Setting: AU Mianite Yet Season 1 Resemblance
AN: I took the best one-shots from my Wattpad Account with the highest votes and I think decent quality writing and I moved it over here, just for the sake of organization. Now you may ask? What do you mean organization? Well, one day after Mianite ends, two years after the final season they'll go down over there and only be up over here? Why? Because this site's style of format is better. I may also move them to Archive, but I'm not fond of the site and it's over-amount of explicit.
Sum: Being alone is a bitter fate.
This was his kingdom.
The tall pillars looming over even the mightiest of giants, red stone mimicking flames as it rose from the earth to form a fortress like no other. The black obsidian forming a looming castle, a dark smudge on the formerly happy place. For many miles around this was the only edifice. Everything else having been burnt to the ground or left abandoned in wake of the growing shadow on a formerly beautiful land.
This was his kingdom. The kingdom of a villain.
His powers were limitless. He had hundreds of servants. All of them spirits brought from the dead, forced to do his bidding or he could easily send their soul to the worst fate in the afterlife. They kept the castle clean, they cooked scrumptious meals fit for a king—no a God—and did everything he asked. They had no choice, he was controlling them. But oh, how he loved it. He would torture them for no reasons at time.
This was his kingdom. A kingdom where not a single living person set foot, except the ruler himself.
In all of this glee and splendor, loneliness thrived. There was no one he had to share it with or who would share it with. No one worshiped a man like him; he once had friends, but they had abandoned him. Traitors. One moment they would laugh with him, the next a sword in his back. He walked these halls alone, black boots causing ominous echoes as he patrolled the halls, spirits cowering in his wake.
This was his kingdom. Twas a kingdom known for its bloodshed and the many it had left motherless, fatherless, without lovers, without children—'twas a kingdom that enjoyed seeing others suffer, others being alone.
The many wars he'd started, all of the deaths haunting him as he wandered around aimlessly. The child that had run from her burning home and wailed at the carnage around her and her parents being torn apart by flames. The young man who bitterly spat at him as he murdered everyone in the house, but him and left him to cry over spilled blood. The countless husbands swearing they would get their revenge as he snapped their wives necks. Some had tried, shown up at his kingdom and he'd not even give them the dignity of fighting him, he'd sent the spirits of their loved ones to drive them to suicide or killed them. Loneliness tore the soul apart, made it hard to be human. Nothing rested inside, but the monster all feared.
This was his kingdom. This was the kingdom of the feared Tom Cassell, the mighty God Syndicate; the once champion of Dianite who killed his own God and in turn, became one.
...
Another battle.
Another hundreds dead.
He had felt like it. Tom had simply appeared at the village, emotionless, stone faced and his mouth set in a hard line. He had murdered its inhabitants without remorse or a reason. This was one of the times he hadn't planned on leaving survivors.
There was always those that refused to die.
Tom strolled through the streets, eyes surveying the dead as if they were simply dead roaches. A pest that hardly mattered. Bodies slashed open, bodies that were burned alive, bodies that were impaled, bodies that...well...he sometimes forgot what he did to make them look that grotesque. His mind would just become a buzz, screams becoming static, cries becoming a slight variance in the white noise.
His eyes were on the small village's capital building he had yet to burn down. They believed in balance. They believed in democracy. Fools should know there is not happiness waiting for everyone; no one is equal. He is above them all.
As he raised his hands to burn it to the ground, he felt a tug at his pant leg. Startled, he looked down at a man, a man he had seen a century ago. A man immortal as he, given eternal life so as long he didn't perish in war. A follower of Ianite, a childish, yet mature man known as Jordan Maron.
He should kill him; slam his heavy boot into the man's head and hear the joyful sound of the skull cracking.
Tom didn't. He knelt down beside the man, and the eye that hadn't been burnt followed him. It looks like Jordan had been the victim of an explosion and it had done some damage to his head and legs. Hadn't killed him, sadly.
A gurgled sound came out of Jordan's throat and he reached for Tom again, before his hand fell weakly and the man gasped for breath. It came out like wheezing, choking, a desperate attempt at life.
"You're dying," Tom stated, his eyes locked on Jordan's good eye.
Jordan just stared at him. His eyes didn't beg him for mercy or give off a vibe of hatred or even hold fear. They held confusion. Tom tried to pretend he didn't care.
He couldn't count Jordan as a traitor. The man had never raised a hand against him. Jordan was one of the few that tried to find Tom when he left, before Tom was lost to darkness. He vaguely remembered shoving Jordan out a window from the second story of, at the time, a smaller castle to get him to leave. The man was always so determined to find something good in Tom. In everybody.
"I can't..." Jordan said weakly, his voice cracking. Tom was roused from his thoughts and looked at him. "...remember who"—he coughed violently—"I am." The weak champion of Ianite had started to cry.
Somewhere in the cavity that was his heart, Tom felt guilt. He grabbed Jordan's hand and rubbed it gently, but it didn't appear he could feel it.
"You're-" Tom started, but then be stopped. He wasn't Jordan Maron to Tom, and he never had been. "You're Sparklez."
Those eyes. The pain, the confusion, the hope. He tried to speak, but he couldn't and Tom felt his heart contract painfully. He couldn't do it, he couldn't let Jordan die.
"Come on, Sparklez," Tom gingerly scooped him up, making sure Jordan's injured head rested near his heart. For the first time in years, Tom felt tears prick his eyes. His chest contracted into a tight knot. "Let's get you home and safe."
Jordan curled into Tom, and he saw a smile form on his burnt face. "Safe?" he murmured.
Tom held him closer, crying freely. "You're safe, I promise. I won't hurt you ever again," he said solemnly.
...
...
...
Promises don't keep, they spoil and rot away, especially when bacteria and pests interfere.
...
Tom prided himself on how well he had healed Jordan. The man could run again, could laugh happily at Tom's jokes and his face was no longer marred by that burn. His formerly burnt cheeks would flush with redness when he was embarrassed, anxious or the one time he caught Tom in the middle of changing. Two bright, intelligent eyes would crinkle when he laughed, follow him as he rose in the morning and hide when he slept.
His memories were something Tom hadn't tried to fix. He didn't want to.
All of those years of pain, those years Jordan had watched Tom decay into a monster... Watched Tom destroy his village. It would only bring back pain, anger, hatred, all of the qualities Jordan shouldn't have to hold with him.
He wasn't going to bring them back. When questioned if he could Tom said it wouldn't work. He wouldn't even give Jordan his real name, for fear he would remember.
The loneliness subsided.
Tom didn't wake up grim and exhausted, he would usually be awoken by Jordan. It was warmer with him in the castle, livelier, happier.
He and Jordan had started sharing a bed when the pure man had heard Tom thrashing around in his sleep from nightmares. The kind-hearted soul tried everything to make Tom sleep soundly. The nightmares started to melt away when he would wake up with Jordan curled up to him, his black hair tickling his nose. He would keep an arm around Jordan for fear of losing him.
Jordan talked with the servants and listened to their stories. They were wary of him at first, but when they realized he was the polar opposite of Tom they flocked to him, telling stories of loved ones or times in their life. Tom had carefully threatened them that one slip of the tongue about him or anything he had done would end their existence completely and anything they held dear. Despite the weight of his threat, many of the spirits felt safe to talk around Jordan. And some, felt they could do more to him.
A few despised Jordan and had tried to harm him, but Tom had quickly burned their souls. It was hard to explain to Jordan the reason why they tried to hurt him.
"They're jealous of you, Sparklez," Tom had insisted after one incident.
The two of them were having lunch, a few servants listened to their conversations eagerly for gossip. The servants now lived a rather regular life, one where they could talk to each other as well without angering Tom.
"I don't think they are, they all make insults about you when they try to kill me," Jordan had observed, stabbing a fork into his green beans.
Tom had felt a chill run through him. He had laughed uneasily. He watched as Jordan's eyes gave him a curious look, questioning him in a way that made Tom feel tense. Jordan chewed slowly, waiting for Tom's answer.
"They're jealous of our good looks and status of living," Tom joked, his eyes trained on the steak in front of him.
He felt Jordan's eyes on him. His aura grew, paranoia about being realized growing with every second and the servants stopped whispering to each other and began to shift nervously. Would the monster rise again?
"Did you just call me cute?" Jordan asked.
All at once the paranoia disappeared and Tom laughed it away. He took a bite of his steak savoring the flavor.
"I don't know, Sparkly-boy; I did if you think I'm cute too," Tom flirted.
They had started a more intimate relationship. The two of them having developed feelings for one another. The servants were relieved.
For now, Tom had stopped attacking villages; many were able to live in peace and prosperity. Some servants were even given the chance to pass on. Others remained, content with seeing how matters played out or worried about family members that still lived.
They should be.
Tom may be calmed, Jordan soothing his temper and desire to harm others, but what if Jordan...disappeared. Those thoughts plagued Tom; they gave him nightmares he would start from in the middle of the night. He would quickly find where Jordan was laying and cuddle him, kissing his cheeks and forehead, reassuring himself Jordan was still there.
Sometimes Tom would cry out of fear. Jordan would wake up and comfort him, running his hands over Tom's back, squeezing his shoulders gently and sliding his hand through Tom's hair until the sobs subsided into hiccups. After the nightmares Tom would bury his head in the crook of Jordan's neck and shoulder or hide his face in Jordan's chest. If Jordan had been awoken, he never questioned what the nightmare was about, but he would hold Tom closer.
The worst nightmare had hit Tom on a stormy night. It hadn't been just any nightmare it had been a vision of the future, a vision where Jordan left, friends having recognized him and Tom let him leave to make him happy. He hadn't cried when he woke up from that one; he had screamed in agony. Jordan hadn't been able to calm him down for hours and had started crying, feeling guilty for being unable to help Tom.
It was early in the morning when Tom started to calm down. He sat up and pulled Jordan into his lap, using his thumb to wipe away tears from his love's cheeks.
"J...Sparklez, I'm fine now, " Tom said hoarsely. "Please stop crying."
Jordan stared at him, the same look of pain he wore when he found him. Tom swallowed heavily and ran a hand soothingly through Jordan's sweat soaked hair. After a moment, Jordan slumped against him, his head against Tom's beating heart.
"What was that one about, Tom?" he's asked, grabbing Tom's hand that lay dormant.
He knew deep down the answer couldn't be 'don't worry' as it always had.
"I'm scared of losing you," Tom said, squeezing Jordan's hand tightly. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your memories will come back or someone will recognize you and take you far away."
Jordan was silent, he didn't know what to say. He had thought about this too, but tried to tell himself it didn't matter or maybe if he was lucky there was no one of importance in his old life.
"If I remember something, Tom, unless it's something big-" Jordan started.
"And what then, Sparklez, what if you have a wife and kids somewhere. A woman you love or a man you love, what are you going to do?" Tom questioned, voicing the fears that he knew were true. Jordan had a life somewhere Tom was keeping him from.
"I..." Jordan had started crying again. "I don't know. I love you and I'll have these memories of you combined with memories of them and..." he broke off, lost for words. "How will I know who to choose?"
Tom shook his head, he didn't know.
"I want you to be happy, Sparklez. That's all I want," Tom lied. He wanted not to be alone as well, but if Jordan hated him for keeping him from a past life Tom would hate himself too.
"Thank you, Tom," Jordan said through tears. "But I'll end up breaking someone's heart. I can't do that. I can't break yours, I can't break someone else's." Jordan was starting to hyperventilate and Tom shushed him, rubbing his shoulders before wrapping the covers around them both. A snuggly and safe cocoon.
"I think I'll be fine. Let's just say you might remember some bad things about me and that'll make the choice easier," Tom said softly.
"Tom?" Jordan asked worriedly, but the God just leaned his head against the headboard, his hand having returned to stroke Jordan's hair. "If I do have memories of you before this, I won't see you as a bad person no matter what happens. Because all this time I've spent with you here and now, will prove you can be a different person." He sat up, turning around to better be able to kiss Tom's lips.
The words made Tom's fears fall away and he seized Jordan in a passionate kiss. It was quick, but it wiped away the trouble from the nightmares. The two fell away, breathless and Tom cupped Jordan's chin smiling.
"Thank you," he whispered gratefully.
...
...
...
The vision came true, Tom couldn't stop it. He had chosen to go with Jordan to the market place to see the meteor shower in more romantic scenery. The wife, the friends, all of them were there.
...
"Jordan!" a female voice cried.
"Oh my—Jordan, you're alive," a man tackled Jordan in a bear hug, his cap falling off. "We had Ianite and Mianite looking for you, but for some reason they couldn't find-" the man opened his eyes and saw Tom standing there, glaring at the trio.
Overwhelmed, Jordan could only stand there in shock as a woman carrying a baby and a five year old following behind her approached. Along with the man that was apparently his friend and his wife.
"You," Tucker pushed Jordan behind his chest and jabbed his finger into Tom's chest, "How dare you keep him in your castle. That's why we couldn't find him, isn't it? You put him behind those wards no one could find him with magic."
Tom stood there silent, his heart in his throat. He glared at Tucker, but didn't say a word.
"Hey, um, guy, I don't really remember you, I sort of lost my memory," Jordan awkwardly tapped Tucker on the shoulder. "Could you explain, because Tom's a nice guy and-"
Tucker spun around, staring at Jordan in shock, "Tom's a nice guy? You must of forgotten how he killed thousands of people, how he killed Capsize's, your wife's, brother. How he tortured innocent people all for his own sick glee."
In a state of disbelief, Jordan stared at Tom, his eyes begging him for it to be a lie.
"I have," Tom said.
"But you don't anymore," Jordan pushed.
"Not sense I saved you," Tom admitted.
Tucker started cackling and crossed his arms, shooting a death glare at Tom. Sonja shook her head beside him, disproving of Tom.
"Saved him?! From what, yourself? You destroyed his whole village and then what, hit him over the head to make him forget and took him home as a pet?" Tucker accused.
Jordan stepped between Tucker and Tom, desperately trying to defuse the situation as on-goers started watching them. "Please, can we not do this. I don't remember-"
Tom cut him off, "It was my bomb that probably did it, but I never lay a hand against Jordan."
"Did you ever tell him the truth?" Tucker yelled. "You knew he was married, you knew he had kids, friends and the sort!"
Tom opened his mouth and then closed it as Jordan stared at him in shock and betrayal. He had. He really had. Tom bowed his head, unable to look Jordan in the eye.
"I'm leaving," Tom said, turning on heel, "goodbye, Jordan."
As the crowd parted to let Tom through, many shooting the God nasty looks. Jordan felt a surge of panic.
"Tom, wait, don't leave!" Jordan cried.
Tom didn't turn around, but he clenched his hands into fists. His heart yearned for Jordan. Why did Jordan have to belong to someone else.
"Let him go, he deserves to be alone after what he's done," Capsize said bitterly.
"I..." Jordan watched Tom disappear. "He didn't let me say goodbye..."
"That's not the worst thing he's done. Come on, Jordan, let's get you home." The words struck a cord and Jordan started crying. Tom watched, invisible and flames brewed in his hands.
"I love you, Tom. I promise that won't change," Jordan said to the air, softly so that only he could hear it. Tom read his lips.
When he returned home, half the servants found themselves obliterated from existence. In a fit of rage he destroyed everything he touched, everything Jordan ever touched.
The last thing he stumbled upon was a painting he had a skilled servant make of him and Jordan. Tom hadn't meant to burn it, but as be stared at it, grief overcoming him, he had forgot to draw his flames back. When he went to stroke Jordan's face in the painting, he burned it.
Upon realization of what he did, Tom quickly stopped the flames with his magic, but it was too late. Jordan's face in the painting had burned away, leaving him...alone.
...
...
...
Fate's a wicked one, and Tom became even worse than before. Only the pure of heart can keep a promise.
...
He hardly ever ate or cleaned up after himself, nor did he spare any servants to do it for him. One day he destroyed his own castle and set about traveling across the world, killing anyone he saw. If he couldn't be happy, no one could.
In his wake he left a bloody path. The other gods had tried to stop him, but a god can only be killed by their follower or themselves, but Tom had neither a follower or the desire to end himself.
It was upon approaching the gates to a Mianite town, he was approached by one man. One man in silver armor covering him from head to toe. The one man raised a knife against Tom.
Tom had cackled. "I'm feeling in the mood for a game, so why not. Your knife against my sword?"
The knight nodded.
"Let's play," Tom grinned
The battle was lightning quick. The man with the knife was like a bird in flight, weaving around Tom's attacks with an agility unknown to man. He was able to get a few slashes in at Tom's weak points. While he couldn't kill Tom he could make it hard for Tom to fight.
"You're good," Tom purred as he stepped back.
The knight stood stock still, waiting for his next attack.
"You're not chatty are you? You think you can really stop me?" Tom questioned, gripping his sword tighter.
The knight shrugged.
"I like you," Tom said with a laugh. "I'll make your death quick."
The fight continued, but Tom took dirtier and dirtier steps to ensure his victory. He fought roughly, using his god strength to punch and kick the man through his armor. At last, Tom's sword ripped through the armor and the knight staggered back.
The knight let go of the knife he held. His metal gloved hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword buried in his stomach and he leaned against the wall. He was breathing heavily and blood started to leak out of his armor to Tom's satisfaction.
"You put up a good fight," Tom said, walking towards the knight confidently. "Let's see who I was fighting."
The knight weakly batted Tom's hands away, but Tom removed the helmet to see...
Those eyes...those pain filled eyes.
Tom dropped the helmet and he covered his mouth, stepping back.
"Jordan? No...nonono, I didn't-" Tom said quickly and Jordan shook his head.
"I know, I didn't want you to know. I had to fight you, Tom," Jordan slumped against the wall and Tom rushed to him, holding him up. "I remember everything, and I don't hate you. I loved you then and I love you now."
"Jordan, I can heal you. I-" Tom pulled Jordan close, but the man shook his head.
"Tom, I want you to find peace," Jordan said. "I had to fight you to find mine. I couldn't let you keep hurting others, it hurts you, Tom." Jordan ran his hand down to Tom's heart. "It hurts me. I want this world to be a happier place."
"Jordan, I love you. Please, don't leave," Tom begged grabbing his shoulders, holding him up.
"I'm sorry, Tom," Jordan said hoarsely before he began to cough up blood. He tried to keep smiling between coughs.
"I killed you," Tom started to cry. "I'm sorry, Jordan."
Jordan smiled, "I forgive you for everything."
The life went out and those eyes were emotionless. Tom screamed and held the body close to him, begging Jordan to come back. His eyes darted to Jordan's knife.
"I'll see you again, won't I?" Tom asked the lifeless body. It gave no response.
There was only one way; Tom gripped the knife tightly and slammed it into his chest. It burned, it hurt like nothing else, but it still hurt less than loneliness.
He gripped Jordan's hand as he felt life fade from him and he smiled. Jordan would be on the other side.
...
...
...
A god fell.
The land rejoiced.
And two lovers met again.