Iason and Raoul headcanon.
Raoul was always meant to be the responsible, older sibling, the one who set the example for little Iason. While Iason was still learning the ways of an elite, Raoul would accompany him constantly. Raoul wasn’t just Raoul to Iason. He was Raoul-senpai. Iason was the bright-eyed young boy with all the potential in the world, and Jupiter made sure Raoul knew how carefully she had crafted every single sun-kissed hair on his head. Knowing this, Raoul devoted his life to the education and well-being of the younger blondie. As they learned and matured together, their relationship became closer, something more than that of an older and younger sibling. Iason began to surpass his predecessors. His programming was flawless. Now, as Iason once admired Raoul, Raoul genuinely admired him in return. They were equals. Or, possibly, Iason was even more impressive. His beauty and strength were almost too good to be true. Raoul became fascinated– no, mesmerized by the younger blondie.
One night, Jupiter was holding some lavish party for her little golden babies, which was nice, but still just a bit too dull for the still young blondies. As the evening dragged on, Iason and Raoul found themselves on a balcony adjacent to the party, board to tears of the music and idle gossip. They began to talk about how snobby the off-worlder elites were, then about how the food was overcooked, which led to them talking about their preferences and tastes, which led to talking about their lives, and the past years which they had spent almost exclusively in each other’s company, which led to laughter, which led to silence. Then, they found themselves simply gazing at each other, yet, somehow, the silence was comfortable. The heavy sighs of the young princes were the only sounds they could hear, despite the music of the orchestra blaring behind them. It couldn’t penetrate the perfect little force field that seemed to have formed around them. After some time, Iason broke the silence, surprising Raoul a bit. He asked if Raoul would be up for an experiment, of scientific nature. Of course, Raoul agreed, being the beautiful little nerd that he was. Iason told Raoul that he’d become curious about this act of “kissing” that the mongrels did, which was supposed to release endorphins in the brain and promote closeness of two living beings. He said he would like to try this, and see if it worked on them, as well. Slowly, Raoul nodded. They leaned in towards one-another, and their lips touched. Something lit inside Raoul that he had never felt before. This couldn’t have been part of his programing. He had no code or handle for what he felt. All he knew was, he’d wanted it for as long as he could remember, yet hadn’t known he wanted it until now. They slipped away, out from the commotion of the party, and into a place where even Jupiter would not know the things that were exchanged between those two. That was the first night Raoul had shared his sleeping breath with another person. Forsake all he had worked for to that point. He could have given up the grace of Jupiter herself to spend the rest of his life returning to this blissful bed, with this beautiful creature. His mental catalogue finally had an experience-based sensation to assign to the term “love.”
Then, as the years went on, Iason proved himself to be just what he was meant to be: the perfect, awe-inspiring blondie to rule above all his predecessors. He was perfect– or, as perfect as anything could be. And that, was just mite too short of genuine perfection to keep Iason on his pedestal. One day, Iason returned from an outing with an unusual souvenir. Something he called by the name of “Riki.” He was similar to the other pets kept by many elites, such as the ones Raoul bred himself. But he wasn’t one of them. His behavior was erratic, his conduct deplorable. Raoul initially chalked it off to a phase Iason was going through– something of a rebellion akin to that which pubescent humans went through. He was certain it would end soon, and that the intelligent enough Iason would come to his senses and throw the mutt back into the slum from which he came. But, no such thing happened. Soon, Raoul would learn to equate this Riki to a substance similar to the kind of drugs common mongrels traded their bodies for. What started out as a minor annoyance grew into something to incur the wrath of Jupiter. Iason was obsessed with this… thing. This thing which was no better than the substances which clung to the bottoms of their boots. This mongrel was an all-consuming, black mau that threatened to swallow his Iason alive.
Raoul tried, tried, and tried again to reason with Iason. First, he approached out of concern for his own time lost with the man, then out of fear for Jupiter’s impending wrath, and lastly, for the sake of Iason’s mind– his own being which was now at risk. Raoul had never dreamed he would curse his own talents, but in that time he prayed to whatever deity would listen despite his disbelief in any that they would remove his knowledge of the inner workings of the body, cripple his surgeon’s hands, strike him with malfunctioning wiring, to prevent him from having to tamper with the mind of the person he loved, altering his emotions, and possibly destroying what, after such experiences in life, despite his scientific mind, Raoul could now only call a soul. He could not go on functioning if he were the one to do that.
Out of anger, Raoul distanced himself from Iason. Perhaps, he’d hoped, the absence of his presence would finally call the man around, would finally let Iaosn know, he was serious. Nothing good could come of him keeping this wretched little disease he called a “pet.” So Raoul waited, and waited, and waited.
In the end, he didn’t have to tamper with Iason’s mind. The precious, flaxen-haired man would never be altered or made soulless. Instead, the thing he had made into his most valued possession would be the thing he died for. The last moments of his life would be spent holding the love of his life to his heart, as they both were swallowed up by a fire that would burn for days on end, until nothing was left but rubble and ash.
Iason had died with the love of his life. Raoul had been left, trying to figure out how to go on operating without his.
(….. I almost typed “fire that burned like the anguish of a thousand fangirls.” But I didn’t want to ruin the moment…)
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