Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He felt the Preeminent’s cold, slimy tentacle burrow into his leg, shuddering with one final burst of strength pulling Morro down into the depths of the water.

then

he

fell.

He didn’t know how long he fell, but it felt like forever. While he fell, He could barely think. the thoughts he did think were primitive and undeveloped, as though the dunk into the depth had stripped him of anything more developed than the word regret.

Finally, after an what felt like an eternity, it spat him out somewhere else.

The Departed Realm.

Morro, was in the departed realm.

No, no, no, no. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was bad, evil. He hurt and pillaged and stole. He was not a good man, not at all. He caused so much pain in his lifetime, to himself and to others. It didn’t seem right that he was here. One final act of justice didn’t seem to balance out his sins. At least, not to him.

Regardless of his opinion on the current situation, he was there in the departed realm.

And so, he just sat there.

He decided that if he was here, he would do what he wanted, and that was sitting in a foggy swamp apparently.

He felt empty, but that wasn’t much different from his usual state. It was nice, quiet even. He didn’t have his rapid, angry thoughts of revenge and jealousy rampaging throughout his mind anymore. It was.. quiet. Serene even.

The flowers cascading softly off the branches felt almost like a allegory for him. The beloved student falling off his throne. Was he beloved? No. Definitely not. Not after all he’s done.

As he sort of zoned off, a man approached. He wore a red gi and a black belt.

His face was sharp and angular, with fiery eyes and a scraggly beard. He didn’t look all that threatening, but Morro knew to never underestimate someone. He was the living embodiment of that sentiment after all, with his thin pale frame making him seem scrawny and weak.

The man eyed him warily, gaze sharp. It seemed unnatural on him.

He watched as a hawk would eye its prey, though Morro was sure that if the man was to attack him, he would become Morro’s prey.

His gaze softened a bit as he came closer, moving towards Morro in small strides, as if approaching a frightened cat which Morro was certainly not.

“Who are you?” Morro called out to the man, positioning himself in a way that would make a good defense if the man tried to attack. He felt clumsy, but he guessed it was because of the territory.

“Whoa there cowboy! Slow down a bit just a bit, alright? I’m not gonna hurt you.” He spoke the words lightly, they were fragile, which Morro was certainly not. “What’s a kid like you doing down in this swamp?”

Morro glared suspiciously at him again, his mouth twitching to say some retort but deciding against it as he instead tried to get up. He stared, watching as he clambered up.

“The better question is more,” He watched Morro scramble to get up, and offered a hand which Morro glared at suspiciously. “What’s a kid like you doing in the departed realm at all?”

His foot tapped against the mushy ground as he spoke, making a slight squishing noise each time.

“A kid?” Morro spat the words out, annoyed that he might even consider him a kid. “I’m not a kid.”

The man tapped his foot a little more rapidly, “Well, you can’t be much older than 13.” He insisted.

Morro just stared incredulously, had this guy been drinking? He was most obviously, not a kid. He hadn’t smelled anything on his breath, maybe drugs?

“I mean, just look at yourself. You look much too young to be in a place like this.” He continued.

He gestured to their surroundings. A bog with a green hue tinting it with fog everywhere and weeping willows flowering. The small yellow flowers falling into the gross muck, which.. Morro was covered in.

“Dear?..” the woman called out to Red. “Is the boy alright?” she stayed a little while back, close to a cabin that seemed primitive.

“I’m fine.” he snapped, the slight rasp in his throat growing more noticeable as he grew more annoyed. The wind picked up a little with Morro’s annoyance as well.

Moving his hand to rub his temple, he noticed a small difference.

The scar he got right before entering the Caves of Despair was fresh.

What. The fuck.

Brushing part of his overgrown bangs to look at his reflection, he noticed it. Realized why they were calling him a kid again. It’s because he was. His small, gaunt face filled with the marks of scratched skin, plus the fact that his lips seemed unusually chapped practically confirmed it for him.

He was a kid again.

“What the fuck.?” Morro whispered, his head suddenly dizzying yet again. The fire-eyed man came over to Morro, reaching his hand out more for Morro to grab, which as much as Morro hated it. He did.

“Who the hell are you?” He whispered skeptically.

“The name’s Ray, Ray Smith.”