Castle
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: In Mossad, her father's ideas were old-fashioned, out-of-date; he was an aging king, clinging desperately to a throne he no longer deserved, ruling and controlling a people he neglected and destroyed. They needed a new leader. Someone who would listen to them, someone who would treat them properly. If it came down to it, she would kill her father to get his throne. Her people deserved better. They deserved a new ruler. A queen. Ziva/Eli, AU, could be centered around Enemies Foreign/Enemies Domestic.
A/N: Zani's first written piece in nearly two years... a year and a half. She was inspired by the song Castle by Halsey that's on The Huntsman: Winter's War soundtrack. Wrote it on April 10th, 2016. She wanted me to post it for her.- Licia
"Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise
Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised
Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it
Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it
I'm headed straight for the castle
They wanna make me their queen
And there's an old man sitting on the throne that's
Saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean
I'm headed straight for the castle
They've got the kingdom locked up
And there's an old man sitting on the throne that's
Saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut"
- Halsey,
Castle,
The Huntsman:
Winter's War soundtrack,
2016
He was a weak old man, defeated by his own power- the same power he struggled to hold onto. That much was evidently clear.
As she sat across from him at the diner, her coffee getting cold, she realized exactly how much her father had aged; how his years of running Mossad with an iron fist were draining him of life. His hair had faded, the rich darkness she'd grown up adoring, running her fingers through with childish curiosity, had turned grey. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes, and the worry lines that creased his cheeks and forehead left little rivers in his skin.
"You were personally selected by my father to fill a vacancy in his roster, not his bloodline."
Liat had looked at her with anger; jealousy even. And Ziva... she had fought the urge to wring the woman's neck. If Liat thought that she was going to take Ziva's place and then Eli's, she was sorely mistaken. Ziva was destined for the position of director; Eli had groomed her from the age of twelve- Rivka had intervened two years earlier, when she left him, taking the girls with her- to be ready to take his place when the time finally came.
Mossad was a mess; that much was clear. Eli wasn't as effective as he used to be anymore. Agents were turning traitor, becoming doubles or deserting all together without a thought to how it would affect the effectiveness of the entire organization. Unable to keep his people in line anymore, Eli had finally given up; he'd come to his last surviving child, asking advice, asking for assurances, asking for...
"There have been times, I felt this job take a piece of me, Ziva. I worry they may be gone forever."
She looked up at him; this aging king, who had held the throne for far too long-
You are an ancient king, Abba, whom has no business holding the throne anymore. You have neglected those who serve you, destroyed what was once the greatest institution in all of Israel. You are no more fit to be ruler than Ari was fit to be a doctor. Those in Mossad need a new leader, one who will bring new ideas, a new way of running things.
It was silly, comparing Mossad to a kingdom and her father to a king. But as she thought back on her past, on her childhood, on her years in the agency, it was very much like a kingdom. And Eli was its king.
And he'd run his kingdom with an iron fist.
He was her father; she should feel pity for him- and she did, because he was her father. But even so, he was still a tyrant. And tyrants needed to be removed. Permanently.
It was up to her to take over. But you've renounced your Israeli citizenship. You've become... American. You cannot just renounce your American citizenship for Israel. But as she met her father's gaze, she realized that she had no choice. Mossad would destroy itself from the inside out if her father kept power.
"Then maybe you do not deserve to keep your position as Director."
Slowly, Eli met her eyes. "What did you say, my Ziva?"
She took a deep breath, realizing that her muttered words had reached his ears. "Perhaps you should retire, and hand the thr- the position of director over to someone else."
Eli's dark eyes met hers; he studied his only surviving child for a mere moment, before,
"And to whom, do you suggest I pass Mossad over to, Ziva?"
She met his gaze, lifting her chin and straightening her back. A small part of her was screaming that she was betraying those at NCIS, everyone here that she loved, that she'd never be able to take over position as director and succeed-
But Abba trained you, he knew he would have to hand it over eventually. You are his heir, his rightful successor to this throne he's held. It's your right, to run Mossad. You cannot just let him hand it over to Liat or Malachi or Ilan. It is your birthright. Yours, and yours alone.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed her mug aside.
"Me."
"Oh, all these minutes passing, sick of feeling used
If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised
Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it
Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it
Straight for the castle
They wanna make me their queen
And there's an old man sitting on the throne that's
Saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean
I'm headed straight for the castle
They've got the kingdom locked up
And there's an old man sitting on the throne that's
Saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut
Straight for the castle"
Hasley,
Castle,
The Huntsman:
Winter's War soundtrack,
2016