Work Text:
Aaravos knew what he was doing, yet blinded by grief and cold loneliness his plan was to take what was taken from him, and make sure those who took it felt the same pain of loss and suffering he did for all those years. He watched his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, ripped away and reduced to stardust as if she meant nothing.
He walked through the halls of the castle, remembering how he ran through the same halls when he was young, no younger than Leola. The council taught him to control his powers, yet just like his daughter he was told he was a danger, and threatened the livelihood of his people. The heavy metal doors of the council room opened, showing five filled seats surrounding a large round white marble table in the middle of the room, each council member sat in silence as the only known ‘fallen’ star-touch elf entered the room.
Long ago the council said that names ‘were for mortals’ so they chose titles.
“The Merciful One” “The Stern One” “The Sorrowed One” “The Passionate One” and “The Hopeful One”
Aaravos twirled the Nova Blade in his star freckled hand, there was fear in the room, and oh he could smell it on them. He stood there, feeling a sense of power over “The Great Ones” , a feeling that Aaravos was drowning in.
“Council…” Aaravos says with a long drawled out tone that’s hard to read.
“Aaravos…?” The Merciful One squeaks with a small hushed voice, The Stern One throws her a glare with golden eyes, but he doesn't speak up. ‘Fallen’ star or not his mortal name would not be spoken here. The elf stood there, long white hair tied back in a high ponytail with a golden band that matched his eyes.
One moment Aaravos was standing here, the next he swung at The Passionate One’s neck, beheading her in an instant with no mercy. Slowly she turns to dust, a quick and painless death Leola wished she could've had.
The Stern One stands up, hands shaking as he places them on the table, staring at Aaravos. The ‘fallen’ star is still a murderer, but this time he had turned his blade on his own kind.
“Murderer…” The Merciful One whispers. This is not the Aaravos she knew, not the same star that followed through hallways asking about the council. Not the same child with bright eyes. Not anymore.
She was the first to attack, but the last to fall. It felt like it happened in seconds, watching the once bright star slaughter his council members, once even he had sat among them. The Merciful One tries to pry the blade from Aaravos’ grasp, she holds a long staff against the blade. Slow tears slid down her star painted cheeks, knowing that she would soon fall, knowing she would turn weak.
“You are not this!” She wept in a final attempt of a plea, her arms tired yet Aaravos pressed the sword harder against the staff in a hope to break it.
“You sat amongst us once!” The words come out in a sob now, memories flood back to Aaravos, both good and bad.
The night of his ‘acceptance meeting’ with the council rushed back to him, he was young, no younger than 20 years, the youngest in the council that night, he stood in front of them, enchanting them with wild magic, everything from that point on was a mess of fade.
“You left me to die!” Aaravos snaps, swinging the sword hard against The Merciful One’s side, only to find plate armor, he swings again this time earning a loud “CLANG” from the armor.
“You killed her!” He swings again.
“Ripped him away from me!” Another swing this time mixed with loud sobs from the two elves. Aaravos drops to his knees at the final swing, keeping his grip on the Nova Blade tight as he weeps, loud and painful cries. His vision blurs and he slowly drops the blade as he’s lost in his sorrow, remembering everything he’s lost.
The blade swings, but this time it’s not Aaravos swinging it, the cut is clean and quick. One moment the Fallen Star was sitting there the next he had a hand to his chest. He looks down at the stab through his chest cavity, the blade pierced through the black star on the center of his chest with no mercy from The ‘Merciful One.
Consciousness goes quickly, for a second Aaravos watches his own body disintegrate, wondering if this is what Leola had felt.
His eyes open, no longer in the council room he stands in the Sea of the Castout surrounded by galaxies and shimming stars. He had come here after Leola’s death, legend said he cried the sea after that fateful day.
“Daddy?” A small voice calls to him from afar, Aaravos looks up remembering that voice. Honestly, how could he forget it?
“Leola?” He calls back to the voice, he hears splashing in the water around him almost like small feet running. Aaravos looks every which way, unsure of where the sounds are coming from now.
“Leola!” He calls again, this time louder as he combats the splashing as it echoes. Soon he felt small arms around him as his once lost daughter hugged him tightly, a soft cry from the girl. He kneels down, holding her tight, afraid of losing her again.