Oneshot: IA: Andrik: Monster

[prowlingthunder]

Oneshot Index: http://prowlingthunder.livejournal.com/1794.html

 

Monster

Main Character: Andrik (IC)
Fodder: Invasion America
Genre: General/Horror?
Pairings: If you look really hard and squint sideways, you might see Twincest. But that wasn't intentional. I swear.
Rating: Teen
Warning: Reading too much into this has the potential to turn it into a very disturbing story. Try not to read between the lines.
Spoilers: None

Summary: Andrik was always ambitious to a fault. Standing in his way usually resulted in bad things.

Notes: Turns out, there's a TVTrope that describes Andrik. Nightmare Fuel Station Attendant. I feel oddly pleased with myself considering I don't read TVTropes very often.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Andrik is all of six while his sister is born.

While others cooed over how cute and adorable she was, Andrik had a hard time not seeing her for what she really was: a thief. He found it harder still not to hate her for what she stole, not to be angry. Eventually he learned the truth; that it is impossible not to be angry at her, and that fighting her directly is equally impossible.

Their mother named her Joan, named for some Human patron called Jeanna d'Arc. If asked, Andrik would smile and say it was a beautiful name. It was never a lie, yet he did not call his sister by name. He did not call his sister anything.

X-X-X-X-X

By the time Andrik is six, he knows what he can do.

Andrik knew his father had plans for them. For himself, but more importantly his brother. He didn't quite recall when, but he knew as children his father's Adviser had visited them. Commander Tate had sat with them for a while, talked to them, played with them. Andrik had known the man was different, an oddity. So he watched him, and the coalescing colors that whispered secrets to Andrik's own soul.

Mizraim was always protective of him; they were twins, why wouldn't he be? Mizraim had always shared with him, as well. From toys, to treats, to Mother's time. Which was why Andrik was content enough to let him indulge in Mother's time. Everything Mizraim had, was under Andrik's purview.

When Commander Tate left, so too did Mizraim's desire to share with his brother, and Andrik would have none of that. The whispers coaxed him, schooled him, and in return, Andrik gave them a bit of himself; then, together, he and the whispers dug a trench in his brother's freshly-tilled mind, so deep no one would ever manage to rake it in again, that even Commander Tate could never bury it, and filled it with the mix that they were together.

Afterward, he slept. When he woke again, Mizraim was there. Protective. Offering him treats.

Andrik spent the next few years practicing on servants until he was well aware of his own limitations – he had none – and of how long it took to recover. He practiced and played, until the world was so well-versed in what he wanted, until the people were so intent on his desires, that he could do no wrong.

The limits of his subjects and their recovery did not matter.

X-X-X-X-X

When Andrik was thirteen, Mother was captured and Joan died.

Joan had been showing signs of prominence. The rumor was worrisome, that she was the reborn Amie, Goddess of Luck. Andrik knew better then to believe such rumors; if she were indeed Amie, his father would never let her out of his sight. As it was, he did, so she was not.

Yet, she was a problem to him, nevertheless. Joan was talented, but Andrik was ambitious.

It was clear to him that his father favored Mizraim and would name him his heir. Mizraim would take his father's seat and, perhaps, the Hall of Oosha would be replaced with the Hall of Dragons until such a time as the Ooshati renounced their ridiculous notions and realized they were not, in fact, true followers of Oosha. That they were instead heretics, and truly foolish ones. Though Andrik doubted that would take more then a generation or two. He already had plans to sway the people's opinion of them. Mizraim had played into it well.

An elite guard of women. Andrik had picked them carefully, swaying Mizraim's opinion when necessary. Though no bad one made the cut for choosing. They trained hard, against Lune's Children, against the Royal Guard. They were Mizraim's Command. Andrik had called them Lufatithiji. Women of Thiji. The thiji was an aquatic planet, full of tendrils to ensnare small fish, birds, and the occasional unwitting child; thiji grew in thick, marshy clumps that were near-impossible to kill, but the flowers were a beautiful red hue. A perfect lure for prey.

It was Andrik's own mark, the thiji.

But Joan... courtiers called her Amie, but he'd heard his father call her something much different.

Oosha.

Impossible! Unthinkable!

Yet, for all his plotting, Joan did not think anything different of him. She came to him nearing her birthday for a visitation, the perfect elder brother, and he told her where the most beautiful sunrise must be. Nivati was a jungle world that harbored the darkest secrets of Tyrus, or so the legends told. Andrik did not believe in such superstitions, but he knew a much worse story of it: the Harpy's Plague.

Joan would not come home from her visit.

Still, he was not the one who leaked that they would be there. Nor had he been aware that Mother was going with her. But if he had, it would not have changed his plans.

Mother was a necessary loss. The Ooshati, he could spin it. Mizraim's Command would be sent to hunt them down, and Mother would be rescued.

X-X-X-X-X

“Andrik. I've got some sweets for you.”
Andrik smiled, preening. Yes, life was good.

X-X-X-X-X

Nobody would learn the truth until Andrik was eighteen.