Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Get out.

Get out. Get out. 

Get out. Get out. Get out.

The cracked glass shattered, a violent explosion of fragments scattering across the floor as a torrent of fluid gushed from the rejuvenation tank, flooding the surrounding area and soaking all of the machinery in its path. 

Anne landed hard on her hands and knees, feeling the cold fluid rush past her, spreading out like a living thing. 

Her chest heaved, and her back arched as she stared down into the reflective puddle beneath her, catching a glimpse of her disheveled appearance.

Her hair, a brilliant blue, floated in the air around her like a halo, burning like wildfire with twigs and leaves protruding from it. Her eyes mirrored the same cerulean hue, glowing with a fierce intensity. A mask covered her face, making it hard to breathe, and she instinctively clawed at it with shaky hands. 

With a sudden burst of effort, she ripped the mask from her face, sending it clattering to the ground amidst the fluid, creating ripples that distorted her reflection. 

Where was she? How did she get here? 

What are you doing? a voice demanded from inside her head—one that wasn’t her own. 

She didn’t know how to answer. 

What was she doing? 

All she knew was that she needed to escape. 

GET OUT. 

In a frantic attempt to free herself from whatever nightmare she was trapped in, she climbed to her feet, wobbling unsteadily before collapsing back onto the ground, her hands and knees sinking into the strange fluid again. 

Whether she fell due to the liquid’s slippery surface or simply because her legs wouldn’t support her weight, she couldn’t tell.

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed a voice she didn’t recognize. 

Suddenly, two sets of hands were on her, prodding and checking her for something. 

Anne shivered from the unexpected touch. 

Words were being said—directed at her—but she couldn’t make out their meaning. 

A towel of sorts was draped over her shoulders, and instinctively, her hands gripped the fabric tightly.

Finally gathering the courage to look up her… captors? No. No, they weren’t her captors. She found herself staring at two newts—Lady Olivia and the Newtopian General. Oddly enough, she didn’t recall the General’s name, but the sight of them sparked a flicker of recognition. 

They weren’t her captors, but her… rescuers? 

They gazed down at her, concern etched on their faces as their lips moved in an almost frantic manner. Olivia seemed more worried than the General, but both wore expressions of urgency.

Though, Anne still can’t understand them. 

At some point, the two newts realized that their plan wasn’t working, so they settled on either side of the human and lifted her up by the shoulder, the General crouching down to accommodate Olivia's size.

Almost immediately, Anne struggled against them, urging them to let her go. She didn’t want to be saved! Or did she? Wasn’t that what she had been trying to do? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t want to be in the hands of these two. 

They worked for the king, and last she checked, she hated the king!

After a frantic bout of struggling, thrashing back and forth, and even whacking the General in the head, they finally relented and set her down, backing away to reassess their strategy. 

Anne sat up, watching them with a mixture of curiosity and caution. What were they planning?

Olivia began to pace, the fluid beneath her long dress soaking into the fabric. Anne’s heart raced; she needed to get out of here and find Sasha. 

Sasha? 

Why was she thinking of Sasha? Wasn’t she mad at her? Infuriated and upset? Why did her mind automatically drift to her friend-not-friend? 

Her brows furrowed deeply as she stared at the ground, lost in confusion. 

Stay, the voice in her head—the voices—whispered, pleading for her compliance. Maybe then you’ll find what you’re looking for.

But first, you must get rid of them, they added, drawing out the words with a near sinister delight. 

Anne’s head slowly lifted to gaze at the two newts, now talking to each other, frustration evident in their movements. 

Them? 

Yes, yes! the voices chanted, Get rid of them! They aren’t here to help you, but to distract you from your true mission.

‘True mission?’ Anne thought, bewildered. 

Her mission was to go home, wasn’t it? Was that not what she had been hoping for ever since she arrived in Amphibia? 

Yes… Your true mission is to retake control of this world! Take control of countless worlds—make it so nobody can hurt you ever again, the voices promised. And we… we can help you if you so desire.

It was a tantalizing offer, one that resonated with her deepest desires. Ever since she had come to Amphibia, she had been betrayed by those she trusted most. If she could create a perfect world where no one would get hurt, perhaps it would all be worth it.

Of course, the voices encouraged, But before that, you must get rid of them.

Anne shifted and rose to her feet, her hair still glowing cerulean blue. She staggered and stumbled, but managed to keep herself upright. 

The newts hadn’t noticed her movements yet. 

She glanced at her hands—power coursed through her body, building with every heartbeat.

Do it, the voices beckoned, Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

The chant grew louder and faster, drowning out her own thoughts until the voices became the only sound she could hear.

Do it.

Power began to gather in her hands as she locked her gaze on the newts, then aimed her palm toward them.

Do it.

The crackling energy caught their attention, and they turned, shocked and confused. 

Do it.

The General mouthed “Human?” 

While Lady Olivia gasped, “Anne?” 

In a sudden burst of bright blue light, the two newts were knocked out cold, sent sprawling back as the energy surged from her hands. 

When the light dimmed, the voices quieted, leaving her in a heavy silence as she stared at their still forms on the floor.

“They… they’re not… dead, are they?” Anne whispered, her voice trembling in the stillness. She pressed her hand to her dark armored chest, fear gnawing at her insides.

Not dead, the voices, thankfully, confirmed, and a wave of relief washed over her. 

Anne allowed her tense body to relax, grateful she wouldn’t have to grapple with the burden of taking lives. Yet, she felt her powers begin to dissipate, making her feel weak, but she could manage. 

Suddenly, a loud, grating whirring sound erupted behind her, drawing her attention. She turned to see a dark, coral throne rising from the mysterious depths where the broken tank had been. 

“What… is that?” she wondered, taking a cautious step forward.

Your prerogative, dear, the voices chimed, their tone almost sweetened with anticipation.

“My what?” Anne questioned, her brows furrowing as she stared blankly at the throne.

Your right. It is yours to claim, they divulged.

“Oh,” Anne uttered, realization beginning to dawn on her. “So, do I just…?” She pointed at the throne, uncertainty lacing her voice.

By all means, the voices encouraged, almost like they were giving her a nudge in the right direction. 

Slowly, Anne approached the steps leading up to the throne, marveling at the intricate coral formations that twisted and spiraled. 

She climbed the steps, her hand trailing along the railing, until she reached the top. For a moment, she hesitated, doubts creeping into her mind.

Did she really want this?

You want a perfect world, don’t you? the voices coaxed, their insistence wrapping around her like a comforting shroud.

She did. 

Anne settled down onto the throne, looking down at the ground below. It felt… weird. Being up here, anyway. It was like there was something swimming in her chest, creating waves that splashed inside her stomach.

Suddenly, loud snapping sounds caught her attention. Anne’s eyes widened as she realized her hands were now chained to the armrests of the throne. Panic surged through her as another snap echoed, binding her legs in place as well.

“What? What is this?!” she demanded, struggling against the restraints, her eyes flickering between blue and brown. “What are you doing?!” Anne hissed.

This was just another trick! The voices weren’t intending to help her at all; Ugh! She’s so naive. Of course they’re evil!

Those foolish sinners you care for and show those countless fragile cracks in your heart to the point of breaking… Yet we’re the evil ones? the voices taunted, their tone dripping with mockery.

Anne glanced away, biting her tongue as shame washed over her. 

You delude yourself in a poisoned belief that regardless of whatever path you choose, your friends and family will always find you… And where are they now? the voices continued.

Anne swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the armrest. 

She didn’t know. 

Or maybe she didn’t remember. 

The last thing she could recall was Marcy’s terrified face, the Plantars’ concern, before she looked down to see a burning blade piercing through her chest.

Your broken heart has led you to us, they intoned, attempting to soothe her. Now, we will mend together the pieces of whatever’s left, they said, their tone almost tender.

More whirring filled the air, and Anne looked up to see a helmet descending toward her head. Panic surged as she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the pain she knew was coming. 

The whirring grew louder, the clamor echoing in her mind, and as the helmet locked into place, wires shot into her arms and legs, sending jolts of agony through her body.

She let out a deafening scream, the sound echoing through the chamber as the darkness closed in around her.

Chapter Text

“–shouldn’t be able to,” Anne heard a low, rumbling voice grumble through the cacophony of other, louder voices as she began to wake. 

She blinked her eyes open, and the moment she did, the voices fell silent, the air thick with tension. A long line of newts turned to stare at her, their expressions unreadable. 

She quickly realized she was sitting at the head of a lengthy wooden table, and as she glanced back and forth, a wave of discomfort washed over her. The firm, hardened gazes of the newts made her shrink back into her chair, silently wishing she could disappear. 

Just then, a newt to her right shifted slightly, lifting his head with a quirked eyebrow. “Hello, Heart,” he said, and recognition flooded her mind. He was the one who had been grumbling moments before. 

“Uh, me?” Anne questioned, pointing at herself with a sheepish smile. 

The newt, along with the others, nodded in unison—an unsettlingly synchronized motion that made her cringe. 

“Uhh,” she drawled, scrambling for words. “‘Sup?” she offered, her voice trailing off awkwardly.

The newt cocked his head to the side. “‘Sup?” he echoed, brows furrowing in confusion. “What is that?”

“It’s, uh, you know… slang? Like, uh…” Anne faltered, trying to find her footing. “What’s up with you guys?” she said, only to be met with blank stares from the newts surrounding her. 

God, they were old.

“How are you?” she rephrased.

“Ah,” the newt stroked his beard thoughtfully, glancing up at the dim light surrounding them. “Then… we are excellent.” He turned back to her, resting his hand on his lap. “What is up, Heart?” he wondered.

Anne feigned a smile. At least he was trying. 

“Please, dude, just call me Anne,” she pleaded. “And, uh, I’m doing pretty good. I think.” She scratched her head, unsure of how to move the conversation forward. “I had the strangest dream, though,” she admitted, her voice dropping.

“Oh?”

“Yeaaah,” Anne replied, trying to piece it together. “It was weird. I was in some sorta… tank thing,” she explained, mimicking the shape with her hands. “But then I saw Lady Olivia and the General…” She paused, looking away, “I, uhm, actually don’t know what happened after that,” she confessed.

The newts stared at her for a long time, exchanging glances as if sharing a silent conversation. Finally, the newt to her right straightened his posture slightly. 

“That was not a dream,” he imparted.

Anne blinked. “It wasn’t?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. 

He shook his head. “No.”

“…What?” she bleated, unease settling in her chest. 

She glanced down at her hands—she couldn’t feel them. Her eyes narrowed in confusion. If that wasn’t a dream… Her arms wrapped around herself protectively. Then was she dead? 

Her gaze drifted to the newts. They looked old. They had to be dead too. 

She didn’t want to die. 

She didn’t want to be dead! 

Panic surged within her as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Wait, hold on a moment—” the newt began to rise from his chair, but he was abruptly cut off. 

Suddenly, Anne felt something against her hands—the solid edges of armrests—filling her with a sense of relief. 

She blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the sudden light as she was pulled from the darkness. 

She wasn't sure which was scarier: seeing everything or nothing at all. 

Her eyes scanned the area—not that she needed to; the entire room was mapped out before her. She didn’t even need to turn her head to see. 

Her hand wandered up to touch her temples, only to be greeted by smooth metal. 

“What…” she drawled, pulling her hand away. “What did you do to me?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

We have become one in the same,</em> the voices inside her head whispered, with the voice of the newt at the forefront. 

That’s why his voice had sounded so familiar. 

Why hadn’t she heard it before?

“You…” she frowned, her grip tightening on the armrests as she pushed herself up. “You’re the ones who tricked me.” she said, forcing herself to climb down the steps, her eyes wandering to Lady Olivia and Yunan’s bodies peacefully resting on the ground. 

Her scowl deepened as she clutched her helmet. Her hands… those powers… she did this. They made her do this. 

We did not trick you, the voices objected, their tone shifting. 

We have blessed you with absolute knowledge—our definition of good and evil so you may enjoy our army with unhesitating, unwavering tenacity! they proclaimed.

“Bullshit,” Anne retorted, stepping over the two newts. Her mind began to filter through memories—conversations, fragments of clarity as she pieced everything together. 

“You weren’t trying to help me. You were trying to use me.” she hissed, holding onto the wall for support.

No, no! the voices protested, urgency creeping into their tone.  We were simply waiting for the right time to offer you a deal. A proposition, if you will.

“Why should I listen to you?” she snapped, her eyes narrowing in defiance.

What we said was true! We can help you achieve your destiny! Trust that we know what we’re doing. Let us show you how powerful you can be! they begged, their voices rising in unison.

“Quit lying to me!” Anne commanded, her voice echoing through the bare room. “I might not be as strong as Sasha or as smart as Marcy, but I am not as stupid as you think I am. Not anymore.”

“Trust me with the truth.” she added, recalling the bits and pieces of her fragmented memories. Lapses in understanding—stories with holes. She needed them to tell the truth so she could paint a clearer picture.

The voices fell silent for a long moment before responding. Very well, Anne Boonchuy, they said, their tone shifting to something more somber. 

We are the Core, a collection of Amphibia’s Greatest Minds, they explained, We were not lying when we said you had a destiny—

“Try again,” Anne growled, cutting them off. 

There was no destiny, only something unformed—a prediction, perhaps—nothing set in stone, nothing predetermined.

Fine, the Core relented, their tone souring. You, Anne, alongside your traitorous friends, are the stars of Amphibia, prophesied to save the world from us. they uttered, their words dripping with disdain.

Anne stayed silent, prompting them to continue. 

In order to prevent the prophecy, we’ve decided to possess a star, to take control of a mortal vessel, as only one star needs to fall. But, obviously, that didn’t go as planned. they grumbled, Andrias, that fool, got you instead of the one we wanted: Marcy. Your consciousness wasn’t supposed to wake up so quickly either. they explained.

Anne remained quiet, considering the implications of their words. 

“So now,” they continued, We’d like to offer a proposal where we both get what we want. You get a life where those so-called friends of yours will never be able to hurt you, and we get to continue our glorious conquest throughout the multiverse! they asserted, their ambition unmistakable.

Anne contemplated this longingly. A world free of hurt? No pain? It was tempting, very tempting. However, she didn’t want to be a puppet. Her strings had been pulled one too many times, and she refused to let someone else take the reins.

“I’ll accept your offer,” Anne sneered, “But we are going to do this my way. No excuses, no lies, no secrets. You will treat me like an equal—not some child you think you can manipulate.” 

“Try and trick me, and I’ll make sure your plans won’t be fulfilled, and you can watch as I destroy centuries of work. Understand?” she demanded, her voice steady and firm.

Understood. they uttered, their tone laden with resignation. 

Anne took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon her. If she was going to navigate this new reality, she would do it on her own terms. The game had changed, and she was no longer a pawn.

She would be the one in control.

“Good.” she smirked.

Anne pushed the massive doors to the throne room open, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. A small legion of frobots trailed closely behind her, their mechanical forms glinting in the dim light. As she strode into the chamber, she noticed Andrias, who had been leaning back in the ceremonial chair. He sat up abruptly, his eyes growing wide in disbelief.

“Anne?” he called out, confusion lacing his voice. 

One of his hands gripped the armrest as if he were about to push himself off to confront her. 

“Hey, Big Guy!” Anne said coolly, swaying playfully from side to side. “Really like what you’ve done with the place,” she remarked, glancing around and taking in the atmosphere. 

The room felt darker than she remembered, yet it also had an oddly welcoming quality to it—comforting, even.

“You’re not supposed to be out of your rejuvenation tank,” Andrias acknowledged, rising to his feet. 

Anne should’ve felt intimidated at his towering stature with the knowledge that he could crush her in seconds, but instead of fear, she maintained her smile, staring up at him with confidence. 

In the corner of her eye, she noticed wires crawling out from behind the throne, and her smile widened. 

With a flick of her wrist, she reached out, calling to the wires in a way that felt almost instinctual. They responded, slithering closer and wrapping themselves around Andrias, pulling him to his knees in front of her. He let out a grunt as he struggled against the metal restraints, but Anne only tightened her grip.

“Sorry, but you’re not the one in control,” she mocked playfully. 

The sound of metallic creaking filled the air, and Anne could see Andrias’s muscles tensing as he fought against his bindings. 

She snickered inwardly. Of course, this was how he had survived for so long. 

We, unfortunately, still need him, The Core whispered in her mind.

‘Seriously?!’ Anne thought back, crossing her arms in exasperation.

She was itching to give him some payback. After all, he had lied; he had twisted and fabricated stories to lure them into a false sense of security. He impaled her with a flaming sword for frog’s sake! And yet, they still needed him? 

What a joke.

The metallic limbs retracted under her command, and Andrias stared down at her, clearly baffled.

“You’re lucky, Andrias,” Anne sneered, “We still need you, so I hope you’re ready to sit and listen.” 

The king said nothing, and Anne took a moment to savor his confusion. “I’m sure you can piece together what happened,” she said, swaying back and forth as she watched him.

“You weren’t… We… This happened far too early,” Andrias stammered, his expression shifting to one of concern. “You weren’t supposed to be ready for another month at the very least.”

“Not early enough,” Anne corrected him, her voice dripping with confidence. “The Core and I have come to a consensus. This is a… partnership, if you will. With my powers, their smarts, and this army… we’ll be unstoppable.” She smirked, relishing the thought.

“And that’s where you come in, Big Guy. Crank up the production of our frobots, and we’ll be able to proceed with our invasion,” Anne explained, her tone firm.

“But… this operation would destroy the wildlife. The biota wouldn’t be able to handle it,” Andrias countered, a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

Anne frowned, leaning forward, getting close and personal as she locked eyes with him. 

“Don’t you want to make your father proud?” 

Andrias felt himself pale, staring at her with wide eyes. 

“This is your way to show him you’re not a fuck-up,” she added, her voice dripping with manipulation. “Show him that you really are capable of restoring the glory of your advanced society,” she said, her grin widening.

Andrias frowned, visibly torn. “But what about the rebels? They’re—” 

“Insignificant. A minor obstacle in the bigger picture,” Anne scowled. “Pests that shouldn’t be worth your time. You’re better than them,” she insisted. 

“By the time we’re prepared to commence our invasion, they’ll be little to nothing,” she sneered.

“But what about your friends?” Andrias boomed suddenly, his voice rising in intensity. “Marcy is on Earth, and Sasha is the leader of the Resistance! Don’t you care about what happens to them because of your plan?” he challenged.

Anne leaned back, a small, sinister smile creeping onto her face. “I’m glad you asked, Andrias,” she began, her tone shifting. 

“I do have plans for them. Nothing violent, of course, but it might not stay that way,” she laughed, a chilling sound that echoed in the throne room. “You shouldn’t have to worry your pretty little head. Stay focused on your part, and we’ll do ours.”

Finally, Andrias sat up, albeit cautiously. “…Of course,” he uttered.

Anne smiled, tilting her head slightly. “Good. Now, let’s get to work.”