Perhaps it is best that one like me perishes. If I am gone, the heat of vengeance is lost. People will learn from my foolish mistake an realize how awful my heart was. They will see that Lenneth will continue to be the one who "Chooses the Slain." And if it were not for my idiocy and want of revenge, the people I cared most for would not be dead. They wouldn't have been sent to their graves ahead of their time. Is it really fair to exchange one's life for superhuman strength in one battle? Would it not be wiser to die fighting like a real man, not some beast turned strong by a covenant with a demoness? Daughters lost their fathers, friends lost their friends, families are separated by the glass that keeps the living and the dead apart. Is it fair to turn an ally into a monster that has no hope of living past it's battle? Should a person not be able to choose if they are sacrificed to the covenant or not? Should they not at least be told where the power comes from? In the end, it is all my fault. My hunger for revenge took the lives of people I was forced to get close to, only to have them taken away from me, and by my hand, nonetheless. With the vengeance paid, am I supposed to love carefree and guiltless of the lives I meaninglessly stole? I turned them into monsters by force, and therefore turned into a monster myself. A murderer. A soulless killer. A being so unholy that I should be considered a plague and a blemish to society and should be dealt with accordingly; should be paid back with death. Should Death not come to claim me? Will Her embrace put my bloodstained heart to rest? With Her, will I be given the satisfaction of peace? Or will not even Death Herself be able to cleanse me of my guilt and send me to a place where I can feel guiltless and not be in the wrong for feeling so? Or have I been condemned because of that pact I made. A pact that would last up to a certain point, and afterwards be done with and give me no reason to continue on in life. I had never once considered what I would do when I broke the wings of Lenneth, who so 'innocently' claims the lives of slain soldiers? At first I supposed I could settle down and marry...raise a family of my own and be able to give my children the childhood that I was not granted. But with hands soaked in blood, where can a man turn? Would a woman willingly love a man who so carelessly thrown away lives, dismissing them like a leaf in the wind? Would a woman so readily accept the fact that those people were given absolutely no volition? And more importantly, would a woman allow a cold blooded murderer raise and be the father of her children? I threw away the life of one that could easily have been a maiden for my taking. Her heart and mine could have easily bonded throughout the course of our 'adventure' as people we loved died in front of us? And could I allow her to be forever ignorant of the fact that I was the one who gave them the "Strength that Kills?" Knowing her, how could she ever forgive me for taking her father's life? ...And that man...said the same thing to his daughter as Ancel had said to me:
"You must live on for the both of us," were the last words of the valiant warriors that died. Ancel like a freshly blooming rose wilting far before its time; and the father being a fully bloomed rose and already starting to wilt, but being stepped on even when he had many more years to live. But how can one continue to pass those words down the line, when in the end there will only be one left... Whom, after they complete their goal, will go on and vainly try to forget them all? How can I honor those that I killed and gave to Sin by trying to forget? I will never forget their faces as they die... They always thought it was the toll of battle that killed them. Never once did they seem to find it peculiar, the strength they so randomly acquired. They thought they were dying with pride, when in truth they were being coldly murdered. So perhaps it is best if I, too, perish alongside my fallen comrades. Would it not be fitting for Lenneth to steal away my soul as my flesh lays rotting on the battlefield? No one would be left to rightfully inherit the feather Lenneth leaves behind, and no one would rightfully be able to inherit the sword I had succeeded? Life is an unfair walk on a tightrope and if you take one misstep, you topple over into a never ending abyss.
Perhaps that's what i deserve, for so recklessly taking lives, only for selfish gain.
Perhaps it was fitting that I should feel the cold frost of winter creeping into my bones and numbing my flesh.
Perhaps it's fitting that I failed in my conquest.
That Lenneth won.
That I lost.
Perhaps it's fitting...that the last thing I feel is her warm breath against my neck, speaking words that would pull my soul from me.
Maybe it's fitting... That that white feather will rot with me on the desolate and forgotten battlefield and turn black from grime and weather... Eventually turning as black as the plume I was given from Hel.
My black feather. My black plume. My fate had been sealed.
And the feather stirs one last time, as I breathe my last breath.
Okay, here are some things you should know before you judge. 1) I did NOT lose to Lenneth. I haven't been given the chance to because... 2) I am only on Chapter III in the game. So I don't know what's going to happen and what ending I will receive! 3) This is MY outlook on Wylfred. If you think he should be portrayed differently, good for you. Write your own oneshot. 4) Lastly, I apologize for no italics. There are a few places where'd I'd have LOVED to add emphasis to, but couldn't. The reason for that being that I wrote this entire thing on my iPhone. Which also explains the shortness and any misspells.
I'm off for the night, because my thumbs are -really- sore right now. Bye and I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review!