Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Isa remembers.

Except Isa can’t remember, because… because he just can’t! Loop promised. And, and—and if the actors are starting to remember, then what’s even the point? All this time you’ve been saying your lines for them, smiling and winking and playing along to protect them. If you can’t shield your family from this, why go through with it at all?

And what are you supposed to do when the others start to remember? You can’t even imagine how dangerous Odile would be. And how angry. And Mira, stars, Mira will be so disappointed; but even worse, she’ll blame herself, you know she will. And oh, stars, Bonnie—

“What makes you think they’re going to remember?”

You whip around, bristling. “Weren’t you listening? It’s already happening! Isa knows!! He saw what happened last time and he, he doesn’t know it’s real yet but when it happens again… Why are you laughing???”

“Who, me?” Loop hides their smirk behind one hand. “No reason. I just, ah, remembered a joke.”

“You’re the one who should be upset!” you hiss. “You lied to me! You’re supposed to be helping me and you said, you promised that no one would remember! That it was only me!”

“That’s certainly the impression I had, yes.”

“How am I supposed to do this if you’re just going to lie to me???”

“Ohh, stardust,” Loop sighs. “You always take everything so personally! It isn’t all about you, you know.”

“He saw me use the dagger!!!”

Loop shrugs innocently. “I did tell you not to do it. I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but…”

“No! No! You are not blaming this on me!!!”

“I’m not the one who put the dagger to your throat, stardust.”

“You put it in my hand! You put it in my head! It’s the same blinding thing!!!”

For the briefest instant, Loop almost looks pained. But the moment you blink, it’s gone. “Haha. Maybe. I suppose it doesn’t really matter who’s to blame.”

“So what do I do?”

“We~ell,” Loop muses. “What makes you think that all of them are going to remember? It might just be the Fighter.”

Your forehead furrows. “Why would it just be him?”

“Why not?”

You shoot them a murderous glare.

“Oh, come on, stardust,” Loop giggles, “don’t look like that. I’m trying to help you! Besides. Did it ever occur to you that this might be a good thing?”

“No.”

“But if you had a co-conspirator… someone to provide a fresh perspective; to help you think things through…”

“No!!”

Loop gives you a tolerant smile. “Alright, stardust. Enlighten me. Why not?”

“I don’t need help!!” But—no. That’s not the reason. “No. I mean. It’s… Isn’t it already bad enough? And Isa’s…” Soft. Honest. True to the bone. “…sensitive. His feelings all come spilling out. And he’s a coward. He couldn’t handle the truth.”

“Haha, ouch! Mee-yow! Who knew you had such sharp claws?”

“You did.”

“Yes, I suppose I did, at that.” Loop stretches and yawns. Whenever they pull in a really deep breath, their face glows just a little brighter. “So? What are you going to do?”

“What can I do?”

Loop taps their chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes a nightmare is just a nightmare, no? It sounds to me like you need to test your little hypothesis.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Hm… You could smell him!”

Ha, ha. Hilarious. It’s so funny, you forgot to laugh.

“What!!” Loop protests. “I’m not joking! Your Kid said that Time Craft smelled like sugar, didn’t they? If your Fighter smells sweeter than usual…”

“And how am I supposed to know what he usually smells like?”

“Aw. Stardust. My sweet, adorable, stupid little stardust. You know there’s no point trying to lie to me.”

…Okay, so maybe they have a point. You have spent 100-some nights—100-some of the same night sharing a bed with Isabeau. Curled under the blanket just a heartbeat away, so close your noses nearly brush. Listening to Isa stammer his way through a cut-short confession. Watching him sleep, face slack, cheek scrunched against the pillow. By now you could trace the outline of his face with your eyes closed. Of course you know how he smells. Like fresh laundry and cut grass. Like sweat and salt and good clean dirt.

“Okay,” Loop says tolerantly. “If you really won’t smell him, I’m certain you can find some other way. Sleep on it, stardust. Unless you’re ready to give up…?”

You wrinkle your nose at them. “Is that what you want?”

“Stardust!” Loop gasps, clutching their pearls. “You insult me! You know I’m only here to help.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Ohh, don’t be like that! There’s no one keeping you here, you know. If you’re upset, you’re welcome to storm off anytime you like.”

“No,” you say on reflex, and then hesitate. Of course you’re upset. You’re always upset. But this is the only place where you get to be upset without upsetting someone else. “I mean. Um. Is it okay if I stay?”

To your immense irritation, Loop reaches out to tap you on the nose. “You’re the master of your own destiny, stardust. Do what makes you happy.”

* * *

It’s a beautiful day. Dormont is a beautiful town! It’s all steep, sloping rooftops and cozy clay facades, and you can always hear the gentle burble of the river running through it. There’s a buzz of anxiety in the air, but the whole town seems to have agreed to point all their nervous energy toward preparations for their end-of-the-world party. Isa can’t think of a better place to spend what might be his last night on earth.

By the time he finds his way back to town square, he’s more-or-less calmed down. So, of course, that’s when the deja vu hits.

“Good morning!” the boulangier greets him, holding out a picnic basket. “You’re one of the saviors, aren’t you? A friend of little Mirabelle’s? I wanted to give you all a treat! It’s nothing much, just a token of our appreciation!”

A chill drips down Isabeau’s spine. Hasn’t he heard this before? Every word; every pause for breath and sheepish smile… He saw this already, didn’t he? But that was just a dream. It wasn’t really real.

The boulangier is still smiling, waiting for an answer.

“O-Oh! Haha, wow, thanks so much! That’s really nice of you! Aw, but we couldn’t possibly—”

“But you must!” the boulangier laughs, again, exactly like he did in Isa’s dream. “Besides. If you don’t succeed tomorrow, there’ll be no one left to sell to, heh. It’s really the least I can do!”

“Ahh… Haha, well, um. I guess if you insist, we’ll take you up on it!” He grins at the boulangier, trying to look like someone strong enough to put your faith in. (Just like he did the last time.) “But once we beat the King tomorrow, we’re coming back to pay for ‘em!”

The boulangier pats him on the shoulder. If you beat the King, I’ll— “—bake you all the croissants you can eat!”

…Right.

* * *

And then. It just. Keeps happening.

The kid standing at the north end of town challenges him to a rock-paper-scissors-off. Odile gives him a distracted nod on her way into the general store. The runner jogging around the statue of the Change God whacks him on the shoulder and grins before wishing him good luck. Just like Isabeau remembers. Every step, every smile, every shift in the wind… it’s all exactly how he remembers.

…What is he supposed to do with this????

He needs a sanity check. A sounding board. So Isabeau does what he always does when he needs to make sure he’s not being completely stupid: he goes and finds Mira.

* * *

He finds her sitting in front of the library, exactly where he found her yesterday. (No. Not yesterday. His dream of yesterday. His dream of… today? Whatever.)

“Mira.”

“Oh, Isabeau!” she says, brightening. “Are you feeling any better? You looked a little out of sorts, earlier.”

He can still feel the fear crawling over his skin, but Mira’s voice makes the itch recede a little. Just looking at her is enough to make him feel more relaxed. He can always trust Mirabelle to act exactly like herself.

Isabeau isn't here for advice, exactly, because Mira doesn’t really give advice. Mostly she listens intently, her whole face scrunched with focus, and asks leading questions until she’s nudged you to the answer. If pressed, she’ll insist that you got there on your own. Isa’s learned by now that it’s pointless trying to argue.

It was just the two of them, once. Before they found Odile; before Siffrin found them and then saved Bonnie… Just a little more than half a year ago, their little family was only Isa and Mira. And it was already good!!!

“Mira,” Isabeau says seriously, taking a knee in front of the bench so he can grab both of her hands. “Is there a hallway in the House called the Death Corridor?”

She blinks at him, owlish. “Um. Well… yes, actually. How did you—”

“And your roommate, back in the House. Is her name Claude? And you don’t really get along?”

“I’m not sure I’d say that we… Well, maybe we could get along better, but—”

“And you— Did you teach a class once? But it went really bad?”

“Isabeau!” Mira huffs, drawing herself up. “What is this about! And—how do you know all of that?”

Isabeau takes a breath. He lets it out. “Mira,” he says. “I think maybe I can see the future.”

Whatever she expected, it clearly wasn’t that. She takes one of her hands back so she can rest two fingers against his forehead. Checking for a fever, probably. He almost wishes that he was sick. At least it’d mean that what he saw was just some stupid fever-dream.

But he’s out of luck. Mira draws her hand back, frowning. “You… um? Or? What… makes you think that?”

“I’m pretty sure I just dreamed, like, this whole day.” Just saying it out loud makes him feel a little lighter. “And I don’t just mean a normal dream. I mean, like, accurately. All the little details and everything. And tomorrow, too. I thought it was just a dream, but—stuff keeps coming true!! I keep knowing stuff I couldn’t have known, and recognizing stuff I shouldn’t have seen, so… So what the crab else am I supposed to think????”

“Hm,” she hums. “Hmm. It’s not— I don’t understand how it would work, but… if you really knew all that, then I suppose I can’t just deny it.”

“How did it feel when you got Chosen?” he asks hopefully. Generally speaking, he tries not to ask about the Change God’s blessing—talking about it always puts Mira in a weird mood, and the last thing he wants to do is upset one of his favorite people in the world—but these seem like extenuating circumstances. “Was there, like, a moment? Where you felt… you know. Magic?”

Sure enough, Mira’s face darkens. “Haha. I, ah… no. Not a moment.”

“So someone could get blessed and not even notice?”

“I—ah—theoretically? I suppose?”

Isabeau nods slowly. “Mira. I think maybe I got blessed.”

She snorts, and then very quickly tries to look like she didn’t. “Oh. You’re serious. W-Well, um… I suppose it could only be a good thing! Theoretically speaking! Especially if you can warn us about potential pitfalls. Did we, um… In this vision of yours, did we beat the King, or…?”

Oh. Oh. Isabeau absolutely cannot tell her why they didn’t beat the King. “Uhh. We… didn’t make it that far. But!! But we definitely will this time!!”

“Yes,” she agrees, nodding fiercely. “We’ll make sure of it.”

* * *

Sif doesn’t show his face until dinnertime. When they finally turn up, they’re almost their normal self again. A little quiet, but that is normal, for Sif. If Isa hadn’t seen what he saw, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

But he did.

Unfortunately, he can’t just ask about it in front of everyone. So Isabeau bides his time. He doesn’t try to talk to Sif until he’s sure that the others are definitely asleep. Then he whispers for their attention.

“Psssst. Sif."

Siffrin’s feet twitch.

“Sif. Siffarooni. Siffrin.”

Grudgingly, Siffrin rolls over. (Isa tries not to look at his neck.)

“Um. Sorry? To wake you? I just—sorry, it’s kind of a weird question b-but you, um. You wouldn’t… hurt yourself, right?”

Sif’s eye widens. Surprise, then wariness. “What is this about?”

“N-Nothing!! Nothing!! I just—I had that nightmare, remember, from earlier? And I guess it freaked me out pretty bad 'cause I— I trust you, of course I trust you, I just. Um. C-Can’t get it out of my head.”

Siffrin stares at him. Their expression is completely unreadable. Almost as blank as they looked before driving that blade into their neck. The ragged edge of tearing skin. Blood on your hands. Blood on his—

“Sorry,” Isa whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, “Sorry, sorry, I just—I know I’m being really crazy, I know you don’t like to be touched, I just— Can I touch you? Just for a second? I know I’m being stupid, I’m really sorry, I just—I think it might, um…”

“Okay.”

Isa’s eyes fly open. “O-Okay?”

Sif nods.

“Really?”

Another nod.

“‘Cause there’s really no pressure!! I know I was being… s-sort of dramatic, but it’s really totally fine if you don’t— I really don’t wanna feel like I forced you, or—

“No. It's okay.” Sif goes quiet for a second, considering. “Tomorrow's important. We all need you to get enough sleep.”

“R-Right. Right!! Then I’ll just, um…” Isabeau hesitates. Sif’s neck is almost always covered by their cloak. Even when they share a tent, Isa’s always careful not to look too close. He wouldn’t want to weird them out by staring—or, worse, make himself look like an even bigger loser than he is. But he has permission, now. And he kind of really needs this.

Lightly, with just the pads of two fingers, he brushes the side of their throat. Whole, now, and unblemished. Not torn open, not seeping blood. Warm under his hands.

—But the second his hand meets their skin, Siffrin flinches violently.

Right away, Isa jerks his hand back. “S-Sorry!! Sorry!! Maybe if I just— Can you give me your wrist? And I can, um, f-feel your pulse, maybe?”

He can see Sif's throat bob as they swallow.

“Sorry!!!” he yelps. “Never mind!! I was just—”

“No,” Sif whispers. “Um. Here.”

Sif’s hand creeps up the mattress, settles on the pillow between them. It is so much smaller than Isa’s. (Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how it would feel if they let you hold their hand; if they wanted you to. OH FOR CHANGE’S SAKE, YOU’RE STILL THINKING ABOUT IT. PLEASE. JUST. STOP.)

As soon as he finds their pulse, Isa feels like the world’s biggest crabhole. Siffrin’s heart is racing, their pulse pounding like a terrified rabbit.

Isabeau lets out his breath and gives Sif their hand back. “Um. S-Sorry. And… thanks for humoring me. And sorry for being so selfish?”

Sif shakes his head. “I don't want you to have a bad dream.”

Isa’s chest swells. He beams at them, dizzy with love. “Well!! Don’t worry!! I definitely won’t now!!!”

Sif gives him a puzzled look, their face half-tilted like a dog hearing a sound it’s never heard before.

“U-Um! Just because, um—”

—there’s a blur of white, and a pillow collides with the side of his face.

* * *

If walking into town yesterday was unsettling, entering the House is downright chilling. Everything is exactly as he remembers.

As soon as they step into the Death Corridor, Isa elbows Mirabelle. “So this is—“

“Yes!” she gasps, disbelieving. “Wow! Yes! It really is! I don’t understand how you could—“ When she looks up, she startles, reaching out with both hands. “Ohh, Siffrin, do be careful!! This wing is called—“

And a boulder the size of a two-bedroom apartment crashes down from the ceiling. (Just like Isabeau remembers.)

…Wow. Okay. So this is really happening.

“So there’s this floating water everywhere,” he whispers to Mira, as they make their way past the boulder. “They’re called Tears and I guess if you touch them, you get frozen in time? But to get past them, we use these, um—“

“What are you two whispering about?” M’dame Odile asks sharply.

“Nothing!!” they chorus.

* * *

They make it as far as the second floor. That’s when Sif wanders up to a Tear and glances over his shoulder to stare straight at Isa. “Hey. Isa.”

“Siiiif~?”

“Why did the time traveler break all of his clocks?”

“Wh–Huh? Uh… I dunno, why?”

“He wanted to kill some time.”

—And Sif plunges his arm shoulder-deep into the Tear.

Isabeau’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to scream but he can’t make a sound, he can see the scene getting darker—

[ h e   f e e l s    a    t u g    a t    h i s    s t o m a c h ]

—and he wakes up.

* * *

Siffrin’s in the field again. But this time, they don’t look surprised to see him. “Hey, Isa.”

“H-Hey, Sif.”

“Hey, Isa?”

“Sif?”

“Why did the time traveler break all his clocks?”

All the hair on Isabeau’s neck stands up. “Hhhhhha! Um! Because he… wanted to kill some time?”

“Oh, stars,” Siffrin whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut, covers his ears with both hands. “You remember.”