In the Meantime
Part 1: Cascade
January 24, 1800
The life of Freya Crescent was in turmoil, to say the least. Not only was her homeland of Burmecia in ruins, but the beautiful civilization of Cleyra was now a smoldering stump. They were destroyed so quickly that even the shortcut through Gizamaluke's Grotto and the forced slaying of the great Gizamaluke itself-a noble protector corrupted into savagery by Zorn and Thorn's twisted magic-made no difference, it seemed.
Now, she stood in the royal bowels of Alexandria Castle: the land of her enemy and the perpetrators of her people's demise, all because a certain monkey boy and company needed to kidnap the captive princess...yet again.
With a deep, hot breath, stagnant air finally escaped Freya's lungs. Sometimes terrible events cascaded like falling dominoes and trauma built up so fast she could sense the back of her brain pulsing from sheer suppression. Taking a moment of honesty with herself: with Zidane around, this headache was a constant. She surprised herself with how well her skull casing lasted this long...and yet she still followed him around. He made things exciting, to say the least.
A sudden squeeze and the pang of thick, nail-like teeth slammed down on Freya's right arm like a bear trap. She snapped back to reality. A sharp howl escaped her throat as a towering Bandersnatch took advantage of the Dragoon's idling and chomped down.
By sheer reflex, Freya's tri-tipped spear pierced the demonic Shi Tzu's face in a second. The weapon dug deep but elegant, like a surgeon's needle. The metallic purple of mithril and crimson blood glimmered in the light. The fine wrapping of the shaft fit in her hand, as perfectly as a glove. No, more than a glove. It was an extension of her being! It was a weapon held by the divine warrior statue of Rhak himself. It presented itself to her in the ruins of Burmecia when she needed it most. It was hers, and she assured herself she would never let it go.
With a harsh yelp, the oversized dog stopped struggling, it loosened itself from Freya's arm and spear before crashing to the ground, destroying a section of smooth marbled floor under its weight.
"It's good to see you stopped daydreaming, Burmecian. Now stand tall. There are more coming this way!" Beatrix shouted.
Freya grunted. She almost forgot another core irony of this situation: she was defending her friends with the help of a traitor, Beatrix: a one-eyed general who made short work of her and seemed to have no trouble with ending her people before. Yet when Princess Garnet was in danger, Beatrix took a stand beside her and suddenly, they were in the heat of battle, side-by-side.
"I see." was all Freya managed to say through grit teeth. Her injured arm went numb with sharp prickles. Hot blood squeezed out from her undershirt and between the cracks of her plate mail. Still, she braced her spear on a single arm. It was nice and light, but her grip shook from the tension.
From the foyer ahead, two more Bandersnatches made their charge. They slid awkwardly across the floor-with small legs barely supporting their bulky frames-but throwing that weight around was nothing to be stifled with. As a Dragoon, Freya knew this, and she knew just what to do.
"Beatrix..." Freya said. Keeping her eyes locked onto her lumbering, slobbering enemies, she squatted low onto her haunches. Her toe claws found grip into the subtle cracks of the floor tiles.
"What is it?" Beatrix asked. She readied God Save the Queen: a beautiful sword complete with angled cuts and divots accentuating the blade. The sword left glowing afterimages in the air as it glided into combat position.
Freya recognized this attack as Stock Break. The memory of it sent a cold shiver down her spine. She was all too familiar with that attack and the stance that preceded it. Still, she did her best to stay calm when she said, "Aim high. Do not strike the legs like you did the last few times... Trust me. It's better to hit the vitals than get crushed under one of those things."
Beatrix nodded, but added, "And you need to focus. My magic force is running dry. I won't be able to scrape you off the court walls if you let yourself get smacked again."
Pretending she didn't hear that, Freya lunged toward one of the dogs like a bullet, the world around her blurred and she cut through the very wind itself, leaving ripples that blew over Beatrix's hair. She glided low so she wouldn't slam into the ceiling and twirled her spear around the wrist like a propeller. This cut her momentum just enough to hone in on the dog's neck. She didn't have enough time or distance for a javelin throw, she knew that, so she readied the spear with her working arm, bracing it with all her might.
CRACK!
Her aim rang true. The spear sunk deep into the dog's neck. The crack of severed vertebrae sealed its fate.
Beatrix couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at how fast and clean the rat's attack was. She brought the thing down in one fell swoop, surprisingly good form, too. However, a general such as herself had much more experience under her belt, and she was determined to show it. She stood still as the dog gained speed and momentum. Its mouth opened into a gaping hole of teeth and closed in enough for her to catch a waft of its stale breath. That's when she skipped forward with a single, elegant hop. One halfhearted strike later, the beast slammed into the ground.
Watching from the near distance, Freya's muzzle pulled into a deep frown. The beast was clearly on its last few heartbeats, but something didn't sit well with her. She quickly sprung to her feet and readied her spear for a Lancer technique, but a wave of ache and soreness washed over her. She cursed under her breath, lacking the energy to close the distance she needed to.
"What are you doing!?" Freya screamed. "Kill the beast!"
The general glared at the panicked Dragoon for her lack of faith, and brought her sword down for the final slash. The dog howled and twisted in pain as its final grains of life drained away, but not before a stray tooth tore across her open, unarmored leg.
"Grrrh!" she groaned. She had slain over one-hundred knights on the field of duty and she refused to let a single mutt break her down. Her leg twinged with pain, but she refused to let it buckle. She stood fully and proudly, despite the wound gushing open from her strain. What she didn't prepare for hoever, was the sharp end of Freya's spear pointed merely a foot away. Her eye met the pale green of Freya's gaze, the rat's expression a mask of anger.
"Don't kid yourself. We are at the cusp of victory." Beatrix showed not a single hint of worry. She only watched as Freya pink nostrils flared and her long, bony claws tightened on the shaft of her spear.
"You have no idea of that. In fact, you know very little of anything besides fighting. Even then, your cockiness disgusts me. I-it would be an understatement to say 'you gave me a great deal of trouble'." Freya's voice trembled. Her regal cravat did poorly in hiding the bobbing lump in her long, narrow neck. Her grip on her weapon, however, did not falter.
"And you know very little of anything at all. Where was a knight like you when Burmecia was under siege?" she replied sharply. "Even the weakest of your nation's soldiers fell honorably under my blade, yet when it came to the proud Dragon Knights, I found no sign of you until we first met in the ruins of your king's castle. In fact, I was really looking forward to meeting the great Sir Fratley and-"
"You don't deserve to say his name!" Freya screamed. She surged with adrenaline until she overflowed, bursting with a lifetime of suppressed rage. "Y-you followed the whims of a sick, mad woman who stopped at nothing to destroy my home a-and my people, yet you have the gall to turn around and join my side when the blood got too thick for your tastes!?"
"Our nations have stabbed each other's ankles for years, Crescent! What do you expect me to say!? I am a guardian of my people first and foremost, something you won't, no, will never understand. I have no idea what you have been doing with your little life, but serving your nation was not it. In fact...wasn't your mentor running off on a spirit quest, or something of that ilk?" Despite the bloodstained spear jittering near her head, the human managed to smirk. "Say, were you trying to follow him?"
"You killed maidens and priests! You culled the lives of pacifists who meant no harm to y-!" A sharp, metallic ring pierced the heated debate and a white flash blinded Freya. At that moment, she knew she let her guard down...again. Her cheek burned and swelled. Her spear clattered against the floor, far from reach.
In one swish of her blade, Beatrix slapped the spear from Freya's hands and even worse, made sure the flat end of the sword belted her across the face. A trail of silvery hair fell in a mess over the crestfallen rat knight as her pointed hat flopped off her head and fell to the floor.
"Get a hold of yourself. You can cry all you want over lost lives, but these were people you failed, rat. I am partly responsible for all but genocide. I accept that. I even accept that you'll never forgive me, but I will never let you kill me so easily."
Freya's face was invisible under her hair, but her slumped, defeated posture told Beatrix all she needed to hear. "I...I understand..." Freya whimpered.
Beatrix lowered her sword. She couldn't bare to look at a once decent opponent reduced to this unstable husk. It was too sad to watch.
"They seem at the end of their ropes!"
"At the end of their ropes, they are!"
"Let them hang!"
"Hang indeed!"
Two familiar voices echoed through the halls like phantoms. Zorn and Thorn again. The heavy thumps of paws and loud barks soon followed. They brought reinforcements.
Beatrix and Freya's instincts seemed to sync. Both of them sprang bolt upright. Freya scrambled to retrieve her spear and cap. She threw her hair away from her face, revealing the swelling, black welt on her cheek and damp, tear stained fur.
Beatrix readied her sword and sighed heavily. "Freya. Leave. Find your friends and help them. I don't know what that motley crew is thinking, but they know a hell of a lot more than me."
"What!?" Freya shouted.
"I'll be fine, whether you like it or not."
The Dragoon adjusted her keepsake hat, obscuring her eyes under the powerful visage of the dragon. Her shaking steadied and her voice leveled once again, cool and low. "Don't die," were the only words she managed to form before sprinting away from the oncoming barking of who knows how many Bandersnatches.
The pristine hallways of the castle reeked with blood. Paintings of Queen Brahne blurred past her periphery. She just noticed how gaudy the checkerboard flooring really was, but got lost in the running patterns. They did a great job at making everything look larger. Foyers and halls stretched into near-infinity until Freya noticed a large, open window. The midday sun shone through, beckoning her.
Without hesitation, she answered. Her large coat rippled in the harsh wind as she threw herself into dizzying heights. Castle walls swung past her as she twisted through the air. She took full advantage of her training, utilizing her light frame to glide toward a stream in front of the castle with the grace of a kite. Nearing the water, her spear twirled with every ounce of remaining strength and the coat splayed open like an umbrella. Still, she fell too fast.
CRRRSSH!
Freya readied her legs for a hard landing. She swore she aimed herself just right, but clipped a stone on a wall surrounding the stream. Her right ankle didn't snap, but definitely bent the wrong way. Worst of all, it threw her off balance. Her eyes widened just before she belly-flopped, crashing to the waters with the elegance of a brick.
Blood flowed from her open arm wound. She floated with the stream, stunned and aching.
Beatrix...should I have said 'thank you' for fighting alongside me? Could she really be my ally after all she's done, or did I miss my chance to cut her down?