Chapter Text
“Will we ever be able to leave?” Lily asks one late night, deep in the delicate task of weaving the code of the Hermitcraft world.
Grian is silent for a moment, both considering and refusing to break focus and tangle his work.
“I think so, yes,” He says, dropping the tied off lines, “Your mother is literally the moon, and a hugely powerful goddess at that. I’m a patron of protection, surely I could… shield us from their view?”
Lily stops abruptly from where she had been coaxing commands into the tethers.
“What?” Grian asks, baffled at her reaction.
“Grian,” She says, eyes shining, “Grian, you’re a genius,”
“Huh?”
“You’re the patron of protection, your admin commonly prays for the protection of his people," She explains, grabbing him by his shoulders, "No one wonder no one could find you!"
"Huh,"
***
Pearlescent, daughter of Lady Moon, was last seen, wholly herself, the night before she left for her Proving. Beloved as she was among the court of Lady Moon, her loss was a heavy hit, and none took it harder than the Goddess herself, who could still catch glimpses of her child as she visited the overworld, however seldom.
She would sing to her child, to her Pearl, but it would fall on deaf ears, after the Watchers had fractured her mind. She watches over her child, catching glimpses of her in her brief excursions, and then there is one fateful day, when her child rocketed into an unfamiliar world, with a young, young mortal-turned-god cradled in her arms.
She watched, vision and influence weak in the daylight and with no tether to the world as her Pearl left the young one with an adolescent man and brokenly returned to the Watcher’s Tower, facing whatever punishment they had in store for her head on.
Lady Moon lost sight of her child for a long, long time.
But, now—
Now, her child, broken and warped, but still recognizable, if barely, has returned to her court once more.
Lily, as she called herself, is flighty and vigilant, to the point of suspicion, and Lady Moon cannot bring herself to begrudge what would often be considered rude, unbecoming behavior, not after all her daughter has been through.
“Lily, daughter mine,” Lady Moon says, beaming, “Welcome back home.”
Lily eyes her unsurely, “Hello Lady Moon, thank you for having me.”
Lady Moon deflates, faltering at this. Okay. That is alright. She is equipped with enough patience to last a thousand mortal lifetimes.
So, she spends time with her daughter, answers her questions. Her name; Pearlescent Moon, her friends; an emissary of Lady Death by the name of Jimmy, many of the acolytes in Lady Moon’s realm, a handful of mortal friends across different worlds. Her temperament; kind, playful, confident, and unshakably bold.
Her capture… is a harder tale to tell. During the proving, Lady Moon is not to intervene. She does not so much as observe, so when her daughter rode away, black and white spotted horse carrying her steadily, she does not cast a glance to her land until moon’s set has long passed and her people become anxious for the return of their princess.
Little by little, Lady Moon helps to give her daughter pieces of herself back, and guides her hand as she replaces them, but the mending—the reintegration—that is best left to her.
***
“What even was the reasoning for the Watchers to take so many mortals and turn them?” Xisuma asks, a cloud of steam wafting from his fresh cup of tea.
Xisuma, Grian, and Lily have been meeting for tea each week following Grian and Lily’s showdown, which miraculously resulted in only a few surface level cracks of the earth’s crust and some singed shrubbery. Scar, Mumbo, and even Gem have joined them periodically to catch up, but this time around it's just the three of them.
Grian flinches at the question, and Lily mimics a churr of reassurance. His feathers smooth the slightest amount and Lily begins her response, “Well, what they said, and what they did do not exactly line up…”
“I have a theory… But, I’m not sure how accurate it will be.”
Grian shrugs, “It’ll be better than anything I could come up with,”
Lily side-eyes him oddly, “Right. Well, they said that they wanted to share the glory of their godhood with mortals, that we were powerful and they wanted to open up our true potential."
"But I don't buy it… I don't understand why I feel so much stronger here than I ever did in their tower."
Grian scoffs, "Is this going to be a power of friendship thing?"
Lily rolls her eyes, a hint of fondness hidden in the pull of her lips as she sips at her tea, "So, I thought so too, and sure the universe had an inclination towards poetry. But… I think it was more literal?"
Xisuma frowns "I'm not sure I understand?"
Lily bites her bottom lip, "I'm not quite sure I understand either… But, my theory for now is that they were… leeching our power? The same way that prayers give Grian and I some energy, the fear that we all had of them would have strengthened them."
Xisuma stares at his lap, hands delicately cradling his teacup there.
"If they needed us alive, why were they so quick to kill anyone who stepped out of line?" Grian asks, teacup set down on the coffee table and arms crossed.
"The same way that martyrs give their life and therefore energy to a god, so would those fledglings. To them, it would be similar. Maybe if I had died, I would have gone to my mom, but honestly couldn't remember she existed at that time so—I'm not quite sure." There’s something in her voice that makes Xisuma pause.
He puts his teacup down and puts a hand on Lily’s shoulder, feels the tension there, and then the slow melt into relaxation. There is a quiet misery in her eyes, when he looks, and he sighs, “Lily—are you alright?”
Lily looks at him, almost offended, “What? Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Xisuma’s lips thin, and Grian closes his eyes and steels himself.
“Lily, you just found out that you lived a life that was taken from you.” Her shoulders stiffen again under his hand, “It is okay to be taking some time to figure things out, re-find yourself. That kind of thing.”
Lily’s eyes dart between Xisuma and Grian, like a cornered animal.
“Lily,” X rumbles calmingly, “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m not going to let anyone get hurt.”
Grian reaches out and gently holds her hands, “Lily,” And his voice goes funny in the way that Xisuma has learned means he is speaking galactic. It sounds like static, or maybe the rush of ocean waves.
Whatever Grian says, is certainly working as Lily slowly slumps over, bleeding back into relief.
“They’re running out of believers and they’re so desperate they’re snatching children from their beds.” She gasps, “I was 16 when they took me. Drei’Stahl was what—9?”
She laughs, but it’s all wrong and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Drei’Stahl?” Grian mutters, but it’s largely unacknowledged.
“Lily,” Xisuma whispers and slowly, with telegraphed movements, he pulls her into a hug.
She shakes as he holds her, and Grian moves in as well and wraps his wings around them in a loose fluffy hug.
“They were children, they were children— I was, I was—” She hisses before it turns into a warbling staticy mess.
Xisuma holds her tight until the tremors die down, and then until she is ready to face the world once again.
***
Something is wrong.
Grian drops his shulker full of supplies and mantles his wings, scanning the landscape around him. Even Mumbo, across the way, working on his vault, looks up.
“What’s wrong?” He calls, and it occurs to Grian that this wrongness might not be universal, in fact—
Xelqua help—
Xisuma’s voice. Frantic, cut off too suddenly for comfort.
Grian looks to Mumbo frantically, “It’s X!” He shouts, and he’s sure there’s the projection of his eyes blinking open in the air around him, but that’s a problem for later, “Something’s wrong—like really wrong, I have to—I—”
“Go!” Mumbo shouts, winds picking up and blows his hair into a wild, dark halo, “I’ll get Scar and Lily and catch up!”
Grian nods once, choppy, and then—
Eyes squeezed closed, focus rolling over the world, mapping crests and valleys, like a low crawling mist coating the surface of the land.
Then, there!
A strange blip on the radar, something angry, and powerful, and cruel and then Xisuma, fear billowing off of him erratically.
He holds this location in his mind, pulls himself in, and replaces himself there.
His eyes flutter open, and he realizes three things at once; 1. He’s standing in Xisuma’s temple, 2. Xisuma is slumped over, propped on the altar, armor slick with blood pouring out of his shoulder, 3. There, looming over him, bloodied spear in hands is a Watcher, and not just any Watcher.
It’s Four. Xisuma’s childhood patron. The Eater of Worlds.
For a moment, there is a deep hurt, and burning betrayal in his chest at the sight of the other god standing before his ᔑꖎ↸ᒷʖᔑ∷ᔑリ, but a beat passes, Four turns to him menacingly, and his brain catches up with his emotion.
He bares his teeth and mantles his wings, white as bone.
Four flinches away just the littlest bit, but returns to his threatening stance, turning away from Xisuma and towards Xelqua.
“What have you done to my ᔑꖎ↸ᒷʖᔑ∷ᔑリ?” He growls, lips contorted into a snarl, vision crawling with lines of control. He is so far out of control, it should scare him but all the feels is wrath.
Xisuma whines in pain as his body begins to slip against the altar table propping him up.
What must be done Four’s voice is smooth and cruel in his ears, and it only petrifies Xisuma further.
Xelqua steps forward, and Four stands his ground but Xelqua does not falter. He is the god of protection, and now more than ever, he has something—someone—to protect.
This is not Lily, who he could not help, not while he was being drained of life everyday, and when she had all but given up and would allow his aid. This is Xisuma, someone who had lived his entire life within the orbit of the Watchers, but never hurt by one before. And for him, this pain is new and fresh and horrifying. And Grian will not let them hurt anyone he loves ever again.
“Leave. This is your only chance.”
Four just tips his head, smooth face unnerving to Xelqua, but he does not show fear—cannot afford to.
They stand stiffly for a few seconds, Xisuma’s ragged panting the only sound in the dead air.
Four leans his weight to one side, and Xelqua shoots forwards, talons swiping out and catching flesh. Four screeches and throws him back. Xelqua slides across the tiled floor, knocking over an ornate vase of sunflowers, and stumbles back to his feet.
“Hey bitch,” Xelqua stares at Lily, her voice bored, and sword resting across her shoulders lazily.
Four growls out something about respect and authority, but Lily pays no mind, and only stalks forward.
Xelqua picks himself up off the ground and immediately follows her, moving to put himself between Four and Xisuma.
There are no words spoken as the gods ready themself, one moment, he’s glancing at Lily’s stance, and the next she’s bringing the sword down in a graceful ark, sending Four dodging towards him, all too focused on her. Xelqua sees the opening and takes it.
He leaps, one hand gripping a horn, the other digging into a shoulder, and teeth clamping onto Four’s neck like a rabid animal. Four shrieks and tries to fight back for a few futile seconds, but Xelqua is protection, and he is powerful, and he is the universe, and he is not alone.
He is not alone.
And that day in the temple, he tears out a gods throat with his bare teeth, whitens his wings without the aid of a weapon in his hands, but only the strength of his allies at his back. And he vows. Nothing will ever endure the Watchers’ brutality again—not if he can help it.
And he and Lily begin the gathering of the threads that have long been woven into the tapestry of time, plucking allies from the thousand corners of the universe, a girl and her masked brother, a mutual friend with canary yellow wings, a lunar goddess long-acquainted with a mother’s rage, and of course their dearest friends at their back, each more devoted than the last.
But before that, he steps away from the felled Watcher, and he feels powerful, and he turns to his dear friend, his ᔑꖎ↸ᒷʖᔑ∷ᔑリ, and he kneels beside him, hands intertwined, and bows his head, knocking foreheads together, gentle as a breeze.
“You are safe, my ᔑꖎ↸ᒷʖᔑ∷ᔑリ. Forever and always. They will never hurt you again.” He swears this solemn oath, and Xisuma only breathes heavily, but the tension in his jaw leaves with the pain, and Xelqua works to pour healing into his body, close his wounds and restore his blood.
It does not help the rust-red stains or the chilling memory of being isolated in a room at the mercy of a cruel god, but it does help strengthen the tie between Aldebaran and god.
When Scar and Mumbo arrive, Grian is gathered in a tight hug and even as half-dried blood flakes off of his skin where it has coated his chin and neck, he thinks perhaps that this is the most comfortable he's ever been. No secrets, no eggshells or poorly constructed cover-ups. He is free, and limitless, and more powerful than he ever imagined.
And in the following weeks, when Grian does not leave Xisuma’s bedside, and when he comforts him through nightmares, and when he proves that the weave of wards on the server could just about hold something as ancient as the moon back, Xisuma leans more and more into his trust of his patron. And learns to trust his god—his friend—and Grian learns to trust himself.