Weapons should have blind loyalty for their owners. Despite all the times Blight thumped it in his head, 712 only truly understood it the moment you started being his owner.
Of course, he had never failed in anything Blight demanded on purpose. He lowered his head, jammed his teeth, killed every target they assigned to him — even when the said targets were his own feelings and reactions — and obeyed every single command they gave him. He was nothing but the perfect tool to Blight.
But he never felt anything compared to the pure devotion he has towards you.
He’d rip his throat open with his own nails without hesitation if you said that was what you wanted him to do. He’d fall onto his knees and worship your boots with his tongue if he thought this would please you. He’d find a way to give you his heart still beating on a platter and let you squeeze it infront of his eyes if you showed any sign of desire for it. He’d do anything for you.
712 is loyal to you as a sunflower is towards the sun. Uninterrupted, awaiting, religiously . He never thought a loyalty like this would be possible, but he was so, so wrong.
Somehow, he doesn’t think he could feel the same way if it was for anyone but you. He surely never did for Blight. This feeling inside him hadn’t emerged through all the years he spent in the organization, when he hadn't even dreamt of the delight that you are compared to them, and the closest thing that was born then was just the mindless sense of obedience. Nothing like the pleasure that is to serve you now. No, he could never have felt the same way in Blight.
But you— you are the one who rebuilt him after Blight, and that is, perhaps, the main point. You are the one who picked up the pieces of him that were scattered away and affixed them together with the patience of a saint, resulting in a better version of him than he ever was before. Your orders are easy to follow and you praise him when he does a good job and you pat his head in that way that kind of makes him feel like melting and you are not one of them. You are way much better.
Blight framed him into a proper tool. They filed all the rough edges of naughtiness out of him, molded him into the perfect soldier they wanted and restless made him obey every single command of them without a second of hesitation. He doesn’t hold any grudge against them for it (he was forced to bury those useless emotions deep inside of him, he doesn’t think he could be mad even if he wanted to), but he knows now that he didn’t enjoy any of his time with Blight. And isn’t it funny how he became used enough to the slightest feeling of joy he allows himself to feel when he’s with you to be able to compare it with those times where he felt nothing?
Instead of Blight, you make him see how worthy being a weapon is.
You care for your weapons.
He has permission to eat food whenever his belly claims for it, he can sleep anytime his eyelashes are heavy, he must have hobbies that are non-related to the mission so he keeps training different abilities regardless of obligation. You always ask him if he’s uncomfortable with anything (even though he shouldn’t have opinions in the first place to feel uncomfortable) and never punish him without telling him exactly what he did wrong so he doesn’t do it again. You give him simple orders that are easy to follow and he’s rarely in pain. Even though he would follow what you say no matter what, you don’t seem to make him prove it.
You enjoy the obedience he gives you for free-will instead a fake sense of forced loyalty.
He doesn’t think he will ever be able to have a master so kind as you. He’s not sure if he would want it, anyways. Even if they somehow managed to be better than you in any sense, they would still not awaken the same emotional attachment he has towards you.
He still remembers the way you looked like a heavenly figure when he became yours.
It was dark and cold that night, and he was sitting hopeless in a dirty alley. His stomach was growling, a hungry beast scratching through his insides after three days without any food. Even so, he wasn’t feeling the desire to eat. Instead, he felt almost sick from what led him to that situation.
The whole reason why he ended up there was because Blight abandoned him, and that was enough to make the urge to punish himself dominate him. What does it matter if he starves? There was no owner to serve anymore. There was no reason to keep living if he hadn’t a purpose. He was useless enough for Bright to have to give up on him, so he must have deserved anything that happened to him. The lack of an owner and orders was a hollow so deep that he could feel it like a weight in his bones.
He wasn’t necessary for Blight anymore. A weapon without an owner is as good as dead. Blight didn’t want him anymore, and 712 would just have to deal with it. It was ok. He wasn’t angry or disappointed with anyone but himself, because weapons don’t have any feelings.
(He wasn’t angry or disappointed. It didn’t matter that Blight was the one who transformed him into a weapon in the first place, nor that he gave all he had and then kept giving until Blight kept taking. It didn’t matter that he destroyed his body and tore his soul apart trying to be better for Blight, for his owners. It didn’t matter that he was transformed into a broken, abominable, monstrous thing and then discarded away like trash. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. He wasn’t .)
Being Blight’s possession brought him a feeling of belonging . Despite all those times when they made him hurt, when they cut out pieces of him and made him watch as punishment, when they left him so hungry he thought he would die, he still belonged to them. It was fine. If they owed him, then they had the right to do anything they wanted with him.
But what was he supposed to do now that he was abandoned?
712 doesn’t cry, that is weakness and mission-compromising and a concept completely foreign to him, but the strange urge to burst into tears is there anyways.
He was just sitting over there when you found him, miserable and lamentable. What you must have seen on him to approach him? At that point he was just a splitted tool, a good-for-nothing. You certainly saw that, and yet you must have seen something on him to reach out your hand to a broken thing like him.
712 didn’t know what was so special about him that day that made you approach him, and until today he still doesn’t. In fact, it doesn’t really matter. His duty is just to obey his master. And 712, freshly abandoned and with the wound still recent, is so lost without an owner that he would accept anyone who offered.
And yet, when you offered his hand to guide him that day, his body froze and he hesitated for a bit before catching up. Something on his insides was screaming that it was a betrayal towards Blight, ignoring that Blight was the one who betrayed him in the first place.
What a shame of a weapon he was that day. You were beyond kind to offer to take a useless and broken tool with you, and there he was, being ungrateful and still thinking of Blight. Blight discarded him, tossed him away like a child tossing an old toy they don’t play anymore.
But he couldn’t help but feel loyal to them. They were the only and ones owners he ever had, after all. It’s hard to undo a bond formed through years, no matter how abusive it is in the first place. The sting that bonded 712 to Blight was still strong and robust, even after the abandonment, and throwing it all in the past to follow a whole new master out of the blue made a part of him, loyal to the core to Blight, scream its indignations.
But you smiled at him, sweet and gentle, and it was like walking into the warmth of the sun after years of cold darkness.
He couldn’t do anything but accept your hand.
He hesitated that day. He wouldn’t do it again if he had the chance, he knows with all the certainty in the entire world. He’d follow you anywhere, as long as you were the one ordering so. Whether you want 712 to follow you barefoot over barbed wire or across the slopes of Hell with broken legs, he would do it blankly, without a single flinch or complain of pain if that was what you desired.
But you only wanted him to follow you to your house, so that was what he did.
You guided him all the way to your house, and kept talking softly and calmly to him the entire path. He didn’t pronounce a word, you didn’t ask anything to him and it wasn’t his place to talk when not talked first, but he could feel his shoulders relaxing anyways. He had a master again. He wasn’t alone anymore. Someone would take dominance over him, so he hadn’t to worry about anything.
He still remembers the first night with you with all the details. That night was when you defined your guidelines and rules, when you set up how he should act from now on to avoid getting you angry and 712 imprinted your words in his brain. Your rules were different from Blight’s, and it took him a while to get used to them.
Your main request was for him to “make himself at home”. 712 had no idea of what to do in a “home”, and when he asked for you to expand the mission parameters, you made a strained little sound and your face did something strange, like you were seeing something that you couldn’t quite believe. You looked a bit horrified and nervous, and it made something on his chest tighten. You were using the same expression his victims wore before dying by his hands, and it made a knot obstruct his throat. A master shouldn’t look like this, never. He rushed to correct his words and beg for pardon, but you stepped up before he did.
Patiently, you explained what you meant for him in the slightest details. To eat whenever his stomach growl, to drink water whenever he had a dry throat, to take a shower at least once a day, to use a blanket whenever he felt cold, to watch TV if he was without anything to do. It was almost like a free time in Blight, those rare times when he hadn’t a mission and also wasn’t training or serving a handler, but with much more rules to follow.
You didn’t say a word about which personality you would like he tried to mold into, how he should act towards you. Would you like if he was your slave or would you prefer a toyboy? Maybe you wanted a dog? He didn’t have a clue about your preferences. Should he kneel down on your feet to see how you would react and build an act based on that? Despite all the different types of handlers he had on Blight and the different preferences between them, almost every one of them showed approval when he was down on his knees.
But no. You didn’t order anything from him, and weapons don’t have autonomy to decide what they should do by themselves.
Your body was warm when you brushed against his arm lightly in your way to show him the new command headquarters. It was barely a touch, just the slightest hint of skin skimming each other, and yet 712 felt like that warmness spread through his entire body, heatening his insides with a tender heat. It was a strange feeling, and the place where you touched was tingling in response to the unusual touch.
His head was foggy while you were guiding him, still too involved into the unfamiliar warmness to give you the entire attention you should have received. Instead, he divided his attention into the intruder inside his body and your orders. Maybe you noticed it and decided to draw his attention all back to yourself.
You led him to the bathroom, where you picked up a medical kit. He thought you would instruct him how to use it on you, since the owner has priority and must be healed back to health with the best of his capacities, but you didn’t. Instead, you opened it and took an aspirin.
Looking dead in his eyes, you said you wanted him to take it with him and took it always that he felt like he needed.
Aspirin, 712 knew, dulled pain. He has used it before, just once, when his eye was aching sore and his body was burning with the fever of an infection so bad that his remaining eye could barely see through the stains of pain and he couldn’t even get up to the training. That was the only time Blight allowed him to get any type of painkiller.
Perhaps, looking back to the past, that aspirin you offered was what gave him the impression that you would be a rigid owner. No one had ever offered it to him besides one of the most terrible wounds in his life. Since that, no one had ever done something that hurt enough to feel he warranted it again. What kind of punishment were you planning to give him that would demand a painkiller?
Not that it would have mattered if you were rigid or cruel to him. He was yours now, and if you opted for punishing him you should be right. You are the owner. You make the rules. It’s not his place to think in depth about your actions, it’s his place to only obey.
But you hadn’t done anything near his concept of cruelty to him. You just looked at him with deep, sad eyes, then tried a pitiful imitation of a smile before leaving him all alone with any orders besides “make yourself comfortable”. 712 was… not confused, because weapons don’t feel this kind of emotions, but he certainly knew from that moment that you would be different than Blight was. Maybe you prefer to play mental games with your tools and see them ventilate before applying physical punishment? That should be it. He must have broken an implicit rule and now he’s being punished.
But if that’s the case, you should’ve specified how he should act in this mind game. He’s not nervous, hasn’t been since he was a kid and Blight beat it out of him, but he could act like that if you wanted. He can’t start anything on his own without your orders or preferences clarified and couldn’t even think of asking you, so the best option is wait. You will tell him eventually, and then he can correct his attitude. Now, it is only to wait until you tell him.
And then he waited.
Waited, holding his breath and expecting to be hit every second he spent at your side. Waited, trying to navigate through dark waters with a blindfold, with no idea how he should act towards you. Waited, trying to slowly push the limits of your patience to find out where he should stop to keep on your good graces, to be a good weapon for you.
When did he stop waiting for it, taking punishment as guaranteed at any time like a traumatized animal, and instead he became attached to you as a lost puppy? He honestly can’t remember it.
Someday you just smiled at him again, that ever-present little glow of sadness still barely hidden behind the curve of your lips, and something on his chest beat stronger among the warm feeling of having his master satisfied with him. Maybe that was his heart. If he’s being honest, he almost doesn’t remember he has one most of the time. It’s only fair that you are the one that makes him remember it, since it all is owned by you anyways.
712 is a sunflower. One with petals engrained of red from all the people he killed before, one with his core split and broken in tons of dissimilar pieces, one so dependent on his sun that he might die if you left him. He’s not a rose, delicate and beautiful and soft; pleasant to the eyes like just a rose can be. He’s not a special flower in any way.
He could never be even near what you deserve. He knows it, has known from the day you chose to take a useless weapon like him with you, but somehow it still hurts; because you deserve better.
When he says you’re his sun, he means it. You are the light that takes him out of the dark with a warm embrace. You are the star he devotedly watches always he has an opportunity, always avid to have you in his sight. You’re the thing around his entire life rotates.
You deserve everything he could give to you and it would be little, you deserve anything you could think of. If you wanted an empire, 712 would do everything in his capacities to bring everyone to their knees so you could rule over them all. One word of yours and he would do all the necessary to put the world at your feet.
But you don’t ask anything that big from him. Instead, you seem happy to just keep the illusion of equality with him. Like you weren’t his savior, his owner, like he was just another person and not a weapon. Like he wasn’t a broken thing barely holding into its seams and you were the hand sewing it little by little. You are glad to just pretend he’s a person, that he’s a partner. You are satisfied with a weapon that doesn’t deserve a grain of your kindness.
Even internally thinking you could do a better use of him, he won’t deny and say he’s not enjoying it. Even knowing he doesn’t have the right to have emotions, he can’t avoid the way his chest warms up and his heart almost burst out every time you sweetly slide your hand down his cheek and open that bright smile, leaning to claim your ownership over his mouth and whispering you’re so good to me, such a good boy—
It feels like having a deity at his fingertips.
Sometimes, this gentle treatment hurts. Times when you hug him tight or look at him like he’s the most precious thing in your entire world and 712 is half-way to matching your actions before catching himself up and reminding that he can’t .
Those moments, you are almost crueler than Blight was to him.
Blight trained him till he bled, till he destroyed his body and forced him to keep going; but they never made him feel like a person . They never made him act like a human with desires and certainly never tried to dispert wishes on him. They were never ruthless enough to give him a taste of paradise just to remind him he’s in hell. You do it all the time, and always wearing that sweet smile of yours.
Somehow, your kindness hurts more than anything that they have ever managed to do with him.
You’re his owner. His duty is to just obey you, emotionless. Weapons don’t feel anything. Weapons are just tools to be used and put aside when not needed at the moment. Weapons shouldn’t feel the urge to lay down their heads into their owners’ laps or to be held close and tight into their owners’ arms. Weapons shouldn’t dream about being praised for a good job and having their heads patted softly. Those are things that a person could do. Not a weapon like him.
No matter how much you both try to keep the pretense of normality, following your wishes to avoid bringing the topic of what Blight did to him (of course you wouldn’t want to know what was made with your property before he was yours, of course you wouldn’t want to be reminded that your tool is a broken one, 712 should have known better and not talk anything about it even without your warn, that was a fail, fails aren’t allowed—) and just feign that your relationship is a normal one, he's not a person. It doesn’t matter if you treat him like one, because you both know what he truly is.
He’s not a person, he’s a weapon, and weapons shouldn’t do anything their master’s didn’t order. A weapon just breathes when it's ordered and just lives while it’s allowed and if there’s no orders, a weapon should just stay still blankly and waiting.
If what you want is to hug him, then he must just stay quiet and accept the hug without a reaction (don’t melt into your arms, don’t melt, don’t —). If you want him to sit on your couch and let you flood his face with kisses, he must froze and sit like a statue until you are satisfied (pretending that his eyes don’t sting with the tears forming there, pretending that a part of him didn’t whimper like a hurt creature, pretending that he didn’t feel anything). He just has to follow your instructions. It’s simple, really. He can’t love you. ( He doesn’t deserve to love you ).
And he knows, deep in his bones, that you would never allow him, with his bloody hands and dark past, to love you. He’s sure that even you, that seems to have an endless patience, would not bear with that anymore. He’s sure that even his benevolent master would draw the line there and punish him for being the wayward he truly is.
But oh, he can’t help but love you. He loves you even when hates himself for it.
Loving you is like loving the sun. It’s like getting on his knees and giving everything to a deity and adoring with the faith of a devotee until his entire world has shifted to set you at the centre. It’s like opening up his ribcage and finding out his heart has been replaced by something that only beats for you.
Loving you is like dying so he can live.
He’s sure that love could move mountains, endure the weight of the sky and survive a flood on its own if it was nourished. And he would, he almost wants to, but 712 is a tool, your tool, and tools don’t have feelings to call theirs.