The Line of the Eagle
Title: The Line of the Eagle
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Minerva, Jupiter
Summary: Minerva and Jupiter speak. Perhaps this is the answer to how she knew Desmond would one day hear her words through Ezio. And this is why mythology always speaks of profligate gods.
Note: Written in early 2010. Archived from FFN. Because the eagle is the symbol for Jupiter/Zeus, and Minerva did suggest he existed. I've always held out for Shaun's Second Sight as an extension of Minerva's blood. And of course…Aeton and Aquilas both share the same affinities as Ezio and Altaïr.
-
"She is furious again." The stately woman said.
Nehtar, or Jupiter, as the Romans had named him, did not look quite ashamed. But the Romans were fading, he knew. Perhaps one day, a new civilisation would give them new names. And they would endure, along with the human race they had recreated, and genetically tampered with to survive.
That was a lie. He did not speak his thoughts. Thelia, whom the humans currently named Minerva, would mock him. They named her the goddess of wisdom. Perhaps they were right. She was wiser than him, and saw much farther into the heart of what they had to do, since the day he led the rebellion from Gajudur - since they had set their feet on the path of the preservation of this planet.
Since they turned away from the enslavement of the human race.
"Bthil always is." He said, lightly.
Thelia glared at him. "You know she does not agree."
"You know this has to be done."
She nodded. "And what of Aeton and Aquilas?" She referred to the twins, both bright-eyed and already troublemakers. Lucilla had already given birth last week, and although it was difficult, Nehtar had gone to great lengths to make sure both twins were born.
"Bthil is displeased." Nehtar agreed, pleasantly, as if he was discussing the weather. "She thinks I enjoy the act of procreation too much."
"And do you not?"
"I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh too much," He agreed, without very much sincerity. That was Nehtar for you - one of the most dangerous of war leaders that had led to the civil war that split their people apart, and one of the greatest flirts she had ever known. "Besides, the more descendants I have, the more definite the future becomes - that there will be a Prophet, through whom one of us will speak to the son of my blood."
"You know what she did to Herakles."
"We have spoken, Thelia." He said, firmly. This was the war leader, grim and brooking no opposition. "And you have touched the future with the Vault, have you not? You have walked down the corridors of probability. Bthil will not harm Aeton or Aquilas, as she has touched the rest. The line of the Eagle will descend from Aeton."
But there was something - a disquiet to his actions, that she could not put a word to. And then she knew, in a flash of insight.
"But you will not be there to witness it."
He jerked, as if shot. "Have you seen it?" He demanded, crossing the room and grabbing her shoulders anxiously. She gave him a cold stare - and Nehtar immediately removed his hands.
"No. But you have."
It was not a question.
Nehtar sighed.
"What else did you see?"
"A future." He shrugged. "A chance. The line of the Eagle that continues, unbroken. And a day where you must willingly choose to enter the Vault, and remain there - preserved in a living death for centuries, so that you may speak the words to the Prophet. When everything grows closer - perhaps you will be able to know the name of he who the prophet will speak to."
-
Nehtar had been right.
Trapped as her consciousness was in the Vault, she wandered down the paths of probability, and watched them shift and change. The first sign was when one of the Pieces fell into the hands of an Assassin - the moment he pulled off the hood, she recognised Nehtar's features in the strong lines of his face, and in the fierceness of his dark eyes.
Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. And then, later, Ezio, the Prophet.
And to come from their blood, the blood of Nehtar who was once worshipped as Zeus, Lord of the Skies, represented by the Eagle - was Desmond. The only one who could stop the other paths from ending in catastrophe.
Even now, Nehtar's descendents still clung to names that did not fall far from the skies, or the eagle. They would not know why. In Ezio, in Altaïr, and in Desmond, she read the last remaining traces of Nehtar.
That had been Nehtar's plan, why he had encouraged all of them to make free with the humans. She understood most of it all along, but even now, the elegant beauty of it remained within her mind.
Their race was dying, and almost dead. The humans - no matter how they had been recreated, were still predominantly a slave race, coded in their genes. Only through the introduction of their genetic material could there be some hope - some who could break out of the ultimate destruction towards which humanity was still heading.
Perhaps they would even turn the tide.
There would be others, of course. Gajudur, named Saturn by the Romans, had been busy. And across the ages - their children still fought. The sons and daughters of Nehtar, against the sons and daughters of Gajudur. Freedom against an Order that would destroy.
The rest, she said, is up to you, Desmond.
And you, Shaun, she said silently, within her mind. Perhaps she would be forgiven a moment of favoritism when it came to one of her line's descendents.
But past the message, she was dying. She was the last of them all. And in a few moments, she would join Nehtar once more - Nehtar, Bthil…
Fandom: Assassin's Creed
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Minerva, Jupiter
Summary: Minerva and Jupiter speak. Perhaps this is the answer to how she knew Desmond would one day hear her words through Ezio. And this is why mythology always speaks of profligate gods.
Note: Written in early 2010. Archived from FFN. Because the eagle is the symbol for Jupiter/Zeus, and Minerva did suggest he existed. I've always held out for Shaun's Second Sight as an extension of Minerva's blood. And of course…Aeton and Aquilas both share the same affinities as Ezio and Altaïr.
-
"She is furious again." The stately woman said.
Nehtar, or Jupiter, as the Romans had named him, did not look quite ashamed. But the Romans were fading, he knew. Perhaps one day, a new civilisation would give them new names. And they would endure, along with the human race they had recreated, and genetically tampered with to survive.
That was a lie. He did not speak his thoughts. Thelia, whom the humans currently named Minerva, would mock him. They named her the goddess of wisdom. Perhaps they were right. She was wiser than him, and saw much farther into the heart of what they had to do, since the day he led the rebellion from Gajudur - since they had set their feet on the path of the preservation of this planet.
Since they turned away from the enslavement of the human race.
"Bthil always is." He said, lightly.
Thelia glared at him. "You know she does not agree."
"You know this has to be done."
She nodded. "And what of Aeton and Aquilas?" She referred to the twins, both bright-eyed and already troublemakers. Lucilla had already given birth last week, and although it was difficult, Nehtar had gone to great lengths to make sure both twins were born.
"Bthil is displeased." Nehtar agreed, pleasantly, as if he was discussing the weather. "She thinks I enjoy the act of procreation too much."
"And do you not?"
"I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh too much," He agreed, without very much sincerity. That was Nehtar for you - one of the most dangerous of war leaders that had led to the civil war that split their people apart, and one of the greatest flirts she had ever known. "Besides, the more descendants I have, the more definite the future becomes - that there will be a Prophet, through whom one of us will speak to the son of my blood."
"You know what she did to Herakles."
"We have spoken, Thelia." He said, firmly. This was the war leader, grim and brooking no opposition. "And you have touched the future with the Vault, have you not? You have walked down the corridors of probability. Bthil will not harm Aeton or Aquilas, as she has touched the rest. The line of the Eagle will descend from Aeton."
But there was something - a disquiet to his actions, that she could not put a word to. And then she knew, in a flash of insight.
"But you will not be there to witness it."
He jerked, as if shot. "Have you seen it?" He demanded, crossing the room and grabbing her shoulders anxiously. She gave him a cold stare - and Nehtar immediately removed his hands.
"No. But you have."
It was not a question.
Nehtar sighed.
"What else did you see?"
"A future." He shrugged. "A chance. The line of the Eagle that continues, unbroken. And a day where you must willingly choose to enter the Vault, and remain there - preserved in a living death for centuries, so that you may speak the words to the Prophet. When everything grows closer - perhaps you will be able to know the name of he who the prophet will speak to."
-
Nehtar had been right.
Trapped as her consciousness was in the Vault, she wandered down the paths of probability, and watched them shift and change. The first sign was when one of the Pieces fell into the hands of an Assassin - the moment he pulled off the hood, she recognised Nehtar's features in the strong lines of his face, and in the fierceness of his dark eyes.
Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. And then, later, Ezio, the Prophet.
And to come from their blood, the blood of Nehtar who was once worshipped as Zeus, Lord of the Skies, represented by the Eagle - was Desmond. The only one who could stop the other paths from ending in catastrophe.
Even now, Nehtar's descendents still clung to names that did not fall far from the skies, or the eagle. They would not know why. In Ezio, in Altaïr, and in Desmond, she read the last remaining traces of Nehtar.
That had been Nehtar's plan, why he had encouraged all of them to make free with the humans. She understood most of it all along, but even now, the elegant beauty of it remained within her mind.
Their race was dying, and almost dead. The humans - no matter how they had been recreated, were still predominantly a slave race, coded in their genes. Only through the introduction of their genetic material could there be some hope - some who could break out of the ultimate destruction towards which humanity was still heading.
Perhaps they would even turn the tide.
There would be others, of course. Gajudur, named Saturn by the Romans, had been busy. And across the ages - their children still fought. The sons and daughters of Nehtar, against the sons and daughters of Gajudur. Freedom against an Order that would destroy.
The rest, she said, is up to you, Desmond.
And you, Shaun, she said silently, within her mind. Perhaps she would be forgiven a moment of favoritism when it came to one of her line's descendents.
But past the message, she was dying. She was the last of them all. And in a few moments, she would join Nehtar once more - Nehtar, Bthil…