A Brief Introduction

This project deserves something of an introduction, if it is to be completely understood. Originally the 100themes challenge was created on Deviant Art, where artists were expected to draw one hundred pictures—needless to say I decided to snatch those themes and use them as writing prompts.

"Fallacy" is a character-centric set of one-shots (some of which are connected), focused on Kharl, everyone's favorite hopeless villain. Many other characters appear in this collection, with the most common being Rath, Garfakcy, Lykouleon, and Kaistern. I will list warnings prior to most chapters, as shounen-ai, violence, and harsh language are likely occurrences.

Fallacy is sometimes connected to my other Dragon Knights fanfiction 'Cloaks', but knowledge of that story is not vital to understanding these themes. (It is, however, encouraged:D) If you require any previous knowledge to understand a theme, I will provide it for you with the warnings. There will be no spoilers (not much left to spoil now anyway…), and I expect to update about once a week. …I believe that's all that needs to be said, so enjoy!

+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar

Theme: 1, Introduction
Characters: Rath, Kharl, Lykouleon
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Need to Know Info: Alternate Universe situation.
Title Provider: Anything (Plain White T's)

You Could Have Said Anything to Make Me Understand…

He moves once in his chair, palms pressing further into the garish yellow fabric. He can feel the muscles of his legs, tensing and coiling with each swing of his feet. He has been in this position a thousand times before, can't help but think that he'll be in it a million times more. Without lifting his eyes from his two-sizes-too-big jeans, he can see everything the small room has to offer.

There is a desk, one he has repeatedly scratched his name into when Lykouleon was not looking. It's old, older than him at least, and made of some dark brown wood that is he sure he should know the name of, but does not. The walls all around are a sickly pale yellow color that reminds him of phlegm and other unmentionable things. Raseleane once scolded him sweetly for pointing that out, and then she said the color reminded her of sunshine. There are paintings on the wall, but they never interested him very much—they are portraits of people he has never met, does not look like, and does not want to know about. In one corner, there is a potted palm. He remembers asking how it had managed to survive so many years, only to have his illusions broken—it is made of silk.

Nothing in the room, he thinks, is in as good of condition as it should be. Foster Care centers are supposed to get government funding, aren't they? Nothing in the room looks new or clean, except for… He does not look up because if he looks at that new man, the stranger might be real. He does not want to believe it, not yet. If he starts to hope again, something might break inside him—he stops the thought with a wry chuckle that never leaves his lips. There is nothing left to break inside him.

"Rath, are you listening to me?" Lykouleon is seated behind that desk, and his green eyes are too soft, and his voice is too kind for the words that he is saying. Never once has Lykouleon raised his voice, Rath cannot help but remember. Never has Lykouleon bothered to correct his behavior. He does not care enough to.

"I wasn't listening." The dark-haired teen mutters into the knee he has pulled almost defensively to his chest. His muddy boot is grinding in the seat of the chair, but he leaves it there. Lykouleon won't say anything, he knows.

"Forgive him, please." Lykouleon murmurs to the stranger, with a voice that is half exasperation and half indulgence. "Rath is naturally—"

"Stubborn." It comes across that man's pale lips with a laugh behind it. Rath forces himself to keep his eyes down, watching the black and white strands of his hair with faked disinterest. He likes the sound of this new voice. No, he insists, he does not. Liking something would mean…

"Rath," There is some note in the blond man's voice that Rath has never heard before. He is afraid to call it sadness, because that might mean that the care-provider actually… "It would be appreciated if you would sit up and act like this is an important matter." But Lykouleon says it all with a smile that makes the words meaningless. He does not sit up. Lykouleon's smile falls but Rath does not notice. "This man is Kharl Stille." There is a rustle of fabric and Rath knows that Lykouleon is making some polite gesture. For a moment, the green-eyed man does not continue. But then his words are heavy and as shocking as frigid water.

"He's your father. And he's come back to get you, Rath." The dark-haired teenager cannot stop himself this time as his head jerks up. Beside Lykouleon, the stranger looks back at him with lilac eyes that are arresting. Suddenly the hideous paint, the fake plants, the flaking desk are unimportant.

He says a million things, but he is silent. Why did you… Why now… Who… How… His heart is beating like a caged bird inside his ribs, and it does not know if it should feel fury, fear, or joy. He tries to force the words across his tongue, through his stunned and parted lips, but all that can come free of him is one short breath. It seems to be enough.

"I've missed you." This man, his father, smiles. It is not a smile like Lykouleon's. It is warm and true and Rath can feel the emotion that drives it. I've missed you. Those words… Though he does not want to hope, he cannot help but believe them.