TFE Short: Tool
Prior to a Vanguard meeting, Caiatl agrees to let Ghost listen in on a Vanguard meeting. The meeting...does not go well. Ghost is not happy.
Over these years in exile, Ghost knows he’s become more fiery, jaded, even bold. Maybe his Guardian can’t manage up anger or even a bit of blame, but he can. He can carry enough anger for both of them, and he is more than willing.
Alternate summary: whole house mad
Ao3 link: [soon]. Length: 1.6k words
“It’s not a sound course of action.” Zavala complains (well, in Ghost’s opinion, at least. The Empress shifts her shoulder to keep him hidden behind her, but Ghost knows her well enough to know that Zavala’s complaint irritated her.). “The Guardian is unstable and–”
Not this again. “Don’t you dare start!” Ghost interjects, shooting out from behind the Empress. He hadn’t meant to, not really, but he’s so sick of hearing this wretched argument again and again. Guardians, the Vanguard, civilians. He’s heard it from all of them, even if in passing.
“What—” “Dont!”
They stare at each other, one startled and the other agitated. Very agitated.
Zavala opens his mouth to speak, to question why Ghost is here, but is interrupted by him flying into the Commander’s face to better stare him down into silence.
Zavala gathers himself, clearing his expression before he speaks, and says, simply, “You’re not supposed to be here.” Oh, so that’s how it is today?
“You’re right, it should be my Guardian instead,” is his own steeled reply. Well, as steely as he can be right now. His core simmers more every moment.
“Your Guardian is delusional,” comes the simple retort from Valus Forge. As if he had the right. Ghost has heard this one before, too. None of them have the right to claim anything of his Guardian’s mental state. None of them have been there to see how hard they have fought time and time again to claw back from the Dark. He was there. Not them.
“Oh, you mean the student you failed? That one’s delusional?” as he swirls around to glare. It’s not the reply he intended but it is the one he meant. Saladin bristles, taking a step forward.
“Little Ghost.” The Empress warns. Not a violent warning, just a warning. As much as Ghost appreciates everything she’s done for him and his Guardian, he can’t care anymore. He’s heard all of this far too many times already. She’s the one that told him he needed to pull himself together and say something. (Maybe not in those words, but it’s what he heard.)
“No. No! Someone needs to say something! Just once, just this one time, they’re going to hear me!”
Ghost doesn’t remember what the replies were, but he remembers well what came out next: The floodgates opened. It wasn’t intentional. Well, Ghost is pretty sure it wasn’t, though he definitely wanted this.
“At the start, I thought it was for the greater good!” Someone questioned what delusion he had fed them or if he believed it too, and well. “That we were helping, that our sacrifice and pain were good! They weren’t even a year old, and you convinced them so soon of where their worth was.” He’s so sick of this, of the hypocrisy from the Vanguard and their refusal to admit their wrongs. “That all they were good for was sacrifice. You even convinced me!” He can hear his voice break on the words, but he pushes through. He needs this. “After so long searching for them, and I didn’t even try to protect them from you, because your poison had sunk so deep already.”
“That’s—” Saladin tries, but no. No, Ghost isn’t done yet.
“No, I was a fool to trust you! After everything they did for you, out of so much love, and this is how you treat them! They’d lay down their Light to save you from a paper cut! How dare you?! Any of you!” What a mockery. His guardian tried their best to be what the Vanguard wanted, to fight for the freedom of the City, but no one backed them in return. Not even Cayde, who just sat there and did nothing, only showing himself when the Guardian was breaking apart. Crow, at least, has the excuse of truly trying to be the Guardian's friend. He hisses, “Oh, but ‘that’s not true!’ is it? ‘That’s not fair’?” Ghost flies close to Saladin’s face, tone mocking. “ Is that what you said when the rest of the Iron Lords fell? Is that what you begged?”
“Ghost!” Ikora snaps as Saladin’s expression morphs into rage, stepping forward only to stop when Zavala gives a small shake of his head. Good. They’ll hear him, whether they want to or not.
“It’s not. There was no poison but their own doing. They—”
“They what?! Cared too much? Tried too hard to appease you? Tried to save him?” He plows over any attempt to interrupt. They will hear him. They will hear what they’ve done, and he’ll do this time and again if he has to. No matter how his shell jitters with the emotion or how his voice breaks on occasion. “Because from where I am, that’s what it looks like!”
The silence is stunned and deafening. Had he a throat, it’d feel clogged. This is suffocating and despair. He needs to go for the jugular. Force them to listen. He is tired of watching everyone blame his guardian for mistakes and crimes that they did not commit. They became unstable because of the Vanguard’s betrayal. Their actions were a direct result of how they were treated, and Ghost has a sickening feeling that they were expected to lie down and roll over. One he suspected they’d be cornered into accepting.
Never again. Never. If the guardian can’t be angry for themselves, Ghost has plenty of sharp words left.
“You- cowards! You’ve never bothered to try! All this time, they’ve been trying to spare you the hurt of being wrong, all the while you- you sit there, so convinced and unwavering- But I know you aren’t. I heard your Safiyah, Zavala, I know-”
“You know nothing!” Zavala slams his fist down as he speaks. Finally, finally, a response. Zavala pauses and scrambles, mouth working for the words. “And what of the execution, then? Of Lakshmi?”
“Oh, oh, what?” Ghost knows how it sounds, mocking and scathing. But he’s too far gone to care. “Has Ikora still not told you? Because she knows.”
Zavala makes an aborted grasping motion in hand, and in a moment of doubt he glances at Ikora for something, anything. She won’t meet their eyes. It only serves as fuel to his fire.
“Tell them, Ikora! Tell them! You know what she was planning!” Ghost shouts, voice distorting on the highs as his shell spins and fidgets around him. “You know exactly why they- why we did it! Tell—”
She looks up, abrupt and steeled. “I know nothing.” Her tone is angry and cold, and it saps all the fumes he had left. He smolders, still. Nothing could douse this.
“So that’s how it is.” He twirls to stare down Ikora. “I should have known you would use them as a weapon as soon as you could.”
“That is not what I did-“ Ikora interjects, but Ghost bulldozes over her.
“It is! It’s what you’ve all done, and I am tired of pretending that isn’t what happened!” Ghost’s voice raises again. “That is all they are to all of you. A weapon. Something dangerous. You don’t even see them as a person, they’re just a broken tool.”
Nobody speaks for a long moment. It’s enough for Ghost to stare them all down, to the point where even Saladin averts his eyes. Ghost turns his eye directly on Zavala. “The Speaker would be disappointed in you.”
“You have said enough, Little Ghost.” The Empress says, gently catching him in one of her hands. “They are listening.”
Ghost scoffs. “It’s too late for that, isn’t it? My Guardian’s already broken because of them. None of this can be taken back.” He stays and stares, just for a few moments, before decompiling from the suffocating space of the meeting room.
—
The Empress finds him onboard the flagship, his Guardian fortunately asleep (any rest for them is rare—He’s glad they find some peace here), and there is a heavy but not uncomfortable silence. He takes the opportunity to brace himself, though he is unsure what for. He had spent the entire time before Caiatl returned fuming and, as angry as he was, she held no fault in this. Maybe if he wanted, he could place something on her but nothing he cared to, not right now.
“That was not the plan,” Caiatl rumbles. It isn’t entirely displeasure, mostly an observation. It is expectant, though.
Had he a jaw, he’d grit his teeth at the idea of apologizing. It isn’t what she wants but, even now, it's his first reflex—One he desperately smothers. He lets the silence hang for a moment more as he brings his shell in tighter..
“I know, I just—” His shell twirls and adjusts in contemplation. His voice lowers, almost a murmur, yet ever incensed. “I can’t listen to that. Not again. They have no right to- to deface my Guardian like that. Not after…everything.”
“You think you're protecting their image?” The Empress asks, though he suspects she knows the answer. Ghost has ranted to her about these conditions, this fetid treatment, a dozen times. Perhaps she’s pushing for a specific answer.
“I'm protecting them. Us. One of us has to stand up and if they can't, I will. I'm our voice.” She knows by now there isn’t one without the other. The two of them may as well be one entity. With some suspicion, he says, “You know this already. What are you getting at?”
Caiatl chuffs at his directness. “Give it time.” His shell swirls and Light swells at the suggestion, but she doesn’t give him time to rebuke it. “Do not look at me that way. You know that is not what I mean.” While he forces himself to settle down, she continues. “Let what you have said today sink in. They will see.”
What he wants to say is: I shouldn’t have to wait. What he wants to say is: Will they see too late? What comes out is: “...Right.”
