Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Joe’s head pops up at the sound that blasts over the village, and the horn prompts the villagers to abandon their places in the market in favor of a harried departure, fleeing for cover. The blacksmith he’s trading with flinches back, but then pauses and eyes him.

“You may seek shelter with us,” the blacksmith says, a kind and hospitable offer. Joe hopes he’ll remember at a later time to pay him back for it. Instead, she pockets her gold and steps away from the stand, reaching into the ethereal pocket of her inventory.

“That’s quite alright,” They respond. “Get yourself to cover.” 

Once they scramble up to a rooftop for a better vantage point, they consider that they might be unmatched in throwing back an entire pillager raid. It’s not that Joe hasn’t done it before, but she’s geared up for trading and building today, not a battle. But Joe does nothing that isn’t worth doing, and this is worth doing. So she sets an arrow to her bow and draws it back, leveling the arrowhead until it’s aimed at the head of a pillager bannerman. 

All Joe has to do is keep the raiding party’s attention until the villagers get to cover, and Joe loves to be at the center of attention. It’s a special talent of his! And really, by all metrics, it’s going pretty well -- it’s going pretty well, until it ain’t.

Until there’s a vindicator’s axe preparing to take off his head, Joe’s back in the dirt, and at the very least, he believes he bought the villagers enough time. She can accept this as a job well done and take the L for a respawn.

Joe’s eyelids flutter, and in the breath before the axe comes down, there’s a shout.

Joe opens their eyes.

A mounted pillager brings their ravager around, leering over the top of the creature’s horns. Its icy eyes are piercing, searching Joe’s face as blood trickles over her eyebrow.

“⎓╎∷ᓭℸ ̣  𝙹リᒷ,” They hiss.

First One.

Joe’s heart briefly stops.

It’s one of the last things Joe would expect to hear from a pillager’s mouth, maybe just below a howdy, and Joe can only gawk. 

The mounted pillager snaps more orders, and Joe recovers just enough to grab an arrow out of the dirt and stab it into the vindicator’s throat. It flails, blade of the axe barely missing Joe’s face, and the next nearest pillager kicks Joe in the side and sends her sprawling into the dirt face-first, forcing all the air out of her lungs.

The captain’s boots hit the ground as it leaps from the ravager, and it grabs one of Joe’s arms, twisting it behind him and pressing callused fingers to the inventory tattoo on his wrist. It forces Joe’s inventory open and spills everything out, compressed block stacks and all sorts of trinkets and tools scattering all over.

Joe lifts his head and catches sight of his comm, which barely misses being crushed by a ravager’s foot. Anything useful or shiny is snapped up as Joe is thrown bodily again, hands tied together with little regard for circulation.

And then a pillager footsoldier heaves Joe over their shoulder, despite her struggling, carrying her through the chaos. 

“Let me -- let me go, I don’t know what you’re possibly -- let me GO,” Joe shouts, pounding the pillager on the back while it disregards her completely. 

The pillagers are loading loot into a wagon, forcibly harnessing a distressed horse that had to have been stolen from the village stables. Further off, Joe can see pillagers running circles around the village’s iron guardian, throwing heavy ropes around its legs to take it down.

The pillager upends Joe unexpectedly, making their head spin, and then she hits hard wood, tumbling head over heels until they smash into the other side of the wagon bed. Joe shudders, trying to get her bound hands beneath herself, and shakily pushes her loose hair out of her face as another body is thrown in after her. It’s a villager, probably barely out of their teens, tears streaming down their face and hands bound the same as Joe.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Joe assures as a pillager guard climbs to sit on the back of the wagon, bellowing a command to the driver, who whips the horse into moving. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” 

The villager blinks up at Joe, sniffling, as the wagon begins to move.

“It’s gonna be just fine. What’s your name?” 

“B-bex.” She whispers. 

“Howdy, Bex, I’m Joe.” He encourages. “Promise you it’ll be alright. As it happens, actually, they call me the guy who can conquer death.”

Bex lets out a slightly choked laugh, though there’s a hint of sincerity to it.

“I mean it! They do!”

Cleo isn’t worried when Joe is late. Cleo isn’t worried the first time Joe doesn’t respond to her.

Cleo is worried when it’s been over two hours. Joe is easily distractible, yes, but even they remember to check their comm approximately one an hour, especially when they actually have plans with someone.

Okay, maybe Cleo’s not actually worried. Mildly frustrated at best. It’s just the nature of Joe Hills, as she is more than aware. Joe had mentioned doing a few trades in a nearby village, so Cleo imagines that one of the villagers asked for a favor, and Joe got wrapped up in doing that. It would be a pretty Joe Hills thing to do, after all.

When Cleo arrives at the village with the intention of herding her wayward Joe Hills, though, she is surprised to see it in an utterly wrecked state.

It’s apparent that fires have been recently put out. The main path is trampled, storefronts and stalls utterly wrecked. There is an air of exhaustion and grief as Cleo walks the roads, taking in the carnage.

She steps to the side to speak to one of the villagers. “What happened here?” She asks.

“Pillager raid.” The map-maker explains. “Didn’t get to spill that much blood, took it out on everything else.”

“I’m sorry.” Okay, if there was a raid, that could explain Joe being waylaid... “Was there another Player here? Long dark hair, green glasses?”

The map-maker nods. “They’re why most of us are alive. They kept them back, before the pillagers overran them.”

“Are they around?” That certainly sounds like Joe. 

The map-maker shakes their head. “If they returned after being struck down, I haven’t seen them.”

That remark immediately hits Cleo as odd: because she’s had her comm out all day, and Joe hasn’t respawned. Obviously, Joe didn’t take out all the pillagers, but the pillagers also didn’t kill him. 

So the question remains: where is Joe?

Cleo keeps wandering the village, pausing a few times to help clear rubble with their pick or smother a fire, sometimes giving food or water. They start calling Joe’s comm. They just want her to pick up, anything to hear her say howdy Cleo, to tease them for being worried at all, but it goes to voicemail everytime.

When Cleo calls again and faintly hear Joe’s ringtone, a terribly annoying high-pitched jingle, they all but sprint for it. Their mind provides images of a battered but ever-smiling Joe, just around the corner. But when Cleo steps out into the street, there’s half a Player’s inventory strewn everywhere, and Joe’s cracked comm on the ground.

Cleo picks it up gently, thumbing the decline call button to stop the ringing. 

Joe was here.

But he isn’t anymore.

Cleo finds the village’s blacksmith sitting on a rock in front of the ruins of their forge.

Cleo offers him a bottle of water.

“Thank you kindly,” the blacksmith responds. 

“You haven’t seen another Player around, have you?” Cleo queries. 

“I traded with her earlier. Fought real brave, prevented more lives lost.” 

“Where did she go?”

“Think they took her.” The blacksmith rubs their smudged cheek as Cleo stiffens in alarm. “They grabbed my apprentice, too, pretty sure I saw them throw your friend in the same wagon. Don’t think I’ve ever heard of pillagers taking Players before, but they don’t always take captives from us, either.”

“I didn’t know pillagers took live captives at all.” Cleo says mildly, a frown pressing over their features. 

“Sometimes. Put them to work in their camps, usually. Make them tend the ravagers, cook, break things down. Hard labor. But they don’t always catch an escape and come home.” The blacksmith sighs. “Bex is a brave girl. Can only beg to Prime they find their way home.” He gives Cleo a wry smile. “Maybe that Player bravery can rub off on them.”

“Joe won’t leave her behind.” Cleo instinctively answers, though she feels far away from her body, thoughts racing. “And I’m going to follow the pillagers’ trail. If I can bring Bex home, I will. Is there anybody in town I can buy a horse off of? I’ll pay double.”

“Miss Hills,” Bex begins as the wagon rumbles on the uneven ground. “You’re Playerkind, not testificate. You got lives, extra ones.”

“You can call me Joe,” they tell Bex for what is probably the fifth time, purely on reflex. When they’d first begun talking, the pillager guard had told them something gruffly in the pillager’s sylvan language. It sounds related enough to the testificate’s tongue, but Joe only speaks passing Testificate, anyways. They and Bex took to murmuring in Common instead, and the pillager appeared not to care enough to stop them again. “But, yes, I do.”

Soon after the caravan got in motion, a pillager had roughly relieved Joe of his armor, all but slashing the leather straps in order to take it. That’s fine. Despite the fact it was hand-forged, enchanted in Joe’s very careful and very particular script — he’s good with a lapis pen, and enchantments should be both beautiful and functional in his opinion — Joe can live with its loss. He totally can.

“So you show up somewhere else, if you take a fatal wound.” Bex ventures. “So you don’t have to be here.”

“That’s a coward’s way out, and I’m not a coward.” Joe responds cheerfully. “Besides, it would be an awful thing to leave you here alone.”

“I guess … I just don’t really know why they took you at all. I ain’t ever heard of such a thing.”

“Well, Bex, I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

Joe has no earthly idea why the pillagers chose to kidnap them, or at least, they’re pretending that’s the truth.

The fact of the matter is, the pillager captain had looked into Joe’s eyes and recognized her for what she is.

⎓╎∷ᓭℸ ̣  𝙹リᒷ.

First One.

The way Joe explains it, on the very rare occasion she does (the last person she did explain to was Cleo), it goes something like this:

Joe isn’t entirely human. He’s kind of human, or at least in a human shape. Alpha can be odd when compared to a full release, and that’s what Joe is: the alpha, a Prime player, a First One.  The universe’s first draft of human Playerkind, created to stand alongside the fae and the testificates and the moblins. Humans are the youngest of all beings, and First Ones are somewhat closer to the fae than their modern counterparts.  

But there are few who know what a First One is, let alone that they still exist, and to recognize one on sight? That’s unheard of.

The fae have always hated mortals, and the thing about pillagers is that their resemblance to testificates is entirely a choice of their design, as pillagers are originally creations of the Vex Court. Naturally, pillagers hating First Ones makes sense, but why would any pillager even know what to look for?

It’s bad news, is what it is.

“They just make people work, is what I’ve always heard.” Bex is saying. “Stick it out, might be able to escape in a couple weeks time…I’m just glad I’m not alone.”

Joe shifts to set their hands on Bex’s. “We’ll get out. Don’t have to worry about that. I’ll make sure I see you home.”

“Thank you, Miss Hills.”

“Call me Joe, Bex.” They remind her.

Joe estimates by the sun that a few hours pass before they arrive at a pillager outpost. The guard leaps to the ground as the wagons pull into a semi-circle and the mounted war party disperses to tie up their beasts and bring in supplies. For a couple of moments, no one minds their captives, so Joe sits up to survey the scene.

The stolen horse is fighting, terrified to be dragged to stable alongside ravagers, which huff and snort as they’re guided along. Joe can see a cage with several allays nearby as well. Crates are being unloaded from the wagons and brought inside, and Joe doesn’t think she’s been in these chunks before. There’s a lack of underlying familiarity to them, the sense that perhaps this is a blindspot in Player attention. It seems just far enough away that obviously none of the Hermits have seen to driving out the pillagers, but it’s not enough of a distance to dissuade the raiding parties.

Joe’s distraction is such that when a vindicator grabs them by the collar and yanks them out of the back of the wagon, they lose their footing and are briefly dragged by the shirt before they scramble for balance.

“You know, you could ask,” Joe points out, to which the pillager merely swings Bex out of the wagon after and shoves the two of them along. 

Their binds are cut and they’re pushed to help move crates and supplies. Unfortunately, none of the pillagers seem to like Joe’s sense of humor, so that leaves them to try and cheer up poor petrified Bex.

“Why would they just cut us free? Couldn’t we run?” Bex whispers to Joe.

“There’s guards in the tower with crossbows.” Joe replies with a shake of their head. “It’s too open. We wouldn’t make it to the treeline without being hit.”

The thought had already passed Joe’s mind, of course, and while she could do her best to shield Bex, since Joe could take the fatal hit, there’s no guarantee that Bex wouldn’t simply take a second bolt, nor that Bex wouldn’t be hunted into the woods after Joe was killed.

“Oh.” Bex swallows.

“I promised you we would be alright.” Joe reminds them gently. “Who’s the guy who conquers death?”

To Joe’s relief, Bex cracks a small smile. “As I’ve heard, it’s you, Miss Hills.”

“You’ve got it.”

Cleo pays a half stack of emeralds for a horse and throws in a couple diamonds for the trouble of taking one of the village’s remaining beasts of burden at a time like this. She calmly leads the animal into what remains of the pasture and walks him around by the reins so he gets used to her before she gets into the saddle. She’s found it’s the best way to prevent passive mobs from panicking at the sight and smell of an undead, and right now, the pacing is soothing Cleo’s nerves. 

Nothing about this makes sense. This is not normal pillager behavior, and with the poor village girl Bex caught up in this too, there’s more complications. Cleo knows as sure as anything that Joe won’t let anything happen to the girl. But now Cleo has to handle a full no-respawning rescue, and an entire outpost of pillagers with a raiding party riding a high.

Cleo could call for backup. But despite the blacksmith saying that the pillagers didn’t intend to kill their prisoners, Cleo did not want to put that to the test, especially knowing how severely annoying their best friend could be whether or not he was trying.

As it approached sundown, Cleo took stock of her supplies and considered her way in. Coming in at night meant an advantage for her, because most night creatures wouldn’t attack her. Unfortunately, they would favor the living Player and the villager, but if Joe couldn’t fend off some spiders, then he deserved it, in Cleo’s opinion. 

Cleo saddles up her new horse as the last rays of sunlight die across the horizon. She swings herself into the saddle, sword sheath and quiver attached to it for easy access.

She nudges the horse’s flanks and begins to follow the wagon wheel tracks out of town. 

Chapter Text

When the work is done, Joe and Bex are shoved off to the side, hands tied again. At the very least, their wrists are left in front of them and not drawn uncomfortably behind their backs. The pillagers mostly shelter inside, fireplace lit, while a patrol keeps the boundary of the outpost and fights off any overly curious night mobs.

Joe watches the pillagers carefully from the corner he and Bex are in, tracking their movements and mannerisms. Reading lips doesn’t take them far, unfortunately, because of their minimal understanding of the Vex-speech, but their body language still provides some implications.

The Vex-kin were most certainly discussing their prisoners. Particularly the raiding party’s captain and an evoker in a dark, flowing robe who locks its gray eyes on Joe and all Joe can sense is the being’s terrible grim curiosity.

It’s a bit like being under a magnifying glass, or, really, a rat in a scientist’s maze. But a scientist who is ominously holding a large meat cleaver above the aforementioned rat’s head. 

It doesn’t bode well. But when the captain and evoker approach, Joe just smiles at them like they’re any stranger he’s met on the street.

“Howdy.” They greet. Bex shrinks against Joe’s side, and Joe pats her leg awkwardly. “I’m Joe Hills, don’t suppose you’ll introduce yourselves?”

The captain grabs Joe by the rope on his wrists and hauls him forward, and Joe feels Bex’s desperate grip in Joe’s shirt and they’re pulled away.

“Are you an agent of the Blue Court?” It’s strange, hearing the Vex accent laid over Common. 

“Hate to have to be the one who breaks it to you, but the Blue Court doesn’t engage most Players.” Joe informs the captain. “I’m not into old world disputes. I don’t play fae games.”

“You chose them when you engaged our warriors.” The evoker hums, its voice deep and carrying a ringing tone Joe can’t place.

“Well,” Joe shrugs from her place on the floor. “If you’re killing people, someone’s bound to stop you. I’d say you were asking for it.”

The captain promptly kicks Joe in the chest, making her wheeze as the air is forced out of her lungs. 

“There are not many of your kind left.” The evoker says calmly as Joe gasps for breath. “I think it was fate you came to us. The Blue Court may have no use for you, but the Gray Court does.”

“That’s funny.” Joe manages a raspy laugh. “Listen, there are a lot more dangerous beings on this server than you. This isn’t a public Overworld. You’re not going to hop back into the Twilight Realms without smashing your face on the server wards at max speed.”

The captain kicks Joe again, pushing them onto their back, sneering. “The Unseelie magic is far beyond you.”

The cockiness of the Vex-kin is pretty funny to Joe, honestly, and boastful to the point of comical.

“Leave them alone!” Bex bursts out, and everything stops being so funny when the eyes of the pillagers shift to her. Joe tilts his head back to see her.

“Bex, it’s alright,” Joe begins, but the captain steps over Joe to grab Bex by the hair, and she shrieks. 

Joe’s chest hurts as he flings himself into a sitting position and promptly kicks the pillager captain in the kneecap as hard as he possibly can. The pillager crumbles, dropping Bex, and Joe slams the pillager with a headbutt once he hits his knees.

Bex scrambles back, and the captain is briefly stunned. The moment they regain their bearings, utter fury burns in their eyes, and they slam Joe to the floor with a strong hand around her throat and squeeze.

Joe instinctively kicks and writhes, grabbing at the captain’s wrist, and Bex screams. Black spots swim in Joe’s vision, and she can’t die, she can’t, if she dies, Bex is alone, and she can’t, BREATHE, Joe Hills is the guy who conquers death, BREATHE —

Joe sees nothing but spots and blinding firelight when the captain finally releases him, desperately drawing in air through an aching windpipe, and then he’s promptly slugged in the face hard enough to make his head snap to the side and his nose crunch. He doesn’t even have the air in his lungs to gasp, and instead just sputters as blood flows over his lips and into his mouth. 

Joe flinches and curls up in anticipation of a follow-up, but the dim sound of the evoker saying something Joe can’t catch must reign the captain back in.

For a moment, there is blessed stillness as Joe recovers, and then a foot presses down on Joe’s leg and someone forcibly grabs his bound wrists. Joe instinctively attempts to yank away, only for the pressure on her leg to increase to the point of pain. She blinks, struggling to clear her vision, and then there’s a hand clamped down on her Lifemarks, and —

It’s awful. Something is clawing at Joe’s insides, at her very fucking soul, picking it apart like a vivisection on display. Nails dig into Joe’s wrist to keep them still, so the evoker’s spell can work over Joe’s Lifemarks, spilling blood down Joe’s arm, and no, it’s Joe screaming now, isn’t it? 

Of course they fight. Joe can’t lay there, can’t resist the need to free themself. 

His vision goes black when something in his leg cracks.

When Joe opens his eyes again, his head is laying in Bex’s lap, and the evoker has unhanded Joe’s Lifemarks. The captain’s last glance is angry, still, but the evoker’s is terribly self-satisfied as they turn away.

Joe risks a glance down at their leg. It doesn’t look bad, but it feels pretty bad. Bex is trying to put pressure on Joe’s bloody nose and carefully tilts their head back.

“I’m so sorry.” Bex tearfully apologizes. “You shouldn’t have —- I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Joe soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Take a deep breath, there you go.” Joe lays one hand over Bex’s, rubbing his thumb against the back of her palm. “We’re okay.”

“What were they talking about? The Blue Court, the Gray Court — I mean, they’re fae, sure, but..” Bex asks hesitantly.

“The Gray Court is Unseelie.” Joe explains. Her jaw hurts as she speaks but she ignores it. “Vex and Vex-kin. Blue Court is allays and all their’s.”

“Why would they think you were allay-kin?” Bex asks as she wipes tears from her cheek ineffectively. “You’re a Player.”

“Well, technically, some Players are. Allays are on good terms with Playerkind, but mostly don’t engage them with Fae politik in the way the Vex do. The Vex can’t keep their hands out of things, and all.” Joe shrugs as best he can. “The Vex can see enemies everywhere.”

“I don’t want to go to the Fae Realms.” Bex admits as they try and clean blood from Joe’s face.

“Don’t worry. We’re not going anywhere.” Joe assures. “Nowhere except home.”

The moon is high in the sky by the time Cleo comes upon the pillager’s outpost. She hastily puts down a fence post and tethers her new horse to it, over a hill and out of view of the pillager guards. Then she stows all her armor to make herself less likely to be spotted, and creeps through the tall grass. There are only a few other night mobs about, keeping distance from the outpost’s lit perimeter, and Cleo bends low to skulk about on all fours as they scout. 

The only visible enemies are the small patrol watching the edges of the camp. There’s a caged ravager and a terrified horse tied up near it, along with a pair of caged allays. The windowpanes of the outpost catch the rays of flickering firelight from inside, and it’s apparent from the recent trampling of grass by feet, hooves, and wagon wheels that a war party came in recently. 

Cleo creeps around the entire outpost, alert for any signs of where the captives might be, but they must be out of sight. She heads back to her horse to mull over her next steps, glancing at the sky.

They need to move while the darkness is on their side.

So Cleo goes into the shadows again, careful to avoid being seen as they go closer than before. They reach for a torch near the edge of the boundary and extinguish it silently before moving on to the next. Everytime Cleo comes near a zombie, she gives it a shove towards the outpost, and they mindlessly move towards the movements of the pillagers.

When Cleo hears a shout, she knows the first zombie has made contact, and she turns quickly, staying low in the grass as she pulls out her bow. Arrows hit the few remaining torches head on, and the pillagers are plunged into darkness. 

Cleo’s eyes just barely glow in the night as the mobs begin to swarm in. The doors to the outpost slam open, and more pillagers appear, yelling and fumbling to brandish iron and steel. Cleo steadies their aim and finds unshielded flesh to send their arrows to, the pillagers wildly searching the night for a skeleton with aim assist, not at all expecting Cleo crouched in the tall grass. 

Cleo doesn’t stay put too long, though, not wanting to let the pillagers turn the tide too soon. A creeper explodes, and Cleo rushes into the fray with sword draw and firey hair flying around her.

A pillager dies on their blade, and Cleo lands a well-placed kick into another’s sternum. Chaos is breaking out amongst the pillagers as they slowly realize there is more than mindless undead in their midst, and Cleo can smell the drink in the air, and the celebration has certainly addled their senses to create another advantage for her. She whips around, ducks an axe, and cleaves another pillager across the chest, baring her teeth with a snarl.

A bellowing roar cuts through the cacophony, and Cleo mutters a swear and cuts a pillager’s throat. 

“Of course the ravager is loose,” She hisses.

A shade flickers across her vision, and she sees it as it closes in on the ravager. It takes a beat for her dark vision to properly focus.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Joe’s nose has thankfully stopped bleeding, and she’s been hard at work thinking really hard about how to handle this entire situation. She’s saved from coming up with her own answer by a shout from outside. Bex tenses as some of the pillagers leave their merriment to peek outside, calling back to the patrol. In moments, they’re moving to grab their weapons and hurry out into the dark.

From the way the yelling intensifies, it sounds like it’s not going so well for them.

Joe waits three breaths for all eyes to be off him and Bex before he starts moving. It’s awkward and painful to crawl to the edge of the nearest table, but he ignores all that and snatches up a knife, promptly shoving it into the wood floor blade-first and hooking his tied wrists around it to slice the ropes. 

“What’s happening?” Bex whispers urgently.

“Time to go.” Joe says cheerily as the ropes fall away. She yanks the knife free. “Here, your hands.” She slices Bex’s bonds next and Bex helps haul Joe to their feet.

“You shouldn’t be on that leg,” Bex says warningly, but one of the slower pillagers sees the two of them rising and comes towards them.

Joe flips the knife in their grip and promptly throws it into the pillager’s throat, immediately dropping them as blood sprays. Bex gasps, stumbling back.

Joe limps to the pillager’s side and pulls off their sword-belt, hooking it around his own waist, and slips on their arm-guards. “Apologies, but I’ve got places to be.” He tells the pillager as he pulls the knife free, briefly cleaning the blade on his pants before turning to offer it to Bex, who stares at it with terrified eyes. “Hide, and stab anyone who finds you. Unless it’s me, preferably.”

“What are you going to do?” Bex asks as she clasps the knife in two hands.

“Go lend a hand to the cavalry.” Joe responds. “Go, hurry.”

As Bex takes cover, Joe heads out into the night.

The pillagers don’t take any immediate notice of their presence, which makes sense, as they appear very distracted. Joe sees arrows sprout from the limbs and necks of several of them, and a pair of zombies overtake another. They can’t see very far into the dark with their eyes not adjusted, but Joe is certain there’s more than night mobs out there. 

They catch sight of the pillager captain throwing open the ravager’s cage, grabbing the leather lead around the creature’s horns and snapping commands at it. The ravager roars as it shoves its way out and the captain fights to keep it under control.

This is an opening, and Joe smashes the captain with the flat of her blade, sending them reeling.

“Should’ve watched your back!” Joe informs them as they grab the ravager’s lead. “This can only be a good idea,” They murmur to themself as they brace.

For a split second as Joe leaps to catch one foot into the saddle stirrup, all their weight is on their bad leg, and it takes every ounce of self-control to hold on and properly swing themself into ravager’s saddle. But once astride the beast, Joe yanks on the reins tied to its horns and turns it towards the fray.

“Yee-haw, and all that!” Joe shouts as the ravager runs down pillagers, sending them jumping out of the ravager’s path, many not making it in time. Joe catches sight of a familiar figure, and in moments, Cleo is sprinting Joe’s way and scrambles up to sit behind him, drawing her bow.

“Hey honey.” Joe laughs. 

“And just where do you think you’ve been?” Cleo demands as she nocks an arrow and sends it flying in almost the same breath. 

“My meeting went late --” Joe responds as Cleo suddenly shoves Joe forward, pushing his head down as a few crossbow bolts fly past. “And then, you know --”

“Okay, focus, Joe!” Cleo returns. “ Seriously, only you.”

“Now that’s unfair and you know it!” 

Between the two of them and a ravager, the pillagers are cleared swiftly. A few of them flee, but neither Cleo nor Joe are interested in pursuit. Cleo leaps from the ravager and promptly puts her sword in its massive chest, ending that threat as it collapses. 

Joe doesn’t manage a particularly graceful dismount, and Cleo realizes her mistake just as Joe’s leg crumbles beneath him and Cleo barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

“Hey there.” She readjusts to properly support Joe, registering now the amount of dried blood on his face and shirt, and the wince of pain as he tries not to put weight on one of his legs. “Rough day at work?”

“Something like that.” Joe manages a weak laugh, gripping Cleo tightly. “Give me a second, I’ve got to get Bex.”

“I’m not letting you walk on that leg, I can tell it’s messed up.” Cleo says with a shake of their head. “Where are they?”

“Inside.”

“Alright, come on.”

Cleo helps Joe to walk and the two of them stumble back into the outpost, where Joe calls for Bex and the blacksmith’s apprentice promptly appears, utter relief crossing her face when she sees Joe and Cleo. She throws her arms around Joe, laughing.

“Oh my Prime, you -- you did it? You did it!”

“Don’t sound surprised.” Joe cajoles. “What did I tell you?”

“Yes, Joe Hills, you are the man who conquers death.” Bex giggles. She looks to Cleo and gives a polite nod. “Hello, thank you. I’m Bex.”

“I’m Cleo. Thank you for keeping an eye on my idiot.” They say with a pleasant smile.

“I’m their idiot.” Joe puts in. “If you weren’t sure.”

“Are you hurt?” Cleo checks with Bex, who shakes their head. “Good. Sunrise isn’t for a few hours, so we can hole up here until then, and we’ll take you home. Joe, you’d best let me take a look at your leg.”

“Cleoooooo,”

“Don’t ‘ Cleo’ me, Joe Hills, or you won’t be the guy who conquers death for much longer.”

Chapter Text

Cleo smells of ash and meadow grass when she comes back to sit at Joe’s side after bringing the fire in the mantle back to life. Joe had tried to help in securing the outpost and lighting up the perimeter again, but Cleo had fixed Joe with a sharp glare and told him to stay put. When they’d come back, they had wrapped and stabilized Joe’s leg as best as possible.

“I don’t think it’s broken.” Cleo says. “Fractured, maybe. But I don’t have any healing potions on me.”

“I’ll be fine until we get home.” Joe assures them.

“How’d you come to find us, Miss Cleo?” Bex asks as the three of them settle down to eat what Cleo managed to hastily put together.

“Joe was late.” Cleo responds. “I had to ask around the whole village to find out what happened, and I came after you as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to risk waiting, and besides, the nighttime helped plenty.”

“I ain’t ever seen anything like that.” Bex admits. She regards Cleo with wide eyes. “You’re incredible.”

Cleo laughs. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

Joe is leaning against Cleo’s shoulder after Bex falls asleep, her chin tucked against his hair,  when Cleo says,

“What happened out there, Joe?”

Cleo’s tone is quiet and serious in a telling way. She knows just as well as Joe that what happened here tonight is far from normal.

“Did you kill an Evoker, by any chance?” Joe responds to the question with one of his own. “I didn’t see them amongst everything. It would really eliminate some problems if you did.”

Cleo frowns and thinks. “I don’t think so. It could’ve been one of the ones that got away. What about the Evoker?”

“The raid captain recognized me as a First One, somehow.” Joe tells her. “Both the captain and this Evoker seemed to know more about what that meant. I’ve never seen such a thing, ever. They wanted to take me back to the Gray Court.”

Cleo snorts. “Yeah, and Xisuma’s wards would’ve nuked them from orbit.” But she takes this in with a moment of silence. “What the hell. How could they possibly know that?”

“It’s not impossible,” Joe responds. “But it’s more than a bit unlikely.”

“It’s weird.” Cleo shakes her head. “And it’s not a good kind of weird.”

Joe breathes in the scent of the flowers blooming in Cleo’s hair and across her clavicle, thinking of the hair-raising sensation of the Evoker’s grip on their Lifemarks. Whatever it was, it seems to have passed, but Joe’s movements are stilted and unsure as he unhooks the stolen bracer to reveal the Lives emblazoned on his arm.

His eyes are closed, refusing to see if Cleo is watching his movements. Joe’s free hand skims the marks only momentarily, the hum of them droning through Joe’s chest before he lets go. Instead, Joe finds Cleo’s inner elbow and traces her way to Cleo’s hand, shifting it to lay it against Joe’s Lives. Cleo doesn’t resist, clasping their hand over the marks.

It’s a bit like having someone push your ribs open, Joe reflects, but that’s an intimacy he doesn’t mind from Cleo. Their hand is firm and not-quite-as-warm-as-the-living, the finely-stitched line across their palm pressed against his Lives, as familiar as breathing to him. 

“Did they do something?” Cleo asks quietly, and Joe’s chest tightens, and he struggles to swallow.

They don’t often end up at a loss for words, but it’s difficult to get a reply out. “Is it … bad weird?”

“No.” answers Cleo, running her thumb against Joe’s marks. “It’s the same. You’re the same. But I know you’re not okay.”

Cleo’s free hand reaches around Joe’s shoulder to cup his chin and cheek. “I’m—” Joe begins.

“Don’t say you’re fine.” Cleo interrupts. “You’re an open book to me. And you’re anxious and exhausted, but it’s going be alright. I mean it.” Cleo’s hand slips away from Joe’s Lifemarks. “You should sleep. We’ll get moving when the sun comes up, and we can ask Cub or Scar about the Vex if you’re still worried.”

“Not Scar.” Joe mumbles. “No offense to the guy, of course, but,”

Cleo laughs. “Maybe Cub is the better choice for this particular issue.”

“I’d say so.”

Cleo brushes her knuckle against Joe’s cheek. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now, go to sleep.”

“Or what?” Joe teases as he shifts to get comfortable with Cleo helping to lay him down.

“Don’t even risk it.” Cleo warns, drawing her hand through Joe’s short beard before putting her hand over his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

Joe smiles up at her. “Yes sir.”

Joe’s sleep is restless, so Cleo doesn’t go far, though once the sun has made its way higher into the sky, they know they shouldn’t delay on making preparations to leave. After Bex wakes, Cleo feels more comfortable heading out to fetch their horse and see what supplies they can return to the village. Cleo’s horse is right where she left it and thankfully unharmed, and almost seems happy to see her. Cleo walks it to the outpost and hitches it to the pillager’s wagon, also rescuing the horse stolen from the village.

There’s gear left strewn about the battlefield now that all the bodies have despawned overnight, but Cleo finds no sign of a dead Evoker. She doesn’t like knowing this strange and knowledgeable fae got away, and it reminds her to send Xisuma a message, telling the admin to watch the wards for Vexling activity. Xisuma’s response comes promptly, despite the early hour.

<XisumaVoid> Sure, will do.

<XisumaVoid> See something strange?

<ZombieCleo> It’s been a busy night

<ZombieCleo> I’ll tell you the whole story later

<XisumaVoid> Got it.

She’s able to quickly recognize some of Joe’s stolen gear left about, relatively undamaged, and sends it to her inventory to return to him. Anything else she loads into the wagon for the village. 

Cleo hears a chirp as an allay flutters over to her.

“You stayed, huh?” Cleo greets it, stardust particles gathering in its wake.

The allay chirps again.

“I don’t think they’ll come back anytime soon.” Cleo assures.

Once Cleo’s finished, the allay floats after her as she heads back inside the outpost. Joe is up, though he still looks half-asleep. Cleo leans over him, cupping his face gently so she can press a kiss into his hair.

“Hi.” Joe yawns. “You’ve got a friend.”

The allay floats among them, and Bex giggles as it circles her head.

“Guess it wanted to say thanks.” Cleo remarks. 

“Hungry?” Joe offers, gesturing to what Bex must have made.

They have a short meal together while the allay cheeps and flutters about, pausing to play with it at times. It’s a strange little breakfast, but rather nice, all things given, as the rising sun starts to glow through the windows. 

They pack up anything else they mean to take, and Cleo helps Joe to the wagon. Joe tries to negotiate to sit up front with Cleo, which she refuses.

“I’m not letting you fuck up that leg more.” She tells him. 

“We’ll ride in the back together.” Bex offers. “Let Miss Cleo drive.”

Bex climbs into the wagon bed first to assist in getting Joe up and settled. Cleo makes sure they’re alright before she goes to the front of the wagon and picks up the reins.

“Time to head home.”

Bex is received with fervent joy back home by her friends and family, and the villagers try relentlessly to get Cleo and Joe to accept tokens of their gratitude, which the two of them politely but firmly decline. 

“We’re just happy we could help.” Cleo assures, though when she returns the horse she bought to its prior owner, she does accept the emeralds and diamonds back that she had paid.

They don’t deny the villagers’ hospitality, though, and with the steadfast nature of a village like this, despite the ruins the raid left, the testificates pull together a warm celebration of their good fortunes. Cleo tries to excuse themself to fly home quickly for a potion, but the village cleric insists on giving one free of charge. The magic heals up Joe’s leg and returns his freedom of movement; he tells Cleo later that he did find a moment during the day to reverse-pickpocket some emeralds into the cleric’s pockets. Potion ingredients don’t come cheap, after all. 

Joe and Cleo spend the day and the night after with the villagers. When they finally get ready to depart, Bex is waiting. She gives Cleo a warm hug of thanks, and then turns to Joe.

Bex throws her arms around him, and Joe hugs her tightly.

“There aren’t enough words in all the universe.” Bex mumbles into Joe’s shoulder.

Joe chuckles. “And yet we always are trying to string them together, aren’t we?” He gives her a squeeze. “We made it through together.”

“You didn’t have to stay. But you did. I owe you my life.”

Joe pulls back so they can cup Bex’s cheek. “You don’t owe me anything, Bex. Your kindness has more than repaid any possible debt, I promise you.”

Their foreheads touch for a moment before they hug again.

“I’ll see you around.” Joe promises. 

Bex sees them off with a wave as Joe and Cleo finally head home.

Joe tells Xisuma the whole story when she goes to requisition a new comm from the admin. Xisuma listens quietly and patiently, frowning slightly behind his visor when Joe finishes.

First, Xisuma hands Joe a new comm. Then X meets her gaze steadily.

“I’ll certainly watch for Vex activity. If those pillagers know what’s good for them, they’ll stay away from Playerkind for awhile.” X tilts his head. “I can give you a scan, if you’re comfortable, to make sure they didn’t leave anything lingering on you.”

Joe is no fae, but they’re skilled enough that they think they would’ve caught a tracking spell or a hex. There’s no reason to risk it, though. 

Xisuma is a person that Joe trusts. Their admin doesn’t know all of the Hermits’ secrets, but he knows a few of Joe’s, and Joe wouldn’t have shared them if she had thought there was ever a risk of them getting out. Xisuma is loyal to a fault and deeply protective of all his Hermits. He is Joe’s friend, and Joe’s family, so she pulls up her sleeve and gives Xisuma her wrist.

Xisuma’s gloved hands are warm and exceedingly gentle, not brushing Joe’s Lifemarks any longer than he has to. It still produces a bone-deep shiver, but Joe takes in a deep breath and waits. 

“Everything’s as it should be.” Xisuma assures when he withdraws his hand. “I don’t see anything lingering on you, no curses, no tracking. If I had to wager a guess, the Evoker was just looking at you.”

“Looking at my insides.” Joe clarifies. “My Code?”

“Yes. I know it feels rather terrifying.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” Joe responds, smiling outwardly. “Thanks, X.”

“Anytime, Joe.”

<Joehillssays> X said everything is okay!

<ZombieCleo> Oh good

<ZombieCleo> Let’s avoid playing hero again anytime soon, alright?

<Joehillssays> no promises

<ZombieCleo> Are you coming to Hermit movie night?

<Joehillssays> Yes I’ve got the popcorn

<Joehillssays> See you soon

<ZombieCleo> Don’t get waylaid by pillagers

<ZombieCleo> And if you say no promises

<Joehillssays> Yes ma’am don’t worry ma’am

Most of the Hermits are asleep with some terrible horror movie sequel on when Cub comes back with more snacks, sits next to Joe, looks at her, and says,

“Cleo told me about what happened.”

Joe immediately turns their head left to right. Cub is of course sitting on one side of Joe, and on the other, Iskall and Stress are curled together, asleep. He can hear Cleo and Jevin talking in the kitchen. Scar and Mumbo are sitting in the back of the room, away from the TV, as Scar hasn’t been quiet for one second of the last two films and Mumbo is close to falling asleep to Scar’s chatter. Pearl, closer to the TV, doesn’t seem to be paying them any mind. 

Deciding that they’re unlikely to be overheard, Joe turns back to Cub and casually says, “Yeah?”

“Only what was their’s to tell.” Cub adds quickly. “And you don’t have to say more than that.”

“Sure, everyone’s got their secrets around here.” Joe keeps their tone neutral, their smile easy, but only out of habit, because she knows she isn’t fooling Cub.

Cub, for his part, also pretends this conversation is casual. “Vex can be pretty nasty to Players. They tend to hold grudges. If the Evoker was pretty old, which it sounds like he is, he’s probably got a lot of grudges against Players. But Cleo said Xisuma checked you out, and X can’t have missed anything a Vex could have done.” Cub tilts his head. “Vex magic is old, and it can be subtle, but not to the eyes of an admin.”

“I figured as much. Xisuma’s not the kind of guy to miss things.” Joe offers.

“Exactly.” Cub agrees. “So while you don’t have anything to worry about, I did bring something for you.” Cub flashes something out of his inventory, and shows it to Joe: a round silver pendant with a stone set in the middle, runes carved on it in a hand so tiny that Joe would need a magnifying glass to even remotely read them. The stone is a pale blue, nearly white, and it reminds Joe of the colors of an allay’s wings. “It’s a ward against Vex magic.” Cub explains. “It should be good for quite awhile. If its power is overwhelmed, the stone will go dark, and you can bring it to me and I’ll fix it up.”

Joe takes it from Cub’s hand and loops it around her neck. “Thank you kindly, Cub, I really appreciate it.”

Cub smiles. “Of course. Anytime.”

A jumpscare pops up on the television. Scar screams, which causes Mumbo to scream, which begins a domino effect where Stress’ head pops up so fast that she falls off the couch. Pearl begins laughing and Cleo and Jevin hurry back in to survey the chaos. 

Joe just chuckles and turns to a bewildered Iskall and Stress. “Come on, here,” He tells Stress as they offer her a hand and haul her back up on the couch. 

The Hermits settle back in, and Joe touches the necklace once, to feel its comforting weight against their chest, and the night goes on.