Author: 1Past and Present1 PM
He had loved her. But fate can be so very, very cruel. Wood Elf/NagaRated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Tragedy - Words: 1,247 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 4 - Published: 08-09-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7268718
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
My first Heroes of Might and Magic fanfic. This is probably the strangest tragedy you will ever read, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy it.
Nothing could still the thundering in his chest.
Nothing could tear his eyes away.
Nothing could kill the warmth that flooded his spirit.
By the gods, she was beautiful.
Smooth, serpentine body coiled loosely in a moment of calm, her normally steely features pleasantly relaxed as she gazed at the enemy ahead with quick, clever eyes, the Naga knew this battle would soon be over.
Their side was winning.
The very last Demon, thick foam and saliva oozing from its thorny maw, trembled before her. Without its brethren there to aid it, what was left of its gusto was now tarnished, suffocated with fear, and it had just enough intelligence and reasoning to understand that it was doomed.
Indeed, the Wood Elf could, in a way, understand such pain, for he had lost all his brothers in the battle as well. It saddened him to think of it, but at least it would be a victory for his people. This goldmine would serve their Hero well, and she was a kind and noble leader, worthy of their sacrifice.
A horse snorted noisily, its black hooves pawing impatiently at the trodden earth.
For a brief time the Wood Elf began to reflect upon his leader with fondness. After all, he had her to thank for the wonderful feelings of love that filled his heart every single day. She'd been so righteous, he thought, so wise and good that even the powerful group of passing Naga had, upon a surprise encounter, seen it in her, and in this way they had pledged their allegiance to her cause.
That was how the simple Wood Elf and the powerful, graceful Naga had first met.
That late afternoon, as she and her sisters slithered into the camp with swords gleaming and scales shimmering like silver coins, he had turned around at the sudden commotion and caught sight of her.
She'd towered over him, and as he had never before seen or met a Naga, she had appeared so delightful and strange, so alien.
And for the first time in his life, he had felt it. The first spark, a flicker that ignited a great flame, which from then on continued to burn brightly and steadily inside.
He had fallen in love.
Alas, he could never approach her, never confess his feelings. In truth, he was so shy and awkward around her that he could hardly even meet the Naga's eyes for more than a few seconds at a time, seconds he both dreaded and lovingly cherished, seconds that burnt into him and soon forced his gaze away in fear of being rebuked about it later.
She never did rebuke him for it however, nor did she ever question his odd behaviour. Whether it was an act of kindness on her part or simply a sign of disinterest was, for now, a mystery.
It seemed odd to him, though. Thinking about it, he was, indeed, rather befuddled.
They'd travelled together for a long time, fought together in countless battles. From the very beginning he guarded her, and even after her sisters fell in battle, one by one until she was the last Naga left, he'd continued doing so, trying his utmost to defend her from afar with quick, deadly arrows.
And despite all of this, they'd never even spoken.
Now, they were the last two soldiers remaining in their Hero's army, and he already knew her intentions. After this fight was through, she'd take then back to camp and bless them with healing, good food and new warriors.
So for now, even with all this tragedy, the Wood Elf could take comfort in the hope that perhaps, on their way back to the place they called home, he and the precious Naga might finally share the tender words he'd been imagining in his mind for many lonely, chilled nights.
A low snarl brought him back to the present.
It was the Demon's turn, but it seemed to hesitate, glancing from Naga to Wood Elf and back, desperately searching for some other option, anything but the bitter humiliation of retreat.
The Naga had in turns previous moved forward to block off the Demon, keeping it close where she could easily dispatch it with a swing of her blade while still benefitting from the ranged support her secret admirer offered. She was almost through its defences, having cleaved deep wounds into its thick hide with skilful blows, and she knew that the next strike would be the last.
Finally, its eyes settled on the Elf, menacing red orbs narrowing with wrath. And then suddenly, it moved, acting surprisingly, narrowly slipping past the Naga while she twisted around in outrage to hack into its back, narrowly missing.
The Wood Elf's eyes widened.
The Demon was heading straight for him, moving forward with determined speed, its hairy, foul being trembling with barely suppressed rage and excitement.
He barely had the chance to cry out when a horn, long and knotted like the twisting branch of a tree, was brutally thrust into his Elven belly, easily piercing his simple garments to puncture his gut with deadly force.
The pain was unimaginable.
The Demon's eyes ignited with victory as it withdrew, and the little Wood Elf fell to lie at its hooves.
Pure, crimson agony.
For the first time the Elf could possibly remember, the voice of his beloved Naga ran clear, and as he gazed up at the towering, monstrous Demon above him, who turned around with startled surprise, he saw her descend upon it with brutality the likes of which he had never before seen.
Ripped limb from limb, the Demon was dead and the battle was won.
But not for the little Wood Elf, who even now found himself casting a shy glance at the Naga who, for the first time in so long, would not stop staring back.
She looked a little confused, unsure what to do, and it took a moment of obviously deep thought before she finally tossed her weapons aside, panting as she bathed in the Demon's blood; black streams that ran down her armour like impure rain.
He whimpered. So much he wanted to tell her, and now he could not find his voice. But what happened next was reminiscent of a scene from one of his many wonderful dreams, like a fantasy becoming reality, and it was incredible.
Gently, with a softness a warrior like the Naga should not have possessed, she reached down and lifted him off the ground, cradling him in her many strong arms as she brought him to her chest.
It was intimate, meaningful, and above all, unashamed.
He couldn't help but shiver at the feel of her strange, glittery skin touching against his, and as he delved deep into her eyes, he felt content. It gave him strength, which he gathered into one final action – the pressing of his hand lovingly against her cheek.
By the gods, she really was beautiful.
She opened her mouth to speak, her face filled with so much emotion.
But he was already dead, and her confession was heard solely by the Hero, who would keep that secret dear until the day she too met her grave.