Warning! Characters death and violence ahead! This is something that had been taking up space in my brain, and it wouldn't leave me alone. Now it's done, and I can at last focus on Love Me If You Dare 2 XD anyone has a carrot? The plot bunnies aren't really nice with me, I've been ignoring them for a while now.
I had trouble writing that. I usually don't like worst case scenarios. It just popped out. Tell me if you want a very, very fluffy one-shot to make up for it!
THE LAST DAY
Nobody looked quite ready to slow down, as it seemed.
Castle Crimea was about half a mile away, and as soon as the army had caught sight of it, its members had begun running wildly. The last battle was drawing near, and waiting any longer would just have everyone on the edge.
Months and months of waiting and training; had Mad King Ashnard been right in front of him the day before, Ike would have cut him in half at once. Now, he wasn't so sure: the closer they got to the castle, the more the pool of fear in his stomach grew. He had a bad feeling about all this; their last battle, their very least day of fighting, he almost couldn't believe it. It sounded too good.
He was running along with his army, nonetheless. Hiding his fear behind a frail mask of eagerness.
The Laguz were running ahead. All Ike could see of Lethe, Muarim, Mordecai and Ranulf were their tails and their hind legs as they kicked up dust. Above them, Janaff and Ulki were gliding through the sky, their sharp beaks and deadly talons glinting in the late afternoon sun. Reyson was flying between the two hawks, his pure white wings twitching every now and then because of his apprehension. Ike wasn't the only one worrying over that last battle.
Right behind them, the six paladins were nudging their horses into full gallop. Titania and Geoffrey looked very calm, and Kieran was even yelling war cries. Oscar was frowning, something he didn't do very often, and trying not to push his horse too much to save energy for the upcoming battle. Makalov and Astrid were trailing a little behind, both frightened out of their skin, but only the pink-haired one was showing it by gnawing on the collar of his shirt. Astrid managed to keep a neutral face but her hands were gripping the reigns, a dead giveaway of the tension coursing though her body.
Ike turned his head to take a look at the sages. He wasn't surprised by Soren's stoic face – the dark-haired young man had never been frightened by a battle before, or else he hid it perfectly – but he did a double take when he saw Ilyana and Tormod. The usually carefree boy and shy girl both supported the same expression: a solid frown marred their features, and their lips were shut in a tight line. There remained no trace of their youth, this war made them look like they were ten years older. The blue-haired general couldn't help a smile when he saw a groaning Bastian carrying Calill on his back to the battlefield. He remembered hearing her say something about how she couldn't run in her dress, and that she would walk. Given how eager Bastian was to free Crimea, he must have had decided to carry her to speed things up.
A brown blur sped past Ike, and he turned to see what it was. Mist was pushing her horse to catch up with the paladins; Rolf and Sothe were settled behind her on the horse, taking advantage of the rest to pack energy for the battle. The three children were so light the horse had no problem running.
They are not children anymore, Ike corrected himself. At least not in their minds.
The others were running behind. Ike wanted to slow and make sure they were all right. But he didn't have the time to do that: they were at the castle entrance.
The Laguz and the paladins screeched to a sudden halt: beasts roared and horses neighed loudly. Geoffrey's stallion reared up, kicking the air with his front legs, but the green-clad man brought him back down and patted his mane to soothe the animal. Ulki and Janaff landed on a wall, their keen eyes scanning the area, while Reyson came down to stand near Ike.
"There are about fifty ones of them," Stefan spoke up from his position between Mia and Zihark. "Knights, tigers, paladins, swordmasters… too many classes to divide troops."
"That's exactly what he wants us to think," Ike said.
"So… what do we do now?" Boyd asked, running his fingers over the handle of Warkham, his yellow-tinted magical axe.
"We haven't come all this way to back down now," Ike said firmly. "Soldiers! Get ready to fight! I want three groups with at least a paladin, a sage, a swordmaster and two laguz in each! Gatrie, Tauroneo, you head straight forwards, I see sages in both aisles. Rolf, Shinon, you head East. Haar, you go with them, and Jill you go with Tauroneo and Gatrie. Boyd you go with them too." Ike kept giving orders and the soldiers quickly divided into three well-balanced groups.
A Pegasus landed near Ike, and the general looked up to see Elincia. The green-haired girl gave him a small uneasy smile, and Ike walked up to her. "Nervous?"
She nodded. "A bit. I feel like I've been waiting for this day to come all my life. It's so… eerie, to be there at least. I hope this day will see Ashnard's death before it ends."
Ike reached up and squeezed her hand in a reassuring way. "Don't worry about it. As long as there's a breath left in me, Ashnard shall die."
"Don't say things like that," the princess muttered. "I don't want anyone to die."
"And nobody will. We have always triumphed, and today it will happen again."
"Oh, my lord Ike…"
"Something's coming!" Boyd shouted.
Everybody raised their head up in the direction Boyd was pointing to watch whatever was coming their way. From where they stood it looked like a big black blob, one that had wings for it was flying towards them.
"It's a wyvern," Haar yawned, his Tomahawk ready.
"Are you sure? It's so big!" Mia piped in.
"It's not a wyvern," Nasir said grimly. "It's a Goldoan Dragon."
Ike shot him a strange look but before he could ask the tanned laguz how he knew that, Rolf cried out. "It's Ashnard!" the sniper pointed. Amazingly, although his arm was trembling, the young archer didn't run away.
Not a minute later the black blob, which proved to be indeed a large Goldoan Dragon, landed roughly on the ground mere feet before the army. It snarled uncomfortably and stared at the soldiers with blood-lust in its empty eyes. From atop this surprising mount, Mad King Ashnard was smirking smugly down at his adversary.
This time, Rolf did back away. The boy collided with something solid and turned around to realize it was Boyd he had hit. He cringed as he waited for his big brother to snicker and call him a peewee once again, but to his astonishment the axe-wielder kept silent. On closer inspection, Rolf realized that his older brother was actually trembling a little. "Boyd, are you all right?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," the forest-haired youth replied, but his smile was fake. "This is it, hum bro? Our biggest fight ever." Boyd glanced up from Rolf to see that Ike and Elincia were having some sort of tense conversation with the Mad King. "I wonder how we are gonna get out of this mess this time."
"What do you mean?" Rolf frowned. "We just haveto win! We have to free Crimea, have you forgotten that? We will win because we are united, and we are the best!"
"Rolf is right," Oscar added calmly, sitting on his brown mare beside his two brothers. "We have won every single battle since the beginning of this war. There is no way we can be defeated today of all days." The gentle paladin smiled, but unlike Boyd's, his was real. "Keep your eyes open and everything will be fine, okay?"
Boyd grumbled. "If one of you guys die on me, I'll personally resurrect him just to kill him with my own two hands," the broad-shouldered young man warned, shifting Warkham between his hands. "Got it?"
Oscar laughed softly and Rolf offered his big bro a sad smile.
A roar rang out and the three brothers turned their head to see Ashnard taking flight, cackling to himself. Ike and Elincia were coming back to the army; the lord had a sour look upon his face.
"All right, listen everyone," the Commander spoke up loud enough for the whole army to hear. "I already gave a speech yesterday so I won't make a new one. I'll just say this: eachandevery one of you have absolutely no right to die today! If you do not want your family and your friends to cry over your death, then by all means stay alive! I mean it!" There was a short silence during which members of the army glanced at each other. "All right, Laguz from Gallia, Phoenicis, Serenes, Beorc from Crimea, Begnion and Daein, Greil Mercenaries, let's go fight and claim what was ours from the beginning!"
Loud cheers and shouts echoed amongst the lines of soldiers, and some proudly brandished axes and swords. Ike took his blessed sword Ragnell and waved it in the air, drawing even more shouts from the army.
Tauroneo smiled at this. He looks so much like his father when he does that, he mused to himself. It's no wonder they managed to win every single battle with someone like him in charge. His line of thoughts was broken when he saw Ike turning around and heading East with the two snipers. The old general adjusted his helmet and looked at the path he had been told to take; from between walls of stone, he caught sight of an elegant fountain. Here we go.
The silver-haired general waited for his group to gather together. In the end, his group included the two swordmasters, Stefan and Mia, as well as a fellow blue-armored general – Tauroneo never quite caught his name, Gate maybe – the two hawks who were the heron's protectors, the shady assassin Volke, and then there was his friend, Largo the berserker. The burly man shot him a grin and swung his wickedly over-sized axe on his shoulder, looking smug.
Volke set off first; he used his innate ability to hide in shadows to creep up to the fountain and assess his surroundings. From behind the flowing water, he could see the large balcony up ahead, where Ashnard was waiting for them. But, more importantly, he could also see three black-armored soldiers keeping guard over the shortest way to reach the balcony… ten feet right ahead of him. There was no way he could possibly sneak past them, for the passage was narrow and their armors very large.
The assassin's eyes narrowed in thoughts; he couldn't go North, but there was one exit on his left, and one on his right. He would have to create a distraction to slip out unnoticed by the three generals, and as there weren't many choices, he chose to stick with what usually worked best. The masked man crouched and picked up a nicely-sized rock from the ground. He swiftly threw it toward the western exit.
The rock clattered loudly on the ground in the almost eerie silence that seemed to precede every battle before the first blow had been dealt, and a Tiger roared somewhere. Whether the laguz was part of their army or not, Volke didn't care, for in the minute it took the three generals to localize the source of the noise, he had already slipped out by the eastern exit, safe and unseen.
From his new point of view, the murderer took in his surroundings and made sure that there were only those three generals blocking the path. They would easily be dealt with. He turned his head and nodded in the general direction of where the rest of the group was supposed to be. He could see nobody at such a distance, but he was sure that one certain keen-eyed Hawk had caught his gesture. It was confirmed one second later when a bird screeched loudly.
Volke, now sure that his group was on its way, turned back to look at the generals. If he squinted, he could see stairs between the dark armors, and what seemed like a horse some feet further.
Janaff screeched again, and Volke frowned. Why did the hawk cry out twice? Once he could understand, but that last cry had sounded more like a squeak. Almost like… a warning? Volke felt a bad feeling settle within his stomach, and he whirled around before he even saw the large shadow under him move.
The red-clad man's daggers flashed out, and he jumped aside just in time to avoid being burned to the bone by the Dragon's breath. He grunted when his leg was singed and inwardly cursed his carelessness. How could he have missed the big red Dragon standing right here behind him? Volke blocked the pain out and tried to keep his calm while waiting for the others to arrive and help him – his daggers would never be able to pierce through the laguz's thick scales. He ought to be fast enough to avoid the Dragon's slow attacks and stay out of breathing range. Unfortunately, this Dragon seemed to be of another kind than the ones he had had to face until now.
The giant reptile roared and swiftly lunged forward. Volke jumped to one side again, hoping the momentum of the missed blow would tame the Dragon's anger a little. But then he saw the glint of madness in the Feral One's eyes; to his sickened surprise, the powerful jaws shifted to the side just in time to catch him by the legs. Volke struggled not to cry out in pain when he felt the long fangs puncture his flesh to the bone, but he couldn't help a strangled yell when he felt himself being lifted off the ground and into the air. He half-expected the Dragon to throw him away, but alas fate had other plans for him.
His fangs still clamped down on the man's legs, the Dragon began banging Volke into the ground repeatedly.
By the time Janaff and the others arrived, Volke had been reduced to a bloody heap of broken bones and bruised flesh.
Ulki let out an outraged screech and flew right up to the Dragon's head, where he clawed at its eyes furiously. The big laguz jerked its head from side to side to get rid of the Hawk, but when Ulki's beak pierced its sensitive eye it roared and what remained of Volke's body fell to the ground. Meanwhile Boyd, who had joined the detachment, was lunging forward with Largo, both of their Laguz Axes at the ready.
The Dragon roared and snapped its jaws in the air in an attempt to catch the offending fly that had injured him. Unfortunately, Ulki's quick reflexes were not enough and the Dragon caught his leg between its fangs, eliciting a pain-filled cry from the Hawk. The right arm of King Tibarn struggled to free himself from the sharp grasp, and had nearly lost all hope when Boyd and Largo attacked at once: the berserker slashed at the Dragon's leg while the forest-haired mercenary opened a deep gash in its belly. The Feral One gave an agonizing howl and let go of Ulki, who flapped his wings and freed himself.
The Dragon threw its head back, and the Hawk didn't give it much care because he thought the beast was just dying. But then the laguz swung its head forward and released an enormous flood of flames. Ulki saw yellow, red, then black. Then nothing.
The glorious Hawk hit the ground at the same time as the Dragon. Feathers burnt and flesh singed.
Giving up on any kind of stealth, the rest of the group rushed around the fountain. However Janaff didn't have to move to witness his close friend's death, and his cry of agony reached Ashnard's ears even though the Mad King was standing on the balcony.
"That's two down, and more to go," the grinning tyrant chuckled to himself, patting a growling Rajaion's head gently.
"Ulki! Ulki answer, damn it, we have to fight!" Boyd yelled while he roughly shook the fallen Hawk. But the stern-looking member of the bird tribe would never open his eyes again, and Boyd just wouldn't have any of that. "Wake up, you fucking bird!" He kept shaking the charred carcass until Largo's hand clamped down on his shoulder and he was pulled away to avoid being sliced in two by a red-haired swordmaster who had come running after he had seen the Dragon fall.
Janaff's cry surprised Oscar's horse and made it rear up. Its rider reacted quickly and calmed his mount down before glancing in the direction the screech had come from. "It sounds like it came from that fountain over there," he mused out loud. Geoffrey and Kieran, who were riding next to him, squinted to try and see through the many trees and bushes that hid the central fountain from their sight, to no avail.
"Do you think we should send someone to help them?" Haar inquired from the perch his wyvern had chosen on a wall. "After all, we are about fifteen in this group, and they are, like, ten?"
"Actually, we are fifteen and there are nine persons in their group," Soren said, frowning. "We made those arrangements because we thought that there were more enemies on the sides, but maybe we were mistaken. If they are facing difficulties it would be wiser to send in reinforcements, indeed."
Haar yawned. "I'll go," he said sleepily.
"And I'll go with you," Soren added, nodding. He turned to the others. "Clear that path from every enemy you can. Let's meet at the bottom of the great stairs." Soren looked at Bastian, who seemed to be a bit nervous. "I trust being the only magic-user in the group doesn't bother you?"
The blond sage grinned. "Not in the least!"
"Why were you wincing then?" Zihark asked, going to the point.
"I was wondering how my beloved Lucia was faring… I hope she is well," Bastian muttered the last part to himself, a bit anguished.
"On the battlefield, you have to worry only for yourself, this is the key to survival," Soren said sharply. "Stick to that and I'll see you at the bottom of the stairs. Come, Haar." The black-robed sage turned around and began walking through the many trees of the garden. When Haar tried to do the same, his wyvern backed away and nearly stomped over Sothe and Ranulf who were standing here.
"Oops, sorry," the wyvern lord grinned sheepishly. "Guess I'll just have to fly over, uh?"
While Haar was manoeuvring his wyvern to fly over the trees and bushes, Soren had trudged his way through the vegetation. He ended up on the western side of the small wall circling the fountain, but jumped back in the bushes as soon as he saw what was waiting outside.
Although the great Red Dragon had looked his way, it hadn't seen him, at least that was what Soren was thinking. The heavy laguz had gone back to staring at something straight ahead, low growls rumbling deep in his chest and spiked tail waving back and forth. The cold-blooded Branded thought fast; he couldn't walk right up to a Dragon and fight it, but then he wouldn't be of any help just standing here in the bushes. Now I see why I should have mastered Thunder magic. Then again, I never knew I would have to fight a Dragon alone. The sage shook his head; he would just have to wait for Haar to arrive, together they could have the upper hand against the laguz.
Such a pity fate had other plans. While Soren was struggling to see past the Dragon – he had actually caught sight of Stefan's dancing blade near the fountain, where the green-haired swordmaster was fighting a general in black armor – he wasn't really paying attention to what could be lurking in the bushes near him. So when the dark tiger pounced on him, he couldn't help a cry of surprise.
The grey-furred feline was growling and drooling all over Soren's chest. The young tactician was trying to keep the beast away by pushing upon its chest with all his might; his Inferno tome had been cast away out of the bushes and was useless. He was dead. No… It can't be… I cannot die this way! Soren growled and while the mad-eyed laguz drooled some more, he drew a silver dagger from his sleeve and stuck it into the tiger's soft belly.
The beast roared and jerked away, scampering, trying to find a way to pull out the dagger but only managing to widen the wound. Soren clambered back onto his feet and grabbed his Inferno tome, whirling around to finish the laguz off. However, he didn't expect the wounded beast to take a jump and crunch him to the ground again; with its dying breath, the tiger opened its jaws wide and closed them on Soren's face, encasing everything from his forehead to his throat. The hand holding the Inferno tome waved soundlessly around but soon fell back onto the ground as both the laguz's and the Branded's souls left their bodies.
At that moment, something icy seized Stefan's heart and forced him to stop for a few seconds. He could have sworn something bad had happened somewhere, but before he could dwell on that thought another general challenged him. This one seemed to be different from the one he had just defeated; his armor wasn't really black and he seemed to have more bulk, but that wasn't what Stefan's eyes were drawn to. The massive spear the general was clutching in his right hand was black except for the blade, which was pure white, and there were red feathers attached beneath the razor-sharp edge. Writings, which Stefan recognized as the Old Language, had been carved into the wood of the handle. You didn't see this particular kind of spear everywhere.
"The Wishblade…" the Branded from the sands whispered.
Stefan doubted any weapon would be able to withstand a fight against such a powerful spear, even his Katti. Yet, the green-haired man stood firm, ready to counter whatever blow would come his way. Needless to say, Stefan was more than astonished when the general went past him, heading straight for Ike who was fending off a lance paladin a few feet away. Although relief flooded him, Stefan was a bit frustrated and hurt that the general hadn't thought twice about fighting him, and set off after the armored figure angrily, intent on using his blessed sword to give the man a piece of his mind.
Yet, a scream made him stop dead in his tracks.
Stefan had never dreamt he would see the day Zihark would scream bloody murder. But here his friend was, struggling to run away, but Stefan couldn't really see what the other swordmaster was running from. Then it dawned on him that the ground was shaking under Zihark's feet, and crumbling in some places. Stefan didn't even need to see the sage standing a few feet away to know that Zihark was trying to escape from a Bolganone spell.
Under normal circumstances, Zihark was known to be able to dodge spells easily enough, but there was no way he would get out of range of the Bolganone easily that time. Angry red lava was beginning to seep out from between the stones as pure magma travelled up from within the planet's depths, and the blue-haired swordmaster had to take a couple of jumps to avoid stepping on it.
"Zihark, run!" Stefan yelled, his fight forgotten. His friend sped up, fear distorting his features. He wouldn't make it. "Jump! Jump and I'll catch you!"
Zihark gave a quick nod and kicked the ground to jump; unfortunately, the stones gave out under his foot and his boot disappeared into the burning mass that was waiting underneath. His roar of agony hurt Stefan's ears but the Branded rushed forward, trying to help Zihark who was clinging to the stones that hadn't collapsed with his free hand, the other one clutching his sword.
"Zihark!" Stefan called to get his attention; the man looked up through a mist of extreme pain at his trusted friend. "Give me your hand! Come on!" Zihark's hand clutching the ground wouldn't budge; anyway, the distance between the two men was too big to be covered with two arms. "Crap! Give me your sword, I'll get you out of there! Please Zihark!"
After some struggling, the swordmaster gathered his strength and focused on reaching out to Stefan with his sword. The green-haired man grabbed the razor sharp blade, praying that it wouldn't slip. "I'll get you out! Grab your sword!"
Trusting his friend, Zihark held the handle of his silver sword with both hands. This would prove to be his last and greatest mistake, for as soon as his weight was added, the blade sliced cleanly through Stefan's palms and Zihark was sent splashing down in the lava behind him soundlessly, bringing his sword along.
"NO!" Before Stefan could try anything, the ground had closed itself and was back to normal. Flabbergasted, and unable to admit that he had just lost Zihark, Stefan stood still a few seconds before his bleeding hands clutched his sword. With a war cry, he charged at the sage who was responsible for this death.
By now, the battlefield was littered with corpses, enemies and allies alike. In fact, it didn't look like a battlefield anymore; the groups Ike had sorted out were scattered, and had formed new groups that tried to fight their way up to the great stairs, where Ashnard was waiting, looking as bored as ever.
A small group seemed to have escaped the main fight, which was taking place around the fountain. Lucia and Mia were running ahead, and Bastian was one step behind them, throwing wind spells over his shoulder to get rid of the few soldiers who were following them. Unfortunately, his mind was not entirely focused on his spells, and many of them crashed harmlessly to the ground, or were avoided easily by the followers.
"Ashera's bones," the sage cursed softly, right before he stopped and turned around.
"Bastian, what's wrong?" Lucia asked, slowing down upon noticing that the count had stopped right before the first flight of stairs. Mia turned around as well, realizing Bastian was at least twenty feet behind.
The blond man waved. "Do not worry; I shall take care of these fiends while you get to the top of the stairs! I will follow suit once I am sure that nobody is going to interfere!" Bastian waited until the two women nodded and resumed climbing the stairs before he whirled around, facing the approaching soldiers. "And now, my friends! It looks like it is just you and I, now."
Bastian quickly cast a powerful Tornado that sent some soldiers flying all the way down to the gardens. Others lost their weapons and were thrown down to the ground, where they stayed unmoving. Once he was sure no soldier would be able to get up, Bastian began climbing the stairs, but before he reached the top he heard metallic noises. Turning around once more, the sage came face to face with two paladins, who didn't look like they were really happy. Indeed their horses were bleeding and panting, and their drool mixed with blood before it fell to the ground. Both soldiers were standing just before the flight of stairs, wondering if their horses would be able to climb the stairs without dying after a few steps.
Perfect. Ashera must be smiling down at me. Bastian opened his Tornado tome, his feet firmly set on a step to avoid falling down as he read the incantation. Both paladins had seen him open the magic tome, and were frantically nudging their horses to make them run away. Not so fast here. Bastian suppressed a triumphal grin as he raised his hand high into the air, beginning to recite the incantation…
But his voice trailed off as the book crumbled to dust between his fingers, empty. The count stayed still, one hand into the air and the other still holding a tome that was no longer there. For a few seconds, time stopped, and Bastian could only hear the sound of his own beating heart, unable to blink, unable to think. Of all the times to run out of spells…
"Bastian!"
The yell threw him out of his trance, and he looked up to see Lucia bent over the side of the second flight of stairs. "What are you doing? Hurry up there, we'll help you!"
Oh, he longed to run to her and let her help him. This would be so simple, and yet, it didn't fit. Bastian bottled up his fear and gave her a wide smile. "I have everything under control! Do not concern yourself over me, it doesn't sound like you," he added after an afterthought, still smiling.
"You'd better be telling the truth, you insufferable man! And wipe that smile off your face, we're in the middle of a battle!" With a last concerned look, Lucia stepped back to return to the battle she was fighting at the top of the stairs with what sounded like a mounted soldier.
"Ah, but even in the deepest circle of hell, one look at your angelic face would be enough to bring a smile to my lips, my sweet!" Bastian laughed, but his laugh was nervous and a bit shaky, instead of booming and hearty as it usually was. His smile was short-lived as well, for he noticed that the paladins, taking advantage of Bastian's lack of weapon, had nudged their horses on the stairs. I can't let them through… but I won't be able to do that without any weapon… I shouldn't have lent Volke my knife, it would have been useful…
As the sage imagined every possible way to stop the two soldiers, he noticed that the wounded horses' legs were shaking. They took one step after the other, as if they were afraid they would trip and break their necks. Of course this would have been good if Bastian had decided to run away, however it wasn't the way he wanted to proceed. But it didn't matter, as a scheme began forming itself in the blond count's brain.
Patiently, his face betraying nothing of the nervousness that was churning up deep within his stomach, Bastian waited until both paladins were in the middle of the stairs. Once he was certain they couldn't turn around and flee, he took a deep breath and began running down the stairs, heading straight for them. The soldiers stopped their mounts, eyes widening, and hastily began fumbling for their lances. However Bastian was on them before either could draw a weapon.
"If I must cross from Crimea to death's black kingdom today, then it shall not be in vain!" With rage he didn't know he possessed, Bastian propelled himself into the horses' legs, teeth ground and eyes closed tight.
The horse on the outside reared, frightened, and fell over the railing with its rider. Both creatures plummeted to the ground below, where they crashed with a dull noise. The other horse lost its balance and fell down the stairs, along with Bastian. His last thought before the beast crushed him to the ground was about Lucia, and how happy he was that the last thing she had seen from him had been a smile.
Before long, a Daein sniper jumped over the shapeless heap that was Bastian, crushed on the ground. Not far behind, Boyd was trying to reach the bow-wielding man, slowed down by fatigue and four arrows lodged deep into his shoulder and his belly. Somehow, the sniper always managed to escape him, but his arrows never missed their mark. The mighty warrior clumsily swung his axe; the archer easily dodged the blow and nocked another arrow. That one went straight into Boyd's stomach, and the green-haired man fell to his knees with a grunt of pain. He couldn't believe he would die that way, it was so pathetic, but he couldn't get up. Panting, his eyes were glued to the bloodied ground, but even the pounding of his blood in his ears wasn't loud enough to cover the noise of a string being pulled back.
Think you have me down, don't you, fella? I'll show you! With a howl of rage and pain, Boyd grabbed his axe that had slipped from his grasp and scampered to his feet. He ignored the additional pain of another arrow burying itself in his hip and swung his axe with brute force. The sharp blade encountered flesh and bone, and spilled blood all over the ground. The sniper had found no time to escape the enraged warrior.
Unfortunately, Boyd had no time to savor his victory, for as soon as the will to fight left him, the pain of the six arrows piercing his upper body hit him like a brick to the head. Panting, the broad-shouldered fighter let go of his axe and fell to his knees, feeling like he weighted a ton.
"Boyd!" Oscar, who had been running to the stairs, had witnessed the fight. He grabbed Boyd just before the man fell to the ground, abandoning his silver lance. His fear grew when his little brother went slack in his arms, his head tilted to the side. "Boyd, please talk to me! Say something! Answer, damn it!" But Boyd stayed unresponsive. Even when Oscar tried to remove the arrows from his brother's body, the younger one didn't utter a word.
"Boyd! Boyd please you can't die!" On the verge of tears, Oscar cradled Boyd's head against his chest and looked up to shout. "Mist! Rhys! Somebody, a healer, quick! Boyd, please hang on!" His sight blurred and he didn't realize he held a fistful of his brother's hair tightly in his hand. "Boyd hang on, you can't leave me and Rolf! Fight!"
"OSCAR!" The gentle-faced paladin recognized Gatrie's voice, but when he raised his head up to see what the knight was screaming about, it was already too late; for the wyvern lord who was hovering over him made a harsh landing right on top of the two brothers, crushing them under the great weight on the winged beast. There was no doubt the soldier had done this on purpose.
However hidden his grin may have been, it was wiped right off of his face when an arrow shot through the air right in the middle of the opening in his helmet. The rider fell forward on his saddle, the arrow jutting out of his head.
Shinon gritted his teeth and swore. "Fuck! Too late!"
"Oscar!" Gatrie rushed up and pushed the riderless wyvern away with all his might. The mount whined a little but eventually stepped aside, revealing two bodies horribly and irremediably crushed into the ground. "No… Oscar… Boyd, too… No! It can't be!"
Shinon jogged to his blond friend and grabbed his arm. "Gatrie, we can't stay here! They are coming, come on Gatrie, we gotta run!"
But the bigger man wasn't listening. Gatrie's eyes blurred and he slowly slid down to his knees next to his two fallen friends. "Oscar… Boyd… I can't believe it…" The blue knight put his palms onto the ground and his shoulders shook. "Can't believe it…"
"Fuck, Gatrie, hurry up!" Shinon pleaded, pulling on the crying man's arm to get him up. Although the sniper wanted to run away, he had to hold Gatrie's arm in a vice-like grip to keep his hands from shaking – but that, he would never admit it to anyone. "Haul your ass over there before I do it for you! We're in the middle of a battle, damn it, we can't stay here and cry!" He kept on pulling like a madman on Gatrie's arm until the knight finally got to his feet, rubbing at his eyes. "Come on…"
Chuckling over the scene, Ashnard sat back in his saddle as Rajaion growled softly. This was entertaining; people who had fought many battles during more than one year were being killed mere feet away from him. Brave as they were, their blood and bodies would fit nicely around the gardens, and he chuckled at the image while caressing Gurgurant's handle.
Sharp clinking sounds were heard from behind him. As swift as a leaping panther, the Mad King whirled around and thrust his massive sword in front of him. He was met with the satisfying sound of cracking bones when the blade tore through the forest green tiger's wide open jaws and out of his back. The laguz's eyes shot open as he hung frozen on the blade; his big body shook once before he slipped to the ground, lifeless.
"Pitiful waste of time," the King spat distastefully, wiping his sword on the tiger's fur. "Here I thought it would cure my boredom… Pity." Ashnard caught sight of a flying fighter approaching, and he smirked. "Well well… We meet again, I see."
Naesala flew over in his laguz form but, to Ashnard's surprise, when he was in front of Rajaion the bird stopped and transformed back into his human form. He just hovered in front of the Mad King, grinning. "So it seems. You know, just thinking about fighting you makes me want to forget the whole thing. Heck, it's not like I'm getting paid… say, would you consider hiring me?"
Ashnard blinked. "What? Do you wish to return to Daein's loving embrace?"
"I do… If you agree to make me very, veryrich." Naesala's eyes glinted with what could have been greed, but the dark King knew better.
"Enough of your lies, crow. Even now, your beady eyes look for a chink in my armor."
Naesala chuckled a bit, shifting his wings a little nervously. "Ah… you found me out. All right, let's proceed in earnest, no more tricks… Oh look over there!" The raven king pointed to some place into the skies with the most convincing startled face he could manage; however, his adversary didn't budge. But Naesala hadn't expected him to; all that mattered was that he had seen that the others were ready. "Didn't work, eh? Then die, madman! I won't be doing you any favour if I let you live!"
As soon as the last word was spat in Ashnard's direction, Naesala shape shifted into a huge crow and screeched loudly on purpose. Ashnard just laughed, unaffected by the sound, but his smile disappeared when Rajaion growled and struggled, his keen ears assaulted by the cry. "What the- stay still you stupid beast! Stop moving!"
"Now, Haar!" Ike shouted over Naesala's screeches.
The wyvern lord nodded and flew over the Mad King who had trouble making his mount stay still. Behind Haar, Ike was seated on the edge of the saddle, his hands gripping Ragnell so tightly his knuckles had turned red then white. He hated fighting like a traitor and backstabbing the enemy… but this was Ashnard they were fighting. The rules were no longer worth anything.
Ashnard, unaware of the black wyvern flying his way, began swinging Gurgurant around madly. "Come here, you pathetic bird! Come here and fight!" His brutal sword waving may have proven to be laughable, but nevertheless all it took was one well-aimed powerful blast of wind to cut Naesala's right wing off. The raven king gave off a toe-curling shrill as he fell to the ground, his remaining wing flapping pathetically. It wasn't long until Rajaion calmed down and Ashnard smirked. "It's time you met your maker, half-breed."
The Mad King raised his barbed sword over the bleeding laguz, ready to give the final blow. Which never came.
Ike jumped from Haar's wyvern soundlessly and drove both of his feet into Ashnard's head. The evil king roared and fell off of his mount onto the ground, as Ike landed on his feet near him. The young commander turned general whirled around to face his opponent, Ragnell at the ready. "The son of Gawain," Ashnard growled as he got to his feet, his head pounding.
"Sorry to drop in uninvited," Ike hissed through gritted teeth. "But there are some things I'd like to discuss with you… For example, this reign of terror of yours… I'll see to it that it ends here and now!"
"Hee hee… I remember that fighting stance well," Ashnard cackled. "It makes me very happy that your father taught you swordplay… Brings back old memories…"
"You have no right to speak about my father!" Ike roared as he sprang forward. "I will rid the world of your evil presence, for my father and Elincia, and everyone who died today! Die at my hand!"
Ashnard chuckled; even without Rajaion and with a headache he could put up a strong fight. His hand went to his side to grab Gurgurant… only to close on itself, empty. His sword wasn't here. It had fallen on the other side of Rajaion when Ike had kicked him. His sword wasn't here. He had known nothing but brilliant victories since this war had started, and all it took was a small mistake to end it all. His sword wasn't here; he was dead. He grinned.
His grin widened when Ike drove Ragnell into his chest, spilling blood on his armor. The maddest king to have ever lived rasped out a laugh, spitting blood. "More! More… for my ascension, it is not enough!" He coughed up blood when Ike drew his sword back, and when he fell to the ground for the last time the ghost of his wide grin was etched upon his face for eternity.
Blood was dripping from the edge of Ike's blessed sword. The young general just stood there, slightly panting, staring at the dead body of the one they had spent months searching. Ashnard's reign of evil was now over. Yet, the battle hadn't stopped.
Never moving from where he was standing, Ike shouted. "Listen! Your King is dead! Mad King Ashnard is dead! You no longer have to fight! End this bloodbath!" But his screams remained ignored, which served to irritate him further. "Fine then! You'll join him if that's what you want!" Ike jumped over the railing to join the fight taking place below.
Near the first flight of stairs, Stefan and Bryce were battling fiercely, but that wasn't what urged Ike to a stop. What caught his eye was the delicate, slender, but unmoving body of Elincia, lying on the ground near Bryce's feet. "No!" Ike pleaded, his feet moving on their own accord to reach Elincia. "No! Princess!" He threw himself to his knees beside her, and cradled her upper body in his arms. She was extremely light, and a small trail of blood was dripping from her nose and the corner of her lips. "Elincia, please, I beg of you! You can't die, not after we fought so long! We can't bear to lose you… Ican't bear to lose you!"
Stefan was down. One small miscalculation was enough for Bryce to break through his defences. Before the general could land the final blow, however, Tauroneo pushed him away. "Bryce, stop this nonsense! The war is over!" When his former friend ignored him and tried to run him through with his Wishblade, Tauroneo stepped away. "Bryce, please listen! It is useless!"
"Shut up already!" the Daein knight hissed.
"You've heard what that Mad King said! He killed his father, the former King!OurKing, Bryce, our good King! Are you even listening to me?"
"We have to get rid of the invaders," Bryce said, as if he had said it a hundred times.
Tauroneo growled. "You've gone mad! Just like him!" The Daein soldier turned traitor swung his silver sword and hit Bryce with all his might with the flat part of the blade, which made the other general step away from Stefan. "Can't you see you are alone, Bryce? Just give up now, and I'll see to it that you are not harmed!"
The redhead barked out a bitter laugh. "Unharmed? You fool… Such a thing doesn't exist, and I won't rest until I have done as much harm as possible to you or anyone else in this small pathetic army you're part of." Bryce raised the Wishblade. "Prepare to die."
"Gawain died because of Daein! And yet you stand here as if nothing happened!" Tauroneo growled through gritted teeth, his sword at the ready.
Murder flashed across Bryce's eyes. "Petrine died because of the lot of you," he snarled angrily. "And yet you stand here before me… you shouldn't even be looking at me, you worthless piece of junk! I won't rest until I spill enough blood to avenge her!" Blinded by rage, Bryce charged.
Tauroneo shook his head. "You fool… you leave me no choice… I never thought I would be the one to use your weak spots against you." The older general waited until Bryce was within reaching range, then swiftly stepped aside on the other general's left, where Tauroneo knew he was slower. Unable to stop his momentum, Bryce only had time to turn his head to look at him – was it… betrayal in his eyes? - before Tauroneo took the opening and thrust his sword into Bryce's side, ignoring his remorse. For this was no longer a friend.
The Wishblade fell to the ground with a clattering sound and a hiss of pain escaped from Bryce. "You… bastard…"
"I told you before, you should work on that weak spot of yours," Tauroneo mumbled. "You never know who could use it against you."
"I… shall try to remember that… until we meet again…"
Time seemed to slow down as Bryce crashed to the ground, the large sword still nestled in his side. When his head hit the ground, his helmet was knocked off, revealing tightly shut eyes and clenched jaws.
"Gawain, Petrine… take good care of Bryce," Tauroneo whispered.
Unaware of the fight that had taken place, Ike was still holding Elincia in his arms, his bloodied cheek pressed against her hair, her soft hair. All around him, Daein soldiers were running away, and others fiercely fought with their last breath. But Ike only had eyes for the lifeless body he was squeezing for all he was worth. It could have been minutes or hours he had been kneeling like that when Gatrie went to him.
The blond knight was unable to hide his tears; following him, Mist had even less control and looked like she had sobbed all the tears her body could produce. Ike gently lowered Elincia back down before he stood up. He didn't even register when Mist threw her arms around his neck and began sobbing into his chest. He didn't even try to hug her back. He felt empty.
"What… what are we going to do now, Ike?" Gatrie asked shakily. The commander of the Greil mercenaries stayed silent. "Ike?"
"It's all my fault," the blue-haired general whispered.
Mist sniffed. "You did everything you could, Ike! It's not your fault."
"This… would have never happened if Father had been in charge… I sent these people right to their deaths… I'm a murderer."
With angry tears, Mist slapped her older brother hard. "Don't say that! You know it's wrong!"
Ike, who had his head turned sideways from the blow to his cheek, stared off into space. "I'm a murderer… I killed the ones I loved… I deserve to die…"
With renewed tears, Mist hugged him. "No! Don't talk like that! Dad wouldn't have wanted you to think like that…"
"Elincia is dead… I'm the worst commander of the world."
"For once, you make sense, boy!" With angry steps, Shinon pushed past Gatrie and growled at Ike. The sniper had blood streaks across his face, and he spat on the ground as he threw his worn out bow away. "I suddenly have an urge to commit murder!"
Gatrie wiped his cheeks. "Let's… let's just go home…"
"All right, once I've killed that kid!"
"Which kid?"
Shinon pointed to Ike. "This good for nothing whelp here! I told everyone that it was a bad idea to leave him in charge, and nobody listened! Look where we are now!"
Gatrie frowned. "This is not Ike's doing, and you know it as much as I do! Don't even think about touching him!"
"Don't even think about stopping me!"
Shinon ran at Ike, his hands ready to strangle the younger man, but Gatrie caught the sniper around the waist and held him in place. Shinon swung his arms and legs around as his bigger friend lifted him off of the ground, hissing. "I'm going to rip your eyes out and break every bone in your fucking body, damn kid!" Although Shinon was inches away from him, Ike didn't budge. He couldn't care less about what would happen to him. "I knew from the beginning that you would only lead us to our death! Commander Greil was wrong, you were all wrong, and I was right! I was damn right! Let go of me, Gatrie!"
"Do you really think Commander Greil would let you beat up his son?" the knight growled, struggling to hold Shinon in place.
"I don't give a damn! He's dead! They are all DEAD! And he is the one to blame for that, so let me strangle him until I feel his windpipe burst between my fingers!" Shinon screeched madly.
"Keep that up and Iwill strangle you!"
"Damn kid! I'm going to kill you!" Shinon kept on struggling but the aftermath of the battle and his wounds soon had him weakening. "Stupid… good for nothing… they were wrong…" The sniper eventually fell back against Gatrie's chest, exhausted. "What the hell went wrong…" he moaned.
As Gatrie's patted his friend's back, Titania came up to Ike and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What should we do, commander?" she asked softly.
Ike looked up. Besides Titania, Gatrie, Shinon and Mist, the only mercenaries he could see were Rolf and Mia. The others… he wasn't sure he wanted to discover where they all were, but he couldn't leave them behind.
"Heal the wounded, gather the dead," Ike spoke softly. "We're going home."
This was supposed to be their last fight in this war. Not their last fight ever. But they had had no choice in the matter.