Yay! A chapter story exploring the dark depths of Doug's mind. Rated for content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rune Factory

Shaky hands, clad in brown leather, carefully laid seed bags in their respected place. A broken breath left the mouth of the owner, silver eyes not quite there on the task. Teeth bit into pink flesh that were lips, trying, oh so desperately trying to keep from breaking down.

"Doug honey. Do you mind if you put this back as well?" came that sweet, sweet comforting voice of his boss. The elderly woman passed the dwarf more seeds. Spring seeds. Pink turnips, potatoes, strawberries. More seeds than he could count. All spring.

Spring. He hated that season. (Sercerezo Hill). Hated it. He also hated winter. (The truth). So many bad memories in both. (Lies. All lies). Back to back. Winter then Spring. Even the seasons were trying to get him. Get him. Break him. Hurt him. (Hit him while he's down!) No. No! Think of something else.

Summer. Summer's nice. Fireflies, swimming on the beach, splashing around... In blood. Horrible screams, terrifying moans of pain, crimson red smeared everywhere. ("D-Dagu! Where are you?!") Everywhere you look was blood. ("N-No...") Disgusting colour. Painted his hair. He hated it. His family. ("Kaasan...? Tousan...?") Covered in this red liquid.

Stop it. Try again. Think of something else. (He sounded like a broken record).

A-Autumn. That crisp, colourful season. Full of those beautiful colours; orange, yellow, brown re- no. (Red). Not that. Not that colour. (Crimson Red). Reminds him of... (Blood). Stop it. What is good about fall? (Death. Things die). Well, it's not as warm as the other season... not as cold as the next. Not as nice as the first. Not like – stop. It. (Spring). Autumn. Valentine's Day. Girls gives cookies to boys. Cookies are nice. Real nice. Next! White Day. White day isn't bad... He used to make cookies for his (Kaasan) – NO! Stop it! There's the Handi – stop while you can idiot. ("I'll teach you how to forge and craft one day, my son.")Finally his birthday. Did he love it? Did he hate it? He was born on that day. Anything bad happen on that day...? Fall sixth. His sixth birthday...

Screams. Fire. Where was it coming from? Home. 'Run away!' instincts told him. Did he listen? No. He was a big boy then. He wasn't afraid. He ran back. He ran and saw his family lying – ... (Tousan...? Kaasan...? Are you okay...?)

Doug's body shook with terror, trying to fight his thoughts. Memories.("Tousan...! Kaasan!") He quickly placed the seeds in the 'Spring' section. He didn't look. Silver eyes refused to open.

"Doug, are you alright?"

His eyes did snap open at the sound of Blossom's voice. Hoarse with illness, gentle with concern and care. Just like – shut up.

"Y-Yeah." Damn. His voice sounded pathetic. It wavered. Lies.

The elderly woman looked at him crossly, clearly seeing through the lies. She sighed, tsking at the dwarf softly as she walked back to the counter. She knew better than to press him. He'll come around when he's ready. "Well, alright then. There's a box full of dishes and silverware that needs to be put on shelf. After you can stick prices on it, alright?"

Alright. Anything to keep his hands, and mind, busy.

Flawed plan. So many flaws. Work didn't keep his mind busy. He was used to the routine. Everything was automatic. This allowed him to think. No. Don't think. Thoughts filled the nerve centre which was his brain. What should he eat tonight? Corpses. Nope! Moving on! What is Frey doing? Crying over her lost family. Stop it Doug! He's hungry... Then go eat Okaasan's hand.

That did it. He couldn't keep the thoughts away anymore.

A young dwarf emerged from the thicket. Face red and thick with perspiration. In his tiny hand was a bow, hand-crafted by his own father. He was learning how to hunt that day. His father made him that bow to hunt by himself.

It was his birthday, that faithful day. He was six now. He was a big boy, able to hunt for food on his own. Only two years away from being old enough to learn how to craft. When he was ten, he'd learn how to forge. Oh wouldn't his best friend be happy? What was his name again... it started with a 'Z'. All the boy could remember is that his friend was a full four years older than him. He had already mastered crafting, and was going to start forging that year but... he ran away. Not important, however.

What was important was the fact that his whole village... was destroyed. Columns of orange flames climbed towards the Heavens. Crimson red stained the dirt path the youngster walked so many times. Bodies... Oh Native Dragons the bodies... Mutilated.

The boy felt himself get sick, flushed skin going alabaster white. He wanted to speak. He wanted to cry, scream in hopes his family was okay. But he didn't. He couldn't. The attackers could still be there, and crying was for little boys. He was a big boy now.

The unusually small dwarf – smaller than what he should be at that age – made his way through the black smoke. He tried to tune out the crackling of flames, the crimson of blood, the parts of his friends. He needed to find his Kaasan and Tousan. Now.

Tiny legs stepped over another dismembered limb. Tears came to his eyes but he wouldn't let them fall. He had to be strong, strong like Tousan. He... He couldn't be compassionate like Kaasan. That was for later. Later when he was curled up with his beloved parents.

Tiny legs carried the dwarf child faster. "Kaasan?! Tousan!" Where were they? Didn't they know that he was looking for them? Maybe they were looking for him too. Yes. They had to. His parents couldn't have ended up like that dwarf he just stepped over. Tousan would've protected Kaasan. Tousan was the strongest in the village!

Spirits renewed, the boy made a turn left, heading towards the spot where his house used to be. Now, it was just a charcoal black smouldering pit. Like a forge. Tousan always said to stay away from the forge. It could hurt him. But the dwarf knew he had to check there first. It was as good as place as any.

The door creaked open, charcoal dust covering the boy's hands. The hand-crafted bow rested over the boy's body, not to get in the way of him.

"K-Kaasan...? Tousan...? Dagu's home..." A solemn whisper danced around the empty house.

The door creaked open further, allowing orange lights of flames to creep in. The orange hit something on the floor.

Dagu gasped, upon recognizing the bloody marble face. He heard something shatter. What shattered? He didn't remember dropping anything back then.

"K-Kaasan...?" the little boy cried softly. "Okaasan!" He dove to his knees, picking up his mother's head. He felt pain in his knees. Warm liquid spilling out of them. Did he cut himself on shattered debris? He did not remember doing so. Her once soft blond locks were now crusted and stained with red, the colour of his own hair. Silver eyes spilled the tears he was saving. Through blurry eyes, he peered down the rest of her broken body. Her traditional robe was ripped and painted with red. There were many stab wounds. Dagu couldn't tell if the scratches were claw marks or made from a sword.

His eyes drifted to the other body that laid next to him mother. Next to that figure was a bloody sword. He recognized the sword before the body. It was his father's hand-forged sword, Defender. The boy broke further when he realized who was lying dead with his mother. It was his father.

The boy gently laid his mother's head down, smoothing down her golden locks. Dagu crawled over to his father, dirt and blood sticking to his hands and knees. More pain shot up from his knees, mixing in with newly developed pain in his palms. More crimson liquid spilled to the floor. How much red could stain so little? He turned over his father, trying to ignore the deep gash in the man's back. The redhead quickly wiped away the tears that were falling down rosy cheeks as he placed the raven haired man's head in his lap.

"Otousan..."

His father's face was worse than his mothers. Black splotches covered most of marble skin. Whatever wasn't black or blue, was red. The dwarf's tribe's trademark silver eyes were half-lidded and dull. Lifeless. Dagu closed his own eyes, a gently hand hovering over his father's face before closing those lifeless eyes out from the world.

A sob left the boy. He would never have thought his life would go downhill from there. Only the other day did he get in trouble for pulling a girl's hair. Now... now who was to scold him? Now who was to take care of him when he got sick, which was frequent with his weak immune system. Now who was to tuck him in at night, give him a good-night hug and kiss, tell him a bedtime story, chase away the monsters from underneath his bed. Who, who, who?

He will. Dagu. Himself. He had to. He had to be strong like his otousan. Tousan would be proud to see his son stand up so strong, so brave. At that moment, he swore to himself he would never cry again. Tousan never cried, he had to be strong for his family. Now it was Dagu's turn to be strong.

Dagu had to be...

"Doug!"

A sharp inhale of oxygen woke the dwarf from memories. In a panic frenzy, he looked around, feeling a dull pain in his hands and knees but promptly ignored it. He tried to steady his rapid breathing before he started hyperventilating.

"Doug... It's alright..." A figure grasped his shoulders in a hug, causing the dwarf to stiffen.

"W-Wha...?"

Small, gentle hands brought his own into view. Sharp pieces of glass stuck out of this skin. Warm, oxygenated blood seeped from the wounds. He assumed this was the state of his knees too, feeling the familiar sting in both places.

He closed his silver eyes, heart rate picking up, as well as his breathing pattern.

"D-Doug...! It's okay! Just a bit of blood... Blossom's gone to get Nancy."

That voice. Sounded familiar. Who? Who? Not Kaasan. Nope. Too female to be Tousan. It said Blossom was out. Who cared about him so much.

Nice. It distracted him from the – red. Crimson. Blood. Death. Parents.

"Doug! Stay with me! It's alright! Look at me!"

Metallic eyes met soft green ones. Green bangs ghosted over her eyes. Long pigtails, a hat that looked like a crown.

"Fr-Frey..."

A smile. Gentle, concerning. Crossed with worried. Genuine. Did anyone ever tell her smiles suited her? It brought back warm memories, gentle ones of his beloved mother who shared that same smile whenever he wheezed and coughed. Kaasan.

"I'm here Douggie... No need to worry..."

The dwarf felt himself being pulled into a gentle hug. Everything about the Princess right now was gentle and caring. He liked it. Just like Kaasan.

He was faintly aware of Nancy digging at the glass buried in his skin. That ignorant bliss of thinking of his wonderful mother taking care of him. Every time he got hurt, every time he got ill... She was there taking care of him.

That ignorant bliss made him allow darkness to overcome him.

That was more fun to write than I thought... Review, favourite, follow or whatnot.

Okaasan/Kaasan is Mom in Japanese, according to Google searches

Otousan/Tousan is Dad in Japanese

If I used these improperly, please let me know. I speak English, not Japanese (though I wish to so badly) and I do not know proper grammar or anything.