Fate and Resolution



By Airship Canon

Warning: Reader Discretion Is Advised

The Following contains themes of Brother-Sister Incest, Hurt-Comfort-Fic, Waff, and might be heartwarming. If you don't know what those are, go to TvTropes, it will ruin your life far quicker than I. Don't like themes, don't read. The following Disclaimer is Dis, I claim, because Fanfic Disclaimers are as pointless as Treehouse and their memes, or a Heroes Voting Gauntlet. And a special thank you to starting a shipping war, people who see things that aren't there and don't see what is, you broke my Writers Block. Anyway, Here's Johnn-err, Seliph.

The clang of steel on steel echoed from the trees as the patter of rain continued to fill the air with sound. The day itself was already dreary, and the ground wet and muddy, certainly ill-suited for combat; on a normal day the area was treacherous, fit with pitfalls and loose ground, a poor footing that wouldn't serve one well in a fight. But today was wet, rainy and even more risky. Of course, it would be this day that the enemy crossed paths with the small force passing through the mountains.

A grunt escaped his mouth as he pushed back his attacker's blade, steel grinding against steel, muscles straining to overcome the other. Now would be a time go for a kick, he thought, but both fighters in the mud needed their legs to keep balance: it was simply too much a risk for him to do so, sure a kick would give him the upper-hand he needs, or at least pause from the grueling clash, but it carried a risk of sending him tumbling, and exposing him to a swift death. It wasn't a risk he could take at the moment, but he needed to do something. Sweat and rain soaked his body, with a few knicks, bruises and a lot of mud and dirt making him all that more unpleasant. His foe was cladden in heavier armor, but was still light and nimble enough to force this confrontation into a mortal clash of blades.

The clash of thunder and a sudden gust of wind were not things he needed either- and they came at just the wrong time. "Sh-", a stridulous sound left his lips as he heard and felt the blades slip. The sharp, unpleasant screech of sharpened swords sliding on each-other's edge made all the worse by it going in the exact direction he didn't want it to. The force of it rotated his own sword, which was lubricated by the rain, and it caught the wrong angle- missing the hand-guard by a hair's width, and slicing into his hand. It wasn't a critical wound, it had neither correct blade position nor force to penetrate deep into his fingers and knuckles, and certainly not to cut bone, but it went far enough to gouge him and immediately blood flowed freely and pain shot through his body, illicting a scream. He had trained long and hard, and knew it wasn't in him to do such, but the reflexes kicked in, and he sounded before any controlling thought could pass through his head. Luckily, another instinct from his training also caught him, and he moved himself out of the way of his foe, preventing any follow up attacks that could kill him.

At least, so he thought, as his left foot slid, and rocks rolled in the mud, letting the forces at work play their part, bringing him down hard, slamming his posterior into the rocky and muddy ground, jabbing at his back with more rocky debris. All of this was made worse by him having let go of his blade during the clash. His heart raced as he quickly assessed the situation, with the wind knocked out of him, needless to say, it was bad. His eyes locked on his foe, as he tried to roll to his feet, his pained body struggling to comply but he still managed to grab hold of his weapon again, just in time to parry a swing from his foe. However, the quick action still had him out of position and vulnerable, and another blow, narrowly blocked sent him into the dirt and mud once more. Winning the fight wasn't out of reach, but at the least, today was going to be painful.

A guttural groan left his throat as he rolled back to his feet, but before he could get back into his fighting stance, he slipped in the mud, and then he knew he was had. Everything that he had dreamed of, everything that he had accomplished, everything that he had hoped for, gone. He didn't fall in some glorious battle, no his end was at the hands of some no-name mercenary or bandit in treacherous terrain. He wasn't his father, nor could he even hope to be, not that it mattered.

"Venite ad me lumen! Nosferatu!" It sounded like a whisper to his ears, but in truth, it was probably a yell, and might have been the one sound he needed to hear at that moment. Don't look, he knew that- although temporarily burned eyes would be the least of his concerns, he still closed his eyelids, but flash was bright enough to fill his closed eyes blood red while he heard his foe scream in agony. A second flash soon followed and then it was over, hearing the man determined to end his life collapse- his own life drained by magic. Opening his eyes, which even when shut, the light magic had seared a green aura into his vision, he was greeted with a hazy view, and the sound of twigs snapping as someone approaching from behind.

But, he was far from out of the woods, as he felt something was wrong; his footing loosening as water and mud flowed past. Flowed, he realized, and soon realized how much pain was headed his way. Done in, he thought, not even in a fight. No, something was determined to end his life today, and it was nature's turn. An unwanted thought as the ground gave way, and he went down the cliff side.

He tossed away his sword, hoping that it wouldn't come down the cliffside with him and kill him on the way down, although it was likely that the fall was a lethal distance anyway. He tumbled and rolled, uncontrollably as the small landslide carried him away, the rocks and shrubs doing him no favors along the way.

"SELIPH!" the voice cried from above in vain, but it wouldn't reach him, not yet. He felt a surge of pain as he collided with something, his world going black. In truth, the tree had been what spared his life from the otherwise fatal tumble down into the canyon below, but he wouldn't know since it knocked him out cold.

When he came to, the rain had become a drizzle, and he was looking up into the saddened face of his companion, Julia, his head resting in her lap, and her arms on his bare shoulders. Night had fallen, and a fire flickered nearby. They were on the edge of a river, he knew that much, but beyond a general idea of where they were on the continent, he had no clue.

The majority of his clothes were tattered but hung neatly in a nearby tree, and his body was scarred and bruised. Bandages wrapped his chest and legs as well as his right hand, and while his wounds had clearly been mended, he still ached throughout. Adding to his misery, his stomach growled and his throat was parched. But at the least, he was alive, and so was Julia, so he figured the plan hadn't failed yet.

A clearly relieved smile crept up on her face as he awoke. "Feeling better...?" She asked, as a tear, or at least, he thought it was a tear, it might have been rain, he couldn't really tell: she was soaked just as much as he was. And her normal white dress was stained, clear marks of dirt, but there was a lot of red, blood; he knew that immediately, and his first thought was that she had gotten hurt, but upon a continued progression of thought, he realized, no it wasn't her blood on her dress. Nay, it was his. A sobering thought, but at least he figured, she was alright and uninjured.

He couldn't really answer, though. He didn't want to say no and worry her, but feeling better wasn't what he wanted to say or describe himself as. Her fingers moved from his shoulders and ran along his forehead. It was cool and soothing, although there was a sudden tip of pain that made him wince- he must have gotten a head injury, not that he could really tell- even though her staff usage had healed the wounds, the pain didn't subside and frankly everything hurt. "Julia... thank you." He said, feeling something well up from within. She saved his life, and had done so twice now. If he didn't already owe her much, he certainly did now.

That thought made him feel useless and he began to sob- whether it was from the sheer pain or his miserable failure today, he couldn't tell, nor did it really matter. His eyes watered and he knew he looked downright pathetic, crying into her lap. She moved her hand away momentarily, but placed it again on his head, moving to try to embrace him as best she could from the way they were laid about. "It's okay, sir." She said softly, "You're alright now..." she wanted to reassure him that he'd survive at the least.

"It's not right, Julia." He replied, choking on his words and lifting himself up with a pained groan. "I'm supposed to be the one that protects you, not the other way around. That's what Sir Lewyn asked me of."

"Bu-" She said and immediately was interrupted as Seliph continued to speak, however weakly.

"I'm not anything like my Father. I'll never amount to what he did." He sobbed. "What happened out there- I'm not great, Julia."

"No, Sir, you just-"

"I failed Julia. I failed you, I failed the army, I failed my Father, and I failed my..." Seliph said, looking away his eyes looking down on towards the muddy ground. A pause held on his breath as the fire crackled and a couple crickets chirped. "I failed myself. I should've-"

"Sir Lewyn once said to me that no one can fight on their own." Julia started, as she pulled him back towards her, despite his weak rejection. "I know you protect me. I have to protect you too, sir."

"I-I know." Seliph continued to look away, but let her pull him into an embrace. It was comforting, she was warm for the most part, but her cool fingertips were soothing. "But I have a legacy to live up to. My father, he..." He took in a deep breath and looked up and really took stock of the situation he was in. Alive, was the first thing on his mind, but also nothing was permanently damaged- he knew he probably had a few broken bones and torn muscles just by the way he felt, but Julia's quick action with her staff had spared him from crucial damage. However, it set in that he was nearly naked, no doubt thanks to the treatment she administered, but it was still embarrassing, but that wasn't too much a thought as he really though it through. Bringing up his own arms and hands to match her embrace he rested his pained head and neck on her shoulder. "He was great. Far more than I... and now I have to carry that on. I have to be the one who protects you and all the others."

She shook her head and reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes, "It's alright sir."

"Julia... I..." he sobbed, "don't leave me."

"I'm not." She said, "...and I, I'd ask you the same. Don't leave my side. Don't let me leave yours." She asked, looking up at him. Sure, his face was bruised and battered, bloody and sore but none of those imperfections mattered, as she leaned in to allow their lips to caress for one fleeting moment.

"I won't... I love you, Julia." Seliph said with confidence, pulling her back in for another kiss as the rain began to fall around them once more. Letting that be their cue, they both sat down in a rain-break, with him gently falling back into her lap.

Proper Reviews are good, and welcome, pointless comments about "OMG Incest" or "OMG Disgusting" lead Surtr to smashing Feh with his axe.