Servant of Honor

Servant of Honor


[A/N: This is another lil' character monologue from Ax's POV. Also, I want to make this chain of character monologues into a series, so I'd like some possible titles, please.]


My name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.

I am an Andalite.

Of course, you have probably already derived that knowledge from the above statement.

Most humans do not know who I am, and furthermore, are impervious to the impending doom that threatens their everyday freedom; the Yeerks.

I do not know whether the Yeerks are aware of who I am.

And most Andalites will have one of two responses upon hearing my name:

That is; A) Who?

Or B) Ah, yes, Elfangor's little brother.

If I live a thousand years, I'll always be known as Elfangor's little brother.

I don't want you to think that I disliked Elfangor; on the contrary, I loved him very much. But it is a little tiring, always being called his little brother.

Always living under his shadow.

Sometimes, I tell myself, If only I had been on the Dome Ship. If only I had refused to enter the Dome, Elfangor might still be alive.

I know that's not true. And it only makes me feel worse.

Sometimes, I tell myself, You can come out from under Elfangor's shadow, Aximili. Be even greater than he was.

And I know that's not true either.

Every morning, by Andalite traditions, I am required to perform a ritual. It is my duty.

To say the words:

I am the servant of the People.

I am the servant of my Prince.

I am the servant of Honor.

My life is not my own, when the People have need of it.

My life is given for the People, for my Prince, and for my Honor.

To draw my tail-blade to my throat, and contemplate.

To think about whether I have done my duty.

And have I? I ask myself silently every morning. I have not yet avenged Elfangor's death.

I am the servant of my people.

Yet how can I serve them, when I am so far away from them?

I am the servant of my Prince.

Who, truly, is my Prince? Is it Prince Jake, or should my loyalty lie with my people, the Andalites?

I am the servant of Honor.

But I have not yet, truly served my honor. I have not killed Visser Three. My brother's murderer walks free.

My life is not my own, when the People have need of it.

Who are my people? Are they these alien people, humans, or are they the Andalites?

My life is given for the People, for my Prince, and for my Honor.

Can I give my life when they need it? When it comes down to the very end, my life, or another's, can I give my life?

I still haven't found the answer to that question.

When we were on the Iskoort World, I ran away from a battle. And since then, I've had that question.

Could I give my life for my people?

But then . . . . who are my people?

Who is my Prince?

Where does my honor lie?

But then, every time there is a battle, I should be prepared to give my life.

But I'm not.

I don't want to give my life, as selfish as that sounds.

But then . . . . I suppose . . . . as long as I live, no matter what I do, I'll never be known as Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.

Instead, I'll be someone else.

Elfangor's little brother.


[A/N: Well? Liked it, loved it, hated it? Send any and all replies to me at anifuture@hotmail.com. And take a look at my webpage, at http://anifuture.hypermart.net.]