Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ajax! Good job on winning last time!” Rayko smiles at their younger brother. They’ve entered a new event; it seemed like a survival game.

“Thanks, and I'll do it again here.” They grin. They had so much confidence that Rayko couldn’t help but believe them. Even if it’s not always the case, he is very good at the events they go into. But this one felt off; something had changed. But that did not matter; they had to make sure Ajax lived.

The last five people standing, they had this: three to kill and a fight that would end with Ajax as the winner… so why was there a rift? It was just there, almost following the eldest; Ajax hadn’t even seen it.

“ ‘Jax, I'll be right back, okay?” He walks closer to the rift.

“Okay, but be quick and don’t die.”

Rayko entered the rift.

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A new rift had appeared in the VP shop… Rayko stared, the dreading feeling of guilt weighing onto him. This will be the second time… They’re leaving him again… but it’s okay? They can do it again, just like last time, they can go. But that didn’t stop the tears as he entered, leaving only a note in his old world forever, never going back, forever leaving their brother. At least this time, they got to say goodbye.

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10…
A note attached to a pigeon finds its way to its box.

9…
A Roadrunner approaches their brother's house, holding the note close to them.

8…
She enters, welcomed by their brother’s smile and surprise.

7…
The news is shared; the roadrunner was supposed to be an uncle! What joyous news.

6…
A plan was starting to form on how involved he was going to be in the life of their nibling. They were passing.

5…
Yelling. So much yelling started. How could they fully stay?

4…
They grew near to each other, only growing louder.

3…
With a shove and the sound of a flint and steel lighting, the fire starts.

2…
The entire house is covered in flames; their brother pushes them out.

1…
They are the only ones that live.

0…
They ran.

Chapter Text

Icarus walked along the beach, the sun beaming down on them. The decay had gone a long time ago; they knew that, yet they couldn’t help but see it along the ground. They were back, back home… could they even call it that? It’s been so long, and everyone will hate them for erasing themself from them. They took an easy way out for so long, so long that everyone has healed, and they’re just going to be a knife reopening the wound they made.

Maybe they should just leave? It’s not like they would even know they were here. They won’t even fully remember them anyway, not till they see them. So they could leave and not face their family, what's a few more years without them? They lasted decades already, they should be able to go, it’s what they want… but was it truly what they deserved? They were a good Quixis, yes. But they were not a good brother or son. And that could still ring true to them. They don’t want to hurt their family more.

A few more years would be fine…

“Icarus…?”

Chapter Text

She never feared blood or even winched when she saw it. It was just another part of End of Days. Another part to get used to. So it wasn’t surprising when she became a vampire that Emmie thrived as one. Biting and drinking the blood of their teammates became second nature. The metallic taste became almost sweet to them, the slight spiciness from Ajax’s and the sweetness of Ronnie’s.

Still, when the next session came around, she stayed human when their partner and best friend left, not joining any of the factions.

Blood magic, what an odd new hobby for her to gain… it might be the most connected and happy she’s been in a long time. This wasn’t like the spore; it wasn’t whispering to her, but it still called to her like of blood. It was productive and fun. She was happy, surrounded by the blood-filled walls of her study. The living armour breathed with her. She was one with it all.

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Do better … A phrase continuously repeated… always said… Always meant. The first time he heard it was when he still roamed the castle halls. It was late at night, and he had etiquette training that he was struggling to pass the current curriculum. His father joined them in his room.

“Nuri, my little princess, you must do better ; I believe in you.” Those were the only words that stayed with him from that night.

The next day, he passed the class.
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The next time, he said it was one he often forgets himself, alone in a cold cage, with broken bones and open wounds. The door had closed after his aunt had visited him, the tears finally escaping his tiny face, dropping to the floor. He tries to stay as quiet as possible; he has to do better to live… To survive in this prison, he is trapped.
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He knew he wasn’t supposed to hear them, not when they yelled at each other, not when Mama and Father were yelling about him and how he is now. He has stayed awake for many nights now after getting home. They always thought he was asleep when they yelled. Mama was worried about him and his leg; the doctor said it wasn’t going to be good anymore, and he’d have to use a cane. After the yelling, his Mama would come into his room and ensure they were comfortable. She would whisper to him, “I love you, Nuri, sleep well” every time.

He had to do better for his Mama, so she wouldn’t have to yell every night.
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The desert air was different; it was odd but welcoming to the prince. The guards his father had sent with him were training with each other. He would watch them, learning from the sidelines until they invited the prince into the training one day. They grew stronger, and they’d do better not to need guards.
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He learned to cook long ago, so teaching the younger one should have been easy. Yet he still struggled to teach them to make the simplest of items, bread. Urith had tried. He just needed to be a better teacher, and he needed to do better .
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He had to find them. They were gone. Gone. Gone, they were taken, not gone. They're going to hurt them, and he knows it. He has tricked and fought with the ones who took them. He will do better to find them. He has to.
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He swapped places with Urith… He’ll take that burden off his cousin and his family. He’ll keep her here, distracted by him, and even if it kills him, Urith will be safe. He will do better to be entertaining.
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Being so small and wet (It burns, it burns, gods does it burn), and it is missing an arm, eye, and horns. He was not in the mood for Thea’s games; for her cheerful attitude, she chose to be small, and she decided to come inside. She chose to be here. So he yelled. He yelled at her. He stopped when he saw how she went, still in fear. Memories of his father were all she could see him as. She left.

He needs to do better so as not to be like his father.
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Laying with Urith in his house, his home, his room… Bandages cover him from head to toe. He silently promises himself he’ll do better to protect his loved ones.
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Years have gone by, now before the next time he says it, the day he woke up with wings, horns and a purple eye… he became a god, one that looked so close to his father. He stayed locked in his room, fearful of how his family would react to the sudden changes. He was finally himself, but now he is only a copy of his father. He needs to do better to be himself.
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His mother's wedding, as much as he hates to say it, he’s glad his mom found Tempest. He stands tall as his mother’s best man. A proud smile is on his face as she walks down the aisle. He will do better as a son to both of his moms.
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Urith’s death was surprising but not at the same time… They had grown old and lived happily, but it still felt too soon. The grave will be closed and always kept clean… He knew he would do better to give people the smile that Urith always brought with them.
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His arm glowed, and controlled, and forced him. Cassandra had made it so. He hated it. He didn’t want to be her puppet, not again. Not since the last time they saw each other when he was a child, millions of years ago. He has to get his arm off. He has to, or else… who knows who she’ll make him hurt next? He must do better, do better, just do better and rip your arm off.
He needs to free himself. To save them. To save his family.

Chapter Text

Icarus looked up at Rae, his sword in hand, aiming towards them. He looked mad, so mad; they hadn’t seen their brother like this in a long time. The sparkles in his eyes from the moon's light made Icarus almost fear what was to come.

“You still don’t get it… They are my real family, Icarus.” The venom in his voice is unmistakable. This was the last time, the last chance… the last line between the two brothers. Icarus never understood why Rae kept giving them chances. They’d only been a horrible brother their whole life. They don’t blame him when their blood is drawn. They watch as he flies away, leaving the two injured birds together.

Softly, Icarus picks up Vanda and brings her inside their house. Fable wasn’t there, and they didn’t know if that was a fully good thing or not. They couldn’t thoroughly think about that; they had a bird to bandage up. They grab the bandages from their potion room and a potion of healing. They start to treat the small bird's wound.

Vanda settles down after the treatment and chirps a thanks to Icarus. They just smile at the bluebird. They take off their coat and look over their stab wound. It had scabbed over a bit. It would heal fine… They didn’t need to grab a potion for themselves, and they’ve never really ever did. They would be fine, and this scar from Rae would hold more memories. They grab the bandages and just wrap them around their arm.

They don’t need medication; they need sleep. Fable will be home soon.

They go to bed.

Chapter Text

The storm was strong the night the little dragon was born, the second born of the head of the Den. The parents smiled at their new young one.

“You shall be Rye, the Lightning and Guardian of our Den. Our tiny jewel.”

They grew older and trained to be stronger, and fighting became second nature to the young ones almost as much as shooting lightning. The first time they managed to shoot lightning, they burned a house down, and his parents only responded in disappointment.

They later grew to be better, and their sister grew only more jealous of the prodigy in their element. She was the next head, the favourite, not the small Rye. So how dare they be better than her? How dare she be. Raelynn was not pleased to be Rye’s babysitter at any point in her life, and she needed to focus on becoming the head and leading their dragons to prosper, not babysitting.

Rye was 14 when Raelynn brought them to the outskirts of their den, a small clearing with a cliff in front of them. The moon’s light shined on the pair of sisters.

“Sit, Rye,” Raelynn spoke softly as she sat on the ledge, her feet dangling off. Rye abides by her request and sits next to her. They momentarily stay in a calm silence, both looking at the starry night.

“I hate you. I think we both know this.” The eldest voice is calm as she continues, “But you're still my sister, and you are stronger than me: there’s no doubt that you're stronger than Father. I’ve watched you grow into that; I’ve watched you through that pain and added my fair share. But still, you deserve better, Jewel.”

Rye looked at their sister when the nickname was said; nobody had called him that in years; they stopped being someone special long ago, only being the most powerful to make it up. “I- where is this going, Sister?”

“I want to make it better for you.” She keeps her eyes on the moon.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it, I promise.”

The Sisters talked longer that night, the longest they’d honestly spoken to each other. The following year was good, at least that’s what it seemed.

…

The lightning shot through Rye’s stomach, their sister landing the blow smiling. Rye’s body falls limp on the ground as it disappears. Realynn had done it; she had shown that she was stronger, she was better, and she was the best in everything.

Rye respawns in the cave decorated in pink and purple, the den she was making for them and his sister… She grabs their items and flies away.

One life down, no family and a broken promise is all they truly had now.