WARBRINGERS: Revenge and Revolution

INTERLUDE: INDRA

GON

Fifteen years ago

When Gon was still a young man, the words he would often hear from his father were, “You can’t be a krill and be sickly. Your krill traders will hurt you. Your krill traders will torture you. Man up.”

But Gon remained a pasty young man. He tried helping his krill father on his work on the fields, trying to learn the job he’d soon acquire, but he’d always quit halfway, gasping out of breath. Carrying blocks of hay made his arms ache, cleaning horse cages made him throw up, harvesting rice with a scythe almost cost him his finger. And he knew his father hated him for it. He knew because he’d always tell him.

“Are you a fairy, Gon?” he asked him one time while they were having dinner. Gon couldn’t look at his father, ashamed. He just looked at how the flame from the lamp danced and flickered. He just looked at the shadows it cast, how those shadows danced with the movement of the flame.

“Marcus, stop,” Gon’s mother said. Gon could hear the annoyance in her voice. “Stop accusing our son of being an indra.”

“Then he needs to stop being one,” his akir said as he slurped bland watery fish soup from a wooden bowl. He put the bowl down on the table with a loud thump. “Everyone’s talking about it. When I went to the market a while ago, I heard those vendors whispering, ‘Oh, Marcus has a fairy for a son. When he grows up, he’d use his body to serve our soldiers. Well, I guess that’s okay. We have different ways to show our allegiance to the kingdom anyway.’” His father spat on the ground. “I was humiliated. I wanted to yell at them and punch their faces until their noses cave in. But I think of my son and I wonder—”

“Stop it, Marcus, stop it or I swear I’ll be the one punching you in the face.”

“Leilani, you don’t understand—”

“I don’t and I won’t. Our son may be small and he may not be athletic, but he is smart. I taught him how to read and—”

“And he will never use it. Whooping wisdom, he is a krill! He is a slave! He wouldn’t need it!”

Gon just looked down at the table, staring at his soup where gray fish meat was floating in clear-looking water. He wanted to excuse himself but he couldn’t because that will just make the argument between his parents worse. He sometimes wished he was different. He sometimes wished he’d wake up and suddenly he’s tall and muscular, has a tougher stomach, and is skillful when it comes to farming. But every freaking day, he’d still wake up as a small boy who trips often and likes to read.

That night, Gon couldn’t sleep. He just laid there on his bed, started at the window beside him. He looked at the stars and wondered how it felt to be like one, to shine and be revered. He could still hear his parents from the other room, his amir insisted that his father should apologize to him.

“Why would I? I am just trying to avoid a scandal. And you know that fairies will have a difficult life—”

“Indra is the right term, irog. Fairy is a slur. Indra—”

“I don’t want my son to be an indra!”

“We’re not sure if he is! He is too young for us to be sure, and maybe too young to be sure of it himself. If he hears it, the more he’d believe it. Apologize to our son, my irog. Apologize to him because he is a bright, good boy.”

Gon swallowed a lump on his throat. His face ached because he wanted to cry, but was afraid his parents would hear him. He heard the footsteps first, and then the door creaked open. He covered himself with the thin blanket. He knew his father was standing there in the doorway, he can hear him breathing.

“I’m sorry, akiro,” he said.

Gon didn’t say anything.

“The world is cruel, especially for us krills. And I just know that if you become a fair—an indra, that it will be so much worse. You know why a lot of indras in the kingdom are crazy?”

Gon didn’t say anything.

His akir sighed. “It’s because they always get their hearts broken. They always get hurt; they always get disappointed. I just… I don’t want that for you, son. I don’t want that for you.”

Gon bit his lip to keep a sob from escaping his lips. He understood his father. He was right. Most of the indras in the kingdom are on the streets, they are homeless and insane. Most of them were fooled and swindled by manipulative men. Most of them never got opportunities to prosper in the first place. Gon felt sorry for indras, but that ends there.

Because he knew he wasn’t an indra. An indra is a boy who likes boys. And he liked someone… and that someone is a girl.

Gon wanted to say that to his father but he didn’t. He had two reasons. First, his father knew the girl. Second, his father might get excited upon knowing his son was not an indra and talk to the parents of the girl. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t lose her then.

His father sighed; perhaps thought he was sleeping. Gon heard the click of the door and he was alone again with the stars and his dreams.

***

“You know what, I’d love you even if you are an indra.”

Gon snorted and looked at Camia. They were sitting opposite each other on branches of an arinillo tree. They liked hanging out there in the woods because they liked the smell of trees. Earthy and woody. They also liked the chirping of birds and the cool feel of the fresh wind. Mostly, in the woods, they found solace.

“Why?” Camia said, laughing. “Indras are insightful, funny and in their own way, beautiful… until they fall-in-love with a man, that is.”

“I’m not an indra,” Gon said. A bird landed on his shoulder. He looked at the bird and smiled. He reached up and picked the fruit of the arinillo, small and red and sweet. He fed that bird and it twittered with joy.

“You have the face for it,” Camia said. “I bet if you grow your hair long, you’d be the prettiest indra here in the kingdom. Men will not choose to break your heart. Hell, royalty might even fall for you and marry you. You’ll no longer be a krill.”

Gon shook his head and just focused on the bird. He tapped its head and it flapped its wings on the air and flew away.

“That would be nice, but I’m not an indra,” he said. And then he looked at Camia again and he felt that familiar tugging in his stomach.

He couldn’t stop staring at her face. He sometimes had to bite his lip to remind himself to look away. Her face was just too pretty, her nose small and pointed and flared when she’s mad—which she always was. Her lips curvy and pink, the corners always stretched with a smirk. Camia didn’t just smile—she smirked. And yet, almost no krill boys noticed how beautiful she was. Possibly because before they had the chance to look at her closely, she’d make fun of them that turned them off.

“Why are you sure you’re not an indra?” Camia said, her eyes squinting. Then she smirked. “Is there a girl you’re not telling me?”

Gon opened his mouth to speak but closed it.

“So, there is a girl,” Camia said. Then she poked him on his side that he jolted upward and almost fell off the tree. “Cute baby Gon has a crush.” She laughed again.

“Stop that! I almost—”

“Do I know her? Is she pretty? Probably not as pretty as you but, is she pretty?”

“I won’t tell you—”

“Did you kiss her already?”

Gon looked at Camia and his stare went down on her lips. His heart hammered inside his chest and he just wished the elemental gods that he wouldn’t blush right now. He also wondered what she’d say if he said, “I never kissed her, but I want to. I want to kiss you.”

Of course, he couldn’t say that. Because if she laughed at him, he’d die. Maybe not literally, maybe not instantly, but slowly and more painfully.

“C’mon, just a hint. Just a teeny bit of a hint--”

Before he could even dismiss her pleading, he heard voices. Camia heard it too because her attention was diverted from him to the direction of the voices. Below the branches of the trees, three students were talking. It seemed as if the two students are trying to intimidate the other one. The huge girl soon pushed the other one on the tree and Gon heard Camia gasp beside him.

“Give me the dagger,” the huge girl said.

“Whooping wisdom, what will she do?” Camia said.

“She’s about to hurt the girl, obviously,” Gon said.

“Well…” Camia said in a playful tone.

Gon looked at her and of course, she was smirking once again. “We can’t let that happen baby Gon, can we?” Camia put her hand inside her pocket and fished out two slingshots. She gave him one and put her hand inside her pocket again to fish out small rocks. “I’ve come prepared,” Camia said with a mischievous spark in her eyes.

Gon almost kissed her then.