#all i write in this fandom is increasingly self-indulgent aus. oh well!!

[missyourflight]

A Riot in the Heart | max/daniel | 2.4k | mature

“I love the comedies, too,” Max says. “When all ends well.”

A Shakespeare In Love AU.

[iwrestlenow]

Many More To Die, Chapter 11

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 11)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: The group learns more about how Patton and Logan survived the Cleansing as well as more about Colonel Mori--and in doing so, they discover the royal family's greatest secret.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: None really, not this time.

This chapter got HUGE, so I have this for you now? And more coming SOON in the next installment, which is p much 3/4 written. XD

Special super bonus thanks to @elliot-orion, who beta'd this one (AN ACTUAL BETA, WHAT IS THIS SELF CONFIDENCE I AM FEELING? XD) but they haven't seen this version yet so if it sucks, it's all on my swelled head. :P

And if you've been waiting for Dukexiety? No one's making out yet, but we finally have a teensy bit of reciprocation from our favorite Spider. LOL!

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1021, A.A.

“Shadow's Balls!”

Roman frowned down at Logan, growing increasingly worried. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Logan snapped, clearly furious yet more petulant than irate with the scowl on his face that was so deep it had morphed into a pout. “I can't...this isn't...”

Trailing off, Logan let out a furious shriek and flung a handful of gravel against the far wall of the mausoleum they occupied. The sound of tiny stones pinging off of marble echoed in the chamber--

--until one stone ricocheted and hit Roman in the face, making him yelp and stumble back against the wall.

“OW! Ow, ow, my eye!...”

“Oh Souls—Roman, I'm so sorry...”

Smaller hands found Roman's, gently tugging them away from his face. Blinking his eyes open, Roman watched Logan examine him with open concern, his entire expression twitching intermittently as he fought the overwhelming sensory input that came from touching him.

“It's a small scratch—barely a drop of blood.” Logan sighed, running his thumb over the skin just beside the outer corner of his eye. “You'll be fine.”

“So will you.” Roman replied softly, reaching up to catch Logan's hand in his. You will be fine—you'll get this. I promise.”

Logan fell silent, just staring hard at Roman's minor injury while his jaw clenched and relax fitfully.

“...swear it on the Spider's Thread?” he finally asked.

“I do. Now...try again.”

Logan took a deep breath, nodding as he drew back to resume his place on the floor. For a second, Roman swore he felt Logan's fingers tighten just a little at his cheek as he took his hand back, but it was so fleeting he figured he imagined it.

As Logan sat cross-legged on the gravel strewn floor again and shut his eyes, Roman took another look around the mausoleum. The cemetery Logan led him to was a fairly large one in a town bordering the river, lucky enough to have a nice big mausoleum for the town's elite. It was, however, not quite what it appeared, as it had a chamber reserved for the rituals of his tribe—the building had been erected centuries earlier by friends to the Necromata that had later died for their good will.

They were buried in the very chamber where Logan was now trying to slip into some kind of trance, two plaques on the far wall marking their final resting place.

Logan had been trying, for two hours, to achieve the state of mind he needed to work at the Loom, but when the spirits called out to him, when he felt their emotions it took him right out of it. Scared him, became too much...

Thinking of Logan's twitching features and the way he squirmed when Roman hugged him, an idea bloomed in his head, petals unfurling and revealing itself with dazzling clarity.

Moving to sit across from Logan, Roman reached for his hands.

His eyes snapped open, immediately trying to tug free. “Roman, what--”

“Do you trust me?”

“...yes.”

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it with a huff and, finally, a fond little smile.

“I swear it by the throne's divine right and the noble blood of kings. Is that sufficient?”

Roman felt a surge of something...indescribable. Heat flooding his chest, a smile blooming on his face—and he swore he could feel something rush out of him and into Logan through their joined hands.

“I'd say the oath of the knights at court is plenty sufficient.” Roman whispered, then shook the probably dopey smile off his face and focused.

“The feelings of the dead are overwhelming you, right? Well, so does touch right now. How do you calm down and get comfortable when that happens?” he asked.

Logan blinked, bright blue eyes unfocused as he considered the issue. “I had not considered the correlation previously. Perhaps that approach would be helpful...if no less terrifying.”

“Why?”

The light in the chamber was low, provided only by a few small candles ringing the gravel patch, but Roman was pretty sure he could see Logan blushing.

“When I experience human contact...your touch...I...surrender to it, if that makes sense. I lean into it, I—give myself over to it.”

Roman squeezed Logan's hands hard, smiling softly.

“Then give yourself over to the spirits.” he urged. “I'm here, I'll help you.”

“The ritual--”

“Screw the ritual. You said I'm allowed to be here, so...I'm here. I've got you.”

Logan just watched him for a long moment...then squeezed his hands hard enough to hurt. Roman didn't flinch.

Just as abruptly, Logan let go, and removed something from his hand. Roman frowned, squinting...

“...have you been wearing that ring all this time?”

Logan nodded, displaying the heavy silver ring with its lapis blue stone. Unlike lapis lazuli, however, it was flecked not with gold, but with aqua, like the ocean itself had flicked its shimmering waters across a deepening night sky.

“Correct. It is our family's Soulstone—the ring is set with lapis sangua, commonly known as petrified spirit.” Logan explained, pocketing the ring. “Spells cast upon the ring activate when the ring is put on, and dissolve when the wearer removes it. This one was cast with a spell to bring focus and clarity during the ritual.”

“Why didn't I notice it?”

“Grandpap laid a spell of aversion on it centuries ago—you saw it, the spell just causes your mind to filter that fact out unless attention is specifically drawn to it.”

“Shouldn't you keep it on?” Roman asked warily.

Shutting his eyes again, Logan took a deep breath and reached for Roman's hands again.

“It hasn't been working for me thus far—I'd rather try your method without distraction or influence.”

He fell silent then, and his eyes stayed shut for the rest of the ritual, expression calm and composed, his fingers firmly linked with Roman's the entire time.

*********

1033, A.A.

“Souls Eternal—Grandpap is going to murder you dead when he finds out you're the one that stole the fucking Soulstone Logan what the holy Hells.”

“I think, at this point, Grandpap will understand my petty theft given the circumstances.” Logan replied tersely, leafing through the volume in his hands. The years had done little to change it—then again, it was a magically imbued book, so it was to be expected.

“At any rate, you'll see when he shows up.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, voice wavering just a little with trepidation.

“You hatched a half-baked plot to break me out of the palace dungeons by joining the royal guard. Whenever you're about to do something stupid, you always tell your best friend, Terrence, what you're up to, and he always tells Aunt Patty, who snitches to Pari at the first opportunity. And you know they told Grandpap immediately, meaning he's coming for you the moment word gets back to the settlement about my involvement in the king's resurrection.”

“...fuck. I'm as dead as you are...also, snitch? Half-baked? Where did you learn to talk like a normal person?”

The silence was long, tense, fraught.

“Roman taught me.” Logan confessed softly. Snapping the book shut in his hands, he held it up for Remus, Janus, Patton, and Virgil all to see as he stood in the middle of the office he'd led their little party of runaways into.

“The Soulstone is the reason I was protected from the Cleansing...but this? This book is is why I was arrested in the first place.” he declared far more evenly than the mixture of grief and rage simmering in his blood should allow. “It's why Colonel Mori tried to kill me as a boy, and it's why I need to ask you all to help me.”

“Lolo,” Patton sighed, “we're your friends, and your family. You don't have to ask us for anything.”

Logan shook his head. “Not this—this, I must ask. I must give you the option to walk away, because once you know what is in this book? It cannot be unknown, short of the Cleansing, and I will quite cheerfully burn the world to ash if it means sparing you that fate.”

The silence that followed his declaration was thick—but fleeting.

“That'd be fun to watch,” Remus drawled, arms folded, “but I'll pass, Four Eyes. That's my brother out there, and if he knows shit that'll get him killed? I'll know it, too. Besides, I'm still trying to get into Virgil's pants, so--”

“Souls, my brother's gonna be executed for regicide—or something.” Virgil groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face in slow dread.

“Falsehood.”

Virgil stilled, then dropped his hands to watch Logan suspiciously—and far too hopefully for Logan's liking.

“...really?”

“Of course.” Logan replied calmly—staring very deliberately at Remus, and not Virgil as he spoke. “I won't consider assassination until we have recovered Roman. He's the only one with a chance of stopping me, and if I'm going to murder the prince for attempting to seduce my brother—as is the social expectation for an older sibling in defense of the younger's virtue—it would be rude to be anything less than sporting with regards to the endeavor.”

“Loganberry...” Virgil huffed, but ultimately trailed off with a glare that held no heat and so much affection it made Logan's chest feel like a helium balloon.

“...I love you, too, Stormcloud.” Logan reassured him, glancing at Patton.

Patton just shrugged. “You've been my best friend for eight years, Lolo. You really don't have to ask.”

“...Janus?”

“I'm not one to put much stock in loyalty...but I have a debt to repay to my father, and you know I loathe owing anyone. I'm...with Patton, and he is with you, so...”

“Virgil?”

Virgil shrugged. “The Spider does not question, he spins for his Weaver. Same goes for Lazari...just show us what's in the book, doofus.”

Logan could no longer claim he felt nothing—not with his memories, not knowing what he did now about...everything. Still, there was no room for sentiment with Roman's life in the balance...

He gave himself three seconds to be overcome by the support around him before he clutched the book tighter and flipped it open.

“Roman and I discovered that his ancestor is buried among our tribe. We theorized he might have been one of us, so we began to research the royal lineages to confirm it. What was publicly available was as limited as what Roman was able to sneak out of this castle...but Roman knew where to find what we needed: the Forbidden Tomes.”

“What?!?” Remus screeched, bolting towards Logan. “Are you telling me Twinsy Princey got ahold of one of the Forbidden Tomes and never told me? I have been trying to read one of those things since I was twelve...”

Logan blinked, only just jerking away to avoid Remus's grasping hands. “You know about the Forbidden Tomes?”

“The allegedly lost volumes of the magicians' histories? Hells yes, I do! That's where they keep all the juicy stuff, like human sacrifice and soul collection and scrying in entrails...”

“Falsehood.” Logan replied with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. “One, the Forbidden Tomes were not believed to be lost, they were said to have been burned by the king before the death of the Animator—to hide his greatest secret.”

“His True Name.” Patton chimed in. “I knew that.”

“Yes, sweetie, because you're a Herald—you know everything.” Janus sighed with a sidelong look at Patton that had Logan mentally rifling through his vocabulary flash cards. He was fairly certain that the expression for Janus's features at the moment was concentrated soft.

“Only what I see in the past and the future, silly!” Patton giggled, tipping his head onto Janus's shoulder.

“That is a matter I would like to discuss later.” Logan replied. “However, digression aside, the Tome held this information in a manner we did not anticipate.”

“Oh, Shadow's Balls.”

Logan glanced at Remus, who had gone suddenly ashen. The fact was one he found surprising, given what he knew from limited contact and Roman's stories about his brother's...predilections.

The microscopic portion of him that still believed in the old prejudices against the royal family unraveled with relief to know there were limits to what even Remus could stomach—Remus, the boy Roman had often referred to with fraternal tenderness as 'a garbage can in human skin.'

“Your genius intellect is not hyperbole, I see.” Logan observed.

Virgil blinked, casting Remus a look Logan pointedly did not try to identify.

“My big brother, calling you a genius?” Virgil huffed with a thoughtful pout that barely disguised a smirk. “Okay, I'll admit: that's kinda sexy.”

Rather than look vindicated, Remus just crept around Virgil and hung on him from behind. This time, Virgil let him without comment as Remus hid his face against Virgil's hair.

“What am I missing?” Patton asked uncertainly. “Janny?...”

“I have a theory...but I'll keep it to myself for now.” Janus reassured him, leaning over to...not kiss the top of Patton's head, but brush his nose against his dark curls.

“Your theory is likely correct, as is the conclusion Remus came to.” Logan replied. “Roman and I were not looking for the Animator's true name when we sought this out...we were looking for the royal lineage, in hopes of locating something that was documented before Zero—the point at which the Animator died.”

“...and you're saying the Animator's True Name...” Patton breathed, his eyes going wide with shock. “Oh, sweet baby—oh, jeepers, oh Logan!...”

Logan held up a hand, passing the book to Virgil.

“You're a Sensitive. You can understand any mystical dialect...please read the third page, from the top.”

Virgil accepted it hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder at Remus, who had finally lifted his head. Turning back to the book, he flipped it open and began to read.

“The Royal House of Andres. Blessed be the Sacred Souls Eternal, the birth of King Thomas Roman I, son of Eternity, heart-name of...”

Virgil froze, a strangled noise coming from his throat. Seemingly by reflex, Remus was holding him tighter, tapping a visible pattern onto Virgil's shoulder: four beats, seven beats, eight beats.

“Mori.” Virgil finally got out. “This isn't a royal lineage, it's a Necromata lineage.”

“A fact which I can confirm.” Logan replied, turning to Janus and Patton, who stood in wide eyed shock. “The Soulstone, I stole and enchanted to protect myself against the Cleansing—but it clearly didn't work as it was supposed to, because under its influence, Roman still remembered quite a lot about me that should have remained obscured along with my own memories. Apparently I remembered as well, because one of the things I studied in my ten years of imprisonment was the family tree of the royal bloodline.”

“You think you remembered this, subconsciously.” Janus mused.

“Correct. Seeing this ten years ago gave me what we now know: that Thomas Roman I was a necromancer, that he was, in fact, Colonel Mori—then Corporal Mori. The language in both written lineages is very similar, but the Necromata do not worship the Shadow as a god, it's the name of the afterlife. We practice ancestral worship, deify our dead as the Sacred Souls Eternal. The heart-name is the True Name.”

“So if Thomas Roman I is a king, and a necromancer...” Janus replied, trailing off. His features smoothed out into something unreadable, perfect calm and a perfect lack of emotion.

Almost immediately, Patton held up a hand to call for silence. After several moments, Janus came back to life again, the human half of his face paling visibly.

“'Son of Eternity,' what does that part mean?” he asked.

Logan took a deep breath—but before he could speak, Remus was answering softly, his voice strangely tight.

“In the written tradition of the Necromata, that line should read 'son of,' followed by the father's name, and 'fruit of,' followed by the mother's name. In their oral tradition, it is said that the first Necromata was born from the womb of Death's lungs...and the seed of Eternity's soul.”

“But the Animator was the first--”

Logan watched Janus stop himself, the slitted pupil of his serpentine eye dilating until it looked nearly human, swallowing up the sunshine yellow of his iris.

“History has it wrong.” Remus croaked. “King Thomas Andres didn't slay the Animator...Thomas Andres, our ancestor, overthrew the king—the Necromata have a legitimate claim to the throne.”

“Not just the Necromata.” Virgil announced, gaze riveted to the book in his hands. “Check this out: Blessed be the Sacred Souls Eternal, the birth of Prince Josiah Kolar I, son of Thomas Roman, fruit of Arabel of the Midnight Blood, heart-name of Crofter.”

Logan watched Janus process the information, how one hand drifted to rub his jaw along the side where scales were layered over skin. His eyes went briefly wide, then shadowed, then something like...relief smoothed the furrow in his brow.

“What's that mean?” Remus asked. “Prince Josiah—why is his True Name your last name?”

“Because,” Patton replied, “stripping a necromancer of their True Name, and binding it as their Name, is how you beat the Cleansing.”

“More of that prophetic knowledge stuff, Pattycake?”

Patton shared a brief look with Janus, then surveyed the rest of the group.

“...sort of.” he replied.

**********

1026, A.A.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“You can pretty your please all you want, Patton, but after that incident with the guard that tried to gag you, I don't trust a word that comes out of your cute little mouth. One cellmate, that's it.”

Patton pouted, then suddenly realized what Janus said and smiled at him.

“You think my mouth is cute?”

Janus pressed his lips together until they were a thin, white line—but it failed to hide the color in his cheeks that made his scales glow burnished gold in the low light just outside of the cell he now shared with Logan Berry.

“I didn't say that.” he hedged.

“Did too!” Patton singsonged brightly, feeling his own cheeks turn warm and pink with pleasure. Janus had just turned nineteen, and Patton was only barely thirteen, but Patton couldn't help the fact that he had a hopeless crush on the drake assassin. He was just so beautiful, and so secretly kind—but then he had to go and kill the captain of the assassins corps with necroshade...Patton heard another guard say it had taken him a full two weeks to die.

Could anyone really blame Patton for being a tiny bit in love?

“Quiet, sweetie, you'll wake him.”

Patton looked over his shoulder, where Logan was sound asleep in his cot.

“It's been almost a year, Janny—I know his sleeping patterns at this point.” he reassured Janus before facing him again. “Poor kiddo sleeps real hard—he doesn't rest enough.”

“Worry more about yourself, Patton. Back on topic: are you still remembering?”

Patton sobered with a wistful sigh. The memories...now those were scary things. If not for Janny, Patton would have been just plain lost when he started to realize the bits floating in his head weren't leftovers from the Cleansing, but actual memories about a week after Janus gave him his new name.

All the broken bits of things he knew were important to him once upon a time, rattling around in his head, the hellish nightmares he had...the moments of time where he couldn't remember what he'd been doing...

Patton finally nodded. “I figured out the thing about being twelve. Remember all those times you made jokes about the Animator? Well, twelve is the age of Reckoning.”

“Reckoning...that's when you receive your Name, isn't it?”

“Officially, yeah, since twelve is the age of decision among our people. Before our twelfth birthday, our Names can change, y'know? That's why they imprison the children they arrest rather than execute 'em—it's easier to take a Name before it's permanently bound to our True Name—our identity.”

Patton watched as Janus's features smoothed out. He wasn't like most people, who got real scowly when he was thinking—when his face was blank and calm, that was when Patton knew not to talk because he probably wouldn't get through to him. Totally neutral meant he was totally lost in thought.

“You said you were twelve when I gave you that new name.” Janus finally remarked.

Patton thought about it, searching through what little of his memory was starting to trickle back into his head...

“Maybe not quite?” he offered. “I'm not totally sure. Still...you think maybe a new Name can break the Cleansing?”

“If that were the case, Logan would likely be halfway to remembering his own life by now—he gave himself that name.” Janus murmured. “There's something about it, however...if it's as easy as giving a necromancer a new Name, why hasn't every Necromata ever imprisoned broken the Cleansing?”

Patton wanted to answer—he really did...but he got strangely dizzy. It was weird, but not unpleasant, warm and kind of tingly.

Shaking it off, he blinked--

And realized he was slumped against the bars, both of his hands captured in Janus's. The young assassin's eyes were wide and sharp. Any other person, Patton would have called him scared.

“Janny? What's the matter?” he asked apprehensively.

Janus frowned. “You don't know?”

“No! I just got kinda dizzy—what happened? What did I do?”

Janus just stared at him....then tightened his grip on Patton's hands and took a deep breath.

“You told me.”

“...told you what?”

“How the Necromata can beat the Cleansing. I asked, and...you just...told me.”

********** 1033, A.A.

“That was what you told him?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded brightly. “Yeppers! Janus had to tell me what I said, though. I go into these trances where I see the stuff any time someone asks me certain questions.”

“Pertaining to the movements of Fate—and the power can only be tapped by the Necromata.” Janus added. Logan took note of the way he subtly shifted closer to Patton, and only noticed that Janus had reached for Patton when he caught a flickering glimpse of yellow gloved fingers curling over Patton's shoulder. “One of the tribe. Which is why I've been very careful to make sure you two were never far apart.”

“In case I ever asked him anything his power would compel him to answer.” Logan realized, feeling a strange weight in his chest. It wasn't unpleasant—smooth and warm, heavy as it settled inside his heart. It reminded him a little of the way he felt when Virgil first aided Logan with his magic, when they realized they were bound as Weaver and Spider...

“Like that first time I did.” Janus confirmed. “Given how both you and he have shucked off the effects of the Cleansing, I have to believe it's true.”

“That's not possible, is it?” Remus asked curiously. With a start, Logan realized Remus had taken up residence hanging off him rather than Virgil, an elbow perched on his shoulder—the sudden proximity of his voice the only indicator that he was touching Logan beyond the subtle buzzing awareness at the point of contact.

“Isn't the True Name the root of identity?” Remus continued with unabashed excitement. “Wouldn't stripping the True Name essentially kill them, even if it's bound in place of the Name that was taken? I mean, without replacing it.”

Logan's chest tightened as it hit him all at once. As children, at the Festival...more than once since then, caught in the circle of Roman's strong arms...

Roman had given him a new True Name.

“That's what happened.” Logan realized aloud, suddenly unable to breathe. “Bound to the memory, to the power...and a new True Name laid in its place. The keepers of our souls replaced our True Names.”

Logan blinked, then looked at the other pair.

“Patton—your True Name was Heart?”

Patton nodded slowly. In spite of himself, Logan huffed and glanced at Janus.

“You realize that the name I gave you that night was of the ungulate, not the organ.” he pointed out.

Janus sniffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, then it's just tragic that I misunderstood you, isn't it? It would be so much better to leave Patton without his memory and his power, I completely agree.”

Logan rolled his eyes at that—but agreed with his kinsman far less grudgingly than he might otherwise.

“What is your True Name now?”

“Heart.” Patton replied. “But that's my Name now.”

“As is mine.” Logan confirmed. “Patton...what is your new True Name?”

Shooting an uncertain look at Janus, who simply nodded, Patton opened his mouth to tell him.

Four things happened in that instant—the first being Patton's True Name touching Logan's ears.

The second was the realization that it wasn't Patton's voice that spoke it aloud.

The third was the sound of the Forbidden Tome hitting the floor with a cry of alarm from Virgil.

The fourth rendered Logan unable to react to the other three, because it was the sudden lack of air in his lungs, the screaming howl of death, undiluted and unhinged, calling for his immediate surrender.

Logan knew, as he hit the floor with a wail that came out sounding like a moan, that this was his Claim at work—taking Roman's death as his own.

The curse was working itself on Roman again, more aggressively—not a seduction into death, but an outright attack on his will to live.

And it was attacking a creature who could not die.