#i don't want this fic to be a black hole of misery and trauma and it won't be god willing but damn dude

[spiritofjustice]

the difficult thing about giving characters trauma and insane issues they can't possibly get over or resolve in the span of one one-shot fic is that . i sometimes rly don't fucking know how to end them bcs of that.

i have no idea how to end this fic. i still have some scenes to write, so we'll get there when we get there, and i have a vague idea of what conclusions Nahyuta will ultimately come to but like, he has trauma based in terrible things he either did or assisted in during the old regime and That Is Not Very Easy to get over. understandably KRKJF

[grendelsgiggles]

Grendel Is Grenough

・❥・ SPOILERS FOR BEOWULF BELOW ・❥・

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hey guys i wrote this little fic because i couldn't help but feel grendel was misunderstood and i want to show that he is GRENOUGH (a combo on Grendel and enough... if you didn't know). i hope this can offer some insight on to what grendel was feeling during all of this... comment and reblog if you want part 2 with b*owulf's demise! xx

SUMMARY: while in the midst of his pillaging and slaughter, grendel stops to reflect on the memories that led him here. he questions the nature of god, the nature of himself, and ultimately ponders if he will ever be enough in the world that predestined and sentenced him to damnation.

WARNINGS: alternate canon, supernatural elements, trauma hurt/comfort, bad childhood memories, gore, violence, king hr*thgar,

WORD COUNT: 1k

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

To say Grendel was accustomed to the darkness of the world was an understatement. He was darkness. A complete depiction of the word with the way he carried himself to the way his life was a bleak, colorless existence that plagued him--just as the joyful laughter from King Hrothgar's hall plagued him. Laughter, laughter, laughter--would he ever be free from the miserable plight his bloodline was cursed with?

He doesn't think so. God certainly doesn't.

Because God--God, don't get Grendel started on God--had no freedom in mind for him when HE made him descend from the literal bloodline of Cain--a traitor, the WORST kind of traitor, besides Judas but hell, we're sticking with the Old Testament for this one--and had the audacity to call him a fiend from hell. That's right a fiend. Wouldn't you be pissed too?

Anyway, after throwing his hair up in a messy bun, Grendel looked around his marsh. He imagined if he had a better marsh everything wouldn't feel so desolate. A bigger marsh if he was born from a different family tree that didn't guarantee damnation, one that didn't stain the palms of his ancestor's hands with red and guilt. And sure, Grendel knows it could've been worse. His mother could have sold him to One Direction or something, but being cursed with the name of Cain was definitely up there.

Grendel's black orbs narrowed when he stepped out of his marsh.

As I said, it's dark but not as dark as it was in the moors, so when Grendel's feet pattered across the field he didn't fear the darkness.

And when Grendel finally reached Herot, he felt the need to cry out to God in agony for these people have not faced such misery as him. Never had to go through what he went through during childhood (he was picked last for kickball by them... TWICE) or endure the trials and tribulations of swamp foot.

Unwilling to back down from the rage he's been running from for all the years of his life, he slaughtered. Slaughtered at least 30 joyful men before they could drop their pints. (A/N: He um... had a bad childhood? What else do you expect from him?)

And afterward, when Grendel returned to his moors with a half-smile gracing the corners of his mouth he laid on top of his twin bed, half-heartedly hoping that he caused the citizens of Herot DOUBLE the amount of misery he felt on an everyday basis.

But still... It wasn't enough.

The hole in Grendel's heart was left unfulfilled as he thought about the revenge he partook upon the kingdom that scorned him. He thought about how his mother always used to tell him he could be better. How he could be the one to rise up against the fate that was dealt to him but he was much too much of a coward to even consider it.

Well, not now, he isn't.

To mend the broken heart that Grendel was cursed to drag around with him for his whole life, he went out the next night and did the exact same thing. He slaughtered until their eyes rolled back into white and until some fell to the ground in fear just from the site of him and Grendel thought YES! YAY! FINALLYYYYYYY! because fear is now instilled in them just as it was from the moment Grendel was born.

But yet... It STILL wasn't enough.

So for the next twelve winters, Grendel stuck to this strict routine in hopes that one of them stuck. In hopes that one of them filled the void in his chest.

But every time Grendel was killed, he just saw a version of himself cowering in the middle school gymnasium. A version that pulled down on the too-small P.E. shirt as the Herot children left him to be picked last. Every time blood gushed from the neck of a mighty man he only saw a kickball hurdling toward his own face and THEN Grendel would jump from this act and pause only for a moment.

And in this moment, Grendel would reconsider.

But alas, he didn't want peace. He didn't want to provide the peace that had been afforded to his enemies. Wasn't he within his right? Weren't they the ones that that bided by the same God that made him an outcast?

If a death-shadow he was meant to be, a death-shadow he will become.

As a death-shadow, he would go from moor to kingdom, failing to salute the throne that was built atop his ancestor's failed lineage. He'd think back to the way they hated him and threw him against the lockers in the hallway. He'd think about the way they doomed him from the beginning. It pays to be on the right side of lineage.

And after a long night of killing, Grendel leaves Herot again to return to the outskirts (because even though he can reside wherever now, he finds himself returning to what he knows--because even though he's a death-shadow he's still a creature of habit). And after Grendel throws on an oversized band tee and crawls under the duvet, he's left with the same gaping feeling that can't be filled with the screams of his enemies. The same ache that's haunted him since he was a little Grendel, following after his mother with uncertainty and no Cain-infused hate flowing through his veins. The itch that will never be quelled by anything. By nothing because it was once again not enough.

ENOUGH, ENOUGH, ENOUGH!

Would it ever be enough? Will Grendel ever be... Enough?