(This started as something to console myself over.. yes, that. I'm not sure how much consoling was done, considering the nature of this fanfic. XD;; In the end, I just feel terrible for being so cruel to Frings.)
Soft Walls Can't Save Castles
General Aslan Frings had been called many things during his career, and "soft" had been one of the most common. However, Aslan hardly took it as an insult, unlike many other soldiers. If anything, it was a compliment to the 30-something-year-old man. His "softness" had blessed him with a strong, beautiful, perfect wife and two wonderful children (and popularity that rivaled the Emperor's, but he never paid mind to that). If it wasn't for the soldier's kindheartedness, she would be dead, and maybe, so would he.
Nonetheless, as much as he tried to avoid it, there were times in battle when innocent deaths couldn't be avoided, and he bore these deaths with heavy shoulders and a nagging conscience. Aslan tried his best to spare the innocents, while their fathers died around them. He had been soft, and now he regretted it with everything he had.
"Frings- You took away my family. Now
say goodbye to yours."
Roaring a loud curse, Aslan dashed from his large office, out of the Malkuth Military Headquarters, and sprinted to his estate, message clutched in hand. Denial and disbelief and dwindling hope clouded his mind as he ran the lengthy distance to his home. He imagined the scenario of when he arrived at home, how Jozette would scold him for being so foolhardy as to believe such a ridiculous note, and angrily would remind him that she could take care of herself and the children, and warn him that if he didn't trust her enough to take care of them... Then Jasper, his young son who was so much like his mother, both in appearance and pride, would protest that he didn't need taking care of, as he was good enough with a sword. Aslan and his daughter, Holly, who was much more like himself would then watch as mother and son argued until the end of time.. or at least, until both were too exhausted to yell anymore, and then this would all be forgotten. It was nothing more than an very bad prank. It had to be. He clutched that hopeful thought as tightly as he did the letter. It had to be.
An hour later, maybe more, he was was a sobbing, crumpled, heartbroken mess on the floor of the darkened main hall in his family's manor- the empty manor, when the door opened. The echoing noise made him jump, and he looked toward the door with red, hopeful eyes. Colonel Curtiss stood in the doorway, and the general didn't bother to hide his disappointment. Jade's silhouette was too tall and rigid, and missing two smaller silhouettes. He wasn't them.
The Fonist appeared, through Aslan's tear-blurred eyes, to be as calm as he would be any other day. What he couldn't see were Jade's tightly-fisted hands, and what he didn't expect was the hard grip on his shoulder, accompanied by the tense voice that told him, "We'll find them, and then we'll kill the one who took them."
General Frings swore to never be so soft again.