Her Guardian, a wild arms fanfic

A/N: I do believe I have the honor of posting the first XF story (that I know of) on this site. Cheers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Wild ARMs XF or make a material profit from this work. It is simply fan made fun.

Clarissa was afraid. During her young life she had many causes to be afraid, as there were dangers on the road for a single mother and her little daughter. The wastelands of Filgaia were not merciful, and neither were the monsters who roamed it. Thieves, bandits, and worse were always on the prowl, and despite their caution they could not always make it to a town within its safe walls. And even then nowhere was truly safe. For how could a woman and child defend themselves? They had no weapons. Clarissa, despite her mother's reassurances, had always been afraid. Afraid, but happy.

Then, a miracle had occurred, it was astounding that it had happened at all--Melissa and Clarissa were journeying the open road near a mountainside, when they spotted a smoking wreckage not far from where they had been. Upon investigation, the wreckage was a metallic pod, fallen from the heavens. Inside, wounded, unconscious, clutching Iskender Bey as a lifeline, was Felius. Eleven year old Clarissa had helped her mother nurse Felius back to health, though she felt that what she did helped little, only her mother's skillful application of medicine had saved the man's life. Even though the man was a stranger who could be dangerous, Clarissa never felt afraid of him. His amber eyes bore a gentle light, and often they would recede, in time, if not distance. As if he remembered a painful time he would have been happier to forget, but could never allow himself such luxury.

With Felius, a skilled halberdier, and Iskender Bey with Melissa, Clarissa had less need for fear on the road. Now she had a big brother to watch over her day and night, and Melissa had the mystical sword whose light banished all enemies unto nothingness. Yet Melissa had always felt iffy about the sword. "These hands are the hands of an archeologist," she would say if she were forced to use its power, "not a warrior." The power of the blade's light was such that not even the blood of their enemies stained the earth they left behind. Still, as long as it was her mother that wielded it, Clarissa never had cause to fear Iskender Bey.

What was more, Clarissa noticed she hadn't been afraid of much of anything, since she was shielded by her big brother. Because he was there, she hadn't reason to fear much of anything.

It was her twelfth birthday. The sun's morning rays of pale gold poured over the roofs of the town built with brick upon wooden planks aligned for a makeshift street running through the village between the buildings. On the edge of the desert, the town of Sandy Twister was aptly named. Melissa stood outside the inn they had stayed at the night before, a list in her hand. Felius was beside her, Clarissa between them. The blonde woman had a small frown, an index finger tracing the items hastily scrawled on the paper a little while ago.

"Okay, we need bread, water, candles ... hn. Felius, would you be a dear and get more matches and oil for our lanterns?" Obediently Felius nodded and turned on his heel toward one of the shops geared for hunters and travelers. The way he bent his will without protest bothered Clarissa somewhat. It was if Melissa were a duchess and Felius her indentured servant. But she wasn't a duchess, and he wasn't a servant. So why did he insist on acting like one? Unless he really had been raised as an indentured servant. Melissa spoke, breaking her daughter's train of thought.

"Clarissa, could you go get the food? I've an errand myself to run really quickly." She smiled, winked. "So why don't you meet me back here?"

Clarissa took part of the grocery list, a wad of Gella notes, and nodded, scampering off in the direction of the grocer's. Her mother's last wink made her heart skip. It was her birthday today; no doubt Melissa's other errand was getting her daughter a gift. Since they were always on the road, they never had enough money for expensive things, but Clarissa never minded it. Usually it was a book, piece of clothing or jewelry. They wouldn't necessarily be the most beautiful or expensive or luxurious, but again, no one in their family of three cared. What mattered was that the gifts had been from the giver from the bottom of her heart, with love. And that was worth more than all the gold jewelry or silken clothes Gella could buy.

She found the shop quickly. Inside, the shelves were dusty. The clerk greeted her with a jovial nod as she looked around. She found the bread, the round end of the loaf sticking out of the brown paper bag. It was more expensive than the bread in the last town had been. So, too, were the meats, cheeses, and produce most of all. Decaying Filgaia did not idly give her bounty to anyone who stared at the earth and asked nicely. And here on the edge of the desert, much of, if not every, bit of food was imported from luckier lands blessed by vitality.

Arms full of edible goods, Clarissa put them all carefully on the counter, while the clerk rang up the price. An assistant began to place the food in canvas bags while the girl shelled out the appropriate amount of Gella for the groceries. The cashier rang as its buttons were pressed, coins clinging inside as the clerk rummaged for change. He put the coins in tiny waiting hands.

"There you go, little lady. My regards to your travels."

Clarissa gathered the bags in her arms, tottering on her heels but regaining her balance quickly enough. She gave a small bow, thanking the shopkeeper. The sun had climbed to late morning as she wound her way on the wooden plank streets, a vigilant eye out for the inn her mother would be waiting at. Clouds of dust floated over the ground, spurred by the wind. Would all of Filgaia one day end up as endless desert and wasteland, with no rain but dirt and dust descending from the bone dry clouds? Her thoughts took her far from this town, into the transcendent, to the beyond, of how. Would they find the Legacy Ruins? And would they be successful in revitalizing Filgaia? With a small frown, she knew that whatever the outcome, she'd never see it with her own two eyes. And that made her afraid.

She hadn't been paying attention, so a stray plank of wood caught her foot and she stumbled, dropping one of her bags. Some of the contents spilled over, most notably the cheeses wrapped in stiff paper and the big loaf of bread. She bent to pick it all up, to replace them in the canvas bag where they belonged, but a looming shadow, blocking out the fiery disc of the sun made her stop, and look up.

He was lanky, thin, tall. Dust and dirt clung to his clothes, which were simple and without elaborate ornamentation: a collared off white shirt with an open collar, denim jeans, shoes, and a sweeping brown poncho to protect from dust and sandstorms. A sword with a thin blade was sheathed at his narrow waist, a chain with feathers wound around his shoulders outside the poncho. His short lavender hair was tangled and dirty, stubble marking his chin. He chewed the end of a thin stick in his mouth, dark circles under his amber eyes. But unlike Felius's gentle eyes, this man's eyes were hard, devoid of the warmth of compassion. Yet he smiled.

"Hey, little missy." He said, giving a small wave of his palm. "Running errands for your mom? Good for you. Lemme help you with that." He bent to help gather the fallen goods, but Clarissa shook her head.

"No thanks, mister, I've got it." She avoided eye contact as she put the bread, the cheeses, the produce back into the bag from whence it came. She could feel the cold stare on the nape of her exposed neck.

The man folded his arms over his chest, adopting a contemplative look. It did not suit him, he looked more like a drifting tumbleweed, rolling in the dirt all day every day, and felt no shame to do so in order to get his daily bread. Though he was thin, he did not look malnourished. If it were food he was after, he'd have taken it already. So the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end: what did this stranger want? She was only a girl of twelve running errands for her mother.

Were Felius here, she would not feel afraid. Because no matter what, Felius did everything in his power to ensure no harm befell Clarissa or Melissa. Yet Felius was not here. Holding the bags in both her arms, she eyed the man's stick thin legs. If she ran, no doubt he'd be able to catch her in two seconds flat. Besides, the bags she was holding would slow her down. She could not outrun him. She tried not to make a face at the stench that seemed to emanate from the man, probably from a lack of bathing. Well, hygiene could not be a top priority on the road, she could at least forgive him that.

"Tell you what," he said abruptly, shaking her from her thoughts. His hand disappeared behind his poncho, came out holding a tiny dandelion, honey yellow petals full of vitality. No doubt it was freshly picked. "This is for you." He extended the hand with the flower.

Immediately Clarissa's eyes glowed. "A ... flower." She breathed, forgetting how stranger slowed her heart, made her blood chill and her skin crawl with repulsion. All she saw was the flower, a rare sight in much of Filgaia. She never once believed flowers were weak or delicate, they were as tough as the mighty oak with roots deep in the earth. Flowers fought to the surface from germination, battled harsh conditions, herbivores and weeds to keep their places and lives in their little patches of dirt. Breath hitched, she took the flower, eyes lost in the honeyed glaze of the petals. They were soft to the touch, she took care not to crush the flower.

"I'm a friend of your mom's." The man continued, ignoring the way Clarissa's eyes gleamed, enthralled by such a simple thing. "I'm helping her look for the Legacy Ruins."

At last her reverie was broken. Her gaze snapped from the flower, locked with the cold amber eyes sunken into the man's face. "You're ... helping my mom?"

A click of the tongue, and for an instant a flash of impatience in the man's eyes. "Yes. Would you take me to her?"

Clarissa eyed the man suspiciously. Was the man truly a friend of her mother's? Was it only a ruse? But he said he was helping her looking for the Legacy Ruins. And he had given her a flower, something that represented what many people hoped for: the eventual rejuvenation of all Filgaia. Despite his ragged appearance, she could trust him ... right? Besides, with his help, they might find the Legacy Ruins more quickly, and the world could be restored that much faster! Her heart thumped with excitement.

"S-sure. This way."

Something was not right. This Felius could feel in his very bones as he purchased the camping supplies Melissa asked him to pick up. It was a nagging feeling in his head, so acute he thought it might have been a headache. But something definitely wasn't right, with a bitter taste of danger. Like climbing a sheer cliff with a fraying rope.

As the clerk rang up everything he'd bought--rope, lantern oil, matches, candles--he impatiently drummed his fingers rhythmically on the countertop, Gella notes clutched in his other hand. The clerk took the money and began putting his purchases in a single canvas bag. When he had finished packing them, Felius thanked him, scooping up the bag in one arm and hurrying out the door. Late morning, townspeople had begun to roam about on their orders of business. He was tall, he kept an eye out for the inn where he would meet Melissa and Clarissa.

Dust clouds floated over the ground, the supple but dry wooden planks underneath his feet making clumping noises. As he turned corners, walking between buildings, the uneasiness amplified, a humming in his bones. Tumbleweeds rolled along the streets, unnoticed by the townsfolk. Looking at the dirty tangled weeds, Felius's frown deepened. He'd better find Melissa and Clarissa as soon as possible.

He found them easily enough. Standing outside the inn, Melissa glared at the tall man, about Felius's own lofty height, standing behind Clarissa, who babbled about a tiny flower the man had given her, unaware of the hard glint in her mother's eyes. All at once Felius's blood ran cold, a foreboding clawing into his heart as a poison. He dropped the bag, whipping out his halberd, sprinting to the poncho-clad man--scruffy and dirty--he had to get there in time, he had to protect them--

Silence. The man roughly pushed Clarissa aside, slashing with his sword at Melissa, who'd belatedly drawn Iskender Bey, raising it before her face to block the offending blade. Sparks flew as the man's weapon slid off Iskender Bey, lanky arm swinging to strike again. And again. And again. And again. The townsfolk could only watch, standing frozen, speechless. Clarissa looked on, eyes wide, paralyzed with fear. Her lips quivered, slender fingers clenching the flower.

Her shoulder opened. Blood dashed across her arms, her legs as she belatedly fended off each of the man's strikes, reluctant to use Iskender Bey's power for Clarissa still was in the line of fire, unable to move. Felius was still quite far away, the fight was progressing far too quickly. Nonetheless, he held his halberd high, slammed the ground. Shockwaves rippled along the ground, heading straight for the man assaulting Melissa.

He looked as fragile as a twig, but when the waves hit he withstood them, caught in a weapon deadlock with Melissa, who shouted for Clarissa to get out of the way so she could use the blade of light to banish their attacker. But her daughter couldn't move, eyes transfixed with horror on the bleeding gashes marring her mother's body. Jade eyes began to well.

"Melissa!" Felius screamed, but it was too late.

A flick of his wrist, and the man disarmed Melissa, catching the hilt of Iskender Bey and delivering a final slash to her side for her trouble. He laughed triumphantly, dark red liquid dripping off his blade. Finally, Clarissa found the strength to stand, shouting, "Mom!" She turned on the man, spitting venom. "You said you were Mom's friend!"

He spat, holding Iskender Bey close to him. "First off, the name's Rupert Dandrige. Secondly, I hate to tell ya, but that was a lie. All I wanted," he hefted the silver and yellow sword of alien origins, "was this. A powerful sword, such a shame to waste it on an amateur woman like her."

But Clarissa was no longer listening. Tears flowed freely seeing her mother bleeding and weak upon the ground, in excruciating pain. "You lied ... and now Mom is ..." She whipped out Strahl Gewer, the metal weapon emitting a blue aura. Her small hands shook as she raised it, aiming at Rupert. "You hurt Mom!"

Rupert's eyes narrowed. "What, you got some kinda magic power or something? Or is it that thing in your hand--" but he was cut off as Clarissa screamed agony, squeezed the trigger on her weapon, and a screeching beam of white-blue light ripped through the air, straight for Rupert. He ducked, missing the beam of light, jaw slackened, heart hammering.

"What the hell was that? It was like a monster's howl--!" He looked over his shoulder to see Felius dashing for him, anger burning in his face. Rupert spit again, scrambling to his feet. "I got what I came for. Gotta scram." He looked at Clarissa, who was still sobbing uncontrollably but shakily aiming the gun again. "So long, little missy, and hope our paths never cross again!" Bidding farewell, Rupert Dandrige fled the scene, flabbergasted townsfolk frozen in place.

"Clarissa!" Felius knelt beside her, who'd fallen to her knees, dropped Strahl Gewer, crying into her cupped hands. She was shaking so badly, she was so afraid. Behind them, Melissa coughed weakly. They turned to tend her, however they could.

Lying on the parched, sandy ground was a flower crushed.

Clarissa was afraid. She had fallen asleep by the campfire, while Felius tended to Melissa's cuts and gashes. The bleeding had been heavy, and its stench still permeated the air. She had been asleep, plagued by nightmares of Melissa being cut to ribbons while she stood there doing absolutely nothing. She snapped into wakefulness, staring at the bandaged, but still bloody, body of her sleeping mother. It scared her. She tried to move, to look away, but her body was frozen. She could not move of her own accord. She could not move. She could not move.

She could not move.

She tried to speak, to scream for help, to scream for her mother and scream for Felius to help her, but her voice was gone from her. Her hands, folded atop her sternum, were deathly still. She concentrated, trying to break of this petrified spell, trying to move so she could reach for Felius, reach for her mother ... her index finger twitched, but that was all. She tried again, nothing. Concentrated, as she had when she fired Strahl Gewer, and her finger moved slightly. That uplifted her. She thought she might try to inch her way over to Felius, so he might see the state of her helplessness, but as she toiled, darkness fell over her eyes, and she merely fell back asleep.

But she was still afraid.

It happened again. She thought it might have been her mother's death that triggered it, but over the course of five years, she put her grief behind her, but she would still wake up in the middle of the night, alive, conscious, but her body paralyzed. It happened not every night, but when it did she would be flush with fear. Every time her body locked up, staring into space as she waited to sleep again, she would wonder--when it happened, would she break free of it this time? Or would she be doomed to look on, an isolated consciousness, unable to even speak, forever?

Decked out in the garb the people of Poliasha outfit her with, she inwardly supposed she truly did look to be the deceased Princess Royal Alexia of Elesius. She stared at Felius's back, who slept peacefully. He'd protected her from monsters, from bandits, but he could not protect her from this terror. Was this a curse laid on her by her mother's death, Rupert's doing, or from using Strahl Gewer altogether? She just didn't know, and that thought terrified her.

But as she bore holes into Felius's jacket with her eyes alone (for she couldn't adjust her gaze), the fear faded away, a memory. Even if something were to happen while she was frozen like this, even if she remained frozen forever, she wouldn't have to worry. Felius would guard her. He already knew of the paralysis that haunted her sleep, understood how it scared her. He had comforted her on nights he caught it happening, his soothing voice or touch upon her forehead enough to break the terrible spell. Yet the curse remained, as it did now. But she was not afraid.

Labyrinthia spoke of the Guardians that upheld the vitality of Elesius, of all Filgaia. By their vigilant watch the world had flourished. Even as wasteland consumed the earth, the Guardians never fled their post, their power never truly extinguished. They always stood to shield the world from whatever threat attacked. It was the same for Felius and Clarissa. For five years he had been steadfast, protecting her from every single threat that arose. So she knew, that even if he could not physically protect her from this curse, the face that he was just there put her mind at ease. She could endure the wait, staring at his back. She could fall back to sleep and wake up unfrozen knowing he was there. She no longer felt fear for anything: not monsters, bandits, Rupert, or this curse. Fear was a foreign emotion to her.

Just because ... he was there.