But I Could Be If I Tried - A Fanfic of Virtus Draconis
The first chapter of a planned longfic of Virtus Draconis by Edi Álvarez.
Set both after and before the events of Book 1: Blood Price, Gunter Moray meets the last person he expected to ever see, and is given a second chance he'll never have again...
Title taken from "I'm Not A Saint" by Billy Raffoul
Gunter Moray lay atop his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the textured white ceiling. Starlight filtered in through the cracked open window over a cushioned seat, inviting a cool breeze to playfully flutter the sheer silk window dressings in the night air. His sulphuric yellow eyes watch the gauzy shadows dance across the sculpted ceiling, and he wondered to himself.
"Meredith," he whispered. Any residual embers of anger – at himself or at her -- had long since cooled by the time he was appointed here as governor. Though for now he lived in the palace since there was no need for the architecture to sit unused, nobody, least of all the former regent, had any taste left for royalty.
No, it was not anger that consumed him now, but a more sorrowful regret. Ultimately, he had been unable to save Meredith. And while his higher duty was to his kingdom and the people of Anthropia, the incomplete alligator-man still wondered many nights if there might have been another way. One that didn't required choosing one of them over the other.
Not that he could go back and change any of it. Gunter closed his eyes and sighed.
"Can't you?" a strong voice spoke out, loud and clear, and Gunter snapped his eyes open to find himself in a cloud-like void. Without having to ask, he knew enough from both his familiarity with mysticology and his conversations over the years with both Claude and Anna to know who the ghostly stranger was.
"Adonai," he whispered in a gruff hush, unsure how to feel about finding himself here. Suspicious eyes looked around with intense caution. "Am I dead?"
It was a ridiculous question, but the first one that came to mind. Her certainly hadn't performed the ritual himself to create a connection with the spiritual plane, so if he hadn't paid the blood price voluntarily, perhaps he had fallen asleep and been assassinated?
Or perhaps, he thought to himself, it was very foolish for mortals to ever imagine they understood the creator enough to truly understand him.
The being smiled, gentle but solemn. "You are not far wrong," it assured him. Gunter was surprised he could read his thoughts. Was he himself even hearing Adonai speak, or was it quite literally in his head?
"With the rise of Claude and Anna's triumph, others who are not so virtuous have heard the rumours that the ancient mysticologists were right and have indeed found a way to contact me. Not everyone who does so does so with pure intentions. Some, scattered though they are, also want to see Meredith brought back, and aren't afraid to use the blood of others in place of their own, not understanding how the ritual was designed to work," Adonai explained.
Gunter nodded, crossing his thick arms over his chest, ruminating over this information in silence as Adonai continued.
"The palace quarters was gassed by a terrorist group. You should have died in silent suffocation, but one of them noticed the open window. Fearing you would awaken having only been briefly knocked out, he panicked and slit your through while you were unconscious. When he returned to the rest to perform the mass ritual, hoping to become the new Angels of Shaddai, well..."
"My blood mixed with his," Gunter realized. "But if I'm here, then..."
"Is he? I cannot say. I am not his Adonai, any more than I am Anna's Adonai. Each of you knows me distinctly. What I can tell you is this: you have a chance to make a choice, Gunter Moray. If you could go back in time and try again... would you? Knowing that nothing in the future is set in stone, and anything you change in your life could affect all others in ways you can't even imagine? That you might even cause a worse cataclysm? That winning again is not guaranteed?"
Gunter was silent. His scales felt cold. His head hurt. This wasn't the kind of decision he wanted to have to make, even if only a moment ago he had been wishing he could.
King Staunton, what would you have done?
Meredith. Bai-Feng. Mordred. Countless civilian lives he'd never met but died because of his folly anyway.
Could he save all of them? Could he save even one of them?
Blue lightning crackled softly around Adonai's feet.
"Will you go back, Gunter, knowing nothing is promised except that you will remember all of this?"
The blue light filtered into the cloud at their feet, and the air began to smell thickly of ozone, and Gunter bowed his head to his broad chest, arms still folded, as his nails dug into his arms from the tightening of his grip on himself.
"After all, isn't true perfection found..." Adonai trailed off, and Gunter continued, "In striving for the unattainable perfection."_ If I fail, it will all be on my shoulders, no one else's. But if I can't ignore the chance to protect even one life more than I did before._
His eyes slit open, locking on Adonai's expressionless face. The blank mask the entity wore revealed nothing.
"Will you still accept the divine gift?" Adonai asked calmly.
"I accept," Gunter whispered with staunch conviction, and he felt the electricity strike him, surging through every blood vessel, and then he knew only blackness and silence as the world undid itself...