Happy holidays from the USA- Christmas especially! I wanted to write something to do with Christmas- didn't work. So I settled for snow, went for a category I haven't done in a while, and out came this piece. My main experiment here was trying to incorporate flashbacks. Considering my writing skill, it went fairly well, if the transitions were a little choppy. My principal problem (heh) with it was instead that the syntax just went downhill as the story progressed, especially at the very ending with the actual fighting. My vocabulary also got a little stale, making it worse. So sorry for that. I hope you get the joke with the character, in any case- if not, just treat this as your regular crappy OC story. But anyway, here's my gift to whoever's reading this. I take reviews as return presents, FYI.
313
From his frozen perch, the sniper scanned the horizon, streaked in peaceful oranges that heralded the encroaching morning, and with it the advancing Crimean horde. He rubbed his gloved hands together in cold and anticipation, his breath floating out over the ramparts and disappearing into the air. Ringing throughout Castle Nox was the sound of battle preparation, metal scraping harshly against metal. Few were speaking, and none were vivacious. Alone at his post, he exhaled again and leaned back as he closed his eyes.
"Scum! Stain on Daein's nobility! There is no room for treasonous rats here or anywhere on my earth. I will brook no insubordination!" Ashnard roared, hurling the archer captain by his neck, sending him flying over the throne steps and crumpling to the stone floor with a sickening crunch.
He rolled over pitifully, clawing at his burning throat as he staggered to his hands. "My- My lord-" he coughed, "I beg you reconsider! If we drag this pointless war on any longer, we only suffocate our own country! Our men are dropping like flies, and their wives and children are starving as we speak-"
The captain was silenced by a sword heaved at him by the king, grazing his face as it was impaled in the floor. Horrified, he touched the warm blood at his cheek as he strained to look up to the looming figure above. "Well?" Ashnard said in a low growl, startling the guards at the throne's sides to attention. "Get this filth out of my sight, and lock him in the deepest, darkest dungeon we have! I'll deal with his torture later. Personally."
The pair of guards hurried to the captain's side, but hesitated to touch him. "Captain…" one said uncertainly.
The captain looked up at his king one last time. The man's eyes were dark, lifeless, filled with nothing but unearthly hate. Stumbling, the captain stood and spat, throwing out his arms spitefully as the guards took a fearful step back. "Well?!" the captain echoed. "Hurry it up." Even as he was shackled and dragged off, the captain returned Ashnard's hateful stare until the iron doors slammed shut.
"313?" a soft voice whispered hesitantly, snapping the sniper out of his reverie. The silver-haired maiden stood before him, her little bird chirping cheerfully on her shoulder. Instinctively, he snapped to a rigid salute. "Ah, please don't. I feel so uncomfortable when people salute me, especially veterans."
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, smiling down at her. "I can't help it, you're our commander, and Daein's very own savior. My own, too- you saved my life."
She started, then smiled too. "Very well," she said, quickly returning the gesture. She put a light hand on the ramparts, looking out into the chilly morning. "Everything's clear, then?"
"As could be," 313 replied, slouching back against the castle wall. "I doubt it'll stay that way for long, though," he added with a resigned smirk. "They'll be attacking today. I can feel it under my skin." Micaiah didn't answer him. They stood on the wall in silence, freezing, listening to the sharpening of blades below.
"313?" Micaiah finally asked, still looking out to the horizon. "Won't you tell me your real name?"
He stared at her blankly for a moment, then laughed and reached down for his helmet, tying the frozen iron tightly to his face. "Sorry, ma'am," he repeated. "As I've told you before, a failure like me doesn't deserve to keep a Daein name."
She turned to look at him, her concerned eyes asking silently. "But you're one of- you're the best archer in our army, perhaps even the strongest soldier. We never would have made it this far without you. Daein owes you more than you could ever imagine-"
"I did nothing and let a madman plunge my country into famine and strife," he interrupted, his voice toneless, hollow. "I killed countless innocents with my own hands, of my own volition. I watched a pointless war take away my comrades, my friends, my wife. I was powerless to stop the corrupt yoke of a foreign power nearly strangle my homeland to death. Whatever I do for Daein now, I am only beginning to reconcile my failures."
Micaiah took a breath, but said nothing, unable to find her words. She turned to leave, her light feet crunching heavily in the fresh snow, and stopped at the edge of the staircase. "313…" she murmured slowly, turning slightly once more. "Thank you for being here today. Now."
313 paused for a moment, then stood for another salute. Chuckling to himself, he watched the maiden disappear below, her brilliant silver hair flowing behind her in the wind like a metallic wave.
It was impossible to keep track of time in the prison camp, and so shouts and screams had slunk into his cell for nothing more than a very long time. Horrified shrieks, indecipherable in the din. Perhaps a prison riot, but it would be over soon enough. He'd been here long enough to know that the Begnion scum were able enough to deal with disturbance.
A rusty clink and a harsh screech of metal on metal. He strained his neck upward, struggling against the steel bonds that cut violently at his wrists. A green shadow whipped out of sight, leaving the cell door hanging open wide in its wake. He gaped at the opening for a moment, then shook his head. Ignoring the raw fire blazing in his throat, he heaved at his chains with a mighty yell, reaching for the freedom that had revealed itself after so long. He fell to the ground, old lashes on his back and new gashes at his hands bleeding profusely, but free.
He heard hurried steps and felt his head being cradled, whispering strands, silver, beautiful, brushing softly against his cheeks, and he felt a peace that he'd long since forgotten. A young girl with brilliant silver hair looked down at him. "Don't move," she said softly. "You're free now, but you're hurt very badly. Laura will catch up soon with her heal staff, and we'll get you out of here."
Twisting around, he fell on his stomach in an effort to stand. The girl laid a small hand on his back, but he threw it off and rose shakily, his haggard breathing echoing through the dark cell. "Thank you," he coughed, "but I don't need it. I don't know who you are, or why you're staging this break, but I do know that the soldiers here won't be able to get out by themselves. I need to go."
The prisoner took a slow step forward. The silver-haired girl steadied him as he stumbled again. "You can't," she said, squeezing his arm. "I realize that you want to help, but all of the soldiers are in much better shape than you are. I can barely stand to think of how you must have been tortured to get all of these cuts. Lie down and wait, please."
He stared into her eyes, speaking slowly, softly. "I've waited. I've waited for a long time for you to come, and I'll be damned if I'm going to wait some more and listen to my country's cries of pain any longer. Please, let me fight." Her grip loosened, and 313 willed his legs forward into the light.
The men stood statuesque along the fortifications, their breath bated in anticipation. Every few seconds the air rang with a primal howl from beyond the gates, getting louder and louder as the enemy steadily bridged the distance until they seemed on top of the walls. 313's fingers twitched angrily at the ballista controls, hissing for blood, and he was only barely able to suppress them. "Steady, archers… Don't waste your bolts, take them out efficiently," he called, his eyes still fixed on the ominous iron gate; a collective stretch of bowstrings followed the order noiselessly.
An eagle's shriek blew apart the gates and let loose a hellish flood that tore up the castle with fang and blade alike, colliding into the defensive line with a near-tangible impact. 313 pulled down heavily on the lever, sending a bolt screaming into the mass of bodies with a supersonic pulse. "Take over!" he bellowed, straining to be heard above the din. Another archer stepped forward, already preparing a second shot as 313 dashed to the next fortification.
"Keep it up! Push them back!" Weaving among the troops and shouting directions, 313 made his way across the secondary wall, peppering his instructions by letting fly arrows in all directions. "Intensify your shots at the center courtyard! Take out the birds immediately! Hole up at the steps!"
A gasp from one of the men; 313 could read the fear on his lips well enough to notch another arrow as he spun around even before the warning to meet a humongous hawk bearing down on him with the speed of the wind. As it opened its gaping beak for the kill, he unleashed his weapon, sending the beast flying back with an arrow rooted square between its eyes. With a sickening gurgle, it dropped into the west courtyard, its lifeless body crashing to the frozen ground. He had only a moment to celebrate before he realized that where the bird lay, a set of oaken doors stood unguarded, its posted sentries having long jumped into the forefront of the fray.
"Damn it!" he growled, gritting his teeth. "Leonardo, cover my units! You've got sole archer command!" The blond marksman nodded briefly and fired another shot, letting 313 race across the ramparts, leaping into the pit with a earsplitting whoop. He crashed into the ground just as the doors burst open; a horde of beasts roared forward, only for the leader to be shot out of the air. A pair of cats yowled furiously and bounded at 313 to meet the same fate. The three animals crumpled in the snow as their comrades shrank, circling around 313 and eyeing him warily. He stared back, only his eyes moving, twin orbs of blazing fire, his outstretched hands steady on his bow. "Come on, cowards!" he spat.
No sooner had the insult left his mouth than another Laguz lunged at him desperately. Matching its speed, he deftly fired an arrow into the dead center of the exposed fur of its stomach. As it crumpled, he reached for his quiver to reload, but swiped at nothing but thin air. A tiger darted around his back and sprang at him, attempting to capitalize on his helplessness, but he spun around, casting aside his bow and catching its claws with his bare hands. They tumbled to the snow, scratching and clawing, its fangs ever inches from 313's face. Roaring just as loudly, he wrestled the beast to its back and plunged his hunting dagger into its heart. It shook for a moment, then collapsed, motionless. Breathing heavily, he got to his feet and turning sidelong to face the remaining Laguz.
Even among the festive uproar of the mass of soldiers and civilians alike, 313 could make out every word that the silver-haired maiden spoke. Her words rang out clearly through the throng, a melody of bells that he caught and held in his heart.
"Men of Daein! We stand here today, through your efforts, free! Free of tyranny, free of corruption, free of oppression, free to take hold of the future! Our country lies in ruins at the hands of those who would see us without hope. But our hope is now, and will never be extinguished. We drove them out with our own hands, and with these hands we will build the greatest nation in Tellius. There remains much to be done, but I know that with your help, we can accomplish all that we set out to. Together, let us stand firm, and capture the light of the future!"
313 smiled broadly, even as blood ran freely down his cheek and dyed the ground red. Throwing out his arms and planting his feet firmly in the snow, he roared at the attackers with a conviction that resonated throughout the castle. "No matter how you come at me, I will stand firm! I am Prisoner 313, and you will not touch the silver-haired maiden! I am Prisoner 313, and you will not cross this line!"