Okay, something just got me inspired to write again. I am assuming that it's because 1. My friend is holding a fanfiction contest for Fire Emblem, 2. I need to sharpen my skills on writing seeing as I have been in a severe writer's block these past few weeks, and 3. I've been so busy with school and such that I did not have time to write.
So... I am writing this couple for that it has been one of my favorites for such a long time since I've been playing Fire Emblem. There are reasons why I am writing this couple. One, there are no fanficitions on this couple at all, not at all in the Fire Emblem section. Seriously, I don't see why everyone has to go bash (with the exception on some authors due to the fact it is probably based on humor, for example, Kate (Ivanfanatic).) this person or this couple for that matter. I mean, so what if he's not really that smart and not so good-looking whereas you're pitying the Princess of Swords on falling in love with this idiot? Despite being brash in battle and always wanting to have such intimidating challenges (therefore being agressive, overconfident, hotheaded and somewhat determined), he actually has a good heart (look in his supports, for crying out loud!). -.-Obviously irritated- Two, are people really expecting Karla to get a badass as her husband? I highly doubt it, and besides, Bartre is her polar opposite. And three, I find the couple cute yet amusing to no end. I still don't see why people don't like this couple... Oh, I don't know, because Bartre is not-so-smart and not-so-handsome whereas the bloodlust, psychotic Sword Demon of a brother (Karel) will probably slaughter him. GROW UP, IF YOU BELIEVE IN SUCH SHALLOW FANTASIES OF HOW A GIRL/GUY SHOULD ALWAYS GET A GOOD-LOOKING GUY/GIRL.
I mean, even if you do manage to snag a good-looker, what's the point if that person doesn't give a damn about you? What if he/she doesn't care about you whatsoever and only cares about his/her conceited self? My point exactly. As they say, Even a rose has its thorns. Hmph. . .
Oh yes, there are more reasons that I will explain at the end of the story, so to go in-depth of why I am writing Bartre x Karla.
Well, this sets place in the future, after the downfall of Nergal. And no, I am not going to let Karel slaughter Bartre, since Karel became the Saint of Swords in the end. So he's going to end up merciful. So don't go bashing on me.
Oh, and if you do send a flame on this, it's either 1. I will deal with your flames rather carefully by making a humrous joke out of it when I'll be writing a new fanfiction again (see what happened to this reviewer named 'X' in my brother's fanfiction"A Tactician and A Thief") so you can get yourself humiliated or 2. I will ignore them. I'm going to go with 1 since it is obviously out of spite and that shows to prove you've been a narrow-minded fool.
Now then...
Title: Love Thy Enemy
Pairing: Bartre x Karla
Summary: "Don't hold back, don't let go because, before you know it, your opportunity will go... To the world, you're just one person, but to one person, you could mean the world..."
Point Of View: First Person (Karla)
Rating: PG - PG-13
Standard Disclaimers Apply.
Love Thy Enemy
There was always a sense of foreboding. . .
A sense of foreboding that I would never admit to myself.
After what I've been through, two years my apprentice struggled to command this band of mercenaries. . . And so, the Dark Druid whom was known as Nergal has fallen along with the dragons he managed to summon into the continent of Elibe. Everything has been in peace. . .
Or has it?
It's been two years since I've seen everyone. Well, Hitomi (whom I shall no longer call an apprentice on her sword skill) has been living with me. Karel, I do not know where he has went off. Rumors have been spreading like wildfire that my brother, the Sword Demon, has became the Saint of Swords along with his own apprentice, Guy, whom has been with us too in the army. Word from Hitomi is that my brother may return home since he must've (in my assumption) told her himself.
Brother. . . I wish you well for your safety and I do hope you will return to these scarlet plains someday.
Something has been bothering me for many suns and moons now. Normally, I wouldn't let it bother me, but. . . My thoughts suddenly drifted to a certain warrior. . . I wouldn't call him an enemy. He is somewhat an arch-rival, a friend perhaps, but certainly not an enemy. I can't help now but maybe let a chuckle or two escape seeing as he always had the opportunity to fight me whereas we've always been sparring each other every other day so to test who was stronger.
I recall on the memory. . . A sudden flashback began to occupy my mind because of my thoughts. . .
The day when Nergal the Dark Druid had fallen.
My Wo Dao gleamed with the familiar red sheen of blood as I began hacking down on one of the Morphs that were once of the residents of the Black Fang. Lord Lloyd, the White Wolf, has been putting up with me in a good spar right now. Certainly, he has sharp skill, even as a Morph now. I dare not wince at the wound that he had given me with his Regal Blade that he wields. It wasn't much fatal, but I suppose people would say otherwise and go on saying that it is folly to say that this gash was rather nothing. I've been rather. . . Grateful, you can say, when I had given him a slash across the chest, from the right shoulder-blade to his left side of the hip. Though it was rather tempting to smirk, a swordmaster shall not show emotion, battle or not.
The former Four Fang leered at me with those sharp, golden orbs. Eyes that beheld no emotion but of neutrality and the desire to kill.
I couldn't really move, the loss of blood was really getting to my mind, a sickening dizziness that somewhat hazed my vision and had took over my mind, but I refrained to back out now. I wanted to clutch at my stomach, but I felt a sharp gaze pierce through me at the back of my head, and I should know that that was my brother. I wanted to look into his eyes, as if out of curiosity on what he was trying to tell me, but I dare not look. A slight breeze shifted my ebony-black locks, letting some strands brush against my cheek, but I had to maintain my focus. I grasped onto the hilt of my blade, ready to charge and cut Lloyd Reed down, despite the flesh that bleeds at my stomach.
Suddenly, a zipping sound can be heard with my good hearing, and something whizzed past me. I almost felt the point strike at my face, but it wasn't aiming at me. It wasn't aiming at me at all. My hazy glance stared at the man in front of me, golden eyes looking like they have widened with shock as an arrow struck at his heart. He would've put up with me or whoever had shot the arrow, and he looked ready to counterattack without holding back, but blood erupted from his throat and he coughed and spat. Lloyd has closed his eyes, slowly falling onto the stone-cold floor. And from my vision, a trace of a peaceful smile was on his face. At the corner of my eye, the mage, Nino, looked like she was going to cry again when seeing one of her family drop dead once more.
I looked around for my savior who has saved me from my untimely demise, and as if to signify me, a hand cuffed its grasp at my shoulder. It was a familiar presence, though I could not detect exactly who. I felt the cooling of magic take over my and this person's bodies, feeling the wounds in my stomach as well as my arms close up. To the right of me, I saw Lord Pent of Etruria give a wave in my direction, telling me in silence that he was the one who healed us with his Psychic Staff. I looked over my shoulder, locks of black falling into the eye that was examining the owner of the hand on my shoulder.
Apparently, I should've known it was him since he had a Silver Bow slung over his shoulder.
"Bartre." I stated wistfully (rather with my cool indifference), backing away from him a bit so to give us room to make small talk.
"Oho! It's you!" He grinned that grin that I've known since I've met him, that grin when he seemed rather overconfident that he will win in our sparring matches (which he tends to have draws with me... Or that there was a pattern that I've won, and other times, he did), that foolish smile which tells of every aspect there was of him.
I couldn't help but raise a delicate eyebrow, as I had examined on his axe-wielding skills earlier, as well as his archery. . . His axe skills have improved immensely whereas being one with the bow had been steadily getting there since he had been promoted to a warrior. I wanted to smile, so I let it escape, rather slightly in a thin line at my neutral facade.
"So, you have improved your skill." I said calmly, meeting his eyes in a knowing look. "I thought your words at our last meeting might have been empty..."
Bartre lets out a short bark of a laugh, grinning that grin that I've gotten quite accustomed to. "Never!" He shook his fist in a gesture that came to me of bragging. . . And yet, I sense that his determination, which I've admired and loathed (since I've said before that he was too stubborn to die) at the same time, has burned into his heart. He was willing never to give up, I could tell this. "I will always strive to be the best!" He declared rather triumphantly.
Oh, how I wanted to chuckle and shake my head while smiling authentically, having him see that I admire him when he was like this.
"Well..." I replied rather carefully (in a little hint of admiration, but in that collected, calm way, regardless), knitting my brow in thought. "That is an admirable goal," I managed to say at last. "With that attitude, perhaps someday, you could best me."
"What are you saying!" He spat in response (I think with a tone of indignation), that tone still hinting in his voice.
I blinked in surprise, somewhat. Luckily, he didn't notice that.
"You must become stronger as well!" Bartre continued, as if he was speaking from the heart, as if he wanted me to be stronger. So, he wanted a challenge, hm? "We must both raise our skill!"
"Hmm... So we shall." My tone hadn't changed, although it sounded like it was in a rather business-like voice, like Merlinus (only he was more cheerful.). "But there is no need for haste. And perhaps, I could help you improve?" Rather meekly, I had chortled the last sentence.
He examined me rather warily, looking obviously flabbergasted at the thought that I, a woman, would help him improve in his fighting. Backing away from me slowly, a few paces, he drew out his silver axe and pointed the weapon at me, trying to act tough and independent as if he would not need a woman like myself to sharpen his skill. I didn't know what to feel at the moment, for that I rose both of my eyebrows so high, they almost disappered into my bangs. But hence, I said nothing, though my brow formed a scowl, eyes shining with a sharp look which had to make him continue on what he had to finish on saying.
"Enough, braggart!" It was hard to tell of what tone he had on his voice now. . . Perhaps being one who had just been provoked or that he thought that I wasn't good enough to teach him the way of fighting, persay. Then again, I am not really good at judging out of his prespective, though he sounds rather intimidating and cocky, regardless. "You are no better than me! We are the same, you and I!"
I drew a sharp breath, hearing those words. Was he that idiotic enough to not realize of what I was?
"...Except that I am a woman." There was darkness seeping in my voice, one that would be rather acidic.
This caught him off-guard, and rather bewildered, emotions that I would never thought would come across Bartre, a man whom I've come to respect, aside from my own brother. This man, who fights just because he wants to be strong, showing these kinds of emotions. Ha.
"I!" And, at this, I cut him off faster, as if I had slew him.
"...What? Why are you so surprised?" I inquired coldly, hoping I wouldn't lose my temper. Well, I was not one to be angered so easily, and though it was tempting to yell, I kept my tone to the point where it would chill him to the bone and crawl in his skin. But it was evident that I was insulted by this since there was a sharp edge in my voice, as if I had another Wo Dao to attack him with. "Surely, you must have realized this before now!"
Bartre's facial expression changed to one of fear and uneasiness, and even though the light was rather dim in this temple, he paled. I didn't know how to react to this, of course, but my eyes held proof that I was offended.
"Er... No!" He blurted hastily, shaking his head rapidly. However, my dark glare had changed to the point when my eyes had narrowed to slits, eyebrows raised at this, but furrowed at the same time. He gulped at that cold stare of mine, and hence, he shook his head again in a furious, rapid manner, as he was embarrassed and nervous and I could also sense fear resurfacing at his features. "I'm sorry! I mean, I forgot!"
My glare dropped rather slightly, and when I did that, Bartre looked rather relieved; but nervousness and fear, I can still pick up.
"You forgot? Whatever do you mean?" My voice took on a tone of cryptic confusion, but masked by the still-cold neutrality. He looked quite shaken, but there was also another feeling I've sensed. At that feeling, my glare dropped completely, but that blank visage of mine still remained. It was quite surprising to what I've sensed.
Hesitation...? What's holding him back? I was hoping I was not looking concerned. Sure, I may have felt it, but I would not show it.
He cleared his throat, still looking rather reluctant, possibly thinking that I might make a move with the blade that I held in my hands now, at waist level currently.
"...From the first time I met you on the battlefield, I saw a beautiful girl... But... After I fought you, and realized your strength, I only saw the greatest warrior I had ever met."
"..." For once, in my life, I was speechless, and shaken at that. I had let those words sink in, and so, they put a great toll of an effect on me. It felt indifferent and empty, but strangely, I felt some things that day. . . Though I am not quite sure what they were. I know I must have felt something. . . But I was still uncertain as to even think of what it meant.
"Did I anger you?" Bartre shifted under my gaze, aside from our height difference, since he is the one taller than me by a few. He looked like he was going to wince, as if to take a blow from my blade or my words. Either way, one of those things would have been painful. But did he not understand that that had made me happy? In fact, that had made me feel like I wasn't alone. . .
"No. It's just..." I answered, trailing off at that, distracted on what has been nagging me. It must have been my thoughts that were usually shunned away to the dark depths, but I was somewhat ignoring them, if not subduing them on what they were trying to tell me. But when I let those thoughts escape into my mind, I felt something warm up inside of me. . . A warmth I had longed for, perhaps, it felt like an eternity since feeling like this. The time I remember my brother carrying me on his back on the scarlet plains when we were only children. . . I think it was because I must have twisted my ankle or the sort of another thing. . .
He may have not remember that, my brother Karel, but I did. And how I longed for my brother to go back to the way he used to be. . . Not like this person who took his place. . . Not the man who had bloodlust in his eyes, and that inward smirk that showed no remorse when slaying his enemies with no reluctance (without thinking at one fleet moment to hold back), and when blood was in his sight. He's somewhat a shadow of his former self, and now, all he wants to do is live in bloodshed. . . For Elimine's sakes, he can even smell the blood off of our comrades as he must have travelled far and wide in the midst of a fray. I am assuming that everywhere he goes, there's bound to be blood and gore, having battle everywhere. . .
Or, at least, that's when he shows up. To kill.
"Just what?" The warrior snapped me out of my silent reverie, the uncomfortable, tense silence that was developing between just the two of us. Amongst us, the sound of the fray still went on, but it was like it was only us, and us alone, who resided here. I can hear my little apprentice, the Tactician, shouting her voice hoarse of orders, and I see that she had been growing up these years, it was like she was no longer the student who struggled against the art of the blade. Many times, I've seen her struggle. Day in and day out, she would wield the sword until her muscles had burned like fire, and she kept her pain veiled in the mask of indifference. . . She did always hide her emotions, not revealing anything, for fear she may get hurt. . .
And, for some time that I've wanted to do this, I smiled. Genuinely, but slightly. It was like one of those people who never smile at all, and when they do smile, it is rather rare to see. I've smiled very slightly, wistfully, perhaps smirk sometimes. The only times I ever did smile was when my brother used to be so together and when the apprentice always stuck at my side, even when Karel had ran away for his own reasons. But something told me I would get something good out of this conversation. . . And so, I continued to smile, following my subconscious.
"Bartre, you are a good man." I said softly, my eyes aglow, still having that gentle smile on my face. And, hearing this, he shot me a look of more confusion, even his eyes had said the unspoken truth of it all, especially on why he said what he said.
"Hnh?" He must've choked on my words, but I carried on as if nothing had happened.
"I will train harder, so that I do not betray your expectations of me." I tucked one strand lock of hair behind my ear involuntarily, my right hand grasping onto the Wo Dao tightly, flicking my wrist so to test my grip. I felt my robe ruffle slightly, but I turned around, my back to him, preparing to face the Fate head-on. I held his words to heart, as of mine. I will not break that vow on training harder. I was determined to give my best when we meet. . .
"Farewell." I could hear my footsteps die away, grasping onto the hilt of my blade, preparing to fight amongside the rest of my comrades. I could've sworn I heard him say something. . . But I did not have the chance to do that as my smile now disappeared. The cool, collected facade that I was familiar with for so long had resurfaced on instinct.
Only this time, an inward smirk, like my brother's bloodthirsty one, flickered onto my facial expression like a candlelight.
Had I let my opportunity go. . .? I had to walk into the battle which determined Life or Death to the world. . . But something is amiss. The last time I ever saw Bartre then was when I was at Ostia, we had somewhat of a reunion. We've became closer. . . He had sent me letters by carrier-pigeon since he goes around Elibe to fight, to be stronger, and though his handwriting was abysmal, I was still able to read it. I wrote back as soon as I had received the letters whereas helping myself get stronger by training with Hitomi.
But really. . . Had I walked away from something that I may never find again. . .?
My apprentice had told me some things that I have taken into consideration, which is probably why I feel a small piece of emotion that keeps entering its way through my heart. . .
Sadness? Regret? . . .Longing, perhaps?
I can recall on what she told me before the whole army dispersed. . .
"Don't hold back, don't let go because, before you know it, your opportunity will go... To the world, you're just one person, but to one person, you could mean the world..."
I sighed, pressing a palm against my forehead. What was happening to me now. . .? Had I really done a mistake?
Snapping my eyes open, I felt my hand grasped onto the Wo Dao's hilt in instinct. If I did hear correctly, I could have sworn to Saint Elimine I heard Hitomi yell. Getting up from where I had occupied, I dusted my robe off, and sought to it that if she got hurt or killed, I would kill that person in her name, make that person die from my hands. I am not one to think such thoughts, but that is the way we have to survive.
I heard other yells. . . Masculine. . .?
Approaching from where I last heard, this amusing scene had came into my view.
I saw my young look-alike latching onto this young man. One who seemed familiar. His azure eyes had widened with shock, and perhaps embarrassment, as the young girl squealed again, her facial expression of happiness. I rose an eyebrow, casting an amused eye to the two, maybe trying not to laugh of the whole ordeal. But I had eyed this man carefully. . . That can't be. . .!
A braid. . .! A braid of forest-green hair. . .
. . .That could mean. . .
"Hitomi, would you PLEASE get off of me!" The boy was struggling into the little girl's embrace, trying to squirm his way out.
"BUT GUUUUY! It's been so long!" She was still hugging him. Raising both eyebrows at the name, I cleared my throat.
"Apprentice, get off of him," I managed to say under my breath, though my eyes still twinkled with amusement, I know Hitomi hates being called an apprentice. Both looking up, the little one immediately lets go of him.
"What did I tell you... I am not an apprentice anymore..." The black-haired youth mumbled under her breath.
"K-Karla!" Guy breathed, rubbing his neck. It was probably from Hitomi's grip, and I could not blame him, it was pretty strong. "Thank you for saving me from the death!"
A thwhack can be heard for Hitomi tapped his green head of hair lightly with her sword-sheath. "That's mean." She grinned, shaking her head.
"What brings you here, Guy?" I asked, confusion in my voice. He couldn't have been here. . . Can he?
"Well..." The swordmaster from Sacae smiled brightly at me. And for what seemed like many times, I rose an eyebrow again, neutrality intact.
"..." And, again, the little girl had found someone else to latch upon. A figure shifted behind Guy, and from what I've felt now, I was more than prepared to cut whoever it was down. But something stopped me from doing so.
Familiar eyes reflected into my own dark ones. Familiar ones that I've only seen on the one and only person. . .
"It's nice to see you again, Master Karel!" Hitomi piped in happily, so he was the one who was being hugged.
I took a step back from the two, and at this, Hitomi lets go, suddenly hiding behind me. Guy was watching carefully as the two of us stared the other down. Was I supposed to be afraid? Well, when I had talked to him last, I had told him I would wait for my brother to come home. . . Did he really want to come home?
"...Brother." I managed to say, rather uneasy I was, as I felt my throat constrict.
"Karla." He replied right away, the indifference in his voice, but something was different. I could feel Hitomi grasping onto me for support in case something did happen. I send her a knowing look of reassurance and shifted my gaze back to my brother.
"...Is it true, then?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"...That you are the Saint of Swords, yes?"
"..." A motion of the head had indicated his answer as a yes. Feeling a heavy burden release my shoulders, I knew my prayers had been answered. I had not seen both Guy or my brother for the past two years. He must've changed. I took a tentative step towards my elder sibling, releasing my sword-arm from my blade. Silence exchanged from us and Hitomi went inside the hut to brew some tea she made, Guy following along behind her.
For what seemed like a long time, an immense quiet was among the two of us, the two famed swordmasters who had sought off to kill.
My brother stepped closer to me, his equally long hair of dark brown following his movements. And before I knew what happened, I felt arms wrapped around my shoulders.
Brother. . .?
He embraced me. My brother, the formally known Sword Demon, had embraced me this day. Instinctively, I embraced back rather reluctantly. I wonder what made him change this much, to go back home, to come see me. I felt something well up in my eyes, but I shook my head slightly so to shake off the feeling. I relaxed my head onto his shoulder, at the side of his neck. He murmurs something, so I perk up my head ever-so-slightly so to hear his voice into my ear.
"...There's someone who wants to see you..." He murmurs gently, still in that monotone, but gentle all the same. I was kept into this position for a lingering few moments, rendered speechless once more. Did he really want to come home. . .?
Finally, he lets go of me slowly, staring into my eyes again. A curt, silent nod from him beckoned me to go deeper into the scarlet plains. Bewildered, I saw him follow in after his apprentices.
Gripping on the Wo Dao again, reluctantly, I went to go where he wanted me to.
The plains were scarlet now as I've seen the sunset. Vivid colors of crimson, yellow and orange streaked into the sky, as if fire had been painted onto it. A hue of amethyst can be seen far-off, but the fiery colors looked like they have been drawn permanently, as if Time had stood still.
Something massive flew past me, and at that fleeting moment, I took out the Wo Dao in quick precision, blocking that familiar glint of a weapon.
"Hahaha! I see you have not changed since we've last met, Karla, you braggart!" A booming voice came from behind me, and thoughts swirled in my head, trying to unveil whose voice this was. I felt myself twirl in a fluid moment, taking careful paces back as I spinned, positioning my sword in front of me. My eyes widened slightly on who assaulted me.
"...Bartre..." I murmured in a gasp of air as I spun forward, dashing forward with the blade outstretched. Seeing this, he parried it, tiny sparks erupting when the two forms of weaponry clashed.
"What are you doing here..." I was trying to fend him off, I cut the Wo Dao horizontally so to ward off his Silver Axe, still keeping my guard. His swift swing of the arched blade was cutting through the atmosphere diagonally, swift strokes from such a warrior. In instinct, I blocked them, trying to cut through his defense.
"Karel brought me here." He merely grunted, trying to cut me down as he was going to slam an attack at my head. I blocked once more, my blade coming close to my face from the heavy weight of the weapon that was overlapping it. Bringing an uppercut, I managed to ward it off once more. I shifted sideways, holding the blood-red blade in both hands.
. . .Brother. . .? How. . . Why. . .? My brow furrowed in thought, dark eyes flashing dangerously, but just in time to block once again. Bartre shifted to my side, and tried attacking me there, but I blocked again with all of my strength. However, he did cut me at the left upper arm and at my left side, not that I would wince at such a gash; perhaps I was used to all of the pain. I could've sworn he did cut off some strands of hair, though.
"C'mon! Is that all you got! C'mon, you wench!" He spat, leaping forward to slam another wound. My eyes turned into fire when I heard this, he should not have gone there. I kept anger out of the way, excitement coursing through my veins, an adrenaline rush. In response, I duck down to leg level, the blade residing in my right hand at the side. That smirk, that same inward smirk I had from long ago, came across my face. Twirling three times, I have slashed vertically and horizonatally like an x-shaped formation. Catching him by surprise, he received those swift strikes, not being able to block.
"...No more words now." I inquired indifferently, charging at him as fast as my legs carried me.
He returned that cocky smile that I had missed.
"No holding back now, Karla." He flicked his wrists with the heavy Silver Axe, swinging it with all of his might. I jumped at the first blow, sidestepped at the second. I twirled, feeling my robe float for a small moment, before I had lunged, pivoting to stabbing downward. He smirked as he grabbed one of my wrists, going to swiftly let the curved blade about to make contact with my face. Barely catching up, I blocked the assault with the available hand that was able to function, the hand that held my Wo Dao.
But a sharp, stabbing pain had made contact, although, since I felt the familiar metal cut at my skin, sending two gashes overlapping each other at my cheek.
My eyes had dilated at this, and I struggled, breaking free of his grasp as I stepped back carefully. My knees bended slightly, my left foot shifting in back of its right counterpart, positioning the sword in rather a slanted position, but in front of me. Still holding a trace of a faint smirk, I spun and rose the blade up, as if to attack him at the head. He blocked, as I had calculated, but I started to pull off multi-slashing.
"Ah...! You cur..." He gaped, and so, he tried fending off my swift assaults. An old determination sparked again, the same detemination I had not seen for a long time. I had replied nothing, of course, as I had shifted the position of my weapon into my hands, thrusting it forward.
Clash!
Metal hitting metal, I twisted my wrist rather warily, thrusting hastily that it had cut his left shoulder blade. Eyes widened with shock, he tried not to wince, always trying to act so tough.
But right now, he was strong. He had journeyed perhaps every nook and cranny in Elibe to be stronger.
And. . . I wanted this challenge. Maybe I have brought it upon myself.
I smirked again. I had no regrets now.
I stood to the tips of my toes, blade rising as both arms were suspended in the air, and I hold this posture for a moment or two. Elegance. Though I had hated learning the arts of the sword, maybe I have second thoughts on it. I've seen my brother fight. . . Such beauty, as if the dance of death was of a waltz, that people may mistake those who have perfected their art as of a dancer or some other aspect of such things instead of being a swordmaster or a mercenary-for-hire in the fray.
Taking the blade on both hands, but still holding this position as I held it to the side, I dived down and swung it. Had it clash at his waist fully, he took a jump back, but he was bleeding profusely at where I had split his skin. I weaved back and forth into the grass that had send shivers up my legs due to the dewdrops that laced upon them, but I had concentrated. I had felt my hair being blown back from the curved blade of the axe, feeling some strands fly free into the breeze. Alas, he had punctured a long wound from the back of my right hand all the way to the curve of my shoulder. It was not that deep of a cut, but it did hurt, I admit. I masked my pain effortlessly, my eyes of cold steel.
"..." I bended my knees again, positioning the blade in my right hand, at waist level. Long black hair had rested against my back, and at the silent gesture, I felt somewhat reassured.
My eyes had narrowed to the point of slits, holding my posture. And so, I charged again, feeling myself fly, the blade almost ready to counterattack.
"You should not be attempting at suicide attacks!" Bartre pointed out, overconfident grin right there as he had slammed his axe to my right side. Searing hurt began to erupt, white-hot pain, but I did not stop from striking; nothing would hold me back. Feeling my sweaty fingers about to slip, I was determined to hold the blade in a strong grip, teeth gritted.
I can sense his gaze, widening again with shock, as if to say. . .
WHAT! She won't stop!
"...One more step...!" I hissed through my clenched teeth as I felt my body shift like water, for that my right foot was commanding to go sideways to the right, as I had thrusted the blade through him at his left; feeling like that I had gone through him, for I had paused into that step, staying like this in the now uneasy silence.
I felt it, I felt my knees give way, I had dropped to my knees, Wo Dao slipping from me and falling in a noisy clatter in the crimson grass. I huffed and panted, feeling the cool air pressing against the skin of me, or what had been exposed, as beads of prespiration turned pear-shaped, dripping from the tip of my nose into the warm earth. I clutched the neckline of my robe, fisting the cloth of it, feeling my heart about to burst out of my ribcage so to be free whereas still breathing shallowly.
Dots of black fell upon my eyesight, and I had struggled and flailed, struggled to not fall into a deep unconsciousness. Everything had become obscured, and I could only curse silently under my breath, letting darkness engulf my vision.
Crackle. Crackle. Crackle.
"Mmph..." I mumbled, feeling my brows knit together. Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt this pain diminish. . . Rather slightly. Feeling like I couldn't hold back any longer, I released the pressure, opening my eyes slowly. I blinked, letting my vision taking in whatever color I would see.
I saw stars. . . The dark sky. . .
To the left of me, as I shifted my head, I saw a faint light of what seemed like a bonfire, the colorful embers dancing merrily onto the dead wood. I felt something soft against me. Shifting slightly, I knew that I was in some sort of sleeping bed, for that blankets were wrapped around me; my head dipped into the soft grass. I sat up slowly, feeling pain shoot up my body like numerous needles.
"Ah... I do not think I'll be able to do that again for a while..." I winced slightly, resisting the urge to rub both arms for they had both started to burn and were itching rather irritably. I knew Bartre must have not left my side this whole time because he was kneeling in front of me, at my eye-level. I didn't see his wounds. . . Maybe he had healed them. . .
"...You have become stronger," He commented, examining the gash on the right arm. My sleeves of my the fabric of my robes had ripped due to the assaults. I did not pay no mind to it, Hitomi can just sew it back together. How she learned to was beyond me for that she was like me, a girl who wields a sword with a facade of indifference. I felt his fingers tracing softly over the wound, and it took me control, full restraint, to not heave a shudder.
"Hm, so have you," I replied, shifting a bit.
Reaching to the satchel at his side with another hand, he took out a Vulnerary. So the shoddy workman has his tools. . .
"How have you been doing on your journeys?" I questioned quietly, sighing in gratitude as I had felt the cooling liquid of the remedy close up the wound on my right arm. Moving to my left side, he brushed his fingers against that wound too, and again, I didn't want to shiver at this.
"Haha, I'm just looking for a challenge. Every obstacle there is, I take it head-on. I just have this knack on wanting to be stronger!" That fleeting flicker of that grin came back, and I shook my head slightly, wanting to laugh at his stubborness.
"I see," I smiled, feeling the injuries close up. Fatigue still knocked my body over like a wave, but I had taken this angle in a strong sense, not letting it win me.
"...Bartre."
"Eh, Karla? What, wench?" There was a tone of curiosity now. How I wanted to take out my Wo Dao and slam it onto his head for calling me that, but I can tell that that grin of overconfidence (perhaps teasing) was there.
"...What you said... You did mean it, didn't you?" This time, I couldn't meet his eyes. I still felt that nagging indifference, but there was something more to it than that.
"Ah," He grinned again. "What? On how I would beat you and everything? Well, it seems that I have!" He laughed, smiling away.
"Do not take it so hard, Karla," It was like he can pick up on what I was thinking, but it wasn't that. "I won because I had a lot to build during my journeys. N-Not like I am saying you're w-weak," He added rather hastily, scratching the back of his neck nervously, but still grinning. "But... You are the toughest fighter I had ever faced. There are not many women who fight."
"...Not that..." Why was this getting difficult? "If I recall, you told me at the battle of Nergal that when we first met before you fought me, you saw a beautiful girl..." It felt rather. . . Unnerving.
"..." For once, silence casts a spell on him.
"I am not angry, of course, but!" I wanted to say, and my voice was still sounding indifferent, but there was a twinge of emotion seeping through, hinting. "I just wanted to make sure... If those words have not been empty..."
I felt a shift, I did. I scooted next to him, near him, meeting his eyes again. His eyes had been reflecting realization as I saw one of his hands rose and pressed against my cheek. I was taken aback, trying to veil it, but it was probably failing. But I had forgotten he lashed two cuts at my cheek. Although I had felt the vulnerary did its work, his hand still lingered there, where the wounds were supposed to bit. Trying to loosen up a bit, I leaned in, a little sigh escaping from me.
"...They were, and are, not empty. Every meeting we had together, my words have not been empty. But... I will not deny that what I have told you that day is the truth. Karla," I was following on what Bartre was saying. Opening my eyes halfway, blinking softly, I looked at him, baited breath that had been caught in my throat.
"Karla, I love you."
As soon as he had said this, the balance had shifted. I did reply, but not in words, at first. I drew him into my arms and pecked him softly on the lips, letting that smile surface on my face.
"I. . . I love you, too."
Oy, I am done.
Now to go in depth of why I have picked Bartre x Karla for writing and why it is one of my favorite pairings.
First off, I want to point out that Karla did not want to learn the art of the sword, she said so herself in the Karel/Karla supports. She didn't want to learn it in the first place, but that was the only way she can get close to her brother. Furthermore, did you really think she wanted to live a life of fighting all of the time? According to her in the A support of Karel/Karla, she said:
"We are less than human now. We are no different from our swords themselves. Our hearts are cold, and we count the days we live solely by the flesh we cleave. What meaning can there be in such an existence?"
Picking up on this, I doubt she was as merciful. She wasn't as bloodthirsty as her brother, but she still was cold-hearted, regardless. And this is where Bartre comes in. The stubborn, hot-headed fool who wants to challenge everyone just to become stronger for reasons unknown (if there ever was a reason). If you have examined his supports with everyone, it shows that he was just trying to be a friend. I mean, he wanted to show Raven his family tree in order to get to know each other better. He tried having Eliwood raise up the payment for Dorcas so he can have enough gold for Natalie's leg to heal. He was teaching Canas how to fight. In their A Support, Canas was fatigued because he wasn't used to such exercise in battle what with being a Shaman and all, so Bartre was trying to have him build up physical strength, endurance and stamina in exchange for knowledge (for he wanted a small book from him). And for Renault. . . Well, he just wanted Renault to spar with him, but the Bishop didn't keep his promise and. . . Well, if you have Bartre/Renault supports, you would know.
As for the Bartre/Karla supports, I have used their A support in the flashback of Nergal's downfall. . . Hm, only that wasn't the end of the support, Bartre just says something to himself, realizing he's falling in love with the Sword Princess.
And why I had picked this pairing was because love doesn't come from good looks or anything that needs to be grand. If you must realize this by now, especially for narrow-minded fools who are superficial because they only focus on the minor details, love is a selfless emotion, that it's pure. We put the need of others before our own, and if not, that's greed. People don't tend to like this pairing oh-so-much because Bartre is supposedly ugly and that we all know he's not the brightest crayon in the box. So what? We have to look beyond the faults, and realize the good qualities, as well as to accept those same flaws in that person.
Love doesn't come from a cliched fantasy where every good-looking guy/girl always ends up with a good-looking guy/girl and to live "happily ever after". Love takes no form on those things, if not have a form at all, and focusing on the good looks/wealth/intelligence/some other thing you supposedly "love" this person for is bullshit. Yes, you heard me, high-class bullshit. And if any of you are into relationships (or about to go into relationships because of the infatuation) because of those things, shame on you. I could not have been any more disgusted. People want other people to end with people who have basically everything. What happens if that supposed spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend of yours doesn't care of your well-being? Hell, even he/she wouldn't probably care if you died somehow, and just discarded you like you were worth nothing!
Any person would want those things, but the thing people value most is when people who love them care about them. This was why I had been touched by the Bartre/Karla A Support. Bartre had loved her on how strong she is. He did say he did see a beautiful girl when they first met, but after they fought, he realized she was not just some chick and that she had proven her worth that she was strong physically and, possibly, mentally because of her cold demeanor. And he did want Karla to be stronger, especially when she has to live.
. . .So, I thank you for hearing me out. . .
Please review, since you have already read this. My apologies if I had made anyone (except Hitomi) OOC. Not my fault that I haven't written for some time!. . .So, I thank you for hearing me out. . . Please review, since you have already read this. My apologies if I had made anyone (except Hitomi) OOC. Not my fault that I haven't written for some time!