A/n: Been a while since I've written Douxie, omg. How could this have happened? Gonna make up for it now though, hopefully. Well, I suppose starting off with putting Douxie in a war situation (probably like ww1 situation) could be a good starting point. From here on out though, I have genuinely no idea where this is going to go since I have started to write this at 10 pm.

Noise.

There was noise everywhere and it was a constant, filling his head and making his ears sore. Sounds of shouts, screams, cries were lost to booms and bangs from explosions, hisses of dirt spraying everywhere, and mechanical whirs from tanks and other technologies that had been built to try and end this endless war.

How had he ended up here?

It was all a blur. Red, blue, green pushed into his hands, a uniform that was soon to be stained with blood and dirt and sweat and tears. Pulled into a fight for a country who'd always fought his kind, shunned the magic community only to turn to them unknowingly for help. It was the same story everywhere. Other magic-users, but other humans too, skin colour making them no different from those with magic in their veins if only the way they were treated was seen.

Archie, where was Arch? He'd been here a second ago, next to Douxie in the trenches they'd been living in for weeks now. It was getting harder and harder to remember a time without war than with, weeks becoming months soon becoming two years of this hell.

And hell it was. All of it too much, attacking all of his senses. Pungent, poisonous gases attacking his nose if trench stink and smoke wasn't. Loud sounds that only made the silences louder. Dead bodies everywhere, blood, destruction, madness everywhere he looked. He hadn't tasted a proper meal in so long now, hard, dry bread being all he knew.

It was terrible, and it went on and on and on.

He'd considered running away. He was a wizard, he had magic! But there was nowhere to run to, this war reaching its ugly tentacles to poison even the most remote parts of the world. He had other options, go into hiding, maybe even find his way to a troll settlement, but each time he planned it, something would happen. Their camp would be attacked at night, someone would die, they would have new orders, and he would be forced to stay, obligated to stay.

"And it's all for nothing, Arch!" He'd ranted to his familiar one night, just as he did almost every other night when they weren't using the darkness to cover their regiment's actions. "They fight, and it's all for what? So many people dead, or injured, and for what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

Archie had just looked up at him solemnly. "It's just how humans are, Douxie. Greedy, selfish, and all the bad things in the world."

He'd slept restlessly that night. It was nothing new.

"Alright, soldiers! We've got new orders. We're to go to Tunsten Hill and win it over from the Huns. It's not too far off, but we leave in an hour and get ready to attack at sundown. You three with me," - their leader pointed at three men in front of him before turning to everyone else - "and everyone else… get to work!" He roared, earning salutes all around - "Yes, sir!" - before everyone scurried to pack up.

Douxie stayed by the wall of the trench, letting people pass him in the narrow space. He sighed, catching the eye of an older soldier watching him.

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier. None of us are. But we do what me must, for our country. So pucker up, boy, and help me with these rations."

Douxie smiled bitterly and walked over. "Only it's not my country, is it?" He muttered under his breath, before leaning down to help the other man.

Battle after battle was how his life went. "We may have won this battle, but we've yet to win the war," became a phrase he heard only too often, but he'd take it over news of a lost battle, whether it be another regiment against the enemy, or a fellow soldier with life.

He was stuck in the middle of another battle now, and more death, more destruction, more chaos was just everywhere, surrounding him. They'd underestimated their opponents and walked into an ambush. Shouts of "We're outnumbered," and "There's too many of them," joined the usual shouts of terror and orders.

Artillery ripped up the ground beside him and he flinched, mind back to the battlefield. Darting around soldiers and bombs and ditches, he sprinted to help. A routine drilled into him, one he's forced to follow and absorb himself into if he expects to make it out of this with his sanity intact.

Today, the routine was running around to drag injured soldiers back to the med camp they'd set up, which was filling up with soldiers by the second, already overflowing. One soldier treated to, another five injured or dead. Their numbers of people actually fighting were dwindling significantly. Soon enough, he'd be called to help fight or to retreat, just as had been happening for weeks now.

The same thing over and over again, no end in sight. Chaos, death, blood, destruction, darkness.

He considered using his magic, turning the tide of the battle or even helping heal the soldiers even if medicinal magic had never been his strong suit. He knew he could help so much more, if only this world was different. If only people were more accepting, nicer, not fighting each other for nothing. An idealistic, naive view maybe, but one he dreamed about each night he could actually sleep and the nightmares didn't touch him.

But for now, that world he so longed for would remain in his dreams, dreams he couldn't dwell on now because there went another five soldiers to his right, and off he went.

A/n: I… genuinely don't know what happened, how it happened, but um, yeah. That's the fic, and that's… let's all just not talk about it, okay? Thank you. If you feel like I owe you legit Douxie whump after this, then if you haven't already, go check out some of my older fics; I have quite a few Douxie fics that I hope will make up for whatever this turned out to be lol. Sorry again. I'm tired.

Anyway, stay safe and see ya soon.

- CrowofArcadiaOaks