And here is where things get into semi-mysticism instead of straight 'what if this happened instead of this.' Concept of 'soul rooms,' places that manifest someone's nature, hijacked from Yu-gi-oh, which I don't own either. I used to write for it, though. They're barely touched on in the anime but there's more about them in the manga. Redecorating someone's soul room, since it is just a symbol used for the mind so people visiting it can understand it and interact with it, will change the personality. Shadi uses this to turn a Professor into a... they mistook him for a zombie, but he was just 'programmed' to attack them: he was alive and capable of thinking, although only to a limited degree.
The Millennium Rod (which should really be sceptre) allows for slightly more conventional pseudo-psychic remote control via messing with memories instead of personality traits. Malik can use it to speak through his puppets by putting in the memory of what to say and how. However, if someone's going to be mind controlled the Key, which Shadi uses, is a lot nastier than the Rod. People's personalities are intact under the influence of the Rod, and another Millennium Item can wake them back up (although possibly it's only the Puzzle that can do this, because the different items have different powers), and possibly cultist deprogramming could manage too, over some years. The only cure for the Key is for it to touch the victim. There's no 'true self' left in there to wake up until their personality is reassembled. It's much, much nastier than a mind crush, which destroys the soul room/personality but frees the 'soul' up to rebuild. The 'soul' of a victim of the Key is set into a mental role by it and breaking out isn't possible.
In other words, as Asch 'redecorates' Luke's room here, these are Luke's personality traits that he would be erasing and replacing with his own traits until there's nothing left of Luke. I've been hanging out with the people on playthedamncard, the livejournal Yu-gi-oh crack/discussion community too much, and going back and reading this I thought I might not have explained the ground rules of this enough. What exactly messing with a soul room does isn't even known by most people in the fandom (cough the dub was worse than One Piece's cough), and this was in the early manga, which isn't covered in the anime and was a lot more open about establishing/foreshadowing the fact that the Millennium Items are about as black as magic can get.
Seeing someone's room tells you everything you need to know about their personality. This is why the anime included an episode based on the part of the early manga where Shadi is trying to figure out the 'other Yugi' but can't do it because his soul room is hidden within the Millennium Puzzle's maze. Given that the biggest problem between Asch and Luke is that they don't understand each other and therefore Luke's attempts to make up for what he did to Asch rub Asch the wrong way, I think Asch's change in perception of Luke that started in the last chapter should, in fact, be finalized here.
Also, a sword is a traditional symbol of air. Naming it a key when air is the element that unbinds just rubs it in. The seventh fonon is made up of the other six plus memory particles, so I think giving it additional forms is reasonable. At least for AU.
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It was warm, and soft. Those were just metaphors, but the sensation was that everything was perfect for relaxing, he'd done everything he needed to and had the right to relax, and he was being cared for. All was well with the world and he was pleasantly drowsy.
Except that when he metaphorically tried to spread out and wiggle around to get even more comfortable there was a sensation akin to his foot hitting a rock and not only getting bruised but burned by it.
Then he realized what was going on.
The replica, Luke, was there. Was the warmth, the rightness, the reassurance. He held him and was held by him and he was so warm: he needed that warmth, he'd lacked it for so long. He drank it down and it soothed a parched throat and parched heart, but Luke, oh, sad and tormented Luke, was not an inexhaustible fountain.
He opened his eyes and knew this place was a metaphor. He knew what it meant, this place of such significance to Luke, in ways only Luke should. This was where Luke felt safest.
The room they were in had been smashed. Asch knew it was the remnants of Luke's room, the one that had been his long ago. The roof was gone, shattered glass everywhere, cruel mirrors and bloodstained cruel reminders. Akzeriuth, Akzeriuth had done this, the knowledge that he wasn't who he thought he was and he could not let himself be blinded, had to remember, couldn't stay in a safe shell, couldn't be, couldn't be a solid self when not changing had led to that.
The bed was Tear's, where he'd been kept asleep and then woken up.
Out beyond the walls was the miasma, but at least it didn't come in here. That was some comfort. He didn't know what the differently colored arced ribbons of light were that kept it out. The instant he thought that he knew that they were what Luke saw around him during the headaches. His shields, his protection from the pain.
The miasma's poisonous light was dispelled by a fonstone bedside lamp in the form of a sun. Guy. There were selenias scattered among the shards of glass: no, the shards of glass were sprouting into selenias, he saw as he sat up and leaned down to look. He wouldn't want to trust his feet to even the mostly-cleared path to the doorway.
He'd bashed his foot against what he knew was the Jewel of Lorelei and kicked it onto the floor. The contamination effect? It figured.
A pile of arte books, some still open, a recipe book with notes all through the margins being held open by Luke's diary and a kitchen knife.
Framed portraits over the bed. Father's was faded, Mother's frame had been carefully polished, the largest had been turned to face the wall. A new one was covered, because while Jade was being Luke's guide now he refused to be a parent and Luke wouldn't call him that, wouldn't let himself rely on someone as he had Van. And yet he was there, a presence that watched from hiding, as Tear was a presence that lit now, the way Guy always had.
Where was Anise?
Oh, Ion.
A doll, a porcelain doll, luminous and broken and pieced back together so that Ion could be treasured here instead of just mourned. Replica Ion, but to Luke there had only been one Ion, the one he had found in Cheagle Woods. Those weren't Asch's memories and feelings. The doll rested on a tokunaga, because Anise also protected Ion's memory. The tokunaga itself was stained, but patched together and darned. Luke knew what it was to betray, to fail, for what seemed like vital reasons and have to live with it.
Mieu?
The blanket Asch had pushed off himself to sit up was the color and texture of Mieu's fur.
The cup of water next to Guy's lamp was Natalia. He thirsted for it but he wouldn't take it.
He felt the urge to clean Father's portrait and toss Van's outside into the miasma and what right did Jade have to be counted among his parents?
Luke's, perhaps. Jade had invented fomicry. And Van had created Luke. Family was family, like it or not.
And this was Luke's mind. He did not have the right to redecorate, even if his fingers itched to. This place just wasn't him. But what was him?
There was nothing of himself here but himself. He'd already consumed that, he knew. Luke's care for him, desire to have him in his life despite everything, desire to give back since he'd unknowingly taken… Luke still slept. Asch had left looking at him for last.
Lost Child.
That was what Luke was. He'd thought he was a Duke's Son: that Luke was almost dead. The Frightful One that couldn't stand the idea of killing another person was buried. The Ambassador still did his work, mending. The Replica Model still sought a place. The Passage Commander had done so much to be proud of yet not enough. He'd earned that name of Sword of Swords at the coliseum (as the Vagabond Son he could get them all in for free, and it was good practice). He'd been a Financial Investor because they needed a memorial and what else did he have to save it for? He'd had moments of fun, and being called a champion Barrel Breaker was something that mattered to him, something untainted, and did he really think being a Towel Boy so the sweat didn't get in his eyes in the baths was practical enough to put up with looking so stupid? He'd been called a decent Cook and it was so strange that that was as important an achievement as his one at the coliseum.
And yet he was, more than all those, a Lost Child.
What was Asch? He was still technically a God-General, and he'd always been a Loving Son although that wasn't a title he could really claim, given how the attempt to reunite them had gone. He wasn't the Light of the Sacred Flame anymore, that was certain. That was a name he could never reclaim, no matter how Van tried to make him be that.
He wanted to hold him. He wanted to take him into himself, and fix this broken place into a place for them, reclaim what had been lost for his own and live.
Luke would be content with that. The Lost Child longed to be found, to be recognized, to be understood and loved.
But if that happened Luke would no longer exist to be content.
Thank goodness that he was asleep, although looking so pale, so thin and drained wasn't a good thing. He'd seen Luke's mind. He understood him now. Did someone who had earned the name the Bloody have the right to sacrifice an innocent to live? Asch didn't really want to live, not at the most basic level. That was what had killed him, at the root. If he'd been determined to hold his fonons together the damage woudn't have been able to pile up like that. He wasn't willing to live at such a cost, not anymore, the same epiphany the other originals had felt, perhaps. He'd built up this image of Luke as a theif, as a weakling, as... He knew better now, and he couldn't retreat to that ignorance and he could no longer want Luke dead and gone. Asch wanted to heal him, to give to him without overwhelming him, but what did he have to give but himself, and to do that would kill him.
The Jewel.
The Jewel had the power to disperse fonons.
It burned him through his gloves just as it had through his boots: they were just parts of him here, after all. No, they were shields. He took off his gloves and the Jewel stopped trying to burn through to him.
Ah.
The Sword gathered. The Jewel released. He'd thought perhaps he could use it to dissolve himself away, give his fonons to Luke as Luke had done for him, but the sword he carried was the Sword. He must have brought it with him.
He joined the two and knew that this manifestation of Lorelei had six forms, as the seventh fonon was made up of the other six in harmony and the planet's memory. Lorelei had sent them the Key, the form most suited to freeing it. He wanted the fourth form right now.
The Sword became the Goblet and the Jewel the Elixir that filled it, gatherer of power and giver of it.
He brought the Chalice back to Luke's bed and sat down on it, putting the Chalice on the table for now. "Luke?"
Those weary eyes cracked open. "Mmm?" Luke had so much power: they both did. That wasn't the problem. That wasn't what they had starved for. They'd both needed comfort and since Asch wouldn't accept Luke's and Luke received precious little (Asch none) there hadn't been enough for either of them. If it were just fonons they could have lived forever.
And yet Luke smiled, eyes closing again when Asch didn't reply, just glad that he was here.
Asch pulled him up into his arms, ignoring the noise of protest. Luke was tired and wanted to rest, but Asch would not permit this to be his deathbed. When Luke (so cold!) was propped up against him he picked up the Chalice again and held Luke's head so that he could hold the Chalice to his lips.
Being held like something precious, the way the slumbering Luke had held him, breathed a bit of new life into him: he was able to open those eyes fully, in wonder.
Asch could still feel blood trickling down his chest, from a wound in Luke's back that had never healed. At least he wasn't the one who had stabbed him through the heart. He would wash it with the Chalice, and bandage it, and maybe that would let it start to heal. He bore his own, although there was little blood left for it to shed.
They'd held out so long: most of the blood that flowed through him had been Luke's even before they'd met again. Akzeriuth. That was when Asch had started to weaken and die. Luke had noticed he wasn't as strong as he should be in Ortion Cavern. That was when Luke had received this wound and no longer had enough to sustain them both, no matter what Guy and Natalia gave or he earned from Tear.
"Drink up." He pressed the Chalice to those dry lips, and Luke didn't dare to question this kindness in case it vanished. His mouth opened a crack: Asch tilted it enough for a few drops to pour in.
Only those few drops and Luke gasped, head arching back as they trickled down his throat. When his eyes opened again there was light in them, the green alive and already showing a few flecks of the gold their eyes should be in this place. Those eyes looked at Asch in wonder, in amazement, in gratitude, in love. Asch had given him this? Asch had… Asch found him worthy of saving?
"Hurry up and drink, Luke. I'm thirsty too."
Now Luke could hold his own head up and his hands joined Asch's in holding the Chalice as Luke move it to his lips again, eager and hungry. He gulped it down greedily, and Asch could feel his skin warm, his color return, the skin around the wound grow less feverish, and light begin to seep though the rims of those eyelids, closed in utter rapture.
The room grew lighter as selenias grew and bloomed. Not all of the broken glass changed, but the leaves and roots hopefully would provide enough protection that it would only cut Luke rarely. The sun flared, flared again and stayed at that brightness, now there was enough to power the fonstone properly. There started to be more arcs of light, although not a rainbow. "The miasma's gone," Asch told him, and the purple dimmed although perhaps it wouldn't go away until the glass was gone, the wound healed over and Akzeriuth no longer a source of nightmares. Luke would have the time now.
He was thirsty and it seemed so natural here. He and Luke were, in some strange way, not so much one but joined at the hip: Luke's lifeblood was his own and now that Luke could drink his fill it didn't seem creepy to nose the hair out of the way and bite down except in the academic sense. Of course he wouldn't do this in the real world: it would hurt Luke there and thus wouldn't accomplish what he was so very willing to do it for.
Luke moaned, although Asch wasn't sure he could do that while drinking. Well, in the real world Luke would have had to come up for air by now instead of just kept drinking.
The elixir was much better Luke-flavored. He might just keep drinking this way until he was full. And knowing that Asch not only wanted to heal him but wanted his love? Asch hadn't even noticed until now that Luke's heart wasn't beating. Luke's starting kick-started his own. Was it strange that they could only love themselves if someone else loved them? Asch thought everyone was that way, really.
He wasn't sure how much time passed while they sat there, just like that, but eventually they didn't need the Elixir anymore and Luke put it down. Also ceasing to drink, Asch gently poked Luke for his attention. "Take off your shirt and jacket."
What?
"Your wound."
His wound? Asch hadn't cared before. Everyone had said he shouldn't think about it or mourn, he had things he needed to do and they were more important than his pain. Idiots. And Asch counted himself in that number. They'd expected him to do all that while bleeding to death?
Of course, if Luke had gotten proper care Asch wouldn't have gotten sick and they wouldn't be here. "I'll bandage it," Asch explained, "And you can tell me what's going on."
Luke nodded and started taking off his clothes. The blood didn't show on them. It rarely had, it had burst out sometimes but under the circumstances Luke was good at not letting it… except for the month after they'd thought Van was dead, when Luke hadn't had anything to distract himself with, no reason to force aside the pain, no one to grab him and drag him out of it. "It's nighttime right now. It's been two days since they got back and let me wake up. I told them that you were here and would be safe. You were warm."
Only because Luke had been so cold.
"Jade left, with Anise, Guy, Tear, and the Dark Wings. They're looking for the Jewel of Lorelei. We should let them know we have it, and the Sword. They thought it was caught up in the hyperresonance that destroyed the miasma. I think Jade was hoping the Jewel could force you out of me." Luke was not happy that Jade had even contemplated that. Healthy gold eyes flared, then subsided.
"Don't blame him for wanting to save you," Asch chided him.
At Asch's expense?
"I don't want you to die for me anymore than you want me to die for you," Asch told him, reaching for the Chalice and pouring a little into his hand, enough to get started, at least. He'd have to clean the caked blood away before he could get at the actual wound.
Asch, Asch felt that way?
"You shouldn't need to ask." Calling him dreck and replica, that was wrong. But he was still such an idiot sometimes. Such a child. He motioned for Luke to lie down on his stomach so he could start by drizzling the elixir over the wound. Rubbing at it made Luke shiver, and Asch found himself bending down to kiss his shoulder in apology. So very natural. How it should be.
"Natalia stayed to do what she could." Ah, so that was why the water was fresh and clean even though the light had been dim and the selenias slightly wilted. "She's sitting by our bedside." Didn't Asch want to go comfort her?
"Is she bleeding?"
"…No."
"Then she can wait." That was what had frustrated him so much. Luke was nowhere on Luke's priority list. Holding Asch's… other self? Anyway, treating himself like that was treating Asch like that.
Of course, had Asch treated himself any better?
They were both idiots. Luke was less idiotic. Of course, Luke thought Asch was the better one. They were both idiots. Levels of idiocy were pointless to think about. They were going to stop being idiots and that was that.
He'd reached the swollen skin now, and drizzled elixir again to cool it. Then he took the chalice, willed into the key again, and cut off a lock of his hair. There wasn't much else that would serve as a bandage in this place, at least not well enough. Part of him that it was, it was easy to make it part of Luke, something that would stay. And perhaps it was the same sort of funerary offering to his old self that Luke had made after Akzeriuth. The fool that had destroyed the city had died then. The fool that had let this happen to the two of them was also dead and buried.
When he was done Luke was the one to push him down. "Your turn."
This was going to hurt, but he needed it. He nodded and removed his own clothing, his own mental armor. Perhaps he should take all of it off: there was no one to protect themselves from here except each other, and to do that was to starve themselves. But while it felt right the blood drinking (he licked his lips at the thought) was bad enough. There was no shame in it, but what if they started acting like this outside?
"Don't you think that's enough?" Luke was almost soaking it in elixir. Not that it didn't feel wonderful against the pain, but taking the pain out, touching it, would hurt no matter what he did.
Luke hated to hurt him, but he wasn't the frightful one anymore. Asch needed him to do this. So he turned the chalice into the key and opened the wound. Asch hissed as Luke reverted it into the chalice and did his best to clean out the infection, all the pain and anger that had festered inside until he'd been in delirium with it. In the end Luke had to suck much of it out, spitting out the poison until the blood started to flow clean. "Ugh." Disgusting. Luke drank a bit to get the last of that taste out of his mouth.
"I agree." It was disgusting. Asch should know, he'd been the one infected by it.
Luke filled the cavity with his own blood, not the elixir, and held it closed until the blood sealed it. "Don't worry, I have enough." Luke knew Asch wouldn't let him push himself.
"Alright." They got under the blankets and curled up together to sleep until morning. Asch nuzzled Luke and debated taking off their pants: he wanted closer, Efreet take it. Luke smiled against his shoulder and bit down. Asch followed. He drank from Luke, Luke from him, a circle, an oroborous. As long as they gave to the other the other would have enough to sate them.
