The morning sun cast gentle shadows through the hospital room window, painting warm patterns across the sterile white sheets.
Thragg stood beside War-torn Eve's bed, his imposing frame somehow making the medical equipment seem smaller, yet his presence brought comfort rather than intimidation.
With careful precision, he adjusted her pillows, his massive hands moving with a delicacy that would have shocked those who knew him only as a conqueror.
The Battle Beast coat draped regally around his shoulders shifted with each movement, its white fur catching the sunlight.
"Here," he said softly, positioning another pillow to better support her back. "Your posture affects healing efficiency."
War-torn Eve watched him with undisguised affection, a smile touching her lips - something that had been rare before his intervention in her life.
The haunted look that had dominated her features was fading gradually, replaced by growing warmth when he was near.
"The cellular regeneration continues to exceed expectations," Thragg noted, studying the medical displays.
Yet there was something else in his tone - a hint of pride, perhaps, or satisfaction at her progress. "Your body is adapting well to the treatments."
"All thanks to you, dad," she said softly, the word carrying none of the hesitation it had held in the beginning.
Her fingers played with the edge of the blanket as she looked up at him. "I never thought I could feel safe again, but now..."
Thragg's expression shifted subtly - not the dramatic change others might show, but a softening around his eyes that she had learned to recognize as affection.
His hand moved to adjust the blanket where she had disturbed it, the gesture protective rather than merely efficient.
"When we return to my universe," he said, his deep voice carrying a gentleness reserved for few, "there is much I would show you beyond these medical walls.
The Castle of Viltrum, though situated atop Mount Everest, contains beautiful gardens. Your sister designed them herself, based on knowledge gathered from a thousand worlds."
Sister, the word still filled her with both, wonder and a hint of trepadition. What if the her counterpart disliked her? What if she was ashamed of her as she believes - she, her past self - would be at her weakness?
Would that make Thragg angry? Would that make him choose the other Eve and leave her to make the other Eve happier?
Thragg, sensing her sudden anxiety, placed his hand gently on her shoulder. "Your concerns are unfounded," he stated, his tone carrying absolute certainty. "Eve has been anticipating your arrival with great enthusiasm. She asks about your recovery daily."
War-torn Eve's eyes widened slightly. "She does?"
"Indeed. She has been quite... insistent about ensuring your comfort." A slight warmth colored his tone. "The gardens are merely the beginning. She has planned to redesign an entire wing of the castle for you."
"But..." War-torn Eve hesitated, her fingers twisting the blanket. "I'm not... I mean, I'm broken. Damaged. Won't she be disappointed?"
"No," Thragg's response was immediate and firm. "You survived. You endured. These are traits Viltrumites respect. And Eve..." he paused, choosing his words carefully, "she understands pain not as you do, but still in her own way.
She is still you after all, and has experienced being different just as you have before all this. But that as I have said many times, does not make you broken or damaged. She will wholeheartedly welcome you."
War-torn Eve looked up at him, hope warring with lingering doubt in her expression. "You're sure?"
"I do not offer false assurances," Thragg stated. "You are my daughter now, as she is. Neither supersedes the other."
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Thragg's posture straightened slightly, though his voice remained gentle as he addressed War-torn Eve. "Rest now. We will continue this discussion later."
"Promise?" she asked softly.
"You have my word," he assured her, adjusting her blanket one final time before moving toward the door.
She settled back into her pillows, watching as he stepped into the hallway. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing her in the safety he had created for her.
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In the corridor stood Original Mark, his usual vitality dimmed by obvious exhaustion.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his shoulders sagged with the weight of sleepless nights. His gaze met Thragg's, carrying a burden of unspoken turmoil.
Mark stood silently for a moment, the weight of his recent actions visible in every line of his exhausted frame.
Good Levy's words about suffering across the multiverse echoed in his mind, intertwining with the visceral memory of crushing Mad Levy's skull - an act that still haunted his dreams, yet one he couldn't bring himself to regret.
The sight of Thragg emerging from War-torn Eve's room, showing such gentle care to someone he'd only recently met, only intensified Mark's inner turmoil.
Here was the being who claimed he would conquer not just this Earth, but all Earths, all realities - yet he showed more compassion to a broken girl than Mark had seen from many people.
"Why?" he suddenly began asking, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. "Not as the Emperor of Viltrum, not as the strongest being in the universe, not as the heir to Argall's vision - but as you, as Thragg himself.
Why do you want to conquer everything? The multiverse itself?"
Thragg studied the young hero, noting the conflict evident in his posture, the way his hands clenched and unclenched unconsciously.
After a moment's consideration, he gestured for Mark to follow him to a nearby window overlooking the city.
"Have you ever observed an infant learning to walk?" Thragg asked, his deep voice surprisingly contemplative. "They stumble, fall, hurt themselves. Yet parents do not intervene immediately. They allow the child to learn, to grow through that struggle."
He turned to face Mark directly. "But if that child were about to fall down stairs? To walk into traffic? Then intervention becomes necessary.
The parent's greater understanding and power must be exercised, regardless of the child's desire for independence."
"So that's how you see us? As children?" Mark's voice carried a note of challenge, though tempered by genuine curiosity.
"I see potential," Thragg corrected. "In every universe, in every world, I see beings stumbling toward greatness, yet constantly at risk of destroying themselves before reaching it.
My desire..." he paused, seeming to search for the right words, "is not merely to rule, but to guide. To ensure that the potential I see is not wasted through ignorance or fear."
"And who decided you should be the one to make that choice?" Mark pressed. "What gives you the right?"
"The same thing that gives a parent the right to stop their child from walking into traffic," Thragg replied. "The ability to see the danger, and the power to prevent it."
Mark frowned, processing this. "But parents eventually let their children make their own choices, their own mistakes. They don't control them forever."
"You misunderstand," Thragg replied, his deep voice carrying both authority and patience. "A child gaining independence does not negate the parent's position.
They remain mother or father regardless of the child's growth."
He turned to face Mark fully, his large frame casting a long shadow in the morning light. "When I speak of ruling the multiverse, I do not mean eternal micromanagement of every detail. That would be... inefficient."
His gaze swept across the cityscape below. "Consider your own world's history. Children leave their parents' direct control, yes.
They make their own choices, build their own lives. But they still exist within the framework their parents established. They still turn to them for guidance in times of crisis."
Mark frowned slightly. "So you're saying you'll be what... the multiverse's eternal father figure?"
"I will be Emperor," Thragg stated simply. "Worlds will gain autonomy as they prove themselves ready, yes.
They will make their own choices within the boundaries I establish. But I will remain their ultimate authority, their final arbiter. Just as a father remains father even when his children are grown."
He gestured toward the horizon. "Your own father - does he cease to be your father simply because you've grown? Does his position in your life diminish merely because you can make your own choices?"
"No," Mark admitted reluctantly. "Putting aside my own fucked up relationship with my dad it's still different. He's my actual father."
"And I will be the father of a new age," Thragg declared. "One who guides countless worlds toward their highest potential, while maintaining the authority to intervene when necessary. Freedom within structure. Independence within order."
His voice carried absolute conviction as he continued. "The multiverse requires this. It needs not just guidance but permanent leadership. A constant presence that ensures stability across all realities."
"And you think you're the right being for that role?" Mark challenged again, though his tone held more uncertainty than defiance.
"I know I am," Thragg replied without hesitation. "I have the power to enforce it, the wisdom to guide it, and the vision to see it through.
The multiverse will evolve under my rule, but it will always be under my rule. This is not tyranny, Mark Grayson. It is necessity."
He turned back to face the young hero. "Your world, like all others, will have the freedom to grow, to develop, to make its own choices.
But always within the framework I establish. Always with the understanding that final authority rests with me." He repeated once more, to make sure Mark gets it.
"Think on this," Thragg commanded softly. "Observe how a parent's authority can coexist with a child's independence. How guidance does not preclude growth. Then you will understand what I offer to all realities."
Mark stood silently, the enormity of Thragg's vision pressing down on him like a physical weight.
The Emperor's words carried a finality that left no room for argument, yet somehow didn't feel oppressive.
Perhaps because, deep down, he was beginning to understand the truth in them.
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(Author note: Hello everyone, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.
I know, I know, not much happened, but hey, at least its not the chapter of the day, but one of multiple, and soon we'll be going to the next universe, probably in a chapter or two.
This just needed to be addressed and happen otherwise it would've been a plot hole in my eyes, to not show what Original Mark finds of his world being conquered.
Also, the whole father metaphor, is me expanding on why Thragg so naturally has taken in war-torn Eve and Royal Eve as a father,
since this is a perspective he's begun to have before them but has become more established by consequence of them.
Well, I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)