Between Hero and Villain

Part 1.

The hero and former victorious king Callum strode up the hill overlooking the village, and found at its top the villain he sought: a short, dark blue demon called Midnight.

“I’m going to speak out in the town square against the raids on the temple,” Callum announced to his former enemy. He ran a hand through his long black hair. “And I’ve suggested some new laws to be put in place regarding one temple taking advantage of another.”

“Why tell me?” asked Midnight airily. A former enemy and now-reformed friend she might be, but that didn’t mean she cared any more than she ever had for human affairs. She sat perched upon a boulder, the wind ruffling her wide-brimmed hat, her tail swishing in the sunshine. She added, “I’m not the king’s keeper, am I?”

Callum paced closer to her rock. “No, of course not. I only thought -- why don’t you come with me, Midnight? I could use your support.”

“My ‘support’?” As she glanced over her slim shoulder at him, Midnight’s silver eye narrowed. She only had the one: the other eye had been plucked out by priests similar to those Callum now hoped to defend. “If you think those priests and lawmakers want to hear from me, then you’re even more naive than I thought.”

“I know you think this isn’t your fight, but--”

“You’re damn right it’s not. What do I know about temples and laws? What could I possibly have to say that matters at all? I’m never going to change their minds. You know how stubborn and ignorant people are.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Midnight,” Callum insisted, laying his hand over hers. “You just have to be there. Just stand behind me.”

Midnight snorted. “You don’t want me just to stand: you want me to take a side. But I don’t have any stake in this at all. What does it matter to me if one temple raids another? They’re nothing to do with me. The raids could be totally justified, for all I know.”

“But they’re not. Violence never is. You know that, Midnight, that’s something we learned together.” When Midnight was silent, her teeth gritted, Callum pressed, “Right?”

Midnight glared at the hero. 

Callum’s hold on the demon’s hand tightened.

“Alright, fine!” snapped Midnight. “Fine. Yes, Callum, you goody two shoes, you are right.” 

“Thank you. That’s all I need, Midnight,” said Callum with an encouraging smile. “I just need you to stand with me saying violence is wrong. You don’t have to know about all the particulars to know that this entire affair should have been handled better.”

“So we agree,” muttered Midnight rebelliously. “So why do I have to go when you can do all the talking for both of us?”

“Because if you’re not there then you’re not reinforcing the point that violence is wrong. Because -- because I am asking you to be there, Midnight.”

Midnight looked carefully at Callum’s face: the seriousness at the corners of his mouth, the earnestness in his eyes. She sighed. “Okay, Callum, I’ll go with you, and make my stand known or whatever it is you want me to do.”

“Thank you, Midnight. It really means a lot to me.”

“. . . though I still think if you just knocked some of the offending priests’ heads together, then--”

“Midnight!”

The demon stuck out her tongue as she leapt down from her boulder, and stood beside the hero. “I was only kidding. I’m not that dumb.”

#

Part 2.

 Midnight, gun-toting ex-villain extraordinaire, walked past farmers’ fields to find her traveling companion setting up camp. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“The same thing I always do,” said Callum, raising an eyebrow at her. The tent in his hands sagged. “Night is falling, and we need shelter. The farmer said this spot is--”

“--is going to remain empty,” Midnight interrupted. “Because we’re staying at Pravti’s inn.”

“The inn that the townsfolk at lunch called ‘the foreigner’s lair’?” Callum tilted his head. 

“Don’t tell me you of all people bought their xenophobic crap.”

“Midnight, I understand that their attitude annoyed you -- I found it unfriendly, too. But we don’t need to stay at the inn. We have all our camping stuff already out.”

“We don’t, but the inn needs customers,” said Midnight. She began circling the little campsite Callum had set up, kicking things into a pile for packing up. “Do I really need to spell this out for you? I thought you’d be happy to do someone a good turn.”

“I would be, I am, I mean --” Callum clutched at the fire spit before Midnight could knock it over, and sat down heavily on a nearby stump. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Midnight, even if we go and stay there tonight, it won’t change anything, you know? It won’t make the townsfolk any more friendly to Pravti. It might not even save the inn from going under.”

“So?” Midnight paused in her raucous pantomime of packing. Seeing the careworn look on Callum’s face, she planted her feet and put her hand on her hip. “You know what your problem is? You think you actually have to be the hero all the time. You think you shouldn’t do anything unless it’s the exact right thing that’s going to make everyone live happily ever after. Well there isn’t such a thing, Callum. How have you not figured that out by now? Sometimes doing something is better than doing the absolute right thing. Because you can’t do one, but you sure as hell can do the other.”

“But what if doing ‘something’ only makes it worse?” Callum protested miserably. “What if we go and stay at Pravti’s inn and just end up starting a fight among the townsfolk?”

“What is more important here, Callum? Keeping the peace? Keeping up your image of saintly, neutral hero-ness? Or keeping true to yourself and what you believe?”

“I just am not sure that . . .”

“Look.” Midnight stepped over the pile she’d created and leant down to look in Callum’s eyes. “It’s always this big thing with you, that unless you’re 100% sure you’re afraid to speak up. But you’ve got a voice so that you can use it, Callum. The world isn’t about quality and only the righteous ever speaking. The world is about quantity. Everyone has a voice. Do you really want theirs to drown you out?”

Callum set his hands down on his knees and grinned slowly, crookedly at Midnight. “Leave it to you to make taking a stand into some kind of competition.”

“It is a competition,” Midnight retorted. She brushed Callum’s hair out of his eyes and added more gently, “And if any of us ought to win it, it’s you.”

Callum stood and began helping Midnight to properly pack up. “And why is that?” he asked, amused.

“Because you’re the best at listening, and listening is the first step of doing anything,” Midnight replied, grinning at him as she crumpled up the tent. “Why do you think I never want to hear about anyone’s problems?”

Callum chuckled. “Yet here you are, my little hermit, telling me to take social action.”

“Since we’re here and we have to make a choice, we might as well be smart about it. Sitting out here in our tent and doing nothing might be a good choice if, say, a giant dragon were going to eat you when you step outside. But that isn’t the case here, so doing nothing is dumb.”

“Does everything with you come back to dragons?” Callum smiled. “Or being accused of little intelligence?”

“Being a smartass isn’t the same as being smart,” Midnight informed him as they finished stuffing their possessions into their packs and began the trek into town. “That’s the one thing you learn when you’re the villain.”

“You aren’t any more,” said Callum softly. He watched their shadows grow long on the road in front of them, and smiled as together they faced the town.