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Thomas glares up at the Emperor, pants and spits blood on the floor. He may be downed, but he refuses to bow his head, not to someone like him.
His sword is across the floor--or the remnants of it anyway. It shattered under the weight of too many spells, unable to bear up under the Emperor's assault. A holy blade, blessed by every Goddess Thomas could beg or cajole or deal into doing so, and still, and still it did not hold up.
"So kill me, already!" he shouts, making direct eye contact with the Emperor. His heart pounds in his chest but he is not afraid. He would not have gone on this quest, he would not have come to this battle were he not prepared to spend his life.
The Emperor sighs. "Kid, I'm not going to kill you."
"I'm twenty!"
"Oh. Huh. Really? Usually Marcus sends teens after me." The Emperor settles back in his jagged and spiked throne, puts an elbow on the armrest and props his chin up on his fist. "Maybe he’s sending adults to try and knock me off my rhythm–I guess you are pretty cute."
"Pretty–that’s not the point. We're supposed to be fighting."
"That's what they told you. That's what they always tell all of you." The Emperor flicks his fingers, and light blossoms to his side, too-bright and too-pure.
Thomas squints and throws his arm up to cover his eyes. If this is an attack, it's an effective one; he can barely see.
"Kid, you can look now."
"I told you!" Thomas shouts, lowering his arm so that he can glare properly, "I'm not a--oh."
The light has dimmed, formed shapes. Ones Thomas knows. Marcus, Sister Leliana, and...
"That's Jason," he chokes out.
Jason was his friend. They grew up together. They were the oldest in the orphanage, and when Jason had been chosen by the priesthood, Thomas had been... happy for him. It had been good that someone was recognising what an awesome person Jason was--if anyone deserved to be adopted, he did--but Thomas selfishly did not want him to leave. Did not want to be left behind. Had asked if they were mayhaps looking for two children, mayhaps?
They hadn't been.
And so Jason had left.
And Thomas had never seen his brother friend again.
And now the light is showing him Jason, and Marcus, and Sister Leliana, the ages they were when they took Jason. They're showing Jason the same things they showed Thomas, and giving him an identical copy of the holy sword that now lies in many pieces between Thomas and the Emperor.
"They said you were a liar, on top of everything else, but this? What do you hope to gain from this?" Thomas grits out. He knows it cannot be true but he still cannot take his eyes off Jason's form. He looks so small. He had never seemed small to Thomas, had always seemed like he and Thomas were just the same size, moving in lockstep. Was this what every adult saw, when they looked at them?
"I am trying to show you the truth," the Emperor says. His voice is quieter. More solemn.
Thomas will not be fooled by it.
"I've spoken to the Goddesses-"
"And you seriously think that they don't have an agenda? Think Thomas. From what I've seen, you're not a stupid man. You've just been misled."
Thomas glares, "You're seriously trying to say-"
"Yes."
He snorts. "You must know how that sounds."
"Gods, Goddesses, they derive power from their worship. What drives more worship than times of strife? Think Thomas. Have times truly been so hard under my reign?"
"Do you think I am on this quest of my own accord?" Thomas scoffs.
"No. I think you have been misled, and that you have become the cat's paw for powers on a scale you have no ability to comprehend."
"What are you-"
"Your friend wasn't the first child they tried the 'chosen one' gambit with." Light blooms, and Thomas watches the scene play out, again and again and again, his stomach twists itself into knots. Children of various ages and races, Marcus and Sister Leliana always appear around the same age.
He feels ill. His mouth floods with saliva. He has to swallow several times before he can say anything. "Why are they...?"
The Emperor snorts. "They're the tools of the Goddesses. In a way, they're being manipulated as much as you are--they're just in on the con. As such, they've been gifted with many powers some would find unnatural, including very, very extended lifespans. Marcus is over two hundred years old, and I believe the Sister is approaching five."
Thomas stares at his hands and then looks up at the Emperor. He doesn't want to know this answer, but he must. Hope and dread mix within him in equal measures. "What about-?"
The Emperor sighs and looks askance. "Some... died on their journey. It's not one that should be undertaken by a child. Just because the Goddesses are making them take these trials does not mean that they will be kind to them during it. Some gave up. Some realised what was happening, and Marcus and Leilana," he hesitates. "cleaned up the loose threads."
Thomas' heart sinks. "No."
"Thomas..."
"No. No."
The Emperor stands and walks down from his throne. He kneels in front of Thomas.
If Thomas were in any shape to attack, this would be the perfect opportunity.
But.
He looks up at the Emperor. He knows he is crying. He cannot stop it. "Please," he begs. "Please say that you are lying."
The Emperor looks sad. He looks... younger than Thomas expected. He just looks like a regular guy. Dark curly hair, blue eyes. Freckles. Kind of cute. Just... a regular guy.
"I'm so sorry."
Thomas moans. He folds over his knees, clutches his stomach as though some vital organ has been hit.
"No, no, no, no," he denies mindlessly into his knees, but he knows the truth, knows the shape and sound of it when he hears it. Jason died for nothing, his death was needless, he was sent off to die to destablise a realm that is doing just fine, if people would stop spreading malicious whispers about the ruler, if people would stop trying to murder him on a regular basis.
A warm hand settles between his shoulder blades, "I'm sorry for your loss."
Thomas weeps.
The hand pats him, hesitantly. "Um, there, there?"
Thomas sniffs, his breath hitches in his chest, and he helplessly giggle-snorts, chokes on his own snort. "You're really not good at this, are you?"
"Don't get a lot of practice at it, for some reason."
Thomas settles back into a sitting position, wipes his cheeks. He refuses to be embarrassed.
The Emperor places a hand on his shoulder. Thomas looks at him.
"I cannot offer you much. But I can offer you the chance to set this right. To see your friend's shade rest peacefully, and to make sure this never happens again to any other child, or any other adult."
Thomas nods. "Yeah. I'd like that. I'm going to fucking kill them."
The Emperor gets to his feet, and reaches out a hand to Thomas. He smiles, and dimples appear in his cheeks.
Thomas takes it.