"SHARDS OF GLASS, SO SHARP"
©2004 "Blacken"
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, its characters, or any copyrighted material. This is a derivative work of fan fiction.
Jaffar stood alone on the precipice of Ostia Castle, hands clasped behind his back.
He had broken his oath.
Sonia had forced it upon him, he knew. The Angel of Death was reliable, they said. He had no feelings, they said. He could not be stopped, they said.
But Nino brought a change.
"Foolish girl," he murmured. "Foolish, foolish girl."
A rustle of cloth was the only warning Jaffar had before the knife was at his throat. He slowly turned his head, saw his attacker.
"Foolish man," Matthew mocked. "Foolish, foolish man."
Jaffar knew why the other man was there. "I am surprised it has taken you this long," he rasped.
"And the man speaks," Matthew snapped. "I'm amazed."
"Hmph." Jaffar lashed out coolly. His left arm intercepted Matthew's blade, spiraling it into the air and off the precipice. His right elbow drove solidly into Matthew's belly. The Ostian spy dropped with a whoosh of air.
"Impressive, Angel of Death," Matthew managed to make out, scrabbling for his own blades, both of them. "But you're forgetting something."
Jaffar's only concession to that declaration was the tilting of an eyebrow.
"The girl," Matthew said heavily. A look of torture flashed across his face. "Nino, isn't it?"
Shock washed freely across Jaffar's face and he tensed. "What?" he asked, managing to keep his voice both flat and deathly angry at the same time.
"You know," Matthew said darkly. He slowly began to pace, walking from one edge of the sloped precipice to the other and back. "She is with friends of mine."
Jaffar took a step forward. "And?"
"Ut-ut." Matthew shook his head warningly. He fished a small vial of gray powder from a pocket in his cloak. "This is a toxin from wyvern blood. I got it in Bern. Your little girl has already had a fatal dose."
Uncharacteristically Jaffar roared, drawing his two dreaded blades. He took three quick steps toward Matthew, holding the swords before him in a defending, X-shaped position.
"Hold it!" Matthew ordered, his blond hair whipping across his face. "Those same friends have a vial of the antidote. If I die, they will dispose of it."
Like a marionette with its strings cut Jaffar stopped, his arms hanging limp and loose by his sides. "You would kill an innocent woman?"
Matthew flipped one sword into the air, caught it by the blade between thumb and forefinger. "That depends," he murmured, caught in a time long past. "Would you?"
Jaffar almost allowed himself the luxury of a sigh. "Leila was a spy, Matthew."
"I know she was, dammit!" Matthew roared, stalking back and forth. "But she didn't deserve to die!"
"Matthew--"
Matthew stormed up to the former Black Fang assassin, grabbed him by the collar, pushed up next to him. "Listen to me!" he hissed. "You've no idea how much I want to throw you from this wall!"
Jaffar said nothing, but his hand inches toward the sword in its sheath at his back.
"Take that sword and die," Matthew said archly. "And even if you're fast enough, the girl will die."
"I do not fear death." Nevertheless his hand fell away from the sword.
Matthew used strength neither man knew he possessed and lifted his enemy into the air one-handed. He reached around Jaffar's back and drew the sword, then cast it over the edge. "Answer me! Why should I give you the chance to kill again?!"
"I assisted your allies in your battles," Jaffar growled.
Matthew spit over the edge and snarled. "I don't care for them!" he barked. "I work for Ostia, but they do not own me! You could have trouble with that concept, being owned by Nergal."
"Nergal was a father to me." The reply earned him a punch to the jaw, but he continued doggedly, his ire raised. "I suppose the loss of your little spy justifies the murder of my love!"
The ferocity in Jaffar's voice caused Matthew to let go of his collar and drop him, caused him to step back. "Angel of Death--"
Jaffar's anger was unleashed; there was no turning back. "You fool!" he roared, taking a step forward. "She is but fourteen years old!"
Matthew looked at Jaffar with genuine alarm. "Jaffar. You're-- crying."
Jaffar touched his cheek with his fingers, drew them away wet. "I suppose so," he admitted harshly. "But I don't find it inappropriate."
"The Angel of Death, showing emotion." Matthew shook his head, hair flying back and forth. "I never would have thought it."
Jaffar stared at him with hateful intensity. "I seem to have more emotions than you, Matthew."
"Because you killed the one I loved!" Matthew burst out. "I can't help but seal it away!"
Jaffar shook his head grimly. "You wish simply to inflict pain upon me."
"So what if I do?" Matthew demanded. "You deserve it!"
"I may," Jaffar allowed. "But why must the girl suffer?"
Matthew opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt as if he had been gaffed like a fish. "No," he agreed. "She does not."
"Then--"
"But she will," Matthew continued inexorably. "If it goes that far I shall pay my respects to her grave."
"How cold. You sound like--like Nergal."
Matthew flinched as if slapped. "Never let it be said that I'm not fair." He threw one blade at his enemy, who plucked it from the air. "I'll give you a sporting chance, Jaffar. If you win, my friends will not harm the girl."
"Very well." Jaffar drew the blade close, saluted him. He settled into a classic dueling position, sword forward and pointed high at Matthew's head. "You may begin."
Matthew fell into the exact opposite position, his blade held low and toward his back. "After you."
"As you wish!" Jaffar leaped forward, slashing high. Matthew parried and tried to throw Jaffar off by disarming him, but with a flick of the wrist the attack was defeated. "You, Matthew, must do better than that," Jaffar growled.
"Then I shall!" Matthew stopped short a jab, feinted to the right, and slashed upward. Jaffar saw it coming and deflected the attack away, but the spinning trip came as a surprise and his legs fell out from under him.
Jaffar sat up quickly, wildly swinging and knocking Matthew's sword to the side. "Matthew," he said warningly, "I offer you quarter."
Matthew snorted. "I won't take it!" A follow-up thrust led Jaffar's blade to cross his body, angling for a return slash to gut the Ostian spy, but Matthew instead snared his wrist and dashed it against his knee. The sword fell to the ground and Jaffar followed shortly thereafter.
"I offer you a chance to yield," Matthew said softly.
Jaffar grunted. "Why?"
Matthew's sword hovered a distance no wider than that of a human hair from Jaffar's throat. "I don't know," he said honestly.
"Very well, then!" Jaffar bucked beneath him, throwing him to the side and very nearly sliding him off the edge of the precipice. He retrieved the sword and readied himself, this time holding it in both hands and before him. "Matthew, you may have the edge of a hostage--but not even I would do something so cowardly."
Matthew stood slowly, nursing a split lip. "Shut up and fight me, coward."
The two clashed again. The swords flashed high and low, near Matthew and near Jaffar, bringing each to within an inch of death more than once. In the end slash after slash resulted in Matthew yet again earning the advantage, until one of Jaffar's thrusts resulted in a parried blow and a fist clean across the professional assassin's jaw. He crashed to the ground, his teeth clicking neatly together.
This time Matthew kicked the blade off the edge of the precipice. "Jaffar," he said hoarsely, "I gave you one chance. Never again."
"Then kill me!" Jaffar snarled. "I should have no less if Nino is dead as well!"
His words hit home and Matthew's face went slack. "You are truly that devoted to her?"
"Yes!" Jaffar bellowed.
Matthew knelt, brought the tip of his sword to Jaffar's throat. "Goodbye, Angel of Death," he murmured.
Jaffar stared up at him implacably.
Matthew stared back.
Neither moved.
After what Matthew believed was an eternity he sighed and stepped back. "Leila," he muttered to himself. "Is revenge what you want?"
"She loved you," Jaffar needled icily. "Now isn't that enough?"
With a curse Matthew hurled the last sword over the edge. "Jaffar," he whispered.
The Black Fang assassin stood.
"Your girl is fine," he rasped. "I never touched her."
Jaffar went slack. "Matthew."
Matthew turned, looked over his shoulder at him.
"I believe," Jaffar said slowly, "that Leila would want you to live."
"I know, Angel of Death. I know. And I want you to go. Live your life. Find out how to be human." Bitterness crept into Matthew's voice. "Perhaps guilt will bring you absolution."
* * *
Nino sat reading one of Canas's books when Jaffar burst in, twin blades in hand.
"Jaffar!" she yelped. "What do you think you're doing?!"
His hunter's eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the room, before he relaxed even the slightest bit. He crossed the room to her desk, put his hands on her shoulders, knelt to bring his face to her level. "Nino," he whispered urgently. "Are you alright? Have you eaten anything?"
"What?" she asked, drawing back. "I'm fine, Jaffar. I've eaten nothing."
To her astonishment Jaffar visibly sagged in relief. "The Ostian spy, Matthew...he threatened me through you."
Nino nodded calmly. "He told me that he wanted to kill you." She paused. "Is he dead?"
"No." Slowly Jaffar's glacial imperturbability was returning. "We have reached a peace."
"That's great!" she exclaimed. "Were you hurt?"
He touched his jaw where he was punched, but pointedly did not wince. "I am fine, Nino. I was worried about you."
"I know you were, Jaffar." She swallowed. "Jaffar...when will we leave? Ostia is not safe for you."
"Nor you, Nino."
"I'll be fine anywhere we go."
"No," Jaffar denied flatly. "You will not, cannot be. Anywhere we go together you will be a target because of me."
"But--but--" Nino stammered, then checked herself and started over. "But you promised never to leave my side, to stay with me always!"
"I know," Jaffar said heavily. "But your life is more important to me. I must go."
Nino shook her head resolutely. "No!"
"Nino--"
"I won't let you leave!" she shouted. "Everyone else leaves, but not you!" Her voice sank. "You gave me your word, Jaffar."
He sighed.
"You gave me your word."
"That's right." Jaffar closed his eyes, exhaled sharply, opened them. "As you wish, Nino. I shall stay with you wherever you go."
Even as he spoke, however, Legault's words echoed in his mind.
"You've gotten soft, Angel of Death. If someone held Nino hostage, you'd throw down your sword. You were the strongest assassin around. Now, you have a fatal chink in your armor. You've become human, but that makes you less perfect. Someday... you'll die. No doubt trying to protect the girl."
Jaffar stared off into space. He smiled.
"Jaffar? You're...smiling."
"I kept my sword."
* * *
"Leila...did I do right by you?"
Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem, its characters, or any copyrighted material. This is a derivative work of fan fiction.
Jaffar stood alone on the precipice of Ostia Castle, hands clasped behind his back.
He had broken his oath.
Sonia had forced it upon him, he knew. The Angel of Death was reliable, they said. He had no feelings, they said. He could not be stopped, they said.
But Nino brought a change.
"Foolish girl," he murmured. "Foolish, foolish girl."
A rustle of cloth was the only warning Jaffar had before the knife was at his throat. He slowly turned his head, saw his attacker.
"Foolish man," Matthew mocked. "Foolish, foolish man."
Jaffar knew why the other man was there. "I am surprised it has taken you this long," he rasped.
"And the man speaks," Matthew snapped. "I'm amazed."
"Hmph." Jaffar lashed out coolly. His left arm intercepted Matthew's blade, spiraling it into the air and off the precipice. His right elbow drove solidly into Matthew's belly. The Ostian spy dropped with a whoosh of air.
"Impressive, Angel of Death," Matthew managed to make out, scrabbling for his own blades, both of them. "But you're forgetting something."
Jaffar's only concession to that declaration was the tilting of an eyebrow.
"The girl," Matthew said heavily. A look of torture flashed across his face. "Nino, isn't it?"
Shock washed freely across Jaffar's face and he tensed. "What?" he asked, managing to keep his voice both flat and deathly angry at the same time.
"You know," Matthew said darkly. He slowly began to pace, walking from one edge of the sloped precipice to the other and back. "She is with friends of mine."
Jaffar took a step forward. "And?"
"Ut-ut." Matthew shook his head warningly. He fished a small vial of gray powder from a pocket in his cloak. "This is a toxin from wyvern blood. I got it in Bern. Your little girl has already had a fatal dose."
Uncharacteristically Jaffar roared, drawing his two dreaded blades. He took three quick steps toward Matthew, holding the swords before him in a defending, X-shaped position.
"Hold it!" Matthew ordered, his blond hair whipping across his face. "Those same friends have a vial of the antidote. If I die, they will dispose of it."
Like a marionette with its strings cut Jaffar stopped, his arms hanging limp and loose by his sides. "You would kill an innocent woman?"
Matthew flipped one sword into the air, caught it by the blade between thumb and forefinger. "That depends," he murmured, caught in a time long past. "Would you?"
Jaffar almost allowed himself the luxury of a sigh. "Leila was a spy, Matthew."
"I know she was, dammit!" Matthew roared, stalking back and forth. "But she didn't deserve to die!"
"Matthew--"
Matthew stormed up to the former Black Fang assassin, grabbed him by the collar, pushed up next to him. "Listen to me!" he hissed. "You've no idea how much I want to throw you from this wall!"
Jaffar said nothing, but his hand inches toward the sword in its sheath at his back.
"Take that sword and die," Matthew said archly. "And even if you're fast enough, the girl will die."
"I do not fear death." Nevertheless his hand fell away from the sword.
Matthew used strength neither man knew he possessed and lifted his enemy into the air one-handed. He reached around Jaffar's back and drew the sword, then cast it over the edge. "Answer me! Why should I give you the chance to kill again?!"
"I assisted your allies in your battles," Jaffar growled.
Matthew spit over the edge and snarled. "I don't care for them!" he barked. "I work for Ostia, but they do not own me! You could have trouble with that concept, being owned by Nergal."
"Nergal was a father to me." The reply earned him a punch to the jaw, but he continued doggedly, his ire raised. "I suppose the loss of your little spy justifies the murder of my love!"
The ferocity in Jaffar's voice caused Matthew to let go of his collar and drop him, caused him to step back. "Angel of Death--"
Jaffar's anger was unleashed; there was no turning back. "You fool!" he roared, taking a step forward. "She is but fourteen years old!"
Matthew looked at Jaffar with genuine alarm. "Jaffar. You're-- crying."
Jaffar touched his cheek with his fingers, drew them away wet. "I suppose so," he admitted harshly. "But I don't find it inappropriate."
"The Angel of Death, showing emotion." Matthew shook his head, hair flying back and forth. "I never would have thought it."
Jaffar stared at him with hateful intensity. "I seem to have more emotions than you, Matthew."
"Because you killed the one I loved!" Matthew burst out. "I can't help but seal it away!"
Jaffar shook his head grimly. "You wish simply to inflict pain upon me."
"So what if I do?" Matthew demanded. "You deserve it!"
"I may," Jaffar allowed. "But why must the girl suffer?"
Matthew opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt as if he had been gaffed like a fish. "No," he agreed. "She does not."
"Then--"
"But she will," Matthew continued inexorably. "If it goes that far I shall pay my respects to her grave."
"How cold. You sound like--like Nergal."
Matthew flinched as if slapped. "Never let it be said that I'm not fair." He threw one blade at his enemy, who plucked it from the air. "I'll give you a sporting chance, Jaffar. If you win, my friends will not harm the girl."
"Very well." Jaffar drew the blade close, saluted him. He settled into a classic dueling position, sword forward and pointed high at Matthew's head. "You may begin."
Matthew fell into the exact opposite position, his blade held low and toward his back. "After you."
"As you wish!" Jaffar leaped forward, slashing high. Matthew parried and tried to throw Jaffar off by disarming him, but with a flick of the wrist the attack was defeated. "You, Matthew, must do better than that," Jaffar growled.
"Then I shall!" Matthew stopped short a jab, feinted to the right, and slashed upward. Jaffar saw it coming and deflected the attack away, but the spinning trip came as a surprise and his legs fell out from under him.
Jaffar sat up quickly, wildly swinging and knocking Matthew's sword to the side. "Matthew," he said warningly, "I offer you quarter."
Matthew snorted. "I won't take it!" A follow-up thrust led Jaffar's blade to cross his body, angling for a return slash to gut the Ostian spy, but Matthew instead snared his wrist and dashed it against his knee. The sword fell to the ground and Jaffar followed shortly thereafter.
"I offer you a chance to yield," Matthew said softly.
Jaffar grunted. "Why?"
Matthew's sword hovered a distance no wider than that of a human hair from Jaffar's throat. "I don't know," he said honestly.
"Very well, then!" Jaffar bucked beneath him, throwing him to the side and very nearly sliding him off the edge of the precipice. He retrieved the sword and readied himself, this time holding it in both hands and before him. "Matthew, you may have the edge of a hostage--but not even I would do something so cowardly."
Matthew stood slowly, nursing a split lip. "Shut up and fight me, coward."
The two clashed again. The swords flashed high and low, near Matthew and near Jaffar, bringing each to within an inch of death more than once. In the end slash after slash resulted in Matthew yet again earning the advantage, until one of Jaffar's thrusts resulted in a parried blow and a fist clean across the professional assassin's jaw. He crashed to the ground, his teeth clicking neatly together.
This time Matthew kicked the blade off the edge of the precipice. "Jaffar," he said hoarsely, "I gave you one chance. Never again."
"Then kill me!" Jaffar snarled. "I should have no less if Nino is dead as well!"
His words hit home and Matthew's face went slack. "You are truly that devoted to her?"
"Yes!" Jaffar bellowed.
Matthew knelt, brought the tip of his sword to Jaffar's throat. "Goodbye, Angel of Death," he murmured.
Jaffar stared up at him implacably.
Matthew stared back.
Neither moved.
After what Matthew believed was an eternity he sighed and stepped back. "Leila," he muttered to himself. "Is revenge what you want?"
"She loved you," Jaffar needled icily. "Now isn't that enough?"
With a curse Matthew hurled the last sword over the edge. "Jaffar," he whispered.
The Black Fang assassin stood.
"Your girl is fine," he rasped. "I never touched her."
Jaffar went slack. "Matthew."
Matthew turned, looked over his shoulder at him.
"I believe," Jaffar said slowly, "that Leila would want you to live."
"I know, Angel of Death. I know. And I want you to go. Live your life. Find out how to be human." Bitterness crept into Matthew's voice. "Perhaps guilt will bring you absolution."
* * *
Nino sat reading one of Canas's books when Jaffar burst in, twin blades in hand.
"Jaffar!" she yelped. "What do you think you're doing?!"
His hunter's eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the room, before he relaxed even the slightest bit. He crossed the room to her desk, put his hands on her shoulders, knelt to bring his face to her level. "Nino," he whispered urgently. "Are you alright? Have you eaten anything?"
"What?" she asked, drawing back. "I'm fine, Jaffar. I've eaten nothing."
To her astonishment Jaffar visibly sagged in relief. "The Ostian spy, Matthew...he threatened me through you."
Nino nodded calmly. "He told me that he wanted to kill you." She paused. "Is he dead?"
"No." Slowly Jaffar's glacial imperturbability was returning. "We have reached a peace."
"That's great!" she exclaimed. "Were you hurt?"
He touched his jaw where he was punched, but pointedly did not wince. "I am fine, Nino. I was worried about you."
"I know you were, Jaffar." She swallowed. "Jaffar...when will we leave? Ostia is not safe for you."
"Nor you, Nino."
"I'll be fine anywhere we go."
"No," Jaffar denied flatly. "You will not, cannot be. Anywhere we go together you will be a target because of me."
"But--but--" Nino stammered, then checked herself and started over. "But you promised never to leave my side, to stay with me always!"
"I know," Jaffar said heavily. "But your life is more important to me. I must go."
Nino shook her head resolutely. "No!"
"Nino--"
"I won't let you leave!" she shouted. "Everyone else leaves, but not you!" Her voice sank. "You gave me your word, Jaffar."
He sighed.
"You gave me your word."
"That's right." Jaffar closed his eyes, exhaled sharply, opened them. "As you wish, Nino. I shall stay with you wherever you go."
Even as he spoke, however, Legault's words echoed in his mind.
"You've gotten soft, Angel of Death. If someone held Nino hostage, you'd throw down your sword. You were the strongest assassin around. Now, you have a fatal chink in your armor. You've become human, but that makes you less perfect. Someday... you'll die. No doubt trying to protect the girl."
Jaffar stared off into space. He smiled.
"Jaffar? You're...smiling."
"I kept my sword."
* * *
"Leila...did I do right by you?"