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twodrunkencelestials · 5 years

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The Loneliness Waltz

This is a little piece about a Dresden Files character I played for several years. There's a little bit about him on my blog, if anyone cares to peek. Either way, I thought a lot about how well Antares arc went and how well it fit into the Magnus 'verse. Thus, this was born with a lot of chatting to @archetypal-archivist!

If you wanna hear more about Antares in his own canon or this au? I'm always up for talking about Antares. He's my angsty boy. :)

The shifting over from my word program ate all of my italics though, sadly. I may use them a bit too often, though...

*****

He's always been good at being alone. Friends lessened his tolerance over time, their kindness almost a sting, even when he hadn't embraced his god.

But when his mother died, and when his brother cried, all his tears just stopped. He felt the creeping cold. Needed it, understood why his mother and grandfather loved it so all of a sudden.

She was a cold woman, but raised him to be clever and silver-tongued. Raised him with only the rarest of hugs or forehead kisses. Even so, he quickly learned how she displayed what affection she did have for her sons, wild and Hunt prone as both were. Her praise, sparsely given, but never withheld. Touches, cold, mere pats on the head or back, an awkward copy of proper parental affection. Antares heart burst all the same whenever she did so.

Her voice though, one of the gifts passed to her sons, was her most precious way of delivering love. Lullabies and songs, always sounding far away, like the sweet lure of sirens in the fog. Never to their faces, but always from outside, or just down the hall.

His grandfather was a harsher man, quieter. While his mother relied on her charm and distant affection to lure in suitors to feed to the fog, his grandfather used quiet. A man of the seas, of large studies and gazes that never seemed to notice.

He smiled at Antares once, and a thrill went through the child's heart. The pride he could see in the tilt of the eyes and small pleased twist of the mouth had driven him to flush, feel warmth instead of the chill that was making the older man proud.

You see, Antares had been outside, by himself, his brother's rejection that afternoon more of a sting then usual. So he had wandered, through the trees toward the lake on their property that bled into the sea.

It was quiet, the few household staff not allowed out this far for fear they might end up Lost. The children, more free to wander, were. It was uncommon, the water and air here a bane and lure all the same.

Today, it was a lure that reminded him of his mother's lullabies.

When fog rolled in, he didn't know. He only noticed when the silence around him was so absolute that he could hear his heart begin to pound wildly.

Everything felt like a distant dream, washing away the hot anger that burned in his belly until it was only a calm tide.

Alone, alone, alone.

But he was okay with that. The quiet in his head settled the anxieties. It was...freeing.

Hours later, it was his brother's voice that disturbed his calm rest by the lake. Apologies and gentle pats. Affection that suddenly felt too much.

But he accepted the touches, the sun-bright smiles and jokes.

"I forgive you." He told Pleiades, own smile smaller, a bit tired.

His brother had looked at him, and seemed to suddenly know something, in that way only big brothers seemed to.

"We'll take you to talk to grandfather. He'll want to hear about your trip."

Antares didn't fully understand what he meant, but agreed. Found himself tired enough for an offer to be carried.

He accepted Pleiades help, for his brother was older, several years into his teens by now. Strong enough to carry him home.

***

"He found himself Lost, grandfather. But look!"

Antares was gently set down, on a sofa, by larger arms then his brother's. An adult's. Grandfather Patrick's.

"Hush, my boy." The senior directed at Pleiades, "He will need rest. But I'm glad he survived his first ordeal. Thank you for your help, Lance. You may go."

Antares wanted to stir, to jump up and ask why the other name was being used. It was a rarity, a treat, to be called something other then their star-given names.

Pleiades seemed to notice it too, and squeaked, utterly undignified for once. "Thank you, sir!"

Antares did not hear the door close, nor the feet scamper away, just the gentle words of the elder, and a cold hand holding his.

"Sleep, my boy, and we will speak when you awaken. I have many things to tell you."

Grandfather actually sounded proud, sounded gentle. Antares' eyes refused to open and he slept dreamlessly.

***

When he awoke, it was late. Dark outside, with the sun fading away. The fire was lit, a warmth that felt too strong after this afternoon.

Almost as soon as he stirred, he heard,

"Ah, Riley, you're up. Good. We have much to speak on."

Riley. Now he was getting middle-named? The curl of satisfaction in the tone, though, calmed any fears instantly.

"...what about, grandfather?"

The silence lasted longer then Antares would have liked, something drawn out tight. An answer being further considered. It gave him enough time to stand up, wobbly, but enough to walk over to the looming desk of the head of the family.

"It seems you have finally had a brush with our God, Riley, and you survived. Embraced it, from that chill you seem to have. I am so proud of you."

Proud. Antares was thrilled. He didn't really understand what he'd done, but that didn't really matter. To make man who so often passed over everyone proud?

"I-I don't really understand, not..."

Antares trailed off, suddenly sure he had ruined things. Sure he had nothing to add to that wreck of a sentence. He breathed, to remember this afternoon, and spoke.

"It was cold, foggy, but...calm. It...it hushed everything, grandpa Patrick, the world, my words, Pleiades' words. All quiet. All peaceful. So alone."

The older man's eyes were practically sparkling, sharp and pleased, looking too closely at Antares' edges.

"That, child, was the Lonely. Our God. And you seemed to have pleased it. Not with fear, but with your acceptance. Your mother will be very pleased too."

"The Lonely?" Antares tested the word out, and found it pleasing on his tongue, like the delicate chill of the dark chocolate mints his mother so loved.

"Please tell me more, grandpa Patrick."

So Patrick did, revealing only what a child could comprehend. The history, the very basics of the Powers, and the how's. He had left out a lot, things that needed to be discovered on ones own.

Those, Antares figured out as an adult, under the worst of circumstances.

The first piece of advice the man had given, "Feed that which feeds you" was hard for a child to fully grasp. It was hard for an adult to fully embrace.

Antares did not fully get it, not until after.

Where he had embraced the Lonely in the aftermath of his mother's death- in the face of his mother's beatific smile- Pleiades, on the same knife's edge as Antares, embraced the Hunt.

It was with his help, and with Antares' friends that they'd tracked down the two who had done this.

The affection he felt for his brother, for his friends was duller now, felt too cold compared to their blazing fires. Antares, irrationally, just had the urge to snip those lines between them and gorge himself on the aftermath. But no, he held back. He needed them, for now at least.

It was hard for one avatar to properly kill another. Several teaming up, though, was an entirely different tale, and one Antares liked the ending of.

An end it was, too. For him and his friends, for him and his mother, for the two who had dared to try to come down on his house and his blood.

It was oddly satisfying, snipping all those cords. After all, he didn't need them any more.

They couldn't feel the cut; they thought themselves still his friend in the aftermath. Useful, indeed, for the future.

He kept two though, one, Pleiades, for the sake of mother and blood. It was too warm now, but he could tolerate it. Use it to feed the Lonely. Keep it like a dull ache, as a stark reminder.

The other, to Alphonse. A love, one sided and a bitter wine to his tongue. A sweet delight for a god. A lure to sacrifices. Suckers liked a good sob story of failed romance in the midst of a creeping reminder just how lonely they were.

People liked broken, and he could play the wounded animal, like his mother before him.

***

The first person he went after was the man he could technically call father. An actor that his mother had actually fallen for, as much as she even could. They had one child, him, before it soured.

She was too cold, he was too hot, too opposite to properly last. Divorce, and a nice settlement for him to keep his mouth shut and his hands off any of the child-rearing business.

Antares knew that this man still loved his mother, despite himself.

So, Antares delivered the news on a friday afternoon, just before the man had an evening show. Left him lonely, filled with regret and shame.

The show that he went on to do, despite the maelstrom of emotions, was the best he had ever given. Called his best to date by those there and those not.

That was not what had been seen from the stage, though, not by his father.

Everyone had disappeared, left him to his misery. The actor had put in everything, each regret and tear and fear he had in his soul. The loss rang clear and Antares loved every second. Drank it in like a fine wine.

It was a shame what would happen after.

The man disappeared on his way home, vanished into the foggy night never to be seen or heard from again.

It left a God well fed, and a son left with one less tie to humanity.

#antares riley fletcher #the magnus archives #my writing #more angst for my charaters- my gaming group would not be surprised #i have more planned too #if i get around to writing it

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