Disclaimer: I don't own Amphibia
Title: The needed sacrifice
Summary: And Marcy will open up to him. Talking about her parents, about her life. About the move. About a special little box she'd found, unaware that it had originated in the very castle she was calling home. Andrias will store all that info deep down, ignore the yelling glee coming from the crown, and play his pieces. He loses. He wins. It's a little of both.
...
The scouting mission goes terribly. Andrias sips his giant mug of tea and watches as his best newts get dragged in limping and holding each other up, scrambling to grab the walls for balance, or even on gurneys. It's about what he expects. It's a disaster. The Core is whispering about weaklings and disposable corpses as Marcy finds him. Her cape is a bit singed, her hair scuffed, but she's up and moving. A benefit of tasking his crew to care for her.
"That cult went downtown, baby!" she crows, already climbing onto an impossibly large chair. She crests the top without running out of breath, used to the big furniture he had to utilize. "What's next, boss?"
"Patience, Mar-Mar," he chides her. "Let your men rest a bit."
She's pouting as she hops from the chair to a table, then to the tall window. He shifts so she can watch the carnage unfold. A newt trips and falls onto their knees, trembling. Lady Olivia helps him to his feet and inside, face pinched with worry. It was just like her to get involved in affairs beyond her station. He'd be offended if he wasn't tickled pink by the dirt on her dress.
"How long is it gonna take?" she asks.
"I don't know," he admits, taking a drink of tea. It's enough liquid to drown the average human. "Depends on how long it takes for them to heal."
Marcy's face scrunches a little. She nudges his shoulder, touch lighter than a feather. "Aww, c'mon, big man. You can't tell me you don't have some healing potions in stock somewhere."
Magic from Earth must be so odd, he thinks. Magic in Amphibia is curses and bringing creatures back from the dead; not the pressure of a bandage or the sting of rubbing alcohol. "The free healthcare isn't enough?"
His ranger sits on the sill, swinging her legs. "You know what I mean! Cheat codes! Spare lives! That sort of thing."
"This isn't one of your video games, dear."
But she doesn't believe that. Marcy looks at Andrias with that bright young enthusiasm and he knows that she assumes it will all be okay. She'd told him all about the games of her world- health bars, status moves, party members who get up after falling over in a fight. She sees that in Amphibia. And it makes her easier to control, but it makes her precious and worth protecting.
"I just saved a guy from a mad cult with twisted daggers," Marcy reminds him, elbowing his side lightly. Andrias can't feel it through his tunic. "Name a more retro game cliche. I'll wait."
Andrias just doesn't know how to tell her that death is real. Permanant. That there is no 'uno reverse card' for this. The Core feeds on her optimism, already planning a thousand puzzles to keep her occupied when she joins them. Andrias forces himself to find comfort in it. It's kind enough to make her a home. He should be thankful for that. It's more than originally planned for her.
(What a home, in a giant death orb that plans to take over her world.)
"Marcy," he asks, because he simply has to know, "if any of that were real, why wouldn't we have put it on your leg?"
"Because you didn't know me?" Marcy replies, but her smile is a breaking at the edges. Wary. "Why would you waste good healing on a strange monster?"
(What kind of player, he wonders, is Marcy Wu?)
"I'm a thousand years old, Mar-Mar," he reminds her gently. "I've seen far weirder than you."
She doesn't seem to know what to say to that. Andrias slides into a chair with an enormous side, massaging his brow. The Core is pleased. The Core thinks it's found new blood. The Core wants to dissect her piece by piece, studying her under the microscope of a thousand eyes. Pick and poke at her organs and the bones beneath.
Marcy Wu would do the same to it, he decides.
"Are you... mad at me?" she asks finally, confused and perhaps a little hurt.
"No," he responds, firm and precise. "You did what I asked of you. I'm grateful to you for doing it."
Marcy hopped to his table. She's getting better at hopping, he's noticed. More and more froglike. (More and more like her.)
"So they're... really hurt?" Marcy says. "It's not... I'm not ready to go on my next mission?"
"They're under the care of very capable newts," he says, which is not a yes or a no. "Your next mission involves a giant cobra. I'd rather you had assistance for it."
Marcy tries not to look intimidated by the giant creature. He's seen it a thousand times before. Every ranger thinks they must be brave. Every frog will face the odds. But she's thirteen, and she's far from home, and she's scared. She tugs on her singed cape.
(Lief must have felt the same, when she betrayed him.)
"Sounds like I'll get some serious EXP," she says finally. "How do I upgrade my weapons?"
"You buy them, Marcy."
She blew a raspberry. "That's lame."
Andrias finds it in him to laugh. He's pretty sure she's just doing it to mess with him at this point; get her mind off the injured soldiers below. "We'll find your friends soon, Marbles, I promise," he says, vowing to her and the preening Core that it's only a matter of time before things really kick off.
Marcy smiles. It's different from the smile she usually has- smaller, but genuine, and full of longing. "I hope so. They make me feel more... real."
Andrias hasn't sent out a single search patrol. Marcy doesn't need to know. The Core doesn't need to know. The longer it takes, the longer things can be like this. Simple and light. "Be careful, kiddo. Friends have a nasty habit of moving on."
She shakes her head. "Not Anne and Sasha. I know they're looking for me."
He purses his lips and doubts that, silently. The girls were probably off surviving. Not that it matters, really; friends are as disposable as the newts out front. (They'd certainly thrown him aside that easily.) "I'm sure they're looking for you," he lies. "From what you've told me, they're quite the pair."
Marcy nods and twists her cape some more, bunching the fabric beneath her slowly strengthening palms. "What if... what if they got hurt? Like the newts?"
"It's possible," he agrees. "Our world is much more dangerous than yours."
She swallowed and didn't reply. The Core is loving the drama, the fear, chattering animatedly in the crown. The idea that she could be just for them, that her friends have disappeared and left her for their claws to swoop in and cradle her. "Try not to worry so much, my dear. You're hardier than you look."
"Yeah," Marcy breathes, relieved, her shoulders falling slack. "Yeah! I'm sure they're fine."
Andrias pulls out the flipwart board. It's a favorite of his, and it's a favorite of The Core's. A good way to quiet the voices and simply enjoy the silence as it tried to guess her next move. "Shall we? We have plenty of time." Marcy settles in as he pulls out the pieces. It's a special board he'd had commissioned just for her- big enough for him to get the pieces, but small enough she could still move them. The average pawn goes up to her hip.
"I can tell you anything," she says, voice quavering, "Right?"
Andrias smiles, deceptively calm. "Of course."
And Marcy will open up to him. Talking about her parents, about her life. About the move. About a special little box she'd found, unaware that it had originated in the very castle she was calling home. Andrias will store all that info deep down, ignore the yelling glee coming from the crown, and play his pieces. He loses. He wins. It's a little of both.
Author's Note: Shouldn't've opened her heart over a game of flipwart, huh? This was a fun one. Dealing with Andrias' internal monologue while also dealing with Marcy's unwillingness to see Amphibia as anything more than a game.
-Mandaree1