[fic] [Tales of Arcadia] Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet 151/?

[sakon76]

Your Future Hasn’t Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 18th August, 2023

Douxie stood on the edge. Before him, beneath his toes, unfurled the infinite darkness of the Deep. A place for prisoners, criminals, the condemned.

He'd been all three, in his time.

Behind him lay the Heroes' Forge. A place of warmth, of safety (however dubious once Blinky had switched the machines on), and for young Trollhunters to grow strong.

By his side sat Archie in dragon form, looking down into the same abyss as Douxie. "I don't like it," he said.

"I don't either," agreed Douxie. "But it has to be this way."

"No it doesn't," Archie disagreed. "We could wait. Go down en masse."

Douxie knelt down, ran a hand over soft draconic fur. "And who should we risk?" he asked. "Jim? Krel?" He shook his head. "And even if we persuaded them to make this a group effort... there's no saying who it would attack. Claire, or Steve? Toby, or Aaarrrgghh?" He shook his head. "We have the best chance, Arch. You know it."

Archie looked away. "I still don't like it," he muttered. He sighed. "But I suppose you're right. There must be some advantages to a soul bond."

"There are many advantages to a soul bond," Douxie told him. "And I will be forever grateful you choose to share yours with me."

"Daft child," Archie said, but pressed his forehead to Douxie's nonetheless.

Together, on a broomstick, they descended into the dark.

Zelda Nomura sat at her desk, sipping oolong tea and answering her e-mails. Some were annoying, some were interesting, far too many were merely tedious. Nevertheless, the work had to be done. That was what they paid her for, after all. So she persevered, and eventually the task was done, leaving her with a moment to herself.

She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. The trickling noise of the small fountain she'd added to her overcrowded shelves was soothing, the sound of moving water masking the noise of the museum and the ever present hum of electricity and the lighting. The pleasant smell of her tea, as well as the unique green living notes of her orchid, added to the moment of peace. She breathed deeply, trying to absorb the stillness, the quiet.

Between the revamp of the museum, the fights with the board about that, the increased foot traffic (here she smiled in grim triumph; ha, take that, Board!), and all the subsequent talks, lectures, and guided tours she'd had to give.... Ugh.

Add to that Stricklander's sudden decision to fuck off to who-knew-where, dumping all the running of the Janus Order into her hands....

Nomura reached back, fingered the comb in her hair, with the hidden blade within.

If he wasn't back in a month, she'd hunt him down and make him regret ditching her.

"Miss Nomura?"

She opened her eyes and sat up straight. In the doorway of her office was Javier Nuñez, with one hand on the handle of a stroller. Inside it, his infant son was conked out, dreaming blond baby dreams.

"That time already?" Nomura asked, reflexively checking the delicate gold watch on her wrist.

"I'm afraid so." The man tilted his head with a smile. "You seem... stressed?"

"Eh, in a good way." She stood, and they made their way to the Troll History exhibit. "No Ophelia today?"

He rolled his eyes. "City Council business. She's running late."

Nomura nodded, distracted by the crowd gathered around the Trollish Language placard. At this time of day, it was mostly parents and preschoolers, but she'd heard at least one voice wanting actual lessons in the language.

Which of the local Janus Order might be coerced into giving lessons...?

Or.... No, she decided. Not Draal. She had precious little free time as it was, and his time was hers.

Maybe Blinky. If we got the shadow witch to portal him here....

"Sorry I'm late!" Ophelia came bustling up to them, her heels clacking on the floor.

Nomura flashed her a charming, practiced human smile. They weren't friends (she wasn't sure she had any of those), but the Nuñezes could definitely be allies, and she was cultivating that relationship. "It's no problem. We were just beginning." She unlocked the Fetch's display case and carefully took the priceless magical artifact out.

"Problems?" Javier asked his wife.

She made a face that was half exasperated, half sucking a lemon. "Mister Johnson again. This time he wants Trollmarket to pay for the disappearance of his chihuahua. Five years ago!"

Nomura snorted. "Does he have proof it wasn't eaten by coyotes?"

"No!" Ophelia gave a growl that would do a troll proud. "But," she said, subsiding, "we do need to work out some sort of accord with Trollmarket so that we know they're not behind the disappearances of pets."

Personally, Nomura thought that idiots who let their pets free roam deserved what they got. But accidental escapes did happen, she supposed. "Some sort of collar or marking?" she suggested. "And anyone who doesn't get it for their pets takes their own risks?"

The councilwoman nodded. "We'll probably go with something like that. We just need to get Trollmarket to agree."

"Talk to Vendel," Nomura advised, and pulled the Fetch down over her head, peeping into another dimension.

It was, as its name implied and as some of her least pleasant memories agreed, dark. But Nomura wasn't a changeling for nothing; her eyes flared green, and the darkness became much less oppressive.

"Oi, Pinky!"

She looked down.

NotEnrique grinned a wide, toothy grin at her. "Found 'em, an' we're ready to come through," he reported. Behind him....

Nomura's eyes widened as she did a quick headcount. "Pale Lady's Tits," she swore.

NotEnrique snorted. "Yeah, that's about right. How 'bout you open the door, Nomura?"

"Don't push it, brat," she warned him, but pulled the Fetch back off her head.

The Nuñezes looked at her hopefully.

"He found them," she reported. "All of them." Kneeling, she held the Fetch to the ground again, and activated it; the tiniest spark of magic sufficed.

A tiny red troll came through, stopping and looking wide-eyed around the huge, well-lit space that was the museum's exhibit hall. He was shoved out of the way by another, cerulean, clutching a scrap of snoofhort leather like it was a treasured toy. Then another changeling child, and another, and another, until all thirty-four that she'd counted had come through the portal like a horde of small, colorful boulders, and NotEnrique and his gnome friend brought up the rear.

Javier knelt, his arms open.

After a second of wide-eyed staring, as though he was unsure the implied embrace was meant for him, NotEnrique broke, and ran to his foster father.

No, Nomura corrected herself as the two hugged, his father.

"Mijo," Javier said. "I am so glad you are back safe. And so proud of you!"

NotEnrique sniffed. "Thanks, Pops."

Ophelia knelt as well, her own arms embracing the changeling. "My brave son."

"Awww, Ma!"

Enrique, awake now, squealed and laughed, clapping his hands and reaching for his almost-twin.

"Missed you too, kid."

Around them, wide-eyed humans were gathering and staring, murmuring, as Nomura put the Fetch back in its case and locked it.

The gnome looked up at Nomura and chittered. The young trolls were reacting to the increased scrutiny, some with nerves, others with hostility. She nodded; he was right.

"If you will follow me," she said, with the crisp authoritative tones that she'd heard so many teachers bringing their classes on school trips use on their students. "Avoid the sunlight," she added in the particular cant that changeling candidates used among themselves.

It had the desired effect; thirty-four sets of glowing eyes jolted to her, wide and surprised.

"Come along," Nomura said, and led the way to a safe room stocked with snacks, trying not to feel like a mama duck with thirty-four ducklings trailing along behind her.

The Deep was as dark as any place Hisirdoux had ever been.

And... not as cold as he would have expected, he thought, letting witchlight surround him to illuminate the craggy black walls and ground. Though, he supposed, he'd heard that the deeper into the Earth you went, the warmer it got. Something to do with the pressure, maybe. Or perhaps the growing proximity to the mantle layer. He was briefly distracted by wondering what the Krubera homeland was like. He should ask Aaarrrgghh sometime what he remembered of it--

And his own internal ramblings were because of his nerves, Douxie realized.

"I don't like it," Archie said by his side.

"Me either," Douxie admitted to his familiar and the butterflies in his stomach. "But here we are. Nowhere to go but onw--"

His voice died as they rounded a curve and saw a familiar figure ahead, the cyan lines of his amulet and armor glowing against the darkness where he knelt on the ground. "Jim?" Douxie asked, surprised. He stepped up his pace. "You came down here early--"

"Douxie," said Archie, following him, but his voice was put out of Douxie's mind as Jim looked up and Douxie saw what he was kneeling by.

Brushed steel armor surrounding a stout figure, his active face surprised and still, as it never was.

Deep purple armor, her neck bent at an unnatural angle, her eyes open wide but no longer seeing.

Douxie drew up short, flooded with horror. No. Not Toby, who bridged the space between species so easily, a natural mediator if Douxie had ever seen one. And not Claire, the brightest student he'd ever had the privilege to teach--

"Where were you?" Jim asked lowly, never looking at Douxie.

"What happen--"

"Where were you?!" Jim demanded, his head snapping up, his blue eyes illuminated with anger. "You were supposed to be here! You were supposed to protect them!"

"Jim, I--"

Jim stood, his usual grace absent. In his pain, it was like watching him become a marionette, a mere puppet of his emotions. The green gem at his brow didn't just glint, it glowed. A poison green, like a warning light. "You're the master wizard," Jim accused. "We came down here, and you were supposed to be with us. You're the one who knows about these things, how to fight them. And you weren't here!"

"Douxie--" said Archie, hovering by his shoulder.

"Jim," Douxie whispered, because Jim was right, he was the oldest, the most knowledgeable. Protecting all the others against the things they didn't know about yet was his job. His responsibility. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Jim's face shifted, became dark. "Not good enough," he said, and Excalibur manifested in his hand. "They're dead," he said, with a nod toward Toby and Claire's corpses, "and nothing, NOTHING, can bring them back. And you're sorry?" He laughed, and it was a low, bitter thing full of pain. "I never should have trusted you," said Jim, and took a step forward.

Each word felt like a knife stabbing into Hisirdoux.

"They're dead because of you. Because of magic," Jim spat. "If we'd never gotten involved with magic, they'd still be alive!"

"Jim," Douxie whispered, his eyes wide open. "No, that's not true--"

"It is true!" Jim yelled in fury. "It's your fault, and magic's fault, and I'll never get to hold either of them again."

Words died in Douxie's throat.

"I'll kill it all," Jim said, unholy fire burning in his eyes, "starting with you." He raised Excalibur.

"Douxie!" Archie yelled as the sword came slicing down. "Your armor!"

But there was no time. He covered his head with his arms. Excalibur caught on his vambrace, skittered off, throwing sparks of blue fire. "Jim, I didn't do it!" Douxie yelled. "I wasn't here!"

"I don't care!" Jim pivoted on his foot, spun, swung again. "Claire and Toby were always here for me. You're just an interloper. A Johnny-come-lately. Butting in, always trying to pretend you belonged, and now they're dead!"

Douxie danced desperately out of the way of Jim's sword, panic filling his mind. Because Jim was right, he should have been here, he should have protected them--

It was his fault.

He deserved to die.

"I'll kill you," Jim breathed raggedly. "And then I'll kill the rest of the magic too."

"What?" Douxie whispered, staring wide-eyed at the feral image of the boy king he called his brother. Jim's hair had come out of its usual neat styling, was falling in his eyes as he attempted to murder Douxie. And in those eyes....

Douxie had seen that fanatic light before. Many times.

He'd seen it in the faces of priests who had wanted to kill him, in the faces of good men and women who believed what they were told and stoned or drowned or burned their neighbors, in the faces of fanatics and murderers worldwide.

But the first place he'd ever gotten a good look at it was in another pair of blue eyes.

Arthur's.

"No," breathed Douxie. "No, I won't let you."

His own life might be forfeit, but he would protect the magic of the world with everything that he was.

Even from Jim.

"No," said Douxie, and stopped running.

Jim raised his sword for one final strike, and Douxie knew what he had to do.

He raised his bare hand. "Interminus nocti sluumberso."

Eyes rolling back into his head, his brother collapsed at his feet, Excalibur clattering to the stones.

Douxie knelt, Archie landing by his side.

Even in sleep, Jim's rage suffused him, anger writ across his face, subsuming even the sorrow that must have ravaged his heart.

"Douxie..." Archie said softly, rubbing up against his leg.

Douxie took a breath. It hitched like a sob. "I know what I have to do," he told his familiar. It felt like he would choke on his guilt, and he hadn't even done it yet. "I'm a master wizard. I can't allow this. I can't... I can't let him run unchecked, like Merlin did Arthur."

"Douxie."

He swallowed again, tears pricking at his eyes. "I really hate the concept of 'for your own good'," he said wetly. He scrubbed at his eyes. "It's not fair, you know. Even if... even if I let him sleep this off, let him wake...." He shook his head. "It will be Arthur all over again," he whispered. "The pain will never leave him, never grow less. Losing both sides of his heart will drive him mad."

Some people could bounce back from tragedy of this scope.

But Jim had broken. And he would burn the world to make it feel his pain.

"Oh, Douxie."

He extended a hand over Jim. It shook. He took a breath, trying to steady himself. Mourning what he was about to erase from the world. "Interminus," said Douxie, magic gathering in his hand, "nocti... sluumberso."

The magic drifted down, sank into Jim's skin. He could practically see the repeated spell moving through him, erasing his memories. Erasing the memories that made Jim who he was. Erasing what he was.

Douxie sobbed, tears streaming down his face, as Nimue's crown shivered, blurred, and faded away.

The crown had been meant to aid a divine king. But without the memories that made him who he was... Jim was no longer a divine king.

No longer a threat.

No longer the brightest hope in Douxie's life.

He gathered Archie into his arms, weeping into the soft back fur. What he'd done was reprehensible, morally indefensible.

Jim was no longer Jim, because of Douxie.

But it had been the only choice.

Archie said nothing, just leaned his head against Douxie's shoulder. There probably was nothing he could say that would have made this any better.

For a long time, they sat there, the wizard and the dragon and the unconscious boy.

Finally, Archie spoke. "What now?"

Douxie wiped his eyes, got himself under a modicum of control. "We take him home, I guess," he said. He reached out, to the magitech amulet that rested on Jim's chest. "I'm very sorry," he said to it softly, "but he's not that person any more. I know we made you for him, but... it will be a while, if ever, until he can wear you again."

As if the amulet understood, the armor faded away, and the amulet fell into Douxie's waiting hand. He tucked it away in a hoodie pocket.

And then, breathing carefully, he shook Jim's shoulder, waking him. He wiped his eyes again as blue eyes blinked open. Jim sat up, looking around the inkiness of the Deep. Then he looked at Douxie, and there was no recognition in his eyes. None at all.

"Um, hi?" Jim said. "Who are you?"

Douxie swallowed everything down. "I'm Douxie, Jim. I'm your brother." Because no matter what he'd done, that one thing remained true. It had to. He was Jim's brother, and Jim, especially now, was his responsibility.

How could he not be, after what Douxie had done to him.

"Oh." Jim's expression was open, honest. Then, "Is that my name? Jim?"

Douxie nodded. "It is."

"Oh." Jim looked around, curious and innocent as a newborn. His gaze caught on the two bodies not that far away. He looked at them for a long minute. He swallowed. "They're... they're not sleeping, are they?"

Douxie bit his lip. "No," he answered carefully after a second. "They're not."

Jim cringed away from the death, into Douxie's touch. "Who were they?"

Douxie looked at Archie. "Two people who loved you very much," he said softly. "They died protecting you." Unlike me, he thought. But as he regarded Claire and Toby's corpses, Douxie made them a promise. I'll protect Jim, he swore to their honored dead. Jim and the world. Aloud, all he said was, "Shall we go home?"

Jim looked at him. "Okay," said his brother. And Jim took Douxie's hand.

Jim paced the edge of the Deep, trying not to let nerves get to him. Given that Blinky had hauled out the cage that he had, once upon another lifetime, been imprisoned, tried, and sentenced in, Jim's attempts at staying calm really weren't working all that well.

Given the expressions of distaste on half of his friends group as they looked at that selfsame cage, Jim was pretty sure it wasn't just him who was remembering the last time he'd descended into the Deep.

Krel rolled his glowing blue eyes. "Why don't we just go down on a hoverboard?" he asked. "It is significantly less oppressive than a literal cage."

Toby pointed fingerguns at Krel. "I like the way you think!" he declared.

Krel snorted. "That much is obvious. Everyone should like the way I think."

His sister, passing behind Krel, muttered something that sounded like "Ego, much?"

But Krel's bravado, Jim was pretty sure, was an attempt at covering up his nerves. His four hands kept fiddling with some little wire-and-Akiridion-circuitry contraption like a nervous tic.

Stim toy, thought Jim, and deliberately did not draw attention to it.

"Douxie's late," Claire complained, checking the time on her phone. "We told him when we'd be here."

"So call him," Draal advised.

She huffed through her nose. "I think I will." Tapping the screen, she held her cell phone up to her ear as it rang.

The high, shrill sound of a ringtone sounded faintly.

From the bottom of the chasm.

Jim's eyes widened. He turned to look at the darkness.

"Oh, man." Toby stepped up next to him. "Tell me he didn't."

Jim's blood was ice water, rushing through his veins. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He felt frozen in place. His brother was down there with-- He could barely manage to open his mouth. "Claire, portal!"

"I'm on it!" Still holding her phone, she thrust her hands out before herself.

Time snapped back into focus. Only motion kept the fear and panic at bay as Jim ran through the shadow portal, followed by the rest of their team of humans, trolls, and Akiridions.

The Deep was as Krel remembered it. Cool and dark and quiet.

Well, not precisely quiet, as the footsteps and vocalizations of three humans, three trolls and two Akiridions broke the silence. But compared to the din and racket of Trollmarket, let alone Arcadia Oaks High? The Deep was definitely quieter.

Douxie was sat on the floor, huddled in on himself, Archie held in his arms. "It's all right," the dragon murmured. "I'm here, Douxie. It wasn't real. It was just a vision. You're all right."

Douxie wasn't wearing his armor, Krel noted, which seemed like a strategical error. But the wizard was definitely alive, breathing. His head was bowed, hiding his face entirely.

"Douxie?" Jim, the closest, reached out to the wizard with an armored hand.

Douxie looked up before Jim made contact with his shoulder. For a frozen second, he just looked at Jim.

Then he violently flinched away, out of reach, clutching Archie. His eyes were wide, and he looked... he looked terrified, Krel thought. Which was not an expression he had ever seen on Douxie before. Not even the two times in their acquaintance the world had tried to end.

Jim, for his part, stared at his adopted brother, clearly surprised by Douxie's retreat and expression. "Doux...?"

Douxie just held Archie tighter, shaking. He didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from Jim.

"Back off," Archie snapped at Jim, before returning his attention to his familiar, purring so loudly it seemed like it should echo off the stones. His head brushed again and again, fruitlessly, at Douxie's chin and cheeks.

The rest of them, like Jim, were also frozen, surprised.

Aside from Jim, and now Douxie, Krel was the only one who had experienced the creature in the Deep before. He knew how it could mess with your mind. So he made himself move, coming in between the brothers, kneeling down by Douxie. He wasn't sure what the right words to say were, but he needed to speak nonetheless. So he did. "What did it show you?" he asked quietly.

Douxie's gaze ripped away from Jim. He looked at Krel. A little of himself seemed to come back. He blinked several times, eyes going in and out of focus. "...I don't want to talk about it," the wizard finally said, and reburied his face in Archie's fur.

Krel glanced back at Jim and shrugged. "Then we won't force you to," he said, returning his attention to Douxie. He held out a hand. "Come on, let me help you stand."

Douxie looked up, and his bicolored eyes were torn. But nonetheless, he freed a hand from his familiar and took Krel's.

Krel stood, and helped Douxie rise from the darkness.

Author's Note: It was always going to be Douxie going into the Deep. It sets up a symmetry with the first two series of Tales of Arcadia that I sort of feel might have been intended by the writers and showrunner, had the higher-ups at Netflix not truncated Wizards. And what is Douxie's worst nightmare? Jim, the person in whom he has put all his trust, turning out to be exactly like Arthur. Nightmare!Jim's "I should never have trusted you!" was inspired by Bunny saying that to Jack in Rise of the Guardians. (And, yes, Claire does know NotEnrique is back. But dealing with the Deep, and Gaylen's Core, and Morando's imminent arrival, are a little more important right now, so she's prioritizing.) And, finally, I'm going to be taking a small hiatus; Your Future will resume posting on (hopefully) September 8th. My inlaws are coming for a couple weeks' visit, so I will likely not be writing much in the interim.