if uldren had his own throne world
concept; at the last minute, he convinced her to switch places.
his Crows had no idea it wasn’t him in the pilot seat( he answered from the bridge as if he was, she responded to the armada as if she stood where he was. ) the techeuns knelt on one knee behind him. focusing all their power, their strength toward that of the prince. the plan originally was to take down what they could, whatever means necessary. he saw the end of this battle in his dreams. night after night he saw her fall. && that bastard king demand her kneel.
that is not what is in the plan. the queen & prince know what they are capable of. they remember the last steps upon the ship as they ran outside it’s hull. he calls to her as the sight of pure white light clouds his vision, head turning to see devouring dark to his back. the blast knocked them into each other & from there out of reality completely. such secrets were kept to themselves. the first awoken & her twin. secrets to keep to their deaths & their children’s death. there are things the awoken are capable of. && then there are things the Sovereign are capable of.
she would be precise. that’s how he saw it. shots fired & carried by her will toward that massive ship. but he is wild. unhinged. && the blasts he creates while the techeuns stand behind him are reflective of that. massive, dark, ravaging. they sputter & hiss, spiral & take out all around them. hand on the hand rail as he slumps over, eyes glowing with hot light orange so bright it loses it’s color. power so great it seeps through & runs down his cheeks as if it were liquid ambrosia. he stands, he stays. he holds. he watches the ship reply to him. that wave of empty black & white. he inhales, back straight. jaw set.
the crows leave. his ship with them, her inside. a spin on his heel as he walks to the captain’s seat. a cigarette in his mouth, lit as he sits. he doesn’t feel anything but the cold & the shattering of his bones.
but you can not kill a will as strong as Uldwyn Sovereign. the dark & light found this out the first time they ripped him to shreds. his skin peeled, his muscles shred. he awakes screaming as he did before. but his screams this time are empty, unholy. his skin paler, sparkling with the light brighter than it ever had. he coughs, pushes himself up & he sees scattered rock, towers crippled, & old. it smells familiar. that house outside the shop. the sky is black, soulless. no stars, no planets. it’s voidless. but within he feels the swirl of jet streams, wishes, & broken dreams. to his feet.
he stands at the oracle. broken, twisted. spinning as it surrounds an empty platform. it holds color. navys, yellows. blues & silver. a throne behind him. golden eyes seem to glow still so bright they leak down upon his cheeks, staining eternal tear streaks. is he crying ? he feels no sadness. he feels only strength. a laugh, toothy grin, head ducked down sways to & fro. he steps toward the throne & he remembers.
he remembers the moments leading to this. the cold. the shattering pain. the word no. said so defiantly, akin to a roar. the swirl of taken energy around him, threatening the threads of his whole existence. his snarls & screams. clawing his way back into a physical form, to a place to put his feet. the light & dark within him bursting at the seams to reshape him. in his image. in how he sees him. it’s what touches the walls, the floor. made of that crystal within the reef. the structures are different. bones adorn the throne he now settles himself within.
asphodelia bloom at his feet. bright & flourishing. the greenery seems to grow at his will. behind him in the growing abyss the swirl & twist platforms form down below, stretching the horizon. they blossom. the asphodelia. the garden grows. it shimmers & shines with the crystal forming at every corner, every stretch. the red colors reflected against the purple, lilacs. those navys & yellows. a nebula of color, of light forms around him & his throne.
head leans back, eyes close. he feels at ease. a hand to his neck, rubbing about. there is no ache. no metaphorical collar, no metaphorical chain. leg crosses on the other. hand cups at his mouth, chin.
＂так, Мирослава. это был твой план с самого начала. ＂
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