Title: Unforgotten (Thank you, Unplanner!)
Genre: Friendship/hurt-comfort
Rating: T
Warnings: Language, abuse, heavily implied child abuse, heavily implied murder
Matt's jaw was starting to ache with how tightly he was clenching his teeth. The words on the map were somehow both sharp and fuzzy at the same time, yet Natalie was just a blur of red on his right, and Anna a green smear on his left. Friends. Anchors. He was the leader; he had to keep a level head for them.
"-which is when we realized that a rout wasn't possible-"
In. Out. In. Out.
"-an unorthodox method, perhaps, but one you-"
Just breathe, his mind chanted. It wouldn't help to get mad—not over this. A soft scuff from behind reminded him that Lance had been leaning against the wall. Was the shift just him finding a new position? Was he interested in the methods being described—had an input? Or just bored, probably. Lance hated tactics that hinged on so many uncertain possibilities, so it was entirely possible he was zoning out. Must be a nice feeling to know he didn't really have to pay attention.
Matt blinked twice to try and get his scrambling brain to focus on the things it didn't want to acknowledge. He immediately wished he hadn't.
"-You can see why we could really use you, Matteus."
The table cracked unexpectedly, but Matt hardly noticed—nor did he notice the way Natalie and Anna both jumped in surprise, or the way the floorboard creaked behind him. He stared down at the splintered wood, at the crumpled map, at the mocking hold names scrawled on it, and the insulting snarl of the wolf insignia stamped on the corner.
"You could use me?" Matt repeated softly, his voice sounding distant and strange past the blood suddenly roaring in his ears. He refused to look up and acknowledge the two men standing before him who had gone entirely still.
"Matt...?" Natalie uncertainly murmured.
"I'm useful, huh?" Matt interrupted more loudly, though not quite shouting. "The worthless fuck-up you tossed out is useful now? The runt, the idiot, the distracted kid, the truant daydreamer: that's who you want to be useful?"
"Matt, take a deep breath," Anna suggested uneasily.
Matt's face twisted in a mockery of a smile that was anything but happy as he finally looked up. He took a vicious pleasure in the white faces of his older siblings as they stared at him. He shrugged off the hesitant hand Anna rested on his shoulder, and let his smile drop in favor of a sneering scowl.
"Need I remind you that your parents threw me out as a child because I wasn't meeting their perfect standards of what they thought a son should be. They threw me out, with just the clothes on my back, in the middle of a storm, and locked the door. And why? Because I liked to explore? Because I—a kid of just nine years of age—doodled in my notes during their ridiculously pointless lessons on pitched battles, strategies, numbers, and diagrams? Because I didn't like to wake up three hours before dawn to train with a sword I could hardly lift in a pointless effort to learn how to murder people?"
"The lessons, both written and physical, were not pointless," Aaron pointed out hotly, eyes flashing.
Matt barked out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, I can see how they've helped you. Remind me again how much ground you've lost just this week?"
Red began to rise in Aaron's cheeks even as his hand fell to grip his sword hilt and his eyes flashed with rage. But he couldn't refute Matt's point.
"...Father simply taught us as best as he knew how," Joshua offered placatingly. He flinched when Matt's eyes leapt to his, practically glowing with contempt.
"Ever the diplomat, aren't you, Josh?" Matt hissed. "Too bad you couldn't be bothered to speak up for shit that's actually important and matters. Like, I don't know, your brother being thrown out like a piece of worthless trash?"
"Matteus, you know I could do nothing to-"
"You could have opened the fucking door!" Matt bellowed, cutting off his brother's words. He was visibly shaking with rage, and hurt, and sorrow—and why wasn't he over this? It had been years! He'd put it behind him! Yet he couldn't stop the words from flowing now that he'd started. "You could have looked for me! You could have helped me! Either of you—any of you! I cried for hours outside that door, screamed myself hoarse begging to be let back in until I passed out in the mud! I waited for two entire days in the rain, certain somebody would come find me! 'We're family, surely that means they care about me?' But you didn't find me—you didn't even try. But somebody else did. Somebody who cared even less than my supposed family." Matt's voice, hoarse from shouting, suddenly fell to a murmur. "You left a nine year old child with the prominent features of the ruling house and the family-fucking-crest stitched to his clothes out in the wilderness. Do you have any idea what I went through? They beat me for days, ripped whatever answers and information they could get from my broken body, and then sold me when that monster of a father refused to pay a ransom. And you all did nothing. Nothing while I was tortured, nothing while I was enslaved, nothing while I suffered."
Natalie's eyes burned with tears of pain and anger on his behalf as she moved to Matt's side to slip her hand into his. She doubted he even felt her as he let out another horrible laugh. There was no swallowing the lump in her throat at how equally dead and livid he sounded when he spoke next.
"But it was fine, wasn't it? The mess that was Matteus Roszak had been gotten rid of. Who cares what happens to worthless heirs who can't do what they're told, right? Not until he's useful, not until he's proven himself worthy of your exalted attentions."
To their credit, both men looked ashamed, horrified, and miserable, unable to meet their younger brother's cold eyes.
"Matteus-"
Matt sliced one hand through the air, ripping it from Natalie's grasp. "Matteus Roszak is dead. You killed him the moment you chose to leave him outside to rot. I am Matt—just Matt—and I am in no way beholden or obligated to help any of you."
With that, Matt spat at their feet, whipped around, and stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard it cracked and bounced back open again.
Dead silence reigned in his wake. Natalie stared after Matt, her rejected hand drawn to her chest and tears on her cheeks. Anna was scowling down at the remains of the table. Lance was the first to move, boosting himself from the wall with a heavy sigh and running a hand through his bangs.
"Well, you found his anger threshold. Points for that," he sarcastically praised the two men across the room.
"Now really isn't the time for sarcasm and jokes, Lance," Anna pointed out disapprovingly.
"I've yet to find a time when sarcasm isn't a viable response," Lance replied far more easily than he felt.
Natalie was still staring after Matt, fidgeting restlessly. "I- I should go talk to him..."
"Nah, let me. He's bound to say something stupid and upsetting, and he'll only feel worse if he ends up accidentally hurting you." Lance paused halfway through the door to cast a cold glare at Joshua and Aaron. "Get what details you can from these wastes of flesh. And make them squirm."
He left far more quietly than Matt, but was no less swift as he followed his friend. It wasn't hard to find Matt: he was nothing if not predictable when he was upset. The swordsman was in the center of a brand new clearing in the forest, panting with exertion, and still shaking with rage. Heaven's Gate lay at the end of a short furrow in the dirt, like Matt had flung it away. Lance paused in the shadows of the foliage to study his friend, taking in the silent tears on his cheeks and the bitter hurt etched into his face, before he took a quiet breath and stepped into the clearing.
"...Thirty trees in half as many minutes. Possibly a new record."
"Go away, Lance. I don't want to talk to you."
Lance arched a brow as he leaned against the shorn remains of what had once been a thirty foot tall ash not three feet away from the blond. "No, I suppose you don't. You've always enjoyed sulking all by yourself when you're upset."
The glare Matt spared him was witheringly cold. He'd have been impressed, if it didn't make a real shiver run down his spine. Clearly, normal behavior wasn't the way to handle this. A spar would likely result in real injuries—a guilt trip he'd rather avoid paving the way for with Matt already so off balance—but being alone certainly wasn't what Matt really wanted or needed. Being alone was the root of the problem.
Matt watched Lance's shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh, and felt a flash of anger. It was that calculating look again. Lance was attempting to figure him out, to work out the optimally efficient solution to the problem like he was some damned machine. He decided to head him off now.
"I'm not some blasted robot you can tweak and repair."
Lance tilted his head slightly and shrugged, conceding the point. He studied Matt for a moment longer before speaking. "...My father tried to hang me when I was twelve."
It was said so offhandedly, and was so off topic that Matt merely blinked several times in confusion before the dark words sank in. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop his mouth from parting slightly and breathing, "...What?"
Lance held his gaze, looking almost bored after he'd told Matt about a murder attempt by his own father. And in a way, he was. He'd analyzed the event, let the emotions run their course, and buried it ages ago—long before he'd even met his team. "He'd been drinking. I wasn't growing fast enough, or so he claimed. Anyway, he got a length of rope, dragged me out to the woods, said he could stretch me out some, and, well... Long story short, it didn't work—the stretching or the hanging. I weighed practically nothing at that age, so my neck didn't snap in the drop, and I was flexible and strong enough to get my hands on the rope and haul myself onto the branch to stop being strangled. I didn't come down from that tree for a day and a half—didn't go home for almost three months."
"You went back?" Matt choked out. "Why the hell did you go back?"
Lance inspected his nails for a few moments, rubbing the edge of his middle finger's nail bed with the side of his thumb in a show of feigned disinterest. Matt could see it was an effort to stall for time as Lance worked up either the humility or courage to explain.
"I was afraid, you know?" he finally murmured without looking up. "I mean, I was pretty aware that Dad didn't like me too much even then, but he'd never tried to kill me before. I thought the moment I stepped down from that tree, he'd just strangle me with his bare hands. He got bored waiting for me to climb down within the hour; pissing on his head probably helped chase him off sooner."
Matt made a face with a snort, "You peed on him? Really?"
Lance ignored him as he finally looked up. "I spent two months and twenty-six days away from home—slumming in alleys, sleeping under bushes, so on and so forth. But I eventually went back. You know why?" He held Matt's gaze as the swordsman shook his head. "Because I was too weak to go pick up my life and do something else. Yes, he'd tried to kill me, yes, he'd spent my entire childhood reminding me that I was a mistake of alcohol and a leech on his income who was lucky to be kept, and yes, I probably could have found a way to get by without him. But he had gotten to me in ways I didn't even understand for over a decade after he finally bit it in the mines. For all my cursing at him, and all my anger and supposed independence, I was afraid that he was right and I was a worthless leech who couldn't possibly make it in the world without him. And because I was afraid, I stayed where I was sure I could stay alive if not happy, and didn't grow until somebody came along and forced me to."
"Who did that? An orphanage?" Matt asked uncertainly.
Lance cracked a faint smirk. "Eh, the orphanage was alright for a few years of shelter and food, I guess, but I meant grow mentally. Mature, you know? That didn't happen until a pair of hotheaded idiots came along and quite literally blew up all my plans to destroy everything that could possibly hurt me, dragged me practically kicking and screaming from my titanium throne and cage, and forced me to see the world in a whole different way."
Matt's cheeks flushed slightly at the warmth in Lance's tone, so different from the cool humor and insults he usually used to display affection. And Lance wasn't even done.
"What my father did to me—the hanging attempt, the years of abuse and neglect—was beyond sick and wrong. It took years of suffering in many ways and the support of several admittedly unwitting friends to get past it. Did I forget it happened? No, of course not. I still hate him for it. I probably always will hate him for it, which is both understandable and acceptable. But it- he didn't stop me. I got stronger, I made a new home, and I moved on."
Matt chewed on his lower lip as he tore his eyes away, finally beginning to see the point to Lance's story. "...I thought I had gotten past it... Moved on..."
Lance stood straight and moved to rest a hand on Matt's shoulder. "You did, Matt, and you did it all by yourself. Blowing up back there doesn't mean you failed to build yourself up all these years. You were put into a small room with two assholes who should have known better, were forced to remember the shit they helped put you through, and it made you angry—and rightfully so. It wasn't right, what your family did. It wasn't right, what the bandits, or bigots, or angry peasants, or whoever, did to you when they found you. It wasn't right that you suffered being sold like livestock, and had to deal with the kind of mental shit that all of that comes with. But you survived it, and you came out stronger in the end. I wish I'd had even half your strength when I was a kid."
Matt felt fresh tears begin to well in his eyes, and he reached up to rest a shaky hand over where Lance's gripped his shoulder. He let out a watery laugh of... relief, hope, happiness, belonging... He didn't know what it was, but it felt good, like the acknowledgement from someone as close as kin had been what he'd been waiting for all this time. His birth family had torn him down before, but he'd built a new family that did a better job propping him up now than his blood ever had. Lance was grinning at him as he pulled his hand back.
"But for the record, though I admire your restraint, I think you let the two shits off far too easily," Lance informed him airily. He was more relieved than he would ever say when Matt grinned back at him.
"Don't sell yourself short. You and Anna didn't shoot them, and Natalie didn't set them on fire," Matt chuckled. His eyes danced with laughter as he turned to go retrieve his abandoned sword.
"Ah, I can't entirely guarantee that. Natz and Anna are still with them, and you know how psychotic they can get." His grin widened at Matt's short laugh, and he watched the blond rub dirt and leaves from his sword and sheath it across his back before speaking up again. "So, what's the plan now?"
Matt blew out a long sigh, gazing back in the direction of the manor. "I can't forgive them for what they did and didn't do, but..."
"But they're so pathetic and worthless that they'll be overrun before the week is out, basically dooming all their vassals and land to pillaging and plundering?" Lance finished with a smirk. He stepped up beside Matt and cocked his head. "The team is certainly strong enough to turn the tides, if you want us to."
"Yeah, we are," Matt murmured, his shoulders relaxing some. It was good to know Lance didn't think less of him for still wanting to help fight, despite it all. Suddenly, he frowned and shot an amused, exasperated look at Lance, who merely arched a brow. "You tweaked and fixed me like some damn robot."
Lance's smirk widened and he clapped a hand to Matt's shoulder as he strode past him to lead the way back. "Not much fixing required, really. You just needed some understanding and support from the right source is all. C'mon, let's go reign in the ladies and pick our plan of attack."
Matt shook his head with a fond smile and fell into step beside the gunner. The short walk back to the manor was made in companionable silence, and they went unchallenged as they entered the building. The door to the strategy room was still partially open, Matt having broken the barrier, though it still swung on the hinges easily enough. Both men blinked in surprise at the sight within.
Half the room was charred black, and Lance barely withheld a smirk at the evidence of Natalie losing her temper in a big, fiery way. Almost more entertaining was the way the two women had Matt's siblings seated at a small table with cups of tea before them. Both men looked pale and afraid, their eyes fixed almost manically on... Anna, rather than Natalie. He had no idea what the slight woman could possibly have said or done to have earned that kind of reaction, but he was impressed regardless.
"We're back," Lance finally announced unnecessarily, "and it looks like you've all gotten along... better than I expected, actually."
Matt let out a quiet huff of laughter as he eyed the blackened remains of a weapon rack; the sword blades had fused together. He studiously avoided meeting either of his brothers' eyes just yet, instead offering Natalie and Anna a wan smile when they cast him worried looks.
"We've been talking to these two," Anna announced in an amicable voice. Her eyes were sharp, belying her tone. "I gave them a friendly reminder of where most of their food comes from."
Natalie snorted and added dryly, "After she shot them both four times and swore she could find them no matter where they were."
"Hey, you're the one who actually killed Aaron," Anna protested.
"I brought him back! I certainly didn't threaten famine and the assassination of his whole family!"
Neither one seemed to notice the wide eyed look of amazement on Matt's face. He blinked back grateful tears and let out a laugh. "Lance is right: you're both psychotic." He grinned in the face of the matching scowls from the two arguing women and shook his head. "Thanks, guys, but I don't think murdering—whether you brought them back or not—assassinating, or starving out my entire estranged family are... morally sound solutions."
Natalie muttered something under her breath about morals to match morals that Matt opted to pretend not to hear. Instead, he finally sank to sit on a slightly charred chair beside the mage and slung an arm around her shoulders to give her an appreciative squeeze. She flushed pink, but didn't do anything beyond leaning further into the hold in a show of support. Finally, however, he couldn't put it off anymore, and brought his eyes around to meet the cautiously curious stares of his brothers.
"...We'll help you out, but we're doing it our way. We've never needed tactics or plans to succeed before and we're not starting now," Matt announced quietly. He ignored Natalie's start and Anna's scoff of disgust, maintaining a level gaze at the two men across from him. "In exchange, I want your sworn word that you won't come after my friends, their communities, their homes, or their assets and properties for any and all of their actions here today."
"You want us to overlook the actual murder that happened here today?" Aaron snapped.
Matt's eyes flashed and his voice became icy as he asked, "Do you want me to remove you two as a threat right here and now? I could, and I don't think you understand just how laughably easy it would be to do. I'm not the same bumbling child who blew off his swordsmanship anymore, and even if I weren't enough on my own, I have three warriors at my side whom would all too cheerfully back my up."
Joshua's hand clamped down on his brother's shoulder to prevent him from firing off another hotheaded remark. A near imperceptible wind seemed to rustle through the room, and he did not want to ask to know who it came from. Four sets of near glowing eyes were fixed on them with the same protective determination. The rumors of the team had been more than founded—if anything, they had been understated—and he didn't want to find out just how ruthless and thorough this band of mercenary heroes could truly be in defending their own.
"We accept. Thank you, Matte- Matt. Thank you, Matt. We'll continue our efforts as best as we're able. Please let us know if there's something more we can do to aid you."
Matt nodded before standing up and turning to go. His friends silently followed after him, none of them seeing the two brothers slump as soon as they were alone.
OOOOOO
"I don't want to help them," was the first, very petulant, thing said between the four once they were outside.
Matt barely cast half a look at Anna. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."
Natalie scowled and came to an abrupt halt. "Matt, they abused and kicked you out! Why the hell should we help them?"
"Because they aren't the ones who really need our help," Lance replied in a deceptively bored voice. His arms were crossed as he studied the snarling wolf insignia over the gated arch leading off of the manor grounds. "All noble families keep a healthy portion of their wealth stored securely off their grounds. Sure, if Roszaks lose this territorial squabble, they'll lose their land, but they won't be done in. They'll just regroup somewhere safe, keep a low profile, and come swinging back in in a generation or two to reclaim their land from whoever is holding it."
"That makes me want to help them even less," Anna muttered under her breath.
Lance cut her a brief, exasperated look. "I don't expect a farm girl whose entire childhood was spent in an isolated and enchanted forest to understand, but the real hurt that happens during these kinds of conflicts is almost never on the noblemen. War is devastating, even one as contained as this one. The local farmers, peasants, serfs, villagers, whatever: they'll lose everything. Armies clash on their fields, water supplies are contaminated in efforts to demoralize and weaken opposing forces, their stores and homes are pillaged and burned, the able bodied men conscripted away from their homes and livelihoods to die miserable deaths, their women and children carted off to be raped or sold—it isn't a pretty scene. As disgusting as the Roszaks have been to Matt, their people will be a lot happier, safer, and healthier with a relatively stable and swift continuation of their rulers."
"Exactly," Matt agreed quietly, finally meeting Natalie and Anna's eyes. "It isn't for my family, it's for all the people they're failing to protect. I may not have any obligation to help, but I wouldn't be able to live with myself once I heard the death tolls."
Both women's faces softened with understanding and acceptance.
"Where should we start?" Natalie asked.
Matt's mouth twisted uncertainly and he looked to Lance. "I don't... It's been a long time since all those lessons, and I never really-"
"You were, like, six. Of course you didn't pay attention," Lance dismissed with a snort. "Our team's place in this is what you'd consider a shock unit. We're more skilled and trained, and much more mobile. A typical shock unit would be used to hit armies first to soften them up, or take strategic points of interest, or—depending on the unit's training—assassinate the enemy's heads of command."
Anna and Natalie exchanged looks and shrugs. This was beyond anything they'd ever learned or thought about attempting. Matt looked like he partially understood what Lance was saying.
"The quickest way for us to help would be to go in and take out their generals. That would destabilize their chain of command and leave their army confused and ineffective," Lance continued calmly. He held up his hand to stall Anna's agreement of that step. "Fast isn't necessarily best. Yes, their army will be significantly weaker, but they'll also be significantly more dangerous. They'll lose all discipline and will split off into dozens of bands that will pillage and plunder independently—a little counter productive for what we're trying to achieve here. Plus rounding them all up would be a huge pain in the ass."
Matt ran a hand through his bangs with a sigh, "And there would be a vacuum of power in their ranks. Who knows what kind of nutcase might step in to take the reins?"
Lance nodded to the swordsman. "Exactly. No, I think this will have to be a two pronged assault. We need to both demoralize their army and take out their chain of command near-simultaneously. That should send them scrambling back for safe territory, being nipped all the way by the Roszak forces."
"There's only four of us," Anna pointed out with a skeptical frown. "How are we going to do all that?"
"Simple. We'll split the team into two pairs: one to assassinate the generals, and one to give the army a bloody nose and broken limbs," Lance replied with a smirk. "Anna, you and I will be the assassination group. We have the weapons and skill sets for that kind of thing. Matt and Natalie, you're going to head to the front lines and cause mayhem and destruction everywhere and anywhere."
"Just the two of us against an entire army?" Natalie asked with an arched brow. "Matt and I are strong, but I don't think we can handle a thousand to one."
"Natalie, quit selling yourself short. You and Matt took out my entire army of robots and monsters, and I had a lot better weaponry and equipment than these clowns will have. Besides, your magic has come a really long way since then: don't underestimate what a giant display glowing death will do to morale."
Matt grinned. "Guess I'll just sit back and watch since Natalie will have it under control."
Lance rolled his eyes and shoved him. "Matt, I once watched you cut down a legion's worth of fire breathing monsters, alone, in less than an hour. Natalie's glowing death blasts are the back up plan."
A/N: This started out as practice on more emotional description and use of body language in telling, using another made up scneario, and then I got attached to it. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now. :P I plan to link it to a different, as of yet unposted, thing I've written on my iPad. It needs a couple of tweaks to match plots with this one, and then I'll upload that part, too.
Ah, and the Lance's douchbag dad hanging idea was inspired/shamelessly taken from EBF5, clicking on the noose in Redpine Town.
Anyway, please review with tips, corrections ideas, and reactions!
Response to Guest Reviews:
Jason: Ah, you've finally cottoned on to my desperate need for angst. XD Yes, my stuff tends to get darker before it gets better. They always have a happy ending, because damnit, I want happy endings, but since I rarely post conclusions all you poor people ever see is the angst and drama.
Anonymous: Matt knows what Lance is good at. XD And don't worry, I have billions of ideas and snippets ready for EBF5s retelling. ;)