Dance to the Death

Heels clicking against the stone floor, pulse pounding in her head, the young warrior made her way down the corridor to the doors which held her fate. Columns of grey marble glowed in the moonlight that streamed in from the scattered skylights above her, casting eerie shadows around her. The corridor opened before her like a creature's gaping maw, its columns its teeth, threatening to devour her. Every instinct told her to turn and run, but she knew if she did, the guards would retrieve her and drag her back. So she pressed on.

Her white silken gown swished around her body as she moved, the loose fabric around her bust drawing together into a bodice decorated with delicate embroidery and beading before giving way to the skirt that brushed against her legs and the weapons she had secretly strapped to her legs. Gossamer fabric covered her shoulders before bunching above her elbows and falling to her wrists. It was a gown fit for a goddess, and within the hour, it would accompany her to the grave.

The draft. Every citizen in the kingdom feared it, whether for themselves or their families. Once a year, one hundred names were selected, names of maidens and young men of fighting age. These individuals were then taken to the palace, trained in combat for six months, then forced to face the most capable warrior in the land—the king himself. It was under these circumstances that the young woman's world had come shattering down around her. Her mind filled with the memory of that day as she walked the endless hall.

The soldiers came in the evening, summons in hand. Her heart froze as they read off the name, her eyes locking with her sister's.

"There has to be a mistake," the young woman said.

"No mistake, miss," the soldier said as if reciting a speech. "We are to take Serah Farron to the Imperial Palace."

"No," Serah screamed, backing away from the men. The soldiers moved toward her as a unit, sending her cowering to the floor like a child in a thunderstorm.

"Don't touch her!" the woman screamed, throwing herself onto one of the soldiers. The man fell, his partner promptly kicking her in the head, sending her into darkness. On the fringes of consciousness, she could hear Serah's cries for help. Pushing herself up and spitting blood from her mouth, the woman did something even she did not understand. "Stop! Please, take me instead."

Both men froze in the doorway and Serah stopped screaming. "What was that?"

Standing up, she wiped blood from her mouth and set her jaw. "I said take me instead."

"It doesn't work that way, miss. We were sent to retrieve Serah Farron."

"I realize that," she protested, "but you are permitted to take volunteers, are you not?"

The men exchanged glances. "Yes, but…no one ever has."

"Take me instead." The woman struggled to not look at her sister.

"Claire," the younger girl whimpered, "please don't. I'll be okay."

The woman looked at her sister. Both knew that was a lie. Serah would die before she could complete training. Fighting was not in her blood.

"My sister is engaged; she can serve other purposes for the king. Please, sirs, leave her be."

"Please don't do this," Serah cried, barely above a whisper.

Once again, the men exchanged glances and whispered words before addressing her. "Very well," they said, releasing Serah.

"No," the younger of the sisters sobbed, latching on to her elder sibling. "I won't let you go."

"Serah, go to Snow's," she said as the soldiers pulled at her arms. "Tell him what happened. And get out of town."

"Don't leave me."

"I'll be alright. I promise."

"Let's go miss."

"I love you."

"Claire!"

"Miss…" The young warrior looked up, a guard standing beside her. "Are you alright?"

With the memory dissipating, she realized she had reached the end of the corridor at last. The massive wooden doors stood before her, sending fear coursing through her body. "I'm fine," she muttered, "just taking a moment."

He nodded, leaving her alone. Moments passed. Finally, she took a deep breath, and pushed the doors open.

The sight that awaited her beyond took her breath away. The floors and walls were polished grey granite, speckled with mica and amethyst. To her left, a massive bed hidden behind purple drapes, the fame made of ebony and inlayed with silver accents. A reflecting pool sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by a chaise decorated with silk and animal furs. Stepping closer, she notice the relief image at the pool's bottom, glimmering with mother of pearl, obsidian, and other semi-precious stones. Purple drapes, blowing in the breeze, partially hid a balcony which overlooked the ocean. Pushing them aside, the breeze played with her rose tresses and her gown as she walked out onto the balcony. Closing her crystal blue eyes, she took a deep breath, allowing peace to overtake her.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Heart racing, the woman turned to face the deep voice's owner. A man stood just behind the drapes leading to the bedroom. Parting them and stepping out to join her, she took in the sight of him. He wore black pants which disappeared into black leather boots. His muscles coiled as he slid on a deep purple shirt, leaving it open and loose over his scarred chest. His amethyst eyes reflected mystery and intrigue, as well as power, while violet hair framed his features. The woman's breathe stilled. This beautiful man before her, she had seen him countless times before, but never like this. Usually he commanded attention and radiated power, but at this moment, he appeared…normal.

"Is something the matter, my dear?"

"No," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking, "not at all, Your Majesty."

The man smiled at her, the wind playing with his tresses. "Such formality. Please, call me Caius." He motioned towards the bubbling black and white capped waves. "Would you like to see it?"

Nodding, she took his hand as he led her down a marble stairway to the beach, the sand crunching underfoot.

"My advisers told me it was unwise to build my castle so close to the ocean. They claimed it was like opening my arms to my enemies. Yet, never has this beach been attacked. Do you know why that is?"

Before she could answer, a screech rang through the air, threatening to shatter her eardrums. Turning her face skyward, she beheld the massive beast known as Bahamut, the city's great protector, as it flew to a massive perch above the castle.

"Yes," the king said, smiling up at his pet. "Any that would oppose me are faced with Bahamut's fury. Only the greatest defenses are allowed to serve my kingdom." As he released her hand, the woman noticed for the first time the rack of weapons standing by the staircase. Maces, swords, lances, knives, axes—it was a treasure trove of weaponry. She felt the color drain from her face.

Caius smiled back at her with a cruel smile. "You've come to this battle ill prepared, my dear girl. You come dressed as a princess only to soil your gown. Do you care so little for your life that you throw yourself into battle with no armor?"

"The point of this test, Highness, is not to prove the efficiency and usefulness of armor, but rather the breadth of one's skill and ability to defend oneself."

"Well said," he chuckled. "But I do insist." He stepped aside, motioning to the rack. "Take your pick, my lady."

Eyeing him with suspicion, she obeyed. She ran her hands along the handles of the weapons, admiring the fine craftsmanship of each piece before settling on a pair of curved knives with bone handles.

"A modest choice," he remarked, taking in his own hand a katana decorated with a trailing ribbon at its hilt. "This shall be a quick battle."

With lightning speed, she leapt at him, dragging one of the blades against his cheek, applying just enough pressure to produce a thin trail of blood. With the same speed, she leapt back, watching as shock and realization struck him. "Never underestimate your opponent, sir."

The king admired his blood tipped fingers and smiled. "Very well, my young warrior. I shall see to that." He took his stance, his eyes piercing her soul. "But know this, child; this beach, though beautiful, has seen its share of bloodshed. Looks may be deceiving, but underneath the mask, you are all the same: lambs led to the slaughter, awaiting the final blow."

His words sunk into her, causing fear and doubt to take hold. She risked closing her eyes for a moment, and refocused herself.

"I may be no more than a beast for you to kill," she spat, looking at him once again, "but make no mistake; you will have to take my life from me."

"So be it." He bowed to her, a wicked grin on his face, before lunging. His sword swung at her, the blade angled towards her leg. Dodging aside, the weapon snagged her gown, tearing a slit up to her left hip, revealing one of her concealed blades. Jumping back, she glared at him with spite. She dragged her foot across the sand in a semi-circle, staring him down.

He stood there, frame strong, a master at his trade, well-rehearsed from experience. He gaze commanded respect, submission, something she would not give him.

Straightening herself, she began to circle him. His movements mirrored her own, strong and exact, the tip of his sword dragging occasionally through the sand. With every step, they grew closer, the energy between them palpable.

Grip tightening around the hilts of the knives, she attacked. Arm raised, she brought it down towards his chest. An iron like grip seized her wrist, a faint smile spreading across Caius' face. She brought down her other blade, but in a fluid motion, he released his sword and seized that wrist as well. She struggled against his grip, eyes ablaze. Remaining nearly stationary, he spun her around him, like a fighter does a cape, before releasing her one arm to spin her out and away from him.

As she reached the peak of the movement, she recoiled, spinning back into his arms. Then, free arm crossing over her chest, she plunged her free blade into Caius' shoulder.

The man's body quivered with pain, causing him to release his grip on her. She pulled away quickly, dragging the imbedded blade down his side before freeing it. She stepped back, feet together, arms raised above her head.

Glaring at her, brow furrowed, he lifted his blade once again, challenging her with his quiet resolve. She smiled back at him, accepting.

With frightening speed, she leapt towards him, dodging aside as his blade rose to meet her. The steel of her blade grazed his arm, tearing the purple fabric of his shirt and nicking his flesh. His sword hummed as the blade sliced the air, seconds behind her as she leapt to safety.

Her short, jab assaults continued, yielding thin trails of blood leaking from Caius' chest, arms, and legs. Her movement, while still quick and precise, became more predictable, her body working against her in its preparation of the next.

She ran towards him, body bent to duck under his rising arms. Suddenly, pain surged down her spine as she fell to the ground. Her body trembled as blood poured from the gash on her back.

Struggling to regain her bearings, she cried out again as the blade caught the underside of her stomach. The momentum spun her onto her back, Caius looking down at her in triumph. Kicking her weapons from her hands, he raised his own blade skyward before plunging it towards her in effort to impale her. At the last moment, she dodged the descending weapon, taking out one of her foe's legs in the process. She tried to stand, but instead was lifted to her feet, Caius' iron-like grip clutching her neck.

"You fight well, my dear," he whispered in her ear.

She clawed at his hand, no longer having her knives. Skin and blood coated her nails, but still his grip remained steadfast.

"Too bad that will not save you."

Effortlessly, he tossed her into the ocean, the sea foam soaking her bloodstained dress and enflaming her battle wounds. She spat saltwater from her mouth, shaking the dark spots out of her vision. Dark clouds gathered overhead, thunder rumbling somewhere off in the distance.

"It's scary, Claire," a memory whispered in her head.

"Thunder's just a bunch of noise, Serah. It's nothing to be afraid of."

"Really?"

"Would I ever lie to you?"

"No," the memory of her younger sister whispered, pulling close. "I guess not."

"I'll always be there to protect you, Serah."

"Always," the warrior whispered, struggling to regain her footing in the breaking waves. Pulling aside the skirt of her dress, she revealed and reached for another four concealed blades. On the beach, Caius took his stance, tall and regal, awaiting her.

She wasted no time. Three steps though the waves and she let one of her blades fly. It was easily countered, but served its purpose in distracting her enemy long enough to come within range.

Bloodlust and anger fueling her, she drove one of the blades into his thigh, twisting it as she passed him. Screaming in pain, he brought down his blade on the back of her own leg, severing muscle and ligaments. Sand and sweat blended with the blood as she slid to safety, teeth grinding together in silent agony. She raised her gaze to meet him. The king raised the blade above his head, wiping away excess blood with his fingers, before slicing the air with the red blade.

The woman struggled to her feet, her body begging her to lay down and die. The end was near. She couldn't take much more of this. Still, she would not give up or give in. If she was going to die, she was going to die fighting. Slowly, she stood, drew herself up, and pawed at the ground, bloodying the sand with every stroke.

Caius rushed towards her this time, eyes focused on her weaknesses, but overlooking the strength her heart still possessed. As he raised his blade, catching her face, she lashed out, driving two of her remaining blades across his chest. The momentum of his attack drove her back, her weak leg buckling beneath her. The sword fell towards her, its blow missing her by mere inches as she used the last of strength. The metal thudded as it struck the sand, then shattered as the katana broke under the warrior's foot.

She swung her last blade at him, but was easily counteracted. The weapon fell from her hand. Her body fell backwards. His hand rested upon the small of her back, supporting her fall until her body met his bent knee as well. His free hand reached for the dagger she had driven into his leg earlier, pulled it from its sheath, and held the body weapon to her breast bone.

The battle was over. He had won. She had lost. And now, she would die.

With every breath her lungs labored to take, the knife pressed deeper into her chest, a minor twinge of pain growing beneath its point. This was the end. In moments, he would slay her. Despite herself, she closed her eyes as her tears and blood darkened the sand.

"Any last requests, my dear?"

"Yes, your highness," she whispered. "I have one."

The blade pressed deeper, a red spot forming on the bodice of her gown. "Name it, warrior, but know I will judge whether or not to grant it."

She opened her eyes to meet his. "It is for a life, your majesty."

"A life," he echoed, scoffing. "Yours?"

"No, sir," she whispered. "I ask that in the giving of my life, you will spare my sister's, as well as her future family. This is my death wish." She closed her eyes and relaxed her body. "Do with me now as you wish."

Eternity seemed to pass as the blade remained stationary. She prayed it would be quick and painless, drawing into her mind memories of her family, of Serah.

Pressure left her chest and a dull 'thump' sounded from off to the side. Opening her eyes, she watched as Caius took his now weaponless hand and brought it to her bloodied cheek. Wiping her wet eyes, he whispered something in a language she could not understand. His hand traveled down her neck, across her shoulder, and down her arm before he took her hand in his. As his hand moved over her, wounds closed and vanished, the only indication of their previous presence being the stains on her gown. Strength returned to her as her body healed. She locked eyes with Caius, confused. Helping her to her feet, he kissed her hand. "Go now, goddess. Freedom is yours." He turned away from her, still wounded, and ascended the stairs to the palace.

"Wait!" She ran after him, her mind racing, trying to make sense of things. She pushed past the drapes to the room, stopping before the pool where he was washing his wounds. "Your majesty…"

"Caius," the man whispered, his back towards her.

"Caius." The name felt strange in her mouth. "Why are you sparing me? I lost."

"Yes, you did. And?"

She dug at the floor with her toe. "According to the rumors, only those who best you are spared, and only then to serve you."

He turned to her. "It is true. Very few have ever bested me in a battle, however," he said, taking her hands, "even fewer have exhibited honor and self-sacrifice as you have. Such are traits that are lost to much of the world. Why would I deprive it of such a beautiful example?

"Over the years, I have faced countless hundreds of souls, many of whom beg for their lives in their final moments, pleading for mercy and a second chance. Their eyes reflect only selfish desires. Driven by primal instinct and fear, they do anything to stay alive.

"I saw the same vicious, animalistic instinct in fighting you, the same fear in your eyes. But rather than begging for salvation from death, you plead for another's life." Stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, he looked into her eyes. "There is no greater love than one that will give their life for another."

Looking into his eyes, she was overwhelmed with mercy she found there. But there was something else as well. Hidden deep in those pools of amethyst, past emotion, power, and status, there was longing. Brokenness. A desire, a need, for love, the love that she had exhibited.

She lowered her eyes, unable to take in any more.

"My dear," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "I speak to you now not as your king, but as a man whose heart is burdened for this world. Such love and dedication you have shown is rare. Yours is a dying breed. Do not squander this chance you have been given. Live life, and teach others how to live to the fullest, full of love." He looked down at her hands in his. "You are my gift to this world."

She watched as he slid a ring onto her finger. The rose gold felt cool against her skin and the amethyst and diamonds sparkled in the dim light.

"May this serve as a reminder…and a sign of my promise to you." He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Farewell, my dear."

Emotion swelled within her. Tears rolled down her face as the gravity of his words finally sank in. "Thank you, sir," she whispered. "If I may, might I be able to show you my gratitude."

"Of course, my dear. You are free to do whatever your heart desires."

She smiled in reply. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, rested her forehead against his, then brought her lips to his. Shock gave way to rapture as he met her, tasting her, and pulled her into his arms. She let herself linger, letting the strength of his embrace and warmth of his touch fill her. Time slowed until they were the only two in the world.

As suddenly as it had begun, she pulled away slowly, her face red with embarrassment. "Thank you, sir…for everything."

"My pleasure, my dear."

"Claire."

"Claire," he whispered, kissing her hand again before leading her towards the door. Interestingly enough, she found no fear here now. In fact, she wanted to stay. The dark wood opened, revealing the corridor once again.

Stepping out of the room, she turned towards him again. "It was an honor meeting you," she curtsied. "I hope to see you again, Caius."

"As do I, my love," he breathed. "As do I." The door closed, locking him inside.

Claire lifted her hand to the door, resting it against the smooth wood, breathed deeply, then turned, freedom and family beckoning to her heart, praying in her soul her path would cross this man's again.