Fighting 3.9: The Talk
Genesis
You’re bone tired but the sleep won’t come. Maybe you need something to ease yourself into it? Old daydreams, maybe. The Redhelm? As good a series as any. Yeah. Can’t remember where you left off, though. A quest? No, a bit too long. A ball? Feels really wrong after everything.
The siege, then. You think that’s what things were building up to last time you were here…
*
“We’ve received reports that an army has left from Orodh.” The falconer (Sir… Bentley) pauses, his face growing sterner. “Our spies estimate they have over thirty-thousand orcs and one hundred giants in their ranks.”
“Who could command such an army?” Ferdinand growls. “I slew The Ape of Aurghan. Guinevere,” he gestures at you, “felled the Spikeslinger. The giants were all but destroyed in Dragonfire Canyon. The Dark Lord still slumbers. Who is left?”
“It matters not,” King Renaut declares. “All that matters for now is that the army exists. Sir Bentley, where are they headed?”
The Falconer clears his throat. “They’ve marched to the Winbel Road, destroying all in their wake.” He pauses, letting the implication set in. “It seems they are headed for Redhelm.”
The old king nods. “Then we shall fight them. Sir Bentley, send forth a scouting party to ready traps on the road. It will give us precious time to prepare the fort. Lord Ferdinand, I want you to oversee the siege preparations. Find out how long we can hold. Count Clara—” The dark elf in the corner looks up. “Summon Alrebus. We shall need his help.” He nods and lowers his gaze again. “Lady Guinevere…” He trails off, uncertain on what you should be doing. “Ready the troops and sharpen your blade. You will be vital to our defense when the time comes.”
*
Total, unnatural darkness settles upon the fort. You can still see the torches, but they cast no light.
“Sorcery,” Clara says.
Ferdinand growls like one of the feralmen. “Looks like their wizard could be bothered to show up, Count.”
“I sent ravens—”
“Then why is he not here?”
“Lords. Lady.” The King’s voice cuts through the argument. “We must not quarrel amongst ourselves until our real enemies have been repelled.” A chorus of battle cries from over the wall punctuates his statement. “Lady Guinevere, unsheathe your sword, please.”
Light shines from within Heartseeker’s crystalline blade. There’s something odd about using a blessed sword as a nightlight. You almost laugh. But you don’t. Because that would be awkward. Lady Guinevere is not awkward.
“Guinevere, guard the back entrance. I don’t expect trouble there, but it’s best to be safe. Everyone else…”
The King continues giving orders, but you have no time to listen. You race down the seemingly endless stairwells and corridors of Redhelm before arriving at the back gate. The castle is built in a canyon with the river running straight through the fortifications. The army has been advancing from one side of the canyon, leaving the other free. The Kingdom Wall runs from Redhelm out away from both edges of the canyon. Unless the castle or Kingdom Wall are breached, it is always possible to retreat through the back gate. Or enter through it, if a stealthy force somehow managed to circle around.
What you definitely weren’t expecting was the sheer chaos that greeted you at the bottom of the stairs. Your sword illuminates a battle in full swing as the back guard are massacred by advancing trolls. The gate is wide open. You swing Heartseeker and a wide arc of holy light rockets out of it. Several trolls crumple from the one attack. The rest come closer. You rush to meet them in a very lethal blur of light. Heartseeker brings down another enemy with every swing, but more and more monsters keep pouring through the gate. How did this many enemies get behind the wall?
Familiar laughter echoes across the battlefield and the monsters get out of the way. A tall, thin woman with pale skin and pitch-black hair walks towards you. “Why, hello there Guinevere. Fancy meeting you in this place.”
“Allura.”
You growl and Heartseeker glows with the force of a sun. Allura doesn’t seem to notice. She keeps walking towards you, the sound of her footsteps echoing off the walls. Only she would walk into a battlefield in heels.
“Hmph. Why do you look so upset? We are friends, are we not?”
“We were.”
She looks hurt. You don’t buy it for a second. “Come on. You can’t really let one bad day get in the way of—”
“You stabbed me and left my fate to the whims of a demon.”
“One. Time.”
You raise Heartseeker towards Allura and she stops advancing. She doesn’t show any emotions, but you suspect she’s terrified. She was trained as a spy. When you worked together, she infiltrated towns, figured out which rumors were worth pursuing, and unlocked any doors or chests you came across. You did the fighting. You had the sacred blade. Her daggers can’t hold a candle to Heartseeker.
“Well, if we can’t work this out peacefully… then I’ll be going.”
You lower your sword in shock. “What?”
“Oh, yes. I would never hurt a friend. I only came here to give you a present, anyway.”
Allura pours out a small bag and powder falls out. She blows and a plume of it rushes straight towards your face. You fall to the floor coughing the powder out and gasping for air. You blink rapidly to get it out of your eyes before you’re attacked. Yet the attack never comes. When you finally stand up and look around the gates are open and corpses litter the floor, yet all the monsters are gone. Allura must have gone with them.
You shut the gates and wait for more guards to arrive.
It doesn’t take long for a squadron to round the corner and bear their lances. At you. You raise Heartseeker and wave at them. They must be relieved to be out of the darkness. They only grip their weapons harder. Strange.
“Guinevere,” one spits. "You are to come with us by orders of the king. Sheathe your weapon at once.”
“Then it would be—”
“At. Once.”
Whoever this man is, you outrank him several times over. You still comply. If he has been ordered by the king, you will go with them to clear up whatever this is. The soldiers rush forward and bind your hands behind your back the second that your sword is sheathed. Another unclips the sheath from your belt while two others hoist you into the air to roughly carry you up lots and lots of stairs. A trap? From inside the castle? You could probably overpower the guards even without your blade. For now you’ll stay silent and see where this goes. With any luck they’ll bring you straight to their leader.
They do. It’s the king. Or an illusion of him. It’s hard to be sure after whatever magic Allura cast. Because this has to be her doing.
The King glares at you with more hatred than you’ve ever seen him show to anyone. He snarls and punches the wall beside him. The stone cracks. He was a legendary hero back in his time, even if it’s easy to forget that when looking at his wrinkles and white hair.
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“I told you to guard the back gate,” he whispers. “NOT TO OPEN IT!” You try to take a step back but you’re already in chains. When did that happen? How—doesn’t matter.
“I didn’t!”
“Liar! We all—"
Something slams into your back and yanks you up into the air. You catch the faint glimmer of green scales above you and hear the flapping of wings as the shouting grows increasingly distant from you. A wyvern. You’re being kidnapped by a wyvern. You can’t tell if this is a welcome development or not.
*
It’s been eight meals since they locked you in here. They took your phone and all the clocks away so you can’t tell exactly how much time has passed. Whenever someone brings you food, they just set it down and walk away without a word, pausing only to set new plates down and pick up the old ones.
Fluffy died in May. That would be… seven months ago? Maybe eight. You gave up your new pokémon friends. You’re entirely alone.
The only noise in here is what you make, tapping on the headrest or singing to yourself. There’s nothing to see. No one to interact with. You can only sleep and talk to Xerneas. Like Father wanted. Even your daydreams are unreliable now.
You’ve spent most of your reflection time figuring out exactly what you did wrong. Trusting Lyra too much? Perhaps. That still doesn’t feel right, though. You should trust your friends. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. You should ask Mother about that, because Xerneas isn’t getting back to you.
Going onto the roof wasn’t exactly forbidden, but you could have guessed you weren’t supposed to. That can’t be the only thing you did wrong, though. You wouldn’t deserve nearly so much punishment just for that.
Getting worn down?
It sounded right when you gave up your pokémon. Now you’re less sure. You have to convert people so they don’t get their souls ripped apart by Yveltal for eternity. Someone has to talk to people who aren’t already saved. Your teachers and priests always made it sound like you were supposed to do that when you could. And you can’t do that without talking to people who aren’t already saved. Xerneas would want you to deal with sinners, right?
But maybe Kek-Allana did wear you down. For a while you called her something else. Father probably heard about that. Maybe that’s what you should repent for.
Maker of All: I come to you deeply sorry for accepting the lies of The Destroyer and passing them on to others. I reinforced the sins of another. I ask for forgiveness and a path to penance.
…
There’s no answer.
Xerneas doesn’t talk to people like you directly. He does it through the words of priests and prophets and in whispers in the world. You have access to none of those things right now.
…
Keep reflecting?
…
You’re tired, sort of. Maybe you’ll get an answer in a dream.
Whenever you fall asleep.
Any moment now.
For being so very, very bored this is taking a while.
Any day now.
Any
*
You sit back and watch them yell.
A mass of faceless, formless people are shouting at another one. You join in sometimes, jeering the vile sinner as he fruitlessly claims his innocence. Then things turn. One says your name. And another. And another. All demanding that you defend yourself even though there’s no time and you’re on the spot and YOU CAN’T THINK, DAMN IT!
They all stare at you with hate and disgust in your eyes and you know that your fate is sealed.
“No,” you whimper.
You sink lower, the ground sucking you in like quicksand.
“No,” you say.
You fall down to your waist. All efforts to claw yourself up just lead to you sinking faster.
“No!” you shout.
You sink all the way and the red light of Yveltal consumes you.
*
There’s a knock at the door. You jolt up in bed and wipe the tears out of your eyes. You aren’t hungry yet. Didn’t realize it was mealtime.
The door opens without your invitation. There’s a woman’s silhouette lit from behind with red light. The light is dim but it’s still almost blinding after days in total darkness. The woman—your mother—walks in until she’s standing right by the foot of your bed. Her presence this far in your space… you can’t say anything, but you wish you could. It’s unnerving. You shiver and it’s not from the cold. The starmie floats in beside her. Since when does she have a starmie? She’s a lurantis breeder.
“I hate,” she cuts off and lets the word hang in the air. “That I need a psychic-type just to talk to my daughter,” she says. “Because I can’t trust my own child not to lie to me.”
“I wouldn’t—”
She holds up a hand. “Don’t start with another lie, please. It won’t help you.” You pout silently. You aren’t lying! The starmie would have proven it. But she clearly does not want to listen to you right now. “Now, have you figured out what you did wrong?”
You aren’t sure if you should ask your question, but you want answers badly enough that you’ll do it anyway. “Aren’t I supposed to be with unbelievers? Someone has to teach them, right? That’s what—”
“Pride.”
“I… what?”
“Pride. Add it to your sins. Thinking that you are capable of missionary work. When you change people, you give them a chance to change you as well. Your brother definitely could. Your sister couldn’t. You couldn’t without being corrupted. But you thought yourself better than you are. Pride. That is one of your failings. Tell me another.”
It hurts to hear her talk down to you but… maybe she is right? She’s been in the church for decades and you’re still pretty new. And young. She sounds like she knows that she’s right and… You want to argue. You want to say that you’re right. But she sounds. What are you supposed to.
You still don’t get it, do you? It’s almost sad… We’re just decorations now. And if we don’t play the part… they’ll throw us in the trash.
“Shut up,” you hiss.
“Excuse me?”
Oh. Oh no. “No, that wasn’t to—I was talking to myself.”
The light glows a little brighter.
“Lie. Try again.”
“I was—I was replaying an argument I had with Exodus. That’s all.”
The light dims.
“Hmm. You’ll need to learn to control what you keep in your head. That’s always been a weakness of yours. There are schools that work specifically on that type of thing, if you’re still so insistent that the home isn’t a good enough place to learn.”
She agreed to that! Why is that getting blamed on you? It’s not fair. It’s not fair and that’s the best argument you can come up with and it won’t work.
“There are always schools like your sister’s. If you won’t listen to your own family, perhaps we must send you to people you will learn from. Institutions that help with your particular… issues.”
“I’m not gay…”
Mother sighs and moves to sit down on the bed. A hand falls on your shoulder and she is on your bed in your room touching you and you need need need space and
“Sweetie, being gay wasn’t the sin. That’s fine. Xerneas loves the homosexuals. But when it drives you to act on it, then that’s a sin. You acted on it. Maybe you can relearn control, but it would be easiest if you just didn’t have those temptations. It must be terrible,” she says, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “Having a fearsome addiction and not feeling like you can talk about it. The good news is that there is help; you just have to accept it.”
“I’m—I’m not gay though! I’ve been trying to tell you—”
The starmie glows green. Similar to the shade of Cuicatl’s hair. The glow goes back to bright red. The color of lies.
Your mother frowns in the corner of your vision. It’s oddly menacing, lit up in red. Like blood.
“Maybe you don’t know.” She seems resigned? Concerned? Maybe even a little remorseful. Does that mean… does she get it?
‘Get what?’ you asked Exodus.
‘Well… no, that’s not mine to tell you.’
“It would be hard to figure out, not knowing how normal people feel about the same and opposite sex.”
“I. What?” Any blood left in your face drains.
“Well, sweetie, have you ever really wanted to… to be with a boy? The transvestite doesn’t count.”
“Wouldn’t that be a sin, too?” She has you trapped. Again. Not. Fair.
“Well, acting on it is, yes. The instinct itself is natural and it can lead to good, holy things in the right context.”
“I don’t… I don’t know? I went an all-girls school? I didn’t really see boys anywhere else.” TV, sure, yeah. But those aren’t—well, they are real people, but they aren’t in your life and it’s not normal to—what even is normal?
“Another mistake we made.” Mother shakes her head. “We figured you would grow out of it. Or that you at least knew about it. If you didn’t, it explains some of your behavior after getting caught. You’ve still fallen deep into sin without even noticing it. That will need to be worked upon.”
“Okay.” Because. What else. Are you supposed to say? You aren’t gay? Whatever she thinks? Whatever the stupid starmie thinks? Does this get you into less trouble? More? Will she be mad later that you lied to her here?
“I need to rethink things.” She stands up and crinkles her nose. “And you need to take a shower.”
You feel even more unclean. She walks into your space and calls you gay and that you stink and and and you’re crying and it’s all not fair. Mother either doesn’t notice the tears or pretends not to.
“We’ll talk more later, sweetheart.”
*
You stand in the shower and glare into the void as water runs down your body. Some stupid starmie thinks you’re gay. You’re not. Why did it even—green light. Cuicatl. It thought you were gay for Cuicatl. You ram a palm into your forehead. Ow. That kind of hurts. Doesn’t hurt in the movies. Anyway. As if. She’s a pagan. And blind. Blind and delicate. She needs a dog just to walk. A very cute dog, sure. That she loves way more than you’ve ever loved a pokémon. That’s kind of cute. In general she’s more cute than pretty. Too many scars and sharp angles to be delicate. And she moves like she’s in some sort of military parade. You can’t tell if her glare is fearsome or adorable, partially because those creepy eyes. Even if her hair is pretty. At this point you’re pretty sure it is natural. The roots have never been exposed and it’s a weird thing to lie about. Wish she’d kept it long, though. The length kind of framed everything well, drawing attention down its length towards her
You feel kind of weird.
…
Oh no.
…
Oh no.