Break the Shackles

It's something he must reflect upon if he wishes to make a difference.

The feeling of death looming close, the sensation of failure, of defeat... it has become too close than what Arthur remembers after Sibri stood victorious over him; even though it was a close call, even though he still showed just how powerful he could be, there's little to deny that he could've died in there. No, he must become better.

He must overcome and adapt, to grasp the new stages of Arcane. On Power.

The guidance in the path of Chaos was paved in the works of Naberius and White Testament- he may have not admitted it to Tragedy, but her literature guidance helped the young Adjudicator a lot. Even though he's grasped the Arcane, there was still so much for him to do... so much to learn.

The scarlet hues turned to Bei Bei. Amidst the cold winds atop of the mountain, there was nothing but them and what they share between each other-at times, it could be the passionate love that they held each other, at the other times, it's the torture he asked for. To some degree, this was going to be a test for her as well - just how far is she ready to let him go?

"Bei... I'll need you to push me as far as you can through physical punishment." - he remembers. He still remembers what prompted him to be so strong against Sibri, what allowed him to survive.

The hatred. The anger boiled inside. The desire of greatness. The Power.

"Do not hold back. Even if I scream, do not stop." - his hands travelled across the clothing, undoing it one at a time; it doesn't take long before his torso is exposed to harsh conditions of the mountains, where the cold makes him shiver and the air coming from his lungs to become a steam.

"Can you do that?"
(Arthur Rowan)


"If this is what you want.." She trails off.

 Moments such as this bring about nostalgia. It is bittersweet within her mouth- the feeling of her own fluttering heart threatening to sink. And yet, she still stands tall for unlike the past...She's no longer afraid to inflict pain upon the one that she loves. Perhaps, it is the greed that had come with growing up. Perhaps, it is because she is willing to push him into the deep end rather than lose him to those that do not deserve it. Even she realizes that this-...Arthur's failing is unacceptable. And if he were to do all that he could...

 He must succeed.
 He must ascend past all those that reign within this world.

 And so, she does what she can in order to force him past that boundary. With her own body carefully drifting behind his own- with her head resting upon the middle of his back, she nods.

"I can do it."

 There was a point in time when his screams had frightened her. When she had awoken in the midst of her own dreams thinking that perhaps, she had done irrevocable damage. But yet, the promise of such notions like this calm her. It is a draconic gaze...A dangerous woman within the depths of her own eyes- gluttonous for power, desperate for all that is to come. He needs this. But..She needs this too.

 What blossoms into fruition is a steady ebb and flow. The brilliance of the cosm carefully drift towards the magical circuits of the Rowan. It is here- where she would try her own experimentations. A second passes...And the thrum of her heart can be felt fluttering upon the back of the Rowan as she begins...

"It won't be the way that we think it will." There is a silence. A moment where she faces change and acknowledges it. "I love you." And what comes starts slow...Just as she has learned how to push her own body to the limit, what he would feel...Is nothing more than flames slowly beginning to ease through his veins. It singes and hisses, swirling through his entirety with each passing second...As if promising to eradicate his very existence. "It never will be."

 Words are lost within moments such as these. With her grip upon his being tightens- so much so...That the fire that glimmered through his veins, threatens to appear upon both hands once again. Hands akin to red hot coals press lightly...The smell of burning flesh rising as skin comes into contact with skin.

HSsssss…~
(Bei Bei)

A small sigh.

He must brace himself for what's to come. But then again, he was already used to the fact that everything must come through sacrifice of something. His power, the future of their nation, even their love... everything had something that required a sacrifice, and without it, nothing new can be born. The question is...

How much are they willing to give?

In Arthur's case, he was willing to give it his all. There's not a moment hesitation to him once the heats begin to singe and burn against him, there's not a moment in which he considers to call it off. The pain spreads, quite intense, more intense than it should be - it's only then he begins to truly submerge himself into the aspect of Arcane.

On Power. Forced to relive his failures, his punishment, his weakness.

It's a long way fall into the pits of darkness, ones hidden within his mind. He's forced to bear witness to countless tragedies in which he's hurt others, he hurt himself, and he hurt his dreams and ambition... and the times, when he hurt her. The love of his life, everything about her that was speaking 'she's perfection', yet twisted and torn in a way that made her look as if she were his weakness.

As if she only was there to cause him pain.

He cannot surrender himself to that feeling. His heart begins to thrum and pound heavily, each thud accompanied by a hint of echo on the silence of the passing cold wind, each moment of suffering he lives through brings forth new memories, new thoughts.

New future.

'Why are you doing this... haven't you suffered enough?'

A voice that echoes within his mind is ignored. Instead, shivering in her grasp, with his teeth gritted and his body tormented, he mutters.

"...More."
(Arthur Rowan)

She's been drunk on power before. So she knows what it is like to throw away morals and ideology for the sake of obtaining victory. She had once threw away everything that she had needed in order to tear down another person...And while doing so, she had felt what it was like to be undeniable and indomitable. And it is a feeling that she, so desperately, wants to possess yet again. And it is not because it is out of her own desires, but because it is out of necessity, especially, since she has finally gotten to see how she measures up to other magi...

 And now that she has been shown her own mistakes-...This perfection, this twisted being, can only see nothing but weakness within her own image. So, as much as she tries to fight it...As much as she tries to say otherwise, she cannot. For now, she continues ignoring the pain and suffering that she causes in order to achieve this 'state' of being. For now, she rests within her own illusions of grandeur for the sake of them both...

More?

 What comes next is nothing more than a mere blade. It drives steadily....Pressing against his shoulder, piercing through, slowly twisted to her own liking. But still careful to not cause any permanent damage.
(Bei Bei)

There's something undeniable that comes from the punishment like this.

It's at the times of turmoil and suffering, something new arises. Something... entirely different, something he could not perceive before, and yet now he's on the breakthrough, so close and yet so far; his heart thrumming, his mind desperate and his soul tugged at with each attempt to reach the new breakthrough.

At the peak of your suffering, there will be new strength.

The physical punishment is not enough. He must torment his mind and soul with the memories of all mistakes, of all the humiliation, of all failures he's ever suffered in his life- he remembers the first significant failure against Chrom, and against Malgannan in his younger days. There are failures of him disappointing his brother, of harming Bei, of doubting himself with decisions taken in order to preserve Valmasia.

Something emerges. It's the voice that he heard before, the voice that allowed him to survive, the one that guided him home when he was at his lowest and his weakest- the voice that compelled such failures.

'You're ours.'
'You're ours.'
'You're ours.'

His eyes water. His teeth grit. His hands clench into fists, barely able to hold onto the pain that he's feeling without falling into the darkness, without being taken by the voice- it is the physical punishment, on contradictory, that keeps him alive and well. It is what he grasps onto, it is what guides him to the breakthrough.

'I can't... I can't... can't...'

But the inner resolve speaks. It commands him, it breaks the grip of the voice that would drag him down into the darkness, it gives the Rowan a second chance, the briefest of respite, if onlyto surface his mind to the pain.

"I can... I can..!"

"More!"

His voice echoes, demanding, a mixed expression of willpower amidst overwhelming pain. He suffers so much... and he asks for more?
(Arthur Rowan)


It will never be enough.

 She has learned that no matter how far she has pushed for power. That no matter how hard she has struggled and cried for those within her realm to become different- to ease steadily into the same frame of mind, not all could be pushed. She has learned that in effort of going so hard and being so reckless, that she has forgotten the vision that she desires the most. The proof within her worth...The ability to press forward and stand taller than all else. It was pushing herself and goading herself into this 'sense' of pride that no one else could ever imagine. An ode to her own people...

 In the end though- the blade that has pierced against his shoulder becomes heated- glimmering within the dim of the dark, evaporating the snow moments before it could even touch the heated steal. Within this moment, the wound is cauterized as the serrated blade passes through...Once...Twice....

 Each time she presses the blade forward, it is within the same wound over and over again, as if bringing about torture. As if, she could make him spill each and every secret that he'd hold within his entirety.
(Bei Bei)

So tired...

He's so tired of struggling against the darkness of his doubts and his failures, to suffer through the torment that allows him to vividly see the surface of his mind; if it weren't for the pain that she inflicts upon him, the pain that brings him back to reality with each and every inch the blade pierces his flesh, there would be no more Rowan that she knows today.

Instead, naught but a pale shadow of the greatness he once was, consumed by his doubts and failures.

Sweat rolls down by the side of his head, steadily dripping down on the ground, mixed with the crimson of blood that spills occasionally from the wound whenever it's made; for onlooking Bei, he's in a deep struggle, one that could mean his very life, but inside his mind...

Chaos. Unbridled power. The otherworldly energy that seeks to break him, the energy that he needs to tame.

'You will die without us.'
'You need us.'
'You will perish.'

But he pushes back. The anger boils inside of him, the desire to lash back against offenders, both of the physical torture and the mental one; it's the anger and hatred for those that seek to bring him down that pushes him forward, that makes him fight back against the invading doubts, that connects him to a better, more refined self.

'You're worthless.'
'You nothing.'
'How dare you?!'

There's a moment in which they shackle him. It all seems to darken, to fade and become in vain; the grip is strong, enough to break the spirit of any man, but Arthur was not just any man, no - he was something else, something greater.

His heartbeat quickens... his blood boils, and his lungs draw in the air. The struggle reaches its peak, the battle against himself becomes as brutal as any war, the torment inside his mind seeking to consume him, but...

The Shackles are broken.

There's revelation. It didn't matter, in the end. None of it mattered. His doubts, his mistakes - it's all only experience for him to become something stronger. They are vile beasts, but if tamed, they can become the guardians he needs so much.

"I'm my own man."

Arthur speaks with clarity, and despite the overwhelming torment, his eyes open, unleashing the pent up blast of Arcane at much greater power than before. It defies reality itself, even stronger than before, ravaging the existence of all life.

He made it.

Within that moment, he suddenly collapses. Too much... he's too tired.
(Arthur Rowan)

His blood doesn't even stain the blade. There was something different about this moment- something that makes her feel as if she could possibly bring about more of this feeling within other beings. If she could bring people to their knees, if she could make them all fear Valmasia through her own worth...Then what more is there to possibly say or do? In the end, she finishes holding her breath within the moment. Her gaze fluttering, words evading her being as she withdraws the blade.

 "...It's not going to be the way that you and I expect, you know. As much as you might push for people to fight...As much as you might ask them to do what you want, it won't work." she says. Her hand lowering...Carefully picking up the Rowan and allowing him to use her body as a 'crutch'..

 "You can't depend on people for anything, not even me, Arthur. This power that you have...You need to use it for yourself. Not just for my sake, but for yours." she says softly...Her gaze darkening. "We're going to lose everything if we don't get enough power. We...Need to do all that we can. Or else, we'll fall with the rest of them."
(Bei Bei)

He shudders.

There's something new he feels connection to, something far more greater than experienced before; certainly, the connection to Arcane could give a man quite vivid detail of this world and amplify his sensations, but this? This felt like something entirely new, something he couldn't put his finger on.

And he enjoyed it so much.

"I know. I do not wish to rely on anyone... I do not wish to drag anyone or anything down. I do not wish for us to be dragged down by them, either."

He leans upon her. There's a moment in which he almost loses a grip, but latches onto her nonetheless- the healing of his wounds begin, surely to leave a scar or few on his back when it's over. But it doesn't matter, none of it does now.

"I've... seen something new today. I think I'm ready for something greater."

"We should leave."
(Arthur Rowan)