Work Text:
Sangheili were perfect warriors. When one fought, getting struck back was unacceptable. Scars, bruises, and bleeding were all undeniable signs that the enemy did just that to you. And depending on how bad the black mark on your score as a warrior, you might as well kill yourself.
"Just end it. Your body is ruined. You cannot come back from this. But you can still save some of your honor by ending this suffering."
Despite being Banished, the Sangheili around him still held on to some of their old culture. Too bad for them - Jega would not. He was done with concepts like "honor". It never served him.
All that mattered now was revenge.
And he'd need to be alive to achieve it.
So with reluctance, the Sangheili "respected" his wishes, but only because their leader demanded it of them. He understood - this Jiralhanae, War Chief Escharum, only needed to look him in the eye once in order to understand.
Jega needed to spill more Spartan blood. He needed a new arm to wield the blade that'd do so. He needed mandibles and organs and whatever else had melted away. However form they came no longer mattered, only that they worked.
These thoughts carried him through the delirium - first caused by his near-death experience, then the continued blood loss as his body recovered, then was cut open again and recovered again and again with each cycle. Healing took longer as the medics had to injure him further in order to fulfill his request of being fully "rebuilt".
There was one moment when he thought the prosthetic arm had been completed and affixed to him, as he was certain he felt his arm again. He continued to try and flex to test it out, yet only felt its presence - not any true movement. He tilted his head to the side, to investigate this incompetence of the medics to set this arm up so poorly, only to see nothing there. No arm at all.
He decided to ignore the medics' instruction to inform them of any mental strife.
It took weeks since his rescue for the prosthetics and internal repair to be finalized. Such things were heresy amongst the Sangheili and wider Covenant, so the Banished had to really scrounge around for supplies and medics. Blueprints based on Jega's anatomy had to be drafted. Prototypes constructed and tested. Surgery practiced on cadavers, because Escharum would strangle any incompetent personally that denied him a worthy blademaster.
And they weren't even friends yet.
Another few weeks passed even after the prosthetics were installed, as Jega had to relearn how to move and learn from scratch how to control technology he once would've spat on. Had to refine his swordsman techniques with the new body, adjust where necessary. He took that period as an opportunity to reforge his broken bloodblade as Ghostpierce - since he was a new warrior having to re-adapt, he might as well go all the way and put a sword into the new arm.
When he was finally ready to take on a battlefield again, the Banished Sangheili looked at him with derision. It seemed that even as his recovery was going on, they still held onto a vain hope that somehow, he would either give up or the endeavor wouldn't work out.
What dengkra, still acting as men of war, when all they are now are pirates.
Before they could decide on whether to commit to shunning him or not, War Chief Escharum stepped by and huffed to them, and that was that. Jega would be coming along.
Very few of those Sangheili would survive the battle; ironically, not due to the enemy forces, but a rabid beast that interrupted their victory. Tore through half of their remaining forces before they even realized what was going on. As many of those not caught up in the initial attack ran, panicked, or fired at random, the War Chief was suddenly filled with rage and charged back at the beast. Jega's first thought was that he must've been enraged their victory might just get overturned by nature of all things; later, he would learn that Escharum was merely an instinctual hunter used to beating beasts to death with his bare fists back home. Unfortunately for him, this beast had gone a different evolutionary path than his usual prey.
The War Chief disappeared under the massive body. Jega counted a few beats before he decided the Jiralhanae's possibly wounded ego no longer mattered. Leaping on top of the beast, Jega sliced down the spine with the regular bloodblade in his organic arm, then plunged Ghostpierce inside. What ultimately killed the beast - Jega's actions above or Escharum's concealed ones below - would still be a matter of fierce and friendly debate for years. All that mattered is that it ended up dead, Escharum got out with only scars across his face, and the two were friends since then.
"Just end it." Why? When his life was only just beginning? The new body hurt - at some point, Jega gave up efforts to prevent it, as he decided the pain was its own motivator. He would never fight the same way again, but he found it forced him to evolve into a better beast. He would never be a Silent Shadow again, would never be able to return to his old clan and family.
But being a Blademaster at the side of Escharum was far better, anyway.