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sergeantsporks · 3 years

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Can You Die of a Broken Heart?

Teen

Gen

When Nari said "the order will rip your soul to pieces," Douxie thought she meant literally. Turns out, they can do it figuratively AND literally.

Ao3

Series: I Can Make RotT So Much Worse

Based on this post by @spellcasterdouxie

“Why don’t we try to get a little information out of him, first?”

Douxie’s head jerked up. He couldn’t betray his friends—but if they were interrogating him, it meant they wouldn’t have Nari for just that much longer.

Bellroc rolled their eyes. “What information could he possibly have?”

Skrael shrugged. “A secret weapon? An idea left behind by Merlin? I think we should take a look around inside of that stupid, stupid head of his. Since he’s around, anyway.” His hands glowed with magic. “You made a mistake, wizard. You put your soul in the body of another. That makes it… vulnerable. Exposed.”

Magic pulsed out of Skrael’s hand, striking Douxie’s head. At first, it seemed like nothing had happened. Then hundreds and hundreds of glowing strands erupted from his head, stretching out.

Bellroc’s eyes seemed to light with a cruel glow. “Memories…” they hissed, reaching out.

When their hand touched a glowing strand, it erupted into a scene Douxie knew well—a lecture from Merlin. Over something he’d broken, of course.

“Useless,” Bellroc growled. They seized the glowing thread, and with a flick of their wrist, it snapped off.

Douxie felt a tug in his gut, and an overwhelming feeling of something being… missing. He’d just seen the memory—and he knew there was something that he’d remembered before, but it was gone, and no matter how he tried, he couldn’t find it.

The order tore through memories like a wildfire, pulling up and discarding them. Planning the subway trap with the other guardians of arcadia—gone. Krel’s designs for the amulet—Bellroc and Skrael watched for a bit, then ripped those away, too. The empty pit in Douxie’s stomach grew wider and wider, and the missing memories left him with a spinning head. It didn’t hurt, per se, it was just… disorienting. He knew he should feel upset—but it was hard to feel upset over losing something you didn’t remember having.

“Remember when I told you magic is mastery over life?”

Douxie lifted his head. “N-no,” he gasped, trying to pull back, “That’s—that’s—don’t—please—”

“My, Hisirdoux, what a life you’ve lived.”

Bellroc grabbed one of his horns and yanked him up. “What a pathetic life you’ve lived.”

“What a wizard you’ve become.”

“P-please—”

Skrael seemed to take special delight in ripping that one away.

“N—” Douxie’s heart hurt, but he didn’t know why, he just knew that he’d lost something, something important to him.

“A wizard does not make mistakes. He makes unexpected—”

Douxie screamed as the Order ripped through memories, until he wasn’t sure why they were important anymore.

A gentle purr—nothing but stone.

Smiles and laughs—a circular room

Moments with his student—train tracks and darkness.

A being made of ice tilted his head up, sharp claws tracing his face but not breaking skin. “Have you ever heard the Egyptian’s theory on the soul? They believed it was made of several parts. One was the ren—the name. But it was more than the name—it was memories.”

His head was spinning, and spinning, and he couldn’t remember anything but this room of stone and darkness. He managed a guttural moan—he wanted someone, needed someone so badly it hurt, but he couldn’t remember who—

The ice being jerked on one of his horns. “Your memories are an important part of you, wizard.”

Wizard? What…?

“Experience makes you who you are—without your memories, you’re just a sad, sad husk.”

A fire being spat. “Enough. We have spent long enough on this creature. Return it to its body. Without its memories, it would not even know to attack us.”

“I’d rather not take the risk.” The ice being leaned back. “When you see its soul…”

“We’ll get Nari back. But he… he will not go home.”

What… he was too tired, too sick, too lonely to figure out what they were talking about.

And then the two beings started chanting, and the world dissolved into pain, soul-crushing pain.

At least, he’d thought it was soul-crushing. Until he felt himself tearing out of his body, and the ice and fire being grabbed hold of his soul and pulled.

Turned out, there was a feeling worse than soul-crushing.

Soul ripping.

They tore at his being, and even though he was out of a body, he somehow still felt it, in every fiber of his being, that horrible, horrible tearing sensation, like taffy that had been pulled just a little too far.

Some instinct, some nagging voice in the back of his head screamed at him to end it! End the spell now, before they destroy you!

And he didn’t know what that meant, he didn’t know what spell, but maybe the little voice in the back of his head took over because he was waking up in a completely new place, in a body that was different, but felt… more familiar.

“Wha—huh—I—”

“Douxie!” A cat barreled into him, and he instinctively hugged it. It just felt… right, but he didn’t know why.

Some kid with scars on his face stared him meaningfully in the eye. “Douxie, do you know where they are?! Where’s the order, where do they have Nari?”

That sure was a lot of words that probably meant something. He shook his head. “I—I’m sorry—I really am—but—who’s Douxie?”

Xxx

“I can lock onto Nari. We’ll get her.”

Jim glanced back at the vacant Douxie, who was patting Archie, apparently with no clue of who he was. “We might need his magic.”

“We can’t take him along like this! It would be murder!” Claire twisted around to look at him, shaking his head. “Besides, I… I don’t know if he remembers how to do magic. Jim, what if we lost him?!”

Jim brushed her cheek with one hand. “Hey… look at me. Look at me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Douxie, it’s that he always finds a way to come back. He died, remember? And he still came back to us. He’ll get better.”

“He doesn’t remember who he is, who we are! What if he can’t come back?!”

“Then we’ll find a way to bring him back. We’ll find a spell, or Krel will be able to invent something—we won’t leave him like this. I promise.”

Xxx

Douxie—apparently that was his name. That’s what they kept telling him. He didn’t know. All he knew was the last hour of his life—the last horrible, painful hour of his life.

He hadn’t known it was so bad—not until he came here, where there was light, and everything was soft and kind, instead of harsh and painful.

And there was Archie, the cat.

Jim and Claire approached. “We’re heading out,” Jim said quietly to Archie.

Archie jumped up with a hiss. “Douxie’s not going. He needs to recover.”

“We weren’t planning on it,” Claire soothed, “No taking Douxie into dangerous situations right now. Promise.”

Archie leapt into Douxie’s lap. “I’m staying with him.”

“But what if we need—”

“Douxie needs me more. Go.”

Claire and Jim exchanged a glance, then left without a word. Archie snuggled down further in Douxie’s lap. Douxie absentmindedly stroked the cat. “Who’s your owner?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Then… who takes care of you?”

Archie gave him a look that was just so deeply sad it made Douxie want to cry, although he wasn’t sure why. “I… have a friend. My familiar.”

Douxie settled back, petting him. “What happened to him? Why isn’t he here?”

Archie started to shake a little bit. “He… didn’t come back from a fight.”

Douxie gave the cat a little squeeze. “I’m sorry.” They sat in silence, then, “Tell me about him?”

And Archie did.

He told Douxie about a wizard. About all of the adventures they’d shared. All of the hardships they’d endured—but all of the good times they’d had, too. He told him about a strict master who’d eventually given his own life for his apprentice. About how his familiar had taught Claire magic. How he’d saved the world, at the cost of his own life—then had come back from the dead.

He told him about how strong the wizard was. How brave. How kind. How clever, even if sometimes his “cleverness” backfired in his face.

Douxie’s heart ached for the cat and his familiar. It was obvious how much Archie had loved his wizard—and he’d lost him. Would have to live without him. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “He sounded…”

Archie buried himself in Douxie’s jacket. “Yes. I have to believe…”

“Believe what?”

“I have to believe that he’ll come back.” Archie twisted out, his eyes desperately searching Douxie’s. “That you’ll come back.”

An eerie sense of familiarity swept over him, the worst déjà vu.

Those stories.

They were… his stories?

He was the wizard?

What had the order done to him?!

Tears for his lost life sprang up in his eyes, and he hugged Archie, mind whirling in a thousand directions at once. It was like the Order was shredding his soul all over again—he’d had a whole life, 900 years of it, and it had been taken away. He didn’t know who he was—the only thing he had was stories of who he’d used to be, echoes of friendships he used to have. And now? What was he supposed to do?

“Douxie?” Archie asked quietly.

“I want to be him. I want to be him again, I want to be your familiar, I want to be Douxie again.” He scrubbed at his eyes. “There has to be some way to get back the memories they took, please—I… I don’t want to lose you.”

Archie purred. “Memories or not, you will always be my familiar. Nothing will change that. You won’t lose me.” He tilted his head at Douxie. “I know the world might be ending soon and all, but… how would you feel about going on a different adventure?”

“What?”

“I don’t know if we can get your memories back, Douxie. But we can certainly make new ones.”

#honestly this is a concept i want to explore more in-depth-- plus y'know fun torture and whump #but right now my brain is spitballing angsty ideas at lightning speed and i'm just spitting them out on paper #so maybe later #when i finish shattered timelines (ignore my loud laughter)#rott #rott spoilers #toa #tales of arcadia #toa fanfic #my writing #douxie

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teamhook · 3 years

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Hello! Finally and update!! I want to thank everyone for their patience, the @captainswanmoviemarathon, the Discord shipmates, and my lovely Beta @ultraluckycatnd and my talented artist @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713

|AO3|

|FFN|

Emma had been so disappointed after her idea was shot down. It had been a long day at work, so she only stops to get a quick snack at a 24-hour diner before heading to get some sleep. She opens the door to the hotel room she has rented for the week only to find it tossed. Her heart sinks as she runs to check for the money she had been saving to rent an apartment. The money was gone, all of it. They didn’t leave a single dollar behind. Her eyes water as she wonders what the hell she is going to do now?

Killian finally arrives home after a small detour. He is parking his motorcycle when he notices a body huddled on his steps. He removes his helmet and walks slowly to his door. The hoodie falls from the head revealing golden hair. Emma.

“Swan, is everything okay?” Killian asks as he helps her to her feet and opens the door to the apartment.

Emma sniffles as she follows close behind. She still doesn’t know why she came here. Lies. He is her closest friend, her only friend.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. How about a drink?” Killian asks as he pours a drink for himself and one for her.

“Yeah, I really need one.” Emma takes the offered drink and bottoms it.

Killian asks, “Do you need anything else? Swan, how can I help?”

Emma’s tears run down her face.

Bloody hell, he made her cry. “I’m sorry, lass, can you tell me what happened?”

“Someone went into my room and robbed me. I talked to the manager but he said they weren’t responsible. That I should have taken the money with me or hid it better,” Emma says. She can’t seem to stop crying.

“It’s going to be fine,” Kilian says and adds rapidly, “you can stay here.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think about it. Milah is going to kill him if she ever comes home.

“Really?” Her hopeful green eyes devoid of tears confirm this is a really good idea. “Aye, you can stay here.”

“I promise it won’t be for long, one night tops. I just need to sleep on it and figure some things out,” she smiles.

After a few drinks and a few arguments on who should take the bed, Emma is tucked in, stretched out on the daybed he has as a couch. He plays a song on the piano as she relaxes for the night.

She smiles, the music very soothing. “Killian, that is beautiful. Who wrote it?”

He smiles back. “I did.”

“That is really, really good. Do you have more?” she asks as she sits up.

“Aye, but they’re not ready to be heard,” he says as he finishes the song.

“Killian, why did you leave Boston?”

“Emma, why did you leave Maine?”

She sighs. “Well, because it didn’t feel like home anymore, and I wanted to follow my dreams.”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“Killian, I’m really happy I don’t have to be alone tonight,” Emma said as she yawned.

“Get some sleep, love,” Killian says as he leaves the piano and closes the door to his room.

The next day, the sound of rain hitting the window wakes him up. The smell of bacon mixed with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee hits him and for a second, he is startled because he is the one that normally makes breakfast; Milah didn’t like to cook. He gets up and makes sure he is presentable.

The vision that greets him is perfect. He shakes his head as he approaches his guest. He scratches behind his ear when he notices her clothes, or lack of. She is lost in what she is doing to notice him ogling her as she simply wears a long, sleeveless shirt that barely covers her arse, her long legs on display. He was mesmerized for a minute, then clears his throat to get her attention. “Good morning, love.”

“Oh, good morning. I hope you don’t mind. It’s the least I can do,” she says, smiling.

Killian returns her smile. “It smells delicious.”

“How do you like your coffee?” she asks as she pours the liquid.

“Black, like my soul,” he answers as he takes a seat.

They start eating their food while enjoying some small talk.

Emma’s eyes drift around the room and land on one of the pictured frames. “She’s very pretty, your sister?”

Killian looks up from his food. He doesn’t need to figure out which photo she’s talking about. “Ah, that would be Milah, my fiance.”

“Wait a minute, you’re straight?” Emma stands.

“What, you thought I was gay?” Killian asks.

“Yeah, I mean you wear more eyeliner than I do. You own a daybed. What kind of guy owns one?” Emma states.

“In my defense, the eyeliner is a very straight look. Cora loves it and it works at the club,” he shrugs. “The daybed was Milah’s idea.”

“I should really put some pants on.” Emma goes to her bag to look for some jeans to put on.

“That’s probably a good idea.” He pouts as he watches her pulling on her pants.

“So where is she, your fiance?” Emma wonders.

“She’s in New York doing a play,” Killian says as he clears off the table.

“Well, since you’re not only straight but engaged, it is really weird I came to you. I should leave. I’m sorry I came here,” Emma says.

“Swan, you don’t have to go.”

“Killian, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Emma, it’s pouring outside.” He blocks the front door to prevent her from leaving.

“It’s okay, I got a plan. Could you please get the door for me?” Emma says, determinedly.

He hesitantly opens the door.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

“See you at the club.”

She steps outside, the rain coming down hard and the thundering is loud. She grabs a newspaper from the wooden chair next to the door, covers her head, and walks down the steps.

Killian looks out of his window, sighing. Bloody hell. Emma looks like a wet cat doing a poor job at staying dry. He runs out and before Emma can object, he picks her up bridal style and turns back to his place. They’re both drenched once they’re back inside.

Emma screams as soon as he puts her down. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You have nowhere to go, Swan. I have an empty couch.”

“It's just water. A little water never hurt anyone.”

“Swan, it’s a lot more than a little water, it’s pouring.”

“Killian, you’ve done enough.”

“I don’t care what you bloody say. You’re going to stay here for a few more days.” Knowing that she isn’t going to win this argument, Emma nods her agreement.

The phone rings and he smiles as he answers., “Hello, Milah. That sounds great.” He walks to his room and closes the door.

Days later at the club, the restroom is quiet until the sound of someone throwing up shatters the illusion. Cora looks underneath the stall door to see who has dared break her out of her spell. One look of the glass heels tells her she knows who it is. “Ashley, darling are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she sniffles as she comes out of the stall.

Cora studies the girl in front of her and sighs. “Tell me you don’t have the flu.”

Ashley starts sobbing. “No, I’m pregnant.”

“Have you told Sean?”

“I haven’t, I’ve been so scared. What if he doesn’t want it? What am I going to do?” Ashley starts rambling.

“We will figure it out, but you have to tell him,” Cora says, trying to comfort the poor girl.

“Okay.” Ashley gives her boss a weak smile.

Emma continues to practice the dance routines every free moment she has because she knows a chance will come up. Her parents had always told her to have hope; that’s the only reason she is following her dream. For now, she will be the best waitress the club has ever seen.

Killian had proven to be such a good friend because he was letting her stay with him for a couple of weeks. The only problem with that is that she is enjoying his company too much. He is sweet and funny. Some days, she had to remind herself that he was taken because she was starting to yearn for something that couldn’t be.

Days later after Ashley's revelation, Cora decides to be prepared. Henry and Cora hold tryouts for a new dancer.

Emma walks in to find the stage full of potential candidates. Music is heard throughout the club; high kicks flying, hips gyrating to the music, hair flowing with each head twirl, all followed with a spiral roll into a final fan kick.

After the girls are dismissed, Cora turns to Henry with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t love any of them. Where did all the best dancers go?” she sighs.

Henry is flipping through the portfolios for the club’s best match. He turns his attention to Cora and smiles. “They’re all Dancing with the Stars.”

The blaring of sexy music disrupts their conversation. They turn to the stage to find Emma moving her hips sensually to the music, her head flipping right and left. She is moving as if her life depends on it. Sadly she is putting her all into an unappreciated display until her intended audience dismisses her with barely a glance in her direction, followed by a disgusted flick of her wrist, halting her dance before it really even gets started.

Cora cuts the music off and starts to walk away.

“Wait a minute! I can do this, just tell me what you want!” Emma’s panicked scream halts Cora’s movement.

“It’s really sweet that you think you can. I know I don’t want someone that thinks auditioning for me is the same as a common strip club. All my dancers are professionals. What was that?” Cora said as she placed her hands on her hips.

“I know all the dance routines. I have practiced them in my spare time.”

“You have to make me believe that you belong on that stage and that no one will take it from you.”

“Alright, which number do you want to see?”

Cora stares at Emma. “You know all the numbers? Okay. Merlin, play Wagon Wheel Watusi.”

Zee, Ashley, and Tiana arrive just in time to see the audition.

The music starts and Emma moves as if her life depends on it. She twirls, shimmies her breasts, and when the music ends she stands breathless waiting for the verdict.

Cora and Henry are talking in whispers.

“You were off the last half,” Cora finally says.

“I can do better. I’ll practice every single free moment I have. I really want this. Please, I know I can do this. Didn’t anyone ever give you a chance?”

“Fine! You’ve got the job.”

Emma jumps up and down in excitement while several things happen at once.

Cora and Henry share a look.

Ashley claps excitedly.

Zee turns to Ashley. “You know she’s replacing you, right?”

Henry walks up to Emma. “Meet me in the dressing room in five minutes.”

The girls leave for lunch.

Before she can head to the dressing room, loud claps catch Emma’s attention.

Killian meets her eye and smiles. “Congratulations, love.”

“With my raise, I will be off of your couch before you know it!” She squeals in excitement as she rushes to the dressing room.

She misses the disappointment on his face.

Tag List:

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#Captain Swan #cs ff #CSMM #Captain Swan Movie Marathon #CSMM20

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Chasing Jessi”: A Sirius Black Story: Plus Size OC: Chapter 7: Tinkerbell & The Lost Boy

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Sirius Black Imagine Turned Story

Re-Written and Edit of an old story of mine I had on Mibba that deserved some more love and attention, lol.

Sirius Black x Jess Scamander (OC, OFC, PLUS SIZE OC, PLUS SIZE OFC)

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

Sirius Black was lounging comfortably in his bunk. He hadn't even bothered to change out of the KISS shirt and black flannel pajama bottoms at this point. He was reading through a book that he'd borrowed from Jess. Contrary to popular belief... Sirius actually loved to read.

He’d rather die than admit that but he’d learned from an early age that it could easily provide an escape from his horrible daily life.

Again though, he’d rather die than admit and let someone see him doing it.

He was up rather early on a Sunday morning- something that used to be obscenely out of character before he played Quidditch. Now, it seemed that his biological clock was against him. However, it proved rather useful when wanting the shower to yourself or getting to breakfast while everyone was still in bed. He'd been to breakfast already and was currently just relaxing for he had been informed by a tired looking Lily Evans that Jess was not coming down for breakfast this morning. He had been slightly disappointed but guessed that it was because the two girls had been up late talking. He figured that girls did that just as much as boys did. Although, for Jess's sake he hoped not because James had nearly driven him mad last night by both talking about every detail of his and Lily's date and all but demanding the same from Sirius. Honestly, boys were just as bad as girls when it came to gossip.

If not worse. However, he supposed he could just try and read this ridiculous book of hers until she awoke. He had really just settled in and was beginning to immerse himself into this fantasy world when.... "Sirius!!!" His brows furrowed and he glanced over at Remus who was studying on the floor in front of his bunk but he only shrugged.

"Sirius! Ooof! Sorry! Sirius!" "What in the name of Merlin?" he pondered as he sat the book down and went to the door to see none other than his hyperactive girlfriend balancing a package on her hip and apologizing to a fourth year boy who went white as a ghost at the sight of her. "You're ...you're not supposed to be up here." the boy said. "Oh, I'm sorry." she said to him. "I'm just looking for Sirius. See, I have something I have to-" The boy was too shaken to speak. To be fair, she was still wearing her pajamas and he was a fourteen year old boy, most likely with a crush on her. And she was only wearing a big floppy yellow smiley face shirt and some rather short multi colored shorts. "Over here, love." Sirius smirk. She turned to face him with a relieved smile looking so odd with her floral cat ear headband and her big blue monster house shoes. "Thanks, anyway." she told the boy and gave him a one armed hug. Sirius almost snorted when the boy looked as if he may pass out. The poor boy probably didn't know whether he found her attractive, terrifying or strange....or all three. "What are you doing up here?" he asked her as she came to a stop in front of him, "And in your pajamas no less?" "I have something for you." she said simply but he smirked and she smacked him in the stomach, "Not that!" "Aw, and it's almost my birthday too." he moaned playfully and he opened the door and let her him. "Hello, Remus." she greeted the studious green eyed boy. "Oh, uh, hi Jess." he said a little surprised to see her there, especially in her pjs. "Remus, she beats me." Sirius wailed dramatically. "She wounds me." "If it's to your pride..." he said. "I suggest she do it some more. Your head is far too big as it is." Jess grinned in victory. Sirius gasped, "Moony, old boy, I can't believe it! Everyone's mistreating me and it's almost my birthday!" "Sirius, if you don't come sit down, then I'm going to open your present." she informed him smartly. "Present?" he asked. "What present?" "This one." she said tapping the lid of the green box. "You got me a present?" he asked curiously taking a seat on the bunk as the box lay between them. "No." she said. "Well, yes. I did. But this isn't it. This is from my mum and dad." "What?" he asked in disbelief. "From mum and dad." she repeated. "She sent a blasted howler as well. Damn near threatened my life if I opened it. So I'm guessing it's rather good and most likely involving food. Best open it sooner than later." Sirius' hands shook just a little as he pulled the box open and cringed as a howler floated out. It was that same familiar shape that he recognized as the ones Jess usually got. From previous experiences, he was expecting yelling but relaxed when he saw the letter transform and the dark wax sealed lips give him a smile. It began to speak in a soothing tone, "Hello, Dear. Happy Birthday! I do hope you have a good one this year and that you get this package in time. Jess mentioned that you had a particular liking for toffee and fudge so I do hope you like what's inside. She also mentioned that you loved music and so there is something extra special inside from my husband. He said that he wanted it to go someone who could appreciate her as he much as he did. I wasn't allowed to see so I'm trusting that it's appropriate and if it's it not, you'd best tell me so I can tan his hide! Everything is under the shrinking charm so all you need to do is use the Engorgio charm. If you have trouble with it, I would advise you to ask Lily rather than Jess. She means well but she tends to get terribly excited and...blow things up. We are so excited to see Jess making such lovely friends! She speaks very highly of you and bless your soul, you must be patient to deal with her antics! I do hope she isn't being too rough. Some of those pictures... Merlin, I feared she'd nearly kill you with that one on the broom. I've told her about that! Nevertheless, any friend of hers is a friend to us. Welcome to the family, sweet boy. Have a wonderful birthday, dear! May you have many more! P.S. Do not let my child con you out of your presents with her innocent face. I know that she 'seems' sweet but if you give in...you'll regret it. Trust me. Her father has been wrapped around her finger since she was six seconds old. " When the letter was finished it ripped itself up and turned to ash. Sirius was a little disappointed. It had been so nice...he had kind of wanted to keep it. He glanced up to find Remus looking at him curiously and Jess looking mildly offended. "She makes me sound like some kind of animal." she scoffed. "Well..." Remus smirked. "I'd say more reptilian. You do have a certain, what was it you called it Padfoot? Dragon lady...quality about you." "Remus Lupin!" she scolded him. "You are a booger head and I am not talking to you anymore!" "I have chocolate." he said lifting his brows at her and holding up a piece. "All is forgiven." she said racing over to join him. "So what did she get you?" she piped up from her spot with Remus on the floor. Sirius reached into the box to pull out a container and he smiled. "Toffee." he smiled. "Oooh!" she gushed and jumped on his bed. "That's mum homemade toffee! It's really good! She won a blue ribbons for it at the local Muggle fair!" He pulled another out and observed the white chunks with rainbow sprinkles. "Birthday cake fudge." he smiled as he read the label aloud. "It's really good." Jess nodded. "It tastes like white chocolate and cake batter. Mum makes it for Dad every year on his birthday. I bet she had to make two batches!" He pulled out a jar of something and for just a moment it made him think of firewhiskey but he smiled when he read the label. 'Sirius, dear, this is a new recipe I'm trying out. It's called Toffee Syrup. We like to put it in porridge, tea, pumpkin juice, coffee...come to think of it, anything really. I've added just a bit something special to this one. I'd love to hear what you think.' "Mum'll kill me for telling you this but it's really good you mix it with firewhiskey and put it over ice cream." Jess piped up and he lifted his brows at her. "And here I thought you were sweet and innocent." he commented. She laughed, "Sirius, we both know I'm far from either of those." He pulled out a black knitted hat. "Oh, Mum, doesn't want you to catch cold!" she wailed dramatically. "Don't cry on it." he teased. "But she stitched it with love, Sirius!" she wailed again. He resisted the urge to shove her off the bed when something caught his eye. A small black case and upon further inspection he realized that it was a guitar case. 'Engorgio.' he murmured and enlarged it before pulling the zipper open to reveal a beautiful black acoustic guitar. "Ophelia!" Jess squeaked. "What?" Sirius asked her. "It's Ophelia." she said. "It's Dad's guitar. He let me name her when I was a little girl." Sirius frowned, "Oh, maybe you should have it then." "Nah." she shook her head. "I'm rubbish at guitar. I'm a drums kind of girl...much to mum's dismay." She grinned wickedly and pretended to play the drums.

She never failed to make him laugh. He pulled it out and ran his hand over it before glancing into the case and seeing the matching strap and an envelope. He opened the envelope to reveal a small note and a silver chain with a matching guitar pick on the end. "Hello, Sirius. I hope you have a very Happy Birthday. Jess tells me that you love music along with many other things. She seems quite fond of you and speaks of you quite a lot. Which is considerably out of character for her. You have to understand that for the longest time when she wrote home...it was usually to tell us that Lily's eyebrows had grown back or that she'd was very close to finding redcap colony. Naturally, as her father, I was a little defensive about you at first. However, you seem like an alright lad and she seems to take a liking to you. Any man that will willingly let her braid rainbow colored yarn into their hair....well you're alright with me, kid. I hope you have a great birthday and you enjoy old Ophelia. P.S. If you press the guitar pick, you can record yourself. Comes in handy when you're working on songs. ' Sirius carefully sealed the letter back up and placed everything delicately back in the box. "Sirius?" Jess whispered. "You have really, really good parents." he said quietly. Remus quietly left the room, deciding it was best to give the two of them some time. "I know." she said softly. Sirius just nodded, still just slightly shaking until she placed her hand on his. "Maybe you can meet them sometime. You know, to properly welcome you to the family and all." she said. There was more to that statement than either of them were willing to talk about at that moment. Grey eyes caught green and they just stared for a moment. She decided to break the tension with some comedy. "Mum may be swayed by your charms but I will not being giving you your present from me until it's your actual birthday." she said. "You got me a present?" he questioned. "Yes, and I'm not telling so don't even try!" she scolded as she stuck her finger in his face. He smirked at her challenge as he carefully placed the box underneath his bed and grabbed her ankle. "Not even if I do...." he trailed off as he hovered above her neck. "This." She bit her lip when his lips caressed her skin. "No!" she cried out. "Don't use your tricks!" "How about here?" he asked kissing her nose. "Never." she whispered. "Alright." he said. "But I think I'll try one more." "I'll never surrender, Captain Hook!" she called out, grinning wickedly as she saw her book on his bed side table. "Now, now Tinkerbell. Let's not be rash." he teased. "Now give me some of that pixie dust." She erupted into a fit of giggles, "Sirius Black, Lord of the Cheeseballs!" He tickled her relentlessly, "Surrender!" "Never!" she said rolling out from underneath him and racing into the halls, "Lost Boys, unite! We have to defend ourselves against the terrible Captain Hook!" The muggleborns got it, thought it was weird, but go it. Everyone...just kind of wrote it off as Jess being Jess. And James Potter stood at the foot of stairs looking at his friend with an odd expression on his face. "What?" Sirius asked. James shook his head. "Nothing. It's just...you two are clearly into some weird things." he said. Sirius laughed and shoved his friend along into his room. The thing was...he didn't mind her little games. He loved them almost as much as he did her.

Chapter Six

Chapter Eight

Hello, loves! How do we feel about Sirius’ early bday present from Jess’ parents? How are we liking their relationship so far?

I’d love to what you think! Please feel free to hit up the ask box, blast the comment section or reblog with your thoughts and feelings! Next chappie coming soon!

All my love darlings!

Kenny

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Love, Kenny

#sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius black imagine #sirius black story #sirius black x ps #sirius black x plus size #plus size #ps #ps ofc #ps oc #plus size oc #plus size ofc #sirius black x oc #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders era sirius black #young sirius black

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 19 - sleep deprivation

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.” In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.” In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember. His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day. No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again. He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie. Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend. “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him. The wizard sighed. “I’m sorry, Archie. I just don’t want to talk, that's all.” He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise. He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal. The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random. He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana.

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either. He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you. I want no part of a world without you in it. And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look. “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It was my fight. And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled. “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.” A terrible, eternal beat of silence. Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all. It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.” With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance. Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take. Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left. His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep. Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one. He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots. They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice. He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff. “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man. You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home. Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie. Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal. “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone. Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted. “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?” He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door. He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home. Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head. Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar. After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness. A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm. He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet. He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim. The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two. “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion. Shouldn’t she know what happened? She had been there, for parts of it, at least. She’d heard about the rest. He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord. This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin. Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!” He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him. Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep. He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it. Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand. Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said. “And you look sick. You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself. At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly. “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her. “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all. Then I’ll sleep.” It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep. He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters. And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone. He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern. He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief. “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on? How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak. He’d lived 701 years. He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections. Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal. The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone. That wasn’t true. Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really. The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention. If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked. “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all. But, honestly, it was my friends. But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head. “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly. “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely. He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him. Dream-Merlin had been right. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t you see? It’s my fault Merlin’s dead. I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face. For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him. He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had. Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter. He’d not been in control of his own mind. Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t you. But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend. Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience. “It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could to save Merlin. You took a sword in the gut for him.” Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in. “You’re a hero. You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.” He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him. “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion. You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation. Magic reacts to your emotions. And Jim’s right. What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added. “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off. He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside. He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave? Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice? It was like what I did didn’t matter. I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend. Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes. That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life. Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it. Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie. “This was not your fault. And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted. “But then he didn’t. Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up. Something raw lingered in his eyes. “It’s the lies you are telling yourself. I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before. “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands. Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me. For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies. Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know. And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.” He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.

“I miss him too.” Archie repeated his words from a few days ago. “And I am here for you, Douxie.” He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened. No one does. The Merlin in your dreams is not real. He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth. The real Merlin told you. Jim and Claire told you. And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre. And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do. No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest. “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple. A giant bruise. He chuckled, a bit madly.

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time. “I think you really need to lie down now. You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down. Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim. “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again. Remember that we’re here for you. None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart. “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer. He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head. “Let him sleep. He needs it.”

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize. Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

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