Shackles of Mortality

Everyone, is unfortunately mortal. Almost everyone that is. Unless you happen to be a fairy, Merlin, or another of those deities, or you possess the philosoher's stone, you are mortal.

And with death, you really lose a lot of things. You lose your family, your friends, your loved one, your significant other, your goals, your ambitions, your identity...you become another member of the legions of people called 'the deceased'.

Is that really a worthy price to pay for an early death?

Maybe.

"Nearer…" Belle hissed, moving closer.

Marisa's hands trembled. The sword was burning her flesh, as though it was protesting vehemently about her intentions. The amulet seemed to be constricting her throat. The tome was scorching against her skin through the thin fabric of the robe.

Reluctantly, she stopped her advance.

"What are you doing?" Belle asked angrily. "Come, come. We had an agreement right? Your freedom and no more schemes for the Sacred Stone and Sacred Twins. Do you want them? Yes? If you still desire them, give those things to me. Come, and you will get what you deserve."

She resumed her slow jerky steps.

"Yes…come closer…" Belle rubbed her hands in anticipation. "You will give them to me, and you will get your hearts' desire, the thing you truly desire…"

My hearts' desire? What…what does my heart desire?

"Exactly, you will get what you truly want, Princess?" Belle nodded.

What I truly want?

Once upon a time, what she truly wanted was nothing more than a whole family, her father, her mother and her, in their mansion. When she grew older, she became idealistic. She wanted to be the best swordmaster in Magvel. When she grew up, she understood the realities of the world, and wished for her father's gambling addiction to be stopped. When she entered the palace on the first day, she wished only for herself to leave.

But now? What do I want now?

Only you yourself knows the answer. That was what her father had said. Only I will know the answer…

"What do you want?" Belle asked.

What do I want?

Jewels? Gold? A house? Her friends? Peace? To be the most brilliant swordmaster? What do I want?

The answer was deeply buried; she knew it all along, but she would never admit it. What do I want? Is this the time to awaken her awareness of her heart's desire? She could hardly know. There were so many temptations; so many seductions; so many things she wanted.

But all of them paled in comparison to that one heart's desire.

And the answer was frightfully simple.

And terribly painful.

I want…

I want…

I…

She was standing right before Belle, a vacant look in her eyes. She was not even aware of that, until Belle reached for the sword.

"Give it to me, dear Princess," Belle said in triumph. "And I will give you what you desire…"

What I desire…

Amidst the shrill shouts of her friends and the desperate cries coming from Queen Ismaire, she lifted the sword.

In Belle's eyes were victory and betrayal.

Traitor.

With a heavy swing, she stabbed Audhulma deep into Belle's chest.

Blood spurted.

Belle's eyes popped out slightly, like a frog's. Her mouth opened in shock and horror, but no words came out. Her lips trembled slightly as her knees shook. Slowly, she collapsed onto the ground, the life drained out of her.

You will never be able to give me what I truly desire.

She felt surge of power as Audhulma relished in the taste of blood against its blade. The cold metal absorbed the red blood staining the blade, and the blade was clean once again.

There was a tense silence.

"Wow…" Ewan said finally, breaking the silence. "Cool, Marisa!" He punched the air with his fist.

Queen Ismaire was close to crying tears of relief. "Marisa…oh Marisa…" she wept. "I believed for one terrible moment that you really believed that psychopath's words and you were really going to hand them to her.

"Marisa, I apologise for grabbing you like that just now," Saleh apologized. "I was trying to stop you, but it appears that my fears are unfounded."

Perhaps it would be more prudent to not reveal that she had, for the better half of the time, wanted to actually give the Sacred Stone and Sacred Twins to Belle.

"Come!" Queen Ismaire dried her tears and gestured towards the corridor. "Pick up your weapons; we must hurry to the throne room."

Nodding, they hurried down the corridor.

The throne room had already been infiltrated when they arrived, with the Jehannan soldiers desperately trying to prevent Grado soldiers from entering and eliminating those who had already entered at the same time.

"Marisa! Take your friends and cover the entrances!" Queen Ismaire shouted as she whipped out her sword against a swordmaster who had broken in.

Nodding, Gerik and Tethys went to guard the left door, while Ewan and followed Saleh to assist the soldiers fighting at the right door.

As she headed towards the main door, the double doors made of heavy oak and gilded with gold plating, she could feel Audhulma burning in its scabbard, thirsting for more blood and action.

No, she instructed silently. Not now.

With one last faint tremble, the legendary sword cooled.

Unsheathing her trusty shamshir, she cried out as she sliced through a druid who had been in the middle of reciting a spell. As she landed, she saw the ground beneath her beginning to heat up, and an eight-point star glowed on the ground, illuminating her feet.

Uh oh.

Somersaulting just in time before a spinning vortex of black magic appeared, she kicked the tome out of the druid's hands and sliced the spine of the tome into two.

There was a terrible scream from the book as it disintegrated, leaving a musky scent and a black smoking form. Paralysed with fear and defenseless without his tome, the druid was an easy target for her.

I shall go take out the druids. They seem to be the ones who are giving our soldiers the trouble.

Slitting another Grado soldier's throat, she weaved her way forward into the crowd of enemies. A general blocked her path; she executed a perfect silencer that left him on the ground lifeless. An assassin tried to stop her advance; she pitted her skills against him and won easily, but unfortunately the assassin was not alive to see the outcome of their fight.

Soldiers, generals, swordmasters, paladins…all of them blocked her path, and all of them fell one by one. She was dirty from the blood that splattered onto her when she cut down another enemy, and she suffered numerous minor scratches and cuts while fighting, both from her opponents and through the chaotic waving of weapons.

The Grado soldiers must had been warned about the vulnerability of their back ranks, for they built a solid wall, theoretically impregnable, and they sought at all costs to stop her advance.

But while they were determined to stop her, she was determined to persist. Their back ranks were their star players: their archers, snipers, healers and druids. If she could destroy their back ranks, it would leave their front without support and in an unfavourable situation of one-to-one combat. Since the Jehannan soldiers were indubitably more experienced, Grado would suffer heavier losses.

Spurred by the thought, she lifted her sword and pushed through with greater effort.

Consider this as my form of apology, for nearly giving away the Jehannan Sacred Stone and Sacred Twins to the enemy just now.

Finally, with a final push and the death of the last swordmaster, she was through. She now faced what was a crowd of healers, snipers and druids all staring mutely at her, surprised that she had pushed through.

Without wasting anytime, she willed herself into a fast sprint through the crowd, sword outstretched in her hand and blade facing the enemies. The druids wore no armour, just baggy black robes, and the healers wore starched cotton robes. The snipers were harder, for they wore leather armour, but her shamshir could even cut through metal, how hard was leather?

She moved through their ranks in a true Marisa fashion, appearing nothing more than a crimson flash to the naked eye. They would die not knowing what had hit them, and they would die before they could even draw their bow or open their tomes.

She stopped just in time to stop herself from bumping into something. It was large and solid, made of grey matter pieced together like a Frankenstein monster. It opened its sightless eyes and roared through its gaping mouth. In its hand, it held a lethal looking shamshir, just like hers.

She grinned. A phantom.

The summoner was indeed behind, a scrawny looking youth with a look of hatred and concentration.

If I can kill the summoner…She leapt away just in time as the shamshir swooshed across where her head had been. That was close.

Dodging the phantom's swings, she stabbed her shamshir into neck and pulled out.

To her surprise, the phantom stood there, without a scratch to prove that her sword had entered its body. Taking advantage of her shock, the phantom swung its shamshir forward.

She ducked just in time, but the shamshir cut into the flesh of her arm. Biting back a cry of pain, she focused and swung her shamshir to deflect its attack.

Blue light enveloped her, and she could feel her nerves tingling pleasantly. She recognized the pleasant feeling of being healed.

Separated from her by a dozen enemies, Saleh tucked the heal stave back into his belt and gave her an encouraging smile.

She returned the favour, before slicing a hole in the phantom's abdomen with renewed strength, watching in satisfaction as it disintegrated into grey ash.

"Cut off their heads in one stroke!" Saleh shouted above the cacophony. "It's faster!"

She nodded, and prepared to face the trembling summoner.

The battle for the throne room dragged on without a decisive winner. Grado's soldiers heavily outnumbered Jehanna's, but their casualties were of staggering numbers. Both armies were slowing down in their attack and defense, tired from fighting for so long, but neither was willing to back down.

"Halt!" There was a loud roar, followed by the deafening screech of a wyvern. The Grado soldiers parted to as a large hero, carrying a silver sword, walked down the bloodied corridor, wearing a smug grin. In the air, a colossal wyvern flew past, carrying a wyvern lord who wore a bored expression.

The duo walked directly into the throne room, protected by a ring of Grado soldiers. "Queen Ismaire! Our prince sends his utmost regards that you are, surprisingly, still alive. He has sent Valter and I, Caellach, to ask you to surrender before your country is annihilated." The hero said. He looked over at Marisa and gave her a wolfish grin. "Say…doesn't she look familiar? This little beauty…Princess huh?"

Valter yawned, toying with his silver lance and spear. "Isn't she the daughter of that gambling addict who used to borrow money from us in the Jehannan gambling dens? She's married to Prince Joshua?"

"Damn," Caellach smirked, eyeing Marisa. "My ex-friend caught himself a beauty without telling me. He didn't even share!" He guffawed at his own crudeness.

"Say whatever you want," Valter looked bored. "I still prefer that Eirika of Renais…such an innocent little maiden just waiting for me…I can hardly wait to get my hands on her. Well Queen Ismaire, would you like to surrender or would you like to perish and surrender after that?"

Queen Ismaire glanced coldly at the pair. "We will never surrender Jehanna to Grado's evil intentions."

Caellach nudged Valter. "Well then, seems like we need to do something to make them comply. You take the queen, I'll deal with the princess. Maybe if we do it well, Prince Lyon will give me Joshua's wife as a little reward."

Marisa grimaced at the hero roaring with laughter at his perversions. Her stomach churned in disgust. Incensed, she lifted her shamshir and dashed forward, slashing at the hero.

Her shamshir was deflected with such speed and force that she was nearly thrown backwards if she had not kept her balance.

"Look, kitty has claws!" Caellach laughed nastily as he swung his heavy silver sword at her.

She frowned as she leapt away just in time to avoid his blade. Around them, chaos and resumed and Grado and Jehannan soldiers were lunging at each other's throats again.

She struck out her blade and he turned, but not fast enough. Her blade nicked his cheek, making a cut.

Caellach snarled. "Now you made me really angry," he bellowed, raising his sword above his head and sent it crashing down onto the floor. The blade smashed the wooden floor, creating a line of splinters.

There was little way for her to retaliate. He was too strong for her to deflect his blade, and his swings were wide and wild. All she could do was duck his blows and dodge his swings, in the hope that she could find a loophole in his swordplay and exploit it to her advantage.

"Hey, you know, if you stop dancing around like this and give me that little amulet around your neck, I might actually consider taking you to your dearest husband alive and whole," Caellach leered, as he swung his blade to her right.

"No." She replied coldly and firmly as she dodged.

"Well then, that's too bad," Caellach shrugged. "It'll be a pity to kill you; I was hoping we could have a little fun behind Joshua's back, if you know what I mean." This was accompanied by a heavy swing in her direction.

You sick bastard.

"You disgust me," she said, evading the blow.

He winked, delivering another blow. "I thought so too."

Their routine went on: he attacked, she dodged; he taunted, she refuted.

Is this never going to end? She asked mentally as she ducked another one of his heavy but wild swings.

Just then, she spied the perfect chance. As he swung his sword out again, she stabbed her shamshir towards his unguarded neck. He staggered in self-defense and shock, attempting to regain his balance, but before he could do so, she neatly swept her leg under his and kicked his shin, causing him to topple to the ground. She held up her shamshir, the tip pointing towards his chest.

"You bitch!" There was a shrill cry behind her, followed by the loud screech of a wyvern. She turned just in time to see Valter coming to his comrade's rescue, silver lance in hand, a deadly glint in his eye, murder in his every contorted feature.

A second of deliberation was all Caellach needed to prop himself up, grab his silver sword and prepare it for the death of the Princess of Jehanna.

Everything happened do quickly in the next few seconds.

She drove her shamshir straight into the wyvern's chest, most likely into its heart, causing the wyvern to scream and rear.

Valter threw himself off the wyvern towards her, silver lance in his hand aimed for the hollow of her throat.

Caellach rose and prepared to plunge his silver sword into her back.

An arrow sped towards her heart from a hidden Grado sniper, the black feathers aiding its speed, the obsidian tip sharp and deadly.

She pulled out her shamshir and drove it into Valter chest, preparing herself for her imminent death.

She heard someone cry out her name and pull her into an embrace.

They fell.

She blinked. Her head spun after hitting the floor. She looked back at the two Grado generals. Valter's silver lance had pierced Caellach's chest, while Caellach's sword was embedded in Valter's abdomen. Both had died instantly, collapsed in a heap with Valter's dying writhing wyvern.

There was no sign of the arrow.

She looked back at her saviour.

"Saleh!" She launched herself at him, who was still lying beneath her. "You saved-"

There was a sharp jab of pain at her chest, and she immediately flinched and pulled away.

Saleh looked fine, and he was smiling. But his chest was stained with crimson blood, and there was a sharp black point sticking out from his flesh.

The arrow.

"Saleh!" She cried, unable to believe her eyes. He was smiling; he was still smiling at her…how could he have been hit by the arrow…it was not possible…he was still smiling at her…She cradled him in her hands. "The healers! I'll take you to the healers! The healers! They will heal you…"

Saleh continued smiling. She no longer though it was a nice smile; it was a bloodless smile, a smile that signified his end.

"Saleh! You must stay strong! The healers are coming over here! Saleh, stay with us!" She shouted incoherently, staring at his bloodless lips, the smile that seemed plastered on his face.

There was a small tug at her robe, and she looked down. Saleh's face was not twitching, but his finger still moved. Stained with his blood, his finger was crimson, and his hand grasped hers shakily.

"Saleh, I'll promise you anything! Anything! So long as you agree to stay with me! Stay strong Saleh!" she shouted.

He grasped her hand firmer, tugging at her fingers.

She looked down.

In her palm, he was drawing. With his crimson finger, he was drawing on her palm with his own blood. Slowly and unsteadily, he traced. First one half, then the other.

A heart.

A simple red heart outline drawn with his own blood on her palm.

I love you.

Even until his grave.

I'll love you even beyond my death.

Til his death.

After all this time, all these while, I love you.

"Saleh…" Her vision was clouded by her tears. He loved her. Even after so long, so many tumultuous events, after she became Prince Joshua's wife…he always loved her.

Always.

His finger lingered briefly with the last stroke, before falling limply onto the ground.

He was still smiling, but now the smile was frozen in his face.

The light had extinguished from his eyes.

"Saleh? Saleh! Saleh!" She shook him hysterically. He cannot just die like this! He cannot! I won't believe it! I won't! Saleh! Wake up! You are my best friend; you cannot just leave me like this without a goodbye! You cannot! I forbid you to! Saleh!

It was no use.

Her world had just plunged into darkness, and there was no one to light it up any longer.

There was a roar behind her and she turned around and eyed the leaping swordmaster wearily.

The war was senseless; her best friend died protecting her.

Her sword hung uselessly by her side. She lacked the strength, willpower and incentive to lift it to defend herself.

What purpose was there in life if someone else had to give up his life to exchange for yours?

The swordmaster's sword cleaved nearer and nearer. In another split second, it would slice her jugular artery.

She closed her eyes. Her heart trembled gently. She was afraid, but she was not going to let her fear get to her.

Maybe if she prayed hard enough, she could just trade her life for Saleh's.

Author's Note:

Sorry folks, I understand everyone loves Saleh. Heck, I like him too. But guess what? He's incredible and awesome, but he needs to be killed for the sake of the story, as stupid as that reason is. And Marisa...I suppose the simplest reason for her behaviour would be survivor's guilt. For that brief instant after someone else died for your sake, you generally lose your direction and everything else along with the other person's death. That would explain her lack of motivation to even defend herself.

It's not a personality thing; it's a psychological thing. It's probably the same for everyone. Instinct will only kick in after the inital shock and guilt wears off.

Go curse Valter and Caellach or something. The two hooligans caused Saleh's death.

Love~snowylavendermist