-Leonardo perspective
The journey to Marseille wasn't particularly long, but for me, it felt like an eternity.
Not because I feared the journey itself, but because I was alone with Joan of Arc. Well, not completely alone, since Mary managed to join us after throwing a fit worthy of a spoiled child. But even so, the situation made me uneasy.
By now, Joan and I had developed a more comfortable dynamic. She no longer called me her "property" in every conversation, although she still mentioned it when someone doubted my position in her army. Even so, the way she trusted me… the way she looked at me when we discussed strategies… was impossible to ignore.
For me, this journey wasn't just a mission to gather information about the situation in Compiègne. No. To my dismay, I saw it as something more: **a date**.
The problem was that I had no experience in this. I could talk about history for hours without hesitation, I could analyze battles with the coldness of a strategist, but when it came to something akin to an outing with a woman—and even more so, with *Joan of Arc*—my brain went into panic mode.
I couldn't let that happen.
I had to focus on what was coming. If we lost the battle of Compiègne, history would follow its original course. Joan would be captured by the Burgundians, sold to the English, tried for heresy, and executed at the stake.
**I wasn't going to allow it.**
I had to tell her everything I knew. I had to change the fate that history had in store for her.
---
**Marseille** was a bustling port, unlike most of the cities we had visited. There were merchants from all over, the smell of salt and fish permeated the air, and the streets were full of life.
Joan, as always, walked with an imposing presence, dressed in her light armor and a simple cloak that distinguished her. Beside her, I tried not to look like a man going on a *date* with France's heroine, but my nerves betrayed me.
—"Are you okay, Leonardo?" —Joan asked suddenly, with a slight tone of concern.
I cleared my throat.
—"Yes, it's just… I'm not used to traveling with you this way."
—"This way?"
—"Well, without an army, without battle cries, without feeling that we could be attacked at any moment."
Joan flashed a playful smile.
—"Then enjoy it while it lasts."
Mary, who was by my side, gave me a suspicious look and then clung to my arm more tightly.
—"Don't enjoy it too much!" —she murmured in a low voice.
I ignored her comment and focused on the mission.
We headed to one of the fortresses where we were to meet with some informants. Joan listened attentively as I explained everything I knew about the siege of Compiègne. I hid nothing.
I told her about the betrayal of the Burgundians.
I told her how she would be captured when trying to cover her troops' retreat.
I told her about her trial, the hatred of the English, and the way they would twist her words to condemn her.
I told her about the stake.
Joan looked at me silently, her expression unyielding.
Finally, she took a deep breath and said:
—"If that is the fate that God has for me, then I will accept it."
I tensed up.
—"You can't think that way. If you accept defeat before fighting, then you are already lost."
She smiled slightly.
—"I don't accept it with defeat, but with faith."
For a moment, I remained silent.
Joan had an unbreakable spirit, but I wasn't going to let her faith blind her.
—"But I will not accept it." —My voice was firm, determined—. I will not let you fall into the hands of the Burgundians. I will not allow history to repeat itself. I will do everything possible to save you."
Joan looked at me in surprise. I don't know if it was because of my tone or the intensity in my eyes, but for a moment she seemed moved.
Then, to my surprise, she reached out and gently placed her hand on mine.
—"Thank you, Leonardo."
My thoughts froze.
My heart raced.
**My God, this really seemed like a date!**
Meanwhile....
With joan's point of view. (Her Pov)
-[Fear in the Depths of an Abyss]
-Joan perspective
My fate has been revealed to me.
Not by a divine dream nor a celestial sign, but by the trembling voice of a man who, with every word, struck my soul with the cruel certainty of my end.
**Captured. Betrayed. Judged. Burned.**
For a moment, my heart felt heavy. It wasn't fear… or at least, not what I imagined I would feel upon knowing my own end. It was a cold void that extended from my chest to every corner of my being.
—"If this is the fate that God has for me, then I will accept it."
My lips pronounced the words firmly. My voice did not tremble. My expression did not break. But inside me… inside me, something shattered.
**Why?**
God… my saints… my voices… Why do you allow this? Why must I be condemned in this way? I have followed your call, I have guided your people, I have fought with faith burning in my soul.
Why must I die at the stake as a heretic?
Why do you allow my body to be consumed by the flames?
**Have I merely been a tool for a greater purpose?**
No. I must not think this way.
I must accept what comes with faith, with the same conviction with which I have led my brothers.
But then, Leonardo speaks.
He does not accept this.
He does not resign himself.
—"You cannot think this way. If you accept defeat before fighting, then you are already lost."
His voice is strong, determined, burning with a conviction I had never seen in him. A rational man, a strategist, a historian from a distant future… Why does he cling so tightly to preventing what he considers inevitable?
His gaze is firm, filled with an intensity that disarms me.
—"But I will not accept it."
I keep listening, with a bare soul and a trembling heart.
—"I will not let you fall into the hands of the Burgundians. I will not allow history to repeat itself. I will do everything possible to save you."
My chest tightens.
God… could it be that this man… this foreigner… has more faith in my salvation than I do?
**When did I start to doubt?**
For the first time in a long time, I feel small. I feel weak. I feel like a simple girl, and not like the warrior that France believes I am.
But then, something warm envelops me.
A fire that does not burn, but comforts.
They are not flames of damnation.
It is his unyielding will.
My body moves without thinking.
My hand, trembling, slides to his and covers it gently.
My lips part, and without realizing it, my deepest thoughts turn into words.
—"Thank you, Leonardo."
And for the first time in this entire conversation… my words are not for God, nor for my voices, nor for my soldiers.
They are for him.
For the only one who refuses to let me fall into the abyss.