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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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I said I had another chapter ready. so It's time to post that.

tagging @helleborusangel because they like my writing and @hermitcraftheadcanons since they and their community made the au.

now... with that out of the way, let's recap evo... wait shoot i mean hermitcraft.

“Pixlriffs! Turn on the tv!” Came a voice that followed a door being slammed open.

Pixlriffs turned around in confusion to see Zloy having barged in, panting with his goggles askew. “Zloy? What’s going on?”

“Just turn on the recap channel! Hurry!”

Even more confused, Pixl slowly turned to his tv and turned it on, switching to the channel that showed their recap show. “I thought you didn’t like watching our own shows. It’s not even a regular recap, it’s just going to be a clip show from the livestream. Why are you so-” But he cut himself off. Showing on screen was a countdown to the season eight day one recap. “What? But it hasn’t started. We haven’t recorded anything.”

“I know! I was with a friend and they turned it on and said they didn’t think it had started yet. When I saw the countdown, I ran all the way over here.”

“Do you think they just had a scheduling mistake? We might need to call the broadcasters and have them fix things up.” Pixl suggested, and Zloy shrugged.

“Let’s just make sure that’s the case and see which episode they’re actually showing. For all we know they mixed things up and this is just the season seven, day one.”

“I hope that’s the case.”

The two recapers watched the timer go down. Elsewhere, people were also turned into the episode. Some were pleasantly surprised by the supposed new episode. Others were confused thinking the schedule was wrong. Those who knew the hermits were confused, not having heard the new season was starting yet.

Then finally, the timer reached zero, and a familiar jingle started. And then a voice that was definitely not Pixlriffs spoke the phrase “This week, on Hermitcraft.”

“Wait, what am I doing in the nether? I just joined the world.”

Zloy and Pixl looked at each other at something they had never heard Keralis say. This was a new episode, but one they hadn’t made.

“A new adventure starts in season eight, new places and mobs to explore and see. And also Grumbot and Jrumbot are Hermits now. Welcome to the Hermitcraft recap! The show where no one is where they should be. My name is Toon Noah.”

“I’m Mysterious Goofball, and our writer is Pin Valentine. Today, we’re looking at everyone’s first day on the new season of Hermitcraft.”

The first person, Noah, spoke up again. “In this season, the hermits managed to update all the way to the second half of the caves and cliffs update even though that isn’t possible.” He explained what was going on in this season. “Everyone is scattered across the map and even in other dimensions. Monsters are tough, regen is off, and using chat is out of the question, so surviving is going to be tough.”

“At the very least, they can still respawn, so certain people have chances to escape. Escape what that is? Well, let’s look at what the Hermits have been up to.” Goofball said, sounding so nonchalant about what they were about to talk about.

“Starting with Xisuma, who’s started out in the deep dark. The admin’s helmet has been disabled other than necessary functions. His visor also gives him a little bit of light, so he’s not completely blind. Plus the fact that sculks are bioluminescent. But the warden is too, which has been able to find him a number of times.”

“Also in the caves in Jevin,-” Goofball spoke up again. “-who’s found himself in some lush caves. He’s got glowberries for light and food and the axolotls are pretty friendly. Plus, with enough searching, he was able to find a bit of wood for simple tools.”

“Speaking of wood. Some of the hermits have found themselves in the jungle.” Noah quickly commented before some audio from one of the hermits played along with its clip.

“Helloooo? Anyone around? Impulse? Tango? Hey is that Grian? Nope, just a parrot. Ugh, and here I am without any seeds.”

Goofball spoke up again when the audio finished. “Both Zedaph and Tango are in the same jungle, but the size of the biome as well as the amount of foliage means they haven’t found each other yet. Tango at the very least has started mining, and Zedaph managed to find a jungle temple and has already started on using the redstone from there for a melon farm.”

“How do you even make a farm out of that?”

“It’s Zedaph, what do you expect?”

“Well, as for the last of team ZIT, Impulse had found himself in the middle of a sea temple.” Noah spoke, as the video showed Impulse dealing with being underwater in such a place. “Between drowning and guardians, he hasn’t gotten that far away from his spawn.”

“In other aquatic news-” Goofball said, another clip from the hermits playing.

“If I never see coral again, it’ll be too- wait, is that False? False!”

“-Stress and False are also nearby to each other, both spawning in coral reefs. False was the first to escape, needing to just swim out of her spawn.”

“On the other hand, Stress was completely encased in coral and had to slowly chip herself out of the colorful prison. But by the evening, Stress was able to get to the surface and join False and an island, chopping down trees. They even started a wheat farm. But here’s hoping they don’t have to deal with drowned.”

“While she isn’t a drowned,” Goofball continued from Noah’s comment. “Zombie Cleo started out in a village. Normally, that would be pretty good, but being a zombie…”

“Leave me alone! I’m not going ta kill any villagers! I’m a zombie but I’m not that kind of zombie!”

“She’s been having an issue with the resident iron golem. With a bit of luck, she managed to hole herself up in a house which the golem isn’t going to destroy, but the villagers aren’t the happiest about it.”

Then Noah took over speaking. “From villagers to illagers, Mumbo Jumbo found himself alone in a woodland mansion, making himself the furthest hermit in the overworld.”

“Come on. Almost. Almost!” The video showed Mumbo running before he was killed by a vindicator. “Oh come on!”

After that, Noah continued. “He’s tried and failed many times to try and get out of the mansion, but eventually just started breaking the walls for tools.”

“The illagers aren’t really happy about it, but not like he’ll be going far, so I don’t think he’ll easily lose those tools.”

“Well at least he’s got supplies.” The video transitioned to a mountain top with three figures standing at the peak. “Grian, as well as new hermits Grum and Jrum are currently stuck on the top of a mountain, surrounded by powder snow. It’s pretty lucky that the three of them stuck together.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Goofball spoke up, sounding a bit frustrated or annoyed. “While Grian tried to fly down for supplies to little success, other than fall damage, he hasn’t managed to die, using some sort of magic.”

“But it looks like the fall damage came in handy for Doc, who’s further down the mountain. He’s having a bit of trouble surrounded by goats, plenty of them being the screaming variety.”

Goofball spoke again, no longer sounding as annoyed. “Yeah, but while hanging out with them, he heard a different kind of scream and did something pretty smart.”

“Wait, what was- is someone close by? It sounded like someone just- wait! The death messages!” He pulled out his communicator and read the messages. “Grian died to fall damage! Grian’s up there!”

“I guess he is the scientist of the group.” Noah spoke, the grin he had on his face audible in his voice. “It makes sense he would be the one to figure things out. But even then, he still can’t easily get down the mountain himself with all the goats messing him up. My guess is he’s really regretting being the goat father last season.”

“Doc isn’t the only one getting familiar with the new wildlife though. Hypno has found himself in a large flower forest that has plenty of mooblooms. He hasn’t been able to kill any of them yet, and there’s only flowers and no grass for him to get seeds from, so while the place seems like it should be easy to survive in, it’s really the opposite.”

“The best idea he’s had so far is following some bees to find their nest and hopefully a tree attached to it. If only he knew he was actually really close to spawn, being the closest to it.”

Goofball took control of the conversation again “Well, that’s not entirely true as three hermits managed to appear at spawn, those three being Joe Hills, VintageBeef, and Etho.” And the three hermits were shown in what looked much more normal than everything else that had been shown so far. “The three of them pretty quickly figured out something was wrong and started to make spawn a safe place, also gathering supplies so they can eventually find the other hermits.”

“Except Etho got a bit ahead of himself.” Noah cut in. “He had a bad run in with some mobs and ended up dying, finding out his respawn is a bit different than others. But at the very least, he managed to find Ren.”

“Ren spawned on a cliff of a ravine. There’s no water at the bottom, and all the blocks in reach are stone, so it’s not the easiest to escape from. Still, with little else to do, Ren started slowly chipping away at the stone to escape the ravine, only to fall when Etho surprised him by suddenly respawning there.”

“Okay, I got through two more pieces of stone. At this rate, I can probably get to dirt before the sun is setting so- Etho- ooooooh!”

“At the very least Ren is respawning just fine,” Noah explained “So the two of them were able to help Ren escape the ravine, so he’s the third person to escape his spawn area.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.” Goofball started to correct. “Before Etho helped Ren and even before Stress escaped her coral prison, Cub actually escaped the mesa mineshaft he spawned in. It was a little tricky with the cave spiders spawning, but he lucked out with the loot of a chest and was able to get a crafting table and pickaxe out of it.” Cub had found some iron, torches, a few seeds, some bread, and then used the wood of the mineshaft to get him on his feet in terms of survival. “With a few respawns, he took out the spiders and their spawner. He’s able to move around freely, but not wanting to respawn again, his hearts are a bit low, so he’s staying near the mineshaft for shelter.”

“Then, sort of nearby the mesa of course, is the desert, where the last two overworld hermits are.” Noah said, and there was the slightest ruffle of papers, like he was checking a script. “Both XB and Iskall are stuck in the same large desert, trying to find some source of food, water and wood. So far, the best they’ve found are the sticks from dead bushes. Out of the two, XB is doing a bit better since he’s found a cave for some sort of shelter, but Iskall’s much worse off,the sand messing with his one eye.”

“Between the heat, the sand, and my eye, I can’t even tell what’s real anymore. That cactus could be a tree or a town or- nope! It’s actually a creeper!”

And then Noah continued with a transition. “Getting even hotter now, let’s look at the nether. There’s only two hermits there right now, with different struggles to deal with.”

“Keralis is the first and lucked out a bit, landing himself in a warped forest right near a basalt delta, meaning he’s got up to stone tools. Plus, since nether gold ore can be mined with wood tools or better, he’s also got some gold boots to help with any piglins.”

“On the other hand, Welsknight is in a much worse situation. He spawned in a crimson forest and is having plenty of trouble with the hoglins.” And that was emphasized by a clip of Wels being killed by one of the mobs. “He hasn’t gotten too much wood before dying, but at the very least, he secured his spawn just enough he has some room to breathe. And hey, if he makes it out of there, he’s got a fortress nearby. But now to end this off, let’s head to the end.”

“TinfoilChef, or TFC is on the main end island, spawning on an obsidian platform just a few blocks from the edge of the island.” Goofball spoke. “It’s close enough for him to jump, but he still takes fall damage and has to deal with the ender dragon after that.”

“Not to mention the endermen too, which Scar is also having trouble with. He’s stuck on a smallish end island out in the further reaches of the end. There’s an end city nearby, but he doesn’t really have the means to get there. At the very least he’s got food from the chorus plants, but that won’t help too terribly much.”

“And lastly, there’s BdoubleO, who we’ve- who’s been lucky to not die so far being in a special situation.” Though they hadn’t been saying much, both Pixlriffs and Zloy noticed the slight slip up Goofball gave. “He’s currently looping in the end void, teleporting up to the top when he finally gets too low. There’s nothing in sight for him to know that though, so he thinks he’s just falling deeper and deeper. But hopefully he’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, that’s everyone, so that pretty much does it for this episode of Ev- Hermitcraft Recap. I was Toon Noah-”

“And I was Mysterious Goofball and our writer was Pin Valentine. If you’d like to see original content made by us, you can find us if you already know where to look.”

“Don’t forget to give this show a good rating and tune in next week for the next episode of Hermitcraft Recap. Thank you all so much for watching and good-Bye~!”

Finally, the screen turned black, signalling the end of the episode. The whole time, Pixl and Zloy had just sat there in shock, watching the episode and not saying anything. The thought of their show being taken over by some new people was scary enough, but the situations the Hermits were now in was so much worse.

Zloy was the first to move, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He had felt it going off during the episode, but had been too stunned to do anything. Apparently, he had missed multiple calls and texts about what had happened with the episode, who had been put in charge, what was with the hermits, and more related to the whole situation.

“We need to see someone about this.” Pixlriffs said, in a similar situation with looking at his phone. “Make sure people know we have no connection to this and hopefully also see if the studio knows who recorded this. I would also like to say that this is all fake, but…”

“Yeah, that footage looked way too real. I think the Hermits are actually in a lot of trouble right now.”

“Then let’s do something about it.”

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archetypal-archivist · 4 years

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Sky’s Limit- Hermitcraft- Worldbuilding

Heyo! This was the product of a plot bunny I got while watching the newest animated music video by Porter Robinson, and it features pretty much all the hermits. Long into the distant future, there is a city of gleaming white and technological marvels. Electricity is entirely clean, its people are always happy, and life- as it has always done- goes on. However, for all it seems like a utopia, there is one facet that may seem out of place. The city is truly, utterly silent. Sure, there are voices and happy chatter, laughter on street corners and children running in the streets. But there is no hum, no electric buzz that most crafters of the past would have been familiar with. There is no redstone. For indeed, the red dust is entirely illegal and those who work with it are relegated to the city’s dark underbelly. And not all of them are happy to be there. It is in this city, the city of Sky’s Limit, that I have dropped our hermits. Time will tell what happens next.

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A story in which the world has been… purified. Think skyblock, portrayed as a world of natural wonder, soft angles and high rises that scrape the clouds above, all in shimmering shades of pearlescent white. The only noise is the rushing of the wind through the grass far, far below and the distant echo of passing conversation and laughter. There are no cars, no chatter of coms, no hissing creepers or vroomping, thieving endermen. Just peace. And sometimes, if you listen carefully enough, the flapping of wings as the most blessed of the city’s inhabitants fly overhead, the celebrity darlings and envy of everyone below. For some of the hermits, life is good. Bdubs, Xisuma, Grian, and Jevin are all upper nobility. Xisuma and Grian are some of the lucky few with wings (bee and bird respectively for X and G), while Jevin is blessed simply for being sky blue and transparent- and a being so like the sky must surely be worthy of high ranking. Surely. Xisuma is an administrator of the city, one of those who keep track of the nitty-gritty bits, like how much food each sector goes through a month, the efficiency of the watering systems in the fields, etc. Grian is just a straight up celebrity darling, beloved by the people for his pranks and personality. Late at night, he runs a TV talk show. Jevin has a seat on the city governance, one of thirteen “elected” chancellors. Bdubs is another chancellor, low-key the one in charge, as it was his idea to create a city of white, one that ran on clean energy and lawfulness, who drew up the first blueprint and built much of the city himself. It’s said that there’s no corner of it he isn’t aware of, no part that he didn’t have a hand in designing. While this isn’t quite the case, one thing is certain- BDubs certainly has “designs” and they are very grand indeed. After these hermits fall the ones who are upper to middle class. Stress is a well-trusted doctor in the city’s finest hospital. She believes in the system that saved her life so long ago with all her heart and does her best to keep the city and its people running as best as they possibly can. Compassion and lawful goodness fall into the same boat for Stress, which can sometimes end poorly for criminals who go to her for medical care, thinking that surely a doctor as kind as Stress would never turn away someone, even if they have broken the law. What they forget is that becoming a doctor takes a spine of steel, and Stress has gone one step above the rest- she has a spine of chrome, and she will do what she must to keep her city running strong. (Incidentally, that chrome spine of hers? Not hyperbole, an “accident” at 6 made sure of that.) Vintagebeef runs a butcher shop and is mid to low ranking. He serves the best sandwiches in the city, as attested to by his best customers, Rendog and Falsesymmetry. Rendog is a happy go lucky reporter who spends equal time chasing skirts as he does chasing his next scoop. False is a beat cop, one of the best, and she’s gone viral at least once for dumping criminals who think that just because she's a girl that means she can’t fight. She’s particularly embarrassed (and a bit proud) of the video of her literally picking up a criminal and dumping him the nearest trash chute. Welsknight, the unfortunate garbage man, was quite unhappy to have to remove the criminal from the chute, as for all of False’s strength, she wasn’t quite strong enough to pry the man loose again. He now low-key follows False around to clean up all of her messes as while the media at large is quite fond of her feats, the local infrastructure isn’t. Somehow, he always ends up at the right place at the right time. Scar is a bit down on his luck, but overall is doing pretty well for himself. He’s one of the architects for the city, was in fact famous for a time for creating a specific style of sheer white skyscraper that allowed for more solar panels to be placed along its side. However, 2 years later and people are starting to realize that for some reason, his buildings aren’t as efficient as they ought to be and his designs have since fallen out of favor. Rendog had taken great joy running his name through the muck, unfortunately, as a man’s got to eat and for all the Scar is a nice guy, a renowned architect falling from grace makes for quite the scoop. The two don’t like each other much, but they’ve actually seen each other’s faces. Anyway, Scar has been living off of his savings, hoping that someone up top would care enough about him to fix the issue and find out what went wrong. After 2 years of nothing, however, he has realized that if he ever wants to figure out the mystery of his buildings’ lack of efficiency, he’ll need to find out himself. Little does he know, Keralis, the architect that replaced him, has been doing quite well for himself and the last thing he wants is to lose his position to the guy he had replaced. While a generally nice guy, Keralis has had a taste of the high life and now there’s no going back. He knows what Scar is up to, and is quite… invested in keeping the status quo. No. Matter. What. Joe Hills runs a bookstore. A completely normal bookstore. Yes, really officer, I promise. Just like how XB, his best friend and right hand man, employee of the month, every month, is entirely average in every way and has never done anything wrong in his life, ever. There is one more among the hermits who has wings- Etho. Or rather, had. Etho had his wings cut off for undisclosed crimes against the city and now works in a toy shop on the outskirts of town. He’s thoroughly mysterious and always looks tired, but his toys and trinkets business does surprisingly well and he always seems happy, behind that mask of his. The only hint that this isn’t quite the case is the tightness around his eyes. A secret? When they told him that the pain would never stop, that awful night when they burnt his wings off? He didn’t believe them. (Oh god, the way it smelled.) He really, really should have.

You’ve heard about the shining white walls, the perfect healthcare, the love the people hold for the city and the rigor with which they defend it. The quiet, the peace, the wonderful golden silence found in its streets and reflecting from its windows. Even the light seems quieter there. If you’re smart, you may have picked up that something isn’t quite right with the city, that 2/3s of our cast seems to be missing. You’d be right, almost. Mumbo, Cub. Cleo? They aren’t missing- they’re hiding. And they have very good reason to do so.

The city’s name is Sky’s Limit, and it is built on a foundation of marble and hard, cold law. It is a city of white… and black. And lurking in its shadows are all those that do not belong, those whose colors do not fit, those who can’t afford the brilliant marble towers or the plastic smiles popularized by the rich and famous. It is a city choked into silence by its secrets and one thing it cannot abide is the humming electric whine of redstone. And those who practice it are criminals in the eyes of the law, to be persecuted to its fullest extent and often, even beyond. Even to the grave, if needs must or the council orders such. And BDubs is so very, very fond of his restful, quiet beauty sleep. Not everyone agrees with these laws however, and brewing in the black, sunless shadows of the city’s underbelly are those determined to see the city shine red. Zedaph is the closest to legal of the underground hermits- he has to be when he has two more mouths to feed, Tango and Impulse. Although the latter two are redstone geniuses and do well in making food stretch and and make their ramshackle rented apartment livable, it is Zedaph alone who fake any marketable skills. While Impulse and Tango do their best to keep the lights on and use redstone wiring to steal power from the city’s solar- and wind-powered electrical grid, Zedaph peddles the doodads and toys he makes to the poorest children of the city. Many of them still contain some measure of redstone, as it's nigh-impossible to ignore its thrumming call entirely if you are born to do the stuff, but his target audience is usually too young, too uneducated, and too scared of the law to recognize it or say anything about it. And if a bit of redstone Impulse or Tango put together can help someone make it another day, and Zedaph can make it look passably legal? Well, some of the poorest housewives and mothers can look the other way The trio are happy together, but making ends meet is hard and with summer coming, resources are soon to be harder to get than ever. (A city of light and pure white? Things start to heat up fast, and water becomes more precious than ever. And with summer coming, it means less water gathering in puddles and drain pipes in the city, and thus less water for the underground redstoners and hybrids to tap into.) Little does Zedaph know, however, he’s caught the attention of another toymaker in the city. In addition to this, Tango is getting restless, frustrated with the trio’s lot in life. Even under normal circumstances he can’t sit still, and being cooped up inside all the time because his glowing red eyes give him away as being both a hybrid and really in tune with redstone? It sucks. A lot. Impulse tries to keep his buddy distracted, but there’s only so much he can do, and now, Tango has been disappearing at odd hours, frequently when he and Zedaph are trying to sleep, and coming back with an odd look in his eyes. Just a few days ago he had found the remains of a charred pamphlet in their dumpster out back. Something is coming to head, and Impulse isn’t sure he’s going to like the outcome. Not that he’d ever mention the mounting tension to Zedaph, of course. His buddy has enough to worry about. ZombieCleo… runs a speakeasy/burlesque show underneath Joe’s bookstore. She has his full approval of course, and they’re fast friends under the merits of he’s one of the only decent men she’s ever met. It helps that he’s hardcore aro-ace and has no interest in her or her girls. Cleo, being a zombie hybrid, knows all too well about the tough life being a hybrid is and how it can make people turn to awful things just to make ends meet. She knows that doing sex work is the last thing her girls want to be doing, not that they have a choice, and she does her best to do right by them. She protects her workers viciously, and if any of her patrons try to treat her girls too roughly, or try to skip out on payment? Well, being a hybrid comes with a few perks and a nice pair of teeth and nails is all part of the package. Coincidentally, Joe is awfully good at hiding a body. Doc is perhaps the most down on his luck of the hermits. As both a redstoner and an obvious hybrid, he can’t find work, he can’t find anyone willing to rent to him, he can barely even find food enough to eat. He’s resorted to petty theft and squatting, and if it wasn’t for his ruthless determination that this city would not be the death of him, he would have laid down and given up long ago. Not even the occasional rendezvous with the local garbage cans is enough to deter him (courtesy of the local beat cop. That woman has no right to be as strong as she is). It’s on one such day, trying to pry himself out of yet another trashcan far too small for him, that Doc finally gets his lucky break. The old man to whom the trashcan belongs to comes out, hoping to dispose of his waste for evening, and instead finds the creeper hybrid there, cursing up a storm and angry enough to kill. The sight would almost be threatening to TFC if, you know, he hadn’t seen worse and the hybrid in question looked like he hadn’t had a good meal for years. TFC invites Doc inside after helping to pry him loose, and Doc, while suspicious, accepts. TFC low key makes Doc move in with him and treats the man well, seeing as the poor hybrid reacts to every little thing as if he had never seen kindness. TFC also begins to tell stories to Doc about the time before the city was built, before redstone was outlawed and hybrids were looked down upon as lesser beings. And Doc, utterly enchanted by the concept, begins to have… ideas. Iskall was in the same position as Doc for a while, but they too get their lucky break. They get picked up by Mumbo Jumbo and is introduced to the Cotillion, the rebel group who are out to shake the city to its very foundations and bring about an age of redstone dominance. Mumbo and the hundreds of people under him plan on breaking the social order and instating redstoners and hybrids as the top dogs, and Iskall finds themself shocked that the rebels seem to have the organization and resources to actually do it. Mumbo is witty and charismatic, seemingly always having a plan and a silver-tongued speech to go with it. He also installs Iskall as second in command, much to their shock. Time will tell if the Cotillion is going to succeed. Cub is living in one of Scar’s buildings, along with many other redstoners. Just... Not entirely legally.

This is pretty much the end of the world-building section, I’ll come out with a post on the general plot as soon as I can. TBC :)

#hermitcraft #fanfiction #my writing #minecraft #sky's limit au #world building

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writing-the-end · 4 years

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Exodus- Part 1

An Edolas Hermit AU story.

Impulse has become public enemy no. 1 in Hermitland. Making the impossible escape from General Xisuma and his cohorts Doc and Cub, Impulse and his friends need to do the impossible- escape Hermitland, beyond the walled city. Where will they end up? Who will make it?

How does Impulse become Edolas Impulse?

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I didn’t intend to make an 8 part story of how Impulse found his way to Edolas, how he came to become a part of the guild, but Red’s story is just too good to not tell it all! I’m very proud of this story, I hope you guys love it as well.

Warning: This story includes general dark elements and language

“It’s only a matter of time before they find you, Impulse.” Tango whispers, watching as Zed presses the last of their medical cream against Impulse’s bruised neck. Impulse flinches at each touch, even though he knows he has no reason to.

Impulse knows these are his friends. They saved his life, cut him free and fled through the underground tunnels together. But it hurts either way, and any sort of pressure around his neck makes his throat close up all over again, and the tears well at the corners of his eyes. A whisper in the back of his mind says this isn’t real, that he isn’t really alive. He’s still on the noose, and his mind is playing tricks with what he sees, the time he feels passing. Or that he's still in the rehab center, hallucinating it all after the effects of the shots that are forced into his veins.

He has to quiet that voice, remind himself that it is real. His friends really did save him from the gallows. It’s been a week since they made their great escape, into the long forgotten tunnels of Hermitland. Tango and Zed only took short trips to the city above, just to get food from safehouses littered across the place. Impulse was public enemy number one, he wouldn’t be able to show his face above ground. Not unless he wanted to get captured again.

In the week that he’s been hiding below ground, the red marks around his neck have turned into horrible black bruises. In a fractured mirror salvaged from an abandoned house, he can see where the noose constricted against his throat. It aches at all hours of the day, and in any reflection, he has to pause to look at the mottled skin. When he gulps, or eats, it stings like someone just struck him in his trachea. He struggles to sleep at night, both from the pain in his neck as well as the nightmares that haunt his dreams.

“We need to leave.” Impulse breathes out, once Zed’s fingers are away from his neck. “We need to get out of Hermitland.”

“Where will we go?” Zed questions, bouncing in his shoes at the thought of leaving. Excitement glitters in his eyes, the closest thing to sunshine Impulse has seen all week.

“Anywhere we want. We’ll be free, we don’t have to listen to anyone. We can go anywhere, do anything.” Impulse sees Tango sit up, determination and hope filling tired eyes.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to make it out there? How do we know what’s on the other side of the wall?” Tango wrings his hands, unable to not be skeptical about such idealistic beliefs.

“We’ve made it here for this long. Survived all the city had to throw at us, survived living off the grid down here. We’re three smart dudes, we’ll figure it out.” Impulse runs a hand through his hair. They have different skills, different pasts. Impulse knows how to make things last, when he doesn’t know what the future will hold. Zed sees uses for things no one else would think to make use of. And Tango has years and years of private schooling and work in the underground to understand what they’re dealing with.

“We should leave sooner rather than later.” Tango concedes, a wispy smile starting to appear on his face. They’re really going to escape. “It’s only a matter of time before they find us.”

“Let’s leave now!” Zed tosses the empty medicine tin over his shoulder, scrambling to his feet.

Tango grabs Zed by the tail of the white button up shirt they all wear. “We need supplies if we’re going to leave. Food, water, tools.”

“I know that my family has some stone tools at our house.” Zed offers. “And we can get food as well. Pack up what we want to take with us.”

“Can I come up with you guys?” Impulse wants to go to his apartment. Get his own things, his own clothes. Maybe even say goodbye to his family. He hasn’t been home in so long, not since he was captured by the guards. That was...well, he doesn’t know how long ago it was. He can’t remember how long he was in the rehab facility.

Even Zed’s face loses the joy, both frowning at him. “It’s too dangerous, mate. They know what you look like. Everyone knows what you look like after the…”

Zed doesn’t need to say it. Mentioning the public execution by name wasn’t necessary, they all knew what Zed was saying. Tango stands, brushing his black pants clean of the dust and dirt the underground carries. “Besides, the bruises would be a dead giveaway as well. You stay down here, we’ll be back soon enough.”

Impulse watches Zedaph and Tango disappear down the dimly lit tunnels, wandering down the subway that was half built then forgotten. Leaving Impulse to his own devices, pacing nervously around the small cave they’ve claimed as theirs. His worries of them getting caught start morphing as time goes on. What if they’re wrong, and Cub does know who Zed and Tango are? What if they’re waiting to catch them when they can’t escape? What if they're walking right into a trap, and he can’t do anything from down here? What if Cub has been watching them all this time, and there’s cameras even in the underground? Impulse looks around, trying to find any sort of telltale hint of their little hideout being bugged.

He peels back maps, careful not to smudge his sloppy handwriting. Handwriting from when they were looking for a break in the wall. He presses the corners of the map back up, noting the empty area surrounding Hermitland. Whoever made this map didn’t even bother to fill in what’s beyond the wall- it might as well be the void, or not exist at all. Hermitland is the entire universe, the entire life of everyone left in this world.

He digs through chests, shaking bottles of redstone and flicking comparators. Nostalgia whispers across Impulse’s mind, remembering when he first met Zed and Tango. They were all first years in engineering school, having just passed their placement exams. Tango came from a well off family that had adopted him, Zed was a genius that won a competition, but Impulse just got lucky. Lucky to get a scholarship to become a redstone engineer. To help the people and the city. Back then, his idea of helping was developing better redstone lines, fixing old tech. Now, helping the city was freeing it from the corrupt hands that toy with them. Three friends, enjoying school and hassling over tests, turned into three rebels just trying to find their freedom.

Impulse goes through everything, even their beds, leaving the room a torn up disaster in his wake. He doesn’t find anything, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s being watched. Cub knows everything. He knew things about Impulse that even Tango and Zed didn’t know. But there’s nothing Impulse can do- just sit, waiting and twiddling his thumbs. Hoping for his friends to return.

-------------

“Do you think that’s enough food?” Tango whispers, looking at the bag full of apples, baked potatoes, and even some bundles of golden carrots.

“Once we’re out of the city, we’ll be able to find food no problem.” Zed laughs, putting the stone axe into the bottom of his bag. Hidden in case curfew officers ask what they have.

“How are you so sure it’s going to be lush and green beyond the wall? How do we know everything still isn’t fucked by the war?” Tango knows that Zed is a glass-half-full kind of guy, but even this surely must give him some pause. No one knows what’s beyond the wall. Not even the most knowledgeable rebels have ever even attempted to leave the city. That fear, that unknowing of what lies beyond. It could be nothing, it could be everything.

And that’s all they needed, all Impulse and Zed had been banking on. That everything is just beyond the wall. Tango was less sure, but the more that the others would chatter and dream, they would spark hope in him as well. That there was something beyond the wall. His friends gave him the hope that no other member of the underground ever gave Tango. It will be better beyond the wall- it has to be.

“All those years, and nothing grew back?” Zed giggles. “I know you’re from the inner city, Tango, but I worked in the farming industry. Plants are tricky little buggers. You can’t get them to stop growing when they really wanna. I’m sure there’s stuff out there.”

Tango shrugs the pack onto his shoulder, nodding towards the door. Towards the dark streets, distant figures scurrying towards home before getting in trouble with curfew officers. “Let’s get back. I want to be out of here before sunrise.”

The pair walk onto the streets, blending in with the other citizens. It’s easier for Zed, he doesn’t look so different as Tango. Tango always gets stopped by officers, questioned as to why he’s out. Lucky for the both of them, their jobs as redstone engineers grants them a certain amount of wiggle room. They can just claim they’re going to a build site that needs emergency maintenance. They slip through the night, unnoticed among the other people on the streets. Exact same clothing, exact same demeanor. They shouldn’t be out past curfew. Zed stops in the middle of the street, scrabbling his fingers against Tango’s arm. “We need to go to Impulse’s house.”

“What? Why?” That’s a stupid idea. If there’s anywhere they’ll most likely be seen, mostly likely get investigated, it’s Impulse’s apartment. It’s probably bugged to hell and back. Where they first thought to search for Impulse after his escape.

“We both grabbed things from our homes...it’s only fair he has one thing from his childhood. I know exactly what to get too. Please, Tango. It’ll be quick. No one will notice. You can use that jammer of yours to keep Cub and his drones from seeing.” The two look up into the sky, beyond the dim street lights to see if any of the surveillance drones are listening in.

Tango sighs. “It’s only a few blocks. Let’s go. But we need to be quick.”

They take off down the street, creeping down alleys to avoid busy intersections or patrolling drones. Out of the luxurious upper class sector, into the blue-collar apartments and homes. Smaller, looming over one another. Some houses are in disrepair, but still housing families of people.

And there’s Impulse’s apartment. One of many doors to a long line of apartments, but his is the only one with the door wide open. The hinges nearly off their bolts, thin wood slowly creaking in the wind. Zed pauses at the doorway, looking just to his left. Into the brush and bushes that surround the steps up to Impulse’s apartment.

“Zed?” Tango waves his hand across his friend’s blank stare. They shouldn’t be seen here.

“I saw it happen, you know. I was here when they took him. Right there.” Zed points out where he hid in the foliage. “Impulse saw them coming, and shoved me out the window. Told me not to move no matter what. They tore the door open, and dragged him out by his hair. Kicking and Screaming, no sense of humanity towards him. I should’ve done something to stop them, but Impulse told me not to move. They disappeared into an unmarked vehicle, off towards Bastion Towers.”

He takes shaking steps up to the door, each rise up the stairs weakening his knees. All the optimism in Zed is gone, shadowed by memories so much worse than dreams. He should have done something, anything, to stop them. To help his friend.

Inside Impulse’s apartment was a disaster. Drawers flung open and contents spilled out. The sparse furniture broken and scattered. It looks like a horde of monsters came through here. The truth isn’t that far off. It’s a small apartment, really just a living area and a branched off bedroom. For this part of the city, having it’s own bathroom is fancy. Impulse was proud of the hard work he did to get this place. And now it’s all destroyed.

Zedaph knows exactly where it is. What he knows will be the one thing Impulse would take with him. And lucky for them, it wasn’t harmed. The clock had been knocked off the shelf it sat on, but the arms still clicked along at their steady, equal pace. The brass frame was dented, but it didn’t stop the intricate clockwork from continuing to run. Zed crouches down, picking up the redstone infused clock.

“His first redstone project. That’s a brilliant idea, Zed.” Tango whispers, looking at the moon continue to rise against the black night sky. Impulse even painted stars onto it. “I remember when he showed us this. Our first time going out to lunch together, all three of us.”

“Let’s get back to him. I’m sure he’s on the verge of a breakdown.” Zed carefully stows the precious, cobbled together clock into the pocket of his slacks. Just as they slipped out of the underground, they returned.

None the wiser that they’ve been watched.

Always watched.

#I swear this story has a happy ending #but you gotta break a geode to get the gem #hermitcraft impulse #edolas hermits #edolas impulse #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft zedaph #impulsesv #tangotek #zedaph #edolas au #dystopia au #dystopia hermits

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vagrantblvrd · 6 years

Text

Under Restless Stars (1/1)

Summary: For someone whose kingdom was on the brink of war with his closest neighbor since he was a child, the Mad King is a reckless man.

Notes: Prompt fill for For @miss-ingno who asked for Kings AU Trevinwood with fool/master spy Gavin acting as a double agent sho was sent to spy on King Geoff and discovering Ryan's got a new head advisor(spy master???) in Trevor with the two of them trying to suss each out. (And then idk, shenanigans that got away from me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

AO3

For someone whose kingdom was on the brink of war with his closest neighbor since he was a child, the Mad King is a reckless man.

Tinkers with his redstone creations in his laboratory well into the small hours of the night without so much as posting guards outside its doors. (The only concession, if it could be called that, is the hound that has taken to trailing after the king wherever he goes. Years past its prime and a limp from an old hunting injury.)

It would be all too easy for an assassin to make their way past the guards tasked with patrolling the castle. Past scholars lost in their work as they map the stars. Castle servants just beginning to wake, headed to their daily tasks.

Down, down, down to the rooms built to withstand any mishaps that might happen within its walls. All kinds of odd noises and smells coming from it that the castle’s inhabitants have long grown used to. No longer question as potential attack, and honestly, it’s a danger.

So easy for anyone with to creep down here unnoticed. To glide past the iron golems lined along one wall, red glow of their eyes dimmed as they wait to be called to action and put an end to the heir of a bloody legacy.

The same mad blood running through his veins as his ancestors who would have had the world burn for their goals.

For all the stories of his vaunted intellect, prowess in battle and terrifying creations, the Mad King is but a man, and man is so weak. (Flesh and bone.)

“You would think,” Gavin says, knife against the thin skin of the king’s throat, “that someone of your marked intelligence would have learned this lesson the first time.”

The old hunting hound curled by the heating stove snuffles in its sleep but does not wake. The golems stand still and silent, loyal as anything that has no mind of its own.

The king holds himself still in Gavin’s hold, respect for the blade stronger than whatever foolishness is running through that head of his. (Smart and clever as he is, he puts too much stake in his little mechanical wizardries, the wonders he creates, to keep him safe. Forgets that all it takes is a single blade.)

“True,” he says, amusement threaded through his voice. “Although I’ve been informed on more than one occasion that I’m anything but.”

Fighting an endless battle to turn his kingdom around, destroy the legacy his parents and ancestors left for him. (Making enemies in his own court as he decries the way of things that everyone insists are the only way, planting seeds of hope in younger generations and unsure if he’ll live to see them sprout.)

Gavin presses the blade harder against the pale skin, just enough for blood to well up along the edge of the blade.

“You have a great deal of enemies,” Gavin says, because that is a king’s lot in life. “You’re more of a fool than I to allow them this kind of opportunity.”

The king is watching him, not a speck of fear to be found in his eyes.

“Such sweet things you whisper into my ear,” he says, lips curving into a smile. “I may swoon.”

Gavin huffs, and lowers his blade as he steps back.

“Unfortunate that such a lesson doesn’t seem to have gotten through that thick skull of yours,” he mutters.

The king hums, a low rumble of that ever-present amusement of his.

Fingers pressed to the thin line of blood on his throat, a reminder that his foolish recklessness has consequences. (Arrogance, really, for someone of his standing to think himself invulnerable no matter where he is.)

“Have you been sent to kill me?”

Gavin studies him, takes in the lines around his eyes, faint shadows under his eyes. Cheekbones more prominent now than when he saw the man last. The tired slump to his shoulders only a select few are ever privileged to see.

“No,” Gavin says, and offers up a smile, hint of mischief to it. “I’ve been sent here to spy on you.”

========

“A gift,” Gavin says, ornately wrapped package in his hands. “From King Ramsey.”

A low murmur spreads through the room as their king steps forward to accept the gift from the delegation from a neighboring kingdom, just now arrived.

He’s wearing a high collar to hide the mark on his throat left by Gavin’s blade the night before, and it had gotten a sharp look from the man at his side. (Tall and slender, eyes that seem to miss nothing, and Gavin knows one of his own when he lays eyes on them.)

The truce between the two kingdoms is still new as these things go. Little more than a decade in effect, and still both sides eye each other warily. Spies sent to infiltrate the other’s court and to take up positions close to the kings.

Intrigue and politics and utter ridiculousness from two powerful men who hold true respect for one another, but are far too paranoid to allow old habits die. (Better this, however, than the assassins of earlier times.)

“I’m sure it’s very lovely,” the man says, plucking the gift neatly out of Gavin’s hands before Ryan comes close.

Gavin blinks, looking up to meet cool eyes sizing him up and a smile aimed at him that’s just a shade too sharp to be considered truly friendly.

“Trevor,” Ryan admonishes quietly, but says nothing as the slender figure hands the package to a waiting guard.

Trevor harrumphs, corner of his mouth ticking up slightly at the look Ryan gives him before he turns those cool eyes back on Gavin.

Dressed in the colors of a king not his own, and accompanied by people he’s known a fraction of his life. (Jealous and bitterly resentful of how quickly Gavin earned King Ramsey’s favor, had been granted such an important mission for someone so young.)

Ryan turns back to Gavin and gestures for him to rise, thanks him for the gift and welcomes him into his court, even as one his journeys to take up his empty position in King Ramsey’s. (Concession or compromise, and their lives little more than insurance against hostile intent.)

Through it all Gavin feels Trevor’s eyes on him, and wonders what game his king is playing now.

========

“Your accent,” a voice says, faintly curious. “I’ve never heard anything like it before.”

Gavin glances away from the view the balcony affords to see the king’s advisor approaching.

Sharp smile and sharper gaze that rakes over Gavin, cool and assessing.

“I doubt you would have,” Gavin says.

His family came to this continent when he was a child, and his accent has changed accordingly over time. No doubt he would sound strange to his countrymen now, earn a second glance or even a third. (Always an oddity.)

Trevor makes a thoughtful noise as he joins Gavin at the railing.

There’s a flush high on his cheeks, either due to the wine that’s flowed freely throughout the night or the cool night air.

“My parents came here when I was a child,” Gavin says, when Trevor looks to him, eyebrows raised.

He doesn’t do the man’s work for him past that. If he’s climbed to such a lofty position as one of the king’s advisors he should be able to solve that little puzzle with the clues he’s been given.

Until then -

“I can’t quite seem to place your accent either,” Gavin says, because it’s been bothering him all day.

It sounds similar to ones people from the north tend to favor, but there’s a twist to it that doesn’t ring true.

“I doubt you would have,” Trevor says, glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he looks over the gardens, clearly as fond of these games as his king.

========

The old hunting hound remembers Gavin, it seems.

Half-blind by now and too old for much of anything, and still this king, heir to a throne of bones and lies. A man with murder in his heart treats it as though it is still his prized hunting hound. Bringing down game twice its size, and fearless as a lion.

Gavin smiles as he watches the hound lumber to its feet, ear pricked forward and tail wagging slowly as it catches his scent. Limps its way to the entrance to the hidden passage that ends at in the king’s private chambers, sniffing along the edges of the tapestry concealing it and lets out a quiet bark.

“Oh, and what have you caught now?”

Gavin takes his cue and steps out of hiding, feels his mouth curve upward in a smile to match the one on the king’s face.

“Such a mighty hunter,” Gavin says, crouching to greet the hound.

The hound barks again, forgetting its training as it crowds him, tail wagging madly.

“He’s missed you.”

Gavin looks up, and feels a smile sitting crooked on his lips for a the man standing before him. (King he may be, but still a man for all the responsibilities and burdens of his position. The rumors and stories that amount to little more than lies when it comes to the sort of man he truly is.)

Years since they last saw one another, Gavin sent to do his duty for his adopted kingdom, his King. Far from the only home he ever truly knew, alone with only his wits and what training his parents had been able to give him before their deaths. (Far too young to truly understand the dangers inherent in such a task ahead of him.)

And now, through some strange twist of fate he’s returned home.

“Yes,” Gavin says, because the hound is clear about its feelings in ways humans rarely are. “That much is obvious.”

The King - Ryan - snorts, expression softening as he holds out a hand to Gavin, small smile on his face and warmth in his eyes.

“I’ve missed you too,” he confesses, and Gavin goes to him as easily as he ever has.

========

The retinue that accompanied him here have left, short words and little sneers. Glad to see the last of him, unaware the feeling is mutual. (Too certain of their own import and how lucky Gavin was to be graced by their presence, no matter how undeserving he was to think otherwise.)

And now, Trevor is watching him.

Has moved on from keeping a wary on King Ramsey’s men when they were in the castle as honored guests to all but spying on Gavin.

Clever man with all the right words and excuses for being the same place as Gavin, but the man is watching him. (Sharp and clever and he reminds Gavin of nothing so much as the ravens the royal family have kept in the castle since it was built.)

In the morning after Gavin’s had his breakfast and that itch beneath his skin to make sure this fool of a King hasn’t allowed his security to become too lax. (He wouldn’t, Gavin knows. All too aware of the reputation his family has garnered and how so many fear he is like so many others who have worn the crown in this kingdom, but the man is infuriatingly reckless with his own safety.)

A stroll through the gardens where they scaled the wall as kids, stupid and reckless and an entire forest full of wild things who obeyed the oldest, truest laws and cared little for the petty ones humans came up with. Down to the stables where Gavin would play with the kittens birthed to the cats who kept the mice and rats under control, small fuzzy things on wobbly legs and demanding voices. The prince with a young pup tumbling along behind him, gifted to him by his father when he was old enough to join in the hunts. (For all that Ryan’s parents were tyrants, they did love him in their own way. Spoiled him when they could.)

“I’d hate for you to become lost,” Trevor says, as they come back ‘round to the stables. “This castle can be like a maze at times.” He looks around briefly, and leans in as though confiding a secret. “I’ve heard there are even hidden passages, and who knows where they could lead!”

Gavin slants a look a Trevor, takes in his expression of dismay at the thought of Gavin lost and wandering the castle’s halls. Perhaps stumbling on one of those hidden passages and coming to harm in some way. (A pity, really.)

A knowing look in Trevor’s eyes and a hardness beneath it that tells Gavin he knows about his nightly visits to the King’s chambers.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Gavin says, and he’s spent enough time playing the tedious little games nobles love to play, words made into weapons as dangerous as any blade. “I have an excellent sense of direction, and always go where I intend to.”

Trevor inclines his head in acknowledgment, look in his eye that makes Gavin wonder what might happen if he were to make an enemy of such a man.

========

If he had any choice in it, Gavin thinks, Ryan would have been a scholar of some sort.

Allowed to tinker and create, to learn, to his heart’s content.

Ink staining his hands, charcoal and chalk absently wiped on his cheek, forehead. Ruined robes and light of discover in his eyes and finally, finally content. (No dire conspiracies of life and death matters, no assassins sent to collect his head as proof of his death. No enemies plotting his downfall.)

Gavin watches him as he parades his latest creations and inventions before him, shy little smiles and awkwardness only a few have ever seen.

Here, with Gavin and the old hound as his own witnesses, Ryan is no king.

Here he is the bright young man he should have been allowed to be, had it not been for his family’s legacy.

“And this,”Ryan says, setting some strange contraption in front of him with a small flourish, “is Archibald.”

Gavin bites his lip as he examines the contraption. Soft glow of redstone, low hum of machinery at rest, and an utterly ridiculous name.

“And what,” Gavin mimics, fighting a grin at the raised eyebrow it earns him. “What does Archibald do?”

Ryan sputters, for surely it should be obvious at first glance, and yet.

Gavin feigns confusion, poking at Archibald until Ryan slaps his hand away with a scandalized gasp and demonstrates what his invention is meant to do.

Clever fingers manipulating buttons and small levers and an ominous grinding noise followed by Ryan’s quietly alarmed, “That’s not right.”

And then Archibald begins spewing out black smoke as Ryan frantically ties to set things right, look of mild panic on his face and low mutter and Gavin failing to smother his laughter. (Some things never change.)

========

“There is something about you,” Trevor says, catching Gavin on the archery range. “I cannot put my finger on it.”

Gavin gives him a look, because the man is not wrong.

“Odd,” Gavin says, watching as Trevor waits for the targets to be set up. “I could say the same about you.”

Trevor gives him a sharp look.

Ryan favors him, Gavin knows.

Speaks to Trevor as a true equal, gives him these small, sweet smiles when he thinks no one is looking. (As careful as Ryan is, someone is always looking and Gavin was raised to this. Taught games as a child by his parents that have made him an indispensable tool, weapon, for his King.)

“Would you care for a wager?” Gavin asks, checking the fletching on an arrow, edge of challenge in the smile he gives Trevor. “Friendly, of course.”

Trevor eyes him for a long moment, and Gavin can see him considering the wisdom of such a thing against the valuable information he can gather if he’s shrewd about it.

“I’m certain what skill I have could never compare,” Trevor says, eyes downcast as speaks, ever respectful of their positions even as he adjusts the bracer on his arm, movements confident and sure. “I wouldn’t want to presume.”

Gavin snorts, amusement building as Trevor looks up at him, corner of his mouth quirked. (Sly bastard, and thinks he understands what Ryan must see in him.)

“Humor me.”

========

It’s odd, being at court and knowing no one remembers him.

Would never look at the young noble in his finery and connect him to the bumbling fool that amused the King for so many years.

Masks and costumes and bells that rang out merrily as he tumbled across the floor for the king’s amusement. Pantomimes and pratfalls, silly props and sillier dances. (The scrawny boy who ran wild with the king when they were young, getting into mischief and paying heavily when they were caught. Flimsy excuses and blatant lies to draw the wrath of the king and queen to himself.)

“Do you miss it?” Ryan asks, voice dropped to a whisper as his new fool struggles to keep the eggs he’s juggling aloft.

A careful act, and he knows few watching have caught the lie. Know the sort of training it takes to make the fool’s bumbling, clownish antics so believable when the man moves like someone fully in control of his body.

“At times,” Gavin says, allowing his gaze to rove over the nobles watching the fool, all their petty games and machinations forgotten for the moment.

The anonymity acting as the king’s fool had afforded him had been invaluable, however -

The fool lets out a dismayed cry, and Gavin watches as gravity wins out, eggs falling out of the air. A few strike the fool himself, the other break as they hit the ground, and the audience cheers madly, laughter and clapping as the fool stands there befuddled.

“I find I ruin less clothing this way,” Gavin admits, smiling as Ryan chuckles quietly.

========

Trevor finds him in the hallway one night as Gavin prepares to visit Ryan.

Cool look in his eyes and this faint downturn to his mouth, mouth opened to speak -

There’s a sound, a noise that doesn’t belong, and they both freeze. Cock their heads, Gavin’s hand dropping to the small dagger he always carries. (A farewell gift that has saved his life countless times.)

He sees Trevor mirror him, catches a flicker of a smirk and then they’re moving. Silent as death through the stone corridors, soft hiss from Trevor as they come across a pair of guards sprawled in a pool of their own blood with their throats cut.

“Dammit,” Trevor says, staring at the bodies.

Gavin catches his eyes, jerks his head towards the only direction they could be headed.

“Ryan,” Trevor breathes, eyes widening, and suddenly Gavin understands why he’s been so...prickly when it comes to Gavin.

A stranger who’s been sent here by King Ramsey not so much as an act of goodwill but as insurance. Exchanged for one Ryan’s nobles to ensure their truce holds true, and yet. (Unaware of the truth of things, the lies within lies and Gavin’s true role in things, and simple jealousy.)

“The king,” Gavin reminds him, and they're moving again.

Pass a dead servant, doused torches and shadows growing darker.

They pause at a junction, Trevor turning his head to say something when Gavin senses movement, and acts without thinking as he dives for him. Feels the rush of air as a blade cuts through the air where he’d been standing and hears a wordless snarl.

“Go!” Gavin yells, pushing Trevor ahead of him, trusting him to protect Ryan while he deals with this distraction.

Trevor hesitates for a brief moment, but then a hard look comes into his eyes and he nods sharply – duty first – and runs down the corridor.

Gavin laughs, and turns to the dark-clad figure glaring at him.

Huge, hulking figure glaring at him over the cloth pulled up to hide his face. Heavy broadsword in his hands and stance of a fighter.

A mercenary, perhaps, hired to kill a king and not expecting much in the way of obstacles like Gavin and Trevor. (No remorse at the deaths of mere guards and servants, and Gavin shoves his anger down at the thought.)

Gavin smirks, drawing his blades and stalks forward to meet this utter fool who thinks he can win against someone like Gavin. (Trained from birth by his parents, the sword-fighting lessons he took alongside Ryan as children even though he preferred his knives and bow. Everything he’s learned since then in service to his king.)

========

He can hear Ryan arguing with Trevor.

Even behind heavy wooden doors reinforced with cold steel, the sound carries. (Dark passages that twist and wind, leading to a hidden chamber few know about. Last hideaway before being forced the flee the castle altogether.)

Anger and concern against so much more, and it causes him to smile. Pulls his focus from the sting in his side and the way he reeks of blood as he knocks.

Simple enough pattern, long memorized. (Silly secret for a fine pair of idiots.)

The voices cut off abruptly, and Gavin stands still waiting for the door to be opened.

Finds himself staring down the length of a blade, cool eyes and hard expression and prepared to kill anyone who poses a threat to Ryan.

“Quite the stubborn one, isn’t he?” Gavin asks, lips quirking at the little flicker of annoyance in Trevor’s eyes, rueful agreement.

Before Trevor can say anything, Ryan is pushing his way past, heedless of the possible danger.

“You’re hurt,” Ryan says, frown on his face, everything else locked away.

Gavin hums in agreement as he allows Ryan to pull him into the small room, hears Trevor locking up behind him,

“A scratch,” he says, even though it’s a bit more than that. “I’ll heal.”

Ryan sends him a dubious look as he insists on checking the wound itself. Helps Gavin remove his clothing to reveal the gash down his side, shallow and bleeding sluggishly. Mouth turning down as he brushes his fingers across the dark bruising already beginning to form along Gavin's ribs, a lucky blow from the mercenary.

“A scratch,” Ryan mimics, gratefully accepting the clean cloths Trevor brings him, a shallow bowl of water. “A scratch.”

Gavin huffs, watching fondly as Ryan sets about cleaning the blood away for a moment before he looks to Trevor.

Expression carefully blank, hands at his sides and a spatter of blood across his chest, the side of his face.

“The situation has been dealt with?”

Gavin came across other mercenaries on his trek here. A handful at most, lesser fighters who seem to have been picked for ability to move quickly and stay in the shadows. All easily dispatched and no real challenge, urgency speeding him here.

Trevor’s expression thaws slightly, and he smiles grimly.

“My most trusted is searching for any we may have missed,” he says. “They will not expect him.”

Gavin cocks his head, but Trevor simply raises an eyebrow.

“You both act as though I’m helpless,” Ryan says, mulish and stubborn. “I am your king.”

Gavin looks to Trevor, sees the same fondness he knows will be in his own eyes, because this fool of a king.

“Exactly,” Trevor says, warmth to it that has Gavin smiling in spite of himself. “Which is why it is our duty to protect you, even from yourself.”

Ryan opens his mouth to protest, and Gavin grins as he sits back and watches the two of them argue in circles as they wait for Trevor’s man to bring word to them.

========

Trevor spends most of time in the coming weeks rooting out conspirators. Brings forth a young noble with terror in his eyes and desperate pleas for mercy on his lips. Claims he was led astray, young and foolish and easily manipulated.

Related to several important figures in the kingdom. Crucial figures it would be foolish to anger, and is put under guard while Ryan contemplates what to do.

Pressure on all sides to act quickly, lest he be seen as weak, and no safe harbor to be found. New enemies he can’t afford to make, and it weighs on him.

Gavin is prepared to act on his part when word comes that the young noble was found dead one morning. A note of confession saying the guilt and shame became too much to bear, and so he’d chosen to take his own life, and hopes it will be enough to pardon his soul of his crimes.

Ryan offers up pretty words of condolences, smoothing any ruffled feathers and seeing to the welfare of his kingdom with Trevor at his side. (Gavin notices the light of satisfaction in his eyes, and says nothing.)

========

Gavin steps out of the hidden passage and stops at the sight Ryan and Trevor make.

Both of them frowning mightily at the chessboard between them.

Ryan doesn’t look up, seemingly engrossed in whatever strategy he’s planning, but Trevor -

There’s a nervousness to his movements when he sees Gavin, fingers fluttering before stilling against the wood of the table being used for their game. Still unsure about these “chance” meetings Ryan keeps arranging, quiet moments for just the three of them. (Unsure, but still he stays. Doesn’t beg off with some excuse or other, and it’s...promising.)

The old hunting hound is curled up at Trevor’s feet, lightly dozing.

As Gavin moves closer, Ryan looks up at him.

“Excellent timing,” he murmurs. “Trevor seems to think he can still win this.”

“Oh?” Gavin asks, aware of Trevor watching the two of them, stilling as Gavin rests a hand on his shoulder, as he studies the board. An uneven number of pieces resting off to either side and a bitter battle being waged on the board, while there’s an all too familiar air of smugness to Ryan. “I wonder why that is?”

Ryan raises an eyebrow, and Trevor laughs quietly, a lovely sound Gavin could become used to.

“He’s reckless,” Trevor says, relaxing slightly as Gavin takes a seat in the char set aside for him. “Makes foolish choices.”

That, Gavin knows well.

Ryan still thinks like a king at times, even with all the lessons Gavin’s parents taught him in secret. Lessons Gavin, and no doubt Trevor, have seen fit to continue. (And while it’s true that Ryan is a quick study, he has so many things to unlearn first.)

Gavin looks to Trevor, laughter building in his chest as he reaches out to make his move, brilliant bit of misdirection that costs Ryan a powerful piece on the board to Ryan’s disbelief.

“Reckless,” Trevor repeats, sly curl to his grin.

Another thing about Ryan that Gavin knows well, but as often as he calls the man foolish, it’s always to d with his own well-being, safety.

“Did you know,” Gavin says, “there was a time, when he was younger that it got him into trouble?”

More than once, really, and Gavin at his side in all of it, no matter that he was supposed to protect him.

Trevor perks up, delighted smile on his face and mischief in his eyes at Ryan’s put upon sigh.

“Do tell,” he says, settling in to listen.

Gavin glances at Ryan, sees the crooked smile on his face, and laughs. (Reckless and foolish, he may be, but he’s also a talented strategist. No mystery what he’s after with all of this, but seeing the look on Trevor’s face and Gavin’s own interest, he thinks it’s a victory they’re willing to allow him.)

#freewood #trevinwood #ragehappy #miss-ingno #Prompt Fills #kings au #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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