Grateful
By Misha
Disclaimer- Not mine. I’m just borrowing them for a little while and will return them when I am finished.
Author’s Notes- This is my entry for ChoicesCreates31: Gratitude. It’s an expanded, slightly changed look at Luther’s death scene in Chapter Sixteen. It’s one of my favorite scenes and I wanted to give a glimpse into Diavolos’s mind.
Pairing- Kenna/Diavolos
Rating- PG-13
Summary- Diavolos reflects on his feelings towards his father.
Words- 820
“Don’t think I won’t put you down for this, you ungrateful fool,” Luther sneered, slashing his sword at his eldest son.
Diavolos easily dodged his father’s blows. Luther might have once been the most skilled warrior in the Five Kingdoms, but he had long since handed that title to his son.
As Diavolos prepared to take down his father, he considered his words. Or rather one of them. Ungrateful.
“You’re wrong, Father, I’m very grateful.” Diavolos corrected, deflecting another of his father’s blows with a casual swing of his sword.
“Aaah,” Luther cried, stumbling backward.
“I’m grateful for those few years before Mother died when you were a real father to me…” Diavolos continued, blocking another attempt at a blow and then delivering a kick to his father’s side that knocked him down.
The memories were fuzzy, but he could still remember the way Luther had once laughed and the way he would take time to wrestle with Diavolos. He remembered his father setting him on the back of a horse and being so proud when Diavolos was able to take the reins by himself.
“Oooff.”
“I’m grateful that your neglect and cruelty pushed me to become the formidable warrior I am today.” Diavolos continued, moving on from the pleasant memories to the not so pleasant.
He thought of the way he had forced himself to become the best warrior he could, sure that that was the way to win his father’s love and approval. He thought of how good it had felt when his father had finally acknowledged him, but also how he had soon learned it would never be enough. He thought to the way he had dedicated himself to the cause, convinced that he could never be more than a weapon.
It was hard to regret his training and discipline though because he truly had excelled on the field of battle. He might have become a soldier to impress his father, but it had become more than that, and he had forged bonds that had nothing to do with his father. However, more importantly, it was the path that had lead him here to this moment, to Kenna.
Luther swung at him then, but Diavolos stopped him, disarming his father with a casual twist. It really wasn’t much of a fight, he mused. Of course, his father was nearly thirty years his senior and desperate, while Diavolos was in prime physical condition and he had the knowledge that for once he was on the side of right. More than that, he knew there was no way he could let his father harm Kenna. Not now, not ever.
“But mostly, I’m just grateful that I’m the one who will be your undoing,” Diavolos finished, resting his blade against his father’s neck.
He felt like his whole life had been leading up to this moment. He had finally realized who he was without his father, that he was more than Luther’s shadow, more than just a weapon for his father to use and abuse. It was time for him to become his own man, to stop letting his father dictate his actions and beliefs.
To his surprise, his father smiled. “Well, well… I wondered if you would ever scrounge up the courage to challenge me. I’m proud of you, my son.”
Diavolos could hear the sincerity in his father’s voice. He knew his father truly was proud of him, as twisted as it might seem to an outsider. But Luther Nevrakis had never been a typical man, he had his own way of viewing the world, and for him perhaps this was the most fitting end.
Diavolos felt another rush of gratitude, suddenly thankful that he had been shown a different light and no longer viewed the world the way his father did.
“Thank you, Father,” he said with a small smile before he swung his word and cleanly severed his father’s head.
As his father’s body dropped to the floor, Diavolos turned his attention to Kenna and her injured shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asked, helping her to her feet.
She smiled slightly, “I’ll be fine.” She looked at him carefully. “What about you?”
“I’m fine,” he told her, “I think, in a weird way this is what he wanted.” Kenna nodded and then stepped closer to him, putting her hand on his face.
“Thank you,” she told him and then pressed her lips to his.
Diavolos resisted the urge to deepen the kiss, remembering her injured shoulder. Instead, he cupped her face. “Any time,” he assured her, “Now let’s go get that shoulder looked at.”
He carefully lifted her into his arms, noting how right it felt to hold her like that, and headed down the hall. As Diavolos left the throne room, and his father’s body, without a second glance, he thought of the thing that he was most grateful for: the chance to love this woman.
- End
