Work Text:
Grian sat at the edge of Magic Mountain, his legs dangling over the side as he stared into the void below.
The cherry blossoms were long gone, replaced by scorched earth and molten stone as the Hermits pushed forward with their volcano project. The cool breeze brushed against his wings, ruffling the feathers he tried so hard to ignore.
He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. Everything had been fine earlier—he’d been laughing with Scar and Mumbo about the latest prank—but now, when no one was looking, the weight crept back in.
Grian sighed, barely above a whisper. “Why does it always feel like this?”
His wings, his greatest pride, ached on his back.
But they weren’t his anymore. His once striking red-and-yellow parrot wings had changed—corrupted. They’d stretched longer, the vibrant colors fading into a sickly shade of purple. Feathers that had once felt like an extension of himself now felt foreign, the weight of them heavier than it should have been.
Parrot and Watcher. Instincts that now clashed. Rockets roared as elytra wings cut through the air—smooth, precise. But his new wings? They stuttered, pulling him in directions his body didn’t expect. The balance was gone.
They’d never know.
The Hermits would never understand the dissonance. The way his wings tilted just a fraction differently. How the slightest imbalance could send him spiraling. And the worst part? The eyes—Watcher eyes—hidden beneath the feathers, whispering things he didn’t want to hear. Giving him vertigo that wasn’t just physical.
A soft thud of shoes on rock echoed behind him.
Scar.
Grian didn’t move. He knew those footsteps anywhere—bright, familiar, and… concerned. Scar always showed up at the right time, even when Grian wished he wouldn’t.
“You doing okay, Grian?”
“Yeah,” Grian mumbled, though his voice betrayed him.
Scar didn’t buy it. He never did. He stepped closer, the usual cheerful energy dimmed, replaced by something quieter. He crouched beside Grian, the familiar scrape of his shulker box being set down echoing softly against the stone.
“G…” Scar’s voice was gentle. “You’re a terrible liar.”
Grian’s fingers tightened around the fabric of his pants. “I’m fine, Scar. Just… needed some air.”
“Uh-huh.” Scar’s eyes flicked to Grian’s wings, his brow furrowing. “Is it… them again?”
Grian swallowed hard, his throat dry. “They don’t exactly leave me alone.”
Scar was quiet for a moment, then—
“I brought some cookies.”
Grian blinked, turning his head slightly. Scar was holding out a small stack of them, a hopeful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Chocolate chip.”
Grian frowned. “Scar. You know parrot hybrids are allergic to chocolate.”
Scar scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Right. Sorry! It’s just that… with those purple wings, I forget sometimes.”
Grian’s wings twitched, his expression softening. “It’s fine…” His voice trailed off, quieter this time. “What brings you here?”
Scar’s grin faded, replaced by that rare look of concern he only wore when something was really wrong. “I was worried about you,” he admitted softly. “You disappeared after the meeting. I figured you’d be up here.”
Grian looked away, his gaze dropping back to the void. “I just needed some space. It’s… hard to be around everyone when I feel like this.”
Scar sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “You don’t have to be alone, you know.”
Grian’s jaw clenched. “But I don’t know how to explain it, Scar. My wings… they don’t feel like mine anymore.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I don’t know if they ever will.”
Scar was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Then maybe you don’t have to figure it out alone.”
Grian finally glanced at him, and Scar’s smile was softer now, less playful but full of warmth.
“Let me help, G. Even if I don’t get it, I’m here. Always.”
Grian stared into Scar's gleaming green eyes.
But how could Scar help?
Doubt clawed at his heart. Scar didn’t understand. None of them did. They didn’t know what it meant to be a Watcher. To be something more than a player. Celestial. Eldritch. Omnipotent.
Grian had left that behind. He’d forced himself back into a form that felt human. But now…
Now, it was changing again.
He was becoming a Watcher.
A danger to them all.
It’s why they had the meeting. To figure out what to do with him.
They should’ve voted to kick me out.
Grian wanted them to ban him. To throw him into the void. To do something before he became something they couldn’t stop. Watchers hurt. Watchers had hurt him. He had hurt. And now he was becoming that… thing again.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms.
Why didn’t they vote me out?
Scar’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it shattered the silence.
“We didn’t vote to kick you out because we trust you, G.”
Grian’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Scar…”
“No.” Scar’s voice was firmer now, his usual playful lilt gone. “You think we’re scared of you? That you’re some ticking time bomb? We know who you are.” He gestured to the volcano below them, where the Hermits worked together—building and laughing, as if nothing was wrong. “They know who you are.”
Grian shook his head, his throat tight. “But what if I—”
“You won’t.” Scar’s hand brushed against Grian’s, grounding him. “You’re not like them, G. You left. You fought to be here. And yeah, maybe… maybe things are changing. But you’re not going to hurt us.”
“How can you be so sure?” Grian’s voice cracked, barely audible.
Scar’s eyes didn’t waver. “Because you love this server more than anyone. And that kind of love… doesn’t destroy.”
Grian’s fists loosened, but the weight didn’t vanish. “What if I’m not strong enough, Scar?”
Scar squeezed his hand gently. “Then we’ll be strong enough for you.”
His flock. His family.
Grian’s instincts stirred, calling out for them. For the Hermits. For the people who had become his home.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned into Scar playfully. “Yeah… maybe you’re right.”
Scar let out a soft, relieved laugh, his grin returning as he bumped his shoulder against Grian’s. “Of course, I’m right. I’m always right. You just take a while to catch up.”
Grian rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away. The weight in his chest hadn’t disappeared entirely, but it was lighter now—manageable. Scar had a way of doing that, of making the impossible feel… possible.
“Still,” Grian murmured, his eyes drifting back to the volcano below, where the Hermits worked in harmony. His flock. His family. “If things get worse…”
Scar’s voice was softer this time, but just as steady. “Then we’ll deal with it. Together.”
Grian’s wings twitched, the ever-present ache dulling just a little.
“Okay,” he whispered, the word barely carried by the wind.
Scar’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. “Good. Now, since you’re not brooding anymore… wanna help me prank Mumbo? I’ve got a brilliant idea.”
Grian couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter than it had been in days. “Scar, you do realize that if we prank Mumbo, he’s going to retaliate… right?”
Scar’s grin turned wicked. “Exactly.”
Grian’s smile grew. Maybe things weren’t perfect. Maybe they never would be.
But with Scar—and the rest of the Hermits—by his side, he wasn’t facing it alone.
“Alright,” Grian said, a spark of chaos lighting in his eyes. “Let’s do it.”