By: Manna (Kitten Kisses)
The moment when his life began to end was nothing spectacular to him, in fact, he had been waiting for it; the peace and comfort that it could bring was everything he wanted- could ever want- and he waited patiently for the end.
He had slowly been dying for weeks… gradually starving to death in the dungeon; it was the same dungeon that the once great Lord Hector had died in. When the redheaded young man who could only be the son of Lord Eliwood had left that dungeon shortly after Hector's death, Mark realized that he could have called out to him. But he hadn't, and he knew the reason why.
He wanted to die, to just get it all over with. He had seen too many people he knew fall to their death in the face of the enemy, and he wasn't sure if he could take much more of it.
Days had passed since then, and his stomach was knotting in constant pain, he was always dizzy from dehydration, and he had been half-sitting in the corner the entire time, never moving from his position.
Just come and take me, he silently begged. Take me away on angel's wings… or even the wings of a pegasus…it doesn't matter to me so long as I go.
It seemed like a month had passed in only a few short hours, but when feeling slipped away from his body, he knew that his time was coming.
As he lay there in his own filth, the stench overpowering, but his own nostrils unable to tell him what they would otherwise know, he came to a realization. Fighting was necessary…but it would never solve or fix anything in the end.
You could fight your enemies, taking them all down one by one, but even when it was all over and you had proved yourself victorious, another enemy, another army, another problem would rise in its place.
Fighting, wars… they were only temporary fixes for a problem, like using a scrap of cloth to hide your nakedness.
His realization did not make him bitter, only sad. Sad that even after all he had done with Lady Lyndis…all he had done with Lord Eliwood…and all he had done with Lord Hector…it was all for nothing. Nothing.
You lived a life, had children, fought wars, and eventually died… Your children did the same thing, and it just went on and on in a vicious pattern of circles. Lives might be different, children might be many or few, and wars might be caused for innumerable reasons… but they were still there, they always would be.
And as he took his last breath, he was glad that he had been given the opportunity to try and change the fate that was determined for them. Perhaps Nergal knew what he had been doing when he had attempted to summon the dragons- perhaps he had not. But one thing was certain… they had been given a choice, all those years ago… to save or not save Prince Zephiel… and their choice had been based on their beliefs and opinions of the matter, when they had been so young, yearning to do the right thing. How could they have known that such a sweet young child would grow into a man so full of hate, of malice, that he would willingly let the same men who had once saved him die in the dark, alone, rotting in their own waste and grime?
He let himself breathe out again, knowing he would never have to do it even once more, and as his body simply stopped functioning and his heart died in his chest, he could only pray that…perhaps there would be someone whocould break the circles of fate that spun faster than a top, seemingly out of range.
I don't really have much to say…or anything really. Another bit o' 'fic for y'all. Interpret it however you wish, if there is anything to be pondered on that was not summed up here.
Opinions? Comments and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.
Thanks for reading!