Originale; Because I like the way it hurts

[ephitomis]

Title: Because I like the way it hurts
Fandom: Original
Notes: Written for the prompts "Alehandro di Lady Gaga" e "Love the way you lie di Eminem" for Esploratori del Polyverso
2. Se qualcuno del mio gruppo di D&D arriva a vedere sta roba NON LEGGETE SPOILERSSSS
Wordcount: 7279
Summary: "I didn't say I never wanted you to feel anger to spare you, but to spare the world from the tragedy of your anger."

 

Dimwure is born showered with love. It’s not an usual thing, but it’s not like he understands it when he’s small.

As every small child does, he takes for granted what he receives, and so he starts his life thinking that everyone is as loved and as lucky as he is.

His parents are small business owners, they work in collaboration with one of the bigger companies, and they’re allowed to keep some of the profits for themselves in exchange for paying for the materials to create the potions they make and the cut for the branding.

Dimwure doesn’t understand enough to know if it’s a good deal or not, and as any child does, he takes for granted that his parents know better and know best.

He grows up seeing his mother and his father pour whatever they have into their alchemy, and Dimwure grows to love the job as well because his parents seem to enjoy it so much.

Still, his parents aren’t exactly rich, and so Dimwure doesn’t go to the good schools in his city, but his parents are always adamant that he needs an education outside of the one they can give him at home.

They send him to a little school, affiliated with the Church of Waukeen, and there Dimwure begins to understand the reality of the world he lives in.

It’s a gradual thing, of course, but it’s obvious in the way the other kids in his class respond to adults, in the mistrust in their eyes and the bruises on their skin.

Still, it takes some time for him to understand, and it only happens when, one day, he sees a kid being shouted on by one of their teachers. The kid doesn’t respond, doesn’t even scream back, and the teacher loses his patience and hits him in the arm.

Dimwure watches, a little surprised to see the scene, and doesn’t move. Another kid reacts, however, putting himself between the kid and the teacher.

He’s young, probably even younger than Dimwure, but he doesn’t look scared by the adult. There's a fierceness in his eyes that surprises Dimwure - who never had to fight for anything in his life.

It makes him wonder what this kid has gone through in his life and why.

When the thing is over and the teacher has walked away with some stern words, Dimwure approaches the two kids.

The first one is still looking down, almost shivering, while the other one looks up at him with the same unflinching certainty from before. He looks at Dimwure like he’s another enemy that needs to be dealt with.

There are many things he wants to ask, but he sticks to the safe route. “Are you okay?” he wonders, looking at both kids simultaneously. He’s not sure who he’s asking, maybe both, but the Triton kid answers before he can really figure it out.

“He’s fine,” he says, looking at the other kid with a shrug, “it’s not the first time Ms. Gruthier decided she was fed up with kids who have trouble remembering the prayer, she’s going to find someone else to be mad at very soon.”

Dimwure has never seen that side of Ms. Guthier, but he’s also very smart and has never forgotten a single verse of the prayer.

He looks down towards the kid who is still cowering behind the triton. The solution seems really obvious to Dimwure and so he shrugs and says: “Well, maybe you should study more. It’s not that hard.”

The kid seems to cower even more, and the triton seems almost incensed by Dimwure’s words. “Well, maybe he can’t, have you ever thought about that? Maybe he has to help his parents work, maybe he has to take care of other things! It’s not that easy!”

Dimwure doesn't understand. He helps his parents in the shop, but they always let him take brakes when he needs to study. They always say that his education is more important, that if he will inherit the family business, he needs to know how to grow it.

So he really doesn’t see where the problem lies in working and still studying, but Dimwure is also a bright kid. So instead of saying that he nods and says: “Okay, then explain it to me. And then I’ll tell you how to explain it to her.”
The triton kid looks confused for a second before glowering. “It’s not that easy, you know?”

Dimwure shrugs. “It’s better than getting angry and getting yelled at, I’m good at convincing people. I can do it.” At least, he’s good at convincing his parents, but he’s sure he can do something here as well.

The kid looks unsure for another moment before he shrugs. “Your funeral, strange kid.”

“My name is Dimwure, not strange kid” he says, sticking out his hand like his parents have taught him.

The triton kid looks at it for a second, confused, and then he sticks his own too and shakes his hand back. “I’m Malzas,” he says, “but you’re still a strange kid.”

“You’re stranger than I am,” he quickly defends himself. Dimwure isn’t the one with fire in his eyes and a will to fight. In comparison, Malzas is far weirder. Something that Dimwure has problem understanding, and for this exact reason: something interesting.

He hears what the other kid has to say, and then goes to the teacher and tells her that it could help improve the entire class to go over some things from the curriculum once again, that if one of her pupil wasn’t learning fast enough, maybe it was Waukeen’s way of sending an opportunity her way. She should make her fortune with it.

The next day Ms. Gruthier comes back and starts repeating the first litany of the prayer, taking some time to make sure that everyone is following along and Dimwure can’t help but preen at the shocked stare from Malzas.

After class the triton comes to him, watching him warily. “How did you do it?”

Dimwure shrugs, unsure of what the other kid wants to hear. He’s sure that their approach is very different and Malzas wouldn’t probably approve of Dimwure using their goddess and their faith so blatantly in his favour.

Still, Dimwure doesn’t want to lie. “I told her that taking the time to teach her pupil properly would benefit her in the long run,” he replies, simplifying the exchange as best as he can.

Malzas doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but the mistrust in his eyes is ebbing slightly. It seems that as much as he doesn't trust Dimwure, he’s not going to actively antagonize him.

“Whatever, I guess I need to thank you,” Malzas murmurs at the end, shaking his head reluctantly.

Dimwure watches him, confused. “Why? I didn’t do it for you, you didn’t really need the lessons. I saw you recite the prayer perfectly.”

“Well, yeah,” Malzas quickly replies, a little bit on the defensive, “but the other kids wouldn’t have been able to stand up for themselves and I… what do you care? Take the thanks.”

Dimwure does, because at this point it would be rude to refuse again, but he doesn’t really understand either. He didn’t do it to help the triton, if he’s honest with himself he didn’t even do it to help the other kid.

He did it because he knew he could, and that was all it mattered in that moment. He doesn’t say it, of course, and when Malzas hastingly retreats, Dimwure watches him go and wonders, still, what makes them so different.

They don’t become friends, it’s not a coming of age story. They’re simply too different to fit in the right places, but they start to work together, albeit begrudgingly on Malzas’ part.

It becomes obvious soon that Dimwure’s methods of convincing the teachers have a quicker impact on the life and wellbeing of the pupils, and so people start to come to Dimwure most of the time.

It usually means that Malzas pouts and then thanks Dimwure anyway, as if he’s doing anything for him. Everytime Dimwure reminds him that he’s not doing it for him, and the other waves him off with a casual flick of the hand.

Dimwure wonders, sometimes, if maybe the other has misunderstood his meaning: maybe he thinks that when Dimwure says I didn’t do it for you, he means that he did it for the other kids. Which is still wrong. He doesn’t mind his peers, he finds them mostly inconsequential, but he’s also been raised right.

His parents would want him to do the right thing, and so he does. He can help, and so he does. It’s nothing that goes against his own interests, and his parents seem to be happy about his progress in school.

It’s all he really cares about, so he shrugs and continues his life with the same routine as before. During the day he goes to school and learns of the preachings of Waukeen, learns the importance of fate and good fortune, learns that sometimes it means making your own fortune.

During the night he helps his parents, learns how to grow the right plants in the gardens and how to mix potions effectively.

Sometimes his routine is disturbed by some kid complaining about an adult that has been mean to them, or sometimes Malzas’ annoying voice when the other decides to rebel against something. So he helps them, makes everything go away, and then goes back to what he was doing before.

Once Malzas tells him: “You know, I don’t know how you do it.”

Dimwure, who was too busy studying and didn’t really notice him approaching, makes an effort not to appear too surprised. Malzas is annoyingly good at sneaking around. “Do what? Study? I’ve noticed. I don’t think you’ve ever picked up a book.”

“No,” the other huffs, probably pouting again, “I mean not get angry. You go and talks to the teachers after they hit someone, or after they’ve given someone an unjust punishment, but you never seem to be angry about it. I just… I want to punch them all, sometimes.”

Dimwure thinks about it for a moment, but in the end he looks up from his books. “I don’t understand that,” he explains, knowing that getting his point across will be difficult. He’s good with words, but Malzas is a person that responds more to sentiments than to logic, and Dimwure has always been more in tune with logic than emotions. “You fight against everything you see and I don’t get that. It’s easier to work towards changing something if you keep a level head.”

“Yeah, okay, but sometimes you can’t help it, you know?” Malzas immediately pipes up. “Sometimes getting angry is the only thing that will save your life.” He stops then, and looks at Dimwure with a stare that seems to contain both puzzlement and yet a deep understanding. “If you don’t understand it… then it’s better for you. I think I might not want you to get what I mean.”

“I don’t like not knowing things,” he replies immediately, because it’s true. Because there’s an itch under his skin that’s been there since the first time he’s seen Malzas stand up for that kid: he wants to know, he wants to understand.

“I know, but I really think it would be better for you to never find out,” Malzas says, with a shrug. “And also, I like knowing something you don’t.”

He says it with a smirk and a wink, and he walks away, proud of himself.

Dimwure sits there, stewing for far too long, if he’s being honest with himself.

His life doesn’t change from one day to the other, an avalanche that destroys every foundation in his life. It comes slower, like all diseases do.

It comes with the new election of the Council of Sails, and with Dimwure going home and finding his mother worriedly looking into the empty pot over the stool.

“Mom?” he wonders, looking at her.

His mother has always been kind, but stoic, she’s much more level headed than his father, and most of the time Dimwure thinks he’s taken much from her. Today, she seems lost.

Still, when he calls her, she turns towards him and smiles, like any other day. Asks him about school and his friends and his school work.

She seems to have completely recovered, so much so that Dimwure thinks that he might have imagined it.

At least until he finds his father seated down in front of their garden, staring at nothing.

“What’s going on?” he asks, stepping over to him. He looks at the garden, but it’s the same as when he’s left it this morning. All the herbs and berries are almost ready to be gathered, and it seems to be a big haul. Nothing that should worry his parents, to the contrary they should be overjoyed. They had been, two days ago.

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” his father says and it’s telling that he doesn’t just leave it at it’s nothing. He’s never been a good liar, too prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Maybe I can help. I’m good at helping,” he says, squaring up his shoulders.

His father smiles, but there’s something sad about it. Resigned. “I’m sure you are, but this is a little bigger than you, pal.”

“You won’t know until you tell me,” Dimwure tries to reason, but his father doesn’t bulge, and his mother simply refuses to talk about it.

Dimwure understands a week later, when they have their freshly brewed potions, but no one is willing to buy them.

It’s how it works, he comes to understand, in Balrnet. The merchant company his father was associated with lost his rappresentative in the Council, and one of his rivals won it instead. Suddenly everyone is unwilling to buy anything that is in direct contrast with one of their recognized leaders, but his father can’t get out of the contract without being fined.

They’re stuck in the middle. And while the wealthy marchant company will survive exporting his products to Zirmiet or Arniette, their family doesn’t have this luxury.

It’s a power game and nothing else for those in the higher seats, but it’s his parents’ life. It’s his life. And it’s in shambles.

For the first time in his life he’s angry. And he understands.

Malzas comes to talk to him a couple of days later. Maybe he recognizes the fires in Dimwure’s eyes, or maybe he just feels a kinship that was never there before, but he seems to recognize the shift in Dimwure and acts accordingly.

He’s more casual, less stiff. He seems almost at ease now that they’re equals in this shitty world.

“Well, it seems you get it now,” he says, looking at him, and Dimwure almost smiles.

It’s true, he had wanted to know so much before, but now this knowledge almost burdens him. He works best with logic, not with anger. Emotions cloud his judgement, inhibit his brain.

“I understand what you said, now,” he replies, looking at the horizon. “I want to burn them. I think this anger comes from impotency. There’s nothing we can do to change the situation we’re in, and so we’re angry.”

“That’s a very roundabout way to say it, I guess, but you’re kind of right, I guess,” he stops, looks at him, “I’ve been less angry with you taking care of it.”

Dimwure almost smiles again. “Yeah, well. There’s nothing I can do this time. My parents are broke, they’re searching jobs that are beneath them, and all because of some political play. And there’s nothing I can do.”

Malzas sighs, and then turns. “Yeah, I mean, the only one that can change anything are the representatives of the Council. But you can do what you can… I mean I could maybe find you work at the port. They always look for people to help them with loading and unloading ships and…”

But Dimwure isn’t listening to him, not anymore. Because he’s right. Dimwure as he’s now, he can’t do anything, but if there’s one thing he knows is how to achieve what he wants. He’s been so blinded by his anger, by his desire to help his parents, that he hasn’t been able to grasp the whole picture.

There’s nothing he can do for his parents, but there’s something he can do. Just like the first time he helped that kid, it wouldn’t be doing it for his parents, or for revenge for himself, or fon anyone else: it’s simply something he can do.

And so he will.

“So I’ll get on the Council,” he says, standing up. “I’ll get the most important spot. I’ll get there.”

Malzas stops short, cut off while he was still talking, and he looks at Dimwure with a mix of confusion and shock. “You realize you’re like ten, yeah? You can’t…”

“Not now, obviously,” Dimwure says, looking at the other. “But with time I’ll create a commercial empire strong enough to withstand the other councillors. I’ll make it there, and I’ll be so strong that no one else will be able to oppose me.”

“And then you’ll change their mind, just like you do with our teachers,” Malzas says, with a smile. He shakes his head and stands up. “It’s crazy enough that it might work. And if someone is fucking strange enough to do it, I think it’s you.”

It’s true, but Dimwure is just one person, and he needs more. “You’ll help me, then?”

“Help? You want my help? What can I even do?” the other wonders, blinking rapidly.

Dimwure doesn’t tell him that for all his lack of focus and discipline, Malzas is a leader: he gathers people around him easily, with effortless elegance.

He needs someone empathic, someone that will be able to be a contrast to his cold logic. Someone to step in with people that are ruled by emotions.

Still, he doesn’t tell him that, because they’re not that close yet, and because Dimwure has always known what to say to get what he wants.

“Because you’re angry, and this is how to make it stop,” he says, standing tall.

He knew the other would accept, of course, but seeing him extend his hand is still good. He shakes it with force.

It doesn’t matter what will happen from now on: he won’t stand down.

He accepts Malzas offers for work, but he also starts to work on his own time. He starts to research how to make a successful business, how to grow in Balrnet’s economy and it’s a difficult dance, but one he can master.

It’s not difficult to see how there’s no rules to the game. There’ only money and the ability to grow their own importance.

Still, it takes a while to set up everything that he needs. Especially because his parents are always working and still they can’t seem to make ends meet.

Dimwure knows why: they still tend to the garden in the back, even if it won’t ever be of use to them anymore. They say it’s only right, that this garden has served the family for years and abandoning it now would be a terrible disservice.

Dimwure knows it’s just a drain on their funds.

Still, he doesn’t tell them it’s a waste of time, even when they don’t have enough food on the table, even when his father is sick and they don’t have enough money to ask a cleric to help.

He goes to the store, and convinces them to give them a little more food. He goes to the church and convinces one of the clerics to come and heal his father, and he promises them that their good deeds will be rewarded, that Waukeen was watching over all of them.

Malzas doesn’t ever say anything about this, they don’t talk about their families, not anymore. They talk about plans and dreams, they talk about business and the best way to grow.

It works as well as one could expect, but years pass and Dimwure gets impatient.

As much as he’s studied, the right opportunity never seems to come.

“Don’t worry,” Malzas says, one day, when they’re both fifteen and tired. FIfteen and ready to leave. Fifteen and angry. “I prayed to Tymora yesterday. Good fortune will come to us soon.”

Dimwure has never believed in the gods as much as Malzas does, so he doesn’t reply.

The next day the news of a monster attacking a city over reaches their village and it might not be the good fortune that Malzas thought they would get, but Dimwure is cold logic against fiery anger.

He knows what he has to do, and now he needs to know if he picked the right person all those years ago.

“You want to burn their crops,” Malzas says, stone faced. As much as Dimwure tries, he can’t really read him. It frustrates him.

“Yes,” Dimwure repeats. “They are under attack from a group of monsters that are going after the trade routes and after the village. That means that they won’t have enough potions from the cities and their stocks are limited. They’ll have to make more. If we burn their crops they won’t be able to.”

“And that’s when we’ll show up with our crops,” Malzas finishes, with no inflection in his words whatsoever.

Dimwure, if he was another person, would squirm. But he’s himself, and so he stands tall and still. “Do you think that we can grow by being good? You want to convince them? You have to create the motivation.”

“Is that what you did, with that teacher?” Malzas wonders, out loud. It has been so many years that Dimwure honestly doesn’t remember, but he doesn’t care.

“It’s what they have done for all these years,” Dimwure explains. “Do you think that The Marauders won the council position over The Yamagash because they make better potions? They’re all the fucking same. But the Marauders…”

“Cheated,” Malzas finishes, and for the first time Dimwure sees a flicker of something appear on the other’s face.

He’s unhappy, but once again Dimwure doesn’t really know why. He doesn’t why to harm anyone, and this is the only chance they’ll get.

“Played the game,” Dimwure says. Looking at the other. “Remember the promise we made? We need to be stronger than them. And that will never happen if we play fair when no one else does.”

Malzas closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m not really against this. I don’t mind. But remember how I said I didn’t want you to ever understand what it felt to be angry? It wasn’t to spare you the feeling,” he stops, looks Dimwure straight in the eyes, “It was to spare the world the tragedy of your wrath.”

“And? WIll you spare them now?” he has to ask, he has to know.

Malzas is silent for a couple of seconds before he says, with a conviction that almost leaves Dimwure shaking: “I’ll be the harbinger of it.”

And with that, their fates are sealed.

They go in the night and by morning every single crop has burned. They go back to Dimwure’s house and take all the herbs and berries from his parents’ garden and then walk over to the other city.

Dimwure sells their entire stock that day, underprices it because of the emergency, and tells them that they’d always be glad to supply them and avoid the long and tortuous trade routes.

They’re scared, but he assures them that no one else has to know: they’re far away from the capital, and it’s only components, after all, not really potions.

“We’re the Silver Vial, and we’re only here to make sure you get the best that we have to offer.”

They secure a secret contract and go back home richer.

“The silver vial?” Mazas asks him, confused.

Dimwure shrugs: “There’s a lethal potion that’s silver, you know? It doesn’t act immediately, it’s effects are small in the beginning but then start to grow until all your organs are failing. It seemed appropriate.”

“Yeah, it really does.”

Dimwure asks his parents to work with the city over, while he and Malzas leave to search for other opportunities.

The Silver Vial grows and with it its reputation.

Soon, people talk about it like a legit business. Small enough not to be considered a competition for The Marauders, but solid enough to be trusted around Balrnet.

And so Dimwure decides to start the next part of his plan. He goes to every single small boutique or shop he finds and proposes a collaboration. They get under the umbrella of The Silver Vial, and Dimwure will make sure they get a part of the cut and business from all over Balrnet.

“You’re unifying against the Council,” Malzas says, looking at him with a smirk. “You know they won’t like that.”

“Ask me if I care,” Dimwure replies, looking down at his books. They’re solid enough, now, that they can take on some resistance from the Council. They can’t push too hard, after all they’ve grown their business and reputation as saviours that step in when the Council couldn’t. A step too far against them, and it might make them lose some reputation with the people.

Dimwure has been at this for years now, but he’s not tired. The contrary.

“I know that you don’t, and I know that you’ve thought this through but…” Malzas stops then, and there’s enough uncertainty in his voice that Dimwure has to look up at him.

They’ve been travelling together for years by this point, companions for even more. And as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, Malzas might be the only person in the world that knows him. And, he thinks, he’s the only one that really knows Malzas.

Still, he can’t understand now what the other is thinking.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a little muffled at having to. He just wished that the other would just tell him.

Malzas fidgets for a second before he sighs and stands up. “I’m trying to say that I’m worried about you, man. You said it yourself: they don’t play by the rules. And I don’t think they would hesitate to kill you if you became too much of a problem.”

Malzas isn’t wrong, but Dimwure has never been particularly worried about his own safety. He can take care of himself, first of all, and then… “Well, that’s why I have you, isn’t it?” he says, with a smile.

Malzas seems taken aback for a second, if by the smile or the response it’s unclear, but still he curses under his breath. “Fuck, you can’t just say that when…”

“When what?” he wonders, and he thinks that he might be playing a dangerous game.

As he said, he knows Malzas, and he thinks he knows where this is going. He still doesn’t know if it’s a road he wants to travel on, but as much as he has planned and thought and strategized, he’s never been able to figure out how to avoid this moment.

So he just has to do what he always did. He’s not sure if fucking Malzas is a good idea, but it’s something he can do and so he will.

It’s as simple as that.

“When I fucking love you, you dipshit. And you know that perfectly well,” the other finally says, with a scowl and a kick to the table.

The last thing annoys Dimwure more than all the others put together. “Well, then maybe you should stop making a fuss and do something about it, don’t you think?”

“You’re a fucking bastard,” Malzas says, but the next moment his lips are on Dimwure’s and there’s nothing else to say.

Things don’t change much, if Dimwure’s being honest, their dynamic is the same, only now they fuck when they are in their room, and Malzas sometimes likes to lay down next to Dimwure and do nothing but play with his horns.

Dimwure doesn’t think he dislikes it. But at the same time stillness has never been something that came easy to his mind. As much as he tries, his mind works fast and doesn’t like to be held back. But Malzas knows that about him, and doesn’t seem to be in any way worried about it.

“I like it, when we lie here and I know that you’re thinking of the best way to destroy our enemies,” Malzas confesses, once. “I said it once, that I would be the harbinger of your wrath and I meant it.”

“But wouldn’t you like it better if I was…” he stops, doesn’t know how to explain it.

“If you were any other way, you wouldn’t be you,” Malzas says, with a shrug. “I know what are your objectives, and I know what you’ve done to reach them. We’ll have time when this is over, you’ll be here then.”

Dimwure tries to imagine it. A moment where their objective has been concluded, when the Silver Vial is the strongest business in all of Balrnet, where his supremacy will be so rooted that he won’t have to watch his back or scheme, or think.

He can’t even imagine it.

And, anyway, that’s only the first part of the project, isn’t it. There’s the rest, after. He has to change the way this entire nation works, how easy it is for someone to lose their entire life and fortune.

He doesn’t think that a time like the one Malzas is describing will ever come. And, most importantly, he doesn’t know if he wants it to come.

But Dimwure has always been good at knowing what to say to have what he wants, and he wants Malzas, even if not in the same way Malzas wants him. “Yeah, I will.”

It’s the first lie he has ever told him, he thinks. He’s careful, usually, to never lie outright, but only omit some information or reveal them in another light, a careful sidestepping of the truth, but never ignoring it.

And yet, he knows with certainty that he has just lied to Malzas.

The other doesn’t seem to notice, and Dimwure doesn’t regret it.

It takes them time, but Dimwure can see it in front of him. The Silver Vial has grown enough now to be a threat against the Marauders, and, most importantly, if he has played his cards right, he knows he has enough votes to reach the Council position.

He doesn’t think he can reach the top yet, but a place in the seat is the first step.

He’s twenty three now, and he’s considered to be one of the most important persons in Balrnet. There’s people following him now, bodyguards he can pay to keep him safe.

Malzas doesn’t have as much to do, and there’s something building inside him, Dimwure can see it. He doesn’t know exactly what it is, but ever since they’ve moved to Pemrose, he’s been more distant.

It makes Dimwure on edge, but he’s so close that he can’t think about it now, he has to be devoted to the connections he’s making here in the capital.

Which is why he’s surprised when he goes home, one day, and finds Malzas waiting for him in the terrace that looks upon the lake.

He’s seated on the railing, and he almost looks ready to jump. Dimwure has to fight the instinctual reaction of pulling him back. There’s no real danger to Malzas, he knows, and so he stays where he is.

“What are you doing?” he asks, because he already knows the answers.

“When I was younger, before we even met,” Malzas says, without looking at him, “I dreamed of living on a ship. No ties. Nothing to stop me, it would be me and the freedom of the ocean. And then I met you, and all I wanted was for you to get what you wanted.”

“And now?” he pushes, because, he thinks, this has been a long time coming.

“And now I think I can do both,” he says, looking at him. “What am I even doing here, Dim? There’s nothing I can do for you here and I made a promise once, that I would bring your wrath to the world. This is not the way for me.”

He stops the incredibly stupid first reaction he has. Asking Malzas and leaving me will? Wouldn’t bring them anywhere. So Dimwure does what he’s always done: he rationalizes.

It’s easy to see now the opportunity from an objective perspective. He needs to take control of trade routes, and while the land is controlled by the Fiery Blood, the seas have always been too chaotic to have a single master.

Malzas can get it for him, he’s sure of that.

Still.

“I can’t be in any way connected with a pirate,” he says, because it’s true. Because it would undermine everything he has ever done. It also comes out harsh, final.

They both know what it means.

Malzas nods, and looks back towards the lake. “I’m not young and stupid anymore, maybe I never was. I always knew what I would get from you and I thought it would be enough. I still think that, in a way, I don’t care how many times you lie to me. But I can’t stand here and not fulfill my promise to you.”
He almost wants to say that he never lied, but that would be cruel. So he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ve found a ship that can take me, I think I can make captain in a year or even less. I’ve learned from the best, after all,” he says, looking at Dimwure like he did that many years ago. Fire and determination light his eyes, but there’s also anger and fire.

Is he angry at himself? At Dimwure for not making it all better? He doesn’t know.

“After that,” Malzas continues, “I’ll attack any ship that’s not yours. A couple of yours too, I figure. Enough to get a name. And then you’ll convince me to stop, become a force for good. People will love you.”

“And they will hate you,” Dimwure says, looking at the lake. “But only for a time. You’ll get back their trust, and if not that, you’ll earn their fear and respect.”

“Only enough so that when you’ll ask me to do something I’ll have all the freedom in the world to do it.” Malzar starts walking back towards Dimwure, then, reaches him and for a moment he hesitates, almost as if he wants to touch him.

Dimwure almost lets him do it. But then he steps back. “Don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. You’ve made your choice, and that means that everything else has to fall into place.”

Malzas lowers his arm accordingly, almost as if he had always expected that.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” Malzas says, but it seems like a token promise more than anything else.

“Yes, it does,” he still replies, because unfortunately there’s no other way to do it.

Malzas nods and then looks at their home. “I know this will never be enough for you, and I want you to know… I’ll follow you. I’ll be at your side until the end.”

It’s such a stupid thing to say just before he’s leaving. And Malzas should know better than anyone else that Dimwure’s trust is not something unchangeable. The distance will put variables that he won’t be able to control and so doubt and mistrust will grow between them.

It’s inevitable, and Malzas still doesn’t care.

So at this point he has to treat him as he would anyone else. As he would another business partner. “If you ever betray me, you won’t like the result.”

Malzas closes his eyes and doesn’t move for a second. “That’s the worst thing you could have ever said to me. And you don’t even care.”

They both know that he doesn’t mean the threat, but the implication that Malzas could ever betray him. Still, it had to be said, and Dimwure knows that.

They both know that.

It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Malzas leaves right then.

They meet each other again three years laters. Dimwure is in his position as one of the members of the council when rumors of the whereabouts of the great Malzas of the Harbinger reach their ears.

Ever since the rise of fame of the Harbinger the cases of piracy have increased exponentially in the nation, and the Council has been debating a way to remove the problem from the core.

Piracy not directed by them, after all, is only a threat to their plans.

Everyone talks about bringing them to justice as an example, but Dimwure rises and says: “Let me talk to them. If we cut them at the knees, someone else will take their place and you know it. So let me talk to them and convince them to work for us. Help us control the other pirates. Bring them to us.”

The others are skeptical, but they’re willing to let him try, even if only to benefit by his failure. They don’t know that Dimwure has never failed anything in his whole life.

He finds the Harbinger anchored near the Claw, exactly where the scouts had seen it. He steps on the ship alone, asking his bodyguards to stay back, and is met with shocked faces.

Dimwure doesn’t care.

It’s true that he might not trust Malzas like he did before, but he trusts himself enough to get out of this situation on top.

Malzas awaits for him in front of the ladder and then bows to him. The rest of the crew is looking at them like they can’t even believe their eyes.

“As promised,” Malzas says.

“Good job,” Dimwure replies.

It’s not as easy as that, after. They’ve changed in these three years, just as Dimwure had predicted. He knows he’s changed too, there are things he wants to do now that Malzas doesn’t understand.

Objectives that go beyond what they ever dreamed together, but it’s the only way to make sure that what he’s building will grow steadier with time. He’s taken the place he wanted, but now he has to make sure he will keep it and he needs something no one has ever seen before.

Still, it’s not a road without its perils.

Malzas screams at him when he sees the claw marks on his eye. They tell him he was lucky to be able to see from it after the attack, but Dimwure was too busy marveling at his discovery.

“He was almost dead,” he tells Malzas, “and then look at what he did. I’m going in the right direction.”

“And you? What about you? Fuck, Dim. Why do you always have to do this to me?” Malzas says, and Dimwure sees the same road open up to him one more time. It would be easy to take it again, just a step in the right direction.

They’ve already done this dance.

But now… he doesn’t think he can risk it now. The first time Malzas left him, it came as a shock, and that means that Dimwure had let him get too deep. He won’t make the same mistake again.

“I’m not doing anything to you,” he replies, then, looking back at his book. “I’m just working.”

Malzas is silent for a second before he crowds Dimwure with a strength and desperation that Dimwure hasn’t seen in him for a long time. Before Dimwure can stop him, Malzas kisses him, bites his lip and doesn’t let him go.

Dimwure is tired, but not tired enough to allow him to continue, and he opens his eyes, feeling the fire answer to his calls. He burns Malzas and watches as the other takes several steps back, cursing.

“You don’t get it,” Malzas screams. “I fucking love you, you stupid shit, and you’ll kill yourself. I always knew that you would, but this? This? I fucking refuse.”

Dimwure watches Malzas for a second and wonders what happened that brought them here. He never saw it, never anticipated it.

He wonders what he could have done to stop this.

“I don’t love you,” he replies. Because he can. Because he knows what to say to have what he wants.

Because he has stopped caring about the truth a long time ago.

Malzas laughs, shaking his head. “I don’t fucking care what you have to say to yourself, or to me. Lie to me all you want, I don’t care. But I won’t just stand and watch you do this to yourself. I won’t.”

“I never asked you to,” Dimwure replies, honestly.

“You’re a fucking bastard when you want to be,” the other says, shacking his head. “Just get better. Be more careful. If you want to finish this, then you have to be careful don’t you?”

Dimwure blinks, and for a moment he feels ten, in front of Ms. Gruthier. He’s not doing it for Malzas, or even for himself. But because he can.

“Yeah. I will.”

But that doesn’t mean he will stop, they both know that, and as much as Malzas grumbles, he won’t break his promise either.

He’ll do anything Dimwure wants, anything he asks. No matter how much it hurts him.