The end of the only world I have ever known.
A fragmented design of hope and promise I once mistook for love.
Stripped of generalship, freedom, and life as a magitek knight; my strength has abandoned me.
At the moment my dearest companion and only ally in the world is the cold interior of the cell which maintains my imprisonment. Its confining walls and cold floors the nearest thing I can expect to a friendly, comforting, embrace.
If I have friends and allies in this world who live and breath they will never save me. The distance between us is too great, time too short. Any voice which may alert them of my plight too sparse.
Treason to the Gestahlian Empire is my alleged crime. Execution will be my verdict. The only unknown in the equation is how long I am tortured before I break and Imperial Prime Minister Kefka has a confession to legitimize my execution.
I only regret I will never know what it means to love. To feel the touch of one whom I admire & love, share warmth against the cold of winter. If the unnamed gods grant me favor, to bear children & raise them well.
The vision of a crying baby in my arms needing me to provide nurturement and protection compels me to live on under circumstances where I should long have given up. Its an impossible thing yet I believe. But my tormentors exact a hefty toll and the days leave me ever more weakened.
Its esteemed unbecoming for a warrior awarded knighthood within the elite magitek army to harbor child bearing fantasies. Epic romances, prolonged & lavish courtships of magnificent opulence and riches are of preferred standard amongst my peers. Its nearly a game to them oft played with exacting perception, generous coffers and blind vigilance enabling fierce rivalry and competition.
Within the eyes of upper echelons of society, children bearing is a task best suited for farm wives or peasants, those who cannot aspire to more in this world than producing offspring to aid in the tending of field or daily labor. A smugness and arrogance of view I once shared & subscribed to.
Fate being prone towards unexpected twists of irony, my newly found friendship with a prison cell lent me a differing perspective. I was reminded of my past self. Who I had been before my head was clouded with visions of conquest and glory. The joy of simpler things.
Imprisoned here what I missed most wasn't the grand opulence of my bed chambers. The soft sleekness of my opulent satin sheets, my expensive jewelry, attendents nor aides. It was not military discipline nor honor of command. The delicate orchestry, fusion of charismatic will and utility which allowed a capable commander to unite disparate groups of individuals beneath a single banner and lead them onwards to glory and victory. Nor was it the cat and mouse game of politics we all played to shape the empire we were in the process of constructing. The pomp and ceremony that went with high station.
None of the ostentatious, luxurious and material things I had thought important mattered in the end. If offered a single wish it would be to have a family and bear children. Words cannot describe how precious and vital the concept appears to me. Perhaps the years of bloodshed & warfare embued within me a need to leave behind a legacy of sorts. A part of me that would endure when I had left the world. Something other than an army that was crushed or village that had been razed. Something I might be proud of. I cannot claim to rationalize only admit that it is precious and infinitely desirable.
Celes Chere the magitek knight and general would be ashamed to admit asipring to the stereotypical family centric existence of a peasant woman. Hardship and experience had perhaps transformed me allowing a rebirth. Though my accumulated sins still pulled at my heart threatening to drag me down into despair and bitterness.
None of it mattered. Eventually will would fail and execution would commence. My valuable life lessons had come too late to make a difference. I had squandered too much time on frivolous and empty pursuits.
Betrayed by my Imperial Prime Minister Kefka, he who I mistakenly believed an ally and comrade, I Celes Chere would inevitably be consigned to a quiet and lonely grave. But at night when I sleep I dream of the laughter of children.