Archive of Our Own ^beta

“…Mr. Telamon?” 1x tugged on the sleeve of his robe. It wasn’t every day that 1x would ask for something. He was fairly quiet about most things, a good kid mostly keeping to himself.

“Make it quick.” Telamon’s annoyed and tired voice boomed, his gaze turning to 1x eyes, piercing and menacing, thinking it was another one of his many creations that he despised. However, his gaze softened when he saw 1x. “Oh, it’s you. Apologies, what is it, my little finch?”

“…can I…call you my dad?” 1x hesitated to even utter the first word. Telamon wasn’t a force to be reckoned with, from what he’s heard around. All creations, including 1x, lived in fear of him. Yet 1x was treated…better in a sense.

Telamon’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the question; he mentally paused for a moment before reaching a clawed hand out and ruffling 1x’s hair. “Of course.” He finally spoke.

“Address me however you wish.”

For once, 1x saw Telamon smile for a brief moment that wasn’t out of pure enjoyment of his own power or control.

“In fact, my little finch, I’ve bestowed upon you a gift from me.” Telamon said, reaching into his large cloak and pulling out a green domino crown. 1x’s face lit up as his eyes glittered and beamed from the green glow the crown emitted. Gifts weren’t given out so often, so when they were, it was a big deal.

“Thank you, thank you!” 1x chirped as Telamon placed it atop his head. 1x hugged Telamon, which caught the deity off guard, but soon embraced the child. Everything was nice, as if nothing could go wrong.

And then 1x woke up.

All a dream.

A dream of their past life they had. They weren’t home; they weren’t normal. 1x was a freak of nature, a mistake, a vessel. A creation of hatred.

Yet in a deeper part of them…they missed the warmth.

1x arose from the ground she slept on. Looking over the ragged camp he stayed at with other killers like them. Betrayed and angry. With the exception of C00lkid and John Doe. 1x didn’t have the heart to tell C00lkid anything, and John Doe…it was complicated with him.

His tail thrashed around; she was antsy. Killing the one thing they hated was a difficult task to do. A task they set for themselves.

“What’s bothering you, child?” Doombringer stood before 1x, setting his large hammer down beside him.

“It’s the same thing as always. I don’t think I need to give you the spiel.”

“It does not hurt to see if there’s anything different going on in such an active mind.” Doom says, poking 1x’s forehead with a clawed finger. 1x just smacked his hand away.

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing different. Just go back to being fixated on justice or whatever.” 1x scowled at Doom before unsheathing his dual Daemonshanks.

“It appears the clock is ticking down once more. You’re next.”

And off 1x went, teleported by the Spectre along with various survivors that were bound to meet their temporary end.

Fueled by the growing hatred and aggression swirling like a storm inside them, one by one they got rid of every last survivor.

Except for one.

He was weak, on the floor clutching his side, sword discarded a few feet away. But for some reason, 1x couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why. The perfect opportunity to behead Shedletsky, to make him suffer, and yet she was here, sword in hand yet trembling.

The clock was ticking, but 1x couldn’t move. Like her body was paralyzed, and eventually time ran out, and the two were teleported back to their respective camps.

Shedletsky had to be treated for his wounds. That’s just how the Forsaken worked.

1x cursed themselves mentally for not being able to kill Shedletsky, the man that fucked him over. Their head wings were puffy in annoyance and frustration.

With all the blind rage they had, 1x tends to not make very rational decisions. The lack of comfort only fueled 1x’s mental breakdowns.

—

1x sat in the middle of the woods, both sides of his head pooling blood. It hurt, but she did it to herself. She held the sides of her head where she cut off her head wings, feeling the warm, wet, feathery, and bony nubs. They stung in the cool air and caused 1x a headache.

The consequences of not wanting to look like the one who created you.

1x sobbed, painting their face red with her own blood from burying her head into her hands. Two things ended up hurting that evening.

The head wings.

And the person who only wanted hospitality and care.