The Fall and Tainted Resurrection

No preamble, let's get into it.

However, do note there are spoilers for Book III, and I did take a few liberties, which hopefully didn't take away from the story much.

#FEHAPrompt19

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Everything around them was met with ruin: buildings and bodies set aflame, turned to ash and utterly destroyed. Ally turned to an undead enemy, leaving them with the unmistakably hard decision to cut down everyone they knew one after another, over and over again, for a seemingly endless amount of times.

What had originally been their fighting spirit slowly turned to a sense of desperation, one to end the fight as quickly as possible, and slipped further still into despair as more and more lives originally free to make their own decisions became mere puppets for the undead forces. Alfonse was terrified; he needed a strategy, and fast. There had to be some way to defeat Hel once and for all, to repel the her forces with final strike and claim victory for his kingdom, and the right to bury the fallen. However, there just wasn't an opportunity provided to them: they couldn't break through to what they needed to do. And because of that...

Askr's fall was inevitable.

The King and Queen have since fallen to the scythe of Hel, as she slowly crept forward with her near infinite army. Anna have already told a number of civilians to retreat, but many were cut off by the army in an unexpected pincer attack. While some managed to force their way through, or simply run through and survived by the skin of their teeth, a majority were slaughtered, unable to defend themselves from the undead blades. Noticing her miscalculation, Anna attempted to change direction on a dime in hopes of reaching a safe haven planned out in case of certain destruction like this. However, the secret age had already been discovered and intercept the survivors.

Understanding what was about to happen, she took one soldier and told them, "Here is my last message to Prince Alfonse and Princess Sharena: 'Escape while you still can. Askr must live even if just in spirit.'" The soldier tried to tell her there was still hope, but she merely turned to the place with the least amount of Hel's soldiers and said, "Get that message to them, or die trying. I'll open the way." With one swipe of Nóatún, she knocked back several enemies before screaming "GET OUT OF HERE!" The soldier ran with what little strength they left turning back only once to see Anna smiling while she was impaled by three enemy spears. She attempted to fight back one last time, but was soon decapitated by an enemy axe. The soldier could only weep as their best commander was now defeated.

The soldier ran with everything they had: they shed their armor to reduce their weight and increase their stamina slightly; they threw away every weapon but a short sword, the only weapon they needed; and they sprinted as if there very life depended on it. As they practically flew through the fields and forest, they dodged enemies left and right, arrows zooming right past their ear, close enough to nearly deafen them. One arrow manage to pierce right through their ear, but it came from right behind them, so they didn't get shot through the head. It was painful, terribly so, with them screaming with all they had, but the adrenaline was firing on all cylinders. They simply began to run faster and faster, ignoring the pain as much as they could.

Within inches of their life, the soldier finally managed to find Prince Alfonse, who was barely standing his ground against a group of foes. The soldier called to a few nearby allies and with their help, cleared the area for even just a brief moment to Alfonse. Remarkably, Alfonse recognized the soldier as a part of Anna's squadron to escort the villagers. "What has happened? Where are the Commander and villagers?" It was now that the tears fell from the soldier's eyes, now feeling the pain in their ear, and agony of watching everyone they knew fall before them. They cried and sobbed, but knew well what their final job was.

"Everyone... one was slaughtered, the Commander amongst the fallen." Alfonse tensed up, but knew well not to give in to his emotions. "She asked me to deliver one final message: 'Escape from while you still can. Askr must live even if just in spirit.' Prince Alfonse, please..." Realizing too late that their energy was gone, and their blood loss now too great, the soldier feel to the ground, incapable of getting up.

Hearing the news was absolutely unbearable, but Alfonse didn't want to give up, not yet. He raised his sword and was about rally the troops near him when a sudden explosion occurred near him, and saw some of Hel's soldiers coming from within the castle walls. Unable to understand the situation anymore, Alfonae calls out to a few soldiers and asked him to help find the Summoner and Sharena. As long as the Summoner was alive, hope still lives on. As long as Sharena was alive, he could live knowing he could protect someone precious. However, he knew in his heart that things would not go that way. Even still, retreat was not an option. Any method of escape was now non-existent in no small part to the demonic horde.

Alfonse gripped Fólkvangr tightly as he searched desperately for his sister and friend, holding on to whatever hope he had left. The battlefield had become so vast, no matter which way you look or how far, there's someone being slain, and soon enough even the toughest of fighters would them, if Anna's death had proven anything. Alfonse called out, but to no avail: no one responded to him, only more people fell around him. He did his best to keep his tears inside, but only made them flow more and more. All he could think about now was saving even just one of them. He loved them dearly, and Askr was bound to fall, but if he could take one of them to safety, everything would be alright.

However, it all goes horribly wrong, as he heard a distant and familiar scream. He runs with everything he had, fighting through the horde and getting nicked and scratched as he tried so desperately to find where the scream came from. As if realizing who was coming and for what purpose, Hel's army parted to make a path for Alfonse, and before him, his worst fear had come true: because he didn't keep them by his side like usual, the Summoner was on their knees, Hel's Scythe curved around their neck. Hel looked Alfonse dead in the eye, seeing his tears flow. "You should've known better than to oppose the Realm of the Dead. And for it, you shall repent. But first..."

She raised her scythe up, preparing for the final blow against the Summoner. As if accepting of their fate, they lowered their hood to reveal a sad smile on their face, and allowed their golden hair glide down their back, their saddened eyes shining a gentle blue. Without hesitation she looked Alfonse in the eyes, hoping to convey one final message to him. He cried yet harder when he heard it: "Thank you for everything, Alfonse. Please, find Sharena and flee." Her tears began to restrict her vision, but she did her best send him off with one final smile. "I love you. Please forgive me."

For a brief moment in time, everything became dead silent as the scythe swung and pierced the air at a speed too fast for the naked eye, and decapitated the Summoner with a cut so clean, no blood flowed from her body so soon. A terrified look befell Alfonse's face as he let loose a terrible scream all his pent up emotions released at once. Hearing those final words tore his heart apart, his hope slowly fading his mind. Yet still, he couldn't let go of everything yet. So long as Sharena was alive, maybe Askr could live as a secret society underground. It would be a struggle, sure, a peaceful life between them would be wonderful.

That's how he thought at least, trying subside his own fear and anxiety from the whole situation. Smiling maniacally, he begins to turn around and run once more in pursuit of Sharena, had a number of explosions caused by spellcasters not stopped him in his tracks. After the smoke had cleared, he found the situations far worse than he could have every imagined: the castle had begun to crumble, the village almost completely in smoke, the greenery dead, and more than half the Askrian Army fallen to the ground merely wounded or dead. Sharena was nowhere to be seen, and his strength was fading and Hel and her puppets surrounded Alfonse. However, this would not quell his anger or strength as he charged headfirst into the horde slicing them down, often two at a time.

For every swing he took, he would earn another scratch; for every 5 swings he made, another arrow would pierce his flesh. He would ignore the pain for as long as possible, fighting to avenge the summoner and his fallen comrades. He kept swinging even when his legs stopped moving, he would headbutt anyone close enough if his arms lost all feeling. The foes kept creeping closer, as no matter what the size of the mound of bodies became, there were just as many, if not more to replace them. His fate had been sealed, but he wanted to fight it for as long as possible. However, that will would mean nothing as the last blow necessary to knock him down pierced right through his heart, the surprise and pain knocking air from his lungs, struggling to breathe.

He fell to his knees, finally taking a moment to examine his body: his arms and legs were covered in blood, his entire body impaled by too many spears and arrows to count. He couldn't move his body much, but he began to see blood flow past his eyes, which in tandem with his tears made it impossible to see. He had lost all feeling, except pain, loss, and misery. Alfonse understood what was about to happen: he was going to die, and he had failed everyone. Everyone alive right now will die soon, and it was all his fault. At this point, he had lost everything, slowly forgetting what was going on around him as Hel approached him, scythe in hand.

"I commend your spirit, young Prince," Hel spoke with her raspy voice. "You were capable of facing adversity with a strong will and determination unlike I've ever witnessed." She gave a crooked smile. "Do not worry, dear Alfonse. You have a different role to fulfill before your death." There was silence as Hel delivered her next blow.

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Alfonse awoke in a chamber filled with gentle flames with lowered blazers, yet somehow the darkness still remained in much of the chamber that seemed impenetrable. He stood up quickly and reached for sword, to see it missing. Not only this, but his whole body had been transmogrified: he know had a strange new armor equipped, colored black with a purple tint, sporting a new cape that resembled the one his father Gustav bore. His chest and mouth were now colored blue, the former of which he could look through and see his own ribcage. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, and was a bit scared, but ed what had happened prior to coming here. Alfonse knew full well the pain and misery he went through, and he was in Hell... no, Hel. No mistaking it.

Before he could take a step forward, Hel appeared before him, sitting atop a throne of built of skeletons of fallen Heroes. He glared her down knowing he could do no more without the rite. He accepted her presence as much as he could and asked, "What do you plan to do with me?"

"I don't plan to do anything to you, unless you refuse my offer." Hel lifted her hand, and in a puff of purple smoke, a new blade appears between the two of them. Alfonse did not recognize it, but he merely put his hand on his hip and looked at her. She continued: "Your lovely Princess Sharena is dead, as is many of whom you hold dear: the people of Askr, your mother and father, the Embla whom you forged an alliance with." He looked down in attempt to block it all out; he didn't want to hear what he hated most. Why remind him of this? At this point, he may as well face eternal torture. She smiled, realizing his pain. "However, there is hope for you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing and looks up again. "What do you mean? They're dead!" He began to scrape his teeth together in anger and anguish, but Hel merely waved aside. No, she was going to use it.

"Their bodies have perished, but not their souls," she claims, manifesting her scythe. "Those souls can be returned to their rightful place, given the life, if you aid me."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because you may very well die regardless of what you do, but you can repent for your failure." She stands up from her throne, and slowly walks towards him. Unable to protect himself, he permits to, as she grabs the new blade and presents it to him. "Soon I plan conquest on another version of Askr to sustain Hel. After all, the land of the dead cannot exist without the dead to populate it. Should you kill people within this version of Askr, your Askr will revive, slowly but surely." She looks him dead in the eye as she says something that shocks him to his core: "It may be your only way to revive your dear Summoner and Princess."

He staggers backwards, unable to believe her. It sounded too good to be true. He has faced stranger trials, and necromancy like this wasn't impossible if Hel was any indication of this but... All of Askr revived? Was that even possible? It was as she said though, he would simply wander for eternity, or simply perish, body, mind, and soul should he refuse. If this was true, he did not care for this version of Askr; he wanted to help whom he could originally help before. Maybe then, he could confess and repent his sins, and properly take care of Sharena and the Summoner. Hel realized he was beginning to make up his mind, and and pushed the new blade towards him a bit. "Take this sword, Prince, and become a powerful general unlike any other. Together, we will fulfill each other's desires." The blade began to glow, and despite his hesitation, he took the blade into his hands.

"Thank you, dear Prince Alfonse. May you succeed in your duties." He sheaths the new blade, Sökkvabekkr, and begins to walk away.

"My name is Líf," he tells her understanding what was at stake. He knew he would eventually encounter his other self in this new Askr, and using this identity to hide is own would be necessary. "I will bring this dead world back to life, even if I must sacrifice my other self." He turns to her for a brief moment. "You damn better stay out of my way."