Chapter Text
You freeze at the sudden exclamation, eyes firmly stuck on the cloud formations above, desperately trying to find patterns instead of accepting the reality of what is happening. The sound of water splashing must be Remus getting his feet out of the lake, and you don’t know if it makes you feel better. He’s the only one of you to have experience with running into the prince, but the white streak in his hair is a constant reminder that doesn’t give you much hope, and it ruins the illusion that everything is still good. Now that you no longer cling to the illusion, you have to admit that you had expected to hear more movement, and your heart twists at the silence. (Deceit also freezing has anger zapping through your veins and you pretend that you don’t know where that anger comes from.) Hundreds of disaster scenarios fly through your mind; you hadn’t considered that you were relying on Deceit to know what to do if the prince ever interrupted your Imagination visits until it happens and Deceit doesn’t immediately call out a plan of action. You want to yell at him but you won’t do anything that could call the prince’s attention to you. To The Rescue starts playing on your phone, like a mockery.
“Roman!” Remus screeches; as if he's impersonating a harpy or bird of prey. “Are you here to play?”
The prince isn’t here to play.
A lot of things seem to happen at once. The prince has gotten around the lake, reaching what was once a peaceful picnic. Deceit has unfrozen, the unfinished flower crown meant for you abandoned as he carefully stands up. Remus is grinning too wide, covering up the fear that anyone but him might be hurt by who he considers his brother. You turn your head towards the others just in time to see the prince react to Deceit’s scales.
Just in time to see the prince stab his sword through Deceit’s eye with a deafening call of “Monster!”
Everything stands still for a moment, even the birds seemingly floating in place.
And then it all crashes down.
You’re up on your feet before you can think, putting yourself in between the one who should be protecting you and the one capable of hurting you. A scream is building in your chest, because this shouldn’t be your place. Deceit has been taking care of you until now (what else is he good for?) (You trusted that his desire for a family would guarantee that he took care of you for almost nothing in return. You feel guilty for using him.)
The sword is still in Deceit’s eye, and you don’t want to think about how deep it must have sunk for it to not fall due to gravity. Those thoughts are best left to Remus, whose smile has dropped without a trace. His tentacles are in this plane of reality more than not, and you would give them a wary glance if you dared look away from the prince. Energy cackles around you, your spidery limbs helping you look bigger, more imposing.
The prince looks pale. His hand clenches uselessly as if he’s trying to summon another sword but is unable to muster up the focus needed. His eyes keep darting between the three of you, lingering on all the parts that make you other than human.
You can taste his fear and it is delicious.
“Leave,” Remus rasps out. “Leave, leave, leaveleaveleaveleaveleave!”
The prince runs.
Your limbs drop once you can no longer see a figure dressed in red. Deceit has not uttered a word from behind you, and if not for the loud sound of his heartbeat, you would think he had died. Not that any of you are truly capable of death. That knowledge has kept your anxiety at bay many a night, but it doesn’t help now. Anger still thrums through your veins, and the scream is still building in your chest.
You won’t be of any help if you stay. You’ve never been this angry before, only ever scared, always scared and hiding, never before looking for a fight.
So you flee.
It’s the middle of the night when you leave your room for the kitchen and find the living room light left on. This time, there isn’t a figure kneeling on the kitchen floor, scrubbing at invisible stains. Instead, you find Deceit sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg underneath him and a cup of something in his hands. The window hasn’t flickered since you helped summon it, but it’s raining outside just like it did then.
You feel tired, watching the scene. No fight or flight is left in you.
The sword left permanent harm in the same way that something once gave Remus a streak of white. That is to say, Deceit’s once brown eye turned reptilian but not blind. The skin around it remains red as if swollen, and you think Deceit did that to himself. You won’t ever voice that thought.
The Imagination is off limits again, but unlike those two weeks that feel so long ago now, Remus has been quiet and careful. You watch as he sticks to Deceit’s side as he had done in the very beginning. You think you would stick to Deceit’s side too if the anger didn’t overshadow anything else. It’s still there, under the surface, reminding you that Deceit can’t be trusted.
On bad days, your mind conjures images of Belief in Deceit’s place. What would you have done if Belief was the one frozen at the prince’s arrival, the one who got hurt?
You don’t have an answer. It doesn’t matter, Belief isn’t here. You hope he’s happy with the other three, and try not to think about yellow.
It takes five months for things to start feeling normal again. Five months of Remus sticking to Deceit’s side even as he slowly stops being quiet and careful. Five months of warming up to Deceit all over again and having to push down your anger. Five months of short excursions into the Imagination only to check that the prince isn’t on the wrong side. Five months of you not stepping into Deceit’s room, even as his nightmares and anxiety call to you like a beacon.
Five months has never felt so long.