A/N
The concept for this oneshot originally came from a piece of StarCraft II artwork, specifically the picture of Augustgrad, a hologram of Arcturus Mengsk being seen. That, and projecting a direction I saw Valerian's relationship with his father taking prompted me to get round to posting it.
Hero
Valerian Mengsk hated crowds.
"Hate" was a strong word, but having spent most of his life drifting from one world to another in fear of assassination, and given his love of swordplay and archaeology, company wasn't really required or sought after. But now, standing in Liberty Square in Augustgrad, the area featuring a crowd of hundreds (or thousands for all he knew), he didn't really have a choice.
Oh Valerian, he thought bitterly, remembering his father's words. I need you to deliver a speech about the unveiling of a statue of the Dominion's emperor. I'm a bit busy and it would be poor form for me to give the speech myself. Overall, I think this will be a learning experience for you. It'll build your character.
A paraphrased version of events perhaps, given that the speech with his father had been more direct, not to mention the raised level of their voices. However, he couldn't afford to reflect on the intricacies of the debate right now. He had to address a crowd of Dominion citizens who wanted to know why their tax dollars had gone to creating a statue of their "glorious" Emperor Arcturus. Not that it was a bad statue, the gaze of the "saviour of mankind" looking down at those bellow him with a gaze that was firm, but kind. Ten feet tall, just looking at it gave you the feeling that your soul was under scrutiny.
Just like right now too I guess, thought the prince, walking to the podium as a tide of cheers and clapping greeted him upon the spokesman mentioning his name. He waved idly, half expecting for a sniper to open fire at him from one of the buildings overlooking the square. Not that it would do much good, given that he was equipped with a state-of-the-art personal force field, but rebels, terrorists and general scum rarely gave in to futility.
Wish I could say the same for myself. Sighing, he looked out over the crowd. An athletic build, blonde hair and known as a patron of art and science, Valerian knew that he amounted to what some might call poster boy material. The problem was, his father did too.
"In a way, this statue is nothing new," said the heir apparent, beginning his speech with the crowd hanging on his every word. "But that doesn't make it any less important. For on the surface, while this piece of art is devoted to a single man, it symbolizes something greater." He leant forward, "Community, stability, identity. These are the values of the Terran Dominion. Values which our emperor, Arcturus Mengsk, embodies."
Clapping and a few cheers rippled throughout the crowd, though as Valerian noticed, nowhere near the scale of applause that had greeted him. Flattering in a way, but also frustrating. His father was the item of attention here, and he wanted nothing to do with it.
"Arcturus Mengsk..." said Valerian slowly. "The man who gave us faith. The man who gave us a future. The man who gave us our salvation after the fall of the despotic Confederacy."
No-one pointed out that the Dominion was just as despotic. Shame really. A bit of 'crowd control' would have lightened up the mood.
"The statue was built entirely by hand," said Valerian, clenching his right gloved hand as if to emphasize the point. "It is a testament to what we can do, what the human spirit is capable of, even without robotic aid. Understand, citizens. It is our spirit that forms the foundations of our civilization."
Valerian smiled faintly as another wave of applause greeted him. At least those words were truthful, or at least in the sense that he truly believed in them. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing, but he'd always felt at ease without the everyday comforts that so many people took for granted. Not that he didn't enjoy them, his father's collection of delicacies the substance of childhood dreams. But still...
"Our alien enemies may laugh at us," continued the heir apparent, leaving out the fact that the Dominion's armed forces seemed to consider rebels and insurgents the primary threat. "Certainly they have nothing but contempt for our species and our works of art."
Well, at least the zerg would, but the protoss and the mysterious third alien race were different stories.
"Some of you may be inclined to agree with their line of thinking. After all, what place does art have in this current age?"
No-one answered. Not that Valerian expected them to of course. You had to be careful what you said nowadays, less you find yourself imprisoned, dead or worse.
"Art's place is in the realm of hope. Art reminds us of its worth. And as we look upon he who watches over us with all his benevolence, we shall remember what one man achieved five years ago. A man who gave us our salvation. A man named Arcturus Mengsk!"
Cheers once again poured through the crowd, eclipsing even the hum of the sky traffic above. Valerian stood where he was for a few moments, before shaking hands with the spokesperson. Returning to his seat, he couldn't help but feel that the cheers were genuine, that his speech really had postponed what he felt was an inevitable attempted coup if things continued the way they did. Not something he wanted-he still respected his father, despite their disagreements, but still, it wasn't as if Arcturus' actions hadn't spawned the seeds of rebellion.
But the crowd don't know that though, Valerian thought to himself. They really believed my words...
Taking his seat, Valerian wished that he could believe them too.