Work Text:
Heroes rise and heroes fall,
They all answer to fear’s meek call.
No, that doesn’t work, it’s supposed to be a sonnet, Martin. There’s ten syllables a line, that’s the easy stuff.
Time marches on as heroes dance -
As heroes dance? Really? What’s going to rhyme with dance, huh? Prance? Oh yes, as heroes prance around the battleground, lightly tapping their villains on the head with a baguette - that’s a great idea, Martin.
A web of conflict spun around a head -
Better.
Gently choking until the brain is dead -
Oh, god, no, ew.
Martin huffs out a quick expletive, scribbling out the last few lines of messy cursive.
He sighs. Poetry is so much harder when there’s no one to get inspiration from around you - writing about other people’s emotions is easier than figuring out your own. Still, Martin’s shoddy poetry will be the least missed casualty of this whole - of this whole - epic? Suppose that’s the best word for it.
It is a tad bit like an epic, he thinks. One tortured protagonist, gruesome monsters and gruesome deaths, dubious authority figures. All written in impossible-to-translate verse in an irregular structure because God, how hard can it be to count syllables, Martin? How hard is it to think of a single non-cliche metaphor? Maybe there’s something in that - stories and heroes are built on cliches, after all.
Martin doesn’t know much about big Ancient Greek epics, he’ll be the first to admit that. Odysseus, Alecto, Perseus - all mean nothing to him. However, poetry is poetry, and heroes are still heroes, no matter how much you know about the famous ones.
But is there really a hero here?
Hero - noun
- A person who is admired for their courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities
- The chief male character in a book, play or film, who is typically identified with good qualities, and with whom the reader is supposed to sympathize
- The best or most important thing in a group
If this was a story, Martin supposes Jon would be the protagonist - he’s the Head Archivist, the one which the lens is focussed on, the most important one in the group.
But is he a hero?
In Martin’s eyes, he is. In everyone else’s eyes, probably not.
Of course he’s a hero. Maybe not the upbeat, bodice-ripping and women-saving stereotype, but Jon is still a hero. Fighting against his innate nature, failing sometimes, but still standing up and driving on. That’s pretty heroic in Martin’s book. Although, recent events would suggest he’s given up on that.
All of them are heroes, Martin supposes. ‘Cept Elias, because - well, just, no.
They all have been brave at some point, and they all have achieved something - whether they all have noble qualities is a question for another day.
Just coming to the Institute in the face of mortal terror is an act of heroism, or being willing to live in such a place to escape other, quicker, horrors.
Martin’s no hero. He’s just doing what needs to be done.
(If only he knew who was the actual hero of this story.)