#the fatherly urge to make a fire when its not even that cold

[edgeplaymotif]

gingeh tea. green tea. honey! water. boiled. take it off. yesssss.

[bluesakura007]

AOS Khan headcanons

I felt the urge to get these ideas I have out into writing because of how little this is delved into in STID, and because the books and comics and things aren’t really canon. I did take some inspiration for his backstory from the Khan comic series and another couple of tiny little bits that I found on Memory Beta though.  ^^ 

Childhood and Origins

- He was born in 1970, his birthday being February the 10th. His mother was Dr. Sarina Kaur, an Indian biochemist living and working in New Delhi, but he has no biological father of any kind because after months of theoretical research, Sarina managed to successfully conceive a child from just one parent. This was because of a project in which she was investigating the possibility of asexual reproduction in human beings like in some species of plants and insects, hence it was dubbed the Chrysalis Project.

- Whilst Khan was still in utero, his mother introduced some adjustments into his DNA such as providing him with the ability to better remember events from the early years of his childhood and adding a few different ethnicities into the mix. The European ethnicity became the dominant one, which is why he has a light skin tone, blue eyes and an English accent despite being born to an Indian parent.

- She named him Khan after one of her grandfathers, gave him his surname after the 15th century poet Singh el Bashir and chose his middle name as Noonien after Noonien Prasad, her boyfriend who died from cancer while she was pregnant with Khan and who would have been a fatherly figure to him.

- Sarina was very caring and benevolent towards Khan, who she would often call her beautiful boy. The fact that her son looked so different to her and that she’d originally conceived him for the purpose of scientific research did nothing to stop her from loving him very dearly.

- She later died when he was four years old due to an accident at her laboratory one day: it started a fire in which she perished as she tried to escape. When the now orphaned little Khan found out about his mother’s death, he felt frightened now that he was alone and ran off into the streets of the city, moving from place to place every night with no other possessions except for his blanket.

- After a few days, he came across a group of half a dozen other street orphans led by an older boy with a heart condition named Tanvir Acharya, who allowed Khan to join them, making him the youngest member. The ragtag seven would go around exploring the city together and would make their days of living homeless feel that little bit less sad, and over the next year Khan and Tanvir became best friends, to the point where they ultimately saw each other as blood brothers.

- After a year, Khan, Tanvir and the others in the group, and several other orphans, were kidnapped off of the streets by men working for a geneticist, Dr. Heisen, and taken to be turned into genetically enhanced “supermen” via DNA-altering experiments.

- Another seven years on, when Khan was twelve years old, he and the others at the facility they were being kept at were now all Augments and were still in the captivity of Heisen and his scientists. Khan and Tanvir hatched a plan for the both of them to escape and then come back to liberate the others later on: they dug their way out of the facility grounds through the floor and fled in separate directions, promising to rendezvous at this time later on when they’d go back for the others, with Khan going off into the Gobi Desert. However, Khan was recaptured five days later thanks to the use of his neural inhibitor implanted in his and the others’ bodies in order to inflict pain at the push of a button. Upon his return to the facility, he found out that Tanvir had also been recaptured, but that he had died due to the use of his own neural inhibitor inadvertently stopping his heart, his condition having “slipped the net” from his enhancements.

- After another three years, the teenage Khan, having become embittered towards Heisen and his scientists, and the others took control of the facility after working together to remove their neural inhibitors, and after Khan killed Heisen by crushing his skull, he and the other Augment children finally escaped and left to see more of the world.

Global Rule

- Khan and the group of friends and comrades he had by then, some of them being other Augments that had also escaped from their own facilities, took control of the Indian government in 1990 and established The Great Khanate, an Augment government power encompassing India, Nepal, Mongolia, the Western half of Russia and the Middle East. The world was also ruled over by six other Augment powers: Alexander Newton in charge of the Empire of Newtonia and Verity Cheng leading the Cheng Federation - these two being the Great Khanate’s allies and respectively encompassing North America and the Eastern half of Asia - along with Asahf Ferris at the head of the Ferris Dominion in South America, Ama Owusu leading the African Caliphates in the entirety of the African continent, and the Khanate’s enemies allied with each other, respectively the Oceania and European powers led by Bernard Maltuvis and John Ericssen called Maltuvisland and Pax Europa.

- While the Cheng Federation and the Empire of Newtonia adopted the same rules of benevolence towards their subjects that Khan did, with the African Caliphates also doing the same, the Ferris Dominion extorted money from its own, and Pax Europa and Maltuvisland committed many executions of human enemies and expanded their territories the most aggressively.

- Verity, Alexander and Khan all promised to back each other up in the event of a war against John and Bernard, as defensive border skirmishes were shared with these two; these were made more difficult by the start of the Eugenics Wars in 1992, which meant that for the next four years every Augment power had human forces working against them as well. Ama and Asahf preferred to stay neutral during Khan, Verity and Alex’s cold war against Maltuvisland and Pax Europa - they both basically sat back away from the chaos sipping tea and saying “This is fine”.

- While the other four’s identities were public knowledge - Ama and the others in the African Caliphates government were greeted as heroes for freeing the citizens of Africa from the poverty and dictatorships that they were living under - Alex, Verity and Khan all kept their faces and voices as leaders a secret, going by false names in public.

Personality Traits and Interests

- Although Khan has a cold ruthlessness towards his enemies who incur his anger, and even then he can still have a merciful side to some of them, he’s benevolent towards animals and children, as he knows that they’re innocents. He’s still also merciful towards people who aren’t directly involved in the activities of said enemies or don’t know what they’re doing, and as a result tries to avoid killing these non-direct accomplices if he can help it.

- He was taught about Hinduism from an early age, but he doesn’t really follow any religions.

- He likes the feeling of riding a horse, because of the freedom it grants of being able to ride through wide open spaces with nothing holding him back.

- He keeps it locked away underneath the surface and keeps himself cold and aloof around his enemies and strangers, but if you’re a person that he really trusts he can let his emotions shine through. Khan’s got a big heart, it’s just been tainted by his experiences.

- What he’s also got is a hidden fondness for chocolates and a disliking for spicy foods, the latter of which being ironic due to the fact that he grew up in India.

- He has a loathing for the scientists who turned him into an Augment, who took away a normal childhood that he could have had and also ended up taking his best friend away from him, as they and the ones working for the other Augment facilities around the world during the 1970s and 80s effectively dressed up their selfish goals of using supermen as human weapons in a facade of idealism.

- However, Khan bears no ill will to the rest of mankind and this is why he committed no atrocities towards his human subjects while leading the Great Khanate - the fond memories he has of Sarina, of the happy days before she died back when he was four, are a reminder to him that not all non-enhanced humans are selfish and that they’re capable of kindness. Khan loves her very much in return, which means that although he may become ruthless and enraged in the heat of battle, he’ll never take out this rage on the human race in general, as doing so would be an affront to the memory of his mother.

[aj-artjunkyard]

Trials Of Apollo Oneshot Series  CHAPTER TWO

It was my turn to keep watch. It was dark, though there was no way to accurately determine what time it was. Meg snored deeply from the rush-job tent just a few feet behind me. We’d had quite the close call a few nights ago, when a Pandos tracker from Caligula’s army had caught us off guard. From then on, we decided that at least one of us should be awake at all times. But now, sitting and shivering on an uncomfortable rock in the eerie darkness of the forest in the early morning, I decided I regretted every part of my and Meg’s little agreement. Not only was I cold and tired, I was also hyperaware of the fact that I was extremely vulnerable. I had been mortal for so long that I could hardly shoot a barn from point-blank range. I had trouble with the intricate fingering on my combat ukulele. My voice wavered at cracked when I sang even the simplest tune. I feared that if something were to happen, I wouldn’t be able to do anything except scream for help from a little girl in traffic-light coloured attire. Have I mentioned that being mortal sucks?

But… there was something else. When I was a god, I had the ability to keep an eye on mortal exploits from my throne on Olympus. I had observed with interest the quests of many heroes; Hercules, Theseus and Percy Jackson, to name a few. So I knew with certainty that the gods would be watching me. This was not new information. I had always known. What was bothering me was that the uncomfortable feeling of eyes on my back felt intensified. I was the entertainment of a large audience tonight. 

I could almost feel my image in the central hearth of Hestia in the Olympian throne room, where you could watch anyone in the world flicker through its flames like a blazing hologram. I’ve watched a few soppy family movies with Hestia and the others huddled around the warmth of the most gentle source of power in all of Olympus. When you were sat viewing ‘Beauty and the Beast’ in high definition, you simply forgot all sense of tension between you and your brethren. Even to lawless scamps like Hermes, it was simply improper to argue in front of Hestia's hearth. Demeter and I came to our uneasy truce over ‘The Secret Garden’. Artemis and I had forgotten countless arguments over ‘Robin Hood’ since 1973. (What? We’re archers. And we love the justice dealt to the greedy prince. Artie will tell you that Maid Marian shouldn't have gotten married. This isn’t true.) You catch my drift. It hurt that I was the one being peered at, ridiculed, from such a pure, sacred place.

And so, I knew something was going to happen. I stole a glance back at Meg, wondering if I should wake her. Then again, there was no telling what a cranky, sleep-deprived tween would order me to do if I were to wake her just because I was feeling a little skittish. I decided against disturbing her. 

But what I did next, I could not explain at the time. I thought perhaps the nerves got the better of me. Perhaps my fidgeting became too much. I stood. My keen ears picked up the faint squealing of an infant. Meg’s snores began to ebb away to the back of my mind, like the whole world was being submerged in Poseidon’s fury. The screams became more acute. I was drawn to go to it, to silence the scream. My peripheral vision darkened. I could only see straight ahead, to the source of the voice. The urge became as powerful as my master’s orders. I started to walk.

I had only gone a few steps forward in my trance when I gained back control of my lower body, and, with great force, willed myself to stop. I stood there, stuck in limbo, my mind violently hurling commands back and forth like the ball in an olympian volleyball game (Zeus and Poseidon are terrifyingly competitive).

‘Go!’ The first voice hissed. ‘You are needed! Save them!’

‘Not a chance!' The second sniped back. ‘You’d leave Meg vulnerable like that? You are no better than the gods and emperors you say you despise!’

‘Meg can defend herself. You need to be the useful one for a change. How many people have you disappointed? Do not let this be another.’

My legs felt detached from my body. I stepped another few paces. “No!” I muttered to myself. “I want to stay!” The pull did not lessen.

‘Trust me,’ said the first voice, morphing into that of a fierce woman’s. Her tone was a calm leader’s, pointing her soldiers into the battlefield. ‘No harm shall come to your companion. Now, go!’ Her last word spurred my legs against my will. I began to run towards the source of the screaming, my heart pumping faster and more desperately every second, without actually knowing why. My entire form went on autopilot. I saw myself jumping over fallen tree trunks, clawing up steep, muddy hills and wading through a shallow creeks. I felt every stone scraped my hands on, every branch that stung my face. But I could not control it. Down in the very depths of my mind I felt my fear of being trapped and guilt of leaving Meg, but it was quickly quenched by this new feeling of an unwelcome person sharing my Lester prison.

My subconscious thrashed to regain control. But I couldn’t. No matter how hard I fought, I could not make myself portray anything but this monotoned calm. I was forced to take a backseat and watch quietly as I let myself run and run until my lungs felt like Hephaestus had made them into his new forge. I wanted to wheeze, cough and splutter. I couldn’t. I tried to yell for help. I couldn’t.

Finally, after an eternity of sprinting through the damp, cold maze of trees, the presence left my mortal body. My knees buckled and my feet gave way. I lay face down in the dirt panting like Cerberus on a particularly dry day in the Underworld. My clothes were in tatters. My hands and knees were bleeding. Everything up to my mid-thighs was soaked, and the rest was caked with mud. I managed to push myself up, though I shook badly. I stayed like that for a while - on all fours, concentrating on breathing more than anything else. Breathing is good. I always recommend breathing. 

Then I heard the cries. They only sounded to be a few feet ahead of me. With all my mortal strength (which isn’t a lot, but I was tired) I used a nearby trunk to haul myself to my feet, still gasping at the air hungrily. When I looked up, my eyes connected with a strange sight. A wispy grey apparition floated silently next to a dark tree stump. On the stump lay a little bundle of writhing white sheets, wrapped tightly around a minuscule form. I stood there for a second - maybe out of shock - before I rushed over to the child, tripping and landing on my bleeding knees out of desperation to reach him. I took him up as gently as my shaking hands could, and clutched him tightly to my chest. You may be wondering why I did this. Firstly, please. I know I’m not a model father, but I’m no monster. Even in my godly state, I would have reacted as such. Just as my sister is the protector of young maidens, I am the protector of young men. I don’t quite understand how I knew, but this little child was a boy. Perhaps it’s my mother’s genes that spurs on this side of me. She is, after all, the titaness of motherhood (also, I know for certain that I don’t get any of my fatherly traits from my own father).

Secondly, this baby, barely a newborn, had obviously been abandoned by his parents. Left for dead with no skills or means to survive. He was utterly defenceless. I sympathised.

I felt the baby’s heartbeat and checked his temperature, all while hugging him as close as possible, trying to provide him with heat from my own body. I could tell he needed far more warmth than my shivering frame could give him. My teeth chattered. My numb fingers could just about keep an even grip on the baby.

“He won’t survive much longer.” The apparition’s voice made me jump. I had completely forgotten her presence. I scolded myself. You do not disregard a potential deity unless you want something sharp or white-hot to mutilate you on the spot. Stupid Apollo! This was basic hero knowledge! I looked up at her, already recognising her voice. The woman wore a full-length chiton, held a spear in one hand, and a shield in the other. Her head was adorned with a battle helm that sprouted smoky grey plumage as if someone had set her tightly woven hair bun on fire, though I guess that wasn’t the look she was going for. Over one shoulder, a small satchel was slung. Battle ready and stoic as ever, stood Athena, the goddess of wisdom.

“S-sister,” I greeted coldly (literally. I was shivering enough to cause concern.) “How nice of you to show. I would have thought you above interacting with human children.”

“You are four thousand years old. You are not a child, though your behaviour could fool most.”

“I didn’t mean me, I meant-”

“We have urgent matters to discuss.”

“But why did you-”

“There is limited time.” Ugh. Athena was and is the spitting image of Zeus. One track mind. It doesn’t matter if everyone was crying and screaming, they would still finish what they were saying or doing before giving a thought to anyone else’s feelings.

“I have information for you,” ghost-Athena continued. “You must-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I interrupted (wow, Athena was right! Cutting people off was fun). Athena looked irritated, but allowed me to speak. “Why did you drag me to this kid? What’s he got to do with this?” Sighing deeply, she began to explain.

“It’s an excuse.” She looked down at me as if this should have been the most obvious thing in the world.  “My plan was to alert you to this child’s predicament, then appear and take him to safety. As the protector of young boys, his well-being is your responsibility. I told father how embarrassing it would be for him to look like he couldn’t handle your ‘simplistic’ jobs, and he allowed me take the child if you just so happened to find him,”- she waved her hands slightly for emphasis -“on the condition that I don’t talk to you.”

“So…why are you talking to me?”

“I am disregarding his condition as I trust his reliance on my wise judgement. He cannot hurt me.”

I grunted. “Right.” It must have felt good to be one of my father’s favourite children. I would not know. I was cursed to be in the same group as deities such as Ares and Dionysus. Sometimes even they got more attention than me! I was not some dumb war brute or a drunken demigod! I was Apollo! I (sometimes) knew the future! I sang songs of our (my) glory! Not to mention my (and my sister’s) skill with a bow! I was an intelligent medic! Have you ever been to medical school? Only the brightest survive (excuse my pun about being the frickin’ sun god).

Then again, my mortal mind had been kicking me recently. Ever since meeting Hermes on the way to Camp Jupiter, I had come to an awful realisation. Among the Olympians, I was always second best. An atrocity, I know! I do not suit silver. That’s my sister’s colour! I’m supposed to be gold! But I assure you kind readers, it is true, for I have thought this over. Anything I could do, someone else could also do. Healing? They had my son, Asclepius. Archery? My sister, Artemis. Music and poetry? The nine muses. The sun? They already had Hermes on that job. Sure, I could spread plague, but so could the Nosoi. I could be a deep thinker if I wanted to be, but so could Athena, and her ‘deep thoughts’ were usually to my father’s favour, unlike mine.

If I showed any disgust (and I’m sure I did,) Athena did not acknowledge it. Instead she ploughed on with her all-important speech.

“As I was saying, I have something important to share with you.” She started digging through her small satchel while she talked. “Both Artemis and Hermes have helped you, and both are now being watched by father. I will be more careful. I have only come to give you this.” From the petite bag, she drew a water bottle and a clear zip-lock bag with what looked like little squares of brownies inside. She placed the bottle on the tree stump next to her, and held up the bag. “These have been chemically synthesised by your son Asclepius and myself. They have the healing properties of ambrosia, but can be safely consumed by mortals, as long as you do not eat too much. The bag is not self-replenishing, so use them carefully. This is something Artemis whipped up. It’s-”

“-Moonwater,” I finished. The glinting silveriness of the liquid was too obvious to be anything else. I remembered Thalia Grace giving me some back in Indianapolis, before - well, before Caligula happened. I hated myself for reminding me. 

Athena seemed unbothered. “Yes. Now if you could hand over the child-” she started reaching her arms out the shivering baby in my arms. As soon as Athena’s hands were within an inch of him, he started screeching with renewed energy. The shrill sound echoed through the quiet woods, a few birds in nearby trees flapping off to escape the racket. I flinched and Athena covered her ears.  I rocked the baby and hummed a quiet lullaby until he calmed down. Athena sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Right. Let us try that again.” She picked up the baby and rocked him like I had, but the noise was no different. For a newborn, he definitely had a good pair of lungs. 

Seeing Athena struggle with something so simple was quite amusing, but I decided to be a good person (see? I am good. I am.) and help her out. With great difficulty, I stood and shuffled over to Athena’s smoke-self. She glared, but allowed me to adjust her hand positioning. 

“Babies don’t have much in the neck. You have to hold them like this.” Athena huffed. 

“I know that.” She snapped.

“Good. Now you’ll have to sing to him.”

Athena blanched (as much as a grey apparition can, anyway). “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You don’t have to sing the entire Les Misérables soundtrack. Just a little tune.” You’ll have to forgive me here. I knew there were other alternatives. But I also I knew Athena was self-conscious. I just wanted to get one of the Olympians to be as embarrassed as I constantly was for the last three months.

After some convincing, Athena agreed to hum, but nothing more. She chose ‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven. A good choice I suppose. I admit, it did please me that even in her semi-solid colourless state, I could almost feel her cheeks reddening. Too soon, the baby quietened down. 

“Not bad. Though your pace needs to slow down a bit to -”

“Hush up.” I held up my hands in surrender and flashed my old, cocky smile. It didn’t seem to fit naturally anymore. I ignored that.

“You’ve done better than I expected.”

“Gee, thanks.” Suddenly thunder rumbled in the distance. We both looked to the skies.

“I’ve exceeded my time limit. I must be off.” And with that, the embodiment of wisdom poofed and disappeared, leaving me coughing in her smoke. I arrived back at the campsite just as the sun’s first rays began to peek through the trees.