A Dog Among Princes

Chapter 30

Flora’s home was probably one of the most beautiful places Griffith had ever been. Her mansion was grown from the bows of a massive tree, the branches twisting to form ornate designs upon the walls and windows. Tools of spell casting and chemistry littered the tables and shelves sparkling in the late afternoon light. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was here. Guts had been pretty cagey about what he was doing here aside from talking to Flora, so that must’ve meant there was something pretty severely wrong with him. Griffith knew something had been going on. He’d wake up in the middle of the night to find Guts wandering off, or for the past few days, just sitting there staring at the wall, trying to stay awake despite how obviously tired he was. The fact that he was asking for help for it however, that was a bad sign. He only asked for help when there was no other option.

“Sir Griffith, could we speak with you for a moment?” Flora opened the door to her sitting room. He nodded and stood from the kitchen table.

As Griffith entered, Flora nodded to Guts. He crossed his arms. “There’s something I need your help with.” Griffith waited for Guts to give him more information. His fiancé stayed silent.

“Can I ask what it is?”

“We have to do shrooms.”

“Excuse me?”

“Perhaps I ought to explain then,” Flora interjected. “His highness has been having strange dreams ever since he put on the berserker armor. I believe that something within him may have been awakened or at least strengthened by it. We would need two people; one a trained witch, and one he is close with to enter his mind to find the root cause. Guts insisted upon you.”

“Is this true?” Griffith was touched. Guts tapped his finger on his arm nervously.

“Flora said you’d have to go through my memories and shit to figure out what it was. I don’t like the idea of anybody being in there but I guess if somebody has to do it, I’d rather it was you.” His eyes flicked to Griffith and then away again. “Look there’s a lot of shit in there I’d rather nobody see. I figure you’re the least likely to give me shit for it.” Guts was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, but if he was this resistant and was going through with it anyway, how could Griffith say no.

“What do I have to do?”

“Both of you will have to inhale these magical spores.” Flora held out a small cloth bag. “My apprentice is more familiar with his highness than I am, so she will act as your guide in the ritual. As for what you must do, you will only understand that once the ritual has begun.”

“Your move.” Griffith confidently folded his arms as he finished his turn. The lobster across from him looked quizzically at the chessboard pondering its next turn. Haha the fool! He hadn’t realized Griffith was stealing the pieces while he wasn’t looking!

“Griffith, we have to go.” Schierke placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What? Can’t I finish my game?” She pulled him off his chair, pieces still in his pocket.

As he turned around he stepped in something wet and sticky. His nose was assailed with the pungent, rusty odor of blood. Schierke covered her nose with her hat, the overwhelming scent of carnage too much even for a regular person’s nose. Right, that must have been his own dream, so now they were in…

Guts’s dream-self didn’t seem to notice them there. He was busy beating his own face in, or perhaps he was the one having his face being beaten in. It was difficult to tell which one was him. Perhaps they both were. The hits were slow, agonizing, each landing with a wet squelch. The two Gutses were surrounded by a horde of skeletons, fencing them in and preventing either of them from running from the fight. They chanted in unison, “It should have been you! It should have been you!” No wonder he often woke in a panic.

“Let’s get out of here.” Schierke leaned back and fell into the pooled blood and disappeared. Griffith took a deep breath looking back at the fight, before following.

Griffith fell for what seemed like ages before hitting shallow water. An endless field of stars stretched above his head and below his feet, reflected by the supernaturally still water. For the first time in his life he felt incredibly small. He was nothing but a tiny dot in the infinite expanse. Schierke pulled on his sleeve, breaking him out of his stupor.

“This is what the inside of Guts’s mind looks like?” He asked, still dumbfounded by the vastness of it all. It was as if he were suspended in emptiness, no up and no down, only endless stars in all directions. It was so beautiful and yet somehow it felt so lonely. “It is calmer than I’d expected.” He experimentally dipped a talon into the water and a ripple traveled across the plain of water and out across the horizon.

“It probably won’t stay that way for long. Even though he agreed to this, I get the sense that he’s a rather guarded person.” Griffith nodded. “It’s more than likely that when he begins to register us poking around, his mind will fight back.” Schierke straightened the brim of her hat. “Are you ready for that?”

Griffith unsheathed his claws. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The plane seemed endless as the two journeyed across it, looking for any landmark. Anything that would tell them that they were near just one of his memories. They had almost given up hope, resigning themselves to the idea that this endless nothing was the defense Guts’s mind had put up for them, but then Griffith felt his foot fall deeper than he’d expected. He quickly engaged his wings, flapping them to regain balance. He and Schierke looked into the water and found a yawning hole, opening up into the depths. A light shone at the very bottom of it.

“I think that may be what we’re looking for.” Schierke squinted down, kneeling at the edge.

“Hold your breath.”

“Wait, why?” Griffith scooped her up and jumped in, the weight of him sinking them both like a stone until they both came up coughing.

Guts lay on a rooftop staring at the moon. His sword was grasped in his hands held straight out. Is this the answer I was looking for? Griffith felt in him hope, respect, a desperate desire to trust, and finally, love. Love that was squashed down by guilt and a sense of loyalty. But still love nonetheless. From now on, I’ll wield this sword for him. In this moment he was completely resolute. Despite his guilt, despite his instincts telling him that he shouldn’t trust him, that all of this could end in seconds and he would be alone and miserable again, he would swear his sword, the culmination of everything he was to Griifith.

All this time. He’d felt this way for all this time but he’d been too afraid to say it. It was one thing for Griffith to know that, it was another entirely to watch him swear himself to a man he thought would never love him back, who he thought might even be disgusted with him if he knew. Griffith felt as though a hand had closed over his heart.

Schierke and Griffith were pulled from the memory and spat out back on the surface. He still felt overwhelmed and a bit shaken by what he’d seen and felt. How could he not? He knew that right after that he had begun his pursuit of Princess Charlotte. Although he hadn’t really accepted that he and Guts felt that way about each other, hadn’t entertained the option that they could ever be together, it still felt like he had betrayed them both by wooing Charlotte. He’d certainly never had the same determination that Guts had, to swear himself knowing that it would probably never happen. With his own dream, he was only ever able to dedicate himself by believing with every fiber of his being that he could eventually make it. Guts could dedicate himself to his dream believing that it was doomed from the start. Griffith never would’ve had the strength.

“We still have quite a ways to go until we find the block. Things will probably only get more intense from here.”

A ripple brushed against their ankles. Then a second. Then a third. They came in an even rhythm emanating from somewhere beyond the horizon. It was a rhythm Griffith recognized. A steady gate, kept fairly slow in pace, so that those with shorter legs didn’t have to fight to catch up. A dark figure rose above the horizon, its massive shadow blocked out the stars, forming a silhouette of cold emptiness against the sky, with glowing red eyes torn into its face like open wounds. It was a giant war hound, its ears cropped, its tail docked and its body littered with scars. It opened its mouth and a familiar deep voice growled past rows and rows of jagged teeth.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” It began to stalk towards them, only two ripples emanating from its four, clawed, paws. “Get the hell out.”

“Guts?” Griffith knew that thing was him. He didn’t know why he knew but he felt it deep with his bones.

“Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.” It bared its fangs as it padded closer.

“Come on, we’re here to help you. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“5, 4,”

“Griffith we need to get out of here. Now!” Schierke pulled on his sleeve.”

“3, 2,”

“You could never hurt me.” He confidently challenged the massive hound. It stared down at him, cocking its head.

“You really wanna test that theory?” It shot forward, clamped down on his arm, picked him up and shook him like a rag doll.

“Wheel of Fire!” A massive circle of flame crashed into the beast. It dropped Griffith in pain and surprise. Griffith clipped his wings into place and quickly grabbed Schierke, taking off into the stars.

“That’s right!” The beast howled. “Run while you still can! I’ll find you! I’ll tear you to shreds!”

Griffith flew as fast as he could towards the brightest star he could see on the horizon. But as he got closer, he felt warmth envelop him. Another memory!

Guts watched as Casca looked out at the camp. It was something he’d seen many times from his various high perches, but it seemed this was the first time she’d looked at all this from the outside. “When I look out there, it’s like each one of those lights contains tiny dreams and hopes. They’re like a bonfire of dreams.” Casca briefly looked shocked at his pronouncement as if she hadn’t expected that from him.

“You sound like some princess, you smooth talker. Shut it.” Guts laughed at her embarrassed expression. “But, you’re right. they’ve all brought their own little flames together.” Guts keenly felt the darkness within his chest where his own flame should’ve been. He knew he didn’t have a place here. He was just warming himself by everyone else’s flames. There was nothing he wanted except… he thought back to what Griffith had told Charlotte. Guts wanted to be worthy of him. To be able to stand beside him without leaning on his ambition. To find his own path forward. That’s why he had to leave them.

Griffith fell out of the memory and suddenly he couldn’t tell which way was up. The stars extended infinitely above and below him. Guts had considered leaving him, because he didn’t think his ambition could match his own. The world Slan had shown him had been closer to coming to pass than he’d ever imagined and it was all because of him. No wonder he’d been acting so strangely since that night. Too late, Griffith saw his own reflection in the water. He tried to pull up, but didn’t make it in time. He crashed face first into it and then felt himself pass through it.

Guts watched in shock as the pretty boy jumped onto his blade pinning it down. He had to be fucking crazy trying shit like that. When he said all that shit earlier pretending like he understood him, Guts thought it was a load of bullshit. But, jumping on his sword like that, Griffith might not have understood him, but there was something inside him that was inside Guts as well. God, he was still fucking talking. He wished he would just shut the fuck up. “You talk too much. This is how you’re supposed to use your mouth in battle!” Guts clamped down on his sword with his teeth. In the other boy’s eyes he thought he saw a spark of recognition and delight.

He and Schierke lay on the surface of the water. “I think we’ve lost him for the moment.” The young witch sat up slowly. “It’s strange. From what I’d read, Guts’s defenses shouldn’t be more complex than vague images. That thing was far more fully realized.”

“I don’t think that thing was a specter conjured up by his mind. I think that was Guts.” The bloodless grooves torn into his arm by the monster’s teeth burned in pain. “Well maybe not him exactly, but something tells me that at least a piece of him.”

“Everything here is a piece of him. The very ground you stand on and even the sky above are part of him. But they didn’t speak to us like that beast.” Griffith tried to connect the two in his mind knowing what he did about Guts, but instead felt himself sinking into the water, being dragged below the surface again.

Guts was in more pain than he’d ever been in his life. The shafts of arrows still stuck out of his small body like the branches of a hangman’s tree. He was such a screw up, he couldn’t even kill himself right. As he lay there, bleeding out and wishing the wolves would come back he stared up at the stars. There were so many, glowing like thousands of campfires high above him. It left him dumbfounded.

He’d been taught that God had created everything in the world. He could imagine what kind of god would create war, would create hangings, would create Donovan, but what kind of god could create all of that horrible shit and then turn around and make something this beautiful. It would have to be something almost unimaginably cruel. After all the shit he’d been through all the horrible things god had put him through to show him this, to show him the beauty it was capable of putting into the world. It must have been mocking him. He had to believe that god didn’t really exist, so that the rage he felt, that someone who could make something so beautiful chose to make all of that ugliness, didn’t eat him alive.

Griffith came up coughing, the phantom sensation of arrows still pierced through him. The wind was knocked out of him by the sheer misery he had felt. This place inside Guts, so beautiful and yet so lonely, this was where he’d tried to kill himself. God, that must be why it felt like this. Like he was nothing in the face of this expanse.

“We’re getting closer.” Schierke’s hands trembled slightly. “It’s only a matter of time before we find it.”

A ripple traveled across the water from over the horizon.

“It found us!” Griffith hastily tried to clip his wings into place but the mechanism jammed. “No, no, no, no, no!” In his panic he remembered something. Schierke had pulled something from her bag when she’d summoned that wheel of flame. He checked his pockets. He still had two stolen chess pieces stuffed inside, a knight and a warder. Okay, he could work with that. He ripped the knight from his pocket. As he tossed it to the ground it began to change shape finally settling into the form of a horse and rider. He stood dumbstruck for a moment.

“What are you waiting for? Get on!” The rider spoke with Casca’s voice, though he couldn’t see what her face looked like under her helmet. Griffith took Shiercke’s hand and put her on the horse before mounting it himself as well. The rider snapped the reins and her horse took off towards the horizon. Griffith looked behind them trying to see if the beast was catching up with them.

“I think we might be in the clear.” The horse stepped in a hole below the surface of the water, and fell hard. Griffith and Schierke went flying off its back. Instead of impacting the ground, Griffith felt himself falling again, further and further…

Guts woke up in a cold sweat. One of the usual rotation of nightmares this time, same words still echoing in his head. Griffith was still asleep, curled into a tight ball next to him. Guts pulled him closer, careful not to wake him up. He could feel Griffith’s heartbeat, slow and calm against his own racing one. He was alright. There were people who cared about him, even a person who loved him. That was still so crazy to him. He’d never thought he’d make it to eighteen, let alone end up with someone who he loved and who loved him in return. Thank god Griffith was asleep. Guts wouldn’t want him to see him crying.

Griffith was dragged back out again by teeth clenched around his arm.

“Griffith!” He was crushed underneath an immense paw.

“Have you had your fun yet?” The war hound growled hot and wet just in front of his face. “You just had to fucking know didn’t you? Well, did it feel good? Do you feel better about yourself now?”

“What?” Griffith choked trying to shove the beast off of him.

“Don’t fucking play dumb with me. It makes you feel good doesn’t it, knowing shit that was supposed to stay private. You ever consider why it was fucking kept from you? How painful all of it was?” Griffith coughed as he was ground deeper into the mud beneath the water. He began to slip through drifting again.

Guts looked into the poor boy’s eyes. He wasn’t supposed to see this. It was supposed to be in and out, no witnesses, but he’d fucked up. He’d fucked up real bad. Those eyes were just like his, scared and confused, asking him why he did this. He reached towards Guts pulling at the sword that was still planted firmly within his stomach. He heard the guards running. Shit. There was a world where this didn’t happen, where he’d managed to kill Julius without being seen and this kid who was so much like him would get to grow up cared for by his teachers rather than his shit heel father. But it wasn’t this one. He whispered an apology as the light faded from the kid’s eyes. Guts didn’t expect the kid to forgive him. He knew he would never forgive himself, how could he expect the kid to?

Griffith clawed his way back up to the surface and then reached down to pull Schierke back up as well. It had to have been worth it, with Julius’s influence, he would’ve tried to kill Griffith again and maybe the next time he would’ve succeeded. The child too. He would have grown into a man eventually. When he grew into his own he would’ve come for revenge. It had to be done. He had to believe that. If he didn’t, that would mean he’d just been another contributor to the endless, meaningless, cruelty Guts had been subject to. He was starting to feel sick.

“I told you to stop!” He was slammed against the ground hard. The wind was knocked out of him and he was starting to see stars.

“Just… wanted to help you.”

“I don’t need your goddamn help. You can help by staying the hell away.” A huge clay man pried apart the monster’s jaws. It forced the war hound into a choke hold and drove it backwards. The dog tore itself from the clay man’s grip and bit down on its middle. Something inside it audibly shattered and it crumbled to dirt. Griffith wasn’t sure he wanted to do this anymore. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see more of what was in Guts’s head, but he knew he had to. He pulled the warder from his pocket.

Another faceless knight stood before him. It tossed aside its shield and gripped its sword with both hands.

“Go.” It held out its arm to shield him and Schierke from the war hound. “I can handle this.” That was Guts’s voice. He looked back at Griffith. “Just worry about finishing this for me, alright?” Even without seeing his face Griffith knew the knight was making that same rictus grin that Guts would have before a good fight. He rushed forward and his sword sparked as it clashed against the giant hound’s teeth. One of the sparks didn’t fizzle out, but drifted slowly to the ground, landing glowing in the shallow water. Griffith rushed over, reached out and…

Three silver coins. It couldn’t be true, Gambino would never sell him like that. He was his father, he cared about him, he had to care about him. No, Donovan must’ve been lying he had to be.

Guts still felt dirty and in pain but he was too afraid to leave his tent. What if somebody saw him like this? He couldn’t let anyone know what happened, they’d think he was weak. Everybody already knew he was too weak to wield a sword properly. If they knew he was weak enough to let this happen it would just happen over and over and over again. Guts certainly couldn’t tell Gambino about it either, he’d never live down the shame.

He spotted his sword leaning against the main pole of his tent. Guts grabbed onto it, holding it tightly against himself. Now he was safe, his sword would protect him. He could feel his eyes growing wet out of his control. He’d kill Donovan. Guts would fucking kill him for this. Then he’d never let anyone hurt him again. He swore it.

When Griffith and Schierke emerged from the memory the scenery had changed. They were still on the same endless plane of water and stars, but before them sat the mouth of a cave.

“Please. Please just stop.” The war hound was smaller now, only about the size of a normal dog. Its ears drooped and its tail was tucked between its legs as it stood in front of the cave. “You can’t do this.”

“What’s wrong?” A small voice called from inside the cave.

“Nothing! Just stay in there!” The dog growled out of the corner of its mouth.

“But you sound hurt!” A small boy emerged from the darkness. His dark hair was spiky and he had a scar on the bridge of his nose. “Who are you?” He squinted warily at the two people he didn’t recognize.

“My name is Griffith.” The other boy had silver hair and carried a wooden sword. That was silly, you can’t really hurt anyone with a wooden sword. Maybe Griffith didn’t know that. “What’s your name?”

“Guts.”

“That’s a weird name.”

“It’s not weird!”

“Yes it is!”

“Well your sword is stupid. You can’t hurt anyone with that thing.”

“Well of course not.” Griffith looked almost offended. “It’s for playing knights. If you hurt the other kids too badly, they won’t want to play with you anymore,” he added sagely at the end. It seemed like he spoke from experience.

“That sounds stupid. How do you play?” Guts wasn’t sure he liked Griffith very much but he was curious.

“Well I’m the general, so I tell the knights what to do and they attack the enemy general. The first team to capture the other general wins.” That did sound kind of fun.

“Do I get a sword too?”

“You have to make your own.”

“Can’t I just have yours? You don’t need it if you’re the general right?”

“Only if you fight me for it.” The other boy was pretty small and skinny. Guts could probably take him.

“Alright, but don’t go crying when you lose.” He began walking towards the other boy but his friend stood in front of him.

“No, don’t get too close to him.” The dog growled.

“We’re just playing.” Griffith pouted. “Stupid dog.”

“Hey! He’s my friend!”

“Well, your friend is mean.”

“He just wants to protect me is all.” Guts scratched behind its ears.

“Do you like staying in that cave all the time?”

“Well not really…”

“Well then he’s not really protecting you, is he? He’s just keeping you prisoner.” Something seemed weird about Griffith, like he knew more than he should. Guts felt like his blue eyes pierced through him.

“Guts, please.” The dog looked up at him, its red eyes pleading. The boy scratched its head.

“It’s alright, he can’t hurt me.” He stepped out from behind the dog. Guts walked up to Griffith and looked him in the eye. Griffith smiled like it was his birthday. Guts punched him in the face and quickly stole his sword while he was distracted. “See I told you, you’d lose,” He laughed.

Griffith swiftly kicked him in the shins. He could hit harder than Guts expected. Suddenly they were both on the ground and Guts was pulling Griffith’s hair and Griffith was kicking Guts in the stomach and both of them were tangled together laughing. The dog laid on the ground next to Schierke.

“They seem happy enough.” The young witch said, looking at the two of them.

“For now yeah, but what if something happens again? What if he hurts him?” The hound’s ears laid flat against its skull.

“Well you’ll still be here right? If something happens you can protect him, but keeping away everyone that tries to help him as well is only going to hurt him.”

“Guess you’re right.” The dog yawned. “Tell him to take care of him will you? Or we’ll rip his throat out.” Despite the creature’s smaller size it still had those red scars for eyes and that smile full of jagged teeth.

“Will do.” Schierke swallowed nervously. She could feel herself already starting to wake up.