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Title: a father and his child (4/6)
Fandom: Soulcalibur
Characters: Raphael, Siegfried
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Raphael, Siegfried, and six meetings: five times they crossed blades, and the one time they did not.
iv. i cannot turn
(the light would make me blind)
Raphael lifts his hands to his mouth, wiping away the wetness staining his lips. Looking down, he reaches out to close the staring eyes of the woman lying at his feet. His tongue slips carefully around the razor sharp edges of his fangs, teasing out every last succulent drop of blood.
The arboreal village he'd discovered is flooded with silver, quiet, its inhabitants silenced forever. The guardians of the spirit sword would not offer up their secrets to anyone else.
It was - humorous, almost, how easily the tribe had fallen; for all of their knowledge of the swords they were helpless in the face of one who wielded its power. Some had challenged him, but it had been a futile gesture against a swordsman of his caliber, and most had died before their screams left their throats.
It had been a satisfying conclusion to a frustrating journey - following leads as ephemeral as air, cajoling the gibbering fools that travelled in the darkness for any bit of information they might have, the endless dead-ends - it had been worth it.
Now he knows everything.
The only task left is to obtain Soul Calibur. Claiming the blade itself would not be a problem: Raphael already knows its wielder, and the man is clearly unsuitable. Tracking Siegfried down, however, is another matter entirely. Months had passed since they had fought in the Grand Labyrinth, and Raphael has no idea where Siegfried may be now.
Still, it is a minor obstacle at most, in the grand scheme of things. Siegfried could not hide from him forever, and when Raphael finds him it will be simplicity itself to take Soul Calibur from its weak-willed owner. And after that...
A new world. A place for he and his daughter, a world where she would have no need to worry about the future, because their new world would only have she and he and joy. The months, the years he has spent in pursuit of their goal will be forgotten, for in the face of eternal bliss what has come before will not matter.
He takes one last, lingering look at the village as he leaves, at his mark of triumph. The bright moonlight throws the remains of the guardians and their village into stark relief, fresh blood black against the pale white corpses. He drinks in the image: this peaceful, sunless sight - where those who would challenge him lie dead at his feet - is the world he will give to Amy, when all is finished.
The woods are nearly as silent as the village they surround, save for the terrified skittering of small animals in the brush; they must sense the dark power coursing through him. Raphael smiles at the thought.
As he walks his thoughts turn to his most immediate problem - finding Soul Calibur. Siegfried had not told Raphael what he'd been planning to do with the sealed swords, but his purpose was easy enough to guess - in the grand tradition of well-meaning fools everywhere, he hoped to permanently destroy the object that had brought the world so much pain.
But where might such a journey take him? Raphael raises his eyes to the moon...
...only to find a blue sky above him, the soft gleam of sunlight against his skin, and cool marble under his feet instead of decayed leaves. He stumbles slightly, the abrupt change leaving him more than a little dizzy.
The guardians had told him of this phenomenon - how those who sought the soul swords would sometimes find themselves in places not a part of this earth; places that could only be discovered by those with strong enough souls to handle the swords' immense power. Remembering this, Raphael suddenly notices there is power everywhere, saturating the air like rain before a storm. It is not the same as the darkness sleeping in his heart, but it is not entirely different, either; Raphael breathes in deeply, and sparks alight in his veins.
He beings to laugh. He wouldn't have to search for Soul Calibur, after all.
The sword itself has called him.
Raphael walks through the cathedral, following the energy he can feel radiating outward from a source deeper inside the structure. He passes by Grecian columns supporting a fresco-decorated ceiling, past rose windows that cast myriad gems of light across cascading water fountains, until he comes to an open balcony. There, one man stands, holding a blue metal sword in his hands.
"Siegfried," he says simply. "We meet again."
The younger man starts and turns, facing Raphael. "You shouldn't be here."
Raphael's eyes flare with indignation. "And why is that?"
"This place...did you really come this far, only for vengeance?"
"Vengeance?" Raphael begins to laugh. "How - how amusing. You think I came here because of you?" He draws his rapier, still wet with blood of Soul Calibur's slain keepers. "I only care about the sword you're holding. Not that killing you won't be enjoyable - quite the contrary - but you are a secondary thought, at best." Raphael points Flambert directly at Siegfried. "Why, if you decide to do the sensible thing and give up that blade to someone who deserves it, I may even find it in my heart to spare you."
Siegfried's eyes grow cold. "Power - is that all you're after?" He grips Soul Calibur more firmly, shifting into a fighting stance. "If that's the case, you will find no mercy from me."
They move at the same time - Siegfried swinging Soul Calibur in a gleaming arc around him, Raphael darting forward while neatly turning his ankle to avoid the glittering blade as his own sword aims for Siegfried's neck. At the last possible second Siegfried twists out of the way, and Flambert merely grazes the small section of vulnerable flesh.
Neither man takes time to size the other up, or wait for an opening; they know each other too well, and are too close to achieving their goals, to consider caution. Raphael notes - with a thrilling mix of excitement and fear - that Siegfried is far more aggressive here than he'd been in the Labyrinth, Soul Calibur a brilliant, glittering blur encircling him and forcing Raphael out of range. Raphael weaves in and out of the sword's path, striking with pinpoint precision at the spots left exposed in Siegfried's armor.
For a moment neither man is able to gain an advantage - but both know someone must give eventually. Raphael's concern is Soul Calibur itself - even dormant, Soul Calibur's power chills the air around them, and the evil in his soul trembles in fear of its wrath. But he is almost certain Siegfried does not know how to use the sword's true power, and he grows more sure of this as their battle continues; if Siegfried knew Soul Calibur was capable of ending the fighting he would have done so.
A low, inhuman growl rolls through the cathedral - loud enough to make both men stop and turn - and the energy crackling in the air ripples around them in response. The darkness in Raphael's heart beats faster, and he knows instinctively that Soul Edge has awakened in this hallowed place. Siegfried's eyes narrow.
"Nightmare," he hisses, eyes little more than vivid green slits of hate. Soul Calibur flares with a blue-white light, and the soft whisper of Soul Edge in the back of Raphael's mind becomes a horrified shriek, screaming at him to either escape or kill.
In the end, he can do neither. The blue-white light grows brighter, then explodes, knocking Raphael back into one of the hard marble pillars supporting the cathedral ceiling. The impact nearly knocks him out, but the threatening ring of metal boots running across the marble floor cuts through the pain engulfing him and he manages to raise Flambert in defense just before Siegfried crashes into him, Soul Calibur nearly taking off his head. As it is, the blade is but an inch from his throat; Raphael braces Flambert with his hands to keep Soul Calibur at bay, and his rapier's sharp edge bites through his leather gloves.
Siegfried presses closer, the edge of his blade slicing into the flesh across Raphael's collarbone. Flambert digs deeper into his hands, almost to the bone, and blackened, viscous blood oozes down the steel blade.
"You can't escape," Siegfried says - no braggadocio, this, only cruel fact. "Accept your death proudly."
A small, gurgling cry escapes Raphael's throat. The physical pain is intense; though Soul Calibur barely grazes his skin, he can feel its purity chilling the malfection pulsing through him, and he does not even want to imagine the shredded mess his hands must be now. But far worse is the thought of losing, the thought of dying, the thought of leaving Amy alone in a world that fears and despises her.
"No," he all but whimpers, and he isn't sure what horrifies him more - that he is able to utter such a pathetic statement, or that a part of him hopes it will move Siegfried to spare him. "I can't. I won't."
Siegfried's eyes are as cold and hard as the sword he wields. "...once, I thought you were a man of honor. It seems I misjudged you." He increases the pressure on Soul Calibur; dark, malfected blood drips onto the blue blade and crystalizes on contact.
In desperation, Raphael takes hold of Soul Calibur with his mangled hands, trying to push the sword away; as he takes hold his hands freeze, frost running up his arms and through his body. Helpless, he searches within himself for some strength he can draw on - but Soul Edge's malice is ice in his veins, and his pride in tatters; even his love for Amy - which had stood against death once before - cannot give him the strength to stop the sword bearing down on him.
"I - " Raphael gasps, half-choked from the blood rising in his throat, "I can't leave her, I can't -" He is only half-aware of what he is saying, shame and pain and hatred settling in his brain like thick fog as he waits for Soul Calibur to fall.
The final blow never comes. Siegfried still holds Soul Calibur to his neck, but the frozen green eyes splinter like ice, the cracks revealing the loneliness lapping under the surface. "The power you're looking for - it's for someone you love, isn't it?" He pulls back slightly, and Raphael sinks to the floor, his blood cold and sluggish in his veins.
"What does it matter to you, what I do or do not fight for?" Raphael snarls. He finds it hard to look at Siegfried, at the lost look in his eyes; it is too familiar, too much like something he'd seen in himself, forging a closeness to this man he does not want to have.
"When I first found Soul Edge," Siegfried says, his voice hollow, "it promised me - if I had enough power, I could save all the things I loved - everything I'd lost, everything I was afraid of losing. But..." Siegfried pauses, glancing at the glowing blue sword in his hands.
"...In the end, all I did was destroy. Even now, this power won't save anything. It will only put a stop to my folly." Siegfried turns to leave, to face the approaching darkness.
"I hope -" Siegfried calls over his shoulder, "I hope you return to what's close to you, Raphael."
Briefly, Raphael considers following him; but he has his pride still, wounded though it is. He will not shed what is left of it by turning on one who has shown him mercy - galling though the thought might be.
A matter of pride, he tells himself, as he staggers to his feet. It is not because he is afraid - not because the look in Siegfried's eyes mirrors the look he'd seen in Amy's as he bid her farewell and left her waiting in the dark; not because the hollowness in the man's voice echoes inside his heart every day he is away from his beloved child. A wave of homesickness washes over Raphael; more than anything, he wants to see Amy again, to hold her close and hear her shy laughter, to see the rare glint of joy in her dark eyes at his return.
As if reflecting his wavering resolve, the cathedral melts around him, giving way to the benightened forest. He does not know how long he stands there, head bowed, wishing for home.
I hope you return to what's close to you.
Raphael curls his fingers, feeling his ruined hands already beginning to heal. He could return home, but for what? To hold his daughter near and listen to her heart beat far too slowly, to hide her away from the sun that burns her, to stand at her side until the world grows tired of her existence, and destroys her? No, he would not - could not - abandon his promise to her - no matter if the bond they share is snapped in its fulfillment; no matter if his death is the price he must pay.
Raphael raises his eyes once more to the shining moon above him. Burning red stars streak across the sky, radiating with an evil energy that resonates with the darkness infecting his soul. The discordant memory of lost, lonely eyes is drowned in the rising tide of malice birthed by Soul Edge's awakening.
His bitter laughter echoing through the silent forest, Raphael sets his sights once again on Ostrheinsburg.
---
chapter 5: fiat iustitia...
Fandom: Soulcalibur
Characters: Raphael, Siegfried
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Raphael, Siegfried, and six meetings: five times they crossed blades, and the one time they did not.
iv. i cannot turn
(the light would make me blind)
Raphael lifts his hands to his mouth, wiping away the wetness staining his lips. Looking down, he reaches out to close the staring eyes of the woman lying at his feet. His tongue slips carefully around the razor sharp edges of his fangs, teasing out every last succulent drop of blood.
The arboreal village he'd discovered is flooded with silver, quiet, its inhabitants silenced forever. The guardians of the spirit sword would not offer up their secrets to anyone else.
It was - humorous, almost, how easily the tribe had fallen; for all of their knowledge of the swords they were helpless in the face of one who wielded its power. Some had challenged him, but it had been a futile gesture against a swordsman of his caliber, and most had died before their screams left their throats.
It had been a satisfying conclusion to a frustrating journey - following leads as ephemeral as air, cajoling the gibbering fools that travelled in the darkness for any bit of information they might have, the endless dead-ends - it had been worth it.
Now he knows everything.
The only task left is to obtain Soul Calibur. Claiming the blade itself would not be a problem: Raphael already knows its wielder, and the man is clearly unsuitable. Tracking Siegfried down, however, is another matter entirely. Months had passed since they had fought in the Grand Labyrinth, and Raphael has no idea where Siegfried may be now.
Still, it is a minor obstacle at most, in the grand scheme of things. Siegfried could not hide from him forever, and when Raphael finds him it will be simplicity itself to take Soul Calibur from its weak-willed owner. And after that...
A new world. A place for he and his daughter, a world where she would have no need to worry about the future, because their new world would only have she and he and joy. The months, the years he has spent in pursuit of their goal will be forgotten, for in the face of eternal bliss what has come before will not matter.
He takes one last, lingering look at the village as he leaves, at his mark of triumph. The bright moonlight throws the remains of the guardians and their village into stark relief, fresh blood black against the pale white corpses. He drinks in the image: this peaceful, sunless sight - where those who would challenge him lie dead at his feet - is the world he will give to Amy, when all is finished.
The woods are nearly as silent as the village they surround, save for the terrified skittering of small animals in the brush; they must sense the dark power coursing through him. Raphael smiles at the thought.
As he walks his thoughts turn to his most immediate problem - finding Soul Calibur. Siegfried had not told Raphael what he'd been planning to do with the sealed swords, but his purpose was easy enough to guess - in the grand tradition of well-meaning fools everywhere, he hoped to permanently destroy the object that had brought the world so much pain.
But where might such a journey take him? Raphael raises his eyes to the moon...
...only to find a blue sky above him, the soft gleam of sunlight against his skin, and cool marble under his feet instead of decayed leaves. He stumbles slightly, the abrupt change leaving him more than a little dizzy.
The guardians had told him of this phenomenon - how those who sought the soul swords would sometimes find themselves in places not a part of this earth; places that could only be discovered by those with strong enough souls to handle the swords' immense power. Remembering this, Raphael suddenly notices there is power everywhere, saturating the air like rain before a storm. It is not the same as the darkness sleeping in his heart, but it is not entirely different, either; Raphael breathes in deeply, and sparks alight in his veins.
He beings to laugh. He wouldn't have to search for Soul Calibur, after all.
The sword itself has called him.
Raphael walks through the cathedral, following the energy he can feel radiating outward from a source deeper inside the structure. He passes by Grecian columns supporting a fresco-decorated ceiling, past rose windows that cast myriad gems of light across cascading water fountains, until he comes to an open balcony. There, one man stands, holding a blue metal sword in his hands.
"Siegfried," he says simply. "We meet again."
The younger man starts and turns, facing Raphael. "You shouldn't be here."
Raphael's eyes flare with indignation. "And why is that?"
"This place...did you really come this far, only for vengeance?"
"Vengeance?" Raphael begins to laugh. "How - how amusing. You think I came here because of you?" He draws his rapier, still wet with blood of Soul Calibur's slain keepers. "I only care about the sword you're holding. Not that killing you won't be enjoyable - quite the contrary - but you are a secondary thought, at best." Raphael points Flambert directly at Siegfried. "Why, if you decide to do the sensible thing and give up that blade to someone who deserves it, I may even find it in my heart to spare you."
Siegfried's eyes grow cold. "Power - is that all you're after?" He grips Soul Calibur more firmly, shifting into a fighting stance. "If that's the case, you will find no mercy from me."
They move at the same time - Siegfried swinging Soul Calibur in a gleaming arc around him, Raphael darting forward while neatly turning his ankle to avoid the glittering blade as his own sword aims for Siegfried's neck. At the last possible second Siegfried twists out of the way, and Flambert merely grazes the small section of vulnerable flesh.
Neither man takes time to size the other up, or wait for an opening; they know each other too well, and are too close to achieving their goals, to consider caution. Raphael notes - with a thrilling mix of excitement and fear - that Siegfried is far more aggressive here than he'd been in the Labyrinth, Soul Calibur a brilliant, glittering blur encircling him and forcing Raphael out of range. Raphael weaves in and out of the sword's path, striking with pinpoint precision at the spots left exposed in Siegfried's armor.
For a moment neither man is able to gain an advantage - but both know someone must give eventually. Raphael's concern is Soul Calibur itself - even dormant, Soul Calibur's power chills the air around them, and the evil in his soul trembles in fear of its wrath. But he is almost certain Siegfried does not know how to use the sword's true power, and he grows more sure of this as their battle continues; if Siegfried knew Soul Calibur was capable of ending the fighting he would have done so.
A low, inhuman growl rolls through the cathedral - loud enough to make both men stop and turn - and the energy crackling in the air ripples around them in response. The darkness in Raphael's heart beats faster, and he knows instinctively that Soul Edge has awakened in this hallowed place. Siegfried's eyes narrow.
"Nightmare," he hisses, eyes little more than vivid green slits of hate. Soul Calibur flares with a blue-white light, and the soft whisper of Soul Edge in the back of Raphael's mind becomes a horrified shriek, screaming at him to either escape or kill.
In the end, he can do neither. The blue-white light grows brighter, then explodes, knocking Raphael back into one of the hard marble pillars supporting the cathedral ceiling. The impact nearly knocks him out, but the threatening ring of metal boots running across the marble floor cuts through the pain engulfing him and he manages to raise Flambert in defense just before Siegfried crashes into him, Soul Calibur nearly taking off his head. As it is, the blade is but an inch from his throat; Raphael braces Flambert with his hands to keep Soul Calibur at bay, and his rapier's sharp edge bites through his leather gloves.
Siegfried presses closer, the edge of his blade slicing into the flesh across Raphael's collarbone. Flambert digs deeper into his hands, almost to the bone, and blackened, viscous blood oozes down the steel blade.
"You can't escape," Siegfried says - no braggadocio, this, only cruel fact. "Accept your death proudly."
A small, gurgling cry escapes Raphael's throat. The physical pain is intense; though Soul Calibur barely grazes his skin, he can feel its purity chilling the malfection pulsing through him, and he does not even want to imagine the shredded mess his hands must be now. But far worse is the thought of losing, the thought of dying, the thought of leaving Amy alone in a world that fears and despises her.
"No," he all but whimpers, and he isn't sure what horrifies him more - that he is able to utter such a pathetic statement, or that a part of him hopes it will move Siegfried to spare him. "I can't. I won't."
Siegfried's eyes are as cold and hard as the sword he wields. "...once, I thought you were a man of honor. It seems I misjudged you." He increases the pressure on Soul Calibur; dark, malfected blood drips onto the blue blade and crystalizes on contact.
In desperation, Raphael takes hold of Soul Calibur with his mangled hands, trying to push the sword away; as he takes hold his hands freeze, frost running up his arms and through his body. Helpless, he searches within himself for some strength he can draw on - but Soul Edge's malice is ice in his veins, and his pride in tatters; even his love for Amy - which had stood against death once before - cannot give him the strength to stop the sword bearing down on him.
"I - " Raphael gasps, half-choked from the blood rising in his throat, "I can't leave her, I can't -" He is only half-aware of what he is saying, shame and pain and hatred settling in his brain like thick fog as he waits for Soul Calibur to fall.
The final blow never comes. Siegfried still holds Soul Calibur to his neck, but the frozen green eyes splinter like ice, the cracks revealing the loneliness lapping under the surface. "The power you're looking for - it's for someone you love, isn't it?" He pulls back slightly, and Raphael sinks to the floor, his blood cold and sluggish in his veins.
"What does it matter to you, what I do or do not fight for?" Raphael snarls. He finds it hard to look at Siegfried, at the lost look in his eyes; it is too familiar, too much like something he'd seen in himself, forging a closeness to this man he does not want to have.
"When I first found Soul Edge," Siegfried says, his voice hollow, "it promised me - if I had enough power, I could save all the things I loved - everything I'd lost, everything I was afraid of losing. But..." Siegfried pauses, glancing at the glowing blue sword in his hands.
"...In the end, all I did was destroy. Even now, this power won't save anything. It will only put a stop to my folly." Siegfried turns to leave, to face the approaching darkness.
"I hope -" Siegfried calls over his shoulder, "I hope you return to what's close to you, Raphael."
Briefly, Raphael considers following him; but he has his pride still, wounded though it is. He will not shed what is left of it by turning on one who has shown him mercy - galling though the thought might be.
A matter of pride, he tells himself, as he staggers to his feet. It is not because he is afraid - not because the look in Siegfried's eyes mirrors the look he'd seen in Amy's as he bid her farewell and left her waiting in the dark; not because the hollowness in the man's voice echoes inside his heart every day he is away from his beloved child. A wave of homesickness washes over Raphael; more than anything, he wants to see Amy again, to hold her close and hear her shy laughter, to see the rare glint of joy in her dark eyes at his return.
As if reflecting his wavering resolve, the cathedral melts around him, giving way to the benightened forest. He does not know how long he stands there, head bowed, wishing for home.
I hope you return to what's close to you.
Raphael curls his fingers, feeling his ruined hands already beginning to heal. He could return home, but for what? To hold his daughter near and listen to her heart beat far too slowly, to hide her away from the sun that burns her, to stand at her side until the world grows tired of her existence, and destroys her? No, he would not - could not - abandon his promise to her - no matter if the bond they share is snapped in its fulfillment; no matter if his death is the price he must pay.
Raphael raises his eyes once more to the shining moon above him. Burning red stars streak across the sky, radiating with an evil energy that resonates with the darkness infecting his soul. The discordant memory of lost, lonely eyes is drowned in the rising tide of malice birthed by Soul Edge's awakening.
His bitter laughter echoing through the silent forest, Raphael sets his sights once again on Ostrheinsburg.
---
chapter 5: fiat iustitia...
