Chapter Text
His legs ached under the weight of his exhausted body, his muscles pulled to its limits and screaming in rebellion as he forced them to move. Yet he wouldn't stop to take a break, he couldn’t. Leif felt his heart pound against his chest, his pants heavy and loud in his ears as he forced himself to move forward, to keep running. Two swords clinked against each other in their sheaths on the left side of his waist and one hand clutched over the book holster on the right side of his waist. Eyes focused on rushing through the forest before him, using his free hand to push through the shrubbery. He would have loved to use his horse to take the faster route through the plains but his horse had been shot dead by magic at Belhalla, he didn’t have time to weep for his mount as he continued to flee.
The words of Finn rang in his head, ‘Lord Leif, you must run! You must survive with the holy weapons! They are our only hope!’ Leif grit his teeth together, ignoring the scratch across his arm as he snapped a bramble in his haste through the flora. His hair clung to his face, dampened by his sweat as he pushed forward, keeping his ragged breaths to himself, fearful that pursuing soldiers, if any at all, might be warned of his escape route. Though he called it an escape route in his head, he was unfamiliar with the forests of northern Belhalla.
The light from beyond the forest blinded him for a second, forcing Leif to rub his eyes as he burst through and out of the thick forestry, leaving the shrubbery behind him as he found himself face to face with a cliff overlooking the rough waves crashing against the cliff face below him. Nowhere to run. He cursed his luck once more, eyes hastily darting left and right to see any path, any sort of land he could possibly follow and escape further away from Belhalla. Yet nothing, it was just him, the cliff face with raging waters beneath and the forest from whence he came.
The thundering of boots echoed through the forest, shouts of unfamiliar rough voices in their numbers and the clanking of weapons against armour made Leif flinch. As he backed up towards the edge of the cliff further, he lowered his breathing into a ragged whisper, his entire body trembling. “Where did he go?” “The scouts said he fled in this direction, Sir!” Soldiers of Belhalla for sure, those blind to tyranny of Julius and the resurrection of Loptous that would only plunge this continent into further darkness and peril. They were looking for him and him alone. “Then search harder you fools! That boy will not get away with those Holy Weapons! We were given explicit orders to hunt him down and seize the weapons from his corpse!”
Leif hiccuped on his own breath, one hand flying to his mouth to stop himself from screaming and his other gripped tightly around the hilt of the hilt of a sword roughly wrapped in thick canvas. He tried to make himself as small as possible, as quiet as possible despite how open and exposed he felt, standing at the edge of this cliff overlooking the sea. He knew he should run, but he couldn’t. His legs refused to move.
‘Prince Leif! You must take Tyrfing and the Book of Naga and run! You are our only hope. The soldiers of Belhalla do not recognise you, so you must flee with them!’ The cries from Lord Seliph knocked on his mind as Leif bit his lips, drawing blood as he backed up towards the edge of the cliff. He had a duty to fulfil, the future of Jugdral rested on his hands… His hands… Why him? Leif’s knuckles turned white around the hilt of disguised Tyrfing, the canvas of the book holster creasing under the grip of his other hand.
Why him? All this time he was chased by misfortune, by the empire and death at every waking hour, yet Lord Seliph entrusted him to flee with the Holy Weapons? Was it not enough that he didn’t have the Holy Blood necessary to even wield the weapons he was entrusted with? He couldn’t understand Lord Seliph’s judgement on the matter, and looked at where he was now, cornered by the Imperial soldiers and the ruthless drop into the sea behind him.
If Naga really was out there watching over them, he pleaded in his silence, with all his might that she would descend down from the skies above and save him from his certain doom, to save his friends, his family and bring peace to the continent of Jugdral.
“Please…” He subconsciously whispered out, head tilted towards the looming skies above him where the rolling clouds and the gusting winds heralded a storm to come. But perhaps, his bad luck caught up to him before Naga could reply to his pleadings.
“I heard something!” “That way!” And the stampede of boots grew louder and louder, shouts from the imperial forces as they closed in on the cliff that Leif trapped himself on. Leif cursed himself, berating himself for opening his mouth even once in this situation. Finn had always chided him for being impulsive, for not thinking before he did anything, why didn’t he take his words to heart… Why didn’t he just listen to Finn’s advice just once now that they were separated again and his life was on the line? Leif let out a cry of distress, the weight of the world, his actions and mistakes crashing upon him. His failures piled up and came to haunt him towards the end of his life had pushed him right off the edge, metaphorically and literally.
The rain poured down in that instance, thunder booming across the heavens above, lightning crackling and lightning up the darkened skies with their forks of electricity. The earth beneath him crumbled in the wind, the soil loosening beneath his feet and the cliff gave way right under his feet. Leif’s arms flailed in front of him as he felt his body succumb to the cruel grasp of gravity. The smell of the seas flooded his senses as he plummeted down the cliff towards the raging waters. The sounds of soldiers that approached the cliff at that very moment drowned out by the hard impact of his body crashing into the water, the louds splashes of waves and the roaring torrents drowned out Leif’s fall from the soldiers, the rapids concealing the young Prince’s body as the soldiers overlooked the cliff into the relentless waves below.
“There is no one here, sir!” “They must have slipped away while we were running here! Quick, retrace your worthless steps into the forest. We must flush out the boy!” And the soldiers dispersed from the cliff in an instant, their footsteps drowned out by thunder and rain as Leif finally pulled himself above the surface of the water.
He gasped for air, struggling against the torrential rapids around him as they swept him further and further away from the cliff whence he fell. His arms flailed in front of him, his head desperately trying to stay afloat above the water but his armour and clothes weighed him down into the water, pulling him deeper and deeper into the darkness of the waves he was swept up in. He choked on the water that forced itself into his lungs, and he could feel the sting of saltwater in his injuries, the debris thrown about the rain blinding his eyes as he squeezed them shut.
The relentless currents continued to batter him, throwing him like a ragdoll amongst the waves, slamming him into the sharp rocks that jutted out of the sea, scraping at his exposed arms and ruining his armour as it began to crumble against the continuous impact and abuse against the rocks. His arms flailed around in the waters, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything that could keep him afloat as he felt his energy drain from his muscles, his body getting heavier and heavier as the waves threatened to swallow him for good.
He didn’t want to die. Not after all he had been through. He had to go home to Leonster. He had to save his friend, his family. He wanted peace to return to Jugdral. He just wanted to go home and end this stupid war.
The waves howled at his feeble attempts of survival, the currents mocked him and the rapids threw him once more against the rocks, forcing Leif’s back against them one last time. Almost as if out of spite, that one motion was strong enough that it sent Leif’s head flying back, a loud thump as his head slammed against the stone cold rocky obstacles. Pain overtook his senses and the impact on his head forced his vision to falter as Leif blinked desperately to try and keep the black spots of his vision, but he could barely feel anything now, let alone think, his mind started to black out, but his body in a last desperate attempt to keep himself afloat as his consciousness began to slip from his grasp flailed amongst the waves once more.
Fingers brushing against something hard, grainy and rough beneath his fleeting senses and Leif instinctively grabbed onto it, hauling his aching body over that buoyant object. He gasped for air, fighting for his consciousness as his vision swam and his body grew cold and numb under the cold waters. He pleaded with the last of his strength, that he would get out of this alive, that he would fulfil his promise to deliver the Holy Weapons to their rightful wielders once this storm died down.
He prayed with all his might against his misfortune as darkness finally consumed his vision and his body fell to the mercy of the relentless waves that tossed the unconscious prince about, the piece of driftwood that Leif clung to in the last moments before falling into unconsciousness rocked and bobbed, yet miraculously holding together as the prince was dragged further and further away from the continent of Jugdral.
Further from home.