Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"It was fun playing with all of you, chaos and all. Things are going to be different now, but I'll still be with you all! So... this isn't a goodbye. That means no crying, all right?" Those were the very last words that Grian had said to each of them before he had entered the portal with their captors. To think that they had forced their leader -- no, their friend-- to become a monster... It was absolutely incomprehensible. 

Grian had been a liar, acting as though this had been something to celebrate. Most of them had been, sending him off with teary-eyed smiles. But as the purple glowing light of the portal dispersed into nothingness, the weakly held together lies all shattered at once. 

Pearl fell to the ground, letting out a sob as her smile crumbled. Lowering her head, her hood fell right back over her head but even that wasn't enough to hide her tears. Her drops of sorrow wet the ground beneath her quickly. Tomahawk and Zee, who both had been holding back Jimmy from attacking the Watcher were next to fall. There was no point in holding him back anymore, it was all over. Nothing could be done. 

"Grian!!" The blonde screamed as he ran to where the obsidian portal frame still remained. Tears blurred his vision to the point that he could hardly see, but he kept going anyway. "Guys! Guys if we just get a flint and steel--!!" But no one reacted to his words, each trapped in their own world. Even if they could reopen the portal to the right place, it would be a terrible idea.

Taurtis was curled in on himself on the ground. "It's-- it's all my fault..." He muttered to himself over and over again between sniffs. His best friend was not there to comfort him.

The only one that did not cry. Remaining standing in the center of all the mourners was Martyn. He hadn't moved an inch, continuing to glare at the place where the Watcher and his dear friend had been standing. There was no longer anything to observe, but regardless there was a deep rage that was growing exponentially within him. He felt his breath get shakier as his own body began to tremble, wanting action even more than the scrambling Jimmy. Still, with nothing to point the energy towards, he found himself staying still. 

"Oh Martyn..." A sweet voice began behind him. Such a lovely voice could only belong to his beloved, Netty. Usually even the sound of her voice would soothe him at a time like this, but not now. "What are we going to do now?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was broken, hurting, lost, confused. Just as anyone else here, but hearing it from her out of anyone twisted the elf's heart. 

In response, he growled. "Those sons of bitches are going to pay for what they've done if it's the last thing I do. No one gets to hurt my family."

⊰♢⊱  Some centuries years later ⊰♢⊱

When Martyn awoke, sleep still clung heavily to him. His entire body felt heavy, as though bedrock itself weighed him down. He let out a moan as he tried to open his eyes. His tired senses slowly came to him. The first sense he could register, as always, was hearing.

"-aking up...!" a far away voice exclaimed. 

"Shh... Let him wake in his own time..." Another soothed in a whisper. This one was a low, masculine voice. The other... He was too tired to really pay that much attention. Both were speaking in the tongue of his homeland, an ancient language he hadn't spoken in years. 

Finally able to open his eyes, the next sense he gained was vision. It blurred for a few moments, only allowing him to see a big blob of what he assumed to be a person and... mostly green around them, some yellow mixed in. "I'm... up..." He muttered to them, unsure if he had whispered or shouted it. He sat up despite the protests of his body, rubbing his eyes. After which, he came to realize that he was sitting on the floor. In front of him, on a raised platform, sat a creature on a throne, a golden crown decorating the crest of his brow. 

Standing at what Martyn guessed to be twenty feet tall, the human-esque figure had two pairs of horns protruding from his head. One such pair was the color of gold, branching out into an impressive sixteen points. From the base, it protruded outwards before leaning back inwards as though they were trying to reach and grab his crown. The second pair, the same color as his blond hair, stood more straight up in the air. It had a single curl in it, but what was more impressive was that wrapped around these horns appeared to be ears. Such a sight was grotesque yet brilliant. In such a presence, he barely acknowledged the few servants that lingered around the outskirts of what seemed to be a lavishly decorated throne room. 

"Where-- am I? Who are you?" He choked out, unable to take his eyes off the creature. 

"Me?" The creature asked, slowly standing up. It was such a simple action, and yet he looked so magnificent doing it. Everything about him gave the sense of royalty, that was sure. "I am your king, Martyn. And you are in the Chamber of Echoes, my throne room located in the dimension of Hels." His forest green suit, decorated with bits of gold, glittered and shined with every step that he took. After walking down the steps, his robes dragging behind him, he offered the elf his palm. 

"I... Don't recall having a king." He frowned, looking upwards at the giant person. With such a size difference between the two, the elf couldn't help but feel like a small child in his presence... Not that he would let that show. He stood up on his own accord, wiping off his pants almost as an excuse to not grab the royal's hand. 

"You are an elf, yes? That means whether or not you know it, you are under my dominion, as are all other elves and all other Listeners. It's the blood in your veins that makes me your ruler, the Listener King." The king explained, but even so the smaller one did not discard his frown. He only narrowed his eyes, trying to decipher the truth. Sometimes when he tried hard enough, it would come to him. Not this time, it would seem. 

"Okay, fine then." Martyn huffed. He had years of experience sucking up to all powerful wannabes. This seemed to be no different. "But that doesn't explain what I'm doing here."

Such a bold spirit... he hadn't expected this king of the Listeners to let out a laugh, but he did. "You're just the same as always, Martyn. I can respect that, and I can respect the fact that you do not wish to see me as your king. I am no tyrant; it is within your right to think and speak freely. Certainly more refreshing than the constant demand of praise that others like the Watchers would demand." The surprise on Martyn's face must have been evident, because the Listener hummed again, a slight smile showing his amusement. "Why, you may even kill me if you'd like, hmm?"

For someone who truly radiated the essence of a royal in every way, from his dress, presentation and movements, the creature's words alluded to the fact that he was not any normal ruler. Martyn had never thought about what he expected of a royal, such was irrelevant until now, but this was not what he had expected regardless. "Er, thanks, but if this is some kind of psychological trick to make me like you or something, it's not going to work." Maybe he had spoken to brashly, but years of being stuck under the Watchers' thumbs had made him grow tired of these games.

"I assure you, it is not." The king promised.

"Tell me, then... you still haven't told me how I got here." Martyn merely grumbled, narrowing his eyes further, not hiding his frown. "Or where everyone else is."

"Right, right." the other nodded.  He extended his arm, which Martyn thought he was meant to take (not that he would have held hands with a stranger, who was likely to be his next captor) but then the Listener pushed up his sleeve instead. Wrapped around his arm many times over, almost up to his wrist, was some sort of white fabric that shimmered gold in just the right light. He picked out the end, which had been safely tucked in so it didn't unravel itself, and began to pull on it tighter. The more that he tightened the bandage, to the elf's shock, the more the king shrank. 

"Wha-- how are you--?!" He sputtered as the other seemingly finished, tucking the end back in when he stood around 7 feet. 

"Come, let us discuss everything over a meal. It has been awhile since you last ate, after all." The royal merely smiled, waving for his supposed subject to follow. Against his better judgement, Martyn followed the slow, heavy beat that was the Listener's steps into the hallway. 

"Fine..." He agreed quietly. He was a little annoyed that he couldn't get a straight answer, but he did have to admit that he has a little hungry. He couldn't hide that fact as his stomach growled. As they walked along, he couldn't help but think of Netty. The woman would have scolded him for having such poor manners, even if he may or may not being held captive... he sighed as he forced his shoulders to ease. He'd hear this king out, nice and fair. For now though, he would enjoy the walk. Various Listeners and elves were busy with chores, some walking along while others raced. Many hummed a tune that matched the sound of footsteps, not just theirs but everyone's. 

"A heartbeat..." He hummed, looking back up at the back of the male's head. "My home village had music just like this." People just going about their day had turned into a song that played all day. Even something as simple as dishes clanking together added to the never-ending symphony.

"I would hope that it would... it is a Listener tradition after all." He explained. "There are many traditions that you elves have adopted from the Listeners... You'll learn about them in time." As he spoke this, they passed a servant that wore a mask that covered their entire face, showing none of their features. Something about that sent a shiver down his spine, but he chose not to comment on this. 

"And here we are." The king finished as he found himself in front of a set of giant doors, at least ten times his size. As the doors opened before him, he turned to smile at the blonde. "The dining room!" Behind him was a large table that stretched on for as long as Martyn could see. Any and all types of food piled high on this table, the feast seeming boundless. 

"This is... you mean I can eat this?" He asked. He found himself walking ahead of this horned person to get a closer look. Chicken glazed to perfection. Pork roasted until it was tender. Too many kinds of bread to count. Potatoes mixed with golden carrots. Decorated cakes that nearly stood two feet tall. Platters of colorful fruit. Steaming pots of soup that smelled of flavors he could never had imagined before. And-- what was this? He found himself studying a strange food he had never seen before. It was the shape of an oval, and it was covered in many yellow dots. 

"You can eat anything that you see here... we call that ears of corn." The king said behind him. Not realizing that he was so close made Martyn jump. "We have many modded foods here. Here, sit. You should try some with what we call butter; we have plenty." He moved the nearest chair over to the visitor, who finally took the invitation. As curious as he was about these so-called 'corn ears' and 'butters,' he chose to rip off a piece of ciabatta bread instead. It too was something he had never seen before, but bread was well within his realm of familiarity. He had spent years eating nothing but it and meat that was so tasteless it was indistinguishable from chicken, beef or pork. Bland as it was, it was nice to have something so normal to him. As he bit into the first piece, the king sat across from him. 

That settled, the king got to business as promised as he himself began loading his plate. "Now, what is the last thing that you remember before you awoke? Let us start there." He offered. 

"The last thing..." the mortal echoed. He took another crunchy bite as he tried to remember. Why was it so foggy? "Well... me and the others had moved away from spawn like the Listeners... you... told us. We had been living there for a few awhile, and..." He shook his head as he tried to piece things together. "The Watchers told us they were dismantling the world. And... That's all."

"The Watchers threw you and your friends into the Void." The horned creature summarized. "They kept you all there for many years... A full one of your lifetimes. I was finally able to rescue you after all this time."

Martyn mulled this over, his eyes once again narrowing as he focused on the creature before him. Was this the truth, or was this some kind of well crafted lie? 

"I assure you, it is the truth." He replied, almost as he had understood Martyn's train of thought. And as suspicious as that sounded, something about his aura made the elf believe him... Mostly. It wasn't like he was gullible.

"But why would you save me exactly?" 

"I want you to listen very carefully." The Listener warned. He placed down his fork, readying himself for a rather lengthy speech. "The Great Watchers prophesied that we are on the edge of a great Destruction. The Higher Species as we know it -- Listeners, Watchers, Vexes, Void, Ender Dragons, Guardians and Wardens-- will be forever lost to history in the same way the Sniffers are."

"Good." Martyn nearly spat. After the hell that he had been put through by the all too self important Watchers, he couldn't care less about what happened to them. 

"The impact on the universe itself cannot be comprehended, Martyn." The king lightly scolded. "The little snippets that come to them in visions isn't nearly enough to know what all could befall the worlds... It is such a threat that the Watchers had even surrendered in our last war and asked for my own help." Placing a hand on his chest, he couldn't help to breathe a laugh at the motion. Mortal enemies working together still felt quite odd to him. He shook his head, reminding himself to be serious, as a king should be. "But if that is not enough to worry you, perhaps I should tell you what fate befalls your friend Xelqua... That is, Grian."

And indeed, that did catch Martyn's attention, his eyes widening as he heard the familiar name of the friend that given up everything for him and the others. "You mean Grian is involved in this-- this prophecy?" He asked. His question was left hanging in the air for a few moments as the royal sipped at his green drink that fizzed and bubbled as though it had been boiling. It must have been another modded delicacy.

"His existence was-- is-- the First Sign of Destruction." The larger male explained. "The second sign is that he would flee... and he has. The Watchers tried in vain to prevent it... Evolution was a mean to that end, as was forcing him to become a Watcher, but it was all in vain. They thought that if they constructed him a friend, they could appease him, but that creature... a Champion he was named, perished and that only drove Xelqua out with his grief and overall unhappiness."

Hand tightening on his own glass, the elf nearly glared at the male before him. Soaking in as much information as he could disallowed him from enjoying a proper meal, even with the boundless foods the was spread out just for them. Well used to the feeling of being driven to the edge of starvation itself, it wasn't terribly hard to ignore, especially with all the information being presented to him at once. 

Was he lying? Now more than ever, he needed to discover this truth. He narrowed his even further, straining himself so much that he began to already feel the start of a headache beginning above the area between his eyes. "A Champion..." He repeated after a few moments.

"Yes... a Champion. That was the term they used. Put simply, it was someone that they believed could offset this catastrophe. It grows nearer every day; something drastic has to be done... Creating someone who they didn't believe should exist was what they thought could do it... but of course, without knowing his purpose, it was a meaningless effort." The Listener explained. 

What he said was true, the blonde realized. Well, at least, the king himself said what he believed to be truth. What he said had no deceptions in it. That he could appreciate in the very least. Satisfied with this, he rested his eyes. "And this all ties back to Grian somehow?" He clarified, to which he received a nod in response.

"I admit that I am not fully sure how, but for one reason or another, everything seems to relate to him. It's as though the fate of the worlds will rest on him somehow." The ruler admitted. He had idlily stabbed his fork in the pork on his plate and now he played with it, twisting it until a piece ripped off. 

"Fascinating..." the hybrid hummed before he finished his bread. He had to admit, he had to appreciate the openness of the answer. He would have expected that for such an all-powerful authority figure, a lack of information would be hidden from him, disguised behind a veil of tall tales, high speech and lies. "And why is it that you tell me of all people this?" He asked, though he had a feeling that he knew where this was headed.

"Because Martyn... I would like to train you as my own Champion of sorts." The king only grinned. 

Chapter Text

When the bell rang at the top of the schoolhouse, Martyn was usually among the first of his class to rush right out the door and into the village. Not today, however. Annoyingly, the teacher had told him to stay behind. He was 21, which with his long lifespan was still in his prepubescent years.

"What is it, teacher?" He asked the teacher as he came to the front. He had hardly noticed how she was carrying a book until she set it on the table between them, opened up to a certain page.

"Martyn, I want you to read me this passage." She explained, pointing to the paragraph that she wanted him to start from. The page was covered in Galactic letters rather than the English alphabet.

"Why?" He asked, picking up the book. He couldn't help but glance enviously at the door as the last one of his peers rushed out, laughing. They got to play in the sunshine at last, but he was still stuck in school for some reason. The thought annoyed him almost as much as the idea that humans spent half as much time in school as elves like him. It was all so unfair.

"It'll just take a few short minutes. You'll understand in a second." The teacher promised, causing the boy to sigh.

"Fine..." He mumbled as he picked up the leather-bound book, placing his thumb beside the place he was supposed to start. He cleared his throat before he began to read. "The Listeners worked together to fight the Watchers that wanted to -- en--enslave? The players. Many lives were lost, but they won because of their teamwork and... bravery. They saved the worlds. The Watchers re... retreated as the time came for their next child to be born. The monster would be named... Miesall, named from the shore where the... battle  was won." As he finished the paragraph, he looked up to his teacher as if to ask if she was satisfied and he could go play with his friends, but he was met with a frown.

"Martyn... How do you think you did?" She asked as she placed her hands on his hips, her expression unchanging.

"Well I... think I did good? Can I go play now?" he asked, giggling with a nervous smile as he once again glanced at the open door. Between the sunshine streaming through the opening and the music that was the other children laughing, he could hardly stand still.

"Just another minute." The teacher promised. "The reason why I called you here is because after so many years learning Language, you still have a hard time with the tonal shifts -- the way you speak, especially when reading. Right now, you aren't putting enough..." She moved her hand in a circular motion, trying to find words that the young student would understand. Sighing, she started over. "Language has different accents; that's how you say words in a certain way. We elves use a Listener accent. In our case, it means we say words at certain pitches to show meaning... But you hardly use any. The accent that you are using is closer to a Watcher's. You need to make sure you fix that." She explained, waving her finger with an exaggerated angry face so he would know that this was an edge of a scolding. And while just the association of the motion caused the blonde to lower his head in shame, the gears in his mind spun.

"I... I don't know if I understand, teacher..." He explained. He tentatively looked back up at her, and thankfully the anger she once displayed was gone. She took the book from his small hands, showing it back to him.

"Look here again. You said 'the Listeners worked together to fight the Watchers.' What you should have said was 'The Ｌｉｓｔｅｎｅｒｓ ฬ๏гкє๔ 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 to 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 the ʷᵃᵗᶜʰᵉʳˢ.' Notice how I put a lot of emphasis on Listeners while I put very little on Watchers?" Martyn nodded. "Good, then I want you to try reading it one more time..."

⊰♢⊱

"Dumb teacher..." The boy muttered as he kicked a rock. 'Just a few minutes' had turned into a few hours of lecturing and nitpicking the way he emphasized each and every dreaded word in both that page, and the ten pages following. The sun was setting now, the brilliant array of colors warning that monsters would appear soon. Though, with so much light around the village, he wondered if the stories of monsters targeting and attacking naughty children who didn't listen to their parents was just to scare him... certainly he was strong enough to take on an army of zombies all by himself, anyway. He wasn't a little kid. 

In any case, he had just spent his entire day in a building. He wanted to stay out for a little bit, even if that meant getting scolded later. He found himself walking down the path that led to the beach. With the entire village nearly raising him, any adult that saw him not heading towards his house soon would scold him. It takes a village, they would say, but that was just annoying.

In any case, once he got down to the beach, he sat down in the sand, wiggling his toes in the sand. The woosh of the waves made a melody in the otherwise quieting village. It seemed everyone else was already settling in their homes, he realized as he watched the stars twinkle awake. How annoying... he didn't get to play with anyone today because of his dumb teacher. Grabbing a piece of stone from his inventory, he lazily tried to skip it on the water from where he sat. Bloop, bloop, splash. Three skips... better than he thought he'd do, at least. He lowered his head, letting himself listen to the sounds of the night. The melody of the waves tied in with the whispers of the wind, and Martyn added to it by playing with the sand. Such a song was peaceful, appropriate for the night... But that crying baby was rather ruining it.

"Brat, don't you have anything better to do..." He muttered, lifting his head once more. Who's baby was it, anyway? It was decently close... but the closest house, still a far ways off, was the house of an old couple. Then why...? He stood back up, turning his head around the area as he honed in on the sound. That was when he realized: the sound was coming from the water.

"Wait a minute--!!" He exclaimed, and before he could think, he had already ran into the water and swam out towards the sound. He would be standing before his parents back at home before he even knew for himself what had happened. Completely drenched, covered in seaweed, gasping for breath, he clung onto a newborn with rounded ears swaddled in his shirt. He didn't know it then, but that human would become his brother, Jimmy.

⊰♢⊱Present Day⊰♢⊱

"Because Martyn... I would like to train you as my own Champion of sorts." The king only grinned. Martyn considered this for a few moments before he responded.

"And if I refuse?" He asked, lifting an eyebrow with a sly grin.

"Well, that would be quite the shame." The king admitted, shaking his head as he bit his lip. "I cannot force you to do anything, I'm afraid. But if you refuse, you should know that you'll lose any chance of rescuing the other Evolutionists from the Void and the clutches of the Watchers. That includes your lover, Annette. I'm not sure what it was like for you, but the Void has been known torture people physically, emotionally and psychologically in the worst of ways."

His words immediately took a stop to Martyn's tease. "Netty..." He whispered, clutching his chest, feeling his breath get shallow. That was a lie... That had to be a lie. He hadn't been able to recall what happened in this Void, so... He glared at the creature before him.

Truth. He was telling the bloody truth. That alone made him feel a combination of sick and raging mad. To think that all of his friends... his brother, his lover... all of them but Grian were trapped in an infinite cycle of pain twisted his spirit beyond words. And as for Grian, who even knew where he was now. He probably thought they were all dead, or being tortured endlessly. Either way, living that way for hundreds of years must have been very sad and lonely.

"I'll-- I'll do it then. For Grian and them; I couldn't give a crap what happens to the Higher Species, especially the Watchers." He decided, determination dominating his voice. Grian had made his sacrifice all those years ago... it was his turn to try and protect everyone. He just hoped that this time, it would not be done in vain.

"Oh goodie!" the royal clapped in excitement like a child that had been given a treat. His features smoothed over a few moments later, regaining a proper composure. "In truth, I do not care what motivates you, my dear Champion. But I will not lie -- the training that you will have to endure to prepare will not be easy. I am a person who promotes full freedom for all, but as the Watchers have shown, a dirigisme is needed in order to drastically increase the chance of success. Do you, Martyn Littlewood, agree to have certain freedoms rescinded in order to complete your training?"

To be told directly that he wouldn't have certain freedoms was a bit scary, a bit dangerous. At the same time, he recalled that the Listeners' philosophy could be described as having full freedom to do anything one wished even in the smallest of matters. Even a single rule would violate that freedom in their eyes. Not to mention, it wasn't like he had much freedom ever since he and the others were trapped in Evo, anyway. It made him nervous, but it was the correct choice. "I agree to be restricted for my training." He promised, placing a hand on his heart to show that he was being earnest.

"Perfect! With that, let's enjoy the feast!" The creature clapped again before once again digging into what was on his plate. Martyn eased with it all over, choosing to allow himself to indulge at last with the foods he had never seen before, let alone tasted. Before he knew it, he was wildly grabbing things, wanting a taste of every new thing that laid before him. While most everything was delicious, even the few things that weren't to his taste were a joy to eat. After so many years eating tasteless food, he had nearly forgotten that food was meant to be enjoyed, not just a means for survival.

"Man, you really are hungry, aren't you?" A voice chuckled. It was the Listener king of course. It was only then that Martyn realized that he had stopped eating quite some time ago, choosing to watch his guest eat instead.

"It's just... It tastes good..." He muttered as he felt himself flush slightly. He tried to hide it by 'casually' wiping his face with his napkin.

"That's quite alright. I just politely request that you do not eat the table as well." The noble chuckled. "Though, I wouldn't stop you if you did."

"Wha--?!" the elf yelled, his face flushed further. "Why in the worlds would I eat the table?!"

The outburst caused the Listener to have a fit of uncontrollable laughter, his entire body shaking. The sound bounced off the walls, echoing throughout the dining hall. "Champy, Champy, I was only kidding." He assured once he could catch his breath. He wiped his eyes, whisking away the start of tears. "It was just a tease, no need to get all worked up."

"What did you just call--" Martyn began, but he bit his tongue before he could finish his sentence. Whoever this king was, he seemed to be an increasingly odd one. He let out a sigh in hopes of preventing saying something that would be made into the next joke. "Whatever. But speaking of names... what is your name?"

"My name?" The king repeated, tilting his head with a frown. "My, that's a question I haven't gotten in some time. Rulers of the Higher Species... our reign tend to last from a time before memory... Well, the two Watchers really have reigned since time began. But in any case, we govern for such long periods that names are irrelevant. Certainly no one would talk of the Listener king before me; I am the sole survivor from that time, and many generations stand between me and the next oldest member of the Listener race."

"Does that mean that you don't have a name?" Martyn inquired.

"No, of course not. I just mean that my name was lost to time since no one bothered to ask anymore... My name is Aerric, or Aerrica. Whichever." He waved almost dismissively, but he was smiling regardless, his eyes almost twinkling.

"Aerric," Martyn repeated. He nodded to himself. He wasn't quite sure why the male had given him two variations of the name, but he could work with 'Aerric'. "I'll call you that, then... People should know your name regardless of who you are... and I'm certainly not prancing around calling you Your Majesty or My Lord or whatever."

"I'd quite that, thank you, Martyn." The Listener gave a nod, smiling in a way that showed that he was unoffended. "With that, I should have your aide show you to your personal chambers." On cue, a female dressed in a green maid outfit decorated with flowers stepped forward from a shadowy corner. She had taken a strand of her long brown locks and played with it in her fingers, brushing it against her lips as she avoided eye contact. Her cheeks were a light green, a light blush. This Listener had only one pair of horns, ones that followed the back of her ear before curling. She made her way to the sitting elf before giving a curtsy.

"My name is Linnea, Master. If it pleases you, I can lead you to your rooms..?" She asked shyly. Martyn agreed before following her out into the hall. As the two walked around, Linnea leading, Martyn couldn't help but study the walls. Decorated in various colors of greens and mixed with gold, it was fascinating to stare at, even if it didn't have any windows. That part intrigued him, but not enough to ask why there wasn't any.

"Here we are..." The female mumbled as she approached a door at last. She opened it for him, gesturing for him to come inside before her, which he did. What awaited him inside made him gasp.

A large room, what had to be about 100 blocks wide in both directions, awaited him. The entire room was meticulously furnished with various couches, tables and chairs. A staircase led to a balcony that lined the opposite wall of the room. In the very center of the room was a brilliant fake water fountain constructed out of blue glass. He found himself walking around, checking out the area. He peaked in one of the attached rooms, finding a full kitchen awaiting him. Checking another room, he found a large storage area with a walk in closet attached. The chests were packed with essentials, while the closet was fully packed with an assortment of different garments. Most of these outfits were either green or gold in color, while most of the rest reminded him of nature

"Master, would you like a... bath?" Linnea asked behind him. Her voice was still so gentle, so small. Even now, she played with a lock of her hair to self-soothe as her face flushed green.

"I-- you don't need to call me that. Just call me Martyn.... please." He explained. It felt rather... weird, to be called that. "But uh, sure, I guess. I think I can manage getting everything ready myself though. Thank you."

"All right, as you wish... Martyn." She replied, standing aside as the elf walked into the bathroom. This room was lavish too, with a polished diorite tiling and a tub lowered into the floor. On the ledge of this tub was an array of soaps, moisturizers, shampoos and conditioners along with a stack of green towels. "Everything should be set for you. Since this is the Nether, the bath will be full of ice blocks that quickly evaporate... the ice supply shouldn't run out, but please tell me if it does."

"Understood, thank you." Martyn replied. He grabbed the edges of his shirt, getting ready to pull it off.

"O-Oh, and Martyn?" She began. She waited until she heard a hum. "I... think there'll be a time... soon... when you... need to rely me... so um... don't be shy..."

"Er... Right. Thank you." He replied, not quite sure what to make of that statement. He waited a few moments before telling her she could close the door to give him some privacy. Why she had to be told that was beyond him; she was just an awkward person, he decided to excuse.

"O-oh right! I'll just pick you out some clothes in the meantime..." She exclaimed before doing so, the door closing with a click. The moment following, the elf ripped off his shirt, letting out a heavy sigh before relaxing the tension out of his shoulders. After turning on the ice, he kicked off his shoes, undid his belt and slid his pants down before he let himself ease into the steaming water. He nearly gasped at the heat, but even as it was so intense that it hurt, he let himself settle into it anyway. He laid down so that his head was on the floor, out of the water, and his body was submerged up to his neck. The bath was so large that he could have easily had three others join him comfortably if he so wanted... not that he knew who that would be.

So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Some two hundred years had passed him right by and he hadn't even realized. His friends, Jim and Netty were still trapped even though he was freed... sort of. He had agreed to discard certain freedoms which could mean any number of things. He just hoped it was just minor things, like his apparent right to eat tables for whatever reason. Even if it turned out to be a restrictive cage in the end, it wasn't as though he was the first of his friends to endure this kind of thing. He couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened to Grian for all those years. Even if he ran away, it sounded like he must have been a Watcher for a long time... To become a very monster itself, he wasn't sure if he could handle that. 

Aerric ... an actual king. He gave the presence of a king at least, but he seemed rather light hearted and silly at times. A strange king indeed... he had expected a king to demand worship, but he didn't. He even gave him permission to call him by his name.

And as for Linnea... the Listener seemed like a nervous bundle of energy. He supposed that he could just ignore her if she really intended on being his servant. Er... aide? Why exactly did Aerric call her that? Weren't aides more for like, taking care of the sick? He sighed, deciding to let it go. If it meant anything, he'd deal with it later. For now, he just wanted to relax in the bath and enjoy what quite possibly could be the calm before the storm.

Chapter Text

Darkness loomed in the sky. Not even the stars were out that night. Despite the late hour, not a single soul slept. Even with sullen eyes and tired expressions, they knew it wasn't possible to simply lay down and sleep. Martyn had tried, they all had tried in beginning to sleep through the night, but such an essential function did not exist in this version. To try and keep themselves from going mad, they once again had met inside the half-constructed Property Police building.

Gathering around a large block of wood that acted as a makeshift table, laid out in front of them was the day's spoils: three small pieces of meat for the ten of them.

"Not much today, either..." A girl, Netty she was named, only sighed. Pushing off her animal hoodie, she ran a hand through her hair anxiously. "Even if we split them in half, it still won't be enough to feed all of us. I uh, can skip out today..."

"But Netty, didn't you pass out on food yesterday too?" Jimmy asked, standing up from his place. "You can't just--!!"

"I'll do it." A voice interrupted, standing up from his own place. As Martyn pulled his brother back down, everyone turned their attention to the new speaker. With short blonde hair of his own and a green tunic, his name was Grian. "Split everything up into thirds. I'll pass on a portion so everyone else can eat."

His words made Martyn lift an eyebrow. "Didn't you also pass on food last night? How's that any different than Netty passing when she didn't eat yesterday, either?"

The man paused before closing his eyes. He sighed. "Look-- I... the truth is, I found some food yesterday and I took it for myself. I--... was just so hungry, I couldn't stand it." He bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes. His hands curled into fists and he began to shake. "I-- I knew it was wrong, but... I'm sorry. I don't deserve food tonight. Not when I had much more than my fill last night." And with a sniff, he couldn't hold back any more; beginning to cry. He turned from them all before retreating into another room.

"Man, you really can't trust anyone after all, can you?" Muka sighed once it was all over. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"We're all starving here. That's just uncool." BigB agreed. As all the others began grumbling, letting out their airs, Martyn found himself rising from his own chair. He began to turn, but noticing how his brother was just about to speak, he interrupted him in a soft whisper.

"You can eat my piece, Jimmy. I need to check on something." He walked away, disregarding the surprise the man responded with. He walked right to where he had heard Grian go. He quietly shut the door behind him, allowing them both privacy, before walking to where the human sat on the bare cobblestone. As he sat beside him, he asked, "Why did you do that?"

"It-- it was a bad choice, I'm sorry." Grian apologized, hiding his face in his knees. "I have no excuses... I was hungry, but so was everyone else... it wasn't fair."

Such a response only caused Martyn to sigh, showing a slight irritation in his tone. "I don't mean that."

"Huh--" The human lifted his head. As expected, his eyes were free from tears now. He had hid his face to hide this fact, to pretend as though he was.

"What I meant was, why did you lie?" He asked directly, his expression unchanging as Grian's eyes widened, giving Martyn all the proof that he needed to prove himself correct.

"What? How did you -- how did you know?" the man asked. He hesitated before adding, "You've only known me for a few weeks. It's not like you know what I'm like; how'd you know that I couldn't be capable of stealing food like this?"

His words merely made Martyn shrug. "I don't know what you're capable of... I'm just good at telling whether or not someone is lying, is all. But enough about me... why would you want to paint yourself as a bad guy just so you can starve? You've got to know that level of self-sacrifice could only burn you..."

"I know... but I can't help it. I can't stand to see other people suffering..." With one look in his eyes, that once again brimmed with tears, Martyn could tell that was the full, honest truth.

⊰♢⊱Present Day⊰♢⊱

After changing into silky light green pajamas, Martyn laid down on the largest couch in his room with a yawn. Linnea came to stand beside the frame.

"I'm sorry, I would get you a bed, but... the Watchers made our homeland as desolate as possible. No water... and if you touch a bed, you'll perma-die down here... Ah!! H-hels is hardcore. I should have told you sooner... please forgive me..." She stuttered before bowing. Her face was fully green now. "I-if it pleases you, you can take me as your  c-concubine and do as you ple--"

"No thanks." Martyn only sighed, looking away. He hadn't even let her finish her sentence.

His words made her immediately grab her hair to self-soothe, not that the other saw it. "R-right... s-sorry M-Martyn..."

"Just leave me..." The male mumbled, moving so that his body was facing the cushion of the couch, his back to her. His words made the Listener stop for a few moments, processing this.

"I... Right. I'll do that then." She replied at last. 

⊰♢⊱

T

The king was in the middle of brushing her hair, now reaching all the way down her back, when she heard the sound of footsteps walk up to her door. "Come in." She invited them, not moving from her vanity. As the door opened, she watched in the mirror as Linnea entered. She did not speak, only staring into the mirror as well, using it to make eye contact. "So he refused your advances."

"Yeah..." The aide agreed with a frown. Yet, this outcome caused a playful smile to appear on the Listener's face.

"Fascinating... very fascinating indeed." She hummed as the subject approached. She automatically took the brush from the ruler and began tending to the golden hair on impulse. "I had thought I was imagining it at first but... after this, I really am beginning to wonder if it's true..."

Linnea hesitated before speaking. "What are you planning, my king?" She stared into the reflection of her majesty's eyes as she continued to serve.

"Well... I am entrusting Martyn's care to you, I suppose. You deserve to know what is going to happen to him. Very well... I'll tell you as you tidy up my gown, then."

"Right." Her servant responded before giving her hair one last stroke, nodding with satisfaction. The ruler stood up, letting Linnea do her work. As she carefully assembled the dress, she received the promised plans telepathically. She did not speak until the queen was properly dressed. What she spoke was a simple question. "But my queen, if I may... Why is it that you have assigned me to him?"

"Linnea..." She spoke, her voice gentle and kind as could be. She reached down and pet the brunette before speaking the rest telepathically. 'Dear princess, my beloved daughter... there is only one person in all the worlds -- all dimensions-- in which I trust other than myself. This mission demands the uttermost care... It is only natural that I chose you.' She could only giggle, watching as a green blush appeared.

'W-what? but I'm not your--'

'Sure you are.' The king grinned as she moved her hand to caress her cheek instead. "In any case, Linnea, You just need to believe in yourself. I could think of no one better suited for this."

⊰♢⊱

When Martyn awoke, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. The dream he had lingered at the back of his mind. It had been black... A night so black that he couldn't even make out the shape of his hand. Somehow, he had known he was alone, which had been beyond frightening. Had it just been a nightmare, or some sort of memory of the Void? That was what he debated as a light knock sounded on his door.

"I'm up. Come on in." he assured. Linnea opened the door a few moments later, her eyes downcast as she clutched the edges of her skirt.

"I-I suppose I should say good morning, even if Hels doesn't really have.... days... or mornings..." She chuckled nervously as she approached. "How did you sleep?"

"So this place doesn't have a daylight cycle..." Martyn hummed to himself. He had wondered about that, but it still caught him as interesting. "I slept alright, thank you." He stretched his torso and his arms before getting up to his feet.

"W-Would you like to... pick your clothes for the day... er-- not day because there are no... days..." The female shook her head, beginning to blush again as Martyn headed for the storage room on his own accord. She began to follow him. "I-I mean... this would be the last time and all..." Her words made Martyn pause.

"Last time for what exactly?" He asked her, looking back just in time for her to let out a yelp.

"N-nothing... just ignore me..." She stuttered, curling in on herself. Martyn hardly needed to squint to know that she was lying, but as much as her words confused him, he decided not to press it. She just seemed like a socially anxious servant... He could ignore her.

In any case, he shut the door behind him for privacy before he walked into his closet. He once again studied the rows upon rows of clothes. By the looks of things, he could wear a different outfit everyday for a few years before he would run out of things to wear. Dare he say, it was rather excessive, but at the same time, he certainly wasn't ungrateful for it. After walking through the endless rows for a few minutes, he decided to just put on a random shirt and shorts. He didn't really care too much about what he wore as long as it would account for the hot Nether, which it seemed everything there would.

"I-Is that the kind of clothes you like, Martyn?" Linnea asked him as he walked back into the main room.

"I mean... I guess?" He replied, glancing down at what he was wearing. He had nearly forgotten what he had chosen already. His shirt was light green, nearly the same color as the shirt that he had been wearing when he arrived, but this one had a large Listener symbol on the front. His shorts were a light tan, and he had chosen to wear the sandals he always did. They had served him well for many years, and he saw no reason why that would change now. "I just threw something on."

"Ah..." She replied, playing with her hands as she glanced away. "I-it would have been... n-nice, to choose something more..." She seemed to decide to not say what she was thinking after all, shaking her head. "N-nevermind... uh, I should take you to her majesty..." And quickly turned her back to begin walking there, giving her excuse to not look at him again.

Whatever that was supposed to mean, Martyn decided to ignore that too before trailing behind her. "So now I get to meet the queen, huh? She wasn't at the feast yesterday." He asked, deciding to make small talk as he once again studied the walls. It would sure be nice if he could figure out the layout for himself soon so he could do more for himself. Maybe soon after that, he could tell Linnea that he simply didn't need her so she could do other things.

"W-Well... not exactly..." Linnea replied, clutching the edges of her skirt. "The truth is... their majesty quite often switches between male and female... i-it seems he is... not satisfied with either..."

"Whatever makes them happy, I suppose." Martyn hummed to himself as they made their way to the large doors of the throne room. On this side, there were words burnt into the large doors: 'ᓵ⍑ᔑᒲʖᒷ∷ 𝙹⎓ ᒷᓵ⍑𝙹ᒷᓭ'. Armored guards that stood in front of each door both parted, opening the doors in the process to allow them both entry.

Sitting there perfectly centered with the door was the noble. Dressed in a beautiful green gown with golden trims and ruffles, her long hair styled with flowers and face decorated with make-up, she was hardly recognizable from earlier. Even her frame had shifted to one that was more feminine, and she stood shorter than Martyn by the looks of it. The only things that hadn't changed at all were her skin tone, eye color, hair color, horns and the crown on her brow. If Martyn hadn't been told, he would never had guessed that this had been the person who had welcomed him here. "Thank you for the support." they hummed as the two made their way inside.

As they stopped before her at the bottom of the steps, Linnea gave a curtsy out of respect for the crown. Martyn stood, watching her instead of paying his own respects. He also watched as she then retreated into a corner to wait until she would be needed again.

"Now Martyn, I would like to show you something." The queen spoke, standing up from her place slowly. "Please, follow me." She hiked up her skirts so she wouldn't trip and began to once again lead the Champion away. She hummed as she walked, tying her tune to the music being made all around the palace. With such a gentle voice, Martyn couldn't help but be reminded of Netty. She may have been human, raised far away from the musical culture of elves, but the songs she sung were sweeter than anything he had ever heard before. Reminded of her, his heart ached as he remembered that she was being tortured alone and that there was nothing he could do to save her from that.

"You'll get her back one day..." The king muttered with a frown as they stopped in front of a door. But before Martyn to ask how she guessed what he was thinking, she opened the door and walked onto the balcony that greeted them. Following her, it was a lot more spacious than Martyn had originally anticipated. It was nearly as long as the village square where he grew up, though not nearly as wide. A single small table stood near the edge with a few chairs, but otherwise, there was nothing there other than the lighted garlands draped over the outside of the railing.

The queen took her place at the very center of this railing, gently grabbing it with both hands.

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Martyn asked, coming to her right side. Thoughts of Netty still lingered at the back of his mind, but he tried to push aside his emotions for now. Instead, he tried his best to take in the view. As far as he could see, there was nothing but a familiar desolate Nether hellscape. There was nothing but the eyesore of netherrack and a lava pool before the fog was too thick to see past. It was much hotter out here as well, adding to the horrible atmosphere.

"Yes..." She explained as what sounded like a whisper of souls long lost whipped through her hair a few spare moments. Her eyes locked onto the True Nether, she did not look at him. "You see Martyn, this place used to be full of life. But now..." She looked at him momentarily, frowning.

"It's dead." He finished. The Nether, as far as he was concerned, had always been like this. "What happened to it?"

The question caused her grip to tighten her grip on the railing. "The Watchers." She nearly hissed, her voice as quiet as the wind itself. "They killed it all."

Martyn's eyes widened. "They— they're despicable." He spat. Narrowing his eyes, his verdict was truth. "Why would they do that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The king only sighed, laying her head on the railing, cushioned by their arms. "They were trying to choke us out... or at least, make our existence as miserable as possible. This place was once brimming with life and fauna, like the Overworld but unique from it. Water and animals were plentiful. But those monsters turned the water into lava and brought the temperature up so high it's nearly smothering. The plants that were once here withered away before they simply ceased to exist. We can't even sleep in beds anymore."

"Did they use an update to do it?" Martyn asked. To change the environment itself to such a degree was unimaginable any other way.

"Many, yes. At first, we found workarounds— that's how mods were invented, but..." a sigh. "They put up a tight and fierce code so there was little we could do to fight it. I still have people trying to find ways around it, but with each update, they scramble the code so it's back to step one every Update Day. A pity too... I'm the only one of our race that is still alive from the time everything was much nicer."

So this has been going on for quite some time, then, Martyn noted to himself. He felt a quiet anger begin boiling his blood. Added to the terrible things the Watchers had done to his friends and family, he had to wonder how people could honestly worship them. How naive of them. "What did it look like?" he asked.

"It was beautiful... bioluminescent red trees, souls shining like stars as they float in the air, bushes with star-shaped leaves..." She hummed nostalgically, but when Martyn narrowed his eyes, he realized that it was a lie.

"Is that really...?" he began, but he stopped himself from accusing Aerrica directly. But she seemed to know regardless, her lips turning into a playful grin.

"My, you really are something, aren't you, Martyn? Are you sure you're just an elf? Calling out your king's bluff?" She giggled before standing up fully now. She tucked away the information that she had gathered from that exchange. As much as she wanted to touch on that now, that would have to wait. "No, I wouldn't know what it looked like."

"I'm not calling you my king, Aerrica." Martyn rolled his eyes. He really didn't know what that other stuff meant, so he decided to direct his attention to the last thing they had said instead. "But didn't you just say that you were there? So then how...?" He didn't finish his question, watching as the person before him stood upright as a royal should, turning towards him. Their hair began to recede and their features adopted a much more masculine appearance.

"Kneel." Aerric demanded, his eyes glowing green. There was something about how he said it that made Martyn obey without hesitation, even though he never normally would, entranced by those glowing orbs. The power emitting from him was stronger than Martyn could have ever imagined someone could have. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he found that he truly could not move on his own accord. Even as his body wanted to shake and tremble, it did not do that either. He was perfectly still. Was this the true power of the king of Listeners? Mind control that presented as unwavering submission? 

"That is correct." The Listener confirmed. "It is not a power that I enjoy using as it violates so many freedoms... Dare I say, it is nearly a disgrace to my people to use it to the full extent. Rather than the roars of thunder, I much rather use the whispers of rain that slowly accumulate into puddles, lakes, oceans. That is the power many Listeners can obtain by their own accord. But yet, you made a vow to me. Repeat that vow now."

Something in Martyn twisted. That was the only way that he could even begin to think to describe it. He tried to keep his mouth shut, but as it was as if vomit had rapidly filled his mouth, giving him no other choice but to spew it out. "I agree to be restricted for my training." He repeated word for word. Aerric gently lowered his hand, stroking Martyn's cheek. At first he wanted to flinch, trying his best to try and get away from the creature's hand even though he was frozen in place. But a very small part of him, quickly devouring his conscious self, yearned for it. Needed it. He found himself, against his better judgment, nuzzling against the hand like a pet. As humiliating as it was, it felt so... good. With every moment, he fell deeper into the spell, wanting nothing more than to do anything that was asked of him. Even he, who was a rather stubborn lad, found his will shrinking into a nearly distant dream. A truly out of body experience, he felt more with each passing moment as though his 'true self' was a single grain of sand buried deep within the desert, never to be seen or heard of.

The king's hand stilled as he frowned. "I don't know if I believe you..." He despaired before he moved his hand just a few centimeters away. The words immediately shattered his subject to his core. Shame and sorrow deeper than he had ever felt in his life washed over him. He began to weep, though he was still unable to move. Not even his head; he couldn't reach the hand he loved so much no matter how close it was. How cruel it was, so close yet worlds apart. Maybe he didn't deserve it... No, he definitely did not. He hadn't proved his loyalty. If there was even a drop of doubt in the male before him, that meant that he could still have tried a hundred thousand times more to prove himself. For him to have even the slightest of doubts was nearly the same as betraying him in the most wicked of ways.

In his desperation, he cried out, "Please! I-I'll keep it! You'll see! I'll never break my vow!" He nearly screamed. Every second-- no, millisecond -- that he was not in the king's grasp, ever so gentle, was sheer torture. To have hurt him was too much for his soul to bear. 

"There, there..." Aerric soothed. He moved his hand to the top of Martyn's head, patting him. The relief he gave his subject was nothing short of euphoric, causing him to let out a gasp. "Now, I want to tell you a story. Can you listen to it?" The slight nod that he had received was more than enough of a response. "That's a good boy... Now, many years ago, when I was just a child, the True Nether, Hels, was once full of life. The Watchers destroyed it all, and I am the only one of the Listeners that remembers the time before it. The king before me, he ruled in different ways than my own. I believed that everyone should have the freedom to do as they wished, but he... did not. At that time, there was a custom that all of our species abided by. Disgusted with the Watchers, not wishing to be like them, sight was something that was earned, not a bodily function that was a fundamental right. It was said that we should depend on our ears before anything else, and all other senses -- especially sight-- was secondary. Nearly pointless to have... It was only after I had killed the last king and ascended to the throne that I did away with my own blindfold. I remember what Hels sounded like, felt like and smelled like, but no... I do not know what it looked like before it was all destroyed."

He couldn't help but let out a sigh, glancing back over at the dead scene that the balcony beheld. It really was a shame, a tragedy that he had once childishly blamed the old king for. Yet here he was, countless years later and still unable to restore his homeland even with his kingly powers. He supposed that he really was no better than his predecessor in that regard. He brushed the thought aside, looking back to the elf before him who was patiently awaiting for his every word. 

"Martyn, you agreed to set aside some of your freedoms. I really did not want to resort to this, but I needed to ensure that you would not bend the rules I placed on you. Putting you under my control like this was the first violation of your rights. For that, I am sorry." Even as he said this, he could feel the boundless eagerness of the other. In this mindless state, he wanted nothing more to obey every word, more than happy to be violated in every way. The fact that he knew he could ask for the elf to even kill himself and he would listen without hesitation left a bad taste in the king's mouth. "And I am about to violate you again... my deepest apologies." This had violated his own morals, but for the sake of the Listeners... no, for the universe itself, he must. 

From a pocket in his dress, he produced a black piece of fabric that was much longer than it was wide. He knelt down, holding both ends of it as he lifted it to Martyn's face. "From today onwards, your vision will be taken from you so that you may come to heighten your ability to hear. You may not remove this blindfold under any circumstances. If, by any unforeseen circumstance it falls off or otherwise you can see, you must immediately close your eyes. They will remain shut until your eyes are once again bound. Even after I release you from my control, you will be unable to break free of this command unless I tell you otherwise. Repeat it to me now."

As Martyn began to recite the words back to him, Aerric found himself hesitating. He took the time to wipe away the tears away from Martyn's face. "I really, truly am sorry for how much pain this will bring you..." He whispered, nearly feeling as though he himself could shed a tear. Of course he couldn't though, such was the life of a royal. To make a ruthless choice, he needed to stand proud and own up to it. He carefully wrapped the cloth around the elf's head and tied it tight at the back of his head as the Champion finished reciting the command that would plague him for the years to come. 

Chapter Text

Martyn hadn't realized just how long he had been staring down the hill at the girl who had been busy gathering wood. He had only meant to stop for a few moments to see what she had been doing, but when he had gotten a glimpse of her at a certain angle... well, he couldn't help it. She was rather beautiful.

What snapped him out of his thoughts was the familiar voice calling, "Martyn and Netty, sitting in a tree! K-I-S--"

"Jimmy!" He exclaimed, his cheeks flushing red as he tried to swat at his brother. "Stop that!" He was relieved when he was met with silence... for all of two seconds.

"S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage!" Jimmy laughed, narrowly dodging the attacks from the increasingly red-faced elf. "Seriously Martyn, you are so clearly head over heels over this girl... when are you going to ask her out already?"

Luckily for him, the question caused his brother to stop fighting him. The elf suddenly began to avert eye contact, growing much quieter. "I mean... I don't know if I should..." He began. The human only tisked, pushing down on his shoulder so that they both would sit down.

"Now, now... lay it on your older brother. You're usually so confident... what's got you so scared?" Jim asked, placing a hand over his heart and nodding as though to show he was being super empathetic. But his words only made Martyn lift an eyebrow.

"Older?" He inquired. The thought struck him as rather funny.

"Well, I'm 21 now! And you know what that means~" Jimmy teased, giggling to himself.

"Yeah, yeah... you're half my age, which means we're at the same point of our lifespans, and you'll keep maturing twice as fast as me since you're a human and I'm an elf." He explained with a sigh. Regardless, he didn't think that he would ever see his brother anything other than a child that needed protecting no matter how great the age disparity would change between them. He hesitated, his eyes being drawn once again to the beauty working under the shade of the leaves. "But... I guess that's why..."

"Because she's a human?" To which Martyn nodded in response.

"I just... relationships between humans and elves can be... rough, long term you know?" He let out a pity laugh. The longer the human-elf couple were together, the greater the age gap. A few years would amount to nothing, but after a few decades, it would be quite apparent.

Jimmy only sighed, shaking his head as he got closer to the other. "You're telling me... the one and only human in an entire elven village. Mom and Dad didn't want me dating until I was at least 16 because of it." The hair blew his hair in his face, but this didn't seem to phase him. "It... was difficult at the time. Being human always made me feel... different, from all the other kids."

"Jim..."

But Jimmy only shook his head. "That's all in the past now. Besides, it's not like we can even go back home, now can we?" He laughed darkly. "But... enough about me. What I wished they realized was that... well, all this age difference stuff, is just overthinking." The surprise must have been evident on his face because the human laughed again. "Look, just because you'd ask a human out doesn't mean you're proposing or anything. Just talk to her... If things start getting serious, then you can both consider if it's worth it. But for now..." He smirked.

" 'Listen to your heart.' " Martyn recited. It was the slogan of the village itself -- no, of all elves, derived from Listeners. "I--... wow." Martyn couldn't help but blink. "That's... oddly mature of you."

"See, I really am the older brother now." Jimmy pushed out his chest in pride.

"Keep dreaming, baby bro." Martyn teased, 'accidentally' bumping his elbow into the man's stomach as he stretched. He stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Now if you excuse me, I think I'm going to go shoot my shot." He grinned.

⊰♢⊱

In the depth of a dream, everything was dark once again. Martyn walked through it, trying and failing to look explore this void. He was aware that he had been here before. Despite seeming familiar, he couldn't help but feel anxiety set in. Even being able to see his own form, he couldn't help it.

Sensing something, he turned his attention to the left. "What are you?" He whispered, his voice eaten by the nothingness. A few moments later, a form ran towards him on all fours. The brown hound with a golden bejeweled collar barked in greeting as it sat before Martyn, its tail waving excitedly. The visitor immediately made the elf ease.

"Hey there, boy." He hummed as he knelt down. He gave the creature a long stroke, starting from the tip of his head all the way down his back. And somehow he knew that as long as that dog was there, he would be protected. A light in the darkness.

⊰♢⊱

"What... what happened..." Martyn moaned as he finally stirred awake from his dream. The edge of a headache lingered at the back of his mind as he sat up and opened his eyes. Or rather, he tried to. Or... he did? But he couldn't see anything regardless. As he became more alert, he realized that there was something on his face. He grabbed the edge of the cloth, but he stopped as he heard a voice.

"That's not going to work..." the timid voice explained. It must have been Linnea. She gently grabbed his hand and brought it down back on the couch. From there, she helped him sit upright even as he protested.

"What do you..." he began to ask, but it was then a vague memory came to him. The king had done something to him. He couldn't move, only obey. And then he... Martyn swore under his breath. "There's no way." There was no way someone just could order someone around like some sort of tv hypnosis trick and gain full control of them forever. That just was way too overpowered to be a real thing.

He reached for an end of the blindfold. He meant to give one big pull to undo the knot quickly and do away with it, but he found himself stalling. Instead, he nearly fiddled with the ending. "Shit, shit, shit." He hissed as he tried to press himself to undo it with both hands now. Fail. Fail. Fail. He was still stalling, still merely tracing it with his fingers. The entire ordeal was nothing short of absurd. Why couldn't he just do it?!

"M-Martyn..." Linnea began. Her small, soft hands grabbed his wrists and pulled them down on his lap. "I-it's not going to... w-work..."

Martyn knew she was right. Not only did the last few moments prove it, there was some part of him, very deep down, that told him that it really was impossible. And, nearly shivering in realization, that this cursed part of him somehow felt happy about it. It was like a seed that Aerric had planted in him, taking root within him and beginning to sprout.

However, he was a stubborn lad. Even if he knew was impossible, giving up felt like he was therefore accepting it and anything else that came his way. "You're supposed to do whatever I say, yes?" He growled. He heard Linnea gulp as she loosened her grip on him.

"T...that is... correct. Y-you can do anything you desire—" she began, but that was enough for him. He didn't need to hear the rest of it.

"Then take this damn blindfold off of me!" He nearly yelled.

"B-but M-Mart—"

He wouldn't hear it. There had to be a way. This had to be the way. "Just do it, geez!" He nearly cursed again.

"I... I u-understand..." she said in a low whisper. She placed her hands on the sides of his head. The way they both trembled was more than subtle. She moved to grab the ends of the fabric before hesitating one last time. She undid it slowly, letting it uncover his eyes little by little. With the first hint of light that hit Martyn's eyes, however, he couldn't help but shut his eyes. He cursed again, feeling as though fire itself had entered his eye, burning him. Even with his eyes closed, the edge had hardly been taken off of the burning sensation. He couldn't help but cover his face with his hands, grabbing the cloth and holding it up to his eyelids in the process. 

"I-- I can't, I can't!" He couldn't help but say, shaking his head. He hated how pathetic this was. What, was he suddenly afraid of seeing after spending forty-two years-- his entire life-- using his vision without a second thought? Almost to confirm this, he felt himself ease as the darkness surrounded him once more and the blind tightened around the back of his head. Dare he say, a part of him wanted to call this natural; comforting even. 

"I-I tried to warn you..." the female mumbled after she seemed to be done binding him once again. 

"I just--" his shoulders tensed up. How could he possibly accept this? There was simply no way. he clenched his teeth. No, he must have had an over reaction somehow. This was just getting in his head; he'd just push through it. He would not accept it. He would not be some overly obedient dog that would be walked all over. "Take it off again."

"B-But M-Martyn-"

"Well just do it!!" He yelled. He was met with silence for a few moments before the two shaky hands unwrapped the cloth once again. This time would be different than the last time; he was sure of it. Why? Because he said so. Because he wouldn't be plagued with something so stupid. Because he had determination this time. Last time he must have just been fooling around.

When the light hit his eyes this time, it burned just like the last. he hissed, feeling everything inside of him scream for the comfort that the darkness had brought him. It was so intense that his body twitched, wanting to grab the blindfold again. It was everything in his power to keep his body from moving. 

"M-Mar--" The shy voice began, but he wouldn't hear it. 

"No!" He cried, pounding his fist against the bed. It hurt so terribly, even with all the willpower he had, he hardly stood a chance. He didn't dare let himself move -- if he did, he would try and find the cursed object first he knew. He wanted to open his eyes, he wanted so dearly, but the searing pain prevented him from doing so. It made absolutely no sense why he was having such a strong reaction, but in any case, he was losing the battle. Even using all the stubbornness he possessed proved futile. At last, he lowered his head in utter defeat. "Damn it..." he cursed. He couldn't even open his eyes. It stung so bad that he nearly felt tears sting his eyes. (He, of course, did not have tears. He would never.) 

Linnea took the cue, replacing the cloth once again before moving away again. That was a rather wise move because in the moments following, Martyn began to tremble again; this time in sheer anger. "That son of a bitch..." He seethed as he balled his fists in anger. He pushed himself up and off the couch, marching determinedly through the room. He heard the shuffling sound of feet following him, but he ignored it. 

"M-Martyn wait!" She called, her voice following him. He didn't listen though, not slowing in the slightest.

"No. I'm going right to--" His knee made hard contact with a wooden frame. With as strong as momentum he had, he went falling right into the table, his whole stomach covering the tabletop as it tipped over. Martyn screamed. Trying to use his hands to brace himself, he slid face first onto the floor, skidding a small distance before slowing to a stop. Pain mapped everything that had made contact with the ground: the top of his forehead all the way down to his chin, his right shoulder slanting down to around his sternum before the line evened out. Everything below that line ached until about his lower abdomen. His knees hurt as well as his palms, but it seemed that his trunk and face had taken most of it. 

"I-I tried to w-warn you..." Linnea's timid voice explained beside him. "Y-You shouldn't r-run w-when you--"

"Don't tell me what to do, servant." The elf snapped. So not only was he blind, now he was seething in pain. That was lovely. Just peachy. Perfect. He stood himself back up, brushing himself off. Some annoying servant was the last thing he needed. He heard a quiet gasp from her, but she didn't respond. Good. He didn't want to hear her. "I'm going to go yell at Aerric." He began walking again even though his body was protesting, though this time, much slower. He kept his arms out in front of him, trying to act as a barrier in case something was in his way. Decimating what he assumed to be a table had been embarrassing and painful enough that he didn't want it happening again. 

"I... c-could lead you t-there... i-if you'd l-like..." The Listener offered, to which Martyn merely scoffed. No, he would not be complacent in this, no matter how much harder it would be for him. He'd show Aerric, who probably wanting nothing more than for him to fully rely on Linnea. In silence he rather slowly made his way to a wall. The whole process took a few minutes, when it would have taken him only about ten seconds if he had been walking at a regular pace. Whatever. 

But now that he was at a wall, it begged the question of whether he should go left or right, which way would get him to the front door fastest. It certainly didn't help that he was rather unfamiliar with this place; if this was the Property Police it wouldn't have been as difficult to navigate (so he thought at least), but this place was almost entirely new to him. Seeing as this was a matter of a coin flip, he chose right. 

Walking went a little faster now that he wasn't so concerned with tripping over things. He didn't recall that things were put against the wall, and if he was wrong, well none of the stuff was in his path at least, and that was good enough for him. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice that a second pair of footsteps, whom he assumed to be his supposed aide, followed a few feet behind him. He chose to act as though she didn't exist; it wasn't hard considering he couldn't see her anyway. 

After he got a dent in the wall, signifying a door, he moved his hand around the wood until he found the door handle. Come to think of it, there was more than one door in his room. He tisked, deciding to ignore that and go through it anyway. 

"K-kitchen..." The quiet voice behind him whispered. 

Duh. Of course he knew that, he sighed with annoyance. But as a silent thanks, he chose to not yell at her because, admittedly... maybe he hadn't been fully sure of that... just mostly. In any case, he went back out and walked along the wall until he found the next door. This had to be the door out. He walked out, finding that Linnea hadn't said anything this time. It wasn't like he was depending on her or anything, but he assumed that meant that he must have gotten it right this time. He hesitated as he pivoted his head around, even though that did nothing for him. Last time, he had gone... left, was it, to the Chamber of Echoes? So he headed that way. There were a few people in the hall he could hear walking about. They ignored him as far as he could tell, and he ignored them.

This all was taking an incredibly long time. By the time that he had made his way down the really long hallway (had it been this long before? It seemed nearly endless at the pace he was going) to an intersection, he had to guess it had been ten or twenty minutes since he declared that he was going to see Aerric. And to think, he needed to take several more hallways, and that was assuming if he remembered the layout correctly, and Aerric was in the throne room. Whatever. Some short term difficulties were not going to stop him. He wasn't going to be complacent. No way. He's travel through several worlds if that's what it took.

He headed the direction he thought he was supposed to take next. He only managed to take a few more steps before a voice stopped him. "Are you looking for me, Martyn?" Aerric asked. His voice made him stop, turning around.

"I am." He nearly spat as he turned around and crossed his arms. "I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but you're going to put an end to this right now." He didn't care to pretend to have even a shred of niceness in his tone. 

To which the king only sighed. "Martyn, I did warn you that your training would not be easy. That I would violate your rights." He didn't seem all that surprised or upset, rather explaining himself. A rather lousy explanation, in Martyn's opinion, but an explanation nonetheless.

"Oh, oh you think that just blinding me for the rest of my life is going to help me?" He snarled. "Oh gee, thanks. I feel so much stronger and well prepared for any absurd thing I'm supposed to be a 'Champion' for! It's not like I could, I don't know, see with my sight or walk around, or make sure I don't make a fool of myself!" As his voice gradually raised in volume, he felt his face heat up as well. It was not only in anger, he realized, but in embarrassment as well. He must look absurd walking around blind and bumping into things. Not to mention he would be completely hopeless with everything if things remained like this. He couldn't possibly keep things the way they were currently.

"Listen, my Champion..." Aerric began. The way he sounded ever so calm, so kingly, only angered the elf all the more. He wouldn't hear it.

"Oh I get it!" He shouted, beginning to do a sort of odd dance. "Ha ha! Look at that loser! How funny would it be if we grabbed him and made a fool of him! It's not as though he spent the last -- I don't know how many years-- suffering in that world, Evolution! It was so funny that he and his brother prayed every single night for years to be saved by these -- these Listeners! These gods that we were taught had saved our people from the Watchers again and again!" He had stopped the dance now, and instead clenched his fists as tightly as he could, making a throwing motion. He wanted to smash something but he wasn't holding anything. His eyes stung terribly now. "How pathetic! Let's make a fool of him even more!" 

He heaved, finding that his outburst had left him out of breath, though he was still steaming in anger. His racing heartbeat pounded in his chest but those were the only two noises in the hallway now. Aerric waited a few more moments before he responded. His calm tone was in direct contrast with the one that was shouting and screaming. "That's not why I took away your sight. I know exactly how much that would hurt you; I've been in your mind."

"Shut up." He snarled. Whatever absurd reason this king had for doing this, it was completely invalid.

"The reason why I took your sight was to teach you to rely on your ears. I told you before that it was -- and still is, albeit not nearly as popular,-- a tradition. From birth, the Listener would be bound as you are now. It is only in adulthood that they gain their sight." The calmness in the ruler's voice was nearly nauseating.

"I don't care about your stupid traditions." Martyn spat, this time actually shooting out some of his silvia in the direction of Aerric's voice. Even that didn't seem to phase the king, however.

"What I mean to say is, those that take part in this tradition significantly use their ears in more ways that those who learned to rely on their sight do. This will cause you great suffering... I'm not denying that, but it will strengthen you. I need to make you are as strong as possible, ready for any possibility." The king explained.

Martyn utterly refused to hear him out, however. His entire body trembled, trying to hold himself back from attacking this -- this captor of his. He could no longer stop himself, lunging at where his voice had come from. He threw his entire body into the punch, leaping into it. However, to his surprise, it never connected with anything. He instead collided with the floor yet again. 

"If you wish to kill me, feel free to try and do so. It is well within your right." Aerric's voice explained beside him, only a foot away. The horrible creature had merely stepped out of the way. Blinded by rage, Martyn quickly scrambled to his feet to throw a punch in the same manner. Unfortunately, it ended in the same way. "If you can manage to, that is." His voice was once again one foot away. The elf wasn't even thinking anymore, just wanting to hurt the man who was happily hurting him. He lunged with even more force than before, but this time he hit the wall. His forehead took an especially hard hit, and grasping it for a few moments, he could feel the blood seeping through his fingers.

"I won't let you get away with this..." He hissed. This time, he lunged without having a clue where this king was. Fail, with carpet burns. Try again, fail. He tried again and again, but not once did he land a blow on his opponent, even after he gave away his location. 

He attempted many more punches, with no results but more of his own physical pain. At last, when Martyn had no more wrath to power him through, he fell to the floor one last time but didn't get up. His entire body ached with carpet burns and bruises from where he impacted. He was pretty sure that he was bleeding, and not just in forehead and his knuckles either. He breathed heavily, the feeling of utter failure weighing on him. After everything, he couldn't manage to fight his opponent. It wasn't because he was being crafty or anything, no. He was pretty sure that Aerric was simply stepping off to the side each time, maybe even staying in one place. This loss was all on him... just like how he couldn't open his eyes.

"Are you done now?" Aerric asked, still calm through it all. As much as it angered Martyn, the flame that was his anger was dying out, replaced with nothing other than hopelessness. For the first time, it really truly dawned on him that this really was his reality. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it with his own two hands. The realization caused a sudden strike of fear within him. He-- he really was going to be blind? He let out a shuddering gasp for air, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He dragged himself across the floor, feeling around until he finally grabbed ahold of the ruler's pantleg.

"Please... No... I can't-- I can't be blind-- I'll..." He rattled. Even he didn't know really what he was explaining, he just desperately could not go through with this. What he got in response was a muscular hand taking his own smaller hand. That hand held helped him to his feet.

"I know this is a lot, Martyn... I've violated you in a way that should never be done." The Listener squeezed his hand tenderly. "But I'm afraid that under no circumstances I may reverse my decision until you are adequately trained and prepared for what is to come. Until the day that your sight is restored to you, please rely on my humble servant Linnea. She will act as your eyes until then, your own personal aide." 

"But-- but I can't--" Martyn blubbered. His eyes were stinging more by the moment. He, who hadn't cried since he was just a boy, found the urge growing stronger and harder to resist.

"Yes, you can." The king assured, rubbing the muscles of his hands in circles. "Countless Listeners -- and countless elves-- before you have gone through this, and countless more will follow you. I too have gone through this. You will be okay." But despite those words, Martyn sure didn't feel okay. He felt as though the worlds were fracturing, splintering, breaking right from underneath of him. He couldn't possibly recover from this, not in a million years. Combined with the fact that he didn't even have Netty or Jimmy beside him, this sinking feeling was even worse than the one he had when he had found himself trapped in Evolution.

He felt the king grasp his shoulders and turn him around. "Linnea, please bring him back to his chambers and keep him there until it's time for our next meal. I suspect that he'll want some privacy, but please don't leave him fully alone. Stand just outside the door if you must. You are his aide, after all." He felt himself be walked over a few feet away. A much softer, smaller hand took his own before the king let go of his shoulders. Just as he had said, Martyn was led back to his chambers as he felt wetness prick the edges of his eyes... Not that he would ever allow those tears to fully fall. Men like him never cry. 

Chapter Text

"What?" Martyn asked, his eyes wide as he leaned forward on the seat of his bed. "Jimmy, are you serious? You're really want to move out?" 

The man nodded. "Look-- I know it's sudden, but it's been something that I've been thinking about for a long time." He leaned down, reaching underneath of his own bed. He pulled out a long scroll before standing up, walking over and handing it to Martyn. The parchment was ordered in a list of various world names, with a short description after each of them. A few were crossed out, but most were not. He had to admit, he was rather impressed by the level of thought that his brother had already put into this. 

"How come?" he asked as Jimmy retrieved the paper again, stashing it in his pocket.

"Look... I love our little village. It's all we've ever known, and everyone we've known live here, too... but isn't it ever... boring? Suffocating?" The human asked before he hesitated. "What I mean is, I want to go out, see the worlds. I want to live with other humans. You know, I've read all I could about human cultures, but I'm literally the only human I know. And I know that you're going to say that I'm being stupid--"

"I'm coming with you, then." Martyn cut in, causing the other to gasp. 

"Wait-- really?"

Martyn only chuckled as he laid down. "Well, it would have been fun to poke at you a bit, but... Well, what can I say? You've clearly wanted to move for awhile, but I can't let my baby bro wander the worlds alone. Only solution is to join you."

"Are you really sure that you want that, though?" Jimmy asked just to make sure. He had expected that he would have to do this alone. 

"The house would feel too empty without you. And besides, it might be fun to go out and see the universe." The elf assured, shrugging. "Now, what kind of world are we going to?"

The blonde took out his paper again, glancing through it again. "I wasn't fully sure, honestly. I was mostly just looking through new worlds looking for more players these past few months... I thought something modded would be fun. Like -- I don't know. There's one named..." he squinted at the paper. "Evolution? I don't really know what's evolving, but we could ask." 

"Fair enough... we could spend a few days or a week just going around visiting all the worlds on that list. You know, make sure the admin isn't corrupt, people are nice, ask questions, get a tour, stuff like that. Spend nights in a hotel world." Martyn suggested. 

"That sounds perfect!" Jimmy nearly jumped up and down out of excitement. "Come on, let's go tell Mom and Dad!" And without waiting for the other, he dashed right out of the room. 

⊰♢⊱

"Y-you've hardly eaten..." the soft voice of Linnea said beside Martyn. She had directed him to a small table in the center of his room after replacing his bandages.

It had been a few days since he had been ruthlessly blinded. At first what was an all-consuming blaze of rage had simmered down to a quiet, more internal agony. As his outbursts had waned, so had his speech in general. Actually, had a single nice thing come from his mouth since he realized how dire his situation was?

"I'm not hungry..." he mumbled, letting his tiredness show in his voice. Admittedly, he had little, if any, anger left over. All that was left was just... tiredness. Hopelessness. Nothingness.

"But...." She began, but her breath caught as she realized she was speaking out of turn.

Right... that. Ever since he had gotten angry at her, the Listener was even more nervous than before around him. He may not like her, but... he sighed. If Netty knew how he was treating her, he'd never hear the end of it. "I'm— sorry." He nearly choked out. He didn't apologize very often, but he owed her that much at least. He waited for her to respond, but she didn't. "I... was mad, and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve that."

He waited a few more moments, with nothing but silence. He hated how he couldn't even see her reaction; only a verbal response would tell him if his apology had reached her. And as this annoyance built, he took a shuddering breath to calm himself down again. This was not the time to get angry again.

"I-- um... thank you... Martyn..." Linnea's quiet voice replied. Her face aflush and shy, an ever so faint smile rested on her lips. She nodded to show her acceptance before realizing how silly that was. "I-I mean--... it's... fine..."

It wasn't fine, but Martyn, of course knew what she had meant. Vocalising it would only make her more nervous. "And... don't feel like you have to be quiet around me. I shouldn't have told you to not talk back to me, either." This time, he got a hum in response. It wasn't much, but it seemed to be what he would be getting out of her. It would have to be enough for him.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Martyn instinctively looked over at where he had heard the sound even though it did him no good. He was just about to open his mouth and ask his aide to get the door, but it opened on it's own. In stepped Aerric, wearing a golden suit with green trim.

"Good morning, Martyn. Linnea." He greeted with a grin as he made his way to the center of the room where the other two were. "How have you adjusted?" He asked as he pulled back the chair opposite of the elf and sat down in it.

And, just like that, the anger was back. Not nearly as strong as it had been before, but enough that Martyn could definitely feel it. "I still don't know why you've done this to me." He explained, ensuring that his tone remained calm even though he had heated up some. Wildly attacking this king, unfortunately, did not work before and he didn't think it would work now. He'd just make a fool of himself and then have to have Linnea tend to his wounds again.

The royal turned to Linnea, requesting, "Would you be so kind as to get us both some tea? I suspect that we may be here for some time." The creature bowed before him before walking out. He waited until she was gone before he replied to Martyn. "It is just as I have told you: it is to help you improve, focus on and depend on your ears." The king explained, keeping his voice calm as well.

Martyn had to bite his lip to prevent himself from letting out a hiss... or maybe a cry. He wasn't quite sure what would come out of his mouth, but whatever it was desperately wanted to come out. He couldn't let it, especially if there was a chance it really would be a whimper or a cry or even a beg. It would be so unbecoming of him. It already had been the last time. He arched his back, doing everything it took in his power to keep it at bay.

"I know... I know..." Aerrica assured him as her voice began to shift into that of a female's. It was so gentle and soft, so empathetic. Even her voice seemed to almost break, as though she truly felt bad for him. As though she hadn't been the cause of all this pain. Her voice began to shift into one more familiar, one that Martyn knew more than anyone else's as she moved her chair beside him. "Martyn, dear, hasn't anyone ever told you that it's okay to be sad? That it's okay to cry?"

"I--" The elf squeezed his eyes shut. The invitation was making his eyes sting, and he squeezed them tightly shut. He knew this wasn't Netty -- this was some odd idiot king that had taken him hostage and was making him feel these wrong feelings in the first place. But... Netty was the one who knew exactly how to comfort him, even if he didn't want to comforted. Even if he didn't know that he needed to be. Even when he was being nothing but a jerk... Would it be alright to just pretend it was her, even for a few moments? "Guys don't cry." He explained, huffing. No, he wouldn't give in.

"Everyone can cry... or, at least, I feel they should." She soothed, just like his lover had. "It's not healthy to hold it all in..." She very lightly touched his shoulder, just for a moment, just long enough for him to know she was directly beside him. The scene replayed in his mind, how it really had gone down all those years ago. She didn't need to say the rest; her words had triggered the rest in his mind. And, just like back then, he began to tremble and shake. He lowered his head, subconsciously leaning into her. It didn't just sound like her, but the curves of her body were the same as well. It wasn't enough for tears to spring to his eyes even with how much they stung, but the words had some sort of deep effect on him. He felt....

Tired. So tired emotionally, physically and even spiritually. It was as though he hadn't slept in a thousand nights, and if he would give into sleep, he might just have to sleep forever before he would feel well rested again. "I-I know Netty... you've always told me that..." He whispered. It was wrong to pretend, but he needed Netty in that moment. He always did, in fact, but in that moment especially. He bit his lip before cautiously choosing to indulge himself more. "They-- they took everything from me.... And-- I'm all... alone, here..." What was he to do? Netty always knew best. To him, her love was a constant; unchanging. She had always given everyone the best advice, and was more empathetic than anyone too. There were few things in the worlds that he really truly depended on, but she was one of them. He impulsively let out a gasp, having felt it increasingly harder to breathe. It almost sounded as though he were about to cry but-- no... never. He couldn't...

"Martyn..." She cooed gently, rubbing his back as though she was openly inviting him to break down. "You've been through so much these past few days. I couldn't even imagine how hard it's been on you..." And though he yearned for more, the queen said no more. His love would have said more. Done more. But... still, he cherished the little he was given. It came at a cost though, a single, stray tear rolling down his left cheek.

Feeling that, he suddenly tensed, clasping his hands over his mouth as he moved away from the other. The impenetrable dam he had constructed since he was a boy, the king had known exactly where the weak spots were. The spots that had been softened by none other than Netty. The only person who knew his weak points, of course, had been her. And, admittedly, she herself was one as well. He couldn't possibly cry! Not just in general, either, especially in front of someone like them.

The voice that spoke next was Aerric's again. It seemed further away than before, as though he had gotten up and took a few steps. "Martyn, you must mourn. If you do not, your anger may consume you and you will not be able to focus on the mission. If that happens, all may be lost before we even begin..."

The elf wanted to respond, to retort how once again, this king was the cause of all this. He wouldn't have to worry about these emotions if this whole situation hadn't happened, if he had only had his sight. However, it was as though he were paralyzed now, frozen in time. All the trembling he had been doing before ceased. It took all the effort he had to not let another drop out. To not be weak and utterly pathetic.

"It's clear to me that you still need time." Aerric continued, his voice moving as he headed away from his subject. He rested his hand on the doorknob for a few moments, glancing back at the withered frame he was leaving behind with a frown. It hurt him too, to cause someone so much pain... to make someone who would never cry on the verge of tears. But at the same time, it was what must happen. If that made him evil, then... he nearly sighed as he opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him. "Then so be it." He whispered underneath his breath. It was to save his people, and more importantly, the worlds.

"I guess this tea was for nothing, then..." Linnea supposed as she met her king, looking down at the tray that she had prepared.

"Not for nothing... I could never let your efforts go to waste." He grinned as he reached for one of the two cups before taking a sip of it. "I had hoped, by some miracle, that he would be ready to begin his training, but I knew deep down he still needed more time to process everything. Disallowing himself from proper grief may prove to slow his progress considerably..." He couldn't help but frown. Putting it into words like that reminded him of a certain pair of nuisances that had also trained an inferior being. Complaining that time was running out, nearly complaining that he did not have time for such emotions when he was of the people who did not shy away from feelings.

"You're not like them, my king." she assured, sensing this.

"That hardly matters, I'm afraid..." He shook his head. She quickly changed the subject before she could protest that. "But in any case, he is on the verge of crying now. Please be there for him, even if it's just right outside the door." And without further ado, he and his tea headed down the hall, towards the Chamber of Echoes.

⊰♢⊱

Meanwhile, Martyn was doing everything he could to keep it together. He gripped the table so tightly that his hands were shaking.

This was all so stupid. There was no reason for him to cry. "So I lost a few things. So what." He snarled at himself, trying to dissolve this wrong feeling with anger instead, just as it should be. But at the same time, he couldn't seem to do it, not fully.

Against everything in him, he felt another drop of liquid roll down his cheek. He bit his lip, nearly closing his blinded eyes. No— no he couldn't cry. He couldn't. But nonetheless, his resolve was crumbling. Another tear fell from his bounded eyes in the moments following. He took a loud breath, trying to calm his system down.

As he fought the losing battle, there was one image he couldn't get away from his memory. A beautiful, wonderful human: Annette. His light, his driving force. He had only been separated from her for (what felt like) a few days, but that had been far too long already, especially considering that he had only started this journey on his own. Maybe he could stand being away from the others, maybe even Jimmy though it pained him so, but his beloved?  

... What would she do in this situation? He sighed as his tears fell. The truth was, he needed her. His heart burned when he thought of how she could very well be tortured at that very moment, deep within the void. Realizing that hurt him more than he could put into words, more than his heart could bear.

No, he thought as he looked up. He stood up, wiping his tears as he tried and failed to stop crying. He couldn't let himself cry. He couldn't be so weak. And, if he was being honest, he couldn't bear the pain. He wanted -- no, he needed it to stop. He began to march where he thought the door was before he paused, hesitating.

"Linnea... are you-- are you there?" He asked, trying to speak clearly. A moment later, his aide opened the door, still carrying her one cup of tea. She frowned at the red-faced, breaking elf she was greeted with, but she did not comment on it.

"I-I'm always here, Martyn." She assured gently. "I am your aide, after all. Did you need something?" 

"I-- How do you get rid of these feelings?" He asked bluntly of her. He found the back of his chair, grabbing and squeezing it. They were too painful for him to keep, and try as he might, he couldn't quite transfer them back into the sheer, raw anger that he had before. It was wrong of him to even ask that, to try and throw away his feelings, but he couldn't bear the crushing weight. He could not be weak. He needed to be strong. It was already humiliating enough to ask a near stranger these things, but he had no one else he could ask aside from Aerric, which was an even worse choice. He was desperate at this point to return to normal.

The Listener let out a soft sigh as she placed the tea on the table. With her hands now free, she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her green eyes sparkled with empathy. "You can't, Martyn... Y-you can only embrace it, and only then you can find your peace... B-But there is something that can make it easier..."

The male swallowed, trying to wipe away his tears again. "But that's not--" he began to protest.

"I-I know..." She flinched. "B-but I can... make it lighter... here, sit down... I'll go get something to help..." She gently moved to grab his arm and helped him into the chair again. She promptly walked out of the room before returning with an object in both hands. She walked over to him and placed it in his lap, letting him feel the wooden frame. 

"Is this... a guitar?" He asked, taking a deep breath to try and steady his breathing. Even now, his tears were falling, if ever so slowly. 

"Yes... if it hurts too much... put your heart into a song..." She explained. "Self expression... makes it easier..."

Martyn moved his hands over the instrument, moving his left hand down the neck to the head. Similarly, his right hand found the positions by the strings. He may not be able to see it, but he could tell that it was wonderfully crafted. "Fine..." he sighed, even though the suggestion reminded him of his mother. At this point, he wasn't so sure that music could fix his problems, but he figured he could try it for ten minutes and then bang his head against a wall if-- or rather, when-- it didn't work.

"I-I'll be right outside if you need me..." Linnea replied before she left him alone again. He waited until he heard the door to close to give it a gentle stroke, and it purred back at him. It really was a good guitar after all. 

"Let's just get this over with..." he mumbled to no one as he wiped his eyes again. Maybe he could at least distract himself long enough to patch this emotional leak he had. He gave it another stroke, this time a little bit louder, more bold. He wasn't really sure what to play, so he let his hands choose for him. The first few strums seemed to be nothing at all, but it gradually collected into a song that he had heard somewhere. A gentle melody, just like she always had been. The lyrics of the song were just out of reach, but deep in his heart, he knew them. If not the words themselves, then the meaning behind them. A broken love, one that had been torn by fate. Someone alone, left to be blessed -- or cursed-- by the after images of their lover. Through nature, through the simplest of things, the memory of them came up again and again. His heart panged with pain, but at the same time, he found himself playing on. For as bad as it felt, it also felt oddly liberating. Dare he say, he almost didn't despise how his tears kept falling.

As the song was nearing the end, he found himself clearing his throat. 

"And you're never truly gone 

As long as a part of you in me lives on..."

His words were by no means in tune with his instrument. They were shaky and unstable, riddled with his emotions. But they were his voice, his song. 

 " 'Cause I'll always find you again and again 

And I'll lose you every time..."

He paused, letting the guitar hum to a stop. So he had remembered the lyrics after all. It was hopeful, and yet so utterly crushing.... Yes, that was exactly what he was feeling. He had promised to himself that he would get Netty back no matter what, and yet he wasn't so sure that he could do it. Even if he had managed to save her, what were the chances that either one or both of them would wind up in some trouble? Ever since the day they had met, they had been riddled with obstacles. They had each other before, but now they didn't even have that... He was all alone now... 

It hurt too much. The pressure in his chest was only rising, and it made him shake. He had to finish the song to take the edge off of it all. He resumed strumming the cords again, whispering the words to himself. As the song came to an end, he only paused a few moments before playing again. Without thinking, his fingers had found a new song for himself to sing. 

"Heaven is a place on earth

When I'm with you..." 

He hummed. As he sung along, his whispers grew in volume. He was doing two things at once as the song went on: digesting the lyrics, and considering his own situation. The image of Netty only grew stronger in his mind, the gentle way that she had existed right beside him for so long. Through the good, the bad, through it all she was always there. And now, they were both alone, separated into unfamiliar places and forced to endure more than they could bear. Why her? Why him? Why either one of them, or their friends? Their family? What had they done to deserve this outcome?

"How tragic of the fate of the lover who was left behind...

Don't leave me behind!"

 He took as deep of a breath he could as he found himself merging with the song, his voice raising to a yell. Maybe it was ugly, or maybe it was beautiful, but either way, it was his heart. 

"No,

Netty was the one that was suffering, that was true. But at the same time, illogically, childishly, he felt as though he had been abandoned. This loneliness -- yes, that was the word-- was too much for him to bear. And for the first time, he really truly let it sink in: he had lost everything. His home, his friends, Netty, even his sight. And in that moment, he truly understood just how massive of a deal that was, that it really truly was something that he couldn't brush off forever. And, realizing that, he lowered his head, finally allowing his tears to flow freely, without holding them back or judging himself for them. As they fell onto the wood of the instrument, he whispered the last two lines to himself.

"Cause I'll always find you again and again
And I lose you every time..."

And Linnea, who had heard it all, continued to stand just outside the door. Hearing the absolute agony that came through her all-hearing ears was enough for her to shed a few tears as well. 

Chapter Text

In the schoolyard, three young elves stood on the sidewalk. "I'm telling you, I didn't steal your stupid game." The heavier elf spat. This may have only been elementary, but this boy was already well established to be a bully. 

"Sure you did! You're -- you're nothing more than a bully!" The skinner elf shot back. "You're always picking on us. Of course you'd steal my game!" He glanced at the blonde directly between them. "Come on, Martyn! Back me up!"

"I-- I mean--" He began, glancing between the two. It was true, the bully had picked on him and his friend so many times, and it did seem like something he would do. But at the same time, something just didn't feel right. He stared at the bully first, then his friend. "I think he's telling the truth." 

"What?" His friend exclaimed as he stepped back. "Martyn, are you calling me a liar? What, do you think I hid the game myself? You'd-- you'd rather side with him rather than me? I thought we were friends." He growled. 

His words made the Martyn gulp. He didn't want to insult his friend, but for some reason he was so confident about the bully being innocent. It wasn't just that, either. His gut told him that his friend was lying too. He was sure of it; his friend really had hid the game in hopes of getting the bully in trouble. But then again, if he called his friend a liar, would that mean they couldn't be friends anymore... "I'm... I mean, of course I believe you." he lied.

⊰♢⊱

"I just don't understand what I did wrong, Mum..." Martyn frowned, leaning against his mother. "I was just telling my friend that the kid wasn't lying and he got all mad at me..." He closed his eyes as she brushed the hair out of his eyes and stroked him lovingly. 

"Look Martyn, what your friend did wasn't right, but..." The woman let out a sigh, frowning as she thought how to put it. "Sometimes, even though we know someone is lying, we shouldn't say it. Sometimes, we should keep it to ourselves."

"But Mum!" The young elf complained. "Isn't lying bad?" 

"You should try to tell the truth, that's true my dear." His mother soothed, continuing to pet her child and hold him close. "But sometimes... it's okay to lie. And even if you know it's a lie, you shouldn't say it. Like-- do you remember the necklace Dad gave me for my birthday?"

Martyn nodded. "You said you loved it, but you were lying so I told Daddy you hated it." He grinned, causing her to grimace at the memory. 

"Right... well, I lied to him because I didn't want him to feel bad. Dad put a lot of effort in choosing it for me, even if he did make a bad choice. When you told him that I hated it, it made him really, really sad." She frowned, to help show him how her husband had felt. "I lied to him so he could feel better."

"So... I shouldn't call people liars?" he frowned, tilting his head in confusion. 

"Sweetie..." His mother paused, closing her eyes. "It's not that you can't, but you need to be careful about people's feelings. If you aren't sure, then you should keep it a secret. Or ask me. Understand?" 

"I... understand Mum. I'll keep their secrets..."

⊰♢⊱

"So... what now?" Martyn asked, resting his chin on his fist. Aerric and Linnea had led him to a room, saying that his training was to begin today. His aide stood just behind him, while the king sat on the opposite side of the table as him. 

"I want to start with a bit of an... exercise, of sorts." The Listener proposed. "I am going to tell you a story  and I want you to listen." The pause was a cue for the so-called Champion to respond.

"Alright then..." He only shrugged. He didn't see how this would be helpful, but he saw no reason to protest, either. He felt around for his cup of tea before carefully grabbing the handle and taking a sip.

"Perfect." The king leaned back in his chair as he got himself comfortable. "Are you familiar with the story of Alvin, Martyn?" He asked before he took another sip of his own tea. 

"Of course... Alvin was the first Listener to love a human. They had children... What were their names again? Elisen, Nimue, Caeda... three others, I think. They had kids, and their kids had kids... Not quite Listener, but not quite human, either. They were known as the children of Alvin, and somewhere down the line Alvin somehow changed to elven, and they were then called elves. I was taught that in elementary." Martyn explained. This small family was the heart of many elven legends. How much they were true, he wasn't sure, but that was hardly the point, was it? "What about them?"

"Would you be surprised to hear that I met one of his children?" Aerric asked, looking up from his white teacup to look directly at Martyn. He was just in time to see how the elf jolted ever so slightly in surprise. 

"Wait-- you really did?" He asked, not masking the shock he had. He had believed it immediately; there was no doubt in his mind that this king was telling the truth. Aerric nodded in response even though the other couldn't see.

"Yes, it was in rather... unfortunate circumstances, but we meet rather briefly. It was Elisen. At the time, he looked to be about in his sixties. He was just a wandering soul, having lost everything except for one comrade. The two of them had only just begun what had to be a long journey, trying to pick up the pieces. I offered them both rooms in my palace, and they accepted. I was sure to give them rooms just across from each other because of how inseparable they were." He chuckled to himself at the memory of them both. He couldn't help but notice how Martyn was frowning, however. 

"What were these visitors of yours like?" He asked, almost suspiciously. 

"Well, the elf was rather reserved. I wasn't really sure what I was expecting, but he was traditional, very set in his ways. He wore a mask to conceal his face and seldom said a word the entire time. He bound his eyes, just like you too. His human friend... Grenos, I think it was... was nearly the exact opposite of him. Very bubbly and hyper, he would hardly stop talking. I almost feared that the man had gotten into the coffee and drank it all. His eyes were -- gosh, they were the largest eyes I've ever seen in my life too. Same with his teeth. But anyway, despite the complete polar opposites, it was abundantly clear that the two shared an incredibly deep bond. It was as if their very souls were interconnected somehow. They were only here a few days before they left, but I still think about them sometimes. I do wonder how they died. After all these years, they must have died thousands of years ago already..." The royal hummed at the memory. For someone like him, time sure did fly by quite fast. 

"And you just met by chance?" Martyn asked, humming. 

"Not exactly." The Listener explained. "You see, the Watchers were disapproving of their little romance, said that it went against fate and tossed them into the Void. I managed to gain the right to them in a war -- along with many others trapped within it. And so, I released them all."

"That's pretty impressive." The elf replied. He attempted to drink one last time, finding only a few drops remaining of the tea before he carefully set the cup on the plate. The last few days, he had found it to be quite the exercise, trying to map and remember his surroundings all the time, especially when none of it was familiar in the first place. 

"You don't sound as impressed as you did when I first told you that I met one of Alvin's children." Aerric noted, his eyes narrowing. "Why is that, Mr. Littlewood? Do you think I'm lying again?" His words made the elf hesitate for a moment before he shrugged. 

"Yes. Not your entire story, but... there are a lot of lies are sprinkled in your story, yes." He explained as he heard Linnea refill his cup once more. He looked up, giving her a quick thank you as he (hopefully) looked at her before looking back to where he pictured Aerric was. 

Little did he know, the creature was grinning widely now as he moved his own tea cup to be refilled. He too gave his gratitude before refocusing on the conversation at hand. "And what, do tell, exactly do you think I'm lying about?"

"Well, from start to finish..." Martyn began, finding the handle on his tea cup so he could take another sip to buy himself a few moments to form his words. "You met one of the children of Alvin, but it wasn't Elisen. You did offer them rooms, but they didn't take two right across from each other. Grenos wasn't the name of the human, either, and you knew it. He had big eyes, but not big teeth. Elisen -- well, whoever you claimed was Elisen-- did not blind himself. They didn't die, to your knowledge at least... No, it's more than that. You know that they're alive somehow." He hesitated, dwelling on the last lie. "You said they had a deep bond, which was true, but you partially lied when you said they were detained because they were in love."

With such a deep analysis, the king couldn't help but laugh. This was just too good. "The Watchers did take them for being in love, but they misunderstood. Their love was not romantic, never was to my knowledge. But don't misunderstand; they certainly seemed as though they would die for each other." He clarified. "Martyn, how did you manage to figure all that out?" 

The elf only shrugged. "I'm just good at telling when people lie." He supposed. 

"Do you not think that is a bit... unusual?" Aerric asked him, lifting an amused eyebrow. Martyn could almost feel the way their gaze was now locked on him, carefully studying his every movement, no matter how small. 

"Well, it's just something I taught myself, I guess." He supposed, shrugging again as he shifted slightly in his chair. He was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, but he couldn't put into words why that was. Was it perhaps because he wasn't very open about talking about just how good he was at spotting a lie?

"Oh? And how did you manage that?" They teased him.

"I just stare at them. I really focus on them, I narrow my eyes and study their every movement. People have all sorts of tells, like avoiding eye contact, or making too much eye contact. They might shake their head no a little when they say yes. They might fidget a bit, or they might blink more. I just kind of picked it up when I was little." He explained. To fully explain it was like trying to recall the controls for his favorite game: his body knew them, but he just couldn't put it into words that could be easily understood.

Something about this was apparently funny though, because his host laughed again. "Is that so..." He hummed, taking a moment to drink some more tea as he closed his eyes. He set his cup down on the plate as he opened them again, looking up at Martyn. "But you couldn't see me at all the entire time I told you the story." 

"What? Do you think I'm lying?" Martyn asked, frowning now. That's right, that was the main reason why he usually didn't talk about his knack for lie-spotting; many just simply did not believe him, trusted him when he called one out or even got offended somehow. That's why he had gotten nervous. 

"No, not at all... I am just curious about what my tells were." Aerric laughed again. What was so funny about this, the elf couldn't figure out, so he ignored it once again. 

He only shrugged, telling him, "I'm not sure. Something in your voice, most likely." He supposed again. It must have been a auditory tell, seeing as he couldn't rely on his sight. He couldn't quite recall exactly what it was, just because he was so used to shifting through lies. 

"Okay, then, try this one out for size: I am going to tell you two truths and lie, and I want you to tell me exactly what this tell of mine is." The creature took a few moments to collect himself, calming his system, as well as give Martyn time to prepare as well. "I killed the king while under his ultimate control. I love green tea with milk. My natural hair color is glowing rainbow. It changes from one color to the next, and glows the dark." Throughout it all, he kept his voice level and clear, speaking matter of factly. 

Martyn only scoffed. This was too easy. Was this supposed to be a challenge? "I would have thought that you would have liked green tea." He hummed, almost yawning to show just how simple it was. 

"I much prefer water, to be honest. If it would not immediately evaporate on it's own down here, it's what I would drink the most. Do not get me wrong, green tea is one of my favorites, but it's boring only drinking tea or milk all day, every day. I can hardly say that I love it." The other responded, still smirking. "I am rather surprised that you figured out that was the lie."

"Oh no, that rainbow hair crap was a total lie too." The Champion breathed a laugh. That was overly and painfully obvious, some kind of bait. "I knew when you said that there would be one lie, you were lying too. That means either two or all three of your statements would be false... What was the point of all this again?"

"I was asking you what my tells were." 

His words only made Martyn rub the back of his neck, laughing almost shyly. "Well I... I guess it's kind of hard to explain, really. You are a pretty good liar, your voice didn't seem to fluctuate or anything I don't think... I'm just good at telling when people are lying."

If only he could see the way Aerric was madly grinning as Martyn nearly stumbled around his words, nearly at a loss of how himself had so naturally come to a conclusion even though he had lived that way for almost his entire life. "And have you ever once thought to yourself about how strange this ability of yours is? I mean, even if you are able to tell if someone is lying, to be so precise about it that you could even pick apart my story to tell me exactly each and every one of my lies? Every single one, with a look on your face that says that it was child's play?" He prodded again. He was pleased to watch his subject squirm in his seat, really thinking it through. But it seemed he would need just a little bit more of a push before he would respond. "Tell me, Martyn. Did anyone else in your village have this power?" To which, the elf shook his head.

"Well, no..." He frowned. He never had really thought about it as an ability or a power; that made it sound like some kind of magic. He looked down, avoiding eye contact even though such a thing was impossible for him in his current state. His tea sat, having gone untouched for the last few minutes as this conversation had changed from a casual story to what felt like some kind of interrogation. 

"So you would say that this power of yours is unusual?" he asked again. He didn't receive a response, but that was a response in itself. Yes, yes it was indeed strange even if it was familiar to the blonde. The king leaned back in his chair, his crazy grin changing into one that was more tame, more smug, as though he had finally won a game. He had needed Martyn to question it all. "I take this as a yes, and it is true. It is... quite uncanny, really."

"What exactly are you getting at?" The blonde asked, rather suspiciously, sensing that there was something that this king wasn't quite saying outright. 

"Well I wasn't quite sure of it myself when I listened to you from Evolution." Aerric began. He absent-mindedly grabbed a stirring stick and stirred the contents of his cup as he watched how the liquid turned into a small vortex. "It was... crazy, it did not make sense, but I had the feeling... I had to test you, to see if it could really be true somehow. And it seems that it really is."

The Champion only sighed, beginning to feel annoyance. It was almost as though they were dancing around the subject, dragging it out unnecessarily. "What are you talking about?" He tried again, his impatience showing in his tone.

"Martyn Littlewood," The king began with a suddenly almost strict tone in his voice. He had dropped his stirring stick to look directly at the other with a piercing gaze. "You can read minds."

For a moment, it seemed as though time stopped. Neither spoke, neither made a sound. It felt as though Martyn's own heart had stopped, or at least skipped a beat. "I-- what?" He asked, before he let out an awkward laugh. This was some kind of joke, surely. He couldn't possibly be a mind reader! He'd think that he would have noticed if he could, after all. The proposal wasn't just crazy, it was insane! And so he laughed, it was a joke, it had to be. But he was the only one that had laughed. And even more than that, he could tell that he had been told the truth, or at least what they thought was the truth. 

Would that mean that they were insane, he couldn't help but wonder. They were rather odd, so that would make sense... But for some reason, he couldn't help but think that wasn't it, either. "But everyone knows elves can't read minds! Most Listeners can't even do that! It makes no sense for me to be able to!" He argued. 

"I agree, it does not." Aerric sighed, shaking his head. "But at the same time, you are showing the signs young -- or untrained-- mind readers have. You grew up apart from Listeners, yes? Well, in Listener settlements, it's common that elementary-aged children are issued a test. It is really quite a simple one. The examiner will tell them a story riddled with lies, and the child will be asked to identify each lie in the story. Now, a non-mind reader might be able to pick out a few by sheer luck or what have you, but a mind reader? They should be able to spot every single one. And Martyn, that is exactly what you did. It may be unprecedented, but it is completely undeniable now."

How was Martyn even supposed to process this? He opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it again. The creature wasn't lying. How wasn't he lying? He had to be... No. He took a deep breath, trying to get over the shock. There was no reason to believe this king was trying to deceive him; there'd be no benefit for him to do so. But at at the same time, it made no sense that he really had what must be the rarest ability of the Listeners themselves. Did that mean that he was above some of them? Above some of the beings that he had been raised to worship and respect? He shook his head. No, he didn't like to think of that. "I'm... just an elf..." He found himself explaining. 

"That may be," They replied, suddenly sounding as though they were directly behind him. They set their hand on his shoulder. "But it seems as though you are a very special one at that. I couldn't have chosen anyone better for a Champion." He felt his shoulders ease as he accepted it, however reluctantly. "Good, now... before you leave this room, I need you to do one thing for me: I need you to tell me the real names of the two people in my story." 

His words made Martyn's eyes widen. "What? How am I supposed to do that?" he asked in surprise. This all was happening to fast. He had only just barely accepted that he was (apparently) a mind reader, and now he was just expected to be able to use the full extent of this ability? How?

"You know how," The king soothed. "When we were talking earlier, you said that if you focused on someone, you could know what was a lie, and what was truth. It seems that you have advanced beyond that; you no longer have to put so much effort or strain to find lies. You just have to go a level deeper than that, to not just stand at the edge of their mind, but devolve into it. You just need to search within my brain for the truth itself."

But this was all too much at once. Martyn hadn't even done anything, and he already felt the beginnings of a headache. He put his head in his hands, even as he felt the hand of the other still on his shoulder. "This all is going so fast..." He mumbled. 

"I know, I know..." Aerric assured, patting the elf's back before removing his hand. "It may be difficult to understand exactly what you're supposed to do, but I will make it easier for you. I too am a mind reader; I had to learn this as well. As I am fully realized, I can not only read thoughts, but project them into others. I will half project the names to you. All you need to do is reach out and grab them... Think of it like a handshake. That will make it much easier for you."

Martyn swallowed. "But..." 

The king then spoke in a tone that was somewhere between demanding and soothing; almost hypnotic in essence, but not quite. "You can do this, Martyn. Take a deep breath and focus on me; nothing but me. Empty your mind of everything. Everything but me, and the names of Alvin's child and his friend. Search for the names; tune your ears to hear them." 

Martyn couldn't hardly believe he was even attempting something so absurd. He strained his ears as Aerric told him to, though he wasn't even really sure what he was supposed to be focusing them on exactly. He could focus on the creature's voice, but how would that possibly be different from simply listening to him closely?

"It's one and the same, Martyn." They explained. "When you were younger, you said that you focused intensely on others to spot their lie. Do the same now, but even more intensely. Search for the names... search for Alvin's son and his comrade. I'm holding them out for you to grab." 

What he said was simple, but this task was nothing short of unfathomable. Martyn tried and tried, focusing only on Aerric. A small thought came to his mind: he could simply guess which child it was, but they quickly told him to do this properly; to find the name himself. And so, he had no choice but continue this wild, absurd search that a large part of him doubted would really ever lead to anything. 

"You can do it, Martyn... I know you can. I can feel you reaching for me... you have almost got it. Just a little more. The names are within your reach." They promised. The more and more the elf focused, the more he shook. He squeezed his eyes shut as he headache grew from a dull ache to a unrelenting pounding against his skull. Sweat began to drip down his forehead, quickly being absorbed by his bandana just above his eyeline. The blindfold, in turn, stuck closer to him, heating him more and causing him to sweat even more. It was  triggering a cycle that was only snowballing. "Just a little more..."

When he found it, it was like a shining edge; that was the only way Martyn could think of describing it. Or maybe, it was like something that was just poking out from underneath the sand. Something just within his reach, something that he could see but yet was so far from. He tried to reach out just a little further, even though it felt as though he was fully extending his mental arm and thensome. The very edges of his fingernails brushed against the answer he was searching for. He was already giving it everything that he had and it was still just out of reach. 

"That's it! Grab it! Take it from me!" 

And Martyn let out a yell as he tried that much more. His headache was no longer pounding; it was as though his head was exploding. He began seeing colors like fireworks in his vision, his body shivered and withered in pain. His ears rang so loud that he if he could think in that moment, he likely would have wondered if he was going deaf. It was too much for him; he could no longer maintain his own body weight and he collapsed onto the table. He was panting, his breath hot. He was tempted to slip into unconsciousness, but he had at least enough strength to stay awake for just a few more moments. He took the information, keeping it in the forefront of his brain so his hazy mind wouldn't forget.

"The... the names... Etho.... BdoubleO100..." He whispered before his body went limp and everything faded away.

The king gently pat his back. "You did well Martyn... very well." He whispered to the elf. 

Chapter Text

"And make sure that you hydrate-- you, especially Jimmy! And don't slouch so much, Martyn!" the brothers' mother rattled on. She had been at it for twenty minutes, and that wasn't including the time it took for her to load the ten different shulkers full of various supplies they probably wouldn't need. At least three of them were full of elven kisses; would they even be able to eat a stack of them if they ate nothing else?

"Mom, we get it.... We're only going away for a few days. We'll be careful, and you know we'll message you if anything happens." the younger elf only sighed. He loved her, but sometimes her love was a bit too smothering for comfort.

"Still... the universe is a big place... you've never been to the Main Hub on your own before." She frowned. "And Martyn, humans don't tend to be as accepting as elves are."

Behind her, a taller elf appeared, wrapping his arm around their mother. "It'll be alright dear... it's time for them to see the worlds, go on their own adventure." The father soothed before removing his arm from her.

She only sighed. "You're right..." she admitted. She approached Jimmy, her arms widening to receive him. "But before you both leave, you need to give me a hug. No exceptions!"

"Sure thing, mom!" Jimmy exclaimed, nearly jumping into her embrace. He squeezed her tightly, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "I'll miss you so much!"

Martyn could only sigh in annoyance. All this touchy-feely crying stuff just wasn't his thing, and quite frankly it was making him uncomfortable. He just wished he could hurry up and head out now. After Jimmy parted from their mother, she hugged her bio son without asking. He only huffed, appeasing her by wrapping his arms around her. They stayed there for a minute, neither moving as the mother rambled on about how much she loved him and would miss him.

"I know, I know... I'll be careful..." He sighed, shaking his head. Really, what a bother to go through all this trouble to reassure her. And to think, they were still hugging. How annoying.

"Uh... Martyn? You can let go now, sweetie." She whispered with a giggle, causing him to blush and quick pull away. He crossed his arms as he quickly got away from her, standing beside Jimmy instead.

"Guess you really will miss them after all, huh?" Jimmy chuckled before getting elbowed in the stomach.

⊰♢⊱Present Day⊰♢⊱

Martyn slowly walked through the halls. Even though he held hands with Linnea so he knew he was headed the right direction, he still couldn't help it. When it came right down to it, he didn't fully trust relying on his ears, or his aide. He didn't really care to hold her hand, but until he could get used to all of this, it was what assured him most that he wasn't headed right for an obstacle.

Holding hands with Linnea was nothing like holding hands with Netty. While holding hands with his love always seemed to calm him down, he felt nothing from this. Uncomfortable, really, and awkward. He couldn't wait until he didn't need her.

As they walked up to the large doors, two guards pulled them open to reveal the Chamber of Echoes in all of its glory. Sitting there, one leg draped over the other with a beautiful dress the shining color of emerald, was of course the queen. "Martyn, my dearest Champion, good morning! How are you?" She called as the two walked before her. Once stood in place, Linnea let go and took a few steps to the side, bowing her head slightly in reverence.

"Fine." he replied, rolling his covered eyes at the over enthusiastic greeting. "So what do you have planned today for me?"

The queen giggled to herself, apparently finding the reaction funny somehow. But then she simmered down, placing her hands on her lap as she looked over at Linnea. "That's a good question. Linnea, how are the preparations coming along?"

"Preparations? Preparations for what?" Martyn asked them, looking from one to another, as though that would help give him some nonverbal cue he was missing. It didn't.

"It's... mostly there. It's just... needs a few details... like his... yeah. That sort of thing." Linnea listed off, avoiding his question. Her face heated up as her eyes darted away from Martyn.

"His as in me?" he cut in again, getting a little annoyed that neither of them were explaining what they were talking about.

The shuffling sound of the queen's dress alerted him that she had stood up and descended down the stairs leading to her throne. "Should we talk about this in my chambers?" She asked ever so sweetly, gently touching Martyn's arm in a way that made him instinctively flinch away from her. Something about her suggestion made him feel a little wary.

"What are you planning, exactly?" He asked for the third, and what he hoped would be the final time.

"Come on, you'll see." She assured him, taking his hand in her own for good measure. "Linnea, would you please bring us some tea and a light spread?" She didn't wait for a response, or maybe she had received a nod or something of that nature in confirmation, and Aerrica whisked Martyn away.

⊰♢⊱

It wasn't long until Martyn found himself in the front room of king's private quarters. With her help, he was sat at a small table opposite to her. It wasn't long until Linnea came around, pushing a few trays on a cart. She poured each of them a cup of tea, setting each down on a plate with a soft clink. Then she placed a plate in front of each, prepared the food for Martyn and went to stand against the wall.

"What are we having?" Martyn asked, feeling around his plate until he found a fork. He cautiously poked around his plate until he found a small object that seemed soft to prodding, similar to bread. He continued proding, trying to mentally map out the size and shape of the food.

"They're called scones. They make good for some afternoon tea, but they are perfect for a light breakfast as well." Aerrica explained. She was already working on carefully cutting off a piece of her own scone with her fork. "Go ahead, Champy. take a bite."

Martyn blew a puff of air, moving a hair that was out of place. "You can just call me Martyn." He replied, stabbing what he guessed to be the middle of the scone. He frowned as his fork sunk deeper than he had initially expected. He shook it off his fork and decided to try cutting off a piece instead. It would probably be easier to ask for it to be cut for him, but he didn't want to be helpless. He could do at least this much for himself. "Now, what are these preparations you were talking about? Is it something relating to training?"

The queen hummed as she finished swallowing her first piece. "Not exactly... You see, Martyn, I have something to tell you. But please, do try everything first." She gestured to the table, even though he couldn't see it.

"Sure?" He responded. He glanced her way before taking his first bite. As he had expected, it was something adjacent to bread. Something a bit firmer that crumbled in his mouth. It was sweeter than bread, however, as though it was meant to be more a treat. A bit of semi-solid liquid, blueberry jam he was told it was, dripped down his lip. He grabbed his napkin and wiped it away. She waited in silence as he felt around for his tea cup before drinking a few curious sips of it. This one tasted noticeably more bitter with a sweet, almost salty ending.

"There we go." The queen hummed before she set his teacup down, having drunk from hers as well. "Tea is such a great way to subtly take a potion, don't you think?"

"Wait, did you just drug me?" Martyn asked, pausing with the cup in hand.

In response, the creature only giggled to herself. "No, no. though I did --" A pause. "Actually, nevermind. You probably don't want to know the ingredients." A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned forward, as though she was inviting him to a challenge. One that Martyn took.

"Tell me." He demanded.

"You're going to have to read my mind to get it." She giggled. But becoming a bit more serious, she leaned back into her chair. "While that would be a good exercise, we have much to discuss. The potion makes it so that there can't be anyone eavesdropping on the drinker, you see. A truly private conversation, away from other Listeners. Perfect for this one, for example. Or the one we had when you first woke up from the Void. I had to give you a splash for that one, though, seeing as were out cold."

Martyn pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance before he sighed. "Fine, then. What is it?" he asked. He just hoped that she was just teasing him again. He picked up his fork and resumed eating.

Then, as though she had been waiting for Martyn to take a bite, she suddenly blurted, "I'm going to be your new daddy!"

The elf choked. It took him a few moments to ensure that he didn't die before he could finally swallow properly. "What the hell? I am most certainly not a child, I am most certainly not being adopted by the likes of you, and I am most certainly not doing anything with you if that's what you meant, either!" He exclaimed, pointing his fork in her direction threateningly. He had known what vow he had made, but that certainly didn't include playing stupid games like this.

To his dismay, it only made the queen laugh with glee. "Aww... but Little Marty...." She whined in such a way that Martyn could almost hear her pout.

"Don't call me Little Marty, either." He rolled his eyes. "It's Martyn, or Martyn Littlewood. Or, I guess Champion now." He sighed, pushing that aside. "In any case, I'm just here for that serious conversation that you promised."

"You're no fun." She pouted. But the queen took a few moments to change her composure into that was, once more, much more regal and befitting of a royal. "While I may have been joking, in essence, I was not. Dear Champion, what if I told you that I seduced your mother many years ago and that you were born not long after?"

A lie, Martyn could tell. But even if she hadn't been, "there's many jokes about whose kid is who's in my village. That joke was never made about me. I'm a spitting image of my father." He replied.

"And if I had seduced your father?" She asked in turn, a teasing edging in her tone. Such an absurd question actually forced Martyn to set down his fork.

"I would seriously hope my mother would know I'm not hers then." He almost facepalmed. "She can be a bit dense at times, I mean she believes in these people who hate queer people." A pause, something inside of him clicking. "Or— rather, she did..." right, he had been gone for many years. He almost gasped at the idea that his parents might be gone, probably were. No, must be. He quickly shoved those feelings down to think about later. He certainly wasn't going to almost cry in front of the queen herself. That was especially true in this arrangement.

Aerrica made an amused sound, like the sound of bells. "Though, you do have to admit, a mind reading elf is quite impressive, yes? I have never heard of such a thing until you came along." She replied. "Would it not be reasonable to suppose that one of your parents were an incredibly powerful Listener? Maybe that would be why."

Martyn had long since tired of this conversation. "I'm not your son. Stop trying to convince me otherwise." He ordered.

"Fine, fine." The queen only waved. "Martyn, you will be spending a lot of time with me. You have only been here for a few days, and yet I can already hear the rumors beginning to stir. The Listeners who care about the crown want to know who you are, and they won't be satisfied until we tell them something. It is rather abnormal— I have never trained someone directly like this before. The only people that have spent so much time with me are servants and other staff. It doesn't take long of a listen to tell that you are neither, that you are even above the servants. At the same time, we must not uncover our mission to the public. That is why I said those things."

As Martyn listened, he indulged in his potion-infused tea. The words she had said made sense to him, but there seemed to be a piece she had left unsaid. What she was proposing was a declaration of sorts. He couldn't help but wonder what laid in between the words she hadn't said. But then, all at once it clicked. "You -- you actually want me to be your--? But wait, if you're the king," He pointed over in her direction, "wouldn't that mean...?" He slowly turned the finger towards himself.

"Yes, I would be declaring that you were a prince. The one and only heir of the kingdom." She explained simply. "The Watchers took you from me and placed you into the Void because they were afraid that it would strengthen us. Or, alternatively, just to cause me grief. But now, at long last, I have recovered you. The fact that you were in the Void would also remove any issues if someone were extensive enough to document all the realistic windows in which I could have a child based on my sexual encounters. They could only go so far back as their own birth I'd imagine."

Martyn's face twisted into that of disgust. "No one would do that, surely." He replied.

"You'd be surprised what people want to know about a life of a royal. Or anyone, really." Aerrica  shrugged.

Well that was... gross. The next swallow of his tea was rather unappealing to him, and he had to force it down. He set the tea down on his tray without searching for it, probably not to touch his tea again. Each time he searched the saucer, or his silverware, or anything else, it became easier to find again. Even if he didn't find it on the first try, he found that his movements were becoming quicker, more confident in guessing. Dare he say, he was getting the hang of being blinded in that regard.

That aside, he decided to curtail the way the conversation was progressing. "Wouldn't there be some sort of political implications of that?" He asked.

"You being here in any capacity poses political implications, Martyn." Aerrica replied.

"Still, I mean--" Martyn couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it. Him, a prince over one of the Higher Species? Not just a cute prince in a small server without recognition anywhere outside of the current world -- no. The prince of the Listeners and, apparently, elves as well. The prince of the very people he had prayed to growing up. Had prayed to for guidance and freedom from the Watchers who had taken him, Jimmy and his friends. "Me, a prince? Surely, there is some other solution that isn't so... extravagant."

"Do you not believe you deserve such a title?" She asked in turn, almost teasingly. "Royalty by blood is not earned, only given. That is the kind of prince you would pretend to be." She paused to eat the final piece of her scone. She took the time to wipe her mouth with her napkin, dabbing at her lips as to try and not ruin her makeup. "But, if you are truly opposed to that, there is one other thing that we can do."

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's quite simple, really. I would undertake you as my concubine. It would allow you to be freed of any social or political obligations, but on the other hand, we would need to assume those roles properly." She replied. "I do not fancy such a thing, but I am willing to consummate you so long as I assume dominance over you."

Martyn felt his face turn bright red. "What?! I am not doing that! I'm sworn to Netty and I would never betray her like that. Even if it was just a rouse." He exclaimed, letting the offense cut through his tone.

The queen remained calm, not reacting to his outburst. "I figured that you would say that. That was why I proposed the royal scheme first. I suppose it is settled then."

Martyn's heart skipped a beat. Was that really it? Was he really going to be such an important person just like that, under such a short timeframe?  

Aerrica stood up, her chair scraping across the floor as she pushed it back. She crossed her arms in such a way that her fingers barely touched the skin on her forearm. A simple pose, yet one that carried so much regality even though only Linnea could bear witness to it. "Thank you for coming, dear prince. Your coronation shall be in three days. We have already started the preparations, and they are almost complete. Linnea, please assist him to the tailor."

And if Martyn had thought things were going fast before, he had been terribly mistaken. He stood up so fast that his own chair clattered to the floor. He winced, silently apologizing for that. But nonetheless, he couldn't help but say, "three days?! How—?"

"W-We've been preparing for this for a while now..." Linnea said beside him. "B-But uh, you heard her majesty.... It's time to get you fitted..." she gently grasped his arm and pulled him away towards the door.

Chapter Text

"Guys, guys!" Grian exclaimed as he knocked wildly on the door of the property police, pushing it open without permission. Both Jimmy and Martyn looked at him expectantly. 

"Grian, what is it?" Martyn asked as he walked over. The human was out of breath and sweating, hardly able to form words. He leaned over and pointed towards the door. Martyn and Jimmy followed his finger, but there wasn't anything there that they could see. The brothers shared a worried look with one another before Jimmy placed a hand on Grian. 

"Breathe, breathe." He encouraged, rubbing Grian's back. 

Little by little, the man could finally catch his breath. And when he finally could, he said, "You guys have to see this. I -- I found something." 

⊰♢⊱

A crowd was already gathering right at spawn. By the looks of things, Grian, Martyn and Jimmy were the very last ones to arrive. As they walked over as fast as they could (because not only was it physically impossible to sleep, but running was too it would seem. Which then begged the question of just how much of a panic Grian had been in to bring himself to such a state. Just considering that alone made Martyn worry all the more.) 

"I was just messing around and ended up dying. And of course then I got sent to spawn, but-- but it changed and--" Grian rambled on nervously. "I-- I don't really understand what it is, but -- well, just see for yourself." He finished, gesturing to the crowd, all of whom were looking down at the ground.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Martyn asked them as he approached the sandstone that most certainly had not been there before. The others stepped back a bit so he and Jimmy could see for themselves. Bedrock was etched into the ground in the form of certain symbol: a fragmented portal. 

Oh shit.

Martyn's eyes widened with recognition, everything clicking into place. "That's-- that's the Watchers." He said in a hushed whisper, feeling a chill run down his spine as he paled. He stepped back as he held out his arm in front of his brother protectively. He felt his breathing quicken as all the countless stories that been seared into him as a child flashed in his mind one by one. All the wars, all the people that the Watchers had captured and punished because they wanted to be something that the Watchers didn't like. How they went to no length to obtain power. How it was through much blood of the Listeners that villages like his home could remain peaceful. 

They were -- they were-- captured by the Watchers. He took another step back, forcing Jimmy to do the same. 

"S-surely it's a prank." Jimmy replied, only slightly louder than Martyn. He laughed nervously. "It's - it's a prank, right? There's no way that they would actually--?" But the pit in Martyn's stomach said it couldn't possibly be. There was no way that any of these humans were so cruel to scare them in such a way. To pretend to be the worst mass murders in history and the largest violators of player rights. 

Martyn slowly turned to his brother, at first trying to force a weird sort of nervous smile before it crumbled away into nothing. He opened his mouth, unsure of what to say to try to assure his brother when things couldn't possibly get worse than this. 

However, he wouldn't get the chance as Mini spoke first. "If that's the Watchers, we're saved!" He exclaimed. Martyn inhaled, but he wasn't fast enough to respond once again.

"Oh thank goodness!" Salem cried. Beside her, Netty heaved a sigh, her shoulders relaxing.

"Good. This is going to be over in no time, then." she replied. 

"And to think, I thought we were goners." BigB agreed with a hearty chuckle, as though nothing in the world was wrong. And one by one, everyone but Grian, the elf and his human brother sang the praises of Watchers. Martyn found himself taking a few more steps back, for a whole new reason. He had already felt out of place here as the only elf, but this? This was something else entirely. How could they be so blind, so brainwashed that they could possibly think of the Watchers as good? No, not even good -- their actual saviors? 

"Martyn, what do we do?" Jimmy whispered so quietly only Martyn was able to hear it. "Do we -- do we tell them?" 

"I--" Martyn swallowed, listening to them all. He wasn't sure, he wasn't sure, he wasn't-- Grian. Grian hadn't said anything, either. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him back over to where he and Jimmy were standing, just far enough to be separated from the others. "Grian, what do you think of this?" 

Grian glanced back at everyone else, who were annoyingly still parading on. He gave a rather nervous smile. "Well, I've never really considered myself a religious man, really. Or rather, whatever the Higher Species had going on, really didn't involve me, so I thought." A shrug. "But before I got trapped here in this world, I-- something happened that brought me to near perma death. And -- well, for the first time, I prayed. I prayed that the Listeners or whatever else there may be out there to save me. And -- and then they trapped me here. And if the Listeners are natural enemies of the Watchers... hm. I think that would mean that the Watchers are good?" He asked, tilting his head almost as though he were awaiting confirmation. 

Jimmy shook his head. "No, no, you've got it all wrong! The Listeners are the good guys, and the Watchers are the bad guys! Trust us, we've spent like -- our entire lives studying what the Watchers have done! Had to memorize their names and everything to leave the schoolhouse." He explained. But even saying that, Grian's expression didn't change in the slightest.

"I guess we'll see, then." Grian decided before turning his back and rejoining the other humans, leaving the two brothers standing on the outskirts.

⊰♢⊱Present Day⊰♢⊱

Martyn never knew what to expect these days. Each time he woke up, it seemed as though there was another surprise waiting for him. Like being told he was meant to save the universe, or getting his basic rights taken away, or apparently, becoming a prince of what his parents taught him were basically gods. And that was how he found himself here, standing on a platform with his arms spread out. In nothing but shorts, no less. The tailor had been at it for what seemed like hours, taking about every measurement possible. If Martyn didn't know better, he would think that the male was triple checking his work. 

What also didn't help was the various questions he was asked about his clothing preferences. As much as he tried to be at least some help, ultimately he didn't even understand half of the terms that were being used. "Honestly, I just throw on a t-shirt and shorts and just call it a day." He admitted finally after being asked about his personal opinion on something called a doublet, whatever that was.  

"No, no. That won't do." The tailor replied as he took Martyn's arm and bent it a few different ways. "You deserve to look amazing for your coronation, your highness."

Martyn winced. It was such an odd term to be referred to by. It felt wrong. He wasn't one to get highly specialized, modded clothing that fit his exact measurements. Nor was he one to dine in the presence of any serious royalty, or have a servant of his own. And yeah, he could deal with having an aide. He could even accept that he would be spending a lot of time with Aerric. (He hardly recognized his position as king, anyway. Aerric certainly wasn't his king, for one thing.) But to actually be called a prince himself just felt different.

"Your highness? Are you alright? Did I injure you in any way?" The tailor asked upon seeing his grimace. 

"No, no of course not." Martyn was quick to reply. He hadn't quite realized how quiet that he had gotten. Disturbed too, maybe. "It's just... really weird to be called that." he admitted truthfully.

The tailor nodded as he took away the measuring tape, rolling it up for good. "I can only imagine." He replied, going to set it aside on a nearby table. "I never thought I'd see the day that the king would have a child. Must have been quite a shock to learn who your father was after all this time." 

"You're telling me." Martyn only sighed, shaking his head. A shock for sure, but for a reason much different than the tailor was expecting. 

"I'm sure that you'll get used to it in time." The tailor assured as he walked back over to the elf. "But in the meantime, if you'll allow it, I can design a custom outfit for you? While I did want your input, you don't seem to have any preferences."

Martyn nodded. To him, it hardly mattered; the garment he was to wear. Maybe what was to become of himself, too, just as long as he was able to save Netty and the others. "Go ahead. Do whatever you feel is best." He replied.

To save everyone... Wasn't that Grian had done all those years ago? The man had left them, abandoned everything and everyone he knew to become a Watcher. For roughly two hundred years, he had walked among the dreaded creatures; had even become one of them. The tailor finished up not too much longer. Linnea brought him through the halls, he found himself lost in his thoughts. 

He couldn't help but wonder what it was like. Had Grian been welcomed with open arms, or had he been looked down upon, treated as though he were a mere imposter? Had the Watchers been forthcoming with him, or did they ensnare him in a web of riddles and vague words? How would his experiences here, training and becoming a prince (apparently) compare to Grian's?

His heart squeezed at a sudden realization: For all that Grian had sacrificed, it had been for very little. Evolution had not survived for much longer after that. And now, the worlds were at a tipping point if Aerrica was to be believed (in the very least, she believed that she was telling the truth). 

And so... and so, Martyn knew it was his turn. Even if it was all in vain, he had to try. To save Netty and them. To protect what Grian had sought to do, had given up his entire life -- his own humanity-- for. He just hoped that this time, the efforts would be for the final time, that the Evolutionists would be left alone after everything he would do here. Jimmy or Pearl or anyone else would not have to trail him, being placed among one of the higher species and cut off from everyone else for one reason or another. 

Those were his reasons to keep fighting, to keep playing games and keep having his rights violated. So help him, if there are any more surprises to mount on his growing pile--. An internal sigh. What he had been handed already had been a lot on it's own, from whatever being a royal would entail, being blinded and the training he had barely begun. His plate was getting heavier by the day, maybe it would only continue to mount with whatever surprises could be thrown his way still, whatever those may be. Regardless, the road ahead of him seemed more than daunting. He would need to hold tight to his motivations, to never forget them if this all became too much. 

⊰♢⊱

Before he knew it, he found himself back in the presence of the king himself. By the sounds of heavy doors and the heavy metal shifting to open them, he could guess that they were in the Chamber of Echoes again. 

"Welcome back, my beloved son. I trust that the tailor was to your liking?" Aerric greeted him. He had once again switched his attire and body, now donning on a suit. It was by his words that Martyn knew he was in for it. This must be the start of their show.

"Er-- yes. It was fine." He replied, feeling as his shoulders tensed. He was used to having an audience, sure. The Watchers had spent years doing nothing but observing him, after all. At the same time, he hadn't tried to actively deceive them this deeply. 

Sensing this, Aerric stood up and descended the stairs that led to the platform his throne stood on. With the shoes that he had on, his every step resounded loudly in the room as if to announce his every movement. He went to stand directly in front of Martyn, placing a hand on both of his shoulders. "I know it's a lot right now, but trust me, you'll adjust." He said in ever the gentle manner. 

"I--" Martyn began. He resisted the urge to pull Aerric's hands off of him. They certainly weren't that close, but on second thought, they were supposed to be bonding, weren't they? He pushed down any stubbornness that lingered in him. "Thank you, Dad." he replied, almost choking on his words. He still couldn't believe that it had come to this of all things. He said a silent apology to his real father for replacing him with this fool.

Aerric frowned as he removed his hands from Martyn and took a few steps back. "You are welcome. I just wish -- just wish I could have saved you all those years ago, that I could have raised you, my boy. That way, you would not have to adjust to the life that you were always meant for." He inhaled sharply and -- wait. Martyn frowned as well now, trying to interpret the sounds. Was Aerric crying? His eyes widened under his mask as he made the connection. Just how good was he at playing a role? And, perhaps more importantly, how was he supposed to even come close to that?

"I'm-- I'm just glad that I'm home now." Martyn replied, wincing after he heard himself. His tone sounded too flat. The affectionate tonal meanings he had meant to infuse it with had probably been lost. 

"Of course, of course." Aerric nodded along quickly. He wiped his eyes and took a few deep breaths, alerting Martyn that he had stopped crying. The king took a few moments to compose himself, standing up straighter and dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief. All Martyn could hear of it was the slight shuffling of clothes, aware that it meant the king had moved, but not how he had moved exactly. "In only three days, you will formally introduce yourself to the entire kingdom. As you know, under my rule, I believe in complete freedom for all. But alas, there are are ways in which you should dictate yourself as prince. In that way, being royalty strips you of certain rights and freedoms. In the presence of the public, you should act as a royal should. That very well may take years of practice, dear son, but I shall teach you the basics right now, before the morn of your coronation." 

Oh, so that was what they were doing now. Martyn couldn't help but notice the way in which the king was speaking was more eloquent and purposeful than at breakfast. It was much more tailored to a crowd and he had to admit, it really did help give him the aura of a ruler. (Wait, was he going to have to learn how to speak like that?) "Er-- alright. Where do we start exactly?" He asked. 

"Let us start with the way that you carry yourself." Aerric replied. "A ruler should stand with their back straight, shoulders back. Your chest should come forward and you should look straight ahead unless to wish to make eye contact with a commoner. Your arms should remain relaxed at your sides, and you should walk with confidence and purpose." As he spoke, the elf tried his best to fix his posture the best he could. It must have not been good enough, because Aerric tisked before saying, "No, no. Relax your shoulders. You are far too rigid."

 And so, Martyn tried to correct himself. He really didn't really know what he was doing, couldn't see for himself what exactly he was supposed to achieve. He must have not done it correctly that time either, because Aerric walked behind him and took him by the shoulders. The king guided him with his hands into the correct stance. "How does that feel?" the king asked him when he had seemingly finished. 

"Better than whatever I was doing a second ago." Martyn replied truthfully. It took some conscious effort, but it also wasn't terribly difficult either just as long as he remembered to maintain the position. It was kind of like squeezing his fist or keeping his hand raised in that way: easy to do, but he imagined the longer he did it for, the harder it would be to continue to do. 

"Perfect." The king nodded to himself as he took a step back, removing his hands from Martyn's shoulders. "Now, how about you try walking. Remember, keep your head up and maintain a slow, but confident stride." 

Martyn tried his best, he really did. Yet when he walked forwards, even he could tell that his steps were far too cautious, far too fearful. That wasn't to even mention how he instinctively reached out in front of himself, trying to scan for any particular obstacles. He frowned as he stopped, looking back at where he had left Aerric. "This isn't going to work." He protested. "If I go much faster than this, I'm going to run into something and make a fool of myself. Certainly, that's very princely, is it, Father?" He spoke, adding an edge of venom in his tone.

"This room is empty, Martyn. As long as you avoid the stairs and walls, you'll be fine." Aerric replied, seemingly unconcerned with this matter. 

"And how," Martyn began, trying not to raise his voice, "Exactly do I do that? And if I'm meant to do that in a room full of people, surely they'll be a lot more things to run into." 

Aerric only chuckled. "You listen for them." He replied, as though it were obvious. 

"Yeah, well walls and tables don't usually make sound last time I checked." Martyn could help the snarky remark that left his lips. 

"And in that case, you rely on your aide, Martyn." Was the reply he received. Aerric turned towards Linnea, who had retreated against the wall. He approached her, gesturing for her to come beside Martyn. "Speaking of which, yes, you should train alongside her. This will serve as good practice for you to rely on her too, Martyn." Aerric said as Linnea brushed her hand along his. He took her hand in his own, holding hands. "The more that you two learn to work together, the easier this arrangement will be on you. And along with that, you will gain more confidence when you walk, which will in turn make it easier to walk as a royal should."

"Right..." Martyn hummed, shifting a bit. It had gotten a little easier to rely on Linnea, at least more than it had at the start when he refused to do anything involving her. Still, he wasn't so keen on needing someone to help him to this extent, not when he could see. Or rather, he should be able to, but instead he was stuck with the stupid blindfold.

He listened carefully as Aerric instructed them to walk laps around the room. Linnea would tell him when to turn or otherwise avoid anything in the way. They started slow at first, but after a few laps, Aerric nudged them to move a bit faster and more confidently. It was difficult and nerve wracking, Martyn caught himself multiple times trying to reach out in front of him or slow down, but Linnea ensured that they kept pace. Round and round they went, and Aerric slowly gave more and more instructions. Take further steps. Keep his back straight. Look straight ahead. Don't hold hands, grab onto her arm instead. Now, don't hold onto her at all.

That, perhaps, was the most difficult one to abide by thus far. He could no longer follow Linnea's lead, turning exactly as she did. He could only rely on her verbal instructions and on the sound of her footsteps beside his own. He had almost memorized the room at this point, knowing very roughly how many paces it took before he needed to turn. But after Aerric left the room, he knew there would be another twist in store. A few laps later, he heard the sound of grunting and dragging of things in the room. Not too long after, Linnea unexpectedly told him to change direction and he knew that something was different.

"What was it?" Martyn asked her after the fact.

"S-Servants have... brought a bunch of objects in... to block our path." She explained. Then, she said a lot less shyly, "2 o'clock." To which Martyn knew to side step right. He hardly even had to register her instruction, or at least he hadn't slowed down any. He nodded, humming to show that he understood. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised. He kept hearing people, coming and going, probably bringing even more objects in. What started as guidance every now and then became something constant -- every few seconds, she would tell him how to maneuver around something. It got more complicated and before Martyn knew it, he had lost any orientation of him within the room itself. People were coming and going, but definitely more coming than going. The room was filling not only with objects, but with people too. People that began speaking to one another. At first, they spoke in quiet whispers, but the volume began to grow to the point that it became difficult to hear Linnea even though she was trying to raise her voice the best that she could.

Now, this exercise wasn't perfect. When Martyn ran into someone, it hadn't been the very first time he had bumped into something that day. He found himself stumbling, messing up. A few times, Linnea grabbed his arm to prevent him from smacking something. It was their hardest challenge yet. And, Martyn guessed, was what it was going to be like at his -- at the ceremony.

Time passed. Martyn wasn't sure how long they were there with a bunch of random Listeners talking over each other, but it felt like a long time. The two of them adapted, mostly. They could never get it down just perfectly, but with a few touches here and there, subtle tugs on the back of his sleeve in cases of emergency, Martyn was at least kept from running into anything anymore. Sure, it would (apparently) be more suitable for them to not have to touch at all, but it was much more preferable than the alternative of crashing into something.

When a loud clap of hands sounded in the room, all of the Listeners got quiet. The clapping continued as Aerric laughed, his footsteps telling that he was walking towards Martyn and his aide, both of whom had stopped moving. "Good job, you two! You have done well today." he praised. "You certainly must be hungry by now, yes? Come, let us feast and then you may slumber." 

Chapter Text

Martyn still couldn't believe that he was doing this. Each one of the Evolutionists were lined up neat line, a chest adorned with their name before each one of them. It was set on a platform with the dreaded symbol hanging over them all. Tomohawk had found this spot earlier in the day and proceeded to drag the rest of them over to open the chests together. He still wanted nothing to do with it, even as various people held up the treasures they had in their own chests. Each one seemed to be filled with something different. Things from different versions they couldn't obtain. Rare ores. Luxuries they hadn't had since the day they had stepped foot in that world.

He watched as Jimmy opened his own beside him. He watched as his brother's nervous look gave way to surprise and delight. "Oh, oh, Martyn check this out!" He exclaimed before pulling out a bottle of wine, a specialty bread, a piece of cake and a zombie egg. It wasn't as much as the others had gotten-- BigB had almost enough diamonds for a full suit of armor--, but Martyn still had to admit, it was pretty good stuff.

Just seeing his brother's smile made him feel the need to flash a smile of his own, even if he truly didn't feel like it. "That's pretty cool." He agreed, trying to keep up the act.

"What did you get, Martyn?" Jimmy asked as he put his stuff away.

"Nothing." Martyn shrugged.

"No, no really." Jimmy replied, giving his brother his full attention now. "What did you get?"

Martyn shook his head, his smile beginning to fracture and crack. "I told you, nothing."

Jimmy laughed, as though that was funny somehow. "Ha, ha. Now let's see--" He opened up Martyn's box. And sure enough, it was empty. Jimmy's face fell at that. "Oh." He replied, both of them sharing a knowing look. It wasn't coincidence that the only nonhuman, the only elf, was left with nothing. That his human brother only got scraps compared to the rest. "Martyn, I'm so sorry."

"It's... it's ok." Martyn gave a sad smile as he crumpled up the note in his hand behind his back A note that was penned in the finest of handwriting, 'you want to know why? Bastards deserve to die.'

⊰♢⊱Present Day⊰♢⊱

The next few days passed by fairly quickly. Martyn had gotten into the routine of spending most meals with the king. Aside from that, though, he had spent most of the time refining his royal presentation. Most of it was the same walking and standing he had done before, but he had refined it to perfection. Add in some grand gestures (of which he learned how through Aerric manipulating his arm), some new tonal shifts he hadn't quite registered the king regularly used and a few other things, and his days had been full to the brim.

And as for the night (or rather, whenever he attempted to sleep)? Those were full too. Full of nightmares and sleeplessness. Nightmares he couldn't quite recall when he woke up, but they left the bad to taste in his mouth, something akin to a lingering feeling of embarrassment, failure and utter disappointment.

So busy he was between the two, in fact, that when Linnea woke him up that morning, he hadn't remembered what day it was. "A-are you ready, y-your highness?" She asked him.

"Ready for what?" He asked as he sat up from his couch, pushed the blanket out of the way and threw his legs over the side. "And, just call me Martyn."

"Y-Your coronation... uh, Martyn." She replied, stepping back as he stood up.

"Oh." Martyn froze as he possessed this information. Could it really be today? He waited a few moments, as though waiting for her to day that she was joking. She was not. The shadow of a nightmare, something about walking into a pole in front of a crowd, whispered in his ear. Made him shiver. Still though, he tried his best to bury those feelings. To put on an act for anyone who was listening. "Yeah, that's soon isn't it?" He asked out loud with an almost painfully awkward chuckle. Even now -- no, more than ever, he couldn't believe it. Was he actually doing this?

"I-it is. You have a long day ahead of you, so... so please relax in your bath." Linnea replied. She took a tentative step in that direction, waiting until Martyn followed to lead him to the bathroom. 

The day's bath was quite unlike what it usually was. Somewhere in the steamy room, something called oil produced a heavy, lavish scent. Martyn suspected that they were in the bath itself, but it was such an overwhelming scent that he couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from.

"P-please hand as long as you'd like today." Linnea had told him before he undressed and got in. "We made sure to gather plenty of ice and taking your time will e-ensure that the oils penetrate your skin."

And so, Martyn did just that. He allowed the boiling water to go deep into his joints, allowing himself to relax into it. As much as he could, anyway, because regardless of what the bath could do for his body, it gave him no distraction from his mind.

Regardless where the scent came from, by the time he was done, the smell was all over him, just as Aerric had wanted. He smelled like someone else entirely. When he was finished, he found and fashioned his towel around his waist. And with Linnea's help, the two made their way into the walk-in closet. There, the outfit tailored just for him was hung in all its glory. And with some more help, he managed to put it on.

As Linnea described to him, the man was wearing a royal green jacket. The accents over his shoulder plates, plated in gold that pooled down to the base of his arm. A golden threat hooked from the auric button attached at the right of his base collar, followed intertwined into the caramel colored shoulder plate from which a golden cape spilled all over his back almost reaching the floor. And placed over his blindfold was another piece of cloth, much lighter and also gold in color. The edges of the cloth had small bells woven into the sides so that they announced his presence with every movement.

From her description and what he could feel, it was more than evidently clear that this had been the the most expensive garment he had ever worn his life, to say the absolute least. He hardly felt at home in his own body. The tight yet fitted clothing felt so foreign, as did his smell. Part of him was glad for the blindfold; something told him that he wouldn't like who he saw in the mirror if he had looked.

"H-Hells is beginning to fill, your-- Martyn. T-the king has already gone to entertain the guests. B-But, this is your day so... Well, he told me to serve you some breakfast before you arrive. It's only fitting that they wait for you -- s-so he says, anyway." Linnea explained as she led him over to his table and helped him sit down. She was stuttering more than usual. So she had felt it too, then, Martyn noted. The expectations were mounting for her too.

To be honest, he wasn't even sure if he could stomach anything. He had already become filled with a growing ball of nervousness, which had only expanded with the tactile reminder of what was to become of him that day. "Thank you, Linnea. Anything is fine." He replied instead, deciding to not put his problems on her. And besides, he had quite the crowd listening in, surely. He couldn't speak of such things.

Breakfast was overall uninteresting. He could hardly focus on the flavor, and in the end, he found that he only ate a few bites even though he ate slowly. Linnea must have noticed based on the surprised noise she had made, but she didn't comment on it.

"A-Are you prepared, then?" Linnea asked him after she had finished cleaning up.

No. "Yes." He replied.

⊰♢⊱

Linnea led him through the halls of the castle. As they drew closer to the entrance, Martyn could hear the sound of the crowd. The crowd that was waiting to receive him. Singing an anthem, no less.

"Praise the king,

Praise his son the Prince!

Praise the birds of the air

This we do declare.

To the elf we raise a cup,

To the Champion we raise a glass.

May he prosper and grow,

May his great power flow.

May his freedoms be plenty,

May his days be merry.

And may he and the king

Deliver us from the hands

Of torment in our lands.

To let freedom reign

And let us never abstain

From which our hearts desire."

Over and over they sung the verse, as merrily as could be. Martyn shifted slightly, trying to drown out. But as they drew closer, the song only grew that much louder. And soon, the beat radiated through him, and even he couldn't help but fall into step with the melody.

When Linnea stopped, he could very well guess that they were at the front doors.

"A-are you ready?" She asked him again. They weren't supposed to touch, not really, but she moved to squeeze his hand, a silent gesture that was away from the ears the crowd. She let out a flustered squeak at what she just did, but Martyn held his hand up, giving her a smile. It was alright, he meant to say.

Then, he turned back forwards. He took a deep breath, ensuring that he was presentable— anything from his posture, his smile and his hand, ready to wave and greet the crowd. "Ready." He said. The heavy doors opened before him, as though it were his words had enough authority to open them himself. (And admittedly, maybe they had.)

The excited yells and the song of the crowd exploded and came into focus, as though Martyn had lifted his head up from underwater.  

All he had to do was walk forwards for a long time. That was as much as he had been told yesterday. And thus, he did just that. He couldn't hear Linnea at all nor could he feel her. Still, he trusted that she was there, just like she had been before.

The fanfare, dare he say, was overwhelming. Not only did the crowd sing his praises, but as he approached, they would start cheering as well. He didn't need his eyes to tell that the crowd was not only shoulder to shoulder on both sides, but also in multiple rows on each side. He wasn't sure how many, or if they were neat or disorganized rows. If he had to guess, if at least three rows on each side.

While the amount of people felt behind excessive, he supposed that he was at least happy to be given a clear barrier with the noise, ensuring he didn't accidentally veer off the path.

He could hardly hear himself think. He had to keep reminding himself to not cover his ears; that would be wrong. As time went on, though, he did manage to find a solstice in his mind that was at least indifferent to the noise. He kept on walking, waving, smiling, playing the part of prince. Or rather, Prince of Champions, it would seem. He wasn't really sure what the public justification was for that, but he supposed he was a Champion regardless.

About two hours in, his energy had since subsided. The clothes, while fairly breathable, were long sleeved regardless. The Nether was hot as always, especially now out in the open. Buildings sheltered away from lava usually were cool enough to hardly notice, but outside, it was just about boiling. He could feel his joints begging for a break, his throat for a drink. His sweat had begun to trickle down his arms and, with the fitted clothes, seemed to only fuse them to his skin and make him sweat all the more.

At the three or four hour mark, it took everything in him to keep a smile on his face. He was really sick of the fanfare, but more than anything else, he just wanted a drink or a place to sit down.

Finally, at some point, he felt the gentle tug at his sleeve. Finally, at last! He came to a halt. Little did he know that the path that he had been traveling had widened into a large yard; a square build of the same stone bricks that the path had been. The crowd had gathered around the sides of the square too, not touching the boundary of it. Linnea took a few steps back, separating herself from Martyn.

The part of the area furthest from the path was a raised platform much like there was inside of the Chamber of Echoes. And at the tip of such platform was the king himself, looming at menacing fifty feet tall.

"My beloved son," Aerric began. His voice boomed like thunder at his size, and the sound of it shut the observers up in an instant. He paused to ensure the silence was maintained and everyone was ready to listen before continuing. "long have I dreamt of the day that you might come to sit at my side. You were — are my greatest treasure, and I went to great lengths to free you from the clutches of those who wish to harm both you and the very foundation of our people. For so many years, I mourned over you. Even cried, even though it was unbefitting of a king such as myself. But today— no, today is not one of mourning. Rather, it is one of joyous celebration, for my son has returned to me!"

He had to pause as the crowd burst into applause. He waited until they were mostly finished to continue again. "Please, my dear child, come sit beside me. If you had been trained and grown in my council, I would have you say a speech on this momentous day. But you were not, and in the court you are but a mere infant. Therefore, I shall not impose that on you. In time, you will grow into your responsibilities, do not fear. But for now, what you have done today has been plenty. Now my boy, one of not only my blood but my heart as well, kneel to receive your birthright."

Martyn did so, not saying a word. The response he gave, rather, was the jingle of bells attached to his secondary blindfold as he kneeled in place. His position, of course, was just perfect. It was one of the many things that he had practiced extensively the past few days. A Listener adorned with a robe came and stood before him, carrying a golden crown. It was smaller and much less eye catching than the king's. Nonetheless, it was bejeweled with a few emeralds and caused the crowd to gasp in awe of it.

"Martyn," The Listener began, but Martyn did not look up at him. "Do you accept the role of the Championed Prince? Do you solemnly swear to rule the host of Listeners in attendance here, tuning in and all of the ones throughout the universe? That, if the time comes, you will take the throne in the absence of your father?"

"I do." He replied. Thankfully, he was not made to say a large lengthy speech, nor was he expected to. As Aerric had just said, this was enough.

"Very well, then." The Listener replied before he lowered the crown onto the blonde's head. It felt light on his head, lighter than a helmet, at least. It felt heavy in other aspects; in meaning. "Championed Prince of Listeners, please rise."

Martyn did so.

"My wonderful, darling son. You have my favor, and I pray you have the favor of all the kingdom as well. Please, join me at my side. May we enjoy the finest entertainment that the universe itself has to offer." The king said, firstly to Martyn, but also to everyone in attendance. He slid a hand into his pocket, finding where the magic fabric he always wore was. He pulled it out and pulled it under his sleeve before wrapping it around him enough for him to only be ten feet tall rather than fifty.

"Of course, Father." Martyn replied to him. He waited until he heard the steps of the Listener before him retreat and for Linnea to come beside him. He, as prince of course, took the first steps as though he were leading her and not the other way around. With her help, he made it up the steps and into the chair beside the king.

"You did well, Martyn." The king told him in a much quieter tone, moving to rest his hand over Martyn's. "You must be tired. Let us have some servants fetch us some potions of  regeneration and some tea, yeah?  This is your day and ceremony after all. Now, rest and be merry,"

Martyn couldn't help but let out a pent up sigh. He relaxed as much as one could while maintaining his posture. "I'm parched," he admitted with a little laugh.

⊰♢⊱

The next few hours flew right on by. Just as the king had declared, there was much entertainment. Most of it was singing and playing instruments. There there was also dancing of many kinds (which Martyn found often included stomping, clapping, tapping and other audible elements when the Listeners were involved. He found that he really liked the single dancer that had bells woven into her outfit. She danced so delicately that only a bell or two would sound at a time). Still there were other performances.

One thing that Martyn hadn't quite expected was the apparent diversity within not just the crowd, but the performers too. As Linnea described each group as appeared, he found that only about half of them were Listeners or elves. There were fairies and Vexes, which made incredible visual illusions. (Or, so he assumed by the cheers of the crowd). Humans and humanoids also performed, as well as merlings, elytrians, and all other sorts of creatures. A group of dragons made a fire show. A group of elytrians did cool tricks in the air, flying with their wings.  A few groups of merlings were contortionists and acrobats. A few groups, full of various species, even created short plays. A soloist shot himself high into the air with a TNT cannon and a few more daredevils enacted jaw dropping tricks.

Martyn couldn't help but notice just how much more accommodating the elves and Listeners were. Even in their dances they incorporated sound. Their skits were more like ballads, with music in the background and a narrator said what was going on in verse. It wasn't an add on to the show, it was part of the show and made it that much better for everyone.

On the other hand, the other species often left him out for the most part. Linnea was there the entire time, describing things for him, but that didn't mean he could enjoy it like everyone else could. He didn't think these groups meant him harm, just.., didn't think it through if they were trying to entertain him in particular.

Even though it made him miss his sight all the more, he enjoyed it all. He could just... be. As long as he sat upright, he didn't have to worry about his training, or the crown, or whatever else he would have to manage.

It has been hours by the time the last performance wrapped up. The crowd had started growing restless, and so had Martyn. He was beyond due for a meal, especially since he had hardly eaten his breakfast. When his stomach growled, the king looked over at him and chuckled.

"I think that means it is about time for the first feast." He teased slightly. He stood up slowly, his body stiff from sitting so long. He walked around the back of the chair, looking up at the large building not too far in the distance. It was built as though to match the palace. The roof was a large glass dome. By the looks of it, it resembled a ballroom. "Come, let us lead the crowd." The king finished before he began to walk over to it. Martyn, and thereby Linnea, followed closely behind.

The building was larger than it may have first seemed. Upon entry, they were greeted with one wide open room that filled almost the entire building. The very center of the ballroom, taking up most of the area, was a dance floor. On the outskirts of the the dance floor, comprising of the rest of the room, were nothing but tables. To the side was a door leading to a stairway, which led to the following five balcony floors which overlooked the dancefloor. On top of these five was one more balcony much smaller than the others, only a quarter of the length of one wall rather than connected to each of the walls and protruding outwards. 

Aerric led the three of them to the very top balcony. It was there that they found two chairs almost as extravagant as thrones, sat behind a small table. As the two sat down, they overlooked the rest of the room. "Only about ten thousand will attend the feast, the ones that were cordially invited. The rest were there just to greet you on your pilgrimage." the king explained.

"Only-- only ten thousand?!" Martyn exclaimed before he could think better of it. When the king sent him a warning telepathically to watch his tone, he closed his mouth, looking away from where he assumed the other was. Right. Everyone was listening. Everyone was watching. Instinctively, he shivered as he became aware of that again.

"This is a momentous day, son." Aerric replied out loud. He chuckled, which was much different of a tone that he had just told him off in. "Not just for you, but for all the people under our domain. And, as an extension, it is a tremendous day for all the species that make up the different worlds and dimensions. The whole universe is listening closely. We are talking about trillions of people, Martyn. So yes, a mere ten thousand is not much at all." 

Martyn hesitated to open his mouth after his little slip up just moments ago. And because he had to pause to really take that in. Would that many people really care about this? Just -- he swallowed. He really had bitten off a lot more than he could chew, hadn't he? He just -- he just had to pretend to not realize quite literally the entire universe was watching or listening to him in one way or another. And then, always in their gaze, he would have to work in the shadows to somehow save the universe. All while being blind. No biggie, right? No... biggie.