemed you unworthy in their eyes. But, still…

You’d like to be there when they see their sister again. No, that’s your wish. You wish to be there when they reunite with their sister.

They miss their sister so much. All of you know that. Sometimes, at night, when you’re on watch, you can hear them cry out, calling their sister’s name with all the emotion and vulnerability that they would never show in the daylight. 

If you could help them save her, help them get back to their sister, and have them both be safe and alive, be able to watch their reunion… You’d like that. You want to see Bonnie happy - truly and freely, without the guillotine of the end of the world hanging over your heads. 

It’d be nice to follow the others too, to see how their lives unfold after your quest is over. You want to see Mirabelle on her pilgrimage, Isabeau making clothes, Odile in her country. If you’re lucky, even, you can do that all afterwards!

Stars, you want to stay with them all so much. 

You look at your leaf, and carefully pull it close to your mouth, taking care not to pluck it off its branch. 

You breathe your wish into it, repeating three times, and then fold the leaf closed to keep it safe. You let the leaf go.

And you breathe in, and out. …All done!

You climb down the tree, and turn back, looking back to watch your leaf unfurl as it lets your wish slip out to the Universe, swaying from its spot on the branch as a light breeze rustles past it. 

Then, you turn and head back into town. You have a sleepover to get to, after all. 

-

The House’s Gate looms over you and your friends walk behind you, as you all step into the House proper. The Gate opened for you with no problem, taking with it the orbs that took you all so long to retrieve.

The end of your journey is at hand. You don’t want it to end.

You and your friends walk through the halls of the House, its pillars looming far above you, a greater height than any of you will ever reach.

The end   of your   journey   is   at   hand. 

You fight the Sadness - the Tristesse - and then you fight two more. Mirabelle is significantly more at ease. Odile makes fun of you for forgetting type matchups, even if you’re just doing it to make Mirabelle feel better. 

The     end      of   you r   jour ney   approaches with a devastating speed.

You pick up a bell pendant. It goes “ding ding!” and you get to join the Funny Noises Appreciation Crew. You grab the Circle Key, where it lies in front of a broken Change God statue. Mirabelle talks about circles within circles, you within the room, within the House, within Dormont, within Vaugarde, within the world. There’s something at the tip of your tongue, something you know in your heart of hearts that’s larger than the world. You get a headache for your troubles. 

The       e nd    is nigh. 

“WAIT!!!” Mirabelle yells, as you walk ahead into the next hallway. 

You all startle, Bonnie especially. “Gwah!!! What? What is it?!?”

“Sorry for screaming, sorry, sorry! Um, I, um…” Mirabelle fidgets with her fingers, eyes darting as she glances around the room. You look around too. …There’s nothing out of the ordinary. “I... don't know if this is relevant, but… I, um... I recognize this corridor.”

Oh?

“...Oh?” Odile says.

“I recognize it... The Head Housemaiden of this House used to warn us about it…” Mirabelle frowns, her eyebrows furrowed deeply in an attempt at recollection. Then, her eyes go wide. “I think... I think she called it the ‘Death Corridor’!!!”

Oh!

“Oh,” Isabeau says, “that sounds bad!”

“So, so, um–”

Odile hums, musing. “The House is supposed to be a safe building, but with the King here, some traps might be activated…” And looks back up at Mirabelle. “Is this what you mean?”

Traps? Traps?

“A job for me, then,” you say, brightly. 

“It is your job,” Odile agrees. 

“Protect us, trap master!” Isabeau cheers.

Well, it’s not the first time you’ve had to reassure Mirabelle. Not the first time today, even. You know that the stress of THE END OF YOUR JOURNEY being back in The House is affecting her. You know she’s stressed. What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t try to help alleviate that?

You check the pillars, one by one, making a whole show of it as Mirabelle watches along.

As you expected, you find a whole lot of nothing. And well, in the absence of any switches or traps…

Mirabelle takes an anxious step forward as you return to the group, then takes a step back out of worry. “So? So??? Are we safe? We're not safe, are we, this is the Death Corridor…” 

“The older housemaidens kept saying people died there!!!” She continues, talking faster than you can cut in. “So there must be a trap-- Something weight-sensitive, or something! Or, or!!! Maybe it's time-sensitive! If we spend too long here...!”

Ah, your opportunity to cut in has arisen. “There’s nothing weird in here,” you tell her. 

She paces a little, hands going to her mouth. “But there must be!!!”

Isabeau places a hand on her shoulder. “Aw, Mira…”

“Belle, Belle, don't worry about it,” Bonnie says, taking a step closer to her. Then, they throw a shit-eating grin at you. “Frin isn't good at many things, but they know stuff about traps.”

Hey…

“Right,” Odile says, a matching grin on her face. “If we can't trust the one who's supposed to lead us this early, this won't bode well for later…”

HEY…

“But, but–”

You sigh, and take a step further into the hallway. Then, you turn back to Mirabelle with a smile. “We’re not dead yet, are we?”

Mirabelle hunches in on herself, hands nearing her mouth. Isabeau gently nudges her hands away. “...Well, that's true…”

“We have been in this room for a while…” Odile points out. “And Siffrin has been walking everywhere, so if it was weight-sensitive, something would have killed him by now.”

“Exactly!” Isabeau agrees. “It's all fine!” 

“Oh…” Mirabelle murmurs, taking one last look around, before stretching herself back upright. “...yeah! Yeah, okay! I'll believe you!” She sags a little more, out of embarrassment. “Sorry... for worrying... I'm a little on edge…”

You smile, taking a couple more steps into the corridor. “We’re good, Mira.” You turn around with a flourish. “See? Everything’s-” 

Everyone’s faces- 

They’re

“-fine!”

A shock of pain rattles through your whole body, the breath stolen from it, and your skin feels like it’s been lit on fire AND-

As you live through the novel experience of having your body crushed by a giant rock,

You feel

A tug

On

Your

Stomach.

Chapter Text

“Oh!” 

You startle awake to a familiar voice, and scramble up into a seated position, at the very least, looking around quickly. You find what you’re looking for, because Mirabelle stands a distance away from you, near the entry to the clearing. 

She wrings her hands anxiously. “I’m so sorry! Did I wake you? Sorry!!! I didn’t mean to disturb you-”

You stare at her blankly. 

“Sorry!” She says, again, already walking backwards and almost tripping over herself in the process. “I’ll get going!!! I’m really, really sorry!”

You watch as she leaves. 

…That was weird. 

You flop back down onto the grassy field, relishing in the slight poke of the sharper grass blades against the skin on your bare neck. 

And then, you think.

You remember- You remember waking up in this field, Mirabelle at your side as she tells you about sleepovers, about where your friends are, about… 

And then… there’s the Clocktower, and Isabeau told you that there’s something he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t tell you, and then you’re at the house with broken Change God statues and a rock trap and you died and you died and you died .

And then you woke up back here again.

…

…

…Wow! What a horribly realistic nightmare that you remember an awful lot about! 

You must be really really worried about tomorrow if it even started haunting your dreams. You almost can’t believe that dream-you missed an entire deactivation mechanism for a deadly rock trap! Except you can believe it, because it definitely seems like something you would do. It would be right if it was your job to take care of traps and you immediately messed it up by missing the very first trap in the House and died!!! And you wouldn’t even have made it to the King, never even made it far enough to make it to the King!!! 

And it hurt!!! It hurt it hurt it HURT IT HURT!!! It was just a dream, but it was a blinding realistic one!!! You felt your body being crushed under the heavy weight!!! And now you're laying on the grass, alive, but your skin still itches from the phantom roughness of the rock and residual shock and your bones feel like they’ve been shattered into a MILLION DIFFERENT PIECES and your stomach STILL HURTS and- AND!!!

Oh wow. Okay. 

You take a deep breath in… and out... 

Phew. 

Okay! Wow! That dream must have affected you an awful more than you thought it would. Your hands are still shaking, actually, so you shove your hands behind your back, relishing in the weight of it and how it keeps you grounded and here and inside yourself and not in that dream world where nothing went right!!! 

Phew!!!

It’s fine. 

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. 

No, four is a bad number.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine!!!

You repeat it once, thrice, and round it off at seven times, because seven is a good number and it feels right, and maybe if you say it enough times with enough certainty, it’ll come true. 

Alright. You don’t particularly want to go back to sleep, not anymore, and you’ve wasted enough time just lying here. Why waste time when you can spend it in the comfort of your friends’ company? When you can spend time with them, just in case that dream comes true and you die and-

[…]

You breathe in, and out, and open your eyes, staring up at the clouds. 

Alright.

Wake up, Siffrin. You have a country to save. 

-

Even if the ending of the dream was… less than ideal, you did like the beginning of it, when you woke up in this field and Mirabelle stayed by your side, even if you did end up messing up the conversation. It was peaceful and comfortable, existing near one of your friends and just soaking in her company. 

Mirabelle isn’t here now, though. She left when she woke you up, apologised and fled from the area like there was a feral hound nipping at her heels. 

That was weird. 

…

You should check if she’s okay. 

You emerge from the field and you don’t have to look very far to find her - she’s on the same bench that she was on in your dream, right outside the library. Very convenient! Makes things easy for you.

You walk up to her and seat yourself next to her. “Hey.”

Her head snaps up, clearly startled by your presence. “Oh! It’s you!” She wrings her hands again. “Um, I’m sorry about disturbing your sleep! I really didn’t mean to wake you!!”

You smile, lightly, in what you hope is a comforting manner. Mirabelle’s face does not change, lines of stress causing wrinkles under her eyes. “Nah,” you say. “It’s fine!” 

“Okay!” she says. “That’s good!” 

She falls silent, and goes back to looking at her papers. You’d be fine with this, but she looks up every once in a while, giving you a weird look when she thinks you aren’t looking. Clearly, she’s not about to start the conversation for you.

“So,” you say. “How are you feeling?” 

She startles again. Okay, weird??? You know Mirabelle gets nervous sometimes, but you thought she stopped being like that with you months ago. The end of your journey and the stress of tomorrow must really be getting to her. 

“Who, me?” You nod. It’s not like there’s anyone else here for you to ask. “Well!! I’m!!” She pauses. You wait, patiently. “I’m doing okay! It’s a little nostalgic being back in Dormont again, of course. But I’m not going to let that affect tomorrow and how we’re going to face the King!” 

You look at her carefully. It’s… a very Mira-like answer, but there’s something… … off . Something’s wrong. Something’s not quite right about it.

“Anything weird happen lately?”

“Something weird?” Mirabelle asks, frowning. “U-um…” She looks at you, almost like she’s dissecting you. It’s not an expression you usually see on Mirabelle. It’s not one you would ever expect to see from her, definitely more of a face that Odile would make. “Um.”

You watch as she reaches for words, fails and falters, before you take pity on her. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

It’s clear there’s something weird going on, but if she doesn’t want to say it… …You don’t like that she doesn’t want to say, but you’re not about to push. It wouldn’t be polite! You understand the concept of personal boundaries!

“No!” She insists. “N-nothing! Nothing’s weird! Definitely not you!!!”

What.

What. Is there something on your face? Did you roll over in your sleep and smoosh your face into the dirt? 

“Don’t take me the wrong way,” she continues. “It’s just- It’s not weird! It’s okay!”

You give her A Look. 

“Okay!” She huffs. “Maybe it’s a little weird. You’re- You’re asking me all these questions and I’m answering them but- But it looks like you’re expecting something… something more out of me? Like you want an answer that’s? A little more?? More???”

Well, yeah. That’s… kind of the point of asking. You would like Mirabelle to give you more of an answer, because she’s acting weird and you would like to know how to help her. But if she doesn’t want to tell you… …that’s fine too. 

You tell her as much. 

…

…She’s… She’s frowning. Did you say something wrong? What’s wrong?

“I… I appreciate that you want to help,” she says, carefully. You don’t like it. It’s like she’s walking on eggshells around you, like she thinks you’ve laid a trap down in this conversation and fears setting it off. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not really comfortable talking with someone I don’t know about things like this?”

…What?

“I mean,” she laughs, an awkward thing. “You’re. You’re a stranger to me? I don’t know where you heard of me, but you’re kind of. Kind of being uncomfortably familiar with me and it’s making me uncomfortable?”

She wrings her hands. “So,” she continues. “So I hope you don’t mind when I say I don’t want to talk about this with you?”

And.

and she smiles at you, anxiety tinged at the edges of it, like 

like she hasn’t said the worst thing she could have possibly said

like every word that’s coming out of her mouth isn’t driving daggers into your heart

like your tongue doesn’t feel like it’s being ripped out of your mouth

like your stomach isn’t turning itself inside out as you try try try your best to process this

and she looks at you like

like you haven’t spent the last few months travelling together

like you haven’t known each other at all

like you’re not worth remembering

like you’re-

stars-

she. your heart sinks. your stomach revolts.

she smiles at you

like

you’re

strangers

stars. 

being forgotten. 

is. 

worse. 

than being hated.

you feel

a tug

on your stomach.

Chapter Text

“Oh!” 

You wake up, back against a very familiar grassy field. A familiar voice lets out a gasp, and you push your up into a seated position, glancing over to the entry of the clearing. 

Mirabelle stands there, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she wrings her hands anxiously. She opens her mouth and-

“Mira,” you breathe, cutting off whatever she might have said. You push yourself to your feet, the steps unsteady as you straighten up and the world beneath your feet spins , a heady dizzying thing. A dream in a dream. Ha! Isn’t that funny? Isn’t that bizarre? Isn’t that something you just have to tell your good friend Mirabelle right away? “Mira, I just had WEIRDEST dream-”

“I’m!” She cuts in, her voice pitched high. “I’m sorry! I’m interrupting but-” Her smile is thin, stretched with formality and awkward politeness. “But, do I… know you?”

she.

she doesn’t.

remember

you?

…again?

you feel a tug on your stomach. 

-

“Oh!” 

You wake up, back against a very familiar grassy field. A familiar voice lets out a gasp, and you push your up into a seated position, glancing over to the entry of the clearing. 

Mirabelle stands there, shifting her weight from foot to foot as she wrings her hands anxiously. 

Haven’t you been here before?

“I’m so sorry! Did I wake you? Sorry!!! I didn’t mean to disturb you-”

You just stare at her.

“Sorry!” She says, again, already walking backwards and almost tripping over herself in the process. “I’ll get going!!! I’m really, really sorry!”

You just watch as she leaves.

That’s… that’s the same thing she said in your nightmare, the second time you woke up in this meadow, the first time where Mirabelle didn’t remember you. You think, maybe, she might’ve said it the third time, if you hadn’t interrupted her before she could come up with a single word.

But.

But what this means is.

It’s… It’s happening again. 

You. 

don’t like this you don’t like this get you out of here GET YOU OUT

Okay. Okay. Okay!!! 

Here are the facts: Mirabelle doesn’t remember you. 

This is. This is very clearly an issue! The fact that she doesn’t know you is clearly making her deeply uncomfortable whenever you try to talk to her. 

…

You should check on Bonnie instead. 

You get up, your cloak fluttering in the slight breeze, moving with the subtle motions of your body as you drag yourself to your feet. Bonnie is, if the nightmare is real, if the nightmare is correct- Bonnie is at the vegetable fields on the east side of Dormont. 

You don’t. You don’t want the nightmare to have been real, because- Well. Because of obvious reasons. But you don’t know where else to check either. So, you walk across the bridge between the meadow and Dormont’s central fountain, your heels sharp against the wood as you emerge into Dormont proper. 

Mirabelle is on the same bench in front of the library, reading the same papers as she has been in every nightmare before this. You don’t make the same mistake again, simply walking past her as you head to the east. You can’t upset her if you don’t talk to her. You can’t upset yourself if you don’t talk to her. 

…

Bonnie is at the fields, perched halfway up the fence as they stare at the vegetables. You can’t see their face from this direction, but you have a suspicion that they’re plotting out how to steal the vegetables. 

“Bonnie!” You call out, as you approach, voice purposefully light despite the weight in your heart. 

They snap around, staring at you. “...”

“...”

“...do you want something?” They ask. It’s different already, from that first time, but surely, surely, it’s fine, right? Surely it’s not a cause for greater concern. 

“Worrying about tomorrow?” You try. 

Bonnie stares at you. You stare back, hoping against hope that this isn’t what you think it is, that they still remember you. They have to.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says from behind you. You turn around, and Mirabelle is there. “Can I help you?” She asks, a frown etched onto her face, in the furrow of her eyebrows and the slight bristling energy emanating from her. 

…

“Um,” you say.

“Bonnie,” Mirabelle says, seriously, gesturing for the kid. “Go find Odile. She’s at the store.” 

They do exactly that, hopping off the fence and disappearing west, back into Dormont proper. 

And you are left with Mirabelle, who doesn’t recognise you, who thinks you’re a stranger, a creep, and Bonnie doesn’t recognise you either, you’re sure of it, you know it in your heart of hearts that that’s the case. Who are you to lie to yourself anyway, who are you to delude yourself so thoroughly and utterly?

You knew it the moment Bonnie turned to look at you, knew that they didn’t recognise you, that all memory of you was wiped clean from their mind. You know it you know it you know it you know it-

You breathe in sharply, as Mirabelle opens her mouth, clearly ready to berate you and you can’t hear it, you don’t want to hear it, you can’t stand to hear it-

-and you feel a tug on your stomach.

-

“Oh!”

You wake up and tune Mirabelle out. Her mouth moves, she steps back and leaves the meadow. And you think. 

Well. Well! You might not be able to get through to Mirabelle or Bonnie, but surely, surely, surely, Odile will know something about this. Surely, Odile in all her intelligence or, or whatever, surely she can figure out what’s wrong, surely she can help make sure all goes well with Mirabelle and Bonnie, surely this sudden lapse of memory is only something that affects Mirabelle and Bonnie. 

Surely Odile will remember you. 

Surely she will.

[Sure, keep telling yourself that.]

-

The store is the same as the first time you came in here, with Odile browsing the shop’s offerings at the far right corner. You don’t know what she’s looking at, and it’s not important right now because you march right up to her.

Then you catch yourself and slow down, plaster a smile on your face even though the edges of it feel like they’re fraying, feel like you’re being ripped apart from inside out, feel like something deep within you has been ripped out violently and unceremoniously. It hurts to smile. You do it anyway. 

“Odile!” You say, injecting brightness and energy and friendliness into your voice, even as every part of you begs for the answer you so desire, the answer you know, deep down, that won’t ever come. 

Your fate, you know, is cemented even before Odile opens her mouth, when her eyes roam over your desperate, shaken form and there is no light of recognition in them, only indifference and a distant confusion. 

You feel sick, like someone poured sugar down your throat and forced you to eat it all. 

“Hello, stranger,” she says, brows furrowed into one of her thinking frowns and it’s like she ripped the floor out from under you, watched you plummet to your death and didn’t even blink in the process. It doesn’t matter that the floor was paper thin and set to tear apart soon anyway. The floor is gone and you’re free falling, reaching out as you tumble to your doom.

You feel a tug on your stomach anyway.

-

“Oh!”

You wake up and tune Mirabelle out, breathing in and out and in and out because Odile doesn’t remember you either. Because you are being punished by the Universe for a reason you can’t even fathom. Because this is torture .

Because you have one last hope.

Isabeau. 

He has to. He has to be the one person that remembers you. He has to know you, he has to see you, he has to be able to call you by name when you go up to him and call him by his.

You need him to be able to- to know you. You need him to know you. It’s a desperate, clawing thing in the depths of your throat. It’s so painful you might choke on it, are already choking on it. 

You could scream.

Stars , what will it take?! What does the Universe want from you, why were your friends taken from you, why them, why them when they’re the only things you even really have!!!

And so, enter Isabeau. 

Your feet have carried you to the Favour Tree. 

Dread curdles in your stomach. You ignore it anyway. What else can you do?

“Isa!”

You reach out, your hand grasping against the loose fabric that makes up Isabeau’s sleeves. He makes a noise of surprise as you do so, as you tug at it to make sure he’s looking at you, to make sure he’s facing you, to make sure he sees you in all your desperate glory. 

You need him to see you. 

This is the only way to make sure of it. 

“Isa,” you say again, heart racing. “Isa, you know me, right? You remember me, you have to, you haven’t forgotten me like everyone else has, right? Isa, please-”

You’re begging, you’re not on your knees but you’re pretty blinding close and if he needs you to beg, you will you will you will, whatever it takes to make sure he remembers you and-

He why pushes you away.

He

You

You feel a tug on your stomach.