Kyou Kara Maou: Gwendal & Yozak - Insanity, Part 4
Sorry to be a little late. Part 5 will follow soon, I promise.
Title: Insanity, Part 4: Berserk
Author: Shayheyred
Rating: PG
Words: about 1000
Theme: Five moments of insanity.
Summary: A battle. An arrow. Gwendal goes mad.
A/N: From slapstick last time to angsty drama this round. Insanity is a wonderful thing.
Part 1: Folly
Part 2: Absurdity
Part 3: Lunatics
It comes from nowhere, a silver streak out of the darkness of the forest. Slashing through the air an inch from Gwendal's cheek, the arrow forces him back, sword sliding from his scabbard, heart thumping wildly, mind screaming the thought, at last.
One arrow becomes two, and then a dozen, and then hundreds, flying into the glade with a sound like a monstrous flock of birds. But birds do not attack with such deadly intent, at least no birds Gwendal knows, and birds' beaks cannot pierce armor as sharpened metal can. The whirring blends with shouts and cries as men are struck down.
With a rallying shout Gwendal clambers onto a boulder and takes the fight to the enemy, his sword slicing through one archer after another. He knocks them down before they can loose another shaft, moving through their lines with determination to reach the swordsmen beyond. He is filled with excitement, but not euphoria, for Gwendal has been a soldier many years and knows battle is neither glorious nor great. Still, battles must be fought, and every battle must be won.
The sound of arrows gives way to the clang of steel, the grunts and groans of fighters and the cries of the injured. Gwendal's troops are strong and skilled, and they, too have made their way through the archers to engage hand-to-hand and sword to sword with the enemy. Success is close; Gwendal feels it, but dares not relax until the enemy submits.
One archer remains before him, not a dozen steps away, a man clad all in black with a scar across his cheek, a face that has seen many battlefields. The man catches sight of Gwendal and his eyes glitter with hatred. He raises his bow, readies an arrow. Gwendal tries to push past two enemy swordsmen so he may strike the archer before he can let fly the arrow, but the soldiers hold his arms fast, forcing him back against a tree. There is nowhere to go but forward, but they’ve left him no opening. Gwendal struggles, but they hold him securely, his body open to the archer, a perfect target.
"Die, Mazoku!" The archer's guttural voice is triumphant. Dark laughter erupts from him as he shoots.
Gwendal braces for the blow but none comes. Instead, there is a blur before his eyes, and then an abrupt intake of breath and a loud thump as something heavy hits the dirt. His eyes follow the sound. The men holding him grunt with surprise and loosen their grip, so he takes the opportunity to toss them aside, because they are nothing to him now.
Yozak lies before him, the bright stain of blood on his tunic, the arrow meant for Gwendal in his breast.
Gwendal goes mad.
The soldier to his left falls, a gash to his stomach, and lies screaming in pain. Gwendal silences him. The soldier to the right gawks at the bloody mess and tries to flee, but Gwendal catches him a blow to the neck. The blow is fatal, but Gwendal drives his sword through the man's heart anyway.
He turns. Reason has fled. Through his madness his eyes seek the archer, whose scarred face is no longer split in a triumphant grin. The man has caught the expression on Gwendal's face, and he backs up a step, and then another, preparing to run, the bow coming up in his shaky hand. Gwendal runs him through before the arrow leaves the quiver.
It's not enough. Gwendal strikes him again and again. The archer screams in fear and pain, until he can no longer utter a sound. And still Gwendal's fury rages on until the corpse lies in pieces on the ground. His bloody hands reach toward the earth, raising it in jagged peaks; his voice cries out in a bellow of fury and despair. Then, and only then, surrounded by blood and destruction, Gwendal drops his sword.
"Whoa, impressive."
He whirls, the red mist before his eyes clearing.
"Though I'd prefer not to be mourned before I'm dead, if it's all the same to you." Yozak has propped himself up against a rock, the arrow still protruding from his body - his shoulder, not his chest, as it first appeared, but still all too close to his heart. Lines of pain are deep on his face. "Want to give me a hand taking this thing out?"
"Of course, I - " Confused by emotions he cannot define, Lord Gwendal von Walde lowers himself before the only commoner in the kingdom with the power to bring him to his knees. His voice is rough; his hands, bent to the task of removing the arrow, shake a little despite his care. "You - what were you thinking? This was meant for me."
"What? And let you have all the fun?"
"Be serious. Why did you-"
"Who knows? Ouch, careful there."
"Hold still." Gwendal pulls the arrow free at last, wincing himself as Yozak hisses in pain "Sorry." He presses his folded scarf to the wound, holds it in place. "Sorry."
"'S all right," Yozak grunts, panting a little. Gwendal lowers him to the ground, folds his greatcoat to form a pillow beneath Yozak's head. His hand is still pressed to Yozak's chest, and he can feel the beat of Yozak's heart, the blood throbbing there, strong and sure. A smile, wickedly impertinent, spreads across Yozak's face. "Me throwing myself in front of arrows…you chopping people up in revenge…strange way for two grown men to behave. It's a little crazy, ya know?"
"Quiet," Gwendal growls. "I'm going to call a medic."
"In a minute." Yozak reaches up to touch Gwendal's face, and Gwendal flushes. "Ah. Thought so. You know what it all means, don'tcha?"
"Quiet," Gwendal murmurs again, but makes no move to go.
"I guess it really is love, huh, captain?"
"Shut up, Yozak," Gwendal rasps, but his own heart is pounding as if it would free itself from his body and soar upward. And much as he wants to frown he can't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."
Title: Insanity, Part 4: Berserk
Author: Shayheyred
Rating: PG
Words: about 1000
Theme: Five moments of insanity.
Summary: A battle. An arrow. Gwendal goes mad.
A/N: From slapstick last time to angsty drama this round. Insanity is a wonderful thing.
Part 1: Folly
Part 2: Absurdity
Part 3: Lunatics
It comes from nowhere, a silver streak out of the darkness of the forest. Slashing through the air an inch from Gwendal's cheek, the arrow forces him back, sword sliding from his scabbard, heart thumping wildly, mind screaming the thought, at last.
One arrow becomes two, and then a dozen, and then hundreds, flying into the glade with a sound like a monstrous flock of birds. But birds do not attack with such deadly intent, at least no birds Gwendal knows, and birds' beaks cannot pierce armor as sharpened metal can. The whirring blends with shouts and cries as men are struck down.
With a rallying shout Gwendal clambers onto a boulder and takes the fight to the enemy, his sword slicing through one archer after another. He knocks them down before they can loose another shaft, moving through their lines with determination to reach the swordsmen beyond. He is filled with excitement, but not euphoria, for Gwendal has been a soldier many years and knows battle is neither glorious nor great. Still, battles must be fought, and every battle must be won.
The sound of arrows gives way to the clang of steel, the grunts and groans of fighters and the cries of the injured. Gwendal's troops are strong and skilled, and they, too have made their way through the archers to engage hand-to-hand and sword to sword with the enemy. Success is close; Gwendal feels it, but dares not relax until the enemy submits.
One archer remains before him, not a dozen steps away, a man clad all in black with a scar across his cheek, a face that has seen many battlefields. The man catches sight of Gwendal and his eyes glitter with hatred. He raises his bow, readies an arrow. Gwendal tries to push past two enemy swordsmen so he may strike the archer before he can let fly the arrow, but the soldiers hold his arms fast, forcing him back against a tree. There is nowhere to go but forward, but they’ve left him no opening. Gwendal struggles, but they hold him securely, his body open to the archer, a perfect target.
"Die, Mazoku!" The archer's guttural voice is triumphant. Dark laughter erupts from him as he shoots.
Gwendal braces for the blow but none comes. Instead, there is a blur before his eyes, and then an abrupt intake of breath and a loud thump as something heavy hits the dirt. His eyes follow the sound. The men holding him grunt with surprise and loosen their grip, so he takes the opportunity to toss them aside, because they are nothing to him now.
Yozak lies before him, the bright stain of blood on his tunic, the arrow meant for Gwendal in his breast.
Gwendal goes mad.
The soldier to his left falls, a gash to his stomach, and lies screaming in pain. Gwendal silences him. The soldier to the right gawks at the bloody mess and tries to flee, but Gwendal catches him a blow to the neck. The blow is fatal, but Gwendal drives his sword through the man's heart anyway.
He turns. Reason has fled. Through his madness his eyes seek the archer, whose scarred face is no longer split in a triumphant grin. The man has caught the expression on Gwendal's face, and he backs up a step, and then another, preparing to run, the bow coming up in his shaky hand. Gwendal runs him through before the arrow leaves the quiver.
It's not enough. Gwendal strikes him again and again. The archer screams in fear and pain, until he can no longer utter a sound. And still Gwendal's fury rages on until the corpse lies in pieces on the ground. His bloody hands reach toward the earth, raising it in jagged peaks; his voice cries out in a bellow of fury and despair. Then, and only then, surrounded by blood and destruction, Gwendal drops his sword.
"Whoa, impressive."
He whirls, the red mist before his eyes clearing.
"Though I'd prefer not to be mourned before I'm dead, if it's all the same to you." Yozak has propped himself up against a rock, the arrow still protruding from his body - his shoulder, not his chest, as it first appeared, but still all too close to his heart. Lines of pain are deep on his face. "Want to give me a hand taking this thing out?"
"Of course, I - " Confused by emotions he cannot define, Lord Gwendal von Walde lowers himself before the only commoner in the kingdom with the power to bring him to his knees. His voice is rough; his hands, bent to the task of removing the arrow, shake a little despite his care. "You - what were you thinking? This was meant for me."
"What? And let you have all the fun?"
"Be serious. Why did you-"
"Who knows? Ouch, careful there."
"Hold still." Gwendal pulls the arrow free at last, wincing himself as Yozak hisses in pain "Sorry." He presses his folded scarf to the wound, holds it in place. "Sorry."
"'S all right," Yozak grunts, panting a little. Gwendal lowers him to the ground, folds his greatcoat to form a pillow beneath Yozak's head. His hand is still pressed to Yozak's chest, and he can feel the beat of Yozak's heart, the blood throbbing there, strong and sure. A smile, wickedly impertinent, spreads across Yozak's face. "Me throwing myself in front of arrows…you chopping people up in revenge…strange way for two grown men to behave. It's a little crazy, ya know?"
"Quiet," Gwendal growls. "I'm going to call a medic."
"In a minute." Yozak reaches up to touch Gwendal's face, and Gwendal flushes. "Ah. Thought so. You know what it all means, don'tcha?"
"Quiet," Gwendal murmurs again, but makes no move to go.
"I guess it really is love, huh, captain?"
"Shut up, Yozak," Gwendal rasps, but his own heart is pounding as if it would free itself from his body and soar upward. And much as he wants to frown he can't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."