I Caught Fire Excerpt

I Caught Fire excerpt

Part of an Awakening fic I started writing years ago.

“Don't Leave Me” pt.1

In the end, she knew that war, on the whole, really did just boil down to a numbers game. As long as Chrom was still alive at the end of a fight, that battle counted as won. But not to her. Never to her. They had been lucky thus far- the Shepherds, at any rate. The Ylissean League as a whole suffered many losses, good soldiers, men and women who's family and friends would never be able to fill the hole in their lives once word got back to them that their loved ones were counted amongst the dead.

She took every one of those losses personally.

Even though she didn't know most of them. Even though she had no obligation to feel anything towards them. “War is Hell”, her friends told her, trying to lift the dark cloud that hovered over her after every battle in vain. She knew war was Hell, that was why they fought- to finally put an end to the reign of hell on earth. Sacrifices had to be made, but who was she to decide which lambs to send to the slaughter? One life was nothing when weighed against millions in the grand scheme of things. She had told herself that from the beginning. But that didn't mean that one life was worth more than another.

At least, that would've been her response had anyone asked. Aloud. In her mind, and in her heart however, she knew that was not the case. Aversa's final words to Chrom from their final battle rang loud and mocking in her ears. “A sweet sentiment, and easily spoken when you bear no love for the one...” It pained her to admit the old hag was right. And under normal circumstances, she'd have vehemently denied it to her dying day. But everything was different now. Everything was new and wonderful and terrifying and--

“Blazing hells, woman, are you still slaving over that silly game board of yours?” The voice came so suddenly, so unexpectedly close, that Bryn started, her hand twitching involuntarily, sending three of her little carved figures flying off the table. She looked over her left shoulder, even though the voice rang in her right ear, lips pulled into a frown and her brow furrowed.

“What have I told you about sneaking up on me, Gangrel?” He met her displeasure with an exasperated frown of his own. “How is it sneaking up on you if I've been here the whole time? Don't tell me you've forgotten about me?” Her eye widened slightly, and she quickly looked away, a faint pink tinge on her cheeks. She could hear the man behind her clucking his tongue disapprovingly. “Really now, I'm hurt. It's one thing that you forget to eat and sleep and bathe when you get caught up in your silly little tactics, but to forget your fiancée? Wholly unacceptable!”

There it was. Fiancée. Betrothed. Such a simple little word, but one that had turned her entire world (and world views with it) on it's head. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her fluttering heart, Bryn slid off the stool she had been sitting on for the past hour or so, kneeling on the hard ground in search of her errant game pieces.

“My 'silly little tactics', might I remind you, are the only thing standing between you and a grisly death.” The younger woman tried to make it sound like a flippant, offhand remark, but even she could hear the way fear hardened her voice. She wasn't entirely sure what scared her more- the thought of his death, or what the thought of his death inspired in her. It wasn't the fear of it happening- that was normal, completely understandable. No, it was the cold, selfish disregard for everyone else's life that was unacceptable. As the tactician, she had to keep everyone safe, make the most pragmatic decisions. But really, what did even a million lives matter when weighed against the one she loved most?

Unacceptable.

She started again as a larger hand covered her. Bryn looked up, her single brown eye meeting a pair of dark red. “Was that meant to be a shot against me, my lady?” Gangrel asked sardonically. “Because I can assure you my amazing fighting prowess was keeping my hide intact long before I ever met you.”

On the one had, she knew he was right. He was strong, cunning and versatile- everything she looked for in a solider she planned on putting on the front lines. He'd fought on the front lines himself, as a Plegian solider, as it's king, and as one of the dread pirates. The truth in his words made them an even harder pill to swallow. A pill she would much rather spit out.

“Spoken like a true dead man.” she intoned coldly. As her fiancée (ugh, there it was again- her Achilles heel) gaped at her most flatteringly, she removed her hand from his, resuming her search for the errant game pieces. They had flown farther than she'd noticed, landing close to her cot. She picked up the small pieces of wood, turning them over in her hands for a moment. She'd painstakingly carved each one of them herself in the likeness of her friends. It helped in many ways. It helped her feel closer to them. It helped her remember the gravity of her duty. She literally held their lives in her hands. One of the figures, she noted with belated surprise, was a roguish trickster, a small crown perched on his brow. The full scale model was still kneeling behind her. She could feel his stare drilling holes in her back. Rather than give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his death glare, Bryn closed her eye, curling her fingers around the small figure in her palm. It was almost as if her subconscious had know what she was doing when she jumped that first time. After all, this was where she wanted him- safely off the game board. As far from the battlefield as possible and out of harm's way. His voice, that ever mocking tone, snapped her from her thoughts.

“So this is what our relationship has devolved into? You hurling insults at me, then giving me the silent treatment? I thought couples didn't start hating each other until after the wedding...” Ugh, damn that man. He always knew how to strike chords with her. She pushed herself to her feet and walked back over to where Gangrel still kneeled by the table. Setting the game pieces back on the board, she leaned down and took both his hands in hers, pulling him to his feet as well. It was a mark of how much he loved her that he indulged her with these small moments of weakness. Anyone else, and he'd have slapped their hand away, probably with an expletive for good measure.

“You know I don't hate you, Gangrel. I love you with all that I am and more.” It'd have been foolish to constantly reassure someone else of her love for them, but Bryn always had to remind herself not to take simple things like this for granted with the once Mad King. She often felt that if she forgot to tell him even for one day, that he might simply assume she no longer cared for him. “That's why I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

“I'm not a child, Bryn. I'm not some milksop who doesn't know which end of a sword to hold. Hells, I've been fighting for my life since most of these Ylissean fools were still in diapers. I can hold my own.” Again, she knew he was right. But even the most battle hardened warriors could meet their ends unexpectedly. Pride always goeth before the fall, and if there was one thing Gangrel had in excess, it was pride. There were so many stupid ways one could die when they over estimated their abilities, ways she had seen firsthand. Ways she could not bear to see again.

“I know that perfectly well.” She relented, struggling to keep her voice level. “And were you simply another solider, I would not think twice about trusting you to your own abilities. But you're not. You are, as you yourself keep reminding me, my fiancée, and hopefully husband once this damnable war is won. If anything ever happened to you, all the light would go out in my life.” She could not stop her voice from catching in her throat then. She had glimpsed that cold, lonely darkness once, before she had ever felt the warm light that came with love. To be deprived of that light now? There was no doubt in her mind that she would simply die of grief.

“Bryn? You're not crying, are you?” The tactician could feel the sting of tears in her eye, and bowed her head so as to spare him the guilt of seeing her so. Of course, Gangrel seemed to have a strange addiction when it came to guilt, so naturally he gripped her chin firmly and forced her to look up at him. At once, his face fell. “Oh, gods, you are! Why am I the only person who ever makes you cry?”

Bryn sniffled slightly, raising a hand to wipe away the moisture that threatened to course down her cheek. “Because you're the only person I love, you fool. You're the only person who means everything to me.” “So all your wretched tears are reserved for me and me alone? I'm flattered.” He intoned dryly. She couldn't help but chuckle slightly. That ever-present scathing wit of his was one of the reasons she loved him so much. Gods, why couldn't he just understand how much she didn't want to lose him? She looked back up at him, committing every detail of him to memory, just as she always did.

“I know I can't control everything, no matter how much I plan. I'm not a god, regardless of what the Grimleal think. There's always a margin of error when humans are involved. No matter how much I love and care, bad things can happen. That's why I need you to care too.” She reached up to where his fingers still brushed her face, gripping his hand in both of hers. For the first time since she learned of it's meaning, she cursed that stupid mark of Grima for not giving her more power. Power to protect him from everything life could throw his way. “Gangrel, promise me you won't leave me... Promise me you'll stay safe.”

For the briefest moment, she thought he might laugh at her and refuse. In her mind, she played back that day when she truly met him, not six months past. It was only at her insistence that Chrom extended an offer of peace to former king rather than run him through. Bryn had stood right there, not five feet from the men, listening to their exchange, praying the Plegian man would cease his assault and join them. All this despite his insistence that he had never sworn an oath in his life, much less kept one. Technically, he had sworn no oaths since that day, save to love her and make her happy. Didn't he realize that his staying alive was part of that bargain?

However, barely a second must've passed before Gangrel answered her, albeit with a loud, exasperated sigh and accompanied with much eye rolling. “Fine!” He groaned, as if he were answering under much duress. “I don't care if I live or die.”

She knew that. His suicidal past weighed as heavily on her as his murderous one weighed on him. Every time she remembered how very little his life meant to him, it added another layer of fear to the already nuanced love she felt for him. Bryn opened her mouth, ready to argue him down about how she never wanted to hear that again, regardless of how true it may have been, but she was quickly cut off as the man before her (her fiancée, she remembered belatedly) leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. It was almost too quick to be considered a kiss, but it still sent shivers down her spine and caused her heart to flutter almost painfully. As he pulled back, he smirked at her in a way that would've been mocking had she not seen the love and warmth in his eyes.

“So I may as well live and care for you.” He finished, his voice barely above a whisper. Bryn remained silent. It still scared her to know how little he valued his own life, but at least he valued something. It was a start. That she was his reason for living made her all the more determined to keep him safe at all costs. “Is that good enough for you?” She simply wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest. If she listened hard enough, she could just barely make out the faint rhythm of his heartbeat.

“It's a start...”

I Caught Fire Excerpt

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