I'm aliiiive.
Just a little oneshot whilst I get my act together and start writing again. I wrote this in response to my friend killing Guy off in her epic-length-mega-Mary-Sue fic, which irritated me no end. HAHAHAHA, HE WILL LIVE, SEE, HE LIVES!
Ahem
Based on the whatever-level support between Guy and Karel where Guy challenges Karel to a duel a year after the war ends.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem, unfortunately. If I did, Eliwood wouldn't... Like... Melt between 6 and 7.
The plains wind played around his body, blowing his hair around him, not quite blinding him as he stood into the wind.
Sacae…
There were a lot of plains, but this swordmaster knew where he was going.
The sun was setting, dyeing the grass the colour of blood. Fitting. He drew his blade, the red light matched its finished tone. The Wo Dao. The blade of death… Or at least, that was what he brought with it. Sword demon. Hell. Living death.
…Karel.
He paced down the plain, down the side of a hill, the feeling of the wind breezing against his skin almost as good as that of blood. A good feeling indeed… His keen hearing picked up lightning in the distance, he knew it was going to rain, but that did not matter. Both he and the opponent he sought were skilled enough for it not to affect them.
Ah, here came the rain now. Small droplets at first, but it didn't take long for the heavens to split and pour down an ocean on the plains below. Karel closed his eyes, still walking, letting the rain run down his face. The wind of the plains and the rain… This was where he belonged…
But it was not why he had come. His sword still in hand, water running down it in as thick a torrent as blood once had, Karel stepped out onto the plateau at the bottom of the hill.
"I am here," he declared, "for our fight." The green-haired swordmaster he had met a year ago walked into view at the opposite edge of the plateau. The hair he had previously tied back into a braid was cut to chin length now, flowing free and wet from the rain, but the same determination flashed in his green eyes. And there was more skill in how he held his Killing Edge, that gleamed wet in the rain. Much more skill.
Karel's heart ached to taste his blood on the edge of his blade… And also ached that he would do so. But he had done so much… And he could not resist the thrill of the fight, nor renege on his honour and not come. So he had come. Come to kill the man he had trained. For he was a man now. He had grown.
He would not grow any more.
"So be it," Guy responded. "But I will warn you now – I do not intend to lose." Karel inclined his head.
"I neither," he vowed, and their conversation was over. It would be the last words one of them ever said.
Karel ran across the plains so fast he almost flew, and the first clash of his steel on Guy's made his blood rush. Skill indeed just to survive that one blow! Guy pushed their swords upwards, jumping backwards and rushing forwards all at once, Karel parrying with not quite the usual ease. Such skill! Such passion and determination!
A true student of his indeed…!
Their blades met again and again, the sound of steel on steel ringing out across the plains again and again, the two masters of speed and the blade moving so fast they were almost blurs. Karel met Guy's sword every time, Guy mirrored him, the rain ran down the younger man's face. He was panting slightly when they broke apart once more, how many times… Karel had lost count. But he was panting slightly too. His student was challenging him, and oh, it felt so good! He could see the rain fly around Guy as he moved, sometimes they moved so fast it barely struck them, and, as lightning cracked overhead and lit the sky, a lucky strike sent Guy's sword into the ground several meters away and Guy flying backwards, hitting the dirt hard. Karel was on him in an instant, the tip of his sword pressed close against the younger's throat. Guy had frozen, but quickly recovered.
"…End it," he told him softly. Karel intended to, oh, how his blade begged him to! But something inside him said stop… His swordhand shook slightly. Guy's eyes were closed, he could not see that the man who should have taken his life did not dare to land the final stroke.
"…You wanted to be the best swordmaster in all Sacae…" Karel murmured. Guy opened his eyes, surprised, why was he not dead? Karel lifted the sword and threw it to one side, it landed point-up in the dirt.
"…Master Karel…?" He murmured.
"You shall be, Sword Saint," Karel replied. "…For I cannot kill you." Guy frowned, sitting up and retrieving his sword slowly. "This ends here," he continued, walking over to his sword. "You know my sister… Karla." Guy nodded. "She has a daughter… They live on the plains… Go, give this sword to them. Tell them this is finished… She needn't wait for me." He pulled the blade out of the ground and passed it to Guy, who held it as though it were precious.
"Master Karel…" He breathed. "This… This is…" Karel looked at Guy.
"It was a lucky stroke… You were right," he murmured. "You have improved. Your skill… It matches mine. That is an achievement, Sword Saint." Guy shook his head.
"You spared my life…" He murmured, taking out his killing edge with his spare hand. "You are no longer a Demon, Master Karel. It is you who is the Sword Saint. I would be honoured if you would take my sword." Karel looked at it, and at the expression in Guy's eyes, and he took the sword from his hands.
"What would that make you, Guy?" He asked. The wind scattered their hair, Karel felt the rain on his skin… Home…
"Just Guy," he responded with a slight smile. "I would rather be father than Saint. This challenge… I promised myself. I promised myself this day, and though I was not certain, I had hoped to beat you… But what the world wills. I can leave this behind. I can put down my sword." He smiled at Karel. "Or teach my son. Thank you, Master Karel… For all you have given me… Most likely more than you know. I will give this sword to your niece." Karel nodded as Guy turned to walk off into the rain, his back to the swordmaster, who for once did not strike someone down for such weakness.
"Perhaps…" He murmured. "Sword Saint… Perhaps I can leave this behind…" The rain hit his face still, the coolness new, so much more refreshing than blood.
As he turned away, there was a peaceful smile on his face.
Author's Note - I wrote that out in full for once . Tell me what you think of it, I like constructive criticism. Flames are a big no-no, however. If you don't like it, don't review, simple as.
