Dagger
The greyish- green grass bent heavily under the increasing pressure of the falling snow. Clutching her little hare fur coat tightly, the young girl pushed the grasses aside. It was very, very cold, and the snow was falling at an alarming rate; but she had to hurry and complete everything before her sisters came back. They would think that she had been kidnapped and then would raise a big hullabaloo all because she was not in the house when they came back.
Bending down on the ground, she picked at handful of the snowdrops growing on the ground, their petals well camouflaged against the thick blanket of snow on the ground.
One drop of blood, another drop of blood, yet another drop of blood…there was a fresh trail of blood on the floor. Curious, she kneeled down and touched the blood. It was still wet and sticky.
Slowly, she followed the trail of blood through the snow-covered hill, the snowdrops in her hand fluttering in the bitter gusts of wind. The trail led her to the river, where a thick sheet of ice had already formed like a skin over the water.
She could hear it, a low moan of pain, against the rustling of the reeds on the frozen bank. It was a deep, guttural groan, definitely a man's voice. Hair streaming behind her, she ran swiftly towards the source of the moaning.
Her frolicking on the frozen plains and hills of Ilia had long trained her to grip the ground as she walked down the slippery bank. The pebbles and reeds were covered with a thin sheet of transparent glaze, sparkling under the weak sunlight with a glassy feel. Those were the really hazardous areas; they could send a careless individual slipping and tumbling headfirst into the icy river, where they would then meet their end, drowned while trying to get a grip of the ice.
As though the man had sensed her presence, he stopped groaning. An uncomfortable silence fell upon the area. She stilled herself, not daring to breathe. It was as if both of them were waiting for each other to make the first sound and give their position away.
After what seemed like eternity, there was a sigh- not from her. "You might as well come back and finish me of, since you yearn so badly to do so. You need not run away now. Then you can keep all the credit for yourself." The voice was low, menacing and edged with a bitter hatred that she had never heard before. Hesitantly, she pushed the reeds apart.
There, lying in the middle of broken reeds and pools of blood, was a man. One of his hands clutched an open gash in his chest, from which blood was still pouring out profusely. His other hand covered his left eye, but blood was streaming in small rivulets from the gaps in his fingers as well.
She had never seen an injury this horrible before. Instinctively, she gasped and ran over to help the man. "Sir, are you alright?" she cried, aghast at the severity of his wounds. "You're losing too much blood."
The man turned to her. His tense and severe expression relaxed into a smirk. "Ah, so it's just a little girl. I had feared that you were Jerme."
"Who's Jerme?" She stopped where she had been fumbling in the pouch she always wore for some vulneraries and elixirs. "Here, sir, let me help you."
"It's okay, girl," he waved his hand at her rather good-humouredly. "I can handle myself. I don't need a healer to fuss over me."
"I'm not a healer."
"Then what are you, a plain little girl?"
"I am not plain and I am not a little girl. I am already twelve. I am going to join the Pegasus Brigade in a few months' time."
Her reply seemed to intrigue him. For the first time since she started helping him, he raised his head to look at her properly. It was also the first time she had a good look of his features. His light purple hair, only perhaps a shade or two darker than her own, fell casually down to his waist. His large expressive violet eyes revealed more than he perhaps wanted them to. The thin lips where typical of the kind that either turned up at the corners into a smirk or pulled into a hard line. She felt herself blush as he scrutinized her, his hand that had been smearing the vulnerary onto his chest now tilting her face upwards so that their gazes interlocked.
"I see, indeed you are not plain. You might grow into a beautiful woman yet, in time to come." He deftly brushed off the vulnerary he had accidentally smeared onto her chin. "Just wait a few more years."
She blushed a deep crimson. Although she had been hearing praises every since she was small praising her sweet, girlish looks in comparison to her sisters' fierce Amazon faces, their praises had never moved her as much as this stranger's compliments.
He was not exactly handsome; the determined square jaw, the thin lips, the coarse hair…yet, her heart was thumping rapidly in her chest. She could almost hear her pulse distinctly. He was suave, dashing, but not charming. Never charming. It was his manner, she told herself silently. His humour even as he lay there at the gates of death was remarkable, and his carefree ways and manners made her instantly at ease, something that she found very rare.
Kneeling beside him, she watched him as he went to the river and smashed a hole in it with his dagger, and then washed the wound over his left eye. Swiftly, he applied the ointment over the wound and bandaged up the wound on his chest with the gauze from her supplies.
"Damn, these would leave behind permanent scars," he cursed, although his tone suggested that he could not even be bothered about them.
Finally, he rose to his feet. "Well, let's say that I'm done, shall we?" he said cheerfully, his lips twitching upwards slightly. "Little girl- I mean, the girl who is not plain at all and aspires to be a Pegasus knight, I thank you for saving my life today. If you had not come across me, I would have died from bleeding." He stared ruefully at his thick bloodstained cloak. "Hell, Lloyd's new cloak! He will murder me and leave me to bleed to death!" He groaned, pantomiming the act of stabbing his heart with a roll of his eyes. "I escape from the gates of Hell only to be sent back." He wrung his hands ruefully, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement.
She giggled at his dramatic explosion of actions and words. "Are you an assassin?"
"Why, yes," he nodded. "That reminds me. To thank you today for saving me from a bloody, icy death, I am going to be extra generous, burn my pocket and give you a gift."
"A gift?" She could only stare wide-eyed at him. He was very tall, slightly less than six feet. The lean muscles in his arms flexed as he removed something from his belt.
"Yes, catch it," he said, tossing the thing to her. Deftly, she caught it in her hands. "Take a look. It's brand new."
It was a dagger, an assassin's dagger, to be specific. The silver handle protruded from its sheath of silver. Elaborate carvings and patterns adorned both. Even though a layer of silver sheltered the blade, she could still feel the acute sharpness. It was warm, warm from the heat of his body.
"Thank you," she smiled up at him. "I shall treasure this generous gift."
"Keep it well," he replied, widening his smirk. "Even though Pegasus knights cannot use daggers, I can teach you the symbolism and stories behind those carvings if I ever meet you in future. Well, I am not so old, and Elibe is not so big, and our age difference is only eight years, so unless Lloyd kills me for destroying his new cloak, I will probably meet you someday. It's up to fate. Well, so long now."
She watched him leave, his cloak billowing in the wind. She wished longingly that he would turn his back to smile at her one last time, but he never did. He grew smaller and smaller as she watched him walk away towards the West, till he was a little black dot. Finally, he disappeared altogether.
Only then did she realize that her cheeks were wet with tears.
And she did not even know his name. The only clue came from the sheath, were two tiny letters 'L.F." was scratched upon them.
sorry, I did this on an impulse. Please forgive me if you absolutely hate the pairing like darkblaziken does.
come on, like, everybody is human after all, right? I do indulge in a hec-barring in once in a blue moon.
Most of the time, I like denoucing the lord, no offense if he is your favourite character.