Summary: A long time ago, in a certain place, a melodious voice would echo against pure white stone pillars. Sometimes, the sound of a harp would accompany it. Sometimes, another harp would join in as well, notes awkward and uncertain, but beautiful in their own way. The gentle song would harmonize with the chirping of sparrows and the rustle of leaves, creating a soothing melody that would put the most ferocious of primal beasts to sleep.
Melody
Posted: 28/01/2019
Status: Dropped
Author's note: "But amki" I hear you say "wasn't there already a chapter 5? What happened to it?
...Nothing you can prove.
(In other words, I didn't like it and felt like it didn't fit the general tone of this fic, so I deleted it)
A long time ago, in a certain place, a melodious voice would echo against pure white stone pillars. Sometimes, the sound of a harp would accompany it. Sometimes, another harp would join in as well, notes awkward and uncertain, but beautiful in their own way. The gentle song would harmonize with the chirping of sparrows and the rustle of leaves, creating a soothing melody that would put the most ferocious of primal beasts to sleep.
Although there were two people, there was always but one voice, to be heard by but one person, though they didn’t know it was a privilege reserved for them and them alone.
Just like for their coffee time together, the angel never realized how blessed he was until it was too late.
When he left to join the rebellion, he left everything behind except his sword and the clothes on his back. Everything had to stay back home at the laboratory, because it wouldn’t help the cause, nor would he find any use for it in his quest for revenge.
But mostly, it was because he knew that as soon as he looked at the harp, he would be reminded of his time in the garden with the only important person in his eyes. He would remember the way they would play together, and the way his voice would enchant every living being in the garden, himself included. And then, he knows, he would immediately go back. Back to him. Back home .
Maybe he should have, in hindsight. Maybe then, the tragedy that followed could have been avoided.
Or maybe, it couldn’t have. Maybe he was destined to perish either way. Maybe he was going to fulfill his purpose of being a spare and become the “new” Supreme Primarch, just as that Astral had planned.
But maybe, he thinks, at least he could have died knowing he wasn’t hated.
If the true Supreme Primarch was really destined to die, then the spare’s biggest regret was not telling him that no, he didn’t really hate him. No, he didn’t resent him.
No, the archangel simply wanted to be looked at.
Please look at me, Lu
The harp stays in now unknown ruins, forgotten.
It is the Girl in Blue’s idea to come back to the ruins he had whisked her away to, some time ago. He really doesn’t understand why, at first. Is that her way to get back at him for everything he has done to her and her friends? He wouldn’t blame her if she did, he wanted nothing more than to be punished for everything. For abandoning him, for throwing a tantrum that almost destroyed the sky realm, for refusing to even talk to him while he was in the cradle, knowing full well he was being watched over.
This place reminds him of every single one of his sins, yet his self-hatred is quickly stopped by the look she gives him. Her eyes are free of any loathing, but full of confidence, and her smile brings temporary peace to his agitated heart.
They’ve both come a long way since they’ve met.
They came in a small party of three, composed of himself, the Girl in Blue, and one of the Singularities. He finds it ironic that, of everyone, the two people he is with are the ones he wronged the most directly : one he kidnapped then used as a bargaining chip, while the other he quite literally threw off a cliff, his twin soon to follow him in hopes of saving him.
The Singularity…Gran (he’s really trying to call them by their names more often, but old habits die hard) is quiet, as he is wont to be, but still alert for any potential monster while…Lyria looks around for that “something” she felt a while back. She couldn’t tell them what it was exactly, other than it felt “like him but also not”, so he “absolutely had to come with!”. He is perplexed, to say the least, but indulges her anyway. She’s become quite the weak point for him, and he has trouble saying no to her, nowadays.
A small “ah” takes him out of his musings, and catches Gran’s attention as well.
As they both approach her, she points to a fairly big pile of rubble.
“I think…no, I’m sure it’s under there.”
Now that he thinks about it, he does feel some very faint energy underneath all that rubble. He initially wrote it off as residual energy left all over the ruins. With Gran’s help, they carefully remove the various stones and fallen pillars until almost nothing is left.
They’re not even done removing the last of the rubble before Lyria hurries right into the middle of it all and crouches down. He looks curiously in the direction she went to and almost drops the stone he was holding right on his foot.
There’s a very, very familiar harp there, but that’s not the most surprising.
Because right next to it, is a core.
Not any core either, he knows that core better than anyone. Or rather, he knew the one it belonged to more than anyone.
This is his core. Lucifer’s core.
Sometimes, on the Grandcypher, in the dead of night, the sound of a harp is heard in the wind. If you’re particularly lucky, you could even hear a soft, barely audible voice accompanying it. But you probably wouldn’t be the one who is being sung to. After all, the Supreme Primarch sings for but one person.
As Sandalphon’s voice drifts in the wind, the core placed right next to him glows faintly, its light gently pulsing in rhythm with the harp’s melody, as if singing with him. Though it has no voice, Sandalphon hears it in his heart. He thinks it is quite the beautiful melody.
One day, he would like to sing to Lucifer, like Lucifer sang to him all those millennia ago.