swords clashing: dilandau

You had to be so gallant, of course. You couldn't even have a good reason for sneaking into Zaibach, and stupid things will sound smarter with a good reason. Not you. All you wanted was to bed the Asturian princess, possibly both of them. You didn't tell me that of course, just said the king had sent you (with damn good reason with your dirty intentions). I am intelligent–wasn't it painfully obvious I'd find you out?–you are not.

Why you had such an obsession with women I don't know. Women were the people who couldn't fight, and so had to make themselves useful by staying home and pretending to be men. There was nothing sensual about them. It was repugnant to try and think of a woman in sexual terms.

I must have been angry at you for not realizing this; I must have been angry at the normalcy you kept.

"So," I spat at you, "decided to get a look at the Zaibach inventions, did you?" I began to pace around you, pleased at the way my sword kept on hitting you. We were building up strength to inflict war upon the countries until they yielded to us. It was unfortunate to

You were silent from your place on the floor. It infuriated me, that passiveness. Come to think about it, everything about you was starting to irk me badly.

I pulled out my sword, relishing the noise it made upon withdrawal for a second. Then, I indulged myself in rage, pulling out some of your precious hair, ripping your frilly shirt. I yelled out random taboos, insulting your mother because it makes a lot of boring men hot-blooded.

Blood was rising in your cheeks now; my efforts were not for naught. You lifted up your head and spat at me; I was forced to take your sword away, whacking you on the head with it. It made a satisfying crack and if I had stayed, I would have been bored, for you were unconscious.

I strolled back after supper, a burnt affair that I could only stomach after associating the blackened meat with the fire from whence it had come. The taste in my mouth was bitter from it. That bitter taste permeated the atmosphere of the evening for me.

You must have been hungry by the time I got back. Your own fault, of course. I wished I had brought my food in here to eat so that I could taunt you with it.

The doors of Zaibach made it so that a room was impossible to escape from, but you still lay in the corner with your hands tied back, not taking the only opportunity you had to leave. On closer inspection, I realized it was because you were still knocked out. I slapped you awake.

You awoke with squinted eyes and a bleary "What?"

Now was the time to act if I wanted to have my way with you. A smile grew on my face and I grasped a clump of your hair. Pulling your head back, I forced open your lips with my tongue and assaulted your mouth.

You were alarmed, like most people were. You didn't know that this was the way things were supposed to be. If I hadn't kept my tongue busy you would have bitten it.

It's good to remember how that was. I must admit you had quite a nice mouth, and after the first initial shock you even began to half-heartedly respond if just to prevent trouble. I think during this ardor I pulled out more of your hair, unintentionally this time.

You were terrified. I saw it in those big blue eyes that got wider and wider as I shut mine. Generally I wouldn't close my eyes on fear, but there was more to come; you would fear me more by the time I was done with you.

I was sweating now, though you were far worse, by the time my hand slid down your body. I whispered things in your ears that conveyed my hate for you. I was doing this because of my anger towards your attraction to women, I told you. There was no lust in this. I would merely do what I knew how to and would leave at the end. If you were lucky, you would as well.

Oh, didn't you act innocent? No, you said, this is a sin–you thought you had a choice! And I think you consented; past your moral duty your protests were feeble little whispers. A bit of tomfoolery with a fellow soldier, I suppose you tried to think about it. Since it was happening why not find out what it's like? You were too sexual to weigh the poignancy of such situations. Fool.

I knew of your master Balgus and his expression, play through the pain. I told you about this and your boast-worthy training went against you as I played through your pain. Our rhythm was set to the sound of swords clashing in the practice room. Everything I can remember about myself was set to those clashing swords, really. That was the way I lived, no doubt your life as well.

When we were finished I simply knocked you out again and put my clothes back on. Looking at you on the floor face down, with your hair fanned out around you, I realized something very horrible.

You looked like a woman from here. Women, a point both Zaibach and I would angst upon, were not allowed. They were anathema to the soldiers–should be, I thought, for anyone. And here, you–you–this was nightmarish!

Screaming, I pulled out my sword. For a minute I pressed it upon your neck. Did I want to kill you?

The obvious answer was yes...yet something held me back, some presence in me that felt the same sympathy for the female sex, that felt some affectionate tie to you that went beyond my comprehension.

I relented to that presence, but not completely. Gripping your forehead–slippery with cold sweat–in one hand, I slashed at your hair with another.

Golden strands caught the light as they shed all around you. I almost drove my sword into your skull, but once again something intervened and I ended up dragging you to your Guymelef, where I left you.

I went back to that prison room with a box of matches.

Guess what happened to your precious hair, blue-eyed boy?