Forget it. I always try to make more out of bouts of inspiration than I need too and stories fall apart as a result. So this time, I just did it and I barely read over it and I finished it. Read. Enjoy. Hopefully.
Note, I lack the “economy of language” that’s necessary to juggle a style of writing like VS’s, so don’t be too hard on me. I just stumbled upon the ending of the game and I had it in me to do this, come heck or high water, so I did it.
Vagrant Story fanfiction -
As God is My Witness
The city was eating her soul. Yes, even now, while she still yet lived, the spirits nibbled at the remains of her mortality; they ravaged what little matter tied her to this mortal coil like hounds. What abominable power this city had; to twist and turn the minds of men. Lea Monde’s horrors did not rest with the undead or the ghastly demons which strayed the halls – it’s ability to charm the hearts of men with it’s promises, it’s beckoning call. Lea Monde knew how to turn those whom fortune favored, the brave and skilled alike, into fools. Alas, its power seemed to extend even unto the betrothed. The city would take them all.
…
Ah, Guildenstern.
She had played the role as his steed, his lover, and like all noble actors, He had returned the favor - He had played the role all too well, and when it had come time for the roles to change, for a new stage to be set He had known the value of the players and which were best suited to play the parts.
He had traded the lover for the martyr. He had traded his beloved steed for the kingdom of immortality. He was not one to barter with the actors in his plots. Even the heretic Sydney had fallen before his directions and machinations; so close did he keep his thoughts, like a methodical cat loosing a ball of string. So closely had he kept them, so earnestly had he professed his love, his dream – no, no their dream. She had been plucked like a virgin with the sting of love and adoration for Him. She had prized him, and He her above all else – she was the only suitable sacrifice.
She still yet bled from love’s sting. She still yet bled from the dagger he had kept closer to his soul than to her heart; until only moments before. That dagger had always been there, just as his love had been – alluring, gleaming in the darkness like a serpent’s fang and as unyielding to his desires as it was to her flesh.
…
And yet, she had found little fault with him. Her last words to him had been said out of the one role she never would have wished to play – the cuckold. If that was not the right word for it, she laid the patience to find it now. His jilting of her had shocked her to the core and so she had mocked his concession, his parting gift to her – a declaration of his love while God was his witness. Soon, God would not witness him at all. The city would claim him too of his own free will. He would be as damned as she – or perhaps it would be the other way around, since it was her soul that had been given, maybe she would be with him still.
The only one left was the Riskbreaker. There was no part for him, he had stumbled upon the stage with as much bluster and tenacity that would befit a royal dog. He was to be a pawn, a knight perhaps if he fared well, but would be dismissed from the finer acts. How he had sustained himself through the terrors of the wretched city was beyond her imagination; considering he had done it alone, unassisted, unlike her, it seemed quite possible that he could rid Him of the hell he had wished upon himself in this tryst he had developed with the city’s powers. He could not be loosed in this world; she knew he had gone to far to be saved or spared and the Riskbreaker did not strike her as a man of compromise. Perhaps his soul could be salvaged, as dark as it had become, perhaps.
…
The ambivalence of eternity began to fade. Oblivion had finally marked her and so she felt herself seeping away from her own remains.
“Forgive me, Samantha,” he spoke so coldly, his breath pained her with the sting of his words, “I need your soul.”
What for, my love? What for? Is my heart not enough? [i]NO. I require more, I demand it. The city demands it.[/i] What is the worth of a man if he has gained all the world’s riches and yet loses his very soul? [i]Be with me, Samantha, make me complete and together we can live forever. [/i]Yes, together forever; he and the city would be together until the end. [i]Enough resistance, you must submit to my will.[/i]
Through her futile gasping as she yearned for a pitiful grasp at life that was more reflexive than anything else she could only muster up the strength for an uneven plea.
“Oh, God.”
Then Death settled upon her like a cold blanket.
He had taken her.
The city had won.