A/N: Don't own YGO. You may consider this a bit of a crossover with Fire Emblem with something of my own mixed in. For example, I have borrowed "Pegasus Knights", but have made them a little different in here. So I don't own either of them. '…thoughts…' Find a Fire Emblem 7 midi/mp3 – "opening music" and "Together, We Ride" - and then read this! You don't have to, of course, but I find it could be the background music to this story. I'm also not too sure on the spelling of the plural of Pegasus so I had to go with "Pegasii."
Thank you to Caorann fridh Bronach for beta reading.
This is also dedicated to animefanatickid25, a good friend.
Warning: Very sad scenes/fates that may involve one of your favorite characters (I'm trying to say this in a way that won't spoil it! But I guess I just did…)!
I also do not own the title! Borrowed it from a FE7 midi. This will be posted in parts.
It was the war to end all wars. The ultimate battle, the fight that would decide the outcome of the conflict between the Pegasus Knights and the Dragon Knights and their respective homelands.
At last, they would see who was destined to rule the Northern Lands where the unchallenged Perilous Peaks loomed. If acquired, this in turn would show that whoever won the war were a formidable, fearless force to be reckoned with.
They would dominate the ride into a new age.
Silently, he ran his fingers along the cool stones that kept the wooden cross in place. He wished people would turn from their wickedness that had caused so many wars.
However, despite his wish, he had long since given up on hoping things could be right. Not since the loss of…
Mokuba nervously shifted from one foot to the other, trying his best to mask the dread that rapidly ate at his insides. The dragon-head-shaped helmet wasn't helping much, what with it being a little too big; plus the armor was quite burdensome, but that hadn't mattered to the general – as long as Mokuba was well and able, he would fight, even if he was only twelve years old.
Adjusting his helmet, Mokuba's eyes treaded over the gray and gloomy horizon of swirling mist, clouds, and smoke. A battle was obviously being fought in the distance.
Mokuba and the rest of the soldiers were the reinforcements.
Releasing a brief sigh, Mokuba reached for a lone twig on the ground. They weren't leaving just yet as last minute plans and strategies were still in the process of being developed; he had a few moments to himself before being plunged into the middle of chaos and ruination.
"You are frightened."
It was a blunt statement, a statement all too true. "Yes," Mokuba answered softly, before looking into the blue eyes of his older brother, Seto, who had come up behind the young boy.
There was no point in hiding the truth.
"I'll protect you," Seto said, laying a comforting hand on Mokuba's shoulder.
"I know." Mokuba did not doubt his brother's sincerity.
"Stay by my side," the elder brother added a moment later. "And mind your surroundings." Seto lifted his gaze from his brother to the war in the east. "As much as I hate to admit it, the Pegasus Knights and their army are worthy opponents. This battle isn't going to be easy."
Turning the twig over in his gloved hand, Mokuba grimaced as he tried to hold back tears. "I'm really scared, Seto," he whispered, unaware his hand suddenly balled into a fist. The twig snapped in half and he let the pieces drop to the cold rugged ground. "What if…what if I – we – you-" He couldn't continue, feeling that ever-annoying lump form inside of his throat.
Seto knelt down to Mokuba's level, placing his own helmet on the ground. "Don't think such things," he said firmly with a frown. "I've taught you all that I know. Others have trained you. You'll be all right."
"I'm not so sure…"
"Seto!" Tsukasa, a friend older than Seto by three years, jogged towards the brothers, looking very regal in his military outfit and armor. He, too, wore a dragon head-shaped helmet complete with a sword, boots, gloves and more. Everyone was well-protected for the most part. "I was told to tell you that you are going to be riding a Dragon."
The seventeen-year-old felt his insides freeze. "What was that?" he asked hoarsely, hoping his ears did not betray him. For as long as he could remember, Seto had always dreamed of riding a Dragon and becoming a Dragon Knight. He had worked hard, day and night, to prepare himself for such an honor. He knew it had to come eventually; he was the best in his age group and quickly rose to the top of nearly every young man in the Western Lands.
Tsukasa smiled knowingly. "You're a Dragon Knight now, my friend."
Mokuba's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. "Wow, did you hear that, Seto?"
Seto nodded stiffly, trying to appear unfazed, but on the inside he rejoiced. The time had come at last. "…A dragon…which one will I be riding?" Seto demanded, anxious to get moving.
Tsukasa paused, his brow wrinkling for a moment, and then said, "I believe you will be riding the white dragon, the one with the blue eyes." The man gave a slight bow of his head. "Excuse me." He turned and headed for his own dragon.
"The blue-eyed one…" Mokuba whispered, unable to believe Seto's luck. "That's a good one, isn't it?"
Seto did not answer right away; he was too stunned. The Blue-Eyes White Dragon – that was its name. The dragon was one of the most powerful, one of the most majestic. The beast seldom let anyone ride him, and when someone did ride him, that rider had to be skilled and courageous. Anything short of the two traits promised death.
However, what astonished Seto most was that the leaders had enough faith in his abilities to handle this magnificent beast as opposed to giving him a dragon of lower rank. No, they had chosen him specifically for this honor. "Yes, Mokuba. The Blue Eyes is more than a "good" dragon…"
"Here."
Bakura looked up as his best friend, Tristan, handed him a flask of cool water. "Thanks." Bakura lifted the flask to his lips and allowed the liquid to sooth his dry throat. "I needed that," he said, a gentle smile lighting up an otherwise apprehensive expression.
Tristan plopped down beside his white-haired childhood friend. "Worried, huh?" the brunette asked although he already knew the answer.
"Mm. I am." Bakura blew a sigh. "I don't want to go to war…I don't like fighting," he stated, feeling dread descend upon him once more like a wet blanket.
"Who does? Well, except for the few mad ones out there…" Tristan grabbed the flask from Bakura's hand and took a long gulp for himself. "There's no other way around it, you know. We're fighting for our right to live."
"Our right to live?" Bakura looked doubtful. "How can you be sure? Are they not fighting for the very same thing?" The Knight gestured towards the west. The unit he was in, the unit that Tristan was the captain of, were the reserves for the army of the Pegasus Knights.
Tristan was quiet for a moment. "I guess so, but…this is different."
"How?"
The captain appeared to be flustered. "I-I don't know!" His shoulders slumped. "I really don't know anything about war. All I know is…orders. I have orders to fight and protect our homeland."
"We came here to conquer a new land," Bakura said softly, "but what for? I think…I think our homeland is perfectly safe. There is…no need for this…all of this."
Understanding his friend's stance on the subject of war, Tristan offered a smile. "Look, Bakura, I know where you're coming from. I really do. I guess what I'm trying to say is…those Dragon folk and other countries all around…there's always going to be one person who wants to have it all. There's always going to be one person wanting to rise above the people and dominate all of humanity." Pausing to take a breath, Tristan continued: "It's an unfortunate truth about us humans. Absolute power; what's one person's disapproval can be another's happiness..."
"…And we have no choice, but to fight against this person," Bakura finished.
"Took the words right out of my mouth!"
"I know, I know." Bakura stared at the ground. "But why? Why are we like that?"
"I don't know, my friend. I really don't know."
A loud horn sounded - the signal to prepare for battle.
Tristan slowly stood to his feet, offering a hand to Bakura. "It's time." Tristan then blew a sharp whistle to his Pegasus. The winged horse, recognizing the call of its master, came bounding out of nowhere, coming to an abrupt halt beside its rider. "Nia," Tristan murmured, scratching behind the Pegasus' ears. Turning to Bakura, Tristan became dead serious. "Stay alive, Bakura. Don't do anything foolish."
Bakura, immediately transforming into that of a solider, gave a small salute. "Yes, sir." Tristan was the captain, after all. "You, too."
Sensing the sadness in Bakura's voice, Tristan shook Bakura's hand. "We'll be side by side; we'll look out for each other, all right?" He grinned, placing his helmet on. "We're the hotshot fliers here, remember?" he said, voice muffled.
Bakura smiled back before putting on his own helmet. "You are, but not me."
"Nonsense!" Tristan hoisted himself onto Nia's back as Bakura called his own Pegasus, Syren. "You're just as good as I am."
A man named Setsuna rushed towards them, seated on his own Pegasus. "We're all ready, Captain," the warrior said.
Bakura mounted Syren and faced the west. "I'm…ready, too," he whispered, the discussion of war still on his mind. 'Freedom…what freedom? We're all bound in the chains of endless conflict, enemies or not. How can we be free?'
End Part I.
A review would be greatly appreciated. It doesn't take long, you know. All discussions of war are NOT related to any current or past wars.