Fic: To Learn the Arts of War | DCU/SR | Dru-Zod/Jor-El | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: With Fortune’s Hand IV: Four Relationships That Never Happened, But Could Have: To Learn the Arts of War
Fandom: DCU/Superman Returns/Superman Movieverse fusion
Pairing: Dru-Zod/Jor-El
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,744
Prompt: For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: Krypton, Kryptonian Science Council, Crystalline, Science; For dcu_freeforall: Crystalline
Summary: Something is very wrong with Jor-El’s friend.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Second in this part of the With Fortune’s Hand series. Assumes that Krypton wasn’t so much touch-phobic, as entirely overly-cautious when it came to intimate relations, due to past plagues. Also assumes that birthing matrices were used, but not exclusively (as Kal-El is born naturally many years after this takes place), and assumes that families belong to Guilds (somewhat like in comics continuity). Also, young Zod here is more like the Smallville Zod.
To Learn the Arts of War
Absorbed in his reading on crystalline data storage programming as the glittering light of the late afternoon fell across his desk, Jor-El only absently registered the opening of the door to his quarters. It was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, since his rooming partner tended to come and go as he pleased, regardless of the class schedules of the Science Academy.
“Decided on the Crystal Technologies track, I see,” came the other young man's voice as he entered and removed his class robes, the movement of the shimmering material in Jor-El's peripheral vision catching his attention at last.
“Yes,” he answered honestly, nodding up at his friend. “There is much yet to be learned in this field. Did you know that our greatest minds have not yet discovered a way to program our crystals on the quantum level? They’re still working with neutrons! I intend to break that barrier myself.”
“So assured,” the other young man returned, practically sneering as he approached the desk and peered over Jor-El's shoulder at the data pad in his hands. “That could be the work of a lifetime.”
Jor-El laughed. “Hardly, Dru-Zod. It will be my first priority.” Setting the pad down, he looked up at his friend. What he found instead of a knowing smirk was a deep frown, Zod's features drawn down and clearly unhappy. “What is it? What's wrong?”
Dru-Zod gave him a weak, unenthusiastic smile, and turned to perch on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over the family crest adorning his sleek white uniform. “What would you say if I were to leave the Academy?”
For a moment, Jor-El simply gaped up at him, his mind grinding to a halt at the implications. “But … but you cannot leave,” he sputtered. “You are Science Guild. Same as I. What on Krypton would you do?”
A dark expression seemed to move over Dru-Zod's features. “The Military Academy. I've already spoken to the heads of both Academies, and the Guild Council. They will approve the transfer, with the caveat that the House of Zod must become a House of the Military Guild.” With that, he shrugged, and a surprisingly carefree smile replaced his dark look. “I have no family left to speak of, so the entire House is mine to do with as I please. I would have no trouble cutting ties with the Science Council.”
The thought of it troubled Jor-El. It was no secret that the entire Zod line had been killed in an accident during an expedition to Antares IV. An expedition that the Science Guild had approved. There was certainly no love lost there. But what bothered Jor-El the most was that Dru-Zod was as a brother to him.
“If you cut ties, my friend, then you and I shall, in all likelihood, never see one another again,” he finally said, answering Dru-Zod's smile with a frown.
That carefree smile tightened for a moment, before Zod reached out and stroked the side of Jor-El's face with his hand. “Come with me,” he said quietly, his voice a mere whisper.
Jor-El barely contained a flinch at the feeling of his friend's fingers against his cheek. “What? Why do you touch me like this? Dru-Zod, I do not understand.” Rising from his chair, he backed out of his friend's reach, their gazes tied together. “What are you doing?”
Dru-Zod stood from his perch on the desk, advancing on Jor-El quickly. “Come with me. I will not lose you as I lost them, Jor-El. Please.”
“Of course you won't lose me, dear friend. I will be right here. I-”
But Dru-Zod's hands pressing against his chest, warm and heavy over the crest of the House of El emblazoned on Jor-El’s uniform, stopped any further protest. “No. You said it yourself; we will not likely see one another again, and that is the equivalent of death. Come with me.”
“Dru-zod, I cannot,” Jor-El asserted as his back hit the crystalline wall of their shared room and he gasped involuntarily. “I cannot cut ties to my own family. You know that. The House of El has never been part of the Military Guild, and I have no interest in the arts of war. I have always intended to one day be elected to the Science Council.”
A storm brewed behind Dru-Zod's eyes, and the sight of it sent a shiver down Jor-El's spine. He'd never seen his friend so … so angry. True, Dru-Zod had always been moody, not quite suited to this academic life, but to be so unrestrained was an aberration even for him.
“Let me go,” Jor-El demanded quietly, summoning every bit of force he possessed. “You know I cannot, and will not, join you in this endeavor. I do not understand at all why you have chosen to do this.”
Rather than comply or explain, Dru-Zod reached up and pushed one hand through Jor-El's thick, dark hair, the touch so foreign that Jor-El shivered again. “I always wanted to do this,” Zod said absently, his focus turned intently on that dark hair. “You have strands of white, did you know that?”
The changing of subject seemed so utterly wrong that Jor-El couldn't help a gasp. “What has happened to you, my friend?”
That brought Zod's attention back with a quick darting of his eyes, and his fingers tightened in Jor-El's hair, bringing sharp pain to his scalp. “I have come to the truth, dear friend,” he answered, a mocking tone in his words. “Did you know that we were not always like this? Did you know that the people of Krypton once rutted like animals, sharing fluids and disease, and they liked it? Did you know that the Military Guild are the only Kryptonians permitted to engage in physical relations without the benefit of a bonding? Did you?”
Jor-El froze in Dru-Zod's grasp. The thought had occurred to him many times that his friend was … different. That he was not content to comply with the rules governing intimate relationships, the social mores that frowned upon such physical things without the protection offered by a bond. He should have seen a moment such as this coming. Should have known to keep his distance and not befriend this strange young man.
“Yes, I know,” he admitted at last. “And I know that the Plagues changed everything. We have rules for a reason, Dru-Zod.”
Zod merely gazed at him, his fingers still working in Jor-El's hair as the hand on his chest brushed upward to land on his neck. “The Plagues are gone, and yet we still rule our lives as if the slightest touch will kill us all, as if a disease that was only transmitted through the sharing of fluids, that is now eradicated, will rise up from the dead and doom us. Does that not bother you, Jor-El?”
“No. It does not bother me,” Jor-El replied honestly. “I have no need of intimate physical contact. Only when I find a wife-”
“Or a husband,” Dru-Zod interrupted him.
“Or a husband,” he said, nodding in agreement with the correction. “Only then will I desire this. And even then, you know that copulation is unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary. Hmm,” Zod murmured. “And what would happen if our blessed science were to fail? Our vast variety of reproductive technology would all be rendered useless. The fertilization cells, the growth pods, the birthing matrices-for those idiots that believe in using them-all would be waste. And some new disease would spread as all diseases are wont to do. So why on Krypton bother to adhere to such archaic laws? You fail to see reason, my friend.”
“We are at an impasse, I believe. You should let me go, and we will forget this conversation ever took place. Agreed?”
For a long moment, Dru-Zod eyed him, his expression indecipherable, but finally he moved. Only, he moved closer, tightening his grip as he flattened the length of his body against Jor-El's. “Do you feel that?” he asked, voice low. “That is what it feels like to be aroused. Would you willingly give that up, when you know what you are missing? It is not a difficult question to answer.”
“I … I … ” Jor-El gasped, his brain seeming to short out as heat traveled up his center. He had never felt anything like this, had not even imagined what it might feel like. There had never been any point to the exercise, as strict meditative rituals had taught him to let go of such urges.
Leaning in closer, Dru-Zod brushed his lips against Jor-El's. “Do you feel this?” he whispered, his breath warm and tickling. “This is affection. How can one show affection without this?”
But Jor-El had no reply. How could one reply to any of this in a rational manner? He was certain that all the blood in his circulatory system had retreated from his brain.
“As I thought,” Dru-Zod said, backing off slightly. “You have no idea what pleasure we are missing. I intend to find out.”
That finally broke the paralysis holding Jor-El hostage. “You believe the Military Guild will satisfy your curiosity? My friend, you know their rules exist only out of necessity, that no meditation can quell intimate desires when the body is trained to kill, hopelessly addicted to adrenaline and the scent of blood. No amount of discipline can alleviate the stress of combat. There is no pleasure in it, besides, and it is only permitted when there is no other option. To learn the arts of war is to learn how to harm another being, not to love them.”
Another sneer moved over Dru-Zod's face, and he stepped back, finally freeing Jor-El of his touch. “What difference does it make? I will gladly take what I can get.”
“You are frightening me, Dru-Zod. Please reconsider your plans. I would take it as a personal favor if you would withdraw your transfer request.” It was a weak grasp at hope, but Jor-El had to try. Anything to save his friend from the madness he was contemplating. “Please.”
“No.” His hands balling into fists, Dru-Zod turned away and stalked to the door, not stopping for his class robes. A last look at Jor-El over his shoulder, and he shook his head. “A revolution is coming, dear friend. Believe me, I have no desire for us to fall on opposite sides, but if we must, we must. Good bye … my brother.”
With that, he slipped out the door, and Jor-El was left alone, a tight anxiety settling into his chest as he peeled himself away from the gleaming wall.
Dear Rao, what had just happened?
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU/Superman Returns/Superman Movieverse fusion
Pairing: Dru-Zod/Jor-El
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,744
Prompt: For the Superman Movieverse Pairings Challenge: Krypton, Kryptonian Science Council, Crystalline, Science; For dcu_freeforall: Crystalline
Summary: Something is very wrong with Jor-El’s friend.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: Second in this part of the With Fortune’s Hand series. Assumes that Krypton wasn’t so much touch-phobic, as entirely overly-cautious when it came to intimate relations, due to past plagues. Also assumes that birthing matrices were used, but not exclusively (as Kal-El is born naturally many years after this takes place), and assumes that families belong to Guilds (somewhat like in comics continuity). Also, young Zod here is more like the Smallville Zod.
To Learn the Arts of War
Absorbed in his reading on crystalline data storage programming as the glittering light of the late afternoon fell across his desk, Jor-El only absently registered the opening of the door to his quarters. It was nothing out of the ordinary, of course, since his rooming partner tended to come and go as he pleased, regardless of the class schedules of the Science Academy.
“Decided on the Crystal Technologies track, I see,” came the other young man's voice as he entered and removed his class robes, the movement of the shimmering material in Jor-El's peripheral vision catching his attention at last.
“Yes,” he answered honestly, nodding up at his friend. “There is much yet to be learned in this field. Did you know that our greatest minds have not yet discovered a way to program our crystals on the quantum level? They’re still working with neutrons! I intend to break that barrier myself.”
“So assured,” the other young man returned, practically sneering as he approached the desk and peered over Jor-El's shoulder at the data pad in his hands. “That could be the work of a lifetime.”
Jor-El laughed. “Hardly, Dru-Zod. It will be my first priority.” Setting the pad down, he looked up at his friend. What he found instead of a knowing smirk was a deep frown, Zod's features drawn down and clearly unhappy. “What is it? What's wrong?”
Dru-Zod gave him a weak, unenthusiastic smile, and turned to perch on the edge of the desk, crossing his arms over the family crest adorning his sleek white uniform. “What would you say if I were to leave the Academy?”
For a moment, Jor-El simply gaped up at him, his mind grinding to a halt at the implications. “But … but you cannot leave,” he sputtered. “You are Science Guild. Same as I. What on Krypton would you do?”
A dark expression seemed to move over Dru-Zod's features. “The Military Academy. I've already spoken to the heads of both Academies, and the Guild Council. They will approve the transfer, with the caveat that the House of Zod must become a House of the Military Guild.” With that, he shrugged, and a surprisingly carefree smile replaced his dark look. “I have no family left to speak of, so the entire House is mine to do with as I please. I would have no trouble cutting ties with the Science Council.”
The thought of it troubled Jor-El. It was no secret that the entire Zod line had been killed in an accident during an expedition to Antares IV. An expedition that the Science Guild had approved. There was certainly no love lost there. But what bothered Jor-El the most was that Dru-Zod was as a brother to him.
“If you cut ties, my friend, then you and I shall, in all likelihood, never see one another again,” he finally said, answering Dru-Zod's smile with a frown.
That carefree smile tightened for a moment, before Zod reached out and stroked the side of Jor-El's face with his hand. “Come with me,” he said quietly, his voice a mere whisper.
Jor-El barely contained a flinch at the feeling of his friend's fingers against his cheek. “What? Why do you touch me like this? Dru-Zod, I do not understand.” Rising from his chair, he backed out of his friend's reach, their gazes tied together. “What are you doing?”
Dru-Zod stood from his perch on the desk, advancing on Jor-El quickly. “Come with me. I will not lose you as I lost them, Jor-El. Please.”
“Of course you won't lose me, dear friend. I will be right here. I-”
But Dru-Zod's hands pressing against his chest, warm and heavy over the crest of the House of El emblazoned on Jor-El’s uniform, stopped any further protest. “No. You said it yourself; we will not likely see one another again, and that is the equivalent of death. Come with me.”
“Dru-zod, I cannot,” Jor-El asserted as his back hit the crystalline wall of their shared room and he gasped involuntarily. “I cannot cut ties to my own family. You know that. The House of El has never been part of the Military Guild, and I have no interest in the arts of war. I have always intended to one day be elected to the Science Council.”
A storm brewed behind Dru-Zod's eyes, and the sight of it sent a shiver down Jor-El's spine. He'd never seen his friend so … so angry. True, Dru-Zod had always been moody, not quite suited to this academic life, but to be so unrestrained was an aberration even for him.
“Let me go,” Jor-El demanded quietly, summoning every bit of force he possessed. “You know I cannot, and will not, join you in this endeavor. I do not understand at all why you have chosen to do this.”
Rather than comply or explain, Dru-Zod reached up and pushed one hand through Jor-El's thick, dark hair, the touch so foreign that Jor-El shivered again. “I always wanted to do this,” Zod said absently, his focus turned intently on that dark hair. “You have strands of white, did you know that?”
The changing of subject seemed so utterly wrong that Jor-El couldn't help a gasp. “What has happened to you, my friend?”
That brought Zod's attention back with a quick darting of his eyes, and his fingers tightened in Jor-El's hair, bringing sharp pain to his scalp. “I have come to the truth, dear friend,” he answered, a mocking tone in his words. “Did you know that we were not always like this? Did you know that the people of Krypton once rutted like animals, sharing fluids and disease, and they liked it? Did you know that the Military Guild are the only Kryptonians permitted to engage in physical relations without the benefit of a bonding? Did you?”
Jor-El froze in Dru-Zod's grasp. The thought had occurred to him many times that his friend was … different. That he was not content to comply with the rules governing intimate relationships, the social mores that frowned upon such physical things without the protection offered by a bond. He should have seen a moment such as this coming. Should have known to keep his distance and not befriend this strange young man.
“Yes, I know,” he admitted at last. “And I know that the Plagues changed everything. We have rules for a reason, Dru-Zod.”
Zod merely gazed at him, his fingers still working in Jor-El's hair as the hand on his chest brushed upward to land on his neck. “The Plagues are gone, and yet we still rule our lives as if the slightest touch will kill us all, as if a disease that was only transmitted through the sharing of fluids, that is now eradicated, will rise up from the dead and doom us. Does that not bother you, Jor-El?”
“No. It does not bother me,” Jor-El replied honestly. “I have no need of intimate physical contact. Only when I find a wife-”
“Or a husband,” Dru-Zod interrupted him.
“Or a husband,” he said, nodding in agreement with the correction. “Only then will I desire this. And even then, you know that copulation is unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary. Hmm,” Zod murmured. “And what would happen if our blessed science were to fail? Our vast variety of reproductive technology would all be rendered useless. The fertilization cells, the growth pods, the birthing matrices-for those idiots that believe in using them-all would be waste. And some new disease would spread as all diseases are wont to do. So why on Krypton bother to adhere to such archaic laws? You fail to see reason, my friend.”
“We are at an impasse, I believe. You should let me go, and we will forget this conversation ever took place. Agreed?”
For a long moment, Dru-Zod eyed him, his expression indecipherable, but finally he moved. Only, he moved closer, tightening his grip as he flattened the length of his body against Jor-El's. “Do you feel that?” he asked, voice low. “That is what it feels like to be aroused. Would you willingly give that up, when you know what you are missing? It is not a difficult question to answer.”
“I … I … ” Jor-El gasped, his brain seeming to short out as heat traveled up his center. He had never felt anything like this, had not even imagined what it might feel like. There had never been any point to the exercise, as strict meditative rituals had taught him to let go of such urges.
Leaning in closer, Dru-Zod brushed his lips against Jor-El's. “Do you feel this?” he whispered, his breath warm and tickling. “This is affection. How can one show affection without this?”
But Jor-El had no reply. How could one reply to any of this in a rational manner? He was certain that all the blood in his circulatory system had retreated from his brain.
“As I thought,” Dru-Zod said, backing off slightly. “You have no idea what pleasure we are missing. I intend to find out.”
That finally broke the paralysis holding Jor-El hostage. “You believe the Military Guild will satisfy your curiosity? My friend, you know their rules exist only out of necessity, that no meditation can quell intimate desires when the body is trained to kill, hopelessly addicted to adrenaline and the scent of blood. No amount of discipline can alleviate the stress of combat. There is no pleasure in it, besides, and it is only permitted when there is no other option. To learn the arts of war is to learn how to harm another being, not to love them.”
Another sneer moved over Dru-Zod's face, and he stepped back, finally freeing Jor-El of his touch. “What difference does it make? I will gladly take what I can get.”
“You are frightening me, Dru-Zod. Please reconsider your plans. I would take it as a personal favor if you would withdraw your transfer request.” It was a weak grasp at hope, but Jor-El had to try. Anything to save his friend from the madness he was contemplating. “Please.”
“No.” His hands balling into fists, Dru-Zod turned away and stalked to the door, not stopping for his class robes. A last look at Jor-El over his shoulder, and he shook his head. “A revolution is coming, dear friend. Believe me, I have no desire for us to fall on opposite sides, but if we must, we must. Good bye … my brother.”
With that, he slipped out the door, and Jor-El was left alone, a tight anxiety settling into his chest as he peeled himself away from the gleaming wall.
Dear Rao, what had just happened?
~*~*~*~