I seem to be addicted into doing one-shots, but I hope you like this. It's my idea on Two's life when everything went from bad to worse.
Disclaimer: I don't own Two, Conrad or the Mogs, Lore does.
Sometimes I wish I knew what was going on beneath the surface. Why were the Mogs so persistent in eliminating us and why they chose us.
It wasn't as if they pulled our names from out of the hat. No. It was because we were thriving.
I stare at the greenish sea water swirling at my toes and just wished that I could be a normal girl on a normal holiday.
But, no. I just had to be one of them, one of the nine Garde. They had nearly caught us on that fateful day, which forced us to move.
To move into a small suburban town by the seaside. Conrad thought it would make a good cover story, moving to get a good feel of village life.
Beside me, Jodie squeals as the salty sea spray wets her and as the curling tongues of water break at her feet.
I know supposed be enjoying my day out with her but I'm not. Conrad feels different somehow, more distant on some days.
But one thing was for sure, he was definitely more paranoid.
"Get up, quick!" Jodie says, dragging me to the fence. The tide was coming farther inland and the rolling waves were definitely getting stronger.
The water that rushes towards us is now murky and muddy and we have to climb a few 'rungs' up the fence to avoid getting soaked.
The water level is rising fast, accelerating from ankle high to knee deep. As the tide rolls out again, Jodie quickly slips down to the other side.
"Come on, let's go home. The tide's getting higher and I wouldn't want to be caught by anyone loitering." She says as I tear my eyes reluctantly from the horizon beyond the sea.
I've been feeling a strange connection to it ever since we got here, ever since my first scar. Almost as if One is calling out to me, warning me.
How did she die? I would never know and I didn't want to know. It wouldn't be good for Conrad's health too; he'd worry himself sick soon, if he didn't relax.
I can hardly leave the house without him following me around now. Sprinting a little to join her, I follow Jodie away from the beach and towards the village square.
Fresh air, tangible with the sea breeze lingers there, lifting my spirits a little. This is the smell I've grown to like.
Women with hand woven baskets mill around, their tired children following bleary eyed. It was an early Sunday morning, but everyone was already up and about.
No one was ever lazy, even the children. They did what they had to do and everyone was interdependent with each other.
I know Conrad would get mad if he found out I snuck off again, but spending hours cooped up at home staring at the faceless walls was enough to make anyone crazy.
I wasn't even allowed to do drills in our backyard, and I had next to zero fighting skills. I know the other Garde would probably be training with their Cêpan, getting stronger.
"I have to go now," Jodie says, jolting me from my thoughts. She is pointing towards the market. "My mother wants me to get a few things for her… I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Maybe, I'll try…" I say, feeling instantly jealous of her. How can be jealous of being sent to the market?
I'm jealous for the normality of her life, how it is a routine, unlike mine. I could leave in ten minutes time for all I know.
That was something, I didn't know. As Jodie disappears into the jostling crowd, I turn on my heel and walk back to the small cottage Conrad and I live in.
It's quite a way away from the main square and I'm suddenly thankful for the long stretch of road and the peace it brings. It lets me think. E
ven though some of my thoughts are dark, it still lets me organize my mind, giving me a sense of safety.
At times like this, when I feel particularly pessimistic, I always failed to see certain reasons behind Conrad's actions.
Sometimes, I like to stay close to a crowd; it also gives me another kind of safety. Safety in numbers.
Like I could disappear if I really needed to, without the use of a Legacy. Sometimes I'm afraid that when I'm alone, the Mogadarians will come and get me.
But, of course that's not true, the Mogs will stoop as low as they can as long as it means they can get me and tick another number off their list, my number.
As I push open the door of my house, I immediately feel that something is wrong. The air doesn't feel right.
Like someone added toxic fumes into it and they were worming their way into my system. Conrad sits in an ancient wooden chair with his laptop on his lap.
He is staring intently at it and barely registers when I enter the room. His fingers fly across the keyboard and I step in front, trying to see what he's typing.
Only then he seems to acknowledge my presence. Flipping the cover shut, he looks up at me. One look.
That's all it took for me to realize whoever that was standing in front of me wasn't the real Conrad. His eyes were blue, not black.
The fake Conrad gets up from the chair and says, "I think it's time for you to start a very important training lesson.
Go up to your room for now, we will begin soon." He adds this with snarl before yanking me by the back of my necklace up the stairs.
He flings me inside my room and slams the door shut. I hear the lock click as the key turns, I'm locked up. The scar on my ankle itches as I sink defeated onto the bed.
They've found us and they're here. But why haven't they killed me yet? And where was the real Conrad.
As far as I could see from my time at the living room, there was only one Mogadarian there, he was a scout.
That means he didn't dare kill me yet until more back-up came or until he confirmed that I was Number Two. He was afraid that if I wasn't Two, he'd be killed, leaving me to walk.
I let out a sigh of relief. I was safe, for now. Until his back-up came or until he learned that I was Two.
His footsteps had already ebbed away and I could no longer hear him. I had to find where Conrad was, he might tortured just for my number. Knowing the lock on my door was rusty and old, I grabbed a hairpin from my dresser and picked it without much difficulty.
Slowly opening the door, I poked my head out to look. No sign of him. Realising that I had to arm myself if I wanted any chance of making it out alive, I grabbed a hammer from underneath my bed.
I'd always kept it there for emergencies like these. I gauged the size of the house. It wasn't big. The only place where the Mog would hold Conrad would probably be the basement.
There was only one door leading to it from inside the house, and it was sure to be bolted tight. The Mog would know by now that I wouldn't leave my Cêpan.
Then, it hit me. Our basement was also used as a bomb shelter, so there was any old and battered door from the backyard leading into the basement.
The Mog would probably see me, but I didn't have a better plan. My mind felt like it was veering out of control with anxiety.
Slowly, I padded out to the hallway onto the first floor. There was a big French window which oversaw the backyard.
Pushing it open quietly, I stepped out. The countryside peacefulness was seemingly eerie now with the amount of danger they were in.
I padded over to the doors. It's now or never. I would die either way and had absolutely no chance on my own, so I opened the doors.
Underneath, there was a flight of steps, then, a wooden door. Walking over, I peered underneath the gap between the door and the floor.
I see him, Conrad strapped to the table. The fake him was standing there holding a conical flask of bubbling liquid above his knees, threatening to spill them.
There were welts on Conrad's face and his eyes were squeezed shut in agony. I didn't know that Mogs could shift shape, but I didn't hesitate any longer. Second guessing myself will do no good.
Flinging the doors open, it created a big commotion and the Mog stopped what he was doing in shock.
He had poured the liquid onto part of Conrad's leg and it was frothing and bubbling on it, eating away at his flesh.
This sent a spasm of rage through me and I did the only rationale thing before the Mog recovered. I threw the hammer.
It hit the Mog square on the head with amazing accuracy and I heard to sickening crunch as the hammer made its mark on its skull.
Hurriedly, I unstrapped Conrad from the table. I was sure the Mog would be dead, unconscious at least, Mogs might have thicker skulls which explained how dense they were.
Conrad's eyes were wide with shock, but he understood. "My leg," he said. "I can't move the right one." Supporting one side of him myself, we staggered up into the sunshine.
We had to move fast, the back-up team of Mogs could be here any second. After settling Conrad inside our truck, I realized that he couldn't drive, not in this condition.
Getting behind the wheel, I navigated out of our front yard and floored the accelerator.
I didn't have any driving lessons before and solely relied on my instincts to stay on the road.
I didn't relax until we reached the main square once more, where it was more populated.
"Where to now?" I ask. I know we will be heading for the airport. Conrad was definitely going to get us far, far away from here and air travel was the fastest way.
His eyes still fixed on the road, Conrad said,"I should've known… But this time, I think we should go to somewhere more densely populated. Hiding in plain sight. We're going to London."
First time doing a Lorien Legacies FanFiction. What do you think?
Review please, makes me feel positive. At least I know my work is appreciated.
Have a nice day!