knight
by Denna Lockehart
He stands
in the corridors, watches in the shadows. Hungering for glory gut not gaining.
Success that evades the hands of the worthy--more than worthy--but falls on he who does not deserve it... how it
pains him, to admit then that he is a failure. Always a failure, outcast.
But--
He
worries not, for justice shall ensure that glory sheds her verdant light upon him, the chosen one! The knight that
waits valiantly, patiently for a lady to guard, to protect. His holy quest shall
not be denied him!
And--
So it
comes. His lady--more than a mere lady--a
sorceress, verdant light and warmth and love and hope and dreams--she has come
to claim her knight, and destiny lays itself out before him. His destiny, come
knocking. He realizes his error now, for glory awaits he who can wait for it,
who can endure for it. What is achievement if not paid for with suffering? And
what right does one have to be great if he does not first know the life of the
humble?
Are you ready?
And he is. Waiting, he has been
waiting for so long.
Now, he
no longer watches from the sidelines--he strides in, and directs, commands. He
is no shadow--he casts the shadows out, banishes them with the light of his
holy purpose that shines from him, bright like the sun. Now, his lady gives the
orders, that he follows joyfully, for his heart and soul belongs to her, and
every word she speaks, sparkles with the light of the heavens, rings like a
great bell, echoing within him. Surely he,
that detested rival, would never be able to attain such exalted holiness.
Surely his lady's eyes do not shine, her words not sparkle, not ring like great
bell. Surely... surely it proves he--is
the better man!
Of course, his Lady, his Sorceress
soothes, her voice a motherly caress, comforting and warming. And he leaves,
feeling confidence rekindled within his breast, a glowing warmth inside--the
knowledge that his cause is JUST and that no grubby mortal can stop him.
And
still--
He
commands, and fights, and does things in Her name that no respectable knight
does. And when the filth of the outside world starts to stain his pure heart,
straightaway he takes himself back to his Lady, his Mother, to be cleansed, to
bathe in Her pure love, and to offer her his adoration. And henceforth he
sallies out unsullied, until the dirt of the world stains him again, and he
flees, like little child, to Mother's loving arms.
And he
views those around him with contempt, those filthy beings that grub in the dirt
for petty little things like love, and money. What is love, when it comes from
such tainted souls as they? What does money gain for one, but things that look
beautiful but are stained by greed? What do they, those useless things, know of
the true love, such as is bestowed upon him by his Lady, his Sorceress? Dare
they claim that they, truly love,
when their "love" is to Her love what a match is to the sun?
Ah, but
his Sorceress shall conquer them with his help, and then all shall bow to Her
glory, and She shall take them in Her arms, and they shall be cleansed. Such is
his glorious cause. The methods used disquiets him sometimes, but then She
touches him and he realizes that for such a great cause, the end is worth the
means. And those who curse him now shall thank him for it!
And he
drives the Chariot of Fire across the land, for it is with this that his lady
shall cleanse away the wicked, the sinners. And within its hallowed walls he
confronts the unbelievers, the heretics who seek Her downfall.
But--
The filth
has spread, even to his most trusted and loyal followers. Traitors all, but it
doesn't matter, doesn't matter if his coat is now dirtied by their filth, or
that his hands are stained with blood. All for Her. For Her.
And there
is another sorceress, one that stands with them. And She commands that he bring
her to him, and bring he shall. And two sorceresses shall become one, and the
heretic shall be cleansed by the light of Her sister-in-arms, whom She has
mercifully released from the foul prison created by those... evil ones.
Strange
things happen, but his pure heart will not be affected. He clings to the light,
and it shelters him, and keeps him safe. Peace lasts not, and suddenly he is
torn free. The glory is gone, the fame is gone, and She is gone, she who was
never She, just another filthy liar in a world of filthy liars and his dream
was never his dream, it was her dream
and he was her knight, no, her mercenary, her assassin, her, her, hers...
He loved
her.
He hates
her.
The
knight is no more.
ahem Seifer
really sounds like Sephiroth, doesn't he? I think I went a little too
far... but hell, it's all in the name of fun, right?
Right?
...
...Whatever.
-Lockehart 22/8/2001
