I don't own Amphibia. Or Sasha's sweet heron swords.
Note: Darcy has a collective consciousness and uses "we" and "our" in the episode where they meet Anne and Sasha, so I figured the proper pronouns would be they/them. Keep that in mind as you read.
Amphibia: Last Words
A One-Shot
Victory was within Darcy's grasp.
They smiled. Of course, it was. After all, they were the combination of Amphibia's greatest minds in one fine host. This body was not as physically strong as those of monarchs past, but the human Marcy Wu was still a being of knowledge and Wit, once possessing a fragment of the power that would soon bring Calamity to all enemies of the Empire.
Some of these enemies now hung helplessly before their ruler, wrapped in the cables of the Core Room. Most of the rebels were a family of lowly frogs, farmers who turned their plowshares into swords, now squirming in an inexorable grip. A few higher-class newts, even a brutish toad, had somehow managed to align with them. A motley crew, to be certain, and a microcosm of the rebellion that clashed with their forces moments ago.
A rebellion that, at the sight of their captured commanders, collapsed and retreated to the far reaches and the lowest dregs, back where they belonged.
To Darcy's mild annoyance, Andrias, the newt king, leader of their army, and extension of their will, stared at the little pink frog in the cap. Perhaps Aldritch's son saw something familiar in that one...
No matter.
They had more important matters to attend to.
Matters named Anne Boonchuy and Sasha Waybright.
The two had cried out at the sight of Wu's new form. First disbelief, then anger. The blonde one even threatened to tear Darcy's helm from the host. But the humans' words were just as feeble as their efforts to stop them.
Still, Marcy's memories showed that these two were touched by the gems. According to legend, these two bore the Heart and Strength that the gems' wielder would need to guide and shape the world... or lead it to destruction.
Strength, Darcy could understand. Wit? Who better than a hive mind knowing centuries of conquest could value mental power more? It was the mind of their host, after all, especially her memories, that provided the advantage over these pathetic rebels.
But Heart, a soft, bleeding heart, was something they did not need to rule. It was that weak little thing that led to their figurehead losing the box in the first place. It was also the thing that kept these little humans alive for so long, keeping them a threat. Darcy wanted the child of Wit erased some time ago, but her pawn seemed to have a soft spot for this one... until he plunged his sword through her spine.
Luckily, time, and that little act, had hardened him, mostly. Even now, through the crown on his head bound to the Core, Darcy could sense his thoughts were growing calmer. Whatever he had felt by seeing the pink frog—Sprig, they derived the name from their host—had been stomped back down. Perhaps he finally understood. He, like they, did not need Heart.
Especially not the child of Heart...
"Everything is ready, my lord!" Broken from his reverie, Andrias seemingly rejoiced. "The rebellion is in shambles, and Earth is ripe for the taking!"
Darcy's minds had already reached consensus before the rebels entered the room. They knew Anne, unlike the others, could access her gem's power. Hers was also the last to collect, which made the decision even more expedient.
"Then all that is left is for us to do what you could not."
Over their shoulder, ten eyes looked at the objective.
"Kill Anne."
With a thought, the cable holding Anne tossed her away from her comrades, only to restrain her directly before the monster wearing her friend's face. From their left hip, Darcy pulled out a dagger, producing an orange flame.
"Let's make this quick."
They raised the dagger high.
Anne had one last gambit.
"Wait-"
But it was too late.
With a cold execution performed in nearly a dozen lifetimes, Darcy plunged the dagger into Anne's neck.
A too-familiar sizzling sound reached everyone's ears, the blood and seared flesh trapping Anne's tortured scream in her own throat.
Sasha had no such limitation.
"ANNE!"
The word left her mouth well before she realized. The Plantars, Anne's family in all but blood, had cried out with her.
"Anne?" Polly, the youngest, despite her love of danger and adventure, had never truly seen this, not of one close to her. This was new, beyond her words, beyond her understanding. "Wh... what?"
"Anne... no." Sprig, reduced to a mumble like Polly, did know this, no matter how much he wanted to forget. His mother, his father... His sister. "Not you too..."
Hopediah, the patriarch, Anne's grandfather, knew this all too well. He had promised to be there for her. He had said so many things, lies and truths, first to keep her safe, then, as she grew into a brave and assured hero, to give her wisdom and courage. As far as he was concerned, his words led her here.
Now, his teary eyes facing the floor, he was silent. He could not say more.
Olivia and Yunan did not know Anne well, only through her deeds, like freeing them from King Andrias's bondage. They fought not just for their home, but to repay the humans who gave them the courage to fight back—not just Anne and Sasha, but their dear friend Marcy. Seeing Marcy possessed by some unnatural entity was disgusting enough, but the two held the smallest hope she would somehow return.
But how would they repay the humans now, after this?
Grime, the oldest and most experienced soldier of them all, could normally stomach such a sight as that before him. However, when his mind replaced Anne with the illusion of his cherished commander, he could only look away.
Sasha Waybright couldn't look away. Not as Anne coughed up blood and her trapped arms twitched upward, as if seeking to cover the wound. Not as Anne stopped fighting, only weakly turning her head to look at the people who were there for her.
And she certainly couldn't look away when Anne's dull eyes looked into hers.
In another life, Sasha had been Anne and Marcy's leader. They would do what she said, when she said, end of discussion. She hadn't told them, hadn't even realized back then, that it was not their submission that gave her confidence and strength to perform and succeed. It was their hugs, their words of encouragement, their gazes of adoration and joy whenever things went great, or their care and worry when things weren't.
When she landed in Amphibia, she still tried to present that confidence, even when it was mostly a shell to cover the scared girl underneath. She needed them, if only to feel strong again. She tried to drag Anne back to her side first, and she got a scar in return. And then, Marcy…
When she lost them both all over again, she felt that void inside began to grow anew, and it was the lowest she had ever felt. While she tried to distract herself, there were… thoughts, dark thoughts, thoughts about what she could do with her swords.
Thoughts about what she could do to herself.
But then she found Anne's diary. She had recalled then how some students on Earth had joked that they were her "girlfriends." She always laughed it off—heck, she didn't know if she even liked girls—but she knew, by the time she finished the diary and resolved to be better, that she loved Anne and Marcy, in whatever uncertain way that meant.
And she also knew that when Anne came back to the new Sasha and gazed with happiness and pride with whom she had become, Sasha felt like she could take on the universe.
Now, those eyes could only fill her with pain. Because in Anne's eyes…
…she gave up.
No one could hear Anne's words. But Sasha saw her mouth them just before her eyes closed.
I'm sorry.
Blue wisps of light flowed from the girl's body, heading toward the artifact of power, their home. The green and pink gems held their color, waiting impassively as a bright blue returned into the third.
The body of Anne Boonchuy hit the floor.
Sasha felt it. The void. It ate at her, made her go slack. One of the people she loved, had fought for, would die for, was gone.
"…no…"
She begged silently for things to be different, begged for Anne to get up and say it was just a crazy prank between friends.
This was real.
The thoughts came back.
Anne shouldn't be sorry. Sasha should be sorry.
She deserved this. She couldn't protect Marcy, or Anne. She wasn't strong enough. Because they were her strength, and they were gone. All that was left was this… this thing with its helmet and horns and sick, twisted smile, its very existence a mockery of her failure.
Maybe she should join-
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! IT WORKED!" Darcy cried, echoing across the room, the Core's eyes filling the room with an even stronger red light. "THEY'RE FINALLY MINE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
That laugh.
It roared in her ears, echoed in her skull, louder than her self-hate, louder than her darkest thoughts, louder than the demons threatening to swallow her whole. It cut past them all, charged through her body, stirred something deep inside.
Unnoticed by all, the pink gem sparkled.
Months ago, at three temples, the Calamity Box was recharged, and the girls of Wit and Strength had seemingly ceded their yet-untapped power. What no one knew was that, regardless of the transfer, for so long as they lived, the power was still theirs to reclaim, always a part of them.
They only needed to find it.
Sasha wasn't strong.
But she would be. She had to be.
Just one more time, for one more fight.
That thing inside, pulling inward, called out to her.
A tiny pink flame.
Strength.
Power.
She found it.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"
With a furious cry and a burst of pink light, Sasha broke free from the cables. While Anne had access to the blue light for longer, Sasha's battle-hardened body was a sturdier vessel, handling the energy racing through her like it was second nature. A blonde blur zipped past her fellow captives, turning their restraints to shreds.
"What!?" Darcy's eyes widened.
The surviving gem bearer was no longer the helpless whelp in their hold. Now stood a wrathful being emanating an aura of pink and red, blanketing and fortifying her swords. Since Sasha had turned away, Darcy could see that her blonde hair carried rosette tips and flowed of its own will. "Stop them!"
Andrias tried to bar their path, his sword alight. "I won't let you-"
"MOVE!"
With another pink flash, the newt king's burning blade flew into the air... and his arm with it. He clutched a sparking stump close to his chest in pain and disbelief, his remaining arm unable to cover up the gaping wound on his side. He backed away and collapsed on the wall, out of the fight.
Pointing her swords to the exit, the rebel commander gave her order. "Get out of here! I'll stop Darcy!"
"But, Sasha-"
"PROTECT THEM, GRIME!" He flinched; she never called him that. "GO!"
In tears, they obliged. The rebellion may have retreated, but somehow, someway, it had to keep going. They had to keep going. Keep living.
For Anne.
For Darcy, this was unexpected. Darcy did not know any connection to the gems was still retained since the recharge. Perhaps she should have killed Sasha first...
Oh well.
They could fix that.
Choosing to instead ride on their latest taste of victory, Darcy decided to indulge in their new favorite pastime: mocking the inferior. "Well, well. Look at you. For a moment there, we weren't sure you could-"
"Shut up."
Sasha turned to her enemy, eyes no longer blue, now matching the color of her gem. "I am going to destroy you. Not kill you. Destroy you. Rip every piece of you off Marcy's body. Tear this room apart and crush this filthy mess of monster brains with my bare hands. Even if I have to bring this whole place down on both our heads, you are dead!"
Actually afraid for the first time in their corporeal life, Darcy took a step back. "Now, now, Sasha. You wouldn't cut down your best friend, would you?"
"Why not?" Sasha readied her blades, stepping forward in turn. "You already did!"
Darcy took delight in that. Sasha Waybright was right. Always right, even when she was wrong, as one of Marcy's fleeting memories informed. There was no one left to oppose them, not truly. Not with The Heart of the rebellion bled out on the Core room floor, and their would-be greatest source of Wit trapped in her own mental abyss.
They had the advantage. And the power. Their host loved games, and this was just another. One Darcy would win.
"Alright, then." Steeling their collective will, Darcy reached beneath their cape. "If it's a fight you want…"
With the press of a button, a scythe of blazing red light appeared, ready for its first taste of human blood.
"Bring it on, girlfriend."
Darcy and Sasha charged.
END
I was inspired by a short YouTube video of a what-if scenario of Darcy stabbing Anne with the dagger. I believe it was simply titled "Amphibia - what-if". I wrote a comment briefly showing the possible outcome. But then I realized months later, "hey, maybe I could develop this idea," and so, I crafted this one-shot. As with many of my other one-shots, it's more about the feelings and thoughts of those involved rather than detailed events.
Much of these thoughts and feelings were Sasha's, for practical and personal reasons.
Practically speaking, I had first written the "gem powers awakened" scene, so it all was to lead to that. Also, Sasha is the one among them all who knew Anne most personally and longest, and it's not like Marcy had much to say at the time... Also, yes, I know Frobo is there, but we're just gonna act like it doesn't matter for the sake of the narrative.
Personally speaking, I just like Sasha. I learned about the series late in its development (around "True Colors," probably its most impactful episode), but as I looked into things, I really came to admire Sasha's character as a bad friend and borderline villain protagonist who climbs out of the depths to become a better person, willing to take a glowing scythe to the spine and keep going just to save the people she loves. Speaking of love, if you wanna ship Sashanne, I suppose it's there if you squint. I like all of the Calamity trio ships.
Anyway, I interpreted Sasha's actions earlier in the animated series as a sign of insecurity, a cry of help from someone who might not have a lot of control in her life (her parents' possible divorce probably didn't help), but who leans on her friends as her rock, even if she bullies around those friends like they're her subordinates. I also get the feeling that someone so used to leading herself and others would be her own worst critic, and those long stints without her friends and WITNESSING ONE'S IMPALEMENT ON A BURNING SWORD couldn't have helped her mental state. Thus, her depiction here.
And I HAD to use "Bring it on, girlfriend." It's just too perfect.
Anyway, thanks for reading. It's been a LONG time since I published a fanfiction. Hope I haven't lost my touch. Until the next one, readers.