Fit for a King: Prologue

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The Beginning
Jak POV

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It was over. It was finally over.

The adventure was done. Torture, you could call it sometimes, but at the bottom line it was still an adventure-- and it was finally over.  Nothing’s ever been that done in my life before. At least, nothing that ended, dropped off, ceased to exist… and offered something so warm and promising at the end.

God, there was hope. Solid, tangible, edible. Clean and dry like sand. They even wanted me to be King—King of Spargus. Spargus. I said no, but they offered. Dax wouldn’t have liked it. At the end, all I knew was that I wanted to stay in Spargus the rest of my life. There was only Dax and me, then, in our home. That’s the way it would stay at the end of our last cloister of trials, even though there were things to regret.

Because every time I fight, I lose things.

I lose time, I lose blood, and I lose people. There are only so many ways you can be cut, but people are even more dangerous. You can lose them with a word. Even then, people are a different loss. Most times, I know them for such a short, wild spasm of my life that it doesn’t matter too much when they’re gone—except for Damas.

“I mean… something went wrong. I’m sure of it. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

“Please, my boy. What has passed has passed.” He sighed, too many years—past and present and future—creaking in his bones. But this was something he could not have forseen. “It does no good to continue to torture yourself like this.”

“But—“

“I know, Jak. You loved him.” Samos looked him tiredly in the eye. His own eyes, now glazed with cataracts behind his spotless lenses, spoke of a sound, clean Haven. Damas’ world. “We all did.”

He’s more than a memory. He’s… my father. Or Mar’s father. I know I’m not the kid that we almost lost to Kor. He’s me. There’s a difference, I know it—a dark difference lodged in four years of trying not to be a monster, but Damas saw past that. Before he died, he asked me to find myself. Through him—for him-- I think I did.

He’s gone, but I would only be bitter if I had never known him. Now, I just wish he had known me—because everything has changed.

It hasn’t been all loss. I didn’t fight every single second, so I got some things. Kept them. Light, most of all.

Ever since the precursors first… touched me and helped me after Kor, things have been better-- easier. There’s not so much urgency, not so much of my body trying seize the situation and do things without me, and that was enough to keep me quiet. Or it should’ve been, but gods know I’ve never been happy enough to stay quiet.

A feeling exploded in me, when they first brushed my mind. It was so cool and white, it echoed in me forever. It was pure, I was pure and there was no more filthy, zinging eco in my veins and I could FEEL my heart cooling after so many years of frantic, hard heat. Calm, glossy, blissful. Then it stopped, and I realized half of me had stopped the war.

Yes.

Afterwards, I was more balanced. I could function, I was BETTER, but I started craving it. That moment, that whiteness. The precursors did it, if only for a second—they could’ve made me alright, scraped me clean, but they didn’t. Why? Why, hadn’t I done enough for them? I wasn’t angry. I just wanted it… so badly, because nothing was impossible when I gave into eco. I knew that. The worst part was, Dax knew that.

If the precursors just gave me what I wanted, I knew I would never lose control again.

That purity and hope hung over me. Dax’s safety, above all. Sig. Damas. But it all came together when I was called to the temple. Every time the oracle spoke into me, the yin safeguard the precursors put in me flared higher and higher. It had never been stagnant, but now it was filling, promising. Finally the light became a thing all its own and I had my goddamned moment all over again.

I could fly. Alright? I could fly.

God, I love this side of me. It can fly, it can heal, there’s no end of that white holy energy. It’s in my blood and there’s no darkness to fight back. It’s an escape and I’ve never felt more in love with being alive—especially with Dax, now. He’s with me, finally. Always will be. We have our own life, away from Haven and all the toxic people it holds like a cage.

Even now that our adventure is over, I can’t say it’s been perfect. There were a few odd moments at the end, like the… mystery of the precursors?

“WHAT?”

Dax wasn’t happy.

“I- I was a Precursor? A Precursor? Those crazy blue glowy things with the…” He twittered his fingers articulately, and the leader nodded, not unkindly. My guess is they thought he would settle down and take the loss, but they were the only ones present who didn’t expect him to start screaming.

“No! No, no, NO, you pantzed-up throw-rugs! I spent three years tryin’ to ditch the tail, THREE… and wait just a second—where was the memo that said furry rodents are gods?! Five outta five people in Haven wanted me as a handbag—where were the godly juju powers when that crocadog nearly swallowed me whole? Where were the sparks, the brimstone and the fire and the god stuff?! I did a lotta smiting in those days, buddy, and it didn’t get me jack-squat!”

He threw an absolute fit—something to rival what I remember back on Sandover. Keira and Samos were the only ones to look at all amused. I’m just glad the Precursors didn’t make him pay for everything he said, ‘cos he would’ve turned out a lot worse than furry.

I took him out for a ride afterwards, after everybody left. He sat there for half of it, blowing steam through his nose like he’d rather be dead than stripped of deity-status. A mile from home, I asked him if, given the chance, he would honestly go back to being a god—and an Ottsel. He shot me the most appraising glance in the world, then kind of… snuck across the seat and looped his arms around me—or as far as they would go.

A second later I flinched, finding a soft nose stuck into my ear.

“Nah. Bonkin’ the bejeezus outta you is miles above havin’ that one itch behind your ear that you’re never gonna get rid of. God or no, I got a king.” He kissed me sloppily on the cheek, then muttered, “‘Sides. We all know I’ll always be a god, fuzzy or freshly shaven. It’s a fact of life.”

Now we’re rebuilding the city piece by piece. I fly things across the desert with my Light powers, and help with high-up construction. Picking up after the Dark Makers isn’t going to be an easy thing—it’ll take years and years to get the city looking like it was, but I want to be here when it’s finished. I will be here, because it’s my home now.

I’ll make it myself. That way it’ll be mine no matter what.

“Outta my way! Move it, move it! If he blows before I get to him, you’ll be sorry!”

Even from so high up, I could see Dax sprinting through the assembled crowd and scrambling over market stalls, ducking the dried lemoranges chucked at him by their keepers. He was fast, very fast; but the best thing was, he was trying to get to me. Smiling all the way down, I sank through the air like it was some kind of warm, buoyant broth and—god, I’d only let go of this kind of sanctity for him. Every time I changed back was some little piece of mourning.

I landed in a wide yellow road to see him fighting through the last few wastelanders and making a break for me. As soon as they saw his target, they understood.

“Jak! Baby!” He called.

Now the best thing was, even with everyone watching, Dax just leapt into my arms and kissed me like it was his last day alive. Almost unconsciously, my wings cocooned us and blinded us from view with a beautiful blue, and Daxter looped his small arms around my neck and kissed me in that intimate, gilded womb. Before he could run out of breath, I smiled and gave the final sigh that shut off Light’s powers.

A crisp burst of silky power sucked in slightly, then exploded outward, coating us in coolness and shivers. Daxter popped away just as abruptly, thumbing his mouth and hooting.

“Woo-hoo! Love that tingle, sugar and spice!” He twirled euphorically, topping it off with a few drunken hip-swings. “Ice-ice, baby!”

Then he contentedly looked into my eyes, almost posing in my arms.

“Just so y’know, that’s never gonna get old.” Daxter sighed, already mischievously biting a finger. He smiled and I smiled, and because it was almost dark I went home with him under my arm. We got food on the way—there is no such thing as dinner—and were dead asleep in our under-awning apartment before the stars came out.

That’s the way it is, now. I have a home. I knew my father. I have friends. I’m safe.

Most of all, I’m at peace. I’m… in love.

And I’m happy. Really, finally happy.