"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, you cannot say
or guess, for you know only a heap of broken images."
-T.S Eliot
Soundtrack: watch?v=_hWWmmgnnz8
DISCLAIMER:
The Artemis Fowl Series belongs to Eoin Colfer. Not me.
I hereby proclaim that all characters and settings (with the exceptions of my own original ones) in this and all chapters in this story are the intellectual property of Eoin Colfer.
The First Night
They tell him that this is his home. This large cavernous house, made of cold colorless stone and impossibly high walls. It seems to Artemis that this must be a fortress of some kind, crafted either from the dreams or nightmares of a story teller. From the outside it is gray and uninviting, the ancient cracks sprouting unruly vines that reach to twine themselves along windows and over the gruesome faces of sun bleached gargoyles. Its presence is intimidating and the boy wonders briefly how anyone could stand to live in such a place. It seems to suck the very atmosphere from the surrounding landscape, a beastly castle puncturing the sky with several metal spires, gleaming and sterile as scalpels. If it had not been for the perfectly manicured hyacinths and rhododendrons lining the steep gravel walkway, the boy could have sworn he was being lead into a home that had been long since abandoned.
Then the great oak doors are pushed open soundlessly and his thoughts cease. His guides lead him through the enormous entryway and into the foyer where he stands beneath a chandelier so massive that it looks as if it could anchor a ship. The sharply cut crystals catch the soft amber lighting and refract it against the dome of the ceiling. As they sway, the light winks and it looks as if the high arch is an overturned bowl filled with fireflies. His eyes fall on the intricate designs inlaid in gold encircling the length of ceiling, and his mouth opens in wonder. He turns slowly in a circle, taking in the small details and warm hues that greatly contrast with the structures outer appearance. Great red curtains cascade from an enormous golden rod situated above the entryway and a window he had not been able to see from outside reveals the morning sky tinged with magenta. Behind him, even grander still, a pristine mirror hangs between the two openings of the double staircase leading up to the second floor. It's ornate frame begins just a few feet below the ceiling and stops barely an inch from the veined marble floor, reflecting back the bright expanse of sky and the sparkling chandelier. Just above the mirror, in golden letters reads: Aurum Potestas est. He wonders what language that is and why it looks so familiar.
Artemis stops at his own pale reflection, closing his mouth. He is still clad in the long hospital garment, unaffected by its oddness on his thin frame. He looks like a child playing dress up and it is disturbingly appropriate considering the circumstances. He does not excuse himself to dress quickly in an Armani suit or even to drape a robe across his shoulders. His bare feet pad against the cold flooring and he seems surprisingly comfortable with his near nudity. Through the mirror, his eyes scan the three beings standing behind him.
"This is...where I live?" He looks unsure of his question, as if he has no right to even think that such a place could belong to him.
Butler nods curtly. "This is Fowl Manor. You live here with your Mother and Father, your two brothers and myself. Sometimes my sister, Juliet, stays here as well."
"Oh." The syllable is out of place in the youth's mouth.
"Your ancestors have lived here for over five centuries, you've lived here your entire life...you truly don't remember any of this?"
He shakes his head, an odd mix of disbelief and bewilderment falling across his features and Butler thinks that he's never looked so much like a child.
"No." His voice is soft and apologetic. For reasons he can't place he wishes he could reassure this vaguely familiar man.
They continue, bypassing the double staircase, they fall upon the kitchen and several dinning rooms where Butler briefly points out certain familiar spaces that the boy had apparently favored. The man seems discouraged when, again, the boy shows no sign of recognition. Finally, they settle in a living room that is as equally as lavish as the foyer, though a rich maroon carpet replaces the white veined marble. Artemis sits carefully at the very edge of an antique love seat, clasping his hands in his lap. Butler exits to prepare tea, leaving Holly, Foaly and Artemis in silence. Several minutes pass by and Holly, unable to contain herself, moves to sit next to the slight boy, reaching over and enclosing one of his hands in both of hers, hoping to quiet his nervousness. For the past hour she had been almost afraid to touch him, touching him would make him real and she didn't know if she was ready to accept that yet. Looking down at the stark contrast between his pale skin and her rich brown tone, she is startled by how cold his hand is and begins rubbing the back of it in light circular motions to create some warmth.
Foaly, noticing the gesture, chimes in. "Your circulation should be back to normal within a week, once your new body becomes more accustomed to movement. For now your extremities are going to remain a bit cold."
Artemis nods but can't seem to break his eyes away from the hands that are holding his own.
Butler returns with a tray of several steaming mugs and distributes the drinks. Holly accepts hers, reluctantly breaking her hold on Artemis' hand to sip at the comically too-large cup. Artemis takes his and relishes the warmth but is put off by the aroma.
"It's earl gray, your favorite. You used to drink this everyday." Butler says, noticing his charge's hesitation.
Artemis takes a tentative sip and brings the mug back down, staring at the amber liquid. "It's very bitter."
"I guess it is a taste that you acquired over time, in fact, you didn't really start to drink it until a couple of years ago." Butler watches as Artemis leans over to place the mug back on its tray.
"I don't think I like it."
There is a long silence, punctuated by the soft ticking of a clock somewhere across the room.
"That's okay, things change." Butler finally says, giving the boy a tentative smile that doesn't look right beneath eyes that glint with some small amount of uncertainty.
"We'll...just have to find something else that you like then." He rises quickly and takes the tray and Artemis' mug back to the kitchen.
They lead him through the rest of the first level, stopping only twice this time. The first time, Butler lingers in front of a large oil painting brushed with deep blues and steely grays. Depicted on the canvas is a large expanse of choppy ocean, the shifting waves catching the sun's rays and illuminating the blue-black water with vibrant orange. Atop the waves sits a modern looking ship, gray and intimidating. Across it's hull in red scripted letters reads The Fowl Star. It cuts menacingly through the water, shattering the thick ice on its massive hull and leaving a swirl of white froth in its wake. The horizon beyond is aglow with blood orange light that creeps up into the pale sky before fading completely into the gathering clouds. The harsh color offsets the painting, creating an unmistakable sense of foreboding.
"It's beautiful." Artemis reaches up to brush the very corner of the canvas with his fingertips. "Who painted this?" Some how he recognizes the brush strokes, the gently bleeding patterns of swirling light. A familiar warmth fills his chest.
Butler tears his eyes from the painting and looks at his charge with a strange mixture of sadness and pride. "You." He answers softly. "You were very fond of art, you didn't paint very often but when you did..." He trails off, gesturing to the picture before him and smiling faintly.
Holly, who was only ever under the impression that Artemis forged paintings in order to steal the original or to con some poor sap into buying what they thought was authentic, is rendered speechless. The painting depicts his father's voyage into Russia, certainly, but it also speaks of the tragedy following and the desperateness of his search. The wide expanse of dark water translates into confusion and grief, the pale sky to hopelessness. Only the fragmented light, made slightly softer by the reflection, breaking over the cresting waves gives some semblance of the hope that he had stretched over those two long years. It is so perfectly simple in its chaotic elegance and Holly finds herself moved. She has never seen an original work of art by Artemis, this new side of him is so far removed from the calculating genius that she has come to know. She wonders what other parts of him he keeps isolated from those around him just to maintain his distance. Is the painting a long thought out project or an impromptu expression of emotion? Did he plan on making the sky so entrancingly forlorn or the dark water so captivating in its depth? Or when he stood before the canvas did he wield only the need to capture in color what he could not in words describe; the storm of overwhelming darkness and burst of violent light swirling inside his chest? When the rest of the group turns to continue their tour, it's Holly who lingers, eyes fixed for a few second more on the somber image of The Fowl Star before hurrying after them into the hall.
Butler's second stop is in a long corridor where a collage of photographs hang along the length of the wall. There are several pictures of a beautiful woman with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, she is standing next to a tall man with dark hair and a somber expression. The woman seems wistful, leaning into her husband and smiling brightly. She looks like a teenager in love while the man, though returning the warmth, seems distracted by his thoughts. Beside them, there are several baby pictures in one large sectioned frame, two newborns, each dressed in blue one piece's. Next, the newborns transform into toddlers with wide blue eyes and curious expressions, standing beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree. The final photo is the most recent, they are children now, about four or five. The twin on the right beams openly at the camera, blonde curls falling into his eyes as he clutches a colorfully wrapped gift. The other boy beside him seems more composed, though his excitement leaks through in the form of a shy smile as he kneels before his own gifts. This boy's features are more delicate and drawn, his dark hair is too short to obscure his vision but offsets his startlingly blue eyes. Behind them, a tree's boughs are laden with ornaments and velvet ribbons peaking out between the piles of brightly wrapped boxes. It is Christmas and they look like the happiest children Artemis has ever seen. Etched into the silver frame are two names: Beckett & Myles
There is one photograph of Artemis hanging in a smaller frame. He is wearing a dark suit with a rich, wine colored tie. He stands stiffly with his hands clasped in front of him, his hair swept back neatly from his wide brow. He looks younger but not by much. He wears the barest hint of a smile but it only serves to make him seem more off put by what is obviously a hastily snapped shot. His eyes are wide and placating, trying to at least seem enthusiastic. The over all result is awkward but warm, honest. He looks solitary yet approachable. Artemis stares at himself, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Is this who they expect him to be? He doesn't know this boy, he doesn't know himself. The enormity of this realization presses in on him.
"You hated having your picture taken." Butler says, chuckling lightly. "Your mother was...well, is, the only person who can get you to stay still long enough for a clear shot. I believe this was taken just before we left for a ceremony in Milan, celebrating the opening of the second opera house built according to your original design."
"Where are they?" Artemis asks curiously, still not comfortable asking questions about these strangers.
"They left last week for London, your father has several contacts there that he hopes will invest in his new business. It was actually your idea, a company dedicated to reformatting machinery of any kind to lighten carbon and pollution emissions. Angeline thought it would be fun to bring the twins along."
"Do they...know about me?" His voice is light but still echoes in the dim hall. He is reaching out and extracting their fears from the shadows, holding them up to the light. The gaping hole in this impossible theory now overwhelming them each in turn.
Foaly clops nervously as Butler and Holly exchange worried glances. Artemis' question is the elephant in the room. When the Fowl family left last week, their eldest son was deceased and had been so for six months. And even though he does not remember them he can still sense the innate wrongness of this situation. Like stepping on someone's grave.
This strange and wonderful home, filled with warmth and light, has been stricken with death and is now recovering. Like spring slowly thawing its way out of the depths of a long and silent winter, they will have just dragged themselves from their dark nests of denial and wandered into the soft light of some shred of acceptance. And even though it would have taken Angeline years to finally sleep peacefully again and Artemis Sr. just as much time to let go of the urge to drink himself into a stupor every night when he believed his wife to be asleep, Holly can't help but think that maybe that would be better. Maybe that would be a small price to pay in comparison to this shot-in-the-dark, back-street job resurrection of their son. At least there was mercy in the former. But not here. Not with this. Once they laid eyes on him there was no turning back.
They are suddenly acutely aware that what they are essentially doing, is ripping their lives apart all over again. The echos of the strange boy that lived here before are settled like a fine dust in every corner of this home. This is his family, his memories and his life. What if he can never remember? What if, for the rest of his life, he is nothing but the physical representation of the idea of this boy? The reminder of his absence and the incredibly painful knowledge that they had come so close to having him back? What if he is not Artemis?
All the right answers and all the appropriate objections hang like pendulums in the pit of each of their stomachs. Swaying them towards another answer, another truth, each moment and further away from the denial that they had been suspended in for the past six months.
Holly is the first to put together a coherent sentence, raising up an explanation like an offering meant to appease some foreign deity. Perhaps the God of half baked plans.
"We didn't want to give them a false sense of hope...If you hadn't come back to us..."
Artemis nods, she doesn't need to say it. He knows.
Foaly's cautioned words from months earlier ring in Holly's mind. "Our friend is dead, Holly. Maybe we should let him go?"
And just like months before when the bones of Artemis' plan had first become visible, she felt a hard resolution overcome her and burn at her core. No. She thought sternly. No time for second guessing now, what's done is done. Artemis is alive, that's all that matters.
And wielding this new found strength like a shield, Holly turns on her heal and is the first of her friends to press on through the dim light of the hall and deeper into Fowl Manor.
*5/29/16-Huge overhaul of this chapter, I edited about 1000 words. Cut out a lot of useless explanation and made it more concise, I'm hoping it flows better and makes more sense. Please let me know what you think, critiques welcome.*
I hope you guys liked the music, it's supposed to support the melancholy mood of this chapter.
Feed the box!
A/N: This is basically me taking this series way to seriously. This is my version of the epilogue that never was. It delves into all the emotional aspects, the aftermath and his reawakening into the world of the living. This story will also touch upon his time spent while dead and what that was like for him. It's going to be a paranormal drama with some horror thrown in there for good measure. Expect creepiness and possibly some gore scattered throughout. I will try to keep everyone as in character as possible.
ALSO, If you have not read A Necessary Darkness, my first fanfiction, then you may want to do so before starting this one. This story will explain why he was having those strange dreams and tie up any loose ends regarding that.
Last but not least, each chapter will have a soundtrack that will greatly enhance the mood of the piece if you're like me and enjoy that kind of atmosphere. I recommend listening to the music either during or before reading.