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What did he have?
Deon wondered that often, and the answer that came with that question was always disappointing. No matter how he asked.
True, he had never owned much; but there were people who didn't have much and could still say they owned something.
Not him though. He had stuff, but it all was stolen. One way or another.
Of course, you might not believe it since he had a state and great wealth. Most people would say there was nothing to envy, and it would be.. if those weren't stolen goods.
Stolen how? Well, let's see! That wealth wasn't truly his. It was given to him by the emperor for “his service”. But he had never asked for it, nor did he feel like he truly deserved it. It couldn't be his. He wasn't a true noble, nor he was a merchant and he wasn't worthy; so he must have stolen it.. Yes!! He stole that, from someone who actually had some nobility in them, or from someone who knew about money enough to make a fortune, or simply someone better than himself.
Even if all of those were untrue, even if he deserved it for being human (he wasn't, he was a monster); since it was the money the emperor had stolen, from other countries, nobles, or honest people; he too, was an undeserving thief. He was an accomplice, taking it all so selfishly, (even if it wasn't what he wanted).
So if his wealth was stolen, then what about his state? The answer was even more obvious. The state, he had stolen from his parents and sibling. They were the ones to suffer the most from his thievery, the first to be ruined by his selfish behavior. The state had always been their home, and he took it… He took so much from them. Their time, their lives..
His material goods were stolen. So what’s left? Immaterial goods of course! Those can’t be stolen, can they?
Deon was never talented, he knew that. He did nothing right, except stealing. And since he had no talent at anything else, he had talent at steaĺing, perhaps the only non-stolen trait he had.. Yep, you heard that right, his character traits were all stolen!
Fear, he had stolen that very early on. When he was sent to this hell, Deon had felt afraid, of course, he had no right. If his parents had sent him here he deserved it, and he had no right to fear a just fate, (even if he hated it). So, this fear, he must have stolen; from other braver soldiers, who had plenty to spare.
Sadness was stolen too, from people who had it much worse. He was a noble, sheltered; how dare he feel sad when he had never suffered? As matter of fact, he had always been useless and had it coming, so how could he complain? Even if this was too much for a small sickly boy, he had no right to sadness, which belonged to people, real people. By this he means those who actually suffered and deserved comfort. Not measly, feeble thieves.
Anger. Honestly, this one isn't much of a mystery as for where he stole from. The battlefield was flooded with anger, he was kind of surprised he hadn't drowned in it. He should have, he should have been swallowed up by the stormy ocean around him; but instead he dared appropriate it and wield it against those who loved him. Out of all the things he shouldn’t feel, anger was the worst. And against his own family at that. Even if he was abandoned, (he wasn't, his family is too good for that) he still had no reason to feel angry, it had been his own fault.
By now, you must understand how talented Deon was at stealing. To even be capable of robbing emotions like he was an actual human being. But it’s not that impressive. When you are young, you copy emotions all the time. You couldn't, however, copy physical features.
So far he hadn't stolen more than other thieves, and like other thieves, he still had a chance to have other things belong to him, if only just his body. Nevertheless Deon had terribly outdone other thieves, for the only thing you couldn't steal or imitate, he had done too.
His hair, he hadn't known at first, but it became clear the first time he saw the bright, pure, white snow. Surely, since he was a monster, his intend had been to steal all its qualities. It's pureness, to fake innocence in front of his unsuspecting victims, and it's brightness to blind them against his egoism.
His eyes were stolen too. They had gotten their repulsive color from all the lives he took, all the blood he took. Their occasional weakness was there to help him be ruthless, with the blurry image of his victims faded, he wouldn’t have to make sense of what it made him feel. Not like he would have had too anyways, since he only had stolen emotions; but it felt good to have an actual reason for his weakness..
So his hair and his eyes.. and his body! Hadn't he just said he should own this much if anything? Well yes, but he couldn't own it. You see, Deon had had his body stolen from him. This one was kind of not his fault. As expected, people lose too much in war. Deon had lost his body. Not in the way others did, he was still in one piece. He hadn't lost an extremity or anything, yet he had lost a special kind of something. The idea of his body.
There are so many reasons why he had lost his body. Certainly, the flesh his enemies had torn off, counted as a loss? He couldn't own that.. What about the burnt skin the sun managed to peel off? What about his tissue, corroded by his accursed condition..?
And there he was playing innocent.. Or was it ignorant? Maybe it was true, maybe all of that had been taken from him; even then, not owning his body was still his own fault. Hadn't he, like his enemies, taken away his flesh in hopes of satisfying his monstrous impulses? Hadn't he wished for the sun’s brilliance to fall upon him? And hadn't it been his own fault being cursed?
Being cursed sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? But it couldn't be, ‘cause he didn't even own the curse. Suffering under one didn't make it his. The curse was stolen by him, in hopes to imitate better people. In his delusion of making himself less like a monster, he opted to copy those with disabilities. Inoffensive people, yet secretly the bravest and the strongest. It could have gone well if Deon wasn't such a useless thing. Since he had not an ounce of strength, he only managed to look pitiful, stuck in his supposed accomplishment.
Being a thief didn't automatically force Deon to have all of what could have been his, to be a ruse. Neither did being a monster, because monsters, like thieves, didn't own much. Yet they were granted some small mercies Deon didn't have the luxury of.
What could a monster, a mindless creature, truly possess that a man couldn't?
For example, instincts. Deon had those, from poorly copying others in the battlefield. In that sense the beasts had already beaten him by being born with them. The only other thing they own, regular human beings could own too. Deon was the exception due to his gruesome nature. This wonder of a possession is peace. When put to death, even the beast would be at ease; find both tranquility and peacefulness. Deon knew it wouldn’t be the case for him. He lived still because someone had said he should, out of spite too; but mostly because dying wouldn’t mean peace to him. Would he be put to rest? No. He would be made pay for his sins, atonement would last greatly in hell (he didn't even believe in hell, but that's where he’d go if he did).
If everything was stolen, wouldn’t success at least be his?
It wasn't. After stealing everything, he had failed to keep the things he used to own. No matter how stubbornly he had insisted all he had was stolen, no one can truly have stolen all they have. The things Deon hadn't stolen were then taken from him.
When he was a kid he couldn't understand why those things happened to him. Now, he could see it was his punishment as a thief.
The first thing he lost was his health. Taken by his weakness. He couldn't remember ever being healthy, but he must have been at some point, if not for when he was only an idea.
Then he lost his youth, all the child-like innocence he had, (even if it was a pretence to hide a monster) had evaporated during the war. His complexion growing worse every second spent in that place.
And perhaps the one that had hurt the most (faux hurt, of course), was losing his voice. That one, had been a mixture. First and foremost, from his family; and then, from everyone around. He wasn't always a quiet child but he learnt early on how little his voice was liked. Didn't matter what he did, scream, cry, whisper, proclaim decisively or stutter and waver; his family hated it. Voicing his desires had been conditioned to mimic the act of rebelling. Questioning their treatment? Ungrateful. Making requests? Outrageous! Wondering about the world? Insult to the heavens. Making questions or answering them sincerely was bad, and it was made a constant throughout his life by various figures of authority. The only time where his voice should be used was he pledging loyalty, when promising obedience.
Losing his voice had shown its biggest repercussions very recently, when it prevented him from obtaining the only thing he had ever wanted. While he had wished for other stuff before, this could have been his, had he had a functioning voice. It felt like it was at the tip of his fingers, yet it slipped his grip. What was this possession he craved so fervently?
It was his knights, the Lofty Knights. His equals, his comrades, his subordinates, his friends, his trusted allies, and his family. The people that inspired him, comforted him and carried him through the dark. The people who made him willing to keep stealing. The people he’d give everything for, he’d give his flesh and bones and heart. Having no voice had kept them from him. If he had a voice, he could have told them how much he loved them, even if he didn't know how to love. He could have used it to deny the injustice they had suffered, to refuse orders. He could have used it to protect them, to offer them all his wealth and a place in his home.
While those were things he didn't own, his knight could have still made the best of them. Even if he had to be consumed by guilt or had to pay an eternity in hell, it would have been all worth it to keep them safe. But he couldn't. He had no feelings to offer, had he had a voice he could have told them that. They would have taught him how to love.. But no voice means his feelings died with him and his true wishes would never reach them. He also had no wealth (you know this by now, but it's stolen), but he could have used the voice he didn't have to tell them. They could have laughed together and enjoyed being thieves. Or they could have shared what little they had, his knights would have loved anything, as long as they were together.. But that wouldn’t get to be either, no voice meant all he had taken, he couldn't offer. It would never be enjoyed by those who deserved it.
His knight would never be his. He would never have the chance to be sincere, or to be strong for them. Even now they could easily be taken away. Deon would never see them again, and they would have left without ever knowing how he really felt.
Having no voice had prevented him from ever owning anything. Had the Loftys been his, he would have had everything.
But one who gets by stealing is meant to have less at the end. And one who is monstrous is bound to suffer a lonely hell.
He might have butchered a thousand people, and crushed twice as many lives; but karma had still caught him. Nothing could help him evade the efficient punishment that was already tormenting him.
And after all that was said, (wasn't, he has no voice) we circle back to the fateful question.
What did he have..?
Nothing
For he was nothing but a thief