Six months of planning had brought them to this - a rooftop on this summer night, a waning moon peeking through the cloudy skies above, threatening rain. A wind whipped around them, the impending storm matching the storm in their hearts. Worry and fear churned deep within, no matter how many precautions they took - no matter how much pre-emptive damage control and measures they created. There was no turning back now though. Like the thunder that rumbled low and menacing, their hearts beat with resolve to shed their old lives and identities and start anew, washing away their past transgressions to pave the way for a better life.
Bismuthite brought Wolframite’s hand to his lips and kissed the lieutenant’s knuckles before lacing their fingers together, biting his own lip and searching Wolframite’s face for any doubts that lingered.
“Are you ready?” Bismuthite asked in hushed, intimate, tones.
There were always doubts. He had decided that this was the way, but he would always have doubts. Dedicating the vast majority of his childhood, idolizing those he followed and who died for the cause, all left him feeling as if he owed someone and had a great debt to pay for their sacrifice. But that was the old kingdom, the old ideals, and the world was forever changing away from the right path. It was time to step in a new direction and take on the responsibility and challenges this new one presented - even if it meant risking it all for no guarantee of change.
But that was always the case and risk.
A green eye looked over to Bismuthite - Billy - his husband. The touch was warm but turned cold the moment his lips left his skin. Their rings still wrapped about their fingers, Negastone, a binding that he hoped would never break. “I’m ready as I’m ever going to be. It’s time.”
There were too many things out of their control but this was one they could decide together. Everything else was left to whatever mistakes they would learn from - and hopefully survive.
The air felt appropriate but too dynamic for the night, and he felt as restless as the air that crackled with unforeseen danger on the horizon. It felt ominous, like the universe telling him to go back to the old life, the old ways, and his oath to the Negaverse and those who died for him. There was guilt, heavy as a stone, set in his stomach for leaving. But he had always felt he was a knight, under a darker banner, so this was nothing more than a side step.
The sidestep with the price of his own self. Of who he was and what part would be missing come the dawn. The part of his own self being lost was almost as terrifying of losing the one clutching his hand - almost.
Bismuthite had seen how the Negaverse treated someone who was perhaps more dedicated than any general king to step foot in those dark halls. He’d seen, and from there came to loathe the darkness they served. Wolframite was too good for them - he deserved better than they could ever offer. He deserved more than the short leash that staked him to their playing field of broken promises and hypocrisy. The only way to break free from those chains was this, and Bismuthite thirsted for the freedom as much as he longed to see the wolf set free.
Bismuthite had no doubts. He was resolved. His only worry stemmed from his lover’s own reservations. He didn’t want Ladon to regret this, to feel like he’d pushed him in to it. He had faith, however, that one taste of freedom, one foot set out of the cage and the shackles removed, the wolf unleashed, and any doubts would vanish.
“Okay,” he replied, squeezing that hand before looking to the Royal Knight before them - Camelot.
After months of seeking out knights and information on the purification process, they had come to this Earth knight, and made their proposition. Camelot would despell the darkness placed in their starseeds by the Negaverse. Bismuthite and Wolframite had agreed that they wanted to do this together, at the same time, hand-in-hand. Bismuthite felt it was important, as if it would mean more, and keep the memories and feelings for one another in their hearts closer, stronger… for it was the forgetting he feared.
“Let’s do this.”
And now…. he placed their love, their identities, their past and their very lives in the hands of Camelot.
Anthony Darrow had almost always been a man dedicated to helping others. For many years, of course, it had been in the form of a goofy, but gentle and kind hearted librarian with very little power to change the world around him. Still, he did what he could, and offered anyone that needed it the kind of comfort and strength he had to give. His nature had been, for more years than he could remember now, a very paternal and dedicated one, and he always yearned to be able to do more for those in need. When his eyes were opened when It came to the world around him, and the war that many of the young citizens of Destiny City were fighting in the shadows, in darkness, he felt insufficient.
He had not been able to do anything for them but watch them suffer, and learn more and more about things he could not change. Then, one day, he was suddenly able to join them. He was awakened as a Knight and was given a power to do more than just watch. He could fight, he could learn, he could experience and he could share. He spent his time with other warriors, with Senshi and Knights, and he grew an incredible family of allies and friends in the process. Somehow, though he was still not sure how, he gained the power to do even more than he could have ever dreamed. Becoming a Royal Knight opened his eyes to not only aiding his own side of the war, the White Moon, but the Negaverse as well. He could do something for them that very few could offer, and he was honored and all too happy to do it.
Purification.
He saw in those that wanted to leave the Negaverse of their own free will a strength and potential that out shone the chaotic darkness that had managed to claim them. They had a choice in who they served, and corruption may have taken them from their fates as knights before they ever knew they had a chance at it, but nothing was ever permanent. No one should be forced to be something they were not: even if it took them a very long time to understand their own destinies. To walk the path from Chaos to Order was not exactly easy, and Camelot knew a great many who seemed like they never would, literally or figuratively, see the light. But that did not mean he had the right to give up on any of them. And he would never turn anyone away, whatever their reason, if they came to him for aid.
So here he stood, before two Negaverse soldiers who were looking for their way out of a place that clung on to them with vicious claws. The Royal Knight was there to break that hold, to free them from the Chaos that had been forced into their starseeds. It was strange, as they were not unfamiliar faces to him, but he had never thought he would find himself in this situation. It brought a new kind of burning hope for Chaos, for the Knights that fought for them, and for his role in bringing them home.
Or maybe he was just over thinking everything.
Whatever their reasons, they had come to him for help, and he was at their service. He stood now with a passive, but warm and almost sagely look on his face. His crystal sword was already drawn from its invisible home, now glimmering in numerous colors with the slightest movement of its smooth, crystalline surface. The sword did not seem aware that it was dark out, or maybe it was supplying its own gentle glow to reflect. Either way, it remained radiant.
Taking a deep breath, Camelot looked from one Nega officer to the other.
“Are you ready?”
He had never attempted two purifications at once before, and was not sure if he had the power to do so. He knew how draining one could be.
“Kneel, the both of you.”
He didn’t know Camelot well, but he knew that he could accomplish the rare task of Purification. Even the word “Purification” bothered him. He was not un-pure as a Chaos officer. He was a General of high rank and values, and that was in no way a impurity. However, political correctness aside, he was ready as much as he could ever be with making such a grand decision.
Ganymede and Val -- his old friends brought to light as officers of the other side. His feelings had still been mixed after all these months, but as Paris, his friend had always been there for years even when he was broken, bruised, and handicapped through his own battles and fed lies over and over. Chris entered Paris’ life and Ladon’s shortly after, someone who treated his friend right and with utmost care. It was Valhalla Wolframite knew more, as Wolframite always sought to bring knights to his side as he nodded in agreement to their goals and aspirations. Most knights had always been like-minded. The protection of Earth seemed to be their main objection, and he shared that same goal. It made being a knight the only way as he would sooner eat his eyepatch then see if he even had the potential as a senshi.
Both Ganymede and Camelot were here for the task at hand, the one that somehow forced the Chaos out that Charonite himself had placed into Wolframite many, many years ago that misty knight on the track. Even now, he hoped he never for them. Charonite. Nealite. ..Tanzanite.
His insides turned and he could feel the acid in his throat. Probably wasn’t a good idea to get sick right before becoming a knight.
His one eye looked over at Valhalla and then settled nervously on Ganyemede, taking a breath. They promised to there waiting for them on the other side. To be there to pick up whoever came out, whichever half, whichever other HIM there was - Ladon….or Wolframite.
They would be there to guide them alongside the steps of knighthood, to provide them a home when they had known, to fill them in to who they were and weren’t, and to explain as best they could. They also, with Ladon’s secret hopes and fears, would try and keep him and Billy together after. It was a massive task, even more massive than the night of changing a Chaos General to a Order Knight, and they had agreed.
His green eye stared at them both, took a deep breath and exhaled. “If you are ready too. Then…..”
He glanced at Billy and knelt.
Knelt, as he had knelt before all his superiors, during meetings and wars and welcoming Leaders. He had bent the knee to those he honored and cherished. Now he was bending it down for a completely different way of life.
His chest felt tight and heart was racing, and he squeezed Bismuthite’s hand more tightly.
There were several knee-jerk reactions that Bismuthite had to hold back at the order to kneel. This was not the time for arrogance or crude remarks. Though the fact that such came to mind spoke of his ability to keep his humor in this most serious of situations. After all, someone had to.
He dropped to one knee alongside Wolframite. The anticipation swirled heavily in his stomach.
Valhalla stood and watched the scene before him. He felt as if he were in a daze. He looked from Wolframite, for whom he cared greatly, to Bismuthite, whom he did not know as well as he would have liked. And then to Camelot, whom he’d known since he’d first awakened, and to Ganymede, whom he loved, but could only remember half of their lives together. While he would never be able to empathize with losing half of one’s identity, he knew how difficult it was to no longer remember several years of life. Almost everything he’d experienced as Valhalla seemed to be intact, but Chris Gallo didn’t exist for the past four years, to the best of his knowledge.
But now was not the time or the place to be concerned about his own identity. He was there for Wolframite and for Bismuthite, and to offer support to Camelot and Ganymede, despite how helpless he felt. Despite there being two powerful Negaverse officers and even more powerful Knight and Senshi right before him, he could not feel them. Their auras did not exist for him.
A hand lifted unconsciously to his chest, rubbing absently at the golden breastplate as he waited for what would happen next. “You’ll be fine. Both of you,” he promised softly, although he couldn’t bring himself to smile. Too many things could go wrong if they weren’t careful. Their main concern should be making sure these two were freed from being bound to chaos. After that, he didn’t know, but he would do everything in his power to help them.
Ganymede stood by Valhalla in her Eternal garb, ever cautious about their collection of power levels, and the attention it may garner them. She stood by Valhalla with a hand along his back, watching as her friends knelt before Camelot.
She didn't know how to feel. A part of her was worried; another part of her was hopeful, happy; and still another part of her felt a sinking dread. Her stomach turned over on itself uncomfortably; she swallowed down a lump that rose to clog her throat. Had it not been so warm, perhaps she could have blamed her trembling on the weather. She didn't know why she should react this way when they were here to save Ladon and Billy from the darkness. She should be overjoyed. She should be standing there confidently instead of shrinking away, leaning into Valhalla's side for support.
She thought it must be a result of recent events. What if someone should find them here? What if they were interrupted? She half expected Laurelite to step out of the shadows at any moment, to finish what had been started over a week ago, only this time the General-Queen would be taking her best friend away from her along with her husband.
Ganymede tried to smile, but it was strained and half-forced. It soon wavered. She tried to appear hopeful for Wolframite's and Bismuthite's sake, but she knew what was about to happen wouldn't be without consequences. They might not be the same people when this was over. Years could be erased, so many memories lost in the blink of an eye.
But this was what they wanted. It was what they all wanted.
“We'll be here,” she said reassuringly. “It'll be alright.”
She didn't know who she was trying to convince—the two kneeling upon the ground, or herself.
Camelot took a deep breath, knowing that one purification would take a lot of his focus. Two? It was not something he had ever tried before, but he was hoping it would go smoothly. It was going to be a very difficult effort, of that he had no doubts or illusions, but as a Royal Knight, it was his duty to do these kinds of things, right? He would just have to trust in the strength of his crystal sword, and the power granted to him by his Wonder.
And maybe a bit of luck.
“Wolframite,” he said slowly, smiling as he looked at the kneeling Negaverse soldiers, hand moving to join the other as it held the sword by its hilt, “Bismuthite. It is with honor and pride that I welcome you to the White Moon, and pledge my service to you as a Knight of Earth.”
He raised the crystal sword, focusing his energy on it, feeling the familiar pull of the White Moon energy as the sword seemed to understand what it was summoned to do tonight. Not that it truly had a mind of its own, but sometimes Camelot wondered about the power inside the beautiful blade. He tipped the sword toward Wolframite’s shoulder first, stopping just short of touching him.
“In return, I ask you serve the White Moon with loyalty and chivalry, and endeavor to protect those that you would once do harm. I knight you, Wolframite, and you, Bismuthite, into Order, and banish Chaos from within you.”
He touched his sword to Wolframite’s shoulder, and then moved it to the other side to do the same. He felt his energy being pulled, his energy, his very life force, being called on to drive the chaos from the starseed nestled inside the Nega’s chest. He realized quickly, even as he turned to touch his sword to Bismuthite’s shoulder, that he would not have the power to accomplish both purifications. It would drain him completely, and he did not want to risk failing in the middle of something so terribly important.
Whatever happened to him was irrelevant: he felt no fear or concern for his own fate. He could not, however, risk hurting or doing something worse to the two who had put their trust in him. He wavered, but kept his focus on the process Wolframite was enduring, gritting his teeth and holding on to his sword tightly to keep it steady.
“I… I’m going to need help… I don’t have the energy, the power, for both…” he said, to the two members of Order behind him, unsure if they could help him or not, but having few other options at the moment. He needed more power.
Ganymede was satisfied letting the more experienced royal take the lead. She had only recently come into her power, after all, and she remained uncertain as to how she was supposed to wield it. Her actions against Laurelite and her attempts to save Valhalla from corruption had been performed on instinct. She'd not had the chance to make a purposeful effort; she wasn't even sure if she'd done it correctly when she'd helped Valhalla.
But she could tell that Camelot was tiring, and when he uttered his need for help Ganymede felt she had no choice but to step forward. Not to do so during such an important moment would be a betrayal to her friends.
So she closed her eyes and she concentrated on shifting from Eternal to Princess. Consumed by light, her fuku changed from lace and ruffled trim to layers of white ruffles and tulle, with glass shoes upon her feet. She opened her eyes again only when the transformation was complete. Between her palms hovered her crystal, rose red in color, like the bow that trailed from the skirt of her dress.
“I can do it,” she said.
Ganymede approached Bismuthite. She kept Wolframite in her peripheral vision as she did so so that she might see the changes that would soon take place in him.
“I don't have anything to say that Camelot hasn't already said,” Ganymede said, “except that I want you to be good to one another, and I'm sorry if this destroys any memories of us. I'll do my best to remember for all of us.
“I love you, Lady,” she whispered. She glanced quickly in Wolframite's direction before switching her gaze back to Bismuthite to continue, “And you. I was wrong about you.”
Then she focused on her crystal, which glowed softly before its light brightened. She focused on its energy, on the power it channeled from her, draining her as surely as it would drain the Chaos out of Bismuthite. She knew immediately that Camelot had been right. Neither of them could have done this twice in a row. It sapped her strength, took too much from her, but she ignored the fatigue and the heaviness in her limbs for the sake of continuing what she'd already started.
The removal of chaos from his being felt like a heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders, and as darkness left him so did his memories begin to fade; Memories that had shaped much of who he was. A past he was largely better without. With it, however, came the loss of much better, more recent, recent memories. The past few years were really the only ones worth remembering anyway. But that was gone now, and so was Bismuthite, although those memories lingered as if to serve as a lasting reminder of why they did this, so they’d never fall into the seduction of darkness again...
This was a new beginning - the time lost to them they would surely make up for - and the future they’d make would shine bright, like the full moonlight that peeked through a hole in the storm clouds above.
In place of the agent of Chaos, a Knight of Uranus emerged in whites, gold and pale blues, and scars of the past exposed for all to see. He was the visage of a desert nomad, rugged, and devil-may-care. Not once though, did his hand leave Wolframite’s. No….not Wolframite anymore, but someone else not entirely unfamiliar either….
He had been chaos since his first years in Highschool. Still a shy boy in Meadowview feeling small and lonely. He remembered the night on the track where Charonite found him - much like this night. Cool summer with the moon waxing.
It had been the night that changed everything and the night where a new him came to be. That power he took, the mission he upheld, and the people who stood alongside him. Those he loved, adored, respected, idolized. The place he left school and gave the last year's of his childhood to and a cause he had been proud of for all these years. It was home, and that was hard to leave.
As Camelot came, he watched the weapon placed upon him and tensed, gritting his teeth. Unlike relief, the pulling of chaos from his seed felt cold and draining, like a hook into someplace private and a sharp pulling long and drawn. And despite wanting this, even he had a hard time pushing back the panic that maybe he was making a mistake. It was the fear of loss and of the unknown, being stripped from the home and comfort of a place he resided despite its abuses. Despite being kicked about like a dog, the idea of being a stray, stripped of the Negaverse and power, always had him cowering and bowing his knee to whatever new leader took the throne. Yet now, it wasn't important.
Eyes tight, he squeezed Bismuthite's hand until it all released and faded with the last dull pangs of home to leave him fluttery and feeling empty and yet full with its replacement.
Taking deep breathes, the knight opened his eyes, clad in white and reds of a princess very close by, and looked about with that same green eye to look over at the person - stranger beside him.
Things really were different now.
((STILL WRAPPING UP, BUT IMPATIENT SO POSTING))
