Élisabeth Duval - In The Shadow of Greater Beings

[Dawnbreak]

It felt good, wielding the sword that tore through you. If for no other reason than the satisfaction it gave me, taking your life had been one of the only smart decisions I made in my life. Not that there were many decisions to make, were there?

No. Being born into aristocracy surely makes it difficult. My parents, first, for a good portion of time, as was expected, have held my reins... And then, you. A puppet to be used and disregarded, without a mind of its own. A tool to keep for when you lust for something the hours you spend in war and torture cannot provide, a trophy to show your similarly sick comrades and partners for when you need affirmation that your life has amounted to something... Your very own, living slave in disguise, hidden by smokes and mirrors, by weakness and corruption.

Would you have ever expected that the hands of one so broken and submissive, could wield the weapon that would snuff out your life?

I think not.

[Dawnbreak]

It was not all bad, really. Fleeing, I mean. Of course, there were days I went without a thing to eat, some nights that made me almost freeze to death, and even the most distant bark of some lordlings hunting hound sent me running, wherever I was.

It was not just any day a nobleman was murdered by his loving wife. I do not think I was followed as far as out of Suzail, really, but then, I could not have been sure. Where was I even going? Anywhere but that wretched city, naturally, but where? To die in the forest, of frostbite, or become some animal's prey? It seems foolish to me now, and though I do not want to believe in luck, it could not have been anything but that when you stumbled unto me that night.

You kept me fed, safe - you heard my plight, and decided to teach me your way, so I might survive. With naught but good will, you have saved my life, and have been like a mother to me, a mother that I never had.

And after it all, your death came to rest on my shoulders.

[Dawnbreak]

Ten and four winters to Élisabeth Duval.

The festivities of aristocrats in the city of Suzail rarely suffered from lack of entertainment, and rarely did they differ from one another. Debuts, both celebratory and pointless balls, as well as weddings, all seemed to suffer from being too much alike. Exquisite food and drink from all across the realms and even beyond, famous bards and playing troupes, dancing and carousing until the sun has set and then returned again.

This event was no different. No, no, quite the ordinary gathering, with all things duly considered. A wedding, in fact and at the head of its table sat groom and bride.

He, a grizzled, haggard man; a sword at his side, even in his fineries he is ready for battle. Not his first time taking his seat, though he should have hoped it to be the last.

She, was barely a woman. In a dress designed to make her seem older, at a seat and position she did not wish to be in. Though, what say she did have in it?

Not a one. Ever filled with positivity, she did attempt to make it easier - perhaps the man was kind, and she would be surprised. Surprised and happy with what was forced on her. He seemed to smile as he watched the festivities, showing that he enjoyed himself, though he did not smile at her. Nor did he smile at her attempts at striking conversation, or at anything revolving her. For her, throughout the festivities, it turned harder and harder to believe that this would indeed be a pleasant affair after it all.

The pain sealed that hope away. The pain of every night hence, the pain where pain should not be felt.

Ten and fours winters to Élisabeth Gauthier.