Archive of Our Own ^beta

⋆⁺₊⋆𖤓⋆⁺₊⋆

Scar groaned, blinking stars from his vision.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. You can work on getting us out of this.”

His sight cleared, and he finally got a good look at the monster in front of him. All wings and snark, Duckling didn’t come out all that often. With Scar’s associate (though he would use less pleasant words to describe him, Scott came in handy and was generally professiona,l so he had no real reason to hate him other than the massive fact that the man was also one of these monsters) getting some major hits in on Big Bad and Pied Piper, though, he had tried to intervene. 

Threatening his friends was about the only way to get him to come out from hiding. He was a powerful sorcerer, more so than any other they’d seen, and was slippery. They’d been trying to catch them, force them into moving somewhere else.

The hunters would just kill them. He thought they’d be a little more amicable to his approach. Still, they fought back.

“Maybe I don’t want to get us out of this. Maybe I’m just waiting for my partner to come get me and snatch you up to be thrown out into the middle of the ocean.”

Since they were back-to-back, Scar felt every move of Duckling’s body as he laughed hysterically. Somehow, it was more insulting than when he did it to his face. “Huntsman, when will you get a clue?”

Scar sputtered, trying to understand what was wrong with what he’d said. “Could you be less vague for once?”

Sorcerers were knowledgeable; he knew that much, but Duckling seemed above it all in a way. It was infuriating at times when he’d act so high and mighty compared to Scar.

“The ropes we’re bound with have infernal magic in them. They’re one of the few things I can’t break out of. You'd better hope that Queen gets over here, and soon.”

The ropes around them glowed with power; that was for sure. They’d been caught in a trap of some kind, more like a snare for animals than something intended to hold them. It was huge, though, so much so that he’d thought it was a werewolf trap.

“It is.”

“You read thoughts?” Scar jumped back, only resulting in him pushing against the dove white wings harder. All sorcerers had them, but he’d never seen so many on one. They were pretty, if you looked past how horrifying they were.

Duckling laughed, “No, I just know you.”

He emphasized the word in a strange way, a note Scar shoveled away for later. “Oh, yeah, you know me so well, huh? Studied all my battle strategies from the sidelines?”

“I’ve watched, sure.”

“Why do you talk like that?” Scar snapped, which only released him into more cackling fits.

“Because it bothers you.”

Scar huffed, crossing his arms and letting silence fall over them. He’d been trying to catch sight of Big Bad when he got trapped. Scott made it clear he wasn’t supposed to deal with the Ugly Duckling. He couldn’t be expected to combat a sorcerer that strong with no magic of his own. He was human, after all.

He looked down at his callused hands, both from carrying his knives and a cane when his legs gave out. Little scars littered the backs of his knuckles from thorn bushes in his day job. People acted odd when he said he didn’t like wearing gloves. The truth of it was, he liked the reminder that he was human. It was frightening to think that the only thing separating him from the caged bird at his back was a few scars and a handful of feathers.

He glanced over his shoulder. Though Duckling’s head wings covered a large portion of his face from this position, he could make out the line of eight closed eyes, lines pinched in a stubborn focus. Usually, there were at least four, sometimes two if he was in a good mood, as far as Scar knew. Six was threatening. He really should’ve stopped being so curious about the eight, knowing that.

“Whatcha doing?”

Another pair of eyes, that made five pairs, ten in total, sprang forth from the flesh of his upper forehead. They flickered open for a second, purple irises flicking to him in annoyance before shutting as well. Despite it all, Scar couldn’t help but think they were beautiful.

“Focusing. Watching. Trying to ignore you being S- being yourself.”

“Hard to watch with your eyes closed,” he ignored the slip of the tongue, trying to pretend he wasn’t about to be called stupid by a highly intelligent being. Again.

“Easier when you’re quiet,” he took a deep breath, “S- ugh, I need to get better at thinking before I talk. Queen is busy with Piper right now. God, can she fight. I’ve seen it a million times and I still can never believe it.”

Scar thought about the long line of abrasions under his coat of sunflowers that made up his costume. He certainly knew how well she could beat someone down. “So, what do we do?”

Duckling bit his lip, “I know an infernal who owes me a favor, give me a second.”

Scar bit back his questions and waited. Five minutes later, a scuffle came through the bushes, and out popped a head of brown hair and green, winding horns. The demon wore a mask that covered the bottom of his face and sunglasses, along with a full punk get-up, down to the skull shirt under a leather jacket.

“Now this is a sight, wow.”

“Bear, do you know why these traps are out here in the first place?”

The demon nodded, “They’re mine, meant to catch wolves before they hurt somebody, what with the moon coming up again soon. We would’ve monitored them so they didn’t get caught by hunters in the night, but I never thought I’d catch a birdie and, oh, wow, this is a treat!” 

He had moved around to the other side of the tree the net was caught up in and was therein, given a full view of Scar, who was just thankful for the part of his cape that covered his face for keeping his embarrassed flush hidden.

“Bear, please.”

The demon held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright, just one second,” he got a phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture, Scar just managing to throw a hand over his eyes.  “Perfect. That one’s going in the scrapbook.”

He finally approached, one hand held out, and the ropes fell, throwing Scar to the ground.

Duckling landed on his feet with one wide sweep of his wings. Scar was able to move just in time, though, chucking one of his knives at the demon’s ankles.

He narrowly sidestepped it, grasping onto Duckling’s outstretched arm. “Let’s go before your friend here gets any braver!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Duckling said, and they swooped into the sky with a single push of his wings.

Scar sat alone on his ass on the forest floor.

Scott was going to lecture him so hard for this one.