A/n: This is dedicated to Tobi-Uchiha, who made my dream come true by requesting the moderators to make a Jeanne D'Arc section! Thank you so much, this means sooo much to me. My work is not much and I don't think this story even begins to show my gratitude. I promise to make more in the future and hopefully much longer ones with pairings. For now, please enjoy.
What am I really fighting for? Why did I accept this path?
She did not think to traipse into the field of battle, nor did she bother with fantasies of grandeur. She was but a simple farmer's daughter; all she ever bothered with are the nutrition of the livestock and the well-being of the family – her family – that said livestock provided for.
That was all in the past, unfortunately. Now war looms over the horizon and death ever closer than it was before. On second thought, it may even seem that death has won over the dear saint. Wandering thoughts only became further proof of her suspicion for never has she dwelled on trivial matters such as the past. She was always headstrong, stubborn, and with her as the appointed "Warrior of God", there had been no room for weakness.
She awoke with sweat beading on her forehead. She has had that dream again; the dream that never ceased to reveal itself the nights after Lianne's death and Roger's sudden departure. Some might call his leave an act of betrayal, but Jeanne would not think it so, for she knows Roger and she, too, blames herself for the death of her dearest friend. "That was supposed to be me…" she would always mutter; at night when there would be none to see her in pain. She has to be strong for those who look up to her; for the people of France, for her friends, for Lianne, and for Roger.
Then it dawned on her, is anyone still looking up to her? Lianne's death was supposedly for her, after all: for the "troublesome saint". Her eyes downcast until it can see the wooden flooring of the cabin where she and her friends slept. She thought of Luther and how it was his voice and not God's that she had been hearing all this time. Not that it calls for her to make actions less than pleasant, but the belief that what she had been doing up until now was all for a divine cause has become the sole purpose of her journey; where she finds the strength to move on. For the first time, in a long while, she let the tears fall down her eyes; she let weakness slip by her near-impenetrable defense that is her spirit just this once. She hugged her knees closely to her chest and sobbed quietly.
"There is no need for someone who is as useless as I. I am even foolish enough to believe that I had been chosen by God to lead France to her freedom!"
She has been a believer her whole life; a devout Catholic since childhood thanks to her upbringing. She never let her faith falter, even when her village was destroyed, she only held on tighter after that. Though she would be lying if she said that the events prior to the end of today did not shake her; giving her thoughts that her religion would deem blasphemous.
At that thought, she curled out of her shell and knelt; making the Sign of the Cross before clasping her hands together and pray:
Dear God, our Almighty Savior,
Please forgive me, O Lord, for even having an inch of doubt of Your existence. Lately, I have been nothing but a failure. I have failed to protect Lianne, but most of all, I have failed France. It made me realize why I was not really chosen to protect it, for France would be nothing but mere rubble if I had pressed on with that belief. I just do not understand how is it that Lianne has to die for my mistake. She was always there for me, but I could not be there when she needed me most. But now France is in an even greater peril. Amidst all my failure, I cannot let France suffer for something I started. I am so confused, scared, and alone…I do not know where to begin, I really need Your help.
Please…help me…even if I am not graced with the title of "Saviour Of France", please grant me the strength to carry the dreams of my country men. For Lianne, for Roger, for Everyone!
She finished her prayer; hot tears streaming out of her eyes, falling onto her blanket. There was no room for self-pity in the mind of a heroine. There will never be room for idle thoughts or trivial weaknesses. She knew what she had to do. Though she would rather hold a ceremonial burial for her fallen friend, if she turned her back on the masses, there would not even be a space large enough to bury the whole lot of them; not that she wished for it to happen. All she wanted was closure; sadly, such luxuries do not exist in the middle of the battlefield. She knew that no one can ever grant her wish better than the Lord, Himself.
See, even heroes feel pain, loss, and failure. In her mind, she conceals everything and forms a mask around her emotions, because there are plenty who will feel much more if she lets personal tragedies influence her duties as a servant of God. But sometimes the mask breaks and within it is a little girl who is just as scared as those who she saves; a little girl who is also afraid of dying, afraid of pain, and all things that normal people fear.
So who then will comfort her if she is in plight?
A/n: a rhetoric that I don't think will really move far. I lost ideas for a good ending so…this happened. I really have to stay away from monologues, they influence me too much. hahaha hopefully someone will read and review this. I will really appreciate it and please do not be afraid to criticize or question me on any points that make little to no sense. I apologize if it is crappy.