*twitch* I knew there would be a Suiko III fic before I was done playing the game. I just didn't realize that it would be yuri (that would be slash for two girls) or that it would be from the POV that it was written from. Just goes to show that not everything goes according to plans, right? ^_^
OK, the fic technically doesn't have a time frame, it's just a free-flow monologue kinda thing, but the inspiration came from a little discussion between the POV character and the object of their affection somewhere at the end of chapter 5. The fic would probably fall in somewhere right before that. So, there should be spoilers... but I think I avoided most of them. If you don't know who Jimba really is, that may be spoiled (hint: if the title makes no sense after reading the fic (in light of this comment), then you have avoided spoilage). ^_^
*thinks* That should be it. If yaoi/yuri/slash squicks you, don't read. There is a brief cameo by my favorite slashed couple in S III -- props to you if you can figure out who they are before the chibi silliness at the end. ^_^ ((If you get that far and haven't figured it out... O_o ...you must be more tired than I am.))
Beware of falling spoilers. Also beware of spoilers lying around on the ground -- the fic author was awfully careless with them this time.
This is wrong of me. Terribly wrong... for so many more reasons than I can easily explain. I have fallen in love, and I have done so at the worst possible time, in the worst possible circumstances, and with quite possibly the worst possible person. Some could argue that it was inevitable, that it was fate. I never did like that argument. I don't appreciate the idea that I'm not in control of my own destiny, my own future. I don't appreciate not being in control, period.
She's like that, too. A person so in control of her own self, that you hardly ever see the woman buried underneath. Woman... What am I saying? She's barely more than a girl. I have a son not that many years younger than she. One of the more obvious reasons why a liaison between us could never work -- I am at least twice her age. I was fighting wars when she was still in her cradle. But such a thing could be worked around were it not for everything else that stands between us.
She is strong, stronger than I, though it galls me to admit it. Even before she was put through the forge of a continent-wide war, even before she had her very inner self subjected to the fires of self-doubt and harsh truth, even then she was the stronger. It was only the second time in my life that I have ever lost a battle. Ironically enough, the first time was to the man who eventually gave me my son.
Ah yes, we've hit upon it, the second stumbling block. I am a woman, as is she. It happens sometimes in the six clans. You hear stories of men falling in love with men, women with women. Someone always knows someone who knew someone who's cousin loved someone of the same gender. It happens more often than many of us think. But do we ever hear about the "happily ever after"? No. We don't. If there is a happily ever after for couples such as those, it does not happen here. I can't imagine it happens often in Zexen or Harmonia, either. Perhaps in the barbarian Outlands, a place where the laws are unknown and the customs even less so. Perhaps that's just an old woman's foolish fantasy.
But I get ahead of myself. You see, I do not even know if the love I feel for her is in any way returned. I make her uncomfortable, this I know. I have even, of an occasion, made her blush -- always in response to a slightly less than publicly acceptable commentary on one of her male shadows. They would follow her into the deeps of Hell and beyond if she asked it. They would sacrifice anything and anyone to keep her happy, and she hardly even recognizes it. Two of them love her deeper still, but I fear she will never see it. In the end, however, that may be for the best. Some women were never meant to stay with one man, to be tied down. I fear that she is one of them, as I was.
And as she moves through her life, completely unaware, her two young men are even now beginning to find some solace in each other -- I've seen the shadows of it beginning to creep across their faces, the covert glances, the subsequent guilty looks. Neither is comfortable with the idea, but apparently they are even less comfortable with the idea of spending their lives yearning after a goddess they will never touch. But I suppose the operative question is... how do I feel about the very same thing? I would be a fool indeed to think that I might succeed where they both have failed. A fool to think that she might turn to me when she has denied both of them. A fool...
But are we not all fools for love? The heart does not have a care for proper social behavior. The heart does not have a care for opportune times and places. The heart cares even less for rules and consequences. It feels. That is what is was designed to do. Regardless of the cooler thoughts of the mind and the more primal actions of the body, the heart operates on its own power, its own imperatives, and no others. That is why heartache is such a common problem. The heart gives of itself fully, unconditionally, and when nothing is returned... it withers. It loses one little piece of itself with every unreturned care and caress, until nothing remains but a shell.
Ah. Now I know how deeply in trouble I am. Waxing poetic about broken hearts. I never believed it when people told me that it was possible to die from lack of love. I suppose I am made of stronger stuff than that. I've always believed that one could live on without one's heart, if it came to such a thing. The heart could be replaced with some other purpose... but I have never truly had to live that life. And having seen the results of living it in some of our enemies, it now seems a very empty life indeed.
I have always had love in my life. There has always been someone willing to exchange with me, love for love. They weren't large, all-consuming loves. They were little loves. The love of my dear friends and clansmen. The love of an even dearer friend, the father of my only son. The love of that son, no matter how embarrassed he may be about showing it. Not many are as blessed as I have been. And so I find that this love, however unrequited, is bearable even without an even exchange.
Or so I tell myself during the day. At night it is more difficult to convince myself of that reality. At night when I lie awake in my cold, empty bed and wish that my life might have been different, that I might have been able to let someone in, if only for a little while. But as I said, there are reasons why this is not a good idea, and the reasons I have already mentioned are paltry ones indeed. I haven't even gotten to the two most important reasons why this is a bad idea. You are probably wondering what they are by now.
The first: the man I mentioned as being the father of my son... also fathered this girl that I love. It makes me wonder sometimes, whether I love her for who she is... or who I wish she was. There is so much of her father in her. She knew him for such a short time before he left Zexen and yet so many of his values, so many of his beliefs, were indelibly imprinted upon her heart. Sometimes, when she becomes impassioned in her speech, I can almost see him looking out at me through her eyes. Then she shifts her eyes away as if embarrassed by that show of emotion and I know that it isn't Wyatt that I see. He was never uncertain, never unsure. He always knew exactly what he wanted and exactly what he was capable of, be it in love, in war, or in peace. People who bear a True Rune for any length of time tend to become that way. I almost fear the day when my son will have eyes like that -- any mother would. It signifies the day when they finally no longer need us...
But I was talking about Chris, not my son. The final reason, if you haven't guessed already. She is Chris Lightfellow, Captain of the Six Mighty Knights of Zexen... the Silver Maiden. I am Lucia, chief of Karaya Clan. We have been enemies for longer than the duration of her life, the current ceasefire doesn't change that. I may respect her. I may fight along side her in light of a larger threat. But I may not love her. Were she not her country's hero, were she not her Council's hit man, were I not mother of the Flame Champion, were I not chief of one of the Grassland's most warlike clans... but she is, and I am, and that will not change.
She can not be mine. I can not be hers. I wish it were different... but wishing never changed anything on its own, and I have no right to do anything more. I have no right to pull her from the path upon which she walks to join me on mine. I did it to her father, and after seeing what growing up without him has done to her, I can admit that it may have been a mistake. It is one that I will not repeat. And so I will watch over her... when she lets me. I will advise her... when she will listen. I will be here for her in any way that I can be. And for my poor, lonely heart... it will have to be enough.
Chibi silliness and explanations:
Chris: *twitch* Well... that was unusual. I had no idea you felt that way, Lucia.
Lucia: *smirk* And here I thought I was being rather blatant in my flirting.
Hugo: *coughs* Mother... since it seems to have come up... You never *did* tell me who my Father was. I was beginning to think that it was an immaculate conception.
Lucia: *chuckles* Well, as far as canon goes, you may as well have been. Our dear Renee-chan, however, seems to have decided that it would be rather amusing if one Wyatt Lightfellow, otherwise known as Jimba, were to have the honor of that position -- given how close we always were.
Hugo: *twitch* I see... *eyes Chris* So that would make her...
Chris: *double twitch* ...Your older sister.
Hugo: But... Lulu... Noooo... *drops over in a dead faint*
Percival: *leans over to Borus* And the plot thickens...
Salome: *leans over to Percival* Forget thickening, this plot is curdling.
Borus: *ignoring everyone, has been busy edging/walking/running away from Percival ever since reading the fic*
Leo: *confused look* *jerks a thumb at Borus* What's his problem?
Percival: *laughs* He's heard a few too many things about this fic author, and given the hints she dropped in this fic, he's desperately afraid of what she might choose to write the next one about. Especially since she's decided that all of his rage must have come from somewhere.
Leo: *confused* I don't get it.
Roland: *pats Leo on the back* Don't worry about it, Leo. It's Percival's problem, not ours.
Lucia and Chris: *idly wondering how the chibi silliness wandered so far off track*
R-chan: *pulls the plug, goes to bed*
Don't forget to leave me comments, questions, or opinions! ^_^ *curtsy*