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For as long as he can remember, Cronos Orma has suffered blackouts. Always sudden too, one moment awake and the next a bunch of time has passed. Even stranger is how they are empty of dreams and often with a tingle of heat infesting his limbs. There never seems to be any consistent trigger or at least, not one he’s ever been able to figure out… Looking back over the years, their starting is likely why his father began to fret whenever he was not under his watchful eye lest he suddenly be taken much like his mother had. He won’t deny that he’s wondered more than a few times if one day he simply won’t wake up afterwards, even had nightmares about it when he was much younger.
As the prince of a budding kingdom of zoanthropes, if one with a mystery ailment, it demanded a band aid fix for the immediate problem and it came in the form of assigning a bodyguard. Ganesha came to be that man despite being an outsider and one who remains at his side to this day. Despite gentle poking over the years, he knows little other than he is from a land that cannot comprehend deserts and prefers the areas of greenery where his hands can dip deeply into the soil. The mysterious burns on his arms are always resolutely covered by paint or cloth and a stone wall that refuses to give up any answers. Still, his presence has been of great comfort knowing that should the worst happen, somebody would always be there.
If he wasn’t allowed to play with the other children like he once had, back before Something Happened (He still thinks about Jeanne), then at least he could have someone to talk to. And if the old man was in an indulgent mood, to play with instead.
Having a guardian shadowing his every move didn’t seem enough to sate his father though. In desperation for an actual cure, he began seeking out doctors and scientists from far beyond their borders. In those early days it felt like every other week another one would appear clad in the same white coats as the rest though he still tried to remember their faces as best as he could. Some were nice whereas most had little time for a then confused child who rightfully didn’t appreciate all the poking and prodding. Felt like every session they invented brand new reasons to draw blood, inject something or other and hook him up to yet more machines. It is strange though; they always seem to be busying around the sprawling laboratories as if they were scared of the future despite it being one of the safest places in the world.
What even little Cronos noticed was how they sometimes flinched when he got grumbly and the wary eyes being thrown his way. He decided then and there to always be polite unless they really pushed it in the hopes it will make things easier for everybody. Surely, they would be less upset if he was a model (Test subject) child…? It was sound logic for someone so young.
Now that he’s older, he knows it was fear that caused and still causes that reaction. Suspicions have long been rolling around his brain that something is happening when his body gives out but he has never had the means to prove it. That, and nobody ever wants to talk with the kingdom’s heir even when they’re meant to protect him. In the hollows of his memory, clinging to the edges by the fingertips, he knows about Her and a supposed replica even though he’s not supposed to. Ironic isn’t it? Knowing about the kingdom’s greatest secret by piecing together scratched notes and hushed words when he knows not a single thing when it comes to himself. That would have to change soon.
…
Returning again to the more naïve and tender era, despite everything they tried his condition continued to plague his waking life. This also meant he wasn’t aging out of it which was a hope bandied about for a while that he had also shared. More than once he has discovered consciousness trapped within a glass tube pursued by the sensation of fire and lofty winds. The first few times and for a split second he’d panic, utterly convinced he was drowning before reality of an oxygen mask sitting snug set in. The water always seems bent on leeching every drop of body heat until he’s left shivering from the cold too, he hates that part particularly. All around him would be faces scribbling notes or tapping at screens as though he were some sort of specimen on display to be studied. Another aspect to despise.
It has become routine unfortunately: Tube, released into the care of his bodyguard, towel thrown over his head and the previously attentive personnel drifting away without saying a word. Only seemed to matter to them when he did which only added to the constant pang of loneliness that has dogged him for years. Not once has his father been the one waiting notably. This was just a thing that happened that is not to be spoken of and would be met with a punishment should he try to argue otherwise.
During his early teenage years something… Changed. Quite literally and rather fitting for where they are even though it marked the end of the more innocent era. In the middle of a rather delicate pirouette his beast announced itself and had sent him crashing to the floor with the sudden and violent shift in his balance. He felt like an uncoordinated barrel forced to roll back and forth, struggling to find his feet that seemed to have vanished without his permission. Arms swung uselessly while strange noises emanated from his throat. It was a horrid first experience as things went.
The act of standing managed to send him into a fresh spiral once he realised why his hands wouldn’t work. They were gone. Replaced by stiff flippers narrowing at the tip. They can appear elegant to him now but then…? The horror felt all consuming as he refused to believe and desperately sought out something reflective. Steps that should have been frantic were little better than a toddling shuffle. A (Then) impossible picture tried to coalesce in the panic but denial is a powerful thing. It sang proudly in his blood as much as the mysterious warmth that ignited within his chest.
There should be talons there, came a bemused whisper as he struggled to remain upright.
Sharp as the ones on my feet.
That was enough to make him pause, just for a moment. Shouldn’t the lack of fingers and thumbs been the biggest concern…? The off-ness settled nastily in his stomach, a potent nausea that made his skin itch, and was further fuelled by the red eyes that stared back. It wasn’t anything like a true zoanthrope was supposed to be. No, he was (Is) an anomaly that had spontaneously formed into the shape of a penguin that looked about as deadly as an oversized plush toy. The ability to do his beloved dance had been all but stripped away with the complete loss of his legs. The sheer stress of everything rapidly became too much for his system and he was out like a light.
About an hour later from how little the sun had moved, he began to stir. This was in its self the most curious development because the laboratories have no access to sunlight. There is a human hand back where it should be when he tried to shield his eyes and nary a soul to be seen. He does remember laying there for at least a few minutes more wondering why nobody had come to find him, then a few more just to process what had happened. Even though he was badly chilled, miserable and wanting to give up and retire for the day, duty always comes first. More important to clean up and report in lest he be reprimanded later no matter how he personally felt. Still might have scraped an extra minute here and there mind, he’d earned it.
The conversation that followed still sticks strongly in his mind possibly because it was nothing like he was mentally preparing for as he walked towards the private quarters of King Orion. Surprise or scorn had made perfect sense for the circumstances. He had (Somehow) calmly greeted the man seated behind the desk before the tumble of words to explain what had happened started falling from his mouth. No, instead he received true pride completed by a beaming smile that carried into his voice and a knowing glint in his eye of something he didn’t have the privilege of sharing. It made the flush of embarrassment all the worse.
“Oh my son, it seems your blood has finally awakened! This is truly a momentous day for the kingdom.”
It sounded so painfully sincere, the sort destined for his political speeches for the masses. Still, it helped calm his nerves somewhat even if the heat had refused to dissipate entirely from his cheeks.
“By not having hands…?” His tone was incredulous despite being bound by the manner expected of him. Something unseen had buzzed at the back of his mind in agreement.
“I always believed I would be more like you when it finally happened, if I may.”
“There is much we do not yet understand about our kind despite the valiant efforts of many over the decades.” Came the answer with a dismissive handwave.
“While I can understand your disappointment, to be underestimated will always be to your advantage as long as you choose to make it so. Indeed, I believe it is time for your training to begin in earnest so that you may become a true warrior of our fair kingdom. A protector even! Wisdom alone will not protect our citizens, knowing how to wield your might will give you that edge. Hope for the best -”
“And prepare for the worst. I know, father. When do I begin?”
“Tomorrow once you have properly rested, I will ensure the arrangements are made. Ganesha may wish to retire one day but I am sure he still has a few years left in him to help you on your way and put your… Unique talents to good use.”
Unique. Now wasn’t there a funny word? All his expectations were now little more than ash on the wind without even a frame of reference in how to deal with it all. The idea of fighting like that seemed an impossible task unless a target dummy was involved. Nothing he could say out loud of course but in the privacy of his own mind nobody could stop him, not even the king.
Instead of his next words turning to dismissal however, he tented his fingers together in thought. For a long moment sat a (One-sided) awkward silence between them with barely a breath dared (Also one-sided).
“In fact, I have a proposition for you. In light of this… Development.” His hard gaze lifted just enough to meet that of his son.
“Should your progress prove satisfactory and you have none of your little blackouts for an entire month then I may be inclined to allow you more freedom to interact with the populace. Even with your personal guard and the servants, I have never felt particularly comfortable with the idea of you wandering beyond these walls. Not after what happened to your mother, you understand. I believe a change is long overdue and for the people to see your face at more than a distance. Do you find this acceptable?”
He blinked, just the once he remembers specifically, his brain struggling to comprehend what he had just heard. This was King Orion: The man who has been known to show even an ounce of gentleness towards one woman who no longer walked here. The cracks she left behind had since been filled with the strongest stone lest an enemy of a kingdom take advantage and bring them all to ruin. And yet here he was, offering a kindness even if it was one with strings attached. As quick as he might, Cronos mentally shoved all thoughts and feeling into a box before any signs of excitement could slip forth as he dipped into a bow. To this day he is unsure quite how he managed it.
“I will gratefully accept these terms. Thank you, father.”
And that was that as they say. A simple bead of hope dipped in possibility that would buoy him through all the future bruises, sore muscles and exhaustion. He did not breathe a word to any soul lest word somehow get back and he prayed his body would give him a reprieve. While he cannot say if some form of deity had listened or whether it was purely luck, he did indeed gain that freedom. With restrictions of course because something invariably would be invented and great insistence on his state of dress and appearance but after so long tethered to the palace…? It felt like a blessing.
Ignorance is bliss, a calm before the storm, a hush before the riot - There are more than a few sayings that perfectly describe the period in between the then and the now. It was nice while it lasted and there’s more than a few happier memories nestled there outweighing his childhood years. Alas, there would be no recovery from learning of the darker secrets hidden beneath their feet even if it would be longer yet before he could actually do anything about it. Patience is a virtue is another rather apt one.
His father was correct in assuming people would underestimate his beast. Regardless of his own thoughts about his appearances, opponents he was pitted against quickly learned the folly of acting like he was a comedy act instead of an actual threat. Many looked at those red eyes with a new sense of awe before a human hand was offered to help back onto their feet. He has never been one for grudges no matter what the hissed whispers in his head tried to say, even about the ones whose pride made them slap it away.
One thing that changed little throughout this was his feelings towards his penguin form. It sits more comfortably now, true, yet has never felt quite right. He bristles more against the rare colder weather for seeking warmth instead, even more than the species should if his research is correct. The clumsiness with the flippers never seems to completely abate as he keeps subconsciously expecting a thumb though it did improve. He dreams not of oceans but of hints of rainbow catching on scraps of clouds in an open blue. The squawks are still too deep, too rumbled though to what they are being compared to he cannot possibly know. If Ganesha knew he said nothing. Maybe if Jeanne was still around he’d have someone he would be able to risk confiding in... Ah, if only.
In his 19th year, the kingdom began to chitter with excitement after the announcement of an upcoming tournament for zoanthropes. Politically it is a stroke of genius, a way to get word out of their existence beyond the hidden channels while proving they are not without protection from outside threats. The citizenry did not need to know about the secret treaty to bring in mercenaries to actually act as their enforcement, just the ‘broad strokes’ that involved him being the symbol of Orion’s greatness. He does not dispute his father’s wisdom for he knows how cautious he is. No, Cronos merely sensed a rare opportunity ripe for the taking.
One with the tiniest bit of leverage he could use.
“Father, may you spare me a moment of your time?”
Dark eyes flicker upward with his lip curled in annoyance. The quill stills in his hand as he scoffs. Not the best sign but he refuses to cower or apologise for his presence. There would only be one chance and he is going to seize it come what may.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing? The tournament is only days away now; I will not stand for you creating a poor image at such a critical stage.”
“I was just heading to the arena to check the last of the construction had been removed as per your order. I promise I will not take long.”
“Fine but I will give you no longer for I am busy. Out with it.”
Immediately he dips his head in deference as a mild string of heat ripples across his shoulders in encouragement. The air drawn into his lungs feels charged with static.
“You have made clear that should an outsider win, they will be granted accelerated citizenship with the freedom to come and go as they please. As our representative, I wondered that should I be the winner if I might make ask a single favour of you instead.”
That seems to steal his attention away from where it had begun to drift downward. His expression tells of nothing until there is a huff of breath just loud enough to be heard, that of acknowledgement.
“If being lauded as champion is not enough for you then I suppose such a small indulgence will do no harm,” he begins. The quill tips in a metronome motion upon the air, a clear indication of future words being chosen with the upmost care.
“I will allow it if, and only if! The treaty will not be affected in any way. Until it is signed there is every possibility things might fail and that is not a circumstance that can be afforded if we are to safeguard our future. Are we in agreement?”
“Of course, and you have my deepest gratitude. I will leave you to your work and remind the servants not to interrupt at such a crucial time. Rest assured I will be sure to do our people proud when the time comes.”
The king says nothing when he bows deeply for his attention had already returned to the finer details before him. The prince quickly disappears out of the room lest his hammering heart be heard and does not dare breathe for five paces further to be safe. He cannot believe he has gotten away with it, surely a single favour without any hint as to what for is suspicious in how vague that made things? Yet he seemed content enough knowing that whatever it might be, it would not interfere with his own plans. It won’t of course, he only wants the ability to ask a single question on one specific subject he desires without fear of reproach:
What the scientists are really doing while under the orders of King Orion?
He wants to know the truth