Chapter Text
And so, three months turned into three days. The snow had begun to fall again, and while everyone should have been inside with the doors bolted, preparing for the deep freeze, all of those able to make it past the threshold of their door were out.
After three days in weather such as this, they were looking for a body in the snow, not a reply to the pointless hollering calls being quickly swallowed by the endless sprawling forest. The family left behind had started to accept how bleak their outlook was. Ajax had been a weak child, barely scraping by in comparison to his other siblings. He lacked strength and endurance, and he’d known it.
-
“I’m going out!” The ginger had called
“To join your brothers? Your sister needs you here, Ajax, stay.” A toddler, no older than three or four held the woman’s hand, a young girl tucked in the corner of the room with knitting needles in hand.
“Tonia is fine, mother! I’m going to go on an adventure.” He said, grabbing the small shortsword sitting by the door, tying a bag across his shoulder. His mother had sighed, resigning herself. The firewood had been cut already and the men sitting on the ice would likely prefer if the scrawny teen remained home. While his father at times enjoyed taking the younger boy, they needed efficiency, especially given that the weeks-long snowstorms hadn’t graced the country just yet.
“Just be back after dark.”
-
Ajax was found three days later, against all odds. He’d limped his way towards one of the further search parties, in a far more remote part of the region. The shortsword he had brought with him had been clasped in his grip, rust clinging onto its sides. His clothes were torn, blood trailing him in the snow.
“He’s wounded, quick!” One man had scooped him up, the boy giving him a bleary-eyed look before wordlessly passing out. The men had been beyond shocked to see what was first dismissed as a small animal form into the missing child. Carrying him back to the village, those holding him realized with horror the extent of the injuries he’d sustained.
The townspeople huddled around. There was no real doctor, just concerned women and large quantities of linen bandages. It was a miracle - a blessing from the Tsaritsa herself - that he hadn’t died. Scars and cuts and bruises patterned his malnourished and wiry body. Breaths came shallow as the hypothermia slowly dissipated, though the boy refused to warm up, even as he rested gently in front of the fire.
“What happened to him?” It was a question that everyone had; his family, the town and any of those who saw the emancipated body of the missing child. Many of the wounds had tried to clot and form ropy scar tissue; impossible, for three days.
Nestled in the folds of the torn and bloodied clothes, possibly most shockingly was the soft blue glow of a vision.
There had never been a vision bearer in the cold fishing village of Morepesok, and to have their first be the weakest and most fragile child the frozen and gruelled place had to offer was unbelievable to anyone who didn’t see it themselves. Jealousy echoed through the older siblings as they watched the bandaged chest rise and fall, blood spotting the linen and sheets covering him.
“He leaves for three days after making no effort to contribute and arrives back with a vision. You’re kidding me, right?” The boy just older than Ajax sneered.
“He made an effort. That was the whole issue.” His older sister sighed, looking upon her brother.
“... I guess. Do you think he’ll wake up?” The boy looked up.
“I hope so. I can’t help but be curious as to how he ended up like that after only three days. Bears don’t make those marks.” She reached down to softly pet the ginger curls, retracting instantly as the boy mumbled something unintelligible, flinching at the contact and tucking himself into a small ball.
“He didn’t do that before, right?”
“Who knows. There’s a good chance he’ll tell us when he wakes up. He’s… delicate, so there will probably be tears and the like. I just hope he’s okay.” She crossed her arms, playing with the russet plait her hair had been tied into
“Mm. And have the whole town fawn over him even more.” The teen scoffed, walking out of the room.
Ajax did not talk when he woke two days later. He’d instead held a rudimentary dagger made of pure hydro to his great-aunt’s throat as she went to change his bandages, eyes flying open. “Where am I?” His voice had barely strung the syllables together, hoarse with misuse.
“You’re safe. You know who I am, sweetie. Sit back down, you’re still injured.” The woman swallowed as it was pressed further into her esophagus, the beginnings of a cut forming under her chin.
His eyes narrowed, gaze darting around the room as the blade slowly dropped, blood beginning to drip from his nose “Tetya never called me sweetie.”
The older woman visibly relaxed, fear draining from her “There you are… I’ll go and get your mother.”
“My mother.” Ajax echoed, looking down. There was a ringing in his ears that left every other noise virtually unintelligible.
When ‘Tetya’ had returned, Ajax was gone. The woman’s wrinkles went slack, frantically searching with her niece to find the once again missing son, little Teucer and Tonia in tow. They didn’t have to go far, a ginger head of hair bolting down towards the women and children, waving his arms as the panic dissipated upon finding his mother.
“Mama! Ajax is awake… something is really wrong.” He’d said, out of breath, eyes indescribably wide, tear tracks running down his face. The boy was only a year or so younger than his sister, who ran up to him with a look of concern painted on her face.
“Where is he?” She asked as her younger brother hugged her.
“Um, he’s… Near Big Uncle’s store.” He stumbled over the words, grasping tighter. “I want to go home.”
“Tonia, take your brothers back to the house.” Their aunt said gently, counselling the distraught woman, “Your mother and I will go into town and make sure Ajax is alright.”
The girl nodded, grabbing Teucer’s hand and leading them in the direction of their small cabin tucked away in the woods.
The two women had continued on into the main township as quickly as possible to find a gruesome sight. The corpse of a wolf lay bludgeoned and bloody on the ground, the teen cowering over it as the surrounding townspeople onlooked in terror
“Hey! It’s mine!” He’d growled, head snapping in the direction of the two women approaching.
“Ajax!?” His mother ran out, “What’s the meaning of this?”
“What?” He rasped, looking around and making eye contact. His mother had gasped, something in her hurting in a way only a maternal instinct could prompt. Those once bright, sunny eyes were completely empty.
“What happened to you?” She was a stoic woman, hardened by years living in this Archon-forsaken country, but tears began to culminate in the corners of her eyes, threatening to flow down her face.
“I… No! I’m better now. Stronger, I can…” His chest began to rise and fall quickly, “I can help. With…” Ajax grasped the sides of his head, falling into the snow. He wasn’t covered up at all with all of the bandages on display, but he wasn’t shivering, instead hyperventilating as the messy mop of ginger was pressed into the ground, pieces of it being pulled from his scalp.
“Ajax, where were you these past three days?” Everyone was asking it in their heads, but the woman vocalized it. They all listened in, waiting for that voice to respond
“Three… days. Three. Days.” He mumbled, his mother sidestepping the bloodstains to hear him, kneeling slightly to be on his level. “That's not right. No, no, no…”
“Don’t!” The woman’s aunt called out in warning, the mark on her throat a grim reminder to remain cautious in the face of whoever Ajax now was.
“Go home. Everyone else, get out .” Such venom bled into her voice that no one had a say, the close-knit village dispersing into their houses to observe diligently from the windows. Those who weren’t living close by retreated in hopes of hearing the happenings as hearsay some days later.
“Mama, I’m fine. Look, I bought you this!” Ajax unfurled after a few minutes, a shaky smile sitting on his face, the fellow redhead reaching out to try and comfort him, but the boy recoiled as if he’d been burned, ducking once more towards the wolf’s corpse. “Look! And I could kill all of the wolves if you want. I can help Papa out, and I can help out my brothers too.” He wasn’t crying, the blood from the wolf on his hands, staining the snow. His smile grew
“Where did you find this?” The woman didn’t believe him (or more, didn’t want to.) Ajax was just a child, and he had been barely strong enough to lift one of the picks used to hammer at the ice for fishing.
“I killed it.” The boy shifted forward. “I can prove it… Do you not believe me?”
“No, no. I just don’t think you’re well, that’s all.” She bit back a grimace as her son’s expression darkened.
“My injuries don’t hurt.” Ajax’s grin dropped; eyes blank “Just tell me what I need to do.”
“I need you to be honest with me.”
“...Okay.” Ajax detached himself from the corpse. He was nearly as tall as her, almost able to make eye contact without having to look up. Somehow, he’d grown in the time he’d been gone.
“What happened in those three days?” She stopped trying to move to touch him, the boy retreating to the animal carcass whenever she tried, as if he was guarding it.
“Why do you keep saying it was three… days.” Ginger brows furrowed; a frown set clearly on his face.
“It might’ve felt longer in the woods, but that’s all it was.” She felt something odd pulse in her chest talking to this odd shell of a child. Before he’d been so open, honest and bright… Now he felt like some odd pulled together mockery of the boy.
“No. It wasn’t in the woods.” Ajax’s eyes were wide as he said it, a hand itching at the linen bandages and unfurling them from his skin. His dirty fingernails pulled at the scabs on his arms, not appearing to care as blood began to bead and dribble down his already stained and red hands.
“Where then?” She was careful, cautious. Her voice was lower, quieter, trying to create something of a pillow and not succeeding whatsoever as the boy’s breathing sped up
“I-” He swallowed, curling in on himself “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Where did you get the wolf from, then?” She moved on after seeing her son in such distress, and he visibly relaxed.
“I went past the lumberjack shed to the cave Papa told us to stay away from.” He took a breath, looking around and bouncing on his heels. “Then I found the wolf and it attacked me, so I slit its throat.”
The horror dawned on his mother’s face as she searched for a lie, finding nothing in those eyes. He’d said it with the utmost sincerity that she remembered in the boy’s voice when he’d come home and caught no fish or was upset with something that he didn’t agree with. Not something like this.
“You believe me now, right?” He said, standing up straight. His eyes were deeply shadowed and sunken, visible cheekbones framing them. A once full face tired and thin.
“What happened to you?” She repeated, tears falling freely now. His freckles had faded too.
“Why are you upset at this? I’m better. You know, I was… I was weak, and scared. Now? Hahaha.” Each laugh was pronounced more as words, as if the ability to do so had been ripped from him.
The older woman ignored him, getting up and steeling her will. “We’re going home. You’ve caused enough trouble for today”
Ajax was forced to stay inside for another three agonizing days. When he wasn’t outside, he was quiet, refusing to touch most of his food and instead hoarding it in small caches around the house and small holes dug in the snow. He barely slept, passing out from exhaustion once and remaining asleep until the whole house of siblings were awoken by shrill screams.
He was found shaking in a ball, with his hydro vision clasped in a vice grip as his siblings stood over him. They’d tried to get him to speak, do anything, but once his sister had been cut with a knife he’d hidden on his clothes, they’d retreated back into the living room. The distaste and disgruntlement had quickly morphed into concern and fear.
“What happened to him?” The oldest folded his hands over his chest. He’d come back from the factory after hearing of his brother’s disappearance and subsequent recovery, arriving that evening and being faced instantly with the unpalatable reality of how his brother had really ended up.
“When he was found, he was like this. Ajax hasn’t said anything, not since a few days ago.” One of the older siblings argued- she was verging on seventeen, anguished at seeing her brother in such a state
“I tried to ask him, and he shut off.” Another chimed in “Anthon saw him, isn’t that right?”
The younger boy swallowed, nodding. “With a wolf”
“What did he look like? With the wolf I mean.” The eldest asked, his gruff nature making the boy flinch
“I… dunno. He had blood over him and stuff, and… and he was scary.” Anthon scarpered off to join his younger siblings after that, refusing any further questions. The back and forth continued for some time after he’d left.
When Ajax was healed enough, he ran off again and returned later that day with a huge deer. The fretting family had been beginning to consider sending the search parties out again once more as the weather was souring, but there he was. He’d carried the body for miles through the snow but was barely tired.
He’d faced the worried household with a big smile, hands on his hips.
“I got this for dinner!” He’d announced proudly. The blood from the animal stained his fresh clothes, little Teucer tottering out followed by the rest of the ginger ensemble
“Wow!” Teucer poked at the carcass, blue eyes wide, bouncing up and down “It’s really, really super big!”
“If you want, Teucer, I can bring a bear next time.” Ajax puffed out his chest, vision glittering on his waist. “I’ll rip its throat out, just like I did here.”
The younger boy was too excited to hear those macabre words “Woah…” His siblings cautiously followed out. For the first time in over a week, many of them were hearing their brother’s voice again. The younger were hopeful, but the elder of them knew that there was little to be optimistic about. His mother simply shook her head at seeing the corpse, going back inside.
The deer Ajax had killed was not eaten and he was ignored. The teen barely noticed, though he hadn’t yet retreated back into the haze of only a day prior. Something else entirely had overcome him.
A month later, the ginger had done as he’d said. Bears had been dragged into the main township, hilichurl masks and their mauled bodies coming from camps the town hadn’t even been aware of previously dumped unceremoniously in the streets. Whenever a corpse showed up at the doorstep or in the center of the small village, everyone knew who to attribute it to - The boy referred to them as gifts to anyone who asked. Ajax barely went home, often staying outside even during the night. Whenever he did return, he didn’t speak much unless it was the nature of the hunt he’d been on that day, never sparing a gory detail, pride injecting its way into his voice as he listed off his method and execution. Each time it just seemed to get worse, more violent, more intricate.
At this point, whenever there was a squabble or conflict in the town, it usually had Ajax at the very front and center, welcoming it with the odd, lopsided grin he’d begun to plaster onto his face. The boy had taken to challenging any capable member of the town to fight him, all of the people he’d once called friends often spontaneously tackled into the snow.
“Ajax! Where have you been?” One of his friends approached him on one of the earlier days, not yet familiar with his new temperament. He was a boy with black hair whose father often fished with the ginger’s, sharing in the glory of the adventurer's tales the men told. “We haven’t seen you for ages.”
“I’ve got more important things to be doing.” Ajax replied loftily, dragging another deer corpse into town.
“You’ve been the one doing this? Why?” The other teen tailed him, keeping a couple of feet between them as the trail of blood dragged behind him.
“If you fight me, I’ll tell you.” A grin slid onto his face.
“What? No wa-” He had a ginger flash shove him into the ground before he could fully answer
“Come on! Fight back.” Ajax growled, a soft hand getting shoved into his freckled face, trying to push him off
“What’s gotten into you, no!” The boy scrambled out from under him, panting and red from the cold as Ajax rounded on him again. “Leave me alone! It’s not funny.”
“Never said it was.” The ginger rolled his shoulder; though he was still smiling, scruffy hair framing his eyes. The boy had run off back into his house by then, confused and hurt at what had happened to the once timid boy he’d been so familiar with. Ajax just picked up the deer corpse and left it at his doorstep.
During the nights, when Ajax did sleep, everyone in the house was awoken by his crying - the occasional guttural scream following as he seized in the small bed he’d once slept soundly in. The mornings after, he left once more as dawn broke and didn’t return usually until days later.
Another week passed, in the main township, Ajax was caught dragging another one of his trophies to the very center. A man - Not related by blood but known throughout simply by the name Big Uncle - had caught him in the act.
“Alright boy! That’s enough of that.” He called, emerging from his store. It was noon, but the grey clouds overhead only signaled the brewing of snowfall, none of the midday escaping through. Ajax either hadn’t heard him, or hadn’t cared
The burly man marched out into the square, those in their houses nearby peering out to see the cause of concern, the townspeople surrounding watching for the conflict to break out. It was a matter of when and not if, with Ajax.
“Hey! Did you hear me? No more of this, alright? Who’s going to be clearing these away, aye?”
The boy had looked at him with his dead eyes, then back at the hilichurl body, which was bleeding on the ground, white mane of hair flecked with blood. The burly man sighed, moving to grab the boy’s arm to unhand the corpse.
“Drop it kid.”
“Do you want to fight me over it?” Ajax stood up, dodging out of the way and dropping the corpse where he stood.
“You need to be set straight.” The man said, crossing his arms, “I refuse to stroke your ego further. You should know your place, boy.”
“Then win against me.” Ajax shrugged, digging his boot into the snow. His injuries still had barely healed, all of his steps carrying a slight limp to them. The man sighed,
“If that’ll placate you. What weapon?” The man walked into his store, pulling a claymore from behind the counter. It was blunt from years of misuse, but had the Fatui insignia seared into the steel, signaling where it had come from.
“Don’t need one.” The boy grinned, the excitement flooding through him at the thought of a real test. Whatever was said next wasn’t heard over the blood rushing in his ears, the onlookers watching with a burning curiosity.
He’d sliced at his legs before the man could even land a hit. He fell to the ground, not even sure what had happened until the blood began spilling onto the snow. Ajax stood up.
“Who's next!?” It was the first time he’d been truly violent. And the first time he’d been given an opportunity to be. Testing the essential leader of the frostbitten town wasn’t a wise idea, but Ajax didn’t fear the consequences. No, he actively wanted them.
At the end of it all, his father had been summoned in to pull the boy from a pile of very injured and angry men and women, all of which had taken arms against him. It no longer mattered that he was a child. The tensions had been building ever since he’d come back after those three days and had only mounted as the wolf’s corpse had been dragged into the very center of town. If he’d been allowed to continue, everyone in the square would have been dead anyway. The cobblestones were stained with blood and snow, all of which hadn’t been his own.
The only thing inside of Ajax’s head was a faint sense of disappointment, looking upon the chaos he’d caused and frowning. For they had just been human. Nothing, nothing to what he knew he was capable of… It hadn’t pushed him to go further, hadn’t fought back in any significant way. No, they had all just fallen to him, and it did nothing to satisfy the gripping hunger echoing through him.
His father had been yelling at him the entire way home, but the boy wasn't listening, staring at the snow.
“People could have died today boy, are you a fool!?” The man had yelled, despair flooding through his face as his son didn’t even register it, instead picking the bloody icicles from his furred gloves with a frown sitting on his face. The older man resigned, setting his jaw and pulling his son with him, not caring if his grip was hurting him.
The shed sitting next to the house was where Ajax was locked, given nothing but food and some water delivered through a small window in the side. All of his siblings old enough to know what he’d done were terrified, those younger than him not being told at all.
That night after all of the younger and older children had been sent to bed, the parents sat in grief together. The situation was clearly desperate, and it was only going to get worse. Nothing was curing the insatiable appetite their son had developed, and there was nothing they could do about it. While no one had died, many of them wouldn’t ever fully recover from their injuries. Injuries they’d all received at the hands of one child.
“I can’t take this anymore, I can't,” His mother wailed.
“Has the boy told you what happened?” The man tried to remain stoic, brows furrowed. The bushy beard hid the quivering lip and tense jaw.
“Whoever that is isn’t our son. Have you seen his eyes? There’s nothing there.” She worried at her lip with her teeth, bloodied from the anxiety built up.
“There’s one more option.” The man said softly, bringing his arms to hold his wife
“I do not want to send him there.”
“ They could teach him a lesson.” The man said gruffly, “Maybe we’ll get our son back.”
Ajax, from the shed, had overheard it all, the conversation floating through the tiny window with the cold breeze. The chill didn’t bother him anymore anyway, the only thing filling him was a sense of anticipation brewing at the idea of a new obstacle to overcome. He’d prove he was better; prove he was everything his family didn’t believe him to be. His parents, in the adjacent room, held one another in shame knowing that their decision could very well lead to a fate far worse than death for the last echoes of their child. The blow was only softened slightly by knowing their child had almost become a murderer that day. And Ajax appeared to not feel even a shred of guilt past a sense of disappointment at the lack of effort it took to bring them all down.