Big day of driving
I didn't lose but I didn't win
No rest stop tryst
No animals hiding, bulls in the hills
I just drove right there and back
The interstate was a clusterfuck as I've said
I took the long way home
Rolling hills green farms family plots
This runs in my family too I know
Saying what you were is a lost art
Green green how I want you green
The dirt roads kept swallowing my thoughts
Floating up and down
I could've taken you under every tree
I'm a sinner, I'm at dinner
Now you see me at my utmost
Most wet and weary
Super sonic hedgehog mix of bleeding ears
All wants and whimpers
I needed that
I drank all my water and coffee
What now
I think I'm too old to play games like this,
that make me sad
Too ardent to hope
Too real
I'm a believer
Please take this when I put it down
PG-13 - Warnings for Death Mentions, Swearing, and Violence Mentions.
Characters: Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Roman
Word Count: 2725
Okay, listen, I had no clue what to do with this so here. Take it.
This is a superhero AU.
Prinxiety and mentions of Logicality.
Ivory Handled Moons
Virgil heard the hum of the elevator and knew Logan was back before the chrome doors even opened.
About time.
Virgil finished his task and made it back to the hidden hideout an hour ago. He didn’t mind sitting there talking with Patton, the only one between the three of them that didn’t dress in a skin tight suit and jump around the city fighting crime, but an hour of not hearing from Logan was way too long. The guy was punctual. More than. He got on Virgil more than one for being even a few minutes late back to the underground base. It didn’t matter that Logan owned the place and knew the layout better than Virgil did. Logan insisted that he be on time. He wouldn’t lie to himself, he was worried about Logan running into trouble, but Patton insisted he’d be all right.
Turned out, Patton was right.
Virgil turned the office chair around, away from the large security camera display, and towards the silver coated doors that opened soon after. Sure enough, Logan stepped out, still clad in his silver and black body-tight suit with the silver dueling crescents in the center. He hadn’t bothered to take of his black mask either, which dipped back into the cowl of his uniform and covered all traces of his short brown hair.
“You sure took your sweet time,” Virgil said, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned forward, his arms propping onto the back of the chair that his chest was pressed into.
“Apologies,” Logan said as he stepped towards the computer and, as a result, Virgil and Patton, who took that time to turn in the chair he sat in like a normal person, “I had an interesting encounter while I was out. Patton, do you have any information regarding a hero by the name of The Crimson Prince?”
“Yeah!” Patton said. Virgil saw the beaming man jerk back to the computer. Virgil turned his own chair slowly to face the computer screens as Patton typed on the LCD keyboard display. After a second, several pictures and a file popped up on screen. The words were big enough for Virgil to read. He didn’t bother. Instead, his eyes caught the costume this particular hero decided to wear. It was a white, red, and gold ensemble. Mostly white, but the hero wore a red cape that looked as if it was designed to dramatically billow in the wind at even the slightest of breezes. The chest, instead of having a logo, looked like the gold trim and stitching were taken out of some kind of fairy tale more than any superhero comic. His face was covered in some kind of red and white theater mask which covered his eyes with black lenses, as well as hid the area around his eyes and the left side of his face. At his right side, the guy had an ivory sheath with a matching ivory sword handle. While the detailing on the hilt and sheath were gold, matching the touches on the man’s uniform, Virgil hoped the blade was the traditional silver.
Virgil hoped this not because gold would be tacky. The whole costume was tacky, if he was honest. No, his hope stemmed from the uncomfortable tightness in his stomach as he stared at the man’s frame.
He knew the broad shoulders and power stance. He knew the smirk traced along the man’s lips. He knew that jawline, that sharp nose, that pristine wave of brown hair that peeked over the top of the mask. His hands tightened against the back of the chair. His mind rotated over the possibility. His ears picked up both his heartbeat and Patton’s chipper words.
“The Crimson Prince started getting some attention a few weeks ago,” Patton said, “Small stuff. Stopped a robbery, prevented a car theft, retrieved some stolen purses and returned them to police, that sort of thing. Then, a couple days ago, he intercepted a whole truckload of stolen weapons and brought them to police. Remy got the report from his boss and added it to the system. Wanna see it?”
“Not at the moment, no,” Logan said, “Do you know anything specific about his approach to crime fighting? Perhaps his morals or any background with which we can use to determine what has led him down this particular path?”
“Nope!” Patton said, “All I know is what Remy’s told me and you know he’s not good with that stuff. I can ask Emile to take a look if you want.”
“I believe that would be a wise course of action.”
“Why?” Virgil finally asked, his voice deep as he turned his gaze to Logan, “He attack you or something?”
“No, quite the opposite,” Logan answered, “He intercepted me on the way back here and voiced his desire to speak with me. I assumed that he wished to join us, as many of these up-and-coming heroes often do. Instead, he thanked me for inspiring him to take this path and handed me this.”
Logan tucked his hand into his tight glove and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. With a calm hand, he held it out for Virgil. Virgil took it with a light tremor dancing across his own fingers. He opened the paper and saw, inside, printed text. Not just any text, though. A poem. Virgil only read the first line:
Wielder of ivory handled moons;
Anxiety’s claws ripped at Virgil’s stomach and clamored towards his heart. He felt the waves of nausea come over him. No. Hell no.
Virgil dropped the letter, lurched from the chair, and ran over to his backpack, leaned against the wall where he’d left it before he changed into his own tight outfit. He opened the smallest pouch in the front, yanked out his cell phone, and brought it over to the computer, his steps and movements jerky and frantic. He turned on the screen, opened the gallery, and handed the device to Patton.
“Take these pictures and cross reference them with the ones you have of The Crimson Prince,” Virgil said. He could feel his voice and throat tighten around the words.
“Who-” Patton started.
“Just do it!”
Patton took the phone and plugged it in. He pulled off copies of images Virgil treasured - images of selfies, of candid shots in his living room, of dramatic poses in open fields, of cleverly photographed shots, of him - and compared them to the numerous images they hand on file. There were more than Virgil expected, but it gave him a chance to see if it was really a match. Seconds felt like hours as his mind begged, pleaded, for this man to not be the crimson clad hero he’d just heard about.
The program stopped. A number appeared. Virgil’s breath caught.
97% Match.
“Guess he’s a guy,” Patton said.
“It seems that way, but we cannot be certain until we are able to completely see the hero’s face.”
“It’s him,” Virgil growled, his frozen fear melting to a heated anger so fierce he felt the flames lick against his face.
“Who is he?” Patton asked.
“He’s my goddamn boyfriend.” Virgil lurched towards Patton. “Give me my phone back, I’ve got to-”
“Virgil, calm down,” Logan said.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Virgil yelled, “That idiot is going to get himself killed doing shit like this! I can’t let him-”
“You cannot use your phone to communicate such a message to him,” Logan said, “It would not be safe for either you or your boyfriend if the message were to get into the wrong hands. I would be willing to invite him here if you wish to discuss the matter in a private setting. It would not be difficult to arrange, given the conversation he and I had this evening about a possible alliance.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Virgil snapped.
Logan nodded, turned, and headed to the elevator. Virgil let out a sigh that was covered but the opening and shutting of the elevator door. The movement, however, wasn’t concealed by anything. Neither was his shaking left hand clawing through his own hair, which was temporarily colored back to match his own starlight inspired wear.
“Does he know about you being a superhero?” Patton asked.
“No! I didn’t tell him anything!” Virgil yelled. He started pacing. “What the hell is he thinking?! He started learning how to fight with a sword for cosplay. Cosplay! That is not going to translate well into this kind of crime fighting! He should know there’s super dangerous people out there! He reads the news!”
“A lot of people try their hands at being a hero,” Patton said.
“Yeah, and a lot of stupid people get themselves killed in the process!” Virgil yelled, “He is not going to be on that list!”
“You’re right, he won’t,” Patton said, “‘cause you’ll be there to protect him.”
Virgil glared at him. “He will if I don’t stop him from doing this!”
“You’re not going to be able to stop him, Virgil,” Patton said. His voice almost mirrored that matter-of-fact tone that Logan had. Virgil blinked at him and lifted his head. “I tried to stop Logan when he decided to fight crime too but he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. We argued for so long over it. Then I saw how much good he was doing and I decided to help him instead. I don’t like violence and I can’t fight but I thought that if I could help him, maybe I could keep him safe and the city would be better for it. This hideout was his idea, but me being here was mine. He didn’t want me involved, but I didn’t give him a choice. You and your boyfriend can do that too.”
“But he’s not an experienced fighter,” Virgil said, his voice dying down but his anger refusing to subside.
“Then you and Logan can train him,” Patton said, “You guys train every day. I’m sure he’d be happy to train with you if you gave him the chance to.”
Virgil crossed his arms and glared at the ground. A lot of things Patton was saying was right. No, he couldn’t stop his boyfriend from doing this stupid shit. In truth, his boyfriend couldn’t stop him either, so Virgil supposed that was fair. He also could keep his boyfriend safe through all this if he convinced Logan that keeping him around was a good idea. But he still didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of losing the man he ran to when his panic attacks got back. He also didn’t like the idea of losing the normalcy they’d maintained over the past two years. What would he think when he found out Virgil was hiding this from him? What would he think about the lies Virgil told about his scars? His bruises? His scratches? What would he think about Virgil’s lies about where he’d been and who he’d been with? There were worse things than being a superhero, but Virgil was sure he’d be pissed anyway.
With that thought, Virgil stalked off towards the training room.
“I’m going to blow off some steam,” Virgil said, “When they get here, you tell Logan to let Roman in the training room alone.”
“Oh, Roman’s a nice name!” Patton called. Virgil ignored him, crossed into the training room, and closed the door behind him. There was a lot of open space, some exercise equipment, various dummy weapons, but, most importantly to Virgil in that moment, a punching bag. Virgil pulled his mask back on, tightened his fists, and started throwing punches. Each punch felt like raw anger and unfiltered anxiety. Each one smacked against uncertainty and fear. The cacophony of beats brought a monotone song issued by waves of emotion that altered from anger to sadness to fear and back again in rapid succession.
The door opened. Virgil threw a couple more punches, stopped, and reached his hand out to stop the swaying bag. His chest heaved. Sweat tricked down his temple and traced his jawline. He didn’t dare look.
“I believe my assistant wanted to speak with me,” Logan said, “You can speak to Stellar Starlight about the matters I wished to discuss with you.”
“Thanks,” the other voice said. Virgil could tell from the delighted tone that it was Roman. There was no question about it now. His fingers twitched against the bag. The door shut. Silence feel between them.
“So-” Roman started.
Virgil held up his other had, palm out, fingers splayed. Silence fell between them again. Virgil caught his breath, though it didn’t really feel like it. He could feel a darkness crawl against his skin. So many questions, so many statements, so many wants and needs from this interaction and all of it boiled down to the first question.
“Why are you doing this?” Virgil did his best to disguise his voice. He lowered his hand. “Why are you choosing to be a superhero?”
“I want to save people!”
“That’s it? You know there are hundreds of morons out there that do that same exact thing for the same exact reason that get themselves killed, right? You don’t get to just be a hero to save people. You have to want it for a reason. So, what is your reason, Prince?”
Silence. Virgil could feel the uncertain anger boiling under Roman’s skin all the way across the room. He anticipated yelling, screaming, a fight. Instead, he got a sigh.
“I,” Roman started. He hesitated. Even from that one syllable, Virgil could tell he was about to bare his soul. Virgil braced himself. “I have this person that’s important to me. I want to keep him safe.”
Virgil stayed quiet. He learned from Logan a long time ago that if you wanted more information out of a guy, you didn’t talk. So he let the silence linger. And as Virgil predicted, Roman opened his mouth once more and the words came pouring out.
“He’s the most important person I have. He’s the only one that has always been there for me when I needed someone. Normally you could repay those favors with kindness or something, but he’s so scared all the time about the violence going on and I want to help him out. I’ve spent the last two years training so I can go out there and clean up the streets a little. I’m hoping that it’ll let him walk around without constantly looking over his shoulder. He’s always doing that and I... I want him to feel like he doesn’t have to. I want him to know that there are heroes out there trying to keep people safe. I can tell him that they’d keep him safe all I want, but unless I’m out there doing it, I could never be able to really promise him that. With this, I know I can keep that promise now, even if he doesn’t believe it.”
Virgil finally looked to stare at the other masked man. Even behind that painted mask of The Crimson Prince, he could see that pressed frown and furrowed brow. Normally, when Virgil saw that look, it was accompanied with some kind of gentle touch on the hand, a nuzzle, a kiss, something. But here, with these disguises, there was nothing but distance.
“You’d die for him?” Virgil asked finally, his voice tottering between disguise and tears.
“If I had to, I would give my life to keep him safe.”
After one long, silent stare, Virgil sighed and let his eyes drop. Then he steeled himself with a deep breath and reached up. With one slow, fluid motion, Virgil peeled his mask over his head and let the fabric drop against the cowl of his uniform. Then his eyes flicked up. He caught the slacked mouth on the right side of Roman’s face, the tense shoulders, the shattered bravado falling into slackened, red gloved fingers.
“How about now?” Virgil asked.
There was a pause. Then, in one dramatic motion, Roman tore of his mask, closed the distance between them, pulled Virgil close, and planted one passion infused kiss right against Virgil’s lips. Virgil only let himself hesitate for one second more. Then he accepted the kiss and everything that came with it, uncertain future and all.
This is a prequel to yesterday’s prompt fill, Knuckles and Honey. If you like this, I highly recommend checking it out too.
Not A Queen, A King
“Not a queen, a king. I want a king.”
Roman was so sure about those words four months ago when he first spoke them. He was still confident in them two months ago when letters and poems written by young men arrived like crashing waves on the shoreline of his bedroom, each one begging the prince for his hand so they could better their kingdoms, their lives, their futures. Even a month ago he was still certain he’d made the right choice as he pared down his choices from three royals, to two, and then, finally, one. The one. The last few weeks he still managed to hang on to that conviction through the growing excitement of everyone around him.
Now, the day was here. His chosen prince was arriving. Roman was finally going to meet the one he chose. His partner. His king.
All of Roman’s confidence drained out of him the moment he woke up that morning.
Hours later, under the mid-afternoon sun, his certainty still hadn’t returned. He felt its absence in his tense shoulders and his trembling hands which clutched into tight fists behind his back. Many of his people lined the street below, their excitement obvious as their light chatter shifted into a vocal ruckus so disarranged that no words could be derived. Roman wanted to hear even the slightest speck of gossip, but all he could make out was a clattering of noise and nonsense.
“I do not believe I have ever seen you look quite so tense, my prince.”
Roman lifted his chin up ever-so-slightly to resist shooting a glare towards the small voice that tickled against his right ear. The wind fairy perched on his shoulder wouldn’t like that Roman didn’t keep appearances and the last thing he needed at that moment was another lecture.
“You’d be tense to if you were meeting your future husband for the first time,” Roman whispered.
“Yes, I suppose you are correct. However, you did choose this particular prince, so at least you are aware of what to expect. There are others that are not quite as fortunate as you are.”
“That doesn’t make this any less nerve-racking, glass lens.”
The fairy sighed at the nickname. Any response the tiny creature had to it, though, was silenced when the excited cry of people rose a few streets away. Roman’s eyes flicked to the top of the road. There, past the gates and entering the square, was a horse and carriage flanked by a mixture of Roman’s and the other prince’s men. People flocked around the horses and carriage, but dared not impede the movement towards the palace, towards Roman. Roman swallowed. His heart remained lodged in his throat.
The carriage turned in front of the palace and stopped. Excited cries fell into whispers. A man clad in light blue, a gentleman Roman had never seen, slipped off of a white horse, walked to the carriage door, and opened it. After a second of hesitation, Roman saw a black booted leg step out. It was followed by a thin, somewhat short body covered in light blues and whites, pale skin, and waves of curly brown hair stacked into a clustered nest that almost looked purposefully built. The young man stepped down onto the street, turned to the man, and passed him a smile. The man gave a deep bow.
Roman took a few steps down to greet the prince, but stopped when movement in the crowd not far from the foreign prince caught Roman’s eye. Figures shifted, some words grew louder, a small child was pushed through the crowd, fell, and cried on impact with the ground. Wails cut through the near silence. Roman heard the rise of a woman’s voice, though the words were too soft under the siren-like screaming to be understood.
After a fraction of a second, Roman turned his head back to the prince. He prepared to take the next step, but stopped when he saw the prince turn and go to the child. White glove hands reached for the boy. All other sound beside the kid’s crying stopped.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright, kiddo,” the prince said. Roman watched this prince gather the kid in his arms and stand. He moved slowly from side to side and gave more assurances for a moment. The cries lowered into soft sobs, then sniffles. Roman watched a smile blossom on the prince’s face.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Roman heard a woman say. He saw the hands of one of the local bakers reach out for the boy, which the prince handed over with that warm smile still present.
“It’s okay,” the prince said, “I’m just glad he wasn’t hurt. We wouldn’t want sweet little kids getting hurt on a happy day like today, would we, kiddo?”
The prince reached out and pressed his pointer finger into the young kid’s nose. The kid giggled. The soft sound of that laughter seemed to bring a wash of calm over Roman. The others caught it too as light whispers and a few giggles rose from the crowd. Roman let his legs guide him to the other prince then. Once he came into arm’s reach, Roman bowed at the waist and extended his left arm for the other prince to take.
“Welcome to the kingdom, Prince Patton,” Roman said.
Patton turned to face him then, smile faded ever-so-slightly. Then the smile returned, a touch of something lingering on the lips. Uncertainty, perhaps. Or fear. Regardless, Patton reached and took his hand. Even through their gloves, Roman could feel the other prince’s natural warmth across his palm.
“Thank you, my prince,” Patton answered, “It’s an honor to be here under these circumstances, or any circumstances, really. I know I said that in my letters but I really mean it. Thanks for... everything.”
Roman smiled at the informality of the last statement. The fact that his fairy advisor huffed on his shoulder made him smile even more.
Oh, was Roman glad he picked this prince. Maybe their union wouldn’t be filled with the romance he desired. Maybe he wouldn’t learn to fall for that dashing smile and that curly mass of hair. Maybe they wouldn’t truly live happily ever after. But they could have something kind in this union. Something sweet. Something delightful. Roman was sure of it.
Now he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of their lives had in store.
PG-13 - Warnings for Angst, Past Break-Ups, and Swear Words.
Characters: Logan, Patton, Virgil, and Roman
Pairing: Logicality (not the break-up mentioned)
Word Count: 1322
No spoilers. This is an AU.
I heard Maybe It Was Me by Sody for the first time, and it inspired this. So do some past emotions regarding a break-up I still haven’t quiet dealt with. Projecting onto Logan it is.
Suffer, I Won’t
”Suffer.”
That was the last two words Logan heard from that man before the door was slammed shut in his face. Logan stood stunned in his own kitchen. Stun turned to sorrow as minutes turned to days. Sorrow turned to grief. Days turned to weeks. Grief turned to suffering. Weeks turned to months.
Then Logan met Patton.
It was an accident. Logan turned a corner at a library took quickly and ran into someone. Shoulders hit. The man he’d collided into tottered back, caught himself. Logan blinked up at the man’s shocked face, at those freckled features, at the round glasses knocked askew, at the loose curls that seemed out of place yet perfectly natural.
Their first words to each other were apologies.
“I apologize,” Logan said quickly.
“No, I‘m sorry,” the man answered.
They gave shy smiles. Then they passed, two bodies passing.
Logan said nothing of that first meeting to his two friends. The second, though, led to a text, two calls, and a choice to meet. Logan invited them to his own apartment - the largest of the three - for dinner and discussion. They arrived separately, but banned together to say words along the same strain of thought.
“What do you mean you didn’t ask him out?!” Roman asked, his voice a boom of thunder in the kitchen. Logan sighed over the sink where he was rinsing lettuce for their communal salad.
“I mean exactly that,” Logan answered.
“How could you lose such a wondrous opportunity!” Roman said, “He was clearly interested.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Logan thought to himself. Such a thought should have been fleeting, but it stuck to his mind, his bones, his skin. It soured quickly, turned the air, and wrinkled the nose of Virgil, who cut into his line of sight to use the counter space and the cutting board next to the sink.
“He’s still holding you back, huh,” Virgil said. Logan looked down at the metal strainer in his hands, at green pedals, at holes that drained water. So many little holes.
"No,” Logan stated, “I refrained from inquiring about a date because I did not wish to impose.“
“If you’re going to lie, you could at least try to put a little more feeling into it,” Virgil said, “I bet Roman would be willing to give you lessons.”
“If there are going to be any lessons given, they will be given about romance!” Roman said, “You cannot keep yourself from happiness because of a man that let you go months ago without a single kind word. He’s gone now! Besides, we all know that break-up wasn’t your fault.”
“No, I do not believe that is the case,” Logan said, “Relationships involve multiple people. It would be unrealistic to place the blame of a relationship on one individual.”
“Even if that person had unrealistic expectations about his boyfriend and your relationship?” Virgil asked.
“There were other problems with our courtship.”
“Yeah, but those problems were nowhere close to the bullshit he put on you.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t consider his actions important in this new budding relationship,” Roman called. Logan heard the click of a burner starting on the stove to his left. “What he did is an anomaly, nothing more.”
“We cannot be sure of that,” Logan said.
“So you’re afraid, then.”
Logan blinked and looked at Virgil. The other man’s deep brown, near black, eyes stared back at him.
“I thought you said you were fearless,” Virgil said.
“You are aware I was inebriated at the time, correct?”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t say it.”
Logan glared at the strainer once more. His mind teetered to the hurt still clinging to heart, to the final word embossed in his brain. Suffer. Logan sighed.
“While I will agree that it is not likely, it did happen before so there is a chance that it will happen again,” Logan said, “I do not know Patton well enough to determine if he would choose such an approach or not.”
“He seems sweet to me,” Virgil said.
“We could always make sure,” Roman answered, “Virgil and I can go into the library and go on a covert mission. I bet Remy would let us borrow some of his sunglasses.”
“I’d bet he kill you before you even finished asking,” Virgil said.
“You will do nothing of the sort in either case.” Logan sounded far harsher than he meant to. He exhaled slowly and released some of the tension in his shoulders. When had he gotten so rigid during this conversation? “It is not necessary to spy on Patton. If anything, it will alert him to the possibility that something odd is happening and I do not want such oddities directed back to me. Besides, we all know that you are not capable of any level of stealth, Roman.”
“I am, too!” Roman called.
“Really?” Virgil asked, “How’d that spy mission in the student lounge go last year?”
“It’s not my fault that his friend noticed me hiding in the corner, alright? I was concealed! He had supervision!”
“You were wearing a red hoodie and hid yourself behind some old, stringy potted plant.”
“It was cover enough!”
“Sure, Romeo, whatever you say.”
Silence. Logan let his mind wander to the hurt again, to the pain, to the suffering imposed upon him like a curse that refused to be broken. Virgil sighed next to him, chopped a few more times, and then threw the pieces into the bowl between them.
“I’m not saying you have to ask the guy out,” Virgil started.
“I am!” Roman interrupted.
“What I am saying is that you can’t keep denying yourself a chance at moving on because you’re afraid that the next guy is going to turn out to be just as crazy. Patton’s clearly your type. You’re interested. He’s interested. Maybe just agree to meet for lunch as friends or something. Or see if you have something else in common that you can meet up and do together.”
“Like date,” Roman interrupted again. Virgil sighed.
“It doesn’t have to be a date,” Virgil said, “You can just hang out. Less pressure that way and you can have time to get the know the guy a little, see if he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Plus, you said he’s new in town anyway. I’m sure he’d be happy with a friend for now.”
Logan knew Virgil was correct. He could approach Patton with a simple token of friendship at first and there were plenty of opportunities for Patton to make friends in Logan’s small circle. There was a small gaming group and another separate group for a weekly knowledge competition at the sports bar down from his own place of work. Perhaps one of these could interest Patton and allow him a chance to meet others in his new hometown.
Yet, he could not escape the coldness that draped over him at the thought of a budding romance. Would he be ready if Patton chose to ask? Would he be willing to cross over that line? Would he be ready to share his heart with another?
He didn’t know. But Logan did know he didn’t want the curse.
Suffer, he thought, I won’t suffer. Not anymore.
That evening ended with more doubts that answers, but Logan held on to that one assurance. That assurance led him to the library the next day, where he asked if the young man would be interested in joining their knowledge bowl team. That assurance led him to sitting next to the young man at the crowded table and listening to him laugh and chat wondrously with his friends. That assurance led to the next meeting and the next and the next.
Then, it led to Logan asking Patton on that first date. When Patton said yes, Logan knew the remains of the curse were finally starting to wear away.
PG - Warnings for angst, death mentions, and war mentions.
Characters: Virgil, Patton, and Roman, with mentions of Logan.
Pairing: Moxiety
Word Count: 750
This is a Star Trek AU. Anyone that knows me at all will not be surprised at all.
Space Whales
“So let me get this straight,” Virgil said.
“Good luck with that,” Roman interrupted with a wink. Virgil shot him a glare and then returned his gaze to Patton, who sat upright on one of the biobeds with a wide smile on his face.
“You decided to help Logan get the space whales into the cargo bay, which you are not qualified to do, and instead of staying out of the way like you were supposed to, you went to look at one of their tails, which caused you to get smacked halfway across the cargo bay and into the wall, which Logan insisted would happen prior to you doing it, but you chose to do it anyway?”
“Yeah,” Patton said, his voice soft, almost dreamy, but not void of happiness.
“Why?”
“It was hurt!” Patton pouted, “I couldn’t just sit there and let it be hurt!”
“Then you should have waited to help it until the space whales were secure so you wouldn’t get hurt,” Virgil said.
“But I thought I could help then.”
Virgil sighed. “That heart of gold you’ve got is really going to get you in trouble if you don’t stop getting yourself in trouble.”
“Roman was there to help me, though.”
“Yeah, well what if he isn’t?” Virgil snapped as his irritated glare turned into one of anger, “What if no one is there to help you? What if you end up getting in trouble trying to help someone and you aren’t able to get out of it? You know we’re in a war, right? You can’t just-”
“Virgil.” Patton’s tone changed from the lighthearted joy he had before to a caring, yet serious tone that he so rarely used. Virgil looked away. Not at anything in particular. It was better than looking at the serious expression that crossed his partner’s face. A silence settled.
“I’ll see myself out,” Roman said suddenly, “You get better, Pat. And if the CMO tells you to take a few days off, you take them. Can’t have you in here trying to help people when you need help yourself.”
“Thank you, Roman,” Patton said. Virgil’s gaze flicked up. Roman shot him a kind smile, something also unusual in that moment, before turning around and walking out of the sickbay. Virgil kept his gaze on the door, even as it shut behind the red-clad security officer.
“I’m sorry,” Patton said, “You’re right, I should’ve listened to Logan and stayed out of the way. But I thought it was okay. Space whales are such gentle creatures most of the time and it was hurt so I went to help without thinking that he might attack me like that. I’ll be more careful next time, if there is a next time, and I’m sure Roman and Logan will make sure of that too. I’ll stay safe, I promise.”
Virgil crossed his arms and lowered his head as his heart twisted harshly. Patton sighed. A hand pressed over his arms. Patton’s thumb brushed over one of Virgil’s red sleeves.
“Virgil, look at me, please?”
After a second, Virgil flicked his gaze over. A small frown was pressed firmly into Patton’s normally cheery face. He didn’t want to keep his gaze on his partner’s face, but he couldn’t get himself to tear it away either. Not when Patton had asked so nicely.
“I worry about you all the time,” Patton said. Virgil caught a trace of tears in those golden brown eyes. He unconsciously turned his head to keep that heartbreaking view, “I worry that you’re going to be brought in here hurt or... or worse and it scares me so much. I don’t want you to worry about me the same way. I know life and this war can cause things to happen but I promise, from this point on, I’ll stay as safe as I can.”
Virgil stared a moment longer, then he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He stepped close, unfurled his arms, and brought them on either side of Patton’s face. Then he kissed the doctor in the middle of the sickbay. It was soft and delicate and everything Virgil wished to express in words but just couldn’t. Patton’s hands covered his own as he leaned into the kiss. Virgil had never been more thankful for his partner’s touch to be so warm.
PG - Warnings for Death Mentions, Fire, and Pet Death.
Characters: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Patton and Remy.
Pairing: Royality
Word Count: 1695
This is a Logicality parents, Roman child situation with Virgil as the angsty younger brother of Logan, who lives with them because their parents died and Virgil’s too young to take care of himself.
Burial at Sea
This was stupid.
The last thing Virgil wanted to do was to go down to the park with his brother, his brother’s partner, and their five year old son so they could all take part in some childish burial for the little kid’s dead fish as some sick form of “family bonding”. But here they were, taking the car to the park ten minutes away, with Roman clutching the Popsicle stick boat he made and sniffling in the far left seat. He was so quiet. Virgil should have been thankful the brat wasn’t wailing or screaming like he normally did, but the sniffling was so disquieting. Virgil tossed the kid a glare first. Then a glance. Then a peek. Roman’s watery brown eyes never lifted from the boat or the red beta fish inside the little cabin.
Virgil pulled out his phone and opened his messages. He flicked to his best friend’s chat and typed, We’re out to go bury the fish.
Remy typed back, Wait, you’re burying the thing? What happened to flushing fish down the toilet?
Roman wanted a burial at sea Viking style so he could be with his fish friends or something.
Doesn’t that involve fire?
I doubt he knows that. I’m sure Lo and Patton didn’t tell him.
Oh you’re on a first name basis with the husband now? That’s cute.
Shut up.
The car stopped. Virgil peered over his phone to see the park beyond.
We’re here. Gotta go.
Let me know how the fish torching goes.
Virgil got out of the car and stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. It lightly tapped against the lighter hidden there. Shit. He stole a glance at Logan to see if his older brother heard, but he was clearly more preoccupied with Roman, who was struggling to get out of the car with the boat clutched in his fingers. It took a second, but eventually the kid got out and the car door was shut behind him. Then they all started Patton’s open hand was on the boy’s head as they walked. Virgil stuck behind the three and their tight little family as he hunched over and sulked. God did he want this to be over.
Luckily, the walk to the water wasn’t bad. Even better, there wasn’t a layer of ice on the pond yet. And the cold air warded off any birds that might try to ruin the moment by being in the water. Shame, that. Could’ve been a great story. Oh well. Maybe next time Roman wanted to be dramatic something interesting would come out of it.
The little boy sniffled again as he stopped at the water’s edge. Patton knelt down next to him and moved his hand to the upper part of Roman’s back.
“You ready, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil winced at the softness of the man’s voice. Then he glared at the ground and bit back a scoff. It was just a dumb fish. There was no reason for Patton to be so gentle with the kid.
“Can you light it, daddy?”
Virgil’s eyes flicked up as he watched Roman hold up the boat. Patton placed a hand on his pocket, then stopped. He rummaged over all his pockets, stood, checked them again, then looked up. Patton and Lo traded a glance. Patton’s worry clashed with Logan’s stoic resolve hiding his clear panic. Great. They’d left their own lighter. Virgil rolled his eyes at the two and then his gaze fell on Roman. He caught sight of the boy trembling. Virgil knew the young boy’s face was about to crumble and the screeching would begin. He could run back to the car and wait for the moment to be over, he was sure Logan wouldn’t fault him for that when the guy clearly looked like he wanted to bail as well. But he had a lighter. Sure he’d have to explain the whole “I don’t smoke I just like setting small stuff on fire outside” situation, but there were worse conversations to have, especially when his son was about to fill the pond with more salt water at any second.
Virgil stuffed his hand in his pocket, fished the lighter out from under his phone, and walked to Roman. He knelt down next to the kid and held out his free hand.
“Here, I got it,” Virgil said. He was surprised by the lack of irritation in his voice. He was also surprised by Roman’s willingness to hand over the boat without hesitation. Virgil stared at the boat, then placed it at the water’s edge. Then, with a flick, he started the lighter and placed the flame at the top of the stick structure. It took a second, but soon the wood caught. Virgil pushed the little raft out towards the middle of the pond and shut off the lighter. The little boat stayed afloat, but the flames were causing the thing to fall apart. He couldn’t quite make out the fish in the blaze, but that didn’t matter.
Virgil felt tiny hands on his arm then. They clutched at his black hoodie. A deep, heavy sniffle resonated next to his ear. Then a little sob came. Virgil tensed. Patton was bound to rush in at any second and whisk Roman away. But that didn’t stop Virgil from moving his arm and wrapping it around the kid, tucking him into his side. The fingers, which disconnected from his sleeve because of his movement, clutched at Virgil’s side.
They remained there as the flames tore the boat apart. They remained as fire was doused by the slow current of cool water. They remained as ashes flicked against the soul and started to salt beneath the surface. Virgil felt Roman tremble and felt his body heaving, silent sobs. All he did in response was pull Roman a little closer. Eventually, the sobs eased, but the trembling didn’t. In fact, as a cool gust slipped over them, Virgil felt Roman tremble a little more and move closer to him with a little whimper, almost imperceptible to Virgil even though the kid was practically attached to him. He looked up at Patton. It took a second for the man to register that Virgil was actually trying to get his attention with that stare. Patton blinked, then knelt down himself.
“You ready to head home, kiddo?” Patton asked. Roman nodded. Patton reached. Virgil let Roman be taken out of his grasp. Once Patton and Roman were a foot or two away and headed back to the car, Virgil stood and glanced at Logan. He expect to see a stern look. Instead, a stoic expression with just a touch of warm stared back.
“You never smell like smoke,” Logan said, his voice a whisper so Patton couldn’t hear, no doubt.
“I don’t smoke,” Virgil answered. They started walking after Patton. The other adult was talking, but Virgil couldn’t make out his words over Logan’s.
“What is the lighter for, then?”
Virgil shrugged. “Remy and I like burning stuff in his driveway sometimes. Paper, old mail, stuff like that.”
“Well, if you are in need of papers to do that with at the house, you are welcome to use the documents I intend to shred. All I ask is that if you decide to go such a route, you burn them in the grill and you remain safe.”
Virgil blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
Virgil stared at Logan again, then he looked at the ground. A little knot twisted in his gut.
“Are you unsatisfied with this arrangement?” Logan asked.
“No, I just... expected you or Patton to be mad or something.”
“Virgil, you are sixteen-years-old. You will participate in events that I will not be fond of. If the reason you possess a lighter is to burn paper with your friend within the safety of his driveway, then I am fine with that arrangement. In fact, it can also be beneficial for us, so long as the burning is done in a safe environment. In addition, while you are legally within the care of myself, I am not your father. I do not wish to treat you as my child.”
“Why not?”
The question left Virgil’s mouth so fast he couldn’t stop it. Like he couldn’t stop the flood of memories with Logan and their parents. He’d watched their parents fawn over Logan’s achievements, watched their teenage son participate in band, watched as they helped Logan prepare for prom, watched as he left for college, watched on the days he returned. He longed for that himself, even at that young age. But now, the cycle was broken. There were no parents. It was just two brothers, with the youngest too old now for the hugs and whispers of assurance in the late night hours when nightmares roamed and panic attacks were common.
Tears came then. Virgil brought up his left arm and brushed them away. A hand reached out and took that arm. Virgil stopped walking. Logan stopped with them. Then, Virgil glanced over. Logan’s expression had shifted into something far more serious. The elder’s hand lowered.
“I did not want you to resent me,” Logan said. “If you are in need of a parental figure, I-”
“No, it’s... it’s fine,” Virgil said. Then he sighed and looked down. “I’m just... I miss then, you know?”
“Yes, I know. I miss them too.”
Virgil gave him a little smile. Logan returned it, though anyone else probably wouldn’t have seen his face shift. Then Virgil turned and started walking towards Patton and Roman again. By the time they made it to the car, Patton was already putting Roman inside of it and helping the kid with his seat belt.
Virgil climbed into his side of the car. He shut the door, reached for the seat belt, then paused and looked over. Roman’s gaze was still down, eyes still wet, face red and splotchy with unfiltered emotion. With only a second more of hesitation, he moved to the center seat, buckled in, and put his right arm around Roman’s smaller body. The car started. All for of them moved forward in silence.
Logan calculated that Roman had said, yelled, or muttered that same phrase twelve thousand eight hundred and thirty six times in his presence. This time, it was a mutter, near whisper, in their shared living space. Logan didn’t raise his eyes from his own orb, or the sixteen year old he was tasked with watching from birth.
“Why can’t humans grow up faster?” Roman asked with a huff.
“Humans are designed to age at a very specific rate,” Logan said, “It is built into their DNA, as all life-”
“Rhetorical question, Specs.”
“If you do not wish for you questions to be answers, you should not ask them out loud.”
“Don’t start with me tonight,” Roman said.
“What is going on with your human?”
“He’s moping! If he’s going to stay in his bedroom all night, he could at least get some sleep. At least that would be better than watching him mindlessly sit there looking like some emo child reject.”
Logan hummed a single, monotone note. His human hummed himself, though not for any reason Logan provided. He simply did that. He hummed and danced little dances when he was on his own. Logan questioned the behavior a few times, but cast it aside when he caught Roman doing something rather similar one afternoon. A quirk, then. Nothing more.
“Please tell me you know what ‘emo’ means,” Roman said.
“I believe the term is written on one of my vocabulary cards. Do you wish for me to recite the definition for you?”
“No, just wanted to make sure you weren’t completely clueless.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “I do believe I am making progress with young human slang.”
“Yeah? Doesn’t seem that way with those cards of yours.”
“At least I’m making an effort to understand my human and the words he uses. All you appear to do is criticize yours.”
“That’s not true!”
“Provide me of an example of one instance where you praised your human.”
“I--”
Roman stopped. Logan looked over to see Roman’s eyes searching off his own orb. The tiniest of smirks pricked at the corner of Logan’s mouth.
“Look, he’s just not that fun, all right?” Roman asked, shooting him a glare. “At least yours does fun things, like act and sing. Mine just skulks around and mopes all day even though he doesn’t have to. He could do something, anything, other than that and maybe I’d cut him a slack.”
“I do not believe he would need a pair of pants trimmed.”
“It’s an idiom, Coeus.”
“Coeus-”
“Don’t. Say. Anything.”
Logan blinked at him, shut his mouth, then looked back at the orb on his desk. His human was fiddling with his small rectangular device. A mobile telephone, though his human, as most humans, called it a “cell phone”. It was quite a useful tool, and one that Logan praised, though how humans used such a device was so limited. His, for instance, was pulling up music on the application Spotify. Well, he did need to brush up on his knowledge of Newsies before the audition in two weeks. Perhaps that’s what he was- oh, no, he was going to listen to The Campfire Song Song again. Well, so much for using the night to obtain knowledge.
“Oh great,” Roman said, “Now he’s crying.”
Logan blinked and looked towards Roman. “Why would your human be crying?”
“Why does he do anything?”
“Roman, the entire point of this exercise is to understand humans. If you cannot understand this one, how will you be able to perform your duties?”
“Look, I do not need to understand this human to create them, okay? Like you don’t need to understand that human to organize their world or whatever it is you want to do once this guardian thing is over. It’s just a waste of time and it keeps us from knocking down one of the old gods when they aren’t ready to give up their seats.”
“There is a lesson to be learned in this process.”
“Yeah, and what is it? Human slang? ‘cause if it’s not that, it seems like you’re not doing too well with this whole learning thing.”
“At least I am making attempts. You are discounting the experience before it is over.”
“We don’t need any of this!”
“You cannot know that.”
Roman sighed and glared at the orb. Logan watched him for a second before returning to his own human. He was at his computer, headphones on, head moving up and down to the beat of the song so familiar to him he very likely didn’t need the music to know the lyrics. There was a smile there. Off the reflections of his glasses, Logan could see words, though he could not tell what they were. He moved to adjust the sight when Roman inhaled sharply.
Logan glanced at Roman again and saw the other god’s face. The wide eyes, the jaw slacked, the pale skin. It was not a look Logan had seen before on the younger gods like themselves, but the older ones, the ones that watched over the humans, they gave looks like that from time-to-time. He saw it on the face of his father often, especially when the discussions of great human evils came up. What was that look for? Logan was never certain and he never desired to understand. After all, he had no interest in the oversight of more than one human. But now, seeing Roman’s bravado disappear, Logan wished he had pried in those moments.
“Roman?” Logan asked.
“I don’t know what he’s doing but it looks bad.”
“What do you mean?”
Roman held the orb out towards Logan, but his eyes never left it. Logan stood from his desk and walked over. Inside, he saw Roman’s human in the small bathroom of the tiny apartment he managed to keep without adults. He was seated on the floor, back against the wall, his arms around his knees, and his forehead resting atop them. Tremors coursed through that frail looking body. His back heaved. Harsh breaths seemed to gain him nothing but more struggle.
“Wh-what do I do?” Roman asked.
“I do not know.”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? You’re supposed to know everything, aren’t you?!”
Logan bit his bottom lip. Roman’s human was displaying actions that Logan had not seen his human do. This was to be expected. Even though the two humans shared a birthday, Logan and Roman were told that they would exhibit different behaviors, feelings, and actions during the course of their lives. But this display was not something Logan ever expected. To see someone go through such distress caused his own heart to seemingly twist and writhe in his chest.
“Could this possibly be linked to a medical issue?”
“I don’t know! He’s never shown any signs of anything like that before!”
“Anything in his family’s medical history about breathing problems? Perhaps he is experiencing some kind of asthma attack.”
“I don’t know!”
“Look!”
Roman thrust the orb at Logan and ran to his own desk. Drawers were opened. Tablets were tossed aside in an effort to find the one containing his human’s information. Logan watched the small human tremble and heave alone in that bathroom. If he could reach out to Logan’s human, perhaps he could get some assistance. Was it too late for that? Logan considered that it might be and a deep coldness settled on his skin.
“Found it!” Roman called and rushed back over. He flicked through the information on the tablet, his own fingers shaking. “Okay, here. He doens’t have anything like asthma but it says he might be prone to something called panic attacks. You know anything about those?”
“I have heard of them, though I am not certain. Watch over him, I will look.”
Logan handed the orb back to Roman and returned to his own desk. He opened the middle drawer on the left-hand side of his desk and picked up the second tablet from the top. He waved his hand over the device to turn it own. The Catalogue for All Human Medical Ailments opened. He typed into the search bar “panic attacks”. The response came immediately.
“A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that triggers severe physical reactions when there is no real danger or apparent cause,” Logan read out loud.
“Why would humans be designed to have those?! We don’t experience that!”
“I do not believe now is the time to investigate such matters,” Logan said, “I believe it will be better for us to determine how to best help your human through this moment. The database says that panic attacks can be calmed with breathing exercises, among other things, though those other things are not beneficial at this time. Is there a way you can suggest such methods to him without direct contact?”
“I-I don’t know, I-”
“Roman, do not start empathizing with your human at this moment. He needs you. Calm yourself.”
Roman took a deep breath himself, then another, and then one more. Through this momentary pause, Logan began to calculate options. Without direct interference, they could not provide the human much assistance through this. However, it would be possible to have Logan’s human assist instead. Logan had, on several instances, provided his human with opportunities to understand human psychology, and that appeared to be going well. Psychology was one of the few classes his human had high grades in at that time. Perhaps these classes would provide this human was assistance, if they could somehow get into contact
“Okay,” Roman said. His voice was still strained, but Logan could feel a touch of calm growing.
“Roman, can you perhaps suggest to your human that he reach out to someone?”
Roman blinked up at him. “Why?”
“If your human can reach out to mine with minimal interference from us, we could manage to provide comfort to your human without breaking the rules.”
Roman blinked again, and then he looked down at the orb. After a second, he waved his hand over the orb. There was a ding. The human’s head jerked up, eyes wide, body frozen. Then a shaky hand went to the pocket of his black jeans and pulled out his phone.
“What did you-”
“Text from a wrong number,” Roman said. His eyes were glued to the orb. Logan’s eyes flicked back down to it. He watched as trembling fingers clutched the phone. Then his breath stopped as thumbs moved across the screen. There was a pause, another, the human stilled. His fingers shook. His hands tightened. Then he closed his eyes and pressed the screen once more. There was a ding. Logan looked over at his own human. The young man stared at his phone. Logan zoomed in on it.
help me
The message came from the young man’s best friend. “Virgil” was clearly typed at the top of the messages. There was more than the most recent one, but those traded texts were nothing but nonsense. Logan had read them before, more than once in an effort to understand slang. He knew their conversations. None of them started like this. That’s likely why his human paused before his thumbs moved swiftly across the screen.
Whats going on buddy??
The message was sent. There was another ding from Roman’s orb. Logan watched his human hover over his phone screen, thumbs poised. His face mirrored Roman’s earlier expression, the one Logan couldn’t pinpoint, the one he likely had himself. There was another ding. A message appeared on his human’s phone.
freaking out pls come over
His human stood immediately. On my way
Logan watched the young man rush out of his bedroom door. He rushed into the kitchen where his parents were talking. “Virgil’s having problems, can I have the car? He asked for me to come over.”
His voice was so fast Logan almost didn’t catch all the words. His parents agreed, he grabbed his keys and wallet on the table next to the door, and he bolted from the house. His mother shouting, “Be careful, Patton! Text us when you can!” came over the orb. Patton said nothing in response as he climbed into his car, started it and drove through the streets to Virgil’s apartment building. Patton usually followed all the rules, but that night, he sped a little and forgot to use his blinker more than once. Logan found that he didn’t care in that moment. His breath caught, his heart raced, his hands tightened against the catalogue still within his grasp. He couldn’t take his eyes off Patton’s darting eyes and wide facial features.
“Is he close?” Roman asked.
“He will be there in approximately a minute and a half,” Logan answered.
Logan watched as Patton navigated the parking lot. He tensed as Patton almost hit a car parking. The door swung open before the car was shut off. Shaking hands pulled the keys from the ignition and shut the door. Patton ran halfway to Virgil’s door and then clicked the lock function on the remote. The cars lights flashed as Patton continued to run. He burst into the building, climbed four flights of stairs, and then made it to room 424. He knocked on the door loudly, then hopped onto the balls of his feet.
“Come on, Virgil,” Patton murmured. There was no answer. This was taking too long. Logan’s hands tightened more against the tablet.
“What is Virgil doing?” Logan asked, his voice harsh against the otherwise silent room.
“He’s getting there,” Roman answered, his own voice mirroring his tone. Logan waited. There was the click of the locks. The door opened. Patton hesitated in the hallway.
“I... I can’t...” Virgil started. His voice as an echo as it came from both orbs. Patton reached out and were placed on Virgil’s shoulders.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Patton said, “Let’s close the door and sit on the couch, okay?”
Virgil nodded and moved back. Patton entered. The door was shut. Patton eased Virgil to the couch and Virgil sat. Patton knelt in front of him and took his hands gently.
“Okay,” Patton said, “I want you to do a breathing exercise with me, okay? It’s a four-seven-eight count. We’ll breathe in for four, hold for seven, and breathe out for eight. You think you can do that?”
Virgil gave a shaky nod. Patton tapped the back of Virgil’s hand. The breathing started. Logan watched them breath in unison and found himself following along with his own shallow breaths at first. Then he heard Roman exhale with them and decided to join in as well. All four of them took timed breaths, one after the other, until Virgil seemed calmer.
“Better?” Patton asked.
“Yeah,” Virgil muttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you out here in the middle of the night.”
“It’s okay,” Patton said, “I’m glad I could help. Besides, it’s only nine.”
“That’s late for you.”
“Aw, that doesn’t matter. You know I’d drive out here at two in the morning if you needed me to.”
Virgil said nothing at first. Then he whispered, “Thanks.”
Patton smiled. Their conversation continued, but Logan disconnected from the orb and the volume dropped to a low hum. He sighed and sank into his chair. Roman followed suit shortly after. Logan allowed himself to breathe a few more times before glancing at Roman. The other god sat slouched, a surprise in of itself, with his head in his hands.
“That... was awful,” Roman said.
“Agreed. Though matters could have been much different. We are fortune that those two humans are so close.”
Roman hummed. Then, after a moment, he sat up and sighed. “Gotta hand it to Virgil. He made a good friend.”
“Ah, a praise, then.”
“Getting through that, he deserves more than one.”
“Yes,” Logan said. He glanced at the orb. Patton was sitting at Virgil’s side now, but his body was still facing the other human. There was a smile on his face, but that mirrored the look Logan’s own mother gave him. Very parental, very caring.
His mind wandered to the struck look on his father’s face, on Roman’s, on Patton’s. What had caused it? A rise in blood pressure, a tension, a cold sweat. No, those were all symptoms. Symptoms of what? Of a feeling, perhaps. No, not just a feeling. Logan saw those same symptoms in Virgil, though to a more extreme degree. Panic. Anxiety.
I needed to post two today so I could catch up. I started writing these the day after NaProWriMo started.
This is an AU. No spoilers.
The Three Fates
Virgil didn’t want to go to the temple. But it was his eighteenth birthday. He didn’t have a choice.
He trudged out of the village and made his way to the temple. It wasn’t a far walk, but he felt every forced step that led him up that dirt path. It was heavy, like his heart. He was sure it’d be alright once the whole thing was over, but this trip, this moment, marked the end of freedom and the start of “the fated journey”.
Everything about that sucked.
Still, he went. He had to. Nothing could be done.
Ten minutes of walking got him to the temple. It was a large, stone building with a large archway and wooden doors, open seemingly to the public, but Virgil knew it was only for him. The elder stood outside with a smile on his face, greeting Virgil as he approached under the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t think you would make an appearance, my boy,” the elder said.
“Did I have a choice?” Virgil asked. It wasn’t a question. The elder didn’t answer it, though Virgil caught the twitch of a frown poking at the elder’s lips. He moved aside and motioned to the open door. Virgil stepped into the temple. The doors closed behind him.
The temple was illuminated by candles. Candles lined the aisle he walked down, two on each side, next to the start of the bench rows that spread to fit all the people of the village. It wasn’t much, little more than a hundred, but it felt like much more once they were all crammed into this place in the hot summer days. There were also candles on the ledge he walked towards, the ledge before the three statues that claimed his existence. They mirrored the fates of their texts, Roman, Logan, and Patton. The creative, the wise, and the moral.
Virgil knew it was all bullshit. He was going to walk in and kneel before the ledge, the fates wouldn’t say anything, some smoke trick would happen, the village elder will have placed his position in the village on some note that magically appeared, and he’d be sent home, his grand destiny in his hand. He saw the notes the others came back with - the textured paper with the shaky scrawl clearly meant to hide the true writer’s own hand. It was clearly the elder. But he couldn’t fight against the temple, he couldn’t do what he wanted. That’s not how it worked.
He hesitated in front of the ledge, then sighed and knelt down. He bowed his head and rested his clenched fists on his knees.
“Great Fates,” Virgil said, his voice clear if only for the sake of the elder outside who coached him on this damn passage for weeks, “I have come on this, my day of birth, to discover the path you have forged for me. Write me the chosen destiny and allow me to fulfill your wish.”
Virgil’s hands reached out. They pressed upon the three symbols carved into the plate latched onto the ledge. The stone felt cold. He waited. Then he removed his hands, opened his eyes, and lifted his head. The plate where the symbols lie opened. There was nothing at first. But soon, a paper appeared. There it was. The paper. His fate. Virgil reached for it.
A great tremble coursed through the temple. Virgil pressed his hands to the floor and waited for it to pass. A terrifying crack sounded throughout the temple walls. Light seared through the darkened room. Virgil covered his eyes with his arm and ducked his head low. A noise left his throat, but he couldn’t tell what it was over the horrifying tremors and cracks. Then, it passed and what remained was silence.
“Finally!” a voice boomed, “I was starting to think we’d be trapped forever!”
“I wonder how long it’s been,” said another, his voice softer, but full of joy and happiness Virgil hadn’t experienced before.
“If my calculations are correct, it has been approximately four-hundred seventy-six years, nine months, two weeks, four days, five hours, and eleven minutes.”
“How’d you keep track of that?” the second voice asked.
“I have my ways.”
“Well, what matters is we’re free!” the first voice called again.
“Yep!” the second voice chimed, “All thanks to this kiddo right here!”
Virgil let his trembling arms fall and his eyes looked up. The statues of the fates were destroyed. In their place, in a size far smaller than the size of the statues let on, were human-sized versions of the same beings. To the left was Roman, his draped gown and sash now colored white and red, respectively, instead of the stone gray he was shown with. Next to him was Logan, who’s plain gown was a deep blue with speckles of gold, like the night sky reflected against the still waves of the ocean. Then to his right was Patton, who’s bright gown eased in colors and showed something akin to a rainbow, but with lighter versions of colors. Virgil blinked up at them.
“What... is happening?”
“You freed us!” Roman called. Alright, that was clearly the first voice Virgil heard. At least some clarity was being had, though not enough to understand what was fully going on.
“Is that supposed to happen? None of the other villagers told me that would happen,” Virgil said.
“No,” Logan answered, his voice clearly belonging to the third person that had spoke, “You are the only one that could free us upon your eighteenth birthday. Was this story not shared in your sacred texts? It should have been written in once we were sealed into these statues. That was part of the arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
“You mean, you don’t know about the spell?” Patton asked.
“What spell?! What are you talking about?!”
Virgil winced at the anger in his words, but they were too late to take back now. Should he bow his head and apologize? Would they torture him if they didn’t? The texts did suggest there would be great punishments if the rules of the texts weren’t followed. The three exchanged looks. Virgil prepared an apology in his head and inhaled to speak it. Then Logan motioned. The great text flew from the alter behind Virgil and came into his hands. He opened the pages and flipped through them. The further he got, the more he frowned.
“It appears that some terrible travesty has occurred in our absence,” Logan asked.
“What do you mean?” Patton asked. Logan closed the text.
“I am afraid this is not the text that was crafted by Thomas. This is a different text, one that has been considerably altered to the point where it no longer mirrors the truth. It is useless to us.”
“Great,” Roman said with a dramatic gesture of both of his arms, “Guess that means he’s not prepared either.” He motioned to Virgil. Virgil blinked and looked at the three of them with mounting panic.
“Prepared for what?” he asked.
“Could Thomas’s book still exist somewhere?” Patton asked.
“It will still exist. We will need to go through a process to find it, however. There is nothing that can be done about that now.”
“How long is that going to take us? Another four hundred years?” Roman asked.
“I do not believe so, as he will be necessary in order for the text to be properly used,” Logan said, motioning to Virgil again. Virgil tensed.
“What?!” Virgil yelled.
“He could live for five hundred years,” Roman said.
“Humans do not have a life expectancy of one hundred years, let alone five hundred. It would be unrealistic to assume that this human would sustain life for such a long time.”
“I-”
“Unless we can get a spell to keep him from dying,” Patton said, “Then we can-”
“Hey!”
Virgil’s yell echoed around the hall. He stood. The three fates froze and looked at him. Virgil clenched his fists and his chest heaved out angry breaths.
“You keep saying all this shit about needing me and I don’t know what you’re talk about. So either explain all what’s happening or I’m leaving and you can just go on this quest on your own.”
There was silence. The three fates looked at each other again. Then Logan sighed.
“The texts that have been placed here are false prophecies,” Logan said, “The tales of us are vastly fictionalized and the great war it speaks of was far less victorious for us. Although we were able to defeat the evil presented, it was not completely vanquished as this text claims. On the contrary, quite a bit of that great evil escaped our grasp before we could manage any level of containment. We sought the help of a prophet, Thomas, who determined that a great destiny needed to be forged in order for this great evil to be destroyed. He used his magic to craft this destiny and seal it into the fated crystals, which locked the destiny in place. Once the destiny was set, we were sealed in stone to await the arrival of the chosen born, which would be you. Your role is to use the text that Thomas wrote after we are sealed. There are spells in there that are necessary for destroying the evil, but they are written in a way that only you will be able to read. At least, that was the intention. If this story had not been passed around as was intended, and you have not been able to read even copies of the text, there was no guarantee that such a reading will work. However, your sight is necessary in order for the destiny to be completed.”
“And if it’s not completed?” Virgil asked.
“The great evil will corrupt and destroy what remains of this world.”
Great. Virgil glared at the ground. His eye caught sight of the paper that made it’s way onto the ground. His sight lingered on it a little too long, because hand came in and picked it up.
“What’s this?” Roman asked, holding it between his fingers.
“My fate,” Virgil said, “Everyone in the village gets one on their eighteenth birthday. We’re supposed to come here and get them. Elder says they’re from you.”
“Why would we supply fates?” Logan asked.
“Be... cause you’re the fates?” Virgil asked.
Roman opened the folded paper.
“What’s it say?” Patton asked. Virgil could see the fate bouncing on his toes out of his field of vision.
“Farmer,” Roman said dully.
“This is very disconcerting,” Logan said.
“So the elder lied, big deal,” Roman said.
“No, I am afraid it is far worse than that. This is not simply a lie. This is a belief system built upon a text that is not the true prophecy. We will need to take a copy with us and examine it in more detail to determine how these false stories have been spread. If they have been spread in a way that would prevent are discovery and use of the destined text, we will have far more difficulty retrieving it than realized. You, uh... I’m sorry, I don’t believe we ever got your name.”
Logan’s eyes were on him. The other two looked as well. Virgil lowered his head at the sudden attention and felt heat rise on his cheeks.
“Virgil,” he said.
“Virgil,” Logan repeated, “We will need your assistance with more than just reading texts, and it is quite possible that this journey will be dangerous. Are you able to use any weapons?”
“No.”
“Are you familiar with any kind of magic?”
“No.”
“Are you knowledgeable with-”
“I don’t know how to fight or defend myself, okay?” Virgil snapped. Silence. The three looked at him. Then Roman placed his hands on his hips.
“Well, it’s never too late to start learning,” Roman said, “I can teach you on the way.”
“On the way?” Virgil asked.
“We must find the text as soon as possible,” Logan said, “And it will be too dangerous for you to remain here while we search, especially once the others in your village realize you were responsible for our freedom. They may not be directly tied to the evil forces we need to destroy, but they will certainly spread the word of our revival and your role in it.”
“So I have to go with you?” Virgil asked, “I don’t have a choice?”
“Of course you have a choice,” Patton said, “We can’t make you help us.”
Virgil opened his mouth, but his words caught. He looked at Patton with wide eyes and frowned.
“But... it’s called a destiny."
"Indeed, but it is not your specific destiny. It is a path in a story that requires multiple elements to succeed in order to be fulfilled.” Logan said, his voice still holding that matter-of-fact tone, “In reality, you do have the freedom of choice. However, that choice can cause a rather large effect on either side. If you choose to assist us, we have a chance at completing the prophecy and defeating the great evil. On the other hand, if you decide to not assist us, there is a far higher chance that the great evil will take over. While we can attempt to garner your aide, we cannot force you into either decision. You must make the choice yourself.”
“But the whole thing about this eighteenth birthday thing is to get told what to do.”
“Ew,” Roman said, “Why would you want that?”
“I didn’t want that,” Virgil said, “But I always thought that that’s just how it was.”
“Well, it’s not that way, kiddo,” Patton said, “You have a choice. Do you want to help us?”
“We will help protect you if any difficulties were to arise,” Logan said.
“And we can teach you how to defend yourself,” Roman said, “Also, Patton’s a good healer if you do happen to get hurt.”
“Or if Roman happens to stab you,” Logan said.
“That was an accident!” Roman yelled.
“Ah, but it still happened, which mean there is a likelihood of it happening again.”
“Yeah, and maybe next time it’ll be-”
“I’ll do it,” Virgil said. Silence. The three stared at him again. Virgil lowered his head and shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ll... help you.” He raised his head then. “But I want to be included in decisions if we’re all trying to figure out where to go or whatever. And I want to get to a point where I can help myself if I get into trouble. I don’t want you guys saving me all the time.”
“Agreed,” Logan said, “We should leave. Do you wish to... say goodbye to anyone?”
“Nah,” Virgil said, “Better they not know I left with you guys, right?”
“Indeed,” Logan said with the softest of smiles.
“Let’s get going then!” Roman called. Then he snapped his fingers. The clothes of the three fates changed into something akin to what Virgil was wearing - long cloaks of various colors with hoods and some tattered clothing. They looked younger, almost Virgil’s age, with all that on instead of their elegant gowns.
“Is there another exit other than the obvious one behind you?” Logan asked.
“Yeah, there’s a back door,” Virgil answered, “I’ll take you to it.”
He walked around the ledge and towards the back of the front hall. As he passed Patton, the moral fate gave him a bright smile and bounced a little. Guess he was happy with the choice Virgil made. At that moment, Virgil wasn’t sure how happy he personally was with it, but it definitely seemed better than the alternative, and that was enough.
