Chapter Text
Gem was no stranger to the darkness. She had spent countless nights surrounded by the empty void of the night’s sky. And at some point she had grown peace with it, she had grown accustom to its silence and the lack of response it would give her. Sure, the darkness got lonely, but she had understood how to deal with it.
So she knew what to do when the darkness slowly started to fade, instead leaving her with a dull familiar ache that seemed to be gradually growing more incense by the second.
Gem groaned, the sound grating against her throat, ringing throughout her ears, stabbing pains crackling through his head. She paused, a small voice in the back of her mind whispering at her to go back to the darkness, to lean into the urges to fall back into the emptiness of the endless void.
But she couldn’t just stay here, wherever here was at least.
Gem had to move; and soon.
She peeled her eyes open, a slow groan escaping her lips.
Everything just felt like too much. The sun was too bright and the river that was nearby was too loud and the wet liquid under her head was getting too sticky as it sat to dry out in the early beams of sunlight.
Gem exhaled slowly, letting her eyes slip shut for just a moment.
She could do this.
Or well, she had to do this.
In her personal opinion, this would be an embarrassing death to die by.
Bleeding out.
Slowly bleeding out from a cut in the back of her head.
Gem refused to die like this.
— — —
Everything ached.
There was a dull throbbing ache pulsating throughout her body, its intensity only increasing with each step she took.
“C’mon Gem.” She exhaled slowly, blinking. “You can do this.” She whispered to herself, making sure to keep her voice low in case there was anyone nearby.
Gem wasn’t sure she’d be able to win a fight against anyone in this condition.
But there were more pressing issues rather than the repetitive aches coming at her from every direction.
— — —
Gem didn’t know quite how she had managed to stand up, let alone follow the sounds of the water moving; but she had.
She had and it was all that mattered.
Waves of relief echoed through her as the icy liquid rushed down her throat, the once scratchy and dry feeling disappearing, replaced with one of pure relief.
She inhaled slowly, the water remaining slowly dripping from her cupped palms, running down her forearms.
As the coolness settled down in her throat, a small lump formed alongside a subtle realisation.
Gem had no clue where she was.
— — —
Distantly, Pearl was sure her feet ached, she was sure that they were the cause for her muted suffering. Whether it was from the old boots she’d had for who knows how long, the souls of them peeling up in some parts, or if it was from the distance she had trekked. Although, Pearl knew she’d walked further in worse conditions before.
But there was nothing she could do about it for a while. The sun was slowly sinking into the horizon, the moon climbing its way up into the empty sky and Pearl’s targets were nowhere in sight. Deeply imprinted into the muddied ground, were footsteps; a perfect path laid out for her to follow. Although, as she stumbled along the faint lines and imprints, they grew shallower, becoming blurry and merging in with the sloppy mud.
She tried to ignore the rising panic inside of her; attempting to bury it deep within herself — to hide these emotions away from everything and everyone. Because she was The Scarlet Pearl. She didn’t get scared or panic over simple things. She didn’t worry about getting lost in a forest of all places!
However, with the looming pressure of her target's status slowly hitting her, it was starting to break through her thick shell she’d spent so long building up to protect herself.
The King and his knight.
The most important person in Monopoly Mountain and his right hand man; and they were to be dead by her hands, by her blade.
She wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear that overtook her mind as her task resurfaced in her thoughts. The bubbling adrenaline that could have been either one of the two. Pearl didn’t like the fact that she couldn’t tell the difference between them.
She shoved these thoughts away, instead focusing on keeping her feet going, focusing on pushing her legs forwards, one after the other. The deeply rooted ache had been dulled by now; she didn’t know if it had truly dulled down and stopped or if she had simply grown used to its numbing presence.
Although, the more she thought about it, the more she focused on it, the more it made itself known to her. It was almost as if it was alive, the humming ache inside of her, and was fuelled by her own mind consuming thoughts that ate away at her. It was as if—
When Pearl’s feet came to a halt, a slight panic coursed through her.
There were no footsteps to follow.
Her head snapped back, trying to relocate the ones she’d been following, only they were missing.
There were no footsteps behind her apart from her own lonely ones.
There were none.
She had lost track of them.
She had lost them.
She had—
“Excuse me?”
Pearl’s head snapped to the source of the sound, her hand sprinting to the hilt of her sword before drawing it without hesitation, the blade only centimetres away from the person’s chest.
It was a woman, slightly dulled bright ginger hair covering her head, strands falling — from where it had been pulled back into what looked to be a simple braid — to surround her face, neatly framing it. Her eyes had been blown wide, fear evident from their current situation, the emerald green locked onto Pearl’s own brown eyes.
Then she noticed her uniform.
It was a deep green jacket, the fabric fraying at the seams, a couple tears to the sides. Her trousers were in a similar condition, a few holes littering the once, or Pearl assumed it had been, matching green fabric. However it was now a mix of patch work, splotches of light cracking brown from layers of caked mud. There was a few patches that were a deep red, the colour bleeding down into the other sections.
She wasn’t from Dogwarts.
“I— Um, you… You’re from Monopoly Mountain, right?” She paused, her voice clearly shaking as her uncertainty grew. Then her eyes moved, tracing over her face as she paused. “I… recognise you?” The statement came across as more of a question, as if she wasn’t sure if she knew Pearl or not. Which was a little ridiculous; Pearl had never seen this woman before.
The missing footsteps.
Pearl didn’t know this woman.
She was from Monopoly Mountain.
Pearl shouldn’t be with the enemy.
She could get her to the targets.
“Yep! I think I’ve seen you around before somewhere as well.” She hummed, slowly lowering her sword. “My name’s Pearl.” She offered, pushed her other hand forwards, relief flooding through her veins once the other took it with little hesitation.
“Gem, nice to meet you.”
— — —
Ren slouched against the chair, back aching from the lack of cushions behind him. He was waiting just a minute longer, his legs aches had long since grown dull, his body acclimatising to the everlasting feeling. Yet, as he sat down it seemed to fade away. If he could just have a minute longer then maybe—
“Excuse me, my— my lord?”
Ren’s gaze shifted, tilting upwards to the entrance.
A man stood, pale hair and a mask covering his face — Etho, his mind supplied — he shifted, moving his hands to lay by his side.
“Etho, you know it’s just Ren to you.” The other laughed nervously, nodding slowly along with his words. Ren was sure he’d muttered something under his breath, but he stood too far away for the words to be heard. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a suggestion.”
— — —
Scar had been right about one thing; time moved fast.
Scarily fast.
He also grew used to this new form of life quite quickly. Maybe he had never grown out of his old habits, habits from a snippet of his life he tried to ignore, a version of his life he pretended hadn’t happened, a version of his life before Scar. A version of his life between running from the man who had ruined it and the man who had saved it.
He tried not to think about it too much.
But sometimes he did. Sometimes he allowed his mind to wander, allowed the questions, the hypotheticals to run freely through his mind. Sometimes he fed into these delusions, into these imaginary scenarios. That was something he had to tell himself when he thought about it too much. Imaginary. That’s all they were. Hypothetical.
It was all situations his mind had made up to freak him out. That was all they were; lies his brain told him to scare him.
Although, in a way it made him more grateful, it made him appreciate what had been offered to him, how one man had changed everything for him, how he wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t happened. How Grian would most likely be on the streets still, scrambling for dropped pennies or scavenging for thrown out scraps, how his fingers might have accidently fallen into a wealthy person’s pocket and some change along with it once it left. Although, that one would most likely have left him in handcuffs, curses being thrown out at him as a police carriage dragged him through the streets, the cities people sending glares full of daggers towards his direction. Thieves, shockingly, weren’t appreciated by the wealthy, or anyone really.
Luckily, he hadn’t needed to resort to any of that.
Luckily, he’d found a job.
Luckily, he’d found Scar.
His luck couldn’t be put into words. He couldn’t explain how thankful he was for Scar, how Scar had saved him. How everything he had was because of Scar, because of the man’s generosity, his subconscious thoughts and nature. His—
“Grian!” A voice threw his thoughts away and dragged his mind and consciousness back to reality. Joel was standing at the tent's door, eyes wide, hands shaking as they rested by his side. There was a loud chatter from outside, a dark hum that came from them moving base, the dull excitement as soldiers scrabbled to hoist their shelter up before the eventual dark stuffy clouds rained over them.
“Wha— Joel? Are you okay? What happened?” Then he paused, scanning the other for any signs or injuries or anything. When he came back with nothing, he decided to voice his concerns. “You aren’t hurt, are you? I can get Doc or someone—”
“Grian.”
He stopped, his voice dying in his throat, no sound escaping his lips. Grian’s eyes narrowed, gaze hardening as he watched Joel stand there. As he stood, Grian started to notice the man’s appearance. Or, more so, the blatant fear that was oozing out of him, embedding a sense of panic inside of Grian.
This time, Grian hesitated to speak again. “...Joel? What— What happened?”
The man’s eyes severed their connection, drifting down to the dried mud ground, inspecting each crack and dent within it.
“Gem’s gone.”
— — —
Gone.
She was gone.
“Wha… Joel? What do you mean?” Grian asked, inhaling sharply as he spoke almost breathless as the air left his body. The other didn’t speak for a moment, eyes glossed over and unfocused as he stared at the ground. “Joel? Gem’s not— She’s here, right?! She’s… She can’t be—”
Joel snapped his head upwards, eyes piercing into Grian’s soul, breaking through his skin.
“She’s not here.”
He snapped, taking a subconscious step backwards, his hair blowing into his face from the harsh nature of the unforgiving winds. “She didn’t… She didn’t show to the count up— I don’t—”
Gem was—
She couldn’t be…
Gem wasn’t dead.
Gem wasn’t gone.
She wasn’t.
“She’s not gone. She’s not—”
— — —
“How’d you end up down here then?” Pearl knew it was risky to ask, she was still recovering from the shock that Gem hadn’t noticed the faint flag of Dogwarts embroidered into her uniform. Although, she had ‘fallen’ a bit ago, her hand gaining a handful of the sticky mud and ‘accidently’ falling to her shoulder to cover the red and white thread. It had worked better than she had thought it would.
“Someone got a good hit on me earlier, right in the head. It sent me unconscious instantly, my attacker must’ve thought they’d given me a deadly blow as they left me alone.” Gem spoke loudly as she walked ahead of the pair, confidence in her strides.
Gem had offered to walk ahead, claiming she had an idea as to where the king would have moved to. Pearl had been quick to explain she was completely lost and that it would be better if Gem did in fact lead. Pearl could only hope she actually knew where she was going.
“Ah, I’m sorry.” She knew the words were empty, in all honesty Pearl cared very little about Gem. Which, yes, she understood how that could come across as sadistic or cruel. But Pearl had a job to do. She’d been tasked with a mission and she wasn’t going to fail. If she failed…
Well Pearl couldn’t.
She needed this.
For them.
She was doing this for them.
— — —
The papers shook in his trembling hands, his eyes frantically scanning the ink. Only it seemed to be working against him, as the words moved along the page, ink seeping into the surrounding cloudy mess.
“Is… Is she—”
Grian ignored Joel’s stumbling words, instead trying to focus on that one word.
Menjmitay.
“Grian, is her—”
Grian blinked, the water that had been obstructing his view dispersing. He wasn’t sure if that meant he was technically crying or not. He also wasn’t sure he cared about that enough to rethink it.
Nemjnitay.
“Answer me— Grian!”
Fuck.
Geminitay.
She was—
“Grian!”
— — —
“Sooo, what’s up with you?” Gem asked. She was walking beside her now, at some point having slowed down to allow Pearl to catch up.
“Huh?”
“Why didn’t you leave? Run away?” Gem didn’t look at her as she spoke, instead her eyes remained focusing on the tracks in front of them. That task being trying to find their way to camp, or in Gem’s case back to camp.
Pearl tried to ignore Gem's question, but the piercing eyes that stabbed into her told her she couldn’t.
“Why didn’t you?” She snapped back, causing the other to stumble in her steps. Sure, Pearl had been nothing but kind to Gem, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t snap. Pearl had a job to do after all, a job she very much intended on fulfilling.
Gem’s eyes turned, the interrogating look’s flame dying inside her, yet her voice was flooded with the sharpness her eyes lacked. “I have people there, waiting for me; probably thinking I’m dead.” Then she looked away, confidence flickering. “You’re yet to mention anyone who’s waiting for you to come back. I don’t understand why you aren’t taking your chance to live.”
The flash of golden wings, glimmering in the beams of the early rising sun. The eyes that somehow never seemed to dull, the sparkle never dulling no matter how hard times got. Blond hair that was always knotted, no matter how many times Pearl would comb her fingers through it to try and maintain it.
The flash of that marron jumpy, patchy and worn down from its overuse, a few holes poking through to show for its love. The colourful wings Pearl saw in the fields of poppys, in the fiery flames she saw and in the rivers that rushed through.
That was why she was doing this.
They were why she was doing this.
They were why she had done all of this. They were why the Scarlet Pearl existed, why she did these jobs, why she even accepted this current job.
It was all for them.
It was all so she could see them again.
And she wasn’t going to stop until she did.
Pearl was sure of it.
Or that's what she had been telling herself. It's what her mind had whispered to her, the small comfort of hope was enough to keep her legs moving each sunrise and brain moving just enough to keep herself alive.
It was all for them.
— — —
“Change of plan.” Ren announced, voice cutting through the dim layer of voices that crowded around the table. Martyn stared at him from across the make-shift table, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted. Etho sat beside the man, grin clear on his face with his eyes. Ren continued before he could say anything. “We want a bargaining chip, everyone agrees on that don’t they?”
There were quiet murmurs across the small piece of furniture, a couple of nods motioned for him to continue, although a few seemed hesitant at the thought, or maybe it was confusion. Ren thought it would be best to clear things up before he continued.
“Scar won’t listen to us if he had no real reason to; unless there’s something pushing him to listen.” He paused, glancing around the group, a small wave of nerves crashing up against him. Ren shrugged the feelings away, swallowing a thick lump in his throat.
“What… What are you suggesting, my Lord?” Martyn spoke up in his moment of quiet. His eyes were narrowed, laced with suspicion yet the snarky grin building up on his face suggested otherwise, as if Martyn knew what he wanted, as if he were reading his mind.
There was a small splutter, then a purposeful cough that caused Ren’s attention to drift, landing on a familiar face.
Etho paused, waiting a moment before Martyn was also looking at him, curiosity dripping. “If I may Commander, but it’s a solid plan.”
Then the grin on Martyn’s face slowly started to fade, shifting to disbelief in his eyes. “You really think Scar cares about some objects enough to risk his life to come talk to you?” The man pointed out. “My lord, I urge you to rethink this decision.”
Ren chuckled, shaking his head. “Me laddie, you’re mistaken. We’re not taking something.”
The air in the tent turned stale, dropping in temperature suddenly.
“It’s someone.”
— — —