DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT TO READ TPW AS SPOILERS AHEAD!!! Keep scrolling right NOWWWW.
Anyway I just wanted to write some tormented older Nezha. Im on my phone so pls excuse the formating. Also i haven't written in years so pls be kind...
The system of democracy worked. Though people are born, and eventually die, the land survives and moves on. Rivers reroute, vegetation, and crops re-grow with the right resources and systems. It took years of civil war, famine, disease, and bowing to Hesperia to stabilise the 12 provinces before a centralised government formed. Yet, through it all, he is still here.
They now call this period the Nikan Enlightenment. Ironic, he knows.
He is lost. Has been since he silently endured all that fell onto his shoulders at her death. Time has warped and twisted in 40 years of nursing delicate political threads of Nikan and Hesperia. In his waking hours, Nezha Yin only allows himself to remember the future he fought for after the end of all things he believed in.
He is no longer the young Warlord of the past, but now the Emperor of Nikan. The country is not the one she left behind or dreamed of, and every day, a small part of him disappears. His heart has become numb to the endlessness; his way did work and is working. It all feels pointless to Nezha. Whilst everyone else he loved has rotted and turned to dust.
Nezha catches himself in the mirrors as he walks but can no longer recognise himself. He only sees the ghost of his Father, the previous Dragon Warlord, Vaisra. He sees his Father in every wrinkle and in his stern straight mouth. His reflection is a live capsule of his father's disappointment that stares back. He can’t remember what it was like to smile. He looks like the very face that she kissed to destroy.
For years, silently he mourned for his lost family, his friends, his God - her. He once bent water at his will, but now, pathetically, can’t muster tears for his eyes. He consumed the drought from the land to his heart.
His memories betray him, the only thing he has is the stories on the streets. No one talks of Kitay's anxious genius or Venka's skill. They don't know that she was so much more than her anger, her fire. History has written them as traitors.
Are any of their ghosts at peace?
All these years, yet he yearns that he died alongside them. She was his divinity, and like a devout fool to a God that doesn't exist, he clings to her last command.
In the quietest of nights, where there are no Hesperian eyes or Nikara assassins, he is isolated to his thoughts. Nezha allows himself to feel. What is left in his memories are a drug. Through them, he allows himself a sick fantasy, and a mercy of death.
He transports himself back to when he was no more than a child himself. Back to the white sandy beach of Speer. The place full of death and her ancestors’ bones. He is on his knees with Kitay’s lifeless body at his side and her small one in his arms.
He repeats this memory like a terrible obsession. Remembers the stone-cold terror settle in in his being, feeling her searing heat diminish from her body. He remembers every detail of her familiar blood-red, angry eyes, that he loved so fiercely, fade. He can replay the sound of her black blood spluttering from her mouth to only twist into a nightmare. She then laughs a blood-crazed sharp laugh. Her eyes become as black as her hatred, (did she ever love him?), and her voice blurs with those of the gods he has long since been blocked from.
“Destroy them," the gods whisper viciously through her, choking on her blood that she spits at his face.
She kills him in many ways. Rin will strangle his neck, which she burns to decapitate him. Sometimes she does it swiftly. Other times she does it slowly, so he dies in unfathomable pain. She smiles at him the brightest then.
He paints her vicious, she may blast him, or make his bones crack to be reduced to sweet nothing. She always uses her holy hellfire in his dreams. He begs for the burns to be real. He wishes his skin would sear and melt. He prays for the physical torment to silence his mind in the way that only she could bring. When he dreams death close, he is startled awake and left with his sweat-drenched clothes in the shadows of his soulless room.
He's brought prosperity to the country. Civilians are happy, but the Hesperians are still here. There is still the fight for independence. This fix is not enough.
He knows his living nightmare will not end until Nikan is free. There is no peace in death for Nezha. He will live and endure.
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