Concordia: Dreamnoblade Oneshots and Songfics

The Bonds of the Stars

The young god is born of the universe's will, is breathed into with the life of swirling nebulae and is cradled by the loving hold of a thousand stars. By then, there had been no world as humankind had knew it; by then, there had only been the universe, and the universe's precious child, and the beginnings of worlds created in his image. The most radiant of suns were painted in the golds of his hair, the most precious of emeralds were cast in the glow of his eyes, and thus everything had but a fraction of who he was.

The young god is powerful, and he seeks to do something with the magic flowing through his veins. His hands reach out for some semblance of meaning in his dull existence, and his fingers itch to tenderly caress something of his painstaking creation. He knows only solitude, knows only himself as everything had been crafted in his wake. He knows only the pitiful recreations of him, knows only the part of himself reflected in everything as the universe knows it. He knows only that, and he laments only that.

The young god is wistful, and he longs so very much for something other than what he had known. And thus, humans were made. Humans were shaped in the very palm of his hand, and so very alike him yet at the same time not. They are created in his image, though are nowhere near as flawless. They are virtuous, though nowhere near as impeccable. They are volatile, they are foolish, and they are so very unique that the young god could spend the rest of his days just watching over them in amusement.

Very interesting, humans are. Very unpredictable, humans prove themselves to be as time went on.

The young god is inexperienced, and he what he cannot comprehend the most are the cumbersome things that humans call 'emotions'. He does not see the appeal in the way sorrow's tears blur one's vision, nor in the way joy's smiles ache over time. He does not see the appeal in the way rage and love cloud judgment, nor in the way grief and despair inflict pain, nor in the way pride and arrogance withhold truths. He had not what the humans had created of their own volition, what they had given a name to and categorized based on vague characteristics. He does not understand the complexities of character, the complicated social cues, the guesswork needed to gauge another's thoughts.

And thus, when a human approaches his land with wavy brown hair, golden eyes, and a forced smile, he thinks nothing of it. And thus, when the human mutters false niceties and fiddles with the sheathed sword at his waist, he chalks it up to another form of greeting that humans have come up with. And thus, when the human whisks away some of his citizens to further away, he shrugs it off as just a mere indulgence in the unknown.

For what is a young god but unknowing of human desires, of the monstrosities of his creation?

If there's one thing humans have that the young god does not, it is the penchant for evil. They can be brutal, they can be ruthless, they can be downright cruel. They are self-interested, self-motivated, and selfish. Humans want what they do not have, reach for what they cannot achieve, and long for unattainable dreams. Their greed knows no bounds, and neither do the severity of their actions should they be uncaring enough about the consequences.

They declare his land as their own, and they rain arrows upon those who dare defy that as though their word is worth anything. They declare his property as their own, and they sink swords into those who dare raise their voice as though they are the only ones that can speak. They take, and take, and take with no regard for what little is left.

War never seems to succumb to the test of time, the young god discovers. It will always force a victory, always force death and destruction until no more devastation can be brought upon the barren wastelands.

The young god loathes what his precious creations do against each other. The young god loathes what he must do to stop them from hurting each other.

"I will not let anyone interfere with my own eternal stage!" He declares as he raises his sword above his head threateningly above the cowering children, holding his stance as he sees the purple particles of the nearby portal swirling restlessly. It is but an act, after all. However, there is one thing his act cannot hide.

He smiles, for it had been the first time in a while that the humans have banded together to protect each other and not to fight each other. He smiles, even as he is being pushed away from the child now being cradled in warm arms. He smiles, even as he is taken away from his most precious creations. "Change brings about tragedy!"

Later, in the confines of a prison cell, before the glow of a wall of flowing lava, the young god weeps. His tears seep into the obsidian lining the surface of the floor.

"I want to protect all the precious things in this world..."