A Changing Face, A Changing Time

[Vivian]

91st of Frost, 4622

It was time.

Vivian had packed Bara with as many of his things as he dared earlier in the evening under the pretense of throwing some of his old things out. It made sense; why have extra clothing if he was a shut in? What was the use of cosmetics if no one would really see them? Vivian appeared to be a man broken in spirit that day, knowing this was the last evening he would spend with his baby. He had grown so close to Laurent in the past week or so. The little one was growing like a weed, healthy except for his foot. What concerned Vivian was the cramps that tended to grip the poor child's leg; he had kicked out a few times and his entire leg had shaken violently, setting off pained squalls. He would likely need a brace when he was older, or correction from a Necromancer.

Vivian prayed tonight the boy's leg wouldn't pain him. If he screamed, it was over.

Bara was packed, and Vivian had prepared a small sling around his chest that was normally used to help him breastfeed. He was still a bit weak from the birth, but he had to push through. There was simply no more waiting. A week of recovery was all he got, and he would have to work with it. Vivian stood up straight, and tapped into the ocean of magic waiting deep within him. He had overextended when he had Ascended, but Hakon's face was now just another template. A new template, one he had little Synchrony with, but he would have to try. He grew taller, more muscular, his shoulders widened and his jaw thickened. Little Laurent looked up at him, eyes wide in shock. Vivian, now wearing Hakon's face, smiled down at him. "Don't worry, little one." he whispered with a stolen voice. "This is just a face. It's still Mummy."

He kissed Luarent's brow, and made his way to Hakon's room. He had to be seen coming out of Hakon's room, and the man was still either at prayers or working out. He quietly closed the door behind him and looked around the room. Gods, it was such a simple life. He touched Hakon's bed, the little stuffed animal. He smiled and picked it up for a moment, showing it to Laurent. "I'll get you one when we escape." he whispered, and set it back on the shelf with a fond pet. Vivian opened a chest by the bed and winced, shutting it immediately. Entente masks and robes. He shuddered, thinking of Degare. Gods.

In Hakon's desk there was a Sunderscrap. Vivian swallowed thickly and shut it, cold water up his spine. Hakon kept a piece of a man's soul in there. Like a trophy. His mind flashed back to seeing that nasty light in Hakon's eyes and he bit his lip. "Right." he whispered. He needed money. He pulled out a small box under the bed and opened it quickly. Knives. Horrible looking knives. He didn't know what else was in Hakon's room but it was clear he would have to make his own way. "Well, at least Mummy can go back to work." he muttered under his breath. He didn't even know if he wanted that life, anymore. It was different when he was alone. Now he had Laurent.

Vivian set Laurent on the bed, and pulled out some of Hakon's clothing. He needed to make this realistic. He stuffed his own behind the desk, and pulled on a set of Hakon's simple trousers and a shirt. Laurent giggled at him, rolling on the bed and stuffing one of Hakon's sheet corners in his mouth.

[Hakon]

He was still tired from channeling all that he'd been able to give, and it had been more than a week. He still looked ashen. It was still hard to get up in the morning, and he derived no joy from his usual routine. This was why, contrary to his schedule, Hakon left weapons training early. He was a little over halfway through, but his accuracy with the thrown weapons was almost as bad as when he'd started trying to improve weeks ago. His vision kept blurring and he was dizzy. He needed rest, not channeling more magic as he attempted to hit moving targets.

Normally, he'd follow it up with a visit to the baths, but it had been so cold out and throwing weapons took little effort relative to his usual exertions with a mace or shield that he wasn't really sweaty. A quick visit to the lavatory and he felt sufficiently refreshed to take a nap.

He returned to the room at a fraction of his usual pace and had to lean on the doorframe for a second before opening it. The dizziness still plagued him. It was worse than the other symptoms because it came and went of its own volition, and nothing seem to help it other than taking deep breaths and waiting. He opened the door to his room as he had thousands of times before, except this time was not like any other times.

For one thing, his room was a mess. his desk was opened, as was his dresser. His personal effects were scattered about, including some that were very personal, indeed. He'd had no need of locks in the tower. He had nothing worth stealing and his truly sensitive possessions were secured and hidden. The intruder in his room was showing him the error of his thinking up until now, in assuming that there was some sanctity or sanctuary to be found here.

For another thing, though, the intruder in his room was him. Hakon was not vain, but it was hard to miss that he was staring at himself: a tall man with brown hair falling onto his forehead, broad shoulders, and very long arms, wearing his clothes. It was disorienting to see himself, or a facsimile of himself, a simulacrum, rummaging through his possessions. For a third, Laurent was on his bed, seemingly unfazed by what was unfolding around him. Which was not his fault. He was too young to understand the gravity of this situation, though Hakon had to quash an irrational feeling of betrayal nonetheless.

He shut the door quietly behind him. He'd always been quieter than people liked. It was part of how he'd earned his nickname of the Spider, after all.

"You were in the garden, that night," Hakon said without preamble. "I'd suspected, but I was worried they'd hurt you to find out and that it could hurt your child, so I kept my mouth shut. Then, I... should have told as soon as Laurent was born, but I'd hoped against hope that I was wrong. Foolish of me to trust a rogue." The words, though rancorous, did not sound angry. In fact, there was no emotion behind them at all. Hakon sounded numb and felt hollow.

He knew what he should do next. He knew what he had to do. He looked at Mark of Control on his wrist.

It will be easy, he tried to reassure himself. It will be over quickly. But though he stared at his arm, and he thought about what he should do, he didn't do it. No weapon appeared.

[Vivian]

Vivian slid a note into Hakon’s desk drawer just before he heard the handle on the door turn. He thought he had more time. He thought that Hakon would be in weapons training for hours yet!

Caught. Vivian turned to look at Hakon, his mouth set in a grim line and his hand flying up to grasp at his shirt. He didn’t want to attack Hakon. That would defeat the entire purpose. As Hakon spoke, Vivian bit his lip.

“Yes.” He said softly. “I was in the Garden. I was a Master of my magic…and now I am a Doppelgänger.” It felt good to say the words. It felt good to draw pride in what he was, of the risk he had taken right under their damned noses. He saw Hakon look at his wrist, and Vivian quietly walked over to gather Laurent in his arms. “I’m leaving, Hakon. With Laurent. The only reason I ascended is because I can’t let him go. I can’t let him grow up thinking of me as a monster…or that I didn’t love him enough to try.”

Vivian put the sling over his neck and settled Laurent against his chest. Laurent yawned, and squirmed around in the sling. He saw Hakon and giggled at him, reaching a fat little arm at the other mage.

“I have to do this, Hakon. I know you sent the letters but let’s not kid ourselves. Alistair is just another bastard who aired a kid on a stupid whore who thought he was falling in love. He never loved me.” Vivian said quietly. “If you’re going to kill me…promise me you won’t let Laurent grow up alone. He deserves that much. He deserves…some shadow of a parent.”

[Hakon]

Vivian's last words to Hakon broke him out of his shock and he discovered one of the emotions within him that was a never-ending font: fury.

"That's all you have to say. You sneak into the garden, you consume a piece of my soul using a plan you found in a book I checked out for you, you ascend so you can make use of it, and now you give up on your plan because I catch you here? By the Path, Vivian, you're about to be an iconoclast! You are going to have to make a run for the border, and you are not going to have nearly as much time as you are assuming, because someone will check on you, see Laurent missing, and put two and two together. You'd better have a good plan, a real one, or we will come for you, and the others may not care so much about what happens to a lame orphaned boy when they do," Hakon hissed at him, face contorted.

"You know what you've done. You didn't do it out of sadness and love, or not solely. You're no wilting flower, Vivian. You're a fighter, and you will fight to protect what is yours. If you aren't, I'll save you the attempt."

Now, a mace appeared in his hand. "Tell me you'll fight for him. Tell me you'll kill for him, or I'll strike you down and take him from you here and now."

[Vivian]

Vivian’s eyes grew cold as Hakon raged at him, and the man was…painfully correct. He was right. He hadn’t ascended entirely because of Laurent. He had wanted the power and basked in it still. He enjoyed the power flowing through his veins, even if he was desperately trying to stall a splitting headache and the urge to vomit. He stood tall, and covered Laurent with an arm.

“I will kill every man and woman in this tower before they take my child from me.” Vivian growled. “You know how dangerous I am. You don’t know the half of the gifts I’ve been given. I will have you choking on your own blood as your very nerves betray you. I will swallow your men whole and crush them down into paste.” He crossed the room to stand in front of Hakon, challengingly. “And you’re not half as good with that mace as I am with claw and venom.”

Vivian held Laurent close to him with one arm, and let the other dissolve into a tangled mass of tentacles, dripping with neurotoxic mucus, and lined with the razor teeth of the flea. Teeth made of chitin and designed to chew through skin. “Are you going to let me take this baby and raise him to be a proper man, or are you going to nourish him after I eat you?” Vivian growled. “I like you, Hakon. You’re a good man. But don’t for one second think I won’t fight for this child like your father did for you.”

He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t a wilting woman and he wasn’t even a weak whore anymore. He was a doppelgänger, a creature who could and had toppled governments and stolen crowns. He was powerful, even compared to Hakon. He didn’t want to kill the man. He really didn’t. But if Hakon swung that mace he’d pull him down his throat faster than Hakon could blink. It would be quick. The Consumer would pop him like a tick before he hit the stomach.

Vivian’s eyes didn’t leave Hakon’s. He wouldn’t strike first.

[Hakon]

Hakon set aside his mace, anger gone as soon as it came. He was not happy, but he was satisfied, and his mouth curved into a bloodless smirk.

"Good," he said. He dismissed the mace from existence, and just like that it was gone as though it had never been there to begin with. "If you wish to tread this path, it's important that you be strong. I know you have a fire in you. Let it burn bright, and it will light your way."

He looked around the mess Vivian had made of his room. "What were you looking for, anyway? You've seen me change often enough to know where I keep my clothes, and I have nothing worth stealing. Were you looking for money?" He looked at Vivian contemptuously. "I do not hoard my wealth, Vivian. Guildmages are not supposed to amass material things, and unlike my brethren I take that rule to heart."

With a sickening lurch, he saw the Sundering kit on the bed. Mercifully, the latch on the box was still secured. Either Vivian had not bothered to open it, or had done so but hadn't recognized the tools. He had no desire to answer any questions about that or about the sunderscrap in his desk -- the first he'd made once he'd been initiated into the Endornotkun, and a token of esteem from the Stewardess that he develop his abilities -- so hopefully Vivian wasn't interested in any of that. Beyond that, he saw his Entente finery draped over his desk chair in a heap. Vivian had tossed the place pretty thoroughly. Maybe the man used to rob clients in addition to draining them of their lustful appetites.

That thought had him thinking fondly of Vivian: disadvantaged, weak, but surviving despite it all. He squelched that impulse. The man was a dangerous, hardened criminal who had betrayed Hakon and everything he stood for. He didn't want to murder him in cold blood in front of his infant, but that was as far as it went.

"What do you want," he repeated, now sounding flat and deflated. "Take it and leave."

[Vivian]

Slowly, the tension bled down, and Hakon dismissed the mace. Likewise, Vivian dismissed the weapon on his arm. He flexed his hand, shivering it back into Hakon’s distinctive strong fingers. Vivian looked back at the room, and winced. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “I needed you to stay in your room for at least a few hours. I had hoped you’d be busy cleaning up versus out in the hallways looking for me. And yes, I did need coin.”

Vivian sighed. “What I need you to do is stay in this room. Whatever you do, don’t leave it. I’m going to take the baby under the pretense of leaving on a solo mission. You’re trusted enough that it won’t be questioned. Then I’m making a break for the border as fast as I can.” He shook his head. “I’ll do what I can, changing my face and hiding.”

Vivian grabbed Hakon’s coat, pulling it over his shoulders and layering it to hide Laurent from the casual viewer. He walked past Hakon, touching his shoulder. “You’re free of this tower now. Your flower is gone. No fume dragon can sniff you…or me…out. I’ll never forget your kindness, Hakon, and know I still consider you a friend despite everything.”

He leaned over and kissed Hakon’s cheek. “Perhaps one of these days we will meet again. And who knows?” He smiled wryly. “Perhaps there are a few Entente who could use humbling of the type you employ.”

[Hakon]

Hakon recoiled at the touch. Being kissed by himself, or Vivian wearing his face, was repulsive. He was not so fond of himself that he wished to be intimate with his simulacra.

"I do this for Laurent, not for you," Hakon lied.

In truth, he did it for them both.

"Your plan could fail, and I will not have anyone thinking I was in cahoots with you. So you will do two things for me, since you apparently hold me in such high esteem."

Before Vivian could respond, Hakon lifted up his mattress. In the simple wooden slats was a long box that was about the same general shape. He grabbed it, and slide the lid off to reveal a mace, the twin of the one he called via Brand. It was the one he'd added to his armory back when he was so young that he'd had to swing it with two hands. He smiled at it fondly, then the warmth extinguished when his expression slid to Vivian.

"If you are to be me, then you need this. I do not leave for missions without it, and any Scab could tell you that. So you will take it. That is the first thing."

Before continuing, Hakon knelt on the ground.

"Now strike me on the back of the head. You should be stronger than you're accustomed to, as me. If you wish to be merciful, don't hit me with the spiked end of the mace. Use the other end, or transform your hand into some form of cudgel, perhaps -- I'm not clear on if you can do something of this nature, but I imagine you can. In either case, though, I will have an alibi, and you will buy yourself more time. No one will come to check on me for many hours."

[Vivian]

What Hakon said might have been true. He might have just been letting him go because of the infant currently watching them with curiosity. Vivian knew better. Hakon could have attempted to strike him down right here and now. By the laws of his Guild he’d be perfectly within his rights to do so, and Laurent would never remember that he had a parent at all. Instead the man was pulling a mace out from under his bed. It was rather cleverly hidden between the slats under the mattress, which was likely why Vivian had missed it.

Hakon knelt before him. The mace he held was nearly identical to the one he held when wielding Brand. Of course. Vivian would need to look the part, and Hakon was never without a weapon. Vivian took the mace. It was damned heavy, and without the stolen muscles on his frame he’d likely never have been able to wield it. He didn’t want to crack Hakon’s skull open. Just knock him out. “There’s a more elegant solution.” He said softly, hanging the mace on his belt.

“I’ll miss you, Hakon. And…thank you.” Vivian approached Hakon and curled his hand into a fist. Soft flesh and fat formed around his fingers like a mitt or cudgel, spined just enough with chitin. He struck Hakon quickly, over the back of the head, and hard enough that the man’s skull would be intact but he’d have tiny chitinous fragments in his scalp. He could use them for proof. Anyone questioning the idea he was attacked from behind by a master Malformist could see the teeth stuck in his scalp and be vindicated.

Vivian grabbed the back of Hakon’s shirt and lowered him to the floor, preventing him from breaking his nose or falling loudly like a sack of bricks. Laurent startled at the noise, and began fussing. Vivian scooped up the babe, threw the sling about his neck, and covered him in the coat. There was nothing left for it. He had to go.

He walked calmly out of the room and locked the door, his heart thrumming in his ears. Hakon would walk calmly, self assured, ignoring any strange looks. He had to emulate that. He made his way down to Bara in the stable. The mule pinned his ears, tossing his head a bit, and Vivian grabbed the reins. Good. He wanted Bara to fuss and try to bite him. It would sell the illusion.

Walking out of the Guild into the streets was the most frightening thing Vivian had ever done. He couldn’t run. He had to walk, measured, slow and confident. He had to keep his back straight, eyes up, and ignore the soft complaints of the infant on his chest. Laurent was confused, and the sights and smells of the city were frightening him.

The moment they were out of the gates, Vivian mounted Bara, and made sure Laurent was secured. He kissed the babe, grabbed the reins, and sank his heels into the mule’s sides. He had to get to the border…and soon.

[Hakon]

Hakon didn't respond to Vivian's final bids for connection. The muscles in his back tensed as Vivian thanked him. He didn't want or need thanks for what he was about to do. It was selfish and self-motivated. He didn't want to be brought down with Vivian when Vivian was executed, and he didn't want to be responsible for Laurent growing up an orphan. That was it. It was not altruism or a generosity of spirit. It was weakness and cowardice.

It was a relief when Vivian hit him on the back of the head. As he slumped forward, his vision blurring and sounds seeming to distort and slow, he found himself grateful that Vivian hadn't hit him with his own mace. He'd hurt a lot of people with it and its ethereal clone, and being hit with his own beloved weapon would have been too much. Also, the spikes on it were rather cruel, and a strong blow could make mincemeat of someone's skull.

When he came to, his room was dark and he had a splitting headache. The fact that he was not in the clinic meant that no one had discovered him. The fact that he was not in a prison cell meant that Vivian either had not been apprehended or Hakon had not been deemed to be abetting an iconoclast. He tried to stand, then fell back to his knees as the room spun around him. He had been dizzy all this week, but this was worse. He felt nauseated and disoriented. Dimly, he registered his room already smelled of vomit. So perhaps this was not the first time he had come to, and he just could not recall the prior times, or perhaps he had vomited while in a daze.

He crawled to the nearest wall, then used that as a means of bracing himself, leaning on it as he rose to his feet.

Doing so made him retch again, but fortunately, there was naught left in his stomach but bile, so after spitting it up, he straightened, and started to stagger to his destination: his Warden's office.

He was interrupted far before he got there by a concerned Novus, who helped him, bodily, to the clinic, where an engraver told him he had a head injury.

Hakon waved that off. He'd be fine. "I need -- please, get my Warden. I was attacked by someone, someone I believe to be Novus Kreine. It is," he trailed off as his eye unfocused, before snapping to attention again, "it is urgent."