Alexios Laskaris


Alexios feels scared, more terrified than he has ever been in his entire life. His side throbs like a pulsating heart, each beat bringing a searing pain that almost whites his vision out completely. God, he could even feel the rivers of blood leaking out of him, hot and gelatinous in contrast to the crisp, glacial rain. It is all he can do not to let his eyes roll back into his head and fall to the ground. His arms are leaden, like they are being pulled away from his body. His legs are all but ready to collapse under his weight. His clothes are too constricting, making it hard for him to breathe.

His boots are bogged down by the mud as he fiercely continues his assault on the Ottoman, his blade flashing and cutting, the lightning reflecting itself on the tarnished steel exterior, vainly and blindingly despite the vivid bloodstains running up and down its metallic face.

So cold. Has it ever been this cold in the world? Alexios cannot imagine this bitter, frosty temperature belonging on a corporeal level, even on the polar icecaps so far down south. This frigidity brought on by the creeping touch of death chills him down to his core, almost rendering him immobile.

He parries a slothful cut from Sadik, retaliating with a sweeping slash that, to his alarm, is easily deflected by his… opponent. The exhaustion is taxing his strength, sapping him of his energy and he has begun to feel light-headed. Annoyance at his own weakness seeps into his jumbled thoughts as he continues on with his attack.

Stubbornly, Alexios keeps his grip on his sword, pressing his offense with grim determination, deaf to Sadik's incessant pleas for him to stop.

For the last few moments until the present, Sadik's eyes had looked clouded, as if his mind had gone somewhere else. Taking advantage of this, Alexios feints to the right, letting Sadik's move fly past and he drops into a semi-crouch. He half-turns, exposing his back to the jade-eyed man before cocking his right elbow back and slamming the pommel of his sword into his opponent's face, right in between the eyes.

A sickening crack rings through the air as soon as the blunted end kisses the enamel obstruction. Shrapnel flies in all directions, a small, sharp shard cropping Alexios on the side of his neck. Alexios turns around to see Sadik stumbling back, dazed and unfocused – but otherwise, seemingly unharmed – as the mask he loves begins to crack in half, sliding from his face and continuing to shatter as it hits the muck-filled – albeit rock-laden – ground.

Green eyes stare at Alexios in shock and disbelief as he stands there, the rain cascading down his body and mingling with his blood. His limbs have shut off, refusing to obey his mind's commands to press on, the last intense blow having drained him of all his energy.

Alexios' eyelids drop to half-mast, concealing his dimming gold eyes as he sways unsteadily, unable to get a grip on his balance. His knees buckle as he sees a streak of red and dark orange coming towards him.

He drifts in and out of consciousness, and, for some strange reason, he finds himself recalling the one conversation he and Sadik had, two weeks ago, when he had finally gathered the courage to ask about the most prominent milestone of Sadik's past – the enamel mask the general always wore. Stranger still, Alexios smiles amidst the falling raindrops, tears contradictorily escaping from his golden-brown eyes.

Reveling in blissful memories is, after all, the only thing a dying man can do.


Alexios Perspective

HE SLIPPED IN THROUGH THE WINDOW, ANNOYINGLY QUIET AS I waited for him. I had to tell him today. I had to tell him that the Byzantines would not surrender Constantinople, no matter what. I had to tell him today, before the worst could come.

I had to end this madness, before he or I could further plunge into insanity… entangled in each other's arms.

"You're awfully quiet, hmm?" and suddenly, in just a few seconds of distracted musing, he was there by my ear, his heated breath on my neck as he whispered his damned question. I pushed myself farther away from him as I pointedly glared at the wall. He took his sweet time, leering devilishly as he grabbed one of my empty chairs and straddled it, his chin propped up on the wooden back, cushioned by his sleeved arms.

I poured him a cup of wine and he accepted it gratefully, extracting it from my hand in a surprisingly gentle manner. Without hesitation, he drunk from it, wiping a stray dribble from his chin with the back of his hand.

And so began the ever-present battle of wills. My brown eyes stared deep into his green gaze, the two of us willing the other to break the tension-laced silence. I developed a tick in my eyebrow; I had never been known for my patience. It was all so infuriating: his smug smirk, his relaxed posture… that infuriating mask of his…

It. All. Drove. Me. To. INSANITY!

He expected me to get mad and explode, that much I could tell. I swung my fist at him and he ducked aside, that expression of taunting mirth still adorning his concealed face. If anything, the smirk morphed into a full-blown grin.

I tackled him like an immature child, pinning him to the floor, the chair tumbling behind us. He lay calmly under me, swatting away the punches I aimed at his face. After he got bored, he upended me, pushing me more effectively to the ground, knocking the wind out of me in the process.

"Damn you Sadik! Damn you!" I scream-whispered, trembling with rage. I had to keep quiet, lest my men come running to my room. "Take it off, damn you! Take it off!"

"What?" His provocative smile held too many implications for me to consider, and the wicked glint in his eye made me swallow the dryness in my sandy mouth.

"Your mask, you idiot!" Catching him unaware, I twisted, violently throwing him off of me, my chest heaving with fury. "You wear it like you are a mascot, making it your trademark, armoring yourself in it, believing that others will fear you for it." As my words flew at him, the grin slowly disappeared, but I kept going, unable to contain my irritation. "But it doesn't bolster your strength, you stupid Ottoman! If anything, you look like a child, hiding behind false bravado, trying to scare and bully the adults into giving you what you want. But you will never…" I punctuated each word with an accusing finger. "Get. Constantinople."

I hadn't seen his green eyes glow with rage until that moment. In a flash, he had me pinned by my neck to the wall and he was choking me, cutting off my air with his strong hands.

"Listen to me, sniveling little brat." He snarled, his accent thickening. He bared his teeth at me, and for once, I felt scared of him; truly terrified as he glowered at me with full force burning in his emerald eyes. "I do not wear this mask for all the stupid reasons you accuse me of! It has far more value to me than anyone, especially you, could ever grasp. I am not going to be insulted by you because of your superficial assumptions. Am I clear?" he drew me back and slammed me on the cold, sandstone surface, making my eyes water as I struggled for breath. He squeezed my throat once for emphasis and let me go roughly.

I fell into a fit of gasps and wheezes on my knees while he stood over me with his arms crossed over his chest. Finally, he crouched, pulling me to him as he whispered apologies in my ear, in both his language and mine.

As my lungs refilled with air, I asked one question that I hoped came close to the admission of guilt that I knew I wouldn't be able to voice. "If so… where did your mask come from? And why do you wear it?"

He sat me on a chair before leaning on the table, collecting his thoughts as he looked at the smooth, worn, wooden surface.

"A friend gave it to me."

"A friend?" I repeated dumbly, unable to fathom how he could love his friend enough that he would wear the trinket to battle.

"Yes. Our families constantly traded weapons and such. My father usually owed his family gold and we were one of the only foreign debtors." He answered.

"Where was your friend from?"

"Persia." He stated simply, then elaborated. "Reza was my best friend. We practically grew up together. We learned to fight together. I loved him like a brother."

"I think I may have loved him. But I wasn't willing to admit it to myself." He whispered and I'm not sure if I was even meant to hear that.

I didn't want to feel the jealousy. I didn't want to feel the burning envy for this unknown Persian mask-giver. But it was there. So instead, I tried to ignore it as I focused on the last scraps of his tale.

"And the mask?" I queried nervously.

"When I left… When I became the general, Reza gave it to me as a parting gift. It shocked me, really, since that selfish bastard wasn't the type to give me anything. But here I am, the mask still intact and on my face."

"And that's it?"

"That's it." He confirmed, turning back to me with barely concealed tenderness on his face. "You're the first one who knows that tale. Not even the sultan himself knows."

"Do you always wear it?" I asked again with genuine curiosity, trying to ignore how special it made me feel.

"Most of the time. Sometimes I even fall asleep with it on."

"Idiot to the end." I muttered and fell silent. But I couldn't help myself and I inquired, rather timidly. "Has anyone ever seen you without it?"

He paused before answering. "No one. None of my men know what I look like behind the mask. But… would you like to…" he trailed off and I didn't have to wait for him to finish. He was offering me a glimpse of who he was, beneath the barrier he had buried himself in. I nodded, my eyes locked on his.

I didn't know what I was expecting. Scars, deformities… anything but sculpted angles and smooth skin. He raises his hand slowly and plucked it off… and I may have detected the slight falter to his hold. I held my breath.

The enamel casing was removed and I could not look away.

Damn him.

He was magnificent.


A/N: Oh my gosh, this was one of the hardest things to write. It's been emotionally taxing and it surprised me a bit because I actually like writing character death. Although, the next few chapters is bound to be harder for me. Ehe. So I think the next chapter will be up on Friday. I'll be inactive until then. This is because I'll wait out the field trip instead of rushing out the story and committing mistakes the way I did before; especially since the next set is the most critical points of the story – for me, anyway.

Thanks again for all who bothered to read and to those who gave feedback! Oh and I realized I never put up any sort of disclaimer. So yeah, I own nothing except the writing and the plot. ^_^