A Battle for Desire

Author's note: "Hello readers! Here is the next supply of Corpse Bride fan fic! I have been rather busy lately, but never-the-less, I have managed to piece together a fan fic just for you, my viewers. I hope you enjoy this next instalment, and that you will happily review and favourite. Sending fan fic love from the miserable south of the UK, here begins a new chapter of a new story!

Love Corpsegirl93

Chapter One:

Victor's P.O.V:

Date: 15th October 1865.

Time: 10:55am.

Current situation: Bachelor for second time, lonely, miserable and bored.

What to do: Draw some more. Look out the window. Sigh deeply. Wish the weather was better.

"Nothing that hasn't been done before" I thought, as I sat in my chair by the desk at the window, in my room. I was writing down in my diary, a new addition to my changed life, noting what was going on.

"Nothing much" I added. Sitting back in my chair and taking another deep sigh, I ran my long thin fingers through my thick dark hair. Another day. Another day of nothing to do but sit, sigh and let the world go by. And possibly draw a butterfly or two, if I had enough ink to spare. Or draw maybe a skeleton? Or a spider? Something to remind me of the Land of the Dead. Maybe, if I drew her? No. She's too perfect to draw, if I made a tiny mistake, it would hurt. You either get her perfectly right or disastrously wrong. She was too beautiful for mistakes when it came to portraits and caricature. The spider it is, then.

Reaching for a piece of paper, I noted the time on my watch. 10:58 am. Just a few more minutes until eleven o clock. A few more minutes until the decision was made.

If you're wondering what I mean by that, readers, here's a brief explanation: You see, a few months ago, a certain village boy and a mysterious woman – along with hundreds of dead people behind them – appeared in this village, in preparation for a wedding. But this was no ordinary wedding. The bride was dead, but the groom was very much alive. Anyway, to cut a long story short, it was noted that the dead should not be amongst the living. Once they were dead, they had no other purpose or use for the living world. Nothing more than rotting bones and still-beating hearts. Well, because of this 'outrage' caused by the wedding, a confrontation was made between the Elder of the Dead world, and the Pastor of this land. In short, if an agreement is made between the two of them, both Lands will remain in peace and comfort, knowing neither of them can ever come close to each other again. In other words, the Dead must never return to the Land of the Living, and the living may only travel 'downstairs', but only in death.

The same old routine.

Except if a decision isn't made that they both agree on…well then, we have a problem.

All this would be decided by 11 am, today. And only one minute remained.

I was dreading this. If they disagreed, trouble and chaos would consume the village. But if they agreed and shook hands, then I could never return to the Land of the Dead, not even to reunite myself with old friends and a…a lover of mine. Did she know this was happening? Did Emily know there was a risk of us never seeing each other again? If she did, I hope she was as nervous but as furious as I was.

Just seconds now. Seconds until the bell ringer rang out the latest news. I counted the seconds like each one was a vital heartbeat of mine until I dropped down dead. My palms were sweating, my head aching and my feet trembling. I got up, walking around the room, bracing myself for whatever news came. One way or another, I wasn't going to be happy. With whatever was decided. It was a lose-lose situation. I couldn't win.

The bell rang! I leapt to my bedroom window, opening the windows wide to see the bell ringer, bellowing at the top of his lungs. This was it, the moment of truth.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! Pastor Galswells has announced that from here-on, residents of the underworld are hereby banned from entering this village. Elder of Underworld disagreed and chaos ensues. It is war! It is war! War has been declared!"

I stood at my window, the wind on my sweaty face. War? War between us and the Land of the Dead? Oh god! It was bad enough we were banned from coming in to contact with them, it would be suicidal and hell to battle with them. Oh dear god! It wasn't true. This wasn't happening. It was a dream. This was all a dream. One big horrible dream that would come to end, eventually. But I wasn't waking up. No matter hard I pinched myself, I didn't wake.

God dammit, why?! Why war?! I didn't want to fight my friends – dead or alive. There was only one way this would end, and it wouldn't be pretty. At that moment, my mother chose to leap through my bedroom door, not respecting any rules of my privacy.

"Victor! Have you heard?"

I turned to her, a look of sarcasm on my face. How can I not know? I'm leaning out of the window with anticipation and practically fuming from every single word.

"Yes mother, I've heard." I answered.

"They're already recruiting soldiers and generals. You should try out. Stop you wasting your time around here."

"By risking my own life against dead people? Sign up to fight against my own friends? No chance. I'd sooner die. At least then I'd be able to stand by them."

"Apparently you're the perfect company to have on this side. According to the rumours, you're ideal for the job because you've been down there. You'd know all their tactics and their weaknesses."

"I spent one day down there, and I wasn't analysing their weaknesses. I won't be joining them mother."

"Suit yourself. But you have nothing better to do; now that Victoria has gone."

"I don't need reminding, thank you. Just, let me be alone, please?" I said, firmly.

"You should try" she added, before she shut the door behind her. 'Should I?' I thought.

No! Of course not! Why would I want to do such a thing?! Fight against my own friends over something I disagree with? I should be fighting with them, not against them. Why don't I? Why don't I fight with them? Because I don't know how to get down there without dying. And because even if my life up here is as boring as hell, I still wanted to live out whatever years I had left. It was final. I wasn't fighting them. Not now, not ever.

"Think about it Victor!"

What? What was that? That voice! In my head. What? A voice in my head? Don't be ridiculous.

"What's ridiculous is you not joining the battle!" the voice spoke again.

"Why would I want to join them?"

"Remember that night?"

"You're going to have to be more precise than that" I thought.

"That night. In the church. With her. Remember who barged in? Besides Victoria."

"Oh yes. Him."

"Yes, him. Lord Barkis. What happened between you two?"

"We fought, so what?"

"Don't you remember that anger you felt inside you, knowing he was the one murdered who Emily? Don't you remember how much you wanted to see him suffer?"

"It…it was only for a brief moment…until Emily took the hit."

"Yes. But what if Emily hadn't defended you? You'd be dead. He'd probably still be alive. Wouldn't you want to see him suffer for his crimes?"

"It is what he deserves, I won't deny that. But he's dead. I can't fight a dead man."

"I beg to differ. It's about to happen. Hundreds, if not thousands of living and dead people will fight it out."

"But for what? Peace? Justice? Happiness? Something else?"

"Desire."

"Desire?"

"Yes, desire. The desire to get what they want, and will go to such lengths to get it."

"Even murder?"

"Even murder. Lord Barkis did it for the money. Slayed an innocent and beautiful girl just for the riches. Even planned to do it again. Someone stopped him though. Someone…very close to home."

"I didn't stop him. Emily did. It was her revenge, not mine."

"Yes. But the poison wasintended for you. It sat there on the table until someone else came along and drunk it. If Barkis hadn't drunk that wine, you'd be with Emily. Happily married."

"He'd still be alive."

"Yes, I won't deny that. But think of it this way – if Barkis hadn't shown up at the ceremony, you'd be with her. You'd be downstairs, happily married with not a care in the world. But he took that from you. He drank the poison; he died, leaving you with a wife that would eventually betray you. And right now, he's preparing to take his revenge on you. He's signing up to fight, at this very moment. He'll return to this land and slay more innocent lives. Do you want that?"

"No, I don't…"

"So sign up! It's the best thing to do."

"No, it isn't! It's wrong! I won't do it! No voice in my head can't make me do it!"

"Maybe not a voice, but your heart will decide."

And with that, the voice stopped. I refused to believe a man like me could fight a battle he was against.

"Sign up!"

"Oh great, you're back!"

"Did you miss me?"

"Guess!"

"I can see you're no closer to agreeing with me."

"No, and I never will be."

"I guess I'll have to do it myself."

"How?" I thought, before the voice disappeared and was replaced with a skull-shattering headache, like someone had stabbed me in the head. In that moment, I saw the war as it would happen. Hundreds of men fighting, skeletons up against them, no hope of stopping. I was angry. All of my dead friends were fighting. Why? They knew I was on the enemy's side, why weren't they refusing to fight like I was against them? They carried on without a thought in the world. This made me furious. My own friends, who I chose to support by refusing to fight them, were ignoring this and going up against the living.

That was enough. The headache disappeared, fury bubbling inside me. With the pain gone but the images still in my head, I turned to my bedroom door and stormed out, towards the registry office. I was about to sign up. If my own friends would betray me, maybe a taste of their own medicine would sort them out.