Title: All That Doesn't Glisten

Part: Prolog

Author: Maiskorn

Fandom: The Road to El Dorado

Rating: G

Word Count: 645

Characters: Tzekel-Kan

Summary: Tzekel-Kan failed.

Copyright: RtED is completely Dreamwork's and I don't want to make money with this fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This has been on my computer for quite some time. It's going to be a longer fanfiction, mostly focusing on Tzekel-Kan and a male OC. Yes, it's a love story, and you know how it goes with slash - don't like, don't read. But they're other aspects to this story, too. It is AU, by the way, though only concerning the last bit of the movie... you will see.


Tzekel-Kan leaned to one of the head-high feet of the giant stone jaguar and took a deep breath. The same moment, his knees gave in. He slid to the ground and his body slumped down into a sitting position, his head still hurting like it had been crashed into the wall several times and every single muscle in his body protesting against the very task of existing.
The high priest turned his gaze upwards. This perspective of an insect looking up the leg of the child that was about to squash it – the effect the statue inevitably had – did not exactly help his giddiness. Not that this temporary loss of orientation could distract him from a much more important fact that he had already realized, but that nonetheless confused him to a great extent: The jaguar was, while undoubtly intimidating as always, still lifeless.

Since he had woken up from unconsciousness about ten minutes before, his mind was racing through all the opportunities why his scheme hadn't worked. He had followed the instructions of the codex word by word. He was highly proficient in the mastery of magic, though admittedly this had been by far the largest amount of the divine power he had ever attempted to control. But, most important of all, there was no way his plan wasn't what the gods had in mind about the future of El Dorado. This accumulation of lazy non-believers who let themselves be happily fooled by a scam just because life was easier this way, when it had recently become so obvious that the supposed gods were nothing but conmen (although talented ones, Tzekel-Kan had to admit, as he had been falling for their tricks as well). After all, what god would deny human sacrifice when blood was, as everybody knew, the essence they needed most? A god that had his own blood, that was. And a god like this wasn't one.

His long fingers glided along the blunt edge that was on top of the jaguar's claw almost fondly, and Tzekel-Kan found a certain pacification in the feeling of the cold stone against his fingertips. No, the gods can't have forsaken me. I've only been trying to fulfill their wishes.
His hand stopped instantly as he frowned at a second thought. Or was I too presumptuous when I claimed the command over the jaguar?
Glancing up again, he considered the task. A mere human could barely understand the destructive power this statue could develop (tho Tzekel-Kan had, to his delight, very clear and detailed ideas of what might happen).
Am I too weak? Tzekel-Kan exerted his arm and, once more, felt the dull pain. No, this couldn't be the reason. Magic going wrong was not simply as if missing the target when training with a bow, as he always tried to get through the thick skulls of his novices. Sore muscles and fatigue could have been the result of failing to use a minor healing charm on himself, but if he had messed up with this conjuration, the magic would have turned onto him, broken his bones like sticks and ripped his body literally into pieces.

Maybe it was just too soon. The high priest closed his eyes, his weary body pushing him to accept the answer. How could I possibly understand all the plans of the gods? When they see that the time is fit, they will do as they please, with or without my help.
Patience was not Tzekel-Kan's strongest side, but after all those years, he figured he could wait a little longer. It would be worth it.
As he drifted into sleep, slightly curled up between two jaguar claws, loosely hugging himself as protection against the chilliness of the stone, a small smile was upon his lips. The first shadows of dreams weaved him a picture of the end of the world.


Comments are always appreciated, criticism and praise alike.