How can I save the world if I’m no longer the hero?

Joan wondered if she would ever stop discovering new and inventive ways that being mundane and normal sucked. As of the moment, she found two brand new ones.

The first was that being tied up for hours was incredibly uncomfortable. She longed to break free, stretch out and rub the marks left from the ropes. Unfortunately, the most she could do was roll over and, with some difficulty, sit up. The latter of which she rarely did since, frankly, it seemed to make her captors nervous and the last thing she wanted was to be tied up in a tent with a nervous demon. She mostly tried to only do it when they decided it was time to feed her.

The second and far more terrible experience, however, was that her shoulder itched and she couldn’t scratch it. She tried desperately to rub it with her head, to alleviate the itchyness, but it was no avail. Even when she scrunched up into a little ball and rubbed her shoulder on the floor it didn’t help.

“Human, what are you doing?” her current captor asked. Another demon, this one with dark blue skin and, interestingly, actual wings. While it wasn’t entirely unheard of she had always found winged demons to be quite rare and miserable to have to fight. She really was a terrible archer. “You gotta pee?”

“I mean, I do now,” Joan said with a sigh, adding a third thing that made being mundane suck. Well, she supposed she’d had to pee plenty of times as the Hero, but somehow it just felt worse like this. “But my shoulder itches.”

“Wonderful. Just keep it down,” the demon said with a sigh.

Joan wondered if this was some kind of final punishment. Maybe she truly had died and all of this was just a fresh, new hell to punish her for failing as a hero. “Well? I have to pee.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” the demon said with a sigh.

“You’re kidding, right?” Joan asked, looking at him. She found her eyes drawn to his claws, the narrow tips looked incredibly, itch scratchily delightful. “Can’t you just untie me for a minute to—”

“No,” the demon said. “Just calm down. When the next watch gets here they can take you out. Until then, just lay there and keep quiet.”

Joan gave another soft whimper and laid still, closing her eyes. “But I’ve gotta peeeeeee,” she whined. She couldn’t believe this. Of all the ways for her to meet an undignified and shameful death, with a full bladder and an itchy shoulder was NOT the way she’d expected it.

To make matters worse, she even knew a spell that could help with the other issue but there was no way she was going to use magic in front of the demons. The less they knew about her capabilities, the better. Even assuming she could use it without being able to move.

Joan scrunched up into a little ball, anger and shame building up inside her. Why was any of this happening? It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve this. She was trying her hardest, couldn’t the gods throw her one tiny, itty bitty, measly bone? Couldn’t she, just once, not have to experience every misery in the most degrading manner possibly?

Apparently not, judging by the lack of concern her watcher seemed to have for her. Finally, she just gave in. Fine, if they were going to treat her miserably she was going to act miserably. It wasn’t much, but if she could be somewhat petty at her guard for being cruel to her, then she would do so. It wasn’t like anybody she cared about seeing would ever see it. Except maybe Andreas.

Joan gave a soft, delicate little sob, scrunching her knees up against her face. Letting the tears well up in her eyes, she began to softly cry, letting all of her misery out in small, gentle bursts. It was humiliating to be brought to tears, but she tried to shove that aside. She was miserable and upset and if anyone deserved a good cry, she did. She’d been through more in the last month than likely anyone in this camp had been through in their lifetimes and if she wanted to cry about it, she would.

There was a soft sigh from her guard. “Kid, knock it off. I’m not going to untie you just because you’re crying.”

Honestly, Joan doubted he would. But it felt good to just finally cry for once. While she had originally intended to just make him uncomfortable for all the misery he caused her, it felt somewhat relieving to just allow herself to be sad and upset for once. Why shouldn’t she? She was trying her absolute hardest. She’d ended up angering an arch fae, causing who knew how much trouble with the queen, had a king and prince who obviously didn’t trust her and likely wanted her dead, her best friend and practically brother now was her ‘dad’, the number one person who she thought would kill her was now the only person who seemed to truly believe in her and to top it all off one of the only two people in the world she believed would never betray her either refused to believe she was who she said she was or didn’t care.

On top of that, everything just seemed worse than it had been when she was the Hero and so what was the point? So what if she was the Hero, she was still a little girl and sometimes even heroes needed a second to just cry and bawl their eyes out. She was no different.

“Okay! Fine! Just for a second, but you better not try anything,” her captor said moments before she felt a hand under her arm and was dragged to her feet. “This is why I never wanted kids. Come on, brat.”

 

------

 

Relieved that she didn’t have to pee or have an itchy shoulder anymore, Joan tried to take stock of her situation and get a proper examination of her situation. Now that she was outside and get a good look at the ropes tying her, she was pretty sure she could undo the knots in a few minutes if she was given some time to be alone.

Unfortunately, that seemed unlikely to happen anytime soon. Even moreso when she had been led through the camp by a rope. It wasn’t a large camp, most the tents even smaller than the one she’d been stored in. While most of the residents were demons, there were a few humans. Everyone was an adult and armed in one way or another. Bandits. She would have laughed if the whole thing wasn’t so silly.

Of all the people to be working with bandits she never would have expected Andreas to be one. But there were a lot of things she never expected these days. She just needed to find out why, there had to be a reason. Andreas wasn’t the type to help them end the world. She’d known him for a thousand lifetimes and he had never betrayed her, he wouldn’t start now.

However, there was another issue Joan had to worry about. Primarily her left hand. The skin was dark and bruised with black veins flowing out from the back of her palm. It seemed the key had bonded to her just fine, unfortunately she had never seen it make that reaction. When she was the Hero she had merely been given it and held it in her palm with ease. Only she could use it, but it hadn’t been put inside her either.

When she reached her magic out against it, the black veins only pulsed and she could feel the boundless hunger that resided within it, the flowing power that could incinerate her as easily as it could burn away and open their path going forward. A deadly tool that could probably allow her to do all kinds of incredible things, or kill her for even considering them.

She had to hand it to the Nameless One, they really found a way to make every step of this journey that much harder. Or maybe this was just her own fault for being so incredibly stubborn. Either way, the key was now a part of her and she’d need to find out how to get it to work properly without getting killed by it.

On the up side, Joan couldn’t even feel her left hand any more unless she really tried, so while it likely should have hurt tremendously she couldn’t even feel anything from it. The fingers still worked as well, so that was good. She didn’t feel hungry either, which considering where she had been before arriving in this camp was a small miracle all its own. She suspected the Nameless One was responsible for that as well. Small miracles. Last but not least, her head didn’t hurt. No matter what else, not having a headache for once was a breathtakingly delightful mercy that she could have sung praises to the gods for if she weren’t in the middle of a demon camp.

“Kid, you almost done?” a voice called from the opposite side of the bushes.

“Almost,” Joan said, eyeing the bonds on her wrist once more. It would likely only take her a few seconds to slip them off, then a minute or two to get the rest off. She could be out of here in record time.

But there were at least a dozen demons in the camp who were faster than her and likely knew the area better. Fleeing wouldn’t do her any good, despite her desire to. Worse, it might just get her hurt and make it impossible to flee in the future.

They didn’t know she could escape so best to wait and watch. Learn what she could about her captors and then, when they least expected it, break away and escape. Besides, she didn’t even know where her weapons were and she still needed to get Andreas to understand who she was and accept that he was one of the chosen. He had a duty not just to her, but to the world.

Joan just had to be patient. Play the good little captive for the time being, then strike when they least expected it. “Done,” she said before turning to walk back towards her captor.

She just reminded herself she had to be patient. Just a few days. That was all it would take. She could play the well behaved little captive for now.

 

------

 

Joan had, again and again, felt disappointment after disappointment since she realized who and what she was. Her expectations were shattered, her own belief in herself was shaken and her desires were tossed to the side to be smashed by the cruel boots of reality.

So when Andreas walked into the tent and knelt down to untie her, she was instantly suspicious. Things couldn’t be that easy. “Andreas?” Joan asked.

“Yes?” Andreas asked while he fiddled with the knots. She rolled her eyes, he never had been good with his hands. She gave a light snort when she remembered the weeks that Chase tried to teach him how to catch hookfish bare-handed.

“You finally believe me?” Joan asked.

“Of course not,” Andreas said. “But leaving you tied up all day is just going to end up causing more issues down the line.”

“Not that I object to-- OW! Andreas, careful, ow!” Joan yelled when he ended up pulling the rope too hard and dragging the coarse rope into her skin. “Of all the things that were off about you did your clumsiness have to remain?”

Andreas paused before looking down at her. “I’ve never been called clumsy before. You really are a brat.”

“I’ve known you long enough, I’ve earned the right,” Joan said, glaring at him.

“You want me to get the gag?” Andreas asked in a threatening tone.

“No,” Joan said quickly, before sighing. “Sorry. Please, be careful. As I was saying, while I would like to be untied, why bother if you’re going to serve me up to be sacrificed?”

“Demons like lively sacrifices,” Andreas said. “They get annoyed if they’re not.”

Joan narrowed her eyes. There was no way that was true. “How many people have you delivered to be sacrificed?” she asked.

“Dozens,” Andreas said.

“That’s not true,” Joan said.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Andreas said.

“I know you. I’ve known you longer than I’ve been alive in this form,” Joan said softly. “I’ve known you longer than you’ve ever been alive, in fact.”

Andreas gave a soft sigh and stopped fiddling with the ropes. “Kid, you really need to let this go. I don’t know what fairy tail you’re weaving in that head of yours but--”

“It’s true,” Joan said. “Deny it all you want, I know you. You won’t betray me. You--”

“Okay then,” Andreas said before crossing his arms. “Let’s say you’re right. What if I am the Chosen of the Spear?”

“Which you are,” Joan said.

“What does that mean in this situation? I don’t have any fancy magic spear,” Andreas asked.

Joan opened her mouth to comment, only for the words to die in her throat. What did that mean? While he was the chosen, without the spear to awaken his abilities he didn’t have nearly the amount of power he should have had. It was part of the reason that finding the chosen could be so difficult. In many cases, they were often talented in their field of expertise, but often they were just that. Talented. Like her. Talent only went so far and without their weapons to awaken their full potential they were only a fraction of what they could be. She finally cleared her throat. “We’ll get you the spear then.”

“And that’s your plan?” Andreas asked with a small chuckle. “I’m supposed to, what, release you, let you run off to get this spear and trust you’ll come back?”

“No!” Joan said quickly. “You’re supposed to come with me, get the spear, grab Searle and then we need to rescue Korgron.”

Andreas paused once more before shaking his head. “Yeah, there’s that name again. Korgron. You like to talk about her a lot, don’t you? She’s the demon one, right?”

Joan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t pretend you don’t know her, I know you.”

“Why would I?”

“I’ve seen your threads of fate intersecting,” Joan said, cutting him off this time. “Korgron and you are connected somehow. I don’t know how. I don’t--” Her words were cut off when he put his hand over her mouth. She tried to yell into it, but he refused to move it.

“Kid. Shut up,” Andreas said, staring down at her. “That stuff you said? None of it is true. You’re no ‘past hero’, I don’t know any ‘Korgron’ and, most of all? I’m no chosen. Your friends, Searle and Bauteut? They aren’t coming, either. There’s no spear, there’s no happy ending for you. There’s nothing.” Finally he pulled his hand back.

Joan stared up at him, her eyes narrowed. Andreas had always been one of the hardest chosen to read, possibly harder than Chase. The ability to change one’s features only went so far when you were such a high energy and emotive person. But even so, she shook her head. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Andreas asked.

“I mean no,” Joan said again. “I don’t believe you.”

Andreas rolled his eyes. “Reality doesn’t care what you believe, kid. It--”

“Reality doesn’t care what you believe, either,” Joan said. “You can fight it, argue with it, oppose it. You can even hit me, you can even kill me. I’m not the important one here. You are.”

“Kid—”

“You’re the Chosen of the Spear. The scorpion and snail watch over you. The spear comes to your touch. The darkness itself embraces you and bids you welcome as its master,” Joan said, staring up at him defiantly. “And, more than anything, you are my friend.”

“I’m really not,” Andreas said. “Maybe you should pick who you trust better next time.”

“I spent a thousand lifetimes never trusting those I should have,” Joan said firmly. “I’m not making that same mistake again.”

“You’re an idiot, kid,” Andreas said before fiddling with her ropes. Finally she felt them loosen and she could move her a bit more. “A stubborn one, I’ll give you that. Still an idiot. There, you should be able to move a bit. Don’t go too fast or you’ll end up falling on your face.” He then stood up and grabbed her, hauling her to her feet.

While she wasn’t able to move fully, she could walk around the tent slowly. Despite this, though, her mind was still focused on him. He said he was betraying her, that he was going to sacrifice her. That he had sacrificed others. But she didn’t believe it for a second.

If she couldn’t trust the chosen, who could she trust? Besides, she spent a thousand lifetimes failing to trust the ones who said they could be. So this time she’d just trust the one who said they couldn’t.