Fall [kidfic challenge]
Title: Fall
Author: kiku65
Pairing: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Surprise.
Warnings: Character death. Story is based around my assumptions for The Last Man, so spoilers. And, well, kinda depressing.
Summery: There are stories. New ones, old ones, blendings of the two. But most stories, as you might have guessed, are about the Fall.
*****
There are stories. Oh, of course there are stories. Even hybrids tell tales; it was, after all, a common trait of both Wraith and humans. Perhaps of all sentient beings, but since those two are - as far as I know - the only ones native to Pegasus it really matters very little.
So there are stories. New ones, old ones, blendings of the two. But most stories, as you might have guessed, are about the Fall.
Oh yes, the Fall. Who of? Well, that is the question, isn’t it?
Little one? Little one, come here. I have a new story to tell you.
“Is it a good story, Papa?”
One of the best.
*
Once upon a time, there was a city.
(“Where was it, Papa?”
A long time ago, a long way away. I only saw it a few times.
“What was it called?”
It no longer matters.)
Some would say it was a beautiful city. Myself, I never saw the appeal, but that is not very surprising. I had very little chance to contemplate it. Perhaps it was beautiful. Let’s say it was.
Long ago, another race inhabited it, but they do not come into this story. The ones that do appeared a long while after they fled the land, and they were, for better or worse, human. They were not many in the beginning, but they grew quickly. They found the city to their liking and the city, after a while, grew to like them. One in particular; a human man who bore some of the blood of the cowardly first race, but for all his faults - and unlike them - he was never a coward. He was, in most ways that matter, a hero.
(“You said there were no heroes left, Papa.”
I know, little one. He was one of the last. Hush, and I will tell you of the others.)
Like all heroes, this man - let us call him the Warrior - gathered a close council of wise and powerful beings around him. There was the Scientist, a truly brilliant man, whose mind worked faster than light. The Runner, loyal and strong, who had sworn never to rest until all enemies of life were dead. And the Serene, the soul of the quartet. She was already a leader in her own right when they gathered; strong, brave, and beautiful.
(“Papa, why are you crying?”
I am only remembering, young one. The best stories always have a little sadness in them.)
Of course, they were not the only ones of note in the land. There was another, but this one was not found among the Lanteans, or even among the other humans, but among the enemies of the life. He was... well, it no longer matters who he was. But he was old and cunning and very wise; the Warrior had helped him escape the clutches of a tyrant who held them both captive a while before this story, and so the Elder felt honour-bound to aid him. Of course, he only did so when it was in his best interests; as I said, he was very wise.
In the waning year of the City the Four would come under a new Leader; a woman almost as brave and strong as the Serene. They mourned the one she had replaced, but moved on. For a short time all looked well with them.
Then disaster struck. The people of Serene disappeared and, after a desperate search, so did the Serene herself. An... evil man had taken her, and with her loss the Four were broken.
(“Who was the evil man?”
He was no-one, child. He is best left forgotten.)
Of course the remainder of the Four searched all over the kingdom for their lost Serene; I doubt it would have ever occurred to them not to. That’s what made them heroes.
Then the second disaster struck. The Warrior disappeared as well, and this time they did not know where he might be. The remaining two, heartbroken, carried on with their quest for Serene. They knew what the Warrior would have wanted.
It was a hard time, a dangerous time, and the end of their quest was bitter. They discovered the whereabouts of Serene, only to find her dead. The evil man had killed her.
(“Papa, I don’t like this story."
Neither do I.
“Why did the evil man have to kill Serene?”
I don’t know, child. Perhaps he didn’t know himself.)
The Four were now assuredly shattered. Yet the two that remained carried on; what else would a hero do in the depth of black despair? They vowed to kill the evil man, and he knew of this, and was afraid. He sent a plague against them.
The Four, now dwindled to Two, fought him as best they could. They sent healers to the sick and shelter to those running from the new huntings - because now, with their food supply lessening with each breath, the enemies of life were fighting as well. The Elder sought to unite them against the evil he could see spreading across the land, but the enemies would not listen. For all his wisdom, he was only one amongst many.
(“Who was the Elder really, Papa?”
His people did not give their names, little one. I never heard him speak it.
“Did you know him?”
Once.)
The battle against the evil one was lost from the beginning, but the Two still resisted him. One, the Runner, even set up a rebellion; it was the first and last of its kind in the history of the kingdom, of all the lands around it. Once his Leader had died in battle, he had even more reason to destroy those who had destroyed her.
At first his battles went well. Then he led his forces against a stronghold of the evil man; it was his thought to destroy the citadel and buy the friends he had lost and left a little more time.
He was destined to die there. Perhaps he even knew that; I doubt it would have mattered to him if he had. It would certainly not have mattered to the one he met there, the one he fought alongside once he had sent those with him back to safety.
(“Was it the Scientist?”
No, child. Listen, and you will understand why I tell you this tale. One day, perhaps, you will understand.)
The greatest tales are always those with irony. This Runner, who had sworn in blood and ashes to destroy the enemies of life, aided and was aided by at the last the Elder. They fought alongside each other and died together, striking one last blow against the evil man as they did. I have no doubt at least one of them would have found that amusing, had he lived.
With their death, the kingdom fell. The Scientist was the Last; he left and never returned. Perhaps, somewhere, he is still fighting the evil man. Perhaps he will even win. It would be nice to think so.
I think the evil man might even hope so as well, sometimes.
*
It has been so long since I thought of this tale; it is surprising that I have managed to do it the justice it deserves. Of course, others might have done it somewhat better - or, at least, in a gentler fashion - but I like to think some of my, ah, first hand experiences would add some colour.
“I don’t like it, Papa. Why did the evil man have to win?”
Because evil does, little one. It lasts so much longer than the good, even the ones that shine so brightly. It merely has to wait until they burn themselves out. Everything does in the end.
“Heroes shouldn’t die in stories.”
No, Torren. I don’t think they should.