Yes. But you belong to me. So your power, this world, and everything in it also belong to me. They've always belonged to me. I've only just reclaimed them, after you so foolishly thought you could reverse the natural order of things.
But I do have to thank you for keeping my seat warm, and restoring our youth.
I should have left you dead, when I remade the world.
[There's no scared adoration or worshipping love anymore, there's only a deep hate right now. But it's Tristan, after all, how much spine does he have without the power to back it up?]
[Not much, Ariel assumes. And he laughs, casually using invisible force to shove Tristan abruptly off the bed and into the wall hard enough to leave heavy bruising at the very least.]
So you renounce the child you made, too? It's a pity he's too dead to hear it.
[He hisses, but this level of pain is hardly enough to register as more than inconvenient. It does jar something in him though, an old, ingrained behavior and fear, which he tries to ignore in favor of steadying himself on his feet.]
I never tried to be your brother much, did I? And yet you've just wished you never made him.
[He waits until Tristan seems steady, then slams him to the ground. He doesn't hold him there, though. He just intends to knock him down every time he tries to get up.]
[He gets up. He has his own stubbornness that let him survive at Ariel's side all that time. And it's changed form since he made this world, the one Ariel's destroying. At least in the form he's worked so hard for. But he can't keep the tears off his face, frustration and rage and mourning.]
He was fine, it was you that should have stayed dead.
[He lets him get up, then pushes him down again, ruthlessly violent every time, watching from the bed with a pleasant smile.]
You tried to manage that. I'm stronger than you, even when you had power. You should have known as soon as I woke up that I'd put things in their proper place.
Even a useless scrap will continue to exist if I want it to, Tristan. You know that. You're nothing to the universe, but you're still my prized possession, and that only. Shall I remind you more, how you should be?
[He knows. He felt when it was ripped out of him, like he became something so much less than he's ever been. And he hates it, he hates feeling weak and at Ariel's mercy again, and there's nothing he can do to fight. But he hisses all the same, to cover his despair with anger.]
It will return to me. I will find a way. You were a mistake that should never have been born.
[He pets Tris's hair, affectionate the way one would be with a dog, the way he always used to. And then he yanks on it, also the way he always used to.]
You, on the other hand, are a tool that's gotten bent out of shape. But that can be fixed.
[He'd rather die. He'd rather die. He'd rather die.]
[He reaches to try to yank Ariel's hand out of his hair, dig a thumb into his wrist. He knows he can't withstand what Ariel can do, he knows he'll just crumble, but he can't. Can't. He can't go back.]
[He lets him pull his hand away, not at all threatened by Tristan's attempts to regain some semblance of control. After all, it takes only a thought to throw him across the room again, which he does, smiling.]
[It hurts but he's used to being hurt--just not in such a long time. He pushes himself up to his feet, stubborn and scared and not willing to just collapse into what he used to be.]
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How dare you--
[Oppose me. Dethrone me. Turn things against me.]
I made this world!
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But I do have to thank you for keeping my seat warm, and restoring our youth.
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I should have left you dead, when I remade the world.
[There's no scared adoration or worshipping love anymore, there's only a deep hate right now. But it's Tristan, after all, how much spine does he have without the power to back it up?]
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So you renounce the child you made, too? It's a pity he's too dead to hear it.
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He was more my brother than you'll ever be.
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[He waits until Tristan seems steady, then slams him to the ground. He doesn't hold him there, though. He just intends to knock him down every time he tries to get up.]
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[He gets up. He has his own stubbornness that let him survive at Ariel's side all that time. And it's changed form since he made this world, the one Ariel's destroying. At least in the form he's worked so hard for. But he can't keep the tears off his face, frustration and rage and mourning.]
He was fine, it was you that should have stayed dead.
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You tried to manage that. I'm stronger than you, even when you had power. You should have known as soon as I woke up that I'd put things in their proper place.
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[It hurts. It hurts a lot. He thinks one of his ribs is a bit cracked and his muscles are aching terribly, but he gets up.]
I should have known you'd stop at nothing, you're right about that. But I should have controlled you better, I gave you too much freedom.
Not a mistake I'll make again.
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[No, that power is in fact being used to effortlessly drag Tris back to the bed and hold him down at the moment.]
It's mine, as you are.
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[He knows. He felt when it was ripped out of him, like he became something so much less than he's ever been. And he hates it, he hates feeling weak and at Ariel's mercy again, and there's nothing he can do to fight. But he hisses all the same, to cover his despair with anger.]
It will return to me. I will find a way. You were a mistake that should never have been born.
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[He pets Tris's hair, affectionate the way one would be with a dog, the way he always used to. And then he yanks on it, also the way he always used to.]
You, on the other hand, are a tool that's gotten bent out of shape. But that can be fixed.
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[Internally he cringes, old, undealt-with trauma rearing up. This is all too familiar, he can't go back to this.]
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[He reaches to try to yank Ariel's hand out of his hair, dig a thumb into his wrist. He knows he can't withstand what Ariel can do, he knows he'll just crumble, but he can't. Can't. He can't go back.]
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Don't fight me. You know it's pointless.
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No.
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