Chapter Text
Before he had become the dictator of the Covenant, Yggdrasil’s most feared army nation and the force of the Requiem Alliance, Turntapp had been a simple soldier in a squadron sent over from the remnants of an Empire long gone. Every day had been spent training and fighting— a slow, tortuous routine that had sharpened his senses but dulled his days; simultaneously dragging on the hours while giving him nothing of note to keep in memory.
It was easy to forget that there had been a time so grey in his life, especially now that Saps was here.
While the citizens of the Covenant still weren’t sure what to make of the Pandoran man who had come to live among them, even regardless of his fugitive identity, Saps had been well received enough in the markets and by the Peacekeepers that he had taken to taking trips into town by himself while Turntapp and Zynn were busy with politics; and sometimes, he would come back with merchandise and products that Turntapp himself had barely known existed.
“Okay, before you protest— I know you’re not good with plants, but— don’t you think this tree’s pretty cute?” Saps had asked one day as he’d hoisted a small potted tree into Turntapp’s office with Davarit’s help. “It’s a bonsai tree. I got it from one of the market stalls— I think it was originally imported from Westhelm, who got it from Pandora.”
Turntapp had blinked at first, unsure of how to respond or what to say to his (admittedly sheepish looking) friend and soldier. “You got me a tree?”
“A bonsai tree,” Saps had said with a smile, his eyes gleaming with a sentimental shine as he’d looked at the plant. “It’s from the third island. From… from my home. I thought… it’d be nice to get you a piece of Pandora. Since I’m here now and I can’t really give you a tour… I don’t know. I thought you’d like it. Your office needed some decor, anyway— might as well add some greens, right?”
And, well— how exactly was Turntapp to say no to a gesture like that?
That same plant now sat on his windowsill, outlooking the entirety of the Covenant as it did so. Saps sometimes stopped by in the middle of a busy day to help him trim its leaves and branches, and it had become something of a routine— they would each get up in the morning, have breakfast together (where Turntapp would shovel food onto Saps’ plate in an attempt to get the fugitive to eat some more, and where he’d learn more about the unjust treatment Saps had faced in his early morning haze) and then split off, Saps being accompanied by Zombta and Davarit as he set out into town; before returning sometime mid-afternoon with a new trinket and stories to tell as Turntapp worked away.
It was like this— waiting for a visit from Saps while sitting in the middle of several piles of paperwork— that Zynn found him, news of disaster following in her wake.
“Oh? What’s this, a mini tree? I thought you weren’t good with plants,” Zynn said teasingly as she entered, her eyes immediately flicking to the small tree resting on the windowsill of Turntapp’s office. “Did a certain white-haired guest leave this here?”
Turntapp sighed, not denying his own brown thumb. The tree was, in spite of him, alive— probably only due to Saps’ gentle gardening skill. “It’s called a bonsai tree. I’m not sure how to take care of it, in all honesty. And yes, Saps got it for me. He’s also the one who takes care of it, most days.”
“That’s evident, sir,” Zynn chuckled, though she quickly sobered, a grave look on her face. “Have you heard of the news from Pandora?”
“Not as much as I thought I would be. Why, did I miss something important?”
“Triogami has news for you. And—” Zynn’s eyes grew hard for a moment, just enough to let the experienced warrior peak out from underneath the lighthearted second-in-command’s facade. “One of the current runners for Luminara’s presidency wants to make a trade deal.”
“One of the… you don’t mean…” Turntapp frowned, worry creasing his brow as he thought back to what he knew of the political situation on Pandora.
The dropping of the storm barrier between the two islands had opened up diplomatic relations between nations of both islands. While the Covenant preferred to stick to those they knew, it was still essential to keep in the loop of both island’s politics, and with the proximity between their worlds broken, it had become even more important to keep in the loop. That said, the biggest problem that Turntapp had instructed his diplomats and council members to keep an eye on in particular was Luminara— the nation who hid the group of terrorists that had framed Saps in their very own government.
The man who had framed Saps had been demoted by the time that he had fled Pandora for Yggdrasil and the Covenants protection. When Saps had left, Luminara’s president was still proudly leading their country. Now that ThreeBelow had been disposed of, though…
The likelihood of that rat being the one to take over made Turntapp madder than he could describe.
Zynn simply gave him an apologetic look, clearly unenthused to be the one who had to break the news. “It seems like the new favourite for president is Fluixon, sir. We don’t have to humor them, of course, but…”
“Why do they want to speak with us specifically?” Turntapp asked, his voice steadier than he felt. “I thought that Luminara was the staunchest… opposition… to the island unification that had been suggested at their first meeting.”
“...Officially, they asked for Silence trims from the Warden that the Peacekeeper squad currently stationed in Westhelm killed some time ago,” Zynn answered, her words chosen carefully. Their eyes met as she sighed, a frown working its way onto her face. “Unofficially, there may be reason that Fluixon and his crew suspect us of harboring Saps.”
Turntapp’s hand tightened into a fist.
That was right— Saps had mentioned before, not that long ago, of the letter that Fluixon had intercepted between the two of them. The one that had exposed his true identity and let Flux learn of the budding friendship between them— the letter that Saps believed might have been the catalyst to Flux’s idea to kill the Pandoran leaders.
The letter that had started it all— their friendship and Saps’ downfall.
It was selfish, but deep down, a small part of Turntapp had been glad for it. He hated seeing Saps so broken down and hurt, but the fact that it meant he could have Saps for himself had made a deep sort of satisfaction pool in his chest.
Now, though, there was only a bitter taste left.
“...Zynn. You know I’m no politician, and I trust your judgment on this matter above anyone else on our council. If I were to decide on my own about this matter…” Turntapp’s eyes drifted to the bonsai tree on his windowsill, an image of the man who had gifted it to him in the back of his mind. “...I’m afraid this situation would turn much more personal than it should. So, what do you think we should do?”
His second in command stood stiffly, contemplating. “...I don’t believe there’s any reason we need to engage. The rest of Yggdrasil is well aware of our citizens and their grudge toward Pandora… Of course, we also don’t have a reason to not turn down the meeting, at least in Pandora’s eyes. It is ultimately up to you, sir. We can always send in a diplomat.”
“That would probably be the best course of action,” Turntapp frowned, uncomfortable with the idea of sending one of his soldiers out to meet Fluixon, even if it was only something as small as a meeting.. “I don’t think I’d be particularly… polite company… in their presence.”
Zynn nodded, “I understand, sir. And as for Triogami’s news…”
“I’ll sort that out myself, so don’t worry about it,” Turntapp said. “Give the order to our diplomats, and see what Luminara has to say.”
“I’ll have it done, sir.” Zynn left, and Turntapp was left with his thoughts.
Luminara having a hunch that they were harbouring Saps, especially given the letter made it… not impossible to keep Saps safe in the Covenant, but if Fluixon managed to win his people over and become the actual president of that border state, it could mean ill tidings. After all, unlike Yggdrasil, who had become somewhat unstabilized after their last Blue Cross meeting— Turntapp could admit that was partly his fault too, for authorizing a genocide, but the Lingulini Mafia had been the start of the fracture between the nations of Yggdrasil— Pandora was at least begrudgingly united.
Turntapp had no illusions about what a war against Pandora would mean.
He didn’t find himself caring much of the lives of those who lived in Elysium or the other border nations, but the other nations and citizens under the Requiem Alliance would be caught in the crossfire if a war were to break out, and— most importantly of all— Saps’ safety and security in his place in the Covenant would be at risk.
Saps was already seen as an outsider in the Covenant: regardless of how well the Peacekeepers had taken to him, it was the people’s intent that mattered the most, in the end. The very foundation of the Covenant was its loyalty— a value shared between both citizens and government. If the Covenant found out that Turntapp was risking war to keep Saps here…
…Turntapp considered the idea. His Peacekeepers, his elite soldiers, had taken to Saps like moths to a flame. If anything happened, he was sure that he could convince them to protect Saps above him.
But was that what Saps would want?
Turntapp tried to picture that bright eyed, kind-hearted, beautiful man who had written to him with the utmost love and care for the world he lived in. Would that Saparata, the one who had forgiven him for hiding his identity, who had gone against his ‘friend’s’ advice and kept speaking to him because he felt they were already friends—
Would he hate Turntapp if he found out? Would that Saparata look at him with disdain instead of care, disappointment where there was once compassion?
…He couldn’t let that happen.
The idea came to him a week later, while on an outing to the outer cities of the Covenant with Zynn, Saps and the twin guards. This time of year was the beginning of preparations for Brepfest, and though the festival itself was a month or so away, the citizens of the Requiem Alliance had already begun preparations.
“So what is Brepfest, exactly?” Saps asked, excitement dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the streets lined with colourful banners and stands, children running around their parents as they tried to set up tents and flagpoles. “Is it some sort of cultural festival?”
“Similar,” Turntapp shrugged. “It’s been a tradition on Yggdrasil for a while now. Started with Nevermore, and then it eventually spread out to everyone in the Requiem Alliance. Zombta would know more about it, he’s spent time stationed in Nevermore before.”
“Eh? So we’re ratting me out now, sir?” Zombta groaned theatrically, which made everyone in their little group burst into laughter. “Alright, yeah, I have spent a lot of time stationed in other nations. Nevermore was one of the first nations settled on Yggdrasil, before refugees and soldiers from other places like us started to roll in and make our own homes here; so they had their own traditions from back before everyone else arrived. One of those traditions was Brepfest. Apparently, it was started by this one guy who always wore revealing clothes and made some of his fellow citizens uncomfortable, and they voted to exile him— but on the day of his trial, he performed a really nice song that made them reconsider it.”
“...So did they exile him?” Zynn asked after a moment of silence.
“Oh, yeah. But they made a festival after him, so I guess it wasn’t all bad after all? I did hear that he died in one of the caves off of the coast because he couldn’t drink the boiling water, which sucks.”
“Sounds kinda gruesome,” Saps commented. “I remember we used to hold lots of festivals back in Theria, too. And the… the Sultanate, as well.”
“Oh, I remember that,” Davarit chimed in. “One of the biggest festivals we used to have in the desert was the Solstice festival, twice a year in summer and winter. Zom almost drowned during one of them.”
“How the hell did you manage to drown in the desert?”
“We lived on a desert island, Zynn, half of the festival was spent down by the fucking coast!”
As the three guards started to argue, Saps drew in closer to Turntapp, looping their arms together as Turntapp subtly swept the side of his cloak over the two of them. “Too loud?”
“Just a bit,” Saps shrugged. “It’s more what they’re talking about, really. I don’t… I don’t like to think about Theria too much.”
“That’s fair. I don’t talk much about where we came from, either,” Turntapp said, chuckling when Saps looked over at him with curiosity. “The Covenant was built from the ground up with my squadron and some citizens of Nevermore and the other established colonies that decided to join us. We were abandoned by our Emperor back home, so we decided to just create our own nation here.”
“I see…” Saps murmured, “Do you ever… do you ever think of your previous nation?”
“Sometimes.” Turntapp hummed. “I found out a few years into settling down here that the Emperor of my former nation actually passed away, which was part of the reason why we got no aid or followups once we made our way here. I feel bad for the guy, but… it doesn’t linger on my mind much anymore. And I think having to lead a nation as big as the Covenant is also a part of it— I think I feel a bit of sympathy for the guy.”
Saps nodded, then hesitated for a moment. His wings folded on the sides of his face, a clear sign that he was feeling nervous. “That makes sense. You’re not… it isn’t stressful for you to have me around, is it?”
“What? No,” Turntapp frowned, “What gave you that idea?”
“Just…” Saps shrugged, his eyes fixed on a faraway wall. “Well, I’m Pandoran. And a wanted criminal. Even if everyone’s… alright with my presence here because I have the funds to pay, it’s still pretty clear that they’re not… well, you know.”
Turntapp followed Saps’ line of sight to a frayed and torn wanted poster of Saps’ face, dressed in his Pandoran clothing— flowing white and red robes, the ones that he had worn as he’d run to Yggdrasil with enemy forces at his back. His eyes narrowed and he started to walk to the poster, only for Saps to stop him with a tug on his arm.
“It’s fine. I just— I figured I’d let you know, right? Since— I might be a danger if I stay here, I thought…”
“You aren’t a danger. We’re all perfectly equipped to deal with the kind of mutinies that will arise from your presence here.” Turntapp said, even though it was true that the Covenant wasn’t the safest place for Saps to stay, given his citizens and their animosity toward the people of Pandora.
“I couldn’t place you and your people in danger. Not— not again,” Saps said the last part of his sentence in a hushed whisper. Turntapp was only able to pick up on it because they were standing so close together, Saps was practically covered in Turntapp’s cloak.
Turntapp opened his mouth to speak, to give Saps some other sort of assurance that nothing would happen, even if he knew that was a low possibility— and then it occurred to him.
“Well, in that case… what about that tour I promised you, then?”