❛the ends justify the means.❜
( part two of deadwater kings )
The board is set and Shabina chose her side. The better world she dreamed of is finally within her grasp, but she struggles when the path to victory seems to be paved in blood. The long...
"Our roles are nothing more than how the times choose to cast us as."
—AvX: Consequences #4
Ups! Gambar ini tidak mengikuti Pedoman Konten kami. Untuk melanjutkan publikasi, hapuslah gambar ini atau unggah gambar lain.
Hadrian ducked into the tent, clearing the corners with an old instinct. Unlike most of the other tents, this one was full of knick knacks and soft personal additions. Books, rugs, clothes, even a few toys littered the fabric floor. The fabric walls filtered in warm sunlight.
A desk sat next to the cot, lines of ink filling half the page. Hadrian didn't read it. He stood at the mouth of the tent, backlit by the sun, and stared at the sole occupant.
It was a human. Nothing special or interesting about him.
Once muscled and lean, the human now verged on boniness despite Hadrian's best efforts to help him recover from his exile. A fabric loop leashed his ankle to a spike in the ground.
His hair, at least, seemed cleaner than the last time Hadrian had checked on him.
"Janus," Hadrian said. "You wanted to see me?"
The man who used to be a king looked up. He closed the book he'd been reading—or maybe pretending to read, it was upside-down. Hadrian stepped closer and tilted his head to read the cover. The Hobbit. How fitting.
Bright blue eyes stared Hadrian down.
He stared right back, completely unimpressed.
"You know," Janus dropped his semi-regal act and tucked his knees up to his chest, "you really shouldn't bend so easy when a prisoner makes a request. It just looks bad. You're the king, act like it! Let me stew for a little while, maybe cut down on my meals or stop taking out the shit bucket."
Janus raised his tethered leg. "Or replace this sucker with something that would actually stop me."
Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Are you complaining about my hosting abilities or my ruling? Because I'm not taking advice on either from you."
"Then it wouldn't matter which one," Janus said. He gestured at his tent. "I'm just saying these are alarmingly sweet digs for a prisoner."
Hadrian's mouth twitched towards a smirk.
"Right," Janus rolled his eyes, "I'm not a prisoner. So you've said. But keeping me sober and tying me to the floor kind of sends mixed messages if you're going for the 'let's be friends!' angle. Just saying."
Hadrian walked over to the letter Janus had been writing. "If it makes you feel better," he scanned the words, "I've got plans for you that I know you'll hate."
It was cipher, obviously, but Hadrian could break any code if he tried hard enough. Especially now that he knew what Janus preferred. A mix of Vignere and Columnar Transposition using both the Latin alphabet and a smattering of Japanese characters for added flair. Beneath all the fancy layers, though, it was simple English with Russian syntax.
A second pass over Janus' letter revealed that it was gibberish underneath all that. The same gibberish he'd been writing for the past five weeks since Hadrian got his hands on the human. Probably a red herring—a poor attempt at wasting Hadrian's time.
He tapped the page. "If that's everything you wanted to say, I have better things to do."
Just as he made to leave, the bed creaked as Janus stood up. Hadrian read the air, determining that he wasn't going to attack.
"Wait."
Hadrian turned his head, not quite looking at Janus. "Yes?"
"Yeah, now that you mention it..." Janus rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "I'm kind of bored in here. You know, there's a chess set in my old rooms—totally unique, very dear to my heart, an old friend carved it for me—and I was wondering—"
"I'll send someone," Hadrian cut him off.
He turned his back to Janus and left the tent, ignoring the stream of overblown gratitude that followed him.
He closed the tent flap with a flick of his finger.
Malachai was standing guard just beside the entrance, raising his brows. "So?"
"He wants his chess set," Hadrian said. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.
"I can get it."
Hadrian sighed and started walking, barely aware of Malachai on his heels.
"Half the covens are headed back there, anyway—it's not that big of a deal." Malachai had both hands in his pockets, bouncing on his heels as he walked.
He trusted Malachai—of course he did. He probably trusted him more than he did Ilse at the moment. Hadrian rolled his shoulders, glancing back at the tents.
Most of the coven leaders were going back to Janus' island, the most easily defensible of their strongholds and, perhaps most importantly, the one that Hadrian generally didn't spend time on.
He should probably have someone to keep an eye on them.
"Fine," Hadrian said, ignoring the little hop of delight that Malachai gave. "But be careful and stay safe. You're a good soldier—I don't want to lose you."
Malachai was grinning. "Don't worry about a thing, my king."
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"Non sequitur" (Latin, lit. "it does not follow")
Something that does not logically relate to what came before.
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a/n
there is a very long and very reasonable explanation for why this chapter exists and why it's so short and why it's so late but i'm not getting into that. just know that i'm Tired and i'm Doing My Best.
