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prestopresto07 · 4 months ago

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Never Known Peace | 5

MCD x Fem!reader | Angsty | This happens after ep 100 when shadow knights are more prevalent and Laurence is more emo. This is intended to be Laurance x reader but I'm thinking about doing multiple endings or something. I'm just seeing where this fanfic goes. Also sorry you're right-handed. Also, I'm dyslexic so if you see any spelling errors no you don't.

You were never a knight—just a mercenary, paid to escort someone into the Nether. But instead of protecting them, you were the one betrayed, left for dead in the depths of that hellish realm. And you did die… or at least, you think you did.

Now, you're something else. A Shadow Knight.

Transformed, confused, and afraid, you barely escape with the help of a stranger named Vlyad. But the world beyond the portal is no safer. You don’t know where you are, how you survived, or what you've become. All you know is that you're running—and the fear hasn’t left your bones.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You sit on the cot, pushing the now-empty plate aside. Your stomach is full, but it does little to soothe the twisting unease inside you. The room is quiet, save for the distant sounds of a village waking up—faint chatter, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. It’s so normal. Too normal.

You aren't normal anymore.

The thought lingers like a stain in your mind as the door creaks open.

The scrape of metal against stone is what pulls you from your half-sleep. Your body tenses instinctively, your mind still caught between the Nether and reality.

Laurence stands just outside your cell, arms crossed, his blue eyes unreadable. His presence is heavy, deliberate.

“You’re being moved,” he says, voice even, but there’s an edge to it.

You sit up slowly, the blanket pooling around your waist. He doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off you. It’s not just suspicion—you recognize something else in his expression. Recognition. Understanding.

He knows what you are. What you could become.

“Where?” your voice is hoarse, quiet.

Laurence exhales through his nose, considering his answer before finally speaking. “Somewhere, more comfortable.”

Comfortable. The word lingers in the air between you, weighted and cold.

He grabs a satchel from his shoulder and tosses it to you.

“Here,” he says. “Lady Aphmau thought it wouldn’t be right to have you walking around in those, so she had our local seamstress make you something.”

You catch the bag, the weight of it settling in your lap. Your fingers tighten around the worn leather strap as you glance up at him. His emerald eyes meet yours—steady, unreadable. You’re not sure what to say.

After a beat, you murmur, “Thank you.”

Laurence nods. “You’re welcome.”

He lingers for a moment before clearing his throat, realizing he should step out. “I’ll, uh… just be outside. Come out when you’re ready.”

With that, he turns on his heel and steps out, closing the iron door behind him. His green cape sweeps behind him as he disappears from view.

You pull the satchel onto your lap and loosen the drawstring. Inside, neatly folded, is a dark red dress with white accents. The fabric is soft beneath your fingers, the stitching precise. It’s far nicer than anything you’ve worn in a long time—perhaps ever.

It’s beautiful.

Putting it on takes a moment. Lacing the bodice proves to be a challenge with how much your arm aches, but after a few frustrating attempts, you finally manage to secure it.

You’re grateful for the medicine Zoey gave you. Without it, you aren’t sure you’d even be standing.

Running your hands down your sides, you take in the way the delicate embroidery hides the bandages and scars beneath. For the first time in a long while, you feel… put together. Maybe even pretty. If only you had a mirror to be sure.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt like this.

Still, as much as you appreciate the kindness, practicality lingers in the back of your mind. A dress like this isn’t meant for travel or battle—it’s meant to keep someone in place.

You grip the fabric a little tighter.

They don’t intend to let you go.

You push the iron door open, stepping out into the common area of this—prison? Holding the satchel in your hands, you glance around, taking in the dull stone walls, the heavy wooden furniture, the quiet crackling of a fire in the corner. The air is cool despite the warmth of the flames.

Laurence stands near the doorway, his back to you. His emerald cloak drapes over his shoulders, the color muted in the dim light. At the sound of your footsteps, he turns—and for the first time, you see his usually unreadable expression falter.

His blue eyes widen slightly, flicking over you, lingering for just a second too long. It’s not just assessment this time. It’s surprise.

"You…" He hesitates, then clears his throat. “You clean up well.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the hint of something—approval?—in his voice. His gaze shifts, as if realizing he’s been staring too long, and he quickly schools his expression back into neutrality.

“It suits you,” he adds, this time with more control.

You’re not sure how to respond. A thank you doesn’t feel right. Not when you’re still trapped. Not when you’re still unsure of what they plan to do with you.

Instead, you shift the satchel in your hands. “So, where exactly are you taking me?”

Laurence exhales through his nose, pushing off the wall. “Somewhere more comfortable.” His tone is careful, guarded. “Aphmau doesn’t think it’s right to keep you locked up, but we can’t exactly let you wander around, either.”

You fold your arms, raising an eyebrow. “So, still a prisoner.”

His jaw tightens. “A guest,” he corrects. But there’s an edge to his voice, like even he doesn’t quite believe it.

You sigh, unsure of what to do. Ask him to let you go? Tell him you’re not a threat? That you don’t understand this any more than he does?

Would he even believe you?

Laurence watches you carefully, waiting. He’s patient, but not endlessly so.

Finally, he gestures toward the door. “Shall we go?”

You hesitate for a moment longer before nodding, stepping forward. As you pass him, he falls into step beside you, his posture still guarded but noticeably more at ease than before. The weight of his presence is steady, unwavering, like a shadow that refuses to leave your side.

The door groans as he pushes it open, revealing the village beyond. The crisp morning air greets you, carrying the distant hum of voices, the scent of fresh bread from a bakery, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. After everything, it feels too normal. Too peaceful.

You step outside, squinting against the sunlight.

“This way,” Laurence says, motioning for you to follow.

Your feet move before you can think, but the reality settles in as you take in the towering stone walls surrounding the village. You really aren’t free.

You glance at Laurence, who keeps his gaze forward, leading you down the worn path between buildings. His hand lingers near the hilt of his sword—not threatening, but a silent reminder.

“I meant what I said,” you murmur, half to yourself. “I’m not a threat.”

Laurence exhales slowly, his expression unreadable. “I hope that’s true,” he says. “For everyone’s sake.”

You frown at his response but don’t push it. You’re too tired for that. Instead, you focus on your surroundings, taking in the village as you walk.

It’s quiet, but not lifeless. A few villagers mill about, some stealing curious glances your way. You wonder what they’ve been told about you.

Laurence doesn’t acknowledge them. His posture stays rigid, his pace steady, like he’s on high alert.

After a few moments of silence, you decide to break it. “Where exactly are you taking me?”

“The Yggdrasil Tree,” Laurence answers without looking at you. “It’s where you’ll be staying.”

You pause mid-step. “Staying?”

He slows, finally turning his gaze toward you. “Did you think we’d just let you go?”

You clamp your mouth shut. No, you hadn’t thought that. But hearing it confirmed sends an uneasy feeling curling in your stomach.

“I just don’t see the point in holding me prisoner,” you mutter. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Laurence sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s already exhausted by this conversation. “Maybe not. But you’re still a Shadow Knight. And until we know more about how you got here—and if you’re a danger—we can’t take risks.”

You cross your arms, gripping your sleeves. You don’t know what to say to that.

Laurence watches you for a moment longer, then sighs. His voice softens, just a fraction. “The tree is safe. It’s better than a cell.”

You exhale sharply. “Right. How generous.”

Laurence shakes his head but doesn’t argue.

For now, you don’t have a choice.

A few moments pass in silence before Laurence speaks up.

“So, you’re a mercenary?”

You glance at him, surprised he’s the one breaking the silence. His tone is casual, but there’s something calculated about it, like he’s testing you.

You nod. “Yeah. People hire me when they need protection.”

Laurence hums, his expression unreadable. “Not exactly a common profession.”

You shrug. “It pays.”

“Does it?” He raises an eyebrow. “You said before that guards don’t get paid well. So what made mercenary work worth it?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening around the fabric of your dress. You don’t know if he actually cares about your answer or if he’s just prying for information.

Still, you decide to humor him. “I didn’t like staying in one place. The job gave me freedom.”

Laurence’s gaze flickers toward you at that, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he looks ahead, as if mulling over your words.

“That freedom landed you in the Nether,” he finally says, voice quieter.

You stop walking.

Laurence takes a few more steps before noticing, turning back to face you with a questioning look.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “What is your problem?”

His brows furrow slightly. “What?”

“You’ve been acting like I’m some kind of threat since I woke up,” you say, voice laced with frustration. “You don’t trust me. I get that. But you—” You huff, struggling to put it into words. “You’re different from the others. It’s like you already decided what I am before I could even open my mouth.”

Laurence watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. Then, he exhales sharply, glancing away.

“I have my reasons.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” His voice is clipped now, the patience from before thinning.

Your jaw tightens. There’s something in his voice—something almost reluctant. He’s holding something back, but you don’t know what.

You could push him further, demand an actual answer. Or you could let it go… for now.

Your jaw tightens. “That’s not good enough.”

Laurence exhales sharply through his nose, looking at you as if debating whether to entertain this argument. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“Yes, it does,” you shoot back, taking a step closer. “You’re acting like I’ve already done something wrong when all I’ve done is wake up in a place I don’t know, with people I don’t know, after almost dying.” Your voice rises, frustration bubbling to the surface. “And now I have to deal with you looking at me like I might snap at any moment?”

Laurence’s expression flickers, like your words hit something. But then his features harden again, and he shakes his head.

“You don’t get it,” he mutters.

“No, I don’t. Because you won’t tell me.”

Silence stretches between you. The sounds of the village—distant chatter, the occasional hammer striking metal—fill the space where his answer should be.

Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low.

“You don’t know what you are now.”

His words send a chill through you.

“I—” You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Laurence watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. “The Nether doesn’t let people leave unchanged. And Shadow Knights…” He trails off, like he’s weighing whether to say more. “I’ve seen what happens when people don’t understand what’s inside them.”

You stare at him. The certainty in his voice, the weight behind his words—he’s not just speaking in hypotheticals. He’s speaking from experience.

And that’s when it hits you.

“You’re afraid of me,” you say, quieter now.

Laurence’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it.

Not exactly the response you were expecting.

"Let's go." He says hand gripping the hilt of his sword tighter, almost like a warning.

You continue walking slightly behind him.

'You don't know what you are now'

His words ring out in your head like a curse.

Who is he to tell you that you don't know who you are.

You know who you were.

You didn't think that had changed.

You felt different, but that shouldn't matter.

You were still a person. But they were treating you like some sort of monster. like a rope that is about to snap. Like a wounded animal that knows nothing but to bare her teeth.

They might be right.

Your first instinct had always been to fight.

You won’t be what they think you are.

You refuse.

They want you to break. They want a reason to strike you down.

Your grip on the fabric of your dress tightens, but you force your shoulders to relax. You inhale slowly, steadying yourself. You’ve faced worse than this.

Laurance doesn’t stop walking, but his gaze flickers toward you—assessing, searching. You keep your expression neutral, unreadable.

The silence stretches between you.

Then, finally, you speak.

"What now?" Your voice is even, betraying none of the battle raging inside you.

Laurance clears his throat. "The lord and the head guard will decide what happens next. I'm taking you to them now."

You eye him, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. You want to scream at him—to demand why everyone treated you like something to be dealt with. Like a time bomb waiting to go off.

But you won’t let them be right.

"You're not the head guard?" you ask.

He shakes his head.

"Then why aren’t they the ones dealing with me?"

"Because you’re not their guest," he says matter-of-factly.

That makes no sense. You frown, confusion evident on your face.

Laurance exhales sharply, as if already tired of the conversation. "I am Lady Aphmau’s head guard. Her son, Levin, is the lord."

You blink. Her son?

You hadn’t expected that. A lord young enough to still have his mother protecting him? That was… unusual.

"He’s just a kid?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

Laurance shoots you a sharp look. "Watch your tone."

So, you hit a nerve. Interesting.

You cross your arms. "I just wasn’t expecting a child to be making decisions about my life."

"He’s not a child," Laurance corrects, jaw tightening. "And don’t mistake youth for weakness. Levin is the rightful lord of Phoenix Drop."

You arch a brow but decide to let it go. For now.

The two of you continue walking, boots crunching over dirt paths as the village starts to come into view. You feel the stares before you even see the people—watchful eyes peering from windows and between market stalls. You’re a stranger here. Worse, you're something they fear.

Laurance keeps his pace steady, but you don’t miss the way his hand rests near his sword. A warning. A reminder.

It’s enough to make your skin crawl.

You bite your tongue, inhaling through your nose. You won’t give them a reason to believe you’re dangerous. You won’t.

But you wonder if they’ve already made up their minds.

Not too much farther, a massive tree comes into view—its colossal roots twisting through the earth like ancient veins. The path winds around and between them, forcing you to step carefully.

You stop at the base of the tree, staring up in awe.

It isn’t just the biggest tree you’ve ever seen. It’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen. Its trunk is impossibly wide, stretching high into the sky, its canopy vast enough to swallow entire buildings. The sheer scale of it makes your stomach twist with something unfamiliar—something small.

Laurance steps ahead, stopping at an opening carved into the base of the tree. A staircase spirals upward inside, disappearing into the heart of the giant.

He gestures toward the steps. "Ladies first."

You begin ascending the stairs, lifting your skirt slightly to keep the hem from catching on the steps. As you climb higher, you catch glimpses of water flowing through the center of the tree, cascading down like a natural spring. You had assumed this tree was magical, but seeing it like this makes it feel alive.

Then the stairs end.

You stop short, gripping the wooden railing as you stare at the ladder leading upward. A ladder.

You glance over your shoulder at Laurance, who stands waiting behind you, arms crossed.

You hesitate. You’re still wearing a dress, and the thought of climbing up with him directly below makes your stomach twist. You really don’t like this.

You hesitate at the base of the ladder, glancing over your shoulder at Laurance. He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"What's the matter?" he asks, un-crossing his arms. "Afraid of heights?"

You narrow your eyes at him. "I'm wearing a dress."

His smirk deepens. "Oh? I hadn’t noticed."

You roll your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. "You're insufferable."

Laurance chuckles. "I could go first if you prefer. But that would mean turning my back on a Shadow Knight. Dangerous choice, don't you think?"

You huff, gripping the ladder. "Fine."

As you climb, you can practically feel his eyes on you. You tell yourself you're imagining it, but when you reach the top and glance back, he's got the most smug, innocent expression you’ve ever seen.

"See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" he teases, stepping off the ladder.

You shoot him a glare, but he just gestures forward. "Come on, wouldn't want to keep the Lord waiting."

You step into the massive tree’s hollowed-out center, your eyes scanning the space. Beds line the walls, their sheets neatly tucked, while crates and boxes are stacked haphazardly in the middle.

A hostel? A safe house? You're not sure. Either way, this place feels lived-in, like a sanctuary for those who need it.

While you take it all in, Laurance strides past you toward a group of people gathered near the far end of the room.

Your eyes immediately land on a familiar face—Aphmau. She stands at the center of the group, speaking in low tones. Three men surround her.

One has blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and he looks young definition of a baby face. Beside him stands a brown-haired man, similar in build, their resemblance striking enough to mark them as close—perhaps brothers. The last man wears armor much like Laurance’s, though his cloak is red and weathered, its edges frayed from years of use and he has some vibrant blue hair.

You shift your weight, suddenly aware of how out of place you must look here. Whatever conversation they were having pauses as Aphmau lifts her gaze toward you.

She smiles, something warm.

"Y/n," she says waving you over, now everyone's eyes are on you. "You look great!"

You walk over to them and keep your eyes on the familiar people around you.

You feel like an animal in a cage, a rare oddity in a circus. Something being observed and ogled at.

"Thank you miss," you say meekly.

Laurance chuckles under his breath. "Not exactly dressed like a threat, huh?"

"I don’t have to look like one to be dangerous," you mutter. The room falls into silence, and you realize you’ve just proven their point.

You clear your throat, "Sorry, I don't really mean that." You say cringing internally.

A few beats pass before the man with blue hair laughs.

"She's feisty, kinda reminds me of Katelyn." He nudges Laurance with his elbow.

Aphmau chuckles softly at the comparison, but her expression shifts as she folds her hands together. "Feisty or not, we still need to figure out what happens next. Y/N, we want to understand what exactly happened to you in the Nether—and what that means for all of us."

You grimace, what happened to you. You yourself are not entirely sure.

The man with blue hair grins at his own joke, but the moment still hangs heavy in the air.

Aphmau, ever the mediator, sighs and gestures between the people around her. "Well, since you're going to be speaking with us, you should at least know who we are. You've already met Laurance."

Laurance crosses his arms but doesn’t say anything.

"This is Levin," Aphmau continues, nodding toward the blonde man. "He's the Lord of Phoenix Drop."

Levin gives you a slow nod, his blue eyes studying you carefully. There’s no hostility—just scrutiny like he’s weighing your presence, determining if you're a threat.

You furrow your brows. This man—boy—is Aphmau's son? He looks only a year or two younger than you, and from what little you'd assumed, Aphmau seemed to be about your age.

"And this is Dante," she says, motioning toward the man with blue hair. "He's our head guard."

Dante smirks, arms crossed. "Nice to meet you, I guess. Not every day we get a visitor from the Nether."

The joke doesn’t land quite right. You just nod.

The last man, dressed in earthy colors much like Zoey, steps forward. His posture is relaxed, his demeanor easygoing.

"My name’s Malachi," he says with a friendly smile. "I handle trade for Phoenix Drop."

You glance between them, still feeling like an outsider. These people know each other, trust each other. And you? You’re just an unknown variable.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of your dress. "Alright," you say carefully. "I guess that means you all know who I am now."

Levin, still watching you carefully, clasps his hands behind his back. "Now that introductions are out of the way, let's discuss why you're here."

Dante raises an eyebrow. "More like what we're supposed to do with you."

Aphmau exhales, clearly not thrilled with his bluntness. "We need to determine whether you’re a danger to this village, Y/N. Shadow Knights aren’t exactly known for their restraint."

Laurance shifts where he stands, arms crossed. "She doesn't even know what she is yet."

Your jaw tightens. "I know exactly who I am."

Levin tilts his head. "Do you?"

Something in his voice—calm, measured—sends frustration bubbling in your chest. You swallow it down, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You all keep talking about me like I’m some wild animal," you say, keeping your tone even despite the tension pressing into your ribs. "Like I’m something to be handled instead of a person who just got dragged into all this. So let’s cut the vague accusations—what exactly do you think I am?"

A beat of silence. Dante lets out a low whistle.

"Feisty," he murmurs, looking at Laurance.

Laurance doesn’t react, still watching you with that unreadable expression.

Aphmau presses a hand to her forehead. "Nobody here wants to treat you like an animal, Y/N. But you have to understand—we have a village to protect."

"And you think I’m a threat?"

Malachi raises his brows. "Are you?"

Your fingers twitch at your sides, but you force yourself to stay calm. "That depends," you say coolly. "Are you going to give me a reason to fight?"

The room falls into silence again, and you can feel the weight of their stares. But this time, you don’t shrink under it. You hold your ground.

Levin watches you for a moment longer before sighing. "This isn't going to be simple, is it?"

"It could be." You say locking eyes with him.

Laurance takes a step closer to you.

Aphmau sighs. "Y/n we aren't your enemy, we just wanna know what happened."

"Then you should start asking questions." It comes out much more mean than you intended. "I'm sorry, it's just-" You rub your eyes. You're so incredibly frustrated. You feel so demeaned, like a child.

Levin exhales through his nose, glancing at Aphmau before turning his attention back to you. "Alright. Then let's start with the obvious—how did you become a Shadow Knight?"

Your throat tightens. You knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

"I don��t know," you admit, voice quieter now. "I told you—I was tricked."

Laurance studies you, arms still crossed. "By the woman with white hair and purple eyes."

You nod. "She led me to a portal, told me she needed something from the Nether and couldn’t go alone." Your breath catches, and for a moment, you swear you can feel the heat of that wretched place clinging to your skin. "I don’t remember much after stepping through. We gathered materials, and she offered me more money to go into the fortress with her, I don't really remember what happened after that other than a man helped me escape. Now I'm here and I'm different."

Dante frowns, shifting his weight. "Different how?"

You hesitate. Should you tell them everything? The hunger, the shadows that call to you, the way the world feels sharper—like you could tear it apart with your bare hands if you wanted to?

"I don't know how to explain it," you finally say. "Like something inside me changed. Like part of me isn't my own anymore."

Aphmau presses her lips together. The way she looks at you now—it's not fear, exactly. It’s concern.

Levin leans forward slightly. "And this woman—do you know her name?"

You swallow hard, memories surfacing like ghosts. That cruel, knowing smile. The way she watched as you fell.

"No, but I dream of her," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Laurance stiffens.

Aphmau notices. "Dream?" she mutters, glancing at Laurance.

Laurance doesn’t answer immediately. His grip on his sword tightens before he finally speaks. "If it is Saha, then this is worse than we thought."

You frown. "Who is she?"

Levin sighs, rubbing his temple. "A problem."

Dante scoffs. "That's putting it lightly."

You look between them, heart pounding. Whatever you got caught up in—it’s bigger than you thought.

And you still don’t know if they see you as a person—or a problem to be dealt with.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: AHHHHH I'm having so much fun with this I had to stop myself before this chapter got too long lol. Hope you like it! Any support is appreciated!

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