Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
released 23rd September, 2023

For the second night in a row, Jim lay sleepless on his bed. The rest of the household was asleep. Or so he assumed. Douxie's spell canceled noise, but not the shadows of people moving around in the hall.

Who knew. Maybe his mom was laying awake in her bed, worrying about Strickler. Maybe Douxie was being kept awake by fears of what nightmares might come, after the Deep had messed with his head.

Jim kind of hoped that they were sleeping. They both really needed some rest.

He sighed and turned over. Toby's window, across the street, was dark.

He could sneak out, he supposed. Head down to Trollmarket. Talk with Blinky, or Aaarrrgghh, or Draal. Not Vendel, though. Jim absolutely did not want to interrupt his tinkering with Gaylen's core any sooner than he absolutely had to.

Hell, at this point, Jim would take the Soothscryer and having all the ghosts of Trollhunters past yell at him for whatever they thought he was going to do wrong this time.

(Well... not Deya. He was pretty sure she wouldn't yell at him. The rest of them, though, he had no such illusions about. And Kanjigar probably wouldn't yell, but having protected the core for so long, Jim was sure that his and Toby's predecessor would at least frown at him and give him some kind of speech about recklessness and rash actions.)

Which made Jim snicker a little bit, remembering how Douxie had apparently inspired the word 'hazardous.'

He rolled over again and reached for his phone. Its light blared at him, showing the wrong side of midnight.

/You up?/ he texted to Claire.

He was surprised when a minute later the phone buzzed in his hand with her response. /Yeah. Why are you up?/

/Can't sleep,/ he told her. /Want to come over?/

She didn't bother with a reply, but a moment later a shadow portal unfolded in his room. She stepped through, wearing pink pajamas with little hummingbirds printed all over. Jim stared at them as she closed the portal and came to perch on the edge of his bed.

"I'm pretty sure I've never seen those before," he said.

Claire shrugged. "They're new. I probably didn't get them last time."

"Why hummingbirds?"

She grinned. "Ever seen them fight? They're tiny but /fierce/."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

That got a laugh from her. "So what's up? Why can't you sleep?"

"Ugh." Jim flopped back down onto his pillow. "Douxie told me what he saw in the Deep, and it was... yeah. Bad."

Claire reached out, interlacing her fingers with his. "Is he going to be okay?"

Jim sighed, wishing he knew. "Is he going to be functional? Yeah. Is he going to be okay...?"

"Mmm. Has Douxie ever been okay?" Claire agreed. "We've all been running on fast-forward, including him, since before we even met him. Well, really met him."

"I don't think we're ever going to get a break," Jim said, staring at the ceiling. He should tell her that tomorrow... today, really, it was after midnight... Today was it. The end of the world, again.

He didn't want to.

But he had to.

"Claire," he said, looking at her. "There's something I need to tell you."

Jim's explanation left Claire reeling. "No wonder you're having trouble sleeping."

Her boyfriend chuckled mirthlessly. "Yeah."

She huffed a sigh. "But you can't be useless tomorrow, and we've all seen what happens when you don't get enough sleep."

"Hey," Jim protested, "I did a whole year of Trollhunting on minimum sleep and I was fine."

"You were fine with a caffeine addiction," Claire pointed out. "And I was thinking more what you pulled a couple months ago, when you were experimenting with shapeshifting."

Jim groaned. "Don't remind me."

She grinned. "So. What will help you sleep? Chamomile tea? Some Ambien?"

He hesitated, then asked quietly, "Stay with me tonight?"

Jim's hand was warm against her hip. Claire ran through a quick calculus of if she stayed, would she get caught by her parents, and then a following one of even if she was, did she really care?

The answer to both was no.

"For sleep?" she asked. "Or... more?"

Jim got very still. "Um. Whichever one you want?"

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Aren't we both supposed to be teenagers with raging hormones?"

"Uhh..."

Claire chuckled. "I'm not on birth control," she said, because her mom wouldn't let her be, because apparently going on the Pill was a straight highway to losing her virginity, getting knocked up, and dropping out of high school. Probably, but not necessarily, in that order. "So we probably shouldn't."

"I have stuff," Jim confessed. "Condoms and lube and... toys." He said the last word quieter than the others.

Claire blinked.

"Well, I wanted to be ready!" Jim defended himself. "Just in case, for whenever we were ready to, to pick up where we left off."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're very Boy Scout," Claire said, "for someone who was never in the Boy Scouts."

Jim shrugged. "Well, you know me. Son of Doctor Cautious? The one who practically has first aid kits stocked in every room?"

Claire laughed. "Not to mention the fire extinguisher in the kitchen."

"Ah." Jim grimaced. "No, actually, that one's my fault."

Claire raised her eyebrows.

"You remember my mom's attempts at cooking, right?" he reminded her.

Claire achieved clarity. "Oh. Yeah."

"Yeah," Jim said feelingly.

"How many times has your mom...?"

"Too many," said Jim glumly.

She snickered. "Okay, so, do you really want to have sex?" asked Claire, trying to steer them back to the previous subject.

Jim sighed, his whole body flattening into the bed while he studied the ceiling. "I... it's stupid," he complained. "I have the time stone, so it's not like tomorrow's going to be a losing scenario any way it goes. But I just don't want to leave anything undone, if that makes any sense."

Claire considered it, then laid down on the bed next to him. Their noses were practically touching. "It's not stupid," she said. She reached out, brushed fingers against his cheek. "You're not stupid."

And then they were kissing.

"Do I have to worry about anyone hearing?" she asked, coming up for air some time later.

Jim grinned. "Douxie soundproofed all the bedrooms."

Claire's eyes widened. "I have to get him to teach me that spell," she said. Her house was old, and creaky, and there was absolutely no way she would ever be able to make love to Jim there without someone hearing. Odds were even on who would be worse: her parents, or NotEnrique. "So. About these toys."

Jim slung one leg over her, kissed her again, then got off the bed, going to his dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, he pulled out a brown paper bag.

Claire smiled, watching him return to her.

Despite bone-deep exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, Douxie was up with the sun. "Dawn of the last day," he muttered, helping himself to a bowlful of cereal eaten upright in the kitchen.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Archie chided him, tearing into a chunk of ham which had been liberally doused with red pepper flakes.

"Bard's privilege. I shall be as melodramatic as I choose," Douxie retorted. Tired he might be, but he was also wired, and had a full list of activities to accomplish before meeting up with the others around four. And, oddly, he felt lighter than he had in a while. Dealing with Herne, and then Merlin, then facing the Deep so soon after returning to his own time really hadn't been good for him, he realized. He had needed the clarity that reading Jim's fate had given him.

Or maybe it was just his daily meds kicking back in.

"Why not both?" Douxie murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing, Arch."

The thing was, he felt light, for the first time in perhaps a long time. For the first time since he'd gotten his mastery... No, Douxie corrected himself. Since Merlin died.

Because, no matter how pretty anyone painted that sequence of events, Douxie knew it was entirely his own fault that his father had been killed. They had been working from his plan, which hadn't been good enough. Hadn't been clever enough. And ever since then, he'd carried the weight of that death. The death of the greatest wizard the world had ever known. And then, despite his best efforts, he hadn't even been able to keep Nari safe. Hadn't been able to keep her out of her siblings' hands. Had barely been able to rescue her from their mind control.

And like Merlin, she'd died to protect him.

Douxie had lacked surety that he would not cause harm those dearest to him.

Which, Archie had once pointedly said, included himself. Because if by action or deliberate inaction Douxie let himself be hurt, would that not affect those who loved him? Most especially Archibald himself. And Jim had also once said something similar.

But now he knew he wouldn't hurt them. That he hadn't failed.

I'm responsible for my actions, Douxie thought, placing his bowl and spoon in the sink and running water over them. And I'm responsible for their repercussions, so far out as I can see them. But I am not responsible for the choices others make.

Because Merlin had made his choice, in that future. He'd chosen Douxie's survival over his own. One boy's life over all the plans and machinations Merlin doubtlessly had in his mind.

And if I mattered that much to him, after all the stupid shit I've gotten up to, Douxie thought, scrubbing his dishes, I'm not allowed to gainsay it.

And though he'd known her for so little time, comparatively, Nari had felt the same way to him. She had been family. And like family, she too had chosen to save Douxie.

Having a mother again, he thought, had taught him a few things he hadn't known about what parents were supposed to do for their children.

It had been a long time since he'd thought about his birth parents. He tried to remember them now. They'd both been dark-haired like himself, he remembered that much clearly. But had his mother been willowy or plump? His father had been a giant, Douxie remembered that, but was that truth or a five-year-old's perspective? Whose eyes did he have? Whose hands? He didn't know.

He did remember warm arms around him, the smell of straw, and a song lulling him to sleep. So he supposed he'd been loved. And if they hadn't known what to do with his magic, well, at least they hadn't been the ones to cast him out for it.

"We should get going," he said, putting his dishes and Archie's away.

"Agreed," said his familiar. "That list of yours is extensive. Though at least we're no longer tied to the bus schedule."

The front door closed quietly behind them.

The unfortunate part of being a rancher and the father of two overly energetic children was that sleeping in was not something Henry ever got to indulge in.

"Coffee?" Astrid asked, not missing a beat as he entered the kitchen.

"Please." He accepted the steaming mug of socially acceptable chemical dependence, and leaned against the counter, checking his messages while pulling down a box of granola mix. "Mischief one and two getting dressed?"

"Two is dressed and Lego'ing, One is taking her time."

"Great. Uhh." Henry blinked at his text messages. "Crud."

"Problem?" Astrid flipped the eggs.

"Not... yet?" He kept reading. "Okay, not bad. Can you take Nuff to daycare this morning?"

"Sure. You got a commission coming in?"

He grimaced in anticipation of her reaction. "Douxie needs some work done."

To her credit, his wife's hand merely tightened on the handle of the spatula. After a second she resumed turning over the bacon. "At least he paid you last time."

"He always pays," Henry protested. "It's just not always in money."

"Magic artifacts and illicit spells don't pay the bills," she pointed out.

"They're not illicit," Henry argued. "Just... rare."

She looked flat at him, unimpressed.

He sighed. "I'll see what he's offering," he said, swiping in a quick response.

"Douxie." Archie's head popped up out of his backpack as they cruised along the verge of the road leading out of Arcadia and toward the Triple-H Ranch. "Message from Hiccup. He says Astrid wants to know if we'll be paying in actual money again."

Douxie sighed. "The heist funds are pretty much dried up," he admitted. "Ask him what the going price of unicorn horn is?"

"Unicorn horn?" demanded his familiar. "What are you- no, never mind. I'll find out when he does." He vanished back down into the backpack, presumably typing in a text message reply to the smith mage.

Henry's eyes grew wide at the message he got. "Holy-" he breathed.

Astrid paused. "What?"

"He's offering to pay in unicorn horn," Henry said, feeling like he'd swallowed something down the wrong tube.

"Which is...?"

"Rare. Beyond rare!" His hand was in his hair. "They're extinct, As! They have been for centuries. How the hell did he get his hands on one?"

"So. Worth your time and materials?" she asked.

"Look, I know you enjoy being the practical one and all that," Henry said, still feeling side-smacked by the possibility, "but... I could make charms from that which would mean you and the kids never got sick again, As. Even just the dust would be worth more than its weight in gold."

She hummed, considering the information. "Okay, I admit never having to deal with the flu again would be worth a lot. Not to mention the kids not needing to miss school because of sick days. And I know you love magic, Hiccup. But you love this ranch too, and if we can't pay the taxes and utilities, we could lose it."

"Yeah, I know." He nodded. "But this is big, Astrid."

"Bigger than that voidstone meteorite?"

"Ah. Differently big," he admitted.

She snickered. "All right, go ahead with whatever you two want to make. Just try to keep in mind the practical side of things once in a while?"

"Will do, milady." He caught her around her waist and towed her in for a kiss. "You know what they say about wizards, though. We're all dreamers."

"Good morning, Mamá, Papá," said Claire, coming into the dining room. She kissed her father on the cheek, ruffled Enrique's hair where he was being spoonfed by their mother. "Morning, Enrique, NotEnrique."

Her other brother, who was sitting on a dining room chair, bolstered by a stack of phone books, instead of the high chair, eyed her curiously. "What's got you in such a good mood this mornin'?"

"Oh, you know." Claire took her own seat. "I've got both my brothers back, we got the core out of the Deep... it just feels like it's going to be a good day, you know?"

"A good attitude to have," their father said, setting a tray of waffles on the dining table. The condiments nearest NotEnrique were somewhat less traditional than what the rest of them planned to have. Claire eyed the dishes of flat glass marbles, motor oil, and aquarium gravel, and mentally shrugged.

NotEnrique, however, didn't seem to believe her explanation, given his narrow-eyed look at her. Slowly he inhaled, a big deep lungful of air. His eyes shot wide; he gaped. "You-" he started.

Enrique shrieked loudly and reached with grabby hands for one of the waffles his father was dishing out onto plates.

"No, mijo," their mother said, "that's too advanced for you."

"A taste won't hurt him," their father objected, tearing one waffle and handing a piece to the baby.

"Javi!"

Claire glared at NotEnrique during the distraction and mimed zipping her lips.

Slowly, still wide-eyed, her brother nodded.

"So!" Javier said, as Enrique stuffed the strip of waffle into his mouth then promptly spat it back out onto the tray of his high chair. "Plans for the day?"

"I have to go down to Trollmarket after school and see if Vendel's made any progress with the core," Claire said, settling her napkin onto her lap and reaching for the fake maple syrup. "And if he hasn't, I need to help Jim study for pre-calc. Missing two weeks of school set him way back."

"I," announced NotEnrique, tearing his gaze away from Claire, "gotta go help Nomura with checking in on all those kids, seein' if they got settled okay. Goin' from the Darklands to the Lightlands ain't easy, ya know?"

"I will help you with that," said Ophelia. "Then," she added, "we will see about getting you tested and enrolling you in school."

"Ma!"

"You are far too intelligent to spend your life doing nothing, mijo," she told him firmly. "And I am aware that you cannot be in the sun. But either accommodations can be made, or. Well. It would be good for all the local schools to add UV blocking films to their windows," she said, nodding firmly, "given all the potential students you brought across yesterday."

NotEnrique looked aghast at the planned destruction of all his free time. Claire reached over and patted him on the arm. "She does it from a place of love," she advised him. "Besides, don't you want to show off how smart you can be and smoke the bio or math courses?"

He snorted. "On the list of things I'd wanna smoke, those ain't even on the list," he told her.

"Just give it a try," she said. "I have the feeling things are really going to get shaken up at Arcadia Oaks High in the next couple years."

"Well," said Jamie, looking at the Ziploc bag that was pointedly hovering over the checkout register, limned in a certain coworker's distinctive blue magic, "I really can't give him points for subtlety."

But the bag had his name on it, so he took it down, the blue of Douxie's magic fading away now that its task was accomplished. Curious, he opened it, sliding the contents into his hand. Two crystal necklaces, each with a name written on it via Sharpie and masking tape folded over the cord. Also a brief note, which Jamie read with interest, his brows creeping higher and higher with each line.

Finishing reading it, he put the note down on the counter and stood there for a few seconds, pointedly staring at nothing. "This," he said eventually, aloud into the stillness of the closed bookshop, "is what I get for hanging around with master wizard candidates."

Huffing, he shoved the note into his pocket, together with the necklace that had Jack's name on it, removed the tag from his own necklace, and pulled it over his head, tucking the chilly crystal under his shirt, where it slowly warmed up. Then he pulled his phone out and shot his partner-in-all-manner-of-mischief a text message, asking him to pop by on his lunch break and pick up his own necklace.

Then, and only then, did Jamie start the business of opening the arcane bookstore, both the mundane aspect and its more magical one, for business.

Zoe resisted, womanfully, the urge to stab someone when she found a necklace hanging on her bathroom mirror. "Fucker can't be bothered to show up to rehearsal," she grumbled, grabbing it, "but he thinks he can bribe me with jewelry?" She snorted, then took a closer look at her bribe.

"Mass produced cord is shit," she announced to her reflection. "Huh. Looks like he's got some interesting work on the crystal, though..."

A folded note, hithertofore unseen, fluttered down from who knew where. She snatched it before it could land in the sink.

/Zoe-

neither a bribe nor an apology, I'm afraid. Might be taking on the Arcane Order in a few days. Thought you might want to be part of that, or at least have a heads-up. Sorry about the cord, I know it's not to your standards.

-Douxie/

"Motherfucker," she swore, clenching her hand on the note. It crumbled to soot, flash-fried between her fingers. "I am going to kill him," she swore to her mirror. "One of these days, I am seriously going to kill him."

But she put on the necklace anyway, and used the soot to smudge her eyelids.

Jim whistled cheerfully (and tonelessly, he'd admit that, especially after a couple hours of struggling with Douxie's guitar). He'd woken up with the woman he loved in his arms and gotten to cuddle with her for several long minutes until the time dawned on them both and she'd cursed, grabbed her PJs off the floor, and bolted through a shadow portal back to her own bedroom. Life was good as he opened the garage door and wheeled his bike out onto the driveway.

Much as he loved his Vespa, he wasn't giving up morning bike rides with Toby to school for anything.

The most significant event of his life had happened on one of those rides, after all.

"'Mornin', Jimbo," his best friend and fellow Trollhunter greeted as Jim shut the garage door. "Sounds like you're feeling good."

"I just have a feeling, Toby," Jim replied. "It's going to be a great day."

"Great as in great, or great as in great and terrible?" asked Toby. His eyes flicked up to the second story of the Lake house. "Speaking of, how's our resident wizard this morning?"

"I think he's good," Jim said honestly, mounting his bike. "I mean, he was gone when I got up this morning, but... I dunno, Tobes. He read my palm last night and whatever he saw there? I think it really settled him."

"Huh." Toby pushed off and Jim followed suit. "Well, if that works for him, I'm not going to knock it."

Jim chuckled. "Yeah. Whatever helps him, right? Even if it's incomprehensible to us mere mortals."

Toby was silent for a long minute as they pedaled across the canal bridge, briefly passing over the entrance to Trollmarket. "If today works, Jim... I think we might have to retire that phrase altogether."

"Huh?" Jim blinked.

"'Mere mortals'," Toby clarified. "I mean, isn't part of the point of breaking the core and giving magic back to all humanity, that everyone's going to have a stupidly long lifespan? And be able to use magic."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess so." Jim's lips made a line as he thought about how that would change things. Change everything.

But at the same time, given that people were people no matter their shape, size, or bodily composition... maybe it wouldn't change that much at all.

Magic people weren't magically any better than humans, after all. Gatto and Usurna were trolls, and they were cannibals and traitors. Morgana was a wizard, and her idea of fair play sucked. Herne was a god and an asshole.

And the less said about Bellroc and Skrael, and what they wanted to do to the planet (let alone what they had done to their sister), the better...

Jim was really not looking forward to confronting them again. Please let Douxie be able to fast-talk them.

"Jimbo?" Toby's voice broke into his thoughts.

"People are complicated," Jim said, trying to think his way through things. Douxie had said that his part would be managing the fallout afterwards. But who, outside of Arcadia, was going to listen to a high school sophomore? "This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Hey." Toby extended a fist toward him. "We've got each other's backs, Jim. You and me and the whole team. Worse comes to worst, we can ask Aja and Krel for a little fake interplanetary invasion to shock people into their senses."

Jim laughed. "I don't think that's what it'd do," he said. "Now, maybe if we can get Eli to build the Gun Robot again..."

"Now you're talking!" Toby declared, a broad grin on his face.

"So." Hiccup crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorframe. "What exactly are you wanting to make?"

"Rings," said Douxie, gesturing expansively, making jazz hands to indicate magic.

The smith mage blinked. "Rings. I am sensing a bit of a cliche here."

Douxie snorted. "I'm not asking you to make Isildur's Bane."

"No, but asking smiths to make rings is all kinds of stereotypes," Hiccup retorted. "One that goes back millennia. Just check all the myths."

"Says the man who forged his own and his wife's wedding rings," Archie replied coolly. "Though I do agree with him, Douxie," he added to his familiar. "What do you want to make rings for?"

"I." Douxie bit his bottom lip and fiddled with the grab handle of his backpack. "I've got a family now," he said. "And I know it's probably stupid, but I want to keep them safe. I can't wrap them in bubble wrap, but making them something they could wear that keeps a bit of unicorn horn in touch with their skin? That I could do."

"Ah." Archie's eyes were wide with illumination. "And you don't want to make them more pendants because-"

"Because I'm already looking like a bit of a garage sale," Douxie said, flicking his finger against each of the three he wore: the carved skull, the crystal panic button, Taliesin's opal. "A ring's less noticeable."

"Harder to fit, though," Hiccup observed. "But all right. What were you thinking, material and design wise?"

Douxie sighed and pulled a notebook out of the battered backpack, handing it over.

Hiccup took it and looked at his drawings. Douxie winced, waiting for the criticism.

It wasn't long in coming. "These are wedding ring designs," Hiccup observed levelly, his green eyes raising to meet Douxie's.

"Yes, well. Strickler's already given Barbara a ring, but it's a protection ring, but even I can read the signs between the two of them. And Jim and Claire are going to get married, well, maybe not right out of high school, but certainly before they finish college-" Douxie knew he was babbling, but he couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself. He'd never given a gift like this before, but once he'd stumbled across the idea, it had felt so right that he had needed to pursue it as fast as he could.

"Gift giving," muttered Archie, which made no sense at all.

"Hey." Hiccup's callused hand found Douxie's shoulder. "I didn't say it was a bad idea. I was just surprised. You've never made anything like this before."

"But you have," Douxie replied. "So will you help me, please?"

A slow, broad grin made its way across Hiccup's face. "I would love to," he said. "'Teach'."

Douxie gaped. "No," he said. "No no no, it's bad enough that Claire calls me that-"

"I do note," Archie said, ignoring the two of them and examining Douxie's sketches, "that the rings for Jim and Claire do bear a certain similarity to Jim's crown."

"They're for my king and his queen," Douxie shot back. "Of course that motif's going to carry through."

"Well," said Hiccup, "since we know what you want, and it's going to take some time, let's get to work."

"Thank you," Douxie said fervently, and moved to do so, hoping to lose himself, as always, in the crafting of art and the working of magic.

Author's Note: Apologies for posting this a day late. As they say, it has been a week.