Chapter Text
A mob storms the castle, Scott stands just at the entrance, ready to walk outside and have a civil conversation. After all, he had been protecting these people for centuries, there was no reason to believe they couldn’t have a simple conversation and come to a new agreement.
It was only fair to allow fresh negotiations seeing as the last time they people spoke with him to come to a new deal was.. 150 or so years ago. Not that they hadn’t made beneficial decisions for both sides, but times do change and so do needs.
Scott can hear the heartbeat of a human right outside the door, just one. A sacrifice? He could tell by its quickened pace that it surely was not a willing one.
There was a soft knock on the door, or maybe more of a banging from someone without the energy or strength to do so. Had they sent over someone with a disability? The humans hadn’t always been the most moral, sure, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone elderly or disabled had wanted an end and they saw the sacrifice as fit. Yet the heartbeat surely told a different story.
He opened the grand doors to find… no one? All he saw was the crowd, or no, someone, but someone very short. He looked down to see a.. a child?
This was something unexpected, and not something he was happy to see. Then he noticed something more.
It was a young girl with bright orange hair, the humans were so very superstitious and he had heard they began to believe such hair was “of the devil” a preposterous claim but mayhaps one of the reasons they had sent the girl over, but that was not what had caught his eye.
The girl leaned to one side, her weight held by a cane, a rather nice one, clearly hand carved with little details.
Of course. He now saw very clear reasons this had been the one they sent over, sacrificing the weak, the “curses”. That’s how humans had often been, though he had noticed it had gotten worse recently.
Now his only question was what this young girl had to do with the mob outside.. Now that he thought of it, it had no correlation, these events were at least a decade apart from what he could recall. Why did he feel such pressure in his head?
Scott’s eyes opened to see the lid of a sarcophagus above him, not just any sarcophagus, the one he had in his home, the one he had allowed his youngest kin to decorate with pigments and carvings in the stone. He had found himself in the tomb that lay underneath his castle.