Dark Love

Disclaimer: The Record of Lodoss War setting, its characters, etc., are used here without the permission of their owner, but without intention of harm or profit. No copyright infringement is intended.


Author’s notes: This story is based on the 13-episodes Record of Lodoss War epic fantasy anime series. As I watched it and watched it again, it struck me that the villains, especially Ashram and Pirotess, were much more interesting than the heroes. Unfortunately, they were villains and met the fate of villains – death. Pirotess died protecting Ashram from the dragon Shooting Star, and Ashram died in the last episode at Wagnard’s hands, literally. I was so sad. So, after a time thinking about it, I decided to write a fanfic where Ashram and Pirotess escaped Shooting Star’s mountain, and where the low-key romance between the two is brought to full bloom. To those RoLW fans reading this, be advised that I gave Pirotess some knives and modified the Demon Sword Soul Crusher to make it a bit more... evil.

I orginally posted this story at fanfiction.net, back when there was a NC-17 rating. After that rating and all its stories were erased (I blame Harry Potter slash that got parents complaining to the site admin), I considered modifying certain parts of the story to get a lower rating, but rejected the idea after about 2 seconds. Not only did I like the story as it was, but such a move would be akin to Hollywood execs butchering movies to get a PG-13 rating that will allow hordes of teens to watch it, a practice I despise. I recently found this site, and, after looking around a bit, decided to chance the waters.

Although I wrote it about 3 years ago, this is my first fanfic, and I haven\'t written any since. Reviews, or lack thereof, will determine whether I\'ll write more.


DARK LOVE

It was not even a conscious thought.

When he saw Pirotess go over the rocky ledge\'s rim after pushing him away from the falling rocks, Ashram reacted purely on instinct. One instant he was holding the Scepter of Domination, the next the Scepter was on the ground and he was reaching for Pirotess\'s hand as she began to fall toward the lake of lava below.

Somehow the Black Knight managed to catch the dark elf\'s upraised hand. He was forced to one knee before he could break her momentum, but managed to keep his right-hand grip on his powerful sword, Soul Crusher. Pirotess raised her almond-shaped golden eyes to his, her form outlined by the glowing lava below her, and the terror in them went to his normally icy heart.

Suddenly a brown-robed form materialized to his left. It was Groder, the wizard who was among the party Ashram had taken to assault the lair of the ancient dragon Shooting Star. Groder sneered at Ashram, his features twisted demonically, and bent to take the Scepter of Domination. Ashram wanted to turn and swing at the treacherous wizard, but to do that he would have to let go of Pirotess’s hand. Groder picked up the Scepter and let out a mad cackle. The wizard quickly levitated off the ground and out of Ashram’s reach, then disappeared in a flash.

A tremendous roar shook the cavern. Ashram did not have to raise his eyes to know the cause – Shooting Star, enraged by the loss of his most precious treasure. It was the dragon who had caused rocks to fall toward the human who had presumed to steal his treasure, and Pirotess who had leapt in to save Ashram from the rockfall.

Ashram, knowing their end was near, looked down again at Pirotess. He would much rather have her beautiful, ebony-skinned face be the last sight he saw rather than Shooting Star’s gaping maw as the dragon breathed his deadly fire on them.

Another roar came, but this time it came from a human throat – and from above Ashram. Glancing up, he had trouble maintaining his famous impassive countenance. A burly-shouldered, dark-haired human was hurtling through the air, a long pike held in his hands. The human landed on Shooting Star’s snout and thrust the pike’s pointed end into the dragon. Crackling blue energy spread from the pike over the dragon’s red-scaled face and neck. Shooting Star raised his head and roared, obviously pained. The human managed to keep his grip.

*We might live through this,* Ashram thought. Gritting his teeth, he raised Pirotess to the ledge. The dark elf looked around wildly as her feet touched the ground. “Run,” he told her curtly, and she nodded. One reason Ashram had survived so long was that he knew when he was in over his head.

Not bothering to look back at Shooting Star, the two took off at a run. The dragon was still roaring his pain, and other human screams joined it. No one joined Ashram and Pirotess in their flight, which meant that the rest of Ashram’s party had been killed by that annoyance Parn and his friends, who had to be the ones battling the dragon.

Ashram half-expected to be suddenly bathed in dragonfire and instantly turned to cinders, but somehow they managed to reach one of the cavern’s exits. The cavern was shaking up by then, with rocks falling all around, so they did not stop their flight. Pirotess took the lead as the light around them diminished, her keen elven eyes much better than his at seeing in the dark. Mere moments after they leapt outside in the day’s sun, the cavern’s entrance collapsed, kicking up a cloud of dust. Ashram and Pirotess followed its example as they sunk to the ground, exhausted.

* * *

Pirotess took a few deep breaths as she tried to bring her breathing under control. This was the closest she had come to death in her century-long life. If that miserable human Parn and his friends had not distracted the dragon, if Ashram had not caught her hand...

*Ashram.*

Pirotess looked at him. He was sitting on the ground, gripping his sword’s hilt with both gauntleted hands, his bowed forehead near the pommel. His pale grey eyes were closed, and the breastplate of his black armor with golden scrollwork rose and fell with his heavy breathing. His black-and-red cape was pooled under him. His long, shining black hair fell to his waist, a dark cascade she longed to run her hands through.

He was the Black Knight, the Lord of the dark island of Marmo, quite possibly the greatest living swordsman, the human she had sworn her life to... The man she loved.

Pirotess knew she was not supposed to have such feelings. Dark elves considered themselves superior to all living beings. The only race they acknowledged as near equals were the high elves – and this only served to fuel the deadly hatred dark elves held for their light-skinned kin. Even now anger rose in her as she thought of Deedlit, the high elf in Parn’s party.

But she also knew she could not change her heart. She had known from the moment Ashram had broken a fight between a human and a dark elf, punishing the human more than the dark elf, that he was not like other humans. Those Pirotess certainly considered inferiors, fit only to be manipulated to her ends or killed if they got in her way.

Pirotess had contrived to stay at Ashram’s side during the battles that had raged on the Island of Lodoss as Emperor Beld of Marmo made his bid to conquer all of Lodoss. She had watched Ashram, the general of Beld’s armies, guarded the fascinating human... and fallen in love with him.

She had not meant it to happen, had not even realized what she was feeling in the beginning. When she finally recognized what the pangs in her heart when she looked at Ashram meant, it was too late, and Pirotess, one of the most powerful and highest-ranking of dark elves, eventually admitted to herself that she did love the tall, black-haired human.

Despite all her feelings for him, though, she was not certain what Ashram felt toward her, if he felt anything at all. She had expected him to let her fall to her death when she pushed him out of the way of the rocks disloged by Shooting Star. Yet she had not hesitated. She had sworn her life to Ashram, and was fully prepared to give it up to protect him.

She had never told Ashram how she felt about him. When he was the general of Beld’s armies, it would not have been appropriate since she was one of his subordinates. And after Ashram picked up Beld’s magical demonic sword Soul Crusher after the Emperor’s death and proclaimed himelf Lord of Marmo Island, he had had too many things on his mind for her to bother him. Also, Pirotess knew she would face a lot of criticism from her fellow dark elves should her feelings for Ashram become public. In dark elven mentality, only other dark elves were fit for intimate association. There had been enough subtle disapprovals at her oath to the Black Knight. *But no dark elf male can match Ashram’s height, or his strenght, or his wonderful deep voice...*

Despite the risks and the inevitable complications, there had been many times when she had hoped to see Ashram show something toward her, or at least give some sign that he valued her more than the rest of his followers. But the Black Knight had always treated her with the some cool impassivity he showed everyone...

... Until he let go of the Scepter of Domination, let go of the most powerful magical artifact ever created... to save her life.

* * *

“Groder must be one of Wagnard’s lackeys,” Ashram said, staring into the distance – and *not* looking at Pirotess.

“Couldn’t Groder have seized the Scepter for himself?” she asked from behind him in her cool, melodic voice.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. It was Wagnard who told me about the Scepter of Domination. And Groder’s face when he seized the Scepter... Demon-touched, without a doubt.” He didn’t have to add more. Wagnard was the high priest of Kardis, the evil goddess and destruction and madness... And it was well known that he trafficked with demons.

“So what do we do now?” Pirotess asked.

Ashram rose to his feet. “I will return to Marmo and make that treacherous vulture Wagnard regret the day he decided to enter Kardis’s clergy.”

“What?!” Pirotess came quickly around and turned to faced him. He had no choice but to look down at her. She was smaller than a human, slender and graceful, with finely chiseled, delicate ebony features, almond-shaped eyes and long pointed ears like all dark elves. Her long white hair was tied by a ribbon behind her back and fell nearly to the ground. She wore thigh-high white boots, a short white skirt, white gloves and a sleeveless white vest that exposed part of her chest and the inner sides of her breasts. At her left side was the scabbard holding her slender longsword, at her right a brace of throwing knives and a slightly larger dagger. She had a talisman on her forehead, linked to a slender golden chain that circled her head.

Her clothes were white where his armor was black, her skin ebony where his was nearly white. She was his opposite in coloring, and the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, something he found himself thinking with increasing frequency, to his vast discomfort.

“You can’t be serious,” she said incredulously. “Now that he has the Scepter of Domination, even you and your sword will be no match for him.”

“I will see that for myself,” Ashram stated flatly as he sheathed his sword. Beautiful as she was, Pirotess often opposed his decisions, as she had when he had decided to kill Shooting Star and take the Scepter of Domination. And now this. He had killed men for less.

Ashram looked around. As nearly as he could tell, they had come out of Shooting Star’s mountain several hours’ walk from the encampment Ashram and his party had erected last night. Without a word, he started walking.

“We won’t reach the camp before nightfall,” Pirotess pointed out as she hurried up to his side.

“Then I mean to get as near as I can before having to stop. If you want, you can continue to the camp on your own and I’ll join you in the morning.” With her superior elven vision, Pirotess could certainly continue after night fell.

She didn’t speak, but just looked at him. The Black Knight knew what that look meant – she would not leave him willingly. It struck him as more than a little ironic that a dark elf, reputed for their treachery and selfishness, had turned out to be his most loyal follower.

* * *

Pirotess walked on as shadows crept over the land and in her mind. If Ashram went to face Wagnard, he would die. She was as certain of that as she had been that it would be a mistake to invade Shooting Star’s mountain.

But how could she convince him to change his course? She had never succeeded at that, and her attempts only seemed to make him more determined to follow the path he had chosen. She wrestled with the problem until Ashram stumbled over a rock. He immediately regained his balance with an experienced fighter’s ease, but his face darkened. Looking around, she saw that night had fallen fully. Going on was obviously dangerous, at least for the human.

“We’ll pass the night there,” Ashram said, nodding toward an outcropping of rocks that would both provide cover from both lurking beasts and the low wind that was now rising.

It was a tight fit, but Pirotess did not mind, even though she was pressed against Ashram’s black armor. What she did mind, however, was the cold and the hollowness in her stomach. Her clothes served her well enough on Marmo and most of Lodoss, but here, at higher and colder altitudes, they left her shivering.

She glanced at Ashram. The Black Knight was motionless. Soul Crusher was laid across his knees, the hilt in easy reach of his right hand, his eyes intent on the outcropping’s opening. He was a vision of black steel coiled to spring. Pirotess had also drawn her sword, though she put it to the ground and hugged her knees to her chest after over an hour of shivering. She kept her mind off how cold she felt by trying to think of a way to dissuade Ashram from his course, and failing. She decided to speak, if only to forget her mounting worries, not to mention her hunger and thirst.

“Shouldn’t you remove your armor? You cannot be comfortable in it.”

“Better that I be uncomfortable in my armor than meat in some monster’s belly because I did not have it on. Besides, it’s hardly the first time I spend the night in it.”

Pirotess knew that was true. It had become almost a joke in the Marmo army – though never in Ashram’s hearing – that the Black Knight never took off his armor because he didn’t want to become the White Knight, a reference to his pale skin. *They also said that his heart is as black as his armor and as cold as his eyes...* She shivered, and not because of the cool night. Again her worries cropped up.

“Ashram?” she finally asked in a small voice.

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Hmmm.” He never took his eyes off the opening. *Please, please look at me just once...*

“I’ll take the first watch,” Ashram said after a while, still not looking at her. “You get some sleep.”

“Very well.” Pirotess curled herself into a ball to preserve her body warmth as best as she could and closed her eyes, trying to blink back the tears that had sprung in her eyes. Yet sleep would not come, the cold and the growing despair in her heart combining to keep her awake.

Suddenly she heard Ashram move. After a moment, something soft and warm covered her. Pirotess let out a sigh of pleasure and twisted to make the piece of clothing cover all her body. Her shivering soon stopped, and not long after she fell asleep with a smile on her lips, warmed by more than Ashram’s cape.