Simon Snow: The Final Battle (AU Au)

Chapter #6

A/N: This chapter is going to be a long one (1,445 words). Don't forget those juicy plot twists, too.

I have to admit, this is the first time I've woken up in a different place before. The ground is icy beneath my almost-numb butt. My hands are behind me, and when I try to rake one through my unruly hair, it won't budge. Someone's handcuffed me to something, but I can't turn around to see what it is.

At a glance, the room is fairly grand. Whoever built this place went through a great deal of trouble and money to impress. The ceiling is so high, I can hardly see it in my dazed state. Windows coated in stained glass depict scenes that I've yet to decipher with my half-functioning brain.

Pounding footsteps echo from the hallway, but from where I'm sitting I can't see who they belong to. Two men strike up a heated conversation, clearly arguing about something. I can only catch a few words here and there, and they aren't enough to piece together a conversation. One of the voices sounds impossibly familiar, but no matter how hard I try, I can't place it for the life of me. And it might come to that.

The booming voice that I've come to recognize as my enemy joins me once more, but this time, Penny and Baz are nowhere to be found. No one to save my sorry arse but me.

"Simon Snow, it looks like I've finally gotten the better of you," he taunts with a laugh. "How're you doing, my love-sick son?" he asks, sounding surprisingly genuine.

"Eat shit," I growl in response.

"That answers my question well enough. I figured I may as well give you a few answers as I give you more questions, don't you think?" I don't answer. "I get it. Big, bad, corrupted villain. Better keep your distance. Well, Simon, answer number one: the grand old scary Humdrum you've been trying to fight off all these years? It's been you all along! Your magic was just too much for the atmosphere to handle. It ripped a hole. You broke the world, Simon. How wonderful is that?"

"Shut up, you lying cow!" I snap.

"Don't be bitter, my rosebud boy. It gets you nowhere. Now, the answer to your second and final question: who am I? Well, look up and you'll get your answer," he says smoothly.

The source of the voice walks into my grand prison and I gasp. I'm met with a carefully groomed mustache, and a stubbled beard that I modeled my own poor imitation after. A glittering green cape trails behind my father-figure -- the most powerful man in the entire World of Mages. None other than the Mage himself stands before me, looking more smug than ever.

"Surprise, surprise," the Mage chortles. "You know, I'm feeling generous today, so I'll give away one more secret." He drags out the end of the phrase for an air of dramatism. "I'm your father, Simon."

"That is such bullshit!" I shriek. I've bloody lost it now. "You were never there when I needed you, always putting off my questions. I had hoped, but you've never been a father to me. You neglected me and left me to starve in those godforsaken care homes! Now you're the villain, and you believe I still look up to you? That I trust you? The Pitches and the Old Families were right from the get-go!" I accuse, bitterness the least troublesome thing in my heart.

"Simon, I didn't mean it like that." He almost sounds hurt. Good. The bastard deserves it.

"Well it's exactly what you said. This is so much like that Normal sci-fi movie," I add with a mirthless laugh. "'Luke, I am your father'" I mutter ominously in my very best Darth Vader voice.

"You're taking this too literally; too personally. No, I've never been there for you -- and for that I am sorry. But my DNA is in you. You have my blood coursing through your veins. I am your father."

"I don't give a crap how we're related. You. Mean. Nothing. To. Me," I spit venomously. Arguing with Baz proves useful for something, I suppose; I know how to put up a façade.

It's beyond me how I hadn't noticed before, but a strange-looking IV is jabbed into the crook of my arm. The way I'm situated, I can't reach far enough to rip it out, which I'm sure is no accident. I don't know what it's pumping, but I don't trust the man in front of me. Not anymore. I know it's best not to dwell on it. If I never really give it the time of day, never let it enter my mind, it can't brake me, right?

"Don't fuss with the tubes," ordered the Mage.

"What are you plotting?" I demand.

"Isn't that your loathsome boyfriend's job?" The way says the word boyfriend would make me believe he was comprised of only acid. "Of all the ways you could've turned out!" he shouts, more to himself than to me, throwing his hands in the air. Great. One more disappointing fact of my life to add to the list. Even the villain of my life -- my own father -- doesn't approve of me.

"Could you just answer the question?" My voice sounds so pathetic and weak. All of a sudden, I'm transparent. Lovely.

"You'll see. I tried to make you into the Greatest Mage. But you were a cracked vessel. Broken. You couldn't handle the power thrust upon you. The power of the babe couldn't have been more powerful. It was something I could never have anticipated. I'm sorry for that. Now I'm righting my wrong. I'm going to take it all from you. It'll all be okay," the Mage tells me. I'm still not sure what he means. What it all means.

"How?" is the only word I manage to choke out.

"Like this."

He flips a lever on the wall, and an extreme pain shoots through me, centered around the piercing needle. Something flowing flows through it. My magic. A matching tub rests in the Mage's arm, giving it to him. Giving it all. Taking all it away. So that I no longer have to worry.

"Stop it!" I shout. "This isn't natural! I can help you! Just let me keep it! I can't go back to being Normal. I can't go back to the homes." My voice fades with each sentence. I'm begging for it to stop.

"I'm so sorry, Simon. The living soul is a part of magic. A part of your magic. I wish there was another way to help you," he apologizes.

"There is another way!" I attempt.

All of a sudden I don't feel too good. My head feels foggy, and nausea flips my stomach upside down. I'm starting to go numb. Not just from touch, but from feelings. Emotions. It's all slipping away. Every last bit.

I let myself fall the rest of the way to the floor, relishing in its crisp coolness. The Mage's body spasms with the surge of power. I almost feel bad for him. Then I remember the past few minutes, and just where we stand. He doesn't deserve anything from me; not even the slightest drop of sympathy.

"This is insane, Simon. You have the power of a deity! And now I will have all that power and more! Just imagine what I could do with it all," he cries.

"Sir, what were you saying about me being the Humdrum? I don't think I quite understand," I choke out with all the willpower I've got left. "I don't think I quite understand. I've never done the things he has."

"Like I said, you power was too much for the magical atmosphere to accommodate. Slowly but surely, your very existence ripped holes in it. The holes became you, gained a personality. I suppose that's why he looks like you. And that's how I'm undeniably more powerful than the dear Insidious Humdrum; he is merely an absence of power. Even that Wellbelove girl -- who you should have ended up with -- has more power than it." The way he talks about Agatha is filled with venom. And no matter how hard I try, I still want to impress him. I still want him to accept me. 

Through the clouds in my head, I hear the grandiose doors swing open. Out steps a familiar, willowy figure. He's taller than me (by at least three inches), with silky shoulder-length black hair that I yearn to run my fingers through. I can feel his icy presence from where I lay, his pale skin glowing in the light of my magic.

A/N: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it needed to be done. I'll try and finish this off today. Enjoy!
-Unfortunate Seven