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hermit-whump · 5 years ago

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Watchers - Pt 2

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231755/chapters/64038469 TW - Suicide, blood, torture, murder, violence, missing people

“Wil, we’re going to get them back.” Dream says, sitting down next to Wilbur on the wall that borders l’manburg and the dreamsmp. “I promise, they will come back.”

“A Watcher came.” Wilbur mumbles, tears in his eyes. “He had rabbit ears. He left Tommy and Tubbo’s shirts. There was so much blood on them.”

Dream blinks a few times behind his mask, shocked. A watcher. A watcher came to his server, stole two children and returned to give back their shirts? He doesn’t want to believe it. Dream can’t believe it, not until he realises what the rabbit ears mean.

Sam.

Sam shouldn’t have been able to get here, he shouldn’t have been able to leave the watchers, he’s just an owl. Dream can’t wrap his head around it, trying to process what would have made the watchers decide that Tommy and Tubbo decide to kidnap them. They’re just kids, though they are talented.

“The next intake.” Dream realises out loud. “Oh shit.”

“Intake?” Wilbur asks, rubbing his face as Dream stands up. “Dream what are you saying?”

“I need to talk to someone.” Dream says, helping Wilbur up. “You should come with me, it’s about Tommy and Tubbo.”

---

Grian screams as Sam slowly plucks a patch of feathers from his wings, the skin under them raw and bleeding. Sam laughs as he yanks out a handful of feathers, grabbing Grian’s face and forcing him to look him in the eyes. Sam laughs as tears run down Grian’s cheeks, waving a few feathers in front of his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have spoken back.” Sam pretends to sigh, wicked glee in his eyes and he drops Grian’s face, the hermit hitting the ground with a thump. “This wouldn’t have happened if you did.”

“I just wanted to know what happened to them.” Grian pleads, flinching as Sam turns around, glaring at him.

“You should know. You’re a falcon, you should know what happens to prey that fight back.” Sam’s glare turns to a smile. “You should remember, if you hadn't betrayed us, you would have been the one to kill them.”

Grian feels sick to the stomach, going pale as he realises that Sam isn’t lying. He would have killed Tubbo and Tommy if he hadn't left. If he hadn’t escaped. Pain blooms in his side as Sam kicks him, a cry escaping his lips no matter how hard he tried to hold it in.

---

Wilbur follows Dream as he walks through a forest, cold air whipping him in the face. Dream doesn’t say anything, his sword drawn, though occasionally he looks back to make sure Wilbur’s still there.

Dream told Wilbur that it wasn’t dangerous.

A small house appears, made of cobble and sprucewood, with some smoke coming out of the top of the house. The windows have shutters over them, and potatoes grow in the yard behind the house.

“Wil, I need you to promise that no matter what happens, you do not get involved. Not even if it looks like I will die. Don’t get involved.” Dream says, putting his hands on Wilbur’s shoulders.

“Dude chill.” Wilbur smiles, recognising the house. He moves in front of Dream, walking towards the door. “This is Techno’s place, why would he hurt us?”

Wilbur knocks on the door, tapping his foot impatiently as questions race through his mind. Why would Dream come to Techno after finding out that watchers broke into l’manburg and dreamsmp? Why isn’t Dream more worried about the watcher coming back, since he’s shown that he can do that?

Techno’s face appears behind the door, covered by a pig’s mask. His hair is bright pink and wet, clearly a fresh dye, and he’s in a red hoodie and black pants. Wilbur smiles, suddenly realising that he doesn’t know what to say to Techno.

“Hey Wil, why are you here?” Techno asks quietly, confusion in his voice.

“Can we come in, Techno?” Dream asks. “I need to ask for a favour.”

“If this is a favour for you, why is Wil here?” Techno replies cleanly, evenly.

“I need to ask for a favour.” Dream repeats calmly, his voice as cold as the wind.

“What have you dragged Wilbur into?” Techno growls, a hand grabbing Wilbur’s arm. “I know you two were warring, our history doesn’t change that I’m his friend, so I swear if you’ve done something to him-”

“A watcher kidnapped Tommy and Tubbo.” Wilbur blurts out, trying to stop the argument. “It’s been like, eight weeks. They’re just gone and we didn’t even know that it was a watcher until a few days ago and Dream says he needs someone’s help and I don’t know what to do.”

“Shit.”

---

“What are you doing to me?” Tubbo asks, his voice hoarse from screaming. Something is in the back of his mind, poking and prodding its way around. “Get out of my head!”

The watcher laughs, the mask on their face a bright white that gives Tubbo a headache. Purple magic swirls around them, and Tubbo shuts his eyes, trying to fight back. He doesn’t know what he’s fighting against, though. He doesn’t know how to fight back.

“Don’t you feel tired?” The watcher asks, a fake sympathy in their voice. “Why don’t you close your eyes and sleep?”

Tubbo fights back. He doesn’t know why he bothers anymore, if not to spite the watchers. It hurts so much, tears filling his eyes as he tries to will the magic away. He doesn’t want to become one of them. Not anymore. He just wants to go home. Wilbur and Dream and Fundy and George and Sapnap and Eret can’t be dead. They just can’t be. He has to have a home to go to, a place to escape to that won’t turn him away.

“Won’t it be easier to forget?” The watcher asks, and a scream tears itself from Tubbo’s throat. It hurts so much. Too much. He just wants to go home. He just wants to go home, why can’t he go home?

⍑ᒷ ╎ᓭ ⍑𝙹ᒲᒷ, ╎ᓭリℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ?

The watcher’s mask has a splatter of blood on it. It’s his blood.

---

Grian stares at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused as he listens to Sam move around him. At least, he thinks it’s Sam. No one else visits him, no one else bothers to visit a traitor. A terrorist. So he just stares at the ceiling, ignoring Sam as he walks around.

“You know, the one thing I miss about when you ripped off your wings was being able to whip you.” Sam says nonchalantly. As though it’s normal.

Maybe it is.

“Of course, I suppose I could whip you now. There’s nothing stopping me.” Sam moves Grian into a sitting up position. “But your wings do look so lovely.”

Sam yanks a group of feathers out, and Grian doesn’t scream. It still hurts, it still burns as though his wing was set on fire. But he doesn’t scream. He’s too tired, he’s too used to the pain, he’s too defiant, whatever excuse he can use is good.

Sam gives a pleased hum, and pride fills Grian’s chest, though it shouldn’t. He hates this, he hates how he’s made Sam even slightly happy by not screaming.

It doesn’t matter, anyways. Sam wants him to be quiet, so he should be. If he fights back it’ll hurt more, if he screams it’ll get worse. He wants to be good. He wants Sam to leave, he wants Sam to stay.

It doesn’t matter, he just doesn’t want to be hurt.

Right?

“リ𝙹∴, ̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ, ||𝙹⚍ ꖌリ𝙹∴ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ||𝙹⚍ リᒷᒷ↸ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᔑ!¡ 𝙹 ꖎ 𝙹 ⊣╎ᓭᒷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ᒲᒷ ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ 𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ ∴ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ᒷ∷ᓭ, ∷╎⊣⍑ℸ ̣ ?” Sam asks, the galactic falling off of his tongue as though it was his native language. “ᔑリᓭ∴ᒷ∷ ╎リ ⊣ᔑꖎᔑᓵℸ ̣ ╎ᓵ 𝙹∷ ╎ ' ꖎ ꖎ ᓵ ꖎ ╎!¡ ||𝙹⚍∷ ∴╎リ⊣ᓭ”

“!¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ↸𝙹リℸ ̣ ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣ ᒲᒷ” Grian begs, tears in his eyes. Sam laughs as one escapes his eyes, brushing it off of Grian’s cheek before the hermit can move. “!¡ꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ ᓭᔑᒲ ╎ ↸𝙹リℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⍑⚍∷ℸ ̣”

“ᓭᔑ|| ||𝙹⚍∷ᒷ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||” Sam smiles, the knife in his hand resting against Grian’s throat.

“╎ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||.” Grian breaks, curling up as he cries. “╎ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| ╎ᒲ ᓭ𝙹 ᓭ𝙹∷∷|| ᓭᔑᒲ ╎ᒲ ᓭ𝙹∷∷||”

---

“Where’s Grian!” The man yells as he walks into the town hall, the hermits watching him with their swords drawn. He wears a bright green jacket and blue pants, a white mask over his face. Another man follows him, dressed like a king though he sports a pig mask. False, Cub and Ren all look at eachother, anger and confusion on their faces. “I know you guys are in here, where is Grian?”

“Dream you sound like a serial killer.” The man in the pig mask notes, and Xisuma frowns at the name. He recognises it from somewhere. “Look, we just need to chat with him, Dream here’s dragged-”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“It was your server those two went missing from!”

“Hey guys,” Wilbur walks into the town hall from the outside, ignoring the protests from Dream and Techno. “Tommy and Tubbo have been kidnapped by watchers, and Dream and Techno think that Grian could help us. Sorry for them acting like murderers, I couldn’t convince them to be civil.”

“Grian’s gone.” Scar says, looking down from where he sits on the diamond throne, Xisuma hitting his arm as he says it, though the mayor ignore him. “He’s been gone for four weeks. A watcher took him. One with rabbit ears.”

---

Tommy wraps his wings around himself, waiting for the order to practice flying. He has to behave, or he’ll never be allowed a moment alone again. How was he supposed to know he was going to survive that? He didn’t know that being a watcher meant that his poison tolerance went up.

The watcher nods at him, and Tommy stretches his wings, flapping them experimentally before he steps off the roof, falling before he pulls up, banking to the left. Two watchers follow behind him, swords resting by their sides. If he could just get one, he could get out.

Tubbo and Grian are dead, after all.

He doesn’t feel guilty about leaving their bodies behind, he doesn’t even know where the watchers keep bodies. Maybe they throw them into the void, Tommy thinks to himself, or maybe they eat them.

Tommy flies over the void, and for a brief second he wonders if the watchers would catch him if he let himself drop into the void. Maybe they would, and he wouldn’t be allowed to fly again. Maybe they wouldn’t and he’d die.

Or he’d escape when they leave to report him dead.

Tommy folds his wings in, and lets himself fall into the void.

---

He can’t see, blind folded and led through halls. He doesn’t mind, though he can feel his back bleeding. Sam reopened a wound before he blind folded him, and Grian doesn’t care to ask for a bandage. He doesn’t deserve one, if a wound is getting reopened. He must have misbehaved somehow. He lets Sam lead him around, stumbling and bumping into things.

He doesn’t say anything when he feels his feet get cut open by something sharp, or when he feels the reopened scar tear further open. He won’t make anything worse for himself. Maybe he can save any survivors if he stays quiet.

It doesn’t matter that he knows he’s the only survivor. It doesn’t matter that he’s the only one left.

Is it so bad to save himself?

When does it start being working for the watchers, and stop being protecting himself? When will he lose himself to the watchers? Grian doesn’t want to answer the questions, he doesn’t want to think about them. He’d rather be mindless, a puppet on strings. His brain just won’t stop, he’s going to be hurt because of it.

He’d rather lose himself than be hurt.

So he stays silent, he doesn’t fight back. Not anymore. The pain isn’t worth it.

---

Tubbo walks behind the watcher, his hands behind his back. They say they’re going to give him a test. A test of loyalty, one he failed in the past. Tubbo won’t fail this one, he can’t. He is no traitor.

A voice screams in the back of his head, struggling for control against the magic. Two words, two words and that voice is gone, and he will be completely mindless. A good soldier for the watchers. One deserving of his rank.

Tubbo walks into a cell where a man kneels, blonde hair bloody and red jumper in tatters on his body. He sports a pair of wings missing feathers, falcon wings. The same rank as he is. He wears a white blindfold, though his head looks to the ground. Blood pools on the floor beneath him, his breathing sharp, though he tries to muffle it. A wooden block is in front of him, and a sword rests in the hands of an owl with rabbit ears. The owl hands him the sword, pushing the traitor’s head onto the block, and Tubbo suddenly feels sick.

This will kill the man.

He’s been asked to kill someone. Someone that the voice in the back of his head knows, someone he knows. Tubbo doesn’t want to, he has to, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to know the man’s name, the traitor’s crimes, but he feels as though he already knows. That he knew the man before he was made a watcher.

Grian, thats what the voice calls him. Grian.

“Tubbo, you know your orders.” The watcher besides him says, and Tubbo grasps the sword tighter. He doesn’t know what to do.

---

Tommy stares towards the door, knowing that the second he sits up a watcher will be in his room to make sure he doesn’t try to kill himself again. He can’t believe they caught him. He can’t believe they didn’t let him die, why keep a pet that doesn’t want to move? That doesn’t want to live. He’s a waste of resources for them, why don’t they just let him sleep?

He doesn’t want to die, not completely. He wants to leave, but he won’t get out without dying. Grian might have been able to get out, be he won’t be able to. He doesn’t even know how Grian escaped. Maybe Grian winged it, maybe he had help.

Maybe Tommy should just try.

Tommy slowly sits up, a watcher immediately in the room with him. They watch him intently as he stretches his wings slowly, like he only just woke up. Tommy slowly stretches, not watching the watcher in his room.

He’s going to get out.

He doesn’t care what it’ll take.

---

Tubbo runs through the halls, holding onto Grian’s hand. The sword in his hand drips with blood, a deep purple that shouldn’t be the colour someone bleeds. He knows that if he doesn’t escape he will be killed. But he can’t kill Grian, not after everything Grian did to protect him and Tommy.

He races towards the portal room, practically dragging Grian behind him, when someone standing in the doorway throws him backwards.

Tommy helps him up, purple blood on his hands, and they race into the room, no time to talk. They don't ask questions about the blood, they don’t care about who the other had to kill to escape.

They run through the first portal they see, praying that the watchers wont find them as Grian destroys it behind them.

---

“It’s all gone.” Tommy says, slowly walking through the dreamsmp. “Where is everyone?”

Grian doesn’t say anything. It’s been weeks since they escaped, hiding in the forests and waiting. Grian hasn’t said a word, not even humming. Tubbo walks towards L’manburg, the large walls feeling safe. As though the watcher’s wont be able to get them there.

“Why isn’t anyone here anymore?” Tommy’s eyes fill with tears as he tries to stop himself from having a breakdown. “Did they think that we died? Did they die? They died, didn’t they, we’re never going to see them again and it’s all my fault I shouldn’t have-”

“Tommy, for the love of-” Tubbo takes a deep breath in, standing on the threshold between L’manburg and the dreamsmp. “It’s not your fault. Anything could have happened, but this isn’t your fault.”

Some bees fly towards the group, bouncing off Tubbo’s side. Tubbo smiles sadly, following the bees into L’manburg.

It looks exactly how they left it, the flag flying in the distance, the new drug van half built and ugly as it gets. Dirt placed haphazardly around. Some flowers sway in the breeze, dandelions and daisies.

It smells like dirt. It smells bad, it smells as though no one’s cleaned it in years.

It smells safe.

#whump #teen whump #captive whumpee #escape attempt #hermitcraft #creepy whumper

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hermit-whump · 5 years ago

Text

Watchers - Pt 1

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26231755/chapters/63845446 Warnings: mentions of death, heavy descriptions of blood, broken bones, teen whump, creepy captor, kidnapping, past kidnapping, electric shock

The hermits stand together in the shopping district, covered in blood and mud. False holds onto her stomach, blood oozing out from her gut and mouth and she struggles to both stand and hold her sword. Doc lies on the ground, his prosthetic arm lays broken a meter away from him. Iskall holds their eye in their hands, redstone leaking out of the socket where the diamond should lie. Stress and Zedaph try to reach as many people as possible, to heal and to help. No one is left un injured, some sport broken arms or legs, some boast stab wounds. Some, like Etho, Scar and Cub, simply drained themselves of their magic during the fight.

Whatever made them think that they could defeat a watcher? Especially one that had a clear prize in mind.

Grian stands behind everyone, trying to pull Xisuma out from the collapsed shop, looky looky at my booky. Xisuma groans in pain, not fully awake. Grian forces himself to focus on getting the admin out, on making sure that no one will die on this day. It’s futile. It works, distracting him from the screams of the hermits as the watcher approaches. He continues to try and pull Xisuma out from under the shop, even as Mumbo screams at him to run.

Xisuma opens his eyes, his helmet cracked and visor broken. Grian watches Xisuma’s eyes widen in fear as a hand wraps around his mouth and an arm around his gut. And without a struggle, Grian is forced from hermitcraft.

---

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” The watcher taunts, the watcher mask that rested on his face resting on a box. “You didn’t even fight back.”

“Let me go, Sam.” Grian says, glaring at the watcher. “What do you want from me?”

��The watchers have missed you. I’ve missed you. You left us, Grian. You’re not going to get away with that.”

“Kidnapping me isn’t going to undo what you’ve done.” Grian spits. “It won’t bring Taurtis back.”

“I don’t want to bring him back.” Sam smiles, making Grian pause. “I want you to suffer. You didn’t just abandon me, Grian. You betrayed the watchers. That’s high treason. You’re lucky to be alive right now.”

“At least I’m not a murderer.”

“But you’ve killed before.” Sam smiles, a look in his eyes that makes Grian’s heart stop in his chest. “And you’ll kill again, if we have anything to say about it.”

“You’ll never break me.” Grian growls. “I won’t kill. I wont kill my friends.”

“We don’t want to make you kill them,” Sam’s smile only grows wider. “But by all means, tell me how you won’t break. You’re screams will only be more music to my ears.”

---

Blood runs down Grian’s back, his red jumper torn to shreds on his back. He hasn’t scream once, not even as Sam whipped him. No, Grian prides himself in not screaming. Not breaking. He’s strong. He won’t break, not for some bunny bitch who’s on a power trip. Sam just surprised the hermits - that’s all. He won’t win when they come for him. Sam will lose. He has to.

Grian doesn’t know what he’ll do if Sam doesn’t lose.

A hand yanks at his hair, forcing Grian’s head up from the ground. Grian’s eyes meet Sam’s, and the watcher spits on Grian’s face, growling under his breath.

“They aren’t coming for you. I don’t know why you’d hold out for them.” Sam mutters, pushing Grian’s head down, and Grian’s head bounces off the stone floor. “They’ve probably been waiting to get rid of you since you joined them.”

Sam leave’s Grian’s room, and Grian curls into a ball on the floor, shaking with sobs. The hermits wouldn’t leave him now. They wouldn’t let the watcher’s have any of them. They’re his friends.

Why does it feel like Sam is telling him the truth?

---

He’s thrown against the wall, waking with a scream. He’s exhausted, a foot on his chest serving as the only warning against moving. Not that he could - too tired, too much pain. Excuses for why he doesn’t struggle against Sam plague his mind, and all Grian wants to do is sleep.

Except this watcher isn’t Sam.

This one wears a mask - standard watcher issue, a symbol on the front that covers the eyes and mouth, nothing else on it - and a dark purple cloak. Grian spies a tuft of blonde hair sticking out from behind the mask, and notices with sorrow that this watcher is new - quite possibly from one of the latest intakes. A child, most likely no more than 17. Too new to be alone - another stands in the doorway - but he’s been here for long enough to be allowed into this room. With a traitor.

Maybe the watchers finally want him gone.

“What’s your name?” Grian asks the boy quietly, sympathy in his eyes. He remembers the first time he and Taurtis were forced to interrogate someone. Netty. She got him out, maybe he can help her legacy and get these two boys out.

"ℸ ̣ 𝙹ᒲᒲ|| ↸𝙹リℸ ̣ ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ⍑╎ᒲ ||𝙹⚍∷ リᔑᒲᒷ" The other says "∴ᒷ ᔑ∷ᒷリℸ ̣ ᔑꖎꖎ 𝙹∴ᒷ↸ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⊣╎⍊ᒷ ⍑╎ᒲ 𝙹⚍∷ リᔑᒲᒷᓭ."

"╎ ∴ᔑᓭリ'ℸ ̣ ⊣𝙹╎リ⊣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹! ∴⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍ ℸ ̣ ᔑꖌᒷ ᒲᒷ ⎓𝙹∷, ᔑ ℸ ̣ ∷ᔑ╎ℸ ̣ 𝙹∷ ?" The other snaps back. “ℸ ̣ ⚍ʖʖ𝙹, ╎ ↸𝙹リℸ ̣ ∴ᔑリℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ 𝙹 ⊣ᒷℸ ̣ ╎リ ℸ ̣ ∷𝙹⚍ʖꖎᒷ ᒷ╎ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷”

Grian winces as he listens to them, recognising the names. They’re the two boys who went missing a few months ago - Wilbur had come to Hermitcraft himself begging for the hermits to look for them. Tommy and Tubbo. They’re just boys. Guilt eats at Grian’s chest, knowing that whatever they went through was horrible, probably worse than what Grian went through if they are under the watcher’s control after only a few months.

Though the watchers do control some form of time. They could have been here for years because of the bastards.

“I just want to help you two.” Grian says, a sword appearing under his throat. “Wilbur came looking for you both. He was so worried. Let me help you.”

“Wilbur ╎ᓭ ꖎ 𝙹 𝙹 ꖌ ╎リ⊣ ⎓𝙹∷ ⚍ᓭ?” Tommy mumbles

"ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ᓭᔑ╎↸ ⍑ᒷ ⎓𝙹∷⊣𝙹ℸ ̣ ⚍ᓭ. ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ ∴ᒷ ⍑ᔑ↸ ↸╎ᒷ↸." Tears spring into Tubbo’s eyes, and Grian feels the sword at his throat waver.

"𝙹⎓ ᓵ𝙹⚍∷ᓭᒷ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ|| ↸╎↸." Grian mumbles to himself angrily, startling the two boys. The sword is pressed against his throat once more, and Grian can see sweat drip onto the handle.

"⍑𝙹∴ ↸𝙹 ||𝙹⚍-”

" ̇/ᒷꖎᑑ⚍ᔑ. ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ||𝙹⚍ ⍑ᒷᔑ∷↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑℸ ̣ リᔑᒲᒷ ʖᒷ⎓𝙹∷ᒷ?” Grian fumbles over his old title, hating how he is forced to out himself as the escapee, the original traitor, Xelqua.

In reality, he’s the only watcher to escape who was allowed to survive escaping. A symbol of hope for recent intakes. A symbol of failure for the ones who let him go. A dangerous symbol of rebellion for the enforcers. A powerful pawn for propaganda for the Eagles. The highest of higher ups.

He can only pray that Tommy and Tubbo aren’t going to turn into prey because of him.

---

Crack. His foot. Snap. His arm. Pop. His fingers Thud. A foot on his chest. Tears stream down his face, his voice hoarse from screaming. Something tangy is in his mouth, tasting of metal and salt. Blood.

The red liquid is bright against the grey floor, shining as the bright lights hit it. Grian watches as it turns darker. He watches, almost as though he’s separated from his body, as Sam’s foot hits against his head, knocking him unconscious.

---

“They aren’t coming for you.” Sam says, and Grian looks to the ground. He has to be strong. For Tommy and Tubbo, who stand by the door. He can’t let them know that he believes what Sam is saying. “Repeat it, Xelqua, or we start again. The hermits aren’t coming for you.”

“The hermits aren’t coming for you.” Grian snarks back, and he screams as the knife plunges back into his arm, right next to the last stab wound. “I. Repeated. It.”

“No, you disobeyed orders.” Sam brushes his hand through Grian’s hair, almost caringly. “If you really wanted this to end, you would have said ‘me’ instead of ‘you’.”

“You told me not to lie.” Grian snarls.

“Oh please, the hermit’s can’t come for you.” Sam smiles, the knife dancing across Grian’s throat. “They’re dead. Just like Wilbur. Just like Fundy and Eret and Dream and George. They’re all dead.”

“No!” Tommy yells, and Tubbo reaches out to him, just missing him before Tommy’s on top of Sam, tears falling from under his mask. “Take it back! They aren’t dead, they can’t be dead.”

“Tubbo, get the watchers.” Sam says evenly. Tubbo freezes in the doorway, tears falling from under his mask as well. Sam is most likely lying, but there’s no way to tell. “Tubbo, so help me, if you don’t get the watchers now you’ll all be punished for this.”

“I won’t.” Tubbo’s shaking, and Grian sends him a smile, one that is supportive. One to conceal the sadness. “I won’t get them. You’re lying. They aren’t dead.”

“It’s a pity that you all will be punished for this.” Sam sighs, and with a flash the knife is in Tommy’s side, a scream ripping from his throat. “Should I start with Tommy, for attacking a superior? Or you, Tubbo, for not following orders?” Tubbo shakes his head, pressing himself up against the doorframe. “So I should start with Grian then, for giving you both rebellious thoughts?”

Grian gulps, readying himself. He can’t scream. He can’t let them think that it’ll be painful. They need to be safe.

They’re both just kids.

---

Tommy is the first to disappear, the watchers coming in the night to take him. Grian and Tubbo both wake up to find a patch of blood where the sixteen year old once laid, and though both want to believe that he’ll be fine, neither hold onto the hope too strongly. Tubbo suggests that Tommy is fine, just taking the final test to become a watcher, though that doesn’t make Grian relax, two scars resting on his back where the wings once laid. That test will decide if Tommy is predator or prey, and he will not be allowed to survive if he’s prey, already showing signs of rebellion.

Grian was the only predator to be rebellious though, so the hope he hold is far weaker than Tubbo’s hope.

Tubbo disappears in the day, or at least while both of them are awake, Sam coming into the cell and dragging him away, Grian trying to get to him even with a broken leg. The hope that Tubbo is alive still rests in his chest, but its dim, a fire fighting against rain. He doesn’t want to believe that Tubbo has died, but the test is rigorous, and that would be the only reason Sam took him without a word to Grian.

So Grian waits.

He waits for three days and nights, or at least three rounds of his sleep cycle, the lights never truly turning off in the room. He’s left alone, no food or water arriving in the room. Nothing leaves, and nothing enters.

It’s almost relaxing.

The fourth day arrives, and Grian is dizzy and tired from the lack of food and water. Sam opens the door, a tray in his hands. Mushroom soup, by the smell of it. Sam sits the tray down near Grian, standing back from him. Grian blinks, looking at Sam with wide eyes.

“Well, are you going to eat?” Sam asks, his voice clipped. “We’ve gotta keep you alive, you don’t exactly have anywhere to go with the hermits being dead.”

“They aren’t dead.” Grian mumbles, taking the soup with shaking hands. “They can’t be dead.”

“Yes yes, Tommy and Tubbo said the same thing before.” Sam waves him off. “Prey, so naive. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Grian looks down, taking small sips of the soup. Shame eats at his stomach, and sorrow eats at his mind. He’s a full feast for his emotions. He was a predator, he killed prey watchers, people from his own intake even.

Sam might have been the predator to kill Taurtis, but Grian’s hand’s are just as red as his.

“So they’re dead.” Grian says, his eyes darkening.

“Of course they are. They’re no purpose for rebellious prey, except to make an example of them for the other prey.” Sam shrugs, a bored expression on his face.

“They were children.”

“You’ve killed younger, executioner.” Sam smirks. “Let yourself get weak with the mortals, have you?”

“We’re not gods, Sam.” Grian points out. “We can die.”

“Ah yes.” Sam smiles, and Grian sways slightly, confusion on his face. “It’s finally kicking in.”

“Wha-” Grian’s head is filled with cotton, “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing you won’t sleep off. Let’s get your wings back onto you. I miss ripping off your feathers.”

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#whump #grian #tommyinnit #tubbo #samgladiator #xisuma #technically all the hermits #teen whump #captive whumpee #captivity whump #breaking #my writing

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