Chapter Text
Roier’s room was a mess.
It looked nothing like how he left it.
His golden walls were replaced with sandstone, his queen bed was replaced with a single floor mattress, and his hanged pictures were replaced with empty frames. There was nothing that indicated a person was living here, no remnants of burnt marks or old clothes haphazardly thrown to the side whenever a newly themed day was invented. All his costumes, hoodies and armour were all gone; there was nothing left.
The spider-hybrid swept his eyes over the bland room, walking quietly into his sad looking space with nothing more than a frown on his face.
Foolish had told him of the explosion or rather, the ‘warring’ battle between Aldo and Q-Times that resulted in a loss for the mansion. He remembered vividly watching Aldo prepare his airship, helping him in loading the canons and cheering alongside his brother for the destruction of The North.
It was good times.
“I tried to fix what I could.”
Roier turned at his father’s voice, his fur bristling underneath his hoodie as he eyed the totem with hidden unease. Something had shifted between the two of them, a subtle strain on their relationship that began to harden with the departure of their friend – Juan.
“It looks like great, Pa.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue, gesturing to the room casually as he tucked his hands into his hoodie’s pocket. He turned his head towards the bare walls of his room, fighting down the urge to hiss when Foolish slowly approached him.
The two stood side by side, a noticeable distance between them as they both took in the room.
Once upon a time ago, this would be a daily occurrence where family intruded into each other’s rooms and spread the chaos of the mansion. And once upon a time ago, there used to be so much noise that one had to leave the packed house to even hear one’s thoughts. The North used to be strong, a force to be reckoned with and standing tall against the Federation with their King and their mighty pillars. Everyone had a role to play and a duty to serve, protect and love each member of The North as if they were family, most of them were. But some roles were too big to fill, and the demand became too much for a single person to uphold. Once Vegetta left, everything fell apart and The North was never the same without him.
The man left a large shadow on that throne and as Roier glanced at his dad, he had a feeling that only Foolish could step into that role.
“How’s things here at The North?”
“Bad.” Foolish crossed his arms over his chest, “But I think you already know that.”
Roier chuckled, “What can’t ask a question, dad?”
No answer.
The totem walked towards Roier’s bed or what remained of it and picked at invisible lint with his claws. “Why are you here?”
Straight to the point.
Roier looked around at his room once more, something lingering in his chest as a quiet heaviness filled him.
“To say goodbye, I think.”
“You think?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think you want me here anymore.”
His dad paused, his shark tail tapping rhythmically against the wooden floor before pulling himself up to his full height. His golden hair brushed against the ceiling, and it was only then, did Roier realise that Foolish looked a bit too big, like he’d grown suddenly.
Emerald eyes clashed against brown ones as tension grew between them like a wire ready to snap.
“I don’t want you anymore?” His Pa tested him with a sharpness in his tone and a sour scent invading the room. Roier’s eyes were beginning to water as his own scent weakly attempted to combat against the heaviness of sea water and rusted metal. It was his own sharp sight that allowed him to see the faint sparks of electricity dancing across his dad’s fur.
Roier had never been on the receiving side of his dad’s quiet rage and today wouldn’t be that day. So, he backpedalled.
“Just saying, y’know?” He took his hands from out his pocket and raised them in the air non-threateningly. “The North looks like shit; my room looks like shit-”
“There was a fight, I told you that.”
“Yeah, but you’re a good builder Pa, and this is shit.”
A bark of laughter escaped from his father, his imposing figure shrinking back to his normal height once again. Crisis averted.
“You’re right, I can do better.”
Foolish moved to stand in front of him, resting a clawed hand on Roier’s shoulder with a tight smile on his face. Roier returned it with his own fangs flashing dangerously back.
He squeezed his shoulder.
“I’ll just add it to the long list of things that need to be fixed.”
His father released him, tucking his hands behind his back before gracefully leaving the room without a single look back in his direction. Roier watched him in contemplation, his fur was still upright and static. It seemed that they were both wary of the other, silently moving around each other like stalking hunters waiting for their prey.
It was just how their relationship ended up, with one on each side of their own preconceived reasonings and justifications. Foolish was still his dad, but not the same one on that first island and likewise Roier wasn’t his same son either. They had both changed, both shifted and both silently donned their armour in case the other attacked their heart in ways that only the other knew would hurt.
Roier stood in his doorway, squeezing the wood beneath his fingertips as the smell of salt water lingered in the air. Only the sounds of his own breathing broke the quiet of the mansion, with the occasional footsteps from his father coming from further down the hallway. He listened idly to the pitter-pattering of his feet before it came to a stop, most likely at the entrance of the household. Roier shot one last look at his empty room before finally pulling himself together to do what he came here to do.
Fiddling in the pocket of his hoodie, the spider-hybrid pulled out a detonator that was gifted to him from Aldo.
He was finally ready.
With a single push of a button, Roier watched his room explode into splinters of wood and chipped sandstone that all but collapsed into each other. It wouldn’t take long for the rest of the mansion to succumb to the destruction as the fires began to grow brighter. Roier slammed his hands quickly onto his warpstone and disappeared into a cloud of purple particles as the world around him turned to ash.
In a blink of an eye, hewas standing just below the once great mansion, re-materialising at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the empty home and he wasn’t alone. His eyes darted to the tall shadow standing only a few metres away from him, as his father leaned on one of the lampposts that used to guide travellers to The North.
“Are you done, now?” His Pa whispered, quiet but not defeated.
“I think I am.”
“You think?”
Roier shrugged, “Am I still welcomed back?”
A pause.
“You always are.”
Foolish turned his head, their eyes meeting once more as a silent battle played out between them. It was all out on the table now with Foolish still welcoming him in with open arms and leaving Roier to do whatever he wanted.
“And if I never come back?”
“Then don’t.” His father moved off the lamppost, crossing his arms over his chest while he casually tilted his head to the side. “But you’ll always be Vegetta’s son.”
“Am I not yours too, Pa?”
The sun fell from behind the large totem, casting golden rays against his silhouette and temporarily blinding the spider-hybrid as he squinted against the harsh light. For a brief moment, he saw his old family. He saw Jaiden’s wings against the changing night sky, and he saw Bobby’s cheeky smile in the rays of the sun. He saw Cellbit’s dark eyes in the shadows that spread along the ground and finally, he saw Vegetta’s gloved hands wrapping around the crown that shone atop Foolish’s head. He saw them all; he saw what he was saying goodbye to.
“Bye, Roier.”
“Yeah, see you later.”
The urge to call him ‘dad’ lingered on his tongue, but he couldn’t do it; he wasn’t allowed anymore. Instead, he tucked his hands back into his hoodie and forcefully blinked back the tears that threatened to escape him. He couldn’t afford to be weak now; he knew what he was getting into when he chose his side and he knew now that family wasn’t everything.
Roier let out a sigh; this was it. This is what everything came to.
“Place smelt like shit anyway.”
The words were as sour as the scent that coiled around him, reminding him for the final time that this man wasn’t his father anymore. That he would no longer be comforted by the smell of the sea and that no longer would their scents be distinguishable as family.
Roier was out of the pack.
And Foolish was the one expelling him.
“Long live The North, King.”