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The sunlight of a new day fell upon the server, but it felt different when you woke up yellow.
Martyn laid still, staring at the rough-hewn rafters of Dogwarts as though he couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here. His chest felt heavy, his mind muffled in a fog that no amount of blinking would clear.
Boots scuffed against the floorboards, and two shadows loomed over him.
“Martyn? Hey, hey—” Ren’s voice, rougher than usual, ears pinned back in concern. The wolf hybrid crouched low, tail twitching anxiously. “Look at me, darling. You’re alright. You’re safe here.”
“Yeah, you’re good,” Skizz added, and the angel’s white wings folded into its classic heart shape as he leaned in beside Ren, his hand hovering uncertainly over Martyn’s shoulder before he gave in and squeezed it gently. Only to see the blonde flinch, hand immediately retracting. “We’ve got you. No one’s touching you.”
Martyn’s eyes flickered toward them but didn’t quite catch. The dull weight in his chest stayed. He didn’t answer.
Ren’s tail lashed. Skizz glanced at him, and something unspoken passed between them.
A barked call carried through the stone halls: “Etho! Impulse!”
Etho appeared first, head tilted, crossbow already slung at his back. Impulse followed, jaw set, hand hovering near his sword.
“Guard the place,” Ren ordered, voice harder than it ever was with Martyn. “Nobody in. Nobody bothers him. Not a soul.”
Impulse nodded firmly. “On it.”
Etho’s muffled voice was sharp with certainty: “They’ll have to go through me first.”
That was enough. Ren and Skizz turned back to their fallen partner, the door shut behind them.
“Alright,” Skizz said softly, pulling blankets from a chest, arms full of mismatched fabrics. Ren was already tugging at pillows from every corner, teeth bared in restless determination. They piled everything onto the wide shared bed until it was a ridiculous fortress of warmth—more a nest or den than the three beds pushed together after Ren had turned red.
“C’mon, Alpha instincts don’t lie,” Ren muttered as he tugged Martyn upright gently and guided him into the centre of the den. He repressed the urge to curl around Martyn as the latter flinched at the initial contact once more, it could wait for now. “You need this. You need us.” His ears pressed flat against his head as though he’d fight anyone who argued otherwise.
Skizz climbed in on the other side, wings spreading around all three of them like a shield. “This is lockdown, man. You’re not going anywhere ‘til you’re steady again.”
Martyn let them. His body felt too heavy to resist, his mind too dulled to argue. But when Ren’s arm slid around his waist and Skizz tucked his head beneath his chin, the tension in his chest loosened just a little.
Warmth. Pressure. A heartbeat against his shoulder.
The fog didn’t vanish—but it thinned, just enough for him to close his eyes and breathe.
Ren nosed against his hair with quiet stubbornness, tail curling over Martyn’s legs. “You’re pack. Mine. Ours. Nothing’s taking you from Dogwarts.”
“And no one’s gonna touch you while you’ve got me and Ren here,” Skizz promised, voice fierce even as it softened to a whisper. His wings shifted, feathers rustling until Martyn was cocooned. “Sleep, love. We’ll stand watch.”
Outside, Etho’s footsteps echoed on the walls, Impulse’s voice low and steady as they kept guard.
Inside the comfort of blankets and warmth, Martyn finally exhaled. His head dipped against Ren’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed, and he let himself be held.
Ren and Skizz exchanged a glance over him before settling in tighter.
The world outside could burn if it wanted. Dogwarts was a den now, and no harm would reach the one they loved.
The fortress of blankets seemed to grow softer by the minute. Ren hadn’t stopped rearranging them, tugging this one tighter around Martyn’s shoulders, fussing over whether another pillow belonged behind his back. Skizz kept smoothing the folds of the quilt across his lap, his hands restless, wings twitching every so often like they were itching to shield Martyn even more.
Martyn sat propped between them, gaze still distant. The yellow name above his head felt like a brand pressing down on him. He swallowed, throat dry, and found words refused to form.
Ren caught the tiny movement instantly, curse his wolf heritage, noticing even the slightest movement that came with being a predator. “Hey, hey—it’s alright. Don’t talk. Don’t push yourself. We’ve got you covered.” His ears flicked forward, tail curled firmly around Martyn’s legs like a lifeline, meant to comfort and ground.
“You don’t have to carry a thing right now, love” Skizz added, his voice low and sure, the kind of tone that was meant to steady storms. “Let us.”
Martyn blinked slowly, his breath uneven. “I… don’t—”
Ren hushed him with a rumbling growl softened into something like a purr. “You don’t need to explain. You’re not leaving this bed, not leaving Dogwarts. Not until we say you’re ready.” His eyes glowed with that protective wolf light, fierce but steady. “You’re ours to look after. You understand?”
Martyn’s chest tightened, but it wasn’t fear—ok, maybe a tiny bit—but it was also the kind of ache that came with being wrapped too tightly in safety as well. He let his head drop against Ren’s shoulder.
Skizz’s hand was at the back of his neck almost immediately, thumb stroking a slow line. “Ren’s right. You’re not setting foot outside these walls without us. The world’s gone mad out there—reds everywhere, blood in the dirt. But here?” His wings closed tighter around Martyn and Ren both, cocooning them. “Here, you’re safe, untouchable.”
Ren nuzzled against Martyn’s temple, voice dropping into a near-growl. “Anyone even tries to lay a finger on you, and I’ll tear ‘em apart. Skizz will burn ‘em down from the sky. They’ll have to go through both of us.”
Martyn’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile breaking through the fog. “You sound… obsessive.”
“Protective,” Skizz corrected quickly, though the way his wings curled closer was almost possessive. “It’s different.”
“Obsessive, protective, same thing,” Ren muttered. His tail thumped once, sharp against the blankets. “Point is, you’re not leaving. You’re safe because we won’t let you be anything else.”
Martyn breathed out, a small, shaky laugh slipping free—more relief than amusement. He burrowed closer, his weight sinking between them. The fog was lifting, replaced by warmth, by pressure, by their voices anchoring him.
“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, almost fondly.
“Maybe,” Skizz admitted, lips quirking. “But you’re ours. And that’s not changing.”
Martyn let his eyes close, the steady rhythm of their words and heartbeats wrapping around him as firmly as the blankets. For the first time since his life had slipped into yellow, he didn’t feel like he was falling.
Ren pressed his forehead against Martyn’s hair, whispering fiercely, “Sleep, darling. We’ve got you. Always.”
And Skizz, not to be outdone, brushed his thumb along Martyn’s jaw, his voice a vow: “Dogwarts is your den now. No one’s stealing you away.”
The room quieted, the den of blankets settling into stillness. Outside, the world hunted and burned. Inside, Martyn belonged—and for tonight, that was enough.
Morning at Dogwarts came with soft shafts of light sneaking in through the cracks of the stone walls. The pile of blankets had become its own little kingdom, warm with the weight of three tangled bodies. Ren’s tail was draped across Martyn’s waist and around Skizz's leg, the latters wing folded heavily over their chests.
Martyn blinked awake to the sound of Ren snoring softly in one ear and Skizz muttering something about 'guard shifts' in his sleep. His body felt… lighter. The weight of yellow still sat above his head, but the heaviness that had crushed his chest yesterday wasn’t there anymore, at least not as present, he still felt a bit out of it.
He shifted carefully, and both of them stirred instantly.
“Martyn?” Skizz’s voice was sharp, alert in a heartbeat. His wing tightened before Martyn could even sit up.
Ren lifted his head, ears perked, tail thumping. “Hey. You okay? You need water? Food? More blankets? Say the word, I’ll—”
Martyn groaned dramatically, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Void above, I knew you two were clingy, but this is absurd.”
That got them both to pause, blinking at him.
A grin broke across Martyn’s face, crooked and sharp. “Blankets, Ren? Wings, Skizz? One bad day and suddenly I’m your precious porcelain doll, huh?” He leaned back against the pillows, folding his arms with a mock regal air. “Gotta admit, being the Dogwarts treasure has its perks.”
Ren sputtered, tail wagging despite himself. “Oi, don’t twist it like that! We were worried, darling.”
“Worried?” Martyn echoed, smirking. “No, no. That was possessive. Skizz, you practically caged me in with those feathers. And Ren, I swear you growled at the wind when it got too close.”
Skizz had the grace to flush, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, yeah, maybe I was a little overprotective. But you should’ve seen yourself, Martyn. You were gone. I wasn’t about to let anyone—or anything—get near you.”
Ren puffed out his chest. “Overprotective? Nah. That was just the right amount. You’re pack, Martyn. Pack stays safe, no matter what.”
Martyn snorted, though the edge of fondness softened his grin. “Pack, huh? So what, I’m stuck here forever now? You gonna post guards at the doors if I try to leave? Let Etho accompany me to the bath when you're not here? Let Impulse run all your errands?”
Skizz’s eyes flicked to Ren, and for a heartbeat neither of them answered. Then Ren leaned in, his grin all teeth. “If that’s what it takes, yeah. Try us.”
Martyn chuckled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Two of the most dangerous reds on the server, and instead of plotting you’re babysitting me like mother hens.”
Skizz’s wing curled tighter, his voice dropping into something dangerously sincere. “Not babysitting. Protecting. There’s a difference.”
Martyn’s smirk wavered, replaced by something warmer, softer. He let out a long breath, stretching his legs into the nest. “…Guess I’ll allow it. For now. But don’t get too comfortable—if I’m the treasure of Dogwarts, you’d better believe I will act my part.”
Ren chuckled, ears twitching happily. “Oh, here we go. Our cocky Martyn’s back.”
Skizz grinned, relief bright in his eyes. “Yeah. Just how we like him.”
Martyn leaned back, folding his hands behind his head, smug as ever. “Good. Because I’m not planning on going anywhere. Might as well enjoy being spoiled while it lasts.”
Ren’s tail thumped hard against the blankets again, Skizz’s wing flexed around him, and for a long, quiet moment, the den felt less like protection and more like home.