Broken Destiny

Hector. Armads. Hate your weapon much?

x-X-x

He was Hector of Ostia; He'd be damned if he let a magic weapon get the best of him.

Hector stared at the weapon displayed ornamentally on his wall. From its grandiose resting place, he liked to imagine that Armads stared back at him, taunting him with its legacy.

He'd watched the misery that had befallen his best friend as a result of being controlled by a magic weapon. Durandal, weapon of heroes; a sword that hungered for the blood of dragons. Eliwood had been so certain of the rightness of his blow when he had leapt forth and slain the dragon, only to find moments later that he'd killed his lover without a second thought.

Hector couldn't fathom how his friend had managed to wield the sword after that. Even after Athos brought Ninian back, one look at that pale face must have torn new furrows in Eliwood's heart. Gods alone knew that the heir to Pharae didn't need that kind of trauma, not with his gentle personality.

But whatever it was that gave his friend the mental stamina to go on and destroy Nergal and his summoned dragons, Hector knew that it had been only a temporary boost from the anguish; Eliwood would castrate himself later with self-recriminations. It was inevitably Eliwood. He could only hope that Ninian could drag the poor fool out of them before he became a useless sap.

Yes, he was grateful that the woman had decided to stay with his overly emotional friend. While it lent a certain storybook quality to their romance, Hector could privately admit to actually having enjoyed storybooks, once upon a time. Even if he would grumble and gripe about listening to such tomfoolery nowadays.

And yes, he had known that taking up the blasted axe would take away any semblance of peace from his death. Athos (blasted fool of a mage) hadn't seen fit to give them ordinary magic weapons to use on the beast. No, they had to wield what had worked before, cursed destinies and all.

Only Lyn got out of that deal. She received a second sacred sword, but continued to use the one she'd had before. Privately, she'd admitted that the new weapon didn't feel quite right to her and Hector had to agree on that point. Armads seemed unbalanced, for lack of a better term.

But they'd needed that power to face Nergal, so he'd taken it in hand and determined to wield it as best he could.

Of course, now that they'd finished off that old villain and returned home, he'd had no more need of a powerful magic artifact. Which is why Armads had to silently hang on the wall, taunting him silently with its hold over his destiny.

Hector snorted in disgust and turned away, his hand dropping to rest on the familiar weapon strapped by his side. Wolf Beil would probably never be famous in the way that Armads was, but it had served him well and never demanded anything more than to be wielded by his hand. He knew eventually that Armads would rule his destiny, but he had a plan for that. Until such a day came as demanded his death, he'd leave the weapon hanging impotent on the wall.

And when that day finally did come...

Well... he was Hector of Ostia. He'd be damned before losing to a magic weapon - if he was to go down, Armads would be going with him. The only way that he'd stop swinging that axe would be when the damned thing broke.

And then he'd switch to Wolf Beil till he broke.

Armads would just have to settle for a draw.

x-X-x

AN: Hector - not my favorite character, but I'm finding a certain fondness for him as I keep ending up writing him. Still, don't expect me to suddenly gush on about how he's my favorite character or anything. The moral of this story is 'beware magic weapons; for just as you use them, they may use you.'

Finished this with a massive headache. Hope you all enjoy.