A/N: Hi everybody, it's me again. Before you read the story, please be noted that this story is much, much darker than what I usually write. There's gonna be a lot of painful things to read in here so if you're the queasy type, I suggest you hit back. It won't be pretty.
This is a short story I thought of while watching some movies and shows. You may recognize the themes I used so yeah. I hope you enjoy my first M rated story!
EDIT: The story has been edited to reflect grammatical and slight plot adjustments.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Rebellions marked the start of a new age, a new dawn. It often occurred in history to the point it was expected rebellions turned tides. Tyrants were dethroned, beheaded and the system was changed, giving the people the power to rule for themselves. Rebellions marked the beginning of change, not the end of one.
Red Rebellion
Rebellions were often told from the voices of the heroes. The men who marched together arm in arm, women who traded their spatulas for swords and children following their parents, shouting out songs of change. Rebellions marked the start of a new age, a new dawn. It often occurred in history to the point it was expected rebellions turned tides. Tyrants were dethroned, beheaded and the system was changed, giving the people the power to rule for themselves. Rebellions marked the beginning of change, not the end of one.
The Red Rebellion was one of the first rebellions to fail, under the leadership of Claire Farron—Lightning—a young woman conceived by the shores of Bodhum. Strong willed, stubborn and with a passionate sense of righteousness, her legacy was told as she single-handedly fought against the tyrant, the Dragon King. The battle with the King was fierce, vicious and red. Claire gave it her all, even with her hidden gift yet... The King stood victorious.
Claire Farron paid the ultimate price for the rebellion against the King. Frozen in crystal, never to leave. This was her ultimate punishment: Her fight for freedom.
It was a chilly evening in the seaside town of Bodhum. The gulls made not a peep, not a single fisherman was by the docks nor there was the sound of the usual chatter raised by the women at the fish market. It was silent. Deadly silent. The town square was abandoned except for the bronze monument that stood tall, defying the elements for twenty years. Leaning by the rusted relic, a woman clad in brown leather with pink undertones crossed her arms firmly across her torso with eyes tightly closed. One would think she was asleep but nay, she was wide awake, listening to the sound of the splashing waves, rubbing against the shore.
Although subtle, she tapped her boot against the stones beneath her thigh-high leather boots. She was counting. In the back of her mind, she was counting down the seconds to once again face the horrible enemy she witnessed many, many years ago.
"Mom... Dad..." Her lips moved in a faint whisper. "Mom... Dad..."
She recalled the memory, clear as day. She remembered the vivid images of red, painting the town square until the brush leaked no more. Claire Farron and her younger sister, Serah Farron, were about four or five, one could guess at the time of the incident. The two sisters were all that was left from a family famously known for their rebellions throughout history. The King, during his tyrannical reign, sought out those who dared to oppose him and conducted public executions on a grand scale. He used each towns' monument as a way to induce fear in the people; to send a bold message to never oppose him. He fed on fear. He loved it. On the day that marked the anniversary of the execution, the bronze bells of the church rung.
Two bodies were dragged by their ankles to the town square. Their bodies were beaten to the point they were barely recognizable. Yet, the people knew who they were: Anthony and Elaine Farron. They were the leaders of the rebellion. They opposed the tyrant who tried to break their will to live by increasing the taxes on goods or his sending his elite soldiers to terrorize men, women, and children. The Farrons had enough. They fought; steel on steel, arrow to bone, poison to flame. They did everything they could so their town could be free. They fought for the freedom of their two precious girls, Claire, and Serah.
The two bodies were tossed onto a wooden platform before they were yanked by their hair and strapped to a wooden pole each. The townspeople slowly gathered. Not a single whisper echoed. The air was tense. The sound of Elaine's screams sliced through the quiet air upon receiving a jagged dagger slowly dragged across her bare stomach. The King, a man in his early sixties, watched with much intrigue. He had proposed to Elaine to be his mistress to save her family, but the woman was stubborn. She had the chance to save her family but instead, she threw it all away. Her husband, the man, strapped to a wooden pole held in his howls feeling rusted nails driven into his flesh.
The man standing next to the King, Governor Ballad watched in amusement, listening to the sonata of screams. He was a young man, rumored to possess great power. Power that was forbidden to be used across centuries boiled within the Governor. Or so it was said. Nobody had ever witnessed the Governor using his powers. Nobody.
"GGGGGRAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Anthony cracked, allowing the painful screams to slip through. He did not want his children to hear a wounded animals' howl.
Young Claire and Serah wanted to look away, they wanted to, but they were unable to. A pair of blue eyes were locked onto the forms of their mother and father, tortured before their very eyes. The young girls hopelessly watched as hot steel pressed against their parent's exposed flesh and smelled their skin burning like bovine hide. Claire carefully tucked Serah's face away while the younger girl sobbed, weeping for her soon-to-be-slaughtered parents. Claire remained strong for Serah. For a child at the age of five, Claire was brave.
The King raised his deformed and wrinkled hand, momentarily pausing the torture. His eyes traveled across the ground, not giving a single damn about a soul within the town square. For he wanted to send a message: Those who opposed him shall face public execution. It was simple. Grinning, he clicked his fingers. The executioners untied the two and swiftly looped nooses around their necks. It was time.
The King looked bitterly at the man and woman, the couple which caused him much trouble.
"Despicable vermin," he muttered. Turning to the executioners, the King was ready. "Kill them."
Slowly the bodies were raised as the noose tightened around their necks. Many townspeople turned away from the sight. It was too painful to watch. All but young Claire. The King was oblivious to the existence of the Farrons' children for they were hidden well from the onslaught of terror.
"My King," Governor Ballad whispered. "Must you torture them so? Should they not be granted a swift death?"
"They deserve to die painfully, Ballad. The people are feeding on fear as we speak. Do you see their faces?" The King merely eyed the townspeople. "These vermins are fear-stricken. For they are imagining themselves being hung here, under the burning sun. Even vermin has enough sense in them to not be foolish enough like the Farrons. They will do anything to save their own skin."
"But, of course," Ballad bowed and retreated back in line. Momentarily turning his head, he locked eyes with a young girl's bright blue orbs piercing holes directly at him. All he merely did was grin at the young girl who never once quivered.
The bodies twitched, gasping for air, but air refused to pass into their dehydrated lungs. Death was not far off now yet it was nowhere closer. The King expelled a sigh and dismissed his men from the sight; he was done. He was never one to stay until the bodies stopped moving. He rationalized, as long as his 'message' got across, his work was done. The bodies were to be hung here as a reminder of those who opposed him. He believed his message was loud and clear. Returning back into his golden encrusted carriage, the King left.
One by one did the knights on black horses slip out of Bodhum, hooves clicking against the round cobblestones. The sound was soon followed by the townspeople's footsteps, slowly retreating back into their dark abodes, waiting for the Governor to leave. They knew the Governor was the real executioner and hence it was the sole reason why he stayed behind. One after another, the sounds of wooden doors creaked and closed. The square was almost abandoned, almost.
Standing without a flicker of fear in her eyes, young Claire took a brave step forward even if her limbs were shaking like an autumn leaf. With each brave step, her mind reminded her of the good times she and Serah shared by her mother and father. She would never, ever forget them. She would never forget their smiles, laughter or tears her parents shed while they were being whipped and dragged away. Never.
"Are you not afraid, little girl?"
Claire said nothing. She took another bold step forward. Her tiny boot planted on the wooden plank of the stairs. Claire heard the sound of her father speaking to her inaudible rasps. She refused to look at them for she knew, her mother was gone. She now walked the heavens and was waiting for daddy to follow.
Claire lifted up her tiny finger, pointing to the Governor. "You're a bad man."
"Am I? I have not done any harm to you, little girl."
"You make mommy and daddy cry. You're a bad man."
"Young girl, it is the King who wished their deaths. I merely stood by."
Claire fell silent. She knew when adults were lying. "You're the devil."
Perhaps it was that very moment, his eyes pulsed red.
Slithering his hand over his beating heart, he made a hurtful gesture. "You wound me, little girl."
"I'll stab you."
Governor Ballad was intrigued by the girl's bold statement. "...I assume you are their daughter, are you not?"
His eyes pulsed red, reading the girl like an open book.
"You possess your mother's eyes and willpower, young girl. You possess your father's strength and stubbornness. You are Claire Farron, are you not?"
"C-Cla...aire... Run..."
Claire snapped her head to her father who barely held on. Claire blinked. She wanted to help her father, but she had no clue how. In her mind, if she could attack the Governor or force him to help her father, it would do, but it was impossible. The Governor smirked and took slow strides to the man. Whipping out a dagger from his leather belt, he hummed a somber lullaby and stabbed then ripped out the man's beating heart with his bare hand.
The townspeople gasped and wept. The Governor walked to Claire and fell on a knee.
"I present to you, a heart," Ballad smirked. "The heart of your father who tried so hard to remove the devil from the throne. If only he kept his mouth shut, like your mother, he would still be alive and hugging his two beloved daughters."
Dropping the heart at Claire's feet, the young girl watched the beating organ convulse onto her tiny shoes.
"You are strong, little one. I admire your courage to stand your ground. I can kill you, but I choose not to."
"...I will kill you." Claire looked dead into his red eyes. "I will kill you and tear out your heart."
Ballad smiled. "I shall be looking forward to that."
Picking up her hand, he placed a kiss on the back of it. Though unmoved, Claire felt something tingle on her skin.
"I shall wait until your twenty-ninth birthday to cross swords with you, my beauty. You and I shall be fated rivals. What do you say?"
Claire watched her skin slightly char on the location of the kiss. It burned her skin. She wanted to tuck her hand away, but he had a firm grip on her.
"...You're the devil, not the King. The King was a kind man who loved everybody." Claire snarled. "You made him bad."
"And so I did," Ballad chimed, releasing Claire's soft hand. "And so I did..."
Walking down the wooden steps, Ballad turned to the young girl and bowed gracefully like a prince would to a princess. Walking to his black stallion, Ballad hopped onto the horse and turned to young Claire.
"Caius." He spoke. "My name is Caius Ballad."
Riding off on his stallion, which was the day Claire met the devil. She had never forgotten his voice nor face. For all the crimes he committed against her parents, his punishment shall be paid in blood. Tis was not the King's fault who murdered people for the sake of the monarchy; it was the devil's whisper that corrupted his kind soul.
Claire Farron, now under the new name of Lightning, opened her eyes to the sound of cracking thunder. Twenty-four years had passed since that event; the event that burned deeply into her memory. She waited for the day she was to dance with the devil and behead him, for the sake of her parents and those who stood proudly in the rebellion. It was all for them.
Pushing off the metal monument, Lightning's ears listened intently for the sound of clicking hooves. Lightning was not disappointed. The sound of clicking hooves echoed down the empty streets of Bodhum, followed by the sound of stallions breathing, inhaling and exhaling cold mist. One by one did shadows in the distance appear, slicing through the mist. Black and purple banners fluttered in the wind, signaling the arrival of the new King and his Guards. Lightning was unfazed at the sight of twenty or more mad-bred stallions and the sight of the mad King himself.
Dismounting the horse, Caius locked eyes with the beauty in front of him. Confidently she stood, with a hand placed on the sword's hilt. He knew very well she wanted to drive her silver blade through his black heart.
Taking a step forward, he bowed to the lesser being. "Greetings, Lady Claire. I see you are doing well."
"Caius," Lightning narrowed her eyes. "I see you haven't changed a bit."
The King was pleased with her attempts at humor. Certainly not the best joke in comparison to the now dead court jester, but enough to make his heart flutter in excitement. Lightning took a step forward, coiling her fingers around the leather hilt. Pulling out the silver sword, she pointed it at Caius.
"When can we start the dance? I'm waiting."
"Tossing away introductions and pleasantries already?" Caius spoke coolly, removing the cape from his shoulders. Tossing it to the side, he was unarmed. "But we barely talked."
"I like it that way."
"Always to the point, Claire."
"Lightning."
"Very well... Lightning." Caius wiped the smirk off his lips. "Shall we begin the dance?"
Claire narrowed her eyes. "Before we begin, I offer you a proposal."
Gripping tightly onto the leather hilt, a sweat bead rolled down her peachy cheek and off her chin.
"A proposal?" Caius questioned with much intrigue. "Do tell me what this proposal of yours is."
"If I win, you leave us alone."
"Is that it? To leave your people in peace?" Caius chortled. "How noble of you. Putting others first before your own safety. That is quite generous of you, Lightning."
Ignoring his words, Lightning snarled. "Well, do you agree or not?"
"I should voice my counter proposal as well, Lightning... To balance out the deal."
"What is it?"
Caius's eyes scanned the entire town of Bodhum, eyes slipping off rotting shingles and the decayed water well. The people hid cowardly behind feeble wooden doors and stained windows. Falling his eyes on Lightning, the people prayed for Lightning's victory.
Smirking, he proposed. "If I win, you are to come with me in exchange for your town's safety."
"What the hell?!" Lightning barked. "What is this?!"
"I am not finished yet, Lightning." His eyes scanned Lightning's physique from top to bottom. He was pleased with what he saw. "You are to return with me to take your sister's place. Certainly, you want to free your sister, do you not? I shall leave your sister and your town in peace. This, I swear by my forefathers,"
Lightning ground her teeth. Serah was held captive at the Dark Castle. Lightning dared not imagine what has happened to her sister, but she hoped her sister was alive. After all, she was a Farron. Farrons were tough.
"Do we have a deal, Lightning?"
"Deal."
"That is good to hear."
Extending out his arm, a menacing blade appeared within his grasp. The red eye close to the hilt slowly opened, analyzing Lightning, in search for any invisible weaknesses. Again, Lightning was unfazed by the terror posed by the sword and its master. Moving into an attack stance, Lightning's eyes were locked on Caius. She wanted to end his reign of terror here and now. She wanted to set the people free and give them the peace they rightfully deserve.
"Beautiful. You are truly stunning, Claire Farron." Caius was pleased. He was about to finally cross swords with the woman he eyed for an eternity. "Now, shall we beginning our dance of death?"
Lightning took a deep breath and calmed her tingling nerves. "Bring it, demon."