Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The darkness was closing in, the forest a cacophony of sounds as soldiers fanned out to hunt him down. He didn't have time to worry about how close they were, or if any of them were close enough to hear him as he ran through the underbrush, all he could do was continue to run as much as the pain allowed. He had a good headstart, they hadn't been expecting him to be able to get up never mind be able to make a run for it… but he had. Even with his body screaming in pain he had run, and continued to run, sweat running down his body in rivulets as he pushed himself past his limits. He had no choice… it was run or die… and he couldn't allow himself to die before he avenged his brother. And so he continued to run, deeper into the forest, deeper into the dark… 'Phoenix grant me strength…'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phoenix Gate had been the first time he had fought in true battle against a hostile human opponent, but it had not been the last. Upon waking amidst the rubble he had been dragged off by the Imperials, at his mother's own command. Traitorous bitch that she was, she had sold them all out for power… and power she now had. Empress Anabella Lesage, the high and mighty power behind the throne with her venomous tongue ever at the Emperor's ear. She had seen to it that he had been put on the front lines, slated for an early death on the end of a Waloeder sword… only he hadn't died. He had lived, and continued to live, and continued to thwart her every plan by doing so. She had been infuriated the night he had been summoned the first time, looking down at him chained to the floor of the barracks with eyes that showed hatred.
"You just keep being a thorn in my side, little failure. You can't even manage to die appropriately, instead you linger like a bad smell." her words had been laced with revulsion, her nose turned up as it truly looking at someone worth less than the dirt on her shoes.
Clive had kept his gaze on the weathered stone beneath him, his hands resting on his thighs, weighed down by the heavy chains wrapped around him from wrist to elbow. She reached down, using the tip of an ornamental fan she held to force him to lift his head, his eyes still kept to the side even though his chin was lifted. "Such a disappointment… but you will rectify that won't you boy? You will go out there and fight the Waloeder savages, and eventually you will fall as is only proper for trash like you." She ran the edge of the fan threateningly over the poisoned ink of the brand on his cheek, a smirk on her face. He hadn't dared to say a word, his voice trapped behind the fear clogging his throat, all she need do is leave one little scratch... She truly had the power to see him dead now, there was no one behind him, no one keeping her from crossing that final line. And yet he had continued to live, through battle after battle after battle, and through punishment after punishment for surviving those battles. His body was littered with scars from whippings, from battles, and from those who saw him as a convenient target.
It was on one fateful night that who he thought to be no more than another opportunistic predator decided to make himself known. Clive had been making his way through the quiet training yards towards the barracks when he had been grabbed. He had been pulled into a dark corner, a much larger body pushing him against the stone wall. Because he was smaller the man hadn't expected him to be able to fight back, but Clive had been fighting for his life since he was 15 and he wasn't about to let yet another asshole try to force him to do something he didn't wish to do. He had swung his arm around, sinking his elbow deep into a soft and unprotected gut, hearing the man grunt in pain before he spun around and brought his fist up. Still armed in the shit the Imperials called bearer armor, his fist had driven up hard into the man's jaw, snapping his head up with a solid crack. The man had gone down like a sack of potatoes, and Clive had taken the opportunity to run… making his way through the darkness into the barracks, hiding in the little corner he had long ago claimed as his own.
He hadn't known the error of his actions until much later that evening, guards storming into the barracks and dragging him from his bed. Another lesson Clive had learned in those 4 long years was to always sleep in his armor, no matter how uncomfortable it was or how many bruises it painted on his body. And so it was with much less pain that his knees crashed to the stones and his arms were wound again in chains and manacles that bit into the flesh of his arms, hair gripped in a tight fist as his mother brought her hand down against his face again and again. "You STUPID boy, how DARE you! HOW DARE YOU!" He had never heard her yell before, her voice shrill and piercing against his eardrums.
She had let go of his hair after another hard smack, shoving him and watching him tip to the side as blood trickled from his nose. "Idiot! You ruined a wonderful opportunity, one I was going to gain great influence with! Lord Avernale won't take you on anymore after your barbaric display, stupid stupid child!" She turned and stormed off, giving a signal to the guard that stood silently at her side. "See to it that he understands the error of his decisions!"
The guard had snickered as he walked over "What a treat for me." He forced Clive back up to his knees with a grip to his hair, giving a solid punch to the right side of his face. "To bad for you boy, you could have been the Lord's pampered little bitch, he even paid a nice price for you. Not now though, now I get to take the price out of your scrawny hide."
The beating has been like all the rest, a punch to stun him then a hail of kicks as he did his best to protect his head. Thankfully his armor provided atleast a small amount of protection to his middle, and soon the guard stopped, looking at him curled up on the floor. "Pathetic." He moved to remove the chains from the manacles that were always on… a measure his mother had put in place after he had grown big enough to 'be a threat' she had said, in reality she simply enjoyed seeing him forced to wear the painful metal bands every day. Once the chains were removed the guard made his way to the door to fetch the other guards to drag him back to the barracks… a happening so frequent it was almost routine by now.
There was one difference that night… That night Clive made another choice… if he was going to be sold into a worse form of slavery than being an Imperial bearer soldier, then he would rather die. And so as the guard was out of the room he pushed himself up to his feet, gritting his teeth against the fresh wave of pain and nausea that swamped him, then he pulled his sleeves back down over the metal bands, picked up his gloves and gauntlets, and made his way as quickly as he could towards the lone window. It was just barely big enough to fit him, the squeeze making tears gather in his eyes as it pressed on the fresh bruises, and the ground below was far enough to make him dizzy. But with a shallow breath he pushed himself through the rest of the way, and stepped out into the open air.
He wasn't sure if it was luck or if perhaps the Phoenix granted him grace in that moment, but he landed on his feet, his knees buckling and sending him into a tumble along the stones. He wished his blessing could heal the agony as much as it could but alas he had not felt it in so so long, but his determination forced him onwards. There would be no second chance, this fort was far from Oriflamme, on the border of the Greatwoods… and if he could make it to that forest he stood a chance. Clive would not waste this chance… no matter how great the pain was, he would continue on until he succeeded or until he drew his last breath.