A/N—Okay, so it's been a really long time since I've written any Flamel fanfiction. So I've returned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Michael Scott.
Summary: "What do you fight for?" Palamedes ruminates on the question, and arrives at an answer.
What Do You Fight For?
Everyone fights for something.
Sometimes it is trivial, a mere whim, or a treasure possession. Sometimes it is honor: that cherished feeling, that something that everyone knows, everyone feels. Sometimes it is a person-mother, father, grandparent, sister, brother, mentor, or friend. In his lifetime, Palamedes had fought for all. Centuries and centuries, a millennia of fighting, and Palamedes had lost so much—retained so much—gained so little. Looking back (years and years of blurred battles and bloody battlefields) he remembered everything he had let slip by, everything he had lost, everything he had kept, everything he had somehow managed to cling to. But he couldn't actually remember gaining anything.
"What do you fight for?"
The boy's voice was sharp and deep, full of disgust and hatred. Words unspoken rang on the air: What do you fight for? Do you fight for anything? You are immortal—you have lived for centuries—you will live for centuries—you will only lose. Do you have anything worth fighting for? Clarent flickered in his hand, burning with vicious revulsion, the heartless blade reproving, the bloody smoke of its blade throbbing like the pulse of the heart it so rabidly attacked through the overcome heart of a boy who believed he was following his.
"What do you fight for?"
All his life, Palamedes had fought. All his life, Palamedes had lost, clutching to his bleeding heart what little he managed to retain. For years he had wept and cursed as everything he fought for was taken from him, until he finally convinced himself that it wasn't worth it. He had hidden, claiming that he did not want to fight. He had hidden, saying that he had done his fighting, that he would rest. The world had let him be. Only Will had smiled pityingly, seeing the real reason for his seclusion.
And in return for that silent pity, that wordless empathy, Palamedes had slowly—ever, ever so slowly—reached out to the English immortal.
It had taken a century and a half for Will to earn Palamedes' trust, and it had taken Palamedes just as long to earn Will's. Both had been leery of reaching out.
It had taken a century and a half for Palamedes to tell Will about how he had failed Isuelt, and then Arthur.
It had taken a century and a half for Will to tell Palamedes about how he had betrayed Flamel, and then Dee.
It had taken a century and half for Palamedes to tell Will about the many battles he had fought with himself.
It had taken a century and a half for Will to admit that he had fought those same battles.
But it paid off.
In 1976 Will strengthened their friendship by giving the actual date of his betrayal, as he bitterly called it.
In 1996 (the 200th year after Hamnet's death—Will wept as he filled in the one part of his story that he had withheld) he cemented it.
Everyone fights for something.
Palamedes fought for friendship.