#man. lots of dlsmp tags.

[aesterium]

heart’s decree

a scott + pearl double life fic in which Pearl takes Scott’s abandonment into her own hands.

word count: 2,677

relevant tags and notes: scott pov, angst, temporary character death; scott + cleo moments, scott + jimmy moments, scott + pearl moments. big disclaimer that i quite like all of the characters involved in this fic, no matter how critical i may seem of any of them. the words “soulbound pair”, “soulmate”, and “soulbound partner” are used interchangeably to refer only to the game mechanic introduced in this season and shouldn’t be read romantically/platonically unless that’s how the ccs themselves define it.

read on ao3 || read below

It’s a beautiful day. Perhaps that was the first clue that something was wrong.

Scott isn’t stupid. He’s lived through two of these worlds. He knows that soon enough, the grass would be watered with blood and he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink out of paranoia dressed up as survival instinct. He knows that the loving friends he’s made will fall to their own sense of battle fury and seek each other out as hunter and prey. Soon isn’t now, though, and right now, Scott is tending to his fields and fixing up the house he’s built for himself.

While he’s walking to the woods, he falls to the ground, screaming, as his skin catches on fire.

He thinks he hears Cleo call out his name from across the bridge that connects their homes, but he’s too busy rolling on the ground, rubbing his hands on his arms, trying to put out the flames that aren’t there. His vision goes red and his throat is screamed raw and he’s left trembling on the ground, the axe he had been holding fallen to the ground beside him.

His head is in Cleo’s lap when he comes to, and she looks at him with slowly growing panic.

“What is it?” he whispers hoarsely.

Before she can answer, his ears ring and it feels like his body is being torn apart, a thunderclap that vibrates through his bones, his limbs flung across a field. The agony ripples inside him, even as his skin painfully tingles from the embers of the wildfire it had turned into. He doesn’t have any breath left to scream with. All he can do is curl into a ball on the ground, desperately trying to keep some part of him inside his body (but that doesn’t make sense, he’s whole, he’s unharmed, he’s home and he’s going to tend to his fields and maybe find a flower to put in a flower pot in his window). The world goes white in a second, and he squeezes his eyes shut to try and clear the stars out of his vision.

When he tiredly opens his eyes, he’s lying on the ground. Cleo is a few feet away, staring at him with a combination of horror and grief.

“Cleo?” he asks, his voice slightly stronger despite the dread deep in the pit of his stomach.

“I think you should go,” she says quietly.

“What?”

She looks at him helplessly. “Scott, I– I think you should go. I’m so sorry.”

The dread rises. It’s a pebble of a thing that feels like violent upset and a guileless confusion mixed into one and he doesn’t like how familiar it feels. “What do you mean, Cleo?”

She opens her mouth, closes it, hesitates, tries to say something again. “Just– maybe you should go find a lake in the forest or something. You– you should go do that.”

Scott’s least favorite thing about Cleo is how she tends to talk around her point. He knows she won’t be clearer now than she’s ever been.

He knows the answer to his question before he asks it. “Are you coming?”

“No, I think– I think I’ll go visit BDubs and Impulse, actually,” she says quietly. “I need to talk to them about– something.”

Scott tries to ignore how false her words sound. “Okay. Alright. I’ll try and find you after.”

Cleo just looks at him with something like pity (and something like fear, though he chooses to ignore that) before backing away slowly across the bridge. She runs for her home when she’s halfway across.

Scott finds the lake.

He’s not as surprised as he thinks he should be to see the crimson in his irises.

Numbly, he notes the burn scars that cover half of his face and the explosion scars that streak across the other half. He lifts a hand to gingerly trace the curved line of scar tissue that crosses his left eye (if this was a crueler server, he might have been blinded) (though, how much crueler could a server get?). When he drops his hand, it hits the communicator in his pocket that he’s been incredibly aware of during the entire walk to this heart of the forest.

Scott freezes before slowly taking the communicator out and loading the last few messages recorded in the server’s logs.

PearlescentMoon tried to swim in lava.

Smajor1995 died.

<Smallishbeans> tough luck, that.

<Grian> noooooo

<GoodTimeWithScar> :(

<Tango> welcome to the club!

<impulseSV> oof.

PearlescentMoon was killed by [Intentional Game Design].

Smajor1995 died.

<Etho> huh?

<Tango> FIRST TO RED FIRST TO RED

<Smallishbeans> erm.

<Grian> Pearl, what’s going on  

<Renthedog> D:  

<SolidarityGaming> OH NO!

<BDoubleO100> man, tough luck scott.

Scott scrolls through the condolence messages still being sent with slowly growing ferocity. Fucking typical. Of course she gets into deep shit when she’s by herself. A moment of guilt for leaving his soulbound pair by herself is overtaken by a quietly burning anger at her utter incompetence. He takes a breath that’s meant to be calming but instead stokes the dark fury in the pit of his stomach.

In one morning, Pearl had ruined the entire life he had planned for himself.

◈ ◈ ◈

Perhaps it’s from a sense of righteous indignity or perhaps it’s the curse of being red, but Scott soon finds himself sprinting across the world with the single-minded goal of finding his errant soulbound pair and screaming his grief at her. He wasn’t ready for this. He knows he wouldn’t ever be ready to go red, but he especially wasn’t ready to be red this early.

Something catches in his throat, but instead of the sobbing that should come forth, an inhuman growl vibrates in his chest. He remembers the curse of the boogeyman ending with a hellish howl in his ears that became the war drums of his heartbeats, but even that unnatural anger pales in comparison to this. This is his anger at the world being magnified by the innate fury of being red. This claws at his throat and demands retribution, not just blood.

As luck would have it, Pearl must be at the complete other side of the server because the first person he runs into is someone whose life he tied himself to worlds prior. He basically walks right into Jimmy, who starts before taking a step back, recognizing the inherent red blood-rage.

“You good there, Scott?” he asks cautiously, backing away.

Scott takes a second to stare at Jimmy. He’s barely in iron boots. Tango is nowhere to be seen.

“Just peachy,” he replies.

Jimmy nods jerkily. “Rough go of it, all of that,” he says, holding his communicator up. “Did you let her go to the Nether by herself or something?”

“I didn’t ‘let’ her do anything,” Scott says forcefully. “For your information, she went off there with Martyn instead of finding me and Cleo on the first day. They must have found a fortress or something; we were deep in a panic, putting out nonexistent fires. She probably went back this morning.”

Jimmy’s brow furrows. “Wait, are you not proper partnered with Pearl, then?” He huffs incredulously. “Isn’t that the entire point of this world? To have a partner built into the whole thing?”

“I’m aware of that, Jimmy,” Scott says, “but if you can’t tell, my soulmate and I aren’t exactly seeing eye to eye right now.”

“The death messages make a bit more sense, then,” Jimmy says.

“Do they, Jimmy?” Scott spits, and Jimmy takes a cautious step back.

“I mean– she’s sort of declawed you, hasn’t she? Can’t really kill her now; you’d be out of the game fully.”

Scott groans. “This would never have happened if she and Martyn just looked for us in the overworld.”

“Well,” Jimmy offers, “I never planned to find my soulmate until he died for the both of us. Big moment for big man Jim; I’m keeping my streak of first dead, even when I didn’t die myself. I’d bet that Pearl and Martyn– not that they were trying to avoid their soulbound partners, but when you’re the only two around who aren’t soulmates, it’s probably easier to have each other’s backs until you  do find them.”

Scott narrows his eyes at Jimmy’s words. “That’s what Cleo and I said,” he admits reluctantly.

“Again, makes sense.” Jimmy hesitates before plowing on. “And– we know Martyn and Pearl. They  would be the ones to find a way to the Nether first.” He shrugs. “Not saying they should have gone, of course, but they’re the types to see the carrot before the stick of any situation. They probably wanted to just peek in when they saw something worthwhile and decided to bring it back to gain an edge over everyone else.”

“That’s stupid,” Scott mumbles. “That’s so dangerous.”

“If we all think it’s dangerous, they’d be the ones to win,” Jimmy points out. “Pearl found the first diamond in this world, as well. Who knows what other riches she’s found by being brave enough to search for them. Martyn found an entrance to the ancient city as well, and he’s got plans on how to infiltrate it. I’m honestly a bit terrified of those two.”

“You’re terrified of everyone.”

“Well– it’s just me and Tango against the world now, y’know?” Jimmy eyes him. “Sorry. History isn’t enough to overcome the, erm.” He gestures towards his eyes.

Scott rolls his in turn. “Thanks for the reminder, Jimmy.”

“That’s not to say you’re in any sort of wrong,” Jimmy says quietly. “Like it or not, I know you, Scott. You’re caring, you’re loyal, you’re easily angered, and you’re selfish. You don’t try to be, don’t get me wrong, but you get so easily offended when things don’t happen the way you want them to. You and Cleo are right to be pissed off that your pairs weren’t searching for you the way you were searching for them. Martyn and Pearl were also just playing the game that they knew this would turn into. And I think Pearl’s changed the game so that you’d see it her way.”

“What on earth do you mean by that?”

“Well– and don’t take this the wrong way,” Jimmy says slowly. “You’re not exactly with Cleo now, are you?”

◈ ◈ ◈

It’s almost as if the soul binding is a translucent thread he can follow through the trees and over the rivers and plains. Before long, Scott can see Pearl, sitting in a flimsy wooden lean-to while quietly talking to the wolf she coerced into following her around. She doesn’t look up as he storms up to her, and when he’s standing over her, she glances up to him in a practiced boredom. The red doesn’t take over her gaze the way it has his, the crimson darkened into a barely perceptible maroon that glints dangerously as she observes him. He’s sure that his anger with her is carved into his expression, but her face is studiedly neutral, a blank mask that he can’t read.

“You could at least have knocked,” she snarks, and that’s enough to set him off.

“How the fuck did this happen?” Scott demands, shoving his communicator in her face.

Pearl has the audacity to laugh, even as her wolf quietly starts growling at Scott’s aggression. “Oh, that? Silly me, I forgot that you can’t sleep in the Nether. You’d think that after this long, I would remember.” She smiles at him. “Oops.”

“And the lava?”

Her grin grows sharper. “I slipped.”

“I don’t believe you,” Scott says flatly.

Pearl begins playing with the diamond she’s strung with hemp around her neck. “Alright.”

Scott sighs deeply, fighting the urge to attack the person that binds him to the world. “Okay, what’s our next step?”

“‘Our’?” Pearl draws out the word, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t remember there being an ‘our’ to talk about.”

Scott glares at her. “Unfortunately, the universe says we’re bound. Even more unfortunately, there’s no one else we can ally with, even if we weren’t bound.”

“And fortunately for us, we have free will,” Pearl says smoothly. “That’s what you wanted, right? When you chose your own ‘soulmate’ and left? Seems like she didn’t want you just as much as I don’t. Besides, I already have a soulmate,” she says, lovingly scratching behind her wolf’s ear. “Tilly would never leave me. She’s a good dog, aren’t you?”

“Your soulmate is your dog.” Scott deadpans.

“Better than the one the universe gave me,” she coos directly to the wolf, who pants at her and tries to lick her cheek. “Tilly’d never spit in my face and tell me I’m worthless, isn’t that right?”

“I never said that,” Scott says incredulously. “Is that what your problem is? You can’t be pissed off that I would rather be bound to someone who spent the whole first day with me rather than the person who fucked off to the Nether.”

“Who said anything about being pissed off?” Pearl gives him a smile, one with the warmth he remembers. It’s nowhere near as kind as it used to be. “Oh, it hurt, don’t get me wrong, but I knew how fragile that alliance was. It wasn’t your idea to leave her, was it?”

Scott stares. He remembers an echo of a last world, where Pearl’s laughs were reassuring and he could trust her at his back. “I should kill you,” Scott says with the same icy calm that Pearl’s been radiating.

“I didn’t take you for suicidal, Smajor,” Pearl says. She stands, gesturing for Tilly to join her. “I think it’s best if you just leave. I think I’ve done enough, and there’s nothing you can do to me that won’t hurt you as well.”

She brushes past him and goes to leave her shelter. The anger that Scott had come wreathed in flares up again, and in an instant he has his axe out and strikes towards Tilly.

There’s a kick of pain in his collarbone as Pearl leaps between his weapon and her dog. The blade sinks into her flesh, cutting the string of her necklace and letting the diamond fall unceremoniously to the ground. The same place on his shoulder carves a deep mark, bleeding almost immediately. Tilly howls in rage and jumps to bite Scott, but Pearl manages to hold her hand out, staying her.

“How crafty of you, Scott,” Pearl says, blood trailing out of her mouth. “Not that crafty, but craftier than I expected.”

Scott quickly yanks his axe out, wincing as more blood spurts out of the open wound. He feels his head growing dizzy. “Why would you do that?” he manages to say, spitting out the blood gathering in his mouth.

“I won’t let you try and kill her,” Pearl says as casually as someone bleeding out can. She takes a shuddering breath before reaching into an inventory and taking out a glass bottle filled with something shimmering and pink. Pearl drinks the contents of the bottle and suddenly Scott’s head clears, the wound on his collarbone swiftly healing.

She notices his attention on the bottle and gives him a smile that actually feels genuine. There’s a light air of regret and pity as she looks over Scott, and he wonders for a second if she sees something in him that he would find as ugly as a soulbound pair who gallivants in a hellscape without thought for who she’s connected to.

Scott thinks for a second that she’ll ask something that will devastate him and leave him in the ruins of whatever they could have been.

Scott thinks for a second that she’ll relent and they’ll venture off, an alliance of necessity rather than appreciation but nevertheless one that would make survival easier for the two of them.

Pearl does neither of these things. She turns, summons Tilly to her side, and walks down the hillside into the forest. Her back is to him. He knows the gesture isn’t one of trust.