Author's note: Yikes, so that took forever. I apologize for the long wait, but this one took a lot of time and rewriting for me to be happy with it, and now, I really am. A whole lot happens in this one, so strap in, because the action starts immediately!
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Follows: mac349 (ffn)
…
The Measure of a Man
Chapter Four
Equilibrium
A blur. His vision was distorted, appearing then as a concoction of incomprehensible colors and tones. He felt his other senses begin to fade. He focused himself and tried to take another step forward, the majority of his weight being placed on the shoulders of the girl he had only barely met. He lifted his head and looked out on the crowd, his eyes hardly open. He felt his very lifeforce draining for him as his body began to feel heavier. His gaze dropped to the ground as he lost the strength to hold his head at level and fell upon his tattered tunic, where his blood spilled out freely.
He pressed his hand against the wound, wincing and moving it away, lifting his hand to his eyeline and seeing the blood that had covered him. Memories of only a day prior flashed in his mind, his father's image pressed firmly on the forefront of his mind.
His eyes gaped as the realization finally made it to his mind.
He was dying.
He felt his breaths spike, growing ragged and labored. He felt his body gaining support from a familiar touch. He quickly lifted his head and laid eyes on his mother. Their eyes met, they each felt the same fear, a primal horror that his fate would match that of his father. A tear began to build in his eye. His mother did all she could to hold him up.
Distorted and almost impossible to comprehend, he heard his mother speak to him as his eyes began to close.
"Don't go," she pled as his consciousness began to fade.
His eyes welled over with tears as his vision faded. Almost a whisper, he pled, "I don't wanna die."
With his hope running dry, so did his strength. He fell limp into the two women's arms.
His eyes blinked open again, Marco fighting to survive with each passing moment feeling distant from the last. Each new image being seconds or minutes apart from the last. He was in the village, then in the town square, then on the floor and lifted back onto the two women's shoulders. Then finally he was laid down as gently as possible on the floor of his house, his eyes were squinted, but he remained awake through it all. He watched every excruciating moment of it all, the terrible fear that all involved felt, the blood on each and every person's hands, but worst of all, the lack of hope.
Not only was he dying, but the people of the village were too terrified to act.
He slowly turned his head to his side, meeting the eyes of that mysterious girl again. She sat knelt by his side, helpless to save him, but he couldn't focus on that. Instead, he felt something else, both tangible and not.
He felt her care, felt her soft palm against his, almost as if she was the one fighting for her life vicariously through him.
His hand twitched. He smiled, slowly wrapping his fingers around her hand as his consciousness finally left entirely.
…
In and out, his breath raggedly dragged on. Around him, blankets and feather pillows supported his rehabilitating form. His home was deathly quiet, the only remaining inhabitant being his own mother, who tirelessly sat leaned against the opposite wall from where he sat, bags hanging under her eyes. She was sick, it was only a minor cold, likely due to her using both of their blankets to help her son. She blinked at distant intervals, still refusing to take her eyes from her boy. Her greatest gift was also her most cruel plight, he was breathing, however ragged, however pained, however labored, he was breathing just loud enough for her to hear even from where she sat.
Angelica sniffled, wiping her nose, then coughed several times. When she set her eyes back on her son, she saw his hand twitch. Panicked, she crawled her way to his side and waited with anticipation, holding his hand in her own.
Then, in a moment of pure panic, he darted up from his resting form, sitting up and nearly hyperventilating. His eyes remained ahead, his breathing under his own control now, even if still labored.
He stayed like that for several seconds, his mother too scared to interrupt his sudden outburst, but involuntarily, her hand squeezed his, and immediately his gaze snapped to her, her face visibly weary, yet hopeful.
"W- Where- What happened," he questioned, still clearly jarred from waking up so suddenly.
His mother stammered, unable to form words, then lunged toward him, wrapping her arms around him in the most emotional embrace that she was capable of. Marco, confused, returned the favor, lightly wrapping his arms around her while scanning his home, then looking out of the window and becoming more confused.
"What- What time is it? What happened to me," Marco continued to question, utterly lost in his lack of context. He pushed off of the ground, trying to get to his feet, but was immediately inhibited by a sharp pain coming from his chest. His mother continued to fail to explain, her words unable to convey it, or rather, she wasn't able to accept the reality herself yet.
His eyes slowly dropped to his chest and all he could do is stare, his eyes agape and his face almost expressionless.
"The forest," he began, "Rasticore-" the memories slowly came back to his mind, "-her," Marco's interest spiked again.
"The girl," he began, his tone clearly panicked, "Where did she go?"
Angelica cut in, realizing who he was talking about, "Oh, do you mean Mariposa? She said that she needed to go home. She stayed all day though, she really seemed to care. Why?"
"Mariposa? Was that her name," Marco wondered, something not seeming right about it.
"Well, that's what she told me," the woman affirmed.
Marco sat, sighing, and laid back down.
"Marco, what's wrong? Why do you need to see her," she questioned.
Marco continued to mull in silence, only replying after his mother called to her son's attention, repeating her question.
"Marco, what is it?"
He snapped back into reality, "Oh- I just- I wish I could have thanked her. She saved my life," Marco lied, folding his hands across his chest lightly.
"Umm- Okay, I'm sure you'll see her again. She said she lives in a neighboring village, so maybe you'll get the chance soon," Angelica explained, scooting closer to her son. Noticing his disappointment, she inquired, "Are you sure you're alright? You know, you really scared me… and don't lie, you need to explain what you were thinking."
He slumped further into his sheets, positing, "I never said I was okay. Honestly, I feel dead."
Angelica sighed, remarking, "I know," as she got herself to her feet. The boy watched her, bored and still confused. "Now get up," she commanded, "You must be starving."
Marco obeyed, forcing himself from the ground with his mother's assistance, the excruciating pain from his core burning with each inch of movement, but in the end, with his mother supporting him, he stood. Leaning on his mother, he limped to the table and lightly placed himself in his chair, slumping immediately, a hand lingering over his wound as his mother walked toward her small cooking table.
"So?" His mother questioned him, "Why did you do that?"
Marco sighed, staring through their window, dreading the moment.
His mother turned and faced him, quietly pressing on. He knew he couldn't withhold this from her. The two met each others' eyes, the fear that Angelica felt being as clear as day behind her wide and glossy eyes.
"I-" Marco began, unsure how to explain. "I want him dead," Marco declared in a frank tone. The woman didn't speak, it was clear that she needed more of an explanation.
"I just- When I went to the castle and spoke to the king, I learned some things about him… and I wanted him dead- I wanted to kill him."
Angelica blankly stared at her son, several seconds passing with neither moving so much as an inch. Marco opened his mouth to continue, but his mother intervened, "Rasticore, you mean?"
Marco's brow raised, a mixture of initial accusatory anger and confusion behind his face. The woman clarified, "Mariposa told me," she paused.
"She also told me…" Marco's expression softened as he laid his head against the back of his chair, listening while appearing absent-minded.
"She also told me that you refused to be taken back to the castle… care to explain?"
Marco leaned his head further back to the point that he was staring at the ceiling, taking a moment before finally answering, "I- I left the castle on a- erm- sour… note."
His mother tilted her head, sighing as she crossed her arms.
"Look, I was angry, I said some things that I shouldn't have, but-"
His mother cut in, "But nothing, the king was kind to you, you had no reason to-"
Marco cut her off in an assertive tone, "He told me why Rasticore killed dad."
A steep, tense silence washed over the room. Angelica uncrossed her arms, her mouth open and her confusion evident. She was unsure how to respond. She turned her back to her son and resumed preparing his meal, an anxious expression on her face that Marco couldn't see. He continued.
"He said that Rasticore and the monsters attack because they think that they are in the right, but that's not the part that made me so angry. No, it was because the reason he killed my father was that he was a good man."
He paused, reiterating his statement.
"He had no reason… Rasticore killed him because he was a hero."
His mother remained silent. He felt the need to continue to explain.
"That's why I was so angry."
"That's why I went into the forest."
"That's why I wanted to kill him, and I still do."
Angelica slowly turned to face him, tears running down her cheek. She opened her mouth, coughing and sniffling. Marco pushed off of the table, through his pain, and came to her side.
"Mom- Are you okay," he questioned fearfully.
The woman pushed him away and coughed into her arm, her son standing helpless beside her. Wordlessly, she handed him a bowl of food and pointed at the table, still coughing. He initially hesitated, wanting to help her, but as she sat down across from him, he obeyed, worriedly staring at her.
Finally, she stopped coughing. Seconds passed with neither speaking. Angelica avoided keeping eye contact with her son while he stared at her pleading for answers.
"You're sick," he determined aloud, his mother shamefully and dismissively looking elsewhere.
He continued, reaching out a hand toward her only to be denied as she turned her shoulder away, "Mom, what happened, I was only asleep for-"
"-Marco it's been days," she shouted at him, his face being overcome with shock in only a moment.
He retracted.
"I-" words failed him.
"You didn't move for three full days, Marco. Do you know how terrifying that was?"
His gaze fell to the ground. His mother only continued to voice her frustration.
"-And now I come to find out that you did all of this… for what, revenge? Marco, that's not the boy I've raised. No, that's not the man that your father lived and died teaching."
Marco remained silent, still, and utterly lifeless.
Angelica finished on a final, sour note, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Marco."
His gaze immediately jumped to his mother's face and his heart shattered. There wasn't anger, sadness, or any other malice emotion. Instead, there was a pure, unrestrained disappointment, clear and direct. He sighed.
"I-" Once again he failed to find words. His mother crossed her arms, the two maintaining eye contact through the tense moment of silence between them.
"You're right," he began, his shoulders slumped, finishing as quickly as he began, "I never should have run into that forest."
Once again, silence reigned over the two, full minutes passing as the two slowly prodded at their food. It was roughly midday by that point and as the two sat, Angelica would periodically yawn, each time leading Marco to feel guilt that he felt he deserved to feel.
At some point, though, his mother began to stare, clearly meaning to say something, but waiting for something. Marco hurried to finish his food and when he did, she finally spoke again, hoping to restore the mood about the room.
"At least some good might have come from that day," she began, attracting her son's confused attention. She continued.
"Since that day, about an hour after Mariposa left, a large troop of knights came to the village. At first, we were all confused, but they haven't left since. Did you say something to the king?"
Marco sighed, leaning back in his chair and wiping his face. He thought back to his conversation with the king and remembered what he said.
"I will station troops in defensive positions…"
The king's words were pressed into his mind as if they had only just happened because… from his perspective, they had.
As the news hit him, he wasn't sure what to feel. Of course, it was a good thing to be under protection, to not need to worry that you were being watched by a creature whose only goal is to place you in a grave, but beyond that, there was another thought.
After his actions just the other day, he hated himself for even thinking this way, but he just couldn't help it. He wasn't happy, but angry. Why now? Why hadn't they done this before if they were so capable? Was this just to make the king feel better? His suspicions stirred within his mind as he mindlessly stared into space.
"Marco," his mother questioned, snapping Marco's attention back into the moment.
Immediately, he gave her the answer that he figured she wanted, "Yeah, that's great, mom… great," the final word being under his breath.
She faux-smiled, sighing.
"We don't have much left," she explained, "We're going to run out of food any day now…"
Marco met her eyes again as she continued to list her issues.
"We don't have anyone in our family working anymore, so we have almost no money…"
"And worse than that, I have to worry about whether you are smart enough to keep yourself safe."
She paused, her son managing to keep eye contact despite the criticism before getting to her point.
"I love you, Marco. I just can't bear the thought of losing you… like I did with your father."
Marco cut in as tears began to form in her eyes. Quickly he rose from his chair and wrapped his arms around, pulling her close to him.
"I- You won't lose me."
His mother softly sobbed into his chest, her hands on her face. She peeled herself from him and looked into his eyes, pleading, "Promise me…"
A somber expression fell over him, but without hesitation, he obeyed.
"I promise you won't lose me," he paused and repeated again, "I swear…"
Neither spoke for several seconds after that. Marco wiped his face and rose from his hair, stretching his arms and wincing in slight pain as he once again forgot about his stomach's chronic aching.
He moved toward the front door, his mother's eyes constantly watching. Facing his back to her, he looked at the door, his mind lost and elsewhere. He turned his head toward their coat rack and asked his mother a question.
"Is it still cold out," he asked, glancing to her over his shoulder.
She crossed her arms, not responding for several seconds as if the very suggestion of him leaving was blasphemous. Finally, she scoffed, remarking, "You couldn't possibly think that I'd let you leave the house right now."
His face remained stoic. His question remained in the air. Seconds passed with the room growing tense. Marco gave a brief explanation, "You said we need food. I have perfectly functional legs. I can go out. I don't want you to risk hurting the baby."
Angelica squinted, held eye contact with him, then sighed again.
"Yes, Marco, it is cold outside," she answered, her arms still crossed.
Marco turned back to the door, grabbing his father's old hood from the coat rack and reaching for the door, but just as his hand reached it, his mother spoke again, positing "I don't like this," with an anxious expression.
Marco sighed, dropping his head before turning around and offering reassurance.
"I won't get myself hurt… I promise. Hey, you said that our village is under protection anyway, so there's no risk."
Again, he turned to the door, his mother not initially offering a counter-argument, but again, as he was prepared to leave, she spoke up.
"So you plan on staying in our village?"
Marco tilted his head in confusion, answering not with an answer, but another reassurance.
"I'll be safe. I promised, remember?"
Her confidence clearly didn't increase. She sighed, and just as he reached for the door again, she reminded him of something he was forgetting.
"The cash is in the kitchen," she stated in a flat tone. Marco chuckled at his blunder and walked toward their small cash stash, withdrawing a few bills and heading back to the door. Finally, he reached for the door again, offering his mother a soft smile as he closed the door behind him.
He leaned against the door, dropping his shoulders and sighing as his fingers slid against it. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for what must have been an eternity, exhaling equally sluggishly. Then, slightly calmed down, he glanced at his wound and scoffed, pushing off of the door and walking into town, tossing his newly inherited hood over himself, throwing the hood over his head in an attempt to conceal his identity. Truthfully, he wanted to keep his word to his mother. For once, if ever in his life, he wanted to do exactly what was asked, and in the end, he could finally get some much-needed rest.
So when he passed by the townspeople without so much as a greeting, he was more than happy, but ecstatic.
He walked slowly, one of his hands always pressed against his wound, which still ached with every step he took. He kept his head low and maintained a steady pace.
He looked from side to side as he walked, both surprised and equally not at the shocking amount of guards that stood in defense at the core of his village. He continued to keep a low profile, but as he moved down his normal path he only continued to notice them.
They were everywhere, in every dark alley, every corner of the city, every overlooking point of the forest. Truthfully, he hadn't felt so safe in his entire life, and yet, something felt off. It wasn't the normal feeling he got when he just knew he was being watched, no, it was something entirely different.
He perused his way toward the market, the evening sun ahead of him and the guards ever vigilant, but at some point, something changed. The further he got from the center of his village, the fewer guards he saw. He grew confused, rapidly sweeping his gaze from side to side.
And then, nothing, a ghost town. A low fog hung around his feet and a cloud blew in coverage of the sun, granting a new shade about the town, which was accompanied by a familiar paranoia.
It was eerily silent, equally dark, but the market was in sight, however foggy it seemed. He approached with caution, his eyes darting into every dark alley as he felt the danger of the area rising with each step.
Finally, he reached the market and made his first contact with another Mewman. He sighed with relief as he walked toward the man, glancing from side to side in the confusingly silent village. Wordlessly, he pulled his cash from his pocket and placed it on the market stand's counter. The man working the stand sighed, questioning him, "And what exactly can I get you?"
Marco sighed, posing a question of his own.
"What can I afford," he asked shamelessly, to which the man gave a soft chuckle.
"You and me both kid, you and me both," he joked, reaching underneath his counter and placing a large loaf of bread in front of him.
Marco tilted his head in confusion, explaining, "I can't pay for this, it's out of my budget."
The man smiled, nudging the bread forward and asserting in a gracious tone, "It's no problem. We all struggle from time to time. Call it a favor."
Marco glanced at the bread hesitantly, frowning, but took it nonetheless, expressing his gratitude in the process.
"Thank you, mister," he questioned the man for his name.
"Call me Scott, and it really is no trouble, mister," Scott questioned his name in return.
Marco hesitated, eying the man for a moment before finally lifting his hood and giving his name, "Call me Marco, Marco Diaz."
The man nodded, smiling. The two awkwardly stood for a moment, Marco turning and watching the townspeople sluggishly walk the streets.
"What happened here," Marco questioned in a sympathetic tone.
The man sighed deeply, explaining in a dejected tone, "What always happens… they attacked again."
Marco snapped his head in the man's direction, questioning "But the guards, aren't they supposed to be protecting the villages? I heard that the King stationed guards in the villages. Did they lose?"
The man's shoulders fell. Marco observed his face as he delivered the question. Clearly, something about it annoyed him.
The man finally answered in a somewhat angry tone, "No, that would only be the South village, which I presume you are from."
Marco nodded, processing the information.
The man explained further, his tone growing harsher with each sentence, "No, they don't protect us," he stated in an accusatory tone, "No, we just make them their money, save whatever we make, then spend it all on rebuilding after we're attacked."
"In fact, ever since the king's decree, there hasn't been a day that we weren't attacked," the man explained. Marco's eyes widened. He turned back and surveyed the village again. His understanding changed.
"That's not right," he remarked, turning to face Scott again.
Scott shook his head, agreeing, "You're telling me. The losses that we have faced this week have been worse than ever before."
"I have to do something about this," Marco determined, glancing toward the Butterfly castle that stood piercing the clouds at the center of their kingdom.
Scott chuckled. He mocked the boy unassumingly.
"What? You? What can you possibly do to help?"
Marco remained stoic in his solemn expression.
"I'll go talk to the king. This is my fault anyway."
Scott tilted his head in question. Marco sighed, depositing the large piece of bread in his pocket and turning back in the direction that he had come. As he began to exit, Scott questioned him.
"What do you mean by that, Marco? That this is somehow your fault?"
Marco drooped his head in self-disappointment, opting not to explain himself.
"Don't worry, I'll fix this, I promise."
Even in disbelief, Scott had nothing better to believe in. He remarked in a somewhat desperate tone, "I hope you're right, kid."
Marco only sighed, staring at the castle gate again. His eyes shifted to the castle gate. He saw a hooded figure speaking to the guard and quickly being allowed into the castle. Confused, he took a few steps toward the fence and gripped it, watching from a distance.
He squinted, trying to see the hooded figure's face, but they just continued to look in any direction but his. Marco had a bad feeling.
His curiosity took over.
"Mariposa," practically screamed. The figure snapped her head in his direction and Marco had his answer. Her shimmering azure eyes were unmistakable, and she was heading into the castle. She made eye contact with him and quickly raised her pace jogging into the castle with shocking urgency. He was about to go anyway. Now he just had another reason. He needed answers. He knew what he had to do.
The walk back to his house was short, his urgency clear and his fist balled the entire way. He knew he had to do it, but he didn't know if he had the strength. What he planned to do was risky. He wasn't sure he had the strength to put his family in danger by his own action.
He walked in through his door without warning. His mother lay on the floor, only rising as he walked through the door. He never stopped moving for a second. His adrenaline was starting to build. He pulled the bread from his pocket and tossed it onto the counter.
"Marco," Angelica questioned.
Marco didn't respond. He came to his bedside and knelt down, rifling through his possessions in search of anything that could help him convince the king.
"Marco," his mother called again, once again being ignored.
He lifted his blanket, searching underneath it and scoffing when he didn't find anything.
"Marco," Angelica shouted. Marco sighed, finally slowing down and acknowledging her.
"I have to go back to the castle," he declared as fact.
His mother stood up and crossed her arms, asserting, "No. I shouldn't even have let you go to the market. It's not safe."
"And that's the problem. We shouldn't be safe when they aren't. I need to talk to the king," Marco argued, continuing to search his possessions. His mother had an argument of her own.
"Marco, as admirable as that is-"
Marco cut in, "Mom, in the past three days, the West Village has been attacked every day. We have no right to be any safer than them."
She fell silent, her shoulders dropping and her gaze to the ground. Marco maintained a determined stare on his mother, his heart so firmly behind what he said.
His mother sighed quietly, finally meeting his eyes again and making an observation.
"You sound just like your father, you know that," Angelica explained.
Marco shook his head, deflecting, "My father wouldn't have been as stupid as I was."
Angelica laughed softly, walking toward her son and pulling him into an embrace. He leaned into her and let his guard down. Seconds passed as Marco allowed himself to calm down.
"You know," his mother began. He pealed himself from her and listened with intent.
"He wasn't always the man he was when he… you know… left us."
"What do you mean," Marco questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter as she explained.
"We're all Mewmans in the end," she explained, adding, "We all make mistakes. Your father was no stranger to making mistakes, but-" She hesitated to finish the comment, but continued, concluding, "But the mistakes we all make only serve to make us stronger…"
"...as long as you don't die as a result," she finished, alluding to his abdominal wound, but Marco's attention was dragged elsewhere.
"Like my father," he determined.
"Marco, that's not at all what I meant," she argued, explaining, "Your father died a great man. The difference is that his death was no mistake. He gave his life to save another. That is the best thing that any man can do, you have to know that."
Marco's determination finally faded. His eyes shifted to the ground, growing glossy and wet.
Silence lingered in their small home, Marco falling into his chair and losing his steam.
"But you were right," Angelica admitted with a sigh.
Marco slowly lifted his glance to her eyes once more, meeting her with renewed interest. She continued.
"You do need to speak with the king, and you were right about it not being right either."
Marco sagged into his chair, his doubts only growing, "But I don't even know what to say to him. I don't even know how to get back in. Mom, I was just going to rush in there without a plan… again. I'm not ready for this," he explained.
His mother chuckled softly. Marco glared in her and she stopped abruptly.
"Marco, of course you're ready," she began. His gaze softened as she continued explaining.
"You just don't know it yet. Marco, you have all of the tools. You can do this," she explained.
Marco cut in, desperate for reassurance, "Okay, so what should I do," he questioned, rising from his chair and coming to the center of the room, his emotions displayed by his mannerisms.
She smiled, walking closer to him as well. She explained as if it were so simple.
"You do what your father couldn't. You make a plan."
Marco stared at her incredulously.
"I'm serious," she stated, mockingly matching his incredulous expression.
"Okay, really, what should I do," he questioned, sighing and placing his hands on his hips.
"Well," she began, "Let's start with the first step, how can you get in."
"I have no idea, the guards hate me. And last time, when I left the castle, they chased me down."
"Are you serious," Angelica questioned.
"Yes, they chased me out, I only made it because-"
She cut in, "- no no no, you really didn't think of this sooner?"
He tilted his head in confusion.
"Marco, turn yourself in," she exclaimed. Marco's eyes widened. He facepalmed.
"Really, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," she mocked.
…
Marco approached the gate, remembering his conversation with his mother.
"So, you turn yourself in to the guards. That part's easy. So then, you can assume they take you to the king. What then?"
He approached the gate with his father's hood over his head, pure determination behind him after his mother successfully calmed him down.
He walked to the gate and followed his plan down to the detail, calling for the guard in a mocking tone.
"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he called, awakening the sleeping guard and lowering his hood.
"Why don't you come to catch me, just like you failed to do before," Marco taunted.
Angrily, the guard rose from his seat and ran toward him. He put up no contest, despite believing he could have gotten past the man without giving himself up. His plan was in motion.
The guard tied Marco's hands behind his back with a rough length of rope, pulling him along with one end.
"Stupid kid, you made your last mistake coming here," the guard boasted as he pulled him through the gate. Just. As. Planned.
"Not so fast. I have no way to guarantee he'll take me to the king. I'm personal to him. He'll bypass the king, I just have a feeling about it," Marco reminisced. His mother's response was simple, "So when you get through the doors to the castle, you have to make sure you transfer yourself to another guard. All you have to do is call to a guard and have him order the gatekeeper back to his post."
And so, Marco kept a watchful eye as he was pulled along. They were just ahead of the castle door when the guard took the turn that Marco expected, but Marco saw this coming.
"Hey, baldy, come here. Sleeping beauty needs to return to his post," Marco shouted, making sure to taunt the guards in the process. The gatekeeper scoffed, glaring at Marco, but as he planned, the guard approached. Grabbing Marco by his bounds, the new guard glared at the gatekeeper, ordering him back to his post.
"Come on man, you know that I can't ignore the rules. Don't worry, I'll make sure his punishment is supplemental to his crimes."
Marco smiled smugly as the guard took him toward the door. Once again, the guards were doing exactly what he wanted.
He thought back to what his mother told him to do next.
"So, you're in the castle. The guard will take you to the king, right?" Marco nodded and she continued. "So you're talking to the king, that might be the hard part."
Their plan was risky, but so was the rest of it, there was no going back now.
"Yeah, I figured as much. I already know it was hard for him to get Moon to station troops in our village. It might be harder to get him to take them back," Marco explained.
So, they decided to try their greatest risk yet.
His mother had a bold plan, "So don't talk to him. Talk to her. She probably doesn't want them there in the first place. It would be easy to convince her."
He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths in preparation for the deathtrap he was walking into.
Before he knew it, he felt the guard push him forward. He opened his eyes again and met the eyes of both the king and queen.
Neither initiated the conversation, instead glaring at him in disapproval. He felt the pressure of their stares and finally spoke.
"So, it's been a few days," Marco began, "How've you been," he questioned.
Neither responded. The queen shook her head while her husband responded in a harsh tone, "Marco, I cannot believe you. These choices that you continue to make, you're growing reckless. You know that the guards here very much so dislike you. You could have been killed and I never would have known."
Marco chuckled, remarking in a sly tone, "I'm here, aren't I?"
The queen answered his rhetorical question with a critical answer, one that made his skin crawl.
"By sheer dumb luck, yes, you have somehow made it inside the castle."
Marco gave a faux smile, trying not to lose control over the conversation.
The king finally questioned him, "Marco, what are you doing here? We both know you are not such a fool to be captured by our slumbering gatekeeper."
Marco finally enacted his plan, intentionally ignoring the King's question and speaking directly to the queen.
"Queen Moon, you need to remove your troops from the South Village," he spoke in a command.
The queen smiled slightly, "I admire your brazen attempt to command me on how to rule my kingdom, especially with the far more brazen act of ignoring the only person in the castle who doesn't want you thrown into the dungeons, but-"
All eyes whipped across the room as a set of doors swung open. Through it walked yet another royal that he hadn't quite met. The Princess, quite ungraciously, stepped through the room, walking directly past Marco and taking a seat beside her father.
Marco squinted and observed her closely.
"I do believe I was speaking to you," the Queen remarked, reclaiming his attention. There was something familiar about the princess. Of course, he had seen her in paintings occasionally, but he could swear they had met, even if he knew better.
Marco finally forced his attention back to the queen, who only continued after regaining his full attention.
"As I was saying. You must know your allies well. Speak to the man with which your query is truly with."
A chill ran up his spine. He gulped as he quickly came to the realization that he was in over his head. As his eyes met the king once more, he noted the glare he was under. Then, the baited curiosity of the princess, who too looked to her father with anticipation.
"I agree with my wife. What kind of man would treat another with such disrespect, especially after all I have done for you," the King scolded.
Marco felt an urge to back down. He opened his mouth to speak but felt himself beginning to freeze in the moment. The King continued to scold him.
"For the life of me, I don't understand why you are so insistent that I remove defenses from your village. As I understand it, your village has never been safer, at least in either of our lifetimes that is."
Marco's brow furrowed, again he opened his mouth to object, but this time was cut off by the queen, who for once seemed to speak with genuine concern.
"Truthfully, is it not safety for your family which you desire most?"
Marco waited for them to finally be silent. Only then did he finally open his mouth.
"I- Yes, I want my family to be safe," he began, hesitating to go on. Again, he thought back to his most recent conversation with his mother, this time not about the plan, but what she said to him just before he set out.
"Marco, I lied to you earlier, when I told you I didn't know who you were anymore. I know that I can be harsh at times, but it is only because I love you."
The words rang in his head.
"It's not because you are like your father, because I think that you have the chance to be great too, even better even. No, I love you because you are my son. I love you because no matter what, I know that you will do what you see as right… even if you're in far over your head."
His eyes dilated and he finally objected to the King's arguments.
"But I have no right to be that selfish."
The King leaned forward in his chair, his wife tilting her head and raising a brow.
"Every day since the knights arrived in my village, the other villages have been attacked… and it's not right. I shouldn't be safe and comfortable while the other villages aren't."
His eyes shifted to the princess, who leaned forward beside her father, a small smile gracing her lips. Again, he felt like he had seen that smile before.
The King stood from his chair and walked toward him, speaking as he loosened the boy's bonds, "Yes, we are aware of the surge in attacks, particularly on the East and West villages."
Marco rubbed his freshly freed wrists, watching as the King returned to his throne and stepping forward in confidence.
"I apologize for trying to talk to your wife rather than you… I understand that I was wrong now, but I still hope that you would consider what I came here for."
The King's glare softened, Marco gaining confidence with each passing moment.
Finally, he had another idea, this one far less deceitful.
He sighed, slowly kneeling down and speaking in a plea rather than a command, "I ask you as a humble citizen, please, even if it places me and my family in danger, remove the defenses from our village."
The King slowly turned to his wife with a questioning glance. She only raised a brow and smiled. River then looked to Marco, who continued to kneel, keeping his eyes to the ground. Finally, he turned and met his daughter's sympathetic eyes. Only a few seconds of silence remained before the King finally made his decision.
"Fine, then. I will deliver the decree tomorrow, at the crack of dawn."
Marco smiled, slowly pushing off of his knee and getting to his feet. He gleamed, "Thank you, King River, you won't regret this."
River did not smile, instead, he remarked a somber sentiment, his confidence clearly lacking.
"You have my family's and my own hopes and prayers behind you… because the moment the defenses are lifted, the Monsters will attack… and it will be more destructive, more vicious, more murderous than ever before."
Marco's smile dissipated quickly. He slowly backed away from them, saying his goodbyes before finally walking from the room, his wishes being fulfilled, just as he had asked.
When Marco left the room, his effect lingered. Whispers bounced between the royal family.
"That boy is going to get himself killed," the Queen remarked, shaking her head as he finally closed the door behind him.
The King sighed, lifting his crown from his head and wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced at his reflection inside his golden crown.
"Yes, I am quite aware, but I do admire him. I doubt that a single other commoner would ever have the bravery nor the desire to ask that we open his village up to an inevitable attack that could very well destroy the village entirely," the King explained, placing his crown back on his head.
Silence lingered between the two for a few seconds when the Princess finally spoke up.
"I like him too. I've only spoken to him once, but he seems very selfless. You know when he left the castle three days ago, he walked directly into the forbidden forest. He called out for Rasticore and nearly died fighting him before I saved him and brought him home."
Her parents both snapped their attention to her, questioning without words.
"Did you not know," she questioned. Dumbfounded, she explained further, "Yes, he went into the forest and tried to kill Rasticore. Of course, he didn't land a hit, but he still tried. That's why you haven't seen him in three days. He wasn't conscious, his mother was terrified."
Her father questioned him, "You've spoken to his mother? How could you-"
"Oh, relax dad, I was in disguise. I told her my name was… Yeah, I forgot… erm… Mo…Ma… Mar…Oh, Mariposa, that was it," she exclaimed enthusiastically.
Both parents shook their heads, River remarking "Maybe you're the one we have to worry about, rather than him. You know that, after your ceremony the day after next, you can't be so irresponsible, right?"
She chuckled, poking fun at his worries, "Don't worry, Dad, I've got it handled. When I get that wand… you know me… super responsible…"
Her parents both glared at her incredulously.
She smiled, nervously laughing.
…
Marco walked through the castle gate and sighed. He could see his home from where he stood, the slowly setting sun above his head. He glanced to his right, smiling.
"I have time," he determined, pivoting his feet and running down the Western Path.
The wind bent around him as he sprinted as fast as he could, the triumph of his success flowing through him. It took only moments for him to reach the Western village. Immediately, he ran toward the market, bracing himself every few seconds as his still-healing abdomen ailed him.
Just as he had hoped, Scott still stood in his market, leaning against the counter with a bored expression. Marco smiled as he walked toward the man, stepping in line as if he was going to buy something.
When Scott raised his head, his eyes widened.
"Marco," Scott questioned in surprise, explaining through panic, "You shouldn't be here, the monsters might attack a second time. You should get home," he suggested.
Marco shook his head, his smile still wide and enthusiastic.
Scott crossed his arms, questioning without saying a word.
"Guess what," Marco beamed.
The man stared incredulously at him.
"You suck at this," Marco joked, finally delivering the news, "I talked to the King! He said he would remove the troops from my village tomorrow morning!"
Scott's eyes widened. He walked out of his market stand and questioned the boy, "Marco, what did you do," he asked, his eyes wide.
Marco furrowed his brow in confusion.
"I did what was right. You guys should be safer now, what is the problem," Marco questioned, his smile slowly fading.
Scott grabbed him by the shoulders, his fingers digging into him as he explained with dire concern, "Your village is doomed. Sure, my village may be saved for the time being, but yours will fall, and even after that, the monsters will attack daily again."
Marco's smile faded fully as he peeled Scott's hands from him.
"Well, I couldn't just sit around and let you and the Eastern village take all of the heat, I had to do something."
Scott responded in a somber tone, "You have doomed your village. In your attempt to save mine, you have single-handedly decided the fate of yourself and all you hold dear."
Marco scoffed, taking a step back, "We'll be safe," he determined, "We've been attacked for as long as anyone remembers. We know how to survive."
Scott's shoulders fell. He approached Marco once more, placing a hand on his shoulder and saying what he thought would be his final goodbyes.
"You're a great kid, Marco. I just hope that doing 'what was right' is worth it in the end."
Marco smiled, assuring the man of what he believed.
"It always is. That's what my father taught me and I know that I'll never regret it."
And with that, the two said their goodbyes. Marco's excitement had mostly faded, but he meant what he said. Even if what the King and Scott had told him was true, even if the attack was the worst he had ever seen, he knew that he did what was right.
He came home at a slower pace than he had when he ran to the Western village. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sunset that surrounded him, the pink hue that led way to a night as dark as any he had ever seen. If what he was told was true, he knew he wouldn't regret what he did, but he only hoped that Scott was wrong. More death simply couldn't happen. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to withstand after that.
For the time being, though, he did what he had planned to, just as his mother taught him, and he planned to celebrate his first-ever victory. He came home and hugged his mother, spinning her around, and spent most of the night chatting with her. They joked and hugged and looked forward to the future ahead, even if they felt that doom was just around the corner.
…
Hours passed, the night sky fully enveloping the sky and leaving way to a quiet night. Crickets chirped and the air was fresh and cool. Marco lay on his roof looking out on the Stars. They were as bright as the night that his father had left him, like his father was up there, proud as ever and speaking to him through his light. It was beautiful, a moment that Marco never wanted to leave.
But time passed. Thick clouds slowly crept their way into dominion over the sky, blocking out the light. Marco frowned, sighing and speaking to the stars.
"I'll see you soon, dad."
Even with such a somber sentiment, he smiled. He slid off of his roof and gave one final comment to his father above.
"Thank you, for everything."
His smile grew. He sighed in contentment and walked into his home.
The crickets continued to chirp, the night growing darker as the clouds continued to contaminate the sky.
From a thick brush in the forest, a reptilious eye watched with cruel intent.
"You will join him soon, young Marco, down in hell, by my hand…"
…
Author's Note: So, that was… a lot. Admittedly, I could have done without the drawn-out ending, but there were a lot of threads that I wanted to begin with the conclusion of this chapter. First, Star was the girl in the forest who saved Marco, surprise… although a lot of people seemed to guess that… I wonder if it was when I said her eyes were blue or when I said she was blond. Either way, the next chapter has a lot of build-up for it and I'm excited to experience it with all of you.
Comments/Replies:
mac349 (ffn): Hmm, I believe Star has been introduced with this chapter. I gotta say that the intro and this have set up some excellent conflicts in beliefs and directions between the characters. I look forward to seeing the potential of this story unfold.
Ha, I think I may have confirmed that first part, score! I jest. Seriously though, thank you for commenting. Things like this truthfully do make my day and I smile every time I see this. Also, you're the first comment on , so that's a big win! I hope my story doesn't disappoint!
JBZ64 (Ao3): Well, seems the chapter was intense. And like with Toffee killing Moon's mom in the canon series, Rast kills Marco's dad. And I bet I know who that girl is that saved Marco.
Again, feel like I confirmed that one. I'm glad you like the twist. I came into this story wanting to take something from Marco and I think his father was the perfect sacrifice to begin building his character, so again, thanks a ton.
Final Note: Please feel free to leave comments, replies, favorites, follows, bookmarks, etc. I enjoy reading and replying, whether it's a question, a comment, or just a need to vent on how the story made you feel, please, let me know, I love seeing them. Also, I know I've pointed it out before, but please follow my Instagram page. I always post updates and make posts relating to development on my story, so I would love if you followed and dropped by every once and a while. The account is Starcovstheworld, so please drop by and say hi!