Chapter Text
Chapter One. When Paths Diverge
It wasn’t a unique day or even a particularly memorable day; however, Death wouldn’t forget it, not after what followed.
Her duty could drag her all around the world – once, twice, a thousand times over – and while most times it didn’t exhaust her too much, there were others – particular journeys – that even she found to be… difficult. Everyone always had questions, had arguments, had fear… hope… sadness… acceptance… Actually -
Very few had acceptance…
Death understood it – why so few did. Her siblings did not, but she did. People craved life, adventure, and when it ended, when the light turned off, and there was nothing left..? It was saying good-bye to a well-written book, a full story from start to finish, and some people – most people – didn’t want to put that down.
A sentiment she thought Dream would understand better than most – but he didn’t. Not even after all these centuries on with her and him and their one bet of Hob Gadling.
No matter, she supposes.
She was still winning that.
Which right now was one of the few things brought her comfort. After taking a small child and their father on their journey – both of their hands in hers -, the child inconsolable and the father just angry… angry at the drunk driver that took them both, angry at her for facilitating this even though she had nothing to do with the accident… angry at the world – at all of their functions, her siblings included… she was just…
Tired.
It wouldn’t last long. It never did, and soon, she’d get back to it. There was always work to do after all, and not enough time to do it. Perhaps later, if this feeling persisted – if it didn’t improve – she’d go and visit one of her siblings. She had not seen Dream or even Delirium in some time. She wouldn’t mind the company of one of her younger siblings… although Delirium…
Death rethinks the option. Delirium could be… a lot if Death was needing a moment to decompress… Dream would likely be the better option.
Though only likely because he’d ignore her.
She laughs at the thought. That decides it for her – she’ll visit Dream later. She’d never say it out loud, but she did enjoy bothering her little brother – not as much as Desire did, of course – but it did still delight her in some ways to drag him from his palace and into the sun a few times a century.
The next person Death visits is less angry – sad, yes but not angry. He had lived a good long life and merely sighs before taking her hand. The one after that cried, and the one after that?
It keeps going.
Death would blame that – that the day was so much like any other that she ignores the fluttering in her belly. She ignores the slight buzzing around her ears as she helps another soul cross a river, and she waves away the slight tinge of pain in her neck… except…
She pauses then. Pain was not a common companion of an Endless. They could be hurt, yes, but it was odd and discomforting… and it’s enough that Death pauses. However, before she can pay it much more mind, she senses something... something else and familiar all the same – her brother’s creation… perhaps? But there was a death – one dealt by him, and in a flutter of wings, Death finds herself on the outskirts of an alley, where a nightmare was roaming free. Odd.
Death only briefly wonders if Dream is aware, when her little brother appears – his sand swirling around him like a storm before settling. She watches as her little brother deals with the creation – one that appeared to have escaped to wreak some havoc based on the souls Death could sense nearby… ones that would need ferrying.
She considers speaking with Dream – ask him what exactly just happened – when she feels it again. The sharp tug in her gut, except this time it’s far more painful… it’s enough to stumble her; nearby, Dream lurches as well but quickly recovers – as though the pain completely vanished from him. Her on the other hand, she places her hand along her stomach. There it is again.
She opens her mouth – a shout forming in her throat, one to call from Dream when in nothing short of a painful yank – like a thread wrapped around her mid-section, Death is pulled from that alley, that street into darkness.
Darkness that reminds her far too much of mother instantly. It was cold, uncaring, void, and Death’s eyes flutter close as she slams painfully into the stone. Compared to the utter darkness? Death welcomes the stone and the pain. Anything that wasn’t like mother.
There are voices, far away and deep in molasses, but Death hears them. Simple words, demands, shouts, and silence.
A few hours pass before Death can open her eyes, and few more after that before she can even find the energy to sit up, but when she does, she can examine her new quarters. It’s nothing profound – a rather bleak basement of stone and water, and beneath her hands? Runes – painted and burned into the stone meant to summon and contain an Endless.
Death’s rather impressed, actually. Humans could be quite ingenious, but to capture her? It was preposterous and amusing. Something she’s sure Dream will enjoy hearing about later, before he threatens whoever dared to touch her… not that she needs her little brother coming to her aid… after all, she was more than capable –
Death stands only to find in that moment… yes, she’s trapped.
Her eyes trail back to the runes – the magic and laws having bound her. She had thought this magic was lost, gone… and it would seem it was an error to think so. This barrier, this circle was drawn delicately, perfectly – and whoever summoned her… she was not leaving without their permission.
And it doesn’t take long before said human graces Death with their presence. They eye her disdainfully and her current attire… she liked black – there was nothing wrong with it, and it remained stylish… and she was grateful she was okay with wearing human effects, because had this come from an extension of her power? She suspected it would be gone. Which would only be awkward… humans tended to be more… off about that, but still… she rather likes her clothes.
“I have dreamt of this day,” the man says, interrupting her thoughts. Whatever response he’s expecting in turn, her crossing her arms is not it. She appears bored by this if anything – a touch irate. It’s the appropriate response given how red his face turns. “I have captured you, Death. You are now mine.”
“I am not yours,” she says, surprising the man again by speaking; however, what stupid idiot would stay silent in the midst of this ridiculous man preparing to demand things? It would do neither of them good had she. Instead, she plans to tell him exactly what she thinks… and then… well, they had threatened her, sort of. Honestly, she did not take mortals before their time. It was not her job to determine what their end point was… except when threatened. Except when certain lines were crossed. There were exceptions.
This human was toeing that line far too closely. She’d rather not make an exception – not yet. There was still time, though whether the human realized this or not, she’s uncertain.
“You are mine,” the man hisses, stopping his foot and cane down. “You are mine to do as I see fit, and you are going to bring me back my son.”
Roderick Burgess - the name filters in. Death does not know this man – not yet -, but she does recall his son Randall. He had died on a battlefield – honorably, bravely… the son was nothing like this sniveling man with his fake arrogance and paltry presence.
“You will bring me back Randall!” Roderick continues, though Death merely shakes her head, mouthing a ‘no’ back. “You will bring me back my son or so help me…” he trails off.
“Your son is dead,” Death says, her tone and voice adjusting to something far more comforting. It wasn’t completely faux; she did feel something near to sorry for this man. He had lost his son – she recognized that… it didn’t change what she was weighing once she was free, but she could at least empathize briefly. “Bringing him back… his life, his story is done.”
Randall had done what his life was for. He had lived, he had fought, and sadly… he had died. It was the natural state of things.
Except Roderick doesn’t care. It was his son, and he was getting his child back.
“Bring me back my son.”
“No.” It’s said with such finality, such simplicity, that for a moment Death thinks they’re done – that this is the end, given how the man regards her. Which she supposes is good as she has other appointments to keep.
“So be it, Death of the Endless,” Roderick says, before turning on his heel and walking away.
Death doesn’t know it then… she can’t see threads of Fate like Destiny – she doesn’t always know how the stories go… merely how they end; as such, in this moment, she doesn’t know how much of her own story just changed.
Quick Notes: Viola a Death focused story - as requested (Thelightdancer)… I don’t have an update schedule for this. My hope is this will be 10 chapters at most… I hope… I really really hope (likely not as I'm writing chapter five at the moment)
This will likely get an update when I'm too busy editing other chapters for Essence, Regarding or Family to post one of those, but once Family is done, this will be in more consistent rotation.