The Unchosen
A.N.- I really can't believe that no one's posted a single Record of Agarest War fic on this website... it breaks my heart... though not as much as this fic should break your heart if you've played the game long enough
This fic will be about the lives of the girls whom you didn't marry at the end of each generation, and seeing as how I'm only on Generation 2 at the time of beginning this, updates for this fic will be few and far between. I suppose that there will be spoilers, so if you haven't gotten as far as the girl I'm writing about, then I suggest you don't read it. The order in which I'll write these is determined by when you get them in the game, so starting with Fyuria, then Luana, then Elaine, and then on to Generation 2. Each girl will have her own chapter (as far as I can tell), nearly all of which will be tragic in some way to make you feel bad about your decision, since that's the way it should be; Bwa ha ha, I'm evil for doing this, so let's get it underway! *Dark points gained*
*after this* DISCLAIMER- I don't own Record of Agarest war (except the one copy of it I DO own), nor do I own any of the characters, or Compile Heart or any of the other companies involved in the development of this MASSIVELY long and comparatively titanic game- don't sue me since I am only claiming ownership for the idea of this fic.
Chapter 1: Fyuria
A rainy day... It seems... fitting, for such a day as this... Fyuria thought as she glanced at her knife, carefully adjusting it's angle until she saw her own reflection, for no one else was there to listen to what little she was willing to say.
Fyuria had long forsaken the company of anyone for the longest time- while that would normally make simple nuances of society like relative time, day, and month disappear in the shadow of obsolescence, but it hadn't escaped Fyuria in the slightest. Every day was meticulously counted, every minute spent to it's fullest that she could use it, despite being alone all this time...
Alone... Such a word had no meaning to her for most of her life- she had a family that made loneliness seem like a disease that only affected others... had being the key word; now she was alone, her parents dead, her brother away taking care of him...
That boy... the spawn of his love for another; while she tried desperately not to feel malice toward the innocent child, it was so difficult when the image of himand his family flared inside Fyuria's head, like a curse that reared its ugly face at the most inopportune of times- while she hunted, memories of camping with her former comrades cursed her; as she sharpened her knives, the thought of battles long past haunted her- in her dreams it only became worse, plaguing her with visions of him... of Leonhardt calling to her, and as she ran to him as fast as her legs could carry her, she could get no closer, only watch as he drifted further and further away, into the arms of another, and then he would fade away.
"I don't need him... I don't need anyone! I'm doing fine on my own... I never need anyone again!" Fyuria cried as she leaped down from the tree branch from where she was sitting, covered from the rain by the leaves of the canopy. Swiftly Fyuria moved through the fairly clear forest floor, every so often a raindrop struck her, but it's not like she had noticed or cared- she was running, running from her painful memories, and damn anything that get in the way.
Fyuria had no real objective for today- she had plenty of food for a week, her knives were fully sharpened to the point where they could slice bone without even being slowed in the slightest, she had found shelter in the trees where no one would suspect someone to be, and the forest in which she took residence had plenty more bounty for her to live off of for at least several months, so there was no hurry to pack up and move again.
How curious... Fyuria thought once she decided to stop running and rest in peace. How strange that today, of all days, I would find nothing to do but stop and think, a most dangerous notion, during the worst possible times...
Today was the day; that one day she had hated more than any other, even worse than when the snow started falling and food in the forest became scarce; today was the anniversary of Leonhardt's choice- his choice to forsake Fyuria for another, and his choice to spend the rest of his condemned life with another, and Fyuria could do nothing, say nothing; only watch in silent despair. Fyuria couldn't tell him how she had felt, as he had already made his promise to another; not only would telling him not change his choice, but even those she had grown close to all that time ago would grow apart from her- she didn't give them a chance, the next day, she left without another word, without any warning or apology, not even to her brother.
Fyuria often told herself that she didn't need anyone else in her life, and that was true, but she certainly and undeniably wanted the company of another- male or female; human, elf, ryulent- ANYTHING, just someone to talk to, so share her story with, and they would do the same back, someone who could at least tolerate her rough exterior; but Fyuria had none of that, all she had was her knives, but all they offered was her own reflection- they could give no reply to her grievances, they couldn't make her feel any better about what she had regarded as her greatest failure- not getting Leonhardt. Sometimes a traveller would find her, but they rarely gave her a real, engaging conversation other than "Who are you?" and "Why do you live here, alone?"- that only brought the pain back, and they would always leave her due to her cold indifferent exterior, never staying long enough to know the real Fyuria, just a solitary, cold native of the forest that they could tell their friends and family about.
Sometimes she cried, sometimes she grew angry, sometimes she allowed her grievances to peacefully pass through the river of memory- all at the simple thought of what could have been.
I don't need him... I don't need him... I don't need him... Fyuria thought to herself, at first reassuringly and calmly, but soon her vision grew blurred and warped from tears.
"I don't need him... I don't need him... I don't need him..." She kept telling herself, but she couldn't hold back the tears that told the truth.
I need him... my life is nothing without... him...
Fyuria searched for her reflection in the knife blade again, but she couldn't find it- all she saw was the reflection of a weak crying girl, her life empty and hopeless, the only thing left... was death...
Will we see each other ever again? Not here... not with the... limitations of staying alive...
Fyuria ran her thumb down the sharpened knife blade, leaving a trail of blood that went from the tip to the hilt guard- the blade was so sharp, that as she ran her finger down, she had cut right through the tissue to her nail in a matter of inches, and even a bit through her nail as well before she had finished- the pain it brought was as nothing next to her drowning ocean of depression, it was just another small drop down the waterfall.
They say that true love always finds a way, maybe not in this life, but maybe in the next... at least... at least if that's a lie, too, I won't have to suffer for it much longer...
Fyuria raised the knife to her chest, poised to strike her heart, and waited for the will to come to her; she didn't even need to wait, it was already there, she had just waited for the sweetest of last thoughts to take her away; she thought about Leonhardt, about him selflessly saving her when they first met, of all the time they spent together, and nothing else.
He gave his heart to another, and so I choose to give my own to the only one that will take it now- Mother Nature, and my soul to whoever is willing to take such an empty husk...
Fyuria thrusted the knife inward, and just as soon after a heart always thought so cold spilled warm, sticky blood onto her fingers- it actually felt nice in the cold rain, of what little there was left to feel. Just as soon as it began, it was over- just like that; no pain, no screams, no thoughts, just warm blood, and tears.
10 years all alone in the wild, and many more years alone in spirit- not many can compare with Fyuria's struggles.
