Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem or anything in it.
Author's Notes: My first try in the Fire Emblem section.
Forced To Taint My Hands
Prologue
He stood there.
Waiting.
Listing.
Focused.
The wind blows softly past him, making the knee-high grass of the field around him and the edges of his old, light-brown cloak wave gently back and forth. He just stood there with his eyes closed, waiting for the first to arrive.
Today it would begin. Today would be the first day of the end. Today he had to start the thing he had trained for all his life. Today his hands would be tainted in blood…
His cloak reached just past his knees, hiding most of his body. Under it, his right hand rested on top of the hilt of his sword, which was tightly strapped to his brown leather belt.
He had never used it before, but today that would change. Soon his opponent would arrive, very soon. He could feel it. Like a chill running down ones spine when one would press could ice against it.
He revolted that what he soon had to do. It was against everything he believed in to take another's life, especially through combat. But he had learned early on in his life that the lust for battle, and power, was in many humans nature, unfortunatly. He despised such people. Those kinds of people only thought about them selves and how to gain more power. Often they would sacrifice and use many innocent lives to obtain it.
Some time ago he made an oath to himself. He would use all his knowledge and strength and use it to help the weaker and stop those who lust for power. Almost his entire life had consisted out of training, ever since that day…
He was twenty-two now. Today was the day that the battle for his life began. Today was also the day that his life would start ending.
He knew the consequences. He knew the rules. He knew most of his opponents. He knew who was to blame for all this.
He looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful blue sky with only a few small, puffy, white clouds here and there.
His expression turned into an angry frown. They were probably already watching. This… tournament they invented. This sick game of theirs. This curse they have cast on their souls. One would think that they would not play such foul tricks on their worshippers.
He hated them.
He would hate them forever.
Even though it had not begun yet, he already felt the first of the effects very slightly. It felt wrong. He let his gaze fall down to the ground. The grass crushed beneath his brown boots, were they feeling what he was starting to feel?
The thought intoxicated his mind.
Had he become nothing more then crushed grass beneath the boots of the immortal beings? Was his life so insignificant? But, if that were so, why would he have been cursed?
These were only a few of the many questions that dwelled inside his head.
He shook his head.
Now was not the time to think about the deeper meanings of things. Now was the time to prepare for the first fight. Not only the beginning, but also the ending, of everything.
He focused himself. Thinking over the many possible strategies he had thought up. He had to be prepared. If he was not, he would surely die at the hands of his first opponent.
He knew exactly who his first opponent was. They had met once before, long ago, before both of them, along with others, were cursed. After that day, their lives were changed forever. Immediately he was send, or more like forced, into training. He studied weapons, magic, battle-strategies, and many more. He had mastered several different kinds of weapons, of which each he knew exactly the strengths and weaknesses.
At the moment he only carried a sword, because it would give him an advantage over his first opponent.
…He was near.
He heard someone move through the grass, towards him. Calmly turning around, he faced the one that he had been waiting for.
"Hello Mark," his opponent greeted him.
The first battle was about to begin…