*You think
your Stronger*
A Legend of Dragoon fanfic
Written by Rap's (RaptorJNB@aol.com)
Notes:
~Okay.. *Deep breath* man- putting this up brought back some memories!
hehehe- as happy as I act- believe me, I'm far more subdued and
melancholy then rampant and on coffee highs in real life. This fanfic
(and I normally won't write when I'm depressed unless I really want
to get an edge of hostility into my works) Was a complete product
of a very bad few days. Albert was my choice of character because,
believe it or not, I related my situation to his own- which is a
sort of unspoken balance I see easily while playing LOD. Loneliness
and helpless acceptance being key factors. I mean.. Come on. Albert's
been running a country full of hate and war since early on, is surrounded
by the deaths of his people, and has no one that can really say;
'hey... it'll be alright."
That really sucks. Plus- what exactly do you do about a war for
which your very own uncle refuses all but absolute power? I mean...
You must have armies with whom to fight and protect the lands- but
then your aware that damn... these are YOUR people- many of whom
will not return from the battles. Many of whom have families. a
situation like that ain't good. You want to fight- you cant. You
want to reassure- but with what?
How do you come up with logical answers that can help your country
when the only thing that comes to mind is a desperate; "I...
don't know!"
*cough* Well- that said- read on through the fic! As from the above,
you should be able to tell where I'm going with this. It's these
sort of challenges that made Albert my favorite character in LOD.
And yeah- I'd agree that both Rose and Dart- Rose overall, have
had the most problems. But realistically speaking- it's these mentioned
circumstances that can truly kill a person. Slowly, too. I'm no
royalty- I'm not stuck in war- but I do know what it feels like
to be alone, helpless, and completely unable to help the ones you
love when YOU seem to be their only hope.
Bah...
(Dedicated in part to a person that shall remained unnamed. I'm
sorry I couldn't help you in time.)
***
Single
black omen
Rain against the back
Day is ever black.
You think your stronger.
Falling Angels cry
And reaching I could see
but heaven is my graveyard.
You think your stronger.
And your not.
- An excerpt from a song I remember years and YEARS ago- and still
can note to this day. If ANYBODY knows what band these lyrics came
from- or the title of the song- TELL ME! I can't find it anywhere!
****
((Set just before the events of LOD.))
It's not that he wasn't tired. On the contrary- he was exhausted.
Reactions were slow. Gestures were mindless. A normally able body
had been wrung to it's fair strings- drained by thought, no less,
and not even action. Even lifting soft, pale eyes seemed an effort.
Perhaps as if he was afraid of what he might see. Remember.
But sleep, necessary as it could be, was also impossible. And as
the small, ornate clock near his bedside clicked a sharp welcome
to the hour of 4 am, he felt himself flinch. A quick, almost mournful
recognition of the passage of time. Hadn't it been two a moment
ago? and twelve before that? He could have sworn...
But Albert let that flickering debate slide away; unable to hold
it, and rather disinterested for the most part. So what if the night
came and went this quickly? What did it matter that it was the same
for yesterday, and the day before, and then further still. What
*could* it matter?
Standing within a small- dim room, and pacing the length of an even
smaller oak table, Albert again dismissed the thoughts that drifted
amongst his mind. Eyes closed, arms crossed, he'd worn a mental
trail into his chamber- walking back and forth along it like some
misshapen ghost. Briefly, his eyes might open and flicker to the
notations that lay scattered across his desk. A moment- and they
would close again.
Time had become, for the most part, an irregular beast that bore
two heads. One was a state of person. Something he'd come to know
as suffocating and harsh... a form of existence such as now- pacing
his room with the limp of weariness. The second would, naturally,
come into conflict with the first. Time that demanded action. Time
that needed to be swift, cunning, and sharp. Time that was running
out; and balancing either was impossible under the circumstances.
Albert stopped; the drum of his boots dying over the floor. Arms
still folded, neck bent forwards and brows a line of continuous
thought, the young King felt an almost dizzy sensation whirl into
his frame. It pleaded sleep- was that it? pleaded rest of a type
that seemed far more mental then physical.
"I... need to think." He growled hoarsely into the overwhelming
silence- pushing back what urgently implored his reason. He couldn't
sleep. He wouldn't sleep. He needed to understand and sort and decide.
Grasp the events of the last few days and try to prepare for what
lay ahead. This objective alone forced him to turn and raise a hand
to the chair that stood idle off to one side. Albert pulled it away
from the desk and sat down- back emitting a sharp scream of pain
as his frame made the sudden and drastically different transfer
in pose. Hours he'd been standing. Walking. Hating things he couldn't
understand. One hand reached to his forehead. Elbow propped against
the wood beneath it, his eyes took to scanning the papers with renewed
anguish.
Heavy losses- spoke the first. Thick, strangled writing.
~Meaning death. Meaning pain. Meaning hurt and despair. Meaning
things words leave to hell in the voice of this godawful war. Meaningless
at the same time. All of it. This Pointless loss of life I have
no power to control.~
The second, what Noish considered to be good news. They'd taken
back the 3rd fort with heavy enemy casualties. The handwriting of
his minister was somewhat more level now. Cheerful, even?
~But don't you understand? More death. More pain. Now the children
in Sandora weep for their fathers. There is not a win. There is
not a victor. We play chess with a devil born of our own murderous
intentions. We would be called Humanity? We are evil.~
Albert clenched both hands into fists, head bowed into the flickering
light of an oil candle that danced lazily upon a slight draft. He
turned his gaze- looking to the single open window of his room.
~Why can't I stop it? What good do I serve here- within this
castle? Here- waiting for more news of death? Am I king or figurehead?
Myth? How can I help? How can I give the answers my people need?
The reassurance I do not myself believe in?~
Almost absently, his eyes drifted back to the many letters before
him. He noted each signature. Noted each emotion displayed by each
separate hand. What was there to see but despair? The occasional
more upbeat scrawl Noish managed to produce? On one, a brief comment
was slipped into it's end. A heartfelt; "- may Soa be with
our Kingdom." No doubt written by a man of the Knighthood.
~Soa...~
And Albert felt a flash of wavering anger. As if there was in fact
so much- it stumbled in it's sudden rise to a need of violence.
It was suppressed, of course, but his teeth clenched with the effort.
"Soa is nothing more then an incompetent bitch..." he
muttered- hostile voice gritty over his ears. Soa? Some chose to
believe in Soa? The god who was worshiped and held in awe? It's
life their life? It- who would *allow* this war? An entity who would
oversee such bloodshed? A demon who could not forge an *ounce* of
reason into his demented uncle!?
And a flash of motion scattered the items over his desk. Arms shaking
as they lowered; quiet shattered as the books and papers tumbled
into the darkness of the room. The small clock by his bedside was
quickly added to the bout of turmoil as it struck an indifferent
5 am; the chime broken midway in it's violent decent to the floor.
Albert hadn't even realized he'd stalked out onto the balcony until
a spurt of light rain painted his face and arms slick with the cold
wetness. Ash-blonde hair swept back into the wind even as, with
force of habit, he moved to push the strands from his eyes. It shook
him slightly- and he were thankful for that... looking down over
the city of Bale as his bare hands gripped hard at the railing.
No lights. No movement. A night like any other, with the blood red
hues of the Moon that Never Set glowering down upon the country.
It was then that Albert felt an arm raise and cover his chest a
moment where a touch of electric seemed to flow. The moon gem entered
his mind as a fleeting thought, and he turned then; near disgust
on his features. His back pressed sharply into the railing even
as both arms folded once more. As if cold, disturbed, or perhaps
fearful, the king shuddered.
~You hate me, uncle. You carry this war like a play. You kill
us both, and you laugh. You kill our people, and you smile. You
force me to do the same.~
Albert slipped helplessly to his knees as a surge of weakness overcame
him.
~Why? And why can no one answer me? And Why aren't I stronger?
Why Aren't I able to stop this? All of this!!?~
He expected no answers, and he was given none. The rain now began
to beat more forcefully against his sage clothed shoulders- but
he paid it no mind. What would this day bring? And tomorrow? And
the next? What would become of Serdio- despite whatever actions
he would need to make? Whatever actions might kill more- or protect
some?
Frame now laden with the icy precipitation and hair wet throughout,
Albert felt his breath catch the cold night air as a sob threatened.
His eyes, tightly shut, opened in surprise against the building
anguish- and he felt yet more anger. More hate- this time directed
at himself.
~You can't keep yourself together, and you want to save your kingdom?
~ His left hand irritably slapped at rain and tears. ~You
are a fool.~
Fool or not, some spark of incentive pushed him to his feet and
allowed Albert the momentum to stumble inside- out of what was now
a downpour. As a flicker of light shot across the sky, he collapsed
onto his bed and there lay sprawled- unmoving. Not giving care to
clothes that were soaked- and in turn chilled his flesh white.
~I will not let my country die. Answers or no. Fool, if I must
be.~
His mind slowly faded, and his frame gave a convulsive shudder.
Less then a moment, and Albert was unconscious in the grip of his
exhaustion.
The next morning- a thin smile his facade of choice- the king of
Serdio awoke to news of Seles' destruction. As was expected, he
could only nod- seem the strength he could not feel- and work to
aid the survivors.
~fin~
*
Revised 7/24/01 *
