Chapter Text
It started with a confession.
A stupid thing to do, really, but she didn't know what else to do. There were just too many words that got jumbled up, too many thoughts demanding her attention, and too many emotions rampaging in her mind that she didn't even know where to start or where many of them ended. She didn't even know what many of them were, they didn't have names to her besides abstract potentials and how some felt so heavy in her chest and others so nauseating in her stomach, not unlike a bad meal but not not unlike one either. More still pounded at her head and burned at her throat, not unlike alcohol but also nothing like it all at once. She didn't know what was going on in her…body? Mind?
…Whatever was happening to her and wherever it was happening, she had no name for it. Or…there were too many names to claw one out of the churning waves.
Honestly though, she had no idea about a lot of things, in general or about the issue at hand. That was nothing new. A lot of the past six months were nothing but admitting she didn’t know much and exploring, asking, and experiencing new things. And it was fun! Until…well…until it wasn’t. There were a lot of less than fun things to explore and experience too, but what she got herself into now was the new number one worst.
She had no idea why she was so compelled to take the damn knife. Sure, it was nice. It had a pretty handle and the blade was still sharp even after years of constant, loving use. But it was a kitchen knife, hardly of any real use to her or anyone else they were traveling with, and it belonged to the beloved wife of the sweet old man who was kind enough to house them for a night. Tyranny was curious about it, sure, but she was curious about many things regarding Ulbid's wife and his love for her. Was it wrong to be curious about love? Surely not? And even if it was…that…that still didn't explain the sudden, all-consuming need she felt to possess the knife.
Because sure, maybe she should've known better than to ask him about his dead wife. She was still getting used to this body and all that came with it. Bigger emotions were still hard to deal with, but she'd been around long enough by now to know that sometimes her own curiosity needed to be curbed so as not to insult other people. That was an oopsies on her part.
But the knife…the need for the knife went well beyond anything she had felt before. It went well beyond anything she knew of that existed in this plane. It was far greater than simple greed or envy, she didn't want it simply because Ulbid had it…but because it was right for her to have it. Or rather, it was her right, her calling to take something that was so very important to him, and that didn't feel right, not to her proper senses in this plane. But…it felt all too correct to something far more innate.
So then, maybe it only made too much sense that what compelled her to take the knife was not of this plane at all. Catching far more than just a reflection in the glint of the knife's blade had her pausing. Watching Ulbid fret in real time sliced hot at her throat. Seeing her father, hearing him and seeing herself in the blade dropped a frigid weight into the very pit of her stomach. She didn't have a name for anything else, but that one was very prominent.
Fear.
Tyranny was scared. She was scared about what she had done, she was scared about why she had done it, and she was scared about what it meant. For Ulbid. For her. For…for all of them. And though she would never, ever admit it, there was only one thing she did when she felt any kind of fear: turn to Wick.
It didn't happen often, so she doubted he knew. But even if by some chance he did, he never said anything, and that in and of itself was part of the reason she felt safe enough to go to him in the first place. For all his belief in the Creed, he never judged her for what she did or who she was. He offered her words instead, prayers, ways to right whatever wrongs she committed and help her find her way back to the "proper path"—and yeah, a lot of it was bullshit, but he never once judged her. He should've, probably…and would, probably, eventually…but for now, he didn't judge her, and she couldn't quite explain why, but she knew that was what she needed.
So…it started with a confession.
And true to her belief in him, Wick was upset but didn’t judge her for it. Of course, that didn’t stop anyone else from overhearing their conversation and coming to their own conclusions immediately upon seeing the fancy kitchen knife in her hand. She was already in a bad enough state that she hadn’t factored in that possibility at all, so it was instantly overwhelming having everyone turn on her. She didn't even fully hear what everyone was saying, but she got the gist they were all angry.
And Tyranny tried. She tried so…so hard to explain what was going on. Or at least, what she knew of what was going on, which wasn’t a lot and the words that were falling from her mouth weren’t helping her at all. She wasn't bad though, that's what she needed them to know. That's what she needed to convince herself of. She wasn't bad, but she was a demon. She wasn't bad, but she was the daughter of suffering and that meant something. She had things she was compelled to do, it was just her nature. She didn't want to do them, but it was hard to ignore. And that didn't…that didn't make her bad, right?
She wasn't bad, she couldn't be bad, she didn't want to be bad…
…But that didn't necessarily mean she was good, either.
It didn't matter, really. She couldn't even convince anyone else of that before Kattigan was ripping the knife from her and sending it back to Ulbid. She couldn't even get them to listen to her enough to tell them she didn't think it was the best idea to send the knife back to the old man now. All she could do was watch helplessly as Wulferic disappeared back into the forest, a potentially cursed knife in his pack to deliver to a sweet old man, while Thimble's question rang loud and hot in her ears.
"Are you just evil?"
…She didn't want to be, but she was what she was. She wasn't quite sure what that meant anymore, either.
It hung heavy in her as they began their way back into the forest. She trailed behind the rest of the group, even Wick, giving them some distance while a question she couldn't answer burned at her throat and pressed at the back of her eyes.
Why the fuck did she have to steal the knife?!
She hated this, these big emotions she couldn't quite name and how bad they were making her feel. One of them was guilt, she was pretty sure. She knew that one a little by the way it made her tail slump to the ground. One of the others was probably regret, something she conceptually knew but hadn't really experienced until now. Not this personally, in any case, and she disliked how it tugged at her throat like the barbed wire on top of the fences used to keep livestock. The rest were probably different forms of sadness, all of them bubbling in her gut and clouding her mind to obscurity. All of them emotions that likely had fancy names she could call them by if she bothered to ask anyone.
She didn't want to ask anyone.
All Tyranny wanted to do was mope, so that's what she did. For the first time since they left Dol-Makjar, she didn't really stay alert for anything. She wasn't paying attention to the group anymore than was necessary to not get lost from them. She wasn't paying attention to Wick—which was a mistake in and of itself. And she certainly wasn't paying attention to their surroundings. All she could really focus on was what was going on in her head…and in the rest of her. These new, visceral reactions demanded everything from her, and for once, for a brief period of time, she was more than willing to give it all to them.
Maybe it was what she needed. Maybe it was what she deserved. Maybe if she actually held them off, she would've spotted what they were walking into before she was suddenly kicking Wick awake at her feet.
And wasn't that just perfect? The one time she wasn’t paying attention and he gets hit by a spell.
At the hint of a fight, she did what she could to push everything away. There were now way more important things to focus on than whatever pity party she was holding for herself in her mind. They were still in dangerous territory. She still had a job to do, she had to keep Wick safe.
She was stopped before she even got the chance to try.
Light filled the woods around them, painfully bright and almost too hot to bear. She stumbled backwards a step—uncertainty in her legs and a harsh ringing in her ears—as she tried to put some distance between her and the light. It didn't matter. A flash of pure radiance surrounded her—surrounded them all—until it seemed to get a handle on what it was actually meant to be and mellowed into something softer. Something…calmer. Correct. Tyranny had only seen the sun a handful of times since coming to this plane, but it was the closest description she had for the new warmth that was coming from this unexpected flare under the canopy.
Warm and oddly…comforting.
She turned towards Wick on instinct to make sure he was alright. Instead, she almost stumbled backwards again, staring up at him wide-eyed, utterly dumbstruck to find that he was, in fact, the source of this light. If he were as harsh as the sun, her eyes would've already burned in just those few seconds with how brightly he shone. Luckily though, he wasn't, and the softer light instead just left her with a heavy feeling welling in her heart and a lump in her throat. The ringing in her ears morphed into a thundering rhythm as, completely mystified, her eyes traced how the light wrapped around him and formed into the visage of large, glowing wings on his back that held him afloat.
It only lasted a few seconds, those wings and his hovering, before he collapsed ungracefully to the ground. It only took her those few seconds to realize one of the things that had lodged itself in her throat and chest like shrapnel from that blaze.
Pride.
Not the kind of pride she was expected to feel being a demon. Not the kind she was supposed to foster in others to set them up for their demise. Not even the pride she figured she was supposed to have in finding out her contract was very powerful in his ways. No, no this was just pride in him. Indescribable, joyous pride in Wicander Halovar and what he had just accomplished in his own beliefs and powers. Pride in everything her friend was and pride in herself that maybe she played even the smallest of parts in helping get him here.
Like she should, probably, be helping him now.
Before Tyranny could shake herself from her stupor and rush to his side, Wick was already on his feet and walking towards the fae. Her gaze followed him silently, even while the rest of her remained rooted to her spot. Like a moth drawn to a flame, but one smart enough to recognize its own demise rested somewhere in those golden depths. He wouldn't mean it, of course, but this was what she'd always known, what she'd tried to tell him all the time. She was a demon and he was…this. It was inevitable.
And just like that, she understood the second thing that lodged itself in with pride. Fear, once more, but one she knew instantly she would never be able to take to him.
It took her several seconds of watching him until she realized Wick's lips were moving with the weight of words she couldn't hear over the pounding in her own skull. And what was that pounding, anyways? Surely, that was an effect from whatever the hell he just did, right? Except…
'I am…'
Another beat and several, thundering thumps passed, and his lips were moving again. Tyranny finally pulled her eyes off him and looked towards everyone else in the clearing, friend and foe alike. Or…maybe it was just her.
'I will…'
The big boss lady fae in the center of the small clearing was speaking, but that was all she could see from her lips moving before Tyranny closed her eyes.
Thump…thump…thump…
She pressed her hands over her ears in a desperate attempt to push out the sound. All it did was make it louder and stronger, the sound practically reverberating through her skull. What was this? Was it an effect of Wick's…magic whatever? Was it because she was the closest to him when he cast the spell?
Thump…thump…thump…thump…
No, but that didn't make any sense. The light hit the whole area, and Thimble was nearby too so it should be more than just her. Thimble was a fae though…a being of light. Was it…because of that? Because of what she was? Her eyes flicked over to Wick.
'…we mean…'
Thump, thump, thump…thump…thump…
She'd never had issues with his magic before, but then again Wick had never done…that before. He'd rarely had reason to use his magic at all, to be honest, but what little he had done had never been an issue. And she was contracted to him, so that should give her a certain sort of resistance to his magic, right? It shouldn't matter she was a demon and he could wield light like that. Well…eventually it would, but not so soon, right? Or…or…
'I'll ask again…'
Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump THUMP THUMP…
…Oh.
As the thrumming grew quicker, Tyranny raised a hand to her chest, her claws gently curling into the teal-colored cloth of her dress. Or she still wasn't used to having this body yet and it could still surprise her. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, that heaviness in her chest ready to burst free at any given second. She'd been in situations that got her heart pumping before but never…never like this.
She didn't really know where to begin with why. And even if she did know, she wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road anyways.
Quietly, she took a deep breath, something she'd seen Wick do hundreds of times whenever he got nervous or otherwise worked up. She'd always thought it was kind of a stupid way to calm down, but to her surprise, it worked…at least a little. So, she took another and another and another, until finally, her heart returned to a far more acceptable pace and the heaviness in her chest was nothing but a pebble. Not gone, but far, far easier to deal with. She shook her head once for good measure, ears flopping with the movement but effectively clearing the last of the noise.
It was just in time to hear the last bit of the boss lady's question, "What are you?"
Her eyes flickered around everyone a few times before they settled on Wick, figuring he was the one being addressed by that question. Well, that was obvious, right?
No one else seemed to have an answer though, least of all Wick himself as he fumbled with an explanation that ultimately ended with him admitting that he didn't know. And in fairness, she guessed maybe the nitty gritty details were hard to figure out. What just happened was definitely weird. Clerics, scions, whatever title he wanted to use…they didn't do that, no matter how powerful. They didn't glow with light so much that it grew them wings on their backs. That was weird, but did that really matter in the face of the easier answer?
Maybe it was just so obvious that it escaped them all. Wicander was good. Wholly, undeniably good. She, at least, had known that from the start. Now maybe others would begin to see it too.
At the very least, it got the fae to stop fighting and actually invite them to their…home? Somewhere safe. And it was only when he looked back at her, smiling and beckoning her to follow along with him—and the massive, shambling bush—that it really, really struck her.
Wicander was good. And she…well, she wasn't bad, but she certainly wasn't good, either. He'd figure that out for real sooner or later, and she was beginning to worry that maybe it would be sooner than even she expected. He was good. He had…she glanced around the area, taking in the way the flowers bloomed and glowed around him. He had given new life to a place that was hurt by undeath and she would…never be able to do that. She'd never be able to come close.
And yet, when her eyes traveled back to Wicander, he was still smiling and beckoned her again. A quiet, eager, "come on" falling from his mouth and urging her forward.
And still, she smiled and nodded, throwing one final glance over her shoulder. The scent of a fresh meadow teeming with life hit her nose, underpinned by the faintest hint of a burning rot that didn't belong in the otherwise idyllic image. It only gave a fresh twist to something she already knew and dreaded.
Sunshine and sulphur didn't mix, Wick would realize that one day. But until then, Tyranny would follow until he decided otherwise.