Author's Note: Alright, this is the alternate version of the duel in Of Two Kingdoms. It's basically raw roleplay between myself and Croik which can explain how each paragraphs jumps from one character to another. I would like to remind everyone that this story was written in response to a challenge and was not originally my idea to rip off Allen's arm. (Notice that I did not have it ripped off rather that neatly severing it with a blade. . .) I'm evil either way. Enjoy the story and please review.

The Duel

Much preparation was made for the match that was to take place. The Stadium in Palas was cleaned for the crowd, the arena groomed for the duelists. Allen trained and practiced for the next two days. Though he was confident in his skill, it never hurt to prepare for such an important event. Even if he were planning to lose. Denevive wasn't the wiser. He trained vigorously, thinking there was no stopping him from victory. For him his kingdom always came first.

Soon, the day came for the duel. People crowded into the stands to sit as the audience, waiting with great anticipation that match about to take place. It was to be Asturia's very own Knight Caeli against a high ranking Fanelian Samurai! Everyone could hardly contain their excitement.

Celena paced in the pits of the arena, the stone block chamber and hallways where warriors passed through to enter the arena. This was where her brother waited admittance into the ring. Her fingers were interwoven with each other and she couldn't keep herself from worrying, thinking something might go wrong. "What if he's better than you think, Allen?" She asked her brother. He stood there, much to Celena's annoyance, with the most calm and reserved expression on his face she had ever seen.

"Then I shall be pleasantly surprised," Allen replied, smiling faintly. "Celena, there's nothing to worry about. Am I not the most skilled knight in all of Gaea?" He quirked an eyebrow.

Celena stopped her pacing, going to him and fixing his collar on his plain white shirt and the tie on his purple sash about his waist. "Yes, of course you are. There's nothing to worry about, is there?" A fanfare blared outside and she jumped unexpectedly.

Allen smiled slightly, and patted her head. "Don't worry--everything is going to be just fine. Now go find yourself a proper seat." Allen kissed her cheek lightly and turned to leave the preparation area, striding out into the open arena, preparing himself for what lay ahead.

"Good luck!" She called after his retreating form and went off upstairs to the stands.

Denevive strode into the arena with an air of confidence, saluting the royalty seated in the balcony and the acknowledging his opponent. He looked at the man, reminding himself that this duel was to be taken seriously for his country.

Allen returned the gesture with a deep bow, honoring the man that would be his opponent. The fierce, clear gaze pleased him. Internally, he smiled--he was about to give the boy something to brag about for years to come. Perhaps it would do both of them a bit of good. "The best of luck to you, Sir Denevive," he murmured, saluting their ruler in the stands before taking up a stance to await the start.

King Aston did not rise when his voice rose above the crowd's to speak. "Gentlemen. I hope you have prepared well for this day. This day will ultimately change lives of many people - starting with yours. Now, the duel!" He grinned maliciously, "To the death!"

Celena, in the stands, snapped her gaze towards the King, the color draining from her face when the words sunk in. No . . . it couldn't be. Either her brother or her new found love were to die? The king was crazy, she finally decided. She looked down at the two men in the arena, hoping they were smart enough to think of an alternative.

Denevive turned his head to the ruler. "What?"

Allen whirled about, shocked. He could not think to respond from shock. To...the death? Had the king lost his senses. "Your Majesty!" he shouted, knowing it was useless, that his words would not be heard. His gaze shifted back to Denevive, wide and confused. "I knew nothing of this," he swore to the boy.

"Nor did I!" shouted Denevive the uproar of the crowd, looking as confused as any of them. Gulping loudly, he took his sword and readied himself for battle. "Um - g-g-g-good luck to you, Sir Allen."

Before anyone knew what was happening, both entrances the fighters used to enter the arena were gated and locked. Jadik, seated next to Van, protested loudly. Van as well gave protest to Aston's surprise decision. "If anyone tries to defy the rules, you will be arrested."

Allen stared at him, then back to his king, and scowled. "Of all the miserable..." It was then that his gaze landed on Celena, and he felt his skin grow pale. How could he continue this, facing the man upon which his own sister had fixed her affections? Were he to kill Denevive...to deprive his ancient friend Van of his country...betray his own sister and morals... Allen shook his head, fiercely, disbelieving. "This can't be happening," he muttered, returning his focus again to his...opponent. "Denevive, I can not kill you."

"Nor can I kill you." responded the samurai truthfully, still holding his sword and hoping the king does not get angry that they have not begun the duel. "What should we do?" He looked around, desperately searching for an answer. Anywhere. He looked towards the crowd and there saw the maiden that had captured his heart. He could not possibly kill this man before him, the brother of the one he had adhered affection to.

Allen ground his teeth as he tried to think. There had to be a way out of this...some solution. He certainly couldn't take the boy's life--to win the duel in any way was inconceivable, for it would mean great suffering for Van, his comrade. But he was not himself yet ready to die for them, either.

Denevive readied himself for the duel, posing his sword perfectly in the air and making the sun gleam off the polished metal. "Are you prepared to die?" Asked Denevive, unsure about this death business. He couldn't possibly kill the man in cold blood . . . but if it meant for the sake of his country that he must die, he could not do anything to change it. He grieved the fact that the sweet young lady he met a few days before would most likely never speak to him again.

Allen stared at him--he should have expected no less of a Fanelian soldier, one of Van's finest. He, too, took up a stance. "Denevive. I'm sorry, but I can't hold back against you." His insides twisted, and quietly he prayed, "May Celena forgive us both."

Denevive took a deep breath with those words, trying not to let his emotion show as he charged the knight. Blades met in mid-air, locking their swords. "Does that mean you would kill me for your country's petty wants?"

"No," Allen replied instantly, struggling against him. "But I cannot die here." He forced them apart and struck again, pushing his young opponent back. "Forgive me, Denevive. I have nothing but respect for you and your country. But I will not die here, today."

"If you think you are not fated to die here and now," seethed Denevive, panting as he was pushed back, "Then you're more arrogant that I had thought. You're country will claim victory this day if you kill me. What will become of Fanelia?" He charged aggressively, putting all his strength into his sword.

Allen cringed, struggling to keep the blade from his throat. Denevive was more skilled than he had anticipated. "I'm sorry." It was all he could say. He twisted his wrist, flicking the boy's sword momentarily to the side and landing a heavy kick to his gut.

Denevive grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, falling onto the ground and holding his aching belly. He was down for but a moment and that would have been all Allen needed. He rolled out of the way and sprung up to his feet once more. "Damn you! You're no knight. A true knight would give his life for a worthy cause! Is this not a worthy cause?" He demanded, holding his sword as steady as he could.

"You have a lot to learn," Allen replied. He had made no move against the boy while he was down--at the least, he deserved that much of a fair fight. He lifted his voice. "If you believe your cause worthy, then speak through your steel! Defeat me, Denevive! Only then will you be justified."

"Celena would never forgive me." He said, staying back. He now held his sword nervously as if unsure of what to do. He could feel his anger rising from the knight's words, however. He refuses to die for the sake of Fanelia . . . he refuses to die to stop another war before it starts. But with those thoughts in mind - he ground his teeth and snarled at the man before him. "You deserve to die if you would rather have war between our countries."

Allen grieved silently at his words, though his face remained unchanged. But no--there was still much for him to do. There would be another opportunity to stop this from becoming war...wouldn't there? With time, perhaps, the king could be persuaded... Allen shook his head, realizing how selfish and cowardly he was behaving. Were it Van within that arena, he would have surrendered his throat without a second thought. Why could he not do the same for Van's country? "Enough," he snapped, striking suddenly. "Fight me, Denevive. If you would put the affection of a lady over your country, then we are both fools, and deserve to die as one!"

Denevive's eyes flared with anger, blocking Allen's sudden blow and take another cautious step backwards. "But - she's your sister!" He protested, countering another strike with his blade. That particular move ended up trimming some of Allen's hair, short strands of it being caught in the light breeze before falling to the ground. A few inches closer and Denevive could have taken the knights head off.

Allen's eyes widened a moment before a grin broke out on his face, despite their situation. He certainly was an amazing opponent. "My sister is young, sir knight, she'll yet heal from one lost love." He struck again, drawing a small cut across the boy's left forearm, more taunting than for intent of harm. "Now stop babbling, and fight! Show me that the Fanelian spirit is worth saving."

Denevive scowled at Allen. "I had once respected you. But I have since lost that respect. May the gods forgive both of us this day." He charged again, twirling into an attack rarely used by swordsmen those days. His hair flailed about him, his sword gleamed before it was stained slightly crimson. He gave Allen a cut identical to his own and stepped back once more.

"Much better." Still, Allen had no idea what he was to do. But it was better this way, that the boy should strike him down in hatred than in regret. Or...to strike him down at all... Allen continued the fight, if only to keep his mind from spinning. He would know, when the moment came, what his decision was. In the meantime, he not surrender unless Denevive showed no less than his best.

Celena had been watching all of this from the stands, seated near the railing. She had been horrified and shocked at the same time when the king announced the surprise rule. She saw the blood drawn from both men and at that moment, could not stand for it any longer. She looked around desperately for a weapon for herself. Gritting her teeth, she stood and ran down to the pits, finding a fine Fanelian sword on the weapons rack there. She looked at the gate, narrowing her eyes at the guard. There was no way she would be able to enter the arena through that way. She would have to jump from the stands.

She grinned as she went back up, thinking how clever it was to steal a sword and not be caught by the guard there. Looking over the railing, she judged the height of the wall from the arena floor to where she stood. "Doesn't look more than ten feet. Here goes nothing..." Lifting her skirts, she prepared herself for an agile jump, springing from stands to the arena and landing gracefully. She smiled and quickly ran to the dueling men, giving Denevive a good kick to drive him backwards and letting herself get in between the two. "Fight me and let my brother live."

Denevive gave a small grunt when he was kicked. It wasn't as hard as Allen's blow to his gut but it still drove him back a good ways. "Fight you? Have you gone mad?"

"Celena!" Allen exclaimed, shocked by her sudden entrance. "What in God's name do you think you're doing?" He snatched her arm and tried to pull her back.

Regretfully, Celena forced herself to give Allen a good backwards kick to force him back as well. "I'm saving your life, you sod! Get back!"

Allen stumbled back, surprised. "Celena!" He glared at her. "Stand aside--this is not your fight."

"I'm afraid I cannot fight the person I'm not intended to fight. And certainly not a lady!" Protested the samurai.

"You got a problem fighting a lady?" She snarled, posing her sword and grinning menacingly. "I'll show you how lady like I can be in battle!" She attacked suddenly, being smaller and quicker than the samurai. Her stolen sword shined in the sun, crashing against the metal of Denevive's blade.

Allen should have known better, but there was no helping it. He shot forward, snatching his sister's arm once more and throwing her, in a rather ungraceful manner, to the arena floor. "That's quite enough," he fairly shouted, aware of the audience's heavy attention. "This is not one of our games, Celena. Stand back."

She yelped as she hit the floor, the warmth of anger quickly coming to her face as she glared at Allen. "Ungrateful bastard..." She muttered, bringing her sword tip to his rear and poking him one; nothing hard enough to draw blood. Just a little prick. She stood quickly.

Allen snorted indignantly at her constant interference. He quickly turned his attention to Denevive, however. "Forgive my sister for her impertinence," he muttered, attacking again. Hopefully Celena had enough sense not to interrupt so fiery an exchange. "We'll settle this ourselves."

"Of course..." He said evenly, blocking and countering the exchange. "You're sister is quite the fierce young lady, isn't she?" He asked without skipping a beat as he moved quickly to block another sudden attack made by the Schezar sister.

She forced Denevive back again, making her aligned with Allen, speaking to him as she passed, "I'll not have you die when you have things yet to do on this plane."

"She's been a handful, I'll admit," Allen smirked, pushing his sister back again. He cringed a bit at the thought of the bruises she would have later on. Ignoring her protests he continued to fight, his frustration making his attacks a bit wild, pummeling the young general.

"Oof!" Denevive grunted, his head spinning from the sudden blow to the head and for a moment he didn't know which way his sword was going.

"Oh, no you don't!" She declared, springing back into the middle of the melee and taking over for Allen once more, giving him a good kick again during her flurry of blows.

Allen stumbled only momentarily, cursing, before reaching back into the fray, dragging his sister back. For a moment--only a slight moment--he lost track of where Denevive was, too focused on removing his sister from danger. The movement left him completely open, and he turned back, scowling, unprepared for the blow that was already coming.

Denevive was still dazed from the blow, finding his swung in any which direction he could. Everything was blurred but he had to defend himself. He didn't feel the resistance of another blade for but a moment. He saw two figures in front of him, moving very quickly. He brought his sword up, slashing fiercely upwards and he connected. His vision was suddenly filled with the color crimson. What had he done?

Allen's heart rushed into his ears at the feel of cold metal slicing into his arm. He had barely seen the blade until that moment, and all the crowd silenced around him--by his own mind's illusion or otherwise, he did not know. All he knew was the pain, striking and deep, piercing flesh and muscle, like a hot iron. The agony muted and blinded him. And then he felt nothing. He was only dimly aware of the too slow decent of his body to the arena floor, the dust stinging his white-washed eyes, the anxious silence of the audience. Somewhere nearby, Celena's voice rose, but he could not make out the words. He couldn't even feel the wound any more, nor the blood that was likely tainting his white silk. There was only the pounding of his heart, fierce, in his ears.

Celena watched the atrocity, eyes wide in shock. She moved quickly to help her brother to the ground. She searched around desperately, looking at the wound that had been inflicted on Allen and covered her mouth. It couldn't be helped. She screamed, silencing the audience around them. "Oh, gods!" She screamed, staring at his wound as it leaked his life's blood and soaked the dust in red. His arm - his sword arm - lay a few feet away from his body, completely severed. It still held his sword which gleamed brightly in the sunlight.

That voice...he knew it well, and yet it was so far away... Allen blinked, but there was only white light before his eyes, causing him pain. When he tried to speak his innards twisted in nausea. He felt as if he were spinning, his body contorted, his blood escaping... He was cold--cold from deep within his chest to the tips of his fingers.

"Call for a doctor!" She screamed at Denevive, only briefly glancing back to see him running for the gates. She turned her gaze back on her brother, touching his face, anything to keep him awake. "Allen! Stay awake! Please! Hold on, brother! Someone's coming to help you, just hold on!" She kissed his face, not noticing her tears as they escaped from her sapphire eyes.

"Celena..." he croaked, at last recognizing that silver voice. "Are you...all right?" And suddenly the pain came over him, mercilessly striking through his right side, causing his body to shudder in the dirt. A strangled, anguished cry was torn from his throat. When he tried to clutch at the injury his groping hand caught only sand, and in panic he pawed desperately where his wounded arm should have laid.

"Don't -," she pleaded, grabbing his hand and holding it to her. "You - mustn't touch your wound, Allen." She sobbed, tightening her grip on his remaining hand.

Allen's hand surrounded hers in an almost crushing grip as he trembled, gasping for breath between pained moans. What was happening? How had this happened? He remembered trying to distance Celena from the fight. His sight swam in and out, and for a moment he glimpsed her face, pale and stricken. Why was she crying? There were other people around, murmuring far away...the too-bright sun...the stands of people...and something else--a gleam of light off metal, lying in the bloodied dirt several yards away. It captured his attention with an almost morbid fascination.

Finally, a doctor had been found, running towards them as fast as he could. He dropped to his knees, working quickly to stanch the blood from Allen's wound. "Will he live?" She asked the doctor but was met with no reply. In vain, she wiped away the tears that stained her face, watching Allen's gaze turn. She noticed what he was looking at and tried to avert his gaze from such a grotesque sight. "Don't look at it, Allen!" She demanded, bending over him and trying to force his head to turn away.

An agonized sob passed the fallen knight's mouth, and at last he clamped shut the cruel organs that showed him his fate. He could feel the cold slipping through him, outward from his chest, silencing the crowd and the doctor and even his sister. Still he clung to her, however, even as the blinding light was enfolded in shade. He whispered her name until at last his strength ran out, and he fell limply back against the earth, deep in dreamless sleep.