#grindelzeus

Fair warning, I have no idea what this is. It came to me right after you answered my ask just now even though I already had something in the works for it going on since last fucking weekend. It is a fucking mess and I am slightly confused as to how I even came up with it.

Still, enjoy I guess <'3

•-----•

There is nothing for him. Absolutely nothing.

"You beast! You fucking monster!"

He swallows the bile pooling at his throat. He swallows the guilt, the pain, the ire.

A bitter taste, it corrodes his throat.

"You killed her! You fucking killed her!"

The ring is still on his finger. After all this time. All that remains. It sits there, rotting, eating at his flesh, flaking away.

"You're a monster!"

He spins it, rolls it around. His finger aches, but that's not a problem is it?

"Get out…"

No, the problem is him. His feeble morality, his goodness, peeling off of him like so many layers of gold flaking off a rotting picture frame. It hurts, it stings, but the acid rain feels warmer than the lies, falseties, the forced smiles.

"GET OUT!"

There is nothing for him. He chose his path, thinking he'd finally find a purpose, a reason.

The reasons have died, and all that is left, is nothing.

----

Theseus bristled in his chains. The rusted old things, blast them, no matter how hard he tugged, they still wouldn't break. He'd been at this for hours damn it, why won't they break!?

"Had enough yet?"

He growled, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

"Never."

Grindelwald sighed in his chair. Theseus kept on tugging.

"You know you really shouldn't do that."

He did so anyway.

"These chains are centuries old. They've held a thousand prisoners without breaking, without even denting a smidge. You're more likely to break your wrist that anything else."

"Fuck you," he spat.

Grindelwald hummed, but said no more.

Two weeks. That's how long he'd spent in this blasted dungeon. Three weeks since Paris and Dumbledore's affirmation that he'd be able to break the blood pact. His brother had been relieved, but left them all too soon to go on his next creature expedition. The American auror Goldstein trailed with him and Theseus couldn't have been happier. Or, he would have been, had Newt specifically asked for him not to tell Travers about the muggle he was smuggling along for the trip. Said auror chief had taken a few days to recover his pride, but after that was soon back on his bullshit, sending Theseus and the rest of them on more wild goose chases across Europe. He'd not exactly enjoyed them, but went through all the same. They served a good distraction, better than drinking away his woes, after Leta.

Perhaps they shouldn't have been so cocky. Perhaps he should've have felt so relieved.

It could have been an eternity when his body finally caved. His legs gave out, crumbling beneath him, the rotting metal of his binds still stubbornly secured to the wall. Theseus panted, the damp air of the dungeon filling his tired lungs. It was then that the dark lord rose from his mock throne, towards him, a tankard in hand.

"Open your mouth" Theseus heard, and when he did not comply, the dark lord went for his jaw. An iron grip, Theseus struggled as the fingers dug into his cheeks.

"Don't make me break your teeth in, Scamander."

It was no empty threat, as the hand went from his jaw to grip the very roots of his tangled hair. A grip so tight it stung and the lip of the tankard came to knock against his teeth as he winced.

"Open", so he did. Water flowed, fresh, cool water. It filled his mouth as he swallowed it greedily. This was the first time he'd ever been given fresh water since he'd gotten here, most of the bowls they'd graced him with before were either mold filled or simple tasted like rust or stale milk. He drank and drank and drank. Somehow, the tankard didn't seem to empty.

At some point, the need for air arose. He tried to move, but Grindelwald didn't relent. He held him there as the water kept pouring. His throat closed and Theseus began to choke.

"Greedy little thing," he heard as his lungs burned. "This is what the ministry does to all its prisoners, yes? You make them drink and drink and drink till they can't and you let them drown."

He tried to shake his head, frantically pulling at the chains. Muffled pleas and 'no's filled the room as he struggled. His eyes were beginning to water.

"No? Well perhaps you just haven't seen it yet. Does Travers not let his golden boy do any of the dirty work?"

He did. He did quite often. Theseus couldn't count the number of people he'd interrogated over the years that Travers had him torture. It hadn't been pretty, nor had he actually wanted to do it. There'd been countless, horrific things he'd seen Travers do, but he was always up front. He always showed the prisoners the truth up front. A whip, a club, a cruciatus curse. The pain was up front, the horror, the anticipation was clear. It was never like this. Never pain disguised as kindness, as salvation, of all things.

Theseus shook his head fervently, beginning to feel it spin, the chains biting deeper into his wrist, the rust scoring his flesh.

Then it stopped. The water stopped and he breathed, the tankard pulled unceremoniously from his mouth. He breathed, coughing, traces of water sputtering out of his mouth onto the floor like drool. He shivered and heaved, not noticing that the hand in his hair hand loosened its grip and had begun to pet him.

"You're poor sod Scamander, you know that right?"

He didn't reply.

"Travers has abandoned you. I gave my offer to trade you for Albus a week ago and he outright refused."

No.

"Yes", Theseus coughed. "Said you weren't worth much anyway. So much for golden boy, isn't it? Theseus the war hero, sacrificing himself for the sake of another war, forever remembered for his bravery."

He shook his head, reeling. No no no. They wouldn't leave him. They couldn't. Newt would never let them, Newt wouldn't-

"No he wouldn't, and he did try. A shame no one knows where we are. Even if he did, not even a dragon could break through these walls Theseus. They're cursed, you see. Blood feeds them. It feeds this entire castle. A dragon or an army of dragons would simply make it stronger."

The dark lord paused. Theseus froze too, as the other man began to kneel beside him, the grip in his hair tightened once more.

Grindelwald whispered into his ear.

"Let me tell you a secret, Theseus," he said. "These chains? They used to be gold. Every frame, every bit of metal in this house used to be gold. They were beautiful. Beautiful, and fed with blood magic, blood itself. Over the years they've rusted over or simply darkened. They haven't had a good meal in so long. My ancestors used to force hundreds of muggles into these cells. The castle was beautiful then. It isn't anymore. Too many lives have been lost, too much blood. And frankly, too much hassle to gather up that many people just to feed it."

He tilted Theseus' head. Odd eyes met his, chilling him to his core.

"You have two choices, Theseus. Join me and let the chains starve. Let them rot and fall apart. You can see Newt again. Leta- yes Leta, don't worry she isn't gone just yet -and Queenie and Credence. Or, you could stay down here. Become food for the chains. You'll die, shrouded in gold, all chained up pretty like a bird, your soul trapped by these chains forever."

Theseus shivered. Join with one monster or become food for another. On one hand, he'd be betraying his brother, his dear brother who's lost as much as he has. On one hand, Leta. Leta, and maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to fell Grindelwald's cause from the inside. It was either that or-

He swallowed, suddenly the bite of the chains didn't seem so metaphorical anymore.

Grindelwald stood suddenly, and without anything to hold him up, Theseus fell to his side, the cold of the wet stone floor seeping into his clothes, lapping his face.

"I'll let you think about it," the dark lord said. "Tomorrow morning when I return, you better have an answer."

Then he turned and marched slowly away. Theseus couldn't help it anymore, when Grindelwald turned his back, he curled in on himself, shivering. The answer on the tip of his tongue, but his throat to sore to voice it. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow things will change.

It was then, he didn't know why, that he noticed something on Grindelwald's finger as he was walking away. As his vision started to blur, he pondered it. He didn't know why, but he did.

Theseus fell asleep then, the world inking out, the only things on his mind Grindelwald's words and the dark metal band wrapped around the dark lord's finger.

I'm AlastorGrim on all of the sites, by which I mean Ao3, Quotev, and Wattpad.

Ao3 is where my shit kept getting deleted, so it's mostly what I was working on when I scrabbled together a new account, which means it's mostly Squichael, selective Harrymort, Blackice, selective Grindelnewt, and my one (1) Spideypool fic. Not to mention my recent faceplant into Starker, so there are also some of those 😅

Wattpad is more of a master list of every fic I've ever started, back from the very beginning of my writing days (for the love of God don't scroll back too far, for the sake of my sanity) which means every Billdip fic, BMC fic, Rorty fic, Harrymort fic, Grindelnewt fic, Blackice fic, and the occasional scattering of one or two chapters of a Tree Bros or Maxvid WiP are all there. But I've yet to post any Starker on there yet, because I haven't had the time with trying to reupload some fics back up onto my new Quotev account.

Here's the current link, for those that are interested in joining - it's a fresh baby egg, so be gentle with it! Just been established.

Oh. Oh God. What have I done?

I-I don't know what came over me. I was just browsing the Newt Scamander tag, unable to decide between Grindelnewt and Scamandercest, when my brain completely fucks me over.

I know I'm normally hardcore Grindelnewt, and the babies will always have a special place in my heart. JUST HEAR ME OUT.

Theseus and Grindelwald.

It stabbed me right in the WiPs earlier, and I'm still bleeding, so bare with me. Theseus (the one we all created before CoG) was--mostly--Gryffindor. He's an Auror, he's perpetually in Ragey Big Brother mode, and he will fucking cut you if you even breathe wrong in Newt's direction. My freaky ass originally went "Oh God, THREESOME" but then I realized that I was barely keeping house with an Alpha and a Omega, there was no way Newt would be the submissive one in that relationship. My baby is, at best, a power bottom. That's off topic, sorry, MOVING ON.

Normally I don't like putting Alphas with Alphas. It rankles me something fierce because I think you lose out on the potential to obliterate those social norms and give a clear cut way to straight up defiance (which we all know I have a trope boner for). I have seen some writers who are able to make it work-- @funkzpiel has written some killer Grindelgraves fics that had me SHOOK. But normally it's not my cup of tea.

So then, being the Grindelnewt/Scamandercest lover I am, I immediately went "Pining for the same person" trope. Very angry, angst-ridden, bdsm-esque sex filled with Theseus being threatening and Grindelwald being a shit. Or perhaps a step further into hero/villain territory and make it so that it's just Grindy having the hots for Newt, and taking his brother as substitute.

(What would this ship name even be? Thellert? GrindelZeus? All three with Grindercest?)

But as much as I love Newt, I'm drifting. I am approaching less pretend-sex territory and more straight up hate-sex territory. And the TROPES that come to mind. Unwilling soulmates. Marriages of convience. Prisoners of War. Mafia bosses trying to one up each other. And last but certainly not least, my hook, line, and sinker--PIRATE/SIREN AU. I have such a weakness for those but I could never imagine a situation in that universe in which I could realistically write Grindelnewt or Scamandercest. But, add an extra line on that love triangle? Everything begins to bloom into place.

Remember my rant about GrindelZeus/Thellert a while back? Ha ha, yeah... YES I STARTED A NEW FIC I'M SORRY OKAY.

Theseus/Gellert/Newt, Theseus Centric. (Smut that you need Ao3 account to view)

The man leaned back, cheeks pink and curls thrown over his shoulder so that they caught at the scruff of his jaw. “A lover?”

Theseus felt his nails dig into his palms. His spine locked up. “No.”