The Pain he Masks...
#1 of Halo (Fan Fictions)
The sangheili have returned home... But not everyone had someone to return to...
(Rated extreme for torture, and deaths.)
It was late at night, the two moons high over the Kolaar Mountain, that lit up its rocky slopes. Along the lower slopes were buildings, some carved right into the flesh of the mountain with dark windows. Only the guard towers around the bordering walls were glowing, torches atop spires as silhouettes paced in the moonlight.
Even the noblest House of 'Vadam, was quiet and dark. Whispers of night creatures in the lush garden and a warm breeze over the large courtyard of rock and dirt. Almost drowned in the sound of the roaring river and waterfall that fed Vadam with power from the worn underground cavern. Tucked away and safe, the ancient keep was a powerful, nearly impenetrable stronghold.
Those who stayed within her walls were well off. They could rest easy... And yet in the greatest living quarters far from the community buildings, one male sat on the edge of his bed in his large room. Amber eyes down on the slabs of his floor that were lit up with pale white light from his window.
This had been his room for years, his collection of trinkets and treasures filled his shelves. A bookcase filled with scrolls and records next to his desk that was littered with papers and his circular data pad. The sturdy wooden chair was finely carved, well worn with a padded cushion to soften it for his hours of sitting.
He had a heavy dresser to the left of his room against the wall. He only used one of the large drawers for his robes and tunics. Yet he knew the others were full. Not of his things, and it made a stabbing pain in his chest.
His large hands hung between his knees, right lifting to rub over his head. Mandibles pressed together and neck tight as he let out a breath. Then his eyes opened as the form behind him shifted under the sheets to roll. Turning he dropped his arm to rest on his knee once more, eyes staring at their bare back.
She faced the wall beside his bed, a hand under her head as she slept. Shoulders shifting as she breathed slow and calm. She seemed content as she was, tucked away in his bed under his sheet. Though she had been less so just before they had laid down to sleep.
Even if he could not see them because of her position and the sheets, he had hurt her. Bruises on her hips where he had gripped her, trying to be gentle for their first time but ultimately failing. It was so hard to tell how hard he was squeezing, and he had not felt the pain of her claws as she scratched to urge him to lighten up until she begged aloud.
Mandibles twitching he turned away, taking his right hand in the other to run a thumb over the light cuts in his hide along the back of his hand. Pressing hard he could not feel the pain on his rather minor injuries. They bled but only a little, and were not likely to scar, yet he found himself wishing they would. If only to serve as constant reminders to be more gentle.
He let out another heavy sigh, hoping Huea would forgive him and be willing to work with him in such regards. She had been so eager for his hand, and their marriage had been swift, but the consummation had left him worried of their future. It was not that he did not love her, or that she was two decades younger than him. It was him...
He had almost refused the idea of marriage. Worried that his past would make him too clingy and too protective. He was in a civil war and struggled to see the end even with Jul dead and his covenant in shambles. Their desperation ment assassinations, to save their numbers as best as possible. He did not want to see her hurt but she had been adamant.
And yet, he was not clingy, and not any more protective than with other females of his keep. He loved her in... a sense, but she would not fill the gaping void in his chest that kept him awake most nights. She would not replace what was lost to him, and could not soothe him. Part of him even regretted accepting her in marriage, but it was too late to go back now.
His mandibles pressed together tight, hands lacing together as he laid his brow on his thumbs. The warmth of the night air felt cold across his skin that he could barely feel. The dark brown scales coated in small patchy scars. The heavy brand on his chest he would never be able to get rid of.
With his eyes closed he remembered it, scorched into his mind just as it was on his skin. Standing before the entirety of the covenant, thousands before him in person to witness it. The betrayal in his chest that he told himself he deserved, hiding his fear with his own lies as he followed the reeking and smug Jiralhanae. The energy shackles had a firm pressure on his wrists, but it was not uncomfortable.
His pride had been damaged but he faked it, standing tall and proud. Even if he wanted to hang his head in shame and plead for forgiveness. The first currents hit his bonds, it was enough to make him wince, and he knew what was to come. Hearts starting to race as emotions boiled in his blood, and he was scared.
The power coursing through his body, armor growing to a blistering heat, scattering its systems. It seared his skin, sent massive waves of pain through the entirety of his form. The pain was like nothing he could have imagined, and he tried to hold in his cry of pain. To no avail, the heat of his armor grew and the shorted systems tightened his muscles with spasms as the electricity sparked.
The roar of satisfaction from the crowd echoed through the ship, drowning out his pain. His legs giving in, mind racing, fighting to control his own body but it blanked. Writhing in his misery and leaving him breathless once it finally stopped. His searing hot armor blackened, gasping for a breath at last but it burned all the way down. Coughing as his breaths became short, wheezing as he hung, weak and helpless.
They tore his armor from him, once it was a little cooler, thick finger pads protecting their flesh. Ripping and splitting the plating and his nerve skin, claws tearing his partially cooked flesh to leave him hanging nude for all to see. The humiliation was nothing compared to his pain, and he held back his whimpers.
He deserved this, he told himself, he failed... He failed so badly and he would die a pile of worthless flesh. However as the twisted metal rose from its heated core his racing hearts trembled. No, he begged quietly, not that... He wanted to pull back, to shift away, but his body was unresponsive to his demands.
The mark on the crude and ancient brand glowed as the pale brute turned to face him, a smirk on his fanged lips.
He willed his body to move, to fight, to do something! He cried in his head, please you can not... They do not deserve this! This is my punishment not theirs, he pleaded inaudibly.
Stuck to his chest he could not hold back his cry of pain, this time the celebratory roar quietly relished his branding. Even through the pain he writhed, but the cuffs held him in place, the pressure holding him back. It felt like an eternity, and once the brand cooled in his own blood and pulled away he fell limp. Just barely conscious as his form trembled, thoughts numbed from pain.
When they finally released his bonds he fell to the floor, unable to catch himself as he struggled to breathe. For a moment words passed through the fog of pain, eyes struggling to stay open.
"I will fall on my sword, kaidon, but please do not revoke the blood of my line," an old coward once begged.
"I did not quench it. You did," he had replied before beheading the elder.
He was pulled from the memory as Huea rolled again, shifting to her back with a heavy sigh. Mandibles twitching as he rose a hand toward her, reaching toward her shoulder but he paused, claws curling away as he turned his back to her again. Stabbing guilt in his chest that made him want to puke, as if maybe it would cast away the pain like refuse.
For a moment the room grew dark, and he looked out the window as a heavy cloud made a slow shift over the sky. It would storm soon, hot wind from the drought turning cold.
Hanging his head his hands laid on his knees, pushing himself to stand. Muscles and joints aching in a constant pain, but he stepped across the slab floor to open a drawer and pull out a simple robe. Closing it quietly before sliding it on over his shoulders and fastening the front.
A soft voice drifted from behind him, "What are you doing up? You have to leave for a peace meeting at dawn. You should-" she yawned, "-be asleep..." Rubbing her blue eyes she blinked at him tiredly.
He let out a breath, "I know... I just need a walk."
"Now," she questioned, sitting up to prop herself on a hand, "It is going to rain soon."
"I know," he replied, turning to cross the room again and sit on the bed, a leg on the sheets. "I will not be long."
She laid back down with a huff, eyes gazing up at him from the pillow.
He lifted the sheet over her form, then lifted his hand to touch her face, thumb running along the sides of her right mandibles, "Sleep... I will return." Then he got up, pocketing his energy sword from his nightstand and stepping out the heavy door to the cool air outside.
The two honor guards stood at attention, spears in hand as their heads gave a customary bow to acknowledge him. Then watched him make a slow walk down the stone path between the many other buildings around him.
As he walked he thought of what had happened after his punishment. Accepting his fate, making an attempt to atone for his failure. The stabbing betrayal he did not want to admit as those he held so high casted his entire race down in favor of brainless barbarians.
He had been so busy he had almost forgotten his fears. Pretended he had something to fight for. He fought for his people, to right his wrongs against humanity, to protect all that were oblivious to a possible end.
Yet he knew there were times he was so close to giving up.
Stepping down some stairs he crossed the small yard of the community housing, and into the large courtyard. Walking along the small field as rain started to pitter down around him. Still barely feeling it hit his head or neck. Around the middle of the courtyard he carefully got to his knees in the dirt, sighing as he sat between his feet.
The rain came down harder, soaking his robes and the ground around him. His eyes closed as his neck tightened.
He had almost given up, after the betrayal. After stopping the second ring from being fired. He had most of the respect of his men back, and during the slipspace trip to Earth he nearly broke. Tucked away on his own, he suffered.
Without battle to distract him, the pain in his body surfaced, the void in his chest permanent. He had to know, needed to know... And already knew before his dearest uncle and mentor had replied. To his surprise, it had been one of the humans that had brought him reason to go on.
Not his brothers, not his friend, but a human he had only just recently met. Darked skinned and mouthy, his words resonated with him, and it had been what may have saved them all.
"Look," he'd said as he sat cross legged on the ground in front of him in Shadow of Intents sanctuary. "I don't know anything about you, or your people, and you don't know me. But, I know pain... Whatever you got going on, I'm sure it hurts. But your boys need you... Here... Now. You're their leader, you brought them this far, now you gotta make sure they make it home."
It may not have been much, but it had been enough, and he used that. He surrounded himself with his men and his task at hand. He hid his pain, distracted himself and held them all close. He treated them as true brothers, nephews or sons. They became his blood, at least in his eyes.
Thunder boomed overhead and his eyes opened, barely feeling the water stream over his face, but a cold sunk into his form, numbing some of his pains. Breathing in the cold wet air that soothed the burning in his chest. This was the only time he was truly alone, and let himself crumble. He had to think of it... of them... The more he did the less it hurt... He had to move on but he had to do it here...
Staring up into the clouds his eyes began to sting as he forced the memory to surface from the pit he kept it in.
They returned to Sanghelios during a rainstorm, his men and blood brothers racing home to embrace those they had missed so much. Wives tackling their husbands to the ground, daughters racing forward to hug their legs. News of their victory, against not only the traitorous San'Shyuum and Jiralhanae, but preventing a galaxy wide genocide.
He, however, came here. In the excitement of their militaries return many were busy preparing a festival. Elders were eager to see him, but he came here. To this spot of dirt that just a few years ago was still blackened from the pyre. The deed had been done here in the favored vote of the elders to make an example for the young to learn from his mistakes.
His line... His three wives, marched with his seven daughters, five sons, and two nephews. Here they were slaughtered, publicly shamed and tortured. Starting with his youngest daughters, making his wives suffer the pain of watching. Next, his sons, at least the ones they could find quickly. Then his nephews, their own father held back as he'd come to try and save them. He too, forced to watch their pain, to smell their burning corpses.
His wives were last, one at a time, added to the flames. His first and most adored wife, had been the final body, bound and still alive when they tossed her up onto her sisters and children. Then in desperation to insure his line was truly to end with just him, a mad hunt was erected to find the rest of his blood.
He came home, from saving them all, to mourn in the dusty pile of ash and dirt. Choking on sobs, body in pain from his still healing injuries, willing back tears with angry growls. Claws collecting fists full of what remained of those he loved, those he missed and those he came home to too late...
It had been here when his mentor came to him, abandoning the other elders. Having located him by his old steel grey armor that shined in the lightning. The old, wrinkled warrior stood close to his crumbled form, laying a hand on his head to pull it close to his hip.
"It is alright, it is raining... They will not see... They will not hear." He did not look down at him, just at the ground.
His dirtied hands rose to cling to his uncle, the dam he had built up for months falling apart. Hearts wrenching as his claws wound into his uncles robes, sobs finally erupting forward. His armored form shook, mandibles open as he cried helplessly.
He saved his people from religious slavery, lead them and stopped a galactic extinction. He brought his men home to the loving arms of their wives and giggling of their daughters. And here, their honorable and powerful leader, sat in the ashes of those he would never be able to embrace one last time.
His loved ones that died thinking him a failure of a warrior, a heretic, and a traitor. His young who were confused and scared, who did not understand what father had done and why they were being punished. His sons who were dragged into the street and beaten to death by furious devout followers of the Covenant, not knowing why.
Now, even though his mentor had passed away just two years ago, he continued to come here. During nights when it stormed where no one would see his tears, and no one would hear his pained sobs. To take off the mask of the strong powerful leader everyone thought he was, to mourn. Not as a warrior who failed at his task, but a husband who could not protect his wives and a father that failed to come home.
He would remain here until he exhausted himself, then he would put back on his mask and return to Huea. He would manage a couple hours of sleep, be up at dawn, and be the proud, powerful leader his people needed. He would become the ambassador between the races, create the peace treaties so they all could live in some form of harmony. He was the Arbiter, and he handled the title well...
But here... Now... He would cry...