AN: Ok so here's the deal. This story is MASSIVELY AU. I had already thought up the plot and character relationships loooong before actually reading Cursed Child and, tbh I didn't really like the "book" that much when I did finally read it. Some of my reasoning for that will become apparent later in the story when the really glaring, awkward, unplanned convergences happen, the rest is just my personal feelings. This story, despite taking place during the Cursed Child timeline, and having the Cursed Child characters, really isn't a Cursed Child story. Like it's not even close you guys, any plot parallel with the canon material is complete coincidence, and again you'll know what I mean (and why I'm a little salty about it) once the story gets to certain points. So seriously, don't tell me what 'never happened in cursed child' or 'what this or that character wouldn't actually do' because, as respectfully as possible, I don't care. This is literally just what happened after I heard the character names and a vague synopsis of their personalities/relationships to eachother online. its not supposed to be like the canon and, honestly, if you liked the canon, you might not like this at all.
Anyway you've been warned, and to the likely very small niche of people this story might appeal to, I hope you enjoy it.
The second she saw him, panic hit her so hard she actually stumbled. The reality of the fact that she was young, cute, female, and completely alone in unknown territory was suddenly all she could think of and before the man could even take a breath she was already hauling ass back down a stone hallway she had no business occupying in the first place.
How could she have been this stupid? She suddenly realized why she'd gotten such a weird feeling about this place, the neatly kept grounds, the complete lack of erosion or decay. She'd been so excited to find such a cool place to explore after the monotony of the forest she hadn't even wanted to think about the little tingle of warning in the back of her mind. The hair-raising feeling on the back of her neck that there was something different about this place. And now here she was, running, her day-pack bouncing against her back, from a scraggly, creepy looking old man (who was probably armed and would probably make a lampshade out of her skin if he caught her) and vowing adamantly to herself that she would never ignore that feeling again.
She was just starting to think she might be safe, hearing his clomping footsteps and asthmatic wheezing falling farther and farther behind, when suddenly there were several more sets of footsteps behind her, and at least one of these sounded much faster. Her lungs began to ache, her eyes watering with fresh panic as she picked up speed again, not daring to look behind her as she sprinted down the corridors that seemed much longer than they had been when she'd thought she was alone. She passed a suit of armor she had been admiring not ten minutes ago and reached out with what little of her focus remained, mind-pulling it to the ground behind her as she passed.
She didn't generally use her power of what amounted to telekinesis around other people. It had never seemed like a good thing to advertise and the few times she had let it slip, it had always made people hesitate. That was what she was counting on now, for this man to stop or slow down, at least for a second, to try and puzzle out the impossibility he had just witnessed. However, with growing horror she realized that not only had her new pursuer not paused in surprise, but it seemed that even the armor hadn't slowed him down at all, his footsteps barely even stuttering as he cleared the obstacle with a grunt.
She barreled around the final corner and made it back to the door she'd come through when she'd first stepped foot into her would-be tomb. Sailing through the threshold, she burst into the fresh air and sunlight outside. She immediately slipped off her pack and tossed it to the ground behind her, not wanting it to catch on tree branches as she made her escape. She would worry about the lost supplies later, she decided, first she had to live that long.
It was as she beat her way across the grass toward the trees that she finally dared to glance over her shoulder and, of course, picked the exact wrong moment to do so. She slammed hard into something solid and hairy and bounced off, being thrown wildly sideways and downhill by the speed of the impact as she hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her. The wet grass and momentum seemed to be the only things working in her favor as she slid on her back (headfirst and thanking the heavens that she was wearing a leather jacket) and away from what she realized was the largest man she'd ever seen.
She skidded downhill toward the trees and, through a combination of rolling, flailing, and scrambling managed to gain her feet, cleared the tree line, and was just starting to pick up speed, and a little hope, when something that felt a lot like rope hit the backs of her knees and wound tightly around her calves and she buckled, face-planting this time into the dirt.
Whoever held the rope started dragging her backward, none of the trees were close enough to grab even their roots, and the damp, soft earth was not giving her desperately clawing hands nearly enough purchase to resist. She screamed. She screamed for help so hard and so loud that she heard startled birds taking wing and her own voice echoing off the mountains.
But even before her throat started to burn raw she knew there was no point. She'd come here exactly because no one else ever did. Because these were the most untouched wilds of Scotland where no one dared venture and the ones who did never came back. She'd been so sure that she'd be able to handle whatever animals or wild terrain it was that had proved too much for others. For the people who didn't have what she had. People who couldn't do the strange and unexplainable things that she could do. She'd never counted on other people being one of the things to worry about. She'd been so arrogant. Her mind began to cloud with despair as she ran out of breath to scream with and simply panted, trying not to sob while still being dragged back toward the castle.
When a pair of massive, strong arms lifted her from the ground, however, the clouds dissipated as the sudden heat of rage and clarity of instinct kicked in. Thalia Ruduski was not a helpless child god dammit, and she had not spent her American middle-school years as the tiniest, wiriest girl in Krav Maga for nothing. She had one arm still free and she used it, throwing an elbow as hard as she could into the gigantic bastard's solar plexus, deeply satisfied at the solid "oof!" Her efforts earned, and even more satisfied, if a little bruised, when he dropped her. She wriggled away as quickly and efficiently as she could and began clawing at the ropes still binding her, her rage flying to her fingers and manifesting as a searing heat, which burned through the tough cord when it refused to loosen.
Jumping to her feet she put her fist up, swinging with a much different, much more threatening kind of scream when the big guy reached for her again. "COME ON!" She shrieked, looking up into his startled little eyes. Snarling, she prepared to fight tooth and nail against anyone fool enough to touch her. If these bastards were going to take her they'd better be ready to bleed for it.
There were four others now. First, a tall brunet man in his thirties who, she suspected, had been the one on her heels before and who, despite his sweater-vest seemed to be the most athletic of the group. Second, a pretty black woman in her mid fifties who looked slightly winded. Third, an older, iron haired, waspish looking woman who was rather more winded, and fourth, the scraggly old man who had just now caught up to the rest and was wheezing concerningly as he hobbled along.
The young man, she noticed, was now pointing a stick at her like a weapon and she almost scoffed. "Boy, if you think you gon stab me with that fuggin twig you got another gott damn thing comin." She growled at him in stressfully exacerbated Texan. Shifting her stance, she darted her eyes back and forth between him and the big guy, as they seemed to be the two most active and immediate threats.
The Brunet's face pinched in confusion for a moment, and he looked like he was about to respond, but a shouted word from the iron haired woman, "Stupefy!" And a flash of red light were the last things she perceived that day.