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radioactivepeasant · 7 months

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Fic Prompts: Snippet Thursday

Following up from last week's poll, this week we have Prisoner Exchange AU: Jak gets in trouble (we all knew it had to happen sooner or later)

The second his boots hit the sand, Jak knew he'd screwed up. He could see Damas waiting in the vehicle pit, having what looked to be an extremely intense conversation with Sig. And Jak knew it was his fault. The idea of facing the wrath of the king was far from appealing, but he disliked the idea of Sig taking the blame for his stupidity.

"So do we face the music, or fake our deaths and flee the country?" Daxter asked morosely from behind him.

The question was answered for him when Damas looked over at them. Oh, he looked calm at first glance, but his eyes radiated fury. He pointed at them, and then to the ground beside him, and his meaning was clear:

Get your you-know-what over here. Now.

"Dun-da-dun: we're dead," Daxter announced.

"Extremely dead," Jak agreed.

Nevertheless, he ignored the way his stomach churned and twisted around his ribs, and picked his way across the sand.

Being in trouble was nothing new for Jak. In fact, most of his memories involved getting punished for one escapade or another. But this was the first time in recent memory that he could remember being anxious about getting in trouble. He'd seen Damas angry a few times before, but it had never been directed at him. In spite of everything they'd gone through, and everything they'd worked to build, Jak felt his pulse racing, and the old familiar instinct to fight for his life.

When he'd reached the men, Jak opened his mouth, intending to defend Sig. Damas beat him to it.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded.

Jak had thought that would have been obvious.

"That...I...was gonna clear out the metalpede nest?"

The glare he got in return warned him to try a different tack.

"Look, don't blame Sig. If he hadn't gone with me, I would've gone without him."

Damas did not appear to like that any more than the last statement. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at Jak.

"I told you not to enter the canyons until you had all three amulets."

"I'm sorry, okay? But we lost seven people to that nest!" Jak defended, flinging out an arm to gesture to the walls. "Egil's goons are already pushing past the river and winter's on the way. We can't afford to lose any more scouts!"

"I cannot afford to lose you!" Damas snapped.

Jak flinched away from his harsh tone. A mixture of confusion, nerves, and wounded pride compelled him to retort, "I'm trying to help! I live here now, remember?"

Damas closed his eyes and took a deliberately slow breath. Sig, Jak, and Daxter exchanged nervous glances. They knew full well this didn't herald anything good.

"Sig," Damas said through gritted teeth, "take the boys to their room, then wait for me in the aviary."

Sig nodded, but didn't verbally respond. He seemed to be feeling much more guilt than Jak did. He stepped to the left and put a hand on Jak’s shoulder. Before they could leave, Damas turned and cleared his throat.

"Wait. Give me your gate passes- both of you. You're all confined to the city until I decide what to do with you."

Privately, Jak thought that being deprived of his gate pass was a heavy punishment already. But Damas seemed mad enough that mentioning it might cause him to prove Jak wrong. He kept his mouth shut -- somewhat belatedly, so much for Damas’s attempts at teaching him negotiation -- and let his father take his gate pass away.

Well, this sucks, he thought, but knew better than to voice it.

When they'd walked far enough to be mostly out of earshot, Daxter remarked, "Well, that could've gone worse."

"Might still get worse," Sig sighed. He ran a hand over his head. "...Damas is right. I almost got us killed out there, cherries. He's got every right to be mad."

Jak tugged at his amulet restlessly. "You didn't want me to go along," he argued, "Doesn't that count for something? He's acting like I didn't take on a Swarm King with just Daxter and a gun!"

Sig ducked into the archway leading to the tower entrance and grimaced.

"No, he's acting like a man who lost his only son for years, and then had to deal with him recklessly risking his life on something that takes an entire team to accomplish. He-"

The big warrior stopped and blew out a frustrated breath. "You scared him, cherry. We scared him. And if anything had happened to you today, it would've been on me."

He shook his head and stomped into the lift.

"Two years I spent tearing Haven apart to find you, and then I let you waltz right back into danger. Unbelievable."

Jak settled into the corner of the lift and waited a few seconds until the silence became uncomfortable.

"Sig," he said, "You knew us before he did. In Haven, I mean. You know what we can do! You wouldn't have been able to stop me from joining the mission."

Guilt plucked at his lungs until he added, "I never meant for you to get in trouble, Sig. Usually we're the only ones who get blamed."

Sig's prosthetic eye whirred as its focus narrowed onto Jak’s face.

"Whatever was "usual" in Haven," he warned, "you're better off forgetting it. Things are different in the Wastelands, you know that!"

"I'm trying to help!" Jak argued. Why didn't anyone get that?! If he was capable of helping, he was obligated to help, wasn't he?

The lift locked into place and Sig pushed him out into the empty throne room. "You want to help?" he muttered, more to himself than to Jak or Daxter, "Maybe quit acting like it doesn't matter what happens to you as long as a job gets done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sig shook his head and pointed down the side corridor. "Just...go on back to your room, cherry. Precursors willing, Damas will have calmed down by the time he makes it up here. But I wouldn't be expecting that gate pass back anytime soon."

"You can't be serious," Jak groaned.

He was.

______________________________________

The room had seemed impractically large the first night the boys had been "quarantined" in the tower. Now it felt like the walls were closing in as Jak paced the circumference of the chamber for the fifth time. It had already been an hour, and there had been no sign of Damas. Somehow, that was worse than him being mad. When you knew it was coming, but they made you wait-

That was one of the most terrifying parts of the Baron’s prison.

As Jak started his sixth circuit, tracing his fingers along the wall, he passed Daxter lying on the bed.

"Huh," Daxter said aloud, wrinkling his nose.

"What?" Jak paused mid-step to look down at him.

Daxter sat up suddenly with a furrowed brow. "Say uh...you don't think Spikes was- nah, he doesn't seem that touchy-feely."

Jak thought of Damas holding him, the night he'd finally understood who he was. He thought of fierce embraces and quiet tears and kept them to himself.

"What do you mean, Dax?"

The ottsel fidgeted, and Jak recognized the emotion coloring his eyes as regret.

"It's just..."

Daxter's ears drooped.

"When you go off without me, I know you don't need my help. And I know you can take any monster that comes your way. But I worry anyway -- I can't help it! I lost ya for two years, and sometimes I get scared! Osmo, back in Haven, he called that traumatic stress."

Jak felt a pit in his stomach as he sank back down to sit beside Daxter on the bed.

"Oh," he said quietly.

He'd known, of course. Daxter always wore his heart on his sleeve. But he never talked about it.

"Do- do you think Spike Dad feels like that?" asked Daxter, gnawing on his lip, "cos if he does, I'm gonna feel like a heel."

Jak was silent as he contemplated that. Traumatic stress, huh? What would've set off-

Oh. He'd snuck out. Damas probably found his room empty. Did he have a flashback, like Jak did when doors were locked? Had Jak caused him to panic?

With a groan, Jak put his face in his hands.

"I suck at being a son," he grumbled.

"In our defense, only one of us has been actively parented before this," Daxter suggested, but it was half-hearted.

His ears twitched, first up, then back down again.

"Do...do you think he's gonna yell?"

"If he yells, I'll yell back," Jak answered hesitantly. "But I don't- I don't think he's going to be like Samos. I just...haven't decided if that's a good thing yet."

_________________________________________

Damas entered the chamber well over two hours later to find his son pacing like a caged caracal. By the slightly disturbed furniture, pushed away from walls here and there, it looked as if Jak had been at this for a while now. From all that Sig had told him, he could guess he was in for a fight. Considering what he'd been put through before returning to Spargus, the boy understandably did not take well to any perceived threat to his autonomy. But the moment Jak spotted him, his shoulders slumped.

"So-" Damas began, trying not to read too much into how resigned Jak looked.

"Look-" Jak interrupted, then winced slightly.

"I- We're...sorry," he said haltingly. "I...just wanted- I just wanted to help you."

He looked so earnest. Damas didn’t doubt he and Daxter had managed to talk Sig into letting them turn his scouting mission into a search-and-destroy. It was hard to argue with a face like that. Did the boy even understand what he'd done wrong?

"Oh Jak," Damas sighed.

He lowered himself to the small couch by the window and beckoned him over.

"Come. Sit with me."

Jak hesitated, but complied. The couch was small, but he tried to give Damas as much space as possible. He picked at a scar on his thumb and didn't look up.

"Why you?" Damas asked. When Jak didn't immediately answer, he prodded his shoulder. "Hmm? Why did you, specifically, have to go kill those metalpedes?"

Jak shrugged. "Because I could. Because I'm harder to kill than other people. Why risk them if I don't need to?"

From any other Spargan, those words would've been commendable. Coming from his only child, they burned Damas like brands pressed into his skin. Jak should never have been taught to see himself as expendable. He should never have suffered as he had. And yet Damas had failed to protect him.

"And you gave no thought at all to Sig’s warnings that this was a task too dangerous for one person?"

He watched his son's brows quirk as if something about the question puzzled him.

"Wh- when, um, when we were kids," Jak mumbled, "Nobody actually...cared...if we were doing something dangerous. Not unless it inconvenienced them. They expected us to do these things. To...to earn our keep."

When he looked up at last, Damas was frowning thoughtfully.

"Hmm. I...think I understand."

Damas turned that thought over in his mind. It would do no good to get angry now: Jak would just think it was directed at him. Still, it was for the best that the people of that tiny village were far, far beyond his reach.

"My son," he said, gently but firmly, "You must unlearn what your captors drilled into you. You are home now- you are free now. Those expectations do not apply."

For a moment, Jak said nothing. Then he whispered, "I don't know who I am without them."

Daxter peeked over the arm of the couch with an endearingly miserable look.

"Jak didn't mean to scare ya, and- and Sig just came along to watch our backs! Don't be mad at Sig, er, sir."

An honorific out of Daxter? Hell must have frozen over. It was this, more than anything, that told Damas that the boys truly were sorry.

"Sig didn't do wrong by going with you," he allowed, and dropped a hand over the couch arm to rest over Daxter's head. "But he did not inform me of what was happening, or give me time to form a larger team. That is what he did wrong- and what you did wrong. But we are not here to discuss Sig. We are here to decide what consequences I need to set to ensure that this does not happen again."

Both boys winced, and Damas noticed Daxter curl in on himself as though shielding himself before a blow. Jak schooled his face into an emotionless mask.

Damas regretted his promise to spare Haven for Jak's sake.

"You will be confined to the tower for six days," Damas announced, forcing himself to ignore the boys' reactions. "If you want your gate pass back, you'll have to earn it. Show me that I can trust you to make better decisions."

"And...after the week is up?" asked Daxter tentatively.

The king shifted his weight and ran a hand over his face. Alright, Sig. I'm choosing my battles.

"Before I came in here, I was going to ban you from the Arena trials until midwinter," he admitted.

Jak stiffened beside him, the protest already on his lips.

"But," Damas continued, "as you seem to have a better understanding of the gravity of the situation than I had initially thought, I offer a compromise."

Jak flexed his fingers and glanced over nervously. "O...kay?"

Damas offered a small smile in response. "You will only be barred from the Arena until you can escape me in a sparring match. How long that lasts will be up to you."

Jak sagged with relief -- and Daxter suddenly got a lot more anxious. Sure, Jak could fight metalheads the size of buildings and come out on top. But Damas had something the metalheads didn't: opposable thumbs.

This probably wasn't going to be as easy as Jak was thinking.

"Thanks. For...for not yelling," Jak said unexpectedly. "Daxter doesn't like yelling."

Damas dropped his other hand across the back of Jak's neck and squeezed affectionately, just the barest hint of pressure.

"If you have to shout to make your point, you've already lost control of the situation," he advised.

He caught the incredulous expression passing between the two boys and chose to let it go. They were still learning what it was to have a childhood. Lessons in leadership could come later.

"I know you're still getting to know me," he said hesitantly, "Perhaps the restrictions I place do not make sense to you. But they exist because I care about your safety. I fought to make this city one in which you could choose your own path. So you wouldn't have to fight for your life."

Daxter stretched up on tip-paws. "But that's why Jak fights!" he protested, "Cause he can't stand the idea of anybody goin' through what he did!"

Damas flinched, ever so slightly, and Daxter regretted bringing it up. It was fairly obvious that Damas had the same kind of survivor's guilt that he did.

"I...don't know a whole lot about dads, sure, but he's just doin' what you do, doesn't that count for somethin?"

Damas shook his head, but he didn't appear to be disagreeing. He only whispered, "I should have been there."

Daxter knew what he meant.

After a moment's hesitation, he climbed up onto the arm of the couch and tentatively patted Damas’s shoulder.

"Aw, look. Jak, uh...Jak has always been pretty fearless about runnin' into danger. Even before things went sideways! He used to wade out to the sandbar to save stranded Lurker Hounds, even though he knew they were gonna try and bite him! He uh, he had to learn that from somewhere, right?"

Jak raised his head and blinked. He'd sort of figured he'd learned it from his own elder self in an eternal loop. But...could Daxter be right? Was that wild, fearless, reckless little kid simply acting like a normal Wastelander?

"Maybe you fought so he wouldn't have to," Daxter suggested, merely thinking out loud, "But maybe he decided to be just like you? I mean have you met him? The kid's got a head like a rock!"

"Dude, really?" Jak glared at him.

Damas’s smile was bittersweet at best. "It is...a nice thought, Daxter," he admitted, "Admittedly, Jak...was quite stubborn when he was Mar."

Impulsively, he swung his arms close, dragging both boys into an impromptu embrace.

"However, you are still grounded."

"Darnit!" Daxter fumed.

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #Prisoner Exchange AU #dadmas #king damas #jak and daxter au #my aus #jak and daxter sig #jak decided to go clear out metalpedes and he definitely didn't tell his dad he was sneaking out #jak is Grounded #Daxter and Damas have very similar survivor's guilt regarding what happened to Jak #this is what leads to the prologue of the story where Jak is sparring with Damas after they've made up #The boys have a very skewed idea of age appropriate activities #free day Thursday #snippet Thursday

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talesofsonicasura · 11 months

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A King's Musings

A warrior king thinks about his peculiar guests and the face of the person who brought them.

Part of the Past/Present/Future Trio! Best to check that out first, especially the comments and reblogs, or else you'll just be super confused.

Damas would admit that Jak will never fail to surprise and worry him. The young man alongside his smaller companion had been gone for two weeks ever since they snuck into the Monk's Temple. It wasn't no lie that a good chunk of his Spargus citizens than just their king were a bit worried.

Jak and Daxter peculiar dynamic helped ease the tension from the serious matters outside the walls. It's hard to not be amused by youths getting into ridiculous but mostly harmless antics. Something that felt needed when the problems at hand aren't the usually ones for his people. These were much larger and dangerous matters that even his unaware citizens can sense.

Then not even an hour into the night did the Spargan King received a message from his most trusted friend, Sig. Jak and Daxter had been found but they weren't alone. Two other boys were with them, one who had a lethal allergic reaction to sunlight. It was enough extra motivation for Damas to come over alongside an escort and get the four youths back to Spargus before sunrise.

The King was about to arrange separate rooms for the other two boys but they all insisted on staying with the "Demolition Duo". It wasn't hard to notice the kindredship between them. One of sworn brothers ready to burn the world to ashes for each other.

"I figured I would find you wandering the halls again." Damas turned away from his thoughts to look at an approaching Sig. Although he couldn't help but raise a brow at the bits of feathers stuck haphazardly on the man's armor. "Old habits die hard my friend. Let me guess, a pillow fight?"

The man playfully rolled his only organic eye at his king's query. "Blue Cherry has one hell of a swing. Knocked the air outta me real good than just make a pillow explode. I can only imagine taking a hit from him as a full grown adult." James Lake Jr or "Jim" being the young man's preference.

A half human/half 'troll' who shared a very similar situation to Jak. Sadly he couldn't change back to what he once was from how it been phrased. The boy could easily be mistaken for being part Lurker if he didn't have that smooth stone hide and horns. Maybe a subspecies?

Jim was sixteen but dwarfed Damas by a foot if you weren't counting the horns. It isn't hard to see what his sworn brother meant as the boy still had some growing to do. They were lucky Kleiver hadn't thrown out his old PJs when he was a teenager. Between the four, Jim is more outspoken and approachable.

"An agreed sentiment as the young man has no doubt seen his fair share of the battlefield if he shares Jak's predicament. Though I bet it was Link who started their little fight." Damas' smile could barely conceal the heartache that stung his soul.

The world of a warrior wasn't a kind one. Every man and woman will face their own unspeakable horrors as war is bound to find them at some point. The eyes that a 10 year child should never be cursed to have. Link was painfully close in personality to his lost son, Mar.

An innocent youth with a knack for getting into mischief and prefers to use sign language than his voice. Sadly Link's innocence had also been robbed in the same way his fellow brothers lost theirs. By men like the Green Eco Sage who believes children should hold the weight of the world on their shoulders.

"Little Cherry is as clever as his aim. He already knew the right trajectory and timing to throw so he could hit my face before I even opened the door. Jak got himself some competition when the boy's old enough to pick up a gun."

Damas snorted at the image of his friend being met with a pillow to the face. There were already some rumors about Link being the King's secret love child amongst his guards. "I'm glad to know they're making themselves comfortable already. Hopefully the boys don't decide to throw another pillow fight in their new room."

"So when you are going to start working on those adoption papers? Just know that you have to do shared custody for Jim cause his mother might beat you with a broom if otherwise." Sig chuckles at the pointed look from Damas.

He knew his sworn brother's fatherly instincts when it came to lost children like the four boys. Damas is family man at heart and he always wanted to give Mar siblings. When his son disappeared, it wasn't hard to notice the sorrow in the man's eyes.

It hurt to find Damas sitting on Mar's bed with his son's favorite Crocadog plush in hand. No updates on the lost boy for over a year just made it worse. There been a few leads but they were muddle before absolute silence once Kor was dead. Although some reports were linked to two particular boys who slowly been healing Damas' heartache.

There was something about the Demolition Duo, especially Jak, that resonated with the King of Spargus. A very familiar bond that neither parties could identify but can definitely feel. Kinda like... Both men hadn't noticed they had stop in front of Jak's room. Unlike 20 minutes ago, it was quite silent.

Damas and Sig looked at each before the latter silently open the door. The room had been overtaken by feathers that once made their home in the pile of torn pillow cases at the farthest corner. Jak and Link's items were closer to the bed especially the youngest peculiar "Fierce Deity" mask which sat on an intact pillow.

It wasn't difficult to find the room's occupants. All four boys were all fast asleep, huddled together in a slightly awkward cuddle pile. Jim was behind everyone as his head rested on Jak's chest alongside Link and arms held the two smaller blondes. The youngest boy nestled himself against the oldest with a firm grip almost if to make sure he won't disappear.

Jak was in the center of the two whilst Daxter laid behind his head, curled up like a feline. A very rare sight to behold as the duo still had issues when it came to sleeping. Haven City hadn't been so kind to their health from the constant mission reports Sig gotten ahold of during his stay.

The heartwarming scene felt very familiar to Damas, too familiar. Soft peaceful expression on Jak's face as his body was held in the safety of his brothers. Just like...

Realization hit Damas harder than a gun handle to the teeth. "Sig, get me every report involving Jak's stay in Haven. I'll be in my private studies as there's something I need to check. The answers we been seeking about Mar's disappearance is much closer than we thought."

Sig quietly headed off while the king look back at the sleeping youth, specifically Jak. The image of a little greenish blonde child surrounded by blankets as he held a plush crocadog to his chest paint the king's mind. "Please let me be right."

The door closed without a sound as darkness gently blanket the room once more.

And that's it. I'm a sucker for Dadmas just like Fierce Dadity so I couldn't resist. Figured I give Jim a break from the madness he's been subjected to on my main blog. Still on a Trollhunters kick so it'll taking longer to get other stuff done.

Life has also been insane as curveballs keep coming. I'm currently working on the next chapter for Of Bug Cults and Living Stone while proofreading my older works. Until next time folks, I'll see you back at the crossroads between Spargus, Arcadia and Hyrule!

@radioactivepeasant @hermitdrabbles56

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