Crimson & Clover {OC x GUTS} Berserk

10. Remnants

"Apostles used that egg thing to gain power?"

Guts grit his teeth together. He now had two very talkative personalities in tow on the mission he wanted, no needed, to accomplish alone.

"And the night we were marked Griffith transformed into that... bat looking thing?"

Guts turned suddenly, causing Marcella to bump into him.

"What do you want?" he asked, looking down at her harshly.

"I'm trying to get rid of this thing," she held out her marked wrist.

"You can't. Everyone who got marked had to face this."

"Then tell me where the others are," she was desperate for any information she could find to cure the mark. "I'll work with them and see what I can do to erase this."

"I don't have time to deal with you. I can't solve your problems. Sorry princess, but that ugly mark is there to stay," he said turning on his heels, "Now, leave me alone."

She stood, looking almost defeated. To be called princess and appear as she did was a cruel joke. Her cloak was ripped and her clothes were stained with various blood spatters and sweat stains.

Puck flew slowly after Guts, "You shouldn't speak to her that way."

"You too! Fuck. Off."

Marcella stumbled after him, "Just tell me where the others are. Please, Guts?"

Guts turned around and the expression he wore frightened her, "There are no others!"

She stepped back, terrified he would lunge at her, "That isn't true. Earlier you said his name, Grif-"

"Griffith caused all of this," Guts had her backed against a tree trunk now, "The only other one alive is Casca and she's only a shell of her past self. I'm not going to ask again. Leave."

Guts pushed away from the tree and turned around, not bothering to look back.

Puck flew to Marcella as Guts continued on his path. She looked the part of a beggar. Her pack had been lost back in Koka. And while she had many invaluable herbs and stones in that pack, the most precious thing she owned was now lost to her – Lady Paloma's grimoire.

Thankfully, all that had been written, she committed to memory during her year spent in that cave. Yet the loss of the physical book, its texture and smell was like the loss of Lady Paloma all over again.

Marcella stood, watching Guts get smaller and smaller in the distance. Night would fall soon and she knew demons would attempt to stop him in his tracks.

"I'm sorry he was so terrible to you," Puck said, playing with her messy, golden hair.

"Don't be. He's been through hell," she began to prepare for dusk, "Puck, I don't mean to be rude but I do not think it is best for you to stay in my presence come nightfall."

"Well... Mar," Puck shook his head and corrected himself, "Clover... I cannot explain it... but I must follow Guts. And I believe you should too!"

"I don't believe he wants me around."

"Perhaps he does not want you but he needs you."

Marcella was quiet and the sun inched closer to the horizon.

"You're stronger than you know, Clover. I think you have a higher purpose and I think that your purpose lies with Guts... at least for now." Puck hovered awkwardly in the air before hugging Marcella's head, "I'll try to slow him down over the next day or two if you change your mind."

With that, Puck flew off and nighttime arrived.

The whispers began. Darkness crept slowly through the forest floor, attempting to wrap itself around Marcella's ankles.

She sat down, releasing ethereal light that the tendrils of darkness shriveled away from, and thus began her nightly meditation.

~~~

When dawn broke a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She was hungry, cold, and alone once more.

Puck's voice echoed in her head. He needs you. I'll try to slow him down over the next day or two if you change your mind.

How she desperately wanted to believe it was true. Yet, in this moment, she felt that it was her that was in need of Guts.

She thought back to the night of the Eclipse. In the middle of the horror that was Lady Paloma's death, she recalled seeing Guts's face screaming in outrage at Casca.

How could I have been so blind?

Casca, Guts, and Griffith had been so intertwined all those years ago at the Wyndham castle. She thought back to the night she approached Guts and asked for his help. He didn't seem too fond of Casca. That was almost three years ago. So much had changed.

She stood up, ignoring the pain in her body and began to run in the direction Guts and Puck had gone. She would help Guts in whatever it was he was determined to do.

~~~

Guts rarely thought of Casca. As much as he wanted to, whenever her face came into his mind, it was always associated with the look of terror she had given him back at Godo's.

She was no longer Casca. Whatever they had – his teeth clenched – was over. But he owed it to her to rid this world of the monsters who had destroyed her. He owed it to her to her to see that the world was safe once more. And so he pushed forward after yet another night of constant battle.

I couldn't stop thinking of you.

Guts couldn't get Marcella' voice out of his head.

He thought back to Princess Charlotte's ball when the war had been won – the night the Queen and other officials were burned alive. No one had mourned for the late Princess Marcella. If they did, they stuck to the shadows. The King, court officials, and so many others had focused solely on the loss of the Queen. Talk of Princess Charlotte's rise to power took precedence.

How long had Guts thought of Marcella after she had left? The night she had left Wyndham, he stood for a long time, debating on following her to freedom. Simply taking another horse and galloping after her.

After all, she was his first kiss. A tender touch he didn't resent.

Guts thought of Marcella long after he left the Band of the Hawk. Deep down, a part of him wished they would cross paths. He wished that perhaps his efforts in finding his own way would somehow involve her.

But, all of that was before the Eclipse. That was before Casca's mind was destroyed. Guts clenched his jaw tight, thinking of Casca made him angry all over again. For her. For him. For all of their fallen comrades. It made him hate Griffith. And it pushed him closer to his next goal. Killing the next apostle that took his friends lives.

He wanted to return to Casca and be able to tell her she was avenged. He wanted to see her heal more than anything he had ever wanted before. Perhaps he thought of Casca more than he cared to admit.

And so he walked, yet as he did so, Marcella's voice still fluttered about in the wind, whipping around him.

I couldn't stop thinking of you.