Author's Note: This fic contains some lyrics from The Chronicles of Resshikou ~The Emperor of Wailing Thunder~ from the Ar Tonelico CD, Singing Hill ~Ar=Ciel Ar=Dor~. Said song is property of GUST. Translation props to Lazy from A Reyvatail's Melody forums. The lyrics have been slightly altered to fit the story, however.
The room was quiet save for the crackle of a brazier's flame. Ever burning, ever dancing, and ever consuming the aer around it—voracious and vicious. It symbolized the patron god of Zaphias, the god meant to take its inherent violence out on Zaphias' enemies. Yet one of their enemies remained standing… and was going to topple Zaphias soon, if something wasn't done.
Princess Estellise did not like this god. She did not like its violence, its need for blood. Yet no other god would come to champion this city so long as people prayed to Phaeroh, and so she bowed her head in reverence to the flame.
"What do you pray for, child?"
Estellise raised her head, looking over her shoulder to see her stepfather walk into the chamber. Seeing him clad in war regalia and not that of peaceful robes made her heart sink. Alexei was a good man, a good ruler… but even she could see the strain this war had on him. He loved his kingdom as much as she did, and in his eyes was a dark despair she wished she could heal.
"I pray for the end of this war." Estellise said honestly, watching her stepfather kneel next to her. "For the end of this war and for the innocent blood to stop being shed. For happiness of the people and prosperity."
Alexei beamed at her, one arm coming to wrap around her almost protectively. Although he married into her family and was not her birth father, Alexei was proud of her regardless. Estellise was good, just and innocent. Pure.
That she should suffer this war…
"We all pray for that." Alexei soon replied, his voice low in the presence of the holy fire. "Phaeroh cannot be deaf when thousands cry out to him the same wish."
"So why does he do nothing?" Estellise asked, even as she shifted to accept the king's embrace. "Why does Lord Phaeroh watch us suffer? Shouldn't he protect us? Why would a patron god let his people die…? Why would any god condone death at all?"
Alexei raised his other hand to pet the back of Estellise's head, coaxing her to resting it on his armored shoulder. "Phaeroh and other gods work in ways we can hardly comprehend." Alexei said patiently. "They may need us to worship them, but we need them for more than simple protection. Sometimes… even the gods need payment."
"Why? We've bled enough! What more could he want?"
Alexei shook his head, trying to keep her calm with his own low voice and affectionate touch. "Daughter… would you give your everything to end this war?"
Estellise raised her head, looking confused. "Of course I would, father. Wouldn't everyone? Wouldn't you?"
Alexei looked over her face, so much like her mother's, and his heart felt ready to burst. Before emotion could show too clearly on his face he embraced the princess tightly, his hand at the back of her head pressing her to his shoulder again.
"I would." He said, the strain on his voice imploring Estellise to return the hug. "I would give my everything to see this kingdom experience peace again. That's our duty, daughter, as its rulers."
"I know, father. So let us give our everything."
Alexei gritted his teeth, and then slowly relaxed. "My everything." He whispered.
Estellise relaxed when her stepfather did, smiling a bit. Their god may be a bloodthirsty tyrant, but at least Alexei was a good man. He'd find a way… he always did. It's what she recalled her mother fondly saying, many a time—Alexei always found a way to bring happiness to the people. He'd be the perfect king. She felt safe and happy then, being with the man who might not have conceived her, but was more of a father to her than the man who did.
Alexei clutched his daughter close. The war had claimed her mother, her brother, and even his own newborn son. War was no worshipper though, and its sacrifices went nowhere.
"My everything,"
He raised his hand to the back of Estellise's neck, as if to pet her hair again, but in a quick motion he slammed the sacrificial needle through her neck and up the base of her head. Estellise tensed for only a second, and a moment later she was limp in his arms, claimed by death.
War was no worshipper, but Alexei was. He swore to give his everything to Phaeroh, if he would just end this war.
O great god, please bestow power upon me.
O great god, please protect me.
Let this prayer be offered, from dawn til dusk;
Let this sacrifice be offered,
The life of this dear child…
Swords sang as they tore through chainmail and flesh, giving rise to a chorus of agonized screams. So was the lullaby war offered, and only the dead were left to sleep. Flocks of arrows colored the sky as they soared through the air, piercing clouds before piercing hearts and necks; the ground was once a vibrant green, the water a lovely blue, but all was colored the deep pigment of blood.
Phaeroh flew invisible across the skies, witnessing the carnage with little more than neutrality. Men and women of Zaphias died by the scores, as men and women of Dahngrest died by the handfuls; this war would end within the next decade with Dahngrest the winner, the god knew this much.
With the fresh taste of maiden blood on his tongue, the god of war shot through the sky and over the battlefields. Across the ocean, where ships sank and the handmaidens of Undine claimed the drowning mortals, Phaeroh flew quickly. Gods had all the time in the war, but not humans, no. Poor, poor humans who would commit the gravest of sins in hopes it would result in the most powerful of wishes.
Of course, that is usually how it worked. Gods fed on the sins of man and in turn gave blessings, just so the fools would sin again.
Soon Phaeroh hovered above the spires that made up the city of Dahngrest, the enemy kingdom. Cloaked in magic and aer the god flew over to the nobility's district, and turned his head, listening for the sickening noises of copulation. Finding it soon enough the god descended into the house and into the body of the man.
Temporarily infused with the god the man continued his joining to his wife, and soon in the end it was not his own seed he sowed within her. Made fertile by the blood of the princess, Phaeroh implanted the first aspect of his plan to destroy this city from the inside.
The deed done, Phaeroh left the man's body and ascended back to heaven, his son's soul deposited in mortal coils. Once more upon the clouds above the world, Phaeroh dropped the illusion of magic and aer and bellowed to the world below, his voice like thunder.
"Twenty one years, shall ye mortals continue thy pathetic conflict! Twenty one years of blood, twenty one years of despair! And so shall it be, then, that the sovereignty of Zaphias reign supreme as the rabble of Dahngrest shall sink beneath the waves!"