Chapter Text
If there was one thing Roman's mother had always tried to impress upon him (and one that Patton always tried to reinforce when he failed) it was that it was important to regularly take stock of one's blessings, and to be thankful for what one had in life. And Roman was thankful, truly...
After all, hours ago he had been staring down the worst case scenario of watching all of his friends die violently in front of them. But now, they were...safe. Safer. They were safe-ish, and together, and those were two very important things to keep in mind when he had been so close to seeing everything torn apart by the alternative.
So, yes, Roman was thankful. But he was also very, very confused...
Because not two hours ago, Roman had seen several soldiers of under his command gunned down by the Omberan Navy, and been facing the very real prospect of watching the people he cared most about in this world suffer the same fate. And now...
Now he was watching them build sandcastles with a giant.
Well, Patton was the only one focused on building the sandcastles—which were nearly life-sized, with the amount of silt and sand the giant had dredged up onto the rocky edge of the small islet where they were currently being held. Logan was just...watching every little move that the giant made—truly the bravest of them, and for once the most foolish for how close he kept trying to get to the thing. Virgil and Janus were arguing—which was fine, for once, because his life had to have a few familiar constants, he supposed. And Roman...
Roman was currently seated on its shoulder, focused very carefully on not falling off, because the giant had apparently decided he was its favorite.
It was a dubious honor indeed, not least of which because the stress of just how complicated their situation had become made him want to pace, and his current station was not particularly well suited to it.
"Are you sure you're alright up there, Roman?" Patton asked.
"Oh, I'm fine!" Roman insisted. "Just perfect. And even if I wasn't, it's not like there's anything I could do about it!"
"Just let him brood," Janus hissed, diverting his attention from the argument with his brother. "The rest of us can find a solution to this mess without him..."
"I'm not brooding," Roman insisted. "I've been thinking about a solution, but, please, go on and tell me how far the bickering is getting you?"
Janus hissed out something that didn't quite reach him up on his perch, but he couldn't imagine that it was flattering.
"Do you guys have to fight?" Patton said, standing up. "It's not going to help anything."
Unfortunately, Roman found the disappointment in his tone lacked a lot of its usual weight when Patton was currently covered in shore silt from the waist down from playing in the mud like a nymphling.
"I wasn't fighting," Roman argued, "I was calling out Janus and Virgil for fighting-"
"We weren't fighting," Virgil insisted, though he was giving his brother a visible side-eye as he said it. "We just...don't really agree on how we should be looking at the situation."
"I can't begin to imagine what you might be disagreeing about in this whole...disaster," Roman said. "First, our encounter with the Omberans nearly ended in the worst possible way, then this thing woke up and kidnapped us. And now we're stranded out here, with no way to get word back to the Sovereign about what happened or where we are, and if we can't manage to get away from this creature soon, then it's probably going to mean war against Ombera, which we won't be able to win!"
And, ultimately, it would be his fault for failing to stop it.
"Wonderful," Janus said, flicking his chelicerae in disgust as he looked between Roman and his brother. "It's like there's two of you. While our current situation is certainly not the best, it could absolutely be much worse. Further, it may not even be as dire as my brother keeps insisting."
"How?" Virgil asked incredulously. "It's like Roman is saying. We've been kidnapped by some kind of...giant machine, we're hours away from any source of help, and we don't have a clue what it wants from us but it can't be good."
"But that's just it, Virgil," Janus said. "We don't know what it wants. But it hasn't hurt any of us yet."
"He seems friendly to me," Patton said, looking back up at the giant.
The giant was currently shaping sand and mud into some kind of rounded spire in between its legs around the support of a waterlogged tree it had dredged up from the sea floor...
"Friendly?" Roman said. "Patton, you didn't see what it did to the Omberans-"
"That's what I'm saying," Virgil insisted. "It's- I mean between its size and the green fire Roman saw, it's obviously some sort of weapon-"
"We don't actually know that for sure," Logan said.
"Why would anyone build anything this huge if not as a weapon?" Roman argued.
"Why would anyone build a weapon that large?" Logan argued instead. "It's impractical. Anyone who had the capability of creating such a thing would just as easily be able to create four or more at a fraction of that size with close to the same amount of materials."
And Roman hated that he had a point...but even at a quarter of its size, a machine like the giant would be more than any army he had ever heard of would even begin to know how to deal with.
"Why build anything that large?" Janus muttered—practically a stage whisper to reach Roman at his elevation. "We have no way of knowing what it was built for, but it has seemed content to keep us alive, and so far with no greater ambitions than, well...that."
They all looked over to the muddy spire. Unfortunately, the giant noticed their attention and, with one of its unsettling, buzzing roars, it promptly reached out to pick Roman up from his shoulder. He braced for the sudden manhandling, holding deathly still as metallic fingers large enough to crack open his carapace with minimal effort closed around him. It was a struggle to stop himself from fighting back, but by now he knew it was useless, his past attempts at getting free having earned him nothing for his troubles but minor bruises beneath his exoskeleton and a stressed joint in one of his lower arms.
Thankfully, it was a short trip this time, and when the giant's fingers released him it was to place him atop the sagging, rounded mount of its muddy tower.
It took him a few moments to catch his breath and find his footing, but once he had he looked down to see his friends staring up at him with concern.
"You...good?" Virgil asked, sounding a little faint.
"Fantastic," Roman answered, a little more sharply than he would have liked.
It wasn't just the manhandling, unfortunately, as Roman was now covered in even more mud than Patton. He pulled in a slow deep breath and, more to take the attention off himself than anything else, he asked:
"So what exactly were you two arguing about, then?"
Virgil looked at Janus, crossing his two lower sets of arms, while the third gestured invitingly to his brother.
"Go ahead," he invited, "let's get the crazy stuff out of the way early. Tell them your 'brilliant idea'."
Janus now had all of their eyes on him—and the giant's as well, who seemed to have a renewed interest in watching them closely. He hesitated only a moment before letting out a soft hiss.
"Alright, hear me out..." he began, quickly earning an amused huff from his brother.
"Always a promising start," Logan commented tiredly.
"What if this isn't a disaster?" Janus said. "What if this is an opportunity?"
"I'm certain I'm going to regret this one," Roman said slowly, "but by all means, continue."
Janus executed a rather exaggerated—and given their circumstances, very sarcastic—courtier's bow before doing exactly that.
"We know it was probably built somewhere," Janus said, "but we don't know where, or what for, or who built it. But we can guess that it wasn't the Omberans, because obviously their commodore wasn't expecting that thing to come alive the way it did anymore than we were. It has...some manner of intelligence, enough to target Roman's bindings and to realize we were all together despite Virgil and myself being Omberan. It protected us from their javelaunchers, and took us away from the conflict. Whatever it is, whatever it's reasons, it feels like it's already chosen a side, and apparently in our favor. It could be exactly what we need to stop this war from even happening-"
"I thought you were team 'we don't know if it's a weapon'?" Roman asked.
"It doesn't have to be," Janus insisted. "Weapon or not, can you think of a single better deterrent for going to war than a machine the size of a Stars-forsaken mountain?"
"You say that as if we'd ever be able to control it," Virgil said.
"Control may be a strong word," Logan argued, "but it may not be impossible to attempt to direct it..."
"Don't tell me you're entertaining this idea, Logan?" Roman said, honestly surprised.
"The machine exists, whether we like it or not," Logan said, simply. "And, at first examination, Janus is at least correct that its intentions toward us so far seem to be largely benevolent, or at least lacking in malice against us directly. Whether we intend to try to control it or not, we would first need to find out if communication is possible. Given our current powerlessness, no plan we make is going to go anywhere until we know that is even an option."
Roman hated it, but Logan definitely had a point.
"Fine, then," he said, venting a sigh. "Then how do we start? So far the only thing it's communicated to us is that it doesn't like us wandering away...and that it apparently likes to wear me as an accessory. Or as a topper for its- Whatever this is..."
Roman made the mistake of looking down. Like...directly down. All told it really wasn't far—the top of the muddy spire wasn't even as high up as the giant's shoulder while it was seated, where he had been perched before, coming up just a little bit over the height of its knees where it sat. He would still not like to fall that far, he could definitely wind up with a crack in his carapace, or worse, injury to a limb. But while he could easily climb down, he was sure that doing so would provoke the creature, who would simply put him back wherever it wanted him.
He let out another sigh.
"I really wish it would let me get down."
"Well, we could try asking it to," Patton suggested.
"How?" Roman asked. Slowly he turned around to face it. "It's not like I can just say 'Please giant metal man, can I get down?' and expect an answer."
Which wasn't particularly fair, but Roman thought that was just a bit overly optimistic, even for Patton.
Roman watched Patton's lower arms cross in irritation and then—to Roman's immediate panic—he watched him walk over to the giant and knock lightly on its metal foot.
Everyone's attention suddenly narrowed on Patton and the giant, as it too turned its focus upon him. And they all watched tensely—well, everyone except for the giant—as Patton pointed up at Roman, and then pointed toward the ground. The giant's eyes shifted to Roman, then back to Patton. And then, in one of the most terrifying moments of Roman's life, it reached toward him-
And carefully placed him on the ground near Patton's side.
In something of a daze, Roman turned around, slowly, just in time to see the hand that had placed him shift into some sort of gesture—a fist, but with the shorter, opposed digit on the side of the hand pointed upwards. Beside him, Patton looked at all the rest of them—the flesh between his plates looking a bit pale with surprise, as if he hadn't actually expected it to work. Still, when no one else said or did anything Patton brought one of his hands up, hesitantly mimicking the gesture as well as he could...
With a loud, buzzing roar the giant raised both its arms up and then repeated the gesture, holding it up closely to Patton—who very bravely held still for it, considering he was only barely taller than the digit itself.
They all stood stunned for a moment, but it was Roman who broke first, leaping forward to spin Patton around in a hug.
"Patton, that was incredible! You're a genius-"
"Gosh, I- I mean, it's not that special, I was just the first one who tried," Patton protested bashfully, looking up at the giant. "And maybe he's just really smart?"
"Well, either way, this changes everything!"
(In the background, Roman heard Virgil beginning to protest once again, but this time he ignored it.)
"Logan, what should be our next step in opening communications with our massive and mysterious mechanized monstrosity?"
Logan stared at him for a moment before venting a sigh.
"Teaching it our language—or learning its own, if it has one—would most likely be an extended endeavor," Logan said. "However, considering the easy success of Patton's attempt, building a vocabulary of gestures would probably be the simplest and most expedient way of learning to communicate. In fact, its response may have been an attempt to reciprocate, though the exact meaning of its gesture is still unclear."
"We should tell him our names, though!" Patton said, suddenly sounding excited.
(And it really was just like Patton to forget all other concerns in the face of possibly making a friend.)
Though his mandibles twitched briefly in vexation at his cousin's enthusiasm, Logan seemed to consider a moment.
"I suppose that even if we can't get him to talk to us just yet," Logan allowed, "it might be worthwhile to attempt some form of introduction."
Which was all the encouragement Roman needed. He turned sharply to face the giant, opening all four of his arms wide in greeting. The movement easily caught the giant's attention, causing its focus to shift to him, which was...preferable, honestly, and what he had been going for, though neither fact made the clear attention of anything that large even remotely less unnerving.
"Great, Glorious and Most Gentle Giant," Roman opened—because the machine-man might not understand him, but a bold start certainly helped him build up his own confidence. "I am Prince Roman, son of Prismar's Sovereign and Heir-Aspirant to her most High and Honorable office. Allow me to welcome you, formally, to Prismar's shores, and offer you my most sincere and humble gratitude for the aid rendered against the unwarranted aggression of the Omberan Navy."
He punctuated this grand greeting with a careful bow—the same respectful form he might use to greet a noble of near-equal station.
(Somewhere behind him he heard Janus mutter something snidely under his breath, and he recognized Virgil's embarrassed cough, but he didn't see either of them offering to put their best foot forward to make nice with a Stars-forsaken-giant, so they could very well keep their commentary to themselves.)
The reaction Roman got in return was...somewhat underwhelming, if anything the giant did could be said to be under-anything. It merely tipped its head to one side as it watched him, though it let out a brief, stuttering whine.
"Your name!" Patton reminded quickly, his voice a needlessly hushed un-whisper.
"Oh, uh- Roman," he repeated, looking up at the giant, and tapping his thorax with all four of his arms in emphasis. "Prince Roman. Uh- Prince-"
Remembering what Logan had said about gestures he made a vague motion toward the sky with his hands—as if, he would think later, to indicate his title somehow, in spite of the barrier in their understanding. This, perhaps unsurprisingly, managed to get a better response, but it was hard to feel like it was a helpful one...
The giant stared at him for a moment before mimicking the gesture—at least as well as the two arms available allowed. It held the pose for several seconds, staring back at him as Roman stood there, trying to figure out a response of his own. But the giant let out another of those odd, warbling roars—which Roman was beginning, uncomfortably, to suspect was laughter.
Behind him, he heard Janus let out a laugh of his own. Roman turned to direct an irritated glare his way.
"Oh, hush!"
Returning his attention to the giant, Roman pushed out a weary sigh.
"It's fine. We'll work on it."