2. Loses

Books 1-12

Author's note:

I really do like picking apart motives, don't I? Yes, indeed I do.

I hope it satisfies, but rest assured, more will come. Additionally, I'm looking for a beta. Suggestions – or self-nominations, even, 'cause I'm wary of just searching the database and picking someone – would be much appreciated.

When Desmond Tiny looked back at the end of the day he noticed that - for the first time in ages - the losses he had incurred were greater than the gains.

He had raised all of his children with dedication and care - whether or not they decided to admit it - and this concern had not been entirely exclusive to his older children. It was true, admittedly, that he had spent many hours planning and playing with the individual lives of Darren and Steve. They had, in one of the more groundbreaking confrontations, caused the death of Hibernius, something that he did not appreciate. Still, the boys were his own flesh and blood, models after his own image and cast for his own entertainment. Perhaps that was why they had turned out so very harmful of to his plans?

Yes, they certainly had been his; his waste, his folly, his error.

He did not intend to make the same mistake.

There would be some changes when he launched his next campaign.

Destiny had cared for both sons. He'd kept the game under control and provided for both with munificent interest. His selflessness had known no bounds – the hands of fate had places to be, things to do, and carnage to enjoy, but he had willingly given up a portion of his precious time in order to trouble himself with the complexities of one or the other's life – and ah, the distances between the two. They, perhaps, took the most effort to traverse. In retrospect, he should have foreseen the difficulty and kept them together for his own convenience.

To the observer it might seem a minimal setback; after all, the man could control time and space, warp it and wrap it around his finger with little more than a flick of his delicate wrist. However, the were insurmountable difficulties in this work, things too complex to be so much as comprehended by those beneath him, let alone handled.

Every individual effort he had lavished on both children was gone, evaporated, never to return. It was all his youngest's fault - a complete waste, and Desmond was not a wasteful individual. He knew that in the end at least one of the two would fail and he would lose that much, but such a loss was well worth what he would have gained from the remaining child. He had bet everything he owned on one horse, and it had died before crossing the finish line.

Now he found that when his efforts were frustrated he could become quite… irritated. Everyone knew that an irate Desmond Tiny was best avoided.

His rage at defeat was unparalleled, and it seemed that only recently his remaining offspring had entered the supposed rebellious stage. Hibernius, Darren, and Steve were all gone, dead of their own idiocy; their sister was still breathing (albeit with a bit more difficulty after he had punished her for her impertinence) and was carrying the mixed offspring of the two warring clans, an idea she had apparently devised after her brother managed to wriggle his way out of his familial commitment. It didn't used to be like this, he recalled. No one used to cheat destiny.

The halcyon years, it seemed, had passed. He was being forced out of his semi-retirement to create a suitable heir, so he could enjoy himself and remain an invulnerable presence in the lives of his playthings. More so, his efforts could no longer be half hearted; all his heirs seemed to develop a self-destructive streak - all but one, and she was unsuitable. Of his four children three were a waste, and the fourth he had forsaken. The deadline was closing in.

Something worried at the back of his mind and he relaxed, focusing on the sensation and handling the fragile design elegantly.

The cogs of his mind were set in motion in an instant; perhaps he would stick to daughters for a while. Yes, that might very well be it. Of his three boys none had survived; they were aggressive and stupid, while Evanna (the name was accompanied by a heavy feeling of distaste embittering his thoughts) had distanced herself and survived. Females were smarter, quieter, and more submissive; but they were also more adaptable, more mallable.

With the proper conditioning the good qualities could be exemplified and the poor ones stamped out… and – best of all – they seemed to be much better at surviving what Destiny threw at them.