Archive of Our Own ^beta

“To return to our previous discussion, Wanderer, you were telling me about a prophecy?”

The sound of rushing water could be heard in the background as Albedo turned to ‘The Hero’ of Simulanka. He was an interesting man. Inhuman, like Albedo himself. Though perhaps his attire was what the alchemist found to stand out the most from a passing glance. Miss Nilou had referred to him as ‘Hat Guy’, which he supposed was an understandable nickname. It was his connection with the Simulanka’s Durin that presently had his attention however. He claimed he had heard the ‘Three Goddesses’ speak in a series of visions, one of which entailing a prophecy about the real Durin in Dragonspine.

As Wanderer repeated the words Barbeloth had spoken, the corner of Albedo’s eye caught a small movement from the top of the cliff. With it came a prickling in the back of his neck as he got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. It had been there ever since he’d first stepped foot in the story book world, but now he was certain of its validity. 

It was not an unfamiliar sensation to him. While still under Rhinedottir’s tutelage, his mother oftentimes would quietly observe his activities while taking notes. In more recent times, Sister Rosaria would occasionally monitor him from afar for suspicious activity. Then there was the instance with his elder brother…

He had killed Subject Two in the real world when confronting him after the fellflower incident. While he had hoped to reason with the other, Subject Two remained hostile towards him. Perhaps it was due to the influence of Durin's blood, or maybe the Prototype was simply that bitter towards him. He would never know.

Albedo wondered, however, if Simulanka had its own version of the failed Prototype. Given that Durin was a part of this world, it was not a stretch to believe that a version of Subject Two could also exist. If that was the case, he hoped that this one could be reasoned with. He did not wish to destroy another of his siblings. Though, he supposed that in this world, Subject Two would possess a different mother.

“Hello? Earth to Albedo?” 

At the sound of Paimon’s voice, Albedo’s focus snapped back to the conversation at hand. Evidently his inattention had not gone unnoticed. “Apologies, Paimon. I was lost in thought. My recent observations in Dragonspine lend credence to the prophecy as well. Durin’s heart has slowly but surely been growing in vitality. The process is extremely slow, but the trend is clear…”

~ ~ ~

The ground crunched lightly beneath Albedo’s feet as found his way to the top of the cliff, looking down on the place where he had been conversing with Wanderer and the Traveler. Looking around, he was now certain that someone had been observing from up there. The evidence laid in the crumpled grass where someone had knelt down prior to Albedo’s arrival. Based on the shape and size of the surface depression, he presumed the individual had been laying belly-down to peer over the edge of the cliff without being noticed.

Something they had not been entirely successful at.

A trail of lightly tramped foliage led away from the scene, left behind by hurried footsteps as the other person fled the scene. If he were fortunate, he need only follow them to find his quarry.

As he pressed onward, Albedo could not help but be fascinated by the whimsical world around him. The flora and fauna of that region both consisting of folded paper and ink, yet the latter being fully sapient. Were it not for his self-ordained quest to find whomever had been observing him, he might have paused to study them. As it was, his mysterious stalker was of greater interest. 

After some time Albedo came across a river, upon which an origami frog was sitting contentedly atop a large lily pad. “Greetings, friend. Have you seen a person pass by here in the last fifteen minutes or so? Perhaps someone who resembles myself?”

The frog blinked its paper eyes, looking him over for a moment. “A human-shaped person did run by, but I didn't catch what they looked like. They were wearing a cloak.”

Human-shaped? So it was possible that the person was Subject Two after all. He had yet to see anyone one from that world resemble a human thus far, and if there was to be an outlier, he was certain it would be him. That, or some other agent of ‘The Three Goddesses’. Either way, it only made his curiosity grow stronger.

He continued following the trail through the forest until at last the object of Albedo's search came into view. A cloaked individual was standing alone near a small pond. Though their back was turned, Albedo thought he saw them tuck something away. He tried to get closer without alerting the other person, but the snapping of a stray branch caused them to whirl around.

Albedo sucked in a breath.

The individual appeared to be a life-like doll. An animate plaything like the rest of Simulanka's inhabitants. The person that the doll was modeled after, however, was undoubtedly Subject Two. The doll's eyes and face almost perfectly mirrored his own, but his throat was barren of any pontil mark. 

Seeing that he had been discovered, Subject Two tensed, looking ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. Albedo held out his empty hands in a non-threatening gesture. “It's okay. I don't mean to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

The doll-man was unconvinced by his declaration of peace. A wooden staff was clutched in one hand which he held out defensively, as if readying to cast a spell. Albedo wondered if he could produce magic in this world. His garb certainly befitted a magician or wizard. 

Or a witch…

“Well then,” Subject Two said, his tone guarded. “Talk.”

Albedo inwardly sighed with relief that this version of Subject Two was at least reasonable enough to allow him to speak. The original had been less patient.

“I noticed you watching us from the cliff, and I suspect you were tailing me before then as well. Why?”

The other was silent for a few moments, his mouth tight. “I… wasn't expecting you to be here. You weren’t written in the story. So, I was trying to ascertain the purpose of your arrival here.”

“The story?” For the first time he noticed the book attached the Subject Two’s belt with a leather harness. It was a copy of the one he had entered Simulanka with. How intriguing. “You mean the story this world was built around?”

Subject Two nodded. “Yes. Everything that has happened here is all part of the story our creator had written. Every character is accounted for by the narrative, and you are not one of them.”

Interesting. As far as Albedo was aware, the other inhabitants of Simulanka had been unaware of their world's true nature. Even Durin. He wondered what made Subject Two different. “Are you also written in the story, then?”

The doll-man bristled at the question, evidently a nerve having been struck by it. He did not grace Albedo with an answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own. “Why are you here?”

Sensing the note of hostility in the other's voice, Albedo knew he needed to tread lightly. “I was merely accompanying my little sister upon Alice's, —or rather, the Goddess of Creation’s,— invitation.” Albedo replied calmly. “I assure you, I had no other motives. Prior to meeting you, I had no knowledge of you or Mini Durin’s presence here.”

Subject Two's defensiveness wavered, his posture relaxing ever so slightly as he scanned Albedo's expression for any hint of deceit. “Your master didn't send you, then?” he asked incredulously.

The alchemist shook his head. “I’ve not had contact with her in many years. It was only at Alice's behest that I decided to visit. I am unsure that Rhinedottir is even aware this world exists. If she does, I doubt she would interfere with it. She holds little interest in the machinations of Alice's creativity.”

Sensing his sincerity, Subject Two hesitantly lowered his staff.

In the hope of getting the other to open up further, Albedo asked, “So, how did you come to possess a copy of the story book here? This is the first one I've seen outside the real world.”

Subject Two glanced down to the tome at his waist, unclipping it from its harness to better reveal it.

“This is no copy. It is the original book from which the copies were made. It's.. it's the last thing I have of Mother. She entrusted it to me, to oversee the story.”

There was a tinge of bitterness in the man's voice. Some subtle mix of grief and anger. The Subject Two of his world had been bitter too. This one appeared subdued however, whereas the original had been driven to madness. Too blinded by his own jealous ire to do anything more than lash out at those around him.

“She must have had great faith in you to give you an object of such importance as that.”

A faint smile graced the other's lips as he rubbed his thumb fondly against the spine. “I suppose she did. I hold little part inside of it however. I am merely ‘The Apprentice’. Steward of The Three Goddesses. My role is to observe and guide the story from the sidelines. Alone.”

Subject Two lowered the book, his gaze turned to the ground. “It was nice for a while. Mother taught me everything I know. I thought I would stay by her side forever. After a while though, she grew more distant from me. Her visits were fewer, and shorter, and when she did come, her time was mostly spent with Durin. Eventually she just… never came back. She abandoned me.”

“She was mortal,” Albedo said softly. “She never wanted to abandon this world.”

“She didn't abandon this world.” Subject Two’s voice hardened as he clenched his fist. “Just //me// . Everyone else was accounted for. Everyone else got a happy ending. Except for me. She left me out, and now that the story is over, I don't even have a purpose. I spent so many years alone, and I can't help but wonder… Did I do something wrong?”

When he looked up at Albedo, his eyes were glistening with tears. 

“I tried to please her. To do everything she asked of me without question. I just wanted her to be proud of me. To… to love me. Was I not good enough? Is it my fault?”

Albedo sympathised with the doll-man. He had shared a similar feeling when their mother had left him after finding the heart of Naberius, and for a moment he wondered if the Subject Two in front of him might also be a reflection of himself. 

Or, perhaps it was because this Subject Two was not subjected to the horrors that Rhinedottir had put the real one through. 

A sick feeling coiled in Albedo’s stomach at the realization. It never occurred to him that his brother might have felt that way too, if not for their mother's treatment of him. Had they been raised together, could he really have had a brother just like him? Someone who shared his interests and understood him like no one else could, instead of a stranger who wanted him dead? From the brief interaction he'd had with the real Subject Two, he had gathered that the man both hated and revered Rhinedottir. Torn by his desire to earn her praise, and the feeling of betrayal in what she had done to him. Albedo felt himself imagining how he might feel if their places had been swapped. How his perception of their mother might change under the same circumstances. 

He probably would have been just as angry as his predecessor. 

Subject Two took a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. “At least I have the comfort of knowing that Durin is no longer alone, and that the Durin of your world might have a chance at a happy ending too. He deserves one.”

Albedo stepped closer to Subject Two, and this time the man didn't shrink away. “It's not too late for you to have a happy ending, you know.”

“Perhaps you've forgotten,” the other scoffed, “but my counterpart already had a second chance, and we both know how that ended. If this is a mirror to the real world, then I'm not likely to fare much better.”

Albedo hummed, a hand to his chin as he remembered what Wanderer had told him. “Let me ask you, did your mother ever give you a name?”

“What?” Subject Two seemed taken aback by the sudden question. “Y-yes. She named me Dorian.”

“Ah, there you have it then. Your fates cannot be fully tied.” 

His response only confused the doll-man further, unsure of where he was going with it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Albedo gestured towards the way they had come. “While I was speaking with Wanderer —‘The Hero’ that is— he told me something interesting. Among the visions he had witnessed of your three goddesses, one revealed that by naming this world's Durin after the original, he would be doomed to share the same fate.” 

“Such a case is the opposite for you. My mother never gave your real-world counterpart a name. Your mother must have known that, and by giving you one, spared you from suffering the same fate. She cared about you. Enough so that she pulled you from the mirror and entrusted you to hold it when she could not.”

Dorian took a long breath in an attempt to compose himself. “It… it still doesn't matter. This story is finished regardless. I don't belong in your world, and I have no purpose left in this one.”

“A story is never truly finished over so long as the author still holds a pen,” Albedo said, placing a hand on Dorian's shoulder. “The world's author may have passed, but you are her apprentice, are you not? A great writer as herself would not have given you that role for no reason.”

A feathered quill suddenly appeared in the alchemist's hand, which he extended towards the other. “This was tucked away in a hidden cave below your mother's statue. I'd say it's high time for a sequel, wouldn't you?”

Dorian reached out to accept the offering, a small chuckle escaping him as it seemingly came to life in his grasp. Glowing softly like moonlight on fresh snow, and magical ink welling at the tip, ready to grace the next pages set before it with a whimsy only its master could possess. Just as it had whenever his mother held it.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose it is.”