Before the feeling of terror could fully overtake him, his flesh started eerily knitting itself back together and reattaching the two halves of his body, threads of muscle and sinew weaving across the gap like roots burrowing through soil. As bone fused and skin sealed over the raw edges, the water eased its iron grip, slithered out of his lungs and pushed him upwards again. Armin stared in disbelief at the slowly receding form of the Spellwither. 'Why the hell would you do something like this, why put me through this, what the fuck is wrong with you??' The water drifted him ashore, where Veyr and Silas were already waiting. He felt a swirl of different emotions while laying there in the sand. His mind was a whirlwind, fragments of terror replaying: the suffocation, the bite, the endless void of pain. Helplessness crashed over him first—an overwhelming tide that made his fists clench in the sand, nails digging into his palms until they drew blood that healed almost instantly. In front of the Spellwither he was unable to do anything, his life completely up to the whim of it, without any effort it could have snuffed the life out of him. In this world he was incapable of using the very power it ran on. Grief, anger and fear mixed in as his traumatic experience continued replaying itself over and over again in his mind. How was any of this fair or reasonable, what had he done to deserve this treatment? As he opened his eyes and saw his two escorts, anger overwhelmed everything else. "WHERE THE HELL DID YOU BRING ME? WHY DIDN'T YOU DO ANYTHING? WHAT GOES ON IN THAT BRAIN OF YOURS TO JUST LET THIS HAPPEN? WHAT KIND OF BACKWARDS SAVAGES ARE YOU? I HOPE THE EMPIRE WIPES YOU OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!"
Veyr and Silas exchanged a glance, their faces unperturbed as they listened to him calmly, although they didn't understand a single word of his foreign language, but the raw emotion needed no translation. Veyr stepped forward, his voice laced with a paternal patience that only fueled Armin's ire.
"Please calm down, Your Highness. This was a necessary step—"
"FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR STEPS", he said with a shaky voice, his despair making itself known.
"We had to do this as a way to prove to the doubters among council that you are not secretly an abomination of the void," Veyr continued, undeterred, his tone measured, as if explaining a harsh but inevitable truth, "in order to be able to crown you as prince and official heir to the throne."
"MY FIRST DECREE WILL BE TO STICK THIS NAIL UP YOUR ASS", Armin vehemently gestured with his rusted nail in hand.
It took quite a while for the rage to ebb. Veyr and Silas just stood by his side silently, their presence a quiet anchor—Veyr's eyes soft, Silas's stoic but not unkind. Eventually, Armin pushed to his feet, his legs unsteady, and snapped, "Let's get out of this shithole," without bothering to translate, but they understood the intent. They retraced their path through the winding tunnels to the carriage, his rage suppressing his fear of turning his back towards the spellwither. The journey back in the carriage was spent silent, the rhythmic creak of wheels doing little to drown out the echoes in his mind.
Back in his chambers Armin paced through the room, his thoughts still all over the place. 'The healing I witnessed must have been the Spellwither's doing. I know my body can heal but that was too much….', he thought, prodding at his unmarked skin where the bite had been.
'This is all so messed up, I never want to see water again...', he avoided the basin of dripping water, the sight of it inciting the onset of panic.
'How can I get vengeance when it's so powerful and valuable to the federation. Even bringing back modern medicine won't replace it. That kind of healing prowess is insane, no wonder it's the capital's royal healer….
Questions swirled, his thoughts jumping from one topic to another:
He? She? or what is that thing anyways…
Would love to see if it can still grin at me like that after getting hit by a missile…..
Veyr called me "your highness" for the first time, is it official now...
I wanna know which shitheads in the council doubt me, since they are treating me so well I need to reciprocate in kind….
Or do they just want the throne empty to grab more power for themselves, Veyr mentioned something along the lines of council or clan politics….
Need to learn more to consolidate power and cement my rule…..
The thought sparked a grim resolve amid the turmoil.
Different thoughts kept rushing through his head until late into the night. Nightmares filled with dark oceans and eldritch horrors dwelling in their depths tormented him in his sleep, waking him up drenched in sweat countless times. The next morning he tried settling back into his routine to learn the language as fast as possible, but the trauma lingered —he couldn't stop being hyper-aware of his surroundings, jumping at every rustle of leaves or creak of wood, his trusty nail always within reach. This eased off a little bit over the following weeks as he tried to keep his mind occupied. There was only one positive development aside from his improving language skills. It had been decided that his regular visits to the healer would be postponed until he had a firm grasp of the language, so they could work together in discovering the functionality of his body. He was allowed to roam the palace now as well, but Armin just didn't feel safe outside his room yet. A few more weeks passed holed up in his room, intensely studying the language until he had reached functional proficiency in reading, writing and speaking with fluency that sharpened daily.
One morning, the pattern broke. Just like before, Armin was unexpectedly woken up by Veyr's gentle voice, the older man's weathered face hovering with a familiar warmth that now carried a hint of caution, as if aware of the scars he'd helped inflict.
"Don't tell me you'll drag me back to that healer." Armin muttered, his voice laced with residual bitterness, the words flowing more naturally in their tongue.
"Good morning to you as well, Your Highness" he said with a smirk.
"Don't worry, I am here to prepare you for the upcoming council meeting. The topic of discussion will be your official coronation. Before that you'll finally get to know the two chancellors, who are very excited to meet you."
"The last time someone was excited to meet me, didn't end up well, you know?" Armin replied with a frown, the memory of the lake's depths flashing unbidden, sending a chill down his spine. Nonetheless, he rose, splashing his face at the basin—bracing against the water's touch—and dressed in his regal robe, its fibers a subtle reminder of his shifting status.
"I assure you nothing of that sort will happen", Veyr said, leading the way through the palace's still unfamiliar halls.
Eventually they arrived at a large dining hall, where Vorsmelk and Elyxyn were already waiting for him. Both had transformed their appearance to appear more human-like, in an effort to look more like the child of their creator and make Armin more comfortable. He was wearing more practical clothing, vaguely reminiscent of a blacksmith. She on the other hand wore a flowing dress. As Armin entered, they approached with genuine warmth, born from decades of loyalty to Syn and a shared isolation as unique beings. With a big smile Elyxyn embraced him in a big hug, "I am so happy to finally meet you!". Meanwhile Vorsmelk also walked over, ruffled his hair with a large hand, his deep, rich voice rumbling: "Good to see you kid". Armin was taken aback by the familial affection—a stark contrast to the council's scrutiny or the Spellwither's torment.
"You can call me Elyx, and this stoic guy here Vors."
"It's nice to meet you too", Armin answered with a slight bow.
"No need to be so formal little one", she said, effortlessly picking him up in her arms, "you are like a nephew for us, so no need to be shy. We would have loved to see you sooner, but someone…", she glared at Veyr, "thought it was too risky."
Veyr raised his hands defensively: "That was a valid concern! And you agreed!"
"I didn't, but you and Vors were adamant about it." With this she turned around, walked to the long table and placed Armin at the head of the table, "here, sit on your fathers place."
Armin could tell that they were just joking around a bit and not seriously fighting.
"You really shouldn't treat him like a small kid", Veyr interjected.
"Veyr is probably right", Vors added, his stoic nature masking a protective instinct forged from battles alongside Syn.
"What do you two oafs know about handling children?", Elyxyn retorted, rolling her eyes.
"He might look like it, but you can't see him as a normal child. Trust me, I have spend the most time with him."
"So far, you've been wrong about him. Or did he turn out to be some horror?"
Armin definitely felt weird being treated like the age he looked for the first time since arriving in this new world. By now, everybody had sat down beside him.
"Look, let's just ask him. Armin, do you think you are an adult or should you be treated like a little child?"
"You can definitely count me as an adult. Sorry Elyx."
"Don't worry about it Armin, Elyx just loves children. She always spends her free time helping them or building some toys." Vors explained with a grin. easing the moment.
Armin turned to Veyr: "How come you can influence official policy?"
The two chancellors turned to Veyr, surprise flickering, "You haven't told him yet?"
"Not yet, I planned to do it here. This was going to serve as his first lesson on politics."