First Sutepri Fanfiction
Aug. 30th, 2005 12:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
tiara-hikari.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sutepriWell, my first contribution. I have a fic to share, though it's my first attempt at writing Sutepri so it's probably really awful. Nevertheless >.> I shall share it and see what happens :P
I was planning for this to be longer and contain more of a Leo/Pacifica resolution at the end, maybe I will add some later, but for the moment I'm stuck with this.
Title: Faded Memories, Forgotten Hopes
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: one sided Leo/Pacifica, references of Pamela/Fulle
Spoilers: For episode 18 and above of the anime.
Length: 1,961
Genre: Angst
Summary: 3 years after the end of the series, Pacifica contemplates the bits of memories she has of Fulle, while Leo wonders whether he should still continue his pursuit of Pacifica.
It was that day again. The one he always dreaded. The only one that could make him deflate, cause all his courage and cheeriness to fall away, and leave nothing but a dull feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt. He wanted to help, he wanted to do something, but he felt, in this more than anything, that it was not his place to interfere. She needed someone, but that someone was not him.
Pacifica set the wooden piece down on the table, sighing and dropping the neatly folded laundry into the seat next to her, staring blankly into the distance. It had been three years, since the stranger with the wooden charm had been in her life, and she barely remembered him. Yet, she couldn’t help feeling strangely nostalgic, on this day every year, supposedly the last day she saw him, before she regained her memory. Oddly enough, she remembered more of him every year, rather than the other way around. Small pieces came back to her, and though Leo had never given her a straight-out answer, she knew in his eyes that he’d died that night.
His death, more than any other, she held on her conscience the most strongly. Out of all the deaths that had occurred as a result of the Scrapped Princess prophecy, his had been the worst, if only because he had been the only one who had helped her so much, had fought with full awareness of who she was, to protect her, and giving up his life to save hers. Most of the casualties, as her brother and sister had often reminded her, had not been her fault but rather, the peacemakers, and the overzealous soldiers and priests who had pursued her to show their devotion to a divine cause. Fulle had taken her in like a lost kitten, and even after he’d found out who she was, when she barely even believed it herself, gave up his life so that she could be free.
If she had to admit to herself the main reason his death made her feel so much more guilty and upset than the rest, it was because she had wanted him to die the least, not caring half so much about the other casualties. He deserved to live the most, he had been the kindest, and most uplifting person she’d known (well, as well as she could remember him), aside from her family and friends who were still with her now. She hardly remembered him but for small fragments of memory, but the emotions this memories evoked were stronger than her feelings for any others that she had met along the way to her own death.
Everyone always tiptoed about the issue, reluctant to answer any questions she had about him, looking haunted as if they’d lost part of her to him. And perhaps, just maybe, that was true. He was like some dark painful secret she treasured deep inside herself, locked away in a part of her mind that had no place for anyone but him. When she recalled small memories of him, she remembered caring and having and loving him and only him, with no place for anyone else. It felt almost like a betrayal of her friends and family, but she treasured the memories so strongly, afraid to lose any part of them.
If only she could do something for him… but every time that thought arose, she grew overwhelmed with such helplessness that she could no longer put a brave face on in front of the others and allowed herself to retreat to the confines of her room.
Leo often came visiting. Usually, it was for some inane task, often making her laugh as he’d help with the housework and tell her strange stories of when he was younger. She knew she could rely on him to lift her spirits. He’d always be there. But unlike her family, he kept coming back out of a romantically devoted love. If she thought too long about it, she would begin to feel awkward, so she’d push it to the back of her mind, pushing him away as she did so.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. No. It was that she couldn’t let go of this man who was barely a memory. Faded pieces that she was desperately trying to put back together.
Leo walked into the room, more contemplative than usual, bringing in another load of freshly dried laundry from outside. At her distant gaze, something in his stomach fell and the light behind his eyes seemed to dim.
“Pacifica…”
He spoke her name on barely a whisper, if only just to let her know he was there. He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, but, reluctant to see what was in her eyes, he walked past and deposited the basket, folding and sorting the laundry with his back to her. He couldn’t shake the guilt that he had failed her, that night of all nights. Jealous and frustrated as he had been, he knew Fulle had been a good man, more than likely better than himself, as he knew how to handle things, he’d been more confident, he’d taken care of her, and he’d earned her affections.
He hadn’t deserved to die that night. The only thing he could think of, often repeating itself in his head, was the question: would he be able to do that for her? If necessary, could he, would he give his life, to protect Pacifica? The answer came to him clearly, yes, as long as he could, he would try his best. But would he have enough courage? Could he have saved Fulle? And, if she ever found out, would she blame him for his death?
His fists clenched in the thick bed sheet he’d been folding as he blinked back tears of frustration and regret. No, it seemed, however he compared himself, he couldn’t live up to the man she was thinking of at this very moment. She never turned to him when in need of something. He never seemed to do anything right. Would she ever rely on him?
She never seemed to take him seriously anyways. More than once, in a more solemn setting than usual he had attempted to be frank with her, once again offering marriage, but each time, she’d shied away, laughing, or slapping him, or not even replying at all.
What was he supposed to do? Part of him told himself that he should tell her what had happened to Fulle. On more than one occasion she had attempted to ask, though since she hardly knew what she was asking, it had been easy to evade her questions. The right thing to do would be to tell her. Wouldn’t it? As much as it troubled him now, he did not want to put her in more pain, and the thought of her knowing what he had done at his weakest moment, failing to protect her, shamed him.
More often than not, it was easy to push these feelings away, put on a brave face and go enjoy the time he spent with her. He wasn’t accustomed to wallowing in his own thoughts for very long. However, as the years went by, and things didn’t seem to change between them, he began to wonder if he was hopelessly pursuing a lost cause. Would she ever turn her attentions to him? Could she ever forget Fulle?
As the years passed, she asked more and more about him, and the more he avoided it, the more guilty he felt. Perhaps, as ignorant as she tended to be about his feelings, it was time that he told her, what had happened that night, and determine her thoughts of him. Something needed to be done, and though truth be told this conclusion terrified him a little, perhaps it would be just the thing she needed.
Mulling it over in his mind for a few moments, he was still unsure of what to do when he heard her voice, quietly whispering his name.
“Leo… I…”
Turning so quickly he almost fell over, he looked over her, trying to determine her state of mind. He noticed the crestfallen look in her eyes, though they were dry of tears this year, but replaced instead with a kind of desperation.
“Leo, I need to know. Please…”
Panicking before he could think of anything else, he shrugged away her plea by feigning ignorance.
“Eh? Know what? There’s still some laundry left to do. I’d better bring it in so we can finish in time for dinner-”
“-LEO! Please! Tell me!”
Staring at her blankly for a few moments, he took in her frustrated look, the anxiety in her clenched shoulders and closed eyes, and painfully resigned himself to the situation. He couldn’t refuse this to her, no matter what it would cost him.
“Yes…”
Falling dejectedly in the seat facing hers, he heard her move as her eyes opened and her body leaned closer to his, unable to look up until he’d steeled himself for what he was going to say. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he began, head still bowed and eyes focused on his knees.
“Fulle… He… Fulle was a soldier, an ex-soldier… After you… lost your memory, he took you in, and-”
“-I know this already. Raquel-nee told me. What about… that night, you were the only one there, please…”
“I… I…Winia and you went ahead, and I went, with Fulle, the soldiers caught up to us… He told me to go ahead, he was going to try to slow them down. He told me to leave him behind, I was supposed to protect you, I was going to go ahead. I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I had to protect you. He stayed behind, they caught up to us, and….Fulle was shot… The last I saw of him he’d been shot, but I had to keep going, I had to go on, and protect you, I…”
His voice broke, and for a painful moment he hoped that she wouldn’t ask him to go on from there. He paused, took a deep breath, then glanced up at her. She sat, frozen in place, her brow twisted in pain and her eyes now glistening. Placing his palm gently against the table, he rose, standing before her, then stood ramrod straight, staring into her eyes.
“Pacifica, I’m so sorry.”
“Leo…”
“I’m so sorry, Pacifica, I’m sorry, I-”
“Please…leave.”
Slightly shocked at her statement, he was the one who now remained frozen, staring at her as he hoped his worst fears would not be confirmed.
“I… please, Leo… go.”
Not wanting to put into words what she meant, but sure of their meaning, his brows shook as he felt a leaden feeling at the pit of his stomach. He could no longer speak. In all his life, he could never recall feeling a greater pain than this, and he knew, at that moment, the worst feeling of self-loathing and disappointment. All his hopes, gone.
He tried to say her name, just once, but try as he might, no sound would leave his throat. It was blocked, with some thick, heavy feeling he could not identify. Unable to face her any longer, his fist lifted from the table, clenched, then fell away as he turned and left the house.
Pacifica waited until she heard the clops of his horse’s hooves disappear, then allowed her head to fall into her hands. She had told herself that she wouldn’t allow herself to spill any tears this year, and yet, more animated than they had ever been, she couldn’t stop the sobs that tore through her as tears fell onto her sleeves.
~End~
A little too overdramatic perhaps? Some facts incorrect? If so, please do let me know. I need more practice :/
I was planning for this to be longer and contain more of a Leo/Pacifica resolution at the end, maybe I will add some later, but for the moment I'm stuck with this.
Title: Faded Memories, Forgotten Hopes
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: one sided Leo/Pacifica, references of Pamela/Fulle
Spoilers: For episode 18 and above of the anime.
Length: 1,961
Genre: Angst
Summary: 3 years after the end of the series, Pacifica contemplates the bits of memories she has of Fulle, while Leo wonders whether he should still continue his pursuit of Pacifica.
It was that day again. The one he always dreaded. The only one that could make him deflate, cause all his courage and cheeriness to fall away, and leave nothing but a dull feeling of inadequacy and self-doubt. He wanted to help, he wanted to do something, but he felt, in this more than anything, that it was not his place to interfere. She needed someone, but that someone was not him.
Pacifica set the wooden piece down on the table, sighing and dropping the neatly folded laundry into the seat next to her, staring blankly into the distance. It had been three years, since the stranger with the wooden charm had been in her life, and she barely remembered him. Yet, she couldn’t help feeling strangely nostalgic, on this day every year, supposedly the last day she saw him, before she regained her memory. Oddly enough, she remembered more of him every year, rather than the other way around. Small pieces came back to her, and though Leo had never given her a straight-out answer, she knew in his eyes that he’d died that night.
His death, more than any other, she held on her conscience the most strongly. Out of all the deaths that had occurred as a result of the Scrapped Princess prophecy, his had been the worst, if only because he had been the only one who had helped her so much, had fought with full awareness of who she was, to protect her, and giving up his life to save hers. Most of the casualties, as her brother and sister had often reminded her, had not been her fault but rather, the peacemakers, and the overzealous soldiers and priests who had pursued her to show their devotion to a divine cause. Fulle had taken her in like a lost kitten, and even after he’d found out who she was, when she barely even believed it herself, gave up his life so that she could be free.
If she had to admit to herself the main reason his death made her feel so much more guilty and upset than the rest, it was because she had wanted him to die the least, not caring half so much about the other casualties. He deserved to live the most, he had been the kindest, and most uplifting person she’d known (well, as well as she could remember him), aside from her family and friends who were still with her now. She hardly remembered him but for small fragments of memory, but the emotions this memories evoked were stronger than her feelings for any others that she had met along the way to her own death.
Everyone always tiptoed about the issue, reluctant to answer any questions she had about him, looking haunted as if they’d lost part of her to him. And perhaps, just maybe, that was true. He was like some dark painful secret she treasured deep inside herself, locked away in a part of her mind that had no place for anyone but him. When she recalled small memories of him, she remembered caring and having and loving him and only him, with no place for anyone else. It felt almost like a betrayal of her friends and family, but she treasured the memories so strongly, afraid to lose any part of them.
If only she could do something for him… but every time that thought arose, she grew overwhelmed with such helplessness that she could no longer put a brave face on in front of the others and allowed herself to retreat to the confines of her room.
Leo often came visiting. Usually, it was for some inane task, often making her laugh as he’d help with the housework and tell her strange stories of when he was younger. She knew she could rely on him to lift her spirits. He’d always be there. But unlike her family, he kept coming back out of a romantically devoted love. If she thought too long about it, she would begin to feel awkward, so she’d push it to the back of her mind, pushing him away as she did so.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. No. It was that she couldn’t let go of this man who was barely a memory. Faded pieces that she was desperately trying to put back together.
Leo walked into the room, more contemplative than usual, bringing in another load of freshly dried laundry from outside. At her distant gaze, something in his stomach fell and the light behind his eyes seemed to dim.
“Pacifica…”
He spoke her name on barely a whisper, if only just to let her know he was there. He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, but, reluctant to see what was in her eyes, he walked past and deposited the basket, folding and sorting the laundry with his back to her. He couldn’t shake the guilt that he had failed her, that night of all nights. Jealous and frustrated as he had been, he knew Fulle had been a good man, more than likely better than himself, as he knew how to handle things, he’d been more confident, he’d taken care of her, and he’d earned her affections.
He hadn’t deserved to die that night. The only thing he could think of, often repeating itself in his head, was the question: would he be able to do that for her? If necessary, could he, would he give his life, to protect Pacifica? The answer came to him clearly, yes, as long as he could, he would try his best. But would he have enough courage? Could he have saved Fulle? And, if she ever found out, would she blame him for his death?
His fists clenched in the thick bed sheet he’d been folding as he blinked back tears of frustration and regret. No, it seemed, however he compared himself, he couldn’t live up to the man she was thinking of at this very moment. She never turned to him when in need of something. He never seemed to do anything right. Would she ever rely on him?
She never seemed to take him seriously anyways. More than once, in a more solemn setting than usual he had attempted to be frank with her, once again offering marriage, but each time, she’d shied away, laughing, or slapping him, or not even replying at all.
What was he supposed to do? Part of him told himself that he should tell her what had happened to Fulle. On more than one occasion she had attempted to ask, though since she hardly knew what she was asking, it had been easy to evade her questions. The right thing to do would be to tell her. Wouldn’t it? As much as it troubled him now, he did not want to put her in more pain, and the thought of her knowing what he had done at his weakest moment, failing to protect her, shamed him.
More often than not, it was easy to push these feelings away, put on a brave face and go enjoy the time he spent with her. He wasn’t accustomed to wallowing in his own thoughts for very long. However, as the years went by, and things didn’t seem to change between them, he began to wonder if he was hopelessly pursuing a lost cause. Would she ever turn her attentions to him? Could she ever forget Fulle?
As the years passed, she asked more and more about him, and the more he avoided it, the more guilty he felt. Perhaps, as ignorant as she tended to be about his feelings, it was time that he told her, what had happened that night, and determine her thoughts of him. Something needed to be done, and though truth be told this conclusion terrified him a little, perhaps it would be just the thing she needed.
Mulling it over in his mind for a few moments, he was still unsure of what to do when he heard her voice, quietly whispering his name.
“Leo… I…”
Turning so quickly he almost fell over, he looked over her, trying to determine her state of mind. He noticed the crestfallen look in her eyes, though they were dry of tears this year, but replaced instead with a kind of desperation.
“Leo, I need to know. Please…”
Panicking before he could think of anything else, he shrugged away her plea by feigning ignorance.
“Eh? Know what? There’s still some laundry left to do. I’d better bring it in so we can finish in time for dinner-”
“-LEO! Please! Tell me!”
Staring at her blankly for a few moments, he took in her frustrated look, the anxiety in her clenched shoulders and closed eyes, and painfully resigned himself to the situation. He couldn’t refuse this to her, no matter what it would cost him.
“Yes…”
Falling dejectedly in the seat facing hers, he heard her move as her eyes opened and her body leaned closer to his, unable to look up until he’d steeled himself for what he was going to say. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he began, head still bowed and eyes focused on his knees.
“Fulle… He… Fulle was a soldier, an ex-soldier… After you… lost your memory, he took you in, and-”
“-I know this already. Raquel-nee told me. What about… that night, you were the only one there, please…”
“I… I…Winia and you went ahead, and I went, with Fulle, the soldiers caught up to us… He told me to go ahead, he was going to try to slow them down. He told me to leave him behind, I was supposed to protect you, I was going to go ahead. I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I had to protect you. He stayed behind, they caught up to us, and….Fulle was shot… The last I saw of him he’d been shot, but I had to keep going, I had to go on, and protect you, I…”
His voice broke, and for a painful moment he hoped that she wouldn’t ask him to go on from there. He paused, took a deep breath, then glanced up at her. She sat, frozen in place, her brow twisted in pain and her eyes now glistening. Placing his palm gently against the table, he rose, standing before her, then stood ramrod straight, staring into her eyes.
“Pacifica, I’m so sorry.”
“Leo…”
“I’m so sorry, Pacifica, I’m sorry, I-”
“Please…leave.”
Slightly shocked at her statement, he was the one who now remained frozen, staring at her as he hoped his worst fears would not be confirmed.
“I… please, Leo… go.”
Not wanting to put into words what she meant, but sure of their meaning, his brows shook as he felt a leaden feeling at the pit of his stomach. He could no longer speak. In all his life, he could never recall feeling a greater pain than this, and he knew, at that moment, the worst feeling of self-loathing and disappointment. All his hopes, gone.
He tried to say her name, just once, but try as he might, no sound would leave his throat. It was blocked, with some thick, heavy feeling he could not identify. Unable to face her any longer, his fist lifted from the table, clenched, then fell away as he turned and left the house.
Pacifica waited until she heard the clops of his horse’s hooves disappear, then allowed her head to fall into her hands. She had told herself that she wouldn’t allow herself to spill any tears this year, and yet, more animated than they had ever been, she couldn’t stop the sobs that tore through her as tears fell onto her sleeves.
~End~
A little too overdramatic perhaps? Some facts incorrect? If so, please do let me know. I need more practice :/
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