Pedestal 86
Summary: His heroes crack and fade, revealing monsters behind smiling faces and demons with open arms. One-sided Stanton x Lambert.
AN: A oneshot inspired by a post from The Obsidian Angel at one of the DOTM Forums :). Enjoy the story and please no complaints about the pairing. It's meant to be portrayed as a needy one-sided relationship on Stanton's part, and a father's love, or something close to it, on Lambert's, so if you chose to, you could read it as being completely platonic.
Oh! Whenever you read Prince or Prince Segramore in the flashbacks, I'm referring to Stanton's father : D
OoO
Stanton is a talented individual.
It's one of the few facts that go undisputed within the higher ranks of the Followers. Anyone who hears his name, whether they be Initiate, Incinti, or Infidus, will automatically stop what they are doing and pause for a moment. Sometimes it's in hatred, most times it's in admiration, and all times there's the binding quality of fear that connects those two reactions together. It is a mark of greatness when a mere name commands respect, and a portrayal of strength when reputation is not given through pretense, but earned.
He is Stanton, Prince of the Night, God amongst scum, and he deserves everything that's been given to him.
But despite this, Stanton is broken.
And he knows only one person can truly see that.
OoO
When he was a child, a time which he cannot remember much of nowadays, he was an incredibly fragile creature. Not in just physical appearance, even though he was thin and pale, but also through mentality. He was terrified of the darkness, his active imagination contributing to this, and every night it would take him hours to fall asleep. When he would walk the castle halls during the day, his eyes were duller and his movements far more sluggish than any four year old's ought to be.
It progressed, the boy's seeming insanity. He would cry out at night, his childish screams echoing throughout the stone passageways. He made outrageous claims such as seeing the shadows move and corpses walking around in his dreams. It was apparent that his depictions were far off the mark from a normal boy's version of the boogeyman, as neither of his elder brothers had experienced trauma such as this.
The child's fear increased, and the monks that lived within the Prince's estate began to suspect some sort of witchcraft taking over the boy. It was apparent that something needed to be done to correct the young lord's illusions.
He needed something to protect him at night.
Or, rather, someone.
Enter Lambert.
Lambert Malmaris was the best knight within Prince Segramore's command. He was the pinnacle of excellence, all the other men under in the Prince's service simply couldn't compare. He was chivalrous, intelligent, ambitious, and valiant. His mannerisms could place anyone at ease and despite his ferocity as a warrior he had a soothing presence that worked wonders with his comrades in times of battle.
Why the strongest knight was placed on an elaborate babysitting duty was anyone's guess, but most attributed it to Prince Segramore's infallible trust in the man.
When they first met, the boy had stared at the tall knight, confused and slightly afraid. He couldn't comprehend that this man was here to help with the problem, and not there to punish him for his outbursts. Lambert evaluated the son of his honored leader, and found the darkened circles underneath his large, blue eyes unnerving. The child's stare belonged to that of an old man's, not that of a toddler.
Gingerly, so not to startle him, Lambert placed a heavy hand on top of his head, and ruffled his hair in an affectionate manner, "You must be Lord Stanton," He said, injecting enough amiableness into his tone to make the boy see that he wasn't there to harm him.
The boy still tensed a bit, unused to the treatment he was receiving. Sons of princes were given respect, not care. He slowly nodded.
Lambert smiled, and the unease the child had been feeling vanished instantly, "My name's Lambert, and I'm going to protect you from the bad things."
He believed him.
The knight made good on his promise, and every night from then on, the monsters would stay away.
And when the child was still uncertain, convinced he had felt something harsh and evil lurking within his chambers, he would run immediately towards the doorway, where he knew Lambert would be. His small hands would clench the cloth of the man's shirt in a frenzied embrace, as he would bury his face into the fabric, hiding from monsters. After a few moments, the long, calloused fingers would ghost through his fine hair, and a large hand would hug his small frame, protecting him against the darkness that only existed in his head. It was only in those fleeting instances that the boy would actually feel safe.
Stanton doesn't remember most of his childhood, but he remembers Lambert.
OoO
They meet again, and it only takes about six hundred years.
Things are different now, Stanton knows Lambert for what he is and what he isn't. The man in front of him with the shoulder-length white hair and no longer kind eyes is not a beloved knight, but a heartless creature. He's a betrayer, on two planes, and he's been toying with Stanton all along.
Knowledge doesn't make it any easier, for Stanton blinks rapidly, trying to delude himself into thinking that when his sight clears, Lambert will be his Lambert, not this corroded human in front of him. His logic and his sentimentality are raging inside of him, each one desperately trying to emerge a victor in this loosing battle.
The man across from him grins cruelly, but Stanton can only see him smile.
And he just doesn't know what to do.
This should be an easy choice, the reason argues. Lambert is a manipulator, all of his kind actions were a façade, and there is nothing remaining of that man you once knew. He has already tricked you, twice, and the second time almost cost you Serena.
But Lambert costs more, the heart reasons. Lambert has protected you, his kind actions the only ones you have ever seen, and underneath, there could be that man you once knew. You can't hurt him.
Long fingers unfasten the clasp of the Cinti robe, and Stanton can only remember the feel of those fingers running through his hair.
"Are you ready to die?" The smooth alto inquires, but he can only hear that same voice telling him stories to lull him back to sleep. Once upon a time, there was a knight in shining armor…
Stanton's hands are trembling, his mind wreaking havoc as it refuses to see the man in front of him in black or white. Lambert is two-toned, and there is no remedy for that. He needs Lambert, he hates Lambert, and that smug bastard knows it.
"This is a pity, Stanton, I was hoping you weren't so dependent," He scoffs, and Stanton hears this, but in a totally different context. The knight fought with the dragon…
Stanton chews his lower lip, almost severing it in anxiety, and he wants more than anything to bury his face in Lambert's shirt like he used to, to hide from the decision he needs to make.
"Get it together, and fight me. Stop simpering like some beaten dog," The voice is tinged in anger now, and Stanton just can't stop shaking.
This is the end. If he moves, he will kill Lambert. If he stands still, Lambert will kill him. He cannot escape. He so desperately wants to escape.
"Grow up Stanton!" He is yelling now, Stanton can only hear the laughter.
He is so weak, and it sickens him. This is a choice that is not a choice, he needs to destroy Lambert, even if he hates it. One side is slowly outweighing the other yet he cannot move.
Stanton sinks to his knees, because he feels helpless and thinks he should look the part. Kill him kill him kill him kill him kill him…save him save him save him save him save him…
"Face me like a man, your father would be ashamed!"
His father was not a father. His Lambert was not his Lambert.
He hears the footsteps as Lambert approaches, but he doesn't react. He is a child again, six, and being carried away by the monsters that his protector used to keep at bay. He is lost, and he is afraid. His blue eyes see the dark form in front of him, but he can't comprehend. He can't do anything.
Then, like some sort of tranquility in the middle of a devastating storm, he feels it. Warm, heavy, comforting. It is an anchor, it is a lot of things. It's a hand, resting on top of his head.
"You're not ready for this yet," The words are meant to be cold, but he only hears the disguised comforting tone, and can only feel the fingers ghosting through his hair.
Stanton leans into his touch, and everything for those few moments is alright again. He wants to hug him like he did as a boy, but when he moves, he is greeted with only the cold embrace of the night.
Lambert had disappeared. Again.
And he had protected Stanton. Again.
The dragon defeated the knight.
OoO
Lambert is an unfortunately talented individual.
It's a fact that now goes heavily disputed throughout the countless ranks of the Followers. Whenever his name is heard in passing- normally uttered vulgarly like some sort of curse- people will quickly continue with what they were doing, however the unseen threat is still present. The Followers will tense, sometimes in admiration, most times with hatred, and all times with no small amount of terror. It's a sign of infamy when a mere name sends shivers through the congregations of the damned, and it is a demonstration of revulsion when people freeze because they know he has certainly earned his reputation.
He is Lambert, traitorous swine, a wolf amongst sheep, and when the Regulators find him, he deserves what's coming to him.
Yet despite it all, Lambert is still a hero.
And Stanton is the only person that can truly see that.