The Tempest

....

He felt the wind tickle his hair. His normally close-shaven head had grown prickly since leaving his home. The sensation reminded him of his youth, and brought him back to different days. Days of the salt in the air, the smell of the sea, and the wind that always felt like it would blow him over. He could still feel the swaying of the old fishing boat, and the years seemed to wash off of his mind and heart with the tide. His mind became clear, it became empty. That is, until the reservoir opened, and something entirely new pressed itself into his mind.

-And so the stage was set.

...

He opened his eyes, the blinding light of morning all around him, the sun above refracting brilliantly through the thin layer of clouds that surrounded the humble vessel. The wind blew powerfully at this altitude, but even so, his regal form would not be moved, except for his cloak, a silvered mantle that billowed in the wind behind him. The long voyage was nearing its end, and his heart returned to that childish state of mind, where dreams are reality, and reality a dream. He wouldn't know of the smile that rose from his chest as he made his way to bow, and, if he had known, he wouldn't have dared to stop it; to fight the joy within him. He gripped the rails of the old boat, and stood over his handiwork.

The view was majestic, an expanse of blue and white, and there, in the center of it all, an emerald, a green jewel.

The new home of his people.

He laughed from his core, glee and ambition shining from his eyes, "Look! Don't tell me you and your father were really going to hide this beauty!? It's even better than I imagined!"

Behind him, the ferryman's son looked on with eyes more vacant than those of the fish that swam far, far beneath them. Silver eyes, nearly hidden behind long, silver hair that draped over his shoulder, poking out from behind the dark grey hood of his cloak, a face young and fair within, "The two worlds hath mingled for all of time, there is nay keeping these apart. We hath never intended to try, only to stopper the flow."

He waved his hand flippantly, "Ugh! What's even the difference?" He turned to the young ferryman, "Either way, you wanted to keep us from here, isn't that right?"

The ferryman sighed, "Aye, but I doth protest being considered a villain for it. The order that exists here is different than thine own. I dare to say they art incompatible."

The young king could only shrug, "All I hear is excuses. The only reason your old man opposes this is 'cause he worries about his business. He won't have anyone to ferry anymore, but isn't that a good thing? The barriers are coming down, and this sorry charade of 'balance' is finally over."

" 'Charade of balance?' Is that what thee sayeth of peace?"

A sly grin crossed the king's lips, "That's exactly what I call it."

The young man's expression turned to scorn and he moved to speak, before pulling back and allowing a cooler head to prevail, "... Permission to speak... sire."

The king laughed to himself, "You aren't one of my subjects, you don't need my permission."

"Thee speaketh truth, and so I shall speak truth myself: thou art a fool of a king."

He chuckled to himself. When one was so deeply entrenched in political matters, insults such as these hardly counted as sticks or stones. "Is that right?"

"Aye. Thee speak as if my father or I accept coin for our deeds, but we do not, and never have. As those who go between, I dare to suppose that we should have better knowledge of these matters than thee or thy court. Our concern is genuine, sire."

"Alright, kid. Speak. You have the audience of the king. For this voyage, you are my court. So speak." 

He gestured to his side at the bow, inviting the ferryman's son to stand next to him.

He could only eye the king suspiciously, but not to turn away the invitation, "Sire, yond place is not thine for the taking. Thou art a king, with thine own kingdom. This place, too, hath a king, for it too is a kingdom. There is no need for this."

-But the king was not looking at the young man. His eyes were locked on that green jewel, "And what is a 'need'? Why shouldn't my kingdom expand? Why should theirs exist at all? After all, from what you've said, isn't their 'kingdom' ruled by monsters?"

"Fomorians, sire. They are monstrous, aye, but no less intelligent than thyself."

"Hah! But aren't they less intelligent? If they had any brains at all they'd have already submitted themselves to our rule long before even I came to the throne. And even if they are 'intelligent', you still haven't offered an answer for what makes their rule as legitimate as mine, or why my rule shouldn't reign over theirs."

The ferryman had only one reply, "There is no need. There is no wisdom in this."

"Wisdom? Really, is that all you have? What is wisdom? I hear 'wisdom', and all I see is generations of failure and inaction. Old men making excuses, determined to make sure no one else succeeds where they and so many others had failed."

"But why? Thou hast refused so far to answer that inquiry! Why do this at all?"

The king's smile turned somber and nostalgic, "Why not?"

The silver ferryman could only gape at the king, and await the explanation that would come.

The wistful gem of an island glittered in the distance, as did the king's eyes, "I want my people to have a living world. The otherworld is so dull, isn't it? Nothing ever changes, and everything remains the same. Here, the weather changes every few weeks, and the life there changes with it. I want to live in a world that changes, don't you understand? I want the same for my people. And why shouldn't I take what I want?"

The king would not see reason, for it could be seen that he was not a reasonable man, "But must thee take from yond Fomorians? They hath been our allies to this point."

"Your Fomorian blood speaks louder than you do. Would you rather I take from the humans?"

"I would rather thee not take at all, given the choice."

"What choice? There is no choice. If we're ever going to be free, we must take, so I choose to take from monsters. To take from monsters an island on the edge of the world, where we won't interfere with the natural order-"

"-But thou art interfering!"

"Not any more than necessary. Besides, these Fomorians don't belong here any more than we do. To the world, there is no difference. There is no interference, only inner conflict among the parasites and stowaways."

The creaking of ships echoed through the skies, and, behind them, an entire fleet of flying ships matching their own, twenty that could be seen, with innumerable more behind those, appeared through the silver veil of clouds. Aboard each ship were immortals, members of the young king Nuadha's court. Warriors, advisors, normal citizens, as normal as a fey citizen could be. 

These ships alone were enough to draw away the king's gaze, and his grin turned maniacal, "An inner conflict that will be resolved swiftly."

"-Without so much as an attempt at diplomacy."

"The only difference between war and diplomacy is whether the leaders are at the front or in the back. Either way, the greater power will always get what they want."

"And what would become of the weaker force?"

The king's smile faltered, "That depends on them. If they're as intelligent as you say, then our occupation should go off without a hitch, but I'm not so optimistic." 

Here, his eyes were drawn back to the emerald in the sea, his hand drifting to the ship's rail.

"So...genocide, then?"

"War is just the genocide of those who would oppose you, so, in that sense, yes. But all who would welcome my rule are welcome in my kingdom."

He shook his head slowly, "All this for the sake of thy dream?"

"Don't you dream? Surely you're too young to have outgrown it?"

The ferryman did not speak.

"If you had dreams of your own, then maybe you'd understand. All the material that exists is hardly worth one single ounce of the immaterial. Everything for the sake of my dream, and nothing less will do."

"Tis selfish, methinks."

"And who isn't selfish? They selfishly hoard their island, and I selfishly cling to my dream."

"And what of their dreams?"

"They can fight for their dreams just as I do. Whoever wins will have their dream become reality. That is always the prize of war."

"And what if these Fomorians would dream of peace?"

"Nobody dreams of peace, kid. A dream of peace is a dream of a world without dreams. If the world is at peace, it means that nobody believes in anything worth fighting for, which is hardly a world worth living in if you ask me."

The ferryman hung his head, the wheels behind his eyes turning furiously, "I would disagree."

"Hah! So what? You've only disagreed with everything I've said so far."

"No, not everything. Thou art a man of principle, a man of dreams, a man of change. I find that admirable in a king. I only disagree in this instance. I believe thine divine ambition is too great, too misapplied. I cannot help but imagine the great good that shall not come to pass under thine rule, solely because thine dreams are so stained with blood."

The king granted the ferryman a warm smile, meeting his silver eyes, "Ah, so the Son of the Sea does dream. Tell me, do you dream of joining the Fomorian cause against me?"

"Is that what thee think of me?"

"I know better than to think. Think nothing, and you'll never be surprised. Besides, truth be told, I'd take anything to get you off this damn boat."

"And why is that, sire?"

The king's lightheartedness disappeared completely, replaced only by a grimace, "It's bad enough to be trapped in a place without change, but it's worse to not have a home at all."

His royal words hung in the air for some time. The two young men did not look at each other, but only at the emerald isle. One dreaming of ambition, the other of nightmares. Above all, there was sobriety on the air, as the two lamented their fates, the fate of what was inevitable, the fate of what couldn't be stopped.

"A word, liege."

"Again, you don't need my permission, Lugh."

"Not even to commit treason?"

"Not even."

"Very well, this I shall declare to thee, so that thee will know it to be true," As the king turned to look at the ferryman, he found the young Lugh's eyes to be filled with light, a light so far foreign to them, "I shall never support this, but it is as thee say, the strong shall always conquer the weak. So I say, if thee should find thyself too weak to fulfill thine dream, I will interfere, and it shall be my dream which is made reality in thine stead."

Nuadha's heart raised at the challenge, "Is that right? May I ask what that dream is?"

"A dream of a prosperous kingdom, ruled by a wise and just king. A king who shall make peace, not by squandering the dreams of his people, but by fulfilling them."

The king's eyes gleamed with excitement, "I promise you nothing, Lugh, except that whatever you can take will be yours."

"I daresay that I may surprise thee."

"Nothing surprises me anymore. I think nothing, remember?"

The young ferryman could only smirk when given such bait, "Thee most certainly doth not, sire, which is why thee shall find thyself replaced in time."

"I don't know if you're trying to provoke me, but know this: the kingship doesn't matter to me. All I care about is that I live and die by what I believe."

"Aye, another nail in thine coffin, methinks, not that I would contest thee."

Nuadha looked at the young ferryman, a man so different, so opposed, and yet, an equal. "Good, then you'll live and die as a man. I'd have it no other way, for you, or for anyone."

...

The two allowed the moment to last, two friends bound by fate, an eternal challenge, whose result would surely be recorded in history, of which they were aware of even in their time. A rivalry, a strange concoction born of admiration and animosity, a relationship found once in a lifetime, even lifetimes as long as their own.

-And in the lifetime of another.

'Nuadha' suddenly fell to his knees, a sudden headache crippling the young man. The tide that washed away his years came crashing down over him, his sense of self cracking away at the façade of the dream and announcing its end. 

If only it were so easy. 

The personas clashed as the memory attempted to push away the sudden infraction, the sudden hostility within what it believed to be its own mind, the pain it mistakenly thought was physical.

"Sire!", the ferryman Lugh knelt at the side of 'Nuadha', unsure of himself, or of what to do.

-Nuadha would not respond, the clash of personalities leaving only the pain, the anxiety, as the memory and the self fought for control of the dream, the king grabbing at his skull with wide, pained eyes, only wishing for it to end- not by the will of himself, but by the will of Aaron, who was finding himself conscious within the memory, the vestige of 'Nuadha' being pushed further into the back of his mind, kicking and screaming all the way, leaving Aaron writhing in torturous agony as his faux body threatened to tear itself apart.

-The sky darkened around them, the clouds becoming thick and dark, surrounding the lone ship and blocking all the others from view, closing off the sun.

"Sire! What is the meaning of this!?"

 Unable to contain his worry, he finally reached out to grip the young man by the shoulders, but he, in his agony, reeled back from the touch on instinct, cracking his head against the rail.

-Lightning began to crack in the clouds around them, thunder booming enough to shake the ship.

"Gah!" 

He collapsed onto the deck of the ship, the pain in his head, surprisingly and with great irony, beginning to fade as the persona of the young king returned to memory. Suffering to gain control of his mind and body, he pushed himself onto his back, and, before he could even begin to make sense of his strange circumstance, was greeted with a terrible sight. Above, circling down from the clouds, was a horrible visage of lightning, an electric blue giant, a skull crafted by the storm. It approached him slowly, it's one, massive eye glaring with inhuman rage as its mouth opened to swallow him whole-

....