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thebeckster · 16 days

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Ben again with a second prompt for that reverse trope game: Forte/Frey and the soulmates fated to kill each other? (;w;)

HI BEN GUESS WHAT WAS SO PERFECTLY UP MY ALLEY FOR A COMPLETELY TRAGIC STORY INSTEAD OF MAKING THIS A SHORT PROMPT FILL LIKE I INTENDED IT BECAME A 7.3K WORD MONSTER!

As soon as I saw the prompt and the ship I just immediately went "Well, that's perfect for a Dark!Empress Frey AU!" And then I went into an ADHD fueled fugue state for 4 hours and came out with this!

I am not going to post the whole story here, even under a cut, I won't do that to y'all. So you can read the whole thing on AO3!

I'll put the juciest parts here. it will still be quite long under the cut, be warned.

CW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, generally Mature content in the back half.

Forte only ever had her fortune told once. She had been a young girl, just about a year into her training – old enough to be concerned about the future, but young enough to believe in soothsayers. She went with a group of girlfriends, all giggling and nervous and excited to know what exactly fate had in store for them Would they find love? Glory? Power? One by one the girls stepped into the witch’s parlor, paid her the required coin, and asked their questions. Forte waited to go last. She didn’t know what she wanted to ask the seer. Before she made up her mind, the witch was calling her in. The parlor was dark, the air heavy with smokey incense. Candles flickered all around, they were the only source of light, aside from the faintly glowing milky crystal ball in the center of a small round table. The witch smiled kindly at her and held out her hand for Forte’s coin. “Take a seat, dear, and ask me what you would like to know.” Forte sat across from her at the table, trying to think of any question that was worth the seer’s time. Her mind was blank. “I… I suppose… I’m going to be a knight. I guess… what should my steed be? Horses are nice but…” What kind of question was that? It was so stupid! “A knight’s steed must match their nature. A bold knight can harness a mighty steed. A cunning knight knows to blend in as simple horse and rider. When were you born, my dear?” “No wait! Sorry, can I ask another. That was a stupid question.” Forte’s eyes had caught something when the witch set her cards aside. She’d set the deck upside down and the bottom card showed two figures holding hands, looking at each other. “Of course, dear.” The witch offered kindly, setting the star chart aside. Forte drew a breath. “I want to know if I’ll ever meet my soulmate.”

The witch’s smile widened. “Give me your hands.”

Forte held out her hands and the seer began carefully examining them, gently tracing her finger tip over the lines on Forte’s palm. “Your right hand is strong, the love line is long. When you fight for love, you will rarely lose. But your left hand,” she clicked her tongue softly in disappointment, “The hand with which you would hold your loves close… I’m afraid that love line has been cut short. This scar here, how long have you had it?”

“About a year.” It had been an accident in her early training, her hand had slipped while she was sharpening a blade.

The witch released Forte’s hands and placed the deck of cards in them. “Shuffle them however you please. When you are done, draw five cards.”

Forte shuffled a few times and drew her cards. She laid out a card with a woman on a throne, a card with a chariot, a card with a crumbling tower, a card with balanced scales, and a card with a man hanging upside down.

The witch spent a long moment studying the cards. The longer she studied, the more sorrowful she looked. Eventually she drew in a long breath and one by one pointed to the cards Forte had drawn. “The Empress, the Chariot, the Tower, Justice, and the Hanged Man. I am sorry, my dear, your future does not look to be a happy one.”

“What do you mean?” Forte asked. The cards didn’t look all that bad.

The witch closed her eyes, and when she spoke it was in a rougher voice, as if she was channeling some other spirit. “Your soulmate will come into your life most unexpectedly. She will be a force of nature, and a lover of it. Your time together will be short, but meaningful. Duty and ambition will drive you apart, set you upon different paths. Destruction will bring you together again, opposing forces upon a battlefield. She will be great and terrible, and you will be the mighty hand of justice. You reunion will bring death. Each falling to the hand of the other. So it is written. So it shall be.”

“Is this some kind of a joke?!” Forte jumped to her feet angrily. She expected some fluffy drivel about the right person coming into her life at a certain time, and a happily ever after to follow. Fortune tellers were just supposed to be good at telling people what they wanted to hear. Not go telling young girls of their death. “You’re just an old fraud, what do you know!”

The witch offered no counter. She merely watched Forte with a deeply piteous look.

Forte turned and stormed out of her parlor. The witch did not chase her.

Her friends were waiting by the door, ready to go, discussing their fortunes. They asked Forte about hers, but she wasn’t ready to answer, not until they were back in the street and free from the cloying stink of the fortune house, and those stupid cards were far behind her.

“Come on, Forte,” her friend asked, hooking her arm through hers to make her slow down a bit. “What did you ask her? What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Forte grumbled. “Nothing important. I asked her if I would ever meet my soulmate and she went on some crazy rant about how I’d end up killing her instead.” She kicked at a loose stone and sent it skittering off down the street.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. If you ask me, I think she was a fraud and just wanted to turn up the dramatics. You know what she told me? She said I’d marry some fat, bald, old baker and have eight of his kids.” She scoffed derisively. “As if!”

Her other friends joined in, weighing the validity of the seer’s prophecies. Half of them seemed to find hope, but the other half seemed to find their fortunes more than a little far-fetched. It didn’t take long at all for Forte to put the whole affair out of her mind entirely.

So when an amazing young woman, with the strongest powers Forte had ever seen, and an uncanny affinity for nature fell into her life, Forte didn’t think about a spread of cards from a decade past. All she thought about was the powerful connection the two of them shared, the way the air seemed charged with electricity whenever they spoke, the way her heart fluttered and her palms grew sweaty when Frey was around.

It didn’t take long for Forte to fall in love with Frey. She would stay up all night thinking about the future they could have together. The Earthmate Princess and the Dragon Knight – it could only ever be a fairytale romance. From the moment Frey entered her life, Forte couldn’t imagine a future without her in it. What they had together went beyond attraction and infatuation. She wouldn’t dare confess it yet, it was still too soon, but when she thought about Frey, Forte thought she understood what it meant to have a soulmate.

She didn’t work up the nerve to say anything before Ventuswill got sick. And Dragon Knight had to do her job and protect her charge. And Earthmate Princess had to play her role and go off and fix the problem.

In her waking and lucid moments, Ventuswill would tease Forte about how she loved Frey. Sometimes she would offer encouragement to the knight, telling her to tell Frey how she felt before it was too late. Once, she even fondly looked forward to seeing the two of them spend a happy lifetime together. They were meant for each other. Divine dragons know these things.

And Forte suddenly remembered a witch and a spread of cards and an ill-omened prophecy. And she wanted to ask Ventuswill if it could possibly be true. But the dragon had slipped back to sleep, and she was never lucid enough again to answer Forte’s questions about fate.

It couldn’t possibly come true. There could be no future where Forte ever saw Frey as an enemy. She loved her. The witch had been a fraud.

When this was over, the two of them would be together forever.

Except Frey ended up leaving Forte. She returned from battle victorious. She returned Empress. And Frey left Selphia, left Forte.

As suddenly and unexpectedly as she had come into her life, she left it.

The years passed. Forte dedicated herself to her knighthood. She never loved again, not in the same way she had loved Frey. She tried once or twice to fill the void, let other lovers heal her, but they were never quite right.

Eventually she stopped trying. She turned away potential interest and dismissed any who were bold enough to confess a desire to love her. She preferred it that way. She was a better knight without distractions pulling her from her duty.

Forte proved her place as a knight, time and time again. When she was challenged, she rose up to face it, and when she inevitably was victorious, she rose through the ranks. No longer a Dragon Knight, for there was no dragon these days in need of protection, she became a captain, a commander, a general. By the time she was the same age her father had been when he died, she had far surpassed his station.

In her time, Forte learned how to lead soldiers and command armies. Her troops quickly gained a reputation for their discipline, their efficiency, their prowess, their loyalty. General Forte’s command was built of people like her, people doubted every step of their journey, people who had to work twice as hard to get half as far as their peers. She knew promise and potential when she saw it. She loved a challenge, accepted the risks, bargained on the sure losers. And she was rarely disappointed. Forte was the best general among the best soldiers. When war broke, they would be the force to end it.

The war was brutal, and short.

Armies broke against each other. War machines slaughtered mindlessly.

But where the Empress thought that this war would be a show of her prowess, she was met with more resistance than she expected. Norad was no longer at the technological disadvantage as it had been in the last war. Their tacticians knew the enemy’s playbook well. Their generals were relentless.

Quickly the tide turned against the Empress. Steadily Norad pushed into the Empire, until the final battle was upon them.

The scattered remnants of the Empress’ armies had rallied around their beloved leader, and they were making a valiant final stand.

And the best of the King’s army was on the front line to meet her.

The Empire was beautiful. For everything the Empress had done, that had to be granted to her. She had inherited a land that had been nearly bled dry of all resources. Rivers ran poisoned, the skies choked with pollution, anything and everything was taken without thought. Her predecessor had so thoroughly ruined his own lands, even the famed most fertile valleys struggled to raise a crop. She had cured the lands; replanted forests, cleaned the rivers, cleared the skies.

Forte plucked a small yellow flower by her feet and twisted it thoughtfully between her fingers. Moondrops had been Frey’s favorite. She wondered if the Empress even had a favorite flower anymore. She tossed it aside.

It didn’t matter.

The Empress had long ago deviated far from anything or anyone Forte recognized. The young woman she’d fallen in love with decades ago was no more. Forte was hardly the same woman. Change came with the passage of time.

The girls of decades past no longer existed. The Frey that Forte had held onto since their parting, was not there. She had slipped away, piece by piece with every despicable act and crime against humanity she committed.

Forte watched carefully for signs of the Empress. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon she would have to come out and fight for herself. The signs would be subtle, a flash of gold, or destruction caused by something other than a war machine.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end just moments before massive spiked of rock erupted in the middle of the battlefield, sending Norad soldiers flying. Hurricane force gusts sliced against lines of attackers. Solid walls of water slammed against machines. Tornadoes of fire burnt through the ranks.

Forte traced the attacks back to their source. The only Earthmate to be found in the Empire. The only Earthmate powerful enough to cause such death and destruction with little more than a wave of her hand. There! Riding her golden hunter wolf was the Empress.

Forte called for her own steed – a silver wolf she’d tamed after a long-lost love had encouraged and inspired her to do so – and leapt into the saddle. With a curt command, they were streaking across the battlefield. Her wolf was small and fast, perfect for moving unnoticed across the chaotic battlefield. Speed was of the essence. The longer it took her to get to the Empress, the more death she would deal upon the battlefield. If she was focused on a single target, her magic would not be turned against Forte’s soldiers, who had little defense against it.

The second before impact, before fangs pierced and claws tore, she leapt from the saddle, diving at the Empress, tackling her off the golden wolf’s back. They hit the ground together, separating on the roll. Both were quick to regain their feet.

The wolves clashed. Tearing, biting, snarling, grappling, rolling away down the hill. They had to be ignored.

Close enough for a proper look, Forte could size up her opponent. She wore minimal armor, a breastplate, sturdy leathers, some bracers on her arms. But she was dressed for ease of movement, as her magic required. She wasn’t even wearing a helmet, just a dark iron circlet on her brow.

Forte stared, her breath catching, her heart leaping into her throat. She hadn’t been this close to the Empress in decades. So much had changed. She was aged, as Forte was, there were lines and wrinkles and scars that had not been there before, her hair was faded with silver, styled in a practical manner for battle, her eyes were hard and cold and hateful, but they had not lost their sparkle. In that way, nothing had changed. She was still so beautiful.

Forte hated herself for thinking that.

Monsters, like the Empress had come to be, were not supposed to be beautiful.

The Empress tilted her head and smiled. “Finally, it’s you, Forte. I was beginning to think you’d never come to me. Pity it’s like this.” She readied her blade and shifted into a fighting stance. Quick as a flash, she threw a spell at her.

Forte was ready, dodging the fireball easily. “I’ll give you one chance to surrender.”

“Surrender? Not really my style.” She parried Forte’s sword. “What kind of empress would I be if I was not willing to make the same sacrifices as my own loyal subjects?”

Their swords met again. “You confuse fear and submission with loyalty.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” the Empress shrugged, moving gracefully away and lifting a hand to whip at her opponent with a blade of air. Forte didn’t get a chance to dodge, but the air broke harmlessly over her armor. “Peace is peace; however it’s maintained.”

“I don’t think the thousands you slaughtered to make that peace would agree.”

A wicked grin and a cruel laugh. “Tell me the famous General Forte is not trying to take the moral high ground when it comes to slain enemies. How many have you killed over the years, my dear?”

“I do not revel in war. I find no glory in the loss of life.” They traded several blows, their swords ringing off each other. Every other attack or so, the Empress would throw another magic strike at Forte. “But your killing started long before the war.” She tripped up the Empress, sending her sprawling to the ground. “I didn’t want to believe it when I first heard the rumors. But when rumor proved true –” the Empress rolled away from her strike and regained her feet “—I knew you had changed into something I no longer recognized.”

“What have I done? I have brought peace and security to my Empire. You don’t understand. You couldn’t. You’ve never held the power I have.” Another flurry of magical attacks while Forte kept her distance.

It was risky, leaving herself open to attacks like this, but Forte knew that unless the Empress was drained of her magical reserves, she would be unbeatable. She remembered well her days of fighting alongside Frey, those moments when she drew beyond her magical limits and weakened herself terribly. She doubted the Empress was so inexperienced as to ignore her limits, and she knew time had only made her stronger magically. So Forte had to drain the reserves, make her spend and spend until there was nothing left, and the playing field was evened.

Forte saw an opening. She darted in, driving her sword into the Empress’ side. It cut deep; her blade came away red with blood. The Empress fell to her knee with a pained cry, clutching her wound. But when she met Forte’s eyes, she almost looked disappointed.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten everything about me, dear Forte.” Her fingers made the necessary signs, light flashed around them, she got to her feet as if nothing had happened. Only the blood on her shirt and the hole in the cloth showed there might have been an injury.

Forte was not daunted. A healing spell like that took a lot of energy. If she had to bleed the Empress dry with a thousand cuts, she would. This was what she had spent all her life training for. This fight was her destiny.

Forte got close enough to strike again, aiming for her neck. The Empress did a clever little twirl and transportation spell, appearing some yards away. “I will not be made a villain for using the tools I was given! The Empire gave me my position, gave me the authority to change laws, to be justice, to eliminate threats. Fate gave me the powers to bloom and wither, to create and destroy, to build and to burn.” She summoned another fireball and held it in her palm for a moment, examining it, almost enjoying the burn as it increased in size. “What do you think your king will do, if he wins this war and takes control of my empire? Surely you don’t’ expect my people to roll over like dogs? How many more deaths will your king order for peace?”

She threw the large fireball. Forte charged through it, ignoring how the flames licked at her exposed skin. She landed another hit against the Empress. With a frustrated snarl, the Empress leapt away, healing her injury as she ran.

“Well, you’re certainly still persistent and just as determined as you used to be,” the Empress laughed coolly, “Your courage seems to have grown. Pity you weren’t so bold back then as you are now.” She threw up a wall of rock just as Forte charged at her again. The knight collided with it with an unpleasant crunch.

The Empress made a series of lightning-quick slashes. Forte blocked and parried all of them, except the last one, which found a gap in her leg armor. The cut was shallow, but painful, and a new point of weakness for the Empress to exploit.

But Forte had noticed something. Her magic attacks were slowing down. Perhaps for dramatic effect while she taunted Forte, but instead of several attacks one after the other, she was only throwing one at her at a time. One fireball. One rock wall. She was using her sword for more than defense. Given how much magic she’d spent on the larger battlefield, and then again against Forte, she had to be reaching the end of her reserves. She was rationing now.

As if to prove her wrong, the Empress summoned two small blocks of stone right on either side of Forte’s injured leg. In the split second the knight was caught off balance from the injury, she slammed the blocks together around the leg.

Forte couldn’t help but scream as her armor buckled under the pressure. Joints and seams broke, jagged metal dug into her leg, and deep inside she felt something inside her break.

“Why are you really here, Forte? Why did you work so hard to orchestrate everything perfectly so that when it came down to it, it would be me and you alone? Guilt? Regret?”

Forte bowed her head, breathing slowly and deeply. She knew why she was here. She muttered it lowly.

“Come now, speak up. Don’t be shy.” She stepped close, close enough to get within inches of Forte’s face, so she could hear. Their eyes locked. There was… something like hope hiding in them. “Tell me.”

Forte’s hand wrapped around the handle of the dagger she had at her waist. She held the Empress’ gaze and she said slowly, and with much conviction. “I am here to end your tyranny.” She plunged the knife into the Empress’ gut and twisted it for good measure.

The Empress stepped back, pulling the knife out, closing up the wound. It healed completely. But Forte saw what she was looking for. That minute wince of pain, that heavy breath of exhaustion as the magic drained her strength.

The rocks around her leg crumbled to dust. Forte moved the instant she was free, bearing the excruciating pain in her injured leg, diving for her sword. She rearmed herself and got back to her unsteady feet just in time. She blocked one blow from the Empress. The second broke past her guard and cut deeply into her arm.

The Empress was no longer using the gracefully lethal techniques she’d used earlier. She was ready for this fight to be over. Now was the time for power. With a surprising show of strength, the Empress grabbed Forte and threw her to the ground.

She realized with a calm certainty that Frey would outmatch her. Her magical reserves may be exhausted, but physically she was faring far better than Forte. If this fight went on, Forte would be killed, and Frey would unleash her reign of terror upon the world.

The Empress knew this as well. She approached languidly like a cat playing with its food. She kicked Forte firmly in the chest to send her sprawling back, gasping for breath. Then she stepped onto Forte, grinding her boot into her injured leg, pinning her to the ground. Forte didn’t have the strength to throw her off, she couldn’t free herself. She stopped her struggling entirely when the Empress put the sharp point of her sword just under Forte’s chin.

Frey paused, looking at her with a mixture of pity and loathing. “I gave you the chance to follow me, do you remember? I asked you to come with me, and you refused.” She lifted her blade; the wet redness of Forte’s fresh blood caught the light. “Imagine what we could have been together. You would have been my right hand, my knight, my queen. Together we could have been unstoppable.”

Forte made a useless effort to throw her off. “Perhaps I should have. I could have stopped you when the darkness took you. I would have made it painless and saved countless lives.”

“Would you have even noticed? At that point, after so long together, would you have doubted me enough to raise a blade against me? I wouldn’t think so… but perhaps you have always hated me.” A look of regret crossed Frey’s face. “Do you know I loved you from the moment I met you? I never found the courage to tell you. But I always felt we were meant for each other. I’ve thought about you so much, my Forte.” She smiled, almost tenderly. “I was always so proud every time I heard you’d been promoted. I would have made you a general much faster than that fool of a king. I’d always hoped we would meet again.” Then that wicked, calculating look returned. “I waited until I was certain it would be you coming after me.”

Then the Empress surprised Forte. She moved her sword, and stepped off her, just for a moment. Just to reposition her feet, and lower down until she was straddling Forte’s hips. The Empress kept the General pinned with a heavy hand on her breastplate. She leaned over her and looked down. Her free hand cupped Forte’s face and tenderly wiped some of the blood and grime from her cheek and lips.

“You’re as beautiful now as you were the day we parted. I don’t want to kill you, Forte. And I know you don’t want to kill me. Join me, like you should have all those years ago. We may be much older now, but it’s not too late for us. With you next to me, all will finally be right. I know you still love me.”

Forte shook her head. Tears brimmed in her eyes, because for a brief moment, with the way the Empress looked at her, strands of hair fallen loose and framing her face, she looked like Frey again. “It isn’t you I was in love with. I was not meant to be with the Empress. It was always Frey who held my heart.”

The Empress’ face hardened. “Pity. You’ve made your choice then.” Her grip on Forte’s face tightened, squeezing her hard by the jaw. She leaned down and pressed a slow kiss to Forte’s lips. “I’m sorry my love,” she said as she got back to her feet. “Your death cannot be painless, but I will make it fast.” She raised her blade over her head and swung down swiftly with all her might.

Forte just got her own blade up in time to catch the blow. Steel screeched against steel until the blade caught against each other. Forte struggled to push the blade away, but she did not have the strength to fight for long, and the Empress had the advantage.

She leaned over Forte, putting her weight into the blade as well as her strength. Inch by hard fought inch, the point of her sword neared Forte’s chest. She took the time to angle the blade just so, to aim for the gap in the general’s armor.

Forte fought with every piece of her, until she realized, again with calm clarity, what she must do. Her mission was to end the Empress. Her survival was not necessary. So she dropped her blade, letting the Empress to fall the last several inches and plunge her sword into Forte. But that move would spell her doom. For Forte angled her own blade up and it slipped under the Empress’ breastplate and into her chest.

The Empress gasped, pulling away in shock, pulling her blade free only to drop it at her side. Her hands flew up to cup her chest, her fingers twitched instinctively to cast the magic to heal the wound, but there was nothing left inside her. Not even strength to sap and turn into magical energy. Her legs gave out. She struggled to breathe. Her hands vainly tried to stem the flow of blood.

Forte’s strike against the Empress had done much more damage than her strike against Forte. She was fading fast. She was dying.

“F-Forte?” Her voice sounded small, frightened. She reached for the knight with bloodied hands. They fell numbly against her armor, leaving red streaks on the steel.

Forte found the strength to sit up, to gather the Empress into her arms, to rest her head in her lap. The wound in her chest was fatal too, but not as immediately so. She might have an extra minute.

The Empress trembled as her body began to fail. A wry smile pulled at her mouth. “We might not have gotten a life together, but at least we’ll die together, my love.” Her eyes drifted to the grass they lay in, where, against all odds, Moondrops grew, untrampled by the battle, unmarred by war.

Her eyes slid closed. Her breaths were becoming more ragged, shallower. With great effort, she opened her eyes one last time. “I’m sorry for… In another life I would’ve…”

And then she was gone.

Forte let her tears run freely. She bent down and planted kisses on Frey’s forehead, her cheeks, her lips. “I’m sorry too, my love.” Her vision was dimming. She lost the strength to sit up. Air had no effect on her lungs. She was dying. With her last shreds of strength, she made her clumsy hands find Frey’s and she held them. With her last breath she whispered an apology.

#prompt fill #ask box game #rune factory 4 #rf4 #rune factory #frey #forte #empress frey au #dark empress au #oh my god I cut so much of the story and then had to cut even more!#y'all please read the whole thing on AO3

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