CONGRATS ON 400!!! do with this what you will 😈
"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"
you did this to yourself beloved <3
thank you for the request!! and thank you to my beta @ladyhoneydee !!
warnings: blood, major character death, themes of guilt and grief
Masterlist | 400 Requests
traitor
The world burned.
Crimson and amber painted the sky, dappled the trees, traced every blade of grass that met the naked eye. Embers waltzed amongst spires of smoke, climbing higher and higher into the ashen air. He could remember the look of the world when he emerged; remembered that initial glimpse of cerulean blue through the crack in the surface, the sway of greenery in a gentle breeze, the way his chest expanded with his first greedy breath of fresh air. It had burned in his lungs then, stung his eyes to tears, but he couldn’t get enough. Now, the earth looked nothing like those memories. His own hand had set everything ablaze.
And just there, in the midst of the crumbling architecture—mortal talent, wasted—and charred ground, laid this world’s protector. It was she who kept the earth alive; whose breath made the tide of the oceans rise and sink; whose touch caused flowers to blossom and trees to sprout; whose song brought comfort and warmth, like a lullaby brings to a babe; whose heartbeat was the reason for the chase between the sun and the moon. Hylia, she was called, and she’d been the first to greet him when his King split the ground she walked on.
She’d been kind. She must not have known that creatures like him did not deserve kindness.
He did not know what compelled him to move. He could only guess that it was guilt driving his feet forward, one foot in front of the other, towards the crumpled figure. He moved with an urgency that did not belong; he’d known that this was going to happen. He’d known that the outcome meant she was going to be hurt. Demise was not merciful to those that he loathed, and Hylia, in all of her goodness and power, was what he hated most. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited.
Her once white dress was stained with golden ichor. She was nearly unmoving, curled into herself in a last attempt to conserve energy. Her skin was pale, as if all the color had been drained from it, and her golden hair was in tangles and knots sprawled over the sooty ground. Still, the sight of her was so beautiful that it took his breath away.
He knelt by her side, his arms gentle and careful as he cradled her body between them.
“Hylia,” he murmured; speaking her language had always felt off on his tongue. “My goddess…”
She turned her head. Despite it all, her lips curved into a comforting smile. One of her hands lifted and pressed to his cheek. Her fingers slipped in the ichor; it was warm and smooth. He was not accustomed to many emotions, but he understood those that hit him so suddenly, right then and there, to be grief and utter guilt. The heart that she’d unearthed from the depths of his chest wrenched.
“I’m so sorry,” he told her, dropping his head to hers. Her breathing sounded as ragged as it felt. “I’m so sorry.”
“You were not the one to strike me,” Hylia spoke. Her voice was barely audible over the roaring of the wind.
“Don’t,” he begged, clutching the fabric of her dress. He’d always thought white was too bright of a color; now, he would give anything to see it pure again. “Don’t. I led him to you. I do not deserve your kindness.”
“My love, do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?”
And it hurt. It was agony, the way his chest ached and hands began to shake. He did not think it was possible that someone could be so good, good enough to forgive him for his sins. He’d led the Demon King to her, knowing what he would do, because it was what he’d been created for. He’d hated himself for it upon meeting her and had loathed his existence ever since. He held her tighter, one hand lifting to hold the slipping hand of hers against his face, and a new warmth ran over his skin: tears.
“I..” But he could not even say that he loved her. Would it mean anything if he did? After all he’d done? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bid the evidence of his sorrow to stay beyond the floodgates, but nothing could stop them now. He’d done this to her. Demise would always know where she was, because wherever she went, his obedient servant would follow.
“I know.”
“I will kill him myself,” he swore, but Hylia’s sad smile suggested it meant very little.
“He will get to you first,” she told him. They both knew it. He swallowed.
“I deserve what comes to me.”
She looked at him now with something different. Pity. Like what he’d said had somehow hurt her, too. She was too good to agree with him, even if they should both call it true.
“You are not what Demise made you to be,” she murmured, and her hand moved to rake through his hair. The gesture was comforting, once upon a time. Now, it felt like he was being set aflame. Maybe he was.
“I killed you,” he said weakly. Her smile became something wry.
“Gods do not die,” she told him, and he tried his hardest to convince himself that it was true. Gods did not die, but those like him were sent back to the depths of hell over and over again, and he wished nothing more than for her to serve him that fate on a rancid platter. He did not deserve to be anywhere else, or have death reach out to him kindly. He was born to be and would die a traitor; he only longed for it to be by her hands. It was fitting.
The sky was dark when Hylia fell still. Maybe she would recover in time; maybe what she had said was true: gods could not be killed.
But he laid her body with the flowers and decided he would find out for himself whether or not a god could die.
He would begin with the Demon King himself.
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on dragona
i managed to track down some pictures of the jojolands raws, and specifically one of the pages where jodio talks about dragona. i think ultimately we’ll have to wait for more to get a real read on his gender identity and presentation, but i wanted to see what the original japanese was and what it said for myself
here is where jodio is talking about how his mom can live a peaceful life because of what he and dragona do. in the first bubble he starts with “オレたち兄弟” (oretachi kyoudai). the key word here is 兄弟, which just means sibling(s). so he says “we siblings” (or, given context, could also be “we brothers”). regardless, this phrase is gender neutral
in the second one, he says “オレと兄” (ore to ani). this is why i’m choosing to use he/him for dragona as of now, because 兄 means big brother, and as far as i know, nothing else. i’d translate this as “me and my brother” (or if we’re trying to be grammatically correct, “my brother and i”)
in this bubble, jodio again says “兄”, which, if you look up in a dictionary, only translates to older/elder/big brother.
i think you could’ve argued otherwise if jodio had called dragona 兄貴 (aniki) because that once can be a little more ambiguous in terms of familial relationship and gender, but just 兄 alone reads to me like dragona is jodio’s older brother. i also don’t really think that jodio is purposely misgendering dragona.
given what we know so far about the characters, i think there’s enough evidence to say that dragona identifies as a boy, but enjoys presenting feminine. so i’m going to be using he/him for dragona unless something contradicts that in later chapters
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I don't know how I'd ever convey this in art but. Thinking very deeply about how in boy king au, a very crucial part of characterization is that Seb is a wolf in sheep(or lamb more specifically)'s clothing and Fernando is a sheep in wolf's clothing.
Seb is very unassuming, very delicate, seemingly very vulnerable and malleable. But, deep down, he can be very ruthless. It's in the the way he hesitantly declares war, with a spark in his eye and a suppressed smirk. In the way he challenges someone to a card game or a horse race, proclaiming that he's not great, but winning every round and prancing around the room and mentioning it ad infinitum. The way he's able to instantly turn the tide in a debate in one fell swoop. By showing all his cards constantly and letting himself be vulnerable, he's making himself invulnerable. No one would ever consider him to be able to make big moves, so he wins every single time, because no one even thinks to expect it from him.
Fernando on the other hand, is constantly committed to having a looming presence and harsh reputation, but deep down, he's soft. He knows what happens to people when they're vulnerable, and he's not going to let himself be taken advantage of. The way he keeps a brave face when being informed of the marriage proposal, but goes back to his room and cries. The way he proclaims that he was always going to be the rightful ruler of Spain, but confides to Flavio that he never thought there was any real chance of it ever happening. The way he takes himself so seriously in public, but inside feels so giddy whenever he can make someone laugh. Everything to him always feels unstable and ready to crumble at any moment, and he's not willing to contribute to that by letting himself relax.
I think thats why it's very difficult for them to get along at first, because they have completely different approaches to how they carry themselves and make their way through life. Seb is confused at Fernando because he feels that he's very bland and overly serious at first, but truthfully he's not really seeing the actual Fernando. And Fernando finds Seb to be naive and easily taken advantage of, but that's because he's never seen Seb at his most cruel. Seb really loves when he eventually gets to see Fernando being vulnerable, and Fernando really admires and respects Seb when he sees him being serious. I think it just takes a while for them to show the other their full and complete selves, even the parts they can sometimes be ashamed of. There's this very compelling dichotomy in Seb laying out all his cards, but still being very difficult to read, and Fernando keeping his cards to his chest, but his intentions often being easily seen through.
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