random fic x 2
splitting the entry into pre- and post- akzeriuth because everything is a mess whattttttt and I don't want to do the parts where master van shows up because he's a creeper :|
He closed his eyes, head tilted up like he was offering his throat, but instead of pain, all he felt was the hum of Asch's sword passing a hair's breadth from his skin, and the crash of steel against stone.
"If you want to die so much, then you can damn well do it yourself," Asch snarled, kicking his sword closer. "Leave me out of this."
"I - why did you save me?" he choked, words spilling like sand between his fingers, "You know what the Score says! Akzeriuth is gone! I can't be here! I can't - "
"Shut up!" Asch shouted. "Weren't you the one working against the Score? Is this how cheap your resolve is? I should have known you were nothing but talk!"
"I... I - "
"What the hell did you think you were doing? I told you not to trust Van!"
"I didn't!" he yelled back desperately, and that was almost the worst part, because he didn't even know if he had the right to feel so sick and betrayed if he was the one who'd stopped trusting Master Van first.
"Then how do you explain this?" Asch indicated the wreckage that lay around them with a wild sweep of his arm and Luke wanted to avert his gaze, but no matter where he looked, he was only met with more destruction.
"I - he was looking for Ion," he said numbly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I couldn't let him go to Baticul, I - he knew Guy's name, he wanted... we were headed for Grand Chokmah - I told him! I told him I couldn't be here - !"
"You told him," Asch echoed in disgust. "And you really expected him to listen?"
"I - I didn't know what else to do, I just..."
"Shut up," Asch said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Luke blinked in sudden confusion. Asch's hair had been as long as his own, but it barely reached his shoulders now, hanging in choppy, uneven strands.
"What happened to your - "
Asch scowled darkly.
"It'll be used as evidence of Luke fon Fabre's death in Akzeriuth," Asch said, which didn't even make any sense.
"Did - did Master Van do that? Why did he - "
Why did he have to go after Asch? Why did he - why did he have to - why did everyone have to want so damn much for this war to start?
Asch looked at him, long and steady, then reached out and grabbed a lock of his hair.
"Ow! What are you - "
"Shut up," Asch ordered, pulling out his belt knife, short but so sharp that the strands of hair parted like water when he drew the blade across.
At another warning look, Luke bit his tongue against the question he was about to ask. The lock of hair shimmered like the glint of sunlight against Grand Chokmah's sea, and as he watched, it fell into a burst of fonons, drifting into nothingness above Asch's hand.
"What - " he said, swallowing hard. Strangely, he found that he wasn't horrified, or even afraid. He'd used all of that up with Akzeriuth's fall. He just continued staring at Asch's empty palm until it closed into a fist.
"That's why."
"Oh," said Luke, not because he understood. He didn't understand, was certain right to the very core that he didn't want to, but the time for ignorance had passed long ago.
Asch paused. "I'm only going to tell you this once. Listen up."
So Luke did.
-
To his credit, the replica remained quiet as Asch spoke, although his breathing was still unsteady and he had to throw an arm across his eyes to hide his face.
"That's why you couldn't go back to Baticul?" his replica asked finally, and Asch didn't answer, because it was true but he'd never really thought of that before, or he'd never been allowed to; he always blamed the replica for taking over his life, but he'd been made to take over Asch's death, too.
"I really did ruin your life, huh," the replica continued, low and self-deprecating, with no hint of the spark he'd had when they first met, when he'd gotten right into Asch's face and told him point blank that Asch was at the bottom of a long list of people he already had to answer to. Asch had been furious then, and he was even angrier now.
"I'm not the only one," Asch reminded him, cruel and true. The replica laughed like a sob, face still hidden.
"I know - I... what am I going to..."
"Make your own choice," Asch said, still unkind. "You can lie down and die like a dog. You can run away. Or you can finish what you - what Luke fon Fabre started."
"But I'm not - all I did was get people killed, and I'm not even - !"
"You offered Malkuth's emperor peace," Asch said.
"It was Mother and Guy who..."
"Shut up," Asch snapped. "I don't care why you did it, but you started it!"
"I just - I'm not even Luke," the replica said weakly. "You're the one who should - "
"Shut up! I never went to Malkuth! I never convinced the emperor to shelter the son of his enemy! You're why those people in Engeve are dead! You're why Akzeriuth is gone! You were Luke fon Fabre when all of this was happening and you can damn well keep the name until you finish what you started!"
"I - " said the replica, lost and young and grieving, "Is it really... can I?"
Life was easier a year ago, Asch thought, when his replica wasn't a person, not to him, when he didn't have to care if that second-rate copy had its own feelings, thoughts, and unease.
"It's only a loan," he said. "Don't you dare drag it through the mud."
"I - I don't - " his replica started, biting his lip. Asch resisted the urge to hit him again. Hate the thing or not, he was still entirely infuriating.
The replica wiped at his face with his hand and closed his eyes. He still looked lost and young when he finally looked Asch in the face, but there was resolve there, too.
"Yes," said Luke. "Okay."
-
He dropped to one knee, head bowed low so he didn't have to look the emperor in the eye, his hair falling around his face, shielding him from everybody's expressions but not from their exclamations of shock.
"Your Majesty," he said, willing his voice to remain steady, "My own weakness and pride has wasted the kindness granted by Malkuth."
"Jade told me about what happened in Akzeriuth," Emperor Peony said, coolly regal. Luke could hear no accusation in the words, but he still didn't dare raise his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the sudden sting. He'd thought that he didn't have any more tears to shed, not since Yulia City, not any more, but it seemed that he was wrong.
"The empire of Malkuth condemns the actions of Dorian General Van Grants," the emperor continued. "He receives neither aid nor quarter within her borders."
"The Holy City of Daath condemns the actions of traitor Van Grants," Ion echoed, thin and clear, his voice ringing off the walls like a bell. "He receives neither aid nor quarter within her borders."
The reprieve wasn't unexpected, or even a relief; it was just undeserved.
"C'mon, Luke," Emperor Peony said, formality giving way to worry, "Stand up. You're making this really awkward."
Luke shook his head violently, bowing lower to hide the tears that had escaped, until he heard a soft shuffle behind him and someone grabbed his shoulder so tightly it hurt, hauling him to his feet.
"He said stand up," Asch snarled, shoving him away so he staggered and nearly fell. "You're my replica, you don't kneel for anybody!"
"Listen to Asch," Emperor Peony agreed. "Besides, you're royalty, people will get the wrong idea."
"But - I'm not - "
Asch shoved him again, as though he was under the impression that stupidity could be shaken out of him the way a mother liger shook her cubs.
"Regardless of Kimlasca's stance," the emperor continued, ignoring the interruption, "Malkuth recognises both sons of House Fabre."
It was Asch's turn to make a strangled, wordless noise, the one that usually heralded him yelling at Luke a lot, although it seemed that even he wasn't impolitic enough to raise his voice at the emperor.
Despite everything, Luke couldn't help but smile, just a little.
"Your Majesty," he said, and bowed his head once more to Malkuth's kindness.
He closed his eyes, head tilted up like he was offering his throat, but instead of pain, all he felt was the hum of Asch's sword passing a hair's breadth from his skin, and the crash of steel against stone.
"If you want to die so much, then you can damn well do it yourself," Asch snarled, kicking his sword closer. "Leave me out of this."
"I - why did you save me?" he choked, words spilling like sand between his fingers, "You know what the Score says! Akzeriuth is gone! I can't be here! I can't - "
"Shut up!" Asch shouted. "Weren't you the one working against the Score? Is this how cheap your resolve is? I should have known you were nothing but talk!"
"I... I - "
"What the hell did you think you were doing? I told you not to trust Van!"
"I didn't!" he yelled back desperately, and that was almost the worst part, because he didn't even know if he had the right to feel so sick and betrayed if he was the one who'd stopped trusting Master Van first.
"Then how do you explain this?" Asch indicated the wreckage that lay around them with a wild sweep of his arm and Luke wanted to avert his gaze, but no matter where he looked, he was only met with more destruction.
"I - he was looking for Ion," he said numbly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I couldn't let him go to Baticul, I - he knew Guy's name, he wanted... we were headed for Grand Chokmah - I told him! I told him I couldn't be here - !"
"You told him," Asch echoed in disgust. "And you really expected him to listen?"
"I - I didn't know what else to do, I just..."
"Shut up," Asch said, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Luke blinked in sudden confusion. Asch's hair had been as long as his own, but it barely reached his shoulders now, hanging in choppy, uneven strands.
"What happened to your - "
Asch scowled darkly.
"It'll be used as evidence of Luke fon Fabre's death in Akzeriuth," Asch said, which didn't even make any sense.
"Did - did Master Van do that? Why did he - "
Why did he have to go after Asch? Why did he - why did he have to - why did everyone have to want so damn much for this war to start?
Asch looked at him, long and steady, then reached out and grabbed a lock of his hair.
"Ow! What are you - "
"Shut up," Asch ordered, pulling out his belt knife, short but so sharp that the strands of hair parted like water when he drew the blade across.
At another warning look, Luke bit his tongue against the question he was about to ask. The lock of hair shimmered like the glint of sunlight against Grand Chokmah's sea, and as he watched, it fell into a burst of fonons, drifting into nothingness above Asch's hand.
"What - " he said, swallowing hard. Strangely, he found that he wasn't horrified, or even afraid. He'd used all of that up with Akzeriuth's fall. He just continued staring at Asch's empty palm until it closed into a fist.
"That's why."
"Oh," said Luke, not because he understood. He didn't understand, was certain right to the very core that he didn't want to, but the time for ignorance had passed long ago.
Asch paused. "I'm only going to tell you this once. Listen up."
So Luke did.
-
To his credit, the replica remained quiet as Asch spoke, although his breathing was still unsteady and he had to throw an arm across his eyes to hide his face.
"That's why you couldn't go back to Baticul?" his replica asked finally, and Asch didn't answer, because it was true but he'd never really thought of that before, or he'd never been allowed to; he always blamed the replica for taking over his life, but he'd been made to take over Asch's death, too.
"I really did ruin your life, huh," the replica continued, low and self-deprecating, with no hint of the spark he'd had when they first met, when he'd gotten right into Asch's face and told him point blank that Asch was at the bottom of a long list of people he already had to answer to. Asch had been furious then, and he was even angrier now.
"I'm not the only one," Asch reminded him, cruel and true. The replica laughed like a sob, face still hidden.
"I know - I... what am I going to..."
"Make your own choice," Asch said, still unkind. "You can lie down and die like a dog. You can run away. Or you can finish what you - what Luke fon Fabre started."
"But I'm not - all I did was get people killed, and I'm not even - !"
"You offered Malkuth's emperor peace," Asch said.
"It was Mother and Guy who..."
"Shut up," Asch snapped. "I don't care why you did it, but you started it!"
"I just - I'm not even Luke," the replica said weakly. "You're the one who should - "
"Shut up! I never went to Malkuth! I never convinced the emperor to shelter the son of his enemy! You're why those people in Engeve are dead! You're why Akzeriuth is gone! You were Luke fon Fabre when all of this was happening and you can damn well keep the name until you finish what you started!"
"I - " said the replica, lost and young and grieving, "Is it really... can I?"
Life was easier a year ago, Asch thought, when his replica wasn't a person, not to him, when he didn't have to care if that second-rate copy had its own feelings, thoughts, and unease.
"It's only a loan," he said. "Don't you dare drag it through the mud."
"I - I don't - " his replica started, biting his lip. Asch resisted the urge to hit him again. Hate the thing or not, he was still entirely infuriating.
The replica wiped at his face with his hand and closed his eyes. He still looked lost and young when he finally looked Asch in the face, but there was resolve there, too.
"Yes," said Luke. "Okay."
-
He dropped to one knee, head bowed low so he didn't have to look the emperor in the eye, his hair falling around his face, shielding him from everybody's expressions but not from their exclamations of shock.
"Your Majesty," he said, willing his voice to remain steady, "My own weakness and pride has wasted the kindness granted by Malkuth."
"Jade told me about what happened in Akzeriuth," Emperor Peony said, coolly regal. Luke could hear no accusation in the words, but he still didn't dare raise his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut against the sudden sting. He'd thought that he didn't have any more tears to shed, not since Yulia City, not any more, but it seemed that he was wrong.
"The empire of Malkuth condemns the actions of Dorian General Van Grants," the emperor continued. "He receives neither aid nor quarter within her borders."
"The Holy City of Daath condemns the actions of traitor Van Grants," Ion echoed, thin and clear, his voice ringing off the walls like a bell. "He receives neither aid nor quarter within her borders."
The reprieve wasn't unexpected, or even a relief; it was just undeserved.
"C'mon, Luke," Emperor Peony said, formality giving way to worry, "Stand up. You're making this really awkward."
Luke shook his head violently, bowing lower to hide the tears that had escaped, until he heard a soft shuffle behind him and someone grabbed his shoulder so tightly it hurt, hauling him to his feet.
"He said stand up," Asch snarled, shoving him away so he staggered and nearly fell. "You're my replica, you don't kneel for anybody!"
"Listen to Asch," Emperor Peony agreed. "Besides, you're royalty, people will get the wrong idea."
"But - I'm not - "
Asch shoved him again, as though he was under the impression that stupidity could be shaken out of him the way a mother liger shook her cubs.
"Regardless of Kimlasca's stance," the emperor continued, ignoring the interruption, "Malkuth recognises both sons of House Fabre."
It was Asch's turn to make a strangled, wordless noise, the one that usually heralded him yelling at Luke a lot, although it seemed that even he wasn't impolitic enough to raise his voice at the emperor.
Despite everything, Luke couldn't help but smile, just a little.
"Your Majesty," he said, and bowed his head once more to Malkuth's kindness.