𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍
Chapter 2 — Talescria
Tags: @queendalia @animelover100
Thank you so much for enjoying my fanfic! ❤️
PREVIOUS CHAPTER: Chapter 1
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DANGER
blood. horror. violence against
children.
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“FOR 8 years, your life was turned upside down.
You still slowly remember the hell it was to endure that horrifying place. The first 24 hours, the first week… and the first year there.
Everything was so new.
You had a name there… a strong Viltrumite name, but it never felt right to use it. So, people mostly called you by your own name.
There, you were nothing but an instrument of war. It was hard at first to adapt—you still felt anger, still felt resentment. But it was part of it… You had to learn that this was your true home, not Kyerian, right?
Your mouth still bitter, years of training. Years of evolving. Years of swearing loyalty to a flag that was never yours—always imposed. One that always caused you disgust, revulsion, and hatred toward yourself.
You still remember—how could you forget that day? How could you even think that this memory would just momentarily sit in your mind and never return?
A mistake. A big mistake.
When your (eye color) eyes fix on that ethereal, white environment, your feet tremble. You can still taste the metallic flavor in your mouth, something tied to how hard you bit that man’s finger.
Everything is too polished—too white. Too organized. It’s a medium-sized room, some beds stacked like bunks, and you… you were the only child lying down.
In front of you, five children—just like you. Different skin tones, but without the scaling of Kyerian beings. They look at you in military stance, some smiling dangerously, others staring with indescribable disdain:
“The princess is awake” a boy with dark hair and tanned skin laughs, nudging the edge of the bed. “Get up, subspecies. Our training will begin shortly.”
Subspecies?
You can’t muster a response, your throat dry as you watch those children look at you like you’re a monster:
“Where am I?” you ask, your voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Your now-clean feet kick off the blanket, and you realize you’re wearing the same uniform those bastards wore when they killed your people.
“On Viltrum, subspecies” a red-haired girl replies, a mocking smile on her face. “You’re lucky General Craing only hit you once.”
General Craing?
Your feet touch the glossy porcelain floor, the reflection—your own appearance—echoing in your stunned mind. Short hair at ear length, (eye color) eyes that once radiated hope, now slightly dull:
“You will receive the necessary training, subspecies” a boy with glasses states firmly. “And finally, you will become one of us.”
Suddenly, the bedroom door opens, and all five children snap into military position—and you remain there, in the middle of the room, frozen, confused.
The man who enters is another—larger, bald, wearing a mustache eerily similar to the one who killed your family.
That being’s eyes narrow slightly, a mocking smile forming beneath that harsh mustache:
“The subspecies is awake” his deep voice echoes loudly. “We can begin our training accordingly.”
You say nothing, only watch how all those children stand at attention… and your eyes fill with tears, which begin to roll down your chubby cheeks:
“I—I want my parents” you cry like a child, because that’s what you are: a child. Your hands tremble slightly as you grip the hem of your shirt, hoping to be taken back home or—
“Those wretched reptilians are dead, subspecies” the man approaches in an intimidating manner, and you recoil, stepping back.
His hand stretches out, grabbing your arm and throwing you forward in front of everyone—you fall to the ground, bracing yourself with your arms, groaning:
“Training demands discipline, authority… respect for Viltrum” the man begins, arms behind his back. “You may be one of the only 100% pure-blood Viltrumites in years… but you are still considered a subspecies due to your weakness.”
Silence. Absurd.
“Classmates… show our new subspecies how we welcome newcomers here on Viltrum… and how we respond to weakness.”
Your body tenses. Danger. You try to stand—but the same boy with glasses punches you, knocking you back to the ground.
Blood. Again.
That burning sensation in your nose, the warmth of the crimson liquid mixing with the salt of dried tears… and suddenly, a kick to the same spot where the other man struck you.
A mouthful of blood escapes your lips, and one by one they surround you in a vicious circle, delivering kicks and punches that make you see stars…
Was this your death?
No.
It wouldn’t be.
That would be too little for you.
You deserved more."
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Your (eye color) eyes snap open as you sit up abruptly in bed. The movement is so sudden that you hit your forehead against the shelf above, groaning from the impact:
“Fuck” your voice comes out broken, breathless, as you gently rub the sore spot on your forehead.
It had been a few months since you turned against Viltrum, causing destruction and joining the Coalition against that damned Empire.
But the nightmares still persist, in an intensely negative way. Sometimes you woke up before your new routine out of fear of being beaten for oversleeping—or simply reliving the massacre Viltrum inflicted on the Kyerian people.
Terrible.
Even as part of the Coalition, working on the front lines, you remained alone. Very few people knew of a Viltrumite helping them—but those who did were highly efficient.
Your gaze shifts to the small spacecraft you had salvaged for yourself, that scrap of metal helping you stay in space longer. It wasn’t comfortable—but enough to get some occasional sleep.
Then, you stand up, cracking your joints as you approach the control panel—your room, command area, and kitchen all sharing the same space, with only the bathroom separated.
Your agile fingers, slightly stained with blood, rest on the panel. In 34 minutes, you would be landing on Talescria, the planet that housed the Coalition of Planets headquarters.
You yawn lightly, scratching your side… but suddenly, your eyes focus on a small device that Great Thaedus had given you at the start of your missions.
Your fingers grasp the device carefully, placing it near your ear as you hear static:
“Hello?” all you hear are screams. A lot of screams. Your expression turns cautious, but a genuine chill runs down your spine.
And suddenly, you look at the planet you were about to land on, biting your lower lip as you notice an abnormal movement across its surface.
Your fist slams the panel button, and the gas-powered machine lunges forward in a violent motion, the spacecraft gaining absurd speed.
“Landing in 15 minutes,” the robotic voice announces, glitching and unstable. You take a deep breath, pushing it even faster.
Something was happening on Talescria.
And you were going to help—no matter what.
NEXT CHAPTER: Chapter 3
Author's note:
Hey everyone! How are you all doing? I hope you're well.
Here's another chapter of this fanfic that I'm absolutely loving writing for you all! ❤️ I thought about writing the first chapters about (name)'s past, but it would take too long, so I'll always be mixing flashbacks of her life with the present. By the way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Until next time, bye bye! (And again, I apologize for any possible mistakes, English is not my first language.)
