Chapter 1: Missing in Action
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Wish

by MrSimple

 

This chapter is more of a prologue, and we are not yet in the main character's perspective, but getting the inside scoop from a divine character who'd got a confusing introduction of what is to come.

Despite the odd beginning, I hope you all enjoy.  :)

 

 

Chapter 1: Missing in Action

 

Shade

”I knew she would be fine.” Talking to myself took on a whole new meaning when there actually were other consciences of me.

”Why?” And sometimes there were the curious ones, those who had changed, adapted, transformed into something new.

This was one of them speaking back to me.

I smiled at this intriguing copy of me, and I explained. ”That husband of hers would have killed any such man that dared to touch what was his, let alone permit harm to come to the woman he had foolishly fallen for.”

”...” But I did not appreciate that sudden silence.

Instead of waiting for an answer, I probed the mind of this other me --

-- and became furious. “Who are you to question me what I am on about!? I know what I am doing.”

”Nevermind her, for she was of no importance. That giant was only a distraction that we kept interesting to pass time.”

...Now I wasn’t certain if I preferred the silent treatment or to be given a frank opinion.

But it wasn’t an opinion. We all thought the same, and what this other me said was the foundation of a fact. The oblivious jotnar was nothing more than an interesting find since no others existed anymore. On top of that, she could alter the future. Not by much, but enough to make a difference.

“But the one who was, well, he is still being and not. That was unusually cryptic. I decided to visit this other me and gather what this one was on about.

”Who are you talking about? Must I look inside again to see...?” Then I saw the change this one had made.

To start off: I preferred the female form. This one chose to be male.

And now he was the one who smiled. "The existence of someone is always dependent on whether the timeline had stayed on its course or if it had steered in an entirely other direction.”

I had to admit, that might’ve been more confusing. An explanation was in order, and he knew because I made him sense that.

But just in case, I let him know where he stood. "Mind making some sense before I smack some into you?"

”And you said Kris had a temper. Ah, what was that saying...? Like mother, like daughter?”

”I never want to hear that again. She never would accept that and you know it." I reflected back on my berserking days, and had to admit I was a little crazy as a human. "To her, there had been a real mother who birthed him, but me who turned and made him into what she is now.” I never wanted to consider Kris that way, but now that I had thought about it… “And if I find you speaking ill of her, I will have you silenced for good. It will do best to keep your mouth shut about…" I caught myself not smiling and corrected that by turning that frown upside down. "...About my daughter. Understood?”

”Silence me? And ruin this perfectly good smile?" Oh, this one was mockingly close to being snuffed out. And that only made him smile more."Not a chance.”

With a huff, I demanded: ”Will you get on with this?”

This male me downgraded his smile to smirk at me before going on with a lesson. ”A good example would be --"

"Wait, I must have missed something. What are we making an example of?"

"-- if something good had happened for one person, that which may have lead them in a direction that would never required them to be wanting.” And this me with the brazen balls just ignored me.

Fuming a little, I asked: ”Wanting what?”

”Maybe they ended up lacking a vital improvement? An adaption --"

"They? They who?"

"-- to their environment. Progress that would be enrolled --"

"For fucks sake! Will you answer me?!"

-- into their community where their world had changed.”

...I was beginning to wonder why I bothered visiting this loony.

Since he found a stopping point, I asked: ”Their culture? Who?” I caught myself frowning and smiled again. To be honest, I was supposed to always be smiling, so I supposed I was losing my touch.

But on the inside, we both could sense I no longer wished to exist. I desired nothing more than to find an heir and discover a final rest.

He went on to say, ”Yes, we do."

"Before you go poking around my head, would you mind answering my question? Who the fuck are you talking about?"

"As for those wants, like, say, a desire to end a war? What if someone could not stop this war on their own? Tragic, no?”

”It would depend on what they could’ve offered... wait, are you French? I detect an accent.”

”Themselves."

"...Huh?"

"Had it not occurred to them that surrender would always be an option?” I was about ready to strangle this male me if he didn't give me a straight answer!

But that last thing he mentioned struck a cord in me. Surrender was never an option for my Norse. And I would make that crystal clear with him.

”That wouldn’t be just stopping a war, more like losing, and their culture -- whomever the fuck you are going on about -- would be gone from history. If they had surrendered... yeah, maybe it would’ve meant less deaths. Or more... unfortunately, when you submit, your life is in the victors hands --”

”And those victors would spare those who had submitted.”

"...Did -- did you just interrupt me?"

"Temper, temper. You are so much like your daughter turned pet project."

"...Fuck you."

He just smiled at me. "Back to what I was saying. Victors would choose who they spared based on their wants and needs." When he said it, that didn't sound so illogical. ”What are you not understanding?”

”Those lives -- the spared ones -- they're 'captives.' Don't try to give them a different name, because that is what they are. You surrender, you are killed or captured. Your life is gone." I had thought over what he had said and attempted to clarify it my way. "You are saying, if they surrendered, these people would be sparingly mingled in with the victors?" While I explained my confusion, I leaned forward to inspect this guy for a clue on how he ticked. "That they would adapt. Maybe their children would be born in the land as a new culture? Am I getting this right?"This guy nodded, so that was a good sign he and I were going somewhere. "But through the adoption of one’s culture, these captives and their children lose who they once were. Their identity is lost.”

”Ah, would you like another example?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear anymore of this.

But I did visit him out of interest, and to leave this discussion here would bother me for eternity. Especially if he was this unique to have far stranger thoughts than the rest of us.

He must have taken my silence as permission to continue, because he did. ”Now, such as the case with the Gallowglass. Your Norse, those who had mixed their lineage all over Brythonia to the westward Eire, in Munster and Ulster; or northward, in Alba, in Galloway and Moray; and eastward, the Cymru, in Deheubarth and Gwynedd.”

”Yes, I’m aware of those people. Buuut…?”

”They are an excellent example of an improved culture.” I could detect a smugness in his voice. “Correct?”

”...Yes?”

”Then with the loss of your Norse, such a mix of children from the survivors of war... What would they become?" Before I could respond, he spoke, and I shut my trap. "Strong, powerful, brave, handsome, dominant, and fearsome. These would become the men that many had seen as the great Irish and Scottish warriors. Those thick of arm, wide of leg, broad of chest, and long of beard with a tankard of ale that was always a momentary breath away.”

”Oh, yes, they could stomach a lot, couldn’t they?” If I could. I realized this guy enjoyed listening to himself talk.

But if I recollected correctly, these Celts ate some pretty weird stuff too. The same organ they stuffed with all manner of ingredients to make haggis, they also used as a means of protection when one of them felt the desire to lift their skirts and stretch a slippery intestine on before getting it on.

”...Would you please be more considerate? And they filled the stomachs of lamb, not their intestines.”

”Considerate?" That made me laugh. These were the losers we talked about. My Norse conquered their lands and subjugated all of their lives and wealth. "Even when these Gaelic half-breeds were killing one another, they placed all the fault on their English counterparts. Don't you believe they acted like children?” In a mocked tone, I stated: "I didn't do it. He did it!"

”Ah, back and forth in time to see the wee ones bickering at each other." He nodded in agreement with me. "Yes, it took only submission for these children to become iconic to those warring nations.”

”Wait, which time period are we talking about? I mentioned the English --"

"And I mentioned which kingdoms?"

"Oh, my bad. No English yet." That showed how much I was paying attention to this guy. 
"So are you referring to the Brythonic kingdoms?”

”All nations gave them recognition for their prowess. But what if they didn't submit? What if they had continued to fight on with their very lives on the line? Could they make their future that much better or worse?”

“Would it matter? You do realize that later on, the courts of England spoke French for a reason: a Norman conqueror accidentally killed them all, remember?”

”Yes, I am aware, but it would matter.” I still had to wonder if my other self understood I wasn’t getting what he was getting at. ”That was why your charge had been left with another. She could handle herself without you. At least, you had thought such was the case…”

I did not want comment on that one. I had shown Kris again and again a warning if she strayed away from the path I laid out for her. But she only managed to change how her fate would be executed.

My only voiced response was, ”I’ve made mistakes. We all have.” I leaned in again and told him the fact: "We are not Gods."

"The mortals like to think so."

"I was human. So were you... whoever you were first before becoming this." I shook my head and gestured for him to continue. "What were you getting at with bringing her up?"

”You left her because there was someone else who needed you."

"...No? I came to see you."

"That was your choice."

"Yes? Are you sane?"

"As for me, he needed me far more than ever before. A child, still only a child, and yet... Understand, he was already on the executioner’s block.”

Silently, I took that response as a 'no.' There was apparently a screw loose with this version of me.

”A child?"

"Born in a conquered land."

"I’m gathering that was the point of your 'surrendering' lesson?" He nodded, and I went on to ask: "This child, I am assuming he was of a bloodline we had already mentioned: a Gallowglass?”

And I received another nod. At last, I believed I was starting to see a picture.

He spoke in a hushed tone. ”Yes. Only he was still a child. I had no intention of keeping him the way he was.”

For just a second, I thought about that and rhetorically asked: ”I suppose that was not his choice?”

”But it was his desire." Now he leaned in towards me. "He just didn't know it yet. 
He had only but to surrender --”

”Hold up! No one ever desires to surrender.”

He shifted closer to me. ”There was a want for peace within and without this boy. The way he was would only have brought more war. He had to change to have what he desired.”

I couldn't help myself and smirked. ”You sound defensive of your actions. I was again intrigued. ”What happened?”

”If I had played my hand right, however blind I truly was to his reaction --"

"Oh, so I was right; he didn't want this."

"-- there would’ve been turmoil, but a peace would come. But only after he…”

With a deadpan stare, I waited for him to continue, but only silence followed. So I poked in his dark mushy brain to fill in the blank.

Then continued for him. ”She. You’ve made it clear what you’ve done.”

"Forgive me. I was lost for a... yes. She submitted to His desires, however depraved that may have turned out to be.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. ”Ahmm… you didn't give this kid to some pervert, did you?”

”No. I waited until he was of age before I changed him and --”

”’Of age.’ You realize that could hold a different meaning for every culture." I recounted on my travels that some brides were wed off from their cribs. "For fucks sake... Okay, who did you give her to?”

”All would have followed on course. This child would grow up and live on to hate me, but I had no other choice.”

”For the last fucking time, who!?”

”I can’t say… we did not make the same mistakes we had with Kris.”

That told me one thing. ”She wasn't snuffed out. Great, but how is your little kid living? Good, happy, and healthy I hope?”

”This one, this child, this half-breed had it in their blood to become something more, and I would commit an atrocity to strike that black spark.”

Half-breed...? ”A half-breed? What are you talking about?”

”It’s not our fault. She lives and can travel back whenever she wishes.”

”Travel?" That meant to the mortal world and back here to our own Hellish nightmare. "Wait... She’s here?”

”I didn’t know he would do that to your children…”

"...Eh?"

"I'm sorry..." He was no longer facing me.

”My chi-- Are you alright?”

His mind had gone somewhere else. I could tell my other self was no longer listening. This variant of us had been changed by that child in a bad way.

And I had my proof. I heard from his lips what none of us had ever uttered: an apology.

“Forgive me, Laurel…”

"Well," I reviewed what I knew. "I have a place, time, culture, and now a name. But I could use an event to pinpoint where this all began." I gave my male self a curious, but wary look. "Oh, I so do not want to go in there."

To discover what had happened, I had to probe his mind and see all that had transpired.

And here I was, still recovering from my own loss. Now I had to inspect what made this guy lose his marbles.

What I found was a child who would grow into someone more powerful than all of us combined, but wounded far worse than any of us ever had been. Laurel, the Black Lightning Prince and the Curse of Giske.

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