Chapter Text
The sea was calm, was his first thought when he sat on the railing of the balcony, the dark stone glimmering silver under the moonlight, gilded the waves and painting the landscape in dark shades and sinuous shadows that were breathtaking in their beauty, despite the simmering sense of wrong that night brought upon them all.
Then again, that could be just him.
The sea was calm, the wind but a quiet whisper, and even the land, the murmur of the trees and grumbles of the earth, had given way to a quiet that bespoke of contentment, of peace.
Maybe, it was that feeling that gave the sight such beauty.
It could be.
It was strange for him, his very existence so entrenched in blood and war, to feel such tranquility brush his essence, mingling with it. He, who could see beauty in war, in the arch of a sword strike, in the fierce determination and unbending will of ally and enemy alike, where others saw naught but a picture of despair, all the hopes in this world, dashed. But then again, even in war one could experience moments of silence, of quiet. Not of peace, however. It was never quite this content, never left him anything but expectant, his blood boiling in anticipation for the next clash. Like the calm before the storm.
There was no storm coming, however.
And still, it was… nice.
He paid no more attention than they deserved to the footfalls making their way to him, the clicking sounds of armored boots kicking the stone with light, sure steps, until a weight made itself known at his back, settling contentedly against his side, giving the waves no attention or regard as he leant lazily on the rail, content as the world around them.
“A beautiful night, isn't it, Master?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice filled with amusement, breaking through the silence shamelessly.
But then, when was his disciple anything but shameless?
“As much as any other" he didn't bother to turn towards him, feeling his expectation in his very bones.
It was a feeling he relished, for few were those capable to stand by his side, much less surpass his skill, and still, that was something this child would do, his Will an inferno of Change, his brilliance as blatant as the Sun itself.
It was because of that feeling that he quickly relented, giving in to the foolish puppy he’d somehow ended up teaching.
“If you have questions, ask, brat” he sighed, exasperated and fond, turning mauve eyes towards the man by his side, the silly child that had, quite literally, stumbled into him bathing, declared the view nice, and then threatened him into lessons for his bloodied spear and clothes “Was that not my first lesson to you?”
“Hmm, I was just… wondering, I guess" he replied, his smirk just this side of smug.
Such a brat.
It was fortunate he knew how to deal with his shenanigans by now.
“...Mayhap a refresher would do you well”
The smirk was promptly swept of by a wave of panic, as the man frantically tried to dissuade him of the notion.
“No need, Master! This disciple is just-sleepy! Not thinking clearly, of course. Er…”
“The question, brat"
“I was-wondering, if you knew" he said, turning his face towards the waves.
He resisted the urge to pinch his nose.
“What now?”
Skirting around the subject was something this troublesome student of his did often. He blamed the nature of his essence.
The wind was a wilful thing, and he tried not to punish his student for the nature he had been borne to.
It was still irritating, however.
The man grinned, of course he did, the irritating brat he was, warm as the Sun and as childish as he’d ever been.
But there was-something, in his eyes.
He didn't like it. It -whatever it was- didn't belong in his cheerful, happy puppy of a student.
“I overheard a visiting Scholar-" he started, taking the tones of a storyteller with gleeful aplomb, the something in his eyes taking a backseat to his overdramatic tendencies.
Irritating brat. He was doing it on purpose, wasn't he?
“Of course you did” he interrupted, ever suffering, because of course his student couldn't be straightforward even for that, could he?
Definitely a brat.
He even directed a look filled with reproach his way! No matter how playful it was, the idiot was clearly asking for extra training in the morrow.
He’d be happy to oblige.
(Poor, poor Ferdiad, he didn't know what awaited him.)
“I heard the Old Man, down in the marketplace by the port, say that light is the fastest thing there is!” he explained, triumphant “He said stars are made of light, like the Sun! And that they're really, really far away, yet, their light reaches us!”
“I see" it was interesting enough, he supposed, although he didn't know whatever that had to do with him.
Still, giving in to the brat’s whims from time to time wasn't an entirely wrong pursuit. Sometimes they even demonstrated illuminating, providing insight into matters long abandoned in the corners and crevices of his soul.
“Isn’t it funny, Master?” he smiled, sharp and smug, golden eyes glinting knowingly, before laughing, a boisterous sound that could be heard for miles.
Irritating, obnoxious little brat.
“How so?” he asked, curious, deciding that disciplining his student could wait for dawn, where his screams for mercy would go ignored by the populace at large.
They were used to it, at this point.
Besides, it would be rude to wake everyone up right this instant, and he prided himself for being a considerate Monarch, if nothing else.
The grumpy cat that was the idiot’s companion didn't deserve to be woken by his friend’s idiocy, either, the poor man. He’d already been dragged into the insanity that were his lands to train alongside the sunny brat, dealing with the puppy day to day. No need to punish him further.
He’d suffer enough at dawn
“Well" he paused, considering, taking a sideways look his way before turning to the sea, dark and open before their eyes.
He slouched by his side, his weight in his is forearms, set beside him on the stone railing, their hair whipping in the wind, before turning his contemplative gaze on him.
“Well-" he repeated, his voice a soft murmur in the night “-how can light be the fastest thing in this world, when it arrives always after the shadow?” he grinned cockyly, arrogance in every gesture.
Yet, his eyes held naught but tenderness.
He took a breath, very carefully, and let it go, valiantly ignoring the heat filling his cheeks as he tightened his lips in a stern line, despite already knowing, from previous taunts, that he looked as if he were pouting.
“The point, brat?”
He laughed, unrestrained and free, and- he softened, his whole being.
Truly, this child would never change.
A part of him, the part he rarely ever acknowledged but never truly ignored, was unspeakably, unbearably thankful for this. For the world would be a darker place without his soul to light up with it's warmth and cheer.
Still, he hit the brat on the shin, just in case.
It wouldn't do for people to think he’d gone soft, of all things.
“Now, now, Master. Don't go hitting me now! I speak but truth, after all" his grin, his cheer, his laughter, turned into a serious line on his face with no warning, and he turned towards him, taking his slender hands on his own, broader one's “Master, they-people, that Scholar come from the East to speak his part, they say-they say light can't exist without darkness" his eyes darkened, his brow furrowed “That darkness can't exist without light"
Oh.
Oh
And-he understood.
Still, he groaned, not letting himself be affected by the grim tone and serious mien of this sunny child he adored more than words could ever express. It was-it was more than a little unsettling, because it didn't fit him, it didn't belong in him, and he refused to see such a look on his face ever again, if it could be helped.
“Get on with it, puppy" it was a whisper, but still, his voice was loud in the sudden stillness, the contentment of the moment shattered and broken beyond repair.
He’d never longed for peace before, he probably never would, but-he wondered, if this feeling was it.
He sometimes forgot the storm well hidden in the breast of this silly, cheerful moron. He shouldn't but, it was so easy.
“You will exist long after I’m gone" it was a statement of fact, said with a certainty that couldn't be denied, couldn't be argued with, for it was a Truth of the World, a reality that would remain unchallenged by Time. Something, he thought sourly, he despised being reminded of “Darkness-Shadow, it needs no light to exist, only-it needs light to be appreciated. This, I know, and I-" he fidgeted, averting his eyes even as the gentle grip on his hands tightened “I worry, is all”
The smile he directed his way was a tremulous, empty thing.
“And I wanted-" he continued, taking a fortifying breath and going boldly forward, so unlike himself he left him bewildered “-you will be well when I’m gone, won't you? You will-will you be happy? Would you… promise me this, at least?”
The silence that followed had a weight all on its own.
He would live, of this, he had no doubt.
He had defied the laws of reality through the mastery of one skill and one skill alone, had reached beyond the realm of mortals without truly meaning to, looking, always looking for a challenge on a skill that had reached the height of humanity at his hands, and had surpassed it, thoughtlessly, carelessly, not long after.
And, as always, there was a price to pay for reaching beyond one’s limitations, beyond one’s reach. Beyond what humanity was supposed to. He’d touched divinity, had slain it with the kind of unthinking strength that belonged not in a mortal’s grasp, when he didn't possess it, neither the blood, nor the favour, nor the curses.
He would live.
It was a promise he could make without pause or hesitation.
But.
Could he be happy?
He hadn’t known when he’d possessed strength and power beyond that of any other mortal, when he’d surpassed it. His awareness belonged only for skill at arms, for his beloved Runes, for the spears he’d dedicated his life, already longer than it should have ever been, to.
What was happiness?
Did it matter?
He sighed, suddenly so, very tired.
“You silly dog" he murmured, pulling at his hands “Come here”
“Promise me first" he insisted, stubborn, a plea in sunburst eyes even as he set his shoulders, his sharp jaw tense.
“Puppy…”
“Promise me" he repeated, firm. Unyielding.
Because he knew - better than anyone, the sly bastard - that he had never made a promise he didn't intend to keep.
And he would have gladly given this child his wish, his life and happiness left in his hands to do with them as he damn well pleases, but-
The problem was, he didn't know if he could keep this one.
Still.
He had never been able to deny him, course it all.
“...Very well. I promise you this, mo cú. I will go on long after you’ve Departed this World, and I won't allow any to rip me from it without a Fight worth of Song"
He could feel it, the chains, the Geas that sat upon this land like a bear trap waiting to be sprung, thrum in his veins alongside his blood, settling in his heart with a soft, golden glow.
He despised it with his whole being. And yet, he couldn't help but love it all the same -desperately.
[Flame intermingled with Flame, Forevermore]
It was done.
“What of your happiness, Master?” he asked, eyes intent and searching, almost desperate. For what, he didn't know.
“I can't promise you that, silly pup" he stated, for it was another truth, the nebulousness of the emotion, the uncertainty of that which they call Future “I don't know if I’ll be happy. But...I’ll try. For you" he cleared his throat, returning his eyes to the black expanse of nothing that was the ocean.
He was not blushing. He wasn't!
Whoever thought otherwise would be happily picked up as a volunteer to spar with him in the morrow. He had a trick to teach his students. It may end with the vict-volunteer going though a couple of the walls of his fortress, but needs must. Their sacrifice would be well remembered, he was sure. [As a warning]
He side-eyed his student and the -not!- blush intensified at the bright, warm glow of him, at the dusty shade of the youth’s own cheeks and cheerful grin directed his way.
Why were puppies always so cute?! Why must he hold such weakness towards those eyes?! He was King, he shouldn't fold like wet parchment each and every time they were directed his way! It was unseemly!
He laughed, the irritating little shite!
“Master loves me, after all!” he remarked happily, all flowers and rainbows and adorableness, despite the fact that he was already a head and a half taller and at least half a body broader than the Master he was directing such look towards.
Shameless little shite.
That’s it, he was doubling training. For a month. See how the brat likes it.
They’d survive. Probably.
“E-enough out of you! You-you brat!”
His only answer was a laugh, unrestrained and resounding in the calm of the night, alongside a smile, warm as the Sun, directed his way.
Then- the world-
Changed.
”Thank you, Master, for keeping your promise"
His breath caught.
His student-he was-he was covered in blood. His puppy, his beloved, adored disciple, mauled and broken in body, if not in soul, and still smiling. Why was he still smiling? Why-Why did he sound so relieved when he was dying?!
“Cú!”
He had to fix him, he could fix him! Even if he had to bend his very being in ways he was never meant to do so, he would! He’d been broken for so long already [when?], just a little more, just a little further, for his hound.
“It will be alright”
The world twisted.
“But it’s not time yet, for you to join me" he continued, unimpeded by the blood ticking down his chin, the way his chest was sunken and his ribs poked through his skin in the macabre way he remembered Seeing long before he’d met the man that would one day suffer such an end.
Reclined against a stone, surrounded by the unmoving corpses of enemy and ally alike, the betrayal he’d been through, had been warned about and never truly believed in ever burning in his gaze.
“Everything will be alright”
He was missing an eye, he noted, frozen in shock and horror. He’d been told, by the kitten’s son, that a lucky arrow from the traitors had taken one of his eyes, one of the eyes that had once upon a time looked upon him so gently, so tenderly, but he hadn't wanted to believe it, to see it-
“What-?!”
“They’re calling you back, your comrades” his smile was a nightmare that had haunted him for centuries, hollow and empty, parted lips tinted blue under the rich crimson of blood, his one remaining eye congealed in death, the golden sheen he’d kept close to his heart unrecognizable in death “Just-"
He hadn't wanted to see it, he'd never wanted to see it-!
The world turned.
They were both uptight now, he noted absently, and still, the image didn't change, the nightmare didn't change in his mind’s eye. And oh, but his rage had known no bounds, and still it felt insufficient in the face of the true damage infringed upon his student, his pride and joy, his happiness. His love.
There was a reason he’d never wanted to see it.
The world wouldn't have survived his rampage, had he seen it. It still might not.
His student-mauled, broken, and so terribly still.
He couldn't-
“Please, I’m so sorry!”
“I’m always with you, mo scáth"
He was pushed, and-
The world shattered.
And his silly hound, his beloved student, the idiot he’d once adored above all else, more than his life, his kingdom, his death, despite knowing his fate, knowing his end, followed, fading in the blinding orange light that washed over everything around him. [Ever so easy to love, that fool.]
“Come back, please!”
“Come now, Rainbow Bearers, the Princess calls"
The light cleared and-
There were two craters in the middle of the clearing, the Young Vongola -so very young, younger than he’d been for years- had tears in his eyes and a frown maring his forehead, looking ahead with something dismayed and terribly sad in his gaze, barely kept uptight by his Storm and Rain.
And-only the Mist was as he should be. How…? No matter.
He’d just had his Hound within reach, and everything -life, death, everything in between- had slipped between his fingers, hadn't it?
The influx of memories, of familiar-unknown-flame-that-isn’t wasn't helping. At all.
“No…”
He’d wanted-
They were speaking, his fellow Arcobaleno and the Young Tenth Generation of Vongola, but he could hear nothing, could see nothing but warm golden eyes and hair black and wild, the smile of a beast in a handsome face, bloodsoaked leather armour and crimson splatters on pale, freckled skin.
He stood back, and knew the others thought nothing of it.
But Skull-
He was-
“You’re all late"
His response was automatic, used as he was to that dismissive tone in that childish, squeaky voice, even as something within him screamed because he didn't care, did he? Did he?! Why?! Why did he care?! He’d been one breath-not-taken, one wish-not-fulfilled away from him, from his greyhound, and still, he wanted-!
Something.
Anything!
His mind was a tangle of confusion and grief and anger and he couldn't-
“What did you say, Reborn?!”
“Leave it, Skull, kora!” barked Colonnello, not even looking at him
No one was looking at him.
Thank the gods for his helmet because he had no idea what face he was making and he didn't want anyone else to see. Couldn't bear to let any of them see.
But-
Some of that tangle unwove, the wave of grief became-bearable, with that simple, innocuous interaction. Just, yelling at Reborn a bit.
It, helped? Somehow.
He didn't even know anymore.
“Everyone really is an infant…”
Ah, right, this was the first time the Young Vongola had met them all, wasn't it? It was… different, from last time around? The first time? He had been older, at least. Closer to his twenties, yes. Reborn had refused to speak of his Curse, their Curse, until it was already too late.
The reaction was -would be? Had been? Urg, time-travel was confusing even when one wasn't the recipient, wasn't it?- the same, though.
It was strangely calming.
That was ok.
He needed calming. Desperately.
He also needed to get the heck away from here.
Before he destroyed a good chunk of the countryside, if possible.
Unmaking the Seal had been an horrible, terrible idea and he regretted all the life-choices that had led to this [That was a lie, he regretted nothing but the shackles of the Curse he bore anew.]
“We all know the situation. Yuni communicated with us through the flames that went through our Pacifiers"
No wonder he had no fucking clue what the fuck was even going on anymore. He kept his Flames -the Core of them, that is- as far away from that thing and its eldritch influence as physically possible when it was pretty much stuck to him and sucking on then like a particularly greedy leech.
After all, that was were-
His Flames spiked in sudden panic, terror cresting like wave on his senses, the anxiety, barely held at bay, crushing him and-
Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
Just breathe, for the love of-
It will be over soon. Just a second, just a minute, just an hour, before running away, far away from here. Where he will be alone. Where he will be allowed to grieve. To scream, and destroy, and rage. To cry. But not here. Not here.
Just a little bit more.
“Yuni?”
“Yeah" Colonnello nodded.
Fon stepped forward, a serene smile on his face and eyes only for his young disciple and feral nephew.
Skull -he was Skull here, wasn't he? Amongst the Arcobaleno. He could be nothing but Skull in this place, he was nothing but Skull, was allowed to be nothing but Skull. Don't break now. Hold it, hold it, c’mon!- struggled to stay still.
Stillness was good. Stillness was expected. Skull was terrified of Reborn, still, wasn't he? Ten years ago? They were fuzzy, his memories, his everything. When had that changed? [They’d been dying already, right?]
“Yuni also informed us of what influence Byakuran’s defeat would have on the world" informed the Chinese assassin.
It was Colonnello that continued to explain, the way not only their timeline, but all of them would reset to the point where the white-haired teenager would receive the Mare Rings, all the damage caused reversed, to the joy of everyone present.
He emptied his mind and allowed the words, the conversation, to wash over him, to numb him to everything else.
Verde, of course, stepped forward to dress down the redheaded young man -a fellow scientist, probably- with the very valid question about dimensions, and if it was truly possible to rewrite them like source-code. Rudely, since it was Verde.
“Yuni sacrificed her life in order to prevent that from happening" Fon turned to the Young Vongola with a warm smile, serene as always, but more honest, somehow, than Skull -he was Skull, now- ever remembered it being “With our aid, Yuni wanted her Flame to be undying. This way, she would be able to Seal away the Mare Rings in the past-or, in other words, your time, forever” Fon explained.
“Is it possible? To seal the Mare Rings in the past…?” inquired Tuna, exhausted and trembling.
Probably shock, starting to sink in.
He’d just… killed Byakuran, hadn't he? Had Reborn already talked to him?
No. Forget it. He couldn't afford to be concerned for someone else when he was the emotional equivalent of a strong breeze away from breaking.
“Yuni entrusted that task to us. She sacrificed her life, in order to create eternal peace"
Something in him cracked.
Eternal peace? Don't joke with him!
How disgustingly naïve.
He, his very being, his very Essence was mired with War. He was Conflict made Manifest, the Embodiment of Sorrow, he was The Shadow. He’d twisted his Will, his Flame, when he’d yet to be considered anything but an insignificant ant in the eyes of the Weyr, and given it shape, and from it came a weapon, a Spear, filled with bloodlust enough to render hardened knights silent, and a thirst for battle only Gods of War had been able to match. A Spear that could break causality with a singular ease that had frightened mortal and immortal alike, that had reduced beings of might and power into trembling, mewling lumps of fear at his feet.
He had been born to War, been made for it.
He despised War these days, yes. The impersonal, unfeeling nature of it. There was no match of Skill, no Crossing of Blades, no Song in their Blood, seeking their Glory amongst the corpses of the fallen, searching for Hope while walking over the bodies of friends, enemies and the forgotten. Not even their aim was entirely their own.
It was disgusting.
[Fon, Viper, even Lal were different. Reborn was different. The rest? All the same.]
Thing is, Scáthach knew war in a way no mortal did, these days.
Knew Seals better than those that employed them to their own ends, as well.
Just because one conflict had been averted didn't mean war wouldn't happen again. [War was always happening, be it an Armed Conflict or an Internal Struggle]
He would know.
“Yuni did say we would be able to return to ‘a peaceful past’" Reborn cut in, derailing Scáthach’s- Skull, Skull, he was Skull. Fuck-train of thought.
Breathe, he reminded himself.
Just breathe. Everything is over. It won't be okay for now, maybe not ever, but it was over. It was over. Just breathe, and remember that which you’d forgotten -the sound of his voice, the ring of his laugh, oh gods -, forget everything else but that which you wish to remember -his smile, he'd never forgotten his smile, he refused to-, and reassert yourself.
He needed to reassert himself.
Or he wouldn't be the only one to suffer.