A Frigid Tomb
Masterpost
Words: 2,631
Characters: Apollo, Wyvern (ocs)
Warnings: Blood, knives, broken bones, killing and general violence
Summary: It happened a long time ago, but it still haunts Wyvern to this day. The warlord that nearly killed him permanently during the dark ages is still alive. At least until Apollo comes knocking on Wyvern’s behalf.
A few days after Wyvern stopped at the small village near old London, the Warlord arrived.
The Warlord was enormous and moved as if he ruled the world, just like every other warlord Wyvern had met before. Most of the time, he didn't wear a helmet, exposing his scarred face and twisted sneer. He declared the village part of his territory and any lightbearers would be killed on sight, ghost and all. So Wyvern did what he did best.
He hid.
“We’ll leave,” Wyvern said, setting his gun on the table, “first thing in the morning. This warlord… he makes me nervous.”
Talon bobbed in the air, glancing at the dirty windows. “Me too. He walked by the house earlier and- and I think his name is Taegan.”
“And?”
“And I know he means what he says,” Talon said. “He’s already killed many guardians. I’ve only just got a good look at him.”
Wyvern grunted. “That was risky.”
Talon spun his shell dismissively. “It’s okay, he didn’t-“
“See you?”
Wyvern’s head snapped up. Talon squeaked and disappeared.
Taegan stood in the doorway of the small house, grinning. Wyvern’s hand immediately went to the gun on the table, but Taegan was faster, snatching the gun up and grabbing Wyvern by the collar of his coat. He tried to grab onto something, anything, that would help him as Taegan began to drag him out the door, but the house was empty and Wyvern was helpless.
He was tossed out onto the frozen ground, and he heard something crack in his arm. Before he could investigate, he was dragged to his feet, an iron grip on his wrist. He couldn’t stop himself from gasping in pain as the hand around his injured arm tightened. Around them, the townsfolk had gathered, wondering what the commotion was about. Taegan was talking- something about authority and rogue lightbearers- but the pounding in his ears and his panicked breathing were at the forefront of his mind. He looked instinctively to the spot Talon would’ve- should’ve- been, but he wasn’t there. Probably for the best, but Wyvern could’ve used his steady calm now.
He was slapped to the ground again. Taegan stood over him, a flaming hammer forming in his hands. With a start, he realized what was about to happen.
Unless he stopped it.
He rolled to the side as the hammer came down right where he was a second ago. The faces of bewildered and terrified villagers blurred around him, but he ignored them. He stood up and raised his arms as Taegan whirled around. Arc lightning flickered between his fingers, but it seemed insignificant compared to Taegan’s massive hammer.
He dodged another swing, narrowly saving his head from being smashed flat. He was running on pure adrenaline alone, and that wasn’t going to last forever.
Taegan alternated between the hammer and his fists, switching between them at inhuman speeds. He grazed Wyvern’s arm, and the spot he had touched burned with an intense ferocity. He pressed his hand to his arm, but it only flared in pain.
He stumbled back, quickly realizing that this was a battle he wasn’t going to win. He desperately looked around at the townspeople, but they all avoided his eyes. They’ve seen this before, he realized, they know there’s no hope for me. Dread began to settle in the pit of his stomach.
A blow to his side forced his attention away from the people and back to Taegan. He felt something crack as he collapsed to the ground. He inhaled sharply only to be met with hot, stinging pain in his ribs. His fingers scrambled for purchase as he pushed himself to his feet. Taegan grinned.
He rushed Wyvern with the hammer. He tried to sidestep it, but his movements were sluggish. The hammer caught him in the chin. A loud CRACK was followed by a thud as Wyvern hit the ground a few feet away. He coughed, and blood splattered the ground. His head pounded. He had a feeling that if he wasn’t a guardian, he’d be dead. But it hardly mattered; he was close enough anyway.
Taegan stood over him, smirking. “Where’s your ghost, lightbearer?”
Wyvern opened his mouth, sending jolts of pain up his jaw. He flinched and closed it slowly.
Taegan tilted his head. “No? That’s alright. It’ll come revive you eventually.”
Too late, Wyvern realized what his plan was. No. no, no, no, he thought desperately, scrambling back. He made it only a few inches before his arm gave out and he fell to the ground once again.
Taegan’s hammer was the last thing he saw before he was met with blissful emptiness.
Shrieks and screams greeted his ears as he finally woke.
Talon hovered over him as he opened his eyes. “Wyvern?”
He sat up and his head spun. The sun seemed too bright, the shrieks from the village too loud.
“-have to hurry.” Talon was saying. “We’re not going to get another chance.”
Wyvern furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? What’s happening?”
Talon was silent for a moment, searching for the right words. “Fallen raid.” He said at last.
“Then we have to help!”
But Talon shook his shell, a clear no. “The warlords have it covered. They’ll be fine, Wyvern, but you won’t be if you don’t run.”
Wyvern staggered to his feet. “But what if they don’t? I can’t-“
“Wyvern.” Talon cut him off. “Taegan guarded your body, waiting for me to show myself so he could kill you. Permanently. This might be the only chance we have to run.”
Wyvern looked at the black smoke rising from the village, a stark contrast to the endless expanse of white sky. Most of the screaming had stopped, replaced instead with alien shrieks and chittering. He gulped and ran in the opposite direction.
It was only later that he found out he’d been dead for seven days.
Apollo woke to heavy breathing and the bed creaking as Wyvern sat up.
He waited a few moments, but there was no more noise from him. Apollo shifted so he was facing Wyvern. He didn’t notice with his head buried in his hands.
“Wy?” Apollo said tentatively, fighting back a yawn. “You okay?”
Wyvern didn’t respond for a long moment. “I’m alright,” he said at last, lowering his hands so he could see Apollo clearly. “Go back to sleep.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’ll be fine,” Wyvern insisted. “Just… a nightmare.”
Apollo sat up so he was shoulder to shoulder with Wyvern. “Is it ever ‘just a nightmare’?”
“I suppose not,” Wyvern murmured.
Apollo sighed. Wyvern shifted so he was leaning on him, and Apollo turned to pull him into a hug.
They were silent for a moment, with Wyvern tucked under his chin and Apollo running a hand through his hair.
“It was the Dark Age,” Wyvern said finally. “I was… a year old?”
Apollo hummed, encouraging him to go on.
“I was stopping at a village near Old London when a Warlord showed up. Do you- do you remember Taegan?”
Apollo’s stomach dropped. He suddenly didn’t want to know how this story ended.
“Uh… vaguely,” he answered anyway. “Wasn’t very impressive, from what I remember.”
“I don’t think many guardians do. He hasn’t done much since the dark ages.”
Apollo frowned. “He’s still alive?”
Wyvern nodded. “He lives alone on a mountain, as far as I know. The Vanguard doesn’t bother him, and he doesn’t bother them.”
“And they just… leave him there?”
Wyvern shrugged. “They have other things to worry about, I suppose.” Apollo couldn’t see his face, but he was sure he wasn’t imagining Wyvern’s bitter tone.
“Should they be worried about him?”
“I suppose.”
He swallowed. “You were… saying?”
“Right.” Wyvern seemed to physically curl into himself, even as his voice remained steady. “We- we were going to leave soon. We were so careful, but… he found us anyway.”
Apollo’s grip tightened on Wyvern. “What did he do?”
And so Wyvern told him everything.
And by the end of it, Apollo was very, very angry.
“It’s alright, though,” Wyvern said, probably sensing Apollo’s change in mood. “It… happened a long time ago.”
“And the Vanguard just leave him there?”
“Apollo, please,” Wyvern said. “It- it hardly matters anymore.” Apollo could feel him shaking. Clearly, it still mattered.
“It happened a very long time ago, anyway. I can’t do anything about it.”
I could do something about it.
The thought came before Apollo could say anything else. His hand stilled.
Wyvern looked up. “Lo? What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” Apollo said softly. “Go back to sleep.”
“You’re planning something.”
“Just… get some sleep, love. I’ll be fine.”
Wyvern slumped, and Apollo set him back down on the bed. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said through a yawn.
“I’ll try not to.”
No promises.
It didn’t take long to find him.
Taegan wasn’t exactly trying to hide. He hid out in some ruins somewhere near old London, on top of a mountain. Because of course he did.
Not for much longer, if I have anything to say about it.
Apollo hauled himself over the edge and flipped onto his back, heaving. Snow still fell from the sky, dusting the ground. He lifted his head just enough to study the structure.
One wall was completely demolished, and the ceiling was nonexistent. Apollo stumbled to his feet, leaning on a nearby rock. If Taegan knew of his presence, he showed no indication of it.
He started toward the structure. Still no sign of the Warlord. He poked his head through the empty doorway and found out why.
Taegan was lying by one of the intact walls, sides rising and falling steadily as he slept. A quilt just barely covered him just barely from shoulders to feet.
Apollo walked up and kicked him. Hard.
Taegan woke with a startled grunt. He got to his feet and whipped a knife out in one swift motion, holding it to his throat.
Apollo put his hands up, stumbling back. “Easy, tiger.”
Taegan studied him, then stepped away. “Now what does a scrawny hunter want with me?”
“Quite a lot of things, actually.”
“Like what?”
Apollo lowered his hands. This wasn’t what he was expecting. A knife to his throat and a demand to know what he wanted, maybe. But not a… conversation.
“Not a talk, certainly,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Dark age. Long time ago, happened in a town not far from here, actually.”
Taegan huffed impatiently. “Get to the point, hunter.”
“The name’s Apollo.” Guess I owe you that much before I kill you. “And I’ll get there. There was a lightbearer staying there for a few days. A warlock, specifically. Sound familiar?”
The warlord summoned a small, flaming hammer to his hand and Apollo tensed, but Taegan only spun it with his fingers. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
Figured. “Well, maybe you’ll remember the fact that you killed him. Brutally.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down much. You expect me to remember?”
“I do.”
Taegan laughed. “You expect too much. You want an apology?”
Apollo unsheathed a knife from his belt. “I want your head.”
Taegan smirked. His hammer grew until it was nearly the size of his head. Apollo took an instinctive step back.
Taegan swung the hammer and he jumped back, narrowly avoiding it. Apollo threw a knife at him, but it got smacked aside easily by the hammer.
He growled and stepped back again. He unslung the bow from his back, nocking an arrow.
Taegan laughed. “You intend to kill me with that?”
Apollo didn’t answer. He dodged another swing of the hammer and fired an arrow. It shattered uselessly against Taegan’s chest plate, but it did its job. Taegan stumbled back in surprise. The distraction only lasted a moment, but a moment was all he needed.
He fired another arrow, hitting Taegan in the knee. He growled and ripped it out, but Apollo could see blood dripping from the wound, much to his satisfaction.
Taegan slammed the arrow down. It burned to ashes before it hit the ground. “Is that your plan? Keep pelting me with arrows until I fall?”
You need to stop talking. Apollo drew another arrow, watching Taegan approach slowly. The leg wound didn’t seem to even slow him down and, for the first time, Apollo really wished he’d gone into this with some kind of plan.
The hammer swung again. Apollo ducked and slid, coming up behind Taegan. The titan spun around ridiculously fast, and Apollo realized too late that he’d accidentally stepped within range of the hammer.
The hammer struck him in the chest. For a moment he was weightless, his mind still processing what had happened.
He hit the ground. Hard.
He sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it. His chest burned, and he suspected he broke a couple of his ribs. His head throbbed from the impact with the ground. Taegan smiled, walking over to him with no urgency. He knew Apollo was beat.
Apollo? Cricket said in his mind, Should I-
No! he thought back, Don’t come out until I say it’s safe, got it?
But-
Cricket.
Fine.
Apollo felt her presence dim sulkily. She was upset with him, and she had every right to be.
He searched his belt for anything useful. His hand brushed against a tiny blade the width of his finger. No hilt. Hardly a knife. He passed over it.
Taegan leaned down to look him in the eye, hammer resting on his shoulders. Apollo could feel heat radiating off it in waves. “You shouldn’t have come here, scrawny hunter. Now you and your ghost will die.”
“Can’t say that I agree.” His hands closed around an arrow.
“Oh, you will.” Taegan took his head between his hands. With a startled thud of his heart, he realized Taegan intended to snap his neck.
“Goodbye, pathetic hunter.”
“You really need to stop talking,” Apollo muttered, tightening his grip on the arrow.
“What?”
He raised the arrow. Taegan’s eyes went wide as he plunged it right between his eyes.
The former warlord fell to his knees, then thumped heavily to the ground, dead. Apollo shoved the body off him.
Cricket shimmered into existence. “Now can I heal you?”
Apollo nodded, too weak to speak. Cricket glowed slightly as she began to heal him. He hissed as she knit his ribs back together and sealed his cuts.
He stood, taking a deep breath. He walked over and scooped up the knife he’d thrown earlier, relishing in its familiar weight.
“Apollo?” Cricket warned.
He turned. A ghost hovered over Taegan’s body, staring unblinkingly at them. Apollo stared back.
The ghost started to glow. Apollo went rigid, eyes trained on Taegan. I can’t let him live.
“Lo…” Cricket murmured.
Apollo barely heard her. The knife left his hand. It embedded itself into the opposite wall, impaled through the optic of the ghost.
He stared at it as its eye flickered. Cricket was silent.
“Come on,” he said eventually, “We’re done here.” He turned without waiting for a response, leaving both bodies behind.
This was for Wyvern, he thought to himself, I’m in the right. I have to be.
He spent the rest of the climb trying to convince himself of that. He didn’t think he was very successful. Maybe I should have buried them. He knew it wouldn’t change anything.
Did the ghost deserve it? A small voice in the back of his mind spoke up. He quickly stomped him down. Thinking about it wouldn’t do anything.
What was done was done, and he wouldn’t dwell on it. Maybe a better guardian would have.
A better guardian wouldn’t have killed them in the first place.
He told himself to shut up and focus on climbing.
