Chattering Monkeys

Dark · Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 261

Lord Daroth watched in masked horror as the Adajian capital went up in flames, the sea sweeping in mile high waves on the coast, lightning and earthquakes rattling the country. Swallowing, he glanced back to King Helios, the man sitting on the golden throne in the Shrivanthos Tower, the tallest landmark in the nation, one of the last remnants of their land. His son was at his feet, young and oblivious, playing with a toy carriage, humming and mimicking the click of wheels. His wife, the Queen Vana, sat in the corner, trembling.

“It’s the end of the world!” she sobbed.

And indeed, it seemed to be.

“The sages can not be stopped” the King recited decidedly, “There is nothing that can be done.”

Daroth glanced at him and looked away. The sages…those damned sages.

For centuries, since the beginning, since Mada formed this universe, Adajian’s had given a series of eight wizards with the power of the very elements. They were called ‘Sages’.

The Sages always protected, fighting side by side with the highly held knights of the land. They were reliable, loyal to the end, trusted by the King, by the country, by everyone.

But the Sages were immortal. To live eternally unless slain, they watched over Adajia until they were no longer able. Not forever in the role of Sages, however, for one of the codes said that it is of utmost importance that they have children, an heir to pass their power over to, to keep on moving forward to the future.

Alas…

Therdaru, the Sage of Lightning, Itys, the Sage of Ice, Leris, the Sage of Light, Tankele, the Sage of Fire, Ardyn, the Sage of Wind, Kinves, the Sage of Earth, Veine, the Sage of Dark, and Inerryn, the Sage of Water.

Those names would go down notorious in Adajian history…as it’s destroyers.

These sages remained childless, refusing this law. If they were to live forever, why even bother? It was logical, in a sense, what they argued so the King did not pressure him. But he had little idea his act of appeasement would turn so wrong.

If they were immortal, the Sages mused forward, and given the powers of the Earth, then why were they ruled by a basically human king? Why were they not the ones in charge?

And that’s when it all started to go wrong.

The King refused this, saying they were servants of the nation, not rulers, that for generations, the sages have pledged unyielding fealty to their King. Why should they gain power now?

They answered by burning and destroying three cities in the North.

That was just a warning.

The King stood firm, pleading with these Sages to come to their senses. He even went as far as to seek the Sage’s parents to talk to them. It was then and there, when these Sages that have rebelled killed their own parents with the powers they’d given them, that the King and his table of knights knew they were in trouble.

Daroth stared, empty, at the destruction continuing outside. His wife and newborn son had died, crushed underneath the very house he’d built for them in the valley. For the rest of his probably short existence, he would never forget the glazed over eyes of his son, the limp body of his wife…

Balra ran in, his companion in the knighthood, one of the four left. His face was haggard and he seemed exhausted, panting heavily. Daroth regarded him for some moments before looking out that damned window again in time to see the Theater of Andralah fall, collapsing into a dust cloud of marble. His grandfather helped build that place…

“Daroth, I have a way to stop them.”

All eyes turned to the man, analyzing whether he’d lost his mind in the midst of all this. But his eyes were bright, hopeful. Daroth gazed at him before shaking his head, giving up, a man that had nothing to lose.

“How?”

“It’s a weapon from across the portal…”

Such a thing would have been called treason and Balra could have easily hung for bringing a strand of hair from the other side. But there was no reason for such edicts when the world was about to end now, was there? Daroth sighed, shaking his head.

“And what weapon could they possible have that could stop demi-gods?”

Balra handed him something, a long cylindrical barrel with a handle. Daroth examined it before giving his friend a bewildered look.

”What the hell is this? A club cannot bring down a Sage!”

Balra smiled vaguely, “My friend, this is no club. Come, let us save the world.”

Daroth looked to his king, the man’s eyes tired, giving him a weak glance. Daroth clutched the weapon tightly. They had nothing to lose.

Him, Balra, and the other two knights dashed through the street, avoiding debris and the attacks raining down on them. The sages were located in their headquarters, known simply as the Tower of the Sages, located across from the Shrivanthos Tower.

They were at the base, using stealth to get to the doors. Therdaru and Kinves stood there, their fingertips sourcing with power. Stopping when they saw them, Therdaru rather absently started to send bolts of lightning at them. Balra threw something, a rod he’d been carrying, into the ground, the lightning instantly drawn to it. This caught Therdaru’s attention…but a moment too late.

Balra held his weird weapon, ripping open something, the other two following his lead…and the next thing he knew, a loud explosion erupted from the weapon. A projectile shot out, breaking so fast Daroth had no idea what was going on…until they struck Therdaru in the chest. The man looked stunned for all of second before falling. Kinves had no time to react before the other two did the same. He collapsed without delay…

Daroth stared in silence for a few moments before walking over, kneeling extremely cautiously beside the Lightning and Earth Sage…checking their pulse, a tingle went down his spine as he realized they were dead.

Slowly standing, he glanced back at Balra with a toothy smile.

“Show me how we do this so we can get the rest of these bastards.”

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Daroth hid behind a fallen piece of the Sage Tower, blasts striking over and over. He smoked a cigarette, his heart calm as he stared down at Balra, the man having been killed by a blast of fire. His brows softened a little, the man’s corpse almost burnt beyond recognition. He’d make sure Balra’s name went down in history…for he is the hero that saved Adajia.

Only Itys, the Sage of Ice, and Inerryn, the Sage of Water, still stood. The other two knights, prepared to fire, just waiting for a long enough opening. His eyes flashed as Inerryn made this error first. Two bullets to the skull later, he fell…Daroth stood, seeing no reason to hide any longer. Itys looked weary, the effects of using his magic for the last day and half having taken it’s toll. Daroth held his musket, pointing it at Itys, muttering.

“It’s over, bastard.”

The man’s blue eyes looked empty, as if he didn’t really care either way. But he smiled suddenly, backing up. The knights tried to load their muskets in time but before he knew it, Itys had jumped out the window.

Daroth rushed over to watch before cursing under his breath, the man having transformed into an icy mist and escaping away…

…But no matter. He was one.

“Daroth…what now?” asked one of his companions.

Daroth looked out of the window facing the chaos, the ever burning chaos, his eyes unreadable before he responded:

“We rebuild. We start over…we move on.”

And we learn from this never to grant a human being such grand power. Let the Sages never exist again.
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Dark · Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 261

“Hi sweetie” cooed the raven haired woman, her blue eyes bright, “My little baby boy…”

King Sai Esperanza glanced up at his wife, glowering, closing the book, “Were you listening?”

“Of course I was listening” she laughed, kissing her baby’s small nose, “What of it? I’ve read and studied Adajian history, darling, I know what happened.”

“Yes” he grunted, “And I’m telling you my interpretation of that dream you keep having.”

Queen Raitanya Esperanza looked up, scowling, “My dream was nothing like that.”

She kept having this dream, a sign in her race that it was possibly a prophecy. Sai had taken intense interest, something that should have concerned her but she was pretty busy with the baby. Looking down into his light blue eyes, she smiled. Tate Esperanza…

“That you haven’t had it since Tate was born tells me he has something to do with it’s contents” the man mused, standing to stair out the balcony window.

Raitanya rolled her eyes and leaned back, watching Tate fall sleep contently, “It wasn’t a bad dream, Sai…”

“If it mentions Sages, of course it is! Do you see what happened?”

“Those were bad people” she said simply, “And what’s the quote? ‘Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely’? If you give such tremendous power to the wrong people, what do you think happens?”

“Then it’s BEST that no one has such power” he grunted, “If you envision a new era with the Sages then it’s best to change all we can now.”

Raitanya glanced up at him before smiling, “Do what you will, darling.”

Because the future she saw, it wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t bad either. It was run by her son, run by people he trusted, by his friends…

And it wouldn’t matter either way, there was no way to change what was going to happen. She tilted her head, staring down at her son, stroking his hair.

“I won’t be able to watch you forever but everything will be okay.”
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Tate Esperanza, heir to the Adajian throne, had been four when his mother died.

It was unexpected, as death usually was but she was their Queen, immortal, forever. That she was so vivacious by nature also just made it so unbelievable.

But vivacity and immortality were apparently not enough when put through childbirth.

Tate never saw his sister as the reason for his mother’s death, honestly. She was such a small baby, after all…but his father on the other hand was downright dismissive, never once having even seen her. He marked her with the name ‘Reiko’ meaning ‘spirit child’. Tate knew even then that that wasn’t a complimentary name.

It was beyond him why his father built a manor as far away from the castle as humanly possible to put her in when she was but two. He’d tried to argue for her sake but to no avail. His fathers heart was completely hardened by losing his wife…Tate did all he could to go visit her, to make her feel at least his love. But his father even started to forbid this…

Tate sat in his room, 10-years-old, soon to be 11, reading a book on astrology and astronomy, both his passions. Something about the cosmos intrigued him…

But he grimaced, quickly storing the book under the pillow behind him, as the doors to his room were thrown open. His father stomped in, eyes angered for one reason or another…

“You’re supposed to be in history classes” he said, irritated.

“I don’t care for learning history repeatedly” Tate shrugged, “We’ve gone over it a dozen times if not a hundred and I’m really starting not to care anymore. Best I stop there before I’m completely unaffected by the past, ay?”

The man obviously was not pleased, “You don’t care for the country you will one day rule’s struggles? Our past is what we are.”

Tate stood, absently wandering about, “But over and over, father? Over and over I learn the same exact thing. What am I really learning? That we’ve been through a lot? I got that. Give me something new.”

He rather expected the King to continue to rant on about the importance of history but instead, he crossed his arms, cocking a brow at Tate.

“Have you read the texts on ruling?”

“Yes” Tate sighed, exasperated. The boringness of the writings had nearly killed him.

“Then what should you start working on early before you take my place?” he quizzed him.

Tate glanced at him, surprised, before trying to recall the things he was supposed to do…the only thing he really remembered was the table.

“I have to assemble a group of men to lead my armies, to become my head knights. Seven men, to be exact.”

Sai seemed pleased enough with this as he turned to walk away, “Then get to it, Tate.”

It took a moment for Tate to register that. Get to what…? Assembling his table? Now? Swallowing, he winced, collapsing back onto the chair and pouting. Good work, idiot, now he had to go and actually do something…

He was sheltered…he didn’t know anyone. His whole life, he’d only had his governesses, the servants, his teacher. Really, he hadn’t even had his father…

So how was he supposed to find people he trusted if he knew no one?
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How did other people live?

“Come out now, you little shit!”

Was this how everyone lived?

Curled up in a ball, he bit his lip, shaking violently as he hid in the forests near the grave. Why did people live just to die like this? How was he supposed to go on now?

“I’ll kill you!”

From the day he could remember anything, he remembered nothing but torture. Physically, mentally, absolute.

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he moved again through the brush, his arms scraped by the thorns. He clenched the slip of paper tightly as he made his way silently. It didn’t have to be like this…she didn’t have to die.

The man cursed loudly in Italian, a blade they used to slaughter animals for dinner in hand. He wasn’t fit for any other blade, he figured simply, not daring a breath.

An animal, that’s what he was. An absolute freak of nature, they told him. And why?
Because of his eyes. God knew he’d cut out his eyes if it’d make him human.

He touched his face, his fingertips brushing over cuts, bruises, incisions, and calluses, and touched his eyelid. They were odd looking, exactly like a bird’s. And they were blue, he supposed…

“You son of a bitch, get out here NOW!” the man slurred.

It would have been in his mother’s best interest to have killed him before he was born, the product of an affair. She told him so little about his real father except that he was a beautiful man…two beautiful people having an ugly son? Unlikely.

Why would she stay here either if he was so perfect? Jaraq was a drunk, spent every cent of their money on liquor and debts. He starved for a good portion of the time as well. Not so much that they didn’t have food, but that he was an animal, a freak. If his mother could sneak food to him, it was scraps of leaves, bones, and the thinnest parts of meat. He was skin and bones.

But if it was just starving, he’d be happy.

He had half-siblings, four to be exact. Two sons, two daughters: Gordin, Avander, Cecelia, and Lowra. Jaraq beat him in drunken rages, beat his face in. When that was too boring, he broke his arm or something, dislocated a shoulder.

If it was just beating, he’d be happy.

He supposed he could grant that Cecelia and Avander weren’t cruel to him, they just teased him. They teased him for being so dark-skinned, for being the only one to get his mother’s stark red hair. That, actually, didn’t bother him at all. He found them funny looking too, honestly…

It was the things Gordin and Lowra did.

It wasn’t enough that he was too young to understand what they were doing but that they considered him an animal, a creature, and still, they touched him. The touched him, they…did things that hurt. He didn’t understand. Why? Why do something like that?

…Was this how everyone lived?

Because he feared for his life from time to time, he’d run away, he’d run away to Jaraq’s mother, the only person in this world that had shown him limitless kindness. She told him to call her ‘grandma’ because none of the other children came to visit her, nor did Jaraq…only he did. He was ashamed to tell her that he just came here to hide, to recover, to get a good meal every now and then. But the woman, the saint, just laughed and told him she couldn’t ask for more.

He never liked to tell her about anything that happened back at home. The beatings, the molesting, the starvation. But he knew she knew, especially after Gordin had forced himself on him…it was the only time the old lady had left the house, he recalled, apparently to go yell at him. She’d meant well. He knew that, of course. But that just made Gordin more aggressive, demanding if he was going to tell grandma about this too…he never told her anything again.

He’d been the only one to visit her on her deathbed. Had he known she was going to die, he would have told her that he was grateful to her, grateful that she was the only one that was nice to him, that he was sorry for taking her food…but she smiled, telling him that he needed to leave. That he needed to find a new home not with his parents before they hurt him more. That she couldn’t take care of him when she could anymore…she handed him this slip of paper, explained things, told him not to give it to ANYONE, especially Jaraq.

Clenching his eyes shut, tears growing in his eyes. Why? Why’d she have to die? Why was the only person that gave him a semblance of love dead? His own mother beat him when she was drunk, never stood up for him when her son and daughter were raping him, when her husband was beating him.

“Found you!”
He yelped, flying to his feet and racing, the man stumbling right on his heels. He felt angry, he hated the world, the universe, EVERYTHING.

Stopping, he glanced back at Jaraq, an intense bitterness overwhelming him. Forget it. Forget all the running, forget all the torture. This was it. Why was he trying to live if he was just living to die? It…wasn’t worth it.

‘Don’t stop. Run!’

Why should he?

‘You can’t let him win!’

It wasn’t even ABOUT that…

‘But your grandma said to leave…’

This made his lip tremble, Jaraq advancing on him. But where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do? This was all he knew.

‘Adrian!’

He shut his eyes, knowing it was too late to do anything now as Jaraq was a mere foot away from him. It was too late, he gave up…

...He couldn’t even run away.

...How did other people live?
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Dark · Joined: 19 Apr 2007 Posts: 261

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“Papa! There’s a dead boy in the garden!”

...What?

Opening his eyes, he groaned, the light of the sun pervasive. What the…? He was lying on his back, hanging from a bush in, apparently, someone’s garden. Squinting, he stared at the owner of the voice. A young girl…her skin was a tad lighter than his but around the same tone, her hair golden blonde, and…

He gasped. Her eyes…

...They had the same…eyes?

Footsteps approached slowly at first before speeding up. He winced, throwing himself out of the bush. Falling flat on his stomach, he found that his body was refusing to let him move...at least managing to sit up, he gazed around, confusion suddenly hitting him.

...Wasn't he just about to die?

“Are you all right?”

He was blank for a moment, before blushing, looking away from where the guy was staring, “Sorry, I...I didn't mean to crash into your garden.”

As soon as he could gather enough strength, he'd run, he told himself. But his body downright ached, his legs heavy and his back stiff. What had happened...? Where was he?

He flinched back when the man knelt before him, out of reflex. Swallowing, he forced himself to look up at whoever it was, shaky.

His face was masked by the sun's brightness so he couldn't really make him out. His heart raced a bit and he trembled, unsure of what he should do. Once again, he was so weak, so powerless. He yelped when the man reached out, clenching his eyes shut. What was he doing?

Puzzled when the man's fingers ran faintly through his hair, he forced his eyes open, albeit still shaking. What was going on...?

“...Who's your mother?” he asked, out of the blue.

Mouth dry, parched, sweating anxiously over the situation, he stammered, “Marquessa Tiavius.”

The man's fingers paused and there was a thick silence before his heavy voice raised another question.

“What's your name...?”

Bowing his head, he wasn't sure if he was sure he should tell a complete stranger anymore...but the man slowly sank a little lower.

“I promise I won't hurt you...just tell me, what's your name?”

Looking around, away from the man, he mumbled, “Adrian.”

Another strange quietness came before the man turned to the child nearby, “Sweetie, can you go run a bath for me, hmm?”

“Yes papa!”

She skipped off and Adrian curled up, hugging himself tightly, as the man slowly leaned forward towards him. What was going on, he asked himself once again.

“Adrian...look at me.”

Why? Who was this guy? What did he want from him? But, what else could he do? He was at this guy's mercy...as usual, he thought bitterly.

Looking up, lips pursed, he gazed at the man before gaping a little.

He had long golden hair to around his shoulder, much like his daughter's. His skin was a deep rich Earth tone, not too dark, not too light. But all that wasn't what disturbed Adrian...

Those...eyes again...his...eyes.

The man smiled at him, an all too warm and comforting gesture to Adrian, “My name's Arian Valentine...and I...think I'm your father.”
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The little girls giggled as they washed his hair with the most flowery scented soap he'd ever smelled in his life. Grimacing, the sores in his scalp burning fiercely, he was possessed to ask them to stop but they seemed rather happy in what they were doing.

“Ladies, Adrian's a boy, don't use that...”

Adrian looked up, startled, when the man claiming to be his father reappeared, holding clothes and soap for him. Adrian bowed his head, not able to meet the man's eyes. After a few moments, Arian shooed the girls to go pick vegetables in the garden for dinner. Adrian cowered as he pulled away from Arian as he approached. Arian paused, his footsteps diminishing.

“Do I scare you...?” he asked faintly.

Adrian felt a lump form in his throat as he mumbled, “You're lying.”

“Lying?” the man echoed, bewildered, “About what?”

“About being my father” Adrian retorted.

The man didn't comment immediately before kneeling, staring at Adrian before asking, “What makes you think that? I have no reason to lie about such a thing, right? I don't stand to gain anything from lying to you, do I?”

Adrian pondered over that before murmuring, “That's true...but I still don't believe you.”

“Why's that?”

“B-because” he muttered, “You're not ugly...”

This seemed to take the man aback, “What?”

“Mother wasn't ugly, you're not ugly, so what happened to me?” he demanded, “That's...that's the only thing that makes sense.”

“You're...you're not...”

“Save it” Adrian bit back acerbically, turning away, “Thank you though, for allowing me to bathe. But I'll just take my things and leave.”

“And where are you going?” Arian asked faintly, “To Marquessa?”

Adrian frowned thoughtfully, glancing briefly back over his shoulder to Arian. It was odd how he addressed his mother, relaying a sense of intimacy... biting his lip, narrowing his eyes over his shoulder at him as he stared at the tile wall, he mumbled, “No...my step-father was trying to kill me.”

Where had his mother been, he wondered now. She never cared, did she? She probably even wanted him to die so she could have that slip of paper...no one cared about him, he thought, feeling weary as he sank further in the water. And there was still that mystery of how he got away...

“Why was Jaraq trying to kill you?” the man suddenly demanded sharply.

Adrian froze, so astonished he was at a complete loss. How did...? Did he...? Adrian finally turned around, staring at the man with wide-eyed confusion. He looked so irritated...

“How...do you know his name?” Adrian whispered.

Arian sighed, shaking his head, “I told you, I'm not lying to you, Adrian...you're around ten, right?”

Adrian bit his lip and nodded as Arian continued, “The time period, the looks, your mother...it's all too coincidental. You're...you're my son, whether you want to accept it or not. Now...tell me, why was Jaraq trying to kill you?”

But that was about all that Adrian could handle, feeling faint enough to pass out, his head swimming. His...father?

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“That bastard...”

Arian muttered expletives and cursed everything to do with Jaraq Tiavius as he treated his son with his weak healing powers. Adrian was a walking bruise, he thought sadly as he watched him sleep. His arms, his legs, his whole entire body...there wasn't a single part that wasn't marred somehow or the other. Able to get rid of most of the wounds, he dropped his staff and clutched his head, wondering what had just happened here.

Marquessa was 22, already with four children. Her father had sold her to Jaraq to settle some gambling debts. He'd heard the tales in the taverns that she was well sought after and that she ended up with Jaraq, well, that was just a grave disappointment, apparently. But Jaraq had set the right price, it seemed. She was 14 at the time, he'd learned.

She was a barmaid, working long hours to support her family. If Jaraq had ever been successful, he'd lost his fortune to booze and gambling. And if he worked, he didn't often. All he did was drink and raise up further debts for his wife to work off. Not to mention the four children she had back home.

...He was 17, he was foolish. He'd never been one to stay in one place and he hadn't meant to stay in Neo-Italy longer than a few days. But he caught sight of her in the bar, so pale, so beautiful. He was idiotically enraptured. So he stayed, heard these tales from the men in the bar, and decided to leave. He was 17...he had nothing to offer a married woman.

But outside, she's met fate with a man her husband was indebted to. He showed her a slip of paper and Arian watched as her face lit with horror. The man then grabbed her arm, forcing her on her knees...

Damned bastard had sold his wife...

Her eyes...he'd never forget how they filled with tears, as she made no struggle but squirmed in misery. How could he stand to leave her like that...? Before he knew it, he'd punched the man across the back of the head. He'd thrown some cash on the ground, grabbed her arm, and rushed away, cursing himself for getting so involved.

She was grateful to him. She'd offered him...similar payment. As pleasant as it sounded, he wasn't going to do that.

At least, he hadn't planned to.

He made frequent visits to that bar, talking with her, protecting her from debt collectors. It was innocent then, she just wanted someone to talk to, that Jaraq never talked to her. He could settle with that, he'd thought.

But she started visiting the room he'd started renting.

He hadn't wanted it to happen, he told himself. That she was some man's wife, bastard or not. He wasn't going to do that. Of course, at least he hadn't planned to.

The sex was amazing...or maybe he was just a teenager. Either way, their trysts went on for months until they became something of a ritual. And he loved it.

Until Jaraq caught wind of it all.

Marquessa was deeply upset and told him he had to leave. Leave? Leave without her? Never, he'd told her, so pathetically doting. He'd begged, pleaded for her to come with him. But she refused...she had her children to think of. And what was he to say to that? Heartbroken, pitiful, he left.

But damn it, he'd written her. He'd told her where he lived, told her she could come and stay with him anytime if she pleased. She'd written back a couple times, telling him further she couldn't. So what else could he do? He moved on.

Charmian was beautiful, she was devoted to him...that was all that he'd wanted from Marquessa. He wanted her to be devoted to him like she was devoted to Jaraq, to her children...but who was he to ask that?

But that bitch...

His blue eyes shifted towards Adrian whose faint breathing was concernedly haggard. Pursing his lips, he turned a little towards him and smoothed the boy's brows. She never told him...she never told him anything about having a son. Why?

And why the hell did she let his son get beaten like this by her bastard husband?

He trembled as he gazed away, shaken, staring at his little body. He was skin and bones. Arian doubted seriously that he'd ever had a good meal. He almost pondered if he'd ever eaten at all...and they beat him. They starved and beat his son...

Taking a breath, he shook his head, pulling the covers up tighter over Adrian's body before gazing at him. Jaraq had tried to kill his son...and he wanted to know 'why'? But Adrian obviously didn't trust him...and for good reason, really. Why should he trust him, some stranger claiming to be his father? Arian frowned sadly. He wondered if Adrian could trust anyone now...
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“What does he want from me?” Adrian asked himself.

“Dunno...he seems nice enough.”

Adrian watched Arian sleep, his head rested on the bed, his lips parted as he snored faintly. Adrian frowned, shaking his head.

“He's awfully trusting. For all he knows I'm insane and could kill him in his sleep.”

“But we wouldn't do that...”

“I wouldn't” Adrian agreed, “Just...do you think he's telling me the truth? Honest?”

“I think so...just think about it...has anyone ever really claimed to be anything to us?”

Adrian's eyes widened before he shook his head 'no'. No...no one had ever claimed him in any way. Maybe that in itself should have raised some flags, huh...

The older man shifted, groaning as he sat up straight and rubbed the back of his neck, his blue eyes bright with the rising sun streaming in from the window. Blinking, he glanced at Adrian before jumping a little.

“Oh, you're awake” he commented, giving him an awkward smile.

“Mm.”

“Are you hungry?” Arian asked.

Adrian shook his head and Arian seemed a little upset, “Are...are you sure? You should have some breakfast or something.”

Adrian couldn't recall ever eating 'breakfast'. That was what he would call some luxury that was a million miles away from anything he'd ever receive. That mind numbing hunger he had was something he'd grown to live with, something he couldn't get around. That he was offering it to him seemed more like blatant teasing...

Arian stood quickly and rushed off out of the room. Adrian sighed and wondered if he'd offended him...he paused and noted that he wasn't in absolute pain. Staring at his arms, he was more than just a little confused to find all the bruises, all the scars that had accumulated over his life to be gone...it was...kind of lonely.

Next, he noted, he was in a bed. He had a blanket their livestock used to use back home...he shuddered. Some things he would rather forget...

Blinking languidly, almost ready to doze off in the softest cushions he'd ever felt, Arian returned with a tray of...food. Adrian turned over, sitting back up and stared at the platter of food presented to him. A small bowl of fresh berries, a glass of what he'd assume was milk, and a slice of meat. After a long moment of just looking at the food, Adrian glanced up at Arian.

“...This is breakfast?” he asked.

Arian nodded slowly, “Go ahead, eat it.”

Adrian stared back at the plate for a moment before picking up a berry and biting it...it was so juicy, so sweet, so delicious...his stomach twinged with shock that he was actually ingesting something. After eating that berry, content that this wasn't some dream set on tricking him, he started scarfing it all down madly.

"Wait, wait!" the man exclaimed, startled, "Eat slowly...when your body's not used to eating normally, it's good not to rush eating..."

Adrian thought he was nuts...but did recall eating heavily at his grandmother's house and ending up throwing it all back up. The body was a fickle thing...

Finishing, the man removed the plate and returned, sitting back in the chair, seeming to think, "Why don't you rest? I'm sure you haven't slept well."

Adrian, still not sure what to make of this kindness from anyone besides his grandmother, took him up on that offer. He was exhausted...
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'Don't tell anyone, bastard...'

He couldn't breathe...they gagged him, bound his wrists so tight his hands grew numb... the humiliating torture, the degrading comments, the...the pain...

Oh God, the pain...

"Adrian??"

His eyes snapped open, startled, Arian leaning over him, his eyes wide with worry, "Are you okay?"

Adrian bit his lip, nodding rapidly, turning away out of embarrassment. He must have cried in his sleep, his cheeks cold with tears...Arian sank down on the edge of the bed and mumbled.

"What the hell did they do to you...?"

Adrian didn't answer but Arian sighed, standing, "There's some clothes for you in the dresser. Come down when you're ready for lunch."

Lunch...?

After Arian took his leave, he stood and searched through the drawers, finding clean shirts and pants...odd, really. Yet another luxury...pulling on one of the shirts and the pants, he wandered down the steps, scratching his head. He jumped a little when the girls skittered around him, looking rather amazed...they were weird. But then, he'd never been around little girls...

It struck him that his...father had A LOT of daughters. There had to have been at least seven before him at the moment. Arian, leaning over a table, smiled.

"Come on, ladies."

They scurried to the table, a chair for each of them...ten. Three apparently were too young to care or were able to observe him, notably a baby sitting in Arian's arms. Arian waved a hand, gesturing for him to sit as well. Swallowing, he slowly walked over before sitting down. A bowl of soup and a salad was in front of him, a glass of some yellowy looking substance also nearby. He ate carefully, knowing very well that having two meals in one day might not exactly be agreeable. The girls were done long before he was and Arian remained, coaxing the baby into nibbling on a cooked carrot. Adrian stared at the small being, having never seen a baby before...

"Can I...ask something?" he finally dared to speak.

Arian looked up, startled, before smiling, "Of course."

"...Um, why...do you have so many daughters?" he squirmed awkwardly in the chair.

Arian didn't answer right away before sighing deeply, "Because their mother is obsessed with the idea of having a son for me..."

Adrian looked up, frowning, "You can't choose?"

He chuckled, "It doesn't work like that, no..."

An idea suddenly struck Adrian. He looked around, puzzled, before looking back at the man, "Where is your wife?"

Arian grimaced and stood, putting the baby in a pin, as he started picking up the dishes, "She...goes away from time to time. She was a gypsy so I guess it's just something she's used to. She'll probably be back in a week or so..."

A certain anxiety had appeared in Arian's demeanor and for whatever reason, that kind of worried Adrian...
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"Daddy, Adrian, dinner!" called Bellanya, his eldest daughter.

Arian smiled some, glancing back, "We'll be in soon..."

He turned his gaze back to Adrian and wondered why Marquessa never told him...after all, she said it was one of the most wonderful things she'd ever seen...

He'd asked Adrian why he never ran away.

Adrian had retorted that it simply wasn't that easy. He couldn't walk very far, he was just too weak, too malnourished. Aside from that, Jaraq found him easily enough, forcing him to come home to have something to beat on. Taking his time getting over the anger that his son was nothing more than a stress reliever to Jaraq, he said simply that he definitely could have flown far enough away for that not to be an issue.

Adrian just stared at him as if he was crazy.

...He didn't know.

Arian took him outside, stunned that he didn't know...but how could he if no one had ever told him? He'd knelt before Adrian, told him to close his eyes. The little boy had been downright apprehensive about doing anything of the sort but after some coercing, he did so. Arian did what came second nature to him now...he called out his wings.

Angelic, white with washes of silver and black, they fluttered absently in the wind. Arian told him to open his eyes.

Of course he freaked out a bit, totally confused about why wings had randomly grown out of his back. But Arian insisted he had them too, that they were part falcon. Part falcon, Adrian had echoed, questioning. She really hadn't explained anything to him, had she...?

Malik, a god produced by Mada himself, had taken on human form centuries ago, creating and wreaking havoc on Uchuu. The vicious deity found humans weak but needed someone to be his soldiers...so he tried many things to enhance them. That's how they'd been created.

He used a variety of animals with desirable traits, the falcon being that it could fly. Spending decades of research on fusing human and animal traits, Malik abandoned the project...but left behind a population of these human slash animals.

Arian spent hours teaching him how to draw out his wings and spent another three teaching him how to spread them, to help him fly...before he knew it, Adrian was able to make small flights around the yard, not able to get very high but certainly an improvement. He seemed happy, Arian thought with a sad smile. Something that was intrinsic to their nature could bring him happiness? Why, Marquessa?

Adrian landed in front of him, his cheeks rosy, his eyes bright, his whole body trembling. Arian stared at him before groaning, having been so fascinated by watching him that he hadn't noticed it had definitely gotten colder.

"C'mon, before you catch a cold" he said, waving towards the house.

"But..." he started to protest, looking like he wanted to go back.

Arian smiled reassuringly, "We'll come out tomorrow and you can fly some more, all right? Now it's time for dinner."

Adrian seemed disappointed, but nodded and followed him inside. The girls were about as excited as he was, declaring they'd take him places once he could fly a little higher. Adrian sheepishly agreed and Arian smiled some. It was all nice and great right now, but...

Charmian.
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Adrian groaned, wondering when he'd become so lazy...Jaraq, his step-siblings, or his mother would have never let him lie around this long. But he guessed it was easier adjusting to living well...

He'd been there for about a week, a long glorious week of food, a bed, and flying. He couldn't help smile. He loved flying...

The girls (he'd nearly learned all of their names) called him 'big brother Adrian' and dragged him about. He enjoyed feeling like he could fit in...he supposed since everyone back in Italy was completely human in appearance he was the odd one out. But here...

He felt he could belong here.

“Who are you?”

Adrian jumped at the unknown voice, a woman's voice and gasped as she grasped his arm roughly. He whimpered as she dragged him towards the door. What was this...?

“Charmian!”

The woman paused and Adrian quickly jerked away, running to the voice of Arian and hugging his leg, frightened. Arian soothingly stroked his hair and Adrian finally dared to look at Charmian, his 'step-mother'.

She was blonde like his father, her eyes a scary green color, fierce and piercing. Her hair was short, curled around her neck, her skin very pale. He guessed she was pretty...she just looked rather angry at the moment.

“Who is this, Arian?” she demanded, her voice tinted with a bit of an accent.

Arian slowly cleared his throat, “This...is Adrian. He's...my son.”

A very uncomfortable silence fell and Arian quickly added after a moment, “But! It-it was years before we met!”

“So? Why's he here now then?” she questioned sharply.

Arian gaped for a moment before slowly glancing at Adrian, “Um...you...did never tell me how you got here...”

Adrian grimaced, “I...I really don't remember. I was running from Jaraq and next thing I knew, I...I was waking up in the garden.”

“Sounds suspicious” the woman snarled.

“I'm not lying!” Adrian protested before looking up to his father helplessly, “I...I don't have any reason to lie either...”

Arian patted his shoulder, “I know that, don't worry.”

Charmian glared at them before marching off towards the steps. Arian groaned and smiled at him weakly, “I'll convince her, okay? You go play outside, all right?”

Adrian nodded but couldn't bring himself to do so as he watched his father follow her. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he followed next.

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“I should have known you'd act ridiculous” Arian glared, grabbing his wife's arm as she started to grab bags and clothes, “What does it matter? He's 11 meaning before I knew you so I didn't cheat!”

“Because some woman gave you what I can't” she said plainly, “And of course you want to keep him.”

“Because from what I've collected, my son means absolutely nothing to her and he was practically dead by the time he got here!” Arian argued, “What's so wrong with me 'keeping' him?”

Charmian turned, looking at him seriously, “You have to make a choice, Arian. You can have your son...and I'll take our daughters and leave.”

Arian gawked, “What? That's-that's ridiculous! The girls love Adrian, why can't we all stay here together?”

“I don't know this child that's suddenly popped up from nowhere! Why should I trust him around my daughters? That you've allowed him to stay around them is unthinkable!”

“You're being ridiculous” Arian restated, growing more and more irritated, “I am not throwing my son to the wolves.”

“Then lose me, lose your daughters” she snapped, “All for him.”

Arian felt ill, knowing that Charmian was completely serious. Her threats always scared the hell out of him, the scariest having been the once she threatened to jump into the rapids nearby if he refused to have anymore children. He did, having been feeling pretty gutsy. And he barely saved her from her watery death and had his newest addition, Anya, to show for it.

She was possessive, was the real problem, and maybe her level of devotion was a bit too fanatical...he wanted her to get help but her gypsy upbringing made her suspicious of everyone...

He wasn't going to give in this time though. This was too much, too cruel. Maybe she didn't know Adrian, maybe he was the son she so badly wanted to give him, but he was a child. And he wasn't throwing his child away because she had jealousy issues.

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...Did everyone live this way?

“You have to make a choice, Arian. You can have your son...and I'll take our daughters and leave.”

Was it possible to make a choice like that? She was asking him to choose between his children, after all. And Adrian had come to understand the man over this week, he'd try to accomplish both. But she unfortunately sounded too serious.

And Adrian couldn't do that...

The girls should have their father, should continue to have this wonderful life...he'd lived longer without it than he had with it so it made sense that he was the one to leave. He stared at the slip of paper that his grandmother had given to him, sticking it into his pocket and deciding that nothing else here was his. Gifts from his father but overall, he didn't want the reminders. He'd keep the clothes he had on currently at least.

He heard the escalating screams of his father arguing with his wife, a sound he'd grown accustomed to back with Jaraq and his mother. It caused a sense of overwhelming grief. He didn't want to be the cause of such a thing. Walking out the front door, he was grateful the girls weren't there. They'd make it difficult.

Walking away from somewhere he'd only been for a week was easy. He was free, free to do as he pleased, to go where he wanted, to explore, to...to do anything. Adrian didn't really need anyone if they were all going to turn out like this anyway.

But...

He'd fought hard not to look back, to see the home, but in the end he'd faltered. Staring at the house, his stomach knotted and he cried. Was something wrong with him? Why didn't anyone want him? One place he was beaten, starved, and raped. The other, the woman didn't even want to get to know him and threatened to leave. What had he done?

A foggy state of ignorance started to overwhelm him, a moment of confusion, a reaction to his misery...

And it went blank.
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Arian's legs were numb, his eyes were heavy, his body was weak. Even his wings ached, refusing to let him move another inch, forcing him to walk. How did this happen...?

He assumed Adrian overheard the conversation between him and Charmian, seeing as they were practically shrieking the entire time. When he'd had enough of her foolishness, he'd went to find Adrian, to say they could go out and do something to defy her wishes.

His son was nowhere to be found.

The girls said they hadn't seen him and there had been a rising trepidation in Arian's stomach...maybe he'd just wanted to fly around or something. He seemed to enjoy flying.

But today was his third day looking.

His son was gone.

Stopping, staring at the house where Charmian and his daughters were waiting, he didn't want to go in. How could she? How could she be so not understanding? Adrian is his son. He wanted to take care of his son, his family. But no...no, all that mattered was her.

Arian felt bitter as he dragged himself towards the door, wishing for the briefest of seconds that he'd let his wife fall to her watery grave...Adrian hadn't even taken anything with him, just the clothes on his back...his son was out there with nothing. He'd come with nothing and he'd left the same exact way.

A tear rolled down his cheek as he smiled, his daughters greeting him excitedly at the door but asking that unknown question of 'where's Adrian?'. Charmian glared from the kitchen but he was set on ignoring her for the rest of his life as he answered his daughters in earnest.

“I don't know.”
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“Those were all my knight's high-bred sons!”

“And none of them were worth my time” Tate said simply to his irate father.

“Then your army will fail” he hissed, face red, “If those boys weren't worthy enough then no one is!”

Tate rolled his eyes, rubbing his temple to thwart his growing headache, “I'm not sure how you expect them to last a minute through training. Besides, this is MY army, not yours.”

King Sai snarled, “Then so be it.”

He left with a huff and Tate reclined at his desk, growing weary of all this...he did find it slightly worrisome that he did find no one worthy even at this early stage...

He absently gazed out the window and nearly screamed when wings far too large for a bird fluttered by. Heart beating madly, he stood and quickly stared out the window...a person?

Curious and horrified, he ran out in that direction, towards the garden. An angel...? They were in the Uchirian mythology, but...

“There ya' go, little buddy, a nice place for you to drink.”

Tate froze, gawking...he was a kid.

...Well, he guess he shouldn't say that. They were probably the same age...he had dark bronze skin, his hair a scarlet color. And...he had wings. How strange...

Tate tilted his head a bit and saw he had a very colorful parrot in his hands, holding the tiny bird so that it could sip the cool water from the fountain. The boy sat him down on the edge so he could prance a bit and watched him with a faint smile. Tate finally noted his eyes...blue...and bird-like. He squeaked against his will as their eyes finally met. There was an odd moment of silence, almost weirdly companionable. But he finally spoke, breaking the calm.

“Can I help you with something?”

Tate stared at him, his brows furrowed, “What?”

“Well, you're just standing there, so...”

Tate crossed his arms, trying to figure out if he were serious, “You ARE aware you're in the royal palace, correct?”

He blinked as if he had no concern, “Oh? Sorry, he just seemed thirsty and I sensed water over here...we'll leave soon.”

“But you trespassed on castle grounds, that's almost downright treason” Tate explained slowly.

The stranger sighed, propping his chin in his bent arm, “So you build a wall around nature and I guess it's all yours, huh...?”

“I don't particularly like the isolation either but it's easier when dealing with things like invaders.”

He seemed to actually ponder over this before smiling briefly, “I guess I can understand that as well as anyone.”

Tate blinked rapidly, a tad confused, as he stood, staring at the parrot, “I saved him from one of my 'brethren', a falcon. Sad really, his little wing was broken and he was about to become something else's meal...but I saved it. I rather pitied him, being picked on for being weaker. It may be the natural order of things but he was at a clear disadvantage.”

Tate found that curious, “Who's to say he won't be at a disadvantage when his wing heals though? He'll be the same size, he'll have the same attributes, he'll just have both wings.”

“I can't say, I can't look in the future and see that he'll have a long life ahead of him” the stranger shook his head before absently petting the parrot's head, “But right now, he's safe and whether or not he'll be eaten tomorrow...it's not really something he'll have to worry about for today.”

Tate frowned and the boy ran his fingers through his long red hair, shrugging, “Now, if you're going to arrest me, just know I'm going to put up a pretty huge fight.”

“Why do that when you can fly away?” Tate smiled almost wistfully.

“Why indeed?” he grinned before shrugging again, “Because I invaded your isolated paradise and of course, I deserve to be punished or at least pretend to be punished...”

“...What if I trade you something else instead” Tate said, feeling a little enlightened.

“I don't have anything.”

“No, no” Tate shook his head, “I won't turn you in if you stay here.”

He looked puzzled, “Why?”

Tate explained his situation, his father's forcing him to find his 'table', and how the possible squires his father introduced him to weren't what he had in mind...

He kicked at the ground, apprehensive, “While that sounds all well and dandy, I don't like getting tied down to one place. I have this tendency of not belonging there.”

Tate was disappointed, “I can't really force you to stay, it was just an idea...I...I'm just frightened that I'd make a mistake choosing from what my father's provided.”

“Yea, but you just met me trespassing in your garden” he pointed out, “That's not exactly credible either.”

Tate considered that before shaking his head, “Maybe but...you don't rub me the wrong way, I don't think you'd be the same as those others...I think you have a lot to offer in that you don't think the same as my father's knights.”

He was silent and fidgeted, “I...I'm not rich. I don't...honestly know how to read and I pretty much learned Uchirian from my travels. I...I don't speak about anything in my past and...I'm an orphan. I have...nothing.”

Tate smiled cheerfully, “Then start your beginning here. I swear, you're here as the start of my table so if anyone bother's you, they're choosing a fight with me as well.”

The stranger laughed faintly, “A...unit?”

“In a sense” Tate agreed, “So...?”

“...I guess I don't stand to lose anything if I don't have anything” he finally shrugged, “Okay.”

“Excellent! As of today, you'll be my first edition...” Tate trailed off, “Oh, um, I'm Prince Tate Esperanza, heir to the Adajian throne.”

“I'm Adrian” he replied simply.

“Adrian...?”

He stared at Tate almost confused before a flash of regret entered his eyes before he smiled, “Valentine.”
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