Clodias stared at the ceiling, lying in his king-sized bed. It was hard to think, hard to remember, hard to process, hard to act. Always had been. He had been born damaged, defective, broken. Worthless, his father had said. Shameful, his mother had said. At least, that was what they said when they had bothered to speak to him at all during his childhood at all.

Clodias had been marked from birth as inferior compared to the rest of House Aezion, embarrassing enough that he had been hidden away from the other branches and lines of the Aezions outside of the Apollo system. He had a sickness, a curse even, that marred him and damaged his ability to think. Rather than a genetic or neurological deficiency that Awakening at thirteen to Copper Rank might have fixed or modern medicine might have eased, he had a spiritual malady that all of his family’s wealth and power could not fix. There was nothing physically wrong with his brain, but for all intents and purposes, Clodias Aezion had come out of the womb a mental invalid. Quite literally in medical terms retarded in cognitive function, though his siblings had used that word as an insult more than the Doctors had used it to describe his condition.

The Medici Doctors had told his parents that his soul was essentially lobotomizing him and that there was no hope for a cure, that he had been cursed by the gods for the sins of a past life or perhaps merely just because of the Fates’ cruel sense of humor. That had been when Clodias had been six years old, two weeks after his birthday. They had been staying at the Aezion summer estate on their lands. He remembered the time and place so well because the memory still made his lungs burn at the thought. After the Doctors visiting the summer estate to examine him had told his parents there was no hope, Clodias’s father had tried to drown him when Clodias was still mortal and Unawakened. It was only because of Clodias’s Uncle Decimas holding a Keenblade to his father’s throat that Clodias had lived.

His uncle had taken him in after that, promising Clodias that he would take care of him for the rest of his life, though Clodias could tell even then as a child with an addled mind that his uncle felt some level of disgust when he looked at Clodias. How could he not? Clodias was living proof the subspecies of Imperators could produce imperfect offspring when they prided themselves on being superior to lesser beings like the Servi even before Awakening to Copper, created stronger, faster, smarter, handsomer than the rest.

He's a little dumb, but he’s got a good heart. His Uncle Decimas would tell people who inquired about Clodias.

Clodias would not have agreed with his uncle’s statement that he was dumb, just that everything was foggy. Yes, it was like a fog around his mind. Obscuring his vision of reality, muffling his voice when he so desperately wanted to speak clearly to those around him. His brain was fine, but his soul was not.

He had spent fourteen long, long years drooling on himself and being cared for by Servi caretakers who made fun of him to his face when he struggled to dress himself or use the restroom without making a mess or lacked the motor control to bring food to his mouth without missing a few times and smearing his face with the baby food they gave him so he did not choke.

Fourteen damn years of hell. And then Clodias had gotten a visitor that had wanted to see him, one that talked to him like an equal. Not a visitor in person, but a voice in his head. One that had carefully offered Clodias a deal at fourteen years of age that he had been unable to refuse.

“Sir? Are you alright?” Maxima, one of the Helots who served him now after he had defeated them all and claimed leadership of Team Three, asked him worriedly. His subordinates were up and moving for the day, pacing around the master bedroom of the First Villa at the peak of Tertius Mons while he lay in bed. They were waiting for him to get up and be the cheerful, slightly odd leader they had gotten to know briefly.

Clodias turned his head towards Maxima and tried to focus on her. He tried to move his lips to speak the words he had in his head but was unable to express them and failed to do more than open and close his mouth.

And then Clodias felt something slip into his skin, something that had once been frightening and alien but now felt comforting and reassuring. The entity puppeteering Clodias’s body pulled his lips into a broad grin and then spoke with Clodias’s voice with a clarity that Clodias would never possess on his own.

“Good morning, Maxima! Don’t you look lovely today!” The entity said, moving Clodias’s muscles with expert coordination to send them flying out of bed.

“Thank you, sir.” Maxima replied.

“Oh, I told you guys, you don’t need to call me sir, my name is Clodias, use it!” The being controlling his body said.

The entity that piloted Clodias’s body and gave him the experience of a real boy’s life rather than a pathetic nonexistence shuttered away in Uncle Decimas’s personal estate was not named Clodias at all.

His name was Nero. Nero Aezion. He was Clodias’s ancestor, distantly, the founder of the Aezion line on Terra that had sent splintered cadet lines and offshoots like Clodias’s family across the Dominium as new solar systems were conquered and claimed by pioneers.

Nero Aezion was a Golden Imperator, one of only nine besides the Regent to reach that Rank in fourteen thousand years. And as a Gold Imperator, he had a special ability he had gained upon that Rank, much like Silvers gained teleportation, and Bronzes gained enhanced reflexes, and Copper Imperators gained incredible sensory capabilities.

The special ability gained at Gold was called bloodline possession and it was as simple as its name. It allowed Gold Imperators to communicate with and dominate their descendants with mental commands that bent others to their will. Using this power, Nero had offered a deal from light years away, whispering his words to Clodias’s mind across the expanses of space. Nero would control Clodias’s body and assume his identity, allowing the boy to experience life and let Nero relive his youth, far from Augustas’s oppressive grasp that kept Nero captive on Terra.

Clodias had had to have Nero explain the deal several times to make sense of it, which his ancestor had patiently done, but in the end he had agreed. He would never have known what it was like to be normal, not to be pitied or ignored or scorned. Clodias’s ancestor had decided that for the early stages they would pretend to be a slacker, someone who just got by in their schooling and physical training that they would make Bronze Imperator, but not enough to stand out of the crowd. It would have drawn too much attention if Clodias had not only been miraculously cured of his ailment but also suddenly revealed as a prodigy genius. Instead, they had waited until the Examination Day tests to claim 001. His parents had tried to contact him when he had won the first place, slinking back into his life now that he was successful, but Clodias had made Nero agree to never give them the satisfaction of letting them claim him. With Nero steadying Clodias’s arm and intent, Clodias had smashed the wrist communicator that they kept on sending messages to and tossed it in the trash.

+What do you want to eat, Brother?” Nero Aezion asked Clodias telepathically. He called Clodias a brother which seemed odd to the boy when Nero was his ancestor, but Nero seemed to want to refer to themselves as siblings.

Chocolate chip pancakes. Clodias thought back.

“You know what I want for breakfast, Maxima?” Nero said through Clodias’s mouth.

“No, sir- I mean, no, Clodias.” Maxima corrected herself.

“Chocolate chip pancakes!” Nero and Clodias said together, exuberantly.

The rest of Team Three stared at the two in one body like they were deranged.

Honestly, letting them think he was insane was easier than trying to explain he was a boy cursed by the gods who was being controlled by his five-thousand-year-old ancestor.

“…okay… You can have pancakes; I’ll tell your estate staff.” Maxima said.

“Everyone on my team is required to eat them, team bonding exercise!” Nero said with Clodias’s voice.

Antonias, one of Clodias’s Helots and also the Old Thaekyrian boy’s friend, raised his hand. “How is eating pancakes a team bonding exercise?”

“Eating good food is always a time for bonding, friend!” Nero replied.

“You’re mad.” Horatia muttered.

“Hop to it, subordinates.” Nero said and moved Clodias’s body towards the breakfast table.

“Please tell me someone brought Shine.” Antonias muttered.