Work Text:
The night air was chilly. The waves lapped at the shore gently with a soothing sound. It was the perfect picture of a calm night. Only Jordan was out of place.
Jordan stood, slightly hunched, outside of his battle tower. He held a glass bottle, a potion, close to his chest. He cast his gaze across the ocean, scanning Tom's island for any hint of any witnesses. But there was no sign of life. It was far too late for anyone to be out and about.
Jordan's claws lightly scratched at the sides of the potion's cork almost absentmindedly. He shouldn't, he knew he shouldn't— there was no world where a gift from the Darkness was something good. But damn if it wasn't tempting as hell anyway. Of course it was— he wouldn't even be here if it wasn't. He had multiple opportunities to turn back, multiple steps he had to take to get here. But he had kept the potion, he had taken it out of his ender chest, out of his shulker.
Anything he could ever want and more … the words echoed in his head, taunting, tempting . All he wanted… that was the same as it's always been, all he's ever wanted was to be enough for his Lady, to do right by her.
His claw caught on the spongy cover on the potion. Jordan pulled it free. The seal loosened.
It would be so easy. It was just one measly cork between him and finally being enough for Ianite. Just one more choice and he could have it all.
If he could be enough she wouldn't be looking to Tom as a potential Champion. If he could just be enough for once in his fucking life then she would believe him when he pointed out that Tom was lying about changing sides. He wasn't even doing that good a job of lying about it in the first place!
The cork top popped off. Jordan froze as he watched it fall. He could not bring himself to move, to try to catch it. It hit the floor with a light thump that might as well have been a crash in the silence of the night. But nobody was around, nobody heard a thing.
Jordan swirled the potion around, watching the mixture cling to the edges of the glass. It was fairly thick for a potion. It still did move pretty fluidly, but had an underlying stickiness to it. Definitely some magma cream, maybe some blaze powder and glowstone dust. He'd hazard a guess that there was a bit of ghast tear in here too. This was all assuming the Darkness used normal methods of potion brewing when creating this, of course.
The purple liquid shifted colors as it moved. It sparkled and shimmered, catching the light of the moon and the various lamps around the island. A point to the blaze powder and glowstone dust theory. The colors ranged from a bright magenta to deep purples and blues almost indistinguishable from black. The darker colors swirled around the substance. Bubbles of these hues flowed to the surface and popped once they met air, releasing dark fumes from the bottle. The stripes of darker tones mixed with the others, never quite blending but eventually falling back under the surface for the process to repeat.
The smell was… odd. Sharp? Jordan wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that he didn't want to think too much about it. It was making his head hurt.
Or was it the smell doing that?
Jordan wondered if inhaling this stuff might not be good for him. It can't be much worse than drinking it, he supposed.
Jordan continued to stare into the bottle. What to do, what to do. He swirled the potion around some more. Maybe if he swirled it around enough it might give him the answers he was looking for.
Purple turned pink turned black turned blue. The colors continued to shift and there was no sudden revelation to guide him through this.
He wondered what it tastes like.
Fuck . Jordan brought his head down into his arms, resting on the railing outside his battle tower. He kept his grip on the potion tight.
He didn't know what he was thinking. No— Jordan thought he wanted to take a sip. And that— he was supposed to be better than this. He… he was supposed to be a lot of things.
Jordan laughed. Gods, he must look so pathetic. He was glad there was not a soul around to witness this moment of his.
But that was part of the problem, wasn't it?
He was alone. He shouldn't be alone, not this time, Jordan was sure of it. It couldn't possibly be written into the threads of the Universe and Fate itself that Captain Jordan Sparklez will be haunted by the absence of his Goddess no matter when or where he is. It can't . He was not supposed to be alone this time. His Lady was actually around. There was nothing keeping her away—no prison, no reason for her to hide away. She was safe and here and fine .
And yet Jordan had never felt more lonely.
Ianite was supposed to be here, supposed to be by his side like he'd been by hers at every opportunity. But she was not. Instead, Jordan was left with nothing but the darkness potion in his hand and the Voices in his head arguing over what he should do.
Some were nervous, unsure about the situation at hand. They told him to think this through. Others, louder, more vocal, told him to just drink the potion. He didn't know which, if any, had his best interest in mind.
What he did know was what he had to do. The Voices couldn't change that. No amount of thinking about it would change it.
If his Lady won't believe him, if she was going to be led astray, be manipulated into turning against him, it was Jordan's duty as her Champion to make her see the situation for what it was.
And if he himself was not enough for that? If everything Jordan has ever been and ever will be could never be enough? He would do whatever it takes to change that. He would become whatever he needed to for Ianite to believe him.
Jordan brought the bottle to his lips with steady hands. For his Lady? It was never a choice, not really. He'd do whatever it takes.