Author's Note: Well people, it's been a while. For all of you who have read
Yorda's Battles, this is the sequel. For you who haven't read Yorda's
Battles, then you can read it before this as you will understand better! TA
DAAAA! This is a fic of the game, but the sequel to a previous fic of the
game, called Yorda's Battles, which I wrote too. We start off with the
prologue of Ico dreaming about arriving in the castle.
Demons From Heaven
Prologue
He was walking up a lot of stairs. There sure was an awful lot of stairs in this place. He slid his hand along the wall, caressing the bricks gently because they looked like they were about to fall in on him. He carried on climbing in what was a tower, and then saw movement in the cage he hadn't noticed contained something. He had noticed the cage, it was one of the first things his uncannily green eyes had set on when he realised his surroundings. He had been certain there was nothing, but there was a black liquid now, not quite as thick as tar but thicker than oil, some kind of mixed substance that had somehow appeared out of nowhere.
He stepped back against the wall and watched it form with disbelief and fascination at the same time. It was filling the brim now, and there were no slopes at the ends like a soup bowl, so it dripped out, hanging down like a liquidised icicle for a couple of seconds, before it fell away from the overwhelmed cage and splashed lightly on the strange circular stone floor at the bottom, several other drips filling it with the shimmering black.
Then, after he thought the display was spectacular enough, the liquid in the cage began to grow upwards like it was a fountain trying to escape its prison. Instead of a fountain, the delicate figure of a bent double woman, who raised her head just as he wasn't afraid anymore. He was about to step forward when the darkness called his name silently, and an opening of sheer darkness opened behind him and grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the light, from the tower, from the woman, and he woke up.
~*~
Raising his heavy head, Ico looked up at the strange crypt that had been his destiny a few short minutes before, perhaps an hour, he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. All he knew was that the crypt had fallen when the floor had risen, and he had fallen with it. The result, his freedom, and a very sore head. Checking the horns protruding noticeably from his skull, he stood up and acknowledged his surroundings, the chamber he had been led into by the guards that had led him to his fate. He was sure that if they knew of his escape they would be here, and they weren't, so he was a fugitive.
Had his mother known what was in store for him? Had his sister, Mari, known? Had his father, who had never really come into very close contact with his cursed son know, or planned this harsh punishment for being born with a permanent disgrace and regret for being born at all? The only thing worse for Ico to live was for him to die, and he knew which one he would prefer to do at that moment.
Exploring the chamber, checking around corners for any guards who may have heard the crash, Ico found nothing but a lever on the wall, which he pulled at after a lot of deliberation. Twelve year old boys, even cursed ones, have an uncontrollable curiosity when it came to mystery. A door below him opened, he felt it through the stone.
Instead of running down the stairs, the cunning and flexible boy who had jumped from tree to tree like a monkey took the short cut, jumping from the wobbly banister down to the ground floor, landing on his rear and crying out in pain and shock. He recovered quickly, he had taken a worse beating from children back home in the village. He moved through the door and climbed up on a stack of boxes, saw there was nothing to be done, so stood up on a wooden platform, climbing furthermore up a rusting chain onto a stone one, which held several strangely shaped jars. He picked one up and threw it, breaking against the wall. He did the same with the others in case there was anything of use to him. He found nothing other than dust, which was no stranger to Ico, as the walls and everything else in the rotting castle held dust high and low.
Hopping up onto a windowsill, Ico looked forwards, thinking that this jump surely wasn't too high. Nevertheless, he turned and dropped himself into the room where he first realised this was where his dream was based. He knew where to go, and climbed one of the two ladders in the room to the first floor, ran up many steps, climbed up a chain, more steps . . . they seemed to go on forever and ever, up and up the high tower, the grey metal cage growing ever closer.
When he saw that the figure he had dreamed about was there, and not a black substance but a huddled up woman, thin and frail. He couldn't see her face, but she looked very white, and Ico supposed she may be old. He suddenly wanted to rescue her, get her out of the cage. He asked her who she was, and what she was doing in there.
"Don't worry, I'll get you out!" he promised, and ran further up, seeing a lever in the distance. He ran up until he reached a gap in the staircase, then noticed a broken window beside him. Climbing out, giving a quick scout for guards looking for him or making sure no one tried to rescue the old woman, Ico ran, his first glimpse of daylight that day. The sun was bright, and he was tempted to try his luck swimming across the moat to the other side, but it was so far away and far down, that Ico didn't think he'd make it. Besides, he had to rescue the old lady, because they were in the same boat together, both prisoners in this vast castle derelict on a crumbling island.
He climbed in another window, and jumped down from the sill. She was still sitting, her wispy dress blowing in the light wind from the draught the window brought. Ico reached the lever and pulled. There was a creak and the cage bounced before beginning to lower. The woman stood up, and Ico ran all the way to the bottom without stopping. When he got there he realised the cage was still suspended. He still couldn't see her face, although she was thin. She didn't appear that old, though.
Ico climbed another ladder so he was higher than the cage, ran around, and was within jumping distance of it. Thinking that if he could jump up and down a bit on the cage that might weaken the chain and drop it, he jumped. To his surprise, it fell when he landed. The cage dropped, wobbled and righted itself, the door swinging open. Ico, however, fell and landed on his rear again.
Stepping out of the cage, Ico noticed the thin female was not an old woman, but a girl. Older than himself, but still a young girl, frail and tired- looking. She approached Ico, whispering something in a different language.
"They tried to sacrifice me because I have horns," Ico explained, noticing a burning stick next to him that had fallen, "Were they trying to sacrifice you, too?"
The girl didn't say anything but knelt down, crawling near him, her hand outstretched to touch his face. Just before she did so, black straggly arms closed around her waist and lifted her over its shoulder. Ico stood up and grabbed the stick, the creature dragging the girl to a black hole on the other side of the room roughly. It jumped in, taking the girl with him, Ico running behind, the fire on the end of the stick by now burnt out. The girl's arms and head were disappearing, she was drowning in the dark and Ico reached out a hand to grab her but she sank further and further down into the black, he was too late, and she was gone . . .
"YORDA!" Ico cried, bolting upright in his sleep, gasping for breath, sweat clinging protectively to his now grown up rugged features. His face was thinner, his hair was shorter, his mind was wiser and his body was stronger, but he was still the peasant boy that had fallen in love with the princess, and now they were married, and he was the king. He didn't really enjoy his title and doubted Yorda liked hers as queen, but the people needed her and he needed Yorda.
He looked to his left and saw her sitting up, his cry had woken her, too. Still thin and frail, even after child birth but oh so beautiful, his wife's sleepy violet eyes looked at him concernedly, so he smiled to reassure her.
"The dream?" she guessed. Ico nodded, and she sighed, giving her husband a light peck on the cheek before lying down again, closing her eyes, "Don't worry. Dreams pass, and I'm here, amn't I?"
Ico nodded to himself, looking at her back. 'It couldn't last forever,' he thought, 'something is going to try and take her away from me again.'
It had been eight years. They had two children, one was seven and one was four. The eldest, a boy, was named after Yorda's late father, the only one in her family who hadn't wanted her dead but had died shortly before she had been locked up, and his name was Vari. The younger girl was named after Ico's mother, Niannara, but everyone called her Narra or Nia.
The past few years had been the happiest Ico had ever known, but his senses told him it wouldn't be forever perfect, but it worried him at what could come next. The Queen was dead, Keoden and Giannias were long buried and the Spirits had gone at last. Ico tried to tell himself he was thinking the worst, but something nagged him at the back of his mind that happiness couldn't last forever.
As he tried to get to sleep, he heard a whispering voice in his ear, hissing nastily, "Breathe, Ico, breathe. You'll need all the air you can get for what's coming, Ico. Breathe . . . breathe . . . "
~*~
A/N: What did you think of that, then? Good? Bad? Haven't decided yet? Too sleepy to read? Well . . . review and let me know, okay? OKAY????
Thanks . . . phew.
Demons From Heaven
Prologue
He was walking up a lot of stairs. There sure was an awful lot of stairs in this place. He slid his hand along the wall, caressing the bricks gently because they looked like they were about to fall in on him. He carried on climbing in what was a tower, and then saw movement in the cage he hadn't noticed contained something. He had noticed the cage, it was one of the first things his uncannily green eyes had set on when he realised his surroundings. He had been certain there was nothing, but there was a black liquid now, not quite as thick as tar but thicker than oil, some kind of mixed substance that had somehow appeared out of nowhere.
He stepped back against the wall and watched it form with disbelief and fascination at the same time. It was filling the brim now, and there were no slopes at the ends like a soup bowl, so it dripped out, hanging down like a liquidised icicle for a couple of seconds, before it fell away from the overwhelmed cage and splashed lightly on the strange circular stone floor at the bottom, several other drips filling it with the shimmering black.
Then, after he thought the display was spectacular enough, the liquid in the cage began to grow upwards like it was a fountain trying to escape its prison. Instead of a fountain, the delicate figure of a bent double woman, who raised her head just as he wasn't afraid anymore. He was about to step forward when the darkness called his name silently, and an opening of sheer darkness opened behind him and grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the light, from the tower, from the woman, and he woke up.
~*~
Raising his heavy head, Ico looked up at the strange crypt that had been his destiny a few short minutes before, perhaps an hour, he didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. All he knew was that the crypt had fallen when the floor had risen, and he had fallen with it. The result, his freedom, and a very sore head. Checking the horns protruding noticeably from his skull, he stood up and acknowledged his surroundings, the chamber he had been led into by the guards that had led him to his fate. He was sure that if they knew of his escape they would be here, and they weren't, so he was a fugitive.
Had his mother known what was in store for him? Had his sister, Mari, known? Had his father, who had never really come into very close contact with his cursed son know, or planned this harsh punishment for being born with a permanent disgrace and regret for being born at all? The only thing worse for Ico to live was for him to die, and he knew which one he would prefer to do at that moment.
Exploring the chamber, checking around corners for any guards who may have heard the crash, Ico found nothing but a lever on the wall, which he pulled at after a lot of deliberation. Twelve year old boys, even cursed ones, have an uncontrollable curiosity when it came to mystery. A door below him opened, he felt it through the stone.
Instead of running down the stairs, the cunning and flexible boy who had jumped from tree to tree like a monkey took the short cut, jumping from the wobbly banister down to the ground floor, landing on his rear and crying out in pain and shock. He recovered quickly, he had taken a worse beating from children back home in the village. He moved through the door and climbed up on a stack of boxes, saw there was nothing to be done, so stood up on a wooden platform, climbing furthermore up a rusting chain onto a stone one, which held several strangely shaped jars. He picked one up and threw it, breaking against the wall. He did the same with the others in case there was anything of use to him. He found nothing other than dust, which was no stranger to Ico, as the walls and everything else in the rotting castle held dust high and low.
Hopping up onto a windowsill, Ico looked forwards, thinking that this jump surely wasn't too high. Nevertheless, he turned and dropped himself into the room where he first realised this was where his dream was based. He knew where to go, and climbed one of the two ladders in the room to the first floor, ran up many steps, climbed up a chain, more steps . . . they seemed to go on forever and ever, up and up the high tower, the grey metal cage growing ever closer.
When he saw that the figure he had dreamed about was there, and not a black substance but a huddled up woman, thin and frail. He couldn't see her face, but she looked very white, and Ico supposed she may be old. He suddenly wanted to rescue her, get her out of the cage. He asked her who she was, and what she was doing in there.
"Don't worry, I'll get you out!" he promised, and ran further up, seeing a lever in the distance. He ran up until he reached a gap in the staircase, then noticed a broken window beside him. Climbing out, giving a quick scout for guards looking for him or making sure no one tried to rescue the old woman, Ico ran, his first glimpse of daylight that day. The sun was bright, and he was tempted to try his luck swimming across the moat to the other side, but it was so far away and far down, that Ico didn't think he'd make it. Besides, he had to rescue the old lady, because they were in the same boat together, both prisoners in this vast castle derelict on a crumbling island.
He climbed in another window, and jumped down from the sill. She was still sitting, her wispy dress blowing in the light wind from the draught the window brought. Ico reached the lever and pulled. There was a creak and the cage bounced before beginning to lower. The woman stood up, and Ico ran all the way to the bottom without stopping. When he got there he realised the cage was still suspended. He still couldn't see her face, although she was thin. She didn't appear that old, though.
Ico climbed another ladder so he was higher than the cage, ran around, and was within jumping distance of it. Thinking that if he could jump up and down a bit on the cage that might weaken the chain and drop it, he jumped. To his surprise, it fell when he landed. The cage dropped, wobbled and righted itself, the door swinging open. Ico, however, fell and landed on his rear again.
Stepping out of the cage, Ico noticed the thin female was not an old woman, but a girl. Older than himself, but still a young girl, frail and tired- looking. She approached Ico, whispering something in a different language.
"They tried to sacrifice me because I have horns," Ico explained, noticing a burning stick next to him that had fallen, "Were they trying to sacrifice you, too?"
The girl didn't say anything but knelt down, crawling near him, her hand outstretched to touch his face. Just before she did so, black straggly arms closed around her waist and lifted her over its shoulder. Ico stood up and grabbed the stick, the creature dragging the girl to a black hole on the other side of the room roughly. It jumped in, taking the girl with him, Ico running behind, the fire on the end of the stick by now burnt out. The girl's arms and head were disappearing, she was drowning in the dark and Ico reached out a hand to grab her but she sank further and further down into the black, he was too late, and she was gone . . .
"YORDA!" Ico cried, bolting upright in his sleep, gasping for breath, sweat clinging protectively to his now grown up rugged features. His face was thinner, his hair was shorter, his mind was wiser and his body was stronger, but he was still the peasant boy that had fallen in love with the princess, and now they were married, and he was the king. He didn't really enjoy his title and doubted Yorda liked hers as queen, but the people needed her and he needed Yorda.
He looked to his left and saw her sitting up, his cry had woken her, too. Still thin and frail, even after child birth but oh so beautiful, his wife's sleepy violet eyes looked at him concernedly, so he smiled to reassure her.
"The dream?" she guessed. Ico nodded, and she sighed, giving her husband a light peck on the cheek before lying down again, closing her eyes, "Don't worry. Dreams pass, and I'm here, amn't I?"
Ico nodded to himself, looking at her back. 'It couldn't last forever,' he thought, 'something is going to try and take her away from me again.'
It had been eight years. They had two children, one was seven and one was four. The eldest, a boy, was named after Yorda's late father, the only one in her family who hadn't wanted her dead but had died shortly before she had been locked up, and his name was Vari. The younger girl was named after Ico's mother, Niannara, but everyone called her Narra or Nia.
The past few years had been the happiest Ico had ever known, but his senses told him it wouldn't be forever perfect, but it worried him at what could come next. The Queen was dead, Keoden and Giannias were long buried and the Spirits had gone at last. Ico tried to tell himself he was thinking the worst, but something nagged him at the back of his mind that happiness couldn't last forever.
As he tried to get to sleep, he heard a whispering voice in his ear, hissing nastily, "Breathe, Ico, breathe. You'll need all the air you can get for what's coming, Ico. Breathe . . . breathe . . . "
~*~
A/N: What did you think of that, then? Good? Bad? Haven't decided yet? Too sleepy to read? Well . . . review and let me know, okay? OKAY????
Thanks . . . phew.