Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He remembered hitting the ground.

There was a snap as his bones shattered from the impact that had sent agonizing shocks up his bruised limbs. In only a second the air had been punched out of him, so the scream that threatened to tear its way out of his vocal cords had been silent, locked in his chest. 

He remembered the sand.

It was a deep sensation of grit under his skin, stuck between the broken, bent feathers of his wings in awful clumps. It had been itchy to the point of being unbearable, hungrily soaking up blood that dripped, dripped, dripped from his broken flesh, wet trails that stained him with gore.

He remembered the way the sun beat down on him for hours as he lay there, cooking him. The heat had washed over his ruined skin, and the awful stench of his slow death rose around him.

He remembered closing his eyes for the last time, as death took him into her arms at last.

The game was over. He won.

He lost. It should have been Scar.

Grian woke up.

There was grass beneath him. It bent under the weight of his body, and he could feel each blade under his hands, and everything about the sensation was wrong.

There was no grass on Monopoly Mountain. Grian had long since grown adjusted to the warm sand that got into every single crevice it could. Even when Grian left the sandy biome it would still be stuck between each fold of his clothes, and cling onto every strand of his hair. At first, it may have been annoying, something to complain about, but over time he had grown used to the sensation. Over time, sand had been linked to safe, and home in his mind.

The cool grass beneath his fingers was strange enough, but the distinct lack of that constant layer of grit was what really sent alarms through his mind. Grian opened his eyes and sat up in a flurry of limbs, wings unfolding and curling up around his shoulders.

He took in his surroundings quickly, shoulders tense and fingers curled so that they were digging into the ground. Grian was sitting by what seemed to be a small river, the sound of the water rushing over the rocks filling the mostly quiet space. Oak trees grew around him, rustling in the gentle breeze that blew a few strands of his hair into his eyes.

There was a wild pig a few feet away, and it looked over at him as he moved, its small eyes dark and beady. As Grian made eye contact with the animal it snorted at him before returning to its task of nosing at the ground beneath it, searching for something to eat. 

Grian knew where he was. Across the water, there was a ruined portal and a small hill behind it, which was enough of a landmark for him to instantly turn to stare in the direction that he knew Monopoly Mountain would be in. Third Life was a small place with borders that blocked any of them from leaving, and after a year Grian knew the entire place like the back of his hand.

He was far from Monopoly Mountain, practically on the other side of their small world. It would take him around three to four days to get there. Half that, if he didn’t sleep. The Crastle should be within his sight at the moment, but he figured since he was dead, perhaps the structures didn’t carry over.

He also knew how he died.

It had been slow. He had been at the base of a mountain he called home, and he thought he would go quickly, but he hadn’t. 

Was this some sort of afterlife? If it was, where was everyone else?

“Scar?” Grian called out, the name falling from his mouth thoughtlessly as he slowly stood. His wings twitched on his back, and he folded them carefully. There was no answer, even as his voice echoed around him.

Maybe Scar just didn’t want to see him. Could Grian really blame him, if Scar never wanted to speak with him again? He would have to respect any distance between him and his partner, his best friend, even if it would slowly burn him up from the inside.

“Scar,” he tried again, doing his best to keep his voice steady, “if you don’t want - it’s fine if you don’t want to talk. Just… let me know you’re okay.”

Nothing.

“... Please.”

More nothing.

Grian dug his nails into the palms of his hand, and the shock of pain made him flinch and look down. Did pain still exist, even here? As he rose his palms to look at them, he could see blood in crimson moon-shaped patterns. Could you still bleed, even when you’re dead?

Grian’s next breath came out shaky, and he had to close his eyes as he breathed back in. A quick check revealed that his inventory was empty. His health and hunger were both full, for now.

Why did he have health and hunger at all, if he were dead?

Something vulnerable trickled down his spine, and he felt horribly exposed with nothing to defend himself with. If he were attacked like this, he would be easy to kill. A single swipe from any weapon would be enough to break into his skin, bruise him, and cut him open if enough force was applied.

Could you die again, in the afterlife? You could bleed. You could go hungry and get hurt, apparently.

And so Grian grit his teeth and started collecting oak wood from the world around him. He had no idea what was going on, and the confusion and hurt in his chest felt like it was crushing him. But he couldn’t just stand around and do nothing, and he had to fix one issue at a time. He continued until he had a few stacks of logs tucked away into his inventory, making a crafting table and some awkward wooden tools that he wrinkled his nose at. It wasn’t much but it was something, and Grian turned to start crossing the river with his gaze locked on the ruined portal.

The place was looking more and more familiar to him. It was where he woke up on his first day on Third Life, his mind devoid of any memory of his past. He had known how to survive in the world around him, but he hadn’t known where the knowledge came from. He had known that dying twice would mean losing himself to bloodlust, and drying thrice meant he would be gone forever, but he hadn’t known enough to be afraid of the idea.

He had a desire to explore and create inside of him though, and he had started by looting the first chest he set his eyes on - which meant that when Grian opened the same chest now, it should be empty.

He ignored the water that dripped from where it had soaked into his clothing as he walked up close to the ruined portal, careful to avoid the magma blocks as he cracked the chest open once more. The chest was full of items that shouldn’t exist. Items such as a golden chest plate that took up most of the room inside the chest, gleaming softly with enchants. Flint had fallen down to the bottom of the chest alongside some fire charges, and a golden apple was tucked away in the corner.

Grian held the apple in a fist so tight his knuckles turned white, staring for a long moment before he tucked it away in his inventory along with the rest of the items.

He remembered dying.

He didn’t feel like he was dead though - Grian felt like something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

At the very beginning of Third Life, Grian had spent a week alone. He had been content to view the sights, walking along rivers and letting fish swim around his legs, naming flowers he came across, and slowly upgrading his wooden tools into sharp, chiseled stone.

At night he climbed the trees. His wings may have been heavy and useless on his back, nothing more than apparent decoration, but he still felt comfort being up high where the wind could shift through his feathers. The monsters that crawled out at night couldn’t get him up there, and he would drift off under the twinkling stars above.

There had been no fear, that first week.

This time, Grian ignored the flowers that were crushed under his feet as he walked briskly, and spent the night traveling, using his stone sword to tear into any zombies or skeletons that tried to approach. He made it to the village in twenty-four hours. The first time around, it had taken him an entire week with how slowly he moved.

It had been a stressful twenty-four hours.

The land of Third Life, Grian had noticed quickly, looked untouched around him. In his memories it had been ransacked, stripped of any material that could be useful, fires set and trees destroyed. There had been nowhere you could go anymore without seeing some sign of destruction during those last few months, scars deep in the universe that Grian and the other members of Third Life had torn down alongside themselves.

However, just like with the chest by the ruined portal, it looked like someone had pressed rewind and undone everything that occurred since the fourteen of them had woken up and begun their lives there. It was strange, and… eerie. Grian didn’t understand what was happening, and it was frustrating him deeply.

He had died. It was meant to be over.

When he finally spotted the village, Grian didn’t run forwards to search for others, eager to introduce himself and brag about his items as he may have once. Instead, he approached slowly, sticking to the outer edges before slowly climbing upwards onto a roof of one of the village homes. He didn’t even know if anyone would be there, but some part of his mind was still screaming at him to use caution.

Voices carried on the wind, and Grian’s breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself upwards on the roof, peering over the edge and down below.

Standing side by side in the village were Martyn and BigB.

It become obvious, very quickly, that they had changed from the Martyn and BigB he had known.

Martyn caught Grian’s attention first. After Ren had turned red and rose as the Red King, he had gifted a cloak to Martyn that was a mixture of deep midnight black and startling blood red. Despite the fact that the man had still been a green life at the time, he had worn it and refused to take it off ever since. The sight of the crimson handprint on the back of the clothing had caused everyone to become anxious in those last few months, aware that the Hand was approaching them.

The cloak was gone.

Whatever was going on - if they were dead and this was some twisted afterlife, if this was some strange joke the members of his server were trying to pull on him - the Martyn that Grian knew would never take off that cloak.

Nor would he look so carefree. Martyn was smiling, shoulders shaking with laughter, though Grian wasn’t close enough to actually hear their words and figure out the cause. A wood pickaxe was clutched in his hand, and it looked like he was taking down one of the villager's houses. The half-destroyed build of the house felt a lot more familiar in Grian’s memories, even if on a much lesser scale. He watched as Martyn took down a few more blocks of cobblestone, seemingly chatting to BigB the entire while.

BigB looked so carefree as well. He seemed to be listening to whatever Martyn was saying, nodding along as he collected birch wood from a tree, a smile playing on his lips. A much different expression that Grian was used to whenever he saw BigB on the battlefield, standing across from one another.

Grian had taken BigB’s first life on Dogwarts grounds, shooting him with an arrow and leaving him there to gasp and wheeze for a final breath.

BigB had attempted to return the favor near the end, backing Grian up into cacti, cornering him with his sword - and he had failed.

Now, BigB looked nothing like that man that had snarled with blood on his teeth and pain in every line of his expression, hands gripping his sword like a lifeline, the last surviving member of Dogwarts.

Now, he looked more like a man that had built a cookie above his home, looking so surprised and sad when Scar had stolen it away. He looked like a man who was naive, who could laugh and smile and joke around so easily, he looked like who he was on the first day of Third Life before everything had gone so wrong -

Grian sunk back out of sight, his stomach in knots.

This made no sense.

He remembered dying.

When he jumped, he thought it would be instant. He thought his skull would crack and his ribs would pierce his heart, and he would die as quickly as he had the first two times.

In pain. Afraid - so afraid, in a way that ached bone-deep, in a way that made him gasp and shake and tremble - for a blinding moment before he collapsed and it was over.

He hadn’t expected the hours as they crawled by, the way his sight slowly dimmed, as the sensation in his limbs faded bit by bit.

It wasn’t something that he could have made up.

He stayed out of sight. It was pathetically easy, with these strange versions of his enemies. There was no paranoid caution in the way they moved, no constant glancing over their shoulders or thorough checks for enemies before they slept at night. The way they exposed their backs and necks and all the vulnerable parts of their front and sides, where organs sat, weak and undefended -

It made his skin crawl. He could kill them so easily.

But he didn’t need to.

It had been a startling realization. Grian hadn’t been red for very long at all, hardly even a few days. He had died outside of the Wool Fortress and woken up underground in his bunker back in the Sand Land.

Not on Monopoly Mountain. It had been destroyed by then.

He had started traveling back towards the Wool Fortress, but Scar and Bdubs met him halfway, and that was the only time he had ever spent red. It had been… strange, to say the least.

It wasn’t like he had to kill, but he wanted to, and he had seen no reason not to. Grian had always thrived in chaos - even before he turned red, or even yellow, he had stuck by Scar’s side and caused it, and it had ended in people dying. It had been for Scar, for them, so he had smiled through it and enjoyed the process, but he still felt something.

These were people that he once joked around with, once smiled with, and laughed with. There was still a bit of hesitance before he acted, still a flash of guilt in the middle of the night, nightmares of the bodies and blood on his hands.

Maybe not as many nightmares as he should have had, but it wasn’t like he didn’t care at all.

Being red was different. The death of the people around him didn’t even register in his head. It was all his morals had been shut off. All of his inhibitions, gone. If there was someone in Grian’s way, someone that made him angry, then he would kill them without hesitance, and it would be so much fun to do so, to plan it out. He could enjoy the entire process, without annoying hesitance or reluctance. He could make it painful, and he wanted to.

He had been so angry, too. Scar had just betrayed him, slashed into him with his sword that set fire to his skin, Grian screaming and stumbling back and burning, and Scar hadn’t flinched, his expression hadn’t so much as shifted in regret or guilt. Killed and betrayed for a piece of paper, thrown aside so easily.

He had been red, and the anger had thrummed beneath his skin, so he took it out on animals and mobs and anything living that crossed his path as he walked back to Wool Fortress, and the second he came across Scar halfway there, he had slashed into his back with a sword and shoved him off the side of a cliff.

And then everything that came after that had occurred, and -

He remembered dying.

He was red when he died, so it should be over now.

But it wasn’t.

So Grian watched Martyn and BigB as they moved around the village, collecting resources and laughing, taking down the iron golem, and joking with one another, and he tried to cope with the fact that he had gone back to green.

Here’s the thing.

Grian was back on his green life, with hunger, and health, and had woken up in the place that the Crastle should have been but wasn’t, with a chest that should be empty but wasn’t, without scars that should have been there.

The entire world was missing things that should have been there, structures and holes and destruction trails.

Martyn was smiling, without his cloak and without his King, laughing without hesitation and showing his back without a second thought.

BigB wasn’t flinching at noises in the dark of the night, didn’t once bare blood-stained teeth as he had in Grian’s last memory, just rolled his eyes at Martyn and collected resources with him side by side.

They were both green.

The village was whole, for the most part, Martyn and BigB were both green, and they didn’t seem to ever remember being anything else.

It seemed as though Grian had returned to the beginning of Third Life. It was impossible, but it was the only answer that made sense, the only explanation that would tick all the boxes that were appearing in front of him.

He had a second chance.

A few days after Grian made it to the village, he doubled back a bit and then walked to it again - this time without hiding, ensuring he was in full sight of the occupants. He was dressed from head to toe in iron armor, clutching an iron sword at his side, but he kept an easy smile on his face.

As he approached, Martyn and BigB came out to meet him, nothing but open curiosity and welcome in their expressions.

“Hello! How are you?” Grian greeted, raising his free hand in a wave. Plans were swiftly forming in his mind, lists of things he had to do, materials he had to collect, events to reach towards, and events to avoid.

“Hi!” Martyn greeted, BigB already laughing, one of his hands resting over his chest, where his heart was.

“Oh my goodness, you startled us,” BigB complained as Grian walked closer, grass crunching under his feet before it turned into the dirt roads of the village. He was careful to stay a few steps away, out of reach of their weapons.

“Ahaha, sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m Grian. Nice to meet the competition.”

He had a second chance.

He was going to make sure Scar won this time.

Chapter Text

Grian made a list of everything he had to remember as soon as he could. He didn't write it down anywhere - it would be far too dangerous if such a book was ever lost, or taken by someone else - but he repeated it over and over again in his mind until he could easily recite it.

There were so many huge events that took place during Third Life, and he was afraid to forget a single thing. If he was going to ensure Scar’s win, then he had to be as thorough as possible while he planned. He was going to be doing things differently than he had last time, which meant that people would react in ways he couldn’t predict, which put both himself and Scar in danger.

Even as he spent days desperately thinking of all the major and minor events that influenced their lives, he knew there were gaps in his memory and likely important events that could affect them that Grian didn’t even know about. It wasn’t as though he was involved in every single conflict the server had, there were several people Grian had hardly even spoken with that could end up ruining anything Grian tried to do this time around.

In order to control that issue as much as he possibly could, Grian was going to try and stick as closely as he could to how he did things the first time, for as long as he could.

Hence why he was still in the village at all, and not running off to find Scar.

For one thing, he didn’t even know where Scar had spawned. It was never a topic that came up in their conversations - Scar could be anywhere, and Grian could be wasting his time trying to track him down for weeks.

For another, if he wanted Scar and himself to live on Monopoly Mountain together once more, then he needed Scar to travel around by himself and follow the same path he did the first time. That way, the idea of monopolizing sand would still occur to him, and he would still pitch the idea to Grian with that ridiculous grin on his face. It would be the easiest way for Grian not to arouse suspicion, suddenly approaching Scar out of nowhere and looking desperate for an alliance with a stranger.

Scar had to approach him first.

Even if that meant Grian had to survive without Scar for a month, which is how long it took Scar to go to the village the first time.

In the meantime, Grian was going to work as hard as he could so that he could get a headstart on collecting resources and preparing for what he knew was coming. Near the beginning, everyone had collected resources, but the rate had been slow and easygoing. No one had truly expected the events that had so quickly overwhelmed them. This meant that if Grian got started right away, then when things started to become violent, both Scar and himself would be far ahead of everyone else.

He got even more done due to the case of insomnia he had somehow developed. It turned out that after spending so much time sleeping next to Scar, Grian had grown far too used to the presence of his partner close by. Trying to sleep now, without the sensation of warmth, or the sound of Scar’s breathing was impossible. It felt wrong on a level Grian hadn’t known existed until he traveled back in time, wrong in the same way that Scar’s general absence was but on a deeper level altogether.

He spent the nights the same way he spent the days, planning and gathering resources, getting only a few hours of sleep between tasks he listed out for himself.

The one thing that lowered his efficiency was Martyn and BigB who hung around his shoulders and tried to socialize with him for some inane reason.

“Grian!” A voice called from behind him, and Grian had to bite his bottom lip to hold back a low hiss of frustration. Speak of the devil. “Hey there,” BigB continued, footsteps approaching him, and Grian turned around quickly, plastering a false smile on his face. He couldn’t leave his back open. “What are you up to?”

Grian swapped his iron axe between his hands, a flash of gleaming iron, showing it off. His BigB would have seen it as the threat it was, but this version only followed the motion, curious. “Collecting some wood,” Grian shrugged. “You can never have enough.”

He already had an entire chest of wood stacks - proper wood, not just the planks - but he wasn’t going to say that. Grian had hidden his chest underneath one of the village houses near the edge of the village. No one searched for hidden secrets this early on, nor did they question the grit of dirt under his nails or the lack of his iron shovel that had broken during the effort.

“That’s true,” BigB remarked easily, expression much too relaxed. Especially considering Grian was in full iron armor, and he had nothing. “Martyn and I were going to start heading downwards, and begin mining,” he continued, “would you like to come with? I know you already have some iron, but… well, as you said yourself, you can never have enough.”

He really didn’t need any more iron and was about to reject the offer, politeness be damned. It was much too difficult to be around those two even above the ground, let alone beneath. Every bit of his mind was constantly screaming at him to remember that they were his enemies, that they would attack him in a second, despite the situation they were currently in as a group of three green lives, Grian himself holding the most resources and therefore power.

Before he could speak though, he caught a glimpse of movement over BigB’s shoulder and froze, attention snapping upwards towards it. Two figures had broken out of the treeline a little while away, and they were quickly approaching.

Following his gaze, BigB turned his back to Grian. “Hey!” he greeted loudly, his tone of voice brightening at the sight of newcomers as he raised his hand in a wave. “How are you?”

Grian shifted, raising his axe to rest more comfortably in his hands, his grip tight around the hilt.

Tango approached first, Joel fast on his heels.

In comparison to BigB and Martyn, Grian did feel slightly more comfortable around Tango and Joel. Both had been members of the Pizza Alliance at the end - but it didn’t mean he trusted either of them.

Joel’s loyalty had always been a last-minute switch to their side. There had been a time when the red banner of Dogwarts had hung outside of his home. Scar had been able to convince him to burn the banner and join the Pizza Alliance - Scar’s silver tongue had always impressed him, and confused him in equal amounts - but Grian remembered the sight of that banner as it swayed in the wind, raised by Joel’s own hands.

Tango, on the other hand, had played the middle ground for a long, long while. Though he had stuck with Etho in the village and followed him to the swamplands, he had never fully joined Dogwarts when Etho had, even when the red banners had flown outside the Wool Fortress. Instead, he turned his back on his friend and joined the Pizza Alliance.

Grian had always wondered if Tango had regretted his decision in the end. He had never understood what had caused Tango to join up with them - and someone that dropped their allies so easily wasn’t anyone Grian could trust himself.

(Then again, it wasn’t as bad as Impulse, but that was a completely separate issue).

The point was, even if Tango and Joel had fought for the Sand Lands once, they had never been people that Grian had been willing to leave his back open to. Now, with their memories of even that fragile alliance gone, Grian was even less pleased to see them approaching.

“Nice shields,” BigB added as Tango and Joel drew close, stopping a few steps away from them. The grass crunched under their feet, strangely loud in Grian’s ears as the avian pulled his wings tight to his back.

Tango chuckled, raising his arm slightly to show off the shining surface of the metal. Grian would never admit it, but Tango’s ruby red eyes had always freaked out him somewhat. It made him look like a red name, far before the red names had even existed. Combined with his hair which was made from literal flames, Tango could look quite scary if he wanted to. “Look at these shieldless ones,” he teased, voice gentle and amused despite his words.

Joel laughed slightly, his hair shifting with the motion as he nodded. “Imagine not having a shield,” he agreed. His tone matched with Tango’s, lighthearted and too overly dramatic to be anything but a clear joke.

“Oh my goodness,” BigB sighed from next to him, and Grian tightened his grip on the axe in his hands.

It was difficult, to remind himself they were just joking around. There was no hidden message in their words. They weren’t trying to say they were more protected than Grian and BigB, they had no intentions to take advantage of their lack of shields and attack. Even if they did, Grian’s full iron set of armor and axe were more than enough to defend himself.

They aren’t even red names. The idea of attacking won’t even occur to them.

Logically, he knew that, but part of his mind just refused to believe it.

“You may have shields, but I think I’m far more suited up than you,” Grian retorted, desperately trying to push that same teasing tone into his own voice. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded. Even to his own ears his words were slightly harsh, and he knew his stance was off-putting, but Tango and Joel smiled at him all the same. “I’m Grian,” he added, then gestured towards his side, finally letting go of his axe with one hand, “and this is BigB.”

“Tango,” Tango responded, tapping his own chest. “This is Joel. I’m assuming you already stole all the wheat from the village?”

BigB nodded in a way that was almost sheepish, and Grian fought the urge to roll his eyes. Stripping the village of all the resources as quickly as possible was the smart thing to do. It was so strange, seeing his server mates act like this world was meant to be a cooperative world, as though PVP wasn’t enabled here. It was so strange, seeing them all openly happy.

“Well, I guess we could kill some cows for food,” Joel offered, glancing at Tango.

Grian exhaled sharply, making all eyes turn to him. At the sudden attention, he quickly smiled, waving his hand through the air in a dismissive way. “Oh, I just remembered that I needed to collect some more food as well,” he lied through his teeth.

Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. While planning out his actions as much as he could, Grian had forgotten entirely about the food shortages that occurred during the first few months on the server. The fact that everyone had killed the wild animals so quickly right at the start, which left them with hardly any decent food before long.

He would have to hide two cows away before they were all hunted and killed. Transporting cows all the way from the village to the Sand Lands would be incredibly difficult, though. It would be easier to head to the Sand Lands and find some cows close by there, and hide them underground for the time being…

Originally, Grian had intended to wait in the village until Scar got there, but it was beginning to look like he may have to make a trip out a bit sooner. He would have to consider his options, but having a good food source was a very important point he had to keep in mind. He could still remember long, cool nights on Monopoly Mountain when both Scar and himself had to go to bed hungry.

It was difficult to grow anything to eat in the desert, and between struggling to transport dirt, seeds, and water to force crops to grow, and the utter lack of meat, they had gone through some rough times. Grian was glad they hadn’t lost their first lives to starvation - it would be an awful way to go.

But right now he needed to focus on what was going on around him, and worry about food-related struggles when he had a chance alone to ponder on it.

“We have some food in the village if you need some,” BigB offered Grian. At least he had the sense to speak softly so that Tango and Joel couldn’t hear his words. It seemed that, despite the general stupidity of early day Third Life, BigB did have some brain cells - though not enough to recognize that he shouldn’t be handing resources to anyone without asking for something in return.

Grian didn’t really need the food, but he forced a thankful smile on his face anyways, nodding his head ever so slightly. He would happily take some food off their hands, there was no reason to say no to free resources. He forced his wings to relax on his back as well, trying to appear as relaxed and thankful as possible for the offer.

“Well, do you mind if we stay in the village for the night?” Tango questioned, drawing the attention of both BigB and Grian back to himself and Joel.

“Don’t like traveling at night?” Grian questioned. Mobs could become rather overwhelming, and no one seemed to have very good armor at this point. There had been many players who hadn’t worried about mobs as much as they should have and had paid the price.

Grian glanced towards the village for a second, where Martyn still was. Martyn himself was a shining example of such a thing.

“Well, we can’t be too careful,” Joel’s voice rang out, nonchalant.

Tango had been part of the village group the first time around, staying in the safe confines of already-there buildings until he had moved to the swamplands. Is this when he ended up deciding to stay in the village - he stayed for a single night and didn’t want to leave?

No, that didn’t feel right. Grian had been in and out of the village a few times, and he didn’t remember Tango settling down so quickly. It was hard to think back to events that happened so long ago, but if he had to guess, he would say that Tango had settled down around the same time Scar had started to try and convince Grian to monopolize sand together.

“You can stay,” BigB agreed easily, breaking Grian out of his thoughts, “Martyn is staying in the village as well, so I’ll let him know you’re here.” He turned on his heel at that and started to head back towards the village, leaving Grian to awkwardly exchange glances with Tango and Joel.

Wasn’t there a time when he enjoyed socializing with people other than Scar? The memories felt far away and fuzzy in his mind.

With an internal sigh, Grian gestured towards the village, forced to plaster a tense smile on his face. “I’ll show you around,” he offered, and it seemed as though his words had melted some of the ice since both Tango and Joel relaxed and nodded with their own smiles.

It was going to be a long wait.

Chapter Text

For some reason, Martyn and BigB both seemed eager to make allies. Not only did they invite both Joel and Tango to stay in the village with them for as long as they needed to, they also decided to gather everyone up at dusk for a campfire of all things.

Grian considered just not going. While he could understand Martyn and BigB to some degree, he knew playing nice wasn’t worth it in his own position. As the only one with a good understanding of the future, he was fully aware just how much he didn’t want or need to spend time with this group of people. None of them had a place in his life.

Scar? Always. Scott and Jimmy? Yes. That duo had been Monopoly’s Mountains greatest allies. Anyone else?

Sure, Monopoly Mountain had other allies, but they were only allies because they shared a common enemy. One day they would share that common enemy again, and Grian didn’t need to play nice to reach that time.

However, even as he was prepared to say no, he ended up agreeing instead. After all, he couldn’t deny the usefulness of creating emotional attachment with his enemies or his future allies, even if both the ‘emotional’ and ‘attachment’ parts were only on the others side. If Martyn or BigB hesitated for a second before driving a sword into his throat, or Joel and Tango weighed the pros and cons and found Grian winning, it would play out in Grian’s favour.

The campfire was already crackling with heat when Grian arrived. It was that time of dusk when the air chilled, the sky above a deep blue, almost black, as stars begun to break through the abyss-looking atmosphere. Falling heavily onto one of the logs set up around the fire, Grian felt the hot wash of heat from the flickering flames of yellow and orange. Little bits of ash flaked off the firewood as the flame feasted, drifting sullenly into the air.

He was the last to arrive, smiling at the others as he sat, wings drawing comfortably to his back. “Good evening,” he greeted, injecting false cheer into his voice. Scar was always better at pretending to feel things he didn’t, but Grian would do his best, just for tonight.

Grian’s greeting was answered with three more greetings from the others as he settled down. No one had to know about the iron sword in his hotbar, just one motion away from being pulled into his hand if anyone made a wrong move tonight.

“We were just talking about exchanging communicator information,” Martyn spoke, catching Grian up with the conversation he must have missed. “So that we can all message one another.”

He didn’t really want to. He couldn’t image ever feeling the need to message anyone from this group, but it would be strange if he said no, so Grian nodded and pulled his communicator out of his pocket.

Communicators were interesting. Everyone had one, and for all intents and purposes they seemed to be entirely indestructible. It was the only item you would still have if you lost one of your lifes, spawning back into reality with it tucked away in a pocket.

They didn’t actually do much. They allowed you to message others, once you exchanged communicator information. You could send messages in ‘whispers’ to that one specific person, or you could speak in world chat, which everyone that had your communicator information could see all at once.

It seemed as though the devices had some other capabilities, buttons that lined the sides that had to serve some purpose, but no matter which buttons they clicked or what order they clicked them in, no one on the server had ever figured out how to make the devices do anything else. Grian’s theory on the matter was that whatever those buttons were meant for, their abilities were turned off in Third Life. And since they were trapped in the small area of land, well…

It was better not to spend too much time thinking about something they couldn’t change, and move on.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Grian lied through his teeth with yet another false smile. “My IGN is just Grian, spelt G-R-I-A-N,” he spelt out, tapping his fingers lightly against his leg.

The others rattled off their own IGN’s. Martyn was InTheLittleWood, BigB was Bigbst4tz2, Joel was SmallishBeans, and Tango was TangoTek. Not that any of this was new information to him. In the old timeline, everyone had everyones communicator information after a month or two. Everyone had cared a lot more about trying to stay in contact with one another.

But the world chat became too dangerous to use once enemies were made, and allies only whispered to one another when they had no other choice. Having plans and weaknesses recorded somewhere in a permanent way wasn’t something any of them were stupid enough to want. Communicators could still be taken away and used by someone other than their owner.

Once Grian had everyone added, he tucked his communicator away once more, leaning back a touch. “So,” he commented, fixing his gaze on Joel and Tango, “what have you two been doing? Have you run into any other players? The three of us have only found each other so far.”

Not that he really cared about what they had to say.

Still, he kept half an ear open as they started rambling about where they had been so far, what they had seen.

“We found each other basically right away,” Tango commented, “I was making my first wooden tools when Joel came up behind me. I did find another person - his name was Ren, I found him chopping down some trees.”

Grian snuck a glance at Martyn from the corner of the eye. The man’s expression hadn’t so much as shifted from the mention of his King, the man that Martyn had followed around like a dog on a leash for the better part of a year. Grian hadn’t expected it to, since he knew Martyn had no memories of his loyalty, but it was still strange to hear the name ‘Ren’ without Martyn being connected.

“Ren?” BigB ended up being the one questioning. “So that’s at least six people.”

“We came across someone named Etho as well,” Joel added, “we mocked him for not being able to make a shield.”

“Even though I didn’t know how either, at first,” Tango laughed at himself. “They both seemed nice enough. Ren seemed a bit stressed with getting started, and Etho joked around with us. We ended up in the village not too long after that.”

So they had mostly been travelling, other than brief encounters with both Etho and Ren. It wasn’t much, but it had only been two weeks or so since the timeline had reset. If Grian was in their place he would have pushed for them to do a bit more mining, since all they had were their stone tools and their shields, but their lack of preparation only meant good things for Grian in the long run.

“What about you all?” Tango added, leaning back with a patient smile.

Martyn and BigB launched into their own story, which Grian entirely tuned out. He didn’t need to hear it again, he had heard or watched all of it already. It wasn’t like the two had accomplished much other than tearing down large sections of the village to use as materials, and killing the iron golem, which dropped hardly any iron anyways.

Still, he nodded his head every now and then to give himself the appearance of listening, even as he pulled a loaf of bread out of his inventory and picked it apart with his fingers to eat.

It was slightly stale, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

Eventually Martyn and BigB finished telling their own tale, and all eyes turned on Grian. It took him a second to notice, looking up to spot their gazes, his wings twitching on his back at their sudden stares.

“I don’t have much to share,” he laughed it off, tossing the last bit of bread in his mouth. His hunger ticked up to full, a comfortable warmth washing through his body. “I really just wandered around until I ended up in the village. I’ve been camping out here since then, waiting for something interesting to come along.”

For Scar.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’re the most hardworking out of all of us,” Martyn replied with a small scoff, “you never stop collecting resources. I definitely want you on my side when everyone starts fighting.”

Memories flashed through Grian’s head. Of wars, and blood, blood that stained clothes and sunk into sand until it clumped together darkly. Weapons that gleamed under the light of the sun, colliding with metallic clangs and leaping sparks. Arrows that whizzed through the air, the sizzle of TNT before it went off.

He dug his fingers into the sides of his legs, wings rustling as he fought through the memories of destruction. 

Martyn sounded so cheerful, and careful when he spoke those words. As though fighting was something to joke about and laugh over.

“We’ll have to see if you can gain my loyalty,” Grian spoke softly, knowing it wouldn’t ever be possible. He would rather die over and over again, let his body fall in numerous painful ways, before he ever stood under the Dogwarts flag.

“I’m very charismatic,” Martyn joked.

The conversation flowed from there. Grian added his own quips as the group made jokes and spoke about their future plans, what types of bases they all wanted to build, and where. It was just more nodding at the right time, smiling when people looked at him, and playing along.

He felt nothing. His chest felt numb like a black hole had opened up there, sucking any emotion inside it and eating away at it all. It felt like some invisible wall surrounded him, locking him away from the rest of the world and the people in it, isolating Grian and his emotions and his life.

It felt like loss.

The night grew darker, and eventually, the others retired. There were enough villager houses that Tango and Joel would have no issues picking their own to stay the night in, with plenty of houses spare.

Grian stayed up long after everyone else, staring into the flickering flames that grew lower and lower, until dying in coils of dark smoke.

He knew he wouldn’t sleep anyways.

To Grian’s great relief, Tango and Joel seemed happy to leave in the morning after only spending one night there. They said their hasty goodbyes and took off into the surrounding forest again, with smiles and cheer in their voices and expressions as they waved and vanished into the trees.

The moment they were gone, Martyn and BigB turned towards him once more, inviting him out on a mining trip they had supposedly wanted him to go on the day before before their visitors had interrupted those plans.

Once more, Grian bit back the habitual no, and forced himself to nod instead.

They made a spiral staircase downwards, BigB and Martyn chatting while Grian stayed mostly silent. The longer he went without sleeping well, the less he wanted to contribute to the endless conversations taking place around him. Since BigB and Martyn didn’t try to drag him into their conversations, Grian could only assume they had seen the dark bags under his eyes and decided to leave him alone for the time being.

One of the rare moments in which Grian somewhat appreciated their decisions.

They mined the spiral staircase until they were deep enough to strip mine for diamonds, at which point they all started to head off in different directions, but still close enough to shout for one another if need be.

As a general rule, Grian hated mining. Being underground was something his avian brain was entirely against. No matter how big Grian made his tunnels, he felt cramped, the cold stone around him a cage that had him tense, wings pulled against his spine, and hands held close to his chest.

It was manageable because it was necessary, and it had never stopped him before, but it was uncomfortable. It became worse when his enemies were mining alongside him, even if Grian knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt him at this point in the timeline.

Besides, Grian had yet to start collecting diamonds. He had to do it sooner or later, and there was no better time than the present. At least the motions were familiar. Grian held an iron pickaxe in a tight grip, raising it and bringing it down on flat stone in front of him until it crumbled into cobblestone that he picked up in his inventory.

Nothing but long tunnels, the crunch of stone, and the distant noises of Martyn and BigB not far from him.

After about an hour they met up back in the center of their mine, passing around some water and bread to share as they took a short breather. “We really aren’t having much luck,” Martyn complained.

BigB nodded in agreement. “We can’t stay unlucky forever.”

“Hopefully not,” Grian complained under his breath, frustrated, as they all turned to head back into their tunnels once more.

After only a few minutes, Grian’s communicator chimed.

InTheLittleWood has made the advancement [Diamonds!]

“Ohhh, he’s found his first diamonds, let’s go!”

Grian rolled his eyes, even as he forced an amused sound out of his mouth, twirling the pickaxe in his hand. Only a second later, Martyn declared, “I’ll tell you what, seeing as we’re friends, would everyone like two diamonds to make a diamond sword each?”

Grian froze for a moment, the pickaxe suddenly still in his hands. This had happened before, hadn’t it? He remembered - Martyn had gifted them all with a diamond sword at the start of Third Life, within these very stone hallways. He had completely forgotten over the long months, the memory fading to the back of his mind.

“Really?” BigB questioned, and Grian could hear movement around him as everyone turned to gather in the centre. He slowly turned as well, retracing his footsteps, blinking past his own surprise.

Friends? Did Martyn really think spending some time together in the village made them friends? Had he thought that in the original timeline, as well?

“Are you seriously going to give us diamonds?” BigB questioned as Grian rounded a corner to see the two of them. Martyn looked affronted by the question like he couldn’t believe BigB would feel the need to double-check. Grian and BigB exchanged glances, both of them having the same trail of thought on how strange it was that Martyn would give away his first diamonds so easily.

“Of course I am,” Martyn huffed, tossing two diamonds to BigB in demonstration. “We’re the blue sword boys now.”

“This is huge,” BigB said at the same time, tossing the diamonds between his hands with a wide-eyed stare. “This is big, dude.”

“Are you trying to form an alliance?” Grian questioned.

“He has,” BigB claimed, turning to a crafting table with the two diamonds held in his hand.

Martyn tossed Grian two diamonds as well. The avian stood there for a moment, running his finger over the surface of the ore, the blue shine of the diamond dull in the darkness of their mine. Finally, Grian turned towards the crafting table as well, reaching for it as he pulled sticks from his inventory, beginning to forge it into a weapon.

It was stupidity, on Martyn’s behalf. Believing this meant anything, this early on, two diamonds given away without any promises being made.

Grian was thinking back now, trying to recall how he reacted the first time, but it was so long ago. He had the feeling he had given Martyn something in return, likely something of value. He wouldn’t be making that mistake again.

Martyn laughed, delighted by BigB’s words, neither of them clued into what was going through Grian’s mind. “Can we all just stand here with our swords for a moment?” Martyn asked, pulling his diamond sword into his hand just as Grian finished crafting his own.

Grian obliged easily, shifting so his back was to an open tunnel in case he had to make a hasty retreat. He would never be comfortable with a sword in the hand of… well, in the hand of the Hand. BigB had his diamond sword out as well, and the trio stood all around one another, dull blue diamonds glinting from the flickering torches around them.

“Blue sword boys,” BigB laughed, Martyn nodding in agreement.

Grian couldn’t force himself to smile, this time, even if it may draw suspicion.

Chapter Text

Grian was coming up with a rather long list of reasons to leave the village before Scar got there.

The first reason was that his secret chest of items was getting rather full. Between his constant mining for ores, cutting down trees for logs, and gathering resources such as gravel, bones, string, and so on, he was filling the chest quicker than he thought he would. It would take several trips back and forth if Grian was going to transport everything, and the Sand Lands were far enough away from the village that several trips added up to a decent amount of time. It would take two and a half days to get to the south border of the Sand Land.

If he wanted to hide his items on Monopoly Mountain, it would take another full day. Monopoly Mountain was on the north side of the Sand Lands, and the climb up the mountain itself would be slow going since the stairs hadn’t been built yet.

Which meant that the full trip would be three and a half days, making it a week-long round trip. He could just abandon some of the resources when Scar arrived, and take whatever was the most important. However, if he couldn’t take them with him, he would have to burn them so no one else could get their hands on them. It was something he’d rather do as a last resort.

Taking the time he had before Scar’s arrival to transport some of them made much more sense than sitting around and doing nothing and then burning valuable resources.

The second reason was the realization he had during the little visit with Tango and Joel.

The number of animals in the lands of Third Life were already quickly dwindling, and Grian would have to act quickly if he wanted to snag some cows before they became a scarce resource. If he left for the Sand Lands now, he could search for cows closer to his own territory, and bring them along for the trip. It would be simple enough to build a quick pen hidden along with his resources, where he would leave the cows.

Becoming hungry was awful. It was a deep gnawing feeling in his chest, that worked to slowly affect his mind, making his motions slow and clumsy. It was a sensation that transformed quickly into wild desperation. Famine pushed men into half-baked plans that got them killed, and Grian wasn’t willing to fall to his own weakness.

A part of him was also a little excited to see Scar’s expression when Grian was able to show off the cows. He needed to prove to this version of Scar that Grian was a good choice as an ally, even without the deal bonding them together that stated Grian owed Scar a life. Cows would be a good way to do that.

The third and final reason was that Grian was becoming a bit concerned over how long he was staying in the village. It hadn’t registered as a concern when he first decided to stick around for a while, but one that occurred to him later on.

Grian was fiercely loyal to the Sand Lands, to Monopoly Mountain, to Scar. He hadn’t been at the start. It had been a means to an end, a way to clear up lingering guilt from taking the first life of a man that had smiled at him so openly and reached a hand towards him. Then it had been useful, and exciting, playing the bad guy with the first red on the server and setting his sights on the prize.

At some point, it had become more.

At some point between building their base on Monopoly Mountain, and watching Scar chase rabbits on warm, sandy desert dunes, and staining that same sand with blood that grew cold in the dusk of the night…

Grian’s loyalty had grown when he wasn’t paying attention, and when his name turned yellow it had been too late to go back.

Everyone on the server knew where Grian had stood, and that was the way he liked it, so there was no doubt. In this world, during his second chance, he wanted it to remain that way. He had spent too much time in the village, and he didn’t want people to assume that was where he would remain. Martyn and BigB had to learn sooner rather than later that Grian wasn’t their ally, and he certainly wasn’t their friend.

He wasn’t part of the ‘village people,’ and he didn’t want to be recruited into their alliances, so he should put some space between him and them before things became too complicated.

In the end, leaving the village before Scar arrived was what made the most sense logically, and in the long run. Of course, Grian would make sure to return before Scar had a chance to arrive and leave without coming across Grian, but there was no point in sticking around right now when Scar wasn’t even there.

Two round trips should be enough to do the trick. He would be able to take the bulk of his resources with him that way, and though he would have to leave a few items behind, it was nothing he would truly miss. He made a mental note to begin construction of the creeper farm as soon as he could - he hadn’t bothered collecting any gunpowder since he always had plans to make the farm, and he was feeling the lack of it strongly.

In the end, Grian left the village in the middle of the night, not bothering to say goodbye to Martyn or BigB. It was better they wise up to reality earlier than later, and rid themselves of the idea of ‘friends’ before it was too late for them.

Besides, they had exchanged communicator information now, so if they truly became concerned about his absence in the light of the dawn, they could always just message him.

Instead of the half-worn-out iron Grian had been wearing during his time in the village, he changed into full diamond the moment he hit the covering of the trees. The iron was tucked away into his inventory for when he returned to the village, and he would continue hiding his true wealth and strength, but he wasn’t willing to take the risk when he would be traveling at night.

It would only take one shot from a skelton that got through a chink in his iron armor for his life to hang in the balance, and there was no way Grian was letting himself become the first yellow name on the server from something like that.

It did mean he would have to make sure he could avoid anyone he may come across during his travels. He had no idea where the rest of his server mates would be at the moment, but if Martyn, BigB, Tango, and Joel had taught him anything, it was that he would be aware of them long before they were aware of him. The people of Third Life really did improve in their sneaking abilities as time passed.

There were a few people that may be able to sneak up on him - Etho came to mind - but Grian could only do so much.

As he walked into the dark, barely-touched forest, he made sure to scan the areas around him as carefully as possible and keep an ear out.

The first day of travel went without incident. Grian made it to a small clearing in the forest where a small pond of water was, sitting next to it under the afternoon sun with a sigh and a twist of his tense shoulders as he pulled some bread from his inventory to tear apart under his fingers and eat quickly.

It was much too dry, like food always is when it’s stored for too long in stacks, but he washed down the taste with some of the cool water from the pond without flinching.

He had eaten much worse.

He took the break to stretch his wings to their full capacity, the light shining through both his primaries and secondaries, before sitting down and drawing the feathered appendages close and working to sort through the feathers. Grian’s wings were a lot of work if he wanted to maintain them properly, but it was normally worth the time since they felt downright disgusting if he stopped preening.

It would be much more worthwhile if he could actually use them, but his wings wouldn’t take his weight, and he was stuck on the ground like the rest of them.

Grian had tried to fly a few times, the first time around. Something deep in his chest had promised him that he would be able to. Wind rushing through his feathers felt so natural, and he was continuously drawn to high places, never hesitant to stand on the very edge of cliffs and steep falls. Each time he had tried, flapping his wings in this way and that, jumping off the branches of trees, had ended the same way - with failure, him falling to the ground in a flustered heap.

He remembered his last attempt clearly, though it was a bit laughable now, considering how he had died.

He had stood at the very edge of Monopoly Mountain (and it was no wonder he chose to build his home on a mountain, with avian instincts coursing through his veins), and part of him had wondered if the only way to fly was jumping from higher up than he had been attempting. Some part of him had pushed him into jumping, believing so wholly that if he opened his wings before he made contact with the unforgiving dusty land below, he would soar.

Luckily, he hadn’t taken the plunge. Scar had seen him there in the early morning as the sunlight began to streak over the top of the horizon, and his partner had intervened before he could do something stupid. Scar had hardly left his side that entire day, despite Grian’s reassurances that he wouldn’t try it, something deeper than concern in his gaze even as he cracked jokes and helped Grian work on the defences of Sand Land that day.

Despite the worry, it had been nice to spend the day together. A single skin of water was passed back and forth between sweaty hands, Scar’s cloak disappearing at one point (of course), and they worked hard side by side until the sun set once more.

As the old memories drifted through his mind, Grian made quick work picking out bent feathers and any grass or dirt that accumulated between them. He straightened up any feathers that felt uncomfortable, finished off the last few bites of his bread, and climbed a tree with quick, confident motions.

He could have those moments again, in this world that was his second chance.

Tucked behind branches, and hidden from sight in case anyone happened to wander below him, Grian tucked his wings tightly around his body and fell asleep in the cocoon of warmth.

After his brief rest, Grian continued his travels. He stuck to sleeping in the afternoon when the world was at its warmest and people may be out on their own explorations and travels. Moving around at night when people were more likely to lock themselves down somewhere was making it much easier to avoid anyone that may wander into his path.

Speaking of others, he finally checked his communicator on his second day of travel, only to find Martyn and BigB had both messaged him. Mostly Martyn, but he replied quickly to them both, making some excuse about traveling around the area. He didn’t apologize, or say when he would be back, moving his attention back to his travels and away from the communicator that was slid into his pocket.

There were several small ponds of water to continue resting and drinking at it, and by the end of the second day of travel, he came across a much larger body of water that he recognized easily since it was right next to the Sand Lands. He still had to get around the water after resting, but the realization he was quickly approaching his own lands made something warm bloom silently in his chest when he slept that afternoon.

He slept for much shorter than usual as well, too eager now that he was so close to his destination. It felt like he hardly closed his eyes before he was peeling them open again, jumping down from the tree and hurrying in his steps as he walked onwards.

The air was cool walking next to the water, and Grian eyed his reflection. It was odd to see himself reflected there, hands so much softer than he remembered. Still covered with callouses, nails cut short, but missing the marks of his teeth where he had to chew down his nails, and lacking thicker callouses from constant fighting, farming in the desert, and scraping by to live.

His eyes were the same. Green at the moment, but just as harsh as he remembered, shadowed over by his experiences and the challenge of their world.

Grian stopped looking at the water the second the sand came into view.

He had seen this sand almost every single day, for the better part of a year, and only now did it take his breath away, something tight in his chest. Because he never thought he would see it again, and he had fallen in love with this place.

He had fallen in love with sandy dunes, and walls of prickly cacti to protect them from their enemies, with moats and lava and a castle of sand that their base sat on top of, a llama protecting their front door and the sound of laughter in the dusty wind.

The place he loved had become his tomb.

It seemed like in the end, the painful memory couldn’t quite stop the rush of I’m home that filled his chest at the sight of the place he had made his. The place he had made theirs.

As Grian stumbled into the sand, he had to stop, and sink down onto his knees for just a moment.

He pushed his hands down under it, feeling the warm trickle of each grain over the back of his hands. The way it shifted under his weight and gave away so easily for each step he took. The warmth on the back of his neck, heating up each strand of hair and each feather. The way the sand was already in his boots, itchy under his feet.

He sat there, shuddering, for what ended up being much longer than just a moment.

From behind him, there was a low, echoing noise, making Grian flinch as he was dragged violently back into reality and away from memories rushing through his head.

He turned quickly, blinking frantically through a blurry viewpoint. He was already half-risen to his feet, his hand extended and an axe summoned to his hand, the weight balanced in his fingers -

“Moooo,” a cow greeted at the edge of the Sand Lands, standing under the shade of a tree that swayed slightly in an unfelt breeze. The animal didn’t seem to mind Grian’s wide, disbelieving gaze, as it bent its head, ears flicking back, to gnaw at some too-long grass below itself.

Grian exhaled, a half-chocked laugh escaping him as the axe vanished into his inventory once more and he straightened himself back up. A cow.

He found a cow.

Well - it found him, but the sentiment was the same.

He dug out a space under the sand. He choose a spot behind Monopoly Mountain, across the small river that rested there, and split their lands in two. When people entered the Sand Lands they rarely moved beyond the mountain, so it was as good a place as any.

It had taken him another day to travel there, with some added struggle thanks to the cow, though not as much as he may have expected. For a wild animal, it was surprisingly friendly and well behaved, easily led as long as he kept some wheat in his hand that she could much on every now and then. Her moos were much too loud, which meant that Grian would have the dig far enough down that no one passing would be able to hear her, but sand was a good insulator.

She followed him easily, down to the ground. Grian wondered if she would do the same if she were able to know that she would never again see the blue of the sky, feel the breeze on her hide or lay down on the grass under a tree.

He ended up feeding her most of the wheat he had on him and leaving her the rest in the pen for while he was away.

Grian set up a quick chest to dump the transported goodies he had on him, making sure to carefully look over all the supplies he'd stored in order to commit it to memory. If anyone found this and tried to sneak away with anything, he would be able to double-check and he would know for sure that the location was compromised.

He hid the underground bunker space quickly, replacing sand into the hole he had dug, and marking the spot with a cactus. Considering the entirety of the Sand Lands was covered in the prickly plant, it didn’t stand out at all where it now stood, but Grian would know what to look for when he had to access the space again.

All in all it took a few hours to create, and Grian allowed himself one more glance at Monopoly Mountain as he passed by, heading back towards the village.

Some part of him longed to climb to the top and stay there. He could start building their base again, and whenever Scar passed by, Grian could have a turn with Scar’s mask, playing the spot of the salesman. Selling his alliance to Scar, and convincing the other man to stay there…

It would be an interesting change in their dynamic. Grian knew Scar would be a bit startled if he was suddenly on the other side of the sale, but amused and intrigued too. The man would push against Grian, challenge his side of the deal and change his mind at the drop of a hat to see how Grian would react. That stupid grin would be on his face, delighted, his green eyes focused on Grian.

Scar with green eyes. It was difficult to picture, to stretch his memories back that far.

Besides, as much as the idea spoke to him, he knew it would be stupidity, and it would be fueled by emotions and sentiment. Neither of which Grian could afford.

So after his brief glance at their mountain, Grian forced himself to look forward and refused to look back. He focused on memorizing the shifting of the sand instead, keeping his head tilted high, and his thoughts on the future.

On Scar’s future.

He re-entered the village three and a half days later, once more in the midst of the night. It was simple to rush to his hiding place and place the other half of his loot in his inventory. The leftover chests and the few items in them were lit on fire with a flint and steel, and the hiding place was filled with bits of dirt and sand he had in his inventory still.

He left twenty minutes after he entered the village, keeping his head lowered and sticking to the darkest parts of the night.

He didn’t find a cow this time, though he took the moment to leave more wheat for the first. She didn’t eat from his hand this time, just looked at him with mournful eyes as he watched her.

It felt like judgment.

On his way back to the village, after his second trip to the Sand Lands, Grian almost ran into someone.

It had been a near miss. He had been halfway back, it had been early morning, and Grian had been feeling the effects of only sleeping a few hours each day. His wings needed to be preened again, itchy with sand, too many feathers bent out of place, and it had been horribly distracting. The sun had been annoying, conflicting with his already bad mood as it shone into his eyes.

He hadn’t noticed the footsteps on his left until it was almost too late.

Luckily he reacted just in time, freezing before stepping and making a wild leap for a low-hanging branch. His habit of sleeping in trees allowed him to climb quickly while remaining silent, his breath held as he shoved himself into branches and green leaves, hopefully, invisible to whoever it was that moved beneath him.

He couldn’t see who it was through the thicket, so he could only hope he was just as invisible to them.

They didn’t seem suspicious. There was no pause to their steps, no offset to the steady rhythm they moved at. They simply passed on, their sound slowly fading into silence.

Grian held his position for a few more minutes before slowly untangling himself from his hastily created hiding spot, dropping down to the ground below. If he was uncomfortable before, it was worse now - tiny twigs stuck in his hair and a leaf between two feathers that he tugged out with a grimace.

Worse than the physical sensation was the frustration, directed towards himself. He knew he couldn’t let his guard down - Grian kept repeating that to himself, over and over again, and yet he continued to slip up and make these stupid mistakes that he should have long ago stopped making.

“I need to be better,” he sighed, bowing his head for a moment, reaching up to tug a hand through his hair. It was scratchy against his fingers, having already lost any softness after only a few weeks spent in Third Life. “I can’t… I need to be better than this.”

He was almost back to the village. He was going to pay better attention this time because everything was going to fall apart if he didn’t, everything was on his shoulders, Scar was relying on him, so he had to be better.

It turned out that exchanging communicator information with Martyn and BigB was worth something, Grain decided as he stared down at his communicator.

You whisper to InTheLittleWood: is anyone in the village right now
InTheLittleWood whispers to you: are you on your way back? We have a lot of visitors right now
InTheLittleWood whispers to you: Tango is back with some guy named Etho
InTheLittleWood whispers to you: And then four others showed up, Scar, Impulse, Cleo, and Bdubs
InTheLittleWood whispers to you: let me know if we need help with them
InTheLittleWood whispers to you: Blue sword boys

Once again, he lingered over the idea of the ‘blue sword boys’ and the amount of weight Martyn was placing on a moment that seemed so idiotic in hindsight. Some darker part of him, (some red part of him), was curious if it would come up in the future. Would Martyn cry that at him when they stood on other sides of the battlefield? What would his expression twist into when Grian revealed he never cared? Would his King comfort him?

He would find out eventually.

More importantly, Scar was close.

Scar was close enough that Grian could be by his side in less than ten minutes if he moved his feet from where they were rooted into the ground just outside the village. All he had to do was move, and then he would finally come across the man he had been waiting for.

He hadn’t seen Scar in over a month. When was the last time he went that long without him? After a moment of thought, Grain easily came to the realization that there hadn’t been such a time. From the first moment Grian and Scar set their sight on each other, to the moment of Grian’s death, they had never been apart this long before.

Yet his feet wouldn’t move, and Grian couldn’t understand why.

I just finished promising myself I would be better. I just said that I am better than this.

Grian forced one foot forward, and then the other, breaking the invisible chains that had tied him to that spot for too many long minutes. His motion as he shoved his communicator back in his pocket was perhaps a touch too harsh, the edge of his pocket skimming his hand from how quickly he moved.

He pressed his teeth together and focused on the gritty sensation of sand still trapped in his boots as he continued moving forward. Focusing on such a small sensation helped somewhat, as emotion continued to build in his chest, something harsh and bitter that grew with each step.

It would be easier if he knew why he was feeling this way. All he had were the feelings, the reluctance, without any reasoning behind why it hurt. He had been thinking of this moment for the past month and all he had felt was awful longing, the absence of Scar at his side like an open wound that bled and tore. It was the same feeling he felt when he saw Monopoly Mountain for that brief moment, only much more intense - like that painful wound had become infected.

What did it say about them, that he compared their relationship to an infected wound?

Did that have something to do with this weird reluctance -?

Grian was in the village by now, even if he was trapped by his thoughts, and his motions slowed and then paused around the side of a building. He could hear several voices, not at all far in front of him. If he just took a few more steps forwards, he would be exposed.

Driven by the same bitter feeling that made it so hard to move into the village in the first place, Grian moved to shove himself against the wall next to him, wings curled around his body as he very nearly held his breath. The burning in his lungs didn’t matter, as audible voices rang out from just around the corner.

“They’re raiders, Tango, that’s what they are. They come, they pillage, they light the place on fire.”

“They are,” Etho’s voice agreed, and -

Scar was definitely the one lighting things on fire, wasn’t he?

Several voices rang out, talking over each other for a moment, and as if on cue Scar’s laughter rang out. Scar’s laughter was so distinctive. There was always a small hitch in his breathing before he started laughing, and then it spilled out, even and full of clear, obvious amusement and delight.

Grian swallowed sharply, closing his eyes for a moment as he steeled himself. His wings ached a bit at the position they were in, pressed against harsh cobblestone, but he held them in place as he opened his eyes and leaned forwards towards the edge of the building. Carefully, so very carefully, he peered around that edge.

There he was, grinning widely as he stood by a house not far from the one Grian was at. Messy brown hair half-hung in his face, green eyes bright with warmth and cheerfulness. The scar on his face was present - had been present from whatever came before Third Life - but if Grian had to bet, under the brown coat that he wore, all the other scars that remained on his skin after the explosion were absent.

He stared at the brown coat for a second too long. It hadn’t lasted very long, since Grian didn’t recognize it, but it suited Scar. He looked good. He looked happy, honestly happy, and all Grian wanted to do was walk up to him, in that one brief moment.

A flint and steel were held in his hand, glinting from the still early light of the day, and even as he watched Scar jumped up to light part of the wooden roof on fire with another delighted laugh.

“Hey! Hey, get out, infiltrators!” Someone scolded - it could have been Tango or Etho at this point, Grian couldn’t focus on them, and -

This was the exact moment he met them in the first timeline, wasn’t it?

This was the perfect time to approach.

If he approached now, his plans would be moving along perfectly.

Scar was ducking around the house to hide. He was in full iron armor Grian could tell, iron gleaming along his shoulders and the edges of his outfit. A shield was clutched in one of his hands, the flint, and steel in the other. The air smelled like smoke, the chaos that Scar brought with him.

Burning wood didn’t smell as disgusting as burning flesh. It didn’t smell the same way Grian had when Scar had used a fire aspect sword to kill him, turning his back on him after everything they went through as if it had meant nothing at all. He had forced Grian onto his red life, leaving him for days to wonder over every moment they spent together, desperately searching for some sign that should have warned him what was about to happen.

As he looked at Scar, all he could remember was Scar kneeling in the water in front of him, exposing his neck. Water had run down his neck in droplets, and the man's hair had been soaked, clinging to his forehead. He had looked so pitiful there, so vulnerable. Ready to die to Grian’s hand with a smile on his face.

It made him so angry.

How could Scar betray him in one moment, and then kneel before him the next? It was confusing, and Scar hurt him in ways Grian had somehow never thought Scar would.

Grian hadn’t wanted to lose him. He hadn’t wanted to kill him, had refused, and then they traveled all the way back to Monopoly Mountain only for Grian to kill him anyway.

Scar had betrayed him, but hadn’t Grian betrayed him just as horribly? Or even worse? Scar had only taken Grian's yellow life. Scar had lost both his green life and his red to Grian’s own hands.

Was he angry at Scar, or was he angry at himself?

At least he finally understood why it was so hard to approach Scar now, why every part of his brain and body protested against it. It seemed as though Grian hadn’t moved on from his first timeline as much as he thought he had.

He wanted to ignore it, to focus on what he had now instead of mourning over a past that he had already lost, but -

Even if his life there no longer mattered, the memories still existed. It still hurt.

I’m supposed to be better than this, Grian reminded himself.

But I’m not.

Longing and bitterness burned side by side in his chest, and he shoved his nails into his hands hard enough to break the skin, blood welling up in his palm. It was warm, warmer than the flame-fed air around him.

He wanted to scream. He couldn’t do this.

If he faced Scar now, like this, he would fall apart and shatter. He wasn’t sure how - if he would attack Scar, or say something about a world only he remembered - but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He wanted an explanation for everything that happened, but he wouldn’t be able to get that now, and the knowledge burned.

Taking a deep breath, Grian slowly took one step back, and then another. The building he was hiding behind broke his line of sight with Scar, and though something in him screamed at the loss, he forced that part back as he took a third step away.

Turning quickly on his heel, Grian quickly started back towards the forest. If his shoulders were shaking, wings nearly trembling, no one would ever know but him.

“I need to get a hold of myself.”

Chapter Text

He was in the tallest tree he could find.

He could picture his version of Scar, with red eyes and torn clothes, and a lazy grin on his face. His Scar would have noticed he was upset even before Grian could. There would have been something in Grian’s tone of voice, or in the response to a question Scar had asked him. Scar would have noticed something in the way he walked or moved, or in the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep.

Scar would have noticed somehow, because he always figured Grian out before Grian could, and he never left it alone.

What would he have said? What would he say, if he were there now? Grian could see it. Scar would be standing down at the base of the tree, arms crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to keep Grian in his sight. The wind would have blown his hair from his eyes, but his hat would have stayed in place, feathers of different shades of brown tucked into the binding swaying in the breeze.

“Can I come up?”

Grian would shake his head because he absolutely would not have trusted Scar not to fall. Scar would fall and somehow land directly on his head, with all the luck he had.

Scar would have known why Grian denied his request, would have grinned wider and laughed in his own amusement, shaking his head slightly and looking away for just a second. He wouldn’t climb the tree. Not without Grian’s permission, not when he knew why Grian was worried. He wouldn’t force Grian through that lingering fear of losing him permanently, not in a situation where it was so avoidable.

He wouldn’t ask Grian to come down either. He knew how important it was to Grian, to be up high.

“You don’t have to team up with him. With me.”

The words would be spoken gently like Grian was something fragile, and the tone of voice would have been enough for Grian to bare his teeth with a nearly animalistic expression, wings puffing up behind him, feathers ruffling with agitation. He would have been annoyed.

Annoyed that Scar was acting like Grian was something breakable. Annoyed that Scar was acting like Grian would force himself to team up with Scar if he didn’t want to. Annoyed that Scar was pretending that it was even a choice, like Grian and Scar hadn’t bound themselves together with promises and sand and cacti, and chased rabbits.

“I need him,” Grian snapped, the words rough on his throat.

He paused, breathing shakily as he realized he had spoken out loud, and the illusion shattered in front of him like glass with the smallest amount of pressure.

Scar wasn’t there. He was gone.

“I need you,” Grian whispered to the sky, no one there to witness the slight break in his voice.

The issue was that no matter how much Grian wanted Scar, no matter how much he needed him to be next to him, bound as tightly to Grian as Grian was to him, it was so difficult to even look at him after everything that had happened.

After everything they went through together, Grian had so many questions for Scar. He knew some part of him would feel better if he could ask those questions, and get his answers. Even if the answers were the very thing Grian feared, at least he would know. Now, he would never know. He would die without his answers, and he would never really know what Scar had thought of him in the end, or why he had done everything he had done.

Because Scar had hurt him. No matter how much he wanted Scar, Scar had hurt him, and Grian would never know why and that made things difficult.

Scar had hurt him over a piece of paper, burning him and taking away his second life at the very last moment.

Logically, Grian could look back and understand why Scar would have made that decision - Scar had killed Grian and earned Bdubs trust, and using that trust he was able to turn on Bdubs and kill him with hardly a struggle. He had given away his own life to let Grian win in the end, which should be more than enough for Grian to forgive him and move on from the hurt of betrayal.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way his skin had burned with heat after Scar’s sword had sliced into him, the shock that had jolted down his spine so strongly it was like being dunked in ice water, and the tears that were so pathetic as they blurred his vision before he collapsed.

During Third Life, there had been moments where Scar and Grian had to act cold towards one another. Moments where they had walked away while the other was in danger. Moments where Grian would whisper behind Scar’s back, or swear up and down that he was going to leave as soon as his name turned yellow.

There had been moments where Grian believed every word each of them said, and moments where he thought it had all been an act.

After Scar’s betrayal, he had been gripped by the awful, tormented thought that it had all been an act, and Grian had been stupid enough to fall for the salesman smile and false mask.

Scar had bowed his neck and allowed Grian to kill him in the end, so Grian shouldn’t have these doubts anymore, but - it was hard. It was like being crushed under something heavy and painful, and being expected to stand under it all, and bear it. Alone.

Grian remembered one of the turning points in his relationship with Scar.

It was sometime after Scar had turned red, near the end of the fourth month of Third Life, though he couldn’t remember the exact date.

He remembered the harshness of the sand against his face in the wind, the way his fingers had dug hard into the ground beneath him, stomach twisted into a knot, and unable to sleep despite the late hour of the night.

He remembered Scar’s hand landing on his shoulder. Grian hadn’t flinched. He had heard the approach, Scar hadn’t bothered to be quiet, footsteps trailing along before pausing directly behind him.

He remembered Scar’s touch because it burned.

“Can’t sleep?”

The words came after a hand pressed against his shoulder, Scar shifting to stand next to him, before dropping down to sit. His legs dangled off the edge of Monopoly Mountain, his body settling there without fear.

Some part of Grian had expected Scar to be hesitant when it came to heights now. He had fallen to his death, after all - crashed down into a ravine, a split-second free fall before his skull had slammed into the ground below.

He supposed maybe it was quick, then, since Scar’s skull had cracked open from the initial collision. Grian had been close enough to hear the snap of other bones, his spine and legs shattering from the pressure as blood began to lazily leak from the crevices of his body.

It had been memorizing. Grian had been unable to look away until Scar’s body had vanished away as the man respawned.

He had laughed. It was high-pitched with disbelief, a dazed muttered of “Scar, no,” escaping between the laughter as he climbed down carefully to pick up the items his partner had left behind, struggling to understand what had happened in front of him.

The entire time, he felt like he was in a dream, struggling to come to terms with the fact that his partner was now the first red name on the server. Struggling to understand what that had meant, so early on in their worlds existence.

Grian squeezed his eyes shut tight against the memories, digging his fingers harsher into the sand.

He had come to terms with it, by now.

“No.”

“Me neither.” Scar sounded much too cheerful for someone admitting they had insomnia.

Grian had opened his eyes to turn and look at him, with a small sigh of disbelief.

Scar had already been looking at him. Even in the dark of the night, his blood red eyes shone, a grin on his face. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, or his torn cloak that at least covered up some of his skin. Grian glared at his scarred chest, raising an eyebrow at Scar, and Scar had laughed, having seen the expression one too many times before.

A non-verbal ‘put your clothes on Scar, damn it, we’ve done this a million times, why are you like this?’

“Aren’t you cold?” Grian demanded.

“No.” Scar shrugged, glancing down at himself. He raised one of his hands to trace over a thick scar that traveled over most of his side. For a second Grian wanted to ask if it was caused by the creeper or the fall, only to find that he really didn’t want to know. “I don’t really feel that cold, anymore.”

“Going red stops you from feeling the temperature?”

Scar shrugged again. “It stops me from feeling a lot of things,” he admitted under his breath, and it sounded like a secret, spoken quietly to him in the dark of the night. “But hey! I’ve been told red suits me, I look amazing!”

Grian rolled his eyes, making sure it was within Scar’s view, before looking away - back over the Sand Lands, that stretched out far before them, lit up by torches glowing with embers in the night. Preventing any mobs from interrupting their late-night chat, at the very least.

“I still can’t believe you’ve lost two lives already,” Grian complained, not mentioning how the first lost life was his own fault.

Scar didn’t mention it either, only smiled and laughed slightly. Instead, Scar fell backward, and after a second, Grian copied him, wings shifting below him so as to prevent cramping too badly.

“Look.” Scar pointed upwards, at the stars in the sky above them, and Grian looked. In the dark abyss, specks of glowing white shone, suns and energy and entire worlds far away from their own server tucked away in their own corner of the universe.“I like looking at the sky when I can’t sleep. No one ever does.”

“Don’t you get bored?”

“No.” Scar’s hand fell to rest on his chest, but Grian didn’t stop looking, keeping his gaze trained on the sight Scar had chosen for them. “I want to go up there. I feel like there’s something more if we could just leave these borders. Like… like stories in the sky, that we can’t know if we’re stuck here.”

“Stories?” Grian couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice, but Scar didn’t seem to mind it.

“Well, you know the idea of constellations, don’t you?”

Grian hummed softly in agreement. Something he didn’t know the origin of, but something he just knew, from before Third Life. Whatever or wherever that may have been.

“But can you name any?”

“No,” he admitted.

“But someone had to have named them - someone had to have given them stories, right? And we’re all here, so we can’t ask them, and we can’t hear those stories.”

Grian rolled his eyes, thankful they were laying next to one another, and his partner couldn’t see the motion. “Scar, you’re making no sense whatsoever.”

“Hey! I’m making perfect sense!”

“What’s your point, then?”

“My point is, I don’t get bored because I think about what the stories may have been. It kills time when I can’t sleep - I’m trying to help you out Grian, and you’re making fun of all my ideas!” The words were said in a fake-hurt tone of voice, in a way that meant Scar was just teasing Grian and wasn’t actually hurt by Grian not caring about the constellations.

It was true that Grian couldn’t sleep though.

Ever since Scar went red, things had become harder.

No one else was red, so everyone was scared of Scar, tensions rising the longer Scar went without trying to hurt anyone. No one wanted to be the first to draw Scar’s attention, and no one wanted to be unprepared in case they somehow did, so everyone was teaming up and making deals to help each other out in case Scar came after them.

Things changed so quickly. One day Scar and Grian could visit anywhere they felt like, making jokes and coming up with ridiculous plans, and the next day every step they took was trailed by whispers and suspicious stares.

One day, Grian could roll his eyes fondly at Scar, and the next day all he could think of when he looked at him was Scar’s body, broken and bloody at the bottom of a ravine.

You’d think the first death would have been worse since Grian had directly caused it. You’d think Grian would be haunted by a body burnt by the explosion of a creeper, but Scar had just been a stranger during those days, and his death hadn’t felt so serious when it was a simple shift from green to yellow.

One day, everything was still a game, and now all of a sudden it wasn’t a game, it was serious and it was dark and gritty and Grian and Scar were right in the middle of it, together.

So Grian couldn’t sleep.

He sighed, giving in to the ridiculousness he was half-convinced Scar had made up right on the spot. “Fine, then let’s come up with our own stories and constellations,” he decided, leaning his head back a bit as he looked this way and that, scanning the stars for a pattern he could decide was something more.

“What?” Scar questioned, startled. Grian could almost feel his gaze on Grian again, but he didn’t look back this time, just gestured to the sky sharply.

“We can’t leave the borders, so instead of spending hours wondering what the stories might be, let’s make up our own,” he repeated himself. “Like - there, look, that one kind of looks like a bunny.” He raised a finger, pointing upwards, trying to get Scar to follow his gaze as best as he could. The stars did look a bit like a rabbit - he could make out the ears and the twitching nose. “So I think it should be called ‘Scar’s worst enemy,’ since you’re awful at catching them.”

“Hey!” Scar denied, but laughter was spilling between his words, warm.

Grian hadn’t expected Scar to still be warm once his name turned red, but he still was.

“You are awful.”

“They’re fast!”

“You should be able to outsmart them, they’re rabbits!”

Their laughter mingled together for a moment, echoing through the cold land. The sand was getting into Grian’s hair, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was more than used to it, after so many months.

“Your turn,” Grian demanded as their laughter trailed off, and Scar hummed, considering. Finally, he raised his hand and pointed, and now it was Grian’s turn to squint and shift, trying to figure out exactly where he was pointing.

“There.” Scar’s finger moved, tracing an invisible line. “There’s a tree.”

“I was hoping for the name to be something a bit more imaginative,” Grian remarked, and Scar laughed again, nearly giggling into the night. Things did feel a lot more hilarious when it was so late.

“Fine, fine, it’s the tree of… It’s a magical tree, known as the mystical birch.”

“Does this tree have a story?”

Grian would somewhat regret the question (in truth, he wouldn’t at all) as Scar started rambling, crafting an entire tale in between one breath and another. He was always so good at that, coming up with stories and jokes and reasoning in the moment between the flap of a butterflies wing. It was part of his salesman mask, his charismatic personality that he used now to create an entire world.

Something about a magical tree that kept knowledge for those worthy of it. Something about adventures, seekers of knowledge both worthy and not.

The details were lost in the rise and fall of Scar’s voice.

“Your turn,” Scar demanded when his tale finally trickled to an end, and Grian had sighed but had given in without a single protest.

-

They had exchanged stories all nights until the stars and their constellations turned invisible under the glow of the sunrise, orange and red and yellow as it broke over the horizon.

They had both been exhausted then, eyelids heavy and difficult to keep open, sleep dragging at them even as the day was about to begin. Neither of them had been sleeping well lately, and pulling an all-nighter certainly wasn’t going to help.

Grian had been the level-headed one in the situation, gripping Scar’s arm and pulling him up, demanding they go back inside and at least sleep for a few hours.

“When we wake up, we should really work on improving the cacti wall,” Grian had commented. His hand had been resting on Scar’s arm, the skin cool beneath his fingers from staying out all night as he tugged Scar back into the doors of their base.

Scar had followed easily, nodding without complaint, red eyes locked on Grian as they moved to their front hallway. On one side was their kitchen, a fireplace burning lowly with blankets in front of it, a nest that Grian slept in each night. Across the hall was another room, small with a proper bed, that Grian had easily surrendered to Scar. It wasn’t incredibly well decorated, since it really wasn’t worth the material and time, especially in an area no one but them would ever see. 

They were both tired, and Scar had acted strange as they stepped forwards, almost coaxing as he slipped his arm away from Grian’s grip to circle his fingers around the avian's wrist instead.

Gently, so very gently, Scar tugged Grian towards his own bed.

“Sleepover?” he questioned, teasing and casual, and Grian had rolled his eyes and fixated Scar with the most unimpressed stare he could.

“You’re not allowed to kill me,” he reminded Scar, as though getting him close and vulnerable was Scar’s attempt of doing so. “I still owe my first life to you. Killing me would be a really, really stupid idea.”

“I’ve never wanted to kill you,” Scar immediately claimed. Grian hadn’t fought Scar’s gentle tugging, and they paused by Scar’s bed now, before Scar tugged once more, drawing Grian closer to his chest.

He was warm. His skin was cool, but his chest was warm where blood pumped below his skin. His scar tissue was thick and an awful reminder, but the warmth caught Grian’s attention, and without thinking, he raised a hand and pressed it against Scar’s chest.

Tu tump. Tu tump. Tu tump.

Under his hand, Scar’s heart beat.

Proof he was alive.

Tu tump. Tu tump. Tu tump.

Maybe he would be able to sleep better if he could feel it, hear it. Maybe the noise would keep the nightmares from his head, nightmares of being alone and glares digging into his back as people that might have been his friends stared at him in suspicion. In his nightmares, their whispers followed him as they teamed up against him, raising walls and enchantments and allies with the thought of his death in mind.

Maybe he could stop thinking of Scar, broken at the bottom of a chasm.

Tu tump. Tu tump. Tu tump.

“Sleepover?” Scar attempted once more. He didn’t let Grian’s hand move away from his chest, raising his own free hand to cover Grian’s own as he stepped back again, sitting down carefully on his bed.

Grian’s wings shifted, and he sighed, nothing but exhaustion, the beat of Scar’s heart, and lingering memories of creating stories about the constellations causing him to nod.

“Just for tonight.”

Scar and him never slept in separate beds again, after that, not if they had any other choice in the matter.

It was cramped. Scar’s bed was small, Grian’s wings took up a lot of space, and most of the time they were more laying on top of one another than sleeping next to one another. When the morning light came they never spoke about it. They never spoke about it when the daylight faded, their agreement remaining silent in the air as they moved towards Scar's bed.

It was why Grian was so tired now, why he had struggled to much to sleep, without the beat of Scar’s heart next to him.

It was why he had to believe in Scar. He had to believe that none of it was fake, that those nights spent so close weren’t pre-planned with the intention to trick Grian into a false sense of security.

He had to believe that Scar took his life in order to save him.

He had to believe that Scar saw no other way out, that he regretted it, that it was difficult for him to do.

He had to forgive Scar, or he wouldn’t be able to face him.

It took Grian a few hours of pondering, thinking back, and trying to remember as many moments as he could, to realize that it wasn’t entirely true that Scar and Grian had always laid in silence.

There had been one night that Scar had broken the silence, sometime in the last few months of Third Life, when people were starting to die faster than anyone could keep up.

Grian had been almost asleep, curled up into Scar’s chest, wings wrapped around them both and legs tangled together, and Scar had spoken in a whisper, as though trying not to wake him. Grian hadn’t shifted, hadn’t made any sign of him actually being awake.

He pretended he hadn’t heard anything, and come morning, he pushed it to the back of his mind, pretending it wasn’t important.

“I want to stay like this forever.”

That’s what he had said.

“I forgive him,” Grian decided, but that wasn’t the end of it.

Blood had caked under his nails when he took Scar’s final life. They hadn’t used weapons, fists only, one on one in front of the grave of a llama on top of a mountain they had made theirs. Both of them had been crying, and laughing, the air full of desperation. Grian had felt sick the entire time.

When someone dies for the last time, their body doesn’t vanish.

When Scar’s heart stopped, Grian had still been there, holding Scar in trembling arms, whispering apologies and shaking, rocking.

Scar may have taken his second life, but Grian took Scar’s last life. Grian took Scar’s first life. Grian had to pretend just as much as Scar had to, turning his back on Scar when he needed him. When they had rigged Monopoly Mountain up to blow, Scar had run towards the mountain to draw their enemies there, using himself as bait so that Grian, Scott, and Jimmy could run in the other direction.

In the grand scheme of things, even if Grian could forgive Scar (he could, he always could), he wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for all of the horrible things he had done.

It had been easy when he had been red, not even a question he had to ask himself. There was no guilt, no reluctance before he acted towards the end, once he had Scar in his grasp and he knew what had to be done. The spirits of their once friends, once enemies, never would have let them rest if they didn’t end things. If there wasn’t a final winner. They knew that.

Grian still knew that, but it didn’t fix the hole in his chest, the sight of Scar dead behind his eyelids that he thought he had finally gotten under control.

What if he approached Scar again, and he got him killed? What if Grian hurt him? What if his version of Scar hated him?

Once more, he tried to imagine Scar, his version, what he would say if he were here.

This time, he imagined Scar up in the tree. He would be sitting on the thick branch one down from Grian, and Grian would be glaring at him for following him up there. His expression would be calm, and it would be wrong because Scar was meant to always be smiling. That calm, somewhat blank expression meant there was something wrong. It meant he was upset, and refusing to let it show.

“You know I’m clumsy,” he would point out, “I’m more likely to get myself killed without any teammates.”

“Someone else will team up with you. You’ve never struggled with getting others under your control.”

“Someone else isn’t the winner of Third Life, with future knowledge of events to come.”

“I’ll still watch over you. I still want you to win, even from afar.”

“You want me to win without Monopoly Mountain? Without the Sand Lands, Pizza, and everything we built? Grian, what’s the point without all of that?”

“Your life.” Grian’s voice was rising now. He felt slightly ridiculous, getting upset over an imaginary conversation that he was just making up as some messed-up way of trying to cope. “Your life is the point, I don’t care about any of that if you’re dead!”

Scar would release a long breath like he was suffering, but he would have a small smile again and his voice would be fond. “You always did your best to keep me alive. I never would have survived until the end if it wasn’t for you, and I forgave you for my first death pretty quickly. Would you have been mad with me, if I had killed you on the mountain?”

Would he have? With the spirits screaming in their ears, impossible to argue against, impossible to lift a finger to deny?

“No.” He would have understood.

“So you can lose two lives from me, but I can’t lose two lives from you? Pretty hypocritical of you there!”

Grian scowled. He didn’t know how to reply for a moment, which probably meant Scar was right. This was even more frustrating since, again, he was imagining this entire conversation in his head - and was losing to himself.

“If I had lost two lives to you, would you have struggled to forgive yourself?” he wondered.

There was no answer from Scar this time because Grian didn’t know the answer. He liked to think he knew Scar well, after all this time. He knew about all the different masks Scar wore, he could see past them and see the difference between his false salesman smiles and his true smiles -

But beneath every mask Grian could peel away, there was yet another, and there were some parts of Scar even he couldn’t begin to guess at.

“You forgave me.”

Yes.

“You want to be with me.”

Always.

“So stop hurting yourself like this, Grian. Forgive yourself.”

Sometimes Grian missed that short amount of time he was red when emotions like guilt and doubt didn’t haunt him. He wouldn’t care about his past actions if he were red. He would care about what he wanted, and he would do everything he could to get what he wanted and damn everything else that stood in his way.

Being red made people selfish, horribly, horribly selfish.

He wanted to be selfish.

He remembered Scar’s hand in his own, like a distant thing. Warm, and present, fingers entwined and clinging.

He remembered it, but he couldn’t remember if Scar’s hands were rough or smooth, what his callouses felt like.

He wanted a chance to feel it again.

Maybe it wasn’t forgiveness.

It was acknowledgment. It was knowing that Grian would forgive Scar if it were the other way around. It was the imaginary voice of Scar in his ears, urging him onwards, something reassuring. It was the hypocritical mess in his chest that sat next to the warmth of sand and rabbits, it was Scar’s hands in his own, Scar’s side pressed up against his, and a deep longing that rested somewhere in his lungs -

It wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was a start.

The sun was beginning to set, and the world was beginning to cool down. Grian dropped down to the ground below the tree he had rested in for much too long, silence in his head as he stretched his wings as wide as he could, arms shifting upwards to let the muscles twist.

Scar would still be in the village. Grian knew Scar had no idea who he was at this point, had no thoughts or opinions on Grian other than perhaps a distant curiosity and consideration on how Grian could be useful to him.

Still, it felt like Scar was waiting for him there, and Grian had kept him waiting for long enough.

-

It was a short trek back, grass crunching under his feet as the yellow-gold-orange of the sunset colored the world in its brillant hues. Grian’s wings stretched behind him, rustling, a piece of Grian that was harder to control than his own expressions.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt. His day spent trying to untangle the mess of his feelings towards Scar had helped. The burning anger he had tried to ignore had quieted to nothing but a low simmer, his own self-disgust calmed and tamed and shelved for another day.

It didn’t mean he could be completely calm. Determination was strong and kept his feet moving, and hope and excitement sat beside nerves that flared with anxiety and concern.

Grian rarely allowed himself to feel nervous. He threw himself into problems head-first, typically with explosives close to hand, and kept himself moving until the battle was over. Any emotions he felt during the battle as his enemies fell (or his allies) were ignored. Emotions came later, afterward. When he fell apart, it was in the upper rooms of Monopoly Mountain, alone.

It was always more difficult when it came to Scar. He had to feel every last emotion, even as they burned in his lungs and chest, confusion heady.

Grass turned into dirt below his feet as he stepped into the village again, shoulders twisting with tension, wings shifted once more before he forced them to settle.

The sky was dark.

They were all standing around that tree, that Etho had been so attached to. Scar held an axe in his hand, inching towards the tree with a grin on his face, as Etho moved to stand between Scar and the tree in an attempt to herd him away.

“Scar, don’t you dare,” Etho warned.

Grian held back for a moment longer, watching. Scar was grinning, eyes green and delighted, and Grian could see the way his fingers flexed around the axe. He was so close . Something needy twisted in his chest, and Grian grimaced, disturbed.

“Don’t touch my tree!” Etho warned again as Scar stepped forwards, and Scar listened to the warning now as Etho moved as though to shove him away physically, taking a few steps back.

“I mean, they have to leave the village sometime,” Cleo remarked, her voice annoyed.

Why would they even want to remain in the village? There were much more worthwhile ventures out there. Grian had never liked the village, and would have been disgusted to be considered one of the ‘village people.’

They don’t want you here. There’s a better place for you.

“You weren’t here first, you know,” Grian spoke. The words tore from his throat half before he could think about them, and he stepped from his hiding spot with a flourish, some part of his delighted as half the people in the clearing jumped and turned to face him. Etho, noticeably, didn’t. He probably knew Grian was there, he had always been more aware than many of the others.

“Who are you?” Cleo questioned as she stared at him. The space between her eyes wrinkled as she narrowed her gaze, her orange hair swaying slightly in the dusk breeze.

Grian turned his gaze around the clearing once more. Etho, Tango, Cleo, Bdubs, Impulse…, and Scar, of course. He figured Martyn and BigB must be somewhere else in the village.

“Grian,” Tango greeted him, though Grian didn’t bother to reply.

His gaze was locked only on Scar.

Scar’s expression was simple curiosity, his small smile remaining on his lips, an easy mask pulled on his face to hide what he was thinking. His mask didn’t shift as Grian moved, walking directly towards him, even though he knew Scar must have been at least somewhat surprised being singled out so suddenly by someone he didn’t know.

Grian moved until he was directly in front of Scar, wings folded tightly behind him, and he offered his hand. “Hello. I’m Grian.”

He knew Scar. He knew the calculations that must be flying through his mind as he blinked down at Grian’s offered hand, which Grian had carefully cleaned of any signs of sand. Scar could weigh the pros and the cons in a moment, and come up with a joke on the fly that everyone would for some strange reason go along with. He could spin this in any way he wanted if Grian gave Scar any reason to doubt him.

He took Grian’s hand.

His hand was warm. There were callouses on them, thick from building and using tools from before Third Life, a thin scar on the tip of his finger that Grian could feel against his palm. Grian never wanted to let go.

“Well hello there! Nice to meet you! I’m Scar. Say, Grian, would you be interested in collecting some of this wonderful dark oak?” Scar questioned, half-turning to gesture at the tree behind him that Etho had been ruthlessly defending.

Their hands were still clasped together.

Grian smiled, a hopeless upturn of his lips. “I would love to.”

He never wanted to let Scar go.

Chapter Text

They couldn’t leave the village right away.

Grian needed Scar to be the one that invited Grian out to the desert – it couldn’t be the other way around. If Grian came across as too eager, too pushy, Scar could become suspicious of him and his motives and pick someone else to extend a hand towards.

Grian honestly wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle that. Even though he himself had considered the idea of keeping his distance, thinking that Scar would easily be able to find other allies with his charismatic personality…

The idea of someone by Scar’s side that wasn’t Grian made something dark stir in his chest, something jealous and possessive. He knew what the members of Third Life were like. The majority of them had fought against Scar in Grian’s own timeline, had hurt him and chased him down, had betrayed him without a second thought. They couldn’t be trusted with Scar. They never understood him, never caught a glimpse of who he actually was behind his masks.

His idea of keeping his distance never would have worked out, Grian was beginning to understand that much now.

So he tried his best to come across as trustworthy and present. No matter how much he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t lock himself to Scar’s side and refuse to budge. He had to keep in mind that he was just a stranger, in the eyes of Scar.

Despite that internal knowledge, when everyone in the village scattered into villager houses for the night, Grian had been unable to stop himself from picking one that was next to Scar. With the memories of the harm caused by the people around them fresh in his mind, he could only view them as enemies and potential threats.

There were too many bloodstained battlefields in his memories for him to view them as anything else.

Strangers or not, his very coding protested against the idea of being too far away from Scar while surrounded by enemies.

Being surrounded by enemies also made it difficult to sleep, though that was hardly a new issue for Grian. He tossed and turned throughout the hours of the night, sleeping as much as his body and mind would allow. In the end, it didn’t add up to much more than perhaps an hour or two, but it was better than nothing.

The next morning, Grain followed Scar up onto a small hill on the outskirts of the village, Impulse, Bdubs, and Cleo joining their small morning get-together. They all sat down on long grass that made Grian’s wings itch, glancing towards the village every now and then as they slowly woke up.

It was mindless socializing that Grian wouldn’t normally partake in if it weren’t for Scar’s presence and his plan to build trust with him.

He felt unable to tear his gaze from Scar for even a moment as they all sat. The early morning light was scattered across the horizon, lighting up Scar’s features and making his hair practically glow. He still looked a bit sleepy, even though he had always been more of a morning person than Grian himself - his motions were just a touch more sluggish than Grian would consider normal for him, his smile sleepier and more relaxed.

Everyone else paled in comparison when they sat next to Scar’s smile.

He tuned most of the conversation out, the greetings and questioning one another on how they had all slept. Grian just kept watching Scar out of the corner of his eyes as the other man shifted his weight, stretched, and plucked at strands of grass in front of his body.

He didn’t tune back into the conversation until he heard his name, twisting slightly to face Cleo who was watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you wanted to exchange communicator information with all of us? We already have, with one another,” she commented.

“Oh, sure.” He didn’t think he would have much use for it, but like with BigB, Tango, Martyn, and Joel, it would be weirder if he said he didn’t want to exchange contacts for whatever reason. Besides, he did want the ability to send messages to Scar when the need may arise.

It didn’t take long to add them all and for them to add him in return, and Grian let his communicator vanish to wherever they went when not in use. The conversation instantly shifted towards the other members of Third Life, particularly the members that resided in the village at the moment.

“See, they’re not very welcoming,” Impulse commented, gesturing over towards the village with a grin. Grian wasn’t entirely certain who it was Impulse was referring to. Etho, after Scar had attempted to burn down his tree on multiple occasions? Or BigB and Martyn, who spawned in the village originally and had more of a claim over it right now than anyone else should? “We, on the other hand… Bdubs?”

“Let’s vibe,” Cleo laughed, and Bdub’s expression lit up with what appeared to be realization.

Grian raised an eyebrow, trying to appear more curious than he actually felt about whatever they had up their sleeve. It was a bit of an amusing situation. The days when members of Third Life would attempt to sway others to their side with simple, almost joking manners. Claiming others are ‘unwelcoming,’ and painting themselves in a better light, as if anything but a deal sealed with blood and sweat would catch Grian’s interest.

“Oh, right,” Bdubs agreed, “here we go.” He must have reached into his inventory because a second later, a jukebox appeared smack dab in the middle of their little group. “Bang,” Bdubs grinned as a music disc appeared in his hand. He slid the disc into the jukebox, and the notes of ‘Cat’ immediately rang out, flowing into the morning air around them.

The days when allies could be formed with nothing but a music box and a disc. No matter how much Grian wanted to roll his eyes at it, after everything he lived through, there was something nostalgic about the scene.

“I feel so much better now,” Scar announced, and Grian’s lips only curled into a smile at those words, his attention once again focusing on Scar. He doubted Scar really cared all that much about this disc, but it was clearly one of the ‘bits’ with this particular group of people, and Scar always carried those out until their faithful end.

Most members of the group were swaying slightly with the music. Grian didn’t really mind the cat music disc, it was decent enough, so he easily played along with an approving nod and a small chuckle.

He would only have to deal with them for a few days. Just a few days, and then he would be on his way with Scar, away from the village and all the bad memories it kept locked within its walls.

Luckily, Scar didn’t actually seem to mind if Grian stuck a bit closer to him than what was considered socially acceptable. Their small group - Grian, Scar, Cleo, Impulse, and Bdubs - spent the remainder of that first day together, and Grian managed to hog most of Scar’s attention without any issues.

After sitting around for an hour or two and chatting, Cleo announced that she wanted to be productive and gather some resources that could be used to start a farm. The others had agreed easily enough since a farm was something that would be useful for everyone in the coming months, and they had all quickly begun traveling over the fields to search for seed in the long grass below them.

Grian had his cow, but he hadn’t been able to find a second one yet. It was an entire ordeal to transfer seed, dirt, and water to the desert and convince wheat to grow there, but it was an ordeal that might be necessary for the time being. Either way, it wasn’t something Grian could mind spending time on.

Such a mindless task made it easy to strike up more conversations with Scar.

While apart from Scar, it felt like something was wrong. It felt like something was missing, and Grian had felt wrong-footed, empty, and frustrated the longer he went without Scar. Now it almost felt worse - because Scar was right there next to him, crouched under the midday sun and running his fingers through the grass to collect seed, but Grian was unable to reach out and touch like he longed to do.

All he could do was talk, so he had to indulge where he could.

“How were your first few days in Third Life?” Grian questioned as casually as he could, adding another few seeds into his own inventory as he crouched down next to Scar. “Where did you spawn?”

The fact that he hadn’t known the answer had bothered him when he first realized it, and at least that was an issue he had a chance at fixing.

Scar glanced at him for only a moment before returning his gaze to his task, smiling without pause. “Well,” he bit out slowly, “to be honest, I almost lost my first life pretty early on! By early on, I mean in the first week, if you would believe that. I tried to jump into some water and missed, and lost half my health.”

Grian felt his heart drop, hands freezing where they rested in the grass.

Scar had almost lost a life that early on? That had to have happened in his timeline as well, even though he had never known about it.

The idea made him feel somewhat sick, disgusted from the realization that Grian could have lost Scar so easily. Scar being on his yellow life wouldn’t have stopped Grian from going through with his prank, and it wouldn’t have stopped Scar from falling into that crevice in the Sand Lands. Scar would have been the first member of Third Life to die.

Scar would have been a red life within the first month. Would he have teamed up with Grian in the first place?

It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry over ‘what ifs.’ Scar didn’t actually lose his first life from anything as tame as that. Besides, is it honestly that surprising? Scar constantly almost dies.

It just felt different, when Scar’s brush with death was so far away from Grian before Grian had even known him.

“... Grian?” Scar questioned, breaking Grian away from his train of thought. He had been silent and frozen for far too long, and when he quickly looked at Scar again, Scar looked worried.

Grian paused, and then looked closer, past his first impression. Something seemed off with Scar’s concern. Normally when he worried over Grian, his eyes went wide, and he always started moving his hands around with jittery energy, like he could reach out and yank Grian out of whatever perceived danger he saw.

Now, the furrowed eyebrows were there along with the small frown and the careful look, but Scar’s eyes weren’t any wider than usual and his hands didn’t shift from where they were, digging into his own section of grass.

Scar wasn’t worried about some stranger he just met, he was just putting on one of his masks and pretending.

Grian would rather Scar mock him for his momentary panic than pretend to care when he didn’t. A wave of emotion crashed down, heavy in his chest, more of that desperate longing for a version of Scar that was gone. Longing for touch that would only be ill received.

He forced himself to look away. “Sorry,” he remarked, though it asked what he was apologizing for, he wasn't sure he would be able to say. “We’re all still green lives, as far as we know. I just got a bit distracted, thinking about what it would be like to be a yellow life.”

Not that much different than green, in all honesty.

“The life system?” Scar questioned. No one talked about it in the early days. Not in a serious manner. “Are you worried about going yellow?”

“No.” He wasn’t afraid of dying, it was part of the plan. “Are you?”

“I just don’t want to go yellow first, and definitely not this early on,” Scar admitted, laughing. “I’d be a little embarrassed.”

It was a good thing that Grian wouldn’t allow that to happen then. “So where did you spawn in?” he asked once more, changing the conversation towards the question he still hadn’t received an answer for.

“Some flower field. It was right next to a birch forest. What about you?”

Really? Scar had spawned in Scott and Jimmy’s area? That was nearly two full days away from where Grian had spawned. It was a good thing that Grian had decided to wait to meet up with Scar in the village, instead of trying to go and search him out.

“I spawned not too far from the village, somewhere north.”

Before he could continue talking to Scar, Cleo called out to Scar, and Scar straightened and headed off in her direction. Grian straightened as well and followed behind, but he stayed quiet as the two laughed about some inside joke, not wanting to intrude too much on Scar’s life at the moment, but not wanting to leave them alone either.

He had never liked Cleo, even if they had been forced to help each other out due to a common enemy. He found he liked her even less now, watching her make jokes with Scar and laugh next to him, reaching out a hand to playfully shove Scar’s shoulder.

Following the motion with his eyes, Grian inwardly thought about what expression Cleo would make if he cut that hand off.

The next day was more of the same - Grian acting as Scar’s shadow, putting enough distance between them so he didn’t come off as creepy while still not letting him out of his sight - though at least the events of the day were slightly more interesting.

It began mostly the same until Scar decided to sneak away from the main group and use his flint and steel to set the historical tree on fire. There was no saving it this time. The fire spread too quickly, the flames hungrily jumping between the branches and the covering of leaves on them, feeding off the growth and filling the air above the village with heavy smoke.

He remembered this happening the first time, as Scar moved to climb up to where Etho, Bdubs, Impulse and Cleo stood, Grian stepping up onto the small hill a moment later from the opposite side. Etho noticed the damage quickly enough, running in the direction of the tree, but it was clear to everyone there that it was far too late to do anything to save it.

Most people seemed somewhat exasperated but not actually upset, more amused than anything else. Grian himself couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Seeing Scar participate in his own chaos always amused and delighted Grian - Scar’s chaos tended to be a bit less violent than Grian’s own, but fire was something both of them enjoyed and found amusement in.

At Grian’s slightly loud, cackling laughter, Scar glanced in his direction. The two made eye contact for a moment, and Grian could tell this time Scar’s smile was real. For just a second it truly felt like Grian was back in his own timeline, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his own Scar before Scar looked away and the moment broke.

“Oh, it’s burning,” Scar chuckled, the mutters of the others around them nothing more than background noise in Grian’s ears.

Someone complained about Scar being the worst, while another voice commented on the tree being lost forever, but Grian only had eyes for Scar.

“He should have just let us chop it down,” Cleo commented with a sigh in her voice, and Scar nodded in agreement, his grin not leaving his face.

“Really, he should have,” Scar agreed, “because you know what, we would have got more saplings, we would have regrown, and everyone would have had dark oak saplings and wood.”

Grian remembered when his own idea had sparked based on all the talk about dark oak, and the demand for it. His original plan of monopolizing on the dark oak instead of the sand, the way he had so easily dismissed Scar’s idea. Of course, now he knew it would never work, so there was no point in even entertaining the idea in this re-do, this world of second chances.

They all eventually moved to gather around the tree. Grian lingered by Scar’s side and a bit behind him, watching the way the flames cast shadows and light across Scar’s skin. He looked beautiful, standing there, so close to the destruction he had caused. It made Grian want to swear his loyalty to Scar all over again but now was not the time.

“Well that’s it, no dark oak this season,” Etho commented, his voice frustrated and annoyed as he turned to glare at the gathering of people around him. He was still trying to stop the flames, even though all the greenery was eaten away already, the last remnants of the trunk splintering and cracking under the yellow-orange-red flames.

Bdubs squawked, his voice raising loudly as he tried to defend his own involvement, “I didn’t even do it, I was saving the stupid historical monument!”

“No dark oak,” was all Etho said again, turning to grab the last of the logs before they could be eaten as well, “this is the last dark oak in the server..”

Once again, Grian felt slightly taken back from seeing the earlier days, when things like dark oak logs were their biggest concern. When dark oak was what made them argue and bicker, instead of weapons and armor and blood-stained hands.

They all argued for a while longer, and Grian went back to turning the sound into background noise, keeping his eyes only locked on Scar. All the flames spluttered out at last, the only surviving oak tucked away into Etho’s inventory, and the crowd started to scatter a bit and move into their own spaces.

To his surprise, Scar turned to face him, a grin on his face as he gestured Grian over to a building. There was no hesitance as Grian immediately followed him, hardly glancing at the rest of the group as he moved into the shadow of the villager's house with Scar.

“Hey,” Grian greeted, proud of himself as his voice came out steadily. “Nice work with the tree there.”

“Aw, thank you!” Scar clapped his hands together gently with another blinding grin, glancing over at the burnt remains for a second before his gaze fixated again on Grian. It felt good, being the person that Scar was looking at. It felt wonderful, seeing those green eyes filled with such focus, intense as he smiled at Grian, and no one else.

It felt wrong. Scar’s smile was wrong, in the way it stretched too widely, and didn’t quite reach his eyes. No one else would be able to tell, but the hurt and longing hit Grian once more like it was new all over again, but he still couldn’t look away. Even if it hurt, it was still Scar, and if all Grian could get was these half-fake smiles, he would covet each and every once like they were made out of gold.

“Did you need something?” Grian questioned. Anything. Anything you want, just name it, and it’s yours.

Scar’s smile shifted, growing mischievous, his eyes crinkling as he lowered his head slightly. His voice quieted like he was telling Grian a secret of his very own. “Do you want to take over a sand biome?” Scar questioned in that whisper, raising an eyebrow at Grian.

It felt like the world was giving out around him, and he was spiraling into nothingness. Then, in the next second, it felt like reality was gluing itself back together, with Scar and Grian at the very center.

His breath caught in his throat, stomach dropping as the longing overwhelmed him wholeheartedly. “The sand biome?”

“Yeah, the sand biome, we can be the sand people,” Scar agreed. He spoke like it was easy like he wasn’t offering Grian’s very purpose back to him. He had been waiting for this, for so long, and now it could be his again. Theirs again.

Before Grian could agree, as he intended, he noticed the sound of footsteps in the grass, and tension rippled up his spine. He turned quickly to narrow his gaze as Cleo and Bdubs approached, sneaking forwards with amused expressions on their faces.

It didn’t feel funny to Grian. He bit back the urge to lunge and skewer them on his sword or snap their necks with a twist of his hands. The image was taunting him beneath his eyelids, urging him onwards, but he knew killing them in the middle of the village, turning them into enemies, doing so in front of Scar… it was a bad idea, no matter how much he hated the interruption.

They didn’t understand the moment they interrupted, how important it was, but the knowledge didn’t lessen his anger.

“They can hear us, they’re right there,” Grian commented, raising his voice from the whisper back into his normal volume, an annoyed drawl, “we have some eavesdroppers, Scar.”

He knew his tone of voice, his words, and his expression was too much for these easy-going days of Third Life. Both Cleo and Bdubs looked startled as they took him in, their amusement dropping slightly from their expressions.

Grian swallowed, anxiety making some of the anger recede. He had to be more careful than this. He couldn’t turn Scar away from him, make the other think of him as someone unstable, of someone dangerous. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from Cleo and Bdubs, and the relief at the sight of Scar’s smile was so strong it made him sway for just a second.

Scar winked at him. Actually winked.

“I’ll burn their village down if they try anything - oh, hi!” he spoke, voice growing louder as he turned to their two eavesdroppers, as though he had just seen them for the first time. Grian’s own lips curled into a small smile again, warmth shifting in his chest.

Scar wasn’t upset, or disturbed. They were fine.

“I’m with you, what’s wrong with you -” Bdubs blinked, sounding honestly startled as he stared at Scar.

“This is the worst secret meeting I’ve ever been a part of,” Grian announced. He didn’t allow himself to hesitate as he reached for Scar’s hand, grabbing it in his own. He could feel Scar’s startled flinch, but he ignored it - maybe the smarter thing would have been to grab his wrist, not his hand, but he couldn’t help himself. “Come on Scar, let’s go over here.”

They weren’t stopped as they moved away from the village, under the shadow of the trees that guarded the forest close by. Scar didn’t let go of his hand, so Grian didn’t either. The contact made him feel alive, his earlier mood from before the interruption returning to him in a sudden rush.

“Hey,” Scar hummed, grinning at him, “do you want to take over the sand biome, and then make people come and pay to get sand?”

Grian grinned back, utterly gone to the man in front of him. “It’s about the monopoly?” he guessed, and Scar’s expression brightened as he nodded along.

“It is! It’s about selling sand, it’s the only sand source. That place is a bust -” he gestured back to the village behind them “- and I’m going somewhere better.”

“Somewhere better,” Grian repeated, under his breath. That felt correct in a way that made the sappy warmth in him only grow brighter. “Yes.”

Scar stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, “yes?”

“Yes,” Grian said again. “I want to take over the sand biome with you. That’s what I want.”

His second agreement seemed to be enough to seal the deal because Scar laughed brightly, stepping back. The motion pulled his hand out of Grian’s which felt like a loss, but Scar’s grin as he clapped his hands together more than made up for it. “Well then, it will be a pleasure doing business with you.”

Grian laughed, weakly. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine.”

The journey from the village to Monopoly Mountain was going to take three and a half days, which Grian was looking forward to far too much, but was that really any kind of surprise? It was going to be three and a half days with Scar, traveling by his side. It would only be the two of them.

It was his chance to try and build something between them.

Three and a half days was nothing compared to their past life and the bond they had then, but Grian would feel better if he could tear down Scar’s salesman mask even just a little bit. Every time Scar used it in front of him felt wrong in a way Grian wasn’t sure he could explain, but wrong nonetheless. There weren’t meant to be barriers between them, not when they knew each other, as well as they, did, but Scar didn’t know each other at all, and that was… a problem.

The other problem was keeping his hands to himself and remembering that, which their first day of travel made clear.

It was so easy to fall back into old conversation and banter, to try and reach for Scar. A shove against the shoulder, a brush of their arms or hands against the others, a brush of his wings against Scar’s body.

There were way too many aborted motions and jokes, and Grian wanted to bite into his tongue after the first hour.

To his credit, Scar seemed entirely unbothered, playing along with all of Grian’s references even when there was no way he understood them, and not reacting to Grian’s touch when Grian didn’t stop himself in time. He did cast a curious stare towards Grian’s wings after feathers brushed on his skin.

“So, can you fly?” Scar questioned casually, head tilted to the side, his smile small but just as present as it always had been. “Your wings look large enough to take your weight.”

Grian groaned an instinctive complaint, ruffling the limbs and feelings the feathers shift. “You would think so,” he sighed, casting his own glare back towards his wings, “but no. I’ve tried, a few times, but I’ve always just ended up on the ground. They’re just annoying decorations.”

“At least they have an intimidation factor,” Scar suggested.

“Intimidating? What part of giant fluffy wings reads as intimidating to you?”

“You’re pretty intimidating.” Scar’s voice sounded teasing now, and Grian let it relax him, let the tone roll over him. They were picking their way through the forest, walking between trees as the grass brushed against their ankles, and it felt like home. “Your glare is terrifying, and your voice gets all cold and creepy when you get annoyed - I thought you might kill Cleo and Bdubs earlier. The wings just give you an… inhumane vibe as well, which can freak people out.”

It wasn’t like he was the only one on the server that wasn’t entirely human. Ren had his wolf ears and tail, Tango's hair was literal fire, and Cleo was part zombie, to name a few - but he supposed it could give him an edge.

He did grimace a bit, now knowing for sure that Scar had caught onto his earlier mood when they were interrupted. Scar must have caught his expression because he only laughed, and the noise made Grian’s frown dissolve immediately. “It’s fine,” Scar drawled, smirking, “I’m glad you liked my idea so much.”

“But why did you pick me to invite along?” The question was out there before Grian could think. Yet another thing he had never asked the first time around. It had felt so natural at the time, and Grian hadn’t thought twice about it, but now… “We’ve only known each other for a few days. Didn't you travel with some of the others for… days? Weeks?”

“A while,” Scar agreed. He went quiet for a second, thinking the question over. “... I’m not entirely sure,” he finally admitted, “I just felt like I had to. I have a good feeling about our partnership.”

Partners. Yes. That was right.

Grian nodded slowly, offering Scar a smile of his own. “I do too,” he agreed.

Despite his struggle to control himself, it was still going well. They were still going well.

When they set up camp for the night, Grian realized for the first time just how amazing it was going to be to travel together.

The night was cold. It was full of mobs. Sleeping far apart made no sense under those circumstances. Not only would it make their reaction time slow and disjointed if they did get attacked during the night, but it would also leave them both colder than they would be otherwise. Sharing body heat to get by in Third Life while traveling wasn’t anything personal or new - Grian had seen others do it as well, several times, both partners, friends, and hesitant acquaintances alike.

It wasn’t like they were going to be sleeping directly against one another as Grian remembered from Monopoly Mountain, but they were going to be close enough for Grian to feel Scar’s warmth, and the thought was tantalizing.

“You must be pretty tired,” Scar had commented as Grian had hurried along their dinner, perhaps rushing just a bit too much. There was something like amusement in his gaze, and Grian had stared at him for a moment, feeling the smallest flicker of hesitance for the first time. As he faltered, Scar added, “it’s fine, I am as well. It’s been a long day, you know!”

“A long day of arson,” Grian commented, just to watch for Scar’s smile, to make sure everything was fine.

Of course, Scar grinned. “I had to show Etho the light,” he giggled, putting emphasis on the last word.

Grian rolled his eyes, the thread of hesitant tension snapping as he moved closer to Scar. The sky was dark above them, and they took shelter in a small cave Scar had found to have more protection from mobs that were beginning to wander around on the surface of the overworld. A few torches were placed around them, stopping anything from spawning directly on them as they slept.

He settled down by Scar’s side, leaving only enough distance between them for it not to be questionable as he stretched his wings, laying down and curling them around him. No matter how much he wanted to curl them around Scar as well, to give Scar their warmth, he knew it would be way too much, way too soon.

Scar stretched as well before laying down, and exhaustion crashed into Grian like a minecart, sudden and jarring.

He could finally get some sleep. After so long of tossing and turning and struggling to sleep without Scar by his side, Scar was finally right there with him, and his eyes closed easily, his body settling down without a single complaint or protest.

It felt warm. It felt good and right, and addicting, and Grian was slightly dreading when their journey would end and they would be banished to opposite sides of the room in opposite beds. Enjoy it while it lasts.

It was all he could do.

With the sound of Scar’s soft breathing in his ear, Grian drifted off into the first true and heavy sleep he’d been able to have in a long while.

The rest of their journey proceeded along in the same manner.

During the day they would travel, only pausing to eat and drink briefly before continuing. They would talk most of the time, conversation flowing easily between the two, and Grian slowly got better at thinking before he spoke or acted.

He learned about Scar. He knew most of it already. He knew the story of Scar finding the Sand Lands, he knew Scar liked the warmth on his skin, and the idea of selling sand to others. He knew Scar wasn’t a huge fan of fish, and he would turn it away for each and every meal, letting Grian have it instead. He knew Scar liked bread but would complain about it, about how tough it became much too fast when in an inventory for too long. He knew Scar didn’t mind traveling around, enjoying seeing the sights around them, and could walk for hours without complaint. He knew Scar was easily distracted, pausing to examine a bee’s nest or to collect some wood or clay in a creek.

He knew all of it, but he learned it again greedily, sharing pieces of himself in exchange.

If nothing else, it was a way to get closer to him again, repeating these old conversations. The rapport between them was easy and effortless, so if nothing else perhaps Scar would be able to see that, and it would mean something to him.

At night, they laid close. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to guard the other and share some warmth, and Grian felt better rested than he had in months, drifting off each night with the sound of Scar’s breathing.

It felt amazing. He opened his eyes every morning feeling energetic, and he opened his eyes knowing Scar was healthy and safe with him. Grian wished this could last forever.

I’m going to save Scar this time. It would last. Grian would ensure it himself, with his own two hands. It would last until Grian himself lost his third life, and with Scar’s success a hard truth in his mind, Grian would finally be able to let go.

The only thing that would make the journey better would be the helpful appearance of a cow. Grian had asked Scar to keep an eye out as well - “we’ll need some sort of food source, it will be difficult to grow crops in the desert” - and Scar had easily agreed, but there had been no hint of deep earth brown and speckled white leather through the trees they passed by.

It felt like the journey ended way too soon, as their feet pressed into sand in the late afternoon of their third day of travel, and at the same time, it felt like Scar and Grian should have arrived weeks ago.

Grian eagerly surged forwards, sand being kicked up around his feet and already getting back into his clothes, Scar’s laughter echoing from behind him. “I feel like you’re more excited about this than I am, and it was my suggestion!”

“It was a good suggestion,” Grian retorted, shooting a grin over his shoulder as he crept moving forwards. He was home.

He kept his eyes locked on Scar for another moment.

He was home.

“All my suggestions are good suggestions,” Scar agreed, glancing around the vast sandy dunes around them with a quirked eyebrow as he considered it. “Okay, this may be a little bit bigger than I originally thought.”

Grian let his footsteps slow for a moment, this time fully turning around to face Scar as they halted for a step. “Don’t tell me you’re having regrets now!”

Scar’s lips quirked into a smile as well, “what if we just mined it all?”

Laughter spilled out of his chest as he registered Scar’s words, old memories overlapping the moment. Hadn’t Scar said the same thing, in the original timeline? It was a good reminder, again, that despite everything it was still Scar.

“We can make defenses,” Grian suggested instead, turning again and resuming their walk. He could hear Scar’s movement behind him, confident that he was still being followed. “We can figure something out.”

“It’s a great opportunity,” Scar agreed, “we should build a tower!”

Grian’s fingers itched. He would have a chance to build their home again. He had purposefully guided them through the forest to get as close to Monopoly Mountain as possible when they entered the Sand Lands, and he was moving towards the mountain steadily, Scar following without complaint. He wanted to build their home again so that it looked exactly as it had before, warm and comforting and theirs.

“I can be in charge of building,” he suggested. “I have an idea or two.”

“Are you a builder?”

“I think so.” The urge to create had been something ingrained in him since the moment he opened his eyes in Third Life. Grian might have delved more into the feeling if he had time. If things hadn’t gone so wrong so quickly. “It feels… familiar. I have knowledge based around it, so…” Grian trailed off. “What about you? What do you think you did before all of this?”

“I think I was a salesman,” Scar announced, “I like the idea of selling items, earning diamonds, using transactions and deals… but I think I was a builder as well. Sometimes I start almost planning a build, in my head, when I see a good clear space or something that sparks my creativity.”

Scar had given him the truthful answer.

They never got to truly build, neither of them, but they had spoken about it now and then. How they would have expanded their home if they had the time and the resources if they had ability to do so without it being blown up and set on fire. If they had the ability to work on something like building and decorating while their enemies gathered resources and became ever stronger.

“You can create our base though,” Scar added, “if you already have a vision, I wouldn’t want to mess with it.”

“Thank you.”

“Where do you want to build?” Scar questioned, and Grian raised a single arm, pointing forwards.

Their mountain. Their home. High above, towering upwards in the distance. Grian opened his mouth to reply, and he could taste the sand and rapidly cooling heat that coated his tongue. “There, on the mountain.”

Scar stepped forwards quickly to catch up to him, his hand clasping down over his shoulder for a brief moment. “Good idea!” he complimented cheerfully, and they continued onwards.

That night, they made it to the top of the mountain before nightfall, placing down torches, and chests, and storing all of their resources and items they had collected on the way. Of course, Grian didn’t say anything about the resources they already had, hidden not far from the spot they stood.

It would raise too many questions about why he hid them below the Sand Lands before they had even agreed to take over the area. It might not be a deal breaker, but it would certainly be a problem, and Grian would much rather avoid those if at all possible.

As for now, it wasn’t as though Grian could build Monopoly Mountain in one night. He already had most of the resources he would need, the wood tucked away in chests, but he hadn’t had a chance to gather sand yet which he would need to make the upper layer of the gradient, and some extra iron for iron bars and lanterns.

Which meant they could sleep beside each other for one more night. He would be able to recreate Monopoly Mountain the day after, in a few hours, and there would be no more need to stay close and share heat.

He was eager to have the physical building of Monopoly Mountain in front of him, but at the same time, his chest ached at the loss he was already anticipating. Grian looked at Scar now, already asleep next to him. He knew Scar was truly asleep, could tell by his breathing and the soft fluttering of his eyelashes, and -

Tomorrow, Monopoly Mountain would be built, and they would sleep apart.

Swallowing, Grian moved closer, slowly, inch by inch until their sides were pressed together, his wing extended and curled around Scar’s body.

If Scar said anything about it, Grian would play it off, blame it as though he had rolled over in his sleep - but for now Grian was going to take what he could. He moved his head to lay it almost on Scar’s shoulders, counting the rise and fall of his chest under his wing, and drifted off to sleep himself.

“You look…” Scar trailed off, giggling slightly, and Grian rolled his eyes at his friend's amusement.

“I look?” he retorted.

“I know we agreed to take over the Sand Land, but you didn’t have to go so far as to become part of it yourself,” Scar laughed, his giggles growing a bit louder.

Grian sighed, looking up from the chest he was dumping stacks of sand into with an amused expression of his own. “Scar, if you expected us to take over the Sand Lands and not be constantly covered in the stuff, you have a big surprise ahead of you,” he warned. “I’ve been collecting it since I woke up, it’s to be expected that I’ll end up a bit of a mess.”

A bit of a mess was an understatement. Grian was practically caked in the substance, not that he minded all that much - the only true annoyance was its presence in his wings, which kept twitching and shifting with instinctive attempts to rid themselves of the grit. For now, he ignored it. He could preen them after he finished his task for the day.

“That’s all for the base?” Scar questioned, his laughter finally fading as he moved to peer into the chest Grian had crafted earlier. In it, Grian had sorted all the wood he thought he would need, crafted a bunch of buttons he would use to decorate the outer walls, and dumped the sand he just collected into it as well as some shining bars of silvery iron.

“Yeah,” Grian confirmed. He tried to brush some of the sand on his hands off on his pants, but since his pants were just as bad as his hands, it didn’t help much. “I have Monopoly Mountain covered if you had any plans for the day.”

“Monopoly Mountain?” Scar echoed, his tone carrying a note of curiosity and delight. Grian turned to face him, as Scar grinned, nodding. “I like it. Since we’re monopolizing all the sand - Monopoly Mountain.”

The word had slipped out without Grian meaning it to, but he couldn’t regret it as he watched the way Scar’s eyes shone in the light of the early morning. There was sand in his hair and plastered to his skin, and for a moment he looked so much like the Scar that Grian had left behind. He looked ethereal.

Grian wanted to reach for him, to pull him forwards in a tight grip until he could feel Scar’s breath against his skin. Listening to Scar breathe as they slept wasn’t enough, he wanted more. He had always wanted more with Scar, even when he knew it was a hopeless thought.

Scar stepped away, head tilted in consideration, and the moment broke like every moment before it. “I might start working on a small garden,” he decided, “I know we can’t hope for too much out here, but something is better than nothing.”

“Okay,” Grian agreed, keeping his sigh locked in his throat. He gestured towards where their minuscule garden had been the first time around. “Is there alright? You should plant some sugarcane and cacti as well.”

“Cacti?”

“I was thinking we could make a barrier with it?” Grian suggested. “Around the edges of the Sand Land, I mean. As part of our protective features.”

Scar seemed taken with the idea. It had never actually done much, their cactus wall, but Grian always thought it had a certain level of intimidation factor that made their enemies hesitate for just a second longer before approaching. A second may not be much, but in the middle of a war, a second can cost you everything. In a war, a flicker of fear, no matter how slight, could spell your death.

The two split into different directions for the day, and Grian let Scar go with no small amount of reluctance, needing to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling out as he turned back to his own task.

He had already built it once. It might take a few tweaks to make it perfect since he had built it so long ago, but Grian knew every single block that made up their home. He had placed them with his own hands, had lived inside their hold every single day, so -

Really, it wouldn’t take longer than a few hours. How hard could it be?

Grian’s frustrated exhale was almost a snarl as he reached for his axe in his inventory, tearing down the wall of wood he had built in front of him for what had to be at least the twentieth time. No matter what he tried, their base didn’t look right. Something was off about it - at first, he thought it was a few blocks too high, but when he lowered it, it looked too low. Then he tried to move the blocks forwards a few places, but it had thrown off the interior from what Grian remembered, so that couldn’t be right either, and he couldn’t figure out what was wrong -

The air was turning cool on his neck. The sky was growing darker.

Another day had come and gone, and Grian was no closer to figuring it out than he had been when he started.

The frustration had been building in him all day, Grian ignoring Scar’s offer of both lunch and later dinner. Scar hadn’t pushed.

Some furious part of himself that Grian had been slowly gaining control of seethed. His Scar would have pushed. His Scar would have sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically and dragged Grian away from the build if he had to, keeping a tight grip on him and forcing food into his hands.

He broke the last block of wood, letting it slip back into his inventory, and took a few steps back to stare at the half-built build in front of him critically.

His Scar was gone. His Monopoly Mountain was gone as well, apparently, since no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t make it look like the home he recalled.

“What was wrong with it that time?” Scar questioned, calm from behind him. Scar was seated further back on the mountain, legs crossed beneath him as he watched Grian build. “It looked fine.”

“It didn’t look like how I wanted it to look.”

“How do you want it to look? Maybe I could help -”

“You can’t.” He knew his words were too aggressive, he knew he was snapping at Scar when it was much too early in their partnership for him to show any side of himself other than the very best, but he couldn’t help it.

He felt like was falling apart, just like how he had felt when he had laid his eyes on Scar in the village for the first time and failed to approach him.

Every time he thought he was getting the hang of the reality he was trapped in, he was shredded apart.

Grian sucked in a deep breath, wings shifting on his back as he stepped forwards to try again. Maybe the wall wasn’t long enough? If he lengthened the section he was working on, he would need to change the front as well, but maybe that would help the entire build realign with his memory.

He nodded to himself, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he stepped forwards and started placing the wood down again. He would lengthen it this time, and see how that turned out.

Of course, hardly five minutes passed before Grian was ripping it down again with a frustrated shout. There were no words in the angry snarling noise that erupted from his chest, only frustration that boiled and burned like lava.

“Grian -”

“Shut up!” Grian whirled on Scar, storming forwards and leaving the build at his back to point sharply towards Scar. His partner stayed silent and still, only blinking up at him with calm green eyes while Grian snarled out angry words, wings puffed up around him. “Just stop talking, all you ever do is talk, but all of your grand words and manipulative speeches that have everyone falling over themselves won’t help in this situation!”

There was some corner of his mind that was panicking, trying to remind him again that exploding at Scar this early in the partnership would put a swift end to said partnership, but -

He thought he could build their home again.

It hadn’t occurred to him that he wouldn’t be able to recreate the old Monopoly Mountain, exactly how it had been.

He hadn’t realized until now that it was gone forever.

And Scar was the same way. Grian finally had him again, but it was a different version of his partner. A version without the experiences they shared, the scars he gained fighting by Grian’s side, a version of his partner that wasn’t his, and that Scar was trying to calm him down with words full of false care and it was -

It was infuriating.

“You’re impossible,” Grian seethed, “I know you don’t know me, I know I’m just some stranger to you, but this isn’t going to work if you pull on one of your masks the entire time we’re meant to be working together - I’d prefer it if you didn’t care about me, or if you insulted me about this -” he gestured towards their base - “if the alternate is fake words, pretend care, more salesman Scar!”

Something crossed Scar’s face then, some fleeting expression. His eyes widened slightly, lips parting before he swallowed and the expression was washed away. “You -”

“No,” Grian scoffed, “you just did it again, you - augh!” With another frustrated screech, more bird than human, Grian did a small angry twirl with his arms thrown in the air. When he came to face Scar again, he started emptying his inventory - throwing stacks of wood, iron, and sand at Scar.

Scar was staring, something intent in his gaze that wasn’t there before. Part of Grian wanted to pick it apart, dissect the expression bit by bit, while another part of him was scared he would discover just another mask behind it all. Mostly, he was just angry still, skin warm even in the quickly closing in the dusk of the Sand Lands.

“Just do it yourself, since you can’t be bothered to lower yourself to my level and talk to me honestly,” he spat.

His earlier comparison to how he felt now, with the moment he saw Scar at the village, seemed even more apt now as Grian spun on his heel and stormed back down the side of the mountain.

There were no footsteps that followed behind his retreating back.

His Scar would have followed him.

Grian was extremely intriguing.

Scar stared after where Grian had stood just minutes before, still overcoming his surprise even as he pushed himself back to his feet, doing his best to dust off his sandy clothes. Perhaps the sand shouldn’t have come as such a surprise, but they had only been living in the desert - on Monopoly Mountain - for a single day and it had already annoyingly dug itself into every crevice of his clothing. Part of him was tempted to just go without his shirt, but he had some self-control.

He would get used to the sand. He would get used to Grian as well. People tended to be easy for him to handle.

Grian seemed different, though.

Scar stepped closer towards the building, looking it over with a critical eye. It was rather good - the blocks Grian had chosen created a nice-looking gradient that reflected the land they had settled into remarkably well. The iron bars were a nice touch in place of windows. Windows would have been easy considering where they were, but the iron created a much different feeling to the build, something more suitable to the death game they had all awoken in.

So it was clear Grian was a good builder, just one with anger issues? Or a perfectionist? Out of the two options, Grian being a perfectionist seemed to make more sense, since he hadn’t struggled with anger back in the village, or on the trip to the desert. It wasn’t until he was faced with the task of creating a build that he seemed to have some perfect image of in his mind's eye, that he started to split apart at the seams.

Becoming allies with a perfectionist wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to Scar.

It was nothing in comparison to the other issue they had in front of them -

This isn’t going to work if you pull on one of your masks the entire time we’re meant to be working together.

Grian’s words echoed in his head, and Scar couldn’t help but smile as he pulled a stack of wood out of his inventory and into his hand, moving forwards to keep working on Monopoly Mountain. A small chuckle escaped him as he did so, reaching up to scratch his sand-incrusted hair with his free hand, bemused.

Scar loved playing up his emotions, pulling on masks, and convincing others to play along with whatever he was in the mood to dramatize, make important, and sell. It was fun. Most of the time, it ended in laughter from all those involved. But no one really noticed what he was doing, or if they had, they never called him out on it.

He hadn’t been entirely sure what pulled him towards Grian in the first place. The moment he laid his eyes on the other man, Scar had just known that they would work great together, and it was exciting to find that he was right in his assessment.

Scar found himself determined to make their base on Monopoly Mountain look a-may-zing for when Grian returned.

It looked very, very different from the Monopoly Mountain that Grian remembered.

It was taller and wider, and the middle and top parts of the gradient in the walls ended sooner. There were more windows, and the area around the building had more landscaping done to it, trails of sandstone and loose sand entwining, dotted with fences and buttons and flower pots, all little details to give it that extra attention.

Scar stood next to it, head raised high, grinning at Grian and gesturing out towards the build, proudly showing it off.

It was different.

But it had parts that were made by Grian, and parts that Scar had made all on his own after Grian had stormed off for two days. It was a home crafted by two pairs of hands, working together, covering each other's weaknesses, and drawing out each other's strengths.

It wasn’t home. But.

“It looks good,” Grian gave in, hesitantly smiling at Scar, worried about how welcome he would be after the way he had yelled at him beforehand.

Scar’s smile widened, and it looked honest. “Welcome back.”

It wasn’t home, but it was something that maybe, (maybe), could become home.

Chapter Text

Three days after their base had been built found Grian standing outside, knelt in dusty sand as he deposited water and dirt from his inventory. He was doing his best to fashion a working garden together in a place where nothing grows. It was a slow-going process, the desert fighting him every step of the way as he moved grit aside to replace it with dirt, hoeing the ground and watering it as he sunk seeds down into the mud.

From where he sat on an area of fence, Scar watched him, his legs swinging idly. “You know,” he remarked, “I think farming animals might be the way to go! I don’t think that will grow.”

Grian grimaced. Internally he was on the same page as Scar. He knew it would grow, it would just take a while, and definitely wouldn’t be a steady source of food. He had been worried about it for a month and a half, he didn’t need Scar there to remind him. (But he wanted him there to do so). “Well, when you find a cow, you let me know,” he retorted, “they’ve all been hunted to extinction!”

“That was a bit of an oversight,” Scar admitted after a second, and Grian couldn’t help but laugh.

“You could always help me,” Grian pointed out.

Scar gasped in mock offense, hand jumping up to hover over his heart as he slid down from the fence with a soft thud. “Grian! I am helping, I’m providing important moral support.”

Sometimes, in moments like this, Grian still couldn’t believe he had made it back to this moment. On the mountain with Scar, in a time when things were light and casual, able to tease Scar and be teased in return. Able to reach out and touch Scar, if he wanted to.

Able to look at him, for as long as he could.

Sweat dripped down Grian’s brow, the desert heated even in the early morning. Scar had already fashioned his hat once again, the same hat he had worn in Grian’s old timeline, with a wide brim that kept his face and neck protected from the heat. Despite the added protection combined with his easy-going remarks, he was clearly sweating too, and Grian’s gaze followed motion as a drop rolled down his partner's neck.

In the old timeline, Grian had offered up his feathers to Scar, slipping one of each color into the band along his hat, and Scar had worn them every day until the day he died, protecting the feathers vigorously.

Grian wanted to offer them again, wanted to see Scar’s wide-eyed expression that slowly softened into a look meant only for Grian, but he knew it wasn’t time yet.

Despite Scar’s teasing words, he moved to Grian’s side, crouching down to look over Grian’s work with a considering expression. “I can take a turn and expand this out a bit more,” he offered. “Didn’t you mention some sort of… cactus wall?”

He seemed delighted by the idea, and the easy cheer in his voice made Grian laugh. A cactus wall was the type of thing Scar loved, something big and dramatic and a little strange. “To go around the border,” Grian explained. “I don’t know how much it will actually stop anyone who wants to get in, but the intimidation factor might be somewhat helpful.”

Scar clearly seemed to agree, raising his hands to shoo Grian away, appearing eager to see this cactus wall for himself. “Better get started then! Don’t worry, I have this handled.”

“I’m incapable of not worrying when it comes to you, you’re a mess.”

Scar only laughed again. Grian had made those sort of dry jokes ever since he met Scar for the first time in the original timeline, as though he had known about Scar’s clumsy nature, the way he easily threw himself into danger, far before he ever met him. It was another one of those strange questions they didn’t ask, right beside wondering that had drawn them together in the first place. They just accepted it instead of trying to solve the mystery.

Grian followed Scar’s direction and started climbing down the staircase they installed on the side of the mountain, heading downwards. They had added the staircase just yesterday, at Grian’s insistence. With his luck, he would save Scar from death by creeper only to watch him topple off the side of their home.

He wasn’t sure he could handle that. Just thinking about it made memories of his own final death press at the corners of his mind, lingering darkness that could destroy him entirely if he let it.

He started to mine the cacti. It was another easy, mindless job, collecting the prickly plant and glancing up the mountain where he could just spot Scar at the top, working away in their garden. He was most likely getting himself covered in mud and loose seeds and creating a mess.

It was so easy to picture, Scar with mud and sand caked onto his hands, reaching up to rub his face without thinking, leaving smears of it on his skin. Later on, Grian would point it out and Scar would be startled, and then he would laugh as he cleaned himself off, not at all bothered by the mess.

Grian imagined helping him, grabbing some wool or rabbit hide or whatever they had, and dampening it in a bucket of water. Scar would sit in front of him and Grian would hold his chin still, complaining and rolling his eyes at his partner's carelessness, but he would be gentle as he wiped away the grit, careful to get all of it. Scar would be warm under his touch, and he would smile at him, and everything would be perfect.

He wanted to grab those moments and wrap himself in them, he wanted to freeze time and hold Scar in that happy, soft spot forever, as though they could avoid their future that way.

He knew they couldn’t.

“Soup,” Scar announced with a grin as he gestured to the table. It was later in the day now, the sun shining at it’s highest point in the sky, and Scar had climbed down the mountain to drag Grian back indoors for a break. Grian had taken a peek at the garden on his way in, and Scar had expanded it so it was twice it’s size, and it seemed entirely in working order.

Like Grian had expected, Scar was a mess, but Grian didn’t say anything as he sunk down into the seat across from Scar.

Scar had cooked for them a lot these past few days, and Grian had found himself loving it more than he thought he would. In their old timeline, Scar had stopped cooking once he had gone red. Holding the knives to cut up meat or vegtables or even bread made him twitchy, and after Grian had accidentally snuck up behind him and almost got a knife through his neck for his trouble, Scar had refused to cook again.

It’s not like cooking for them had been some horrible chore, and Grian had accepted the responsibility with hardly any argument. He had accepted any responsibility Scar had given him back then, as a green life in Scar’s debt, and cooking was just another task to add to the list of what he had owed the man. What he had taken away from him.

Scar’s cooking hadn’t even been something Grian thought he had missed until now. Now, he coveted every meal Scar made, because it meant that Scar was okay, that he was green and healthy and able.

Grian poked at the bowl in front of him. It was mostly broth with some chopped vegetables and a little bit of meat, the last of what Scar had on him from before Monopoly Mountain. There was some bread to go along with it, and Grian dipped it in the broth to soften it, biting into it and chewing.

“Thanks.” Grian swallowed, and added, “it’s good,” as Scar started to turn to his own bowl, the compliment worth it as a smile lit up Scar’s expression.

“Aw, I’m glad you like it! How’s the cactus wall going?”

“It’s a start,” Grian shrugged. “We’ll need to go out every day and break off whatever’s newly grown to keep spreading it along in order to cover the entire border, it’s not something I can finish in just one morning. I’m not that impressive.”

“I think you’re plenty impressive.” It was a throwaway line that was paired with Scar’s charismatic smile. It was something meant to flatter Grian and make him warm up to Scar more.

Grian knew that. He narrowed his eyes at Scar, making it clear that he knew that, even as he felt his cheeks darken ever so slightly.

Scar’s smile grew, and he held up one hand in a flash of an apology. Grian could practically see the delight in Scar’s gaze, the curiosity that burned there as Grian saw past another mask, the quiet question in Scar’s stare as he tried to puzzle it out - how Grian could see through him so easily.

“You are so transparent,” Grian scoffed, just because he knew the comment would spark Scar’s intrigue to burn even hotter.

He was right, Scar’s head tilting slightly, a subtle shift. “Only to you, apparently.”

Grian smirked, unable to prevent the expression. Perhaps his own reaction, his own silent pleasure at that remark gave something away as well, but the walls between Scar and himself were going to crumble down eventually. He didn’t mind Scar seeing him for who he was. Scar had never turned away from him before, he couldn’t imagine it would change now.

They ate the rest of their meal between conversations about their base and their plans for the next few days, how they would keep working on their cactus defense and continue to monitor their garden. Grian offered to take catalog of their food in his journal to plan out their meals properly to avoid running out, and Scar had agreed with a considering look, questioning if they really should start looking for cows.

“I really think we need some animals around here,” Scar said again, and -

Grian froze. His bowl was almost empty at that point, only a few bites left, but he set his spoon down at stared out one of their windows, his mind suddenly going still.

Pizza.

Pizza was with Etho. Scar had bought Pizza off Etho after the creeper prank that had gone so horribly wrong, right before they had gone to Monopoly Mountain, only that hadn’t happened this time, and now -

They had left Pizza behind.

Grian had never been as attached to Pizza in comparison to Scar, who adored the gentle animal and spent a lot of time with him, petting him and feeding him by hand, taking him around the Sand Lands like he was giving the llama a personal tour, and even falling asleep leaning against Pizza a few times. However, Pizza was still theirs, a part of the Sand Lands they had and then they had lost to Red Winter, and that was unacceptable. It always had been.

“Grian?” Scar’s voice broke through the stillness that had wrapped itself around Grian, and he forced his gaze away from the window, looking back at Scar.

Pizza was all the way back in the village. If Grian went to get him, he would be gone for another week.

He was tired of traveling. He was tired of walking back and forth, he was so tired of being away from Scar, he was tired of fighting tooth and nail to fight through his emotions and be where he wanted to be. All Grian wanted was to stay there, to stay by Scar’s side, to tuck himself in that place meant for him, and never leave.

“I think I should go look for some cows,” Grian forced out because what mattered here was Scar. What mattered here was Scar’s happiness, not his own. When Grian died, Scar needed to keep going. He needed a home, a llama, a collection of bees, a garden, and a pen full of cows, and Grian had to give that to him. He had to.

“Okay?” Scar frowned slightly, his green eyes unnervingly focused on Grian, picking apart every little bit of his expression. “That’s fine, I was just saying it might be for the best. I can come with you?”

“No. You should stay here.” Where it’s safe. “One of us needs to focus on the maintenance, and I might be a few days anyways. I’d rather do a good sweep over the server, so I might go far.”

“If you’re sure.” Scar’s tone of voice was still careful. Grian’s sudden switch in expression and emotions, from smiling and easy-going to sullen and tense, wasn’t something he could ignore. Grian forced a small smile, hoping it would relax Scar somewhat, but Scar didn’t seem mollified in the slightest.

“I’ll leave tomorrow morning,” Grian decided, and Scar nodded.

The rest of their meal took place in silence.

Grian liked watching Scar in the middle of the night, while the other man slept.

It was a bit creepy, he could admit in the own sanctuary of his mind, a grimace on his mouth whenever he considered his actions fully. His only consolation was the knowledge that Scar, his Scar from his timeline, would have understood - had done the same, the weeks after Grian had turned yellow, watching him at all moments as though Grian would disappear if he stopped.

Scar moved a lot in his sleep. He rolled around, shifted his weight this way and that, eyebrows pressing together and mouth occasionally shifting as he dreamed. But there were no thrashing limbs, no panic in the lines of his face, his breathing staying calm and steady, and the reassurance was a balm.

Grian slept just across the hall from Scar. It wasn’t close enough, but it was the best he could get, and it was leagues better than the agony of sleeping biomes apart.

He slept better than he had then, though not by much.

That night, he didn’t get much sleep at all. He did his best to memorize each of Scar’s sleepy expressions, each shift in his breathing, each twitch of his limbs, and the way his hair grew messier and messier with each turn on his body.

Grian was going to have to go another week without him, without them, and if he wanted to survive it he was going to have to etch Scar into each and every corner of his memory while he had the chance.

He left before Scar woke because he wasn’t confident in his ability to say no if Scar offered to go with him again. He didn’t bother throwing on old iron armor any longer, dressing in full diamond and carrying the sword that had been gifted to him in his hand as he set off across the sand.

He left most of their supplies back at Monopoly Mountain. There was no need to bring anything other than the food he would need for the trip and some wheat in case he actually did come across another cow. Pizza would have to be brought along by the use of a lead, but Etho should still have the one that Pizza came with.

The Sand Lands was just starting to warm up as he crossed them, sun heating the back of his neck until he left their lands some hours later, feet meeting grass. He cast one last glance back towards their home before continuing onwards. It was a bit easier when he pictured Scar, leaning against Pizza’s side as the llama laid down, expression soft and relaxed. There was no question about Scar adoring Pizza in this timeline, not when Scar had loved the animal so quickly, with only a glance.

Grian traveled without pause, his destination in mind. The quicker he got there, the quicker he could be back home.

Halfway through his trip, Scar started to message him.

GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: cACTUS WALL UPDATE
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: lOOKS GREAT
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: your caps are on scar
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: Oops
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: Find any vows?
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: not yet
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: heading towards the village to look around there
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: maybe village people have some I could steal
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: Amazing
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: Garden in growing slow
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: jokes on you
You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: I called it
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: you got me there!

It made things a little (a lot) more bearable.

Grian felt like he should be telling Scar off for not working more on the Sand Lands, since once Scar started messaging him, both of them spent most of their time shooting messages off back and forth. But the one time he managed to type the words out onto his communicator, he immediately deleted them. Sometimes, he needed to let himself have nice things.

They talked about nonsense. They messaged about everything ranging from their shared love of cats, the best type of weather, to battle tactics and strategies they could use to protect the Sand Lands once battles became unavoidable.

Despite his knowledge of Scar, deep and written into his very being, Grian kept learning new things about him. He knew Scar’s favorite type of cat was the jellie cat, but now Scar admitted that he thought he owned one before Third Life, with how strongly he felt about them. Grian asked what Scar would name one, and Scar hadn’t hesitated to respond with ‘Jellie.’

It made Grian laugh. It was the same as naming a tabby cat ‘Tabby,’ or a ragdoll cat ‘Ragdoll.’ Still, it seemed right when Scar said it, and Grian wondered if he had ever met Scar’s cat, before.

He learned that Scar actually was a big fan of cookies, and Scar’s insistence on stealing BigB’s cookie suddenly made a lot more sense.

While Scar talked about space one night, when Grian was right outside the village, Grian was more than aware of Scar’s fascination with it - but some of the fun space facts Scar shared were new to Grian, interesting facts he had never heard of before, and Grian was sucked into the conversation the same way anything that nears a black hole is sucked away.

Grian drank in their conversations as though he were dehydrated. When he finally reached the village once more, he wasn’t as tense as he thought he would be. Instead, a smile was on his face as he moved his fingers over his communicator.

You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: If you had to trade etho something for an animal, what would you offer him?

Scar had made the deal the first time around, it was his strength, not Grian’s.

GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: you found a cow?
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: Free snad
GoodTimeWithScar whispers to you: And cactus

Grian didn’t correct his assumption about the cow situation. He wanted Pizza to be a surprise, he knew Scar wouldn’t be disappointed by the lack of a cow when he saw the llama in its place. He did roll his eyes at the offer of free sand and cacti - it was the type of thing Grian himself would never think to offer since it was so easy to just walk into the Sand Lands while Scar and himself were asleep and collect some… and it probably was exactly what Scar had offered last time, and it would probably work like a charm if Grian could pull off a good Scar impression.

You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: okay, going in. Wish me luck
GoodTimeWithScar: Good luck!

It wasn’t difficult to find Etho, once he made it to the village. There was no llama in sight, but Grian didn’t let that stop him - there was no reason Etho shouldn’t have Pizza still unless someone else had actually bothered to buy him off Etho, but Grian doubted it. There wasn’t that much practical use for a llama, and most of their fellow players tended to be somewhat practical.

“Etho!”

The man turned to face Grian without flinching, raising one of his eyebrows at the sight of Grian. The two hadn’t really spoken at all this season. Grian had seen him around the village when he was staying there with Scar, but he had been too focused on his partner to try and talk with anyone else. It wasn’t like acting friendly with Etho mattered, he had thought.

“Grian,” Etho greeted, proving that despite the lack of communication between the two, Etho had still been paying attention to the other players. “I thought you and Scar left to take over a desert?”

“We did, but I heard a little rumor that you might have a llama.”

“A rumor, eh?”

The two eyed each other for a moment, and Grian sucked in a careful breath. Right. If he wanted to pull this off, he had to act like Scar - pull on Scar’s masks like they were his own, settle himself into Scar’s skin and thought patterns like he belonged there. He knew Scar long enough, he knew him well enough, and he should be able to get this done without any issues.

Grian smiled, forcing it to spread widely on his face, an expression of easy cheerfulness. “Etho, what can the Sand Lands offer you? In order to buy this rumored llama off of you?” he questioned, stepping closer, moving a bit into Etho’s personal space.

Etho moved back on his heels, humming considerably under his breath as he watched Grian’s movement. “Who says I have a llama?”

Dramatic. Scar was always so dramatic. Grian forced out a small gasp, moving his hand up to rest it over his heart. “Etho! I can’t reveal my sources, how am I meant to be a trustworthy player that way?”

“What do you even want a llama for?”

Why was Etho asking so many questions? If it was Scar, he would have an easy joke or quip for each and every one of them. Grian changed tactics. “Free sand.”

“... Is this some sort of scam?”

“It’s something Scar mentioned,” Grian lied through his teeth. Scar hadn’t mentioned the idea yet, but Grian knew he would eventually. So what if Grian sped up the process a little bit, mentioned it to Scar and gave him the idea before Scar thought of it? “We’re going to set up chests for those who are doing business with Monopoly Mountain, collect gifts for them - like free sand - to leave for them to collect, at their own convenience.”

Etho hummed again. He looked like he was considering the idea, so Grian offered, “and some free cacti as well?” pushing just a little bit more -

“I’ll take that,” Etho agreed finally, nodding. “I can’t tell if you’re trolling or not, but -”

“I’m dead serious,” Grian swore, wings shifting at his shoulders, feathers fluffing up slightly as delight shocked up his spine. That had been easy! He was so used to clawing his way through any deals he had to make, the simple agreement felt so quick in comparison. “Scar is always coming up with crazy ideas, you get used to it eventually. Where’s my llama?”

“Just wait here, I’ll get him for you,” Etho promised, moving away.

Grian’s smile was real now, as he went back to picturing Scar’s reaction to Pizza. It was worth it. It might have been an annoying trip to have to make, his entire body might feel itchy and wrong, being so far away from Scar, but -

He’ll smile, for real.

When I die, I need to leave him with things to love, to protect, things that will make him smile.

Scar needs to be happy.

Pizza was a bit distrustful of him, but trailed along behind him easily enough, the lead carefully looped around his neck. With each of Grian’s careful scratches on his neck and behind his ears, the llama seemed to be warming up to him more and more, until he was headbutting Grian in demands for affection as they neared the edges of the Sand Lands once more.

“You’ll get plenty of love when Scar sees you,” Grian sighed, even as he went back to petting Pizza’s neck. The llama’s fur was soft and warm under his fingers, though the lack of gritty sand still felt odd to Grian, the same way it had been since the timeline reset.

Of course, Pizza didn’t understand player, and kept demanding attention up until they stepped onto warm sand.

Grian stepped forwards, warmth spreading in his chest, a deep delight at the sight of home once again. The lead grew taunt in his hand, pulling, and Grian was startled to find some resistance. He turned back for a moment, only to find Pizza looking off into the shadows of the trees.

Huh. Grian tugged on the lead, stepping back, and Pizza was forced a step away, turning to look at Grian with what Grian would have called an affronted expression. “Oh - fine, what is it?” Grian sighed. He placed the fence post he had been using while he slept down, wrapping the lead around it in a quick motion as he walked towards the treeline. “I swear, if there’s another random llama just sitting here, I’m going to lose my mind - oh !”

Grian paused, his feet frozen where he stood in lush grass, blinking frantically and staring at the sight under the tree.

The cow stared back.

There was no way he was this lucky. There was no way the two cows they had found had both been right outside the Sand Lands borders.

There was no way, and yet, Grian was staring at undeniable proof.

“Oh,” he breathed out, reaching for the wheat in his inventory, the cow instantly focusing on him and moving closer once it was in his hand. “Oh, hello.”

His excitement to get home, to see Scar’s reaction to all of this, grew.

As Grian climbed Monopoly Mountain, a cow and a llama following along behind him, the sun was beginning to set in the sky. Grian could see the way the cactus had been expanded from the spot higher up on the mountain, stretching further around their border than it had been when Grian had left. As he moved higher up the mountain he eyed their garden. Everything was growing, some sprouts of green visible through the dirt that looked freshly shifted - Scar must have harvested and replanted just earlier that day.

Grian led the two animals up to their front door, throwing Pizza’s lead around a fencepost while holding the wheat in his hand, keeping the cow's attention on him. “Scar!” he called out, tilting his head back to look up at their home. “Are you in there?”

“Grian?” an answering voice called, and Grian felt awash with warmth. It chased away the chill that was beginning to settle in the air, it destroyed the tension that had settled into his bones since Grian had left on his one-man mission, it made his wings flex and then settle, relaxing on his back.

He smiled, softly. “Come here, I have a surprise for you -”

“Is the surprise brown, says moo, and edible?” Scar teased, even as Grian heard footsteps inside the house, moving quickly towards the door. Grian’s smile grew, from something soft to something happy, easily delighted and moved.

“Well -”

The door opened, Grian moving a bit out of the way. Considering how the cow was pressed up against his side, trying to reach the wheat held just a little too high for it to get to, Scar’s gaze fell on it first. Grian got to watch up close as his expression lit up with a wide grin, Scar’s hands coming together in a delighted clap of excitement.

“Why hello there!” Scar greeted the animal, dashing forwards to lean over it. He reached forwards, running a hand over the cow's head, admiring the way the cow snuffed and moved to press its nose into his grip. Searching for wheat or other snacks Scar didn’t have, Grian guessed. “You did it! This is worthy of celebration. I vote we have steak to celebrate.”

He looked up at Grian as he said it, grinning and laughing at his own joke. Grian scoffed, rolling his eyes, but he knew his own smile gave away his own amusement. “Steak? Scar, we can’t eat it until we have a second one!” About that… Grian was going to be stuck revealing his hidden cow to Scar now, wasn’t he? I’ll worry about that tomorrow. I just want to enjoy being home.

“Is there anyway I can convince you? Think of the delicious meat, cooking and sizzling over the fire…”

“Stop trying to make me hungry!”

Grian didn’t even realize he was leaning towards Scar, far too much into his personal space, until Pizza made a noise and Scar abruptly jerked away, twisting to locate the sound.

The cow hadn’t surprised Scar, as happy as he had been to see it. Grian had gone out in search of a cow, had messaged Scar asking how to trade to get an animal off Etho, and then had returned with a cow in hand. The flow of events was logical, a cow was to be expected. On the other hand, Scar was clearly surprised to see Pizza, staring for a moment as if his brain had paused in shock on the scene.

“Grian.”

Grian didn’t think his smile could get any wider, but he was being proven wrong delightfully quickly. “Scar?”

“That’s a llama.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Why do we have a llama?” Scar’s voice was growing higher pitched, as he abandoned the cow to step over to Pizza, reaching a careful hand out to brush over his ears. Pizza seemed pleased at the attention, falling quiet and stepping over to Scar to get better scratches.

“He’s for you. What do you think of the name Pizza?”

“For me?” Scar echoed, his voice soft. Grian could read the still lingering surprise in the wideness of his eyes and his slightly parted mouth, could witness his quick love for Pizza in the gentle movement of his hand and the half-step he took closer to him, but the emotion that passed over Scar’s face in the gentling of his features and the smile in his eyes as he looked at Grian was something he couldn’t name.

It wasn’t new. That gentle look was a look only for Grian, it was a look Scar had given him time and time again, but it was something that was too much to put a simple name to it.

Grian nodded, suddenly unable to swallow over the lump in his throat and the twist of his stomach.

I miss you. You’re right there, but I miss you.

“Pizza,” Scar breathed, “that’s a perfect name! Grian, I knew this partnership was going to be amazing, but you apparently live to destroy all my expectations and impress me!”

“I’m glad I can please you,” Grian managed. He looked back towards the cow, unable to keep looking at Scar for another moment. “I’m going to find somewhere for this guy, okay?”

Scar was too distracted by Pizza to do much more than hum softly in response.

Skizzleman was slain by enderman.

Grian and Scar were both eating breakfast when the message appeared on their communicators. It was a meal made from the harvests of their garden while Grian had been away, fried by Grian in the early hours to surprise Scar when he woke.

Grian paused with a mouthful of hashbrowns, before chewing slowly and swallowing, drawing the communicator closer to himself to stare at the message, taking it in.

A few messages were swiftly appearing below the death message, exclamations of surprise and sympathy from those Grian had exchanged communicator information with, and Grian ignored them. Across the table Scar hissed under his breath, typing in his own message that Grian quickly read.

<GoodTimeWithScar> nOOOoOOOooOO

All Grian could feel was grim satisfaction, as he took in Scar’s green name, glancing between it and the death message. “First death,” he managed to say, not bothering with any false sympathy or concern.

When he looked up Scar was watching him closely. Grian only felt the barest stirrings of panic before he stifled them down. Scar wouldn’t turn away from him because Grian was acting cold towards the others, or because he was too calm and almost happy about their deaths - he never had before, even if it was in another life. He hadn’t seemed to mind so far, when Grian showed disinterest in the others when he focused on Scar and only Scar.

Scar glanced down at Grian’s communicator, and reached a hand out towards it. “Do you not have everyone added?” he questioned. “I have everyone, I can add their IGNs for you.”

There. See? It was fine.

Grian nodded and passed his communicator over the table, Scar quickly getting to work adding everyone Grian hadn’t bothered with this time around. “Have you seen those advertisements that have been popping up in chat lately?” Scar questioned, and Grian grimaced at the reminder.

Sometime during his trip to get Pizza, Martyn had started advertising Renchanting in the chat. Grian could only assume Ren was as well, even if Martyn’s messages were the only ones visible to him. Grian had entirely ignored them, not even allowing himself to think about them or give them a second look. It would only make him angry. “Yes,” he bit out, unable to prevent stress from leaking into his words.

Scar glanced up for a second, amused. “Well I was going to ask if you wanted to buy some enchantments, but with that tone of voice…” Then Scar paused and smiled brightly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t just take their enchanter though!”

Grian couldn’t help the small laugh that spilled from his mouth, helpless. “We’ll put it on the to-do list,” he promised, since he knew convincing Scar not to go after the enchanter would never be possible. “But maybe not right now. We shouldn’t make enemies early on.”

“Fine,” Scar drawled with a dramatic roll of his eyes, but he was grinning as he passed Grian his communicator back. Grian stuck it in his pocket without looking, and they each returned to their meals.

After eating, Grian led Scar down the slope of Monopoly Mountain and across the stream separating the Sand Lands into a large half and a much smaller slice. Scar seemed curious at Grian’s promise of a surprise as he led him forward, and then downwards, breaking the cactus that marked his secret hidden area and bringing Scar down below with him.

The night before, Grian had snuck out after Scar had fallen asleep. He had moved all of his belongings to a place further below, a few blocks below his original hiding spot. His hiding spot had been transformed into an underground farm space for cows - the two cows they had currently fenced into a corner with some wheat left for them to eat. There were a few small chests on the wall, one of them containing a stack and a half of wheat they could continue using to feed and breed the cows.

Scar’s eyes widened as he looked around the area, and he spun to face Grian with an appraising stare. “Two? We - how do we have two cows?? You’re fantastic,” he cheered.

Grian lifted a finger to his lips in a quiet hushing motion, smiling a bit weakly. Scar’s cheer wasn’t false, but the appraising stare hadn’t been his imagination. Grian couldn’t keep pulling off all of his surprises, or Scar’s trust in him would continue to dwindle more and more. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” Grian huffed.

“True enough!”

If they had been in one another's shoes, that never would have been enough for Grian. He would have frowned and argued and bickered with Scar, demanding to know how he had found another cow, why he hadn’t told Grian, questioning and pushing to figure out what exactly was going on. Grian doubted he would ever truly understand how easily Scar could accept the fact that Grian hid something from him so openly.

Scar took some wheat from the chest, tossing it from hand to hand. It grabbed the cow's attention immediately, and Scar headed towards them, carefully feeding each from his hand.

GoodTimeWithScar has made the advancement [The Parrots and the Bats]

In one blink of his eyes, a baby cow appeared, mooing softly and shaking its head, looking around the new world it had been born into with wide eyes.

It would never know the sun on its back, the wind on its hide, or the soft grass under its hooves. All it would know was darkness and uncomfortable heat until it was seared with a sword and cooked.

Grian shuddered, wings twisting around him, his avian instincts flaring up with each moment he spent underground. Scar noticed the motion, and turned to glance at him, tilting his head. “Do you want to head back up? We have lots to get done! Lots of gardening, and cactus planting - oh, you don’t want to know how many times I’ve been pricked by cacti trying to work on the wall - I can head down every once in a while to keep breeding them… do you think we can have steak tonight? Or maybe we shouldn’t risk it yet -”

Grian let Scar continue his rambling as Scar moved over, pressing a warm hand to Grian’s shoulder and pushing him back towards the hidden entrance. Grian moved easily, listening closely, and it took everything in him not to shove himself into the touch in a manner much too desperate to ignore.

“ - it would be smarter to wait until we have a good amount of cows down here before we actually go ahead and cook any of them up… but I really want steak. I’m not a rabbit! I can’t eat vegetables forever! No matter how delicious your cooking is, I do have my limits G. And several weeks is surpassing them -”

Maybe steak that night would be fine if it would make Scar happy.

Grian spent a day or two digging out a space under their base. He constructed a comfortable, homely-looking room with a light block palette and as much light as he could manage, trying to make it look as cozy and comfortable as possible. He introduced it to Scar with a flourish, explaining quickly that it was meant for Pizza, that animals and pets would be the first victims when the fighting started up, that he wanted to keep Pizza safe.

Scar had stared at him with that appraising look again. The room was much bigger than one animal needed, filled with any snacks or treats a llama could wish for, a pool of water where Pizza could soak or drink, and finally he nodded with a smile. “You think someone will try to kill him?”

Grian hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact. “Or steal him, for leverage. Wouldn’t you?”

It wasn’t safe on the surface. Grian remembered Pizza’s disappearance at Cleo’s hands, her attempts to shove him through the border for revenge after Scar ripped her off, taking her armor with false promises of a dark oak monopoly that was never theirs in the first place. Cleo would come and steal him again if Grian didn’t defend him.

He had learned his lesson. If Grian didn’t defend what belonged to him if he didn’t stand guard and keep it somewhere safe and protected, locked away where only he could access -

Then he would lose it.

That wasn’t an option.

They never tried to create a dark oak monopoly, and Cleo never came for Pizza.

Things got better.

Things got worse.

Grian sat outside under the night sky, and Scar moved outside with slow steps to sit next to him. They had sat under the night sky like this many, many sleepless nights in the past.

Simultaneously, this was the first time.

“I heard you get up,” Scar commented as he sat. There was the barest edge of concern in his voice, but he didn’t press their sides together, didn’t take Grian’s hand. “I’ve heard you get up every single night, G. Is everything okay?”

What was he meant to say?

Everything time I close my eyes, I see you.

I see you laughing and running until your expression fills with shock and fear as you fall. I reach for you, I run and try to grab your hand, but you slip through my grasp every time, no matter how fast I move or how loudly I scream.

Your body hits the ground. It makes a gut-wrenching sound as you shatter apart, and every time I close my eyes as tightly as I can as if I can hide from it. I never can. Even with my eyes closed, I see your body on my eyelids, red and sticky, your eyes still open but sightless, your limbs twisted in directions they shouldn’t be twisted.

When I blink, I see you being blown apart in an explosion. I blink, and I see you shuddering and smiling and crying as I shove you against cacti, as I slam my fists into your skin until my knuckles are almost as bruised and broken as your flesh. I blink, and you’re gone.

That’s the worst part - when you’re gone.

“Insomnia.”

Scar hummed, falling on his back. The silence held for a moment as he stared up at the endless sight above them. “I like looking at the sky when I can’t sleep. No one ever does.”

I can’t do this.

Grian was on his feet before he could think, stumbling back towards the house as his stomach twisted with nausea. He didn’t even know why Scar’s words hurt so much, he only knew that they ached with familiarity, and tonight - with Scar's absence weighing so heavily - he couldn’t.

He just couldn’t.

“Grian?” Scar called out, alarmed, and then he got up, scrambling to follow Grian back inside. “Hold on!”

Grian didn’t slow despite Scar’s protest. He moved through the front hallway briskly, turning quickly into the kitchen where the fireplace was still burning, embers sparking in cracks of orange in the otherwise dark room. Scar paused in the entrance of the kitchen as Grian fell to his knees on his nest of torn blankets, curling one up over his lap and twisting his fingers into it. “Leave me alone.”

“Did I say something?”

“No.”

His Scar never would have listened to the demand. His Scar would have moved into the kitchen no matter what Grian said, no matter what prickly words he threw at him. He would have crowded close, warm and gentle, with a smile on his mouth. Now, in this reality, Grian heard the sound of footsteps as Scar relented and left him be.

Grian had come to terms with this reality, but at night the lines he had carefully drawn between this one and the last blurred and cracked, and his heart broke with it. He was doing well during the day. Cooking with Scar in the morning, smiling and making jokes as they worked on the base and the garden and their defense. Finding cows and Pizza and crafting hiding places and smiling the entire time, because he had to. Because Scar was right there, and Grian needed that with a desperation he never used to have.

Nights had to belong to him, not that shaky, desperate version of himself that clung to Scar with all his might, but the version of himself that was stuck in memories of blood and war and loss, the version of himself that fell off a cliff and never got up again.

The version of himself that would never see Scar again, not really. The version of himself that wished for nothing but the Scar that would be there for him -

Something touched his shoulders and Grian startled, wings flaring. He reached into his inventory and yanked his sword out before his mind could catch up half rising -

“Woah!”

Grian froze, staring into wide green eyes at Scar stood with his hands raised by his head, a sheepish smile on his face and wariness in his gaze as he looked at Grian’s sword. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

There was a blanket around his shoulders. It was Scar’s. Grian swallowed, and the sword in his hand returned to his inventory. The space on his shoulders and back where the blanket touched tingled, like lightning running up and down his spine and wings. “What are you doing?” he questioned, his voice weaker than he had meant it to be.

Scar smiled wider, tilting his head to the side. His hands dropped back down and he shrugged, rolling his weight back on his heels. “The kitchen can get a little cold, even with the fireplace,” he remarked, “and you only have a pile of blankets to sleep in. No wonder you have insomnia, avian or not, that can’t be comfortable! I thought another blanket might help. Oh - hold on!”

As Grian watched, eyes wide and heart slamming in his chest, Scar turned and raced back into his room. A second later he was back again, brandishing a pillow with a pleased expression on his face. “This too!”

In the back of his mind, Grian’s avian instincts were waking up, delighted by the offers of warm, soft objects to add to his nest. Not just any objects, but gifts from Scar, things taken directly from his own bed and gifted to Grian to help him rest better. Things that would smell like him, objects that would still be warm from Scar’s own body heat.

Grian’s less-avian thoughts were still whirling around the fact that Scar hadn’t left. He hadn’t gone back to bed. Grian had just been thinking about how his Scar would have shoved his way into Grian’s nest no matter what Grian said, and now -

Grian settled back down slowly, wrapping Scar’s blanket tightly around his shoulders like a shield. Scar took a step forward, and when Grian said nothing to stop him, moved closer and sat down. In a moment he started to carefully arrange the rest of the blankets and the pillows with a concentration that seemed over the top for the project at hand.

The blankets were full of sand. It felt like home, even in this slightly different room, even in the awkward unfamiliar slant of the walls and the oddness of the fireplace's position. (It was a home crafted by two pairs of hands, working together, covering for each others weaknesses and drawing out each others strengths.)

“There,” Scar announced, Grian’s nest apparently up to his standards. “Okay you, lay down. You can’t fall asleep sitting up! Unless you can? If so, that would be very impressive!”

Grian’s avian instincts were too loud at the prospect of a nest made for him, by Scar, for Grian to do anything but listen, wings curled around himself as he settled. “You don’t have to do this.”

“We’re partners. I want to.” Scar paused, considering his words before he continued. “I’m not stupid, G. The way you look at me sometimes, the way you act… I know something’s wrong, even if I don’t know what that something is.”

Grian grimaced. “Nothing’s wrong -”

“You got mad at me for lying to you, and now you’re about to do the same?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Grian gave in, looking away. He couldn’t tell Scar the truth. The truth was too insane, too wild, for anyone to believe it. But he wouldn’t lie either.

Scar sighed. “I know we haven’t been partners for long. If you’re having regrets…”

“Never.”

“Is it the Sand Lands? You seemed so excited to build here, but then there was the issue with the build, and ever since then -”

“It’s not that.”

“Can you tell me anything? Just give me something to work with here.” Grian remained stubbornly silent. It had never stopped Scar anytime before. “Is it my cooking?” Scar guessed, his voice losing some of its tension and turning light and teasing once more. “Is it really that bad? If that’s going to break this partnership, then -”

“I love your cooking.” The words were horribly honest in the darkness of the night.

Scar didn’t hold it against him. “Well, I’ll cook for us more often then. What should we make for breakfast tomorrow? What about eggs? We have a few more left, I can scramble them up with some vegetables. It will be a good start to the day! If we get enough sleep to enjoy it to its fullest, that is.”

He was being unfair to Scar, making his partner jump through hoops to try and deal with him and the baggage he carried. He knew his moods changed too easily, he knew he went from clinging to Scar to pushing him away and hiding from him.

“G, let me help you.”

“You can’t help me with this.”

“You don’t know that!”

Just give me something to work with here.

He needed to give Scar something - just a small slice of himself, something honest and truthful, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. Grian refused to make eye contact, wings shifting once more on his back as his fingers curled into claws around the blanket in his grip. His voice was rough when he spoke, forcing the words out despite the stubbornness to keep them inside. “I just… I don’t think I’m very good at sleeping alone. I think I had someone. Before. They’re gone now - I can tell, I just know. During the day, I can manage it, but at night, it just…” Hurts. The last word stuck in his throat.

Scar heard it anyways, humming softly in the back of his own throat. He didn’t reply right away, which Grian appreciated. It proved that Scar was actually thinking about his response, instead of just saying whatever came to his mind first.

“I don’t think I had anyone that was as close to me as that,” Scar finally settled on, honest. “But I think I had friends.” Of course, Scar had friends. Grian couldn’t imagine a single reality where the cheerful, social, people-person that made up GoodTimesWithScar wouldn’t be surrounded by friends. “Sometimes I feel like this world is so empty. I feel as though I should be able to hear conversation and laughter drifting by on the air. I look at my communicator and I feel as though it should be buzzing with constant messages.”

Grian finally looked at Scar. His partner was gazing off towards the fire, looking almost melancholy, his smile faded and something lost in his gaze. “There’s nothing that we can do about either of our issues,” Grian sighed, his own pain twisting in his chest in answer to Scar’s distress. “Whatever lives we lived before this… they’re gone.”

Scar shrugged. “I have a hard time believing they’re gone forever. I mean, we both had people who cared about us. Would those people really be fine if we all just up and vanished? I know if you vanished, I would go looking for you!” Scar’s smile was suddenly back as he turned to make eye contact with Grian. Something about that expression, and his words, untwisted the knot in Grian’s heart just a little. “We have each other.”

“We have each other,” Grian dutifully repeated.

Scar nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off by his own yawn, his jaw cracking open and eyes squeezed shut in a show of his own sleepiness. “Oh - it’s so easy to talk to you, I keep forgetting how late it actually is,” he complained, laughing.

Grian scoffed, rolling his eyes, but his cheeks felt warm and his earlier panic and need to get away was drifting to the back of his mind, subdued. “Then go to bed,” he ordered, “take your blanket back. I should be fine.” He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep, but he might be able to get another hour in if he were lucky.

“Liar! You just told me you can’t sleep alone.” Scar was already moving even as he spoke - laying down next to Grian with a dramatic flop of his body, shifting as though trying to get comfortable and tugging one of the blankets up and over his own body with a flourish.

The avian stared for a long moment, blinking frantically as his brain lagged behind the situation. “Wait - what are you doing?”

“Sleeping. Come on G, keep up.”

“This is my nest!”

“Psh, your nest, my nest… partners share don’t they? I prefer thinking of it as our nest.”

Was this Scar’s way of helping him, proving Grian wrong when he said Scar couldn’t? Grian wasn’t sure if he could survive it if Scar slept next to him for only one night. If Grian could have Scar again, close and warm and safe and pressed up against him, but only temporarily. A mirage image, there and then gone the next, hurting worse than ever with the taste of what he wanted so desperately but couldn’t keep.

This was too early in their timeline. Scar and Grian started sleeping together after their first late-night conversation about the stars and the constellations and their stories - which had come much, much later, after Scar had turned red and Grian’s hands had been stained with blood. Not in these earlier days, when all names but a select few were bright, shimmering green, and they were still learning the boundaries of their relationship with one another.

(None. There were no boundaries, in the end).

This wasn’t right, this wasn’t what had happened -

“Grian?” Scar sounded concerned again, his voice softening a touch. He didn’t reach for Grian, didn’t brush a hand against his side or brush his fingers over his hair, but he was right there. “If you really don’t want me this close, I’ll back off. I just want to help, as I said.”

He should tell Scar to back off. He should. He really, really should.

But he was selfish. And so weak.

“Stay,” Grian requested, his body leaning towards Scar without conscious thought, drawn in as he always had been (always would be).

“Of course,” Scar promised.

And Grian slept better than he had in ages. 

Chapter Text

Time moved onwards, as time does.

Other members of Third Life passed through the Sand Lands like ghosts. Grian was painfully aware of their presence while they were there. The moment they stepped foot into the Sand Lands, he felt like he was back on the battlefield. Adrenaline coursed through his system, and he was ready to pull a sword out at any moment. He was overly aware of their position - where Scar was, the distance between him and Grian, how Grian would have to move to place himself between Scar and their intruder. He had battle plans constantly present in his mind, flourishing and changing at every moment.

Scott hovered at the edges of their borders, slipping sand into his inventory with a grin and a wink as Scar yelled in Grian’s ear and got Grian to place lava as a threat.

Tango showed up to trail after them, somehow leaving without his enchanted pants. In return, he was given a promise of gaining reputation points with the Sand Lands.

Martyn arrived by Tango’s side, a smirking shadow, only to join Scott in his mischief and run off with delighted laughter. At some point, he tried to convince Scar and Grian to participate in some sort of heist, which was quickly denied.

Joel showed up during the night in search of dead bushes no one would ever care about, leaving without his diamond sword, without his bushes, and with an ‘alliance’ that Grian could only inwardly roll his eyes over.

At least Scar seemed happy with all the deals he had made.

Early the next morning brought Etho to their doorstep, and Grian watched in fond amusement by their garden as Scar talked about reputation points and future trades all for Etho’s enchanted iron boots. Etho agreed surprisingly quickly. It seemed like Scar’s deals were processed quickly and smoothly when Grian wasn’t trying to convince Scar’s victim not to trust him. Who would have thought?

“Ten reputation points,” Etho cheered, grinning at Grian from under his mask as he used one of their furnaces to cook his food. Grian and Scar both kept their food hidden away in their inventories at all times. It would be better if the other residents of Third Life were unaware of how much food Grian and Scar had compared to most of them.

The white-haired man left not long after, and Grian turned to Scar in amusement. His partner had enchanted pants and enchanted boots, despite not once going near an enchanter. “I have no idea how you do that.”

“The power of reputation points,” Scar grinned. “You might not understand how great they are at the moment, but you will!”

Grian laughed, gesturing up and down at Scar. “I mean they seem to be working out well for you, so I can’t argue too much.”

“We can’t all have full diamond,” Scar retorted, looking at Grian’s armor in return. Grian wanted to wince, but he instead kept his smile carefully upheld on his face. He had full diamond because he had spent all of his time in the village trying to get resources, and he had extra diamonds buried under their cows. However, some secrets were better kept hidden at this stage of the game.

“I’m a hard worker,” Grian shrugged instead, and Scar took that as his answer easily.

“Well then, I should start working hard too!” Scar turned and headed back into their base, and Grian hesitated for a moment before curiously trailing in behind him. Scar went straight for their chests, digging around inside of them for a minute while Grian watched. “I’m going to go mining,” Scar explained as he searched for supplies needed for such a trip, “to try and grab some diamonds. If I strip mine until lunch, I have to find at least some!”

“I’ll keep working on the cactus wall then. I’ll make lunch after so that it’s ready when you’re done.”

Scar stepped back, seemingly content with the supplies he had gathered. He turned to smile at Grian, his eyes bright. “Thanks, G.”

As though Scar’s expression was contagious, Grian found himself smiling as well.

The cacti wall was growing really well. They had started it much earlier in this timeline than they had in the original, and they had a small cactus wall surrounding most of the border directly around Monopoly Mountain. Throughout the morning, Grian made a few trips up and down the mountain to spread more of the prickly green plant.

By the end he was breathing heavily, he was sweaty and sandy, and he had multiple pricks on his hands and arms. Standing at the top of Monopoly Mountain, Grian ran his hands through his hair, brushing out some of the sand and sweat there. Part of him wanted to take a break and head down to the river behind the mountain to soak for ten minutes, but he had promised Scar lunch would be ready when Scar was back.

Grian had settled on a cooked rabbit and steamed carrots for lunch. He had become very creative with all the ways to cook rabbits over time, and this version of Scar had yet to experience most of Grian’s methods. Surely he would enjoy them now, without the curse of having eaten the same meal for months on end.

He could soak after lunch. He was going to get sweaty while cooking anyways, from the heat. Content with his plan, Grian turned and opened the door to their home, stepping in and letting the door shut behind him.

Grian had only taken one step forwards before he froze.

In just a second, Grian’s senses were overwhelmed with static. Grian pulled his sword out of his inventory practically on autopilot, lowering himself in a crouch and pulling his wings to his back, creeping forward cautiously. He could hear a distant ringing as fear and rage curdled in his stomach, swallowing up any rational thought in his mind and replacing them with bloodlust.

There was blood on the floor of their home, crimson and fresh.

Scar should have been the only one inside. How had someone slipped past Grian? He hadn’t been paying enough attention, that was the only explanation. How stupid could he possibly be? Etho had always been sneaky. Ren could have ordered him to sneak past Grian and attack Scar when his partner was alone. Or maybe it was Martyn. The hand of the king sent to deliver a strike right in the heart of Grian’s home.

Grian crept forward slowly. There was a sound in one of the rooms. It was the room Scar had claimed for his own. There was a quiet shuffling, but no sounds of battle, and no cry for help. Was that a good sign, or a bad one? Scar couldn’t be dead, Grian would have seen the death message. However, he could be knocked unconscious if his attacker had the chance to sneak up on him. They were at war, after all.

(Scar couldn’t be dead. Grian would burn the world down if that were true).

Grian positioned himself by the side of the entrance, holding his sword tightly and taking a deep, silent breath. Then, in a quick, fluid motion, he swung himself around the doorframe and rose his sword, taking a swipe at the first movement he saw -

- and halting just as his sword was a hair width away from Scar’s throat.

He scanned the rest of the room but it was empty other than Scar. Scar was seated on the bed, sweaty and hunched over. One hand was pressed against his chest, which was stained crimson red, blood dripping down Scar’s hand and staining the bedsheets below. Scar had been injured, but the intruder was nowhere in sight.

“Where are they?” Grian demanded, lowering his sword and turning to guard the entrance. “Which way did they leave?”

“What?” Scar’s eyes were wide when Grian looked at him. “Who?”

“Who? The intruder! Who was it?”

Scar’s gaze moved from Grian, to Grian’s sword. Then, he stared at the entrance to the room for a moment, before looking down at himself. His mouth parted, and his eyes widened even more. “Oh. Oh, no. There’s no intruder! There’s not even any red names on the server yet, who would attack me?”

No red names on the server yet? Grian wanted to laugh at that. Scar himself had been the first red name, had died to Grian’s foolish ways, and then to a horrible accident, and had ultimately been twisted into a feral version of himself. The King had turned himself red on purpose, just for revenge against the two of them, the largest threat on the server. Scar -

Scar had green eyes.

The world had reset. The timeline Grian knew had erased itself.

Grian’s sword disappeared back into his inventory, and Grian’s knees felt weak as he rushed to Scar’s side and slid down onto them. He was suddenly aware of his quick breathing, as his heart slammed away in his chest, his entire body in panic mode at the perceived threat.

Realities overlapped one another. In one, Scar was sitting on the bed, bleeding out from a wound on his chest. In another Scar was at the bottom of a ravine, and Grian could still hear the sounds his bones had made when they cracked apart. At the same time, Scar was under him, breaking under Grian’s own hands, blood splashing cold in the sand that surrounded them.

Grian reached out half-blindly and pressed a hand harshly against Scar’s wound, making Scar grunt at the added pressure. “G, ow!”

“What happened? I thought you were going strip mining!”

“I was, but I ended up falling into this cave, and I thought I might be able to find some good resources down there. Imagine if we found a spawner. We could make a farm, and -”

“You got shot,” Grian guessed, finally, “a skeleton.”

Scar’s expression dropped slightly. There he was, a fully grown man, practically pouting at Grian. “... I got shot,” he agreed.

Slowly, the panic was fading and reality was realigning. Grian carefully controlled his breath, willing his heart to slow down as he focused on what was happening in front of him. Scar was going to be okay - there was no one there to hurt them, it was just Grian and Scar in their own home. As the paranoia faded into the background, it was replaced with a sense of embarrassment over his reaction.

Scar had been so surprised and confused, suddenly faced with a version of Grian that had been born of war and blood and fire.

How could Grian lose himself so easily like that?

Taking another deep breath, Grian did his best to push those thoughts aside. They weren’t being attacked, but Scar was still hurt.

His hand was shaking where it was held against Scar’s wound. The crimson shade seemed aberrant in Grian’s eyes when Scar was the one hurting. “Here, eat this,” Grian forced out through clenched teeth, reaching into his inventory and pulling out a golden apple.

He held it up to Scar, who took it with his free hand, raising his eyebrows. “Would you look at this! Wow, how long have you been hiding this away?”

“I found it on my first day on the server,” Grian replied, thinking back to the chest that had confirmed the existence of the new timeline. “Just - eat it. Now, please.”

The longer Scar sat there, bleeding and weak, the higher Grian’s anxiety threatened to rise again. Scar moved his gaze from the apple to Grian, taking in Grian’s expression for a moment with a sharp look in his eyes. Finally, he nodded and raised the apple to his mouth, taking a large bite from the shimmering golden surface. His teeth sunk in with an audible crunch.

The room stayed silent as Scar took a few bites. Once the apple had enough time to work its magic, Grian slowly pulled his hand away from Scar’s wound, pushing his shirt up to take a look. Scar moved his hand out of the way, not arguing or protesting Grian’s presence in his personal space.

The wound was closing. By the time Scar finished the apple, it would leave nothing behind but a faint red mark. It would look irritated, which was far better than the bloody, gaping hole from a moment before.

Grian pushed himself up off the floor. His wings kept twitching on his back, as Grian did his best to ignore the urge to wrap them around himself, or Scar. Instead, he looked down at his hands, one of which was stained in Scar’s blood.

Everything was fine! It was just a small incident, certainly nothing to freak out over. Grian just had to go to the kitchen, wash off his hands, and cook Scar his promised lunch.

He just had to… move one foot. Take one step back, and then another, and then keep doing that until he was no longer in the room, staring at his hand like he was transfixed.

Any minute now.

Grian didn’t move.

Scar cleared his throat. “Uh, G? Are you okay? Why don’t you sit down?” Scar patted the bed beside him, shuffling a bit over as if to make some space. When Grian still didn’t move, Scar reached out to gently grasp his arm, tugging gently.

As though the touch had unstuck him, Grian stumbled forwards, obediently sitting on the bed next to Scar. “Sorry.” The word tumbled from his mouth without conscious thought.

“For what? Being willing to protect me? Giving me a golden apple you’ve clearly been hanging onto for something important, in order to help me heal?”

“Reacting like… this.” Grian gestured down at himself in one, sharp moment. He closed his eyes, just for a second, before opening them and turning to look at Scar. “I’m not normally like this! I just…”

As Grian trailed off, Scar nodded encouragingly. It wasn’t like Grian didn’t want to explain what was going on to Scar. It was just that Grian didn’t entirely understand his own actions and thoughts, and there was no way he would ever be able to translate those actions and thoughts into ones that would make sense for a green life who was playing this game for the first time.

Every honest answer he gave Scar was still a half-lie and the guilt that it caused only made Grian feel worse.

Scar deserved better. Grian didn’t have anything better to give him, but he was too selfish and greedy to let him go.

“I don’t want either of us to go yellow,” Grian said, carefully. “I think most of us - and by us, I mean everyone on the server - is taking the life system too lightly.”

“You told me you weren’t worried about going yellow,” Scar replied.

Grian winced. He had forgotten that conversation, but of course, Scar wouldn’t. It was true; Grian wasn’t worried about going yellow, he was worried about Scar going yellow. Dying was part of the plan for him, but it would never be part of the plan for Scar. “Right. I did say that.”

Scar waited to see if Grian would explain further, but Grian had nothing left in him. Finally, Scar sighed, and bumped their shoulders together. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me, and that’s fine. You can tell me when - if - you’re ready. I trust that your secrets aren’t putting us in danger.”

“Just promise me you’ll try to be more careful.”

“I promise! I’m normally amazin’ at dodging and weaving, this skeleton just snuck up on me and caught me by surprise.” Scar nudged their shoulders together a second time.

Grian gave in, just a little, and let his wing stretch out for a second to brush along Scar’s back. “I haven’t been able to make us lunch yet, but I’ll work on it now,” he said after another moment. He pushed himself back up onto his feet, his gaze sliding back to the blood staining his skin. It would dry under his fingernails if he didn’t work hard to get all of it off. “You should go clean up -”

“Let’s make lunch together,” Scar declared, jumping up just a second after Grian stood. He was already halfway to the entrance of his room as Grian stared, dumbfounded.

Grian hurried to follow after the taller male, his wings flapping behind him once as he made a sharp noise of agitation. “Scar! You’re covered in blood! I can handle cooking for us -”

“But it’ll be more fun to do it together! C’mon Grian, it’s a team exercise. I don’t mind helping.” Scar cast a look over his shoulder, grinning with a bright expression. Grian watched carefully and decided it was only a little fake. “I thought you liked my cooking,” Scar added, mischievous.

“Stop trying to manipulate me,” Grian grumbled in response. “You already know your charismatic ways don’t work on me!”

Scar only laughed in response. Somehow the two had ended up in their small kitchen area anyways, and Grian moved to start washing his hands off.

That situation had been a bit of a scare, but everything was fine.

Scar’s presence helped, and cooking together did end with loud laughter and increasingly hilarious commentary.

Maybe Scar knew what he was doing after all.

Grian once again debated sharing his own stash of supplies with Scar. He kept thinking about all the ways it could go wrong, and how some secrets were better kept until the right time.

On the other hand, if he provided Scar with supplies, Scar wouldn’t have to put himself into danger to try and find his own. There would be no risk of Scar stumbling around in some cave deep underground, out of Grian’s reach, where he could be pinned by a group of mobs. Grian wouldn’t be close enough to know he was in danger, let alone help him.

Scar wasn’t incompetent. He had survived on red for a long time.

However, Scar could be a bit clumsy, and impulsive. They worked better as a unit, which meant they both did better when they were within arms reach. If Grian could just keep Scar within arms reach at all times, that would be great! Unrealistic, but it was a nice thought.

Grian was still debating his dilemma, going over it again and again in his head, when BigB showed up at their front door.

“Hey hey, how are you?” BigB greeted Grian with a grin as the three of them stood out next to the garden. Throughout all of the visitations, Grian had yet to invite a single person inside their actual home. Scar seemed fine with following along on that particular detail.

“BigB!” Grian greeted, returning the greeting with an entirely fake smile. “Look at you, all kitted out!” BigB had iron leggings still, but his boots and chestplate gleamed diamond. It wasn’t too impressive - none of it was enchanted, and it wasn’t a full set, but most of their visitors had been wearing iron.

Scar stepped forward eagerly, and Grian could already see where this was going. “That’s some nice armor you have there, BigB.”

“Oh, this old stuff,” the man replied, glancing down at himself. “Your partner has been kitted up since the first month, you two seem to be doing pretty well up here!”

Scar slid closer to BigB, and threw an arm casually around the man’s shoulders. “We have been! The Sand Lands are thriving my friend, but, Grian doesn’t actually share any of his shiny diamonds with me. We have separate banks,” he joked.

Grian’s stomach twisted. There was a part of him that started screaming the moment Scar threw his arm around BigB’s shoulder like that, and it only got worse with Scar’s words, so casually thrown out there.

Scar had never asked him to share. He’d asked everyone who walked by to empty their pockets for his own gain, but never once had he asked Grian for a single diamond. Scar knew Grian was keeping secrets from him, that fact had been confirmed just hours ago when Grian failed to give Scar a satisfactory explanation for his reaction to Scar’s injury.

Did that mean Scar couldn’t trust him? Could Grian even blame him?

He couldn’t move his gaze away from the casual contact between the two. His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to summon his sword overwhelming him for a moment. Grian couldn’t imagine anything could calm him down right now, other than driving the blade through BigB’s chest or cutting off his arms which Scar touched so casually.

His earlier paranoia over an intruder must still be bothering him.

“Is that so?” BigB questioned, making Grian refocus on the conversation.

“Have you come to the right place,” Scar continued. He had his charismatic smile on, which made him look extremely open and welcoming. “Welcome to Monopoly Mountain! Have you heard about the reputation system?”

“Noooo?” BigB seemed mostly confused, but also amused and somewhat intrigued. If Grian remembered correctly, BigB was one of the players Grian had warned about Scar beforehand, in their old timeline. Grian and BigB had spent most of this conversation laughing at Scar.

“Well - you see, everyone has been sort of flowing through here, y’know, and what they’ve been doing here is gaining reputation with us. Since we hold so many valuable resources. Would you like to increase your reputation?”

“How would I do that?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Scar finally let go of BigB to step back and gesture with his hands, and Grian released a heavy breath. Finally. “What I’m really interested in is your chestplate.”

BigB looked down at himself. He seemed unconvinced, but he was laughing under his breath, amused by Scar’s attempt to steal some of his armor. “I spent a lot of time gathering the resources for this!”

“I’ll give you mine in return,” Scar quickly reassured him, gesturing to his own iron chestplate, “we won’t just leave you stranded! In return for your chestplate, your reputation will increase, and you’ll be considered an ally of Monopoly Mountain. We’ll be open to trading - and maybe even gifting - our valuable resources, and if you’re ever in danger, of course, we would be more than happy to help a friend!”

BigB glanced at Grian, and the avian inwardly wondered how much sway he had over the other’s actions. If his warning in the original timeline had been enough to stop BigB, would his approval now be sufficient to make the man give in? After all, they were the ‘blue sword boys.’ Grian had spent time with BigB, even if it meant nothing to him.

Grian smiled reassuringly at BigB, winked, and nodded ever so slightly. Scar had glanced over his shoulder as Grian did so, catching the motion, and rewarding him with a bright grin.

When Scar looked back, BigB was taking off his diamond chestplate and passing it to Scar, who hurried to strip off his iron chestplate and pass it back in return. “Pleasure doing business with you!” Scar cheered, pulling the diamond on with a flourish.

“I look forward to our friendship.”

“You should probably head home now,” Grian added, not unkindly. “The Sand Lands can be a bit hard to travel across when it’s dark, and it’s a huge biome.”

“Right. I’m living in the birch forest near the west border if you ever want to drop by!”

Grian and Scar waved as BigB headed back down the mountain. He traveled slowly, careful not to slip off the side and fall to his death.

Once he was out of earshot, Scar turned to him with a blinding smile. “You’ve got a little bit of a salesman in you as well!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t think I couldn’t tell that your happiness over seeing him was fake,” Scar teased, moving back towards the entrance of their house. As he moved, he grasped Grian’s shoulder for a brief moment. The area he touched felt warm. “Your little nod and wink was the cherry on top to seal the deal!”

As Scar moved into their home, Grian followed after him, feeling pleased with himself.

Scar and Grian worked well together - Scar had said it himself. There was no reason to worry about their relationship. Scar wouldn’t be swayed by BigB’s smiles or arm touches.

Bdouble0100 fell from a high place.

Grian and Scar had just finished dinner when the message lit up their communicators, immediately pausing their conversation about the pros and cons of taking off a few layers of clothing in order to stay cool during the day.

(Grian knew that would come up again one day. He was surprised Scar hadn’t already been walking around shirtless, but then again, losing your lives made you more impulsive and less bond to rationality and morals, so…)

<Smajor1995> :0
<Tango> !!!!!!!
<Etho> !!!!!
<impulseSV> no!!!
<Smallishbeans> !!!!!!
<SolidarityGaming> WHAT
<Skizzleman> NOOOOO!!!!!!!
<bigbst4tz2> noooo
<Bdouble0100> im fine!
<InTheLittleWood> ouchie
<InTheLittleWood> You know what they say
<InTheLittleWood> “Enchanting would have helped with that”

Grian rolled his eyes and stuck his communicator back into his pocket.

Then, the realization hit and he nearly dropped the plate he was holding, fumbling it for a moment before catching it. Scar, who had just put his own communicator away, turned to look at him due to the sudden flurry of motion.

“Another life lost,” Scar mourned dramatically, “it could be us next! Luckily we have this extremely nice home to keep us safe.” He reached out and patted the wall next to him gently, smiling.

Grian felt like his stomach had dropped somewhere close to his feet.

It could be us next. Bdouble0100 fell from a high place.

“I have to go cover the hole,” Grian blurted out, putting the plate down and hurrying over to their chests to start looking for blocks to use. Sandstone would be best since it would mostly blend in with the rest of their surroundings, but Grian would use whatever they had on hand. He’d rather have an ugly spot in the Sand Lands than -

Grian had watched as Scar hit the ground far below. He had seen the way his skull had cracked from the collision and heard the snap of his spine and legs. Blood had lazily leaked from the crevices of his body, beginning to soak into the sand below, until the body despawned and faded away from sight.

- lose Scar in a stupid accident again.

As Grian hurried towards the door, Scar stepped in front of him. His hands snapped out to grab Grian’s shoulders and halt him where he stood, the man’s worried expression focused on Grian. “Woah, G, what’s the rush? We can do that tomorrow.”

“No!” Grian snapped. His own hands shot up to grab Scar’s shirt, yanking him closer. Scar stumbled, and suddenly their faces were much too close. Grian could feel Scar’s breath on his face, and Scar’s eyes were wide and so, so green. “I don’t want you to go near it!”

Scar was frozen for a moment when Grian tried to let him go and duck around him, but then his partner moved, quickly getting in between him and the door once more. “ Oh-kay, I can tell Bdubs freaked you out with his death, and I think covering up that crack is a good idea, but the Sand Lands gets swarmed with mobs at night. Lots of mobs around plus Grian standing over a giant pit equals a dead Grian!”

Grian was already shaking his head before Scar finished speaking. The horrible sensation in his stomach hadn’t abated, and he glared Scar down without remorse. “I need to do it at soon as possible.”

“Grian. C’mon. Listen - I promise not to go anywhere near it before you can patch it up tomorrow, okay? I’ll be in the house all night, and I’ll take cactus defense duty in the morning, while you go fill up the hole. I’ll be safe. I promise.”

Scar reached for him again, slowly, like he was reaching for a spooked animal. Grian held still as Scar settled his grip back onto Grian’s shoulders, squeezing gently. Grian hadn’t been aware of his wings' position - arched out and spread like Grian was about to attack - until now. Carefully, Grian pulled his wings back to his spine, ruffling out the feathers with a shudder.

“Grian. Look at me.”

It was an easy command to follow. Scar’s green eyes swallowed his entire vision once more.

“Please?”

There was a long, unsteady silence. Every part of Grian was screaming at him to go fill up the hole that Scar had died in once. He had no idea why he hadn’t done it earlier. He had thought of Scar’s second death as so far away, but things were different in this new timeline. What would have happened if Scar had his accident earlier this time? Bdubs death had opened his eyes to the matter.

Scar had promised to stay away from it though, and he wasn’t wrong about the mobs and the danger Grian would be in. Grian didn’t care if he went down to yellow, but it would be a wasted life in this case, leaving him with less time to protect Scar and a pit that remained unfilled.

Grian took a step back, nodding slowly. The tension in Scar’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, and Grian hadn’t realized how frazzled Scar looked until he was calm again.

“I’ll finish cleaning up! Why don’t you go to bed early? You can give your wings a good preen,” Scar suggested.

Grian wanted to protest. He wanted to run past Scar and race down to the pit and fill it up so it could never harm Scar again. He wanted to head back to his nest and curl up, sleeping on top of all the thick blankets.

“Fine,” he sighed, stepping back again. “Are you sure? I can help -”

“I’m sure,” Scar said, firmly.

Grian had almost left the room when Scar spoke up again. His tone was hesitant again, and he spoke slowly like he had to debate if he wanted to speak at all. “Grian. You don’t care about going yellow, but… you care about me going yellow, don’t you?”

Grian sucked in a sharp breath and didn’t bother replying.

Scar already knew the truth. There would be no convincing him otherwise, not now.

Grian spent the next few days filling that cursed pit, and Scar took the time to set up his reputation board, showing it to Grian with a smile.

Grian looked around the Sand Lands and saw a place he recognized. His home was coming together once more, built up from nothing as a distorted mirror image of what it had been before.

If the pattern continued as it was, it wouldn’t be long before the same scorch marks and blood-stained sand reflected back too. 

Chapter Text

Grian woke the very moment Scar got out of their nest, no matter how quiet the man was clearly trying to be. At some point during the night, they had ended up partly tangled together, with one of Grian’s legs half on Scar’s, and one of his wings thrown around his partner. Scar had ended up with one arm under Grian, which probably meant the limb was asleep by now.

No matter how careful and quiet Scar was, there was no way Grian would be able to sleep through the process of Scar carefully pulling his arm away, sliding his leg out from under Grian’s, and then touching his wing to quickly and gently move it to the side.

Even if Scar had still been sleeping in his own room, instead of Grian’s like he had been for the past four weeks now, Grian still would have heard the sound of near-silent steps on the floor of their home, creeping further and further away.

Grian could be in the deepest of sleep, and he would somehow still be overly, painfully aware of Scar.

The avian didn’t move as Scar left the room. He continued to keep his breathing deep and even, his eyes closed and every limb relaxed in a false pretense of sleep, even as he listened intently to try and figure out what Scar was doing.

He probably just needed something to eat. Scar had been known to grab late-night snacks from the kitchen once or twice.

The sound of Scar actually leaving their house dissuaded Grian of that motion, and Grian sat up, throwing the blankets aside and scrambling up quickly. Shoving his feet into his boots at record pace, Grian made sure he still had his sword in his inventory before racing into the front hallway and going after Scar.

He slowed down at the doorway, opening their door just a little and peeking outside through the crack. There was no movement or noise, and Grian opened the door a little more and slipped outside, lowering himself into a crouch to hide from sight and creeping to the edge of the mountain.

He scanned the Sand Lands quickly, and his sight caught onto his partner, halfway down the mountain. Where was he going? What was he doing? He felt a swirl of complicated emotion, and Grian pulled his sword out of his inventory and into his hand as he took a deep breath to try and calm down. He shouldn’t be making assumptions. Surely there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever was going on in Scar’s head right now.

Grian just had to try and ignore the confusion that flooded his brain as he tried to think of what that reason could be. He had to push aside the stirring paranoia mixed with anxiety, bite through the fear that flooded into his mouth, and the deep, lingering pain that flowed into him when he wondered why Scar thought he had to hide whatever this was from Grian.

He waited until Scar was almost at the base of the mountain before following behind, still taking in those deep, careful breaths.

A small part of him wanted to trust Scar. It told him that stalking him was only going to ruin their shaky partnership further, that all the secrets and the oddness of his own behavior couldn’t be overlooked forever.

A much larger part of him refused to go back to Monopoly Mountain unless he was dragging Scar alongside him. It was dangerous at night - hadn’t Scar just been telling him that earlier that week? There was nothing out in the Sand Lands for Scar at this time of night. He was putting himself in danger for what had to be a stupid reason, and Grian would follow him all around the server if that’s what it took to prevent Scar from getting hurt.

It wasn’t that hard to follow Scar, despite the openness of the Sand Lands, since Scar never once glanced behind him. Grian would have to warn him about that nasty habit once they had a chance to speak. Still, just in case, Grian kept his distance between them and stuck to the shadows of large cacti as they passed by, crouched low and ready to try and hide at any moment.

Scar finally stopped close to the edge of their lands that were closest to Monopoly Mountain. His back was to Grian, who moved to crouch down behind a cactus, but Grian could see the way his head moved from side to side. As though he were searching for something, maybe?

The answer revealed itself a second later as a figure broke a piece of their cactus wall and stepped through with slow, almost lazy steps. Despite the ease of movement, Grian knew Etho’s eyes - for it was clearly Etho - would be sharp and alert.

“Oh -” Scar exclaimed, his back straightening. “Etho! Hello there!”

“Hi Scar, how’s it going?” Etho questioned. He leaned against the hoe he had used to break the cacti, still held in his hand.

“Why do you feel the need to break our defenses?” Scar complained. He started walking forwards, moving around Etho to collect the cacti that Etho had abandoned, frowning as he tried to fix their wall.

Grian tensed, digging his nails into the palms of his hands and trying to keep his wings from flaring. He really, really didn’t like this situation. Etho was standing behind Scar now. He could move forward and attack at any moment, and Grian was too far away to watch Scar’s back like he should be able to. Why was Scar meeting with Etho?

Grian felt like his skin was burning.

“Are you all alone here?” Etho questioned, looking away from Scar and moving back. Grian could see the way Etho was breaking torches, tucking them away in his inventory as he walked.

Grian swapped his sword for a bow, tucking an arrow into place and drawing the string taunt. Hidden and silent he raised the weapon, pointing it directly at Etho from his hiding place. Did Etho know he was there? Grian wouldn’t be surprised. Why did he want to know if Scar was alone? It would be easier to attack Scar if he was.

Etho was a green name. He shouldn’t want to hurt anyone, not yet. However, Grian had been a green name when he blew three people up under Scar’s watchful red stare. 

“Yes,” Scar said, dragging the word out almost hesitantly. “You asked me to meet you alone. Did you come for trades?” Scar turned around, and started glancing around once more. This time, Grian knew it was in confusion. “Why is it getting darker? You have a dark trail following you.”

Etho shrugged and stepped back, the perfect picture of innocence as Scar moved forward to start replacing the torches with new ones. As he did so, Etho continued to break a few more torches, and Scar caught on to Etho’s trickery soon after.

In just a moment, both were laughing - Etho’s laughter was more throaty and under his breath, while Scar’s sunlight laughter broke out clearly in delight.

Grian lowered his bow a bit, feeling confused and slightly ill. Were they… just hanging out with one another? Was this actually a friendly meet-up? Why was Scar laughing with a complete stranger like this? He knew Scar was a social person, but meeting up with Etho in the middle of the night just to fool around and play pranks on one another…

Grian grit his teeth and brought his bow back up, a new type of fury lighting him up. His fingers nearly burned with the urge to let the arrow fly. He wanted to aim for the eyes, and leave Etho with a permanent injury so he would understand why it was a bad idea to go near Grian’s partner.

“I do have a deal for you Scar,” Etho chuckled, swapping his hoe for a sword as a phantom flew overhead.

“Yes?” Scar’s voice became noticeably brighter.

“There might be a kitty on the server somewhere -”

Even before Etho finished speaking, Scar audibly gasped in excitement, taking a step back as he brought his hands together in delight. There it is. That was the manipulation Etho was going with. Grian had no idea how Etho knew about Scar’s love for cats, but somehow he figured it out, and now he was going to use it against Scar.

Grian felt vindicated. They weren’t just trying to be friendly, Etho did have ulterior motives. Scar had to see that.

“ - hunting, just waiting for an owner,” Etho continued. “How much is that kind of information worth to you?”

“Anything,” Scar promised immediately. “I will do anything, Etho.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m going to take that as your payment for right now -”

Before the conversation could go any further down the horrific path it had suddenly turned onto, Grian let the arrow fly. No matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t aim for Etho’s eyes or even try to hit the man - in fact, he let it sore right past him to land in the cactus next to his head instead. It was a warning, not yet an attack.

Etho and Scar turned around quickly, likely expecting a skeleton if the way they both raised their swords meant anything. As Grian stepped out of his hiding place at last, his wings wide and spread in clear agitation and violence, Scar immediately lowered his sword. Etho kept his raised.

“Grian?” Scar questioned, startled. One of his hands went up to hover over his heart as he breathed out heavily. “You scared me! Why are you sneaking around?”

“Sorry Scar,” Grian apologized, fixating his gaze on Etho. He smiled with all his teeth, doing his best to drive the threat home. In the faintly flickering light of the torches under the moon, he could see the way Etho’s eyes narrowed just slightly in response. “I saw an intruder in our lands.”

“An intruder? What happened to being welcome in your home? I thought I had high reputation?”

Scar turned quickly towards Etho, his sword vanishing back into his inventory as he waved his hands around quickly. “Oh, no! You’re very welcome in our home - Grian is just tired, it is the middle of the night.”

Grian’s wings bristled. “I am not -”

“Grian, maybe you could go back and wait for me at our base -”

“He’s trying to trick you!” Grian snapped, gesturing towards Etho. He shoved his bow back into his inventory and yanked his sword back out instead halfway through the motion, ending it with a sword pointing directly at the man. “This is some kind of plot against us, you have to be able to see that.”

Before their conversation could continue, Etho cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll leave you two to talk this out. Scar, the cat is in the village if you’re interested in the deal.”

“Is it secure?”

“It’s in a boat, it should be fine.”

Scar nodded towards Etho, who turned and started leaving at long last. Grian watched his departure silently. It wasn’t until Etho was definitely out of earshot that Scar spoke, walking over towards Grian in order to reach out and squeeze his arm lightly. “G, I really want this cat. I know you’re worried, but this is important!”

Ask me how I knew you were out here. Ask me if I followed you.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“There are no red lives on the server,” Scar pointed out. “Even if it is a trick, Etho can’t hurt me through it. The worst that can happen is I end up feeling disappointed.”

The thing was, Grian knew this was a trick because he knew Scar never had a cat in the first timeline. He didn’t remember what had happened with the cat, as the early memories had faded over the year as the war began and Grian had to concentrate fully on staying alive, but…

He knew there was no benefit if Scar went. There were only drawbacks. Scar would be away from the Sand Lands for an entire week, he would be vulnerable to mobs while traveling at night, and he would get his hopes up over a cat that he wouldn’t be able to own.

It was also clear that Scar was going to go, no matter what Grian said or what he did. If it were later in the timeline, he would have listened. His Scar would have listened.

No. Grian had already accepted that he had to stop thinking that way. This version of Scar was still his Scar.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

They both spoke at the same time and paused to digest what the other person had said, momentarily stunned. Finally, Scar smiled at him and laughed under his breath, holding out his hand. “We’ll go together then.”

Grian stared at Scar’s hand for a moment before taking it in his own. Scar’s palm was rough and dry, and Grian could feel the fingertip scar on his wrist. As their hands clasped together, Scar changed his grip and interlaced their fingers.

Turning to walk back towards Monopoly Mountain, Scar pulled Grian along behind him, not loosening his grip for a moment. Slowly, Grian’s wings relaxed and folded against his back, the muscles releasing their tension

“We’ll go in the morning?” Grian suggested, the words escaping him like a question.

“Yes!” Scar agreed. He squeezed Grian’s hand in response as well, and Grian felt a dizzying rush of sparks down his spine. He couldn’t move his gaze away from Scar. He felt transfixed by the other man like the other man had swallowed up his entire world.

Like Scar was his entire world.

It was an accurate enough thought.

“I still don’t like this,” he couldn’t help but complain.

“I don’t like you following me around!”

There it was, at last. Grian had been waiting for those words to be spoken. He had prepared himself for the accusation lying under them, hidden under the sugar-coated surface but obvious enough to Grian.

But now, when it finally happened, he couldn’t hear the accusation. Scar sounded somewhat amused, unsurprised, and even fond.

“I don’t like you sneaking around in the middle of the night to meet up with other people,” Grian shot back. He tried to copy Scar’s tone of voice, and audibly winced at how horribly he failed to do so. He could hear his annoyance in his own words, frustration and worry bleeding through the undertones.

Scar laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Fair enough,” he agreed, and -

I don’t deserve you, Grian thought, dizzy with the knowledge that deserving or not, Grian had him.

They went together.

Scar had been living with Grian for a little over a month and a half now, and he felt like it was time to admit to himself that he was a little bit transfixed.

From the first moment Scar had seen the avian, he had felt somewhat drawn to him. There was no logical reason why, but Scar barely considered asking anyone else to join him in the Sand Lands before he knew it had to be Grian. Grian felt oddly familiar and warm, and Scar knew he would be able to trust Grian. He knew they would make great partners.

He had been proven right - Grian had said yes to his offer so quickly and seemed to practically share a mind with Scar, going off about sand and monopolies and naming the mountain and bringing Pizza home all before Scar had a chance to take a single breath. Scar hadn’t regretted his decision for a moment ever since.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew Grian was hiding things from him, and it was clear that Grian could be extremely overprotective and even downright possessive over him. He had seen the look Grian had given Etho, and he saw the way Grian stuck close whenever potential customers wandered up the mountain for Scar to woo.

Scar had some theories about Grian’s actions, believing that whatever server the avian came from before must have been unhealthy at best, and downright abusive at worst, but -

None of those things were a deal breaker. Scar knew he could be a clumsy mess, and Grian’s overprotectiveness may save his life one day. He knew Grian was keeping secrets, and sure it could be dangerous, but from the way Grian looked at him and protected him he couldn’t believe Grian meant him any harm.

Perhaps he was brushing over all of the concerning factors too easily, but -

When it all came down to it, Scar knew why he was fixating on Grian so much. Grian could see past his masks. No matter how Scar acted or what personality he tried to get across, Grian would just give him a look and ruffle his wings, before rolling his eyes and turning away. The avian always, always knew when Scar wasn’t being sincere. 

So, yes, Scar liked Grian. Their rapport was exhilarating, Grian was a good builder and fun to be around, Grian could see past his masks, and even the concerning factors surrounding Grian faded in the background when faced with the rest of him.

Maybe Scar felt a little lonely on the server like it was meant to be full of noise and people and smiles and warmth. Maybe Grian helped with that ache, maybe Scar liked curling up together at night to help with Grian’s insomnia just a little too much.

Maybe he was already wincing at the thought of killing Grian one day if they both made it to the end.

Maybe he couldn’t stop staring at Grian’s wings, some part of him both delighted and confused at the shades of brown - darker feathers on the outside, and lighter, softer near-whites on the inside. Every time they were close, Scar ached to reach out and touch, but he always kept his hands to himself. Somehow he just knew - the same way he knew what blocks would look best in a desert biome build, the same way he knew he owned a jellie cat at some point - that touching an avian’s feathers was private and personal, and definitely not something someone should ever do casually without permission. 

“You’re staring,” Grian remarked, his voice dry from across their campfire. They were on their way to the village to see the cat Etho had promised to him, and they had stopped to rest for the night.

Scar was meant to be sleeping while Grian took the first watch to prevent any mobs from sneaking up on them, but he couldn’t move his gaze away. At the moment Grians’ feathers were ruffled and dirty from a couple of days of travel, unkept throughout.

“Sorry!” Scar apologized, not sorry at all. He delighted in the way Grian’s eyes narrowed and laughed under his breath with the brightest grin he could summon. “I’m just, um…”

“Spit it out,” Grian said when Scar didn’t continue.

All at once Scar pushed himself up and out of his previous position in which he had been laying down, his hands waving excitedly through the air with gestures as he started speaking. “Well, I noticed your feathers were looking a bit rumpled - don’t get me wrong, they’re gorgeous! - it’s just, you know, with us constantly traveling to try to get to the village, you haven’t had a chance to preen lately…”

Grian’s body had gone still, not so much as twitching as he stared Scar down. “And?” he said finally, prompting Scar again as silence held.

Scar pushed his smile to go even wider, trying his best to be convincing. “Maybe you should preen them? I can stay awake and keep watch to make sure no creepy crawlies get the drop on us while you’re busy! It just looks horribly uncomfortable, I know I always feel a- may -zing once I have a chance to clean myself up, so -”

This time, Grian didn’t wait for Scar to finish speaking. “I’m fine, Scar. You need to get some rest. They don’t even work, there’s not much point in keeping them clean.”

Scar very carefully didn’t frown at Grian’s words, even though he definitely didn’t agree. It didn’t matter if Grian could fly or not - his wings were special and important, and part of him, and Grian deserved a chance to keep them clean and tidy and comfortable. Something didn’t have to be useful for it to be important or worthwhile.

Scar hadn’t been living with Grian for a month and a half with nothing to show for it, though. He was starting to get the hang of convincing Grian to do what he wanted - with Grian, Scar needed to expose himself more. Grian reacted best when Scar was actually honest, and let all the masks drop, just for a moment.

Taking a deep breath, Scar leaned forward slightly, letting the wide smile drop off his face. A softer expression took its place, honest and open to Grian, just for a moment. “G, I hear you, I do, but I’m worried. We’re partners. I need you in tip-top shape!” Scar’s eyes were slightly wide as he spoke, his hands jittery at his sides, fingers twitching.

Grian blinked, staring at Scar for a long moment, sweeping him over with a penetrating gaze. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and Scar knew he had won.

“Fine,” the avian huffed, scooting a bit away from the fire. Grian paused for a moment, suddenly awkward.

Right. It must be weird to do this with an audience. Scar was halfway through laying down again and putting his back to Grian, when the other man’s voice spoke up, stopping him.

“Do you want to help me?”

Ah.

Scar nearly fell into the fire with how quickly he turned back around, yelping slightly at the almost slip.

“Scar!” Grian snapped, his voice going high at Scar’s mistake, even as Scar started laughing at himself. Oops!

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Scar waved off his partner's concern, standing up to move over to the same side of the fire Grian was at. “Do you really want my help? I know wings can be a bit personal, and I’ve never done this before.” Despite his excitement - Grian truly had wonderful wings - Scar did feel a bit nervous. He didn’t want to mess up somehow and hurt Grian in his excitement.

Grian didn’t seem to share his nervousness at all. “You’ll do fine,” he huffed, already spreading his wings out as Scar moved close. He seemed so closed off to everyone he came across, but when it came to Scar himself, Grian opened himself up so easily. He allowed himself to be vulnerable. Scar couldn’t understand what made him different, but the feeling was a touch addicting. 

“What am I doing?” Scar questioned. Grian shifted his position, practically laying one of his wings in Scar’s lap. Scar carefully kept his hands to himself, waiting for instructions.

“There are a few things,” Grian said slowly like he was waiting for Scar to change his mind at any moment. As if! “The easiest is getting rid of any feathers that are ready to come out. You can tell pretty easily -” he gestured to a loose feather on his wing and gave it a gentle tug. It fell out of Grian’s wing immediately. “If you tug gently, and it doesn’t move, it’s probably not ready.”

Scar nodded, paying close attention. Look for any feathers that seemed bent or loose, and gently tug on them. Leave them alone if they don’t like being tugged. Easy enough.

“And then, you want to rejoin unzipped barbules, and rearrange the feathers into their correct position,” Grian continued. Scar blinked. He understood about half of that sentence. “Feathers have a central shaft with narrower barbs branching from that shaft,” Grian explained, shifting his fingers through his wings to show Scar what he was talking about. “The barbules have tiny hooks on them. They interlock with the hooks of the barbules next to them, but they can get unzipped during the day. As for rearranging, just make sure all the feathers are laying flat and facing the right way.”

Okay - so he had to take out the loose feathers, rearrange them all in the correct position, and rejoin the barbules?

“How do I get the barb things back together?”

“You just lightly stroke through the feather,” Grian explained. “It’s not as hard as it sounds. Then, um - just try to get any dirt or grains of sand out. Finally, I need to use preen oil. Feathers are basically dead, so this protects and lubricates them, and stops them from becoming all brittle. Preen oil is just water, waxes, and fatty acids, it’s nothing gross. I have something called a uropygial gland that secretes it.” Grian shifted his wing to point out the gland, struggling a bit since it seemed to be near his back. “Is that okay?”

“That’s fine!” Scar was hardly going to get squeamish because of some oil. Especially since it served such an important purpose in keeping Grian’s wings healthy! “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?”

“You won’t hurt me,” Grian replied immediately, “but I’ll give you some pointers if you need them. I’ll do my right wing, you do my left?”

Scar nodded. Grian’s wing shifted in his lap, the feathers fluffing up as Grian bowed his head down to look at his lap for a moment. A second later, Grian turned to focus on his right wing, quickly getting to work. Scar watched him at first. Grian was running his fingers through the feathers, rearranging them and picking out some grains of sand as he went. Every once in a while, he would pause and tug a feather out, letting it fall down to the ground below.

Taking a deep breath, Scar turned to the wing in his lap and got started. As he sunk his fingers into Grian’s plumage he marveled at how soft the feathers felt, light against his skin. Completely absorbed in the action, Scar stroked his hand down some of the feathers, delighted.

This felt less like a chore and more like a relaxing task!

Scar started off feeling slightly nervous, perhaps overly gentle as he ran his fingers through Grian’s feathers and worked at the dirt. He was meticulous with smoothing them down and making sure they were perfectly in order, squinting at the way the feathers were lying over top of each other to make sure they were all ‘zipped’ up correctly.

As time passed and Grian didn’t stop to correct him, Scar grew a bit more confident, his actions picking up speed from a snail's pace to a comfortable rhythm. Picking out feathers was still a bit nerve-racking, but each feather that Scar tugged out came out easily, and Grian never once complained or made any sign that he was in pain.

It was nice. Scar quickly found himself hoping that Grian would invite him to help out with his wings again in the future.

As Scar slowly became satisfied with the state of Grian’s wing, he decided to move on to using the preen oil to help lubricate and protect Grian’s wings. The oil really did just feel a bit like wax. It was easy enough to collect on his fingers and then gently run Grian’s feathers through his fingers, letting the oil collect on them instead.

Scar wasn’t sure how long he sat there. His entire focus was captured by the task he was given. He did know that once he finally leaned away from Grian’s wing, his back ached fiercely and the sky was considerably darker, a deep, pitch-black scattered with glowing stars.

He looked over his work with pride. He could see it in the faintly flickering light of the campfire, and Grian’s feathers all looked smooth, orderly, and best of all, clean and comfortable!

Scar started to turn towards Grian to check if there was anything else Scar had to do. “G -” he spoke, abruptly shutting his mouth when he caught sight of Grian.

Grian’s head was resting against Scar’s arm. The male was mostly slumped over, even though he was somehow still sitting up, his mouth parted slightly and his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. Somehow, throughout the preening process, Grian had completely passed out on Scar’s arm! It normally took ages for Grian to fall asleep - did preening really help that much?

Scar was definitely going to be using this in the future! As long as Grian was okay with it, of course.

The soft warmth that Scar felt whenever he was around Grian washed over him, and a smile slipped onto Scar’s lips. It took some slow, careful movement to shuffle them both around so that Grian was lying down properly in Scar’s lap, but he somehow managed.

All the while, Scar couldn’t move his gaze away from Grian for a moment.

Yeah.

He was definitely transfixed by his partner, but he couldn’t bring himself to consider it a problem.

They came across the beginnings of the Crastle first, not needing to go any further toward the village.

Etho, Bdubs, Cleo, and Tango all gathered around by the front of the building, quick to turn towards Grian and Scar as they approached and move forwards to greet them. Grian kept careful watch on Bdubs, taking in his yellow eyes. Moving quickly, Grian slid his body between Bdubs and Scar before the yellow life could get too close.

“Hi Scar!”

“Hey!”

“Scar, you’re back.”

Grian narrowed his eyes at Cleo’s cheerful greeting towards Scar, and then fixated his gaze on Etho, who had spoken also. It wasn’t hard to turn his head further to find an unwelcome - but not unexpected - sight. Perched near the entrance of the castle was a cat alright, but it had already been tamed, with a delicate red collar wrapped around its throat.

It was a tuxedo cat, black and white with green eyes. As Grian watched, the cat blinked slowly at them and then ducked its head down to lick at its front paws.

“Uhhh, Etho,” Scar spoke from next to him, his voice low and soft. His gaze was locked on the cat as well, and Grian reluctantly allowed Bdubs out of his sight to focus entirely on Scar.

“Yes?”

“Is that the cat?”

“I -” to his credit, Etho stumbled over his words slightly as he admitted the truth to Scar. “It is the cat.”

“I come all the way over here to cheer myself up and the cats gone,” Scar exhaled.

As they watched, Etho walked over to the cat. He gave the sit command, and the feline dropped down to the ground, sitting on its tail and meowing up at its owner.

Grian glared at Etho, letting his feathers ruffle, his wings shifting away from his back for a moment. Around them, the other members of the server laughed under their breaths, amused by what must seem like some simple prank Etho had pulled on Scar.

“Say hello to Scar, Pizza 2!” Etho suggested, crouching down by his cat. He reached forwards to scratch behind its ears.

Tango laughed, crouching down to join Etho in smothering “Pizza 2” with affection. “Call her pineapple pizza,” he suggested.

Scar was quiet by his side. When Grian looked again, there was something achingly sad in his gaze. It wasn’t a mask, it wasn’t fake sadness in order to play along with whatever joke this was meant to be. Scar was honestly upset by what was happening. He had really wanted a cat. It was obvious to Grian, in the tense line of Scar’s mouth, and the subtle shudder in his fingers.

“Pineapple Pizza,” Etho continued, “oh yeah, that’s a great name! Pineapple Pizza.”

Grian reached out and snatched Scar’s hand in his own. “Let’s go,” he offered, tugging Scar back in the direction of Monopoly Mountain. He had been right - they never should have come in the first place.

Scar nodded, and stepped back. Grian watched as his partner smiled and waved goodbye to Bdubs and Cleo, who shouted their own goodbyes back as Scar and Grian started to head away. Those two didn’t seem to have been part of this particular plan, but they had seemed amused by it. Grian knew from the first timeline that Bdubs and Cleo weren’t above stealing and harming animals - their kidnapping of Pizza hadn’t been forgotten, even after all this time.

He rolled his eyes at their farewells. They were just as bad as Etho, even if Scar couldn’t see that yet.

“You were right,” Scar admitted once they were too far away to be heard. He was obviously trying to sound cheerful again, as though amused by his own foolishness, but Grian could see right through it to the underlying disappointment. “We shouldn’t have bothered going. Sorry, Grian, I should have trusted you on this one!”

Grian shrugged, his wings slowly relaxing and folding against his back as they got further and further away. “It’s fine. I get it. You really wanted a cat.”

Scar hummed in agreement. “I just really miss Je -”

Before he could finish speaking, he cut himself off, nearly stumbling over nothing but air. Grian paused to check on him, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as he scanned the ground for anything Scar could have tripped over. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Scar’s free hand, which wasn’t clasped in Grian’s, was raised to his head as he stared into space for a moment. It looked like he was trying to get his bearings back. “I just got dizzy for a moment. What was I saying?”

Grian frowned, looking Scar over carefully from head to toe. It took him a couple of glance overs before he reluctantly accepted Scar’s odd answer.

As they went back to walking, Grian released Scar’s hand, realizing for the first time that he had been holding tight since they left the Crastle.

Maybe Grian could use this.

Etho was an enemy. He had always been on Ren’s side, since the very beginning - Grian was fairly certain they had their friendship well underway at this point in the timeline. However, it was still early on. Etho wasn’t as strong as he would become, and his ties with Ren were not as strong. If Grian wanted to get rid of their enemies early this time, get rid of them before they could pose a threat…

Focusing on Etho first might be a good idea. Challenging Ren was challenging the whole kingdom of Dogwarts, but challenging Etho could still work as just that.

It may keep them out of Ren’s direct notice, and in the meantime, they could destroy one of Ren’s greatest allies before anyone noticed what they were doing.

It was a long shot. It was the flap of a butterfly's wings that could change everything, but Grian hadn’t come all this way to sit back and let the timeline unfold just as it had before.

“Etho lied to us and humiliated us,” Grian declared loudly. Scar’s attention immediately snapped toward him. He could never resist drama when it was posed so invitingly. “I would say that destroys any sort of friendship he has with us, reputation points or not.”

Scar was already nodding in agreement. “There can be no reputation for those who throw our dreams in our faces only to rip them away at the last moment!” he agreed loudly, throwing his arms out in a wide gesture.

“Exactly!” Grian was practically bouncing as they walked, joining Scar in the gestures. “So, I think Etho should now be known as the first official enemy of the Sand Lands. Monopoly Mountain demands revenge. What do you say?”

Scar nodded, turning to smirk at Grian. The sunlight glinted off the side of his face, making his eyes shine and his hair gleam. His smile was brighter than anything Grian had ever seen. “Etho is the first enemy of the Sand Lands,” Scar dutifully repeated.

“We’ll get our revenge on him, no matter what it takes.”

Chapter Text

Grian had been thinking about when he should show Scar his secret hidden stash of items for a while now. There had been many situations where Grian wished he already had - he’d be able to cover Scar in full diamonds, and feel much more secure about Scar’s health. It would also get rid of at least some of the secrecy surrounding them constantly, to hopefully improve Scar’s trust in him. Grian would never forget the panic when Scar had mentioned Grian not sharing in front of BigB, wrapping an arm around BigB’s shoulders a moment later.

There had been factors that had prevented him in the first place, which Grian still needed to consider. If Grian had shown Scar at the beginning, there would have been way too many questions about why Grian had hidden items under the Sand Lands before they even lived there. At the beginning of their partnership, it would have been equally questionable - between building their base, traveling to collect Pizza, and working on their defenses… Scar knew Grian hadn’t had a chance to collect those items.

Scar might still realize Grian’s stash was odd. Grian had hardly touched the mines, and he’d hardly let Scar go near them ever since the incident with the skeleton. However, surely Scar would come up with some explanation of his own. It was best to avoid coming up with excuses. People always did it so well without the added help.

Either way, it was time. With yellow lives coming into contact with Scar, and players trying to trick him… It would also just be a good way to try and cheer Scar up again after the disappointment at the Crastle.

They arrived back at the Sand Lands late at night, so Grian didn’t show his partner right away, and the two were immediately drawn to their room and the comfort of Grian’s nest. All the blankets they had were piled up into a fluffy mess of wool and comfort, and Grian dropped onto it without even removing his boots, groaning deep in his throat.

Scar laughed, crouching down and tugging at Grian’s feet until he obediently raised them and let Scar slip his boots off. Scar shuffled a bit around the room, surely getting off his own sand and mud-splattered boots and clothing before he dropped down in the nest next to Grian, avoiding his wings.

The second Scar was within reach, the paranoia in the back of Grian’s head quieted, and his eyes fluttered shut. Exhaustion washed over him like a wave, tugging him under.

“G?” Scar whispered, not letting the avian sleep quite yet. Grian grumbled something under his breath, displeased by the interruption of his rest. “Can I preen your wings?”

There was that too. Ever since Scar had helped Grian with his preening, Scar seemed to enjoy the chore more than Grian had expected. Sure, Scar had helped him out in the original timeline as well (though he started helping later on, this timeline was faster in many ways) but he hadn’t seemed this taken with the task.

Grian was certain Scar had enjoyed it, but he had been a lot more hesitant. He hadn’t asked to preen Grian basically every night like Scar was now. Could it have something to do with Scar being a red life in the last timeline? Though normally being a red life made you more likely to try and do what you enjoyed without hesitation or morals holding you back…

Grian sighed into the nest of blankets, his wings fluffing up on his back as he shifted them toward Scar. It was another question he’d never know the answer to. Another question he hadn’t been able to ask the original Scar before losing him, and now it was too late. “Sure,” Grian said, softly.

Scar’s fingers in his wings made him practically melt. Preening was a chore when doing it to oneself, but allopreening - preening done by someone else - was intimate. Grian’s wings felt so sensitive everywhere Scar touched, and Scar was so meticulous with his wings. He made sure every single feather was cared for and in place.

Grian hadn’t even taught Scar every step of preening - he hadn’t had a chance to teach him how to chip off the keratin sheaths of developing feathers - but he was convinced there was no way Scar could possibly improve in his technique.

It was perfect. Scar was perfect.

With Scar’s fingers brushing gently over his wings Grian’s grief faded into the back of his mind and he let the wave pull him into the realm of sleep.

The next morning, Grian rushed them through breakfast, to Scar’s amusement. “Eager to get back to work?” he guessed, raising an eyebrow when Grian gestured for him to follow along and headed over towards where they kept their cows hidden. “I can do this chore, G,” he suggested.

Scar always offered to feed and breed and kill the cows. Grian knew it was because Scar had quickly picked up on Grian’s discomfort being in underground spaces, due to his avian nature. Normally he would agree and divert his attention to another task - they still needed to check up on Pizza - but this morning wasn’t about the cows.

“I need to show you something,” Grian insisted.

Whether or not it was about the cows, Grian still paused to help Scar feed them and breed them as they passed by. They had left a lot of wheat behind before they left, but there was none left in their fenced-in area. Hopefully, they hadn’t been without for too long, though they seemed excited to be offered food.

Grian let them eat out of his hands for a few minutes before he moved back and pulled his pickaxe from his inventory. “Dig ten blocks down,” he explained to Scar, glancing below himself and digging straight down.

Scar obeyed without hesitance, the sounds of his own digging reaching Grian’s ears. For just a moment Grian wondered how easy it would be to trick Scar into a trap, before swiftly banishing that thought. He would never betray Scar’s trust like that. Not again.

Exactly ten blocks down allowed Grian to fall into a new room. It was a small area lined with sandstone, holding a total of three double chests, a bed, a crafting table, and some furnaces. Scar dropped down a moment afterward, glancing around with a wide-eyed expression. “Oh! G, what is this?”

Grian observed Scar’s expression. If Scar took this the wrong way and reacted badly, Grian wanted to notice right away so he could move on to damage control. Luckily, Scar just seemed surprised and somewhat impressed, if the small smile meant what Grian thought it did.

Grian let his wings spread as he gestured out with his hands dramatically. “Welcome to my secret base of operations! I thought having a hiding place for important items would be a good idea. There’s no way to stop anyone from just walking by and going through the chests on Monopoly Mountain.”

“How long have you had this?”

In a split second, Grian had to decide if he should lie or be honest. “A while.” The words fell from his mouth with confidence, even if Grian felt anything but.

“I figured,” Scar laughed, “I knew you were keeping secrets! This is amazing G. You’re so smart!” As Scar spoke he turned to open one of Grian’s chests, scanning the contents inside curiously.

Grian still did his best to memorize the contents of his chests so he would be able to tell right away if anything was taken - but honestly, he didn’t care if Scar tried to take something even without his permission. He was too busy focusing on the warmth blooming in his chest from Scar’s easy acceptance.

Grian turned to throw open the chest next to him, pulling out the full set of diamond armor that he had thrown in there. After this, Grian was basically out of diamonds - he had prepared a lot in advance, but even Grian had his limits. Closing the chest, Grian turned and cleared his throat. Once Scar turned to look at him, Grian stepped forwards and poured the items into Scar’s arms. “Here. This is for you.”

Scar was silent for a moment. He stared long enough for Grian to shift his weight awkwardly, wondering if he had somehow overlooked something, before Scar's face split into a wide grin.

His eyes were what caught Grian’s attention, making his breath hitch. Scar was watching him with such an open look, and he looked so casually affectionate . His expression was dripping with fondness and appreciation and warmth, his smile honest and true.

It made Grian dizzy. It made him want the close the distance between the two in order to pull Scar close. It made him feel almost flustered, his face turning warm as Grian quickly looked away and stepped back. “I -”

“Thank you.”

“You can take anything you want from down here.”

“Thank you.”

Scar stepped forwards. If anyone else had moved towards him as quickly as Scar was now, Grian would have panicked and pulled out his sword, but this was Scar, so Grian stayed still and let Scar pull him close. Then Scar was hugging him, a long, lingering squeeze before the other man let go and stepped back.

“You’re welcome,” Grian responded, still a little dazed. You’re everything to me.

“This is seriously brilliant! We’re going to kick Etho’s butt with all of this!” Scar rushed back over towards the chests, digging through them with increasing excitement. “You have a lot of wood too - we’re never going to run out - and so much iron, and coal… I knew you were the best choice of a partner!”

That comment was easily enough to make Grian feel satisfied, his mouth twitching upwards into its own bright grin. “Aw, you only like me for my riches?”

“You know it,” Scar teased right back, laughing. “Mhn… I suppose we need enchantments, though.”

As Scar peeked over towards him, Grian was already groaning. Everyone went to the same place for enchanting these days, with Martyn doing his best to convince everyone in chat that Renchanting was the best and only option. “I’m not giving Ren or Martyn anything.”

“I wasn’t going to propose that!” Scar turned to face him, finally leaving the chests alone. As they spoke, Scar started to strip off his armor and replace it with the glittering blue of the diamond. “I still think we should just take their enchanter. You said we could put it on the to-do list!”

Grian had said that, but now he winced, his stomach dropping slightly. “I don’t want to make too many enemies,” he tried to explain, “we’re already going up against Etho.” On the other hand, Scar had just been forced to take off some of the enchanted iron armor he had for the diamond armor Grian had gifted him. Grian would feel much better if Scar was fully enchanted as well…

“Which we could do much better with some good enchantments! I think Etho and Ren are friends, Etho already has full enchants,” Scar pointed out. Grian glared at him slightly. Curse Scar for being reasonable!

This was another situation Grian knew he wouldn’t be able to come out on top of. Just like with the cat in the village, Scar wanted the enchanter from Renchanting, and he would stop at nothing to get it. Scar had been captivated by it from early on in their first timeline, and it seemed like some things just didn’t change.

The easiest way to avoid bloodshed would be by trading for the enchanter, but Ren and Martyn would never go for that. The enchanter was the heart of their kingdom. Everything had started with it, and their idea of Renchanting as a business.

They couldn’t trade for it, and Scar wouldn’t take no for an answer, not even from Grian.

Grian could try to slow Scar down more and put it off further, but then Scar would want to focus on Etho, and Grian didn’t feel ready to face him yet either.

No matter how he looked at it, Grian was stuck.

“If we try to steal it,” Grian said, slowly, “we need to try and do it in secret. No one can know who it was.”

As though he could sense Grian giving in, Scar gave him the brightest, sunniest smile he possibly could. “Of course!” he agreed.

Right.

It was time to steal an enchanter.

There was absolutely no way this could go wrong.

They didn’t head over to Renchanting and try to snatch the enchanter right away. They had already been away from home for a while, so they needed some time for some maintenance before leaving again. They also needed to make a proper plan - running into Renchanting without thinking it through first could only go badly.

Scar spent most of their first day with Pizza, feeling bad for leaving the llama for so long. He vanished into Pizza’s hidden location with wheat in his hands, and Grian gave him his space to coo over the animal as long as he wanted.

Grian went through all their chests and made sure nothing had been stolen. Luckily, it seemed like everything was just as they had left it. If anything had been taken, it would have been hard to figure out who had taken it.

The rest of the day - and the following days - were full of similar chores. Harvesting their crop and replanting it, restocking their stores of steak by sending Scar to breed their cows and then kill them, cutting down all the grown cactus and using it to expand their rapidly growing cactus defenses, and then falling into their nest at the end of the day, tired and covered in sand.

They took turns making meals, joking and laughing and talking about their plans while eating and throughout their short breaks during the days, whispering about everything and nothing as they fell asleep, which was normally accompanied by Scar’s confident hands in his feathers.

Grian felt light. He had many horrible things to say when it came to his involuntary time travel, but the positives outweighed the negatives. This outweighed everything.

“We need to prioritize getting enchants,” Grian argued. “We need to enchant our things first, and then grab the enchanter if we can.”

“That makes no sense,” Scar argued back, “if we get the enchanter and run, we can easily enchant once we’re back home! Once the achievement shows up in the chat, Martyn and Ren might come and check on their enchanter right away. I heard they’ve had some issues with players trying to enchant and not paying already.”

“They’re not the only ones with an enchanter, they’re just the only ones being so loud about it,” Grian pointed out. “There’s no reason they’ll assume we’re at theirs. I understand what you’re saying, but if we assume the worst-case scenario, then we need to proceed believing we can only accomplish one objective, right? If we can only accomplish one, it should be getting our own enchants.”

Scar clearly didn’t agree.

“I know you want the enchanter,” Grian tried again, making his voice softer. “If we can’t get it this time, we can always try again in the future. But we might not have a future if we end up killed, which can be much more easily avoided if we have some enchantments to help protect us.”

Scar stared at him for a moment. They were eating lunch now, and had been talking about their plan for days. Tomorrow, they would be departing the Sand Lands once more, on their journey of theft this time.

Grian took another bite of his food while Scar stared. Whatever was going through Scar’s mind, Grian would give him time to come to his own conclusions. Finally, Scar sighed, and nodded slowly. “Okay, G,” he settled on, smiling. “I know you’re just worried I’ll get hurt. I appreciate that! I just really want their enchanter.”

Some things never change. Grian smiled back, though the expression ached, and nodded in return. “I’ll do my best to get it for you,” he promised.

“I know.”

Renchanting was a little closer than the village, but not by much. It was about half a day closer, which still made it a three-day journey, and a six-day round trip.

Grian would never give up the Sand Lands for anything, but sometimes it made it a bit hard to get places when it was so far from everyone else on the server. At the same time, he was grateful for that same fact. Especially in this new timeline, he preferred the added privacy and distance from everyone other than Scar.

At least traveling with Scar was always nice. There was a small incident with a group of zombies during the night of the second day, but with their full diamond armor and swords, they were able to take down the small army of undead easily enough, with only a few bruises to show for it.

They arrived at Renchanting with the sky dark and full of stars above them. Morning would soon be approaching, but not quite yet. They stood at the base of the mountain, ducked low against the stone, and listened carefully.

From the top of the mountain, voices could be heard, though their words could not be made out.

It seemed like Renchanting was coming along nicely. The walls were being built slowly, not yet as tall as they would be, but the cobblestone and dark oak defenses were beginning to rise up around the soon-to-be kingdom. It blocked Grian’s view from inside, so he couldn’t quite tell how far along they were in their kingdom’s creation.

He hadn’t visited Renchanting very much, if at all, throughout the first timeline. Unless he counted the times he had seen the kingdom once the war had started - doing his best to rain arrows and TNT down from above, watching as the kingdom fell apart and imploded in on itself.

Grian’s stomach twisted, and his gaze was drawn away from the cobblestone walls as Scar tugged slightly on his arm. As Grian turned to make eye contact, Scar was grinning at him, his green eyes shining brightly even in the dark. “Should we go now?” Scar suggested.

Grian hesitated. They could hear voices - it was clear someone was up on the mountain above, likely Ren, and perhaps Martyn. Martyn had done a lot of wandering the first few months, so Grian knew it could also be a customer, perhaps Cleo or Etho working on their alliance with Ren. Either way, it meant witnesses and a large chance of being caught.

It might be better to wait until the morning and try to see if Renchanting would be left undefended at some point throughout the day.

“I think the voices are coming from by the wall,” Scar whispered again, seemingly impatient by Grian’s lack of response as he started climbing up the mountain. “We should be able to sneak around the back!”

“Scar! Scar - wait!” Grian hissed quickly, trying to lunge and grab at Scar’s leg, just as Scar moved out of his range. “Maybe we should wait - Scar!”

He was being ignored. Grian’s wings flared out, a mixture of frustration, fluster, and fondness washing through him. However, underneath those emotions, fear was beginning to rise, twisted up with paranoia and the shadow of painful memories.

Grian quickly started to climb the mountain behind Scar. He could no longer risk speaking aloud and did his best to keep his footsteps quiet, drawing his wings tightly to his back to make his shadow and presence as small as possible. Above, Scar paused for a moment to look back and make sure Grian was following, and then waited for Grian to catch up.

Once he did, Grian made sure to give him a sharp glare, receiving only a bright smile in response.

As they made it to the top of the mountain, the voices became much clearer, and Grian could state for a fact that they belonged to Ren and Martyn.

“Boss, you won’t believe what I’ve been up to,” Martyn was announcing. Grian carefully pulled his pickaxe from his inventory and into his hand, mining out two of the cobblestone blocks and slipping into the inner sanctum of Renchanting.

It was much emptier than he was used to, not quite covered in the fields it would one day nurture, missing the altar that Grian had only ever seen stained in rust-colored blood. Scar stepped in behind him, eager. “The nether adventure was very, very good,” Martyn continued speaking all the while.

“Oh yes,” Ren agreed, “okay, I want to hear all about it. I’m sorry, this place is getting fortified.” Grian and Scar were at the very back of the house, while Ren and Martyn were at the front, leaving the actual building to block their line of sight.

Right. They could do this. Together, Grian and Scar crept forwards, staying low to the ground. As they pressed against the back of the building, Grian swapped his pickaxe for an axe instead, carefully cutting a hole into the wall of Renchanting.

Ren and Martyn kept up their conversation all the while, Grian quietly following along and trying to keep track of where they were.

“No, it’s fantastic, I genuinely love it,” Martyn was saying, “it’s making me all nostalgic. It’s great.”

“Yeah.”

“Um - so, it went really well. I actually bumped into someone whilst in the nether. We went and took out the fortress, and we got every nether wart on the server, we think. Ah, a bunch of blaze rods, and we left the farm up so people can get XP there if they wanted to, we’ve not told them the coordinates. And I think I’m quickly about to make an ender chest, so we’ve got somewhere to stash our valuables, valuables.”

Their conversation faded a bit into the back of Grian’s mind as they slipped into the room with the enchanter. The table was right in front of them, entirely unguarded. Grian suddenly felt the urge to give into Scar’s original plan, just grabbing the enchanter and running.

No. He had to stick to what he thought was right.

Grian quickly stripped off his armor and moved forwards toward the table, pulling his lapis out of his inventory at the same time. By his side, Scar was doing the same. They agreed to just grab whatever enchantments they could quickly, with a brief glance to see what might be their best bet.

GoodTimeWithScar has made the advancement [Enchanter]
Grian has made the advancement [Enchanter]

As expected, Grian was just getting basic protection for the most part. It would be good enough for the time being. Some protection was much better than none, and for all he knew, it would be what saved his life one of these days.

More importantly, it could save Scar’s life one of these days.

“My goodness, ender chest is big game dude. That is just taking the stash to the next level.”

They threw their armor back on quickly. Grian felt much better as soon as he caught sight of the gleaming enchanted diamond accenting Scar’s clothing, making it clear that the protection was in place.

Shoving his lapis back into his inventory, Grian quickly pulled out his pickaxe. They were almost there. All they had to do was grab the table, and make a quick getaway. Without hesitance he began to mine into the enchantment table, Scar hovering so close they were touching.

“Yeah. I mean, even if someone wants to come to our base and -”

The noise of suddenly approaching footsteps was the only warning they got before the doors to Renchanting suddenly flew open with a squeak, Martyn cutting himself off mid-sentence to stare at them for a moment with wide eyes.

Grian and Scar stared back.

Martyn gaped. “Hey!”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re being robbed!”

The enchantment table fell to the ground, and Grian pulled it into his inventory without thinking it through.

“What?” Ren’s voice questioned, high-pitched. Martyn’s eyes narrowed and he stepped quickly into the room, pulling an enchanted iron axe out of his inventory and into his hand. As Ren stumbled into the doorway behind him, it became clear that they both only had iron, hardly a match for the full diamond of Scar and Grian.

Still, Grian's heart pounded as he surveyed the room, his eyes fixated on Ren and Martyn. Martyn stared at him with malice in his eyes, while Ren mostly looked confused. Grian felt a sense of déjà vu wash over him. He had been in this situation before, so many times, with these same people, on these same sides.

“What’s going on?” Ren questioned. “Grian? Scar?”

Scar stepped forwards with a smile, gesturing with his diamond sword. “Ren! Hello there.” In the background, Grian watched as Martyn placed obsidian over the doorway. “I really love this place. You have some good stuff going on here - the walls, this building, your business…”

"I appreciate that," Ren retorted, "but I'm going to have to ask you to put the enchanter back."

Grian hesitated, glancing at the enchanter in his inventory. He knew that he shouldn't give it up. But he also knew that Ren and Martyn weren't going to let him walk away with it. 

"You heard him," Martyn said darkly, moving closer. His hands were wrapped tightly around his axe, his stance determined and eyes hard. It appeared that Ren had already won his loyalty. Grian could see the Hand in his movements.

However, Ren was not yet the King that he would be one day. His stance was too unsure, and he looked more exasperated and flustered than anything. 

“What if we make a deal?” Scar suggested. “If you give us the enchanter, we can give you free sand, cacti, and the friendship of Monopoly Mountain.”

Ren scowled, his eyes narrowing. Grian knew that things were about to get ugly. He pulled out his sword, ready for whatever was about to come. They’re not red. They can’t hurt us. The logical thoughts felt far away and distant faced with Ren’s stare and Martyn’s axe.

Ren hesitated, his eyes flickering back and forth between Scar and Grian. Grian could tell that Ren was considering the offer, but he also knew that Ren wouldn't give up the enchanter easily.

"We can't do that," Ren refused, his voice grave. "The enchanter is the center of our business. We're going to take things to the next level soon."

"What would Renchanting be without it?" Martyn agreed. "We'd just be 'R'!"

Scar's expression darkened. Grian knew that Scar didn’t like being denied what he wanted.

"Are you sure about this, Ren?" Scar questioned. "This is a one-time offer."

"The offer is great, but we just can't do it," Ren continued, stumbling a bit over his words. "There would be nothing left for us to do. The Renchanting dream would be over. I'm not the only one in this business. I've got Martyn to think about."

Grian watched as Scar's eyes narrowed, his lips pursed in frustration. He knew that Scar wasn't going to give up that easily. Grian knew he should help, but -

Grian had been so determined to avoid conflict with Ren and Martyn this early on. He had told Scar before they left that their priority was getting their own enchantments - which they had done already. He knew how much the enchantment table meant to Scar, but he also knew they had been caught red-handed.

Swallowing, Grian pulled the enchanter out of his inventory and into his hand. He placed it back down. Ren’s stance immediately relaxed, and Martyn lowered his axe slightly.

Grian carefully avoided Scar’s gaze, his heart thudding in his chest.

To his surprise, Scar reached for him, wrapping a hand gently around his arm and tugging him back a step. “Ah, Ren, you’re missing out on a critical business opportunity here,” he sighed, relaxed and casually dramatic again. Grian risked a small peek at his partner, and saw the easy-going charismatic smile that had replaced his dark expression from moments before.

“I am truly sorry, Scar,” Ren apologized, as though he hadn’t just caught them trying to rob him. Despite his words and relaxation, his stance remained resolute. “I just can’t give up the business dude.”

“I’ll come back and pay for the enchantments we took,” Grian added, lying through his teeth.

“You used it?” Martyn demanded. No one replied to him as the man pulled out his communicator to check, before looking back up at them with an even darker glare. The muscles in his jaw clenched tightly, and his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, as though he were trying to bore holes through Grian with his gaze alone.

However, by the time he was done checking, Scar was already pulling Grian back out through the hole they had made in the back of the building to enter. Their footsteps fell heavy on the wood below them, and Grian focused on the warmth of Scar’s hand on his arm.

That could have gone worse, Grian miserably tried to convince himself, at least Scar didn’t make them our mortal enemies this time -

“When I turn red, Ren,” Scar spoke without looking back, his tone dark and serious once more, “you’re on my list.”

Well then. That could not have gone any worse.

Scar's footsteps slowed as they left Renchanting behind, and Grian could feel his partner's disappointment seeping into him.

"I'm sorry, Scar," Grian said softly, breaking the silence. 

Scar didn't say anything for a moment, but when he finally spoke, his voice was calm. "It's not your fault, G. We knew it was a risky move."

“Because you always back away from risks,” Grian sighed. During the silent moments walking away from Renchanting Grian had decided not to comment on Scar’s last words to Ren, but some of his exhaustion must have slipped through into his tone because Scar twisted slightly as they walked to look toward him.

“Hey! I went along with your plan,” Scar protested. His tone was playful, but Grian spotted some of the hurt in his eyes and winced, trying to backtrack.

“I know, I know. It was just a bad situation.”

Grian’s easy admission made Scar deflate slightly, sighing lowly. “I shouldn’t have broken in when you wanted to wait,” he admitted. “We should have tried when they weren’t close to their base.”

More than ever, Grian wanted to clear Scar’s expression of the quiet misery that settled there; an odd mixture of stress, hurt, and guilt. There was frustration in the way Scar walked, and in the curl of his hands at his sides. Grian eyed the tension in his shoulders, and the downturn to his mouth.

“Let’s not play this blame game,” Grian decided. “The past is what it is. We made it out with our armor enchanted, and neither of us got hurt. Martyn and Ren will be cautious of us from now on, and you did threaten them, but you’re on your green life. We’re not enemies yet.”

“We can be enemies even when we’re both green,” Scar pointed out, as though Grian didn’t know that intimately. “It just means we can’t be violent with one another.”

Grian nodded understanding Scar's concern. "I know, but we'll just have to be extra careful from now on. And besides, we still have each other."

Scar's smile grew a little wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Grian felt a small sense of relief that he was able to bring a little bit of comfort to his partner.

Luckily for Grian, Scar rarely remained downtrodden for long. As though coming to some sort of internal decision, Scar nodded sharply, and his next smile was sunny. “The Sand Lands won’t let this small hiccup stop them,” he declared, “besides, there’s always next time to steal the enchanter!”

That wasn’t exactly what Grian was hoping for, but it was good enough for the time being, so he nodded. “Right! That’s the energy we need.”

With a renewed sense of purpose, they continued on.

Scar remained his cheerful, talkative self as they journeyed back home. He seemed eager to talk about their surroundings, pointing out different flowers and trees to Grian and rambling about how ugly most of the flowers were and how Scar really wanted to try making a custom tree one day.

“Honestly, I think coral could even be used as a flower decoration over actual flowers,” he commented at one point.

Grian blinked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s no coral within the world borders, right?”

“Well, no. So we’re stuck with these,” Scar grumbled, slowing down to kick a dandelion.

The avian laughed fondly, his wings fluttering on his back. Scar’s opinion on flowers had never come up in the original timeline. This time, when bitterness and happiness flooded into him, Grian was surprised to note that the warmth was stronger than the pain. It was always nice to learn new things about Scar - Grian wanted to know everything.

“You know,” Scar commented, slowing down a bit and glancing around them. They were going around a body of water, and the shore under their feet was made of a small area of sand. The water glistened under the afternoon light, and Grian watched a few fishes swimming around in fast circles. “I had a surprise of my own, in order to celebrate a perfect mission.”

Grian looked away from the fish and back towards Scar. “Did you? Does that mean I don’t get to see the surprise since the mission didn’t go perfectly? This seems cruel Scar, why would you tell me this.”

Scar laughed, reaching into his inventory. In his hands, one of their blankets from home appeared, crafted from Pizza’s wool. Scar wasted no time in shaking it open and placing it down on the sand. For a moment, Grian could only stare, confused.

“I think we deserve a nice surprise, perfect mission or not,” Scar explained, winking up at Grian as he took a seat on the blanket. He patted the spot next to him. “We’re having a surprise picnic!”

Slowly, Grian sat down. They were only half a day away from Ren, and the idea of relaxing so closely to Renchanting made a warning shiver run down his spine. However, he couldn’t resist Scar’s excited smile and sharp gestures as he revealed his surprise. “You had this planned all along?”

“Of course! I brought some cooked rabbit with delicious vegetables,” Scar spoke as he placed the dishes down on the blanket with them. His expression was eager as he stared at Grian, waiting for the avian’s judgment.

This is ridiculous. They were in the middle of a death game, they had just made dangerous enemies, and now Scar was setting up a picnic for them to enjoy in the afternoon sun. Grian smiled back at Scar, giving in.

He always gave in to Scar.

“This looks delicious, Scar. Thank you,” Grian sighed, picking up a utensil and reaching for a bite of the cooked rabbit. It truly was good, perfectly crispy and flavorful in his mouth. “Let’s just hope no one comes across us with this much food.”

“Right,” Scar agreed, his smile sunny as he dug into his own food. “I’ve heard there’s been a concerning lack of available food on the server. Your idea to stock up early was really smart.”

It’s more like I got a heads-up. “The riches of Monopoly Mountain will never run dry,” Grian replied dryly. Predictably, Scar liked those words, grinning and laughing. The wind blew some of his hair into his face, and Scar brushed it aside, both of them enjoying the cool air during the warm day.

“You know,” Scar said eagerly between bites, gesturing sharply with his free hand, “I had this interesting dream last night! We were both on top of Monopoly Mountain when we heard this weird clicking noise. I wanted to investigate, but you were more cautious. It was good that you were, because -”

Grian spread his wings to allow the warmth to seep into them, half-closing his eyes as he listened to Scar’s voice.

He did his best to imprint this moment in his memory, wishing to keep it there forever. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of the rabbit and the warmth of the sun on his wings, feeling grateful for this moment of peace and contentment in a world that often felt chaotic and unpredictable.

He knew he would remember these moments with Scar as long as his own forever continued - until the end.

Chapter Text

Grian frowned as he knelt down in front of a double chest, trying to figure out if he had enough cobblestone and wood for his new project. The new project in question was the construction of a creeper farm. Grian had been considering the past timeline and everything he still needed to do when he remembered the creeper farm and realized he needed to get started on building it.

He had put it off for long enough, and now he had plenty of time to start. Keeping the Sand Lands stocked with TNT was going to put them miles ahead as far as weaponry and gun power went. With first Etho, and now Ren and Martyn, once again dubbed enemies of the Sand Lands it was about time to ensure they had the power to come out on top of any skirmishes that may occur.

Just as he finally decided to get some more wood just to be safe, Grian heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He didn’t panic or pull out his sword. The low humming accompanying the footsteps made the identity of the one approaching clear.

“Hi Scar,” Grian commented, closing the chest with a sharp snap. He stood back to his feet, dusting sand off his pants and flapping his wings a few times to rid them of the tiny grains. It was a useless attempt, considering he could already feel sand in his boots and stuck under his feathers, but at least it helped a little.

“Grian,” Scar cheerfully responded, coming to a stop a few steps behind him. “Are you getting started on the farm for the boom boys?”

“I assume by boom boys you mean creepers, in which case yes,” Grian sighed. He turned around so he could see Scar, tension immediately leaving him once his partner was in his sight. He knew Scar had just been around the borders of the Sand Lands working on their cacti wall, but he always felt somewhat wrong-footed and anxious when he couldn’t physically see the other man.

“I can’t wait,” Scar replied, sounding eager. “Do you think we can use it against Etho?” From the slightly sly look in Scar’s eyes, Grian guessed that was the reason Scar had approached in the first place. Of course Scar wanted to cause chaos - the first time Grian had seen him in this timeline, he was burning down Etho’s tree.

Grian pretended to consider it for a moment, even though his mind was already made up. The Sand Lands wasn’t ready to go up against Etho. It wasn’t the right time. Grian wanted to wait until Etho started building the Wool Fortress. Burning it down would be an easy way to get some revenge, inconvenience Etho and keep him busy for a while, without causing so much damage that Grian and Scar would be immediate targets.

“Maybe we should wait until there’s a good opportunity,” Grian suggested, which wasn’t even untruthful, really. “I have a feeling something will come up.”

Scar stared at him for a moment, before smiling brightly. It was a true smile, Grian could tell that much. “You’re planning something,” Scar accused, delighted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I trust that it will be marvelous!”

At Grian’s continued silence, Scar gave up and changed the topic. “Well, I was also thinking we should work on our alliances. I could go around and visit some people with high reputations, and bring them small gifts from the Sand Lands. I can try to convince them to give us gifts as well, and a beautiful friendship will result!”

“You want to scam more people,” is what Grian took from that. Scar didn’t even bother denying it, he just continued smiling charmingly. However, now that he thought about it, working on making more allies wasn’t a horrible idea. “What about Scott and Timmy?”

“Really? Neither of them has a good reputation. Didn’t Scott steal some of our sand?”

Grian shrugged, turning back to his double chest. He placed down a crafting table and started crafting some of his wood into trapdoors. He would need a lot of them for the farm. “Everyone is stealing sand from us, Scar. They are our neighbors. It would be beneficial if we were on good terms.”

It wasn’t untrue, but nor was it the only reason. Scott and Jimmy had been the greatest allies of Monopoly Mountain in the end. They had a place in Grian’s life, even if they could never compare to Scar. They had been able to relate to Scar and Grian in a way not many others could, with Jimmy as a red life, and Scott as a green. They had still remained loyal to one another through it all, and…

They didn’t have their memories of the past timeline either, but it didn’t change anything. Sure, Scott didn’t remember losing Jimmy. He wouldn’t be able to understand the nightmares Grian still struggles with, waking up with images of Scar’s painful demise stuck in his mind. But it was still Scott. He would still have his sense of humor, his dry sarcasm, and shared exasperation with Grian over the actions of their partners.

Scott would protect Scar once Grian was gone. Jimmy would as well.

“I suppose that’s true,” Scar decided. “We can try to talk to them. I think we should visit Cleo and Bdubs as well. They could be powerful allies!”

“What?” Grian fumbled with the wood in his hands, accidentally dropping it as he turned to face Scar quickly. “Why would you want to team with them?”

“Why not? Cleo was really friendly when we spent time together at the beginning of the server! They seem like nice people. We still message sometimes. I don’t think she’s friends with Etho, Ren, or Martyn, so we have a good chance at convincing her to be friends with us instead as long as we bring a shiny gift!”

Grian’s stomach twisted, and it took a lot for him not to grimace. Of course Scar had nothing against them in this timeline. Cleo had never come for dark oak, which meant she never kidnapped Pizza. He had seen them acting friendly back in the village, but he hadn’t thought twice about it, assuming those friendly feelings would fade as they had in the first timeline.

He didn’t like that they hadn’t.

“I don’t know, Scar,” Grian managed to say, “they live really close to Renchanting, don’t they? It might be more convenient for them to team up with Ren. I don’t think we can trust them.”

“Isn’t that also a benefit for us?” Scar countered. “They would be able to keep a close eye on him and his operations. If he starts acting suspiciously, they’d be able to tell us, and we’d be able to prepare accordingly. Besides, as I said, I don’t think they’re friends - Cleo took enchantments without paying, just like we did.”

Ah. Scar really had been staying in contact with Cleo. Why didn’t Grian know about this? In the old timeline, Scar hadn’t spoken to anyone outside of Grian, and their allies during necessary moments. Hadn’t he?

He hadn’t. Grian would have known. Scar had shared everything with Grian back then, and Grian had shared everything with Scar.

Grian’s reluctance must have been obvious to Scar, because he added, “if you pick some of our allies, I should be able to choose some as well, G!”

Grian’s wings shifted on his back, the muscles flexing, making his wings flap twice. Grian yanked his hand through his hair, the motion shaking out more of the sand there.

“I mean, if you really don’t want to go and see them, I can just go visit them myself,” Scar suggested.

Grian made a sharp, warbling noise in the back of his throat. Scar looked startled for a moment. Grian didn’t tend to make avian noises very often, he was very in control of his instincts. “Fine,” Grian forced out, after taking a deep breath to prevent any other animalistic noises. “Fine, you win! We can go and see Cleo and Bdubs after we talk to Scott and Timmy.”

Scar moved forwards, closing the space between them. He reached out to tangle his own fingers into Grian’s hair, shaking out some more of the sand in a quick, casual motion. Grian’s wings stilled from leftover twitches, and he bowed his head slightly into Scar’s hand. “What gift do you want to bring Scott and Jimmy?” Scar questioned.

The change in topic was like a weight off his chest.

“Cows,” Grian offered, uncertain. He knew they had cows at some point, but he didn’t know when they had gotten them. Even if they did already have cows, it should be fine. The food shortage was common knowledge across the server, so Scott and Jimmy would still be aware of the value Grian and Scar were giving them. “We’re not giving Cleo and Bdubs cows. It will be dangerous to transport them that far, where other bases are close by -”

“Oh, don’t worry!!” Scar ruffled Grian’s hair one last time before pulling his hand away. “I’ll think of a gift for them. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

If Grian’s cheeks were red, it was only because of the warmth of the desert.

Scott was working on setting stones into his pond to serve as a pathway when Grian and Scar arrived. Jimmy was standing on the shore, and the two appeared to be in the middle of a conversation. Said conversation broke apart quickly, when Jimmy looked up, making direct eye contact with Grian.

Grian grinned and lifted one hand up into a wave as Jimmy’s mouth dropped open in surprise, his own arm snapping up to point at them. His voice was loud enough to reach Grian as he carefully climbed down the hill around their base with Scar. They were doing their best to lead the two cows behind them without letting them drop off the cliff. “Scott! Visitors! They have cows!”

“Way to state the obvious!” Grian called across the clearing as Scott quickly turned around. At his side, Scar chuckled.

Jimmy squawked at Grian’s sarcastic response, flailing for a moment. As Scar and Grian got to the base of the hill, Scott and Jimmy came over to meet them.

The cow Grian was leading pushed against his arm, trying to get closer to the wheat in his hand. Distractedly, Grian moved his hand over and let the cow take it, feeling its warm breath on his fingers. “Hey there,” Scar greeted.

“Hello,” Scott responded, his sharp gaze flickering between the cows and the two Sand Land members.

Grian placed his hand on the cow's warm side, pushing it a step closer to Scott. “We come with gifts!”

“They’re for us?” Jimmy was practically vibrating in place, hopping forward and pulling his own wheat out to get the cow's attention on him. “That’s perfect! Scott was just about to send me out to look for some cows, now I don’t even have to go.”

Scar passed his wheat to Scott. The man caught it instinctively, his gaze slipping to the second cow as it stepped towards him with a soft moooo. “You brought two cows,” he commented, once again stating the obvious. “That’s an impressive gift.”

“We’re neighbors, aren’t we?” Scar shrugged, gesturing in the direction of the Sand Lands. “Neighbours should get along! Besides, we heard the tragedy of the death of your cow.” After all, Jimmy had announced they had a cow to the entire server in the communicator chat… and then it had “died.” Grian had laughed when he saw the message.

“Ahh, so this is a bribe then? What do you want?” Scott was as sharp as ever, correctly assuming a gift such as this wouldn’t come for nothing. His words made Grian smile hopelessly, just for a second. It was so odd coming back here, and seeing how open and naive everyone had been. It was nice knowing Scott hadn’t changed. Not in the ways that mattered.

“Friendship,” Grian stated, simply, knowing Scott would understand what he was really asking for.

“We can be friends!” Jimmy's immediate response was weathered by Scott’s glare. Grian caught Scar’s sharp smirk in the corner of his eye, no doubt the man had pinned Jimmy down as an easy target for his trickery.

“We’re friends with everyone,” Scott said, recovering smoothly as he turned back to Grian and Scar. “I like to stay friendly with all my server mates.”

I’m staying neutral. It was a message Grian had expected, to some degree. Scott hadn’t chosen a side until Ren had tried to demand his allegiance - and then Scott had run in the other direction. Grian would have to be careful here not to trigger that same reaction.

“But we only give our cows to our very best friends,” Scar insisted. He stepped forwards, and Scott stayed unmoving even as Scar invaded his personal space. In a fluid motion, Scar wrapped his arms around the cow's neck, running a hand down its side gently. “We’re so attached to these spotted creatures, after all!”

“So you won’t give us the cows unless we’re best friends?”

“Scott,” Jimmy tried (and failed) to whisper, tugging his cow a step away as though that would prevent Scar and Grian from taking the gift back.

Not that Grian intended to. Instead, he raised his hands with a soft smile, shaking his head. His wings shifted, their undersides becoming more visible. It was a vulnerability Grian rarely expressed. He wasn’t even sure Scott would understand the gesture of peace. “Of course not! Gifts don’t come with a price tag, right Scar?”

Scar surely disagreed, but he nodded anyways, willing to let Grian take the lead on this one.

To Grian, it seemed like the right choice. Scott relaxed in a small, but obvious way, his shoulders shifting downwards. Grian shifted his wings back into their usual position. “Yes,” Jimmy cheered quietly under his breath.

“In fact,” Grian continued, “we would happy to be on friendly terms. Perhaps we can continue spending some time together and exchanging more gifts, and we can be best friends eventually, yeah? You can’t rush a good thing.”

“That’s true,” Scott remarked reluctantly, “that sounds fine with me.”

“Well then, to mark our new friendship, would you care for some lunch? Scar and I brought lots of snacks from the Sand Lands - how often do you get rabbit out here?”

“Not very often,” Jimmy admitted, his smile growing. “Scott, I can put the cows away, and then we can meet up in your place?”

“Why my place?”

“It looks better than mine!”

“Only my bedroom is done! The rest of it is just a campfire in the middle of the floor!”

“I’m sorry, are you trying to convince me that my place is actually better?”

“Oh, that is definitely not what I’m saying.”

For the second time, Grian couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It was nice, hearing Scott and Jimmy fight like an old married couple (newly married couple?) once more. Scott had never been the same after Jimmy’s death.

The reminder made his stomach twist, and his smile quickly vanished.

Scott eventually agreed to Jimmy’s plan with minimal grumbling. Grian’s guess was that he wanted to get them out of the open quickly so Jimmy had time to hide the new cows away without prying eyes.

Scott’s home was a small space dug out of a hillside. The entrance was finished, a round circular door opening to his home. It was clear that Scott was still working on it, the majority of it was still stone. There was one room completed which must have been the bedroom that Scott had mentioned. Since he was still trying to avoid making Scott upset or suspicious, Grian didn’t head inside, though he did admire the wall made from a mix of diorite and polished diorite. It was always nice when the other server members bothered to use multiple blocks in their palettes. 

Scar sat down by the campfire without a word of complaint, uncaring of the stone below. Grian joined him a second later. After traveling around the server for so long, sleeping on the ground wherever they ended up, sitting on stone for an hour or two was hardly any trouble.

Scott lowered himself down across from them a touch more warily. Scar was already humming happily as he plopped raw rabbit down around the edges of the campfire, keeping a close eye on them as they began to cook.

“Why do you want to become friends with us?” Scott questioned, not beating around the bush. “Just because we’re close?”

Grian rolled his shoulders back and stretched his wings completely out in the indoor space for a moment, before folding them back down. “That, and I also feel like I can relate to the two of you,” he replied, much more honest than he intended to be.

Sometimes honesty was worth it when the results were good enough. Scott seemed somewhat surprised by his answer, but not upset or defensive. “How are we the same?”

Grian leaned a bit over the fire, lowering his voice as he gestured towards Scar. “We both have to deal with our overenthusiastic partners,” he joked.

Of course, he made no true effort to hide his words from Scar, who spoke in an offended, “hey!” that went ignored.

Grian’s words seemed to have softened Scott up some more, because he laughed, leaning back a bit. “True enough,” he allowed. “Jimmy drives me crazy out here.”

“I saw his cow announcement,” Grian responded, sympathetic.

“Jimmy is the only player who could both find, and then immediately kill, one of the only cows on the server,” Scott immediately complained. After a short pause, he added, “though I suppose Daisy wasn’t actually one of the only cows. How long have you had some?”

“Ohhh…” Grian leaned back, building up some suspense with his own lazy grin. He had perfected the expression. “Since the beginning of the server, basically.”

“Really?” Scott laughed again, looking intrigued. “How did you manage that?”

“I figured there’d be a food shortage, what with how violently everyone was killing anything that dropped meat. It’s not like the borders give us a lot of space, we need to survive with what we have in here.” It was a good enough excuse, which Scott bought easily, nodding.

At that moment the door to Scott’s home opened again, Jimmy slipped inside and plopped himself down next to the fire. It took Grian a second to notice he was dripping water everywhere, as Scott scooted away with a wide-eyed expression. “How did you get drenched in the three minutes you were alone!?”

“I fell in the pond,” Jimmy complained, flushing slightly at the stares from all around the room. He moved closer to the campfire, trying to dry off quicker using the heat of the flames. “It’s not my fault! There are tripping hazards everywhere.”

Scar nodded sagely. “It’s the same way in the desert, I completely understand.”

“The only thing in the desert is sand, how do you trip over sand,” Grian complained.

At the same time, Scott said loudly, “what do you mean tripping hazards? There’s nothing around the pond that you could possibly have tripped over.”

Grian and Scott exchanged looks and then burst into laughter a second later. Grian had the feeling that this just happened to be the perfect example of his earlier claim. He also got the feeling that Scar had at least somewhat done it on purpose if his small smile and quirked eyebrows were any indications of his pride.

The rabbit was beginning to sizzle, and Jimmy leaned forwards with an eager expression. “Oh, that looks so good. I’m so tired of bread!”

“Maybe you would have more if you didn’t kill to only cow on the server, Timmy,” Grian continued to joke and tease, delighting in Jimmy’s offended gasp.

Grian was really tired of rabbit by now, but it would taste so much better surrounded by used-to-be and maybe could-be-once-more friends.

Grian was much less enthused about their alliance building as he approached the Crastle a few days later, Grian and Scar side by side. As they approached the beginning of a pit being dug out around the Crastle, Grian slowed to a stop, reaching out to grab Scar’s arm to stop him as well.

Scar easily paused and turned towards Grian with a grin. “Yes?”

“Are you ready to tell me what gift you decided to bring Cleo and Bdubs?” Grian questioned. He felt like it was better if he double-checked. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be shocked if Scar started giving away items and supplies that they actually needed, items that were far more than what they had to give away in order to make their alliance.

Maybe part of him hoped Scar would offer something that wasn’t enough. A small part of Grian wanted Cleo and Bdubs to turn them away with annoyance shadowing their gazes, a familiar annoyance Grian would welcome. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with the nausea that swirled inside of him when he thought of the idea of Scar interacting with those two.

If even just the idea was bad, what would the reality be like?

In a flourish, Scar took two pieces of paper out of his inventory, and Grian’s stomach dropped.

For just a second he was somewhere else, scrambling to grab a piece of paper that Scar had tossed on the muddy ground between him and Bdubs. Shock and horror were bleeding into his veins as Bdubs grinned at him with bloody teeth, watching Scar turn on him as he collected the prize. Grian hadn’t even gone for Scar, even as the man sliced into him and set him on fire. Instead, Grian had continued desperately attacking Bdubs, a fool until the very end -

Grian took in a few shaky breaths, shaking his head quickly to try and push those memories away. He was here. He was alive. He had moved past that. He was fine.

“G?” Scar’s voice was soft and concerned, and Grian was suddenly aware of hands against his shoulders. His wings were arched and fluffed up as his knees trembled and almost gave out beneath him. Scar was taking up all of his sight, far closer than he remembered. “Take a deep breath,” Scar coaxed, his voice low. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“What are those?” Grian questioned, hoarse. Please, please, please.

“Friendship passes. If you don’t want me to use them, it’s fine. I can figure something else out.”

It wasn’t a no-kill pass. Grian forced his wings to relax, taking in a deep breath and straightening. He was still shaking, his wings refusing to flatten, but he was getting his bearings back. They were just friendship passes. Of course Scar would pull something like that.

“G?” Scar questioned again, his hands not yet releasing Grian’s shoulders. “Seriously, I can find other gifts -”

“Did someone say gifts!?” As Bdub’s voice rang out, Scar released Grian and abruptly spun around. In front of him, Scar shifted his stance so he was standing more in front of Grian, straightening to his full height and spreading his arms out dramatically. It took Grian an awkward moment to realize Scar was trying to hide him. His partner was protecting him.

“Bdubs!” Scar greeted, loud and cheerful. “Why hello there! Yes, the Sand Lands have come with gifts of plenty!”

Scar was protecting him from Bdubs. More of the tension slipped away from Grian, and he closed his eyes to suck in a deep breath. His feathers flattened, smoothing themselves as he wiped at his eyes. He had overreacted at the sight of a piece of paper - how pathetic.

“Ooohhh, for Cleo and I? What kind of gifts?”

“Well…” There was a pause, before Scar quickly continued, “I can’t give them to you without Cleo here! Why don’t you invite us inside your lovely home?”

“My lovely home! Right! You’re both welcome inside!”

Grian tried to duck around Scar’s protective stance, but to his surprise, Scar stepped to block him. Grian blinked at Scar’s back frantically, confused.

“Thank you for the kind invitation,” Scar responded cheerfully, before spinning around again to face Grian. In a second, his wide smile swapped to a concerned frown, his eyebrows furrowing as he examined Grian. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

Grian nodded slowly. “I’m fine. I… overreacted. I don’t know why. The friendship passes are fine,” he responded in a whisper of his own.

Scar was already shaking his head. “No. I can think of something else, I have other items in my inventory… um, sand? I have some iron…”

Grian reached out to squeeze Scar’s arm, drawing the man’s attention away from his inventory. “Scar. It’s fine.”

“Would you tell me if it wasn’t?” Scar’s words were intent, his gaze searching.

“Yes. I promise.” It was the truth. Scar wouldn’t believe him for anything less.

“Guys,” Bdub whined from the Crastle, drawing out the ‘s,’ “I want my present! Come on inside, Cleo’s waiting for ya!”

The moment held for a few long, long seconds. Scar’s stare didn’t leave Grian, and Grian could feel the racing of his heart in his chest, so loud he wondered how Scar couldn’t hear it. Bdub’s impatience was almost palpable in the air, it felt as though Grian could taste it if he opened his mouth.

“Okay,” Scar agreed, and the moment snapped as a string pulled too tight.

Then Scar was stepping away, and Grian could do nothing but follow.

“Friendship passes!?” Bdubs exclaimed, clutching one of the papers in his hand. Cleo was holding the other, looking down at it with an amused expression.

“Yeah!” Scar rocked back on his heels, his best charismatic grin in place. “These pieces of paper signify a beautiful friendship between the Sand Lands and the Crastle. What do you think? We have so many resources set aside for our friends!”

“Resources like what?” Cleo questioned. Her fire-orange hair was bright against the cold stone of the Crastle, and Grian eyed her silently, looking at the greyish-green pallor of her skin and the exposed bone on the side of her face. Sometimes the reminder that he wasn’t the only non-human on the server was nice, even if it didn’t mean he hated Cleo any less.

The only thing Cleo had going for her was that she wasn’t Ren or Martyn, and she had chosen the right side in the end.

“Oh, you know,” Scar pretended to consider the question, building up more suspense, “resources such as sand, cacti, rabbit, some other extra food we’d be happy to pass along, perhaps some extra building resources or even some iron…”

“What about diamonds?” Cleo gestured to Scar’s armor, and then Grian’s. “It looks like you’re hardly lacking in the diamond department.” She looked unimpressed by Scar’s offers, valuable though they were. Her expression was flat, lips curled into a frown.

“Yes,” Bdubs agreed, shoving the paper into his inventory as he hopped up and down once. Unlike Cleo, he was smiling widely, but that tended to be his default expression. “Diamonds! Care to share some of those shiny rocks with us?”

“I suppose we could be persuaded to lend a few, but only once we have this lovely friendship all set up,” Scar seemed fine with agreeing. “We need to make sure we’re going to be good friends before we start giving away such prized resources, after all!”

Cleo and Bdubs exchanged a look, communicating with only a glance. It seemed like the other partners on the servers were quickly developing strong bonds. “Give us a moment,” Cleo declared, walking across the Crastle to whisper together with Bdubs further away.

Scar turned to Grian as they waited, winking. “I think I have them wrapped around my finger,” he whispered.

“We’ll see. Did you just promise our diamonds?”

“I didn’t promise anything, strictly speaking.” Scar’s response was cheerful. “I only said we’d consider it after the alliance proceeds. If you really don’t want to give them any, we can keep them at bay with less shiny resources.”

Grian hummed, going quiet as he considered Scar’s words. Though his panic from earlier had dissipated, there was always caution and tension around anyone that wasn’t Scar, which made it hard to think logically. It was even worse with Bdubs in the room, considering the role he played in the loss of Grian’s second life.

If Grian started thinking about that again, the panic would return, so Grian quickly turned his attention back to Scar.

His partner was watching him, his green eyes alert when they made eye contact. Scar offered him a small smile, his hair messy and slightly tangled after several days of travel around the server working on their alliances. There was a thin cut on his cheek from where an arrow had nicked him the night before, already mostly healed due to Grian bugging Scar about keeping his hunger full.

“Is your hunger full?” Grian questioned, falling back onto old, simple habits in order to continue keeping himself distracted.

The answer must have been no because Scar broke eye contact with an actual pout as he pulled bread out of his inventory and took a quick bite. “It’s so tough,” he complained, chewing.

Grian rolled his eyes with a smile at the familiar complaint. Scar liked bread, but he hated it once it sat around in an inventory for too long and started to go stale. He complained every single time, no matter the circumstances.

Grian reached over to rip a piece off the bread, stealing a bite as they waited for Bdubs and Cleo, their hunger ticking back up to full.

Just as they finished their impromptu snack Cleo and Bdubs seemed to come to an agreement as they both turned to step back over towards Grian and Scar. “We have decided to accept your proposal,” Cleo announced. “Scar, you and I have been friendly since the first days of this server, and I would love to share an alliance. Grian, I know we haven’t spoken much, and I look forward to getting to know you better.”

The fake smile Grian wore was one of his worse ones. “I agree,” he lied through his teeth, keeping a close eye on the shared smile between Scar and Cleo.

“This is going to be great!” Bdubs exclaimed, “I can’t wait to work together!”

“We have an alliance with Scott and Timmy as well,” Grian warned them, not wanting them to find out later on and come to the conclusion that Grian and Scar were keeping information from them. “You don’t have to be friendly with them too, but if you could avoid attacking them…”

“As long as they don’t provoke us or attack us first,” Cleo allowed.

“What Cleo said!” Bdubs agreed. “Anything else we should know?”

For a moment, Grian wondered if they should warn Cleo and Bdubs about their plans involving Etho but ultimately decided not to. It was important to keep some cards close to one's chest. If more people knew that Grian and Scar had it out for Etho, Etho was more likely to find out about their plans, which could have catastrophic results. It wasn’t a risk Grian was willing to take, not when he had no trust to spare in the first place.

So instead, Grian simply shook his head, before glancing at Scar to see if he would have anything to add to the conversation.

Scar had his arms folded over his chest, an easy-going smile on his face as he watched them all talk. As attention turned to him, he easily stepped up into the spotlight. “Well, I for one am glad that this could go so smoothly between us new friends! Thank you, Cleo, Bdubs. I think we’ve discussed everything we need to. We’ll stay in contact, of course.”

“Of course,” Cleo agreed, nodding. “Can we expect a delivery of those materials?”

“Could one of you come to pick them up?” Grian countered. “Scar and I have been away from Monopoly Mountain a lot lately.”

Scar swayed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, how we miss our dear home! I’m certain you can both relate, with this beautiful Crastle of yours.”

Bdubs straightened, a smug grin on his face. “I’m glad you can admire the beauty of our home here! I can come along and pick up some materials in a week or so, I would be happy to make the trip.”

“Why thank you! I appreciate your flexibility in these matters,” Scar chimed. Grian watched him fondly, hopelessly entranced by Scar’s charm and dramatics while interacting with others.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Cleo offered. “We’re having fish.”

“We’d love to,” Grian forced out when Scar took too long to reply. It seemed like Scar was giving him the option, likely still concerned from Grian freaking out earlier. Also, Scar didn't even like fish, so maybe he was hopeful Grian would turn Cleo down. But Grian was determined to make Scar see that he was fine now. Besides, they were going to have this alliance whether Grian liked it or not. It might as well be as strong as Grian could make it; Scar would survive eating fish this once.

“Oooh, let me start cooking for us!” Bdubs exclaimed, racing off towards the furnaces to do just that.

Scar took Grian’s arm as they followed him, his fingers warm on Grian’s skin. It was a gentle pressure, firm but loose enough for Grian to pull away if he felt the need.

It was a reminder.

The situation might feel horrible, and the memories it brought might make it feel as though he couldn’t breathe, but through it all, he wasn’t alone. He had Scar by his side, worrying over him, protecting him, and holding him up when he stumbled.

This was for Scar. If Grian died before the end, Scar would have allies that would protect him. Perhaps they weren’t the allies Grian would have chosen, but they were the ones Scar wanted.

Just for that, just for Scar’s safety and comfort, everything became worth it. There was no line Grian wouldn’t cross.

I’m going to save you, he reminded himself, staring at Scar as he smiled and laughed at something Bdubs said. No matter what.

Chapter Text

Time passed on Monopoly Mountain in between one blink and the next, and before Grian knew it an entire week had gone by in a single breath.

One minute he was walking home with Scar after working tirelessly on alliances, and the next it was a week later and he was knee-deep in wet sand and mud frowning as he tried to plant more seeds for their crop. Of course, Scar was still where he belonged, right by Grian’s side.

At least this time he wasn’t watching him from his spot on the fence, laughing at Grian’s filthy misfortune. Grian glanced to the side where Scar was just as muddy and sand-splattered as he was, smirking a bit at the sight. There was sand in Scar’s hair and all up his arms, his pants utterly caked in the mix of substances. Trying to clean their clothing would be even more frustrating than usual it seemed.

Scar caught the look and smiled playfully, sticking his tongue out. “You look way worse than I do,” he argued, somehow knowing what had made Grian smirk without asking. “You should see your wings.”

“I don’t have to see them, I can feel them.” Itchy and stiff. A mess, no doubt.

“I’ll give them extra attention tonight,” Scar cheerfully promised, making Grian roll his eyes and duck back down to push more seeds down into the plowed soil. Yet another hobby that had continued. Scar hadn’t grown bored fussing over Grian’s wings every night. Not yet, anyway.

“I feel like we have enough wheat and carrots in storage,” Grian mused, changing the subject suddenly. “So we probably don’t need to worry too much about constantly replanting these, but I do feel better having too much, rather than too little.”

“You always worry a lot about our food, even though we’ve never struggled with it,” Scar pointed out. His tone of voice was casual, but when Grian risked a glance at him again, there was a certain alertness in his eyes. Grian wasn’t sure what theory Scar had brewing in his mind, but he wasn’t worried. There was no way Scar would be able to guess the truth.

“Well everyone has been starving around us, I don’t want us to risk taking this too lightly and then being next,” Grian said simply, brushing aside Scar’s words with an easy excuse. “No matter how frustrating growing crops in the desert has proven itself to be.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad!”

“It’s messy, the plants hate the weird weather fluctuations, and transporting the dirt takes way too much time -”

“I like working on it together. It’s like our own tradition.”

“ - we made it outside so I constantly worry someone will come to trample our crops or steal them -”

Grian was interrupted as a glob of dirt smacked into the side of his face. The avian froze for a moment, staring forward in utter disbelief before slowly turning his head to stare at Scar. His partner looked at him innocently, an overly-sweet smile on his lips, as though he couldn’t see the mud slowly sliding down Grian’s face and falling to the ground in wet globs.

“Scar.”

“Grian.”

“Scar!” Grian shrieked, coming out of his shock to wipe frantically at the mud before it could reach his mouth and he could accidentally swallow any of it. He tried his best to shake it off his fingers, but it stubbornly stuck to him despite Grian’s sharp glares. Grian managed to wipe the mud off his face, but the damage was already done.

“Scar, that’s not funny,” Grian said, trying to keep a stern expression, but failing as he noticed the mischievous twinkle in Scar’s eyes. His partner was still smiling ever so sweetly, but he was starting to lose composure, his shoulders shaking with mirth. 

“Oh, come on, Grian. You can’t tell me you didn’t see that coming,” Scar chuckled, trying to suppress a laugh. “Besides, you look adorable with mud on your face. It’s the new look!”

Grian rolled his eyes at Scar’s teasing words, but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He couldn’t stay mad at Scar for long, especially when he was trying to cheer him up and distract him from his own paranoia.

Now that Scar had successfully distracted him, a warmth was growing in Grian’s chest as he recalled Scar’s words about working together on their garden and making it into their own tradition. Somehow, Grian didn’t think he would mind that.

“Fine, you win,” Grian said with a sigh, shaking his head in fake mourning. Then, in a quick, sudden motion, he suddenly grabbed his own handful of dirt. It was sticky and cold in his hand, squishing between his fingers, but he didn’t let it bother him. “But I’m not letting you get away with this!”

Before Scar could react, Grian tossed the dirt at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Scar gasped in surprise, his sweet expression vanishing as he looked down at himself quickly, mouth parted as he was startled.

Then he grinned widely, reaching for his own handful of dirt. In just a few seconds the two of them were engaged in a full-blown dirt and sand fight, laughing and shouting as they threw mud at each other.

They were making a mess out of their garden, and Grian was sure he would regret it later when it was time to clean it all up and mourn the crops they had trampled in their haste to win their mock battle, but at that moment Grian couldn’t do anything but continue grinning.

Grian won, pinning Scar down below him. The man might be taller and thicker with muscle in comparison to Grian’s short height and more slender body, but his wings gave him a weight advantage that Grian used as well as he could.

They were still shaking with laughter as Grian perched on Scar’s chest like a bird, his wings flapping and showering Scar with mud and sand, who cried out in mock fury and did his best to guard his eyes and mouth.

Without thinking, Grian leaned down and pressed their foreheads together. Scar’s laughter settled down as he lowered his hands to stare up at Grian, their faces much too close, breath warm on each other's skin.

“Hello there,” Scar greeted, voice soft.

Closer, an internal voice insisted that Grian staunchly ignored, smiling back at Scar almost bashfully instead. “Hi. I guess we should get cleaned up now, huh.”

“I suppose so,” Scar agreed. 

Bdubs arrived a few days after their impromptu mud fight, with nothing but kind words for their home and a smile on his face. He was every bit the perfect guest, offering to help with their garden and even their cacti defenses for the few days he would be staying with them before making the trip back to Cleo.

Grian refused his help before Scar had a chance to reply.

“Are you sure?” Bdubs questioned, almost skipping around the interior of their home and peering at small details of their decoration. The man was running his fingers over the wood of their kitchen counters, tapping his nails on the surface and poking at the engravings Scar had added on the edges a few days ago when he was bored. “I don’t mind helping! You’ve welcomed me into your home so kindly!”

“You say that as though you aren’t here for our resources,” Grian replied dryly, his gaze focused on where Bdubs was touching the counter. There was an odd itch down his back, his fingers twitching with the urge to step forward and yank Bdubs away.

This was their home. It was the only place Grian felt somewhat safe and comfortable, and even then he had never been able to fully shake off his worries. Bdubs being inside felt like an invasion, taking away one of the only places Grian had.

“Here for your resources! Grian, you don’t sound like you’re that happy with this deal,” Bdubs questioned, spinning away from the counter to step closer to Grian, blinking up at him with a curious expression.

Luckily, Scar cleared his throat and stepped between them before Grian could cause any more damage. “G is just a bit anxious about some personal matters at the moment, Bdubs! We shouldn’t pry, we’re far better than that,” Scar announced. “We’ll be happy to give you the promised items and house you for a few days.”

“Speaking of those promised items, should we go over what you’ll be giving us?”

“Of course!”

Grian stepped away as Scar and Bdubs spoke, working to try and make their side of the deal as profitable as possible. He didn’t leave the room of course, unwilling to leave Scar alone with Bdubs, but he went to stand by the door and opened it a crack to let the light breeze into their home, relaxing a little as it rustled through his hair and wings.

He trusted Scar to get them whatever deal he thought was best. His partner knew what he was doing.

Of course, Grian was right to trust him, since Scar approached him sometime later with a grin and a triumphant expression. “I think that went well,” he said under his breath to Grian. Bdubs was busy with his communicator, likely informing Cleo about the results of the deal himself. “They’re taking two stacks of sand, half a stack of cacti, a quarter stack of rabbit, and half a stack of bread. Bdubs is staying for two days.”

All resources they easily had at hand and could afford to lose, but Grian still grimaced a bit at how much there was. Scar’s expression suddenly changed, stuttering for a moment. “What’s wrong?” Grian questioned, catching the change.

“I should be asking that,” Scar countered. He still looked confident, but it was wrong now; an odd-fitting mask. There was too much tension around his eyes, and his voice sounded just a little bit off for the confidence to be real. “Is the deal not to your liking?”

Ah. Scar had noticed Grian grimacing, of course. “It’s not that,” Grian said hurriedly. “I knew they would be asking for a lot since this is to solidify our alliance. You didn’t give them any iron or diamonds, which would have been the worst-case scenario, I’m just…”

“Still unsure about this alliance in general,” Scar finished, and Grian nodded.

“It’s fine,” Grian insisted, “though we will have to sleep separately while Bdubs is here, of course.”

“Why?” Scar seemed honestly puzzled, and Grian sighed softly. He didn’t want to sleep apart from Scar. Sleeping apart from Scar meant there wouldn’t be much sleeping actually involved in the process. Grian wasn’t looking forward to laying there, awake, listening for any suspicious sounds and jumping at any and all nighttime noise. He wasn’t looking forward to the rush of memories that filled his head when he was alone, of blood and war and loss and screaming and wishing.

“We shouldn’t expose our…” Grian trailed off. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what word he should use. There had never been a need for words before, not when it came to their relationship - they had always just known, but now Scar didn’t. Not fully. “... our friendship to others. They could use us against each other.”

“Everyone knows we’re partners.”

“There’s a difference,” Grian promised, thinking of Impulse and Bdubs and a sword that made his skin erupt into flame. “Partners work together because it’s safer or easier, but we… care about each other.”

“Of course we do,” Scar agreed before any paranoia could force its way into Grian’s thoughts. They had never said it out loud like that before. “Well, if that’s what you need to feel safe, of course we can sleep apart. Then you won’t be there to steal all the blankets!”

“And I won’t have to deal with you kicking me all night,” Grian shot back, fully aware he’d be fine with Scar kicking hard enough to bruise if it meant he could hold onto him.

Bdubs’ visit ended up being harder on Grian than he thought it would be.

He knew it would be bad, there was no way to get around that. However, he had convinced himself that it was only for two days, and Grian would be able to manage just fine throughout that time.

What actually happened was an overwhelming mixture of constant paranoia and nausea-inducing anxiety, combined with a lack of sleep after the first night, and the sensations that washed over him every time he had to watch Scar and Bdubs actually get along with one another.

They got along with each other well; too well, even. After laying awake for an entire night, Grian had been forced to watch them work together to make breakfast as the sun rose over the desert, joking and laughing the entire time. Then, Bdubs had asked for a tour around their lands, and Grian had been forced to trail behind them as they continued chatting about every topic under the sun.

He did his best to put on a happy expression and participate in the conversations. He seemed to do well enough that Bdubs didn’t feel the need to make any more snarky comments, but Scar kept casting him odd looks whenever Bdubs wasn’t paying attention.

It was normally so easy to read Scar’s expressions, but now, with exhaustion clouding his mind, Grian had no idea what his partner was trying to communicate to him. Was he annoyed with Grian’s stubbornness when it came to this alliance? Was he worried about Grian? Was he trying to ask something?

Grian had no idea, and he was too busy watching for any signs of betrayal from Bdubs to properly focus.

On the second night of Bdubs’ visit, Grian started to feel claustrophobic inside their base.

Every time he closed his eyes he thought of how Bdubs could pin Grian down or corner him inside the walls of his own home, and it made his skin prickle and his wings twitch.

He wanted so badly to go to Scar and lay down with him once more, and let his partner settle him down with a good preening session. Grian could sneak a hand over Scar’s chest to feel his heart beat strong, or stare at the green of Scar’s eyes and assure himself that they were fine, and Scar was alive.

At the same time, he wanted to get far away from Bdubs and the walls that trapped him and closed around him. Grian wanted to go down to the base of the mountain and let the cool night air shift through his feathers. He wanted to go to the edge of the mountain and jump, let his wings carry him into the sky, even though he knew the idea was nothing but fantasy.

He couldn’t do either. Grian had been the one to insist they slept apart, and leaving meant Scar and Bdubs would be alone in the house with only each other.

After agonizing over the decision for what must have been at least an hour or longer, Grian couldn’t handle it anymore, shoving his nest of blankets away from him and getting to his feet. He slipped out of his room silently, messy feathers folded against his back.

He lingered in the hallway for a long moment, gaze flickering between where Scar was rolling over in his room, and where Bdubs was snoring in the kitchen. He moved after a long, tense moment. It took him a few seconds to cross to Scar’s room, sliding down silently to sit on the floor and watch Scar as he slept.

He wanted to get closer. He wanted to run. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to go to where Bdubs slept on the floor of their kitchen and shove a sword through his heart in order to watch the way the blood would spread across their floor.

Instead, Grian remained in place and didn’t move for the rest of the night.

Bdubs left around lunch the next day, and the relief that washed through Grian made him sway with its force. He waited long enough to watch Bdubs vanish into the trees lining the Sand Lands, half-listening to Scar rambling next to him. “- think it went really well, Bdubs seemed happy, at least! He’s a really funny guy, but he’s a bit self-conscious about his height, it’s fun to tease him about it. I think we could be good friends - Grian? Where are we going?”

Once Grian was sure Bdubs wasn’t suddenly going to turn around and start walking back, he grabbed Scar’s wrist and started dragging him back into their base, the taller man stumbling behind him. His tone was bemused but unbothered.

“Don’t you want to get started on chores?” he questioned, curious, as Grian pulled him through the kitchen. “We’ve been neglecting them during the visit.”

“No,” Grian grumbled, twisting to push Scar into Grian’s room and towards his nest. He stuck out a foot as Scar stumbled forwards, making Scar trip into the mess of blankets.

Scar yelped, startled. “Wha - G! Hey! You - oof!”

Grian flopped down onto Scar’s chest without any decor. Scar jolted beneath him, startled as the air was punched out of his lungs. After a moment of awkward flailing from Scar to allow them both to lay more comfortably, Scar slowly lowered his hands around Grian. One hand ran down his wing, straightening the feathers absentmindedly. “Grian?” Scar questioned, as Grian stayed quiet.

Scar was warm, and Grian’s ear was pressed right against his chest, allowing him to hear the thump of Scar’s heart. His hands were gentle in Grian’s messy wings, and Grian slowly melted, his eyes fluttering shut. The pull of exhaustion tugged at him, and he pushed his wing hard into Scar’s hand, hopeful.

“You owe me a nap,” Grian stated, and Scar’s body shook with a gentle laugh under him.

Understanding his message, Scar began to preen Grian’s wings, as gently as always. “You seem stressed,” he teased. “Maybe I should invite over some guests, mhn? Surely a social visit will cheer you up.”

“Don’t you dare,” Grian hissed, and Scar laughed again, a bit harder this time. Grian gently smacked his partner's chest with the palm of his hand, huffing out an unamused breath. “That was a mess. Bdubs must think I’m awful.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Scar protested. “You were able to hold up a decent conversation with him, and he doesn’t know you as well as I do. He wouldn’t have noticed how much you didn’t want him around. Don’t worry about it right now. Just get some rest.”

“I’m going to sleep for a hundred years,” Grian stated, already drifting off. It would be impossible not to; Grian was so tired, and Scar was right there, holding him.

“As long as you need,” Scar hummed.

Grian kept in contact with Scott and Jimmy through daily messaging, working to strengthen their alliance that way, since it was clear having people over wasn’t a good choice for him. Outside of those slowly developing relationships, he mainly went back to spending all his time with Scar.

The server was unnaturally quiet. It felt as though something big was just around the corner.

Though part of him was agonizing over it and constantly waiting for something, somewhere, to go up in flames, the rest of him was focused entirely on Scar and enjoying his time with his partner.

At some point, they had passed another threshold in their relationship, and Grian had hardly noticed. He was so used to touching Scar without thought, that he hadn’t hesitated before collapsing onto his chest while sleep deprived. It had taken him an entire day to suddenly realize how odd and sudden that must have been, and Grian had registered the fact that Scar had been fine with it.

It wasn’t the first time either. Scar had been fine with them sleeping together almost right away, he loved getting close to Grian so that he could touch his wings, he hadn’t protested when Grian had perched on his chest after the mud fight and pressed their foreheads together, and now -

Well.

If they had reached a point in which Scar was fine with Grian’s touch, Grian wanted to test out its full limitations and take advantage of anything he could get.

(If there had been a limit in the original timeline, Grian hadn’t found it).

He started early one morning when the two of them were walking down Monopoly Mountain toward their creeper farm. Grian had finally finished constructing it, and they were going to see if it had worked or not. As Scar almost tripped over some of the rough terrains of the mountain, Grian reached out and grabbed Scar’s hand.

It wasn't the first time they had held hands. Scar grabbed Grian's hand and walked back to their base like that after Grian had confronted him and Etho. Similarly, Grian grabbed Scar's hand after Etho revealed that he had already tamed the cat in the village, in order to drag Scar off and start planning their revenge.

Those moments had been instinctive, small, but important fractures in time that made the gesture feel natural.

This was different. Grian didn’t have to feel Scar’s fingers between his in order to keep himself steady, he just wanted to.

Scar cut himself off in the middle of his complaint about how he could make the mountain so much safer and better looking if he had the time and resources, turning to stare at Grian in surprise. His partner looked down at their clasped together hands for a moment, before smiling cheerfully and going back to his complaints without a comment.

Grian couldn’t prevent the hopeless smile that rose onto his mouth at that, a light, almost elated warmth seeping into his chest.

Focusing on the warmth of their palms together and the pressure of Scar’s grip, Grian knew he would happily get back into this particular habit.

Grian continued pushing the limits a few days later.

They were cooking dinner together, another aspect of their lives that had easily slipped into a routine. Grian was peeling and cutting potatoes, while Scar pouted over some cuts of beef and tried to find some way for them to taste a little bit more interesting and a little bit less like the same food they had been eating for weeks on end.

Grian couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the sight as he watched Scar from the corner of his eye, delighting in the way Scar immediately whipped around to scowl at him and raise his knife like a threat.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Why are you pouting at the food?” Grian retorted, as though he didn’t already know why. Even after all this time in the new timeline, Grian still felt happy whenever he got to watch Scar cook. It was a unique sight he never had in the original timeline; it was proof that Grian had made a positive change in Scar’s life.

“I’m tired of steak,” Scar whined, predictably. “There are so many types of meat out there, G! Pork, chicken, mutton -”

“We have rabbit too,” Grian helpfully suggested.

“I’m tired of rabbit,” Scar grumbled.

“Well, I’m sorry I can’t provide you the food necessary for your high standards,” Grian responded dryly. “Next time we’re trapped in a death game without any memories of the how or why, I’ll make sure to come prepared with spices and a recipe book.”

He abandoned his own task, setting down his knife and wiping off his hands before approaching Scar. Scar placed down his own knife as Grian approached, clearly not willing to actually hurt Grian with it.

They had hugged before, too. It had been a brief moment when Grian had given Scar the diamond armor he had hidden away and prepared far in advance. Scar had stepped close and hugged Grian, leaving him dazed as Scar had squeezed for a long, lingering moment before moving away.

Now, it was Grian’s turn. Not allowing himself to hesitate, Grian squished himself into Scar’s side, wrapping his arms loosely around the other man. One of his wings joined the hug, wrapping around Scar as well, the feathers fluffing up mildly.

Scar was tense for a horrible moment before he abruptly relaxed in Grian’s embrace and wrapped his arms around the avian in turn, leaning closer. “I don’t actually mind, G,” he said hesitantly.

“I know,” Grian responded into Scar’s side. He was surrounded by his partner, warm and comfortable. He wanted to burrow himself closer, under Scar’s skin if it were possible, and remain there forevermore. “You’re not wrong though. I’m getting tired of it too. We could take a day trip, and gather some fish?”

“That sounds good,” Scar agreed. He hadn’t even paused to think about it, even though Grian knew he didn't like fish that much. He must be really, really tired of steak. Grian wished he could offer Scar one of his other preferred choices, but there would be no way to get them. One of Scar's hands were moving over Grian’s back lightly, right between his wings, drawing small circles there.

Grian sighed, pressing his face harder into Scar’s side.

They stood like that in silence for a while. Grian could hear Scar’s steady heartbeat, and feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other, both of them feeling a little bit lighter. They returned to their cooking, the easy silence between them a comfortable one.

Then, Grian began to get a little bit closer each night.

It was a bit hard to increase their closeness in that setting. They already started off each night with a preening session, which turned Grian into putty in Scar’s hands. Scar had perfected the art of preening Grian’s wings by now and was more than willing to run his hands through the feathers with confidence, practically petting Grian’s wings.

It would be flustering, but Grian had slowly grown used to it.

Once Scar was done with Grian’s wings, they would lie down next to each other. Grian would normally be half-asleep at this point, leaving Scar to laugh and tease him, making a few comments about how his day had been as he tucked the blankets close around them and settled down with his own sleepy yawn.

Then, they would fall asleep with their sides pressed together. They normally woke up a bit tangled together, but neither of them had ever made it awkward. Instead, they had always just untangled any limbs and then gone about their day.

Now, Grian had been increasing the hand-holding and random hugs until Scar had become used to both actions and decided that he wanted the tangling of limbs to become normal for them too.

It was odd. In the original timeline, Grian and Scar had slept close and ended up tangled together in a similar way. Neither of them had ever said anything, and in the later months, they had laid together like that in the morning occasionally. Soaking in the togetherness that they knew they could lose at any moment, with one well-timed TNT or arrow that struck true.

Grian had never tried to push that further. He had never tried to get closer to Scar before they fell asleep. He knew that Scar wouldn’t have minded, would have been happy, even, but the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He had missed his chance, then he had lost Scar, and Grian wouldn’t repeat the same mistake again.

Now, Grian waited until they were pressed side by side and Scar was yawning sleepily before he turned towards Scar and flung one wing and arm over the man to nudge a bit closer. Scar’s flinched a bit at the sudden touch, going still, and Grian closed his eyes tightly as though Scar would push him away at any moment.

But Scar didn't push him away. In fact, he shifted slightly closer, his own arm coming up to wrap around Grian's waist. It was a small gesture, but it was enough for Grian to relax, that elated warmth he always felt around Scar returning to him.

For a few moments, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets as they adjusted to their new position. Grian's heart was pounding in his chest, but he tried to stay calm and not ruin the moment.

He didn’t know how long it took him to fall asleep. He only remembered waking up in Scar’s arms, not knowing where either of them ended or where the other began, and thinking that was the way it should be.

The night after, Scar was the one to drag Grian into his chest as the little spoon, and Grian laughed softly into the darkness of the room.

It was easier in the dark. When the daylight lit up the room once more, warming their skin and revealing the truth, they would be apart. These moments could remain where they belonged - silent and secret between them, safe where they resided in the shadows.

Grian had tested their limits, had pushed and pulled and twisted them into a configuration in which he could live happily. The results of his attempts to get closer to Scar had been met with acceptance and reciprocation every step of the way, but -

There was a small voice whispering in the back of his head, pushing him on, that whispered, how far can this go? How far will he let us go before he says something?

Where is the limit?

What would cause him to scoff and stare with disbelief, pushing away with awkward hands and fumbling words?

They sat together on the edge of Monopoly Mountain to eat breakfast, passing bread back and forth. It was a newer batch, warm on their hands from the sun of the morning, still soft on their tongues. There was nothing for Scar to complain about, even as the man kicked his feet and hummed cheerfully.

Grian looked down below, to the faraway ground, and let his wings stretch out and flap as he looked at the place where he had lost his final life. Scar glanced over at the movement as Grian refolded his wings to his back with a soft sigh.

“Diamond for your thoughts?” Scar questioned, his legs pausing in their sway. His attention had focused on Grian so quickly, his expression open. Grian looked a bit closer and saw only honesty. Scar knew using his masks against Grian was a pointless endeavor by now.

Grian felt anxious, watching Scar. The sun was bright behind him, scattering golden light over his hair and cheekbones, making his green eyes shine with warm tones. He looked beautiful; untouchable.

Touch, Grian’s mind whispered.

Grian swallowed, his throat dry. He silently leaned over, allowing their sides to press up against one another, their legs touching. Scar allowed the movement without comment, not so much as blinking an eye. Grian supposed his sudden clinginess these past few weeks had desensitized the man. That was good; that had been Grian’s intention.

Scar offered the bread back to Grian, but Grian waved the offer away.

“I think,” Grian said slowly, tasting the words on his tongue, “that I’m happy. At the same time… I know this won’t last. Even during the most perfect moments, I still feel…”

Tense. Paranoid. He still looks for Scar, like his partner would vanish the second he looked away. He still woke up from nightmares, still flinched away from the red glare of the sun when it looked a bit too much like blood.

Scar hummed, his body vibrating next to Grian.

With a soft sigh, Grian shifted his weight. He turned, nearly smacking Scar with his wing, before falling backward into Scar’s lap. Scar’s arms moved out to catch him, supporting Grian’s weight and lowering him down more comfortably.

The end result wasn’t entirely comfortable. Grian was mostly lying in Scar’s lap, staring up into his green eyes, his lower back against the man’s legs and his head supported by Scar’s grasp. Scar stared down at him, and Grian searched his expression desperately.

Acceptance was all he found. Scar was accepting him how he was, accepting him the way he came, already broken and scarred and ripped apart from battles and worlds Scar no longer remembered.

Grian’s position wasn’t comfortable, but he was with Scar, in his arms, and it was the most comfortable he had ever been.

“I want,” Grian continued, “to enjoy this while it lasts.”

“Then enjoy it.” Scar’s expression sharpened as he looked Grian over, coming to whatever conclusions he could draw from Grian’s actions. It was undoubtedly incorrect, and it ached that Scar could never understand him. Not fully. Not anymore. “You can take whatever you want, G.”

Ah. Grian smiled. “That’s a rather large offer, Mr. GoodTimes,” he teased, his wings flexing and shifting in the sand.

And I might just take you up on it.

Chapter Text

Grian smirked at Scar from across their dining room table, taking in his partner’s state with something that felt like a mixture of pride and amusement. Scar was leaning against the table on his elbows, leaning as close to Grian as he could without falling off his chair. He was grinning widely, his eyes wide and bright, his fingers twitching with barely constrained energy.

“G,” he whined, complaining when Grian had yet to continue speaking, “you need to elaborate, c’mon! You can’t just go all evil mastermind and say you have a plan and then go quiet -”

“Evil mastermind?” Grian interrupted, laughing slightly. He let his shoulders relax, his wings shifting behind him. His chair in the dining room was cut with his wings in mind, making space for the large appendages, which allowed Grian to stretch them lazily.

“Yes! This is a plan of vengeance!” Scar pumped one fist in the air, almost overbalancing and toppling his chair over. He hurried to righten himself as Grian covered his mouth to hide his smile at the sight. Scar didn’t let Grian’s amusement deter him and continued. “You said it in such an evil way too - all ‘take Etho down,’ you make it sound like we’re going to kill him.”

They were green lives, so that shouldn’t technically be on the table.

(Even if it really, really was. Grian had killed while green before, for Scar, and he’d do it again in a heartbeat).

“No killing,” Grian said instead, letting his wings lazily flex again. He was enjoying how riled up Scar was becoming as Grian drew this out. “Just a little bit of… this!” With a dramatic flair, Grian reached into his inventory and pulled out a flint and steel. A single flick of his wrist let it fall onto the table with a clatter.

It barely had time to hit the wood before Scar was yanking it towards himself, his smile becoming impossibly wider. “Oooh, fire!” he cheered.

“I feel like it’s poetic justice.” Grian finally abandoned his relaxed posture to lean forwards, planting his chin on the back of his hands. “We started this all when you burned Etho’s tree, right?”

“Well, I started it. We weren’t partners yet, you don’t have to share that blame.”

“We’re partners now, any of your past actions are my own burden,” Grian dismissed Scar’s words. Besides, Scar was wrong; they had been partners, back then, Scar just hadn’t known it yet. “What do you think? I heard a little rumor that Etho’s fortress is made out of wool.”

“Who would make a fortress out of wool in a death game?” Scar wondered. Grian could only shrug in response, he’d wondered the same thing himself over and over again. “Let’s burn it down! I knew you would come up with a good plan.”

It wasn’t like burning Etho’s base would do too much damage, but it would be enough to severely weaken him and destroy a good chunk of his resources. Grian would take the opportunity to do so while he could. If Etho was weak, Ren may be less inclined to team up with him. One of the main goals of making Etho their enemy had been to try and disrupt the friendship between Etho and Ren, which would ultimately weaken both of them.

There was no real downside. Etho may be pissed, but he was green and couldn’t do much to retaliate - besides, Grian knew Etho would get used to his base being attacked before long when the wool fortress became far too tempting of a target.

“We need to be careful,” Grian said, simply, even as he internally preened at Scar’s admiring words. His wings shifted, fluffing up a bit behind him, reacting to his pride.

“When am I not careful,” Scar argued, as though Grian couldn’t name multiple times Scar had been reckless off the top of his head. Grian settled with just giving him a look, raising his eyebrows, and tilting his head, which made Scar pout slightly.

Scar eased back in his chair, tossing the flint and steel back and forth between his hands. His smile shifted and changed, less happy and teasing, and becoming darker and nearly bloodthirsty. Grian blinked away the image of red eyes and burn scars, far too used to the overlay of realities. “When are we going?” Scar questioned.

“As soon as possible. In the morning? We’ve been at Monopoly Mountain for a month, it can maintain itself while we take a trip.”

Scar nodded. “I’ll spend some time with Pizza then,” he declared, the flint and steel vanishing back into his inventory as he stood. His chair scraped against their floor as he moved. “You should come too! You don’t get to spend time with Pizza very often.”

Grian hesitated. Pizza had always been Scar’s pet more than his own, but Grian had been attached still when Pizza had been shot down and killed. Therefore, keeping his distance and trying not to become attached was the better way to proceed, but at the same time, Grian was incapable of turning down time spent with Scar, keeping Scar in his sight for moments longer. “Sure,” he agreed as Scar continued to stare, expectant.

Scar’s smile was worth it as he spun around the table and grabbed Grian’s hands to yank him up from his chair. Grian stumbled at the sudden rough motion with a noise of startled protest, his wings flapping behind him to help keep himself steady as Scar led him towards the blocks that hid the entrance to Pizza’s underground habitat.

Scar let go of him to break the blocks, and Grian paid attention to how the area Scar had gripped him burned with the lingering heat of Scar’s grip.

“After you,” Scar offered, moving out of the way with a dramatic flourish. Grian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his partner, which only made Scar smile harder as Grian jumped down the now visible hole in their floor. He fell for a heart-stopping moment before landing in the water with a splash, quickly moving to climb out of the small pool before Scar could fall on him.

As he worked to squeeze some of the cool water from his pants, Pizza wandered over he had been resting in the corner of the room to press his face into Grian’s shoulder. “Demanding,” Grian commented under his breath, even as he obediently raised his hand to pat Pizza’s nose and then start gently itching back behind his ear. The wet material on his legs was annoying, but he gave us his attempts to fix it.

A few seconds later there was a second splash as Scar joined him in Pizza’s home. Of course, Pizza immediately abandoned him to hurry into the water and bother Scar for attention and treats instead, leaving Grian to stare at the pair with burning amusement and fondness swirling in his chest. “Traitor,” he called out, making Scar’s laughter fill the space.

Scar looked so happy, standing there. His pants were soaked, and Pizza’s weight nearly made him fall over once more, but even as he struggled to stay upright, his smile and the light in his eyes didn’t falter.

It was all the proof Grian needed, to know, that Scar would be okay once he was gone. That his plan was working.

And for now, Grian was there, and he would contentedly curl up next to Scar as Scar gushed over Pizza, nearly dozing as he pressed up close to his partner and kept him within sight and arms reach at all times.

As planned, Grian and Scar left early the next morning, setting off in the direction of Etho’s Wool Fortress. They had yet to visit the base in this timeline, yet Scar didn’t question Grian’s precision as he walked, knowing exactly where to go and where to turn in order to travel to the object of their desire.

Instead, his partner simply held his hand, humming softly as they moved onwards. They had long ago grown used to traveling with one another, falling into the routine of traveling during the day, stopping by a fire to rest and eat before night, and then taking turns sleeping throughout the darkness in order to keep watch for mobs or any other players trying to sneak up on them.

Despite the staleness of routine, Scar always kept things interesting, finding something new and interesting to talk about in order to captivate Grian’s attention. Somehow, Scar made traveling fun, even though walking for hours on end was never a very enjoyable experience.

During this trip, Scar ended up talking about building, a topic Grian always loved to talk about even though they didn’t have many chances to engage in building on Third Life. They had often spoken about building in the original timeline as well, passing the time with ideas of how they would expand their base or what they would build if they had enough time.

On the second night of their travels, as Scar and Grian settled down in front of the fire, Scar was meant to be trying to sleep. Instead, he kept talking every few minutes to continue expanding on his argument of how to build a good story using a build. “It’s all in the little details and movements,” Scar said sleepily, a yawn breaking halfway through his words.

“I’ve already agreed with you,” Grian replied. Maybe if he ignored Scar, Scar would stop talking and fall asleep, but Grian wasn’t capable. Not when they only had so much time together, not when Grian had made the mistake of not enjoying that time to its fullest once already. “The small details can bring a build together. It builds atmosphere.”

“Exactly,” Scar agreed, nonsensically repeating himself. “Like - if I were to build a vehicle, I would change the environment to give it all more cohesion.”

“How would you do that?”

“Well, I could use landscaping. If I had a big vehicle just sitting on top of, say, grass, that would be boring! I could use different blocks to create mud tracks instead, to show the vehicle had an effect on the environment. Otherwise, it would just look like it’s sitting on top of it.”

Grian hummed to show he was listening, nodding even though Scar wasn’t looking at him. Even as he continued speaking to his partner, he kept his gaze locked on the world around him, watching carefully for any signs of decaying flesh or gleaming bone. “That’s smart. What blocks would you use?”

That question was answered with a long silence. Scar seemed to be putting more thought into this answer. There were so many blocks that could be used, after all, and Scar would only be content with the most fitting ones. “Maybe…” Scar finally spoke, voice softer as sleep dragged heavier at him. “Maybe I could use… well, coarse dirt, dirt path, and soul sand, as well as some leaves, for sure! I could also use maybe some granite and stripped jungle log? I would have to workshop it.”

“Of course,” Grian agreed. “Any other details?”

“Trees. I want to make some custom trees.” Scar had spoken about making custom trees in the old timeline, too. Maybe Grian could convince him to give it a shot one of these days. If Scar built it far from the base and made sure not to become emotionally attached… but it was Scar. He always became attached. “If we’re talking about the vehicle, I could build some of the trees fallen over.”

“Why?”

“So that…” Scar’s voice was even softer, now. The warmth in Grian’s chest was nearly overwhelming, and he had to look away from the forest around them to gaze at his partner instead, laying next to him. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted, and there was the smallest furrow between his brows as he thought. “The vehicle - it had to get there somehow… and it… knocked the trees over…”

Grian hummed, unable to look anywhere else. Scar’s lips twisted into a small smile, his dreams certainly full of vehicles and trees and building muddy pathways. “What kind of vehicle would you build?” Grian pushed; his voice nearly a whisper.

There was a long pause, longer than the others, and for a moment Grian wondered if Scar had finally fallen asleep. Just as Grian was about to accept that, Scar spoke, his lips barely moving as he did so. “A wagon,” he decided.

I want to see that, Grian mourned.

The moon rose high above them, and Grian hummed lightly in his throat, deep in thought even as he continued to keep watch. Mentally, he worked to outline different plans to burn down the Wool Fortress and accomplish their goals, outlining careful backup plans in case anything went wrong. The better he planned, the better this would go.

It was almost time to switch places with Scar and try to get some rest himself. Still, Grian made sure not to let his own sleepiness or distraction get the better of him, looking up at every quiet nighttime noise, every time there was an odd prickle up his wings.

In the end, Grian was lucky he had paid close attention to his instincts. As some odd part of his brain pinged him in warning, Grian was quick to look up just as two skeletons stepped shakily into their small clearing, bows clenched in skeletal hands. Their empty eyesockets seemed even darker in the night, their bones grinding together with an eerie noise as they moved closer. One of their jaws moved, opening and closing, as though trying to speak; even though the mobs were incapable of such a thing.

Alarm licked up Grian’s chest like a flame as he snatched a sword into his grip and threw himself over Scar.

It was just in time. As Grian covered Scar with his own body, his wings sweeping down to hide his partner below, one of the skeletons drew back its bowstring and released an arrow. Luckily it hit Grian’s shield with a dull thump, and Grian held still as the second skeleton drew back their bowstring as well. He only lowered his shield at the second thump, tightening his grip on his sword.

His heart was racing. Grian was breathing heavily, something sick twisting in his chest at the thought of those arrows striking flesh instead, striking Scar’s flesh. The worry quickly became twisted up with something darker, more aligned with anger as Grian grit his teeth and rose to his feet.

“Grian?” Scar questioned, who had woken up as Grian had thrown himself over him. His partner rose as Grian did, his own sword summoned to his hand, even as he used his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes, struggling to become alert.

“Stay down,” Grian warned, his wings drawing in close to his body as he stepped quickly around the fire. One of the skeletons turned with Grian’s movement, but the second one - the one further away - stayed turned towards Scar.

So, of course, Grian targeted the second skeleton first. The first skeleton released another arrow. Grian didn’t bother raising his shield this time - he just moved to the side as he moved forwards quickly, letting the arrow miss him by a hands width.

The second skeleton was raising its own bow again, and Grian’s heart was pounding in his chest, realities blurring together in a dizzying manner. Before it could release its grip, Grian was next to it, raising his sword and bringing it down hard over the skeleton’s arm, forcing it to lose its grip. The arrow was released, but the bow had been forced down, and the arrow struck the dirt instead.

“G!” Scar cried in warning, just as Grian realized leaving a skeleton at his back might not end well for him. Grian started to turn and raise his shield, his heart in his throat, already knowing it would be too late. His armor should protect him from most of the damage at least - this wouldn’t kill him, though it would hurt.

The arrow never reached him. Grian turned to the sight of Scar jumping forwards, his own sword coming down in a blow that was only a little clumsy. It collided with the skeleton’s shoulder, cracking the bone and chipping off some of the substance with a horrible cracking sound. “Thanks,” Grian managed between one breath and the next, jumping forwards and bringing his own sword down on the first skeleton.

He struck true, his sword slicing through two of the skeleton’s ribs. As the hit collided, the skeleton staggered, and scattered into dust and glowing XP that automatically absorbed into Grian and Scar.

As the dust exploded, Grian turned around, raising his shield just in time to catch a third arrow from the second skeleton. It took two more hits from his sword before the second skeleton followed the fate of the first, exploding into dust and XP that Grian soaked up.

He was left breathing heavily, shakily, into the dark of the night. They were just mobs. It was hardly the first time they had to deal with some during their travels - but as always, seeing Scar in danger made something in him grow shaky and desperate, no matter where the danger came from.

Grian was left with the overwhelming urge to draw Scar in close and tight, holding him until he could breathe properly. He was struck with the realization that he could just do so, now.

“You okay?” Scar questioned from behind him, only a little breathless in comparison to Grian. Grian turned with reassurance on the tip of his tongue, and -

Green. A green creature with four stubby, stumbling legs, covered in green growth that hung off it but did nothing to hide its burning black eyes and hideous, horrifically stretched smile. There was a dull, warning hiss, and Grian -

He had seen this before. Scar watching him, so trusting, concerned and soft, with a threat right behind him that was there because of Grian. It was his fault.

- Grian moved.

He threw himself at Scar, grabbing the man and yanking him close, his sword and shield sinking back into his inventory as his brown wings rose around Scar like a shield made of feathers and flesh.

The creeper exploded, the smell of gunpowder and heat against his wings sudden and overwhelming. It was like standing too close to fire; then heat swiftly changed into pain, sharp and intense as it ran through his wings like lightning. Pain twisted into agony as it continued to build, white-hot and stabbing. The entire process had taken less than a second, yet it felt like so much more.

Grian wheezed, his wings shuddering as his knees started to give out, black spots dotting his vision. The last thing he knew was hands clutching at his body, a horrible gasp, and Scar’s voice demanding something loudly that Grian was too far away to hear.

When Grian woke, he was being held in arms he recognized, which was the only reason he didn’t snap back into consciousness violently and with a struggle. Instead, he allowed himself to relax in the darkness for a bit longer, slowly regaining his senses and trying to recall what had happened.

He was in Scar’s lap, Scar’s arms wrapped gently around him, the man's chest rising and falling under him. There was warmth on his skin from the sun, which meant it was no longer night like it had been the last time Grian had been awake.

His wings burned, aching somewhat terribly with pain, and Grian winced and forced his eyes open at the feeling. As he shifted, the arms around him tightened, and Scar moved. “G? Are you awake?”

“I’m up,” Grian replied, his voice dry and raspy. His entire mouth ached with an awful sense of thirst. Before he could voice any sort of request for water, Scar was pressing a wooden bowl full of the liquid to his mouth insistently, leaving Grian to gulp down the refreshment with relief.

Scar lowered the bowl when Grian was finished, setting it aside. Grian let his head tilt back in order to squint up at Scar, his partner looking down at him with a pinched, unhappy expression.

“How bad is it?” Grian questioned, his wings twitching. Even the small motion hurt, and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment at the sharp sensation. 

“Eat,” Scar said after a pause. “You need to get your hunger to full if you want to start healing.” There was something harsh in Scar’s voice, not entirely unfamiliar, but rare so far, in this timeline.

“Right.” Grian knew better than to argue. Scar offered him carrots next, and Grian tried to take them from him, but Scar pushed his hands away and held the carrot to his mouth with a stubborn expression. Though some part of Grian burned at sitting back and letting Scar feed him like this, he held back his complaints and dutifully took a few bites. He probably deserved this for worrying Scar as he had.

They were silent as Grian ate, keeping an eye out as his hunger ticked up, not pushing the food away until it was full. Immediately Grian gained half a heart back, though, with an injury like this, the rest would take longer as his wounds did their best to heal.

His wings were one of the worst places he could have been injured. The limbs were sensitive and entirely unprotected by Grian’s armor - his health was at less than a fourth, and Grian hadn’t even been hit with the full blast of the explosion.

“We need to talk about this,” Scar decided.

“Talk about what?”

“Your disregard for your life. The way you’re so willing to throw it aside to protect mine. You basically admitted it to me when Bdubs went to yellow, and that - it’s not okay, Grian.”

So they were going to have this talk, then. Grian tried to push himself up, out of Scar’s grip, but Scar only wrapped his arms around Grian tighter, and - maybe they should be facing one another for this conversation, but how could Grian deny Scar the act of holding him when Grian knew the temptation so intimately as well?

“We’re okay, Scar,” Grian tried first. “My wings will heal. Did you bandage them?”

“Yes, but that’s really not the point here and you know it! The creeper would have done much less damage to me -”

“In hard mode, creepers do twenty-seven hearts of damage even with full diamond armor,” Grian snapped.

“I have enchants.”

“Not enough!”

“Grian, that could have killed you! You could have gone down to yellow!”

“So what?” Scar’s grip was nearly painful at Grian’s shouted response. “So what! I’m going to go yellow eventually, Scar! If I go yellow protecting you, then that’s just the way it is.” It was the way it should be. “We’re partners, and I -”

Grian cut himself off. He closed his eyes, and took in a deep breath. Scar didn’t understand; Scar couldn’t understand.

“You what?”

“I care about you,” Grian said, voice nearly a whisper now. Those weren’t the right words; they weren’t enough.

“I care about you as well. How is that fair?”

You did the same, Grian wanted to scream. You told me to kill you, once. I did. You let me. “I can’t talk about this,” he said instead. This time, when he yanked himself out of Scar’s grasp, Scar let him. Grian was avoiding his gaze. He didn't want to make eye contact and see what awful expression Scar was making. “I don’t mean to upset you.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t value yourself,” Scar snapped. He sounded so distressed, and it was breaking Grian’s heart, it was tearing him up inside, but he had to do this. He had gone too far to go back now.

“I have to do this for you.”

“That’s not an answer. Do you really think I - if you lose a life because of me, how am I supposed to bear that?”

Grian couldn’t help it. He laughed. Their entire existence was about losing their lives to one another, over and over again - it was hilarious that Grian had managed to change the timeline so much that Scar couldn’t see the irony in his own words. Scar clearly didn’t appreciate Grian’s reaction. Grian finally managed to force himself to look at his partner, and Scar was staring at Grian with an intense expression, anger and concern and pain mixing like running paint.

A pang of guilt worked its way through Grian’s near-hysteria, and he sucked in a sharp, shaking breath. He should stop laughing anyways; the movement was causing more sparks of pain to work their way up and down his wings. “I’m sorry.” That was honest, at least. “The last thing I want to do is upset you. The last thing I want to do is leave you. I don’t want to die Scar, I just…” I need you to live.

“I don’t think I can make you see this from my point of view,” Scar realized.

“No,” Grian agreed, almost apologetic.

“Can you just…” Scar closed his eyes. Grian hated how much he was hurting Scar, and the next wave of guilt was stronger, a rock in his stomach. Somehow, the guilt burned worse than the actual burning of his wings. “Just promise me you’ll try to be careful.”

“I promise. I want to stay with you for as long as I can.” Grian reached out to brush his fingers against the side of Scar’s jaw, and Scar let him, leaning into the touch. “We’re both okay. We’re both green. I’ll heal - by the time we’re burning down the Wool Fortress, I’m sure I’ll at least be at half health again.”

He was hoping the mention of arson would cheer Scar up. Their travels had gone sideways, turning from the warm joy of Scar’s late-night ramblings to the scoring heat of explosions, but Grian was hanging onto the edge of their excitement with as tight a grip as he could manage. He needed it; he needed this.

Scar opened his eyes, and green eyes stared into green. “You better be,” he warned. “I’m going to make sure you stay at full hunger this entire time - and keep your shield out!”

“Okay, okay,” Grian rolled his eyes as though Scar were pestering him, even as he accepted the meat Scar shoved into his hands and the way Scar hovered far too close as they both got back to their feet.

Scar hovered much too close the rest of their journey, and some part of Grian marveled at the way their positions had changed. Normally Grian was the one clinging onto Scar’s hand, snarling at any mobs that managed to get too close, overprotective and possessive to a fault.

Now Scar was the one who held Grian tight enough to hurt, holding his sword in his hand at all moments of their journey. He was the first to draw Grian close at night to rebandage his wings and clean them as best as they could, fussing over Grian as though he would be the one to disappear any moment.

Every day, every hour, Scar crept closer and closer to the man Grian had known.

Grian loved it. Grian hated it.

They made it to the Wool Fortress.

It wasn’t as grand as it would be one day, but Grian took in the long woolen bridge leading to the main base, tracing the two tall towers at the front with a critical eye, and decided it would be enough. Scar lingered by the sheep pen outside the front, resting his elbows on the fence and watching the sheep as they grazed.

“We should kill all the sheep as well,” Scar suggested. “We’ll have a bunch of mutton, and it’ll make it much harder for Etho to rebuild!”

Grian smiled, turning his gaze away from the Fortress to look at Scar instead. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “Do you want to take the flint and steel while I do that?”

He knew Scar would be looking forward to the arson the most, and he was proven correct by Scar’s immediate smile and appreciative look. In a quick motion, the flint and steel appeared in Scar’s hand, and the man tossed it from one hand to the other a few times as he stepped away from the pen. “Oooh, do you think we should make a little fire and let it spread naturally, or go crazy?”

“It’s up to you,” Grian shrugged, pulling some dirt blocks into his hand. He placed one next to the fence so he could easily jump over, before replacing the blocks in his hand with his diamond sword instead. The sheep around him didn’t even move away, just continued to bleat. One of them pushed up against his leg for a moment, hopeful for food that wouldn’t come. Grian idly reached down with his free hand to give the animal some scratches under its neck.

Scar’s gaze was lingering on him, and Grian waved him off towards the Fortress. He didn’t really like separating, but they would be within shouting distance, and Etho clearly wasn’t home. If he were, he would have come out by now to stop them and ask what they were doing. Etho wasn’t the type to sit back when intruders moved into his space; he never had been.

With a lingering grin, Scar turned and started walking over the bridge. Grian watched his retreating back for a second, his wings shuffling on his back; a motion that Grian immediately stilled with a wince of pain from the lingering ache and burn of the creeper explosion.

“Right,” he sighed, turning back to the sheep. “Sorry about this.”

He made quick work of the pen. There was no need to make the animals suffer needlessly, so Grian sliced them deeply and quickly, killing them and allowing them to drop both wool and meat. The items collected in his inventory, though there was a slight lack due to the younger sheep that weren’t old enough to drop any resources yet.

By the end, the grass below was damp with blood, and his sword was slick with it. It only took around five minutes. Grian had tried to stop any blood from getting on him and had been mostly successful. He turned to place another dirt block and get out of the pen, focusing back on the wool fortress as he did so.

Flames glowed, twirling high in the sky and letting out plumes of smoke. The catastrophic blaze chewed and ate its way through the fortress without hesitance - it looked like Scar had settled with setting each of the towers on fire, as well as part of the bridge, but the fire was spreading quickly.

It was captivating. This was someone's home, a place they had built with their own hands, putting their time, sweat, and blood into it, and with such a simple action Scar and Grian could rip it all away. Grian remembered the pain of losing Monopoly Mountain. It had been agonizing, no matter how necessary it had been to get a vital upper hand. That pain was the same pain he was spreading through the server now, causing others to feel that painful, empty, gnawing feeling.

He knew he should feel bad, yet all he could bring himself to feel was satisfaction.

Scar was on the bridge again, hurrying back towards Grian with a grin on his face. His teeth were visible, and the smile almost looked akin to a snarl. Helplessly, Grian grinned back, his sword vanishing back into his inventory for the moment as he quickly moved forward to meet his partner partway.

“Scar,” Grian breathed, looking at the wreckage Scar was leaving in his wake, “you did great! Let’s get out of here before Etho gets back.”

He reached out to grab Scar’s hand. His fingers were warm from being so close to open flame, and trembling a bit in Grian’s own - from excitement, Grian figured. “Right,” Scar agreed, squeezing Grian’s hand tightly, “we don’t want to be caught with our pants down, so to speak! Good work with the sheep - you’re amazing!”

Grian chuckled. Killing a few sheep wasn’t exactly difficult, but he would accept the compliment either way. He started taking a few steps back off the bridge, Scar following along as they hurried away from the Fortress.

Etho burned to death.

Grian was frozen, staring down at his communicator in blank shock. Beside him, Scar was just as still, though he moved first to quickly turn and stare at Grian with wide eyes. When he spoke, his voice was slightly high-pitched. “Uh oh.”

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

Chapter Text

“Grian! Look!”

Grian looked up as soon as he heard the sound of Scar approaching, climbing back up the mountain. He had been trying to think of ideas on what they should do when Etho came looking for revenge, but the planning session wasn't really helping. All he could think of were frantic ideas and half-formed thoughts; they were just slowly making a headache build up in the center of his skull, and Grian rubbed a hand there tiredly.

He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, even with Scar by his side. For obvious reasons.

“What is it?” Scar’s voice hadn’t been alarmed when he called out, so Grian’s response was calm as he moved to the edge of Monopoly Mountain to peer over the edge. His wings - now fully healed, after a week of being back at their base - flexed behind him, making sure he kept his balance.

Below, he could see Scar scaling the last of the stairs, something clutched in his hand. Grian followed the lead up into the air, where a fat bee was, its small wings beating furiously as it flew lazily around Scar’s head.

“This is Mr. Bubbles,” Scar introduced the bee with a grin, stopping in front of Grian. Grian pushed himself up to his feet, idly brushing sand off his pants. It was a habit, no matter how useless attempts to rid himself of sand tended to be.

“You found a bee,” he responded, stating the obvious.

He remembered this bee. It had died when Pizza had, leaving nothing but a lead and a quietly broken-hearted look on Scar’s face. Grian’s hands twitched at his sides at the reminder, as he tore his gaze away from the insect to look at Scar instead.

Scar didn’t have that broken-hearted expression on his face now. He was still smiling brightly, his eyes lit up with his excitement and joy as he tugged the lead gently, causing the bee to calmly follow along. “I did, I had no idea there were any bee nests inside of the borders but one must be close by! Isn’t he adorable?”

As Grian watched, Scar took a flower out of his inventory. The bee was immediately attracted to the poppy, its buzzing growing louder. “Adorable,” Grian repeated, doing his best to summon some level of enthusiasm and failing. “Er. Sure, Scar.”

“Come on, G. I know we’re stressed from, uh, recent incidents, but Mr. Bubbles is the newest member of the Sand Lands and deserve a proper welcome!”

Stressed hardly covered it. It was bad enough they had accidentally killed Etho; the fact that Etho had managed to narrow down exactly who had set his base on fire days later only made the entire situation much worse. Etho was relentless. He wouldn’t let this go, it was no longer a burnt base, it was a loss of one of his lives.

Their allies had all gotten into contact with them to question their motives, and it was only Scar’s relentless charisma and smiles that had managed to calm them down and quiet their questions and concerns.

Grian checked his inventory for any flowers. He didn’t have any, so he settled for reaching out and awkwardly patting the bee. “I am welcoming him! I just - where did you even find him?”

“Down by the edge of the forest. I was checking on the cacti,” Scar explained, apparently happy now with Grian’s half-hearted attempt. “I’m going to bring him down to where Pizza is, and add a bunch of flowers down there to keep him healthy and happy.”

“You do that,” Grian sighed, stepping aside so Scar could get past. He didn’t miss the worried look Scar cast over his shoulder as he entered their base. He couldn’t blame him, Grian knew he’d been acting downtrodden at best the past few days, his paranoia cranked up higher than it had been since they built their base.

He had hardly been letting Scar out of his sight. The only reason Grian hadn’t been with him checking on the cacti was because he had taken the chance to think on their Etho issue.

They were doing the best they could - Grian had plans to strengthen their panic room, they had a plan to meet at Scott’s and Jimmy’s base if they became separated, and they started taking watch at night so one of them was awake at all times. They were checking on their defenses every day, and they were in constant communication with their allies.

They were doing all they could. Grian knew he should calm down and stop worrying his partner, but -

He couldn’t. Every moment sitting and relaxing made his hands and wings twitch and itch, and every second Scar wasn’t close by made nausea and worry flood his chest in a wave.

I should do something nice for him, Grian decided finally. To make up for… this. For me. But what should I do…?

Grian glanced back at their base. Scar had been in there for a few minutes now, and Grian hadn’t heard any sound. Could something have gone wrong? Grian could only hold himself still for a few more minutes before he groaned, running a hand down his face and hurrying to their base himself to throw open their door and head towards Pizza’s hiding spot.

The block was missing and he dropped down without hesitance.

The anxiety in his chest dissipated. There Scar was, laying some flowers down on the ground as he talked out loud to ‘Mr. Bubbles’ who he had tied up to a fence post. Pizza was nearby taking a nap, and Grian lingered to run a hand down his side as Scar paused mid-sentence to turn and blink at Grian.

“G!” Scar cheered after a moment, offering him a smile. “Did you come to help make this space Mr. Bubbles friendly? Here - you can help with the decorations.”

Scar tossed a few items to Grian, including flowers, some fence posts, and random building material. Grian wordlessly stepped forwards to pick them up in his own inventory, idly glancing through them and glancing around the room to plan how to assist his partner.

Scar went right back to chattering on about flowers and colors and whining about coral.

And slowly, a plan formed in Grian’s head.

The first night he tried to leave their base to enact his plan, Grian ended up on his knees in front of their door having an intense but silent panic attack at the thought of leaving Scar alone for a few hours.

He couldn’t breathe and was starting to get light-headed as he half-stumbled half-crawled back to their room, only able to slow his heart once he was curled up on Scar’s chest, his trembling fingers clutching Scar’s shirt.

Scar had stirred half-awake to wrap his arms tightly around Grian and make some soft, comforting noises under his breath.

As always, they pretended nothing had happened come morning.

Grian tried out a different tactic. Rather than leaving in the middle of the night, he left in the morning once Scar was already awake. It was an easy excuse to promise to collect some fish.

Of course, Scar had offered to go with him, an expectant look on his face as though he couldn’t dream of a world where Grian would say no. He almost hadn’t, still internally struggling at the thought of being away from Scar at all, but he finally forced out an excuse about needing Scar to stay at their base to feed the cows and work their garden and collect their gunpowder before practically fleeing out the door.

It was easier to leave knowing Scar was actually awake and could defend himself if he needed to. He would also be able to message Grian and tell him to come back; in the light of the day Grian could desperately remind himself that none of them were red yet, and no one would be willing to show up and just kill Scar anyways.

Maybe.

They shouldn’t.

Which didn’t mean they couldn’t.

Grian only had one small panic attack at the bottom of Monopoly Mountain, sat down on the last of the stairs, gasping with his head between his knees, which he was going to go ahead and count as a win.

Then he headed off towards the forest where Scar had been checking on the cacti the day he found his bee. If there was a bee, there had to be a bee nest. If there was a bee nest, Grian could use his shears to collect the honeycomb and craft a beehive for Mr. Bubbles. If he was really lucky, there would even be another bee.

It was a small thing, really, the act of keeping some bees in their basement; but Grian knew Scar. Bringing home a beehive and another bee would make his entire week, and it would just be another little piece of the life Grian was determined to build for Scar before the end.

Hopefully, Grian would be able to sneak the additions past Scar. He wanted to spend a few hours expanding and sprucing up the decoration in their basement to really make it look nice for Scar. It was the least he could do after acting so paranoid and stressed lately.

He just had to find the bee nest first.

Scar knew, logically, that he shouldn’t be so hurt and tense just because Grian had wanted to go and collect some fish without him. It wasn’t like Grian was leaving him out of something important; he was just going to find some more fish, and really, Scar was the one who complained about the lack of variety when it came to their food, so if anything he should be grateful.

Scar made a small mental note to stop complaining. It wasn’t worth Grian leaving, and he didn't even like fish very much.

Still, he scowled to himself as he finished feeding the cows, half-leaning over the fence to run his hand down the hide of one of their sides. He was just taking his time with the chores Grian had left him. He definitely wasn’t moping.

“Maybe he thought I would be distracting?” Scar wondered out loud. “He doesn’t normally seem to mind. Maybe he blames me for Etho’s death. I was the one who set the fires.”

But Grian had wanted him to set those fires. Afterward, he looked at Scar with an affectionate expression that made Scar feel dizzy. The sun had been gold and red behind Grian, and it had cast glowing light across his cheeks and hair and wings. There had been a moment there, on that bridge, where Scar almost wanted to kiss him, as the warmth in his chest froze him, and the cold air made his blood feel heated.

At the reminder, Scar’s cheeks flushed red and he yanked his hand away from the cow, who mooed in protest as he started pacing. “Don’t look at me like that!” he scolded the animal. “It’s perfectly normal to have a crush on your partner. It’s not my fault.”

Why was he explaining himself to a cow? Scar groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s not my fault,” he repeated, petulant. “I blame him! He had to go ahead and see through my masks and call me out on them, and then he had to act all funny and charming, and he’s a good builder and he always listens to me, and this server feels so cold sometimes and then he holds my hand or tries to get close to me, and…”

Scar closed his eyes. He wouldn’t take advantage of Grian. He had enough puzzle pieces to know Grian came from a history that had to have been painful, and he figured Grian’s need for touch was based off of touch starvation. It was likely why Grian was so paranoid, and it explained the way he grabbed Scar so hard that it almost hurt sometimes.

Scar didn’t blame him, not when he had done the same after Grian had protected him from that creeper and burnt his wings. He had understood, at that moment, the obsessive gleam that appeared in Grian’s eyes sometimes. In this cold world, where everyone would become enemies soon enough, all they really had were one another. The idea of losing that was paralyzing.

“Which is why I won’t let him sacrifice himself for me,” Scar made a quiet promise. He stopped pacing, sighing as he walked over the give the cows a bit more wheat.

He had already finished working their garden, harvesting, and planting. It had taken a few hours to complete, and then he had spent more time than he had to with the cows. All he had to do was collect the gunpowder, and then all the chores Grian had left for him would be finished at last.

“He’ll be back soon,” Scar reassured himself. “Etho can’t attack him right now, so he’s safe. There’s nothing to worry about!” Scar pulled a grin onto his face. It came easily to him as it always did, as he stuck the last of the wheat into his inventory and swiftly exited the hidden cow space. He was humming loudly to himself as he headed over towards their creeper farm, tapping his fingers against his leg.

If Grian did exclude him because he was upset about something, Scar would get to the bottom of it. Otherwise, he would just keep doing his best to support Grian and the home they had made for themselves in the Sand Lands.

Scar didn’t waste any more time as he collected the gunpowder from their farm. They always tried to collect it right away in order to avoid anyone else coming along and taking some from the collection chests, which meant making the walk over to the farm once or twice a day. It made it easy to fall into a routine as Scar tucked the gunpowder into his inventory and did a quick check of the farm to make sure it was still operating well.

With that, Scar headed back to their base, content with the harvested gunpowder. If nothing else, Grian should be happy with my work. Scar laughed at himself. He really couldn’t go more than ten minutes without thinking of Grian.

Soon, Scar was back in their base, opening the front door eagerly and looking around as though Grian were small enough to somehow hide in their small entrance. “G?” he called out loudly, pausing to futilely try to kick some of the sand off his boots. He gave up after a moment to wander deeper into their home, pitching his voice higher, “Grian, where are you?”

Scar was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t back yet, just as he heard the avian call out in reply. “Down here!” Grian’s voice rang out, and Scar quickly realized Grian was down below with Pizza and the newest Monopoly Mountain denizen, Mr. Bubbles.

Already smiling again, Scar hurried over to the block Pizza’s home was hidden under, rolling up his pants as he prepared to jump down into the space. “You are back!” he cheered, making the leap. He crouched as he landed in the water, wiggling his toes and delighting in the sensation of cool water soaking through to his skin. “How did the fishing go? You know, I was thinking, and I don’t think we need to worry so much about having different types of food. It might be riskier now to go out so far with -”

Scar felt a little bad pulling at Grian’s paranoia to try and get his point across, but not bad enough to stop if it prevented Grian from leaving Scar behind again. It felt a little (a lot) like manipulation, but manipulation was his forte, and Grian would understand. The real reason why he stopped talking was something entirely different; the area Scar had landed in had been transformed.

Scar’s mouth parted as he stared around in shock, nearly transfixed. “Oh,” he exhaled, a bit stupidly.

The area was almost twice as large as it had been the last time Scar had seen it. Grian had changed the boring rectangular room into a circular shape, and he had changed the sandstone walls and floors to instead look more natural, with stone, cobblestone, mossy cobble, dirt, and different types of wood now making up the palette. It all blended together artistically to create a scene that was pleasing to the eye. 

The water Scar had fallen in was no longer a small puddle. It had been expanded, and decorated with all types of full stone blocks and half-slabs, mixed with diorite and andesite. There was seaweed lazily floating around Scar’s feet, and lilypads decorating the surface, bobbing softly in the nearly still water.

Pizza looked happy as he explored a small garden Grian had planted, nosing at the decoration of small flowers and placed leaves Grian had added to make the area look alive. The green beginnings of fresh produce poked through newly churned dirt, the tiny sprouts reaching up to the warmth of the rest of the room.

Then, next to Grian - a beehive sat attached to the side of an awkwardly hunched-over custom tree, a small campfire burning under it to keep the bees calm. Bees, plural, because Grian had somehow found a second bee to join Mr. Bubbles.

“Do you like it?” Grian’s voice broke Scar out of his intense focus as he tried to pick out each and every small detail, and Scar quickly turned to look at the avian. Grian was covered in dirt and dust. He must have been rushing, trying to get everything together before Scar returned. The fact of that only made it all the more impressive that he had managed to put it all together; the timeframe had been so short.

“Oh, I love it,” Scar breathed out softly, knocked out of his frozen state. He moved to climb out of the pond, shaking the water off himself as he moved towards Grian. Grian watched him approach, a small smile on his face as Scar grabbed his arms and swiftly spun them in a circle. “This looks amazing!”

“Scar!” Grian yelled, stumbling with the sudden twirl. Scar knew he didn’t actually mind, as Grian was laughing at the same time, his wings flapping to help him keep his balance.

Scar stopped before they could get dizzy, laughing as well, his shoulders trembling. The smile on his face was no mask; Scar had stopped wearing masks around Grian ages ago. “Seriously, I love this. Look at all the little details - when did you even get lilypads? You even put a garden down here! What brought this on?”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

This had all been for him. Scar had no idea how he had lucked out to get Grian as a partner, and he doubted he’d ever understand this particular streak of good luck. He just knew he never wanted to let go; he never wanted to let Grian go.

‘A crush.’ Right.

As if Scar wasn’t falling more in love with Grian by the minute.

It started with a message in the public chat. Grian normally wouldn’t have even been checking it, but he was sitting on the counter watching Scar cook mutton, his communicator next to him as he idly swung his feet. The sight of it lighting up had caught his attention, and Grian had picked it up, only half-paying attention to the screen.

It quickly got his full attention, and Grian straightened from his slight slouch, wings bristling.

Scar’s attention snapped to him like a magpie that had spotted gold. “Grian?” he questioned, a soft demand.

Bdouble0100 blew up.

That was their ally, and yet, the only thought that ran through Grian’s mind was - there was  a red life on the server.

He must have made some sort of noise because Scar was moving the meat away from the heat to move closer to Grian instead. In a blink Scar was in front of him, a hand on either side of Grian, as green eyes stared intently into his own. “Breath,” Scar commanded, concerned, and Grian hadn’t even realized until then that he hadn’t been.

Breathing was like swallowing razor blades, but he did it anyways because Scar had asked him to. The pain was building in his head, and his vision was blurry, and Grian took a deep breath, and just breathed.

Fingers gently plucked the communicator from his hand, Scar turned the screen towards himself. His other hand moved to rest on Grian’s hip, squeezing hard in comfort. Grian latched onto the sensation as a drowning man latched onto water, using the heat of Scar’s hand over his shirt to keep himself from falling apart.

“Oh - oh no,” Scar exhaled, messing with Grian’s communicator as he sent his own messages in the chat. “How did - Etho.”

The consequences of their own actions. Bdubs hadn’t died in this manner in the first timeline - after all, Grian and Scar had been the ones to set him up to burn alive in the bubble elevator they had gifted him. “Why would he go after Bdubs?” Grian wondered, “why not us?”

“Why would he kill him?” Scar countered. “Etho’s yellow! He shouldn’t have killed him.”

Grian was breathing easier, though he knew he’d go right back to struggling if Scar stopped touching him. The smell of half-cooked meat, delicious a moment ago, made him want to throw up as anxiety swelled in his chest. “I don’t… what’s chat saying?” Scar was correct; Etho technically shouldn't have killed Bdubs, but accidents happened when things were taken too far. Grian and Scar should know that better than anyone.

“Not much. I’m messaging Cleo directly.”

It took Cleo a while to reply. After a bit, Scar wrapped his arms under Grian’s legs and lifted him up. The sudden motion had been enough to make Grian raise his voice at his partner in shock despite the circumstances, and Scar had even grinned at him as he carried Grian to their room. By the time Cleo messaged them back, they were half-buried in Grian’s nest, blankets pulled tight around them. Grian was half in Scar’s lap, wings smacking Scar in the face when he moved, and Scar’s arms held tight around Grian’s chest. They wouldn’t be returning to their dinner that night.

Scar still had Grian’s communicator, but Grian gently reached and took it from him when his partner stated Cleo had responded. Scar had always struggled a bit when it came to reading, and though Grian didn’t care if it took him an extra minute or a few tries, he was too wound up waiting for information at this particular moment.

ZombieCleo whispers to you: Scar, is that you?
ZombieCleo whispers to you: Etho attacked the Crastle
You whisper to ZombieCleo: grian now
You whisper to ZombieCleo: Why???
ZombieCleo whispers to you: Well Bdubs was showing off his piercing arrows
ZombieCleo whispers to you: and then he threatened Etho

Grian winced, pausing to read the messages out loud to Scar. “Bdubs is yellow,” he pointed out, “he has less self-control when it comes to stupidly showing off or threatening others…” And, unlike in the original timeline… “Etho also has less self-control when it comes to handling it,” Grian sighed.

Scar was frowning. One of his hands brushed against Grian’s wing, tugging out a loose feather absent-minded. “So it has nothing to do with us at all?”

Cleo was still messaging him.

ZombieCleo whispers to you: He sent a TNT flying machine at us. It was huge
ZombieCleo whispers to you: Bdubs got caught up in the blast. He’s red now
ZombieCleo whispers to you: He’s acting different

Grian closed his eyes for a moment to bite back against the panic that tried to rise anew in his chest. He turned off his communicator blindly, tossing it aside. There was nothing else Cleo would be able to tell him, and Grian couldn’t offer her the support she needed to handle a newly red teammate.

Grian was currently the best person on the server to lend that sort of support. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“It doesn’t look like it,” he said, opening his eyes again to focus on his own partner. Green eyes stared back at him as always, green, not red. “But… it’s Etho. He’s always planning long term.”

“If it were me, I would have come after us right away. I don’t know why he hasn’t,” Scar admitted.

Grian chuckled. His words were fond as he reached to tug playfully on Scar’s hair. “You always think short-term,” he teased. “Maybe it was a test run…? I have a bad feeling about this. There’s a red name on the server now. Bdubs is going to start trying to kill people, and everything is going to pick up speed.”

“Bdubs is on our side,” Scar tried to assure him. “If anyone was going to go red, I'd prefer it to be him!”

“Maybe,” Grian doubted.

“I think we should invite Cleo and Bdubs over.” At Grian’s aghast stare, Scar hurried to add, “just for lunch! We should lend them some supplies to make up for what they lost, and we can learn more about what happened. They won’t stay the night. I promise.”

“I don’t want you alone with them,” Grian warned.

“As long as you promise the same.”

Grian blinked, startled. That was unexpected, but he nodded slowly, having nothing to argue against the stipulation. He didn’t like the idea of Cleo and Bdubs visiting, even for only lunch; but Grian disliking this particular alliance was nothing new.

The lands of Third Life were going to start soaking up blood now. It had always been just a matter of time.

It didn’t end there.

Smallishbeans tried to swim in lava.

Grian closed his eyes and breathed without being told, wondering at the stupidity of his server members who played games with death like it meant nothing when they inevitably lost against her.

Cleo and Bdubs arrived at their base, Bdubs sheepishly grinning with sharp teeth and eyes that gleamed blood red. Cleo was relaxed as she guided him forward with a hand on his back, but there was a tension in her shoulders that Grian hadn’t seen yet in this timeline.

“Hey, guys!” Bdubs greeted loudly, bouncing slightly on the heels of his feet. “I heard you had supplies for me!”

“Just some food and iron armor,” Scar reminded at the red name, smiling. One of his hands was resting on Grian’s shoulder, and if Grian leaned into the touch, it was the business of no one else. “To make up for Etho’s dastardly attack! I can’t believe the Sand Lands considered him a friend at one point,” Scar scoffed.

“We’re thankful for any supplies you can offer,” Cleo sighed, running a hand down her face. Her hair shifted slightly in the sandy breeze, the orange strands fluttering and glowing under the light of the sun. Other than the tension, she looked tired too, dark bags standing out under her eyes as she tiredly blinked at her partner. Still, affection was clear in her gaze.

As Bdubs looked at her with a smile, the same affection was reflected back. “Some of our chests exploded in Ethos attack,” he explained, making a motion with his hands that was apparently meant to be an explosion. As Bdubs spoke, Scar moved forwards a few steps to place down a chest and start putting the items they were giving to Cleo and Bdubs inside of it. “That’s not the worst part though!”

“What else happened?” Scar questioned.

“Our poor Crastle!” Bdubs was bouncing on his heels again, his gestures growing larger as his voice raised once more. “The top half was blown off. Cleo and I have been working to repair it.”

“Which means I’ve been working to repair it because I don’t trust Bdubs up high anymore,” Cleo corrected.

Bdubs next words were practically a whine. “Cleo, I am perfectly capable of repairing our base! The incident with the phantom was a one-time thing.”

Grian snorted, aware he’d been silent for too long. He stepped forwards as well, feeling more comfortable directly next to Scar once again. “I wouldn’t trust him up high either,” he spoke, gesturing to Scar with a half-smile that felt horribly fake.

It seemed to be enough for Cleo, who chuckled, her shoulders shaking. “Scar’s been doing surprisingly well,” she defended Grian’s partner. Grian could only silently wonder why so many members of Third Life had assumed Scar wouldn’t do well in the first place. Why is it a surprise?

“That’s because I’ve been there to stop him from doing anything stupid.”

Scar stepped back from the chest, dusting his hands off on his shirt. Bdubs quickly jumped forwards to fling the lid back open and dig inside - Grian knew it was full of food, some basic armor, some loose ingots, and a few stacks of wood and cobblestone. It wasn’t anything particularly shocking, but it was enough to continue to maintain the relationship between the Sand Lands and the Crastle.

“Hey,” Scar protested, pretending to be offended. “I’ve accomplished many great things for the Sand Lands!”

“Of course you have,” Grian hummed, patting Scar on the back. Once he finished, his hand didn’t move, his fingers tangling themselves lightly into the fabric. If he had to, he would be able to quickly pull Scar away like this. Or, he would be able to throw himself in front of Scar quickly - it might be necessary if Bdubs tried to attack them right now.

He has his shield. I made sure. The reminder only helped a little.

Bdubs finished emptying the chest, turning to show Cleo the new supplies. Grian relaxed more as the red name turned his back, reassuring himself that it would be easy to lunge forward and slice deeply into the exposed skin at the back of his neck. If Bdubs was leaving himself open to them, it meant they already had the advantage in a fight.

After a few more minutes of casual conversation, Scar invited their guests inside their home with a flourish and a dramatic wink. Grian made sure Cleo and Bdubs walked in front of them, disguising the action by tugging Scar close and taking a few seconds to dust sand out of his hair and shoulders. Scar acted like the motion was expected and normal, as though they hadn’t given up on the sand months ago.

Over a year ago, for Grian.

“We already cooked up some delicious rabbit stew,” Scar cheerfully informed them from behind, glancing at Grian when Grian’s wing brushed up against his back. “Grian and I spent all morning making it perfect for you both!”

“I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bdubs responded, glancing back at them with another sharp-toothed grin. “Cleo’s not letting me cook anymore. I think she’s scared to leave me around knives.”

So that had been something all the red names had in common, then. Cleo snorted, and Grian could picture her rolling her eyes even with her back to them. “I’m afraid you’re going to cut your fingers off,” she retorted, as though Grian didn’t know the true reason. The memory of Scar turning around with a knife in his hand and almost shoving it through Grian’s neck if Grian hadn’t dodged in time would never leave him.

Worse was the aftermath when Scar’s face went nearly white and he had dropped the knife from shaking fingers, brokenly apologizing.

“Scar’s an amazing cook,” Grian reminded himself out loud, replacing those memories with the newer memories of Scar grinning and talking up a storm with Grian as he sliced up bread and meat and carrots and potatoes.

“Aw, you all flatter me,” Scar laughed. They were inside their base now, and Scar’s fingers circled around Grian’s wrist. He tugged Grian forward to the pot that was staying warm over the flame, pulling a bowl out of his inventory so they could begin serving the meal.

Grian kept Bdubs and Cleo in his sight as they worked to serve the food. Bdubs was staring at the fire with an odd, intent expression on his face, and Grian paid attention to the way his eyes reflected the flame, red against red against orange against yellow. Bdubs only broke his stare when Grian pushed a bowl of soup into his hands, perhaps a bit too harshly. Some of the soup spilled over the edge onto Bdubs hands.

“Thanks,” Bdubs chimed with a smile, with no reaction to the spillage despite the steam rising from the food.

Grian’s response was a tense smile as he slunk back to Scar’s side to take his own bowl from his partner. He took a careful bite. As much as he loved Scar’s cooking, it tasted akin to hot ash in his mouth.

Bdubs returned his stare to the flickering flames. “You know, you really should be careful when it comes to Etho,” he noted. Grian’s attention sharpened and he straightened slightly, dropping his forgotten spoon in his bowl of stew without care.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, he certainly holds a grudge against you!”

“Did he say something about us?”

Bdubs' response was an eerie smile. Frustration sparked in Grian’s chest, and he grit his teeth together. He only had time to think about stepping forward, before Scar’s fingers were entwining his wrist again and squeezing lightly in a warning. Next to Bdubs, Cleo elbowed her own partner in the ribs without hesitance.

Bdubs flinched, that awful expression leaving him as he stumbled and grabbed his ribs with one hand. The other clutched his bowl, even as a few more drops spilled onto their floor. “Ow! Cleo!”

“Don’t play mind games with our allies,” Cleo scolded him, eating her own stew. She took careful, measured bites, blowing lightly on the steam before biting down on the wooden spoon. Bdubs had yet to eat, but at Cleo’s sharp glare and gesture to his bowl, he reluctantly brought it close to take a bite of his own. “If you heard something from Etho about them, you should say so.”

“I didn’t hear much,” Bdubs shrugged, swallowing down his bite almost without chewing. “But he was whispering with Joel for a - well, a few days before he attacked us. Did we mention he set the TNT contraption up by Joel’s base?”

“Cleo mentioned it to me,” Scar confirmed, smiling. He hadn’t let go of Grian’s wrist yet.

“Well, Cleo and I did talk to them at one point. Etho said something about a shakedown, so I said ‘Cleo, to the Crastle!’ and we ran off real fast!”

“What does this have to do with us?” Grian demanded. Scar’s grip tightened slightly.

“As we approached, I thought I heard Etho mention your names. That’s all I know, honestly! I don’t even know what he was talking about. You could ask Joel, but he seems like he’s on good terms with Etho, so I dunno if he’ll tell you anything,” Bdubs shrugged.

Cleo sighed. “You couldn’t have mentioned that earlier?” she wondered out loud. Apparently, Bdubs hadn’t spoken about his suspicions even to his partner; Grian wasn’t sure what that actually meant.

“Oh, still, thanks for telling us now! The Sand Lands appreciates your information. On your way out, I’ll give you some extra sand for that!” Scar jumped in, grinning wider than before.

“Extra sand! See, Cleo, it all worked out!”

Grian grit his teeth again, the wrist that Scar held twitching as he flexed his fingers.

He didn’t relax again until Cleo and Bdubs left later that night.

Just like Joel, Jimmy played games with Lady Death and tempted fate.

SolidarityGaming tried to swim in lava.

Grian sat with his communicator in his hands for several hours comforting Scott and offering him advice for changes being yellow may bring. Scott didn’t even ask him how he got the information, which really went to show how frazzled the other player was by Jimmy’s death; Scott was normally a shark that smelt blood when it came to odd details that didn’t match up.

Scar stayed at his side the whole time, humming and leaning over Grian every now and then to glimpse at his communicator. He stayed quiet to allow Grian to concentrate, only speaking up when Grian put his communicator away. By then Scar was flat on his back, staring up at the roof with a bored expression.

“It’s always our allies that end up losing lives,” Scar remarked when they made eye contact. “I feel like this is a bad omen!”

“We’re fine, we haven’t lost any lives yet,” Grian argued weakly; they both knew Grian didn’t truly believe his own words. He was already shifting, wanting to go and expand their panic room further. He had already worked to expand it to twice the size, and he had been filling the chests up with more supplies after some mining trips.

Neither Scar nor Grian had been willing to let the other go mining alone, so those trips were stilted and slow, both of them watching out carefully for danger.

Still, they had worked hard enough, and they had enough supplies to come back from the loss of two lives at most. It was good for now.

Grian flopped down next to his partner, throwing one of his legs over Scar’s in order to feel the comfort of physical touch. Scar smelled like sweat and iron, and Grian half-rolled to press his face into his partner's shoulder. “You know the plan if we get separated?”

“Meet up in the flowery area,” Scar dutifully reported, “where Scott and Jimmy are. I know the plan, G.”

It didn’t settle Grian’s anxiety. He pressed his face harder into the warmth of Scar’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. Not for the first time, he wished he could fuse himself to Scar, to ensure separation wasn’t something they would have to worry about. Instead, he moved one hand up to Scar’s neck to press lightly against his pulse point and feel the reassuring beat of his heart. Scar shifted slightly to allow Grian better access, his own arm worming its way under Grian to wrap around him with a squeeze.

“Etho is going to attack us,” Grian noted, stating a fact. “Soon.” Too many pieces aligned that promised it as a reality - they had caused Etho to lose a life, and he was attacking others, and Bdubs had heard Etho talking about them. If Etho was violent towards Bdubs due to some idle threats, Grian couldn’t imagine what he thought of them. “... Don’t die.”

“I don’t plan on it, and you better not be planning on it either,” Scar sighed, his grip tightening on Grian. “I mean that. If we’re attacked, we need to survive it together. We need to show Etho that the Sand Lands won’t go down that easily!”

Grian laughed shakily at Scar’s optimism and attitude, images of Monopoly Mountain blowing up, their home nothing but a broken build, and a burning husk playing on a loop in his mind. It was followed quickly by blood in the sand, Scar's body at the bottom of a ravine, at the base of a mountain, and the feeling of fire on Grian’s skin.

Panic surged, and his fingers dug too harshly into Scar’s neck for a moment as he got his breathing under control. Scar didn’t voice a single word or noise of complaint.

“We’ll be okay, G,” Scar said finally, his voice soft. “I promise,” he lied.

“Okay,” Grian whispered, pretending to believe him.

Chapter Text

There was a visitor in the Sand Lands, and he wasn’t welcome.

The sun had only just begun to rise. Grian had been half sitting up in his nest, running his fingers through Scar’s hair as the man had slept. Scar’s mouth was slightly parted, his eyebrows furrowed in his sleep, and Grian stared, captivated by the peace. It had been his turn to keep watch; then Grian had heard the sound of footsteps outside their base.

Gently, so gently, Grian moved Scar off his lap. The man stirred, eyebrows furrowing further as he reached out in his sleep for Grian. With one last brush of his fingers through Scar’s hair, Grian rose to his feet, pulling his armor on from his inventory and pulling a sword into one hand and a shield into the other. The weight settled in a familiar manner over his shoulders and in his hands.

“I’ll be back,” Grian promised, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Scar as he crept silently out of their room.

He made it to the front door quickly, opening it and stepping into the early dawn. The first rays of sunlight cast a gentle glow over Monopoly Mountain, and Grian blinked the brightness from his eyes as he cast a sharp glance around him, wings rustling on his back.

“Grian! Hello!” an all too familiar voice called out.

Grian turned quickly to his left, raising his sword and pointing the tip of it steadily under Martyn’s throat. The blonde's cheerful expression cracked as he quickly raised his hands to either side of his head, his grin turning sheepish and concerned. “What are you doing here? Is Ren here as well?” Grian demanded before the Hand had a chance to speak.

“Woah, woah, calm down!” Martyn chuckled nervously. He placed one hand on the top of the sword, applying gentle weight as he tried to push it away from his throat. Grian’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, the tip of the weapon brushing against Martyn’s skin. Martyn gulped, nervousness fluttering across his expression as he frowned. “I’m not here to fight! What kind of greeting is this?”

“Generally, a guest should call ahead,” Scar responded. Grian startled at the press of a body against his back but he didn’t look back at his partner. Instead, he just silently scowled, annoyed that the man had woken up. He would have preferred Scar to keep his distance from this particular skirmish. “Is it our fault we’re reacting a bit strongly to such rudeness? There are red names on the server now, you know.”

“One red name and Bdubs is not a friend of mine,” Martyn protested. “Actually, last I heard, he’s friends with the two of you!”

“State your purpose,” Grian demanded, growing more annoyed and paranoid the longer Martyn danced around what he wanted. Maybe Grian had reacted a bit strongly to Martyn’s presence - however, he believed he had good reason to do so.

The experiences he’d lived through in his past life aside, the last time he had seen Martyn was when Scar had threatened both Martyn and Ren and named them enemies. Martyn had been upset with both of them at the time, after he had caught them breaking into Renchanting to both use their enchanter and then try to steal it. The lines had been drawn in the sand, and Martyn was on the other side, as he always had been.

Grian and Scar had been waiting for an attack from Etho, so Martyn’s presence was unexpected. Additionally, Grian had spent that time growing painfully paranoid, so Martyn had chosen the worst time to visit.

“I want to make some trades!”

“Why would we trade with you?” Grian questioned, his frustration breaking slightly to make way for bewilderment. Martyn had to know they weren’t on good terms.

Martyn’s hands were still raised, though he took a small step back to create some distance between himself and Grian’s blade. “Ren and I have been getting into some disagreements lately,” the Hand responded, “so I’ve been considering leaving Renchanting behind.”

Liar. Martyn’s expression was earnest, slightly twisted in annoyance, and maybe Grian would have been fooled if this was the original timeline, if he didn’t know just how deeply the loyalty ran between Martyn and Ren. Their relationship was forged in blood; perhaps it hadn’t come that far yet, both of them still were green lives, but a bond like that was inescapable.

Why would Martyn come to them, asking to make trades, with lies on his tongue? Grian’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to put together the puzzle in front of him, even as Scar leaned heavily on his shoulder to talk to Martyn. “Disagreements? I don’t blame you! Ren is so stingy,” Scar huffed, sympathetic. The perfect charisma mask. “Do you no longer work for Renchanting, then?”

“Well,” Martyn shrugged, “I haven’t resigned yet, but it’s just a matter of time! I need to build up my own base first. That’s why I’m trying to trade for supplies!”

Grian was only half-listening to the conversation.

Were they trying to make a few bad trades with the Sand Lands, hoping it would weaken them? No, that didn’t make sense; everyone knew Scar would turn away trades if he didn’t come out on top, Scar never let anyone get one over him.

A memory came to Grian. He remembered Scar selling coffins while Grian crept inside a base, he remembered Scar chatting to the members of Dogwarts while Grian set up a trap outside, a trap that had exploded and taken three lives with it.

A distraction. Martyn was trying to distract them.

Martyn was in the middle of his sentence when Grian flared his wings to hide Scar behind him, and threw himself forward in a tight motion, striking out with his sword.

He had aimed to slice into Martyn’s throat. The man would have bled out quickly, staining the ever-hungry sand crimson as he choked on blood. Grian had the advantage; his sword had been against Martyn’s throat throughout this meeting.

However, he was dealing with the Hand, and Martyn’s guard had been raised high their entire interaction. The second Grian’s wings began to move, Martyn had thrown himself back to create more distance, raising his arm in front of his throat. Grian’s sword instead sliced into the skin of Martyn’s forearm, creating a flesh wound; nothing deadly.

“Shield and armor!” Grian snapped back at Scar as he lowered himself into a crouch. In front of him, Martyn was pulling out his own weapon and shield, his green eyes wide in shock as he blinked down at his arm. The wound bleed sluggishly, Martyn’s sleeve slowly staining as it soaked up the blood.

“You’re green -” Martyn started to insist, and Grian took full advantage of his surprise and confusion with an animalistic snarl that exposed his teeth.

He lunged again, slashing diagonally toward Martyn’s chest. Martyn brought his sword up at the last moment, and the weapons collided with a loud screech of metal on metal and hot sparks. Grian quickly stepped to the side where Martyn wasn’t holding his shield to try and strike there instead, moving from one attack to the next, but his second attack was once again blocked with Martyn’s own blade at the last possible moment.

Martyn was keeping up; barely, but he was.

Finally, Martyn tried to attack back, his eyes narrowing. He took half a step forward and raised his own sword, eyes tracing over Grian as he searched for an opening in the avian’s defense.

Too focused on Grian, Martyn didn’t notice as Scar stepped around Grian’s wings to the other side, striking out with a blow from his sword. Unluckily, it was the side where Martyn was holding his shield, and Scar’s sword hit the edge of the wood. Though it caused no damage, it did create an opening. The force of the blow was enough to make Martyn stumble, his footing unsteady on the shifting sand.

Unlike Scar and Grian, he hadn’t been living in this terrain for months. “I think you should leave,” Scar offered, giving Martyn a way out. Grian felt an unexpected rush of warmth towards his partner despite the situation they were in. Scar didn’t even understand why Grian had attacked, but he had Grian’s back anyways.

Grian took full advantage of Martyn’s distraction, lunging forward and aiming for Martyn’s legs. If he could disable the Hand and prevent him from being able to attack, the situation would deal with itself. The fight could end quickly.

Martyn had learned his lesson about only paying to one of them, and he was fast enough to leap backward just in time to avoid the attack. “I came here peacefully!” he shouted, arguing. “What is this even about?”

“You came up to distract us,” Grian snarled, his wings flapping sharply. “Your allies are hiding close by, aren’t they? Is Etho with them?”

Martyn’s expression faltered, and Grian knew his paranoia had been confirmed. Scar must have noticed the same thing because he hissed sharply between his teeth from beside Grian.

“Fine,” Martyn breathed, “we’re doing this the hard way, then!” Grian and Martyn circled each other for a moment, wary. Grian could feel his heart racing in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins. He still wanted to end the fight quickly, before Martyn’s allies arrived to defend him. Scar and Grian had to run - there was no way for them to know how many enemies may be descending on them now.

It’s begun.

Martyn, for his part, looked more composed now. His eyes were sharp and calculating; a dangerous expression. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Grian knew this was the Martyn he had left behind in his old timeline.

Grian moved first. His attack against Martyn’s legs had failed, so Grian feinted another attack towards his legs, before raising his sword to try to strike at Martyn’s chest.

Still, Martyn was ready for him. He raised his sword in a swift motion, deflecting Grian’s attack on the edge of his weapon. In the same motion, he spun and delivered a swift kick to Grian’s stomach. The attack knocked the wind from Grian and he gasped for breath, stumbling back. There was a sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest as he tried to breathe.

Martyn took advantage of his weakness, pressing forward with renewed vigor, but Scar was there, stepping between Grian and Martyn with his sword raised high. “I don’t think so!” Scar snapped. His back was to Grian, but Grian would hear the underlying anger in his words and in the tension in his shoulders.

Martyn finally hesitated, eyeing them both warily. For a second, Grian thought maybe they could get him to back off after all.

Which, of course, is when reinforcements arrived.

“Martyn!” Ren called out, appearing at the edge of Monopoly Mountain as he pulled himself up. Enchanted armor glinted around the edges of his clothes, a shining sword clutched in his hand as he growled deeply from the back of his throat. The fur on his tail was raised, and his ears were pulled back as he fixated on Grian and Scar with an intense stare.

Seconds after the King joined the battle, Skizzle was pulling himself up onto the mountain beside him. The yellow life fixated his own gaze on the battle, raising his own enchanted sword in front of him. Grian tensed at the sight of those yellows eyes, at the danger that lurked beneath the shade. I’ve killed you once, Grian thought to himself, quietly, I’ll do it again.

“Ren! I’m okay - I’m okay,” Martyn quickly spoke, retreating a few steps back to stay by his ally's sides. “Just lost a few hearts.” He raised up his bloody arm in explanation. Grian took the chance to peak at his own health. He had only lost a single heart, from the kick he had taken to his chest.

“Scar, back up,” Grian whispered, his mouth barely moving. Still, Scar obeyed, casting him a tense, anxious look as he moved to stand slightly behind Grian.

They had gone from outnumbering Martyn to being outnumbered. Adrenaline was harsh in Grian’s body, burning through him like liquid flame.

“We need to retreat,” Grian decided, pulling TNT to his hotbar with a subtle twitch of his fingers, next to his flint and steel. Scar didn’t move, and Grian tensed. “Now, Scar!” he snapped, raising his voice slightly.

“You first,” Scar retorted, his voice sharper. A hand closed around his upper arm and Grian stumbled as Scar yanked him towards him, pushing Grian in front of him toward the edge of the mountain. “Go!”

Grian ran. He didn’t have a choice. He glanced back once to make sure Scar was following, and there was a reassuring grin on Scar’s face as he stayed hot on Grian’s heels.

“They’re getting away!” Skizzle warned, and just like that, it became a chase down the side of the mountain.

Grian slowed to allow Scar to get ahead of him. It earned him a look as Scar slowed too, looking ready to yank Grian forward again even on the sharp slope of Monopoly Mountain, but Grian pulled TNT into his hand, and understanding settled over Scar’s expression. Grian placed the TNT behind him as they ran, lighting it up with a flick of his hand that now held flint and steel.

“Martyn!” Ren cried out, and Grian saw the King grab his Hand and drag the blonde behind him as the first TNT went off. It was a hot explosion against his back, his wings warming with the heat as the noise cut through the air and made his head feel light. The smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air, and Grian could feel it clogging his lungs.

Ren had to be low on health now.

By the time they made it to the bottom of the mountain, they had a good head start on their pursuers. This didn’t mean it would be enough - seconds later, arrows were whizzing through the air past their heads, and Grian was panting heavily, his limbs shaking with the effort it took to run at top speed.

An arrow shot by Grian and nicked Scar’s skin, the flesh splitting as red started to leak down his arm. Scar stumbled slightly but kept moving, they were both used to running across the sand more than anyone else on the server.

Grian saw blood running down Scar’s arm and felt something break inside him; his body suddenly felt cold. The panic and anger that gripped him were enough to make him feel physically sick.

They could kill him.

Something twinged at the edges of his mind, some long-lost instinct screaming at him. Grian tried to grasp for it, but it was gone a second later.

No matter; he’d have to protect Scar the only way he knew how to, then. Grian turned as they stumbled forwards, spamming the TNT in his inventory down. He had been trying to save some of it since using it all in this one battle could end up being a mistake and a waste, but seeing Scar’s blood had made what little patience and rationality he had left snap.

Grian slowed down, letting their enemies gain on them. He heard Scar call out to him, but it sounded like it was from a distance, Grian hardly registering his words under the buzzing in his head.

Martyn slowed down a bit, eyeing the TNT with clear hesitance. Ren continued, his shield held high, and Skizzle - yellow, impulsive, unthinking - took a few more steps forward before he registered the caution of his allies.

Grian lit the TNT.

He was standing too close to the explosion. One second, the TNT was glowing white, and then the next Grian was blinking dazed at the orange sky of the early morning, sprawled on his back. He pushed himself up on trembling hands, shaking his head to try to clear himself of his daze as he looked forward to see what damage he had caused.

There was a deep hole in the Sand Lands, and three enemies had turned into one. Grian knew, with cold certainty, what he would see if he looked at the chat right now.

Skizzleman was blown up by Grian.
Renthedog was blown up by Grian.

Martyn alone stood tall, coughing on smoke and gunpowder, his eyes a blazing green and he stared at Grian. His expression was darker than Grian had ever seen in this timeline, his eyes wide and his mouth moving furiously as he shouted, but Grian couldn’t hear the words he spoke over the ringing in his ears.

The avian looked at his health; three hearts. His skin felt raw and burnt, and he could barely focus. The world was twisting around him as he blinked slowly, trying to think through the dizziness. 

A hand grabbed his arm and dragged him up. Grian stumbled hard, his legs struggling to support his weight, and he would have pulled both himself and Scar back down to the ground again if Scar hadn’t steadied them at the last moment. Grian twisted to look at his partner; much like Martyn, Scar’s mouth was moving, but Grian couldn’t hear a word.

Grian watched his expression instead. Scar’s eyes were wide, his one free hand jerking around in a panic, an upset frown on his face as he glanced at Grian’s arms - red and blistered - and at the way Grian’s left wing hung awkwardly from his back.

“I’m okay,” Grian tried to say. From the widening of Scar’s eyes and the increased speed his free hand moved around, maybe his words came out a bit slurred. He didn’t exactly feel okay, despite his attempt to comfort; he felt numb and odd. “It’s - we need to go, we don’t have time, Scar!”

Scar said something else, furious and frustrated, and Grian rolled his eyes despite the pain he was in.

“I was reckless, I know, yell at me later,” he hissed, weakly pushing Scar to take another step across the Sand Lands.

He looked over his shoulder. Martyn was gone. Had they truly managed to escape the situation alive, with two more deaths under Grian’s belt?

Later, Grian would think back to this moment and revel at the irony of it all. I jinxed it, he would realize.

Just as Grian took his first breath of air that felt fresh against his lungs again, he watched TNT fly through the sky and collide with the side of Monopoly Mountain. “No!” the shout was torn out of his lungs, silent to his ears, and he lunged forwards as though he could stop their home from falling apart under the onslaught of explosives.

Scar wrapped his arms tightly around Grian’s waist, yanking him back against his larger chest before Grian could do something truly idiotic like trying to race back to their home.

And in front of his eyes, Monopoly Mountain crumbled. The first TNT collided with the side of the house before it exploded into dust and broken sand, leaving an empty void where a home had been. The second collided in their front yard, the dirt exploding everywhere as their garden was destroyed, plants torn from the ground and ripped into nothing. Grian thought of the time spent sitting there together, when Grian called Scar out for not helping him, the place where they had a mud fight that ended with closeness and joy in Grian's heart, and he thought; it's gone.

The TNT was spread out. One hit the side of the mountain, wiping out a section of the staircase they had created that led to their home, an aching area of destruction in the mountain they had claimed as their own. All he could do was watch. Despite all the foresight he had, he was still just as powerless as ever.

“Scar,” Grian said. He had no idea what his own tone of voice sounded like, if it came across as broken as he felt, but Scar tightened his grip around Grian in response.

Then, Etho - because it must have been Etho, the TNT attack against the Crastle had been a test run, they should have known, they should have worked harder to defend their home - set off the second round.

A TNT exploded just in front of them, the dust and sand that went everywhere close enough to blind them. Grian had to close his eyes as he coughed, lungs struggling, another half-heart of damage leaking away. They stumbled a bit at the force, but stayed upright, though Scar was forced to let go of him to prevent them from falling to the ground once more.

It took a moment for the dust to clear enough for them to see.

Grian’s heart stopped, colder and more painful than it had been even when Scar had been injured by the arrow.

There was a TNT much, much too close to Scar, and his partner didn’t even have his shield up.

It felt like time slowed down. It felt like Grian was watching a creeper sneak up behind Scar, like he was reaching for Scar as he fell just out of reach into a ravine, like he was standing in a pond with water soaking his legs and a sword at Scar’s throat, like he was standing in front of Pizza’s grave surrounded by cacti, his fists breaking Scar’s skin and bones each time he lashed out, Scar smiling at him the entire time even as blood dripped into his mouth and down his broken face -

Not today, every part of Grian screamed out, that instinctual part of him he couldn’t quite reach earlier flaring to life for one sharp second as he Saw exactly what he had to do to save his partner.

He didn’t hesitate. He had been preparing for this for months. The time with the creeper was just a practice round.

Grian threw himself between Scar and the TNT, his right wing flaring out to protect his partner, while his left wing continued to hang limply.

The world exploded into heat.

You died! the universe whispered to him.

Grian was blown up by Etho, it mocked.

Score: 2984.

Respawn.

Title Screen.

And Grian opened his eyes to a world tinted yellow.

Chapter Text

Grian paced back and forth in front of the underground bunker he had spent hours creating and refining, his communicator clutched in his hand, yellow eyes glued to the device as messages flew by.

The server was in an uproar over the three deaths that had just occurred. Skizzle seemed to be the main concern since the man was a red name now, but Ren and Grian were being questioned on their yellow status as well. Grian barely scanned those messages before dismissing them. He couldn’t care less over the questions of the Third Life community; as long as Scar remained safe, it didn’t matter.

Minutes crawled by. Scar’s death message failed to appear.

Grian waited a full half an hour before he stopped pacing, collapsing against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor, gasping with relief. Scar survived, then. He made it out. His partner was likely on his way to Scott and Jimmy now.

The avian drew a hand roughly through his hair, lips trembling. He didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Emotions were warring in his chest. There was exhilaration from his recent kills, anger that Dogwarts and their allies would attack them, and a deep worry over Scar and how the man was doing. Then, there was the horrible sensation of missing Scar, an ache in the middle of his chest that got worse and worse with every passing second, clawing at him in an agonizing manner. It felt like a creature awakening inside of him, something hungry and vicious. 

Half an hour was long enough, right? Grian was safe to come out of the bunker now?

He grabbed a set of iron tools from one of the chests and started digging his way to the surface. It took a minute and then Grian was breathing in the fresh air, the sun fully risen and shining down from above as he stood up on shaky feet.

His wings shifted on his back, as he glanced around cautiously, listening. As they moved, he could feel a deep ache in his left wing, as though the respawn hadn't been able to fully heal all the damage - but he couldn't focus on that, not now. Instead, he focused on his senses, though all he could hear was the wind. The bunker was located behind Monopoly Mountain, so Grian’s view was blocked; he couldn’t see how bad the total damage had ended up being from there. For a moment he considered taking an hour to climb the mountain and check, to look over their lands and have a full report, but he dismissed the idea with a shake of his head.

Any time spent checking for damage meant it would be longer before he made it back to Scar.

His heart ached for Pizza and the newly constructed space of their growing collection of bees. He wanted to see if they were okay, he wanted to check on their home, of course he wanted to.

But Scar took precedence. He always did.

Ignoring their home, keeping his eyes firmly directed away from the destruction, Grian started walking across the Sand Lands and around the mountain.

Once he was around the mountain, he could see some of the damage done to the Sand Lands, the damage that had caused his death. There were deep holes in the sand, spaces marked out where the TNT had struck. The smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air, and Grian felt a shiver run through his wings.

He remembered waking up in this timeline, marveling at a world untouched by war. It had felt wrong and had been one of the things that had made him realize the world around them wasn’t his own.

He supposed he had gotten used to it without noticing, because the damage he viewed now filled him with an odd pain, and a lingering feeling of loss, only adding to the emotions he was already struggling his way through.

Still, Grian grit his teeth and carefully picked his way around the damaged areas, scanning the wide sandy dunes as he stalked across the biome with calculated steps. Nothing but silence met him. It seemed as though their attackers had left after Grian’s death and Scar’s escape, as expected.

Grian struggled to hold onto his caution for a few more minutes before he threw it aside and hurried his pace, his footsteps harsh on the sand below.

I’ll see him soon, he tried to reassure the growing panic in his chest; still, it didn’t settle.

The journey to Scott's base was strange. It was as though Grian were only remembering it in bits and pieces. It wasn’t an entirely alien sensation though. Grian had been yellow for an extended period of time before, he knew the way it made him feel single-minded, leaving the rest of the world an odd blur.

He had half-hoped he could catch up to Scar since his partner shouldn’t be too far in front of him, but those hopes were dashed when Grian got stuck waiting a night out in a tree due to the overabundance of mobs swarming down below him.

Though some part of his mind wanted to jump down and fight them, Grian was still aware enough to recognize it as the part of his mind that was yellow, and so he stayed put for the night. Once the sky was lit up in bright light again, the mobs burned away into nothing, and Grian was able to jump down on nimble feet and hurry along once more.

Soon enough, he was back in the flower field, climbing silently down the steep terrain surrounding the area. The field was just as quiet as the empty Sand Lands had been, and Grian frowned, anxiety clutching at his heart as he moved forward slowly. The paranoia in his chest that had been clawing at him ever since he lost Scar had been growing stronger throughout his journey, and now it was a seething, living thing, with an insatiable hunger that begged to be filled.

Where was he? Scar had a head start; he should be here. Not for the first time, Grian pulled his communicator out, staring down at it. Scar hadn’t messaged him. He had been the one to tell Scar not to bother unless it was an emergency since getting to safety had to be their first focus, but now he was beginning to regret that choice.

You whisper to GoodTimeWithScar: where?

Grian stuck his communicator back in his pocket without waiting for a reply, hurrying towards Scott’s house. Luckily, he didn't have enough time to fully begin to panic, because as he got closer he started to hear soft voices from inside.

The relief that flooded him was enough to weaken the yellow haze he'd begun to fall into as he heard Scar’s voice for the first time in days.

Knocking would be the polite thing to do, so of course Grian just threw the door open and stepped inside. The moment he did the three figures sitting down around a campfire leaped to their feet and turned to face him, weapons falling into their hands. Jimmy fumbled his, of course, and Grian cast him an exasperated look before he focused entirely on Scar, glancing him over.

He looked okay. If he had any injuries, they weren’t major. Grian eyed his arm where he remembered Scar had been hurt by the arrow. It was covered once more by his sleeve, but Grian remembered it was a small injury; surely, it would have healed fully by now. His partner looked tired too, dark bruises forming under his eyes, and clearly tense at the sight of Grian. His mask had entirely cracked open, his eyes wide and his face pale, like he had seen a ghost.

“G,” he breathed, breaking the odd silence that had fallen over the room. The sword clutched in his hand vanished back into his inventory and Scar lunged forward, grabbing the avian and yanking him into a bruising hug.

Grian sank into the touch, wrapping his arms around Scar in return. His partner smelled like sand and gunpowder and flowers, the scent of his journey clinging to him. Grian let his face fall against Scar’s neck to surround himself with that smell. Finally, at long last, the horrible feeling of missing a part of him faded.

“Hey there,” Grian greeted in return, tightening his grip when Scar shifted slightly. Scar hummed low in his throat, squeezing Grian back, making it clear he hadn’t intended to go anywhere. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Scar raised his voice for a moment. Then, he seemed to think better of it, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I’m fine. I’ve been here for almost an entire day already, you were lagging behind Mister.”

“Mobs,” Grian offered as a half-hearted explanation.

“About that.” Scar’s grip moved to Grian’s shoulders, and he pushed Grian away to hold him at arm's length and look him over. Grian let out an odd, distressed chirping noise in response, trying to lean closer, but his partner didn’t budge. “Where’s your armor?”

Grian blinked. He looked down at himself. He wasn't even wearing any armor; how had he traveled all the way there without noticing? “... Oh.”

“Oh?” Scar repeated. “You spent so much time stocking up that panic room, and you somehow managed to run all the way here without a single piece of armor on.”

“Maybe this yellow life thing is affecting me more than I thought,” Grian admitted under his breath. He tried to lean forward again, and this time Scar let him, capturing Grian against his chest once more and letting him press his face into Scar’s neck again. At some point, Scott and Jimmy had left to give them privacy.

“We’re going to talk about that too. You have scars now,” Scar noted. Another thing Grian hadn’t paid any attention to. He would have to find a moment to look at his reflection and see how bad it was - he would need to test out his left wing as well, to fully be aware of how the lasting injury would affect his mobility and fighting ability. He wondered if he’d recognize the person looking he'd become. “Grian. What happened ?”

“I could tell Martyn was trying to trick us,” Grian replied, slowly. He didn’t understand what answer Scar wanted from him. “There were too many of them. Running was the best option. It… was my fault. When our base blew up…” he trailed off. Swallowed. “We should have kept moving. If we had, you wouldn’t have been in danger like that.”

“I wouldn’t have been in danger,” Scar repeated. He sounded lost; Grian hated it. “How come, during your explanation, you never once mentioned the fact that you died, G?”

“Scar, I’m okay. It was just my first life -”

“You promised you would be careful.”

“.. I’m sorry.”

Whatever Scar had wanted to hear, it hadn’t been that. There was a long silence, as though Scar were waiting for him to say something else, but Grian stayed quiet. There was nothing else for him to say.

They had already had this conversation. Grian had already tried to explain it to Scar, and he had already failed to explain something he’d never had to before. Saying he cared for Scar didn’t work, saying he had to do this for Scar didn’t work. Scar only asked him to value himself, he only made him promise to be careful, and he only asked how he was meant to bear the weight of Grian’s lost lives.

“I’m sorry,” Grian said again, apologizing for that weight, this time. No matter what he did, it felt like he was always making things worse for Scar. No matter how many bases he decorated or bees he collected, he would never be able to make up for being himself.

Scar pressed his face to the top of Grian’s head, breathing in deeply. His fingers were holding Grian tight enough to leave bruises. “I’m going to ask Scott and Jimmy if we can find you some armor,” he said.

And then he let go.

“We match!” Jimmy brought up later, as Scott was off digging through his chests for his old iron armor from the start of the server. They were sitting outside by the pond. Jimmy was fishing, and he had already pushed cooked fish into Grian’s hands when they realized he hadn’t bothered grabbing food from the panic room either. Scar was on Grian’s other side, his weight warm against the avian’s side. Since he was sitting on Grian's right, Grian was able to wrap his right wing comfortably around him.

His reflection in the pond was odd and distorted. There were dark burns across his face and arms, and Grian ran his fingers over the raised skin idly. “Timmy,” he exhaled, exasperated, “what are you talking about?”

“Yellow,” Jimmy pointed at himself, “yellow,” he gestured towards Grian. Then, he pointed to Scar, “green,” and back towards Scott’s home, “and green! We’re a matching pair, the four of us.”

“Maybe,” Grian agreed, “only, I died in a battle, and you died… how, exactly?”

Jimmy’s good cheer faded and he fixed Grian with a scowl instead, not noticing the gentle tug of a fish biting at the end of his fishing rod. He was going to lose his bait at this rate. “I died trying to get myself and Scott a useful item that could have saved our lives in the future!”

“Which was?” Grian encouraged.

“A pair of diamond boots. With feather falling.”

Grian snorted. The derisive sound set Jimmy off again, yelling loudly about all the situations the boots could have saved them from, and how it was a worthy attempt even if it hadn’t gone that well.

Grian snuck a glance at Scar. Scar was watching him back, listening to the conversation. His mask had been pulled back on once more, his posture relaxed and an easy smile on his face, but Grian could see the darkness lingering in his eyes, the anxiety in the way his hand clutched at the ground below. He could see the intent in the stare that didn’t leave Grian for a second.

Scott approached them then, and Grian stood to pick up the iron armor the man tossed to him. Jimmy finally went quiet, and Scar stood with him, sticking close to his side. “It’s pretty worn out,” Scott warned him as Grian looked the armor over before pulling it on. It was basic iron, with no enchantments, and Scott was right; Grian looked at the durability and winced.

“We appreciate your willingness to give us anything,” Scar reassured the man, his smile brightening into something charismatic (and fake) as he reached to clasp Scott’s shoulder for a second. “Thank you! You truly opened your heart to us in our time of need. We’ll remember this.”

“Are you both staying for a bit?” Jimmy questioned, hovering by Scott’s side now. “We don’t mind!”

“We don’t,” Scott repeated, giving Jimmy a dry look. His words sounded honest, but with the look he gave Jimmy, Grian guessed they hadn’t actually discussed this beforehand.

Scar nudged their arms together, allowing Grian to make the choice. For a second, Grian hesitated. They had a lot of work to do back home if they wanted to fix their base up; it felt too early to abandon it, and perhaps repairs would be possible. They needed to check on Pizza and Mr. Bubbles as well. However, Grian liked the feeling of safety in numbers, and he hated seeing Scar so stressed out. Scar was a social person, maybe a few days spent with their allies would help?

“For a few days,” he decided, settling on the second option. Scar nodded in immediate agreement, not questioning Grian’s choice for even a moment.

“Okay,” Scott agreed. “Jimmy can stay in my base if you’re both okay with sharing Jimmy’s?” The man openly winced. “I can’t promise the inside looks as great as the outside.”

“Hey!” Jimmy exhaled, offended. “It’s not that bad! I’m not a builder, it’s hardly my fault.”

“At least I made the outside look cute,” Scott mourned. Watching the familiar conversation take place in front of him made something settle more in Grian’s chest. His decision felt like the right one.

“We don’t mind, we don’t mind,” Scar jumped in, reassuring Jimmy. He grinned at the yellow name, and Jimmy smiled back automatically. “Thank you for letting us borrow your home!”

“You’re very welcome!”

The visit was good for them. Scar and Grian spent the day helping out around the base, and Scott showed them where they hid their cows so they could help feed them. There was no point keeping the animals secret from them since they had personally delivered two cows; they knew they were there, and finding them would have been easy enough with that knowledge.

Grian joined Jimmy in fishing for a while later in the evening to find some more food, and then they moved the campfire outside to sit down together under the stars. The area was lit up well enough to prevent any mobs from spawning on them, though Grian kept his sword close in the hotbar just in case, and kept paying attention for the hiss of a creeper or the gleam of white bone.

They talked and told stories into the depth of the night, about their daily life in the server. Scott talked about how Jimmy had given them both food poisoning a few weeks back, and Grian complained about how much work it was to grow food in the desert and how annoying it would be to start over. That had ended with Scott giving them a lot of tips and tricks and even offering to come by and help them with their base if they needed it.

As the night went on, the topics became less easy. Grian and Scar told the full story of the attack, and Jimmy hesitantly opened up about the pain of burning alive. Grian could only nod, sympathetic. He knew the pain well, even if he couldn’t say so in this timeline.

Despite the heavy note they left on to head to their separate bases, the experience felt like a weight was being lifted off Grian’s shoulders. As though, just by talking about what had happened, the events were somewhat less harmful.

That night, Scar held Grian tighter than he ever had as they slept together, and Grian pretended not to notice the way his partner's hands trembled as he brushed them over Grian's new scars, feeling at the damage on his left wing with a ghost-like touch.

So it continued, as they fell into an easy rhythm.

A day or two after they had arrived, Scar approached him with news from Cleo. Apparently, Cleo had stolen Etho’s fletcher as revenge for his attack on the Crastle; Etho had come to try and get it back, and Bdubs had shot him.

It should have been concerning to know their allies were being targeted, but Grian felt a bit relieved. If Etho was focused on the Crastle, it meant Dogwarts was likely focused there as well, which meant they should be safe for the time being.

Grian’s new yellow status showed itself in small ways. His single-minded focus continued during their stay, and that focus was normally Scar. (It was always Scar). Whenever Scar was out of reach, the paranoia that had made a home in his chest woke once more, leaving a deep ache there until he could find his partner and settle down with him again.

He was more impulsive. If a thought crossed his mind, Grian found himself going through with it before he had a chance to consider if it was the right thing to do or not. One particular incident stood out - Jimmy and Scar had been joking around, but Jimmy’s raised voice combined with the way he was moving closer to Scar triggered an echo of panic in Grian’s mind.

The next thing he knew, Jimmy was on the floor and Grian was between the two, his sword in his hand.

Jimmy, being a yellow name as well, had escalated the situation by pulling out his own weapon and looking as though he were two seconds away from trying to shove it through Grian’s chest.

The situation was diffused quickly by a combination of Scar and Scott quickly calming down their respective partners, and Grian and Jimmy realizing what they were doing with matching expressions of surprise and concern on their faces. It would only get worse when they went red. There would be no realization, then. Calming them down would be much harder.

He didn’t feel the call for blood yet, but he could feel an increased apathy when he considered the deaths he had caused so far. He had been fine with killing before he turned yellow, but he knew it was wrong, in some sad, distant way. Now, even that knowledge was starting to blur.

On their third day, BigB came to visit, and Grian breathed in carefully and knew this might be his real test.

His last meeting with BigB, his fellow ‘blue sword boy,’ had been when Scar had swindled him for his diamond armor. Grian remembered how much he had struggled with the two touching and grinning at each other, and he had been a green name, then. He had to keep his head straight. He had to remember the situation they were in. This wasn’t the time to lose sight of what mattered.

BigB’s arrival was noticed by Scott first, as the man clambered into the valley with a smile on his face, his hands raised peacefully in front of him. “Hey!” he greeted.

“BigB,” Scott responded with a nod of his head, turning and walking towards the man. Jimmy quickly moved to stay by Scott’s side. Grian would have liked to linger behind, but Scar was quickly moving close to the group as well, so Grian was forced to follow.

“Oh - wow, you are all here,” BigB remarked, glancing around at the group of four. “How is everyone doing? Grian, Jimmy, what’s yellow life like?”

“Oh, splendid,” Grian replied, voice dry. He narrowed his eyes, knowing the yellow stare was mildly eerie.

“We’re working it out,” Jimmy responded, much more cheerfully. “How are you?”

“Good, good!” BigB stuck his hand in his pocket. Grian tensed for a moment, but then the man pulled out his communicator. “Looks like there's been lots going on, but I’ve been staying out of it for the most part, you know?” For now. I know your future. “I’ve been trying to get caught up, hear every side of the story.”

Ah, he was here for information. Grian and Scott exchanged a look. It wasn’t like the events that led to Grian’s death were a big secret, there had been too many people there; it might be worth it to update BigB on what happened if there was something they could get in return for said information.

Scar seemed to have the same idea, because he stepped forward quickly, clapping his hands together. “You’ve come to the right place! I would love to get you caught up - but perhaps we could get something in return for that information?”

“... Such as?” BigB questioned.

Scar gestured down BigB’s body. “Some of that enchanted diamond armor? You see, my partner here lost his life, it was very tragic… and his things got blown up. He’s stuck in this awful iron, and it’s very concerning.”

Grian felt his heart ache. Scar was trying to haggle to help Grian. The avian hadn’t even realized his weaker armor had been bothering Scar, but the way Scar jumped on the topic so quickly made it clear this was something he had been thinking about for longer than just this moment. BigB looked hesitant, understandably so. “I already gave you my diamond chestplate weeks ago,” he pointed out.

“And we were very thankful, and it gave you lots of friendship points - but wouldn’t you like even more friendship points?”

“What parts of my armor do you even want?”

Scar tapped his fingers on his hips, like he was carefully considering the question and didn’t already have an answer in his mind. “What about your chestplate and leggings?” he offered after a moment.

BigB winced. “Uh, I don’t think so… what about my boots and helmet?”

“That’s not going to work,” Scar shook his head. “Chestplate and helmet.”

“Helmet and leggings.”

“Chestplate and leggings,” Scar jumped back to his first offer, making Grian’s headspin, “and I’ll throw in something extra.”

BigB had looked exasperated for a moment, but then a spark of curiosity passed over his expression. Scott was quiet as he watched the negotiations, while Jimmy was moving his head back and forth rapidly with wide eyes. “... Something extra?” BigB repeated.

Scar nodded, smiling. He took his hands off his hips and spread his arms to the side with a flourish. “Have you ever heard of a no-kill pass, BigB?”

Grian’s stomach dropped, and he closed his eyes tightly shut, clutching his hands into fists at his side. At the same time, he stepped a bit more behind Scar, hiding his reaction from BigB as he took in a careful breath, trying to breathe. More paper. More paper. As though he couldn’t still remember Scar killing him over a piece of paper -

It was just like when Scar had offered Cleo and Bdubs those friendship passes all over again. Grian could feel the edges of a panic attack creeping up on him, and he was struggling to breathe, mouth parted as he tried to gasp air in as quietly as possible. Was this it, then? He would always panic whenever Scar mentioned ‘passes,’ whenever he took out paper and looked for an anvil?

Pathetic, his brain hissed at him. Grian shuffled his wings, flexing them hard. The shock of dull pain that shot up his left wing helped him stabilize his emotions somewhat, but the world was still far away, and he could no longer focus on whatever negotiations were taking place.

He needed to get away from the situation. There was a sharp stirring of panic and violence in his chest at the thought of leaving Scar to deal with BigB by himself, but Grian wasn’t going to be able to keep the panic attack at bay for much longer.

He let his wing brush against Scar’s back before he turned and walked off without a word, trusting Scar, Scott, and Jimmy to cover for his departure. If they called after him, he couldn’t hear it. It was all he could do to keep himself steady as he hurried into the forest around the flower fields. He wasn't sure how long he spent stumbling forward, until he almost tripped over his own feet, only just catching himself on a tree. The world was swimming in front of his eyes, and he could feel his breathing coming out in sharp, gasping breaths. Get up high, his instincts screamed. In a short moment, Grian was climbing the tree and falling onto the branch with trembling limbs.

It’s paper, he screamed internally, we’re fine! He’s trying to help us!

His deals, his inner voice retorted, matter more than you, don’t they? What if BigB tries to kill you, and then throws the no-kill pass at Scar? Will Scar just step aside and watch it happen?

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He’s already proven that he would.

“Grian?”

The voice broke through his internal argument. Grian froze, before hesitantly lowering his wings which he had curled around him at some point, peaking through the feathers towards Scott who stood down below at the base of the tree. He could hear his own breathing in his ears, sharp and desperate. Scott’s expression was concerned as he blinked up at Grian, and nonjudgemental.

“Can I come up?” Scott asked, and Grian nodded. There was no point hiding his state from Scott now, he had already seen it. At least it was just Scott.

The man climbed the tree in an agile fashion, dropping down on the branch next to Grian and kicking his legs in the air as he steadied himself. There was silence for a moment as they both looked out at the forest, Grian focusing on his breathing and calming himself down further.

Scott gave him several minutes to get himself back together, nonobtrusive. When Grian could breathe somewhat steadily again, Scott started talking, casually. “Jimmy and I got married.”

Ah. They really did get married early on in the timeline. Grian tilted his head, silent but listening.

“I know it was quick, but…” Scott trailed off and shrugged. “We don’t know how much time we have, do we? We could lose our lives any day, so there’s not really any point in waiting. Besides, I knew as soon as I saw him, that there was… something, between us. I feel like we were maybe married before this. Or maybe we didn’t even know each other and I’m just making it up in my head.”

Scott paused, to give Grian a chance to reply, but Grian stayed quiet, so he continued.

“When he went yellow, I think the reality of this world really hit me hard. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Scar, but I think maybe he feels the same way. He was a mess when he got here. It got worse every hour you didn’t arrive. I’ve never seen him act like that, he’s always so composed no matter what’s happening.”

Grian swallowed, cold guilt sliding down his throat.

Scott took in a deep breath. “Do you love him?”

There was no way Grian could stay silent if Scott was going to ask him a question like that. “Of course I do,” Grian responded, his voice hoarse.

“Romantically?”

Ah. Grian laughed, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He couldn’t help it. “Yes, but… it’s not like that.”

“You mean you’re not together?” Scott questioned. He was trying to understand. Grian wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he could feel Scott’s gaze burning into the side of his face, and he appreciated the attempt.

“We… aren’t. And we are. Or…” Perhaps not in this timeline, but in the last one, they were; and they weren’t. Grian knew he wasn’t making any sense. His relationship with Scar never fit into the normal categories of relationships, so it was hard to try to explain it within those categories. “Scar is everything to me,” he finally said. “Everything. I love him, in every way I could love another person. I will always love him, without reprieve, without logic.”

“Does he know?” Scott said after a long, silent minute had passed.

Grian nodded. Then he shrugged. Then he hesitantly shook his head.

Scott breathed out slowly. “You should tell him,” he suggested. “There’s no way he doesn’t love you back. The way he looks at you… he adores you.”

“If I tell him,” Grian stated, “then it will be so much harder on him when I die.”

He looked at Scott, finally. His friend startled, eyes wider than before as he blinked at Grian, taking in his words. “When you die,” he repeated, “not if?”

“I can’t kill Scar. I won’t live in a world without him.” Those words, and anything they may mean, sat heavy in the air between them.

Grian looked away. After another pause, Scott reached out and laid his hand over Grian’s. It was a quiet moment between two friends, supporting each other in a world that gave no support to anyone. “I don’t know what I’d do,” Scott said finally, voice quiet and broken, “if it ended up being Jimmy and me in the end.”

Grian wrapped his wing around Scott’s shoulders and closed his eyes against the light that shone through the branches and leaves of the trees.

Chapter Text

Grian and Scar stayed with Scott and Jimmy for a little over a week. Grian wore the armor that Scar had traded BigB for, for the remainder of their stay.

It was a peaceful week, after the chaos of the attack on Monopoly Mountain. Now that blood had been drawn, stepping back into the paranoid peace Grian had slowly grown used to over the last few months felt equally odd and relieving. Some part of him was preparing for the oncoming escalation of war, and that part of him took strength from his newly regained yellow nature; and yet, another part of him was mourning the quiet nights with Scar and the boundless joy of knowing Scar would be at his side when he woke each day.

Grian had always known those sweet moments wouldn’t last, yet the bitter taste that overpowered the sweetness now still made him want to cry out at the unfairness of it all.

Life isn’t fair, he sternly reminded himself as he waved goodbye to Scott and Jimmy, standing next to Scar as they began their trek back to the Sand Lands. Green, yellow, or red - they’re all the same, in their callousness.

Grian knew he wasn’t pleasant to travel with, for those days they walked, but Scar was endlessly patient with him even as Grian glowered and complained about the dry food they were stuck with, the amount of work they would have to do in order to fully repair their base, and the number of mobs that spawned each night. 

(“We’ll get to work on repairing the base as soon as we get back,” Scar replied to Grian’s griping, leaning against him so their shoulders pressed together, squeezing his hand so tightly it almost hurt. “If you don’t want to work on the main base, you could work on making sure our stairs are still in working order?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Grian reluctantly admitted, thinking of Scar, and falling, and broken bodies at the bottom of chasms. “There was a lot of damage to the stairs, and if you run around without looking like always…”

“Hey! What do you mean without looking like always? I’m not that clumsy, I’ve never fallen off anything,” Scar complained, spinning Grian’s downtrodden attitude into a teasing argument.

“Not yet,” Grian retorted. His voice was still harsh, as he was not in the mood for Scar’s teasing. Scar smiled at him anyway, as though that stilted, two-word answer was enough to make him happy.)

When they finally did make it back to their base, Grian felt bad enough about his attitude that he bit back any other pessimistic words at the sight before them, and tried to believe in Scar’s optimism instead. Even though the destruction they had agreed to try and salvage was far-reaching indeed.

The stairs and the sand supporting them had been utterly obliterated. Not only had Grian left trails of TNT behind them when they had run from the mountain, but Etho’s attack had deepened the empty spaces left behind into hollow expanses. There wouldn’t be enough time to bother filling them in all the way; Grian would have to light them up to avoid mobs spawning within, and then cover up the holes and slap stairs back on them as safely as he could.

The stairs aside, their base was left in ruins. Almost the entire east side of their base was gone, a crumbling wreck of the home they had made. The floors were peppered with missing blocks, and the other walls had small sections missing, though nothing was as bad as the east walls. It would be fixable, though it would take time.

If that was all, Grian might have been able to handle it, but it was the small details that hurt more. It was their nest, the blankets singed and ripped apart, covered in dust and burnt sand. It was the clay flower pot Scar had insisted on putting in their kitchen, cracked and fallen over, flowers nowhere in sight. Grian tried to trace his fingers over the engravings Scar had carved into their kitchen counters, but they had been too close to the explosions, and the wood was too cracked and damaged to make anything out anymore.

Scar’s hand circled his wrist, gently pulling him away from the counters and against his chest. “I can carve more,” he suggested. His fingers traced the new scars on Grian's wrist, digging into the discolored flesh for a moment. Grian tried not to think of the way the rest of the burns traveled up his arm and over his back. He tried not to think of the new stiffness in his left wing, the way he could no longer extend it fully. It's not like it had worked in the first place, so why should it upset him that it worked even less now?

“Don’t bother. They’ll just be destroyed again.”

The rest of the Sand Lands wasn’t untouched either - the whole expanse of the Lands was covered in holes and crevices of different sizes, more work for Grian who would have to fill at least the top few layers. They weren’t deep enough that there was a danger of dying from fall damage due to them, but they still presented a unique danger of their own. If they were ever trapped in there when an enemy was close by, they would be at a disadvantage. Unable to see, trapped in an easy spot for someone to pour lava on them…

“We should check on Pizza,” Grian forced out, and Scar swallowed but nodded.

Grian was surprised Scar hadn’t insisted on running to check on Pizza and Mr. Bubbles first thing. He puzzled over the reason why for a moment, taking in Scar’s tight expression, and the way his fingers squeezed around Grian’s wrist tighter. Grian rotated his wrist to loosen Scar's grip and then slipped his hand into Scar’s instead. The reason for Scar’s reluctance clicked; Scar was scared to find out what had happened to their pets. 

Despite his attempts to cheer Grian up, he was just as worried and upset with the aftermath of the attack, and the carefully hidden secret of their underground paradise was what Scar was the most afraid to see. If it hurt to see Monopoly Mountain in such ruin, how would it feel to see a place Grian had made just for Scar, in a similar state?

This time, Grian was the one to squeeze Scar’s hand tightly, even as he bit back the rising anger that stirred within him at the thought of such devastation falling on Scar’s shoulders. “Let’s go together,” he said instead, purposefully gentling his voice as he pulled Scar towards the block they always broke to drop down into the hidden space. Luckily it was one of the few blocks that had survived the attack.

That was a good sign. It had to be.

Grian broke the block and fell down, Scar at his side. They landed in water as always, and the cool liquid soaked into his shoes and the bottom of his pants, making him shiver. Grian raised his gaze slowly. His sight caught on lilypads and seaweed and a palette of mixed stones first, and Grian let the hope that threatened to fill his chest grow at that first sight of stability.

He raised his chin the rest of the way, even as Scar stepped quickly out of the water, pulling a stumbling Grian along. 

With that first look, Grian thought everything was okay after all. There was no clear destruction, and most importantly, Pizza was fine. A little bit skinnier perhaps, since he had likely eaten all the food they left down for him a few days ago at this point, but he moved forward when he saw them and didn’t move away from Scar’s one-armed hug. 

“Hey there,” Scar spoke. To his credit, his voice was only a little choked, with the smallest notes of strain. The hand clasped in Grian’s was shaking, just a little, and Grian stroked his thumb over the back of Scar’s knuckles comfortingly. Pizza snorted his own greeting, shifting his weight before he started to try and press his face against Scar’s hands in search of food. Scar laughed. “I’ll get you something soon,” he promised, letting go of the llama after a moment. “We need to go look through all of our chests, I’m sure those no-good rascals looted them! But what they don’t know, is that we have a secret stash…”

Scar trailed off. He had been smiling, so widely and brightly, and Grian had been too, even if his own smile was a softer, more subtle thing. However, as Scar’s gaze caught on something over Pizza’s shoulder, his smile faded; with it, Grian’s did, too. “What’s wrong?” Grian questioned quickly. He tried to let go of Scar’s hand to step in front of him, scanning the room for a threat, but Scar’s grip tightened again and prevented him from letting go.

“Mr. Bubbles isn’t here.” 

“... Maybe he’s in the beehive?”

“It’s not night. It’s not raining either.”

“The room is secure,” Grian responded, frowning. There was nowhere the bees could have gone. Unless… Grian tried to let go of Scar’s hand again; when Scar refused to let go, Grian yanked harder, giving his partner a pointed look. “Let’s search the room,” he suggested, “for any openings.”

Scar still seemed reluctant, but he did let go of Grian’s hand, and they spent a few minutes searching in silence. If they couldn’t help but glance at each other a few times each minute to ensure the other was still close, it was no one’s business but their own.

After two or three minutes had passed, Grian discovered the problem. Their underground sanctuary had been exposed after all. It was a small opening, only a few blocks, so it seemed like none of their intruders had actually spotted it and bothered to come explore further… they were lucky, even if it didn’t feel like it now, as Grian was forced to look at Scar’s expression when he realized the bees must have ended up outside somehow. 

Gone, by now.

Grian gritted his teeth, feeling a rising anger in his chest. It felt like a tidal wave that was coming crashing down on his head in slow motion. He tried to brace himself for it, tried to prepare himself to hold his breath, but it was hard, looking at the way Scar’s eyebrows furrowed and his hands curled in fists at his sides. Instead, when the wave came, it swept him down under it and filled his lungs with burning cold, making his fingers twitch with the urge to pull out a weapon. “I’ll kill them,” Grian found himself blurting out without thought. “For what they did to our home. I should go to their base now, set something up…”

“G, no.” Scar’s hands found his again - both of them this time, their fingers entwining as they stood facing one another. “That’s suicidal, attacking them head-on like that - they’ll retaliate against you -”

“They made you sad.” The offense was clear. The offense was unforgivable.

“G.” Scar let go of one of Grian’s hands, reaching up to hold Grian’s face instead. The avian startled at the touch, some of the yellow haze fading from his vision. He hadn’t even noticed it was there until it was gone. Now, he could only focus on the warmth of Scar’s hand, the calluses on his fingers that brushed over his cheek so gently…

He leaned into it, staring at Scar, captivated by the green of his eyes and the small, sad yet affectionate smile on his face. “You’re more important to me than some bees,” Scar said softly. “They were mostly important to me because they were gifts from you. It hurts to lose that, to lose so much, but… all I need is you. If you’re okay, I can handle the rest.”

Scar’s face had grown closer to his at some point, without Grian noticing. They were close enough that Grian could feel Scar’s breath, warmer than even his hand. There was no yellow in his vision now, only Scar. 

Then Pizza let out a sharp, hungry bleat, and they jumped apart, joined only by their hands once more.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Grian forced out.

Scar nodded quickly, and if his cheeks were slightly pink, Grian didn’t say anything.

It would be hypocritical if he did.

Their chests had been looted, but they hadn’t kept anything important in there. There was some food loss, some basic building resources, and older tools gone, but there was plenty more to be found in the hidden space behind Monopoly Mountain.

So they looted their chests for whatever they needed and got to work.

Scar made them an enchantment table, and only complained about not being able to steal the table from Renchanting once. 

They filled holes, rebuilt stairs, and fixed walls in a way that was once again different from before but was still home.

They slept in a nest with brand-new blankets, held each other close, and pushed on.

“More news from Cleo,” Scar commented one morning, frowning over their breakfast. Their kitchen had been pieced back together, and though it was less thought out and a touch more ramshackle than before, Grian was fairly happy with the end product. Scar had produced another clay pot at one point, plopping a single lilac into it with a grin. 

“Something big?” Grian questioned, looking up from his food with a frown. It couldn’t be a loss of a life; Scar’s reaction would have been much more intense if it were something of that magnitude. 

Scar glanced up from his communicator, putting it down to give Grian his full attention. Under the table, Grian felt Scar stretch out to bump their feet together. “You remember when I told you about the thing with the fletcher?”

“You mentioned it while we were staying with Scott and Timmy,” Grian recalled, squinting as he tried to remember the specifics. He’d been a bit occupied, trying to adjust to the new-old yellow instincts as they settled under his skin. Trying to avoid glimpses of his new reflection, and trying to get used to keeping his left wing folded. “Cleo stole Etho’s fletcher, right? As revenge for his attack on the Crastle?”

“Then Etho came to try and get it back, and Bdubs shot him,” Scar confirmed with a quick nod. “Well, he tried to attack them again. Cleo says they’re both okay, but they want to stop by for a visit to talk about the details and check in on us.”

It made sense in theory. They hadn’t seen their allies since before Grian went yellow. Still, something twisted harshly in Grian’s stomach, and he wasn’t able to stop the scowl from appearing on his face. He dropped his fork back down onto his plate, no longer hungry. 

Scar had clearly expected that reaction. He got up from his seat and circled around to Grian’s side of the table, leaning against the furniture with his legs crossed in front of him. “It will just be for a short visit.” Grian knew he was trying to be reassuring. He could tell from Scar’s expression that he was being open and honest with him. Still, the gentle tone only served to frustrate him.

“Just because I’ve gone yellow doesn’t mean I can’t control myself,” Grian snapped. “You don’t need to treat me like glass all of a sudden. They can come to visit, it’s best if we try to stay informed of Etho’s movements, so…”

Grian trailed off, regretting his snappish tone moments after the words left his mouth. He had basically proven Scar’s point for him, anyway - clearly, he couldn’t control himself, if Scar’s attempt to reassure him was enough for Grian to actually raise his voice at his partner. Scar reached for Grian’s plate, picked up the fork, and stole a bite of his food, giving Grian a second to gather himself. 

“G,” Scar said after swallowing since Grian hadn’t spoken up first. Grian let his wings shift, bristling. “You’re my partner. I fully trust you to make decisions with me, no matter what color your eyes are. You’re a-may-zing, and smart, and we wouldn’t be half as well off without all the effort you’ve put into the Sand Lands and our alliance!”

Grian’s wings twitched, shuddering at the sudden onslaught of compliments. He gave Scar an annoyed look, and Scar’s only response was a horrible smirk as he stole another bite of Grian’s food and pressed it against Grian’s mouth this time. Grian accepted the offering, even though he still wasn’t hungry. “I already said they can come visit,” Grian reminded Scar after he had chewed and swallowed. 

“I know - and like always, I have no doubts in your ability to control yourself around them, despite your… grudge.” Scar got Grian to eat another bite of his food. “Even though I don’t really understand what caused the grudge in the first place?”

Scar’s confusion was spoken as a question, though it wasn’t a question Grian would be able to answer. As always, Scar didn’t push. 

“When will Cleo and Bdubs be here?” Grian questioned ten minutes later after his plate was empty and Scar was finishing up his own food. Grian got started on the dishes from their breakfast, scrubbing at them even as he glanced periodically over his shoulder at his partner.

“I can ask them to leave today,” Scar suggested. “They would be here in… oh, three days? Four?” 

“Depending on how fast they travel and how many mobs they run into,” Grian confirmed, nodding as he scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain. “How long will they be staying?”

“Only a night or two. I’ll let them know we’re still working on repairs, and won’t be able to host them long.”

The repairs wouldn’t get in the way of their ability to host their allies; Grian knew Scar was only making up the excuse for Grian’s sake. Some part of him wondered if he should feel guilty. Scar enjoyed speaking with people, and he got along well with both Cleo and Bdubs, no matter how much Grian hated it. Yet, due to Grian’s own feelings, Grian was restricting Scar’s ability to be social outside of their own partnership.

Whether or not he should be feeling guilty didn’t change the fact that he didn’t. Perhaps that made him a bad person. 

It didn’t matter. 

Grian had rid himself of concerns about morality long ago.

The days spent waiting for Cleo and Bdubs to arrive went by far too quickly, as Grian dreaded the time they would spend hosting their guests. The closer the time came, the more jittery he began to feel, unable to stop his wings from twitching and his fingers from wringing together or yanking through his hair a touch too harshly.

Every time, Scar was there, hovering over his shoulder. Every time, Scar would tangle their fingers together, or brush a hand down his wing to straighten up Grian’s feathers, or pull Grian’s hands away from his hair and insist on taking a few minutes to grab a hairbrush to gently brush the grains of sand out. 

Grian’s love for Scar burned so hotly that it hurt.

The morning they arrived, it was only Scar’s hand on his shoulder that kept Grian calm as Cleo and Bdubs walked up their repaired staircase. Bdubs' eyes were red, and it wasn’t like Grian was surprised by a sight he’d already seen, but a lack of surprise didn’t stop his instincts from surging forward, begging him to pull out a weapon and yank Scar behind him.

He didn’t do either of those things though, and Bdubs' smile was eerie and delighted as he slowed to a stop before them, Cleo a few steps behind. “Hello!” Bdubs chirped, clapping his hands together in front of him. The sound rang out sharply. “Oooh, I love what you’ve done with the place, you’ve redecorated.” 

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Grian said in a dry tone, blinking away images of their home, riddled with holes. 

“We know how that feels,” Cleo agreed. She stepped forward, past Bdubs, knocking her shoulder against her partner lightly. “It really is good to see you both. Our bases are far apart, otherwise, we would have visited earlier.”

Grian had to bite back his response of I’m glad they’re far apart then, and then Scar was letting go of his shoulder and stepping forward with a flamboyant sweep of his hands. “Well, either way, thank you for your kind words, Bdubs! Grian and I spent a lot of time trying to get Monopoly Mountain back into shape, after that pesky attack - but yes, it really is a shame we’re so far apart, Cleo. Though I would never leave the Sand Lands, I would move them closer to you, if I could.”

Cleo smiled at Scar’s words, looking amused at Scar’s infectious delight. Grian shuffled out of the way as Scar invited both of their guests inside at last. There were a few minutes of casual conversation as they all got inside and out of the heat, sitting down around the table with some freshly cut bread in front of them all as a snack. The smell filled the room with comfort, making it feel safe. Grian tried to focus on that, other than his sense of being intruded. 

“So,” Grian said, as Bdubs and Scar chattered on about interior design for a little bit too long. His words broke through their conversation, and Bdubs turned red eyes onto Grian, and Grian forced himself to only focus on the green of Scar’s gaze. “You said Etho attacked you both again? It seems like he really wants to take the two of you down. He already took Bdubs' second life, but he’s still coming back for more.”

Cleo nodded in agreement, her relaxed expression sharpening into something more serious. Her orange hair still seemed so bright, even away from the sunlight. “I might have been willing to make peace with him, but since he took Bdubs' second life, that option is off the table.”

“We have no love for Etho,” Scar reassured her, “not after he helped destroy the Sand Lands. He took Grian’s first life - a crime of that magnitude is unforgivable!” 

Scar may be playing it up for dramatics, but Grian was still watching him, and he could see the way Scar’s gaze darkened, the way his hands flexed where they had been lying flat on the table in front of him. One of the hands shifted towards Grian, and Grian knew Scar would be holding onto him once more, if not for their guests. Searching for an anchor amidst a storm. The frustration over Cleo and Bdubs being in their home rose, and Grian moved his leg under the table to nudge reassuringly against Scar’s since it was all he could do. 

“Then we’re on the same page.” Cleo’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “Though in all honesty, I don’t think Etho would be targeting us so harshly if not for Bdubs shooting him.”

They all turned to look at Bdubs for a moment, and the man shrugged with an innocent smile on his face, splaying his hands out in front of him. “Hey, I can’t help it! He tried stealing from us. Besides, Etho looks nice when he’s covered in blood.”

The comment was a very red thing to say, and Grian couldn’t help his slight grimace, even as he understood. “So, you shot him, and then… how did he retaliate, exactly?”

“He tried to make a second TNT machine and send it at the Crastle, but -”

“It was a dud!” Bdubs interrupted Cleo, clapping his hands together. His smile widened, and it looked less like a smile now, and more like a wolf barring its teeth. “The Crastle has an angeled roof, which made the TNT machine useless this time. The look on Etho’s face…” he trailed off, staring into the distance with a slightly slack expression.

Grian shuddered. Dangerous, his mind screamed, internal alarm bells blaring. Cleo cleared her throat and smacked Bdubs' shoulder, and the expression thankfully cleared.

“Well,” Scar spoke up, “I’m glad neither of you got hurt! Bdubs is on his last life, you really can’t risk anything going wrong at this point.”

“I know,” Cleo sighed, “I’m hoping that since he failed, he’ll leave us alone for a while. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but…”

“Since we’re the ones who made him lose his first life, he might leave you alone to focus on us,” Scar pointed out.

“True. Not that I want that either, since we are allies, but you can both afford to lose more lives than we can right now.” Cleo’s words were clearly said in a teasing tone of voice, but it still made Grian grind his teeth, digging his nails into his palms to make himself sit still. The idea that their lives could be traded away since they hadn’t lost as many as Bdubs made him seethe.

Scar was worth more than either of their allies. Grian would watch them both die without feeling a single shred of remorse if it saved even half a heart of Scar’s from being lost. 

Scar on the other hand, actually chuckled at Cleo’s words and didn’t move when Cleo reached to pat his shoulder in a friendly motion.

The physical contact made Grian’s sight fizzle out for a moment, overcome with a wave of yellow rage.

The next thing he knew he was standing, and Scar was standing too, one of his hands tight on Grian’s shoulder while the other grasped his waist in a bruising grip. Cleo was looking at him with a startled expression, but it was clear Grian hadn’t been able to do anything but abruptly stand before Scar got his hands on him.

Bdubs was looking at Grian with an expression of knowing. Of understanding.

Scar’s grip tightened, and it ached, and Grian wanted him to hold on even tighter. 

“G?” Scar questioned, his voice loud in the sudden quiet. “Are you okay?”

His wings flexed on his back, and Grian forced them to settle down flat as the left wing started to ache, and he forced himself to smile. “Sorry, I’m fine, I just… thought I saw something. I’m still feeling a bit jumpy after the attack, you know?”

Scar released him, and Grian sat back down.

These next few days were going to be horrible.

They were, in fact, horrible.

Cleo and Scar had always gotten along in this timeline, since the very start, and Grian struggled to control himself whenever the two got close. They would laugh, and make jokes, and Cleo would casually touch Scar, and it made everything in Grian want to surge forward and slice into her for touching his partner in such a manner. 

There were a few more incidents where Grian’s self-control slipped and everything faded into the yellow, but it only ever lasted for seconds - never long enough for Grian to do any damage. Scar always noticed it was happening before Grian did, and easily stopped Grian with nothing but a touch.

Bdubs was another hurdle entirely. His presence was more threatening than Cleo’s, as a red name in their home. He acted friendly enough, offering to help out around their base, even as Grian kept turning him down and insisting he was a guest. He made jokes with Cleo and Scar, laughed, and kept his hands to himself better than Cleo did. 

Despite his apparent good behavior, Grian could see moments where his control slipped. He got a bit too excited talking about the upcoming battles and wars, and the blood he would spill. He seemed particularly eager to spill Etho’s blood - for taking his second life, Grian supposed. He lingered a bit too close to Scar and always looked delighted when Grian got between them like he was testing something and was liking what he found. He snuck a knife out of their kitchen on the second day and acted like it was all a joke when Cleo called him out and scolded him, giving the knife back to Scar. 

Grian knew what it felt like to be a red name. It felt like hanging onto the world by a thread, as everything started to lose meaning, and nothing but causing pain mattered anymore.

He may not know what was going through Bdubs' head, but he didn’t have to in order to be suspicious. 

Like last time, Grian and Scar slept apart while their guests were over, which meant that Grian didn’t get any sleep.

It was horrible.

The morning Cleo and Bdubs prepared to leave went by agonizingly slowly. It felt like their goodbyes were purposefully drawn out, and Grian had to dig his nails hard enough in his wrists to draw blood to prevent himself from reacting when Cleo gave Scar a quick hug goodbye. 

Then they were gone.

Grian stalked towards the window, staring out as the pair headed to the side of the mountain, and vanished down the stairs. He waited a few more, tense moments, to make sure they weren’t suddenly going to come back before the tension slowly seeped away from his shoulders.

There was a gentle touch on the back of his neck, Scar’s fingers just barely grazing the skin there. It was enough for Grian to abandon the window, spinning and throwing himself into Scar’s grip with a noise of utter dissatisfaction. 

Scar caught him with a chuckle, wrapping his arms around Grian and squeezing him tighttighttight, a hand rubbing down his back. “Have you slept at all?” he questioned as Grian went boneless, sending the two of them down onto the floor in an undignified heap.

“Have you?” Grian snapped back. He wasn’t going to let Scar pretend that the dark circles that had appeared under his own eyes these past few days hadn’t been just as noticeable as Grian’s own.

“Touche,” Scar responded, thankfully not denying it. Scar shifted his position under him as Grian practically crawled into his lap, making space for Grian to settle and breathe in the scent of his partner, sand, flowers, and sweat. It was too much, it was too overwhelming after days of being bereft of Scar, and Grian felt like he was finally drinking fresh water after working out in the Sand Lands for weeks. Scar's fingers trailed over his wrist for a moment, smudging the blood across his skin.

How could it be worth it, entertaining their allies, when it made them feel like this? Grian could feel the yellow creeping up on the edges of his vision, but he didn’t let that knowledge stop him as he blurted out, “we should just break the alliance with Cleo.”

Scar tensed for just a second before relaxing. He adjusted their position again, shifting Grian in his arms so he could reach his wings, and start the job of carefully preening them - being careful with his left wing. If possible, Grian went even more boneless. The floor was uncomfortable, but Grian couldn’t bring himself to move away from Scar for even a second, even if it meant moving to their nest. 

“We need allies if we want to survive this, G. I know we have Scott and Jimmy, but the more allies we have, the better off we’ll be.”

“I don’t like Cleo.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t understand why.” 

Grian thought of Scar’s agonized expression after Pizza went missing. He thought of Cleo’s casual touches, the way she laughed at Scar and seemed so happy to see him. He thought of the way she hugged him when they said their goodbyes. 

Scar’s fingers slowed as he worked on Grian’s wings, and he added, slowly, “though… I do find it interesting that you said we should break the alliance with Cleo, but you didn’t mention Bdubs. I thought your main concern was Bdubs being a red name. I know you’ve always been cautious of going red, but…”

Scar’s train of thought was getting far too close to figuring out part of Grian’s hatred. He knew he should speak up, say something to derail him, but the fingers in his feathers felt far too nice, and Grian pushed his wing harder against them. Distractedly, Scar listened to his unspoken demand, scratching between the feathers and tugging out a loose one. 

“... Grian, are you jealous of Cleo?”

Scar sounded delighted. 

Grian made a noise that was far too close to an avian-sounding squawk for his liking and tried to jerk away from Scar’s grip at last. Before he could, Scar’s free arm circled around him, pinning him to his chest. His other hand kept working at Grian’s feathers, preening him exactly how he knew Grian liked it best, and Grian struggled to get his bearings back around the gentle wave of pleasure and relaxation. 

“No,” he managed, at least. It was weak, even to his own ears.

Scar laughed at him, and Grian felt indignant, and flustered, all at once. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Scar apologized, clearly having felt the way Grian had bristled at the sound of his laughter. “I’m not laughing at you, I just… G. You’re my partner. You’re the one I built Monopoly Mountain with, you agreed to take over the Sand Lands with me. You don’t have to worry about Cleo.”

Grian would have liked to - to do something about those words, though he wasn’t sure what. He would have liked to argue, or defend himself, try to gain back some ground, and convince Scar he wasn’t jealous. 

He didn’t have the chance though, because Scar half leaned over him, pausing in his preening for just long enough to press a quick kiss against Grian’s cheek. For a moment, Grian felt the warmth of Scar’s mouth on his skin and could smell the flowery scent of Scar much closer than he had expected. It wiped any thought of argument out of his head. It wiped everything out of his head.

When Scar returned to his preening, Grian could only sit there in flustered silence, feeling like Scar had definitely won this argument. 

He didn’t have time to wonder over Scar’s sudden affection for long. Their days were filled with repairs and constant work, and grinding away at materials and at their mines as they prepared for another attack. Until finally, they were out of time.

Renthedog was slain by InTheLittleWood using [💀💀💀 RED WINTER IS COMING 💀💀💀].

The Red Winter had arrived. 

Chapter Text

The Nether was sweltering hot, and Grian wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, rustling his wings to try to get rid of the sticky-sweat sensation. It didn’t really help, unfortunately. Next to him, Scar wasn’t doing any better than Grian was, tugging at his shirt with a miserable expression. For a moment, Grian squinted his eyes a bit at his partner, wondering if now would be when Scar demanded the right to go shirtless.

Luckily, no such words left Scar’s mouth. “This almost isn’t worth it,” he said, instead, “even for the flex. … Then again, it is a pretty good flex.”

Grian inwardly agreed. The upgrade from diamond to netherite hadn’t changed much for them in the end. However, there were two main reasons Grian still proposed the upgrade this time around.

The first reason was the fear that the netherite swords made their enemies feel. There was something about the upgraded weapon, gleaming black so deep it shone purple, an ore taken from the very depths of hell, that sent shivers down the spines of anyone unlucky enough to get on the pointy end of the blade. Grian had never been one to underestimate the impact some extra fear could bring on the battlefield, and anything to tilt the odds in their favor would be happily embraced.

The second reason was the chance to spend some time with Scar. Ever since the attack on Monopoly Mountain, even their own home had begun to feel unsafe. The Nether wasn’t safe by any means, but at least the likelihood of another player finding them deep underground in another dimension was extremely low. It was an entire world where only Scar and Grian existed, just as it should be.

However, as Grian carefully placed another trail of TNT, his resolution wavered. He’d forgotten how long the trip had taken the first time around - that is to say, a few days. It was already well into the second day, and they had only found three ancient debris so far, so they still had five to go.

It wasn’t like Grian wasn’t used to long trips, but they got much worse when it was impossible to sleep without risking certain death.

“Step back,” Grian warned, ushering Scar behind him. He set the first TNT in the line off, before moving further back himself. The explosions started after a second, and Grian breathed slowly, in and out, doing his best to ignore the sound of explosions. It’s fine. It’s my own TNT, I just lit it, we’re not being attacked.

Grian had repeated that mantra over and over again to himself a lot this past day.

“Any luck?” Scar questioned. His voice was bright with hope as he stepped around Grian, dashing into the newly exploded space and examining the walls and ceilings for any glimpses of ancient debris. Grian followed close behind him, double-checking the areas Scar had already looked at.

Before Grian had finished looking, Scar’s disappointed sigh made it clear that there was nothing to be found. The entire process would likely be easier, and faster if they split up; neither of them made the suggestion, even as Grian started laying down another trail of TNT.

“You know,” Grian commented. He was hoping to distract Scar from the drag of exhaustion, and the boredom of repetitive work, but he hadn’t even thought of a topic before he spoke. Seeing the way Scar perked up and swung his attention over to Grian, the avian scrambled to find something to talk about. Considering the task they were working on, it was no wonder the first thing that came to mind was, “did I ever tell you about the blue sword boys?”

“... No,” Scar said after a moment, with barely restrained curiosity.

Grian couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of that so-called group anyway. “It’s BigB, Martyn, and I,” he explained, “from early days. The three of us were mining together, and Martyn found his first diamonds. Since -”

“Hold on!” Scar interrupted him. Grian stepped back into Scar, and Scar plucked a loose feather from his wing almost absent-mindedly. Then he obediently moved a few steps back to allow space for Grian to light his newly placed TNT, and they waited for the explosions to quiet before proceeding forward and resuming their conversation. “You have a group with Martyn and BigB?” He sounded offended as his voice went higher, his arms sweeping out in a wide gesture.

“I thought you liked BigB?”

“Well, I mean, he’s… fine. He has a high number of friendship points with the Sand Lands since he’s given us so much armor in the past, and he has the no-kill pass I gave him.” Grian could have gone without that particular reminder. “However! That doesn’t mean that I - that you -”

“That what?” Grian honestly hadn’t expected Scar to actually get worked up over Grian’s mention of BigB. (There was no ancient debris to be found in their newest expanse. Grian went back to placing TNT).

“Well, what about Martyn? He’s an enemy of Monopoly Mountain! He tried to distract us right before the last attack, which killed you, if you’ve somehow forgotten.”

Grian twitched his left wing, feeling the motion in a numb, distant way. He certainly hadn’t. “If you would let me finish explaining…” he trailed off, dry, unoffended by Scar’s words.

“Fine,” Scar sulked.

His partner waved an impatient hand, and Grian had to put in all his effort to not laugh at his dramatics. “Like I said, this was back in the early days. Hardly any of the alliances we made back then were serious in the first place. Martyn found his first diamonds, and it happened to be the perfect amount for three diamond swords. So he gave us each a sword, and they decided to call us the blue sword boys. It never meant anything to me.”

“Yet you still remembered it.”

Grian hadn’t, in the first timeline. He hadn’t thought anything of the moment, not until it happened twice and he realized for the first time that maybe Martyn and BigB had thought it meant something. “I really didn’t. I just remembered it now, since we’re trying to upgrade our swords from diamond to netherite.”

Scar still looked like he was sulking as they stepped back to let the TNT explode. His arms were crossed, mouth twisted into a frown that was all pout and offense. Grian sighed and jumped to damage control. “You know if anything, matching diamond swords is pretty boring. It’s not like it really set us apart for long - everyone has diamond swords by now. On the other hand, matching netherite…”

“We’ll be the only ones who have it,” Scar said, completing his thought.

“Exactly. I’m casting the blue sword boys behind me, and embracing our partnership instead,” Grian teased. He pulled the dramatics close like a cloak, knowing it would cheer Scar up.

As Grian glanced over his shoulder at the newly exposed expanse, and Saw some hidden ancient debris halfway down the hallway of destruction, he knew that would cheer Scar up even more.

“Onwards!” he remarked cheerfully, nudging Scar ahead of him. Inwardly, he made a promise to never so much as think about the ‘blue sword boys’ again, if it upset his partner this much.

The day after they returned from the Nether with their newly cast netherite weapons, the chat filled with chaos, with one disaster after the other.

Tango was shot by impulseSV.

Etho was shot by Tango.

Smajor1995 whispers to you: Grian, we need to talk.
Smajor1995 whispers to you: In person.
Smajor1995 whispers to you: Is it okay if Jimmy and I stop by?

Impulse had gone yellow, followed only an hour later by Etho going red, and then Scott had messaged at the end of the day in a concerning, cryptic manner.

Grian didn’t understand what had happened that caused Tango and Etho to lose these particular lives; he hadn’t been present for the event in this life, or the last. However, he knew it made Etho a red name - he knew it meant two of their enemies were bloodthirsty and willing to do whatever they could to kill Grian and Scar and tear the Sand Lands apart.

You whisper to Smajor1995: Come on over
You whisper to Smajor1995: Are you and Timmy okay?
Smajor1995 whispers to you: We’re both fine, I’ll explain when I get there.

Grian ground his teeth and breathed in deep, opening and closing his wings a few times in a show of his stress. He was in their kitchen, pacing around the table, as Scar sat on the counter and watched him with a solemn expression. “Two deaths in one day,” he remarked.

Grian nodded.

“It will only get worse from here,” Scar continued.

Grian nodded again, jerkier, like a puppet with its strings being crudely yanked.

Scar sighed, long and low, and jumped off the counter to intercept Grian’s pacing and pull him into a tight hug.

They stood there in silence; there was nothing to say.

“I had the chance to see firsthand Tango’s and Etho’s deaths,” Scott said, a matter of fact, as he sat down at their table two days later. Jimmy sat next to him, and they dug into the soup Scar had prepared for their late lunch. It was as delicious as ever, thick and salty with carrot and chunks of well-cooked meat, but Grian was struggling to take more than a few bites.

Scott looked tired; there were dark bruises under his eyes, and his lips were twisted into a permanent frown. Jimmy seemed to be doing a bit better than his husband, though he kept casting Scott concerned looks, and his fingers kept tapping against the table in an erratic fashion. “He means he was spying on them,” the yellow-name added, as though the clarification had been needed.

Grian nodded, pushing a chunk of meat around with his spoon, even as he kept his gaze on Scott. “What exactly happened?”

“I don’t really know,” Scott sighed. He seemed regretful that he didn’t have better information. With anyone else, Grian may suspect he was being lied to, but for some reason, he believed Scott. “They had a firing range set up. Bdubs was the one who… forced? Coerced? Etho.”

Grian thought back to the way Bdubs spoke of Etho, his expression as he commented on how nice Etho would look covered in blood, and he wasn’t surprised. “It doesn’t really matter,” he said instead, letting it go. “Is that what you wanted to tell us? It sounded urgent -”

“It’s not only that,” Scott shook his head. “I know you’re partners with Cleo and Bdubs, and I heard some whispers about a plan against them.”

Grian’s first thought was good.

His second thought was we need our allies alive.

It took a moment for the second thought to overpower the first, and Grian blinked yellow spots out of his vision as he looked towards his partner. Scar was leaning forward against their table, frowning deeply, one hand under his chin as he stared back at Grian. “We need to go warn them,” he immediately claimed. Grian felt the grimace that twisted its way onto his face, but he slowly nodded.

“I can go alone,” he suggested.

He knew from the way Scar’s expression tightened, that his partner wouldn’t let that happen. Scar didn’t even have to say anything.

Instead, the two members of the Sand Lands looked back towards Scott. “Please say that’s it,” Grian sighed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I think that’s more than enough bad news -”

“One more thing.”

“You saw the… Red Winter thing, right?” Jimmy spoke up. His voice was nervous, and his gaze flickered over his shoulder like he thought the King and the Hand would appear with their axe and sword if Jimmy so much as spoke their names.

“It would have been hard to miss!” 

Grian nodded in agreement with Scar, even as he narrowed his eyes at Jimmy. Whatever news they had about Ren and Martyn had to be bad, and Grian had a suspicion he knew what that news was. After all, it had been a week and a half since the death message had appeared in chat; if Ren was planning to follow the same path this time, then…

Scott’s frown twisted into an outright scowl, and he let out a frustrated breath. “That ‘King’,” he sneered, and Grian could hear the quotations around the title, “came to our home and demanded tribute. Then he wanted to put up his banner in our base. He kept calling it an alliance, but then he would mess up and call it allegiance, so -”

Jimmy jolted to his feet, slamming his hands on the table so hard that it shook. Startled by the sudden movement, Grian jumped up as well, wings snapping out as he summoned his sword to his hand and bared his teeth.

Scar stood quickly, leaning in front of Grian to block the weapon.

None of it stopped Jimmy’s rant. “He was being so demanding! He never would have agreed to a fair alliance with us, Scott, you know it! I had to burn that stupid banner! He’s already trying to convince others to join him, like - like -”

“Skizzle, Etho, and Smallish,” Scott sighed. He stood up, placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, and tried to urge him to sit down. Jimmy complied after a moment. Grian saw the way he made eye contact with Scar as he did so, and he saw the way Scar turned to offer him a tense half-smile before pointing to his sword with a raised eyebrow.

Grian shoved it back into his inventory with a frown, forcing his wings to slowly flatten to his back. He only sat down when Scar did.

“Right,” Jimmy huffed, “them! He’s just - he’s so - and Martyn was just following him around like a dog, his head bowed to the ground every time Ren so much as looked at him, and he has this… weird cloak now. It’s black and red and creepy, and it has a bloody handprint on the back, and Ren kept calling him ‘my Hand’. It was all…”

“Unsettling,” Scott finished. His hand was still planted on Jimmy’s shoulder, keeping the yellow name soothed. Grian hated the way Scar placed a hand on Grian’s knee under the table, as though Grian needed to be calmed as well. He hated the way it worked.

“Unsettling,” Jimmy agreed. “Besides! We already have you two!”

“Grian,” Scott’s calm voice cut through the air, and Jimmy’s rant fell quiet for the time being. Grian focused on Scott, and the man’s expression was serious as he returned the avian’s gaze. “When you first approached us, a few months ago, you asked to be friends. I said we were on friendly terms with everyone.”

Join us.

I’m staying neutral.

Grian nodded. He remembered.

“You were fine with that,” Scott continued. “You said we could be friendly, and then you reached out to us over the months. We spoke, and spent time together, and… I think I would like to be friends now. True friends.”

Scott stuck his hand out over the table. Scar’s hand squeezed his knee tightly, and then let go.

Grian hadn’t been there when Scott had died for the final time. He had been at the Crastle with the rest of the Pizza Alliance, and Scott had been alone, cut down by Ren, and surrounded by enemies. Grian had seen the message in chat, and had felt his heart fall to his feet as his stomach had churned. He didn’t want to think about how it’d felt; d ying alone at night, feeling the blood as it soaked through his clothing. Hearing the laughter and taunts of his enemies as they stood around his fading life, waiting for a chance to take any worthwhile loot off his corpse. Feeling the cold air chill him to the bones, but not even having the strength to shiver.

Scott would have to die again; it was the only way for Scar to win, and both Grian and Scott knew that Grian would betray him in the end.

Still, if nothing else… this time, Grian made a small, internal promise that now, in this second chance, he wouldn’t let Scott die alone. Even if Grian had to slay him with his own sword, he would kneel in his friend's blood, and hold his hand until he was gone. He owed Scott that much, after failing him before. He owed him more than that, after manipulating him and using him, with the intention to keep doing so.

“It’s a promise,” Grian swore out loud, reaching across the table and grasping Scott’s hand.

They shook, once, sharply.

Scar’s body was warm next to him, and they were squeezing each other's hands tightly enough to hurt, but neither of them dared to complain. They kept their gazes locked to the sky, and Grian ignored the way his wings ached under his body, ignored the way the sand under him brought back memories of jumping and falling and breaking apart.

“The moon is beautiful, isn't it?” Scar questioned. His voice was a soft whisper, barely a question in the depths of the night.

Grian hummed, noncommittally.

He had the odd, overwhelming urge to cry, though he did his best to ignore it.

Martyn was wearing the Hand’s cloak. Ren was red. Red Winter was coming. Green lives, yellow lives, red lives - they were all killing one another. In the light of the day, they would need to travel to Cleo’s and warn both her and Bdubs about the plan apparently being set up against them. They might never make it back if things went wrong.

He’d liked the peace. It had been so strange at first, so overwhelming, but he had loved it.

“Stay with me?”

It was a pointless question. When they were forced apart, they would be dragged, kicking and screaming and bleeding. There wouldn’t be anything that Scar could do about it.

“Always.”

On their way to the Crastle;

Smallishbeans went up in flames.

In the end, it was almost ridiculous, how Grian lost his second life. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him, even if it would be lost on everyone else.

They arrived at Cleo’s, and both Cleo and Bdubs came out to greet them. Bdubs had a pleased, almost satiated expression on his face, and it sent a shiver down Grian’s spine. “Hello there!” Bdubs greeted cheerfully, practically skipping forwards. “Did you see?? The Crastle got a kill!”

“You set Joel’s base on fire,” Grian remarked. They had seen the damage on their way over; the cracked wood burnt black. They hadn’t seen Joel himself, but Grian had felt like he could feel the newly red name’s stare nonetheless. The attention of a red name was no small thing, and Grian had gripped his sword and shield tight until he felt like they were a sufficient distance away.

“He helped Etho with his attack against us,” Cleo waved the accusation off. “Bdubs insisted.”

It wasn’t like Grian didn’t understand. He’d been red for a short time, and the call for blood was impossible to resist, especially if the other party attacked first. Still; Joel had chosen right in the end, and Grian was hopeful that he would again, even if Grian and Scar were teaming up with his murderers in a much more friendly fashion now.

“Fire is a good way to go,” Scar remarked. His own voice was cheerful as he swept a hand out, wiggling his fingers as a way to represent flames. He was standing close to Grian, with only the smallest sliver of space between them. Each time Grian shifted his weight, Scar would shift with him, maintaining that sliver-wide distance.

They both wanted to be closer; they both knew they shouldn’t.

“I agree!” Bdubs was close now, no longer skipping forwards. Instead, he was bouncing on his heels, his smile wide on his face as he clapped his hands together in his excitement. “You should have seen it, Scar! He was screaming and trying to put it out, and then he was all burnt up and crispy, and in his panic, he fell into the flames that finished him off! He was like -” Bdubs screwed his face up into an expression of fear “-ahhhhh!!! Then, he jumped right in! It smelled gross.”

The last sentence was delivered in a flat tone, so suddenly different from the rest of his explanation. Grian wrinkled his nose, peeking at Cleo over the shoulder of the red name. Cleo, to her credit, seemed to be holding herself together well. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and Grian could only just make out the shadow of despair on her face before it was swept away in the breeze.

“I would imagine,” Scar agreed when no one else spoke. “Say, not that it isn’t lovely to converse with you all down here, but why don’t we go inside? We have some information you may find… interesting.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course! You know, Etho was actually just here. We - well, we’ll explain when we’re inside, I suppose.”

Cleo nodded, stepping forward to grasp Bdubs’ shoulder and pull him back a few steps, back towards their base. Grian’s own sense of worry spiked; Etho had been here? For what purpose? It must have been on Ren’s commands if Red Winter was here. Etho had tucked his tail between his legs and become a loyal dog for Ren almost before the King’s name had gone red.

Which meant the plan Scott and Jimmy had warned them of could already be in its starting stages.

“That’s actually what we came here to talk to you about… in a way,” Grian remarked. He followed behind the pair, Scar still close at his side, still close enough for Grian to feel his warmth.

“Oh? Is it?” Cleo remarked. She didn’t say anything else, not in the open, and a few moments later they were all stepping into the Crastle.

Grian felt some of the tension fall from his shoulders, and he glanced around the room. He Saw the first floor of the Crastle, as it normally was; a few double chests and furnaces by the wall, some scattered single chests around the stairs, a jukebox tucked into the corner, a crafting table, a bubble elevator, a bed. He Saw the second floor in the same manner; a mostly empty space, higher off the ground, with open windows to see outside the Crastle, and a single chest.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs?” he suggested. Scar broke away from his side at last when Grian spoke his suggestion in order to step towards the stairs, along with Cleo and Bdubs. “It may be slightly safer, in case of lingering ears outside the walls.” Being a floor up would make it harder for anyone to listen to them from outside the Crastle.

Grian Saw the way the bubble elevator led to the second floor and opted to try the faster mode of transportation, and stepped into the bubbles without another thought.

Ironic. It was so ironic.

He could almost laugh. He should be laughing!

There was a moment of cold water against his skin, enough time for Grian to realize that where light should be shining from above was only darkness. The oddly cold, slick feeling of obsidian was somehow still felt even as the water pushed Grian up into the lava trap that awaited him at the top of the elevator.

He hardly had time for the chilling feelings of confusion-realization-fear-worry- Scar- to strike before everything became nothing but burning. In an instant, his world had transformed into an inferno of unimaginable agony.

At least his last coherent thought was enough for Grian to remember to bite down on his tongue so Scar wouldn’t hear the guttural screaming that tried to claw its way out of his already scorched raw throat. The blood that filled his mouth from the bitten-off muscle was metallic, and then Grian lost the ability to taste, and it was nothing.

There wasn’t much room for Grian to flail inside an obsidian box; even as the lava burnt and melted and blistered and peeled away at any exposed skin instantly as the flames devoured him with merciless fervor; even as his wings shriveled and blackened in the seething molten chaos; even as the pain, excruciating as it was, built to a crescendo.

There was no escape, no solace, just the relentless burn until finally, mercifully, his nerve endings surrendered to the relentless agony.

There was searing darkness.

Grian tried to swim in lava.

It was funny because that was how Grian and Scar had killed Bdubs in the first timeline. It was ironic, that Grian hadn’t recognized his own trap. It was hilarious, that Grian had trusted it because he had Seen that it was safe -

Because he had -

He had Seen -

How had he seen that it was safe? He was on the first floor. There was no way to see what lay at the top of the bubble elevator.

He hadn’t seen anything.

He had just died.

Chapter Text

Grian had died.

He was there one moment, and then he was gone the next. Scar hadn’t even heard him scream. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears, rapid fire. He could tell, in some distant way, that his hands had started to shake, and he forced them to still. Grian was red now, and days away, far out of Scar’s reach - all the way back in the Sand Lands.

He swallowed bile down harshly, doing his best not to throw up as he turned towards Cleo and Bdubs. They were all on the second floor, only seconds after Grian’s death message had appeared in chat. Cleo was frozen, her eyes wide, one of her hands slapped over her mouth. Bdubs was staring, a blank expression on his own face, like he couldn’t figure out how he should feel, so he chose nothing.

“If you set up that trap for G -” Scar started, his voice surprisingly steady to his ears.

“No! We didn’t!” Cleo quickly called out, raising her hands in front of her and shaking her head in denial. Even Bdubs was able to snap out of his blank stare to shake his head, siding with Cleo. “It was Dogwarts. Etho. They built the bubble elevator as a gift, I don’t even know when they would have had time to trap it!”

Some part of Scar still wanted to blame them. After all, they would have been fine if they never came to the Crastle. Grian would have been fine. He wouldn’t have been - he -

Scar squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. “Break the obsidian,” he rasped out.

“Scar… everything would have burned -”

“His sword was netherite.”

No one spoke as Cleo broke into the trap to retrieve the sword. It only took about a minute, but it felt like hours. As Scar had claimed, she easily found Grian’s sword once she removed the lava, and then she gave it to Scar with a solemn expression. Scar had to uncurl his fists to grab it, and he only noticed the way his nails had been digging into his palms when he saw the blood staining his skin in deep, crescent shapes.

Scar tucked the sword into his inventory, right next to his own. His pain meant nothing and was easily dismissed as he focused on Grian’s sword instead. He would keep it safe, until he saw Grian again, and then - then - …

Scar pulled out his communicator. His hands had started to shake again at some point, but this time, they wouldn’t stay still even when he tried to force them to. The chat was freaking out over Grian’s death, but Scar didn’t care about that. All he cared about was that Grian hadn’t messaged him yet.

You whisper to Grian: G???
You whisper to Grian: I have your sword
Your whisper to Grian: Plese come back

He waited a moment for a reply, staring at the communicator. Cleo and Bdubs didn’t interrupt him; it seemed like they didn’t know what to say. It was probably for the best. There was nothing they could say, any attempts would just snap the thin threads holding Scar together. Scar just had to breathe, and try not to focus on the way his blood boiled under his skin.

Oh, Grian. Scar wanted to wrap him up and never let him go again. He wanted to hunt down every member of Dogwarts and tear them to shreds slowly, so they would feel every second of it. He would alternate between killing Ren in front of Martyn, and Martyn in front of Ren, until they both ran out of lives. Maybe seeing each other die would make them feel a fraction of what Scar felt.

That was when the first explosion hit the walls of the Crastle.

Scar nearly dropped his communicator as the entire building shook, scrambling to catch it and stuff it in his pocket. Cleo gasped, dashing to one of the windows to peer outside and see what was going on, as Bdubs pulled out a bow and followed quickly on her heels. “Dogwarts is back!” Cleo called out, breaking Scar from his stupor.

He rushed to his own window and felt his mouth go dry. Cleo was right - down below, a small crowd gathered. Front and center was Ren, only he looked much different from the last time Scar had seen him. Ren was wearing a long, crimson-red cape, with white fluff surrounding his collar. There was a crown on his head, gleaming gold and red. Even from a distance, Scar could make out the way his neck was covered in thick scar tissue, and he could spot the heavy axe in his hand, gleaming with enchantments.

Martyn, of course, was by Ren’s side, as well as Etho. Etho, at least, didn’t look too different - but Martyn did. Martyn was wearing the cloak that Scott had mentioned, midnight black and the same crimson as Ren’s, and Scar could make out the handprint that adorned the back of the outfit as Martyn turned to say something to his King. His own sword gleamed with the same enchantments as Ren’s, and although his eyes were surely green, his attire and attitude screamed red to Scar.

Hovering behind the group stood Skizzle, who would surely be a problem, considering the last time Scar saw him was when Grian blew him up; and there, next to him, was BigB and Joel.

Scar thought of all the friendship points BigB had with the Sand Lands with a distant sense of despair. It seemed as though BigB hadn’t valued those friendship points as much as Scar hoped he had.

“Scar, set your spawn on the bed downstairs,” Cleo said, her expression tight as she stared down at the large group. “If this goes wrong, we don’t want you spawning all the way back in the Sand Lands.”

Scar hesitated. If this went wrong, and he died and ended up back in the Sand Lands, he would be with Grian, which he didn’t think would be too bad. However, he would end up losing all of his items, including both of their swords…

Scar swallowed and nodded, leaving the window and dashing down the stairs quickly. As he moved, he could hear Ren begin talking, calling out, “Cleo and Bdubs of the Crastle! For thy crimes against Joel, who stood under the protection of the banner of Dogwarts, we shall strike back tenfold!”

Dramatic. If Scar didn’t hate Ren so much, he would have been able to appreciate it.

As it was, all Scar could think about was how he had a chance to make his thoughts a reality. Dogwarts had just killed Grian. His partner was on red now. Scar was trying to contain his emotions to not lash out against Cleo and Bdubs, who were still his allies, and to not give too much away regarding his relationship with Grian, but this was the perfect chance for Scar to let go of that flimsy control.

A grin, savage and trembling, forced its way onto his face as he set his spawn and then drew his bow out of his inventory, squeezing it in a tight grip. They would regret what they had done. Scar would ensure it.

Spawn set, the green name was quick to race back upstairs, carefully not looking at the bubble elevator as he did so. When he made it back to the floor above, Cleo and Bdubs were already trading shots with the group down below. They would alternate between shooting, and then ducking inside as arrows flew through the window. Cleo’s expression was set in determination, while Bdubs was grinning, laughing slightly as he just barely avoided an arrow.

Scar stayed low as he moved across the room to join them, taking a quick peek out the window himself. They were outnumbered. They were trapped in their base. They had just lost his partner. And yet, and yet…

“Let’s take Dogwarts down a notch,” Scar rasped, with that shaky grin, and both Bdubs and Cleo shouted their agreement.

Grian jolted back into consciousness violently, falling sideways off the bed as he came too. For a moment, he patted at himself, as though trying to douse flames that weren’t there, panting rapidly. The world around him was blurry and distant, and he had to blink multiple times to force it to clear up and sharpen.

“Scar?” he choked out, as he got his bearings back.

Scar wasn’t there. He was still at the Crastle, which meant Grian had no time to marvel over the new roughness of his skin from burn scars, he had no time to panic and mourn his yellow life, he didn’t have time to try and come to terms with how much pain he was just in; the Crastle was a far, far trip from the Sand Lands, and Grian had to make haste.

He didn’t forget to grab armor and supplies, this time.

Skizzle, BigB, and Joel continued to shoot arrows, matching Cleo, Bdubs, and Scar three for three. Ren seemed content to stand back with his shield on his arm issuing commands; perhaps Martyn was the one who insisted Ren stay back, as he placed a hand on his King’s shoulder and seemed to be saying something moments before heading towards the Crastle entrance, Etho on his heels.

Cleo shot an arrow that widely missed, and she let out a frustrated hiss. “Scar, can you watch the stairs?” she questioned, pushing flame-orange hair over her shoulder as she drew the string of her bow back once more.

Scar let one last arrow fly, aiming for BigB. He aimed well, but BigB had seen it coming, and raised his shield at the last moment, allowing the arrow to embed itself in the wood instead of his own flesh. “Gotcha!” Scar agreed, turning away from the window to face the stairwell instead. He pulled out a bucket of lava from his inventory and prepared himself to swap to Grian’s sword at any moment.

Behind him, Bdubs let out an excited cheer. “I hit Joel! That had to do some damage! Hah, and they haven’t landed a single shot yet!”

“Don’t jinx us!” Cleo scolded, as Martyn and Etho burst through the entrance.

“Surrender in the name of the King!”

“I don’t serve any King,” Scar snapped, dumping the lava bucket out at their feet. Martyn quickly leaped from the entrance further into the room, avoiding the lava; Etho took a tick of fire damage before he moved, the exposure to the lava resulting in setting himself on fire before he managed to yank out his water bucket and douse himself. Still, in that single second, Scar allowed himself to enjoy the smell of singed clothing and skin, and Etho’s low, pained hiss.

Cleo let out an excited cheer behind him, so she must have been able to land a hit; Bdubs echoed her a second later. For being so outnumbered, they weren’t doing half-bad.

Scar allowed that confidence to carry him forward as he drew his sword and lunged at Etho, sweeping widely at his chest as he tried to take advantage of Etho’s distraction. Unfortunately, Etho had recovered too quickly and was able to raise his sword to deflect Scar’s attack. “You don’t want to do this, Scar,” Etho warned.

“Oh I really, really do! I heard you installed a certain bubble elevator that killed my partner, you see,” Scar hummed. “That means you took both of his lives from me.”

“Scar -”

“I normally love some good banter, but for once I’m going to have to insist on less talking, more fighting,” Scar informed Etho. His entire world felt narrowed at that moment, as though Etho were the only one who existed in the room with him. He could only think of making Etho bleed, dragging the proud man down to his knees and listening to the sounds of his bones snapping beneath his skin as his final life drained away.

Etho’s eyes were crimson red as he returned Scar’s gaze, and then he leaped forward to respond to Scar’s attack with one of his own. As Etho had done a moment before, Scar deflected the attack with his own sword, the metal colliding in a shower of sparks.

He realized his mistake too late, as Cleo cried out in pain behind him, and Scar turned to find Martyn standing over Cleo with his sword buried deeply in her back.

“Cleo!” Bdubs cried out. His call of her name was loud, and Scar watched as he swapped out his bow for a sword - but not quickly enough.

Martyn yanked his sword out of Cleo’s back, and Cleo gasped, slumping forward against the wall and raising a shaky hand to her chest as blood seeped from her wound. The crimson red was striking as it dripped down onto the stone below, spreading slowly across the floor.

She began to turn even as she clutched at her chest, expression twisted into one that screamed rage and indignation, but Martyn brought his sword down again as she turned, slicing deeply from her throat to her shoulder.

If the blood that spewed from her chest was a lot, the blood that sprayed from this new wound was worse, and Cleo collapsed to the side, mouth parted as she tried to gasp in air that couldn’t enter her lungs through a severed throat. Maybe she could be saved - if she could eat a golden apple quickly enough if they could splash her with a healing potion of some type -

Scar started forward, and Etho’s sword was suddenly there, blocking his way.

Bdubs lunged at Martyn with a near-animalistic shriek, sending the blonde stumbling away from Cleo at last. “Get away from her!” he yelled, bringing his sword forward in a clumsy strike that Martyn easily dodged.

ZombieCleo was slain by InTheLittleWood.

Scar watched as Cleo’s body vanished, her items left behind in a messy pile. Etho glanced over his shoulder to eye the items contemplatively, and Scar’s vision went nearly white with rage as he lunged forward. “Don’t even think about it,” he snapped.

It was a crit - that much was clear as Scar felt his sword finally connect with flesh, severing muscles in Etho’s arm, before the sword continued downwards and cut deeply into the man’s stomach. Etho stumbled hard, nearly falling to his knees, only just able to remain standing. His free hand went to clutch at his stomach - Scar’s attack had struck deep, deep enough that the pressure of Etho’s hand may be the only thing keeping his organs where they should be.

There was no way Etho could keep fighting. He was on his red life; if he died here, he would be the first player who would be gone.

Scar didn’t care. Scar thought of Grian, golden in the sunlight, flinging dirt at him in the garden; he thought of Grian, flinging himself between Scar and an explosion, then trapped in obsidian as he burned. He thought of Cleo, sitting around a jukebox and laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe; he thought of Cleo, bleeding and glaring then gone. He thought of Monopoly Mountain too, grand and tall and beautiful, then cracked and burnt.

“You never should have stood against the Sand Lands,” Scar gasped, sweeping his sword at Etho’s legs so he would trip back and fall to his knees, unable to move his hand where it kept his life inside him. Etho glared up at him, eyes nearly glowing they were so red, defiant until the end. Scar raised his sword.

“Scar!” Cleo called out from behind him, newly respawned, her voice a scream, a warning.

Scar turned, too slowly, and was met with lava. He was set on fire instantly, stumbling back from the burning, crackling heat that burned his clothes in an instant and started to melt his skin. He could smell himself burning as he scrambled for his water bucket, a scream of pain caught in his throat.

“My Hand!” Ren’s voice called out, somehow audible through the pain.

Scar tried to grab his water bucket and missed, only grabbing it on the second try. Finally, he managed to put water down beneath himself, dousing the flames, but it was much too late. He had taken a lot of damage, and the burns were severe as he cried out, coughing on smoke and wheezing. Somehow, he was on his knees in the water. He didn’t even remember falling.

It hurt. Grian had died this way; his pain would have been even worse, even more intense.

“My King! Be careful!” Martyn called out, and Scar forced his blurry sight to focus for a moment so he could see what was going on in the room. Cleo was standing a few steps in from the door, her back pressed to the wall; defenseless, without any items. Ren was standing directly at the entrance, and he was helping Etho up, letting the white-haired man lean his weight against him. Bdubs and Martyn were standing facing each other - there was a deep cut in Bdubs gut, and he had a hand pressed to the wound, but Martyn was worse off, with an obviously broken shoulder, and a seeping wound on his side.

As Martyn tried to step towards Ren, he stumbled, limping, and Scar sneered as the resemblance to an injured animal trying to get away became clear to him.

“Retreat!” Ren demanded, shifting his body so Etho was hidden behind him. “You and Etho are too heavily injured, my friends - one kill on this wretched woman is more than enough.”

“Who are you calling wretched?” Cleo practically screeched, causing Scar to shiver. He would not want to be on her bad side, even without any items.

Martyn obeyed almost before Ren was finished speaking, like a dog rushing to get to its owner, and Scar sneered once more as he quickly switched to his bow. No. He would not let Dogwarts get away with two kills, without taking any lives of theirs. He wanted to kill Etho, but he was too well hidden behind Ren, so Scar would take the next best.

Martyn was badly hurt already. He had to be low on health.

Scar aimed with trembling, burnt fingers, and released the string of his bow. The arrow flew through the air and struck true.

Martyn didn’t die. The arrow landed in his shoulder, and he cried out, stumbling - but stayed balanced, nearly at the door now.

Scar wasn’t shaking as he pulled another arrow out and latched it into the bow faster than he thought he would be able to, and his fingers didn’t so much as tremble as he aimed and released. All he could think about was Grian and Cleo dying, falling, and breaking apart, and all he could focus on was making the same thing happen to one of the filthy members of Dogwarts. Scar didn’t think he had ever hated anyone more in his life, before or after they were trapped within Third Life. His vision was burning with the force of the swelling inky pollution of his hate.

And then Martyn was gone, and his items fell, and Scar’s vision cleared.

InTheLittleWood was shot by GoodTimeWithScar.

Ren made a noise that Scar had never heard a human or a wolf make before, his ears pressing back, flat against his head. It sounded like a cross between a gasp, a groan, and a growl, oddly muted in his throat as Ren stared forward, mouth agape in shock and horror. The self-declared King swayed for a moment, like he was about to fall, right then and there, and then his gaze snapped to focus on Scar.

And Scar saw that same hatred reflected back at him as Ren lunged.

Too many people cried out at the same time for Scar to keep track of any of it. Scar still wasn’t standing; all he could do was jerk back, in pain and hopeless, slipping in the water he had placed down moments ago.

At least having his head removed from his shoulders didn’t hurt as badly as burning alive did, though having his last sight be Ren, growling at him with far too many sharp teeth, wasn’t the most pleasant experience either.

GoodTimeWithScar was slain by Renthedog using [💀💀💀 RED WINTER IS COMING 💀💀💀].

Chapter Text

Something wet slid down the back of his knuckle, dripping onto the gravel beneath his feet in a thick droplet.

Grian’s hand spasmed at the cold, distant sensation, causing more of the blood that stained his skin and clothes to spray thinly on the floor of the Crastle. It didn’t matter; the Crastle had soaked up much blood just recently, so this addition would make no difference.

All the while, he couldn’t move his gaze from the sight in front of him.

“Scar,” he said; or tried to. His mouth parted, with the full intention to say the name of his partner, but only a shaky exhale of breath escaped him, as Scar’s name became tangled in some place between his lungs and his throat.

Scar’s eyes - yellow/chrysanthemum/gold/sunlight/sulfur - widened, and he lunged forward suddenly, catching a stumbling Grian before Grian even knew he was about to collapse. One of Scar’s hands moved to his shoulder to steady him, while his arm went around Grian’s waist to squeeze, tightly, for just a sliver of time. Once Grian was steady, Scar released him just as fast.

Grian wanted to scream at the loss of contact, but he had spent enough time screaming when Scar’s death message had first appeared in chat. He had fallen then, too, but there had been no one to catch him; it was just him and the hard floor and a burn in his throat as he wailed at the world that had trapped them until his voice was hoarse and he tasted a metallic tinge of blood on his tongue. He didn't remember what had happened after that, only bits and pieces, fragments of desperation tinged with rage.

“Grian,” Scar said. His voice was strong and steady, and his golden eyes ranked over Grian’s figure with a desperation that Grian couldn’t place. “Are you - are you bleeding!?” Scar’s voice rose into a high-pitched question, his hands fluttering in front of him. As much as Grian tried to listen to his words, he couldn't help but stare at Scar's neck. The skin was thick and knotted there, with a fresh, deep scar. It seemed to circle his entire neck, like a shackle clasped into place. Grian let out a shaky breath, even as his blood sang for revenge, to tear into those who had any part in placing that mark on Scar with his teeth.

Ah, right; the blood. “Not mine,” Grian reassured Scar at last. Those words, at least, passed through his throat without trouble, though they were quiet and raspy, and Scar’s expression of concern didn’t fade. No, if anything, it deepened, the skin between his eyes pulling together as his lips twisted downwards into a knotted scowl.

“You -”

Grian tore his gaze away from Scar even as he spoke, to look past his shoulder. Standing there, side-by-side, were Cleo and Bdubs. Cleo’s eyes were the same yellow as Scar’s, and Bdubs’ were, of course, pools of blood.

Their allies, supposedly - that was the act that Grian was meant to play along with, reading from his script when he had to, and forcing a false smile on his face as he offered a helping hand that he only wanted to use to strangle. He had never wanted to perform in this theater act, so why did he? Why should he now, when coming to their aid had stolen two lives, one from Grian, and one from someone far more precious?

Grian cast his mind back, looking for a reason, and he couldn’t find one. Yes, they needed allies, but Grian had never considered Cleo and Bdubs to be such. He never would trust them to have his back, not after everything - and if he wouldn't trust them with his life, there was no way he could ever trust them with Scar's. Recent events were just further proof as to why.

“ - Grian, are you listening to me? Did you -”

“Stand back,” Grian demanded, grabbing Scar and yanking him back behind his own body, extending his still-working left wing in front of his partner. Scar yelped as he stumbled along, but he went, trusting, under Grian’s hand.

Cleo’s expression had just begun to twist into confusion, but Bdubs had already caught on; his eyes narrowing as he began to shift in front of his partner as well, but not quickly enough. Grian had already summoned his sword to his hand and lunged. It wasn’t his netherite sword, which Scar hopefully still had, but it was a gleaming diamond and would do the trick just fine, sharp enough to cut through any flesh that Grian directed it at.

And, Grian thought, satisfied as he watched Bdubs move too slow, too awkward, too tense, it looks like someone isn’t fully healed.

You should have protected him.

If you hadn’t failed, perhaps it wouldn’t have come to this.

Distantly, Grian wondered if his thoughts were directed more towards Cleo and Bdubs, or himself. Only, he couldn’t turn his sword towards himself, not when the game hadn’t ended yet, so he ignored the thought, pushing it back into the dark corners of his mind among the other dusty and broken edges of himself.

His sword slashed across Cleo’s shoulder and chest, leaving a deep, bloody gash, and the half-zombie cried out in pain. Cleo stumbled back, her expression twisting first with shock, but the shock quickly turned into rage as she raised a shaking hand to her injury. The torn flesh must have felt agonizing, as she ran her fingers across the edges of the broken skin, but Cleo only grit her teeth and glared forward at Grian. In the next moment, she had drawn her sword out of her inventory and into her hand, moving quickly before Grian could strike again.

For a moment, Grian stared at the blood, transfixed. It wasn’t the same as the blood he had covered himself in, which was comprised of zombie gore and the remains of any helpless animals he had come across. Those creatures had settled the burning need in his stomach well enough, but the blood of another player scratched some itch inside his head that he almost hadn’t been aware of until just then. Now that he was aware, the itch was suddenly unbearable, and his fingers twitched as the urge to draw more blood welled up inside him. Cleo's blood was dripping so slowly down her skin, staining her clothing as the cloth greedily absorbed it, and Grian wanted to see more of it. He wanted to see the way the gore splattered on the walls, and the floor, the way it would drip and pool...

“Cleo!” Bdubs cried out, high-pitched. “You get away from her!” He was moving towards Grian, his blade raised high, and the sight was enough to knock Grian out of his dazed stupor.

Grian shook his head hard. He couldn’t get distracted in a fight, not like that. That was how he died; that was how he failed to protect Scar; what was wrong with him?

He raised his sword in a clumsy block that wouldn’t have worked if it weren’t for Bdubs’ own clumsier-than-usual movements. As Grian traced his gaze over Bdubs form, he located the placement of the injury - he must have been hurt on his abdomen, since moving his body seemed to hurt him, and perhaps on his right leg too, to explain the lack of balance.

He wasn’t letting his injuries hold him back though, as he moved again, quicker now. Grian brought his sword up to block again, but the furthest edge of Bdubs blade still managed to brush his cheek, resulting in a faint, stinging sensation of pain.

“What are you two doing?” Cleo cried out, her voice still elevated with the same rage Grian had spotted in her eyes. She was holding her sword in front of her, clearly not about to let Grian harm her again so easily, but she didn’t look like she wanted to fight, despite the anger. For a moment, she just looked tired. "Grian and I know you're red now, and you're probably feeling a lot of new - new instincts and feelings and needs but - we're still your allies! Stop this now, and we can move past it."

Grian sneered and didn't bother responding.

Bdubs’ and Grian’s swords slid apart from one another, and Grian side-stepped to try and push forward on Bdubs’ weaker side. Bdubs twisted to follow, swiping low at Grian’s legs.

"If you draw his blood again, I'll kill you myself." Scar's voice was soft, almost calm, even as his partner was suddenly by his side again, blocking Bdubs' attack on his blade. Grian could hear the underlying frustration in his voice, but he doubted Bdubs could if the further twisting of his expression and his bared teeth were any indications. In the dim light, his red eyes still glinted eerily.

“You attacked us -!”

“I never trusted either of you from the start. Cleo, you’ve always been trying to get too close to Scar, and I won’t let you manipulate -”

“I don’t know what type of alliance the two of you think this is, but this is our home that we opened up to you -”

“The Sand Land doesn’t take well to being provoked, and this did all start with your bubble elevator -”

“Enough!” Cleo’s voice rose above all others, as everyone spoke at once, in an overlap, a shouting of words that made it hard to make out what any one person was saying. As her shout broke through the noise, the skirmish paused, and this time Scar took the chance to grab Grian and pull him behind him. Grian startled at the touch and yanked his arm away. Scar shouldn’t be the one shielding him.

“Get out,” Cleo demanded, baring her teeth in a manner that reminded Grian of the way zombies prepared themselves to take a bite of the players that landed unluckily in their grasps. “Get out! You aren’t welcome here anymore. If you stay, we will fight -” and now, she was looking at Scar “- which I really wouldn’t recommend for you, now that Grian is red. Even if you can win, which is doubtful, Bdubs and I can at least take Grian’s last life.”

Scar chuckled. It was a low, cold sound, devoid of any warmth and pleasure. “That would be your last mistake,” he promised.

Still, Scar stepped away - his back brushed Grian’s chest for a moment, before Grian stepped back too, making space for him.

Bdubs rolled his eyes, with an undignified snorting noise. “And yet…” he trailed off.

And yet you’re retreating. Red surged up in his vision, and Grian tried to duck quickly around Scar, his grip on his sword tightening. Before he could get around his partner, Scar grabbed him again, his hand fitting around Grian’s wrist and squeezing, before yanking him back. “Oh, this won’t be the last time we see each other, I’m sure!” Scar hummed. His voice was cheerful again, but it was a false cheer, too loud and too exaggerated to be honest.

“Scar -” Grian started to argue.

“Nu-uh, no protests from you, Mister! We have places to be, things to do, people to kill…” Scar’s free hand grabbed Grian’s other wrist, twirling him around and marching him towards the door. Grian knew his face was likely flushed with frustration and mild embarrassment. If anyone else tried to grab him like that, direct him like that, Grian would make sure they would regret it.

“We’ll see you on the battlefield!” Scar called out over his shoulder. This time, it was their turn to refuse to respond.

And then they were stepping out into the cool air, the sky sunny and bright above them.

They walked in silence for a long time, until the sky started to grow dark.

Scar hadn’t let go of Grian’s wrist until they were out of sight of the Crastle, and even then, he only slid his hand down so their palms were clasped together, squeezing tighter than an iron shackle ever could.

Grian licked his dry lips, and tasted iron there too, in the trace amounts of blood that must have splattered on his face at some point. Distantly, he acknowledged that the taste didn’t bother him as much as it once would have.

It wasn't until the sky started to grow dark that they stopped, next to a deep pond that Grian had passed by many times before while traveling the Third Life lands. Scar let go of his hand, at last, and turned to face him. All at once, Scar looked exhausted, his expression crumbling in on itself, and Grian knew this was his partner allowing him to see under his mask. For the first time since Grian had made the - admittedly, impulsive - choice to destroy the alliance Scar had chosen, he felt the stirrings of doubt. Not guilt. Grian was no longer capable of feeling guilt. “Did you get any sleep at all these past few days?” Scar questioned. They were his first words since his declaration of battle.

Grian raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” The returned accusation felt familiar, a conversation they had before, whenever they lost the ability to sleep next to one another.

Scar only sighed, running a hand roughly through his hair as he looked Grian over. His mouth twisted into a thin line, his hand spasming oddly before he gestured sharply toward the water. “You need to wash up.”

Right, the blood. Grian nodded, flexing his wings as though it would free them of the dry blood stuck between the feathers. His left wing ached at the movement, and Grian sighed in an echo of Scar, even as he moved towards the water. “I’ll get a fire going,” Scar declared, as Grian started to strip down to his underthings.

It was easy enough to unequip his armor and shuck off his boots. He slid his long cowl off over his head, adding it to the pile as he quickly untied the sweater on his waist and tossed it aside too. Then went his gloves, and his pants… it was only when he got to his tank top that he struggled, unable to pull it off as comfortably as he once had before his left wing had been injured.

Losing his first life happened a month and a half ago. He should be used to navigating it by now, but it still rubbed at his instincts like an open wound and took him by surprise every time he couldn’t move it quite right. He only had himself to blame - it had been his explosion that messed up his wing, even if he had managed to take out both Skizzle and Ren with it.

His left wing flared red-hot with more pain as he tried to flatten it down so he could slide his shirt over it, and Grian gritted his teeth in frustration, blinking through blurred red that danced at the edges of his vision.

A hand brushed his wing, and he startled, before recognizing the callouses and warmth as Scar. “Hold still,” Scar asked. As Grian stilled, Scar carefully manoeuvered Grian’s wing. He shifted it with such careful, gentle movements, slowly inching it down just enough that Grian’s shirt was freed, without causing further pain. As soon as it was possible, Scar grasped the bottom of Grian’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head for him in a single movement.

“Thanks,” Grian grumbled, shaking his wings out comfortably now that they were entirely free. He cast a hesitant glance over his shoulder. Scar’s expression was odd, still exhausted, and subdued. They hadn’t spoken about what happened yet; Grian didn’t know if he wanted to. If he could.

However, Grian knew he couldn’t stand this tense silence any longer, either. Uncomfortable conversations were doable if it meant Scar would stop being so uncharacteristically quiet.

Before Grian had a chance to try and say anything, Scar was nudging him towards the water. It was cold, and a shiver ran down Grian’s spine at the sudden shock, even as Scar grasped his shoulders and pulled him down to sit. The water rose to his abdomen, and Scar was sitting behind him, Grian between his legs.

Grian hadn’t even noticed when Scar had taken off his things, boots, pants, and coat all discarded.

He flinched again when Scar splashed cold water all over his back, a small, annoyed chirp escaping him at the chill. He felt the way Scar exhaled, amused by his reaction, even as he began to gently scrape away at the dirt and blood on the places Grian couldn’t reach. “You can’t throw yourself in front of me from now on, G.”

Grian almost wanted to cry. Why did Scar always ask him for the things he couldn’t give?

“Just because I’m red -”

“There’s no just. Being red, being on your last life, isn’t a just, Grian. Your life isn’t something you can treat lightly, it never has been, even if you insist on acting like it is. You can’t throw yourself in front of me, willing to block any blade, any arrow, any explosion. I’m not asking you anymore, I’m not begging you, I’m telling you - I won’t allow it!”

“You can’t stop me,” Grian retorted, stubborn, even as he began to scrub at his arms and the blood under his nails.

Scar’s legs shifted closer together, pressing into each of Grian’s sides, and his next exhale was sharp, rough. “Why do you have to argue with me?”

“It’s my favorite thing to do.”

“How can I make you realize how important you are?”

“None of us are important,” Grian snapped, a bit harsher than he meant to. “I don’t know why we’re all here, but surely, if we were important… then someone would be looking for us. Or, we would have been too strong to all end up here in the first place, with our memories wiped from our heads.”

“Well, with that logic, I’m not important either. So -”

“You’re mine!” Grian’s words were spat out. “And we’ve had this argument before, and I don’t want to have it again, not when - not when we’re this close to the end, Scar, please.” Grian’s voice cracked on his last word. He didn’t want to die. If it were up to him, he would live a long life with Scar, building together and laughing together until they couldn’t breathe; but it wasn’t up to him.

There was a moment of silence. It felt charged, and Grian knew there was more they both wanted to say. He knew Scar wanted to grab his shoulders and yell and shake him until he could make Grian understand. Maybe Grian should say something, try to offer some reassurance, but he knew it wouldn’t help. So instead, Grian watched the way blood flaked off into the water. Scar must have been done washing blood away too, because his hands moved away, taking his warmth with him.

“Fine,” Scar said, voice subdued. “Let’s change the topic. Why did you attack Bdubs and Cleo? I know you’ve been jealous of Cleo, but you never… Is it because you're red? Do you feel like you need to hurt people?”

Grian hesitated. “Yes.” He could feel it, the need, a want stronger than anything he had felt before. Killing animals and mobs had been like a sip of water in the hottest days of the desert. It had helped, but barely; and if he thought about Ren, now, after the spoiled King had taken the life of his partner…

“But there’s something else too,” Scar realized, his voice breaking Grian out of the spiral of his crimson-tinged thoughts. “Something more than just jealousy. Grian, I… I know you’ve been keeping secrets from me. I’ve always known that, and I’ve always been on your side. I trust you, but - maybe it’s time to show me some of those cards you’ve been holding against your chest.”

Sure, Grian thought, you see, the thing is, I’ve been through all of this before. In that timeline, Cleo was actually our enemy - she kidnapped Pizza, tried to push him through the border, and made you give up your valuables to get him back. She had an alliance with Ren and only switched sides after she burned down Joel’s house and ended up on Dogwarts hitlist. So I’ve had a hard time trusting her.

“I can’t.” Grian's voice broke slightly over the two words, simple and yet some of the hardest he'd ever had to say to Scar. What other choice did he have? He couldn’t lie and claim he had no secrets. It would just be an insult to Scar and his intelligence. He couldn't tell him, either. What if Scar didn't believe him?

What if he did?

Scar’s hands touched him again, chasing away the cold of the water and the night. His fingers were feather-light as they traced over Grian’s skin, and it only took him a moment to realize Scar was tracing over his newest scars. They covered his skin almost entirely; that’s what death to lava would do to you when you die entirely submerged and trapped. Grian knew the skin was rough. Unpleasant.

Yet Scar touched him anyway, so carefully, as though Grian were something precious instead of something broken.

Grian stood up, feeling the way the ice-cold water dripped down his skin, landing quietly in the pond below. “We should dry off by the fire and get some sleep,” he said, voice rough, as he avoided looking at Scar. “We’re still far out from the Sand Lands - we might as well stop by Scott’s first, to check in on him and Timmy, and -”

Scar allowed him his rambling. Scar allowed him many things that he shouldn’t.

There wasn’t a word of anger or discontent from Scar all the way back to the shore, and he didn’t say a thing as they curled up to sleep, bodies pressed together next to the dying fire.

Grian wished Scar would press bruises into his body as they slept, wished his partner would hurt him so that the guilt wouldn’t weigh so heavy.

Grian wondered if there would be consequences, of this new tendency of his to hold so many secrets. In the first timeline, he had never bothered. There had been no need. By the end of their blood-stained path, the trust between Grian and Scar had run as deep as Scar’s sword through his chest.

They went to visit Scott and Jimmy. Scar gifted them a diamond and some TNT, and Scott passed along a potion of fire resistance and weakness. Small, familiar gifts that solidified the alliance between them further.

Scott looked into Grian’s newly red stare, his mouth set into a harsh line. “I’m sorry,” he said, as though he could have done anything to prevent it. Then, he looked at Scar, staring for a long moment at Grian’s newly yellow partner. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time Grian’s relaxed expression faltered for a moment, and he stared at Scar as well.

Scar was laughing at something Jimmy was saying, one hand covering a wide smile as the sun bathed him in a warm, golden light. His shoulders were trembling with his laugh, even as he lowered his hand and rolled his eyes before he leaned his weight back. His mouth moved as he said something in return, and then Jimmy was laughing too, and Scott sighed softly beside him.

“I don’t know how they smile so much.”

“I don’t think half of Scar’s smiles are real,” Grian admitted. It was a breathtaking sight when Scar smiled for real. In comparison, his current smile was heavily weighed down by recent events, even though Scar truly enjoyed spending time with their allies. “At this point, I don’t even know if I’ll see one of his real smiles again.”

“I need to congratulate him on the kill he got on Martyn,” Scott mused out loud. “That puts Martyn on yellow now, right?”

“Right,” Grian agreed. He hadn’t even congratulated Scar on his kill. Grian had no idea what had happened after his death, no idea what series of events had led to three lives being lost. He wanted to know - he needed to know - but the uneasy peace Scar and Grian had managed to find while traveling to visit their allies felt like something that could be so easily lost.

Grian felt an uncomfortable hollow feeling in his stomach at the thought and had to squeeze his hands into fists and breathe in deeply to steady himself. Even the slightest of negative thoughts had Grian’s sight blurring red, as his hands itched to spill blood.

“What’s it like being red?” Scott asked, somehow voicing the question just as Grian’s thoughts drifted to the matter.

It wasn’t something Grian could easily explain, but he could try. He would try, for Scott. “Sometimes I feel almost normal,” he said, slowly, “and then the smallest incident will annoy me, and I’ll have to bite down on my tongue and hold my hands behind my back to keep myself from lashing out violently. Then, I start wondering why I should even bother holding back, because I don’t feel… bad, anymore, when it comes to killing others.” It was an oversimplification. Grian had stopped feeling guilty, for the most part, before this timeline had even begun - but there was a difference between doing what you had to do to survive, and killing just ‘because.’

“So what holds you back?”

“It’s hard to hold back - being red comes with a sense of impulsivity. It’s like a cloud in my head that stops me from thinking clearly when the red instincts grow too strong. But, I need allies to win this, and killing indiscriminately like a wild animal is not the way to keep my allies,” Grian pointed out, dry. “Also, I still feel the same emotions I felt before. I still care about the people I’ve always cared about. I’ve just… lost my morals. Not my emotions.”

He had never cared for Cleo and Bdubs. He had never considered them true allies. It was why it was so easy to turn on them, the second the impulsivity of being red settled in, at the same moment when logical thought felt further out of reach than it had just days before.

When Grian looked at Scott, his friend wasn’t looking at him. Instead, Scott’s gaze was focused on Jimmy, and he was biting his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in quiet thought. Grian thought he could see a weary sadness in his eyes, as Scott looked at his partner. It felt like a moment Grian shouldn’t be there to witness.

“... Red names can still love,” Grian reassured Scott, quietly. Grian had doubted many things, but never that specific fact.

“The war is really starting now, isn’t it?” Scott countered. Grian didn’t respond, not when Scott already knew the answer. After a moment, Scott sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. Grian thought it wasn’t unlike a shield. “I wish I didn’t have to worry about what it will be like to be red, or what it will be like for Jimmy if he dies again, but I know it’s unrealistic if I don't consider it.”

Grian was in no place to offer comforting words, not when he knew he would eagerly shove a weapon through either of their chests himself if it came down to them in the end.

“I don’t know the future,” he said instead. It was true; he had changed too much of the past. “All we can do is what we feel is right, and whatever the consequences will be… we’ll just have to face them.”

“You just told me you no longer have a sense of right and wrong.”

Grian shrugged, looking over towards Scar again. Jimmy had dragged him over to stand on one of the rocks in the pond, and he was eagerly showing off his fishing rod to Scar, apparently proud of the new fishing float he had. Scar seemed to be complimenting him, even though Grian could picture the way his nose would be wrinkled at the thought of fish, which he had never liked.

“That doesn’t change anything for me,” Grian admitted.

After all, there had always been only two groups in Grian’s mind; it had never been 'right' and 'wrong,' it was Scar, and everyone else.

Grian had to talk to Scar about everything that had happened before they made it to the Sand Lands and they had no choice but to talk war strategy instead, so he took a deep breath, made sure his vision was entirely free of any red haze, and said, “when I saw that you had died, I blacked out for a moment. It was like the entire world shut off, and then I blinked, and there was zombie blood in my mouth and I was still somehow screaming.”

“No,” Grian had choked out, loudly and half a scream. It would have been a full scream, but his throat burned like he had swallowed razor blades, and he could tell he had been screaming and yelling for hours, even if the memory of it was an odd, distant, and unrecognizable thing. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair, this wasn’t meant to happen!”

He lunged forward, skewering the zombie in front of him with his sword. It wasn’t enough, so he fell on top of the mob, raising his sword and bringing it down again, and again. He could feel the wet splatter of blood and rotted meat on his face, cold and wet, but not a single part of his mind cared. Not when it was too busy shattering apart.

The zombie exploded into dust and glowing XP below him, and Grian screamed again, choked and broken and wordless, desperately wishing he had someone he could hurt and hurt and hurt, without allowing them the grace of Lady Death.

“If there had been any players around me, even our allies, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back,” Grian admitted, as Scar’s footsteps stuttered, and his partner stopped in front of him. “I wouldn’t have only killed them. I would have killed them slowly - and I wouldn’t even be capable of feeling bad about it, not anymore.”

Grian stopped walking too and waited, patient.

“... When you died,” Scar said, slowly, carefully, “I had to dig my nails into my palms until I bled to keep control. I almost threw up. If Cleo and Bdubs hadn’t been there, I would have, but I was trying so hard to control myself in front of them, even though my blood felt like it was boiling, and all I could think about was hurting that Dogwarts scum in ways they could never forget. Then we were attacked, and I was… almost glad. I needed someone to hurt, and I had it.”

“Are you mad at me?” Grian blurted out. “For attacking Cleo and Bdubs.”

Scar was shaking his head before Grian could finish speaking. “I should be, shouldn’t I? They’re my friends as well. I should care that you hurt them, that we’ve betrayed them, but…”

Grian took a hesitant step forward. When Scar didn’t turn around, he took another step forward, and then another, until he was leaning against Scar, settling his weight over his partner's back. “I wouldn’t be mad,” he admitted, “if you betrayed Scott and Timmy. I would be worried because we need allies to make it through this, but if that - if -”

“If you hurting Cleo and Bdubs is what makes you happy, then I want you to have that,” Scar said, summarizing all the awful, horrible parts of their relationship that Grian was all too aware of, but still struggled to voice.

What did it do to someone, in a world like theirs, that was fated to end in death and agony? When all you had was one another, in a barren land, for months on end? With war fast approaching, a few battles already lost and won, terror and fear and panic flooding their minds? They clung to each other, digging hooks into their skin so neither could let go. So they bled. So they couldn’t exist without each other, not anymore.

Grian was trying to set up Scar for happiness, but he knew that even though a home on a mountain and a basement filled with animal companions would be something, it may not be enough, not after the unhealthy bond Grian had willingly created between them for a second time.

“Congratulations on killing Martyn,” Grian grumbled into Scar’s back, his wings shuddering from their tips to his back.

Scar twisted around, and wrapped his arms tight around Grian. He pressed a kiss against Grian’s head, firm, and the spot where his lips had been felt warm, like a spot of sunlight. “Thank you.”

“We should extend our trip to Skizzle’s base,” Scar suggested, watching Grian with a cautious stare. “We know he’s with Dogwarts. We can burn the banner Jimmy mentioned, and maybe you can get a kill.” The caution made sense, suddenly, and Grian watched the tense line of Scar’s shoulders and the small frown on his face with brazen interest.

He couldn’t deny the way the suggestion made him feel. He could already picture it - Skizzle, fallen before him, blue eyes wide and hair ruffled and messy from their fight. Grian would use his current favorite weapon, the netherite sword that matched Scar’s, to lay the final blow. He wouldn’t be gentle with it - not for someone who stood under the Dogwarts banner.

He would make it hurt. He would make Skizzle scream, and then gasp, wheezing and pleading as he bled out slowly from his injuries. Perhaps Grian would even give him space to choke down a few bites of a golden apple, so he could feel the relief as his injuries began to quickly mend themselves before Grian would slice into the still-healing injuries anew.

It would be amusing, to see that relief and hope twist into newly born despair and pain. Grian wondered what Skizzle would say, if he would cry, how he would beg…

“Is that a yes?”

Scar’s voice cut through Grian’s daydream like a bucket of cold water thrown over his head. Grian came to, suddenly aware of the way he was breathing, heavier than before. At some point, he had taken his netherite sword out, and it was clutched tightly between trembling fingers. His wings were bristled behind him.

There was no judgment on Scar’s face when Grian made eye contact. It was as though Scar had already accepted who Grian was now, what he had to do.

Grian blinked hard, shoving his sword back into his inventory as he tried to clear the red from his eyes. “No,” he said, voice hoarse. “No. After that last battle, who knows what Ren and Martyn have planned? We need to protect Monopoly Mountain, and come up with a proper plan ourselves.”

“... Will you be okay, though? Waiting to get a kill?”

“Keeping Monopoly Mountain -” you “- safe is more important. I still have some self-control, you know. We aren’t far from the Sand Lands anyways, it would be too much of a bother to take a detour now.” After all, Grian knew well that the last time they had gone after Skizzle’s banner, Dogwarts had shown up to strike back in turn. Pizza had died, at the end of that chase.

Scar didn’t seem entirely convinced, not that Grian had expected him to believe him immediately, not with how Grian had just reacted to his suggestion. Still, he nodded in agreement, likely just as eager to be home as Grian. Scar would certainly want to check on their pets, and tsk over the gardens. Perhaps Grian would wait a day or two before he sat Scar down to talk war - his partner deserved a break.

As predicted, Grian and Scar made it to the border not long after, and the ground beneath their feet changed from dirt and grass to sand, warm and familiar.

Grian could practically feel the way tension melted off his shoulders, and he breathed out a soft sigh, tilting his head back to gaze up at the hot, glaring sun shining above. It was only this movement that allowed him to see a glint back in the treelines.

“Down!” Grian yelled, reacting before his brain had even processed the situation. He pounced at Scar, knocking his partner to the ground under him just as an arrow whizzed by over their heads. His own body stung at the sudden impact, but it was easily ignorable.

Scar grunted at the weight of Grian’s body, and Grian knew his partner would surely have a few new bruises from the collision, but it was far preferred over an arrow being embedded into his skin.

It seemed fate wouldn’t allow itself to be so easily avoided.

Grian rolled off Scar and rose to one knee, pulling his netherite sword out into his hand. He didn’t even have a bow or a single arrow on him, far underequipped after losing his belongings to fire. They needed time to stock up before another fight - time they hadn’t been allowed, since they had instead been chased to their doorstep.

Something new thrummed under his skin, and it felt like excitement. Despair, fear, and anxiousness crawled up right next to it, and Grian gritted his teeth and swallowed, a bit nauseous at the different emotions clouding his mind. “Reveal yourself!” he snapped, glaring out at the trees.

“Ay, filthy desert scum.” Out stepped Ren, in his full king regalia, a newly yellow Martyn at his side. Martyn was glaring, his bow held tightly, but it was nothing compared to the way Ren was looking at Scar. He looked at Scar as though Scar was something he found stuck to his shoe; green and moldy and starting to smell. He looked at Scar with utter hatred, disgust, and loathing clear in every line on his face.

It made Grian’s vision blur red, and he started stepping forward, even as Skizzle stepped out of the trees, a touch more reluctant than the others.

“There’s no Etho,” Scar said quietly. His voice sounded like it was from far away. “He must still be recovering.”

Grian took another step forward, and then Scar’s hand was wrapped around his wrist. “No, G,” he hissed from behind him, “we are far underprepared for this fight! We need to get to Monopoly Mountain, take the high ground.”

Grian needed to see blood spilled on the sands of his homeland.

“Grian, please,” Scar said, his voice cracking.

The red in his vision abruptly faded, and Grian turned half-towards Scar, blinking frantically. Scar was watching him with traces of panic around his eyes, even as he offered Grian a half-smile, shaky and more fake than any smile Scar had tried on him before.

“Let’s go,” Grian agreed, his resolve shattering.

And they ran, hand in hand.

They got ahead of Dogwarts quickly. They were in the Sand Lands, and both Grian and Scar were far more used to running on shifting hot sand than anyone else on the server.

From behind them, the members of Dogwarts yelled, sneering insults and threats as arrows flew overhead - thankfully, luckily, missing their targets. Grian couldn’t help but laugh, despite the horror, the worry - and Scar echoed the noise at his side, his hand squeezing Grian’s tighter.

Martyn let out a squawk of outrage behind them, clearly feeling mocked at the laughter.

“Laugh while you still can!” Ren dared them, his voice loud in the sandy wastes.

“This feels -” Grian gasped in a lungful of air between his words, breathing heavily between his laughter and his speech “- awfully familiar. Do you -” wheeze “- have TNT on you, Scar?”

“Oh, you bet I do,” Scar spoke cheerfully, even as his painful breathing grew more rushed and haggard. They may be on their home turf, but that didn’t mean they could run forever; just longer than Dogwarts, hopefully. “No, uh - flint and steel though -”

“I never go anywhere without an extra,” Grian wheezed, and that was all the communication they needed.

Scar’s hand was suddenly full of explosives, and he placed them down as they ran. Grian was forced to slow down long enough to light them. His hands were shaky, and clammy with sweat as he did so, but the fire took easily enough, and the TNT lit up, ready to explode. Grian stared for only a second, captivated by the sight before Scar reclaimed his hand and pulled him along once more.

Just like not too long ago, they were leaving a trail of destruction behind them, smoke and heat and curses as Dogwarts were forced to slow down and go around their craters. The TNT wasn’t enough to do any damage, unfortunately - it was too easily spotted and avoided - but it was enough to slow down their pursuers even further, giving Grian and Scar more time to make space between them.

“Remember last time you did this, Grian?” Martyn mocked from behind. His breathing was heavier than Grian’s, ragged and broken with gasping wheezes clinging to the end of his words, but Grian could still hear the confidence in his even tone, the righteous fury that boiled beneath it. “The way Etho blew you sky high?”

“I remember the way I tore Skizzle and Ren apart first - leaving you behind in the dust,” Grian snapped back, his wings flaring at the slight.

His legs burned, the muscles protesting every movement, every step.

“A bit further,” Scar pleaded.

And somehow, someway, Scar’s words gave him the energy to continue.

And the distance between them and Dogwarts grew further and further apart.

“I can’t ,” Grian said, finally, stumbling to a stop. Scar stopped too, one arm shifting to half-wrap around Grian, stabilizing the avian before his sudden halt could send him toppling into the sandy dunes below. As one, they turned, and Grian raised his sword in front of him with batted breath - just as an arrow hit, tearing through his shoulder.

Grian dropped to one knee with a startled half-scream, before he clamped his mouth shut, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to taste blood.

The impact was similar to being punched, and then the pain hit in a wave. It didn’t feel as painful as Grian thought it should, likely due to both adrenaline and Grian’s ever-growing pain tolerance, but the sensation of his muscle ripping open wasn’t exactly pleasant. It was a harsh burning sensation that overtook his entire shoulder, making his arm and hand seize for a moment before he managed to clasp his hand shut and force it still.

There was enough distance between the two groups that Martyn, Ren, and Skizzle were all small figures, just within shouting distance.

They had stopped approaching too.

Scar hissed between his teeth, stepping in front of Grian. Grian saw the way his hand clenched even tighter over his sword, tight enough that Scar’s knuckles went white as Scar raised it in front of him, as though daring Dogwarts to approach. “G?”

“I’m fine - it’s barely a scratch,” Grian gritted out, forcing himself up onto unsteady feet. He took a stumbling step forward so he was next to Scar instead of behind him, more than prepared to take another arrow for his partner if he had to; prepared to take as many arrows as necessary.

He felt blood trickle down his arm, warm, as it dripped down onto the sand below, swallowed up by the hungry lands in a moment.

“That,” Ren shouted across the sand, “is a declaration of war. We will be seeing you very soon, and you best be ready to fight.”

“They say after failing to catch us three to two,” Scar muttered under his breath to Grian, dry and sarcastic. “Watch them run off with their tails between their legs now.”

Grian couldn’t help but laugh, even as the burning in his shoulder worsened, and he could feel more blood dripping down his arm. He snuck a quick peek at his shoulder, wincing at the deep crimson color that seeped from the open wound, where the arrow was still embedded. Scar must have heard his wince because he stole his own quick glance at Grian out of the corner of his eye, and his sarcastic-amused expression turned just a touch more serious.

Scar grasped Grian’s arm, pulling him back a slow step.

Dogwarts didn’t attack, didn’t take a step forward - in fact, as they watched, Ren and Skizzle seemed to be moving backward too, Martyn guarding the two of them, unwilling to turn his back on Scar and Grian.

“Right,” Scar breathed out. “Let’s go home, and get your shoulder treated, Mister.”

At least they hadn’t tried to shoot their arrows at a defenseless llama this time. Even if Grian couldn’t avoid everything, it was proof that he was still making some changes.

It had to be enough.