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basicallyjaywalker · 8 months ago

Text

All I Know

Good evening everyone, the time has finally arrived

@someloserinajaywig for you I present, the final fictravaganza fic: Zane angst. Zangst, if you will. I will admit this is not the best bc i'm not super familiar with writing a Zane POV BUT. I hope it is an enjoyable read regardless

Also, I didn't know if you had an AO3 handle but if you do and would like to have the fic gifted to you, lmk!

Prompt: Zane, The Run and Go by Twenty-One Pilots, and temporary amnesia

AO3 Link

Fic under the cut as well!

His throne was a glacier, built with his own powers, his energy, his essence.

His throne room was the frozen ocean, vast and inhospitable. The only living beings that dared pass through were himself, his advisor, and the guards that made their rounds. Their punctuality was the only way he kept time anymore.

His empire was barren, overtaken by the ice. His ice. His subjects either learned to cope or succumbed to it. Their preserved bodies littered the tundra, a warning spread through whispers amongst the people.

He was an emperor. A symbol of might, of terror, of strength. He was an iceberg. He was an all-consuming blizzard.

He dreamed.

He hated his dreams. He was always in a vast forest. There was always a snowstorm swirling, obscuring his vision. The air was always crisp, and if he focused he could catch something between sickly sweetness and earthiness clinging to the world around him. He was always acutely aware of the absence of something, though exactly what eluded him. He simply always knew there was always an emptiness within the world.

Sometimes there were beasts with long limbs and hollow eye sockets, but they did not disturb him. They simply passed by, their towering bodies stretching up into the gray sky.

Sometimes there was someone with him.

A man with messy hair, white like fresh snow, dressed in the same color. He wore something over his eyes. The emperor felt he knew what they were called, once, but that couldn’t be true. Nothing like them existed in his empire.

Whenever he saw the man, the emperor would just watch him as he went about menial tasks. The man spoke, but the emperor couldn’t hear him, as if wind was constantly rushing right past his ears and drowning everything out.

The emperor awoke from these dreams agitated. He tried to get his advisor to tell him who the man was, but he insisted he had never seen nor heard of him before.

“A figment of imagination, your eminence. Do not let it trouble you.”

And so he did not. His advisor was always right. He had rescued the emperor from certain death after being ousted by the traitor. He restored his throne. He reclaimed his throne room. He returned the emperor to his glory.

---

Zane still had those dreams, even after his return.

They weren’t uncommon before his tenure as the Ice Emperor. He often dreamed of his father and him wandering the Birchtree Forest where they lived. However, something felt wrong about the dreams he had during and after his time in the Never-Realm. He couldn’t explain it. It was like watching a different cut of a film he’d seen a million times before. There were details missing, but he couldn’t remember them.

He tried to reach into his memory banks for them, but was met with nothing. The previous version of his dreams didn’t exist anymore. All that existed was the incomplete, glitched version.

Every time he woke up from that dream afterwards, his face was wet. He hated it. He missed something that seemed to have never existed. More than that, he knew, he hated that he felt like it was his fault for forgetting. His own memories were obscured by a horrific episode of megalomania in which he had no choice. At least, that’s what the others said. Truth be told, Zane tried very hard not to dwell on the thought too much. He wanted to imagine he was forced into that role by the manipulation of Vex, but it was fifty years. He was a conqueror, a destroyer, for fifty years, and never thought anything of it? He’d crushed dissent at Vex’s suggestion, but it was still him who brought the hammer down. He froze the changelings because he was worried they would usurp him. Did it matter that Vex told him a lie and he believed it? Would it have been different if they did want to usurp him, destroy him?

Perhaps that was why he tried not to delve too deep into his memories of that time. They remained only because he couldn’t wipe them without wiping everything else about himself, but sometimes he wished he could. Originally, his father built him with his memory switch to provide that fresh start, to allow him to forget inconvenient histories like his father’s death and their life prior. He built it to protect Zane from pain. He must’ve believed it was worth the cost, since he refused to remove it despite Zane’s request upon their reunion. At the time Zane believed it wasn’t worth it to avoid the pain if he had to forget all the good that came before, but sometimes, in the dark and cold nights where he couldn’t sleep because of the visions of Ice Samurai and innocents encased in bergs that plagued him, he wondered if his father was right.

Then he would remind himself of his friends. He thought of Pixal and her warm smile, Jay and his neverending bad puns, Kai and his fierce loyalty, Cole and his firm reassurance, Nya and her cunning wit, Lloyd and his unconditional love, and Master Wu’s constant support and guidance. He thought of them and he knew he could never forget. Even if he could build a new life with them, flip the switch, remove it, then make up some grand lie about what happened, those memories were irreplaceable.

The unfortunate consequence of wanting to remember his friends meant he had to remember every time he failed.

He had to remember finding Pixal disassembled in the labyrinth beneath Chen’s Island.

He had to remember when Cole fell off the Bounty and into the uncertain shadows of the Oni invasion.

He had to remember Lloyd’s face as he begged, pleaded with Zane to remember who he was.

Every time he failed and someone got hurt. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t just forget and start over. They couldn’t just reset. They still had to live with the consequences.

So Zane would lay there in the morning, face wet with tears. If he was unable to forget, how come he couldn’t remember? His father’s voice and the look and feeling of his home when he was young were fading. What was the point of having a computer for a brain if it just lost memories like a normal brain?!

Then one night, he ended up in that place again. His home.

Tall birchwoods towered into the cloud-speckled sky. Small rays of sunshine peeked through gray clouds, turning patches of snow on the ground into clouds themselves. Dr. Julien sat on one of these patches, with Zane beside him, shaded by the skyward stretching trunk of a tree. He could hear animals going about their lives around them. Squirrels scuttled through trees, cardinals flew through the air, and even a few bees came up and settled on the sparse greenery around them.

Zane heaved out a single word. “Father.”

“Hello, Zane, isn’t it such a pleasant morning?”

“Father, it’s been so long.”

The doctor tilted his head. “What do you mean? I only left you and Falcon alone for a moment.”

“No, it’s that… Never mind. I simply missed you.”

“Well, that is sweet of you. I’m glad you decided to join me. Spring is almost here, you know. It’s always nice when a bit of life returns to this place. The primrose will be blooming soon.”

“Yes…” Zane took a deep breath. “Father?”

“Yes, Zane?”

“May I ask you something peculiar?”

“Of course, son. What’s on your inquisitive mind today?”

“What should I do if I ever start to forget things?”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if years go by and I forget days like this, where we both sat together and talked? What if one day I forget your voice or your face? What if one day I forget… you?”

“Well… that won’t happen for quite a few more years. Why does it worry you now?”

“I’m simply curious.”

Dr. Julien hummed. He pulled his glasses off and painstakingly cleaned the lenses. Zane locked onto his every motion, inscribing it into the artificial synapses of his mind. If he knew how to in the dream, he would motion capture the process so that he could recreate it.

“I suppose it’s something we all have to deal with. Our brains can only hold so much information. There are days I find myself slowly forgetting the details of my friends' faces, the voices of those I loved…”

“So what do you do?”

He shrugged. “There is nothing you can do. You can swear to yourself you will never forget, that you will commit every minutiae to memory, you will remember a person or place or story over and over until one day it’s simply… gone. I suppose that’s why they invented photographs. You can never forget if it’s preserved, but even those will fade over time, or you can forget the when and why and who of their taking. There are photos in my scrapbook of people I know I once knew, but whose names I can no longer recall… Zane? Are you alright?” Julien reached over, turning his son’s face and seeing the fresh trails coasting down his cheeks. He wiped them with the sleeve of his white overcoat. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to upset you. I believe I must’ve gotten too wrapped up in my own melancholy.”

“I don’t want to forget you, father. Never.”

“Zane…” Dr. Julien shook his head, his deep brown eyes full of softness. “One day, you will, and it will be okay. You may forget the details of my appearance, or all of our memories together, but you will always remember who I was to you. You will always remember your father.”

Despite the fresh tears still replacing the old ones on his face, Zane nodded. “You will always be a part of me.”

“Yes, I will, son.”

Zane woke up, the wetness of his face following him to consciousness. He sat up, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his pajamas. From the half-closed blinds, a beam of golden morning light shone directly on his bed.

“I will never forget, father.”

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