A Warlike Prince

by Nifra Idril

Okay, writing this story was like being eaten alive by conger eels while on acid. It would not exist without Madelyn's brilliance, Jenn's insight, Fox1013's encouragement and Lyra's never ending patience. And naturally, of course, not without Sun Tzu's genius, either. Thanks guys. *snugs you all* You're amazing.

Sun Tzu said:
The art of war is of vital importance to the State.

It is a matter of life and death, a road either to safety or to ruin. Hence it is a subject of inquiry, which can on no account be neglected.

The art of war, then, is governed by five constant factors, to be taken into account in one's deliberations, when seeking to determine the conditions obtaining in the field.

These are: (1) Military Philosophy; (2) The Weather; (3) The Ground; (4) The Commander; (5) Military Methods.


1. Military Philosophy

“All warfare is based on deception.”

Nothing, Lex has discovered, is insignificant.

He was born on a Tuesday in a cold city at a cold hour. Tuesday is Tiw’s day, and Tiw is the patron god of justice, and the god of war; one handed and bold, he inspires courage. He inspires heroism. Tiw’s symbol is a spear – a weapon, but also an emblem of justice. Lex likes justice well enough – or what he’s seen of it. It’s appealing, to think of justice itself as a weapon – or comforting at least. This is the justice Lex knows.

Heroism he knows more about since his twenty-first birthday, but war he knows best of all.

At thirteen, he understood that he was being raised in hostile territory, and at fifteen, he realized that slowly the cold war between himself and his father was beginning to heat up. At twenty-three, he knows their destruction is mutually assured; Lionel, Lex is sure, has done damage permanent enough to last well after his own death, damage that will someday propel Lex into his own.

And, at twenty-three, Lex knows that he’s about to begin fighting on another front, as well – he’s already begun his half of the arms race. He’s not naïve; there have been skirmishes and there has been friendly fire, but he and Clark have reached a truce so uneasy, so fragile that it will clearly shatter. There will be war, no matter what they would have happen instead. Lex will be ready, though Clark was born with his arsenal in place.

This is not to say that he believes in pre-determination; he doesn’t. It’s one of the very few things that Lex dismisses out of hand. What Lex does believe in, though, is the influence of the smallest things. Cause and effect create the world, and send it into ruin, too.

Cause and effect have created Lex Luthor in his current iteration – harder and stronger, he likes to think, than he was before. Smarter, more aware, though less stable.

Stability is stultifying and dull; Lex doesn’t have time for it. A younger Lex sought it, desperately. A younger Lex saw stability in the placid plaid of his exile. A younger Lex imagined that he would live an easy life, embraced by the welcoming arms of the heartland.

Youth, Lex has decided, is an excellent excuse for idiocy and blindness. He isn’t young anymore.

Cause: vultures, thieves, assassins and family. Two failed wives and their failed murder attempts, his father and amnesia, hallucinations and murder. Clark Kent.

Effect: he’s stopped believing in the lie of Smallville, Kansas.

The streets are not quaint, they are small. The houses are not tidy, they are well kept and old. The people are not fresh faced and wholesome, they’re xenophobic, judgmental and reactionary. There is no such thing as the salt of the earth; there are only people who have lived long enough to learn obedience as part of their place on the socio-economic ladder.

Lex doesn’t find the fields of waving corn romantic, and he doesn’t find the red pickup truck sitting in front of his home picturesque. He knows well enough that it’s an omen.


2. The Weather

“The five elements (water, fire, wood, metal, earth) are not always equally predominant; the four seasons make way for each other in turn. There are short days and long; the moon has its periods of waning and waxing. ”

There are no saints, no angels, and no martyrs. There is Clark Kent, who is none of those things, and there is Lex, and there is not a word left to be said. There isn’t any real reason for this particular fight, though there are a thousand reasons for it as well. This is the end, and Lex has often wondered what it would look like.

It looks like any other day; there has only been the thinnest illusion holding back disaster. This makes perfect sense, when Lex thinks about it.

Clark turns on heel, and leaves. Lex watches him go, his back, his legs, his boots, his hair under the red light from stained glass of the window.

The lie of Smallville would have Lex believe that there is such a thing as forgiveness.

That is, of course, bullshit. There is memory, and there is debt accrued. There is interest, and there is retribution. There is no benediction. There is no laying on of hands. There is no final truth, no last goodbye.

There is a door slamming, and a truck starting up, and there is Lex Luthor and there is Clark Kent.

***

In the beginning, there was water, and there was light, and there were hands. It was baptism and birth, it was Clark calling Lex back, calling Lex down. Lex had only just learned to fly – for Clark he forgot, and remembered to breathe instead.

He forgot a lot of things for Clark, in fact. He forgot Machiavelli and common sense and his dignity. He forgot all of the lessons Lionel had so very, very carefully taught him.

It seemed as though there was only so much capacity for thought to be had, and all of it was bent on Clark Kent from the riverbank until...

Lex isn’t sure, really, when things changed. He only knows that they did.

For three very odd years, this is what Lex knew: Clark’s lips turned up in the corner when he was content. The skin below Clark’s eyes greyed when he was tired, and when Clark was nervous his hands smoothed over his thighs. All of Clark’s jeans were worn by it, and all of his pens had nicks and dents from his teeth. Lex was fixated on Clark’s oral fixation.

Lex knew what Clark liked to eat and didn’t like to eat, why Clark liked Lana and why he didn’t like Chloe, and kept an eye on the profit margin index for organic farmers, just to be sure that the Kents were doing well.

Clark was only a boy, of course. A very young, beautiful boy, who Lex shouldn’t have cared about, and yet –

These things are always beyond one’s control, a lesser man would say of Lex’s infatuation with Clark Kent.

Lex knows better.



3. Military Methods

“Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected. ”

Lex isn’t as strong as Clark, or as fast, or as indestructible. For a human, Lex holds his own.

Clark isn’t human. Not strictly speaking, anyway, though Lex has little doubt that Clark thinks of himself as human. It’s a question of semantics, but the truth is that Lex has precious few natural resources to fight Clark with – other than cunning, strategy, patience and sex.

There is no such thing as forgiveness, Lex reminds himself, as Lana Lang flushes pink at him. There is only debt, interest, accrual over time.

Lana Lang has blushed for Lex since they first met. She has watched him, and she has wanted him. Lex knows this, has known since before the Nicodemus incident. She’s a sweet enough girl, with a wholesome enough crush on him.

She is also a part of Clark Kent. She is his Dulcinea, his untouchable ideal, what he holds before himself like a torch. She isn’t human to Clark, no matter what her biology.

Lex could have her. He could make love to that part of Clark, if he wanted. It would only take the smallest gesture, the lightest touch –

And after, maybe Lex would fuck her boyfriend, too. Lex has always been hungry; Smallville has made him insatiable.

Lex takes Lana’s hand, and pulls her down to sit with him. He makes her talk to him, and he fixes her in his stare. He flirts with her, absently.

This is something Clark wouldn’t understand. This is not something Lex fully understands, he acknowledges.

It’s an attack and it’s a compulsion; it’s wrath and it’s greed.

He could take Lana to bed, and Clark would be shattered by it. Clark would be furious, and Clark would be beautiful. It wouldn’t be justice – no, Lex would only be calling in a debt he is owed.

But when Lex took Lana to bed, he’d also take Clark to bed. This is what appeals to him most, he thinks.

Lana’s eyes widen as he becomes more and more obvious. She sucks in a breath, and she flushes a deeper red than before. It’s blotchy and unbecoming, and Lex is suddenly ashamed. He has forgotten that she is eighteen, too, that she is an entity separate from Clark Kent.

And so he goes home alone. He isn’t a monster, after all.

***

The first step before engaging the enemy is understanding the enemy.

Clark was never in love with Lana Lang, Chloe Sullivan or any of the other idiot girls who caught his eye. This doesn’t mean that they’re nothing to him; Clark’s a caring, compassionate boy, and each of those girls were important to him somehow. Lex hates them all.

Fact: that Clark hasn’t loved a woman doesn’t mean he is incapable of loving a woman.

Fact: Clark has quite a large capacity for love. His ability to attract tragedy however, is equally high – and increases exponentially when considered in conjunction with Lex’s similar ability.

Fact: Clark may be the enemy, but he still belongs to Lex.

Fact: Clark will fall in love with someone else.

Fact: Lex only knows so many of the women in Clark’s life, so making predictions as to who is difficult.

Not, however, impossible.


***

“So, you don’t leave Smallville much,” Lois says, leaning back in her chair, tongue sweeping out over her lower lip as she puts the daiquiri back on the table.

Lex folds the corner of his cocktail napkin and smiles at the table. “No.”

“The PTO of Smallville High keeping you prisoner?” she teases, her hand falling onto his knee. Lex looks up and their eyes meet and she smiles. She’s his, if he wants her.

He leans across the table and kisses her. She moans and her hand moves up his thigh.

“Come home with me,” he says and she nods, breathless. He takes her hand and pulls her through the bar. They have sex in his limo, and against the door to his bedroom and again on his bed, with her hair spread out across the sheets.

***

Clark asked Lex to get rid of Lois.

Lex licks around her navel, and she moans impatiently, wraps her legs around his waist.

Clark liked her. She challenged Clark, and Clark – naturally – found that uncomfortable, but Clark *liked* her. Lex saw the two of them together once, Clark’s hand hovering over her back, shaking his head and smiling.

Lex likes her too. He spreads her legs, and thrusts into her slowly. She rocks with him as he moves, her hands clenching and unclenching on his shoulders.

Clark asked Lex to make sure she’d stay in Metropolis instead of coming back to Smallville. Lex has done that.

In two weeks, Clark will be in Metropolis and Lois will become a factor again.

It’s satisfying to know that Lex has fucked Lois Lane so well that she’ll remember him a long time from now, maybe even as she takes Clark to bed. Maybe even as she pulls Clark’s thick body down, she’ll think of Lex’s hands and fingers and tongue.

Maybe Clark will know, maybe she’ll tell him. Or, maybe Clark will sense it. Maybe as his mouth travels over Lois’ body he’ll find Lex there, waiting for him.

***

In the morning, Lois takes her clothes, and goes. She tells him she won’t expect a call from him, and tells him she had a good time. Lex says thank you.

Lex closes his eyes halfway as he watches her go. She’s not tall enough, really, to look like a man, and her body has all the curves of a woman. But wet, her hair is dark, and there’s something in the set of her shoulders –

No. There really isn’t a similarity there, at all.


4. The Commander

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle. ”


It’s strange, but even when Lex is angriest with Clark, he also feels tender. He could rip Clark apart for lying to him, but he could also kiss Clark’s cheek for letting Lex have his first dishonesty.

It’s somehow more intimate than Clark’s virginity, which Lex will never be given.

Clark was, at first, sweet and bumbling. He hadn’t any skill, which came from having no practice. His hands were always in the way – knocking things over as he fiddled nervously, eyes downcast. Clark even blushed.

It was charming. It made Lex feel worldly, sophisticated. Far, far older than he was. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass Clark by exposing his inexperience.

Lex still thinks back on those times – on that Clark – and something clenches beneath his ribs. He’s fairly sure it isn’t his heart; at this point, his heart is far too battered and weak to clench for anything as common as reminiscence.

Clark didn’t stay an amateur forever, and Lex had been strangely proud of him the first time he raised his eyes to Lex’s and lied.

That’s my boy, Lex had thought. That’s my brilliant boy.

***

Lex has always been suspicious of perfection, so he never loved Clark until Clark proved himself to be an asshole. He takes a certain pride in the fact that while Clark was probably an asshole before Lex met him, Clark had learned quite well how to be an even greater one after Lex.

Lex likes to credit himself with creating Clark’s dark side, though he knows that’s just wishful thinking. He wants some part of Clark to bear his stamp, some part of Clark to be incontrovertibly his.

There are parts of him that are Clark’s and Lex resents it bitterly. It can’t be helped.

This is all Lex can do: keep whatever part of Clark he can.

Lex never had Clark as a lover and he’s lost Clark as a friend. So Lex will have to fight Clark to keep him.

Lex was raised to believe that adversaries alone know how to love unconditionally, so it all seems so inevitable – nearly desirable.

This is the easier way. The safer way. He will know what to expect from Clark. He will never be betrayed. He will never be left.

He will never make a mistake, and he will never have to apologize.




5. The Ground

“Knowing the place and the time of the coming battle, we may concentrate from the greatest distances in order to fight.”

Clark leaves for Metropolis on a Sunday. Lex will follow him there, of course. He’ll go on Tuesday, early in the morning.

Everything, after all, is significant.

Lex watches from the shoulder of the highway, from the truck he bought for Clark.

Clark’s mother is waving her hands at Clark, and Lex thinks it’s more than likely that she’s crying. Clark’s father honks the horn once, and Clark hugs his mother before getting into the weathered Kent family truck.

The Kents drive by Lex without giving him a second glance. Clark’s eyes are on the house he grew up in. His hair ruffles in the breeze.

They speed further and further away. Lex sits there a moment longer, and then turns the engine off and gets out. He throws the keys as far as he can into the corn.

Lex walks home.

Smallville has felt wrong under his feet since he came here; at first he thought the fault lay with him. Since, he’s realized that Smallville makes him nervous because he doesn’t know all of its secrets. This isn’t about paranoia or Clark – this is about safety.

Lex has mapped Metropolis so thoroughly that there is no circumstance in which he would be at a loss. Drunk and suffering from massive blood loss in the driving rain, Lex would be able to find either the closest hospital, pharmacy, police station, church, or bar with equal ease. Metropolis fits his skin like the worn leather of weather beaten gloves.

There is dust in the air, so thick that Lex coughs. He’s never actually walked the distance from the Kent farm to his house before. Clark did, nearly every day for a while, though for him it probably took an eighteenth of the time it takes Lex.

At the speed Clark runs, Lex is certain that Clark has had ample time to become familiar with every nook, stone and useless leaf in this ridiculous place. It’s made Clark confident, this mastery over his environment, and confidence has given Clark a well of strength that Lex has lacked in these first stages of confrontation.

Metropolis will be a welcome change – no matter how fast Clark moves, or how much he explores, he will always be the transplant. Lex will always know Metropolis better than Clark does.

Clark views his matriculation to Metropolis University as a new beginning, a rite of passage. Lex sees it as a monumental tactical error on Clark’s part.

By leaving Lex behind and proceeding onward with his life as though Lex isn’t an issue, Clark has not only left himself open to a surprise attack, but he’s also ceded the high ground. It’s delicious.

When Lex reaches the gate to his driveway, he seriously considers attempting to squeeze through the bars. He doesn’t though – just enters his security code and walks through as the gates open with a whine.

At his front door, he turns around and stares at the land around him. It’s tolerably pleasant to see – flat fields, grass rolled out thick over them, and a deceptively wide sky.

There are caves, waterfalls, lakes, craters, freaks, liars, mutants and graveyards out there. There are secrets and corn and mysteries. There is a quarry that Lex has recently purchased, and from this quarry comes a steady supply of shards from the meteor shower.

There is a little yellow house that has never, *never* welcomed Lex Luthor, no matter what the Kents may have said.

Lex turns, and walks inside his imported fortress. Even though it’s hot out, he lights a fire in the library and stares at it until the embers shimmer sullenly in the dark, and then he goes to bed.

In the morning, he’ll have his clothes folded and starched for travel. He’ll pick out his fastest car, and ready his Metropolis headquarters. He’ll make the necessary phone calls to strengthen alliances and strengthen his position. He’ll begin digging into his resources and readying himself for a short fall, and a long winter.

And on Tuesday, he’ll begin his next campaign.


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