Nine:
What Makes A Hero?

Wake up. Wake up, child. We are in danger.

Opening her eyes hadn't been so hard in ages. She could hear the clatter of machinery and the faint buzz of electricity. She couldn't move, though, and whatever she was sitting on felt hard and unyielding. The Crawler hissed at her to wake up once more and she tried to open her eyes.

The world was a dark, blue-ish blur. She could see someone moving around, but couldn't make them out. Blinking as though it would clear her head, she turned her gaze down to her hands. Through the foggy haze of her vision, she could barely make out that there were shackles holding her wrists down. She could feel them more than she could see them—heavy, hard bars pressing into her skin. Confused, she turned her gaze back up.

"You're awake, Your Majesty," a voice said from somewhere before her. "Good. I was almost afraid I set too high a charge. But, then again, you have powers the rest of us could only dream of."

"I…Milton, is that you?" she slurred, trying to shake her head. She couldn't, something was holding it in place. "I was worried you were hurt by Turner."

"Turner wasn't a threat…to me or otherwise. General Turner was the finest soldier I ever served under, the finest man I ever knew…he died six months ago."

The room was beginning to clear. She could see him now, the stern look of distaste on his features. As his words registered, she felt a surge of wry amusement. So now the truth comes out. Her mouth felt dry and unpleasant, but she managed to enquire: "Then why? Why pretend he was to blame? All it does is paint him in a worse light."

"I couldn't save his life," Milton replied, scowling as though admitting it left him with a bitter taste. "And I wasn't about to let everything he believed in die with him. You see, it's time for a true revolution. I've seen Bowerstone and how deep the corruption has spread. I've seen what Albion has become under the monarchy!"

Victoria let out a bark of humourless laughter, disbelief surging through her veins. "You've been stuck on an island for years—you've seen nothing. You didn't fight Logan or the Crawler or help us rebuild. You sat here, fuming and crying like a spoilt child and you did nothing. You could have had a say in what we built, but you didn't even try. You wasted your chance. You're a coward, Milton. But, certainly, blame me. Threaten me. Harass me. Attack me. Paint me into a monster if you must—I know I must look a damn sight better with claws and fangs, but that doesn't change all the good I've done. Nor everything I'm about to do."

"That's the problem with tyrants, Your Majesty. None of you realise when it's time to step down. And how does one bring down a queen? How does one bring down a Hero? By becoming one." He crossed over to a large control panel that Victoria recognized as looking similar to one Godwin had had in her lab.

The Crawler hissed. Foolish man, ungrateful brat, rip him—

Victoria tried to pull herself free, the chair was too sturdy. She recognized the room now; it was the place they'd held shock treatments in. A surge of fear ran through her followed by a burst of denial. This couldn't be happening.

"I'm almost sorry," Milton told her…and then he flipped the switch.

Every muscle in her body clenched, tightening so much she thought something might snap. A burning seared through her, travelling from her head to her feet. She tried to pull on her Will—control the electricity the way she controlled fire, but it was unresponsive. Through the pain, she noticed the wires atop Milton's contraption glowed blue…as did something dripping from the machine and into a vial. In her agony, she reached threads of Will towards the Crawler; begging, pleading….

The current stopped. Victoria sucked down a shaky, choking breath. The vial…oh, no. Images of Ms. Godwin came to mind. The alchemist writhing, screaming on the floor. "That's…you can't take that."

He wasn't listening. He carefully removed the vial, staring at it as though it held all the secrets in the world, and then inclined it in her direction as though offering a toast. "To the end of kings and queens."

Milton downed it in a single gulp.

As Victoria began to panic, Milton gasped. The vial slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. He dropped to his knees. An unholy transformation was occurring: flesh bubbling, bones bursting from their sockets, muscles contorting, hair shifting. It was her, she realised with a stab of horror. He was becoming her.

The transformation began to slow, Will lines glowing on his hands and neck. He stared at his hand—her hand—as though transfixed. And then something went wrong. He spluttered, gasping. Curling in on himself as though he were being kicked in the stomach. Victoria tried to pull at her bindings once more, but they were immovable. And, before her, the entire transformation was reversing itself. And suddenly he was himself again. But the markings of Will had not faded and, as he staggered to his feet, she realised he had wings. Wings. A couple of people had claimed she had occasionally sported wings in battle, but she'd never laid eyes on them. To know they were real…something that could happen, she was floored. And terrified. Get me out of here.

Milton stared at his hands a moment, frowning until a fireball appeared in his palm. "That didn't go quite as planned, but I can't deny the side effects are…useful. And, with these powers, it won't be hard to start a government…even if we must lose our ruler and a few civilians in the process."

Something was rising to the surface within her. Victoria laughed; she couldn't help herself and it wasn't a pleasant sort of laugh. Oh, certainly, Hobson was no threat…except, perhaps, to a bag of gold, but the others? Jericho was extremely skilled; just because she elected to not kill people didn't mean she couldn't. As for Reaver…well…there was a reason no one but Page had tried to assassinate him in years.

"What's so amusing?"

"You're a fool, Milton." Her tattoos went black, wisps of darkness rising from them like smoke. She could feel the Crawler stretching; unravelling and spreading beneath her skin as if she were only a glove it wore—prickling and uncomfortable but welcome compared to the agony of the shock chair. Waves of Will—unfamiliar and malignant—choked her veins. The shadows of the room twitched, writhing and drawing closer, and a tar-like substance seeped from the cracks of the chair. It flowed over her hands and every bit of metal it touched rusted and crumbled to dust. Within second she was free; she shoved the cage holding her head in place away and rose almost gracefully to her feet. He has Will now, she thought, unsure if it was directed to the Crawler or herself, but he doesn't have all the practice he needs to control it. Chances are he'll overdraw and that'll be the end of it…I just need to convince him to do it. "You think you're the Hero Albion needs, but really you're as greedy and selfish as you claim I am. Why else would you need my powers to help the government reform…unless they were the only thing you wanted all along?"

Her sheathes were missing, but she didn't care. The Crawler had taken care of it: tar dripping from her hands, solidifying into a jagged blade.

The children provide for us, the Crawler murmured as Milton launched himself forward, wings arching high as he attempted to slash at her. Victoria stepped aside, raising her blade to, almost casually, knock aside Milton's sword.

"I am not fighting for myself!" Milton insisted, lunging at her once more. "I am fighting for Albion!"

"You may be fighting for Albion, but you are not fighting for its people," Victoria replied coolly. Once more, she batted away his blade. Fury had made him clumsy, but that wasn't making this easier. This is going to take forever if he keeps using a sword, she thought, vaguely annoyed. A cackle rang through her mind in response. Milton made as if to stab her and she brought her sword down on his, attempting to keep it trapped and immobile. "Think about what you're doing Milton. This is not the route of a selfless man."

He wrenched the sword free, shoving her back in the same movement. "And what you've done is?" he spat, readying his sword once more...only to pause. Threads of darkness spread along the blade, cracks expanding and consuming the metal. With a shout of alarm, he dropped his sword. In seconds, the blade was nothing more than crumbled, rusted metal. Milton gaped up at her as though he'd never quite seen her properly before. "You're not—" a pause and then— "What—what are you?"

"I am a Hero, Commander."

She threw herself aside as a he loosed a fireball. She could feel the heat of it on her skin as it flew by, the tingle of Will at its edges. It missed her entirely, crashing instead into the shock chairs and blowing what was left into bits. She felt the Crawler's blade vanish, fading into nothing, and threw her own spell back at him. It was weak—the magical equivalent of a light punch—and off target, but it distracted Milton enough for her to leap to her feet. She threw up a barrier just in time to block his next attack. The urge to fight back was growing, but she didn't want him to start focusing on defending against her. Instead, she directed a bolt of lightning at the machinery behind him. Sparks cascaded over the metal, glass cracked, and the device exploded with a wave of choking smoke. Now no one can ever use it again.

Milton seemed to be struggling to figure out how to work other spells—he would start one, and then lose it as it formed itself back into a flame. He kept casting, though. Quick, moderately powered spells as though he might catch her unaware between blocking and dodging. The first burst of unfocused Will came as a surprise to them both. A wave of force that Victoria almost didn't dodge in time, crashing into the wall like a massive fist. Milton's Will lines dimmed momentarily before brightening again. She had to fight the urge to smile. Good. Do that again. Filling her hands with flames, she unleashed them, giving Milton just enough time to throw himself out of the way.

The next burst was more powerful, but somehow less focused; as though the effort it took to power the spell was too great for him to keep track of exactly where he wanted it to go. Victoria didn't even try dodging. She threw a shield around herself, wincing at the crackle of Will surrounding her as Milton's cast washed over her shield. It almost hurt. Prickling through her veins unpleasantly; flickering at the edges of her Will like invasive fingers. Gathering her Will, she pushed the shield toward him, knocking him off his feet. She was beginning to feel a warning tug of exhaustion at the edges of her mind. I can't do this much longer, she realised as he pulled himself to his feet.

Victoria could feel her shield start to splinter under the impact of his next spell, throwing more Will into the barrier as the barrier redirected Milton's Will around her. Slowly dropping to her knees as the spell sapped her strength. As Milton's Will died out, she cut power to her shields. No more power. On her hands and knees, she cast a brief thought to Reaver, wondering where he was and wishing he were there.

"So ends the monarchy," Milton intoned, almost solemnly. His Will lines had gone dark, faded from view. He raised his hands, readying a spell, only for the Will to flicker out. He tried once more, Will lines flaring briefly in response to the extra burst of power...only to stop with a pained gasp.

She watched him fall to his knees, staring aghast at her. If there had been a better way, she thought, I might have warned you. But there wasn't. Blood dribbled from his eyes and ears, his Will lines had once more vanished completely.

"I-I don't—"

"You tried to use more power than you had…so it took it from the only place it could," she explained. Her legs felt weak, head sluggish and faint-feeling. She'd burned too much energy herself, but luckily she still had some left…enough to survive on, at the very least.

He lay there panting, clutching at his chest as though it would save him. It was too late. "This can't—I-I can't—" Defiantly, he tried to pull himself up; instead, he collapsed once more. "Maybe it's for the better," he murmured, after a long moment had passed. "That power, I-I don't know that I could have given that up. Maybe this is as it should be."

Head swimming, she bit back her initial thought—that this was why she didn't currently trust others to take the throne; it wouldn't help. Milton would just be angry. But she wondered…was this the real reason so many people had once despised and murdered countless Heroes? No one had trusted that their powers weren't going to be abused and lorded over the rest of the populace? It was easy to say otherwise when the side you're condemning is dead.

"Remember this, Your Majesty," Milton added sharply, drawing her attention once more. "Albion doesn't need you to sit on the throne. The people will claim their freedom."

"And I will stand aside for them if they do," she replied. It was the truth, even if no one would have believed it.

Darkness crowded her vision. She watched as Milton grew still. Her arms lost the strength to hold her and she slumped to the ground. Just before she passed out she heard the clatter of running footsteps. The door opened and a tall figure was silhouetted against it. And then there was nothing.

The room was cool, infusing her skin with a faint chill. Victoria slowly opened her eyes and realised she was in the infirmary. She didn't feel too badly injured. Her hands felt tender, but she supposed it could have been worse. With a faint groan, she sat up. Wan moonlight flooded the room through barred windows, making the blue glow of her tattoos oddly muted and allowing her to see who else occupied the room. It was for naught, though. Everyone was asleep. Reaver slumped in a chair that was too small for his lanky frame and Jericho curled up into a ball, rabbit-like, on another chair. Across the room, Hobson was sprawled on his back, snoring. To her right, Ms. Godwin lay on her side, breathing softly and sleeping soundly.

"She woke briefly before you were discovered."

Victoria whirled around, finding Faraday awake and watching her evenly. He looked little better than the last time she'd seen him—greying hair mussed and face gaunt—but he didn't look quite so frail and tired. He almost seemed in pleasant spirits. Not quite happy, but no longer in emotional turmoil. Realising he'd spoken to her, she tried to focus her thoughts. "Did she say anything? Was she alright?"

He gestured vaguely and replied, "She cried and screamed for her work and her creatures…the nurses had to sedate her. They feared she would harm herself."

She looked away, trying not to curse. She'd been afraid of that. Had saving her been the wrong choice? Would it have been better to let her die? The thought made her feel sick.

"He would not say it, but he worried for you," Faraday informed her and, when she looked up, she realised his pointed look was directed at Reaver. "He would not let anyone touch you until he was certain they wouldn't harm you."

Stop that, she told herself at the rush of warmth that flooded her body in response. We have more important things to worry about. "Mr. Faraday…does everyone…erm…know…."

"Does everyone know that the Commander attempted to kill you and died in the process? Yes." He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose there will be enquiries made—a new warden will need to be selected."

"Not just a new warden," Victoria replied. "A new everything. I need to make it clear I'm not my brother. Repair everything he broke. Turn the Keep into a place where people can actually reform if they want to…free those imprisoned wrongly. So many things I haven't even considered yet." She glanced towards him. "I could benefit from an experienced mind such as yours, Mr. Faraday."

He smiled wearily. "I think your Head of Industry would have things to say about that."

"There's always room for more. Co-Heads, I suppose. Only a bit grander of a title."

Faraday laughed, the sound turning into a cough half-way through. "That's a kind offer, Your Majesty. Perhaps one day. For now…I would like to return home and restore my island. Perhaps we can help each other then."

She returned his smile. "I'd like that, Mr. Faraday."

They chatted until weariness overtook them. As Victoria lay there in her cot, she thought over what was to come. Starting tomorrow, everything was going to be busy again.

We did well, she thought, feeling the Crawler stir slightly.

The Crawler scoffed. You have very low expectations for us, child.

Victoria smiled and, when she finally fell asleep, it was unbothered.

AN: I ate too much cake and got over excited and had to post this today. Anyway. We've come full circle. And look! The happy ending MoI didn't have! Isn't it grand? Hopefully nothing will happen to ruin this lovely scene. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Dev. Notes: Nope, none for now.