Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fire.
Hot, hot fire.

“Why?”

That sole thought ran in his head like a sheep chased by a wolf, the last thing he saw was the scarred, monolithic face of a man he once respected, feared, and envied all at once. The flames were hot, white heat covered his body as it disintegrated into thin air, leaving a crater of black and ash in its wake. It only took a few seconds, perhaps not even a minute, yet in those exact seconds was all it took for one’s body to disappear as if it never existed in the first place.

A man of red and black took a graceful fall next to his master, sweat beaded off his forehead despite the tundra surrounding them, fear of what will be done to him, perhaps, was all it took to keep his normally chatty mouth shut. It was odd, the face his master wore in that moment, closed off and distant was the norm, nothing changed about that, but those eyes…. His eyes appear to be holding, grief? Mourning? Or maybe even sadness.

“Strange…. Master was never one to mourn, much less the death of such an inconvenience”

Inconvenient was the kindest way to describe the boy known as Duke Grane, barely aged 17, who once had it all, money, fame, a good name to a family respected and revered by those in the awakened world, now he is nothing but ash, that is, if there even is ash left of him. Many know of him as selfish, weak minded, and most importantly, a traitor, even those within the Frame had some amount of dislike for him, some instinctual as if it were only natural to hate such a child, some from experience, having known him for the short 5 years he grew in those walls, Roist is one of them.

It took a while, but finally his master seemed to have tire from the scene, leaving with not even a breath of a word, his long legs not waiting for his main disciple to catch up to him. His aura was different, Roist thought, albeit there was no frame of reference to compare it to, for all he knows of his enigmatic master, he never had to kill a disciple before, even when training Roist in his youth, master Schnauder never once pushed him to the brink of death. “Is he mourning? Why would he mourn a boy he’s barely known?”, he was left alone to ponder in his thoughts as he trailed loyally behind his master. A sudden movement caused him to freeze, his master stopped, he froze as he took a long, suffering intake of breath, before exhaling into a sigh, it was only for a second, barely perceptible, but Roist could see the tremble in his master’s shoulders, “Never speak of his name again, he has disgraced my name, the Frame’s name”, was all he said before entering the Frame’s doors, never one to question, Roist simply followed.

.

Supri should’ve seen it coming, the horribly disfigured figure of that boy should’ve been an indicator enough, although, she never thought Schnauder would be the one to end his own disciple. The only warning that followed his disheartened speech was the bright, hot flash of heat before it dissipates into nothing, no body, no shadow, just ash. She couldn’t have stopped her shock on her face from showing even if she tried, there was nothing left of the boy, truly, but maybe that was a blessing, such pain he would have suffered if he were to live, death would have been a more favourable path, she had explained such to Muse, her poor disciple hasn’t recovered yet it seems.

In hindsight, in a more perfect world, it would have been sad, Duke was only 17, the youngest of the disciples taken in by her and Andrei combined, the youngest Schnauder had as well currently. She can’t say she liked the boy, he certainly doesn’t make it much easier for himself, such a brash, arrogant, and selfish child, even when they first took him into the Frame’s embrace at age 12. “I wonder if he will ever mourn that one” she mused to herself, she certainly would if she had to take her own disciple’s life, but Schnauder is not that kind of man, surely easing the suffering of one disciple wouldn’t bother him much, and if it did, it wouldn’t for long, she doubts he has the heart needed for that kind of empathy.

.

Even after the explanation of his master, the shock of it all still hasn’t faded. He was there just a moment ago, barely even a second, and then he was just….. gone. Such is the power of a Top 10, Muse supposes, Lord Schnauder seemed almost disheartened by his death, if his long lingering gaze at the very spot the boy once knelt was any indicator, he wonders if he will ever mourn him. Surely his master would mourn his death, will anyone be sad for Duke? Muse himself didn’t know him all too well, the kid made it hard for anyone to actually like him, even after 5 years of watching him be raised in this dark fortress, he was much of an enigma to him much like he was to anyone else, it reminds him of Lord Schnauder somewhat. The battle itself was foolish, the boy so desperate to prove himself he ended up cheating, again, and still lost, along with his life, Muse was surprised the Lord didn’t have his head the first time he heard the news, though maybe he was curious of the end result, surely this wasn’t the outcome anyone was expecting.

In a way, Muse was sad for the boy, so at least there is one person to mourn for him, somewhat, he was so young, so much potential if only his anger and hatred didn’t consume him the way it did. Who was to blame? His upbringing? His personality? The Frame? Lord Schnauder? The questions were endless, yet there is no time for that today, Muse still has tasks to attend to, students to be quelled, an organization to manage, although slightly unusual, today is a day like any other. With that thought, he left alongside his beloved master, already making a mental checklist of what to do and what needs to be done for the day, leaving the nameless grave behind to be forgotten.

.

For a moment he could only stare at the black and ashen crater left by his disciple, former disciple, he’s gone now, he made sure of that, a quick and painless death is what he ensured to give. It was hot still, the heat making the snowy landscape before him almost invisible, the fire in his hand hasn’t vanished still, if he closed his eyes he could see those desperate red eyes looking directly at him, and for some unknown reason it made his chest hurt, his heart ache, and his eyes stung. He didn’t know how long he stood there for, he didn’t care, he can’t stay there any longer, the weight in his chest grows the longer he stands there and he knows he would not be able to breath, and so he left, vaguely he can hear Roist struggle to keep up with his pace, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

It took him a while to regain his composure, he knows his only disciple is still following him, the loyal dog he is, he stops when he sees the gates, if he holds his silence still he will worry Roist, which will make rise to suspicion, he can’t have that. “Never speak of his name again, he has disgraced my name, the Frame’s name”, he is not naïve enough to not know that Roist can see the subtle shaking of his shoulders, they have known each other for far too long for such “secrets”. He does not know why he feels this way, no death of any child that has occurred within this organization since its birth has shaken him to his core the way his did, has he ever taken the life of one so young before? If he has, he doesn’t remember, all he knows now and will remember for an eternity is that he has taken a life, a boy, and he will live with it as long as he lives. But he has a job to do, he is Lord Schnauder of the Frame, one of the Top 10 in the world, he cannot afford this weakness, he has to power on.

If only his hands could stop shaking.

Chapter Text

It started with a speck.

Just one, tiny little speck of ash in the snow.

A conscious thought formed.

“What’s happening?”

That speck of ash started to…. grow. Crimson red stark against the white landscape, growing and growing until it formed a heart, silence took over, just a moment before the faint thump can be heard. Slowly, it grew larger, veins, nerves, the vinelike structure grew upwards to form a brain.

“I feel weird”

Faster now, lungs, kidneys, bone and muscle all formed from what started as a gray speck of ash in the wind. Pale skin stretched across the expanse of a new body born and a soul reincarnated from a brief rest, lain on the ground blackened by a white flame, it laid unmoving, unbreathing, and a pregnant silence governs over the small stretch of land. A sudden inhale of air breaks the wind as the newborn gasps greedily for oxygen its new lungs are unaccustomed to process. Its first breath triggers the need to open its new eyes, red in colour and wide as a doe.

“Where am I? I can’t see…. Where am I?”

The boy shakily attempts to move his head, but even the attempt of it makes his head throb and his stomach lurch. Again, he tries, but slower this time, moving his cloudy eyes to observe his surroundings, “I can’t see…. Everything’s so blurry…. Why can’t I see?”, he shakes his head trying to clear up his vision, it didn’t work, but he tries, nonetheless. Next, he raises himself on his forearms, grunting with the effort, “Come on, get up!”, and after a few tries he succeeds, sweat covering his forehead despite the cold he has yet to feel. Slowly, carefully, he moves himself on his hands and knees, panting, he glances around him, taking in the snow and frost, he looks at his hands, pink now from the chill, “I’m so cold...”.

“I should get up… I need to get out of here…”, he gets his feet under him, tries to, but the first time he stands he falls back down into the ice. His legs are not strong enough yet to carry himself out of the crater, much less out of the mountains, embarrassingly, he resolves to crawl his way out of the small pit, the critters of the surrounding areas chirp and coo as they watch the pale boy make his way to the trees. He makes it, although the cold now stings his knees and palms, bleeding from the dry skin being irritated and raw, his determination to stand and walk overrides the pain, so he uses a tree as a support to try. The first few steps were shaky and uncoordinated, but soon he is able to walk with the grace of a foal fresh out of his mother’s womb, and finally, his rocky journey begins.

.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking; his weak legs can only take him so far. Exhausted, he collapses into the hard ground below, his blood seeps into the white snow.

“I’m tired… but I don’t think I can walk anymore”

He is reminded of a memory in his youth, long forgotten, of when his father would push him further and further into his training until he couldn’t even stand anymore, to him, this felt like that. “But maybe worse, I can’t even remember the last time I felt this bad”, he tries to get up again…. and makes it a few more steps forward before he collapses for the last time, his body truly too tired to do anything.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid! You can’t even walk now?! What are you, a cripple??”

He huffs and pants and growls in his frustration, but his weakened state makes it so he can do no more than that. Tears well in his eyes as the helplessness sinks in, “I don’t wanna die again…. Someone, anyone, please…” he begs to no one in particular, his eyes start to close as his body succumbs to its exhaustion.

“I’m scared…”

.

In the distance, the vague sound of someone’s heavy footsteps in the snow reverberated through the trees, the pitter patter of a large dog accompanies the mysterious man, “sure is pretty eh Rocko? It’s been a while since we’ve walked this far, glad we did though, whatcha think?”, the dog boofs and sniffs the air before whining, the smell of blood wafting through its nostrils. “What’s wrong boy?” Rocko takes this as permission to start running through the snow to the source of the smell, his master jogging lightly behind him, before he stops in front of a pale body almost invisible in the white expanse. The man freezes for a moment, before gasping in shock, “Holy shit! A body! Is it dead?!” he gets on his knees and rolls the boy over, checking for a pulse and breath, “Oh thank God he’s not dead!.... What do I do now…?”, he pauses, uncertain of what to do or what to think, taking a brief look to Rocko, sat beside him waiting for an order. He gulps, “Right, we need to take this kid back, he’ll die out here”, it was then he registered that the boy was, in fact, naked, and it further stunned him on how he could’ve ended up that way. Slowly, the man and his dog make the fast but careful track up the mountain back to their cabin, the boy freezing cold yet not awake still in the man’s jacket hastily wrapped around him.

Chapter Text

“Warm…... How am I warm...?”
Blurry red eyes blink opens slowly to warm lights overhead and the smell of food being cooked, squinting, he moves his head to the side, only then being aware of the big, fluffy pillow cushioning him.

“Where am I…? What is this place…?”
Alarmed and frightened by the fact that he woke up in an unknown place, he shoots up and stumbles sideways, nearly faceplanting on the hard wooden floor underneath. Unaware of another occupant of the room, he yelps at the wet nose probing his cheek, ready to sprint to the nearest door he sees, only to hear a… dog?... panting in front of him, its warm breath smells faintly of dog food. Though apprehensive, he reaches out a hand to touch it, unsure whether it is friendly or not, warmly the dog nudges at the extended palm, wet nose and slobber and all. From the close distance, he can make out that the dog is big, even sitting down he is almost eye level with it, it’s fur is long and he thinks it’s grey in colour, it’s ears flop on it’s head with a protruding muzzle, although he can’t quite see the eyes, he knows they are brown and looking at him inquisitively, head tilting to the side.

“Boof?”

The dog barks(?) a strange sound, looking at him silently before whining, its tail wagging side to side from concern. The sound of a heavy door opening startles him out of his confusion, he looks up and sees the cloudy outline of a hulk of a man coming through with a large bag perched on his shoulder and the scent of wood and musk hits him like a wall. The man stops and pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the room, when he went out to get some more firewood, he didn’t expect to see the sight of a startled kid and his dog greeting him when he got home.

He huffs out a sigh of relief, unaware of the boy’s frightened stare at him from the floor, before closing the door and placing down the heavy bag with a grunt, on one knee he starts untying his shoes while ignoring his excited dog’s barking and licking his ear.

“Damn Rocko enough! Jeez I only went out for a second, lay off of me would ya?”

Though it sounds mean, the chuckles and the smile in his voice reveal the happiness he feels at coming home. It was after he finished untying and taking off his shoes (and getting Rocko to sit) did he noticed the boy sitting in front of his couch, looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. “ah shit… I forgot he was even there”, slowly and carefully, still on his knees, he extends a hand, hoping to ease his fear, “Hey kid… you okay?”, he asks gently.
Though he can’t see the man clearly, he can tell the man is on his knees and extended a hand to him, “You okay?” he hears the man ask again, his deep and gruff voice doing nothing to quell his panic. He sees the man shuffle towards him, and in his terror, he crawls away backwards from it, his back hitting the couch(?) and preventing his escape. Terrified, he tries to break a run, but his legs still uncooperative to his demands he falls, hard enough to tear out a yelp from him.

“WOAH hey, hey no need to panic”, he shuffles closer, both his hands now in front of him in a placating manner. He kneels beside the kid, not touching him yet, but prepared to help just in case. Cautiously, the boy raised his head to look at him, he was squinting though, maybe the lights were too bright?

“Hey kid... you… you’re okay, I’m not gonna hurt you, my name’s Pyotr Ivanovich Polkov, but you can call me Peter, this here’s Rocko, uhh… what’s your name?”

His name? He remembers his name… “Duke… Duke Grane”, it’s weaker than he intended, barely a whisper, but the man hears it loud and clear, nonetheless. “Duke Grane? Pretty weird name, you’re not from here huh?”, here? Where’s “here”? “I don’t know where I am… Where am I?” he asks. “You’re in the good old Caucus Mountains in Russia kid, pretty far don’tcha think”, he didn’t get as far away as he thought huh?

A long silence follows, neither party knew what to do or what to say, finally, Peter gets up and starts walking towards the bubbling pot, almost forgetting the soup he left to simmer while he was away, thankfully it wasn’t burnt. “You hungry? I made some Borscht, hope you don’t mind”, as he walks over to the stove he steals a glance at Duke, the kid looks like he’s swimming in his clothes even though that was the smallest sweater he owns, the boxers look big too (his pants would’ve just slid off he’s sure), but he doesn't look cold anymore so that’s good, maybe some warm Borscht will better his mood.

Duke follows Peter as he makes his way to the kitchen, that must be where the smell is coming from, he asks if he was hungry, just then he feels his stomach grumble, “Must’ve been hungrier than I thought”. He looks outside to the window, seeing the white decadence of snow from where he sat, it was then he really took the time to look himself over, “I don’t feel hurt anywhere, it’s kinda warm here” he didn’t notice he had clothes on till now, he runs his fingers over the soft sweater, he can see that the colour is a dark blue and mossy green, “it’s kinda ugly…. Wait, where are my pants?” he pulls up the dark sweater to see that he’s wearing some kind of shorts underneath, “these aren’t shorts…. Are these boxers??” he thinks as he runs his hands down the shorts to feel that they are, in fact, boxers. “That’s gross, couldn’t have given me literally anything else” he glares at the big man’s broad back as he whistles while stirring his soup.

“But…. This is nice…. I like it”, it’s warm in here, and though he doesn’t know Peter all that well yet, he thinks he’s a decent man, and Rocko’s cute too, he tries to find where the dog ran off to, but with his poor vision, he couldn’t see far. “I’ll stay here for a while, just until I can figure out where to go next”, meanwhile, he’ll enjoy the warmth of the cabin a little while longer, when was the last time he felt so safe? Maybe it was when his caretaker would sleep with him when he gets nightmares, but even that he’s unsure of but for now, he’ll just have to wait until that weird soup is ready, “just a little while…” he thought, curling his fingers into the sweater like a lifeline.

Chapter Text

“Sweet yet slightly sour… it’s…. Perfect”

The first drop of Borscht that hits his tongue makes it feel as if he’s never had an actual good meal in his life, it nearly brings him to tears. In front of him Peter chuckles at the wide-eyed look, “Never had a Borscht huh?” Duke shakes his head vigorously before shoveling down the rest, “WOAH kid slow down you’re gonna choke!” he said already making a move in case he does. Duke doesn’t, but the soup does struggle to make its way down his throat, which causes him to pat his chest with a fist, Rocko stands on his hind legs beside him, boofing as if in amusement as the boy tries to finish his meal.

Peter watches in amusement, chuckling and snorting at the way the kid almost kills himself trying to finish the whole bowl in one goal, “Damn, so he WAS starving!” the man thinks to himself, remembering the way he had to convince the boy across him that no, the Borscht was NOT poisoned thank you very much, the audacity to think like that! No man sane of mind would wanna poison a damn kid, unless someone did try to poison him before, he shudders in horror at the thought. Instead, he tries to finish his own soup, slowly, he’s not trying to kill himself, while Rocko tries to lick and sniff at Duke who tries to stop him to no avail.

Okay… so the weird soup WASN’T poisoned, good to know, he doesn’t want a repeat of that time his older brother poisoned his tea, that sucked. The big dog is still trying to lick at him even though he tried to stop it, what was it’s name again? Starts with uhh, Rocko or something, Rocky? Rocko? Right! It was Rocko, Rocko’s lucky he finds him cute, if he bites him for real he’s gonna tear the mutt’s throat out…. Speaking of mutts, he glances at the behemoth in front of him, still eating his soup without a care in the world, he swears the big guy was staring at him a moment ago, guess he didn’t want to get caught. He can’t sense any awakened power on him, he must be your regular human then, that’s good, if this guy ended up being an awakened one he might know who Duke really is… if that happens…. He might really have to kill this guy…. Even if he is nice.

Why’s the kid staring at me like that? Feels like he wants to kill something… or someone…. Peter thought as the boy kept looking at him. He should probably say something, right? He doesn’t want the poor kid to get any uhh, weird ideas, damn it he’s not some kind of perverted old man, he swears! On God’s holy name!  “Uhh, hey kid, you wanna… you wanna tell me why you were out there? In the snow?.... all alone?” he asks, voice slowly trailing off awkwardly as the boy just keeps staring at him, like he’s expecting something.

His head slightly downturns as he squints at him, his red eyes full of suspicion and hesitation, but also a glimmer of trust, slowly, he speaks up, “I don’t know, I don’t…. remember” his voice trails off into a whisper, his face now holding sadness and grief. “Agh shit I shouldn’t have asked him that! Now I sound like an asshole” Peter internally panics, trying to find a way to salvage the situation, “uhh, HEY you uhm, do you like Rocko?” he asks, hands gesturing to Rocko sitting next to him, whining at the sad scent he was emitting. “Rocko?” he looks curiously at the dog, his eyes turning soft, “yeah I… I like Rocko” his hand coming up to scratch at its chin. Mentally, Peter heaves out a sigh of relief, at least he’s not sad anymore.

What’s this guy want? He thinks as he ponders over the question, conflicted on whether to tell the truth or lie, if he tells the truth he doesn’t know how bigfoot will react, will he turn him in? Will he kick him out? He can’t trust this guy yet but….. he risks a minute glance at him, but he really DOES look nice…. “I don’t know, I don’t…. remember”, ugh he didn’t mean to sound so pathetic, but he can’t tell him the truth, even if he wanted to, not yet…. He can tell the man was panicking, it was obvious in his eyes, honestly it was pretty funny how a guy like him can be blubbering with just a kicked puppy look. And then he asks about Rocko, “Rocko?” he turns to look at the dog, yeah, he liked Rocko, he says as he scratches the mutt’s chin, was this his way of making him feel better?.... Hmph, the human’s lucky he’s got a cute dog.

Silence falls on the two as they each finish their meal, Rocko already scampering off somewhere to sleep, even so, curiosity still gnaws at Peter, “doesn’t he have parents? He can’t have just come out of nowhere, right? …… Should I ask? The kid looks tired though… maybe that can wait till tomorrow. “You tired? I don’t got an extra bedroom, but uhh… you can crash out on the couch for the night” he says, making a move to get up, gathering their dishes, giving Duke the time to think it over, “I hope he stays the night”, he glances out the window, the night no longer young, yet the snow never stops cascading down the sky, “it’s too cold for anyone or anything to be staying outside”.

Duke watches as the man rise up to wash the dishes, mulling over the question, stay the night? Would that really be safe? What if he does something when I’m asleep? The questions ran inside his head rapidly, almost sending him into a panic…. But, he looks outside, the chill already spreading through his body even through the warm cabin, I can’t stay outside, I won’t survive. Reluctantly, he speaks up, “I’ll… I’ll stay the night… just for tonight”, his voice trails off in a whisper, vulnerability making him want to throw up. He risks a shy glance to Peter, his breath caught in his throat when he sees the soft echo of a smile on his lips, as if he looked relieved, “alright kid, stay as long as you need”, the softness in his voice almost makes him tear up, damn it! Why am I crying?! Pathetic, it’s just for tonight, I’ll be gone tomorrow!

Phew, I’m so glad, at least I can go to sleep in peace tonight… wait, do I even have an extra blanket?! Or pillows?! Oh yeah, I can use some of my pillows, the blanket though… his eyes look towards an unused storage room, his heart heavy with emotion…. I guess he can use that one…. He walks towards the room, opening the door before reaching towards the pink blanket with daisy detailing…. He hasn’t touched this blanket in so long… he almost forgot how soft it was…. No, the kid needs it, I can’t get caught up in this right now…. He turns around to face Duke, “you can use this one, I don’t use it anymore, wait here, I’ll get your pillows” he hands it to the boy, whose pale hands contrast nicely with the pink, and then he stalks off to his bedroom like a man on a mission.

Didn’t think a guy like him would have such a…. girly blanket, is it even his? Doesn’t look like it’ll even cover him, Duke ponders as his hands thread through the soft wool, warm to the touch despite the musty smell, “I’m not trying to be ungrateful but… God this blanket stinks, does this guy even wash his stuff?” he snickers, “doesn’t look like he washes anything at all”. With nothing to do but to wait, he mildly investigates the cabin’s interior, taking note of the warm atmosphere, the dark carpet, heavy wooden furniture, and a…. lack of personal belongings… that’s weird, no photos, no trophies, no nothing? His eyes squint in suspicion… though, this could just be a vacation cabin, father used to have a lot of those…. He hopes he’s right and this guy’s not just some sort of…. Serial killer on the loose or something.

Finally, after what felt like hours of waiting, Peter ducks out of his bedroom, two fluffy pillows tucked under an armpit, the same warm smile on his face, “here you go! Get nice and comfy eh? Don’t mind Rocko if he climbs onto you when you sleep, the guy’s a hugger”, he gestures to the couch, “I’ll leave you to it, I got an early day tomorrow, but you sleep in as much as you want kid”, he instinctively reaches out ruffle the white hair, noticing too late the way the boy stiffened at his touch, “shit…. Shouldn’t have done that” he hastily pulls his hand away, guilt written all over his face. Thankfully, the kid recovered quick, putting on a mask of indifference before nodding at him, courteous huh? “Thank you, Mr. Peter” he bows shallowly, “uhm…. Goodnight”, his voice barely above a whisper, “holy shit he’s so cute” he thinks to himself giddily, waving his goodnight with a big smile on his face before retiring for the night.

…… What the fuck? What was that? What’s with that big dumb smile on his face? All I said was goodnight, Duke watches the man shut his bedroom door with a confuddled face, confusion written all over his being. Ugh, whatever, this guy’s so weird, he makes his way to the couch, ready to sleep the night away, as he makes himself comfortable (man this guy’s got good pillows), he notices the embroidering on the edge of the blanket, “Mila?” he whispers aloud as he traces the name, who’s Mila? A relative? A daughter? I don’t see any pictures or anything though…. He wonders and wonders as his eyes slip shut, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him, whatever, not my problem anyway, he thinks as he snuggles deeper into the blanket.

Chapter Text

It hurts….

What’s all this red…?

It hurts…. It hurts it hurts it hurts IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS!

The fire of father’s powers lick at his skin as he feels himself being torn apart one cell at a time, hot scorching heat overpowers his own as he fails to block it.

“Endure it, it’s the only way to get strong”

“If you’re strong, no one can hurt you, not even me”

“Don’t be weak, Duke, a true Grane is never weak”

“Get up”

Cold dread wakes him as he jolts up from the couch, the faint whining of Rocko beside him lost to his ears as his heart pounds erratically through his head, his breath shallow and sweat clings to his skin, his eyes search the room trying to remember where he is “where- oh”, swallowing the bile in his throat he remembers where he is, whose couch he has slept on. He looks over to where Rocko sits, those big eyes staring right at him as if deciphering what he’s thinking, slowly, he reaches a hand out, and the dog meets his palm with a wet nose and a whine. The coldness of the touch and the warmth of the fur slowly brings him back, and it was then he looks at his surroundings closer now that the haze of panic has passed, “it’s still dark, early morning?”, the lack of sunlight and the morning chill indicates that it’s not yet dawn, “I don’t think I can go back to sleep…. Not after that… what do you think I should do boy?” the mutt in question tilts his head curiously, but after a moment he boofs and lays back down to sleep, not even the dog is a morning person….

Rolling his eyes, he decides to get up anyways, the dog wants to sleep? Fine, be that way, he realized he’s never truly explored the cabin, so why not? Almost stumbling as he untangles himself from the horridly girly blanket, he slowly makes his way to the nearest thing he can see (albeit not much), the mantel over the fireplace. The first thing he notes is that it’s sturdy, he bets can climb on it and it wouldn’t break, “is this place new?”, he notes how dusty it is despite the seemingly new woodwork, “I mean… not like I know shit about wood and stuff, but old wood would be more… crumbly”, he mentally makes that first note in his head, continuing his new quest out of new born curiosity. His hands feel across the walls as his hip bumps into a cabinet of some kind, his fingers meet a photo he didn’t see before, he lifts it up to his face, trying to make out as best as he could, “a baby photo?” he recognizes what a baby looks like, he wasn’t born yesterday (hah!), and he can see enough to know this was a cute and chunky baby, toothless smile and chubby cheeks and all, brown hair curled on their head as pudgy hands reach for the camera. He turns the frame around, searching for more information, “Mila…?” he sees the faint M and L etched into the back, “again…. Who’s Mila?”, now this is interesting, maybe he can turn this into a game of “Who’s Mila”, if he searches the cabin enough, he can find out who she is.

But before he can even put the photo down, thumping footsteps walk into the living room, a sharp gasp echoes as he sees Peter who has just stepped out of his room. Startled, he almost drops the photo in shock, frozen like a child being caught doing something naughty by their parents, he quickly puts the photo down, “sorry! I’m sorry!” he frantically tries to come up with an excuse, but none comes to mind as fear runs through his body at the punishment he knows is to come, “he’s gonna hit me” he thinks as he braces himself, arms already shielding his head, anticipating the heavy blow to come. Instead, a large and gentle hand lands on his head, a soft huff heard as it gently ruffles his hair, “it’s okay kid….”, he dares himself to lift his head slightly to meet his eyes, warm and caring as he continues to caress his crown, bewildered, he didn’t dare to move an inch in fear of possibly setting the man off.

Peter’s eyes look over to the photo, sadness and grief overtaking his heart as his hands slowly lift the frame closer, “this is Mila…. She’s my daughter… was my daughter”, his voice heavy and shaky as he addresses the elephant in the room, “she died because I was careless… because I couldn’t be there for her when she needed me”, he puts the photo down as he looks over the cabin, “I haven’t come back here in so long because of that…. But I’m glad I did for this winter” he says as his eyes found Duke’s, wide and terrified, it makes his heart ache for this child, “because I found you”, slowly, gently, lowers himself to one knee so he doesn’t loom over the poor kid, “I don’t know what you’ve been through, Duke, and I won’t bother trying to know if you don’t want me to, but I just wanna say….. you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, I mean it”, a sad smile etches across his face, his eyes landing to where Rocko still sleeps, miraculously, “Rocko and I have more than enough room for you here”, warmth seeps through his voice as he looks at Duke.

And Duke… can’t, he can’t…. he doesn’t deserve this kindness, this love, he tears his eyes away as tears threaten to escape, a muffled sob creeping out his mouth like bile, his hands shake where they are at his sides, looking everywhere but the man in front of him right now, showing him kindness he hasn’t had for years. He hates it, why can’t he just be cruel like the others?! What if he’s faking it? What if he doesn't mean it? Why can’t he make it easy? This battle’s lost, straight up sobs and whimpers pour out of him as he hastily wipes his tears away, desperate to be free of this weakness, worst yet, he feels himself being pulled into big arms, a hug? No…. he can’t stop himself now, ugly tears and snot stain the man’s sweater, gentle rocking that could almost put him to sleep if he wasn’t so distressed, it’s not fair… nothing is fair… why did this happen to me? Why me? Endless questions and thoughts plague his mind as he is gently swayed and rocked until his breath evens and his tears dry, sleep tugging at his eyelids now that the whole fiasco is over.

Peter can feel all the fight draining out of the boy as his head is pillowed on his shoulder, only his soft breathing can be heard in his ear, geez… if the kid was looking at him right now he’d be able to see his own tears glistening in his eyes, he bet he wouldn’t be making the situation better if he started crying too, shit… he sneaks a glance to his shoulder, and yeah… the kid’s asleep. Thank God, he deserves the rest, I should put him back to bed, he moves to lift him up, taking note of how light he is despite his height, not like the kid’s taller than him, but still taller than most kids his age… he thinks, not his fault he doesn’t hang around with teenagers, he slowly puts him back on the couch, startling Rocko in his sleep as the dog gives him a dirty side eye, which was defiantly given back, it’s a wonder how he was able to sleep through all of that, he really doesn’t make a good guard dog huh? He tucks the boy under the blanket, his fingers feeling at the embroidery in the corner, his heart tugs at the reminder of who it belonged to all those years ago.

He should get going now, food isn’t gonna fall out of the sky, but he’s reluctant to leave the kid alone, but maybe if he left a note, it’ll be fine… right? And Rocko can stay too… as he muses to himself he gently strokes the boy’s hair absentmindedly, reminding himself that yeah, they both have to eat, he’s not just feeding himself now is he. With his mind made up, he raises to his feet, getting his hunting gear as quietly as possible, scribbling a quick note and sticking it to the fridge, before taking it off and adding that yes, you can eat anything from the fridge if you’re hungry, and sticks it back on. It’ll be a miracle if he could read that, but it’s something, right? Job well done (debated), he tiptoes to the front door, pulling it open with a creak, ready to hunt, but not before he sneaks a quick glance to the boy on the couch, his eyes fond at the small figure wrapped snugly, “sleep well kid…”, he whispers one last time before he shuts the door behind him, now…. Should he go for deer or rabbit today…

Chapter Text

“Mmph…” came the murmur of a boy cushioned and tucked snugly in a worn-out couch, sunlight poured from the windows, bathing the cabin in a warm and cozy ambience. His hands came to his eyes, trying to rub off the sleep yet to go, he looks to the side to see Rocko snuggled up at the foot of the couch, still not awake for the day, “where’s Peter…?”, his eyes tracking the home in search of the big man, nowhere to be found. He sits up, curiosity and mild fear running through his veins, “maybe he left to get some firewood?”, with that thought in mind, he stands to walk around the house in search of clues as to where the oaf could have gone, his fingers tracing the walls as he goes, before finding himself in the small kitchen.

The grumbling sound of an empty stomach tears through the silence, loud enough it startles Rocko out of his slumber, oh so he can wake up to something as stupid as this but not a mental breakdown? Stupid guard dog, he shakes his head in exasperation, deciding that breakfast is in order, but this isn’t his home, can he even eat anything in here? His eyes find the shape of a sticky note on the fridge, he takes it off, maybe it’s a note from Peter? Squinting, he tries to read the ineligible handwriting, “uhm… what’s this..? Hunting? Anything from the… the fridge… Take anything from the fridge? I’m out to hunt… if you’re hungry, just take anything from the fridge… damn” reading that note almost sparked a migraine, he sighed in annoyance, this guy’s writing is worst than Arthur’s, seriously, did he even pass elementary?

Permission now given, he puts the note back and opens the fridge, hands already rummaging through what’s available. Hmm, onions, beetroot, chicken stock? Ah hah! Milk! … does he not have cereal? After a few more minutes of rummaging, he decides to check the pantry, and lo and behold, miraculously this giant does have cereal, some kind of monstrosity with too much food colouring and artificial flavouring, but it’ll do. Soon he’s on the dinner table eating his breakfast absentmindedly, nothing to provide a distraction or stave off the growing sense of boredom, maybe he should take a shower? But Peter never gave him permission to use the bathroom… wait, when was the last time he took a piss? He shakes his head, too many unfiltered thoughts in his head, he hasn’t been this bored in years… and this cabin doesn’t even have a tv, what else is he supposed to do?

With a full stomach comes new motivation. Maybe he should explore more, why not? As he looks through the cabin, he noticed that his vision has improved… sort of? Things aren’t really blobs of colour anymore, he can see that the couch is brown and lumpy, and that Rocko looks like a mixed mutt, not like the purebreds at home, Mila’s photo looks clearer now too, she’s even cuter not-blurry, maybe in a few days his vision will become like it used to. Suddenly, a genius idea popped into his head, he’s already explored inside the cabin, but what about outside? A childish giddiness erupts in his frame, giggling at the curiosity and wonder he was about to discover, maybe he shouldn’t be outside, he wasn’t exactly wearing anything other than the sweater and boxers, but he’s an awakened one, so he should be fine, right? Mind made up, he runs straight to the door, ignoring Rocko’s protest boofing, opening it just to flinch at the sudden rush of wind and absolute chill of the snowy landscape outside, he gasps at the view, snow and ice making it blindingly white, making him squint at the intensity, but the lush forest at the perimeter excites him, if it weren’t for the fact that he had Peter in his mind he would’ve made a run to it, but maybe just walking around the cabin would be enough for now.

Barefoot on the porch, his eyes never leave the pretty picture the outside world painted, it was only when Rocko boofed and stumbled on his back, almost knocking him off his feet did he snap out of his stupor, “Rocko! What the hell!” he looks back at the mutt, baffled at its behaviour, Rocko simply boofed at him once more, motioning at him to come back inside, making Duke huff in annoyance, “I don’t wanna go back inside you mutt! I’m bored! You don’t know what bored feels like, you’re a dog!” he shouts with his hands flailing in the air, if he took a moment to breath, he would’ve realized how idiotic he looks, shouting at the dog like it was his nanny. Rocko only looks at him with a deadpan look, still unmoving from his spot, he rolled his eyes, he’s not gonna listen to this stupid dog! He’s Duke Grane, and he’ll do what he wants! Ignoring the dog, he walks across the porch, looking into the cabin from the windows, tracing the brown wood, and counting the icicles hanging from the roof, anything to stave off the boredom, when will Peter get back? It’s been forever!

Sighing dramatically and sitting down on the porch steps, he ignores the cold (and the dog now sitting beside him), his mind wanders again, throughout his whole time here… has he ever tested his powers? Can he even use them again? Anxiety jolts into him, making him tense and Rocko to whine, if he can’t use them, does that make him human? How is he supposed to defend himself? Or fight? His sudden rise to his feet scares Rocko into alert, he needs to try it out while Peter’s not home, it’s now or never, slowly, he raises him arm, gathering his energy, red upon red swirls in front of him, the wind so strong it threatens to knock the trees over, and Rocko’s loud barking and boofing fall deaf to his ears, he pushes, strains against the force and foregoing the pain in his chest, the swirls grow larger now, his power unrestrained and fed by a turmoil of emotions, before suddenly… it slows, weaker and weaker until nothing is left, the trees still and the wind no longer howls, Rocko already retreating back into the cabin in fear.

Huh… HUH?! WHAT THE FUCK?! He tries again, the red swirls weaker this time, before poofing out of existence like a weak candle flame, no… again, this time, nothing, no! AGAIN! Sweat soaks his hair and forehead as he tries again, to no avail, NO! He collapses to the floor, heaving and retching as all strength leaves his body, swaying and trembling as if a single gust of wind can knock him over, the only thing keeping him upright was Rocko and his insistent licking, giving him some support to lean on, the dog’s constant whining nothing but background noise in his ears. Suddenly, Rocko takes off into the forest, leaving him to collapse heavily on the cold, hard wooden floors, stupid dog… no matter how he tries to gather the strength to get up, he couldn’t… he can’t… he just can’t…

The last thing he hears is heavy footsteps running towards him, Rocko's loud boofing not far behind, the thump of something heavy hits the ground, “kid…? KID!”, someone frantically shakes him, Peter…? And his body loses the fight, his breath stalls, and his chest stills.

“DUKE!”

Chapter Text

It’s so cold…

Why am I cold?

Wait, is this… snow?

I’m outside...? How am I outside?

The snow crunches beneath his arms as he slowly gets up on his elbows, eyes trying to make sense of his surroundings to no avail, this looks… familiar. He stands up, shaky knees and trembling arms, he looks around, and freezes. Fuck… no wonder this looks familiar, what greets him is The Frame’s privately owned graveyard for their fallen comrades, he’s intimately familiar with this place, back when he was still with them, he used to hang around here often where no one can bother him, not that annoying Roist with his stupid creepy smile, not Muse with his cold eyes, not his mentor or Madam Supri or Lord Andrei, just him and the dead to keep him company.

But… why here? Last he remembered he was on Peter’s front porch… wait, PETER?! He whips around, “PETER?!” he yells into the dead space, “PETER!!!” this time more desperate for the only man to treat him decently in years. In the corner of his eyes, he catches someone, the wind sharply whooshes as he turns, trying to find the intruder of this strange… dream.

“Get up”

What?

“I said GET UP”

And suddenly he’s twelve again, maybe thirteen, kneeling in front of his master, his arm bent in unnatural ways and he’s bleeding, bleeding from the thousands of cuts, whether done by himself or Master Schnauder, he’s unsure, it doesn’t matter, because in the next second he sees the signature flip flopped feet of his lord in front of him, slowly, he looks up and makes eye contact with that beast, “if you continue to be like this, you’ll never grow stronger, get up now, or die, Duke Grane”. Tears sting his eyes before he could stop them, suddenly the world around him changes, and red, again, bleeds into him, into the dream, and his master can no longer be seen, now he’s spiraling, and spiraling, before…

A loud and tortured gasp tears into the cabin, desperately trying to get oxygen into his lungs before his body dies on him again, too quick, too soon, and now he’s coughing and hacking as his parched throat still tries to take a mouthful of air. “WOAH hey easy… easy… God kid, what the hell…”, the voice is soft, gruff and deep but soft, warm in the way he talks, he knows this voice, “Peter…?” he rasps out, arm reaching out to the nearest thing he can find, a big shoulder and soft brown jacket, is he back on the couch? It feels like it, he can hear Rocko whining loudly from… somewhere. He looks up to meet eyes with his saviour, his blue eyes wide and wet in concern and grief… wait, blue?! His hands shoot out to hold his face, studying his features now that he can actually see them. Since when can he see?!  The face in his hands is big, a strong jaw and a dimpled chin, a crooked and hooked nose, as if it never healed quite right after being broken, his skin slightly tanned (how do you get tanned in the snow?) yet red persists in his cheeks, big blue eyes framed by dark eyelashes, short curly hair unstyled and unkept on his head, he looks so… ordinary.

“Uhhh, kid?” his befuddled and confused face stares back at Duke, still entranced by the giants face in his hands, slowly, he peels his hands (they looked tiny in his) off his cheeks, a gentle look overcomes him, before he heaves a mighty, tired sigh, “I’m… I’m so glad you’re okay… I’m so glad” his voice trembles at the end, relief evident all over him. He comes out of his trance, feeling wetness fall on his hands still trapped in the man’s own, tears? His face snaps up to look at Peter, only now noticing that the man in front of him is crying, why is he crying? For him? This would be blasphemy in the awakened world, anyone who would even dare to cry, especially in front of another awakened one, would be bound to be taken advantaged of, maybe even killed, yet here he was, letting tears and silent sobs slip freely from his being. Duke could only stare with wide eyes at the strange display, if he were to cry in front of anyone like that, his mentor or his family alike, the least he’d get is a slap to the face, maybe a punch, but… he can’t leave the man like this can he? What do people do when someone cries in front of them? Right… they’d hug them, but he doesn’t feel comfortable hugging Peter yet, maybe…

Peter’s eyes snap open when he felt small, cold hands wipe away at his tears… just like she used to and he looks at the kid, whose frame is locked in awkwardness and anxiety, a gentle laugh rumbles his body at Duke’s face, nuzzling the palm of his hand with tenderness and care, “thanks kid… sorry for uhh, breaking down like that, wasn’t very cool and tough of me huh?” fond eyes took note of the slow untensing of the boy’s body. Pregnant silence hangs in the air, neither of them knowing how to unwind the tension in the cabin, “…what happened to me?” Duke asks, voice hesitant and eyes downcast, his hands fidget in his lap, still wet with the oaf’s tears, Peters eyes grew distant as he recalls the event that nearly took his life with fright.

Damn this deer’s gonna last us weeks! Can’t believe I got a hunt as lucky as this! No more dumb bunnies for me! The biting cold stung his eyes and cheeks, but the giddiness of a good hunt warms his body all the same, he can’t wait to show this to the kid! Has he ever had deer? Oh! He can make a jacket out of this one’s hide; it’d be perfect for Duke! and the imagery of the boy wrapped in a doe’s coat is just adorable! He giggles at the thought, continuing his way home with only the crunch of snow and the howl of wind accompanying him. Suddenly, the wind picked up in a way that should be impossible, it nearly took him off his feet! Him! Loud barking and boofing can be heard in the distance, “Rocko?” his voice barely audible in the howls, and just as it started, it stopped, and it was like everything was nothing but a hallucination, “holy shit… what was that” confusion laces his entire face, blue eyes scanning the icy environment, but nothing, nothing that could’ve done that, the only way that could have happened was if a helicopter were to be flying nearby, and hell he knows no helicopter ever landed here.

Rocko’s insistent boofing got closer, until the dog almost knocked him off his feet with the force of his slam, “WOAH boy calm down! What happened?” the only answer he got was more barking, and then Rocko was tugging at his sleeves with his teeth, does he want me to follow him or something? There’s a bad feeling in his chest, “alright boy, lead the way!” and just like that, Rocko sprints off in a hurry while he tries to follow as closely as possible, but the deer on his back makes it difficult to go fast, but he sees the cabin getting closer by the second nonetheless.

He stops, panting heavily with his hands on his knees, his lungs burn with the exertion, he’s no longer young after all, after wiping the sweat off his brow and finally gaining the strength to stand, he finally understood why Rocko was in such a panic. “What…?” the boy lays motionlessly on the ground, sending a cold wave of dread that makes him freeze, and just for a moment an image of a dead little girl in his arms flashes in his mind, soaking wet and freezing cold, unseeing eyes stare into his as he shakes her as hard as he could, his own screams of despair deaf to his ears, it was only the dog’s tugging on his arm did he snap out of it, “kid… KID!” he screams as he runs as fast as he could to where the boy lay, praying to The Almighty that he’s alright.

He drops the deer and kneels, shaking the boy, hard, he can feel his faint breathing getting slower… and slower, in a panic he puts his head to his chest, as long as there’s a heartbeat it’s fine right? Except in that moment he hears the kid’s heart slow and then… nothing. “no no no… NO NO NO” NOT AGAIN! His pleading falls deaf to the winter surrounding them, the animals and critters silent as if they too were aware of the tragedy that is happening. He puts Duke on his back, performing CPR desperately, in the back of his mind he’s warning himself not to be too hard or he might break the kid’s ribcage, but he could care less, a child is NOT dying by his hands, not again.

By his ear he hears a strange sound… something crackling, something groaning, with a gasp he straightens up to look around, the source of the strange noise impossible to pinpoint, “what was that?!”, he was about to continue saving the boy’s life, but the crackling happens again, this time louder, and… closer. It was only then he realized that it was coming from… Duke? He puts his ear to his chest and… yeah… the noise was coming from him, and it was only growing louder, and louder until it slowly fizzled away like a dying fire. A loud and sudden gasp had him tumbling backwards and down the short steps of the porch, “DUKE!” he crawls over the boy in question, one hand on his chest and another on his forehead, a heartbeat… and he was breathing… impossible.

He can only stare in disbelief over what just happened, because… what the hell was that? The kid was breathing, short and shallow yeah, but he was breathing! But… how? There was no heartbeat when he stopped the CPR, and what was that noise? And why was it coming from him? Questions upon questions run through his mind as he tries and fails to make sense of what was happening, it was only when he shivered in the cold did he realized that they were still on the porch, and the kid definitely wasn’t wearing anything warm, in fact, what was he doing out here in nothing but that anyways? Shaking his head at the childish idiocy, he carries the kid back into the cabin, Rocko whining behind him, and puts him gently back on the couch, making sure to tightly secure the blanket around him to ensure that no heat can escape.

With everything done, he stands up with a sigh and a groan, his back unappreciative at the physical labour, ah to be young again… he stares into nothing for a moment, something nagging the back of his mind, feels like he forgot something, but what? He looks into the ceiling for answers, before it hits him like a truck, MY DEER! If Rocko could laugh, he would at seeing his master scramble and almost trip on his own feet as he makes his way outside to retrieve his hunt for the day, but alas, he couldn’t, so nothing more than an amused boof echoes in the cabin amidst the wind coming through the open door. The dog turns around to face the young boy on the couch (and ignoring the muttering of his master as he closes the door and prepares the meat for dinner), placing his snout on his lap as he waits for him to wake up, his soft whines remain unanswered by the slumbering boy.

“Peter...? Peter?” a voice tears through his daze, questioning red eyes scan him anxiously, “are you… alright?” a question delivered in a whisper brings him back, “yeah! Yeah I’m fine, uhh” his hand scratches the back of his neck, if he told him the truth he’d freak out, and the kid’s stressed as it is, he can’t do that to him, “uhh nothing much really, you passed out for a bit there and I brought you inside…” purposely omitting the crackling sounds in fear of frightening him. “Oh…” his eyes flit nervously around the room before they go downturned, “thanks… sorry” his hands fidget in his lap, “hey! Nothin’ to be sorry about! Accidents happen… am I right?” trying to lighten the mood, the deer he hunted springing into his mind, “oh yeah! Remember when I said I went out hunting? Well I got us some deer! We’re gonna be good for weeks! So, what do you say? Meat? Not to brag but I’m something of a grill master myself” he huffs good-naturedly, taking amusement at the wide eyed look on the boy’s face.

Meat huh? He can feel his stomach clench greedily at the thought, meat sounds nice, haven’t had that in a while, he nods at the big man, watching him smile and practically skip off to prepare their meal, rolling his eyes at the boyish excitement, a big guy like him has no right to act like a kid. “So, I just… passed out?” he thinks to himself as he muses the possibility, “impossible… I literally felt my heart stop, was it because of the force control? Did I push myself too soon?” his eyebrows furrowed together in intense thought, trying to make sense of everything, “boof?” he looked to his side, Rocko’s big brown eyes stare back at him. He smiles softly, yeah… this dog’s growing on him (like a furry fungus), he reaches a hand out to pet the mutt, only now truly taking note of its appearance, a grey coat, big brown eyes, his eyes trail downwards, and a white patch on his stomach, he kinda looks like one of those dollar store plushies people buy for cheap as Christmas presents or something… cute.

Soon only the hissing of cooking meat as the giant worked on the grill can be heard, along with soft instructions on how to cut certain vegetables to the pale haired boy beside him, a dog’s silent insistence of being apart of the preparation (despite being more of a hinder), its tail swishing from side to side and the scraping of paws on wood. The crackle of fire in the fireplace making a cozy ambience in the cabin, the hecticness of the day long forgotten in the quiet laughter.

This is where it was, that familiar energy… a lone figure in black stands among the trees, the dark of the night camouflaging him almost perfectly, the pale glow of the moon reveals tuffs of dark green hair, and a silent, calculating look in his eyes. The cabin in front of him stands silent, its inhabitants long asleep at midnight, a soft laugh floats in the air, unbelieving and impossible to accept the possibility of him being alive. Hmm, he needs to investigate more, keep an eye on this lone home and its people, if he was correct in his suspicions, then this is truly something interesting to report to his master. As if he were never there, the figure vanishes into the air, startling the sleeping critters around them, leaving a dark, mysterious aura in the midst.