The Dark Artifices One Shots

Ty

Let's start with some Ty, shall we?

"Ty! Ty! Ty, listen to me please! Look at me! Ty, it's Mark! Come on, Ty! Look at me, please!" Ty was vaguely aware of the cracking voice and the figure approaching him, dropping to its knees and wrapping its arms around him. Ty was vaguely aware of anything at the moment. His head was spinning and pounding. He gripped his tie, yanked it off of his neck, and stared at the spot of chipped wood on the floor of the Council Hall.

He felt something wet, and realized it was his own, slow tears. Ty recognized the blond-white hair of the head that was buried in his shoulder. He recognized the loud chaos of various noises that enveloped him and everyone else in the room. He recognized the arched back of his older brother, shaking of sobs, who was cradling a girl in his lap. He recognized all this but the girl.

The girl. She had the same face, the same hair, the same body, the same freckles splattered across her nose. She looked just like the same girl whom Ty had grown up beside. The same girl who learned computers for him. The same girl who played his detective partner. The same girl who comforted Ty in the hardest times. The same girl who badgered him about being parabatai. The same girl who had been sitting beside Ty just a while earlier, whispering and giggling with him about how the Centurions looked like toy soldiers in their uniforms.

But this girl, Ty couldn't recognize. It wasn't Livvy. It couldn't be. Why would Livvy ever have a broken sword stuck in her chest? Why would Livvy be bleeding out on Jules's lap? Why would Livvy's eyes be closed and her body still and her smile gone?

"Ty." It was Mark. He'd pulled away and was looking straight at Ty, both eyes—gold and Blackthorn blue —blurred with tears. "Ty, please."

Ty faced him, but couldn't look at him. He fixed his vision on the far wall over his brother's shoulder. Mark was gripping his shoulders tight. It was too loud, it was too bloody, it was too wrong, and it was too tight. Ty couldn't take it. It was too much.

Ty ripped himself from Mark's hands and pushed away his pleas. He struggled against his brothers grip and ran. He ran away from the Council Hall, the scene, the girl. Tears blurred his vision as he burst out through the doors and down the hall. The commotion in his head had amplified and the white noise had gotten louder.

Ty found a corner and crumpled himself into it. Livvy. Livvy. Livvy. Livvy. Livvy. He whispered her name over and over,as if it would bring her back ans erase what had just happened. The scene replayed in his head: Jules and Emma on the terrace. Annabel with the Mortal Sword. Livvy running up the stairs. Livvy giving Jules the sword. Livvy watching as Annabel appeared before her. Livvy with the Mortal Sword in her chest. Livvy falling in Jules's lap. Livvy dying in Jules's arms. Livvy, Livvy, Livvy, Livvy.

Ty sat in his corner, unable to move, knees pulled up to his chest. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, and he didn't care. Eventually the tears dried and the world stopped spinning. Ty stared straight ahead at the Alicante crest of four C's linked together, his mind blank for once. He heard the sound of running footsteps echoing throughout the halls. Someone ran right past him before backtracking.

"Ty?" It was Kit. "What're you doing? What happened in the Council Hall? Diego— the Centurion— he took Kieran to the Scholomance. He said something was happening in the Hall?" Kit looked at Ty properly, and the worry in his clear blue eyes grew. On normal circumstances, Ty would find himself distracted by the pair of sparkling blue eyes, but these weren't normal circumstances.

"Liv—" Ty whispered with a heavy breath. He couldn't even get her name out. His eyes were blinking rapidly; he had no control.

"Livvy? I can go get her. But first," Kit said carefully, "tell me what's wrong, Ty."