Ficlet: As It Was Foretold | DCU | Jason/Talia | R | 1/1
Title: As It Was Foretold
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason Todd/Talia Al-Ghul
Rating: R
Word Count: 384
Prompt: For the last 3 prompts on my 50_darkfics table: Unholy, Coven, Master
Summary: Fire and death dance beneath Jason's skin.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, though clearly, they shouldn't, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: This follows In Worship and In Death, wherein Jason is the final sacrifice to bring about the Apocalypse. At long last, all 100 prompts on my 50_darkfics table are complete! And what better way to end the challenge, than with the darkest of the dark? >:D
As It Was Foretold
For a long time, Jason only knows blood and pain, fire in his bones and death at his fingertips. It should mean more to him, the bodies strewn about at his feet, their life draining into pools of crimson, should fill him with remorse, make him feel, but nothing that resembles any sort of emotion even registers in his fevered brain.
Hell burns behind his eyes, the singing of ancient horror filling his ears, and there is only the knowledge that this world is doomed, the Head of the Demon cut off from the body at long last by his own blood-stained hands.
A grin splits Jason's face. The gates of Hell are open.
~*~*~
With Father's acolytes either fleeing or dead, Father himself torn in two, an expression of utter terror frozen upon his features in death, Talia waits for the fire in Jason's eyes to diminish before bringing him a fresh robe. Naked, his skin is luminous, alight with the power of the Pit, of Hell. She hates to cover it.
“Come, we must get you to the temple. My people are waiting,” she explains as she slips the robe over his shoulders, taking his bloodied hand in hers to lead him up from the cave into the temple proper.
But Jason doesn't budge.
A cautious look back, and she finds him staring at her blankly. “We must go!” she pleads. “Don't you see, Jason? You are the key, and only the ritual will unleash your full potential!”
When the fire in his eyes flares again, ice floods Talia's veins.
~*~*~
Contempt.
At last, an emotion, but fire and death dance beneath the thinnest layer of his skin, inviting him to reach out, a darkened hand curling around a pale throat, fingers tightening as a claw.
“I am no one's key,” he says, and his first words since emerging from the waters of the Pit are hot and sharp, blood on shattered glass. “And you know nothing.”
The woman's body crumples to the ground before him, and without another thought, Jason steps over it, shedding the cloth that would dare to conceal his power, to climb the stairs and claim his throne, his rightful place as Overseer of the End.
Tonight, the world will burn at his hands, and all will be as it was foretold.
The Death of Gods has returned.
~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason Todd/Talia Al-Ghul
Rating: R
Word Count: 384
Prompt: For the last 3 prompts on my 50_darkfics table: Unholy, Coven, Master
Summary: Fire and death dance beneath Jason's skin.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, though clearly, they shouldn't, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: This follows In Worship and In Death, wherein Jason is the final sacrifice to bring about the Apocalypse. At long last, all 100 prompts on my 50_darkfics table are complete! And what better way to end the challenge, than with the darkest of the dark? >:D
As It Was Foretold
For a long time, Jason only knows blood and pain, fire in his bones and death at his fingertips. It should mean more to him, the bodies strewn about at his feet, their life draining into pools of crimson, should fill him with remorse, make him feel, but nothing that resembles any sort of emotion even registers in his fevered brain.
Hell burns behind his eyes, the singing of ancient horror filling his ears, and there is only the knowledge that this world is doomed, the Head of the Demon cut off from the body at long last by his own blood-stained hands.
A grin splits Jason's face. The gates of Hell are open.
~*~*~
With Father's acolytes either fleeing or dead, Father himself torn in two, an expression of utter terror frozen upon his features in death, Talia waits for the fire in Jason's eyes to diminish before bringing him a fresh robe. Naked, his skin is luminous, alight with the power of the Pit, of Hell. She hates to cover it.
“Come, we must get you to the temple. My people are waiting,” she explains as she slips the robe over his shoulders, taking his bloodied hand in hers to lead him up from the cave into the temple proper.
But Jason doesn't budge.
A cautious look back, and she finds him staring at her blankly. “We must go!” she pleads. “Don't you see, Jason? You are the key, and only the ritual will unleash your full potential!”
When the fire in his eyes flares again, ice floods Talia's veins.
~*~*~
Contempt.
At last, an emotion, but fire and death dance beneath the thinnest layer of his skin, inviting him to reach out, a darkened hand curling around a pale throat, fingers tightening as a claw.
“I am no one's key,” he says, and his first words since emerging from the waters of the Pit are hot and sharp, blood on shattered glass. “And you know nothing.”
The woman's body crumples to the ground before him, and without another thought, Jason steps over it, shedding the cloth that would dare to conceal his power, to climb the stairs and claim his throne, his rightful place as Overseer of the End.
Tonight, the world will burn at his hands, and all will be as it was foretold.
The Death of Gods has returned.
~*~*~