Author's Note: Some of you may know me from my "We finally found something a bit meatier" XC3 short story collection. So why am I posting this as a separate fic?
Because I don't even consider it canonical that Blackblaze Dirk is actually the son of Rex and Mythra. I just don't.
However, since when has canon stopped one's muse?
I've seen this idea floating around various corners of the Internet...so I wanted to take a stab at it. (No pun intended.)
xxxx
When the matter of names came up, Nia and Pyra had been relatively quick to come up with names for their daughters.
Nia's name had been Mio. Any jokes regarding 'feline onomatopoeia' had been swiftly silenced by defensive hissing. (Which only added to the joke.)
Pyra, after some thought, had chosen Glimmer: a name that spoke to the fire and the light that had composed both halves of those reborn from Pneuma.
Mythra, on the other hand...had been conflicted.
Her initial choices had been Addam, Milton, or even Mikhail: tributes to her friends and comrades long gone. However...further discussion and introspection had soured her on the idea.
("A name...is the first thing that belongs to someone; that's theirs." Mythra, resting a hand upon her swollen abdomen, gazed outside the window. Far in the distance, the ruin of the World Tree loomed large: a memorial of the past's hubris. "Logos...his identity was first forged the moment he was named Malos. If my kid was named after them...is that even fair to him? Am I just setting him up to try and be someone he's not? Or am I giving him an unnecessary burden?")
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), a 'stress video game session' (Tora's words, not hers) with Poppi had resulted in her playing through an old Nopon game called Sauros's Lair. She had taken a shine to the protagonist. ("I mean, who doesn't want to be daring?")
Thus did she decide on the name of Dirk. (Which was apparently short for 'Diederik' from a long dead language, at least according to a certain Nopon historian.)
Rex was honestly too floored from the idea of being the father of three kids to contest their choice of names; he was happier than a tipsy Tirkin.
(Had they thought to shop names around, Morag might have stopped them short by letting them know a 'dirk' was also a long unused type of Ardainian knife.)
xxxx
/Time: An Indeterminate Period Prior to the Plot of Future Redeemed/
Atop the Aurora Shelf, a pitched battle was ongoing between Colony 2 and Colony Epsilon; the Gran Dell ruins were the site of a furious melee between Keves and Agnus, as soldier fought soldier to the last.
The Kevesi soldiers, however, had collapsed the Agnian flanks; if nothing changed, it would end up being a total rout by Colony 2.
"Blast it all, where are our reinforcements?!" snarled an Agnian private, ducking behind an old stone wall. "These Kevesi mudders...ambushing us while our forces are out on expedition!"
"We have to hold on as long as possible," hissed his comrade, peeking out around a corner to fire an ether rifle. The entire ruins around them seemed to shake from the thunderous footsteps of Kevesi Levnises. "Spark...!"
At that moment, a shower of glowing spears erupted from the sky, raining upon the Kevesi position; when they landed, they burst into golden flames, shining brightly.
To the Agnians, it meant only one thing. "It's Brightfire Dirk! They made it!"
The heroic figure landing daringly amidst the ranks of the enemy, arms held out wide; upon both wrists were thick gauntlets, each sporting a glowing spear of brilliant ether. "You lot thought you could take us by surprise, hmm?" Grinning daringly, he ducked underneath the swings of enemy Blades, lancing through his opponents. "Come on, men! Don't be losers; show these Kevesi cowards what you're made of!"
Like a living wellspring of vigor, Dirk rallied the Agnians; as a combined force, they surged against their Kevesi opponents.
(It would be a case of mutual destruction.)
The battle alas, inevitably concluded. Dirk, chest perforated by shots from an ether rifle, nonetheless took down his killer with a horizontal swipe of his wrist-spear Blade; off went the Kevesi's head — a brown-haired girl with relatively long head wings, and blue eyes wide with surprised shock — and down went her headless body.
Dirk grinned, feeling a sort of grim satisfaction at a job well done, even if it had cost him his life. "Hah...got ya." Then he too collapsed, his body solidifying into a husk.
Red motes lazily danced over the battlefield: a memorial of utter carnage.
xxxx
There had been a period where Dirk had insisted he should be called 'Diederik', because that was a name fit for big boys.
However, he eventually came to accept Dirk just by its lonesome.
As time drew closer towards the Intersection, he trained ever more with Dad and Mother; whatever powers he had inherited as their son, he intended to master.
"Pace yourself, kiddo," Dad would say, even while resting Mother's sword on his shoulder. "You're not gonna do anything by exhaustin' yourself."
"Rex is right," Mother said, her long blonde hair waving in the breeze. "What's going to happen isn't something that can be sliced or blasted...even though I'd preferthat..."
Dirk sighed, looking down at his unique weapon: golden spears, burning as brightly as Mother's own ether. "But I want to be strong...so I can protect my sisters, and all of you! I don't wanna be a loser who can't protect no one!"
"Hey now, none of the 'loser' talk around us," said Dad, running a callused hand through his short blonde hair. "Truth be told...I know I've been keeping a brave face around the girls, but I worry that all won't go well, you know?"
("You call that a brave face?" joked Mythra under her breath, even as she watched father and son speak, man to man.)
"We don't know what'll be waiting for us afterwards; hopefully we'll just blinkand it'll all be back to normal. But if not...at least I know I can trust ya to watch out for your sisters, to fight whatever threat will come for 'em." Grinning in a boyish way that made him seem so much younger, Dad added, "You've made me proud, Dirk. And I know you'll keep at it."
Dirk nodded, eager to prove his parents right. No matter what comes against us...no matter what threatens our family...I'll destroy it! It was the sort of naive thought process of one who, despite striving to be an ideal man, was still but a child, and thought as a child.
(Woe be to him.)
"...you know, you never show this protective side to your sisters," said Mother, a sly grin coming to her face. "Maybe they'd complain less if you acted like this instead of picking on them all the time?"
Dirk looked horrified. "Y-You can't do that! And besides, Mum finds it funny!"
"That's 'cause you remind Nia of herself," said Dad with the shake of his head. "Titan's Foot, how is Miothe one who avoided becoming tsundere...?"
"What's a tsundere?"
"Never you mind that," chorused Dad and Mother.
xxxx
/Time: An Indeterminate Period After the Plot of Future Redeemed, but Prior to the Main Plot/
Colony Zeta had fallen on hard times; after fending off one Kevesi Colony after another, they had nestled upon a pockmarked mountain atop the Ardainian Peaks. (So much of its humanoid form had been devoured by the Annihilation Events; before long, naught would remain...)
"Looks like they're preparing for their last charge," growled Commander Foots, face haggard from exhaustion. Even his distinctive crystalline horns were lackluster. "Our Ferronis can barely float...and we've run low on ether. No hope by this point of getting backup supplies from the Castle..."
"Then we'll just have to make do," murmured Dirk, tiredly putting the finishing touches on his new weapons. When Foots arched an eyebrow, Dirk elaborated, "Gotta save what ether I have left for keeping my sorry arse going. And besides...it'll be poetic, turning the blades of their own Levnises against them."
"...I guess there's little left to do but burn brightly," said Foots, acknowledging that their end was near. Gazing across the hot and dusty slopes, the Commander grimaced at the sight of black dots approaching like ants. "Take down as many as you can."
Dirk grinned, putting as much moxie and confidence into it as he could. "Nothing sweeter than for one's life to be cut short, eh?" He left it at that, uncaring for whether he came across as bitter or not. With a fierce shout, he brandished his gauntlets — little more than crude instruments of metal, with Kevesi blades soldered onto the end to form wicked talons — and charged down the mountainside. "HERE I COME, YOU MUDDERS!"
He would be brought down after killing twenty more; his claws had instinctively sought out their necks, which had the least protection. As such, his corpse was joined by the heads of many.
The bright flames of his ether were marred by the blood of his enemies: a blackened blaze.
xxxx
Dirk, when he first emerged from a cradle, had one overarching instinct: one not born from the subtle indoctrination of the cradle's systems.
It was the instinct to destroy.
(Bereft of context — severed from the purpose of protecting specific individuals — it was an inherently corrosive character trait.)
It was put to good use against Keves, and so his Agnian comrades celebrated his success. To destroy his enemies, to be a hero in the eyes of his allied soldiers...was a good thing.
Over and over, it went.
Yet, each time he emerged from the cradle...his features seemed a bit paler; his face a bit more gaunt; his blond hair losing its vibrancy.
The more he destroyed for the sake of destroying, the less the accolades of his comrades seemed to matter.
The act, in and of itself, became all that mattered.
For some reason, he went out of his way...to kill his enemies by way of beheading. There was a strange joy to it.
(Once the mind descends to that particular point...it'll latch onto any rationale it can use to justify its continued existence...no matter how depraved.)
xxxx
/Time: An Indeterminate Period Prior to the Main Plot/
Blackblaze Dirk had died as he had lived: by beheading.
He had awoken in a theater, clad in only the trousers of his prisoner's garb; before him was the one called Z.
In all fairness, it had taken little for the ruler of the world to convince him: a chance to live forever, to have as much as he wanted?
It had been easy.
And then...upon becoming Moebius...
(So many lives, forgotten as easily as dreams: of dying, of being slaughtered; of slaughtering, and making others die.)
(Lives where, early on...he had burned brightly, serving as a beacon of hope for his comrades.)
(Then, little by little, his flames had lost their glow: darkened by the life essence of all those he had slain.)
(His own Blade — the Brightfire Spears — had been used less and less, in favor of clawed gauntlets of his own making. The Spears burned too brightly, pierced too easily, killed too quickly. His metal talons...were viciously sharp, yet still tangible enough for him to feel the parting of flesh and bone.)
(As he was now...it was a transcendent feeling, akin to rapturous ecstasy.)
...he had exhaled with a sound akin to satisfaction. "Ah..."
"You seem quite pleased with yourself."
It was a voice that he had not heard before, or at least could not recall; glancing up into the face of Keves's Golden Consul, Dirk could only grin. "Ah; I've heard of you. Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you in person."
(N's eyes were fixated upon his bare chest, where a green crystal rested; the shape was oh so very familiar.)
"So...the most recent fissure has brought the flow to this point. Fate is a very interesting creature," N coolly said.
Dirk couldn't help but roll his eyes at the man's dramatic tone. "Ah, the tough and mysterious type, eh?" With a thought, he manifested the purple and crimson garb of Moebius; green was devoured by violet, never to be seen on Aionios again. "I don't know about you...but fate's been a wild ride, so far," said Moebius D with a smug expression.
He couldn't wait to see where it would take him next.
xxxx
You all know by now the fate of Consul D.
But what of the man who emerged on the other side of Origin: standing upon a world that had seamlessly — miraculously? — joined with its missing half?
Well...even if the 'Endless Now' — a perpetual instant, stretched out interminably — had elapsed in the blink of an eye...it still left scars.
xxxx
Dirk began having nightmares, shortly after the worlds had combined. People had called it "the Rejoining".
It was not uncommon, he had been told; lots of children, as they matured, began recalling trace elements of their many lives on Aionios. Therapy was a common prescription for many, and there was no shame to be had.
Yet...he could not help but notice how his sisters did not struggle as much. They didn't speak of their nightmares; in fact, they seemed downright untroubled, even curious about their forgotten lives in that strange world that never was. Envy and jealousy warred within him, followed by greater shame for feeling that way at all. Thoughts of cutting them down — let their heads roll, see if they're still curious then! — were accompanied by feelings of horror; what had happened to him? What had he done, in that other world, to cause such wretched feelings to spring from within?
So he kept silent. He kept his peace.
(Mum would occasionally look at him, a solemn yet understanding look in her eyes. An open invitation; given her regal responsibilities, there was little time for anything more forward. Yet he knew, somehow, that she could see what he didn't want to be unveiled. How did she know? Pride, mixed with a heady dose of rebellious stubbornness, kept him from taking that invite.)
Until, nearly three years after the Rejoining — when diplomatic relations between Agnus and Keves had been solidified, and all sorts of tests had been done behind the scenes to ensure no sort of Annihilation Event was going to occur because of people intermingling — his sister Mio reunited with a young man named Noah.
It was during a visit to their abode; although Mum was busy doing 'Queeny stuff', Dad was still there, as was Mom and Mother. Glimmer was present as well, unspeakably curious about the young man that had been in Mio's dreams. Noah, meanwhile, had arrived in the company of a man named Dunban, who was serving as his escort. ("A favor for his parents," he had said with a smile.) Noah and Mio were looking at each other as though nothing else in the world mattered.
And that's when something just clicked.
Dirk knew it to be so, because their eyes impulsively looked in his direction, and they — without meaning to, without helping it — flinched.
(Why was Mio looking at him like that? Why was she looking at him with fear, as though he were an enemy?)
(Why was this two-bit stranger so wary? What did this loser — not good enough for Mio, clearly (because his sisters deserved the world) — know about anything?!)
"What's with that look?" snarled Dirk, with a cruel tone that drew everyone's eyes. "You think you're some kind of hotshot, eh? Well I know what you really are: nothing but a no-good, dead-weight loser!" Before he realized it, his hands had grabbed at Noah's collar. "And losers don't deserve ANYTHING-!"
The world went topsy-turvy, followed by his back hitting the wall. His cheek was sore, such that he was already directing ether to the growing bruise; however, that pain meant nothing in comparison to the realization that Mio had been the one who had punched him. (Yet why shouldn't she have? He had been...one step away...from...)
Mio's expression was a mix between protective determination and confused bewilderment; her ears impulsively flattened with sadness.
(His sister's ears had always been a reliable indicator of her mood; this was his fault. His fault.)
He didn't even dare to look at the adults, to see the shame and disappointment that was undeniably there.
And so Dirk ran.
xx
Dunban watched the young man go, eyes narrowed with suspicion. His hand rested upon the hilt of his sword; not holding it or gripping it (because he was a guest; drawing a weapon unless absolutely necessary would be rude), but it was sign enough that he was suitably perturbed by what had just occurred. "What was that all about?" he asked.
Lady Mythra had already departed, running up the stairs after the young man. Lady Pyra and Sir Rex were understandably bewildered by the sudden turn of events. Lady Glimmer was quietly tending to Lady Mio's hand, visibly shocked by how sister and brother had come to blows. Noah, meanwhile...was quietly introspective, more so than usual. Already, in mere minutes, his mien had become far more mature and serene.
(Yet Noah and Mio had looked at Dirk as though he had been an enemy. It had to have been a trace memory from Aionios.)
"...I think we need to call Mum," said Mio, speaking with a composure that had not been present when they had arrived. "She...she needs to be here for this."
xxxx
Author's Note: Why yes, I DID make Dirk's name a "Dragon's Lair" reference, how could you tell? :V
I think this may have another part or two. (Because I've definitely got to bring Joran in here at some point.)
'Dirk as the son of Mythra' only makes sense to me if it's accompanied with some level of PTSD, or by some other exploration of the dehumanizing effects of war.