Standing Steady in the Storms Ch. 35-36

The Storm Begins

Notes:

OoOoooOoh, how forboding 😬

Once again we're back to enjoying convultuted POVs (more like one in particular...) that don't make sense.

Remember that things from Janner's perspective aren't necessarily happening, and if they are, he (and, in turn, you) is viewing them from a distorted lens.

These next two chapters are probably the height of my mental-breakdown angst. I guess it picks up again briefly towards the very end, but it's nowhere near as explosive as this.

*****

Clusters of darkness clouded the world around Janner. They were dark, angry storm clouds, ready to burst open into gale-force storms that raged in the blackness. It would be terrifying. Janner knew it was coming soon; he could feel it.

He had been expecting it for so long, yet somehow it was still horrifying. The pressure in the sky was growing stronger and stronger, and soon it would explode. He was afraid to be there when it exploded and drenched the world around him in guilt and hatred and grief, but there was no escaping it. 

No way to escape it, he breathed, moving his lips even though he knew no sound came forth. Nobody could hear him. Nobody could breach the darkness. They were trapped outside. Maybe it's better that way. They'll be safe from the destruction, Janner thought numbly. If those he loved could not get in, they would be spared. He wanted nothing more than for Sara, Evnia, and Elquinn, Nia, Leeli, and Thorn, Artham, Arundelle, and Asteria to be rescued from the hurricane. 

I don't think Thorn is here, though. I think he's back in the Green Hollows. Maybe Leeli, too.

And Kalmar. He wanted his little brother to escape from the storm as well. 

If you hadn't rejected him in the first place, there would be no need for anyone to escape from the storm, the voices hissed. Janner whimpered as they began speaking. This is your own fault. Your own, self-centered fault. You wouldn't have to hide yourself away from the world if you hadn't failed your duties as a Throne Warden.

Just like the Annierans think I did, Janner thought, giving in to their torments.

Well they're wise subjects then, the voices cackled. Because they are more right than anyone else you know. 

No, Janner found himself wincing at the thought that raced through his mind. They only think I'm a failure. I know I am. Why is everyone so unwilling to admit it?

He felt as though he could almost see the voices rubbing their hands together greedily, like a ridgerunner who finally got their hands on the fruit they wanted. Like Zouzab. Or Mobrik.

Believe that you are a failure, the voices seethed hungrily. Believe nothing else, nothing more than that. Everything else is a lie.

“Been....saying that f'r a while,” Janner murmured aloud. “Few steps ‘heada you.”

The voices faltered. For a second, Janner felt them retreating. The cloud rose higher and became lighter for a second. But then they came back, thundering with the anger of a thousand sea dragons, roaring with the fury of a deadly storm. 

WE ARE ALWAYS AHEAD, the voices screamed. We ALWAYS know what to do with you. NOTHING you do will change our plan for you. We will carry it out. We PROMISE.

The voices shrieked in Janner's ears and mind and body. They were everywhere. His eyes flew open and they were clustered on everything he could see. He could see nothing of dark swirling masses of anger and guilt that rumbled and screamed in time with each other. 

Get out, they said, a curling tone in their voices. Being near your family for this storm is wrong. Do you really want them to suffer, too?

Janner chuckled mirthlessly. “Pr’tty sure this ‘s in m’ head. Can’t hurt th’m.”

Oh, is that what you think? Is that what you REALLY think? GET OUT. Let our fury rain on you elsewhere. Staying near them will destroy them also — it would be SELFISH. 

Something in their voices filled Janner with terrified urgency, and he forced himself up from where he lay. He had no idea where he was and could see nothing. The voices covered every corner of his mind and vision, and when he turned in an effort to find the floor beneath his feet, he found it beneath his face instead. A sharp pain shot through his right shoulder, but even it was masked by the voices' cloud.

Janner forced himself up blindly and was hit with a surge of dizziness that nearly sent him back to the floor. The voices shrieked again. Don't fall! Can you really afford to fall? Forcing everyone you love to suffer through your punishment is cruel and hateful. 

And selfish.

Janner sucked in his breath and closed his eyes as he stumbled forward, trying to find his footing and failing. But I don't hate them, he whispered, wetness gathering on his cheeks.

Of course not, the voices said in a cruel but oddly soothing manner. The only one you hate is yourself. Janner Wingfeather, Self-Conceited Failure of Anniera.

Janner lost his footing and tumbled into something hard, probably a wall he couldn't see. He pressed his palms flat against it and clung to it as if it was the only thing keeping him upright. Failure of Anniera, he repeated back to himself. That is who I am. I am nothing more.

“‘m nothing m're th'n a s’lfish failure,” he whispered. “N'thing m're. N'thing 'tall.” 

Janner felt himself leaning more and more against the wall until his legs buckled underneath him and he sank to the floor. The voices still screeched everywhere. 

Go away from your family to suffer your storm! they hissed.

“‘m too tired,” Janner mumbled. Every part of his body ached, and his mind was fuzzy with exhaustion and dehydration. He was listless from not sleeping or eating. 

Janner was done. Even if he wanted to move, he couldn't. He tried, he really did try. When the wind picked up and began to howl and rain became hard pellets, he really did try to pick his body up and drag it outside of Castle Rysen where no one would be caught up in his consequence except for him. But when he tried to raise his arms they would not move and when he lifted his head it failed to respond.

The gusts of the storm picked up and began pummeling Janner's mind in anger and guilt and despair, and all the while he hoped beyond hope that he would not scream. When the pain came though, it was impossible to resist.

*****

Sara was outside with Galya and the twins. They had been carrying the little ones around and showing them the prettiness of the flowers and plants all afternoon. Now, though, they were sitting on a blanket in the shade of a lush tree.

“Artham is with Janner, right?” Galya asked as she looked at Elquinn, who lay in her arms actually sleeping. 

“Yes, he is,” Sara said, a tone of gratefulness mingled with grief in her words. It hurt her to know that her husband was in such a terrible place because of what his mind was doing to him. It seemed wrong that all his years of love and devotion to Kalmar — he had even sacrificed his own life for his brother! — resulted in this. One slip-up with dire consequences that far outweighed the wrong. In a way, it really wasn't fair.

Fair to whom? A Voiced asked her gently. You do not know what Janner has done.

Maker, Sara cried out. Surely You can't mean that Janner actually deserves what he is doing to himself?

He addressed her quietly. The punishment Janner has given himself far outweighs the wrong done. I know that and you believe that. But Janner does not because he did wrong. He tried to right his wrong but was unable to. He has chosen to hurt himself and has in turn hurt others, even though he does not mean to. Sara, convince him otherwise.

“Wait, what?” she said aloud. 

“What is it?” Galya asked her, most likely curious as to why Sara had randomly spoken, even though neither of them was actually talking.

At that moment, Elquinn began crying again. Galya did her best to soothe him, but it wasn't working. 

Sara sighed. "Here, you hold Evnia," she passed her daughter from her arms into Galya's. "And I'll try to calm down my little squeeblin," she said, a smile crossing her face. Elquinn was a screamer. And he was prone to melancholy.

Sara stood up and swayed back and forth in an effort to hush him but was met with little success. Once again, she felt an urge for Janner to be with her. She knew what to do, but he did it so much better than she did. Not to mention that Sara really wanted one thing: to be with the Janner she knew and loved.

She dipped her head to kiss Elquinn on the cheek, even as he fussed and waved his tiny fists around. “Shh, calm down, darling,” she whispered. He was a little mystery to her. Elquinn got plenty of sleep, milk, and attention. Sara always made sure his diaper was clean, and she had just checked before they came outside. Almost nothing would settle him. Nothing except Janner’s song. It wasn’t just the notes. Nia had tried humming it in an effort to convince Elquinn to sleep, but it only made him cry more.

Janner was the only one who could calm their son. Sara had had a week of help and relief. Now she was stuck in the middle of what was currently two weeks — but who knew how long it would last? — of her husband’s unresponsiveness. Of his “implosion” as Artham called it.

“Sara!” A panting yell jerked her out of her thoughts, and she looked up quickly. Arundelle was running towards her, holding her skirts up so she wouldn’t trip on them. 

“What’s going on?” Sara called, — causing Elquinn to cry louder than before — furrowing her brow in worry. Arundelle looked as though she was on a mission. Inside her heart, Sara knew something dreadful had happened, and she had a terrible feeling that Janner was at the center of it. 

*****

Notes:

AHHHH-

hOw wiLL tHiS evEr EnD oKaAaaaAay???

The Arms that Held Him Steady in the Storm

Notes:

I promise, it ends happy^^

Oh, and remember what is happening from Janner's POV is not what is physically happening to him. It is what is emotionally happening to him and what is verbally happening to him, but not physically.

*****

“It’s Janner,” Arundelle gasped, trying to catch her breath. “I, I don’t know what’s really going on, but Artham just told me to run and get you.”

Sara looked around frantically, knowing she needed to be with her husband but not sure where to put Elquinn. 

“I can hold both of them,” Galya offered. 

Sara nodded and swallowed a lump of fear in her throat as she placed a now-wailing Elquinn in Galya’s arms, a tinge of worry that her friend would not be able to juggle the twins. “Thank you.” Galya smiled at her as she left with Arundelle.

 “What happened?” Sara demanded as she set out for Castle Rysen at a pace that was fast enough to get her there quickly, while still slow enough to be considered a semi-reasonable walking pace that Arundelle could catch her breath with. 

Arundelle drew in a deep breath. “All I know,” she said, each word a breathy whisper. “Is that Artham was with Janner in the room, and…then all of a sudden there was this loud THUMP! So I came to find out…what it was. And, and I heard more thumps. Then there was this horrible scream. I think I knew it was Janner screaming, but I’m not really sure. The dreadful part is that he didn’t stop. Sara, he was still screaming when I left.” Sara felt chills run through her body. “The next thing I know, Artham yells at me and says: ‘go get Sara, quickly! Janner needs her help.’”

Sara struggled between her fear for Janner and her resolve to do whatever it took to save him. She pushed the fear aside — there would be time for fear later, right now rescuing her husband from himself was all that mattered. “Arundelle, thank you so much,” she whispered, blinking back the tears that she just barely managed to contain.

“Any…time,” she gasped as Sara broke into a sprint and dashed towards the castle. The Annieran grass, trees, and greenery became blurs as she raced past them. When she reached the gates, she did not slow down. A guard called out to her in greeting, but she did not hear him. Reaching Janner was her first priority. 

Sara had just set foot inside the foyer when she heard his screams.

*****

The chaotic storm was swirling around his mind, sending every thought the even resembled reason flying into a vortex of nothingness. Janner watched them as they all ripped to shreds, every word, every phrase, every feeling, every emotion that told him he was loved, that told him he was not alone, every single one of them turned to dust in less than a blink. They were torn from his heart and mind as easily as if they were sheets of parchment from a book, but Janner felt as though he were being whipped over and over again with the Overseer’s whip that stung like fire and burned like Green Fang venom. 

He found himself standing in the middle of that storm, turning round and round as all those thoughts spun around him, making him sick with dread, guilt, and horror. It was all being yanked away in a moment, every good thing that had ever happened to him in his life, everything that had ever made him feel worthy — YOU’RE NOT WORTHY OF ANYTHING YOU MISERABLE WRETCH — of, of anything. It surrounded him like a hurricane over the wild Dark Sea of Darkness. 

As the twisting storm swallowed everything, stripping Janner bare of what he loved — his reading, pointless (a hiss and a crack), his writing, worthless (a slither and a strip of pain), his love for life and beauty, all crushed and broken (a cut across his back that curled and reached the tender flesh of his abdomen) his mission, the description of an utter failure (a violent beating, the angry whip tearing into him again and again and again, as if it were wielded with hatred and fury).

The storm destroyed him until there was nothing left. Until all he felt was pain and pain and more pain and all he saw was utter darkness. This darkness was truly dark. The darkness he had been in before had pinpricks of light sparking through, giving him hope in the blackness. He just hadn’t realized it before.

There was no light here. Janner was alone. Completely alone. Weak, powerless, broken, and completely shattered. 

He felt himself go limp as his mind closed in on itself more than it had before. Nothing, he thought as tears stained his cheeks. Nothing left. Why should there be? I failed. Nothing is all I am worth. I can’t save him. I don’t know where he is.

The darkness cackled and deepened and closed in around him, covering him in its icy fingers and claws. 

*****

“Artham!” Sara yelled as she ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She heard another scream, and then no more. They just stopped. Her ears were met with nothing but silence. And somehow, the silence was even more terrifying than Janner’s screams. “Artham! What’s happening?” She saw him crouching on the floor near the wall, just a few feet away from the top of the stairs. His wings trembled and twitched with grief and fear, and when he turned to look at her, Sara found herself staring into eyes filled with such sorrow that it made her want to start weeping. 

“Sara,” he whispered. “I-I can’t help him now. You are his only hope.”

She felt a jolt of fear run through her, and she stopped in her tracks for just a moment. Maker, I don’t know what is happening, but please, help me. Sara steeled her nerves and walked forward again, moving so she would be in front of Artham. 

Laying partially in his lap was Janner, the Janner he had been so often since he had been rescued. Tense and shaking and filled with the deepest, darkest guilt imaginable.Sara knelt and took his hand in hers, more for her comfort than his. He couldn’t feel it. “Tell me what happened,” she said quietly, looking into Artham’s eyes.

Artham looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, breathing in and out several times before answering. “A few minutes ago,” he replied. “I was sitting beside him writing, when all of a sudden he started mumbling all sorts of incoherent words. Then he started thrashing and-and he screamed,” Artham’s voice trembled and his eyes filled with fear. Sara knew he was remembering something, or, rather some one. “I tried to talk to him and I put my hand on his head — that’s worked in the past, you’ve seen it work — but he pushed me away and rolled off the bed. He managed to stumble out here and he collapsed." Artham closed his eyes. "Then he started screaming in this way that it seemed like he was in agonizing pain, but it can't be anything physical, it's something inside. I can't reach him, though," he whispered. "I can understand what he's going through all I want to, but I can't bring him out of his. Oh, Sara, I look at him and I see myself. I see myself after I escaped from Throg and when I was in the cage in the Phoob islands. No one helped me. I-I don’t know how to help him.”

Sara stared at him and felt his eyes burning into her. "But you think I can," she murmured, looking down at her husband's face as it twisted in pain. "You I think I can," she whispered as she cupped Janner's cheek in her right and and brushed her thumb against it gently. "Oh, Maker, help me."

*****

The darkness, wind, and anger swirled stronger than they ever had before, and Janner found himself being pushed to the edge of an endless chasm with the force of their blast of fury. Another brutal gust sent him over the side. Janner cried out in pain and terror, grasping the edge as tightly as he could. He felt as though he were about to lose his grip and fall, and if he did lose that grip, he would lose his grip on life itself.

Hold on, a steady Voice declared. Help is on the way.

Janner squeezed his eyes shut and held on with all his might.

As his heart and mind drifted away, almost ready to give up and leave, Janner felt himself growing strangely heavy. The weight of his transgressions was pulling him down. He felt his hand slip and the feeling of falling for just a second before a strong, steady, slender hand came over the edge and grabbed his wrist. Janner jerked suddenly and looked up.

The hand was attached to an arm, and he felt himself being lifted an inch at a time, back onto solid ground. 

When he was on that solid ground once more, he looked at the face of the one who had rescued him. And he saw diamond eyes.

"Sara," Janner breathed, his voice sounding oddly raspy. 

"Janner, I'm here. I'm here to help you." She replied, tears forming on her cheeks.

"I don't d’serve it," he whispered.

"Don't say that!" Sara replied fiercely, her tone laced with anger. "I don't know what you think you have or haven't done to deserve this destruction that you're putting yourself through, but stop. There are far worse people in the world right now who have done worse things than you. Just believe me. And come out of this," she pleaded.

Janner shook his head. "M’ own s’lfishness di’ this. Can't."

He could see the frustration bubbling up inside of her. "Janner, maybe your mind twisted you into thinking that receiving empathy and love and care from others is wrong. But it's not. You know what is wrong? Constricting yourself from us — from me. We have two new children and one will only quiet when you and only you sing to him. I'm falling apart, Janner. Don't you realize that I need help?” Sara took a breath and Janner stared into her blue eyes in surprise as she gathered her thoughts. When she spoke again, it was softer and gentler, but no less forceful. “You say that you were selfish and that’s why Kalmar isn’t here, so you’re trying to find some way of hurting yourself to keep you from being selfish. But isn't it selfish to lay here every day, trapped in your mind, ignoring us — ignoring me — and slowly kill yourself by refusing to eat and drink? This is forcing me, all of us, to be scared and worried and hopeless. How is that right? You can’t fix selfishness with itself, Janner.”

Janner stared at his wife for a few moments, blinking as he thought about her words. For a moment, they hurt and augmented his guilt so many times over that he couldn’t even imagine it, and he felt himself being crushed by the agonizing pressure of it all. 

But he slowly realized that she was right. Sara was right. From the perspective of a Throne Warden, there was no way he would find Kalmar if he stayed inside his head for the rest of his life. But on a more personal level, on Sara’s level, what he was doing now was wrong — he was hurting the love of his life more than words could express! The idea of it was more than he could bear.

In that moment, Janner chose to reject the darkness and the voices that cried out in anger and frustration. In the next, he felt a glowing match of hope being struck in the darkness, and he was beginning to see again. Diamond blue eyes sparkling with tears parted the darkness and sent it away screeching. 

He felt as though he was being pulled upward, slowly, gently, with the greatest care in the world. He opened his eyes. The blurry image gradually became crystal clear along with his mind. It was a wonderful feeling. 

Sara was there, and he felt her arm around his back, his head resting on her shoulder like he was a child. He looked at her face and saw a desperate plea mixed with impossible hope in her eyes.

"'m sorry," Janner croaked."'m sorry."

"Janner?" His name was a breathless word coming forth from her mouth. It was a word full of hope and despair, patience and desperation, longing and doubt. "Janner, is it you? I mean is it really, really you?"

Janner found a small smile curving his lips upward. "Is't me," he whispered, feeling a tear snake down his cheek with the words.

Laughter filled with joy and jubilation burst forth from Sara's mouth, and she pulled him close to her, hugging him fiercely. Almost as if she never wanted to let him go.

If Janner had been able to read her mind that afternoon, he would have known that his thoughts came nowhere near the truth. Sara promised herself that she would never let something like what had struck terror into her heart for the past two weeks ever happen again. She would never let Janner hurt himself the way he had, destroying his mind and causing himself such pain. 

It had caused her pain, too. Yet hope flooded through her once more, not because of the way he wrapped his arms around her — for they lay at his sides, limp with exhaustion, not because of the strength of his voice — for it was broken and raspy from what he had endured — not because of the warm caress of his hand against her face — for she held a trembling, cold hand in her firm one — but because her husband, Janner Wingfeather, the Throne Warden and Redeemer of Anniera, was home.

And she held him in her arms.

*****

Notes:

Happy <3 <3 <3

See, I promised there would be happy parts sprinkled through this story^^

Oh, and Janner's little title being "Redeemer of Anniera," is just a little headcanon of mine and has sparked a bit of controvsery between some other WFS fans. But it's just a headcanon^^