Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ It's All Been Done ❯ Paris ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Warnings:
Since you've read the two previous chapters, I assume you know what you're in for and are prepared for it... and yet you're still reading this fic. You brave people, you.


Chapter 3: Paris

"Will I cry, will I smile
As you run down the isle? ...

It's all been done...
It's all been done before..."

This week just plain sucked. It's like the whole week was cursed or something. Because it was. I walked around the city's dusty streets that Sunday morning with my head hanging low. I had woken up and remembered: I had... I had failed. I tried, I lost, I died. The realization hit me: there was nothing I could do. I was really going to die. Over and over and over and... That guy was so much better at fighting than I was! It would take (one of) my whole life to get as good as him, and I only knew enough to train the day I would face him! A day's worth of sword fighting wouldn't help; it wouldn't even make a difference. I couldn't win. Check, and Mate. Maybe the gypsy girl would be kind once I admitted that she was right and lift this curse.

It's one thing to know when, where, how, and by whose hand you're going to die, it's another to know that you can't possibly stop it from happening.

I saw Hilda's mother. Strange clothing (always different, but never blending in with the surroundings), shimmering eyes, short dark hair: there was no denying her identity. I marched glumly over to her and grabbed her wrist. The woman turned to me with a shocked expression which lightened slightly when she saw me. I sighed and looked up at her, "Look, Madame, I don't want to, really I don't, but I know I'm going to end up robbing you of your bracelets somehow. I really, really don't want to - I'm honestly sorry that I did it the first time (BOY am I sorry... you don't even KNOW how sorry...) and even though you don't remember a first time, I did, and I'm sorry and I..." I sighed. "Just kill me." She continued to stare down at me with a puzzled expression. "Really, just kill me quickly, no pain or anything. Don't ask, just get it over with." I bowed my head, both to show her to just break my neck or something quick, and to hide the hot tears that were sliding rapidly down my reddened cheeks.

The woman, not comprehending a word of my speech, lifted my chin with her hand and looked into my tear-filled eyes. She made a motherly clucking sound and wiped away my tears with an end of her skirt. I shook my head out of her grasp. "I don't think you get it. Please...." I looked down to the ground once more "...don't make me ask again..." The woman said something strange in a soothing voice, her tongue playing with the "s" and the "r" sounds. She then smiled at me and handed me two twin gold bracelets from her wrist.

I looked up at her in horror. She had a genuine expression of kindness in her eyes and I could almost hear her saying, "Take these and buy food and clothing with them." The tears fled unchecked down my chin now as I quickly tried to hand them back to the woman. She insisted, pushing the bracelets onto my wrists. Her good dead would get me killed! Painfully! I pulled and tugged, crying with frustration at my golden shackles, but to no avail. The woman pushed me in one direction and began walking away in the other. I went chasing after her yelling, begging, and crying all at once. Once I caught up to her, I latched onto her skirt and spoke hurriedly, "You don't know what you're doing to me! These things will kill me! Please, just take them back! I don't want them! They'll kill me! Take them back, please! Take them back!"

At that moment, an oddly dressed blonde happened to see the two of us. Seeing some wretched looking kid grabbing his wife's skirt and wearing her bracelets must've looked like a bad situation to him. He wrenched me off of the woman's skirts by the back collar of my poor tattered shirt and lifted me into the air until my feet were literally off the ground. I was sobbing and trying to kick him, shouting and still trying to get the bracelets off my wrists. I was desperate, but can you blame me? I didn't want to die! ... Again!

I had never even noticed before, but those bracelets were always on my wrists, right up to the end. Even in England as the dagger was sliced from my hand by that knight, they clanked together with the musical chimes of Notre Dame's bells herself. Even my corpse would have those bracelets, rusting with the years, because they stubbornly refused to release my hand... Oh, Holy Mother, my corpse?! Oh, Maria... no...

The tall man's normally icy blue eyes looked down at me with some sort of compassion as he spoke in a rushed tongue to his wife. She replied quickly back to him, her tan forehead creased with worry. If I didn't know that she was a mother, I would've guessed. After a minute of their conversation, I fell limp in the man's grasp, frustrated and worn out both physically and mentally.

At the appointed time, Hilda ran over and started talking to them in that oddly familiar, yet foreign, language. I saw her concerned navy eyes flash at me, smile gone from her expression and replaced by a look of worry. Tears had long stopped falling from my eyes: I no longer had the strength even for that. With breaths that shook my ribcage and my face tingling as if on fire, my heavy eyelids began to close. "Deux? Answer me! Wake up, Deux!" But I couldn't respond to the muttered phrases. I felt myself dropping swiftly to the hard dirt ground as everything went black.


Dead! Wait... no. I wasn't dead... I couldn't be... death was so much more painful...


I felt a warm rag against my forehead as a blurry light faded into my eyes. As I opened my deep violet eyes wider, the pain in my forehead throbbed in protest. I groaned and shivered as the warm compress was taken from my head and replaced with a sopping cold one.

Hilda stooped over me in a tent just out past the boundaries of the city. Her face was expressionless as she pressed her flowered cloth to my head. Small droplets of cool water ran down my temples as she pressed too hard. "Deux... I'm sorry."

I groaned and tried to sit up. As Hilda tried to push me back, my body tensed and my eyes grew again with slight fear. Seeing this, the girl allowed me to get up and took a few steps back from me. There she sat down again, Her eyes met mine as I questioned, "Sorry for what? You're not the one that kills me..."

The girl frowned a bit before replying, "I'm sorry... about the spell. I didn't think it would affect you like this. I wasn't expecting... I mean, I should've, but I..." She lowered her head. After a minute, she looked up and her eyes once again met mine with clear sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

I sat up, rage and sadness burning in my chest as I shouted, "Hurt me? You didn't -hurt- me, you killed me!"

She shouted back, eyes wide in a mix of shock and sadness, "I did not! I would never!"

I lay back with a sigh. "It doesn't matter. You, the "warrior," Fate: it's all the same, just different names for my death."

The girl paused before speaking flatly, "My name is Hidelle."

I stared up at the top of the tent, sarcastic smirk on my lips, "Hello. My name is Deux Macils and I have a problem." My smile dropped with my voice as I continued, "I'm going to die today."

"Hidelle" wrung the cloth in her hand in a worried fashion. "My parents were worried about you. My mother said you wouldn't take the charity she offered. She said you looked like hell."

I smirked lightly, "Tell her 'thanks.'"

Still frowning, she continued, "They were worried that you were sick, so I told them that I could practice a spell or two to make you healthy again. They were hesitant, but agreed."

"Did you?"

One dark eyebrow rose at my question. "Did I what?"

"Practice on me?"

She shook her head. "I didn't think you'd appreciate it.... especially since you tell me I still need more practice."

We sat in a mutual silence for a minute. "Is it hard to get curses right?"

Tiredly, she rested her elbows on her knees. She sighed slightly, a small smile on her lips that looked more like it was meant to cheer me up then any real emotion of her own. Hilda answered, "you could say that, I guess," and rested her cheeks on her hands. Those glittering eyes never left me.

I sighed, "So, is it time for you to tell my fortune?" I paused before finishing. "That's the real reason you brought me here."

Confused expression, she sat up and said, "No. It's not. I brought you here to heal you." She waited for me to say something. When I merely looked at her, she continued, "Don't you see, Deux? You changed it."

I sat up in shock. Wait... I had changed something? Sure, the final result was the same, but I was here for a different reason. "I don't understand. I thought you said I couldn't change Fate!"

She nodded, "You didn't change you destiny yet, you merely manipulated planned events." Seeing me visibly dishearten, she added, "however... if you changed the right event..." The breath caught in my throat. No. I... I didn't still have a chance, did I? I didn't want to get my hopes up, but... but if I could some how -not- end up in the Tournament in the first place....

Hilda snapped her fingers an inch from my face causing me to come back from my thoughts. "Still, you need to know where. Give me your chain, Dev."

As I lifted the silver chain off my head and untangled it from my braid, I questioned, "Why do our names change through each life?"

The girl took it and admired the pendant for a minute answering, "The same person can't exist twice in history, Deux, even if they are in different times. If names didn't change through lives, the same person would exist perpetually... almost like an immortal." She looked up at me and smiled, "Why do you think people look like so much like their ancestors?" As I was mulling over this new bit of trivia I was never supposed to know, she performed the whole fortune-telling bit. I looked up just as she spoke, "Take a sip." and placed the cup to my lips. The girl wrapped my chain in the cloth, then put them both into the water. Once they were soaked, she took a sip as well.

She performed the whole ceremony without flaw. Once she was nearly finished, I asked, "Well?" Hilda dumped the water unceremoniously out into the ground next to her and handed the pendant and chain back to me.

"Are you sure you want to know, Deux?"

I looked at her with curiosity, "You know my answer, why do you keep asking?"

She shrugged. "The same reason you always get my mother's bracelets on your wrist, I suppose. So, are you really sure?" Not quite understanding the odd ways of Fate, I nodded silently. "You know, it doesn't get any easier to tell you."

I nodded again, "It doesn't get any easier to hear it."

She looked straight at me. "You're going to die tonight."

The words stopped my breath, even though I knew they were coming - mainly because I knew they were truth - the truth - the absolute, no otherwise. Quietly, I asked, "Where?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. Trying again, she spoke, "I know it sounds odd, but you're going to die in the Cathedral."

My eyes went wide. "The church? You're kidding!"

Her demeanor remained serious, her eyes looked slightly confused as well. "I'm not kidding. Fate has determined that you will die tonight, in the Cathedral, by a warrior's hand." She paused, her strong eyes lowering with regret. "I'm sorry, Deux. I can't explain everything."

My mind ran through the possibilities. "Why would I die in a church? How? Surely I wouldn't be killed by that knight in there..."

She interrupted my rambling, "Deux..."

Ignoring her, I continued "But he has to if that's how I die and I die in.... wait, the only cathedral near by is..."

The gypsy nodded.

"Notre Dame?! I can't die there!" I shouted. As usual, Hilda wasn't even moved by my screaming.

"You can't run from Fate, Deux."

"I don't plan on running..." I leaned forward. "I plan on winning."

"Wait. This -isn't- a game to win. Think about it: about last time, about dying." I shuddered and looked away. "You see what happens when you fight your destiny. You can't stop it, no matter how much you delay it." She paused for emphasis, "I don't want you making the same mistake repeatedly."

I looked up at her, challenging, "But... Fate can be changed. You saw! This life, I may still... die... on this day, but it won't be the same. Every life it's a little different." I continued, before she could argue, "Yes, it's all been done and will be done again, but what if I can do it differently? Just a little, tiny, minor change here or there? Eventually, I could win!"

Hilda shook her head, "There is no 'eventually.' I made you aware of your past lives, true, but you said it yourself - I'm still practicing."

My heart beat a little faster with dread. "What do you mean?"

"I still have limited skills and strength to my curses..." She looked at me straight on, eyes blazing, "This gift, spell, curse, whatever you call it, it won't last forever."

I stuttered, "W.. what? How long?" Odd: minutes before I was wishing I couldn't see my past lives at all, now I never wanted to stop seeing them.

"I don't know... five, six lives, tops." Touching the pendant around my neck, Hilda continued, "That's part of the consequences."

"Five?! But, I've been through two already!"

She nodded. "But you still have three or four left. That's three of four more than anyone normally gets." The flaps to the tent opened and revealed her father. Hilda nodded to him and the man grabbed my arm and began pulling me out. "Wait! Can't you give me anymore? I need more time!"

She shrugged, "I can try. Regardless, I'll see you next time, Deux."

"Try?!" I was dragged out of the tent by my arm and back into the harsh midday light. As Hilda's father pulled me away, I wondered where he could possibly be taking me. The man didn't think of me as a thief, did he? Surely his wife had explained that she had -given- me the bracelets... I didn't know where or to whom I was being dragged to, but I had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach that I'd be meeting the armored woman... and with good reason, too. I figured that the only way I could possibly know where he was guiding me would be to ask. So I did. "Where are we going?"

The man shot me a glance before continuing on his path. At first I figured that he didn't speak my language, but then, to my shock, he answered in a soft baritone, "Shelter. You can't stay with us." I blinked back my surprise. He spoke clearly and concisely, without even an accent! Come to think of it, he didn't look like the women... maybe he wasn't a gypsy at all? Before I could question it, he stopped short and I ran into him. The man didn't move as my force hit him, but stood his ground. Under his breath, I heard the word, "Une."

A woman in high leather boots and light armor approached. "Zeches." She nodded to him, eyes narrowed. "And where are you heading off to in such a rush, Gypsy?" The man glared but didn't answer. They stood silently for a minute, me just watching (since my arm was still caught in Zeches' fierce grip). After a short period of silence which seemed to stretch for hours, Une noticed me. She spoke to Zeches, still eyeing me, "And who is this? Picked up a new runaway?" She reached out for me, but I backed up instinctively. She raised a thin brown eyebrow, "He doesn't look like a gypsy. Is he yours?"

As crystal blue met and challenged the depths of hazel, Zeches spoke, "He's not. If you'll excuse us, Madame." He then pushed past her, me still in tow.

The woman reached out like a snake and grabbed my other arm. "If he's not yours, Monsieur Zeches," she paused in mocking emphasis, "then I'll take care of him." Une attempted to pull me with her, but I was pulled back by Zeches.

"He's not your concern." He spoke, wrenching me back towards him.

I felt like a freaking tug-of-war rope! They continued pulling me back and forth, me helpless and looking completely lost, when Une pulled out the trump card: or rather, she pulled out her sword. "He's a thief and must see the Queen." Zeches remained stone-faced as he reluctantly let go of my arm under the threat of the blade. The woman smirked slightly and began pushing me off, with her sword to my back. As she walked, she tossed a glance over her shoulder and hissed, "I'll be back for you later, Gypsy." And I was pushed towards the palace.

Today was definitely a different day. Yes, I still ended up with Une dragging me to see the King, but the whole conversation with "Zeches" was completely new! It was strange to comprehend: it was the same day, but completely different; I had altered Fate, but not changed it. Even so, I had gathered even more information, the main piece being: I could alter Fate!

I was directed into one section of a large stone building where I was pushed to the floor for the first time that day. The same audience was there to watch me fall on my face. I began picking out a few familiar faces... the entertainers were the same, expressions and all (with only slight differences in their apparel), behind the Queen was one of the two blonde girls in a large, fancy gown, also behind the Queen was the tall man with reddish hair, and in the very center of the room, sitting in twin thrones were the royalty: but that's where it was odd: there was no king. Only the recently crowned Queen and her older mother sat there.

It was odd having two queens, but the Queen Mother had insisted that her daughter rule. Nobody understood why. As for me, I wondered what had happened to the young king from my other lives...

The woman in light armor spoke a minute later, "I'm sorry to interrupt your entertainment, Queen Paixbateau, but this boy is a known thief and needs to be dealt with." I waited to hear her out, knowing for a fact that she had no idea if I was a thief or not. "This boy has been plaguing Paris for years with his existence, but while in search of the gypsy runaways I finally caught him. I await your permission to deal with him personally."

"I'm not a 'known thief.' " I muttered, just barely audible. I don't know if anyone heard my little half-truth, but I wasn't kicked, so I assume not.

The young queen gasped in shock, "You mean you want to behead him?! I think that's much too extreme, don't you? He's just a thief, Madame! Besides, he's only a child."

I heard her mutter, "Children on the throne should not call others children."

Prepared for this, I started laughing uproariously. All the eyes in the room turned from their queen to the hysterical thief on the floor (namely, me). I clutched my sides and wiped false tears from my eyes, laughing and mumbling, "Oh, oh, That's... that was good, Ma, Madame Une... "And continued laughing.

After a minute of my hysteria, the younger queen spoke, "I don't understand. What are you laughing about, boy?"

Still giggling under my breath, I sat up to my knees and smiled at Her Highness. "Oh, nothing really, I just heard the funniest joke from this soldier right here." My head jerked up to gesture at Une. She looked down on me with a cross of horror and hate, and I was loving every second of it.

The blonde women behind the throne raised a double eyebrow and asked, "Oh really? Do tell, I love a good jest." The younger queen nodded in silent agreement.

I smirked. This was working too well. Damn, Deux, you're a good actor. I would've patted myself on the back, but I thought that would've given me away, "Oh, I don't know if I should... Telling jokes in front of Her Majesty? If Mademoiselle Une here hadn't told it, I would've thought it was treasonous!"

I caught Une visibly stiffen, as did the red haired man behind the queen. The blonde behind the throne turned to her queen, an almost devious smile on her lips, "Will you let him tell it, Madamoiselle Relena?"

Relena eyed Une in all seriousness, head cocked in curiosity. "Yes, I would -love- to here what Madame Une jokes about."

Une's eyes went a bit wider as she found her voice, "Your Majesty, I don't think..."

I interrupted, "No! Don't be modest! It was -great-! Here, let me try and tell it like you did." I cleared my throat and stood up. Once standing, I cleared my throat again and put on a mad expression, lips tight, eyes blazing, eyebrows knit. I pulled as much of my braid as I could to the top of my head and feebly attempted to put it in a bun. As a final insult, I crossed my arms and leaned back slightly, looking just away from Queen Relena. A few chuckles resounded at my Une impression, but they quickly silenced as I spoke the next words a-la-Une, "Children on the throne should not call -others- -children.-"

The room was silent and all eyes dropped from me to Lady Une. She gasped, trying to find words, "Y--, Your Highness, I, I said no such thing! I don't know where this little brat heard something so, so..." Her sentence died off, "....absolutely..." as her eyes locked with the cool blue eyes of the Queen. "...appalling."

The young Monarch spoke, "Guards, arrest Madame Une for high treason." At the orders, two guards came and grabbed the woman.

They hauled her off in the direction of the dungeons below and I smiled, "I'll see you next time, Mademoiselle Une!" I spoke, waving at her cheerfully.

"Queen Relena..." The man with the reddish hair spoke in such a soothing manor that he instantly gained the girl's attention. "The thief could be lying. It is not wise to allow him to roam about free until we know what is truth and what is not. After all, Madame Une did say he was with the gypsies."

The queen looked at me for a moment, "I don't know. I do not think he was lying, Monsieur Treize. He does not look the type..."

The man stepped closer to his queen and continued in an even softer voice, "Perhaps, but are you willing to risk that chance?"

Great. I was going to end up in the prisons anyway. I sighed and lowered my head, waiting for the guards to grab me as well. I was shocked when they didn't. Queen Relena spoke to me instead, "You're free to go. Thank you for your service, what's your name?"

I raised my head and smiled brightly. It was too good to be true! I wasn't really getting released... was I? "Deux Macils, Majesty."

"You're free to go, Deux. Sorry for the inconvenience." She smiled sideways, almost smirking, at Treize and nodded silently. Next thing I knew, I was escorted out of the palace. I couldn't believe it! I wasn't in the dungeon waiting to die! I was outside! I drank in the fresh air greedily and laughed at the thought. I had won! Really won! I ran in my happiness to nowhere in particular, simply around in circles, out of pure relief. I sighed contentedly and sat down where I stood. I was alive. And it never felt so good. The future wasn't written in stone; I had changed it, I knew I had.

I had to of.

I sat, fully content for a few minutes, just watching the goings on about me. Nothing was really unusual save for a small redheaded child who looked lost. I called out to the little girl, asking what her name was. She said, "You can call me Maria," but then quickly vanished before I could speak further with her. A few minutes later, I noticed something else even more odd: a hooded figure was speaking with a man in armor. I was curious when I saw this, so I stood and peered over at the unusual group. The tall hooded figure appeared to be talking to the man in armor. All of a sudden, they turned and the hooded figure pointed at me.

I felt my heart stop. The armored figure nodded and began walking toward me. Oh, Maria, no! No! It wasn't possible! I had won! I had won! This wasn't supposed to be happening! Yet the hooded figure watched as the man in armor grew closer to me. I backed up until my back was pressed against the slimy stone wall of the palace. And I saw them: two shimmering swords, one on the warrior's back, one at his hip, as he stalked ever closer to me. A cry of agony escaped from the back of my throat. I was against a stone wall with death walking toward me. I did the only thing I could do:

I ran.

Dodging around hundreds of buildings, pushing my way through crowds of people, I ran faster and harder, my eyes blurred with tears, my heart pounding in every drop of blood in my body. I ran on, but the armored man followed. This wasn't supposed to happen! I wasn't supposed to die this time! I won! But the thoughts did not stop my running, nor did they halt the warrior gaining on my heels. As I ran, a dim idea drove me to the destination: an idea in the very back of my mind, below my fear and rational thought alike. This one idea pumped my legs and led my senses: guess where?

The Coliseum? Nope.

The Tournament? No.

The Cathedral? To Notre Dame Herself.

I ran up the numerous thick stone steps and pushed and heaved the wooden doors until they creaked open just enough for me to slip through. I fell to my back as I slipped through the door and turning, I kicked the door shut with a resounding boom. I then crawled backwards, dampened eyes still on the door, until my back hit a pew. There I stood up, shaking and clutching the wooden row for support. With every breath of my heaving lungs I whispered reassurances to myself, "Cathedral. Sanctuary. Notre Dame. Maria. Protection. Sanctuary. Can't here. Church. Holy. Sanctuary."

I stood muttering in the quiet for some time when a thin hand fell on my shoulder. I gasped and shouted causing a similar hand to fall across my mouth as I turned in shock. In front of me stood a boy about my age in a long white robe. He had dark hair and dark eyes, but his hands were emitting comforting pressure on me. He whispered, "Do not shout." Once I nodded, he released me and spoke, "No need to worry. You're safe under Notre Dame's embrace." I nodded slightly once more, but my heart still pounded in my chest. I may have -felt- safe there, but who really knew? After all, I was safe not ten minutes ago, too.

In my fear, the curse was all but forgotten. All that occupied my mind was the blue-eyed warrior who could come through those doors any minute. I whirled around and stared at the doors. Nothing but the glossy burnt wood met my accusing glare. I barely even noticed as the boy behind me grabbed a lantern off the floor and began walking away. He whispered as he went, "No matter what you've done, He will forgive you if you allow Him to."

I was left in a deadly darkness which was broken only by the light of a few near by candles. My heart and head were throbbing in an equal rhythm. Calming myself slightly, I looked around and noticed just how huge this place was. It was dark, but twin gigantic rose-like stained glass windows allowed the setting sun's light to filter out a bit of darkness. Hundreds of statues lined the walls and the light cast eerie shadows across their motionless faces. The effect was surreal, celestial, and mind bending. I felt so small in comparison to the holy building encompassing me. Hundreds of thousands of eyes were all watching me from their stone faces; I couldn't read their expressions or their thoughts, I could only imagine: were they accusing me, pitying me, comforting me, or just watching? I felt as if I could - and should - confess to the stone everything. As I opened my mouth to speak with the omnipotent yet lifeless stone, I was interrupted as a new figure walked in from the depths of the church.

Another young boy in overly-large white robes came out of a center isle of the cathedral, completely alone. The light from his lantern and thin wisps of smoke from the incense he was holding swirled up and passed in front of his shimmering aqua eyes. His expression was kind, yet set firm, and his hair fell across his ears surrounding his head like a golden halo. I'd never seen an angel before, but if I ever did, I'd bet he would look just like this boy. The boy did nothing but stand there watching me, waiting for something. I merely returned his look, but at a thick rumbling sound, he looked up toward the doorway behind me. As his chin rose, I recognized for sure who this was: it was the young king from my past lives! So why was he here? And who was the girl on the throne? Why -was- she on the throne? My questions ceased as I realized why the blonde was here... He was always there right before... He was the one to announce the entrance of...

I didn't want to die.

I couldn't force myself to turn as I knew the doors behind me were opened and then closed again. My heart stopped and I gazed up at the angel, silently begging for help. His eyes were still on the doors behind me. My own eyes shimmering with tears about to be shed, I turned slowly and met with a thin figure emerging from the darkness. The eyes of the statues, of the boy, and of another witness watched us in silence as the man walked towards me. The light from the stained glass windows played on his shimmering silver breastplate throwing rainbows of color on the ground before him lighting his way as he walked. Each step he took was followed shortly by a clank or chime of his metal armor; the sound like that of bells suited the holy environment perfectly.

I didn't want to die.

There was no way I could fight. It didn't matter that I didn't have armor, a weapon, or a chance; I wouldn't fight because I couldn't. Not here. Not under the eyes of the Father, the Son and Maria. I only hoped the warrior would see this as well. Of course I thought that he might actually spare me! Where better to ask for a miracle than in the Cathedral? I stood watching as without expression as I could be, however, I could not halt two steady streams of tears flowing down each side of my face. When the armored man finally reached me, he asked softly, "Your name?"

I swallowed the tears in my voice and replied in an equally soft whisper, "Deux Macils."

Apparently, this was the answer the warrior wanted. He spoke again, "Come with me." And began walking out the way he had come. I held my ground. He turned and stared at me through the mask of his helmet. I waited, glued to the spot. "Come." He repeated, but like a disobedient dog, I remained. He growled slightly. "Fine. Your way." The warrior then threw off his armored helmet causing a loud clang to echo through the room, breaking the thick and all-encompassing silence. He unsheathed both his swords in a fluid motion and attempted to hand one to me.

His solid sapphire eyes, similar to the sunlit sky itself, were only intensified in the candle light and he stared at me, telling me with a deadly glare to take the weapon. I shook my head and exhaled deeply. "I can't."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why not."

My eyes motioned around the room, passing a blue-eyed shadow, resting on the silent witness with an angelic air, passing more shadows and then returning to the warrior. "Sanctity of the church, of course."

He looked around at his surrounding as if he had just noticed him. He then sheathed the sword intended for me, but still held his own. "You leave and I'll kill you after we fight. Stay and I kill you here without one."

I swallowed deeply, but I was resolved. I looked at him with disbelief, "You'd kill me in a church?" He nodded. I frowned deeply. "Then God have mercy on you."

Our conversation was interrupted by a new sound, "You will not fight inside this holy place." The angel spoke. His voice was gentle, but demanding: perfect for his role. "You cannot. I will not allow it."

"I won't fight him," the warrior paused, sheathing the sword intended for me, and leered at me. "I'll kill him."

I grimaced. Inhaling sharply, I dropped to my knees in defeat. Smiling thinly, I muttered, "At least this place is cleaner than the Tournament."

Ignoring my odd comment, the soldier stood over me and raised his sword. With a last bit of desperation I looked up, my eyes meeting his as I asked in a voice barely audible, "Just... do it fast." I pleaded softly, voice barely able to escape my lips. I choked out the words, knowing that saying them would be accepting my death. I didn't want to accept it, but I couldn't go through it a third time... "without pain." Shaking with the knowledge and fearful anticipation, I sat there waiting to die. I stared straight up into the masterfully carved ceiling of the cathedral and saw the grim warrior nod as he once again rose his glistening sword for a final time. I whispered, "thanks for that..." but no sound escaped my lips.

Above me, I saw the apology in the armored boy's blue eyes as his sword pierced into my chest with the grating sound of metal against bone; although the sound was by no means loud, it echoed in the large church, increasing in volume as it bounced through impossibly detailed stone arches, and raked through my ears as it met them. And for a second, I could hear the statues shrieking and crying at the defamation of their holy ground. I could see out of the corner of my eye a heavenly glow as the angel flew with shimmering white wings down the scarlet isle and toward my fallen body. As my vision blacked out further, I could just barely see my vibrant violet blood floating out from my veins and swimming across the stone floors, seeping into the cracks and coating the armored feet next to where I lay. A child's soft footsteps, pat, pat, pat, walked steadily away from me and dissolved into nothingness as a loud humming took the place of my hearing. As the sharp hum died out, and as the warrior above me blended into the soft darkness, I smiled softly through my tears. He didn't lie. I don't understand how, but for once there was no pain. I heard the same mumbled words whispered in my ear softly as everything went white.

"Regardless, I'll see you next time, Deux."