True Strength

Title: True Strength

 

 

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>As a Lizardwoman, I am a natural born warrior. I am swift. I am strong. I am brave. From the day I could stand, my mother and father taught me how to fight.

 

>Through almost two decades of training and trials, I have been forged into the perfect weapon, like how a blacksmith forges his magnum opus. At eighteen years of age, I was ready to venture out into the world.

 

>I wander the globe, searching for the man who could surpass my skills. The man whom I would marry and bear children with, yet I have failed to find a worthy man in my travels.

 

>Perhaps my training was too perfect and Lizardman species had become a victim of their own success. The world we inhabit today is much different than that of my ancestors. Men are now raised in affluence, weakened into being submissive serfs to the women of their own species.

 

>Not a single man I challenged could last more than a few moments, and only a few even knew how to hold a sword.

 

>I feared that my skills would have gone to waste and that I would be alone, but the rise of radical Paladinism had given me a second chance.

 

>I found myself enlisting in hopes of both meeting a man strong enough to challenge me, and to defend my people from the violence of the Paladins. After passing their training with relative ease, I deployed with the United States Marines to the Balkan states to fight this ideological disease plaguing both man and mamono alike.

 

>Though many of these Marines in my platoon were strong, they never seemed strong enough. They valued their strength as a group, not as individuals. Though I respected their tactics and values as soldiers, I felt that their strategy of Marines relying on the strength of others around them to succeed to be a liability to my primary goal. Though many have tried, not one of them could best me.

 

>I feared that I had failed my family and my bloodline. My warrior genes would die with me. I would never have a man whom I could love with my heart and my body. I would never bear children, watch them grow, and pass the skills and strength that their ancestors gave to me, on to them.

 

>That was until one Marine taught me the true meaning of strength. Lance Corporal Ryan Vane. Age twenty three, like I am.

 

>He has been a friend of mine since I had been assigned to my platoon, and good soldier too. He even knew how to properly wield a sword thanks to his hobby of Historical European Martial Arts (HEMA), granted he was far from matching my skills.

 

>Though he had failed my initial challenge against him, he refused to quit until I had knocked him unconscious. He called me out for a rematch the next day, in which I won. Even after his second defeat, and third, and eighteenth, he never stopped asking for another rematch. Time after time we would fight, and I would win. It got to the point where we were ordered to stop, lest he keep returning the the infirmary every few days.

 

>I could tell he had taken a liking to me, but as my tradition dictated, only a man who could best me in battle could marry me.

 

>We became inseparable friends nonetheless. If not talking or spending time with each other, we were constantly spending our free time exercising and sparring to keep each other sharp.

 

>One day, he told me that he would train and fight until he either became strong enough to marry me or die trying. He had his heart set on us being together.

 

>Though I would never confess it, I really hoped that he would. **He was really cute.**

 

>Everything was well for a time. We were deployed as an occupying force, not seeing much frontline action as some of the other companies.

 

>Everyday became a routine. Wake up, breakfast, man our posts, lunch, man our post, change out for the night shift, have a late dinner with Ryan, train with him until he couldn't continue, sleep, repeat. This went on for months in our deployment with little change to the cycle.

 

>When the holiday season came around, Ryan somehow managed to get me a custom forged European style arming sword for Christmas. I couldn't believe the level of craftsmanship on the weapon, let alone the fact he bought it for me out of pocket and managed to get it here. He mentioned something about a "Lance Corporal Underground" having assisted with the logistics. I made it a point to carry it where ever I went.

 

>I gave him a small kiss as a reward. When we sparred that day, I intentionally let him get in a few more hits, hoping a boost in confidence would give him a better chance at truly besting me.

 

>We spent the afternoon talking while watching the clouds go by and witnessing one of the most beautiful sunsets I have seen while **holding hands**. I loved every second I got to spend with him, he always had a way to make me laugh with his dumb jokes or say something really sweet that would always bring a smile to my face.

 

>One member of our platoon drunkenly stated at the Christmas party that night that if didn't see any "real combat", he would die of boredom.

 

>When you ask for trouble, do not be surprised when it finds you.

 

>A couple days after New Years day, our company was mobilized to assist another company having trouble taking a nearby town whose residents were evicted by Paladins, and they had made it a stronghold.

 

>The fighting was intense. The "Pally's" had really dug themselves in.

 

>We had to clear the town house by house after an armored division had wiped out most of the main forces.

 

>Ryan really came into his own in this time. Some of our comrades had cracked under the intense pressure, but all throughout he kept a cool head, following orders from his sergeant and giving his own with flawless judgement and tact. Our platoon had managed to capture seven hostiles and kill thirty two without losing a single member of our own. The battle was over in less than five days, since the Pally's retreated.

 

>Ryan was awarded the Bronze Star and promoted to Sergeant for fighting off two men in a room with nothing but the bayonet on his jammed rifle, saving a group of mamono civilians who were being held captive.

 

>I was so proud to see our commanding officer pin that medal on his chest. Though it would take some getting used to calling him "sir". But as happy as I was for him, part of me felt torn up inside.

 

>Although he clearly was an outstanding soldier and I could no longer lie to myself about my love for him, my tradition stated that we still cannot be together until he had proven himself stronger me.

 

>About a week after the battle, I had made up my mind to damn the tradition and ask him to marry me.

 

>Though he had more responsibilities, he somehow always made time for me. On our daily exercise session, I led him into a supply closet. There, I confessed my love for him.

 

>I could tell by the distraught look on his eyes that something was troubling him. When I asked, he explained that he would marry me the day he could beat me, stating that tradition and culture are an important part of who we are as people and he was not going to ruin my family's lineage.

 

>I wanted to be mad, but he always had me dialed in, quelling my anger by saying "it would be too easy anyways. I like a woman who plays hard to get".

 

>So everyday we would train, and everyday we would fight.

 

>Each time was harder than the last for me. He really was getting much better, I even had to go on the defensive for once.

 

>As much as I wanted to hurry the process, he would stop the moment he could tell that I was not giving my all or was trying to throw the fight.

 

>We continued to spar as often as we could, with him getting closer and closer to winning each time. But before we could reach our goal our commanding officer informed our unit that we were heading back into the Paladins stronghold to search for weapons and Intel now that the town's surrounding area was secure.

 

>Ryan volunteered to assist with finding weapons caches, and I followed suit. He would lead his rifle squad house to house to search for anything the Pally's could use against us.

 

>On our down time we would meet in an empty apartment that we had made our temporary camp. I asked Ryan why he was so adamant about beating me. He explained that he had studied my culture, learning our history and values as a warrior species of mamono, and wanted to prove he was strong enough to be worthy of my love.

 

>When I said that he had already proven that to me, he admitted that he wanted to prove to himself that he was worthy of someone as special as me.

 

>Tears welled in my eyes when he pulled out a small box from his pocket, opening it to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen.

 

>He admitted that if it wasn't for my harsh training with him, he would have died that day he fought the two Paladins. He explained that I had taught him how to be strong, and he had to prove that my efforts were not for nothing.

 

>I hugged him tightly, telling him I didn't care about him having to prove anything, all I wanted in this world was him.

 

>He placed a soft kiss on my lips, and I returned it ten fold, dancing my tongue around his.

 

>Our pent up lust exploded in a matter of seconds. We kissed and explored each other's bodies for what felt like ages. Before we knew it, we were stripped down to our undergarments and in his cot. I begged him to make me his forever, but to my disappointment, he said that he will when he had earned that right. We continued to passionately kiss and cuddle each other until we passed out in his bed.

 

>The next morning we showered together and got ourselves ready to preform more searches and seizures.

 

>We continued to search building after building throughout the afternoon.

 

>I would give anything to go back in time to that day.

 

>In our final raid of the day, we had breached the front door. I was the first inside, with Ryan close behind.

 

>We broke off to clear the top floor while the rest of the rifle squad cleared the ground floor and basement.

 

>The stairs to the second floor led to a narrow hall with a single room on the right.

 

>I stood in front of the door, eager to kick it in and get it over with so Ryan and I can have some alone time.

 

>We had encountered no resistance from the enemy, so I made the rookie mistake of assuming it was clear. By the time the door was open and I saw what was on the other side, I felt a strong force throw me to the ground.

 

>I don't know how he knew, but Ryan could tell that it was set to blow. Soldier's instincts maybe.

 

>One moment, he standing in the doorway, staring at a nail and razor blade coated mortar shell rigged with wires running along the inner frame of the doorway.

 

>The next moment, a deafening blast rocked the house's foundation.

 

>I peaked up after the dust had settled. My ears were ringing and my whole body ached, but otherwise I was alive. I could not hear myself scream when I saw Ryan.

 

>His body laid slumped against the blood spattered wall, with a visible dent in the dry wall from where he impacted. Bits of razors and shrapnel stuck out of his body. His uniform and armor smoldered and burned while blood poured from more holes than I could count. That was the last image of him I got before I blacked out.

 

>I woke up in a Air Force hospital, battered but alive. I sat upright to search for Ryan, but all I found were just other injured men resting. I asked a passing Lamia nurse if she had seen him, or had him listed in the records.

 

>She left for a moment to check the patient list. While she was gone, I saw a familiar box sitting on top of the table next to by bed.

 

>I opened it, and there was Ryan's engagement ring. I carefully held it in my finger tips, then placed it on my ring finger. Though he had not beaten be in battle, by way of a loophole, if a man were to save my life from certain death, he had proven himself "stronger" in heart and in courage than I. I hoped the nurse would return soon so I could tell my new husband how much I loved him.

 

>The nurse returned with what I hoped to be good news. When I asked where Ryan was, she said "I'm afraid he's gone home. So sorry."

 

>I thanked her, holding back a raging torrent of emotions and let her carry on. When I was sure that she was out of earshot, I stuffed my face into my pillow and screamed my lungs out.

 

>He was dead. The love of my life had died a horribly painful death, and it was his love for me that killed him.

 

>I... had killed him.

 

>It was then I learned what true strength was. It didn't come me from muscle mass or swordsmanship, but from the heart.

 

>Without even taking a moment to think, he traded his life for mine. He may have not been the mighty warrior of my dreams, but he had the courage of ten thousand men and the compassion of a saint.

 

>I am a Lizardwoman. I am a natural born warrior. I am swift, I am brave, but not strong, not anymore.

 

>I am not strong enough to cope with this pain. Sword slashes, bullet wounds, broken bones, those are band-aid wounds in comparison. Those wounds can heal. But the pain of a shattered heart and guilty conscience, that will never go away.

 

>This is a pain I cannot bare - a burden too heavy for me to carry.

 

>I saw the sword Ryan had gifted to me slung off the head-board of the bed. After making sure no nurses were around, I closed the curtains around my bed and unsheathed the blade, laying it next to me as I grabbed a pen and paper.

 

>I wrote a lengthy letter addressed to my friends and family, explaining my decision to be with the man I love.

 

>A few tears had stained the paper as I finished my goodbyes.

 

>I held the grip of the blade firmly in my right hand, guiding the tip to my abdomen with the left.

 

>Tears dripped down my chin and rolled off the cold, uncaring metal.

 

>I said a prayer to the Gods of my ancestors, begging them in my people's ancient tongue to reunite me with my husband in paradise.

 

>I held my breath, and gave the blade a strong push.