royaltyjunk

Summary: After the campaign, Heath settles in Ilia, because he cannot find it in his heart to return to the country he had once called home. Author's Ideas: I started this back in June 2016 and just now dug it out of the pile of WIPs in my Google Drive Whoops? Thus begins Avi's campaign of 4k word fics and hopefully I can climb up to 5k but probably not lol I kinda really like Heath so I wrote a thing where I make him suffer. So yeah. Have it So like in case you didn't know I REALLY LIKE HEATH YOU CANNOT KEEP ME FROM LOVING THIS MAN Also happy Thanksgiving y'all, here's your Thanksgiving gift because I'm horrible and put deadlines for myself and force myself to overwork :^) I'm fine, I promise As always, readable on FF.net, AO3, and Tumblr. Disclaimer: Gosh I wish I owned Fire Emblem (not really) ~ / . / . / ~ Enemy, Ally, and Nothing More ~ / . / . / ~ After the campaign, Heath settles in Ilia, because he cannot find it in his heart to return to the country he had once called home. Hyperion has no complaints - he doesn't act strangely when Heath suddenly steers him away from the high mountains and grassy plains of Bern and doesn't hate the snow that now greets him every morning. The three pegasi riders, Florina, Farina, and Fiora, escort him into Ilia and enroll him into the mercenary guild. "Wyvern riders aren't commonplace in Ilia, but we've had plenty of riders from Bern in the past," Fiora explains as they walk through the halls of the large building. Heath nods, ignoring the strange stares that he gets, the whispers that follow the people who walk away. Sometimes, nervous giggles erupt from young girls, but a simple glare from Fiora is enough to shut them up. "I'm sorry. Those are the girls training here. They're trainees." "It's okay," Heath says. "They'll grow up." His voice has a rasp to it that he's never heard, a lowness that he's never noticed. Fiora looks at him worriedly, but he shakes his head, and she smiles, a happiness in her eyes. "It's nice to see you're getting better, Heath." "I…" he trails off, turning his head and looking at his feet. His long green hair falls from the back of his head, blocking the side of his face from Fiora's eyes. "I'm sorry," Fiora rests her hand on his arm, and he swallows. "It's fine. I… I am not looking into the past anymore." Fiora gives his arm a reassuring squeeze before hurrying down the stairs. He follows, brushing his green hair out of his eyes. There's a large table lit with candles, and a group of people sit around it. Some are polishing weapons, some have quills in hand, scribbling across papers, and some make small talk amongst themselves. They all look up when the group of four files in. "Commander Fiora," one of the women greets. "Commander Farina, Trainee Florina." "Mother," Fiora murmurs, bowing. "I have a request for you." "Does it include this man?" she asks, gesturing to Heath. He lowers his head respectfully. "Yes," Fiora responds. "His name is Heath. He is a wyvern rider." "I see," Fiora's mother murmurs, but they can all see the look of disinterest in her eyes. "Very well. We will register him in." She begins to write on a piece of parchment, and then looks up. "You are dismissed." "Thank you, First Major," Heath says respectfully. She nods curtly in response, and then Fiora pulls him away. They stay silent on the way up the stairs. "Um… I'm sorry about the way our mother acts…" Florina pipes up. Heath blinks in surprise, turning to look at her as her voice trails off. "Why? There's no need. I'm not offended." "Oh… but…" "Just leave it, Florina," Farina mumbles tiredly. "If he's not bothered by it, don't bother him about it." The lavender-haired girl nods hesitantly. "Would you like to stay in the Guild? Or find an inn in town?" Fiora asks Heath. "Either is fine. Whichever is more convenient." "The Guild it is," Farina says, and Fiora turns to look at her sister. "Farina, can I leave you to find a room for him? I must… run some errands." "Where are you going, Sis?" Farina asks. "In town," she responds. "I have to meet someone." Farina gives her a slightly curious look, but Fiora walks away, and Farina throws up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay." She turns to look at Heath. "Let's go. Florina, you can go back to your room, or train, or something." Heath nods in agreement. "I can tell I'm making you uncomfortable. Please, do whatever makes you comfortable again." "Oh…" Florina blinks, then nods. "Thank you, Heath… you're… a good man." He doesn't respond as she walks away, because he knows if he says something, it's going to be about how he's not a good man, he's a traitor, a horrible person - "Hey, Heath! Hello!?" He starts, and looks up to find Farina's already dashed ahead of him. She's waving at him from down the hallway. He hurries to her side, a guilty look on his face. "Sorry." "It's okay," she says, and leads him up a flight of stairs. "The third, fourth, and fifth floor are living quarters. The higher your rank, the higher floor you'll live, and the better your room will be. Of course, it's all meaningless if you don't live in the Guild." "I see," Heath murmurs. "So my room will be on the third floor." "Yeah. Actually, one of my friends just moved to a new unit, so she's not living in the Guild anymore. Why don't you take her room?" "Oh… alright," he nods. She leads him through a seemingly endless hallway until she suddenly stop. Heath looks at the door. There's a blank slate of wood, and Farina procures a dagger from her pouch. "Carve your name in." He takes it and carves his name into the wood. "There. Now it's yours." "Thank you, Farina. For everything," he thanks, smiling. "I never would've been able to join the Guild if it weren't for you." At that, Farina bites her thumb and an anguished look overcomes her. Heath stays put, and Farina sighs, looking up at him. "Why?" she finally blurts out. "Why'd you join us? You're not looking for fame, or fortune, so why Ilia?" "I wish to bring Ilia the justice that Bern never had," Heath murmurs, and Farina props a hand on her waist. "What a noble cause." And so he becomes known as the Lance of Justice, the man who climbs to the rank of a Commander faster than anyone else, and even if he knows he'll never truly feel at home in Ilia, he can serve them better than he served Bern. ~ / . / . / ~ It's some five years after the Campaign of Fire ended, and he runs into an old companion. It happens in the deep mountains of the Western Isles, when Heath is flying through the clouded skies surrounding the tumbling cliffs of the mountains that tower over the Isles. There's something soothing about the wind against his face, whipping through his hair and opposing him, until his eyes catch a man dressed in dark blue with lavender hair, sitting beneath a large crevice. He descends in a spiral, a sensation in his heart that he's familiar with, but has never experienced. The man makes no move to run, and Heath lands in front of him. In the darkness of the crevice is a single small lantern, placed carefully beside the man. His scar-torn face is illuminated eerily in the candlelight, but the mischievous smirk on his lips has not been stripped from him, even in the harsh conditions he must live in. "Legault." "Would you look at that. It really is you." "Yes," Heath responds softly. "I never expected to find you in a place like this though." At that, Legault lets out a bitter laugh. "I'll bet." A silence hangs over them then, and there's something unspeakable in that silence that seems to smother them both. Neither of them dare to speak. Hyperion twitches, and slowly creeps under the crevice. Raindrops fall, and the first of them catch themselves in Heath's long green hair. Heath steps under the shelter, and Legault is just a step away. Hyperion has curled up in the very corner of the crevice, but even that takes up half of the space under the cliff. Heath grunts as he clambers on top of Hyperion, and his wyvern doesn't react. He's long grown used to his rider sleeping on top of him, or pressed against his side. It's something they'd had to adapt to when they were on the run, and a hard habit to break at that. There's something nice, in being able to feel that someone is there for you, even if they're not human. Legault lifts a finger to his lips, and then whispers. A small flame flickers to life, weak and easy to put out. The assassin feeds it to the lantern, and the light grows. There are lanky shadows in the cavern now, Heath's shadow stretched across the wall, and Legault's across the stony floor. "...You haven't changed," Legault smiles. "I heard you're a mercenary now." Heath purses his lips. "You've heard correctly. And what about you?" "A fugitive. I tear down the remainders of the corrupt Black Fang from the inside, and help those being persecuted for standing up and doing the right thing. It's the least I can do for my lost comrades." "So you're still a fugitive." Legault chuckles bitterly. "I'm sorry. I said we could be friends as two fugitives. I lied." Heath tilts his head. "What do you mean?" "I'm a fugitive, and you're a mercenary," Legault replies, standing and looking at him incredulously. "You really believe we can still be friends?" "Legault - " Then the purple-haired assassin disappears into the night veiled with sheets of rain, and Heath realizes that the man has re-taught him the meaning of the word "ally". ~ / . / . / ~ He doesn't say anything throughout the entire meeting, even when they tell him who his client is, who he'll be meeting with, and who will be his enemy. "Commander Heath?" asks one of the mercenaries under his command as Heath grabs his lance. He grunts, pulling his long green hair into a ponytail. "Is something wrong?" "No, it's just… I…" he trails off, then clears her throat. "You were acting rather strange during that meeting. Are you alright? If you wish to not take up arms to protect House Reglay, you should have told the General." Heath shakes his head wordlessly, and the sellsword blinks in surprise. "What do you mean? Commander, you were clearly shaken by the job." "No, it's nothing. It's not anything bad. It's just… a memory… from long, long ago." The mercenary gives him a dubious look and opens his mouth to try and argue, but the cold look in Heath's eyes indicates the end of that conversation. No one else in his squadron tries to defy him or turn him away from taking on the mission, and so he leads them to Etruria under the demand of protecting House Reglay's count and countess, but even he cannot predict the surprise that will meet him when he arrives. Heath blinks in surprise. "A rebellion?" The servant of House Reglay bows his head. "Yes. A rebellion has broken out in Etruria. Aquelia has been overtaken, and the king has been taken hostage. It appears the only person standing up to the defects of Etruria and the armies of Bern is Mage General Cecilia, and even she is losing. Your protection of the Count and Countess Reglay is of the utmost importance." "What of you?" Heath asks, frowning. "If we are to escort them to Nabata, where will you and all the servants go?" "...We will stay here. We cannot endanger our lieges more than we already have." "But - " "Why must you care so much of our lives?" the servant retorts suddenly. "We have devoted ourselves to the Count and the Countess. What happens to us matters not." "Have you not thought about what your lives mean to the Count and the Countess?" Heath blurts out. "Do you think they would want you to sacrifice your lives for them?" The servant doesn't say anything, and Heath runs a frantic hand through his hair. "...My apologies. I did not mean to sound so… pretentious." Heath turns, and steps back onto Hyperion's saddle. "However, I hope you will think about what I said." He leaves afterwards, in search of a Count and Countess running to Nabata, hoping dearly that his old allies have survived. Yet, when he's looking them over, he knows he shouldn't have been worried. There's nary a scratch on either of them, and even in their later years, they've managed to leap through holes in Bern's army and shoot down the ones who dare oppose them. There's a half-used Elfire tome in Count Reglay's hand, and the Countess hides another tome under her cape, cloaked by the full quiver of arrows she carries and the large Silver Bow in her hands. "Heath," Louise murmurs, and he bows deeply. "Countess Reglay. Count Reglay. It is a pleasure to see you both well." "Stop that, Heath," Pent urges. "Even if we contracted you, it doesn't mean we can't be equals." Heath doesn't say anything, but straightens himself, standing up. Louise steps forward, gesturing for Heath to walk with her. "Come. I will show you your room in the manor." "Countess Reglay, please - " "I insist. It's the least I can do for you." Heath nods. "Very well." They walk through the hallways of the abandoned manor, making small talk among themselves until Louise stops him in front of his room and asks him the questions he's been dreading to hear. "What will you do after you've escorted us safely to Nabata?" Louise inquires softly. "I… truly don't know. If I'm hired for Lycia or if I'm hired for Etruria, it matters not what I think. I must serve them. But… I cannot go back to my homeland. It… pains me too much, to see how my great country has fallen so quickly." "Then please, for my sake, go to the side of the Etrurian army after this." "If it's what you wish," he murmurs, and goes to close the door. "Will you not come and see Priscilla after this war?" The mention of the elephant in the room makes him freeze up, and he looks up at Louise, who is watching with expectant eyes. "She misses you very much." "I know," Heath murmurs, licking his dry lips. "But I can't. I… my duty can only be to the ones who pay me." "Such is the life of a mercenary," Louise murmurs sorrowfully. Heath nods in agreement. "Very well. Would you like me to tell her something then, in your stead?" "Countess Reglay, I couldn't possibly - " "I am asking this of you as a friend, not as the countess of Reglay." Heath pauses, then closes his eyes. They both know there's no guarantee that the words will reach her. After all, war is war. It is not merciful, nor is it kind. Still, he can't stop himself from searching his mind for the right words. "Tell her I'm sorry. And… that my heart will never waver. She will understand." Somehow, he knows that Louise has already deciphered the meaning behind his words. ~ / . / . / ~ It's months after the war has begun, when Etruria has been freshly liberated and the Etrurian people are still celebrating late into the night, when he meets her again. He sits on a balcony railing, Hyperion curled up behind him. His lance is tucked precariously under his arm, and feels the wind blow at his face, lifting his long green hair into the air. He runs a hand against his scalp frustratingly, pinching a lock of hair and staring at it. He's going to need to cut it as soon as he can. It's starting to get in the way of his vision. Hyperion sits up then, his head turning frantically. Heath looks over his shoulder at his partner. "What is it?" "Please let go of me," a firm female voice drifts in from the open balcony door. Heath immediately turns, the hair on the back of his neck and his arms prickling. Hyperion tugs at his tunic with his teeth, and Heath places his feet on the balcony floor softly. "Ah, come on," a harsh voice replies. "Why you gotta be so proper and former? You got a pretty face, can't you have a few stands every now and then?" "Let go of me." She's dropped the formalities now. Then a redhead steps back in front of the balcony, her wrist grasped by another man, and looks at the figure making his way towards her. Her eyes widen. Heath narrows his eyes at the man with his fingers wrapped around her wrist. "Let go of her." "Why should I?" the man snarls. "She's mine. I saw her first." Heath's fist connects with his jaw, and the man staggers back. There's no stank of alcohol on the man. Heath's heart grows colder. "She's not something you can claim, like an object," Heath says, his voice dangerously low. "You ought to rethink your thoughts on humans. They're not toys." The man stares up at him with terrified eyes, and then darts out of the castle. Heath closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths. Gentle fingers brush the back of his balled fists, and he turns. "Heath," she breathes. "Priscilla," he whispers in response, the anger expelled from him at the sight of the woman he loves. "What are you doing in Etruria?" She throws herself at him, her arms wrapped tightly around him as she lets out a choked sob. He staggers back, but his hands rest on the small of her back and he rests his head on her shoulder, because it's instinct, it's something that's never left his body even after these long years without her. "I was captured… They were going to execute me tomorrow… Heath…" she pulls back, cupping his face in her hands. "I never thought I'd see you again…" "Priscilla, I… I can't stay here," he murmurs. His heart breaks at the look of disappointment on her face, the unhappiness in her eyes. "My contract is over now that Etruria has been liberated. I have no reason to stay here. I must bring my squadron back home." "Am I not enough of a reason?" she inquires softly. "I love you," he whispers, "but you can't love me. I can't love you. I'm sorry…" He kisses her after that, and there's something so guiltily satisfying to know that she'll never love anyone other than him, that he'll always be able to call Priscilla his love. "You promised you'd come back," Priscilla whispers, clasping his hands in hers. "And when you finally come to me… you must leave again?" "I'm so sorry," he whispers, his lips barely brushing hers every time he speaks. "Tomorrow, I must see you off as the Countess Caerleon. Please… allow me this precious moment." "Yes…" he agrees softly, and she kisses him fervently, her hands in his hair and his hands pulling her closer, ready to love her, appreciate her, treasure her. So when the morning comes and she sees him off as a countess of Etruria thankful to him for escorting Count and Countess Reglay to a safe place, he can't bear to look her in the eyes, and just bows his head. ~ / . / . / ~ He receives summons from a seemingly lost friend one day, and is in Caelin the next morning. "Heath," Kent greets rather exhaustingly. Heath gets a good look at the paladin. His orange hair is less vibrant, dulled with the streaks of gray running through his hair. His eyes are still sharp though, his strength, skill, and speed are still among the best. Heath bows. "Commander Kent." "Rise, old friend," Kent responds. "You shouldn't address me like that." "You're my contracter. I ought to show you some respect." At that, Kent laughs. "If you want to show me respect, you can do so by not calling me Commander. I almost despise that title now. It's what landed me in this spot of trouble, after all." "Speaking of, what is this spot of trouble? You hired me on those grounds, didn't you?" "I did," Kent agrees. "But right now, I'd like you to meet the platoon you'll be commanding." And so Heath spends the rest of his day extensively training the new squadron he's gained control of. Yet the question that Kent had refused to answer churns in the back of Heath's mind, grinding away even while he's shouting commands and sparring. So it's not a surprise that, when Heath sees Kent leading his horse into the stables, he calls out and hurries after him. "Heath," Kent smiles as they walk through the stable hallways. He opens the door to his horse's stable, and his steed trots inside. "How are you, Kent?" Heath asks, leaning over the stable as the knight releases the reins from his horse and fills the trough with water and food. Kent steps out of the stable and sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Tired, to say the least. Although, it is something that happens every day, so I cannot say I am not used to it." Heath nods. "Being Commander can't be easy." "Make sure you take care of yourself, Heath," Kent murmurs. "You're a commander too." Heath grunts, and they walk through the castle grounds in ambient silence until Heath breaks it with a single question. "Why did you call me here?" Kent takes in a deep breath, and then purses his lips. "Let us sit down. It's… a long story." So, after Kent takes a detour to grab them each a bottle of ale, they sit in chairs facing each other in Kent's room. "There's a rebellion. Some people wish for Caelin to be an independent province again, and in the midst of this war, with the Liberation Army away and Etruria too weak to retaliate… they think this would be the best time. By the time the Liberation Army comes back, it will be too late. I… I have no choice but to suppress it." "So you hired me to help you." "You… were the only one I could trust that would command a fleet for my sake." "What of Sain?" At that, Kent flinches in pain. "Sain… died on the way here. The Sacaens - the Djute - ambushed him. As strong as he was, he was no match for them." "So Fiora…" "She is cremating his corpse now. She said she will try to come, but doesn't know if she can. That's why… I needed you here." "I see." Heath takes a moment to look around the room then. It's the former Lord Hausen's room, since Kent is the steward of Caelin and Lady Lyndis lives in Ostia with her lord husband, Lord Hector. The curtains are drawn, and there's a cloth of velvet covering a large area of the wall. Heath tilts his head. "What is that?" he asks curiously. Kent blinks in confusion, and when Heath points he follows his finger until his eyes meet the red draped across the wall and his eyes become burdened with sadness. "They're paintings of the marques's lineage. Lord Hausen, Lady Madelyn… and Lady Lyndis." His voice cracks at the last name, and Heath knows what has caused it. It doesn't take him much to figure it out. "You loved her," he murmurs. Kent bows his head in shame and guilt. "I did. Yet she could never be mine. She was too perfect. Too beautiful, too powerful, too aggressive and loud to be mine. She was made for Lord Hector. Brash, but calming. Never hesitant, but careful. Two halves of a whole. Her heart never held a place for me." Kent pauses, then glances at Heath. "I'm sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. I can't even begin to imagine the pain you went through." Heath folds his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He purses his lips, suppressing the feelings he's told himself never to feel again, and it's as if Kent can tell because he lets out a shaky breath and his eyes brush over with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Heath." "No… I've been lying to myself, and to everyone around me. I love her. That's something I can't deny. It's no use trying to suppress these feelings, is it?" So Kent stays by his side as he holds his face in his hands, letting the silent tears dripping down his face express everything he couldn't. "I'm sorry I never joined," he murmurs eventually. Kent shakes his head. "You never were meant to be duty-bound to one person. You are the lance of justice, Heath. Continue to serve us all in the ways you wish to." Heath smiles, bowing his head, face sticky with dried tears. "As you say, Commander Kent." ~ / . / . / ~ He returns to Bern on a cold winter night, a blonde-haired woman beside him. Vaida had found him on the road back to Ilia from Caelin, and had recruited him to join her in Bern. He couldn't find it in himself to refuse the commander he'd once made a promise to, and so agreed to travel with her, even against his heart - the thing he's listened to for years - screaming at him to never return to the monstrous country he had once lived in. "There," Vaida points at the castle in the distance. "Mm," Heath murmurs. "It has been a long time since I last saw this castle." "It has," Vaida agrees gruffly. There's a hint of weakness in her voice, but she shakes her head, and it's gone. "Come." They glide to the front of the castle, and the guards call out, "Who goes there?" "Apologies," Heath answers, swooping down in front of the soldiers standing in front of the doorway. "We went flying, and didn't expect to come back so late." "What's your name, soldier?" "Hea - " "Heanius," Vaida interrupts, coming up behind him. He purses his lips, cursing himself for his carelessness. "My name is Valter." Heath blinks, and notices that she's pulled her cloak loosely around herself. She never had many womanly features, so he supposes it's easy for her to masquerade as a man. "Heanius and Valter… Very well. I will not report this to the king, but be on your guard." "We will. Thank you," Heath thanks, nodding his head before guiding Hyperion to the stables. Sure, he might not have been in the castle for a long time, but he stills knows the place like the back of the head. There are upsides to having nightmares of this place, after all. After putting Hyperion away, Vaida leaves him to find a free room for himself, and so he stumbles into the first unoccupied room he finds, removes his armor, and falls onto the bed, hoping that the nightmares will go away because he's finally back and there's nothing to be scared about. Yet the nightmares are still there, even stronger than before, and he wakes up in the middle of the night with heavy sweat beading his forehead and arms and body. He closes his eyes, attempting to wash them away, but all it does it bring them back. His friends, his comrades, all slaughtered beneath axes and lances and swords and magic, shot down by arrows that were should never have been meant to shoot them down if their army's commander hadn't been such a weak man and a reputation hogger. He can't do it anymore, he knows, and so he sits up abruptly, his blankets sliding off of his bed. "Screw this," he hisses under his breath, and pulls on his armor, slowly tiptoeing from this room to the stables. When Hyperion sees him, slipping through the alleys of the stables with a lance in hand and his saddle and reins in the other, Hyperion's jaw stretches up in something similar to a smirk, and Heath can't help but smile too. When he looks back at the castle, Hyperion screeches, and Heath looks away. The last time anyone sees him is when Hyperion flies away from the mountains and into the tall looming sky, flies away from Vaida and Bern, the country he loves but can't fight for, away from his love, away from those allies he'd thought he'd had and the ones he'd thought he lost. In his life, there could only be enemies, allies, and nothing more.

"She dances with the ferocity of a lion" You can pry Dancer Lachy!AU from my cold dead hands

Author's Ideas: WE'RE DONE Yo that was a ride and a half, yeezus crust. First and foremost, thank you, wonderful reader, for tagging along in Part One of "Avi tries long fics and fails", another one will be coming at you in like a year (FORESHADOWING) Also thanks to everyone who faved/left kudos, followed/subscribed and reviewed/left comments, it means a lot to me. Alrighty. Y'all ready for the last chapter? I know I am. Alright, here we gooooooo - Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem. ~ / . / . / ~ Brighter ~ / . / . / ~ VI: Dawn ~ / . / . / ~ He tries not to look at her every morning when she gets out of bed. She wakes up every morning when the sun seeps through the golden curtains that cover the large windows, or when he kisses her over and over until she stirs, laughing drowsily when his kisses get deeper, when he crawls onto the bed on top of her even though he's usually in his work clothes and ready to leave. Eventually, after being reminded that he actually has work, he has to straighten out his tie (which she's generally pulled at so much that he feels like she tries to strangle him every morning), smoothen out his hair (which always looks like a tornado just ran through it and not Cecilia's hands), and calm himself down (he usually fails in doing this and shows up at the office sweating). Yet aside from their more-than-interesting mornings, it feels nice to be married. It's not Perceval or Cecilia, it's not Perceval Eques and Cecilia Icae. It's Perceval and Cecilia, it's Mr. and Mrs. Perceval and Cecilia Eques. There's something soothing to Perceval, at least, to know that she's really his, that they'll stay like that for the rest of their lives. Although, in Perceval's honest opinion, their lives really haven't changed much. Cecilia probably agrees too, since they both don't bother trying to change the way they act. Every day, Cecilia arrives at work to some new story about how her husband (gosh, that's satisfying to say) had shown up in another state of disarray two hours ago, and she just rolls her eyes, grinning as she spots Perceval from a crack through his office door, blushing a bright red. Cecilia comes back from work one day, and Perceval looks up from the dinner table, taking off his reading glasses. "Good, you're back." "Is something wrong?" she asks, setting down her bags on her chair and leaning in to kiss him softly. He kisses her back before grabbing the envelope on the table she hadn't even noticed. "It's a college reunion. Saturday." "Are we going?" she questions. "Do you want to?" "I suppose," he responds. "I'm a little curious how all our friends are doing." Cecilia laughs, moving her bags onto the couch and sitting at her seat by the dinner table. "If you wanted to go, you could've just said so. I would've gone with you, no matter what." Perceval smiles. "I just wanted to make sure." Cecilia rolls her eyes, but as she slips into her heels and pulls her shawl over her shoulders on Saturday night, she can't help but feel a little nervous. Perceval seems to notice too, since he laces his fingers with hers as he leads her to the car. Eventually they pull up in the open grounds of their old college, and follow the people trickling through the campus. "Perceval!" Mildain calls as soon as they enter the gym where everyone is, and the two of them turn to see their friend sitting beside Lalum. "There you two are," Cecilia comments as they sit at the table with them. "We're hiding," Lalum says. "You two should also probably hide." "Why?" Cecilia frowns. "Have you not noticed that you might be a little famous, Cecilia? And Perceval?" Perceval groans. "Please, no." Mildain laughs. "Hey, at least Gale and Melady will be here to take some of the attention from you." "Still - " They're saved by the speakers, which buzz to life and start the reunion. By the time people have realized that four of the highest-ranking officials from Elibean Leagues (THE Elibean Leagues) are actually at their college reunion, they're too busy trying to catch up with other classmates to seemingly care. Many of the people who do approach them are old friends and acquaintances who truly are interested in knowing how the two of them are doing, which eventually ends in relentless teasing about how Perceval "finally grew a pair" and how "you two were so oblivious, I don't understand how". Unfortunately, they end up having to hog all the attention during dinner, when their former class president tries to see if anyone famous is in the room, and everyone just stares at them. Overall, though, the reunion doesn't even go that badly, and they all leave with silly grins on their faces and soaring hearts. "Cecilia?" he murmurs when they're in bed, curled into each other's arms. "Hm?" "...No. It's nothing." He kisses her on the forehead. "Good night." Cecilia laughs. "I love you too." Still, that unspoken sentence that Perceval never finished makes Cecilia wonder what he was going to say. Thankfully, she doesn't have to imagine for too long, because a few nights later, he tells her. "Answer me truthfully," he murmurs, placing his hand on hers. She nods, a nervous look in her eyes. His face softens. "Don't look so nervous. It's nothing bad. I…" He closes his eyes, then looks at her. "Do you want to try for a child?" His question makes her blink in surprise. They've been married going on half a year soon - it makes sense he'd wonder these sort of things. Of course, she'd thought about it more than a few times, but… "Yes, but… not now," she whispers in response. Perceval blinks, then nods. "Okay. Whatever you want." "I'm sorry," she whispers as Perceval brushes a strand of green hair behind her ear. He looks at her strangely. "Why are you apologizing?" "I mean, you - " "Cecilia, I'm happy with whatever you want. If you want to wait, I'll wait." Cecilia smiles, a feeling of warmth pulsing through her. Perceval leans down and kisses her gently, and she returns it happily. "Thank you," she mutters. So they wait. There's nothing awkward about it. They indulge themselves from time to time, but they both know where the boundaries are. Cecilia tells her mother and mother-in-law about their decision, and they're delighted. "At least you two are thinking about it," Amber smiles, and Cecilia laughs. "Truthfully, I think Perceval's the one who did most of the thinking in this department," Alessandra remarks, and Cecilia rolls her eyes. "I've thought about it too," she replies. "It's just, Perceval was the one to bring it up." The front door opens, and Perceval walks inside, brushing off his trench coat. A burst of cold wind follows him, and Cecilia stands, hurrying to the kitchen. "Do you have someone over?" he asks. "There's a car in our driveway." "How rude!" Amber calls from the living room, and Perceval almost drops his keys, swearing. Cecilia laughs, slowly unwinding the scarf around his neck. He takes off his trench coat, hanging it onto the coat hanger and giving Cecilia a soft kiss before taking her by the hand and hurrying to the living room. "So what are you two doing here?" he asks as soon as he steps inside, and Amber grins at her son. "Just a girls' night." "It's afternoon." Cecilia snorts, and Alessandra laughs. "So where were you?" Amber questions. "Running some errands," he responds. "Speaking of, aren't you two supposed to be at work soon?" "Cat's out of the bag," Alessandra smiles, standing. "Ready to go?" "I suppose," Amber grins back, grabbing her cup of coffee from the table before leaving with Alessandra. Perceval smiles, hugging them both when they open their arms towards him and laugh. Cecilia watches them leave, waving as they pull out of the driveway. "So?" Perceval asks. "I told them we might try for a child soon," she responds, and Perceval kisses her on the forehead. "If they tried to convince you - " "No, they didn't. They respected our decision." Cecilia smiles. "We have good mothers." "We do." And it's not just their mothers who are good. Their friends are respectful and encouraging, and a little more willing to tease them. And like that, winter fades into spring, spring into summer, and when the leaves begin to change color and fall to the ground, she smiles and nods. "Yes," she whispers, and he blinks. "What?" "I'm ready. I… want to try for a child." Perceval stops for a second. "...Really?" "Of course," she responds, and Perceval breaks into a grin. "I love you," he whispers, and she laughs softly. So it doesn't come as a surprise to either of them when, a few weeks later, Cecilia smiles and says, in front of a crowd of people, "I'm pregnant." Of course, there's a lot of squealing and screaming that greets that announcement, but of course, there's a lot of responsibility to be passed on. The Head of Financial Resources, going on maternity leave? Who is going to take on all her responsibilities, handle all her projects, and manage the upcoming promotions in Financial Resources? Cecilia's pregnancy takes a lot of wind out of her. She can't go to work after the fourth month passed, and occupies herself at home with all sorts of books and television shows. Her mother and mother-in-law drop by often, to make sure she is alright, but she feels useless, Perceval can tell. "I love you," he murmurs, rubbing her shoulder gently. "I love you too, but where is this coming from?" she questions, a gentle smile on her face. "I know you've been feeling down," he says. "So I thought I'd try to help you." Cecilia laughs. "Thank you," she replies, leaning on his shoulder. The next four months seem to crawl by agonizingly slow. They decide baby names, and when Perceval cuts into a cake and finds the inside is pink, he breaks into a large grin. "Angel," Perceval whispers, resting a hand on her stretched stomach. "Angel," Cecilia repeats softly. "Her name is Angel." Even though her due date draws closer and closer, and it's not a surprise when she calls him in the middle of a meeting to tell him her water broke, he can't help but feel panicked when they wheel her into the labor room. "Would you like to stay with her?" the nurse asks. Perceval pauses, and Cecilia shakes her head. Her face is already beaded with sweat. "I'll be fine… Please, Perceval…" "...Okay. I'll stay outside," he murmurs, leaning to kiss her forehead. She smiles, then winces. The nurse ushers him out of the room and into the waiting area. To Perceval's surprise, Mildain and Gale are standing there. They fall into a silent routine, both of them sitting on either sides of Perceval. Mildain thumbs through a magazine as Gale swipes through his phone. Perceval lets out a breath and begins to file the paperwork in his business bag, slowly filling them out and placing them into separate folders. "On any other occasion, I'd be taking that work away from you, but I know that's how you deal with stress, so I'll let you keep it," Mildain says begrudgingly. Galle laughs. "It's okay, Elffin. Even if you tried to take it away, he'd probably find some way to get it back. This is under stress Perceval we're talking about." "I'm right here," the blonde comments, looking up briefly. Mildain grins. "You know it's true, Perceval." He rolls his eyes, but adjusts his reading glasses, turning his gaze back to his work. Mildain lays a hand on Perceval's, and Perceval blinks. "Your grip is way too harsh," he responds. "Calm down." Perceval sighs, his breath shaky. "Sorry. I…" Mildain just smiles, squeezing Perceval's hand reassuringly. "She'll be fine." Perceval smiles back. "Thank you." So they sit in the hospital waiting room, a tense and laden silence hanging over them. The clock's hands tick away as early afternoon turns into late night, and finally the door opens. The nurse steps out, a smile on her face. "Congratulations, Mr. Eques. Your wife has given birth to a healthy daughter. You can go in and see them if you'd like." Perceval is on his feet immediately. "Now?" "Yes, now." He hurries through the slightly opened door. The room is slightly stuffy, but he doesn't care. All he's focused on is the woman on the bed, the small baby in her arms. He walks to her side, and she looks up as he approaches. "Hey," she smiles, "I love you. A lot." "I love you more," he whispers, kissing her feverishly. Their daughter whines softly, and they turn their attention to the small baby in Cecilia's arms. It's not the way he laughs, or the way she smiles, but it's the way they enjoy each other's company that makes the world seem a whole lot brighter.

Author's Ideas: Man I'm really dead inside ahahahahaha My dudes I'm dead, I'm so close to finishing this fic that I hate writing but I love the ship, good lord. Next chapter is last chapter, here we go. Also I've only been to like one wedding so I have no experience writing these but I sure as hell can try for my OTP Disclaimer: Nah I don't own Fire Emblem. ~ / . / . / ~ Brighter ~ / . / . / ~ V: Sunlight ~ / . / . / ~ She looks like an angel, and he honestly believes she is one. He stares at her as she walks down the aisle, arm linked with her father and her white dress trailing behind her. Her other hand is tight around a bouquet of cherry blossoms, ume, and camellias, something that represents who she is so perfectly. They stop in front of Perceval, and Cecilia's father smiles as he and Perceval share a hug. "Take care of her," he whispers into Perceval's ear. "Of course," he murmurs back, smiling. Cecilia's father lets him go and hugs Cecilia. "I love you." "I love you too," Cecilia murmurs, and pulls away, giving her bouquet to Clarine, her maid of honor. She looks at Perceval, her bright red lips lifting into a smile. Perceval takes her hands in his, and she squeezes his hands back. Mildain, the officiant, begins to speak, and the audience laughs along with his telling of Perceval and Cecilia's love. Amber Eques and Alessandra Icae read them poems, and Cecilia smiles, dabbing at her eyes when Amber reads the two of them a poem of love and caring for each other, and she feels a rush of affection and slight sorrow. Perceval hugs Alessandra tight, smiling sadly as she walks away. "Now then, we come here to the most important moment," Mildain smiles. "I know that you two are probably itching to get on with this ceremony, so here we go." Perceval makes a face, and laughter drifts up from the audience. Mildain flips over his paper, smiling as he begins to read the official sentences of marriage. "Perceval Tristan Eques, do you take Cecilia Nicole Icae as your lawfully wedded wife? That you will support her from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death does you part?" "I do," he says firmly, and Cecilia curls her fingers tighter around his. "Cecilia Nicole Icae, do you take Perceval Tristan Eques as your lawfully wedded husband? That you will support him from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death does you part?" "I do," she replies, nodding her head with confidence. "Very well. Now, both of you wrote your own vows beforehand, did you not?" "Yes, we did," Perceval nods, and Cecilia can't help but let her grin grow bigger. "And gave them to me to read, correct?" Cecilia nods. "Now then…" Mildain turns to Perceval. "Perceval, do you promise that you will pay more attention to the movie instead of your cat during movie nights? Do you promise that you won't eat all of Cecilia's baked goods before she has time to share them with everyone at the office? And do you promise that no matter what, you will always love Cecilia, no matter what she has done?" Perceval hides his laugh behind his hand, which Cecilia has to let go because she's laughing too hard. "I promise," he finally says, laughing. "Cecilia," Mildain turns to look at Cecilia, a mischievous grin on his face. "Do you promise that you will stop loving movies more than your then fiancé, now husband? Do you promise you will change your alarm to something Perceval can tolerate? And do you promise that you will support and love Perceval, even after he has broken all of his vows in one hour after this wedding?" "I promise," she giggles, and Mildain smiles, turning to the young boy standing at the end of the hallway. "The rings, please." Melady and Gale's young son walks down the aisle towards them, and offers the two of them the rings sitting on the red cushion he holds. The two of them kneel, and Perceval takes the jeweled ring while Cecilia takes the simple golden ring. Perceval takes her hand, smiling widely as he slips it onto her ring finger. He offers his hand to her, and she takes it, slipping his ring onto his finger. "Then, with the power vested in me by you two, but more importantly, the government," Mildain pauses as everyone laughs, "I hereby pronounce you two husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." "Finally," Perceval mutters loud enough for Cecilia to hear, and she stifles her laugh against the passionate kiss Perceval gives her. The sanctuary explodes into applause, and he links his arm with hers. "Ready?" "Of course." Clarine hands Cecilia her bouquet back, and she grins at Perceval. He smirks back, and they walk down the aisle. There's loud cheering and petals flying through the air, and Cecilia laughs. Perceval grins, and they walk down the aisle to the open double doors that lead them into a large room. Cecilia turns to Perceval as the doors close, but lets out a squeak when he pulls her close to him, leaning his forehead against hers. "We did it," he whispers, and she laughs softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He frowns suddenly, and Cecilia tilts her head. "Is something wrong, Perceval?" "Are you wearing heels?" "Yes…?" "Damn it," he grumbles. "And here I thought I'd be able to say proudly that my wife has never been as tall as I am." She grins. "You're still taller though." The door cracks open, and Mildain peeks his head in. "Good, you two didn't start anything raunchy. It's time for pictures." Perceval gives his friend an exasperated look, and the light blonde grins. "Just get out here, you two." They disentangle themselves from each other, and Perceval slips his hand into hers. She clenches her other hand around the bouquet as she smiles up at him, and he leads her outside. They're greeted with grinning face, and the photographer beckons them to the altar. What follows is twenty full minutes of posing, smiling, complaining, and rushing that they've ever experienced, and by the time they're done, Cecilia feels like her face is on fire. She groans, leaning against the wall next to the door that leads into the dining hall, where everyone has congregated. Perceval rubs his cheek, sighing. "Ow…" Cecilia grimaces as she tries to smile. "Definitely." Mildain pats the two of them on the shoulder. "We're done now, thankfully. At least dinner's next." "Good. I've been looking forward to the moment I could take off these damn heels." Mildain flips through his binder, then bites his lip. "Well, you're doing the bouquet toss and the garter toss before that, so…" Cecilia grins. "That should be fun." Clarine and Klein walk up to the three of them, followed by the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Clarine hugs Cecilia, and Cecilia reciprocates. "What's all this about, Clarine? You're not one to get emotional easily." "I'm just happy for you!" Clarine cries indignantly, blinking rapidly. "Ah… I think I'm going to cry…" "Don't cry," Cecilia murmurs, stroking her hair. "I'll make sure to throw the bouquet at you." "That's not what I'm crying about!" Clarine sputters, face red. Perceval breaks into laughter. "Don't worry, Clarine. I'll make sure Rutger gets the garter." Clarine sticks her tongue out at the two of them, and Perceval laughs. "Come on, Clarine. Don't do that. We have to go to dinner soon, and you still have to look pretty." Clarine makes a face, but smiles anyways, patting Clarine on the back. "Alright, you guys. Time for dinner." "Time to give you two a grand entrance," Klein laughs. Mildain, who has darted away from their group into the dining hall, taps his finger against the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, please help me in welcoming your bridesmaids and groomsmen of the wedding. First we have Roy and Lilina Pherae!" The two doors to the dining hall opens up, and the aforementioned couple link arms, walking out to the dining hall. Cheers rise from audience, all seated at their tables. "Gale and Melady Nikolai!" The two of them link arms, waving at the audience as they walk down the hall, eventually walking to their assigned table with Roy and Lilina. "Douglas Kish and Lalum Etruria!" Father and daughter grin as they walk down the hall and people continue to clap. "Pent and Louise Reglay!" The two of them hold hands as Louise curtsies and Pent bows, and the audience hoots and whistles. "Best man and maid of honor, Klein and Clarine Reglay!" Klein and Clarine hold hands as they run through the hall, waving and laughing. "And finally, the groom and the bride, the newlyweds, Perceval and Cecilia Eques!" The two of them walk into the hall and are greeted with thunderous applause. Cecilia laughs, and Perceval pulls her into a gentle spin, twirling her under his arm and pulling her close to him. "Hello," she murmurs, and Perceval laughs. "Hi," he replies. "I love you a lot." Cecilia kisses him gently, smiling. "I love you too." He grins, and leads her to the table at the end of the hall, their own table. Cecilia grins as Mildain steps up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen… get ready for the long awaited bouquet and garter toss!" Cecilia turns her back to the crowd, and, with Perceval's arm around her, tosses the bouquet. There's a loud scuffle, and above all the voices, a They take their seats, and begin to eat. After the clinking of forks against plates ends, Mildain speaks into his microphone again. "Now, we'll be hearing speeches from the fathers." Cecilia's father stands from his table, a microphone in his hand. He glances at his paper, then looks at the two of them, seated at their table. "Well, I somehow knew this day was always going to come." Then her father goes into a speech about how, as soon as he saw Perceval and Cecilia's first meeting, he had already decided he'd never accept anyone else as Cecilia's husband. Perceval laughs, and Cecilia nudges him playfully. "Just because he thought you'd be my husband, doesn't mean I did." "Cecilia, you told me you liked Perceval ever since you first met him," her father counters immediately, and Cecilia flushes red. Her father grins, then reaches his glass over to the two of them. "A toast to the newlywed childhood sweethearts." Cecilia and Perceval touch their glasses to his, grinning. They stand after they've drunk, hugging Cecilia's father as he goes to sit down at his table. They continue on with dinner until they finish their main course, and Mildain calls up Perceval's father to speak. The tall man grins at his son before launching into a speech that boils down to "thank god I don't have to tease you anymore because everyone else does it". The audience is roaring with laughter by the time his father offers his toast, and Perceval gives his father a dirty look and a passionate hug. "Take care of him, okay?" his father murmurs to Cecilia as she hugs him, and she smiles. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything." His father laughs and hugs her tighter. Mildain walks up to them, grinning. "We'll be cutting the cake now, so please make your way to the cake, over by the door to the patio." Perceval takes Cecilia's hand, smiling as he leads her over to the table where their wedding cake sits. They pick up the cake cutter beside the cake, and Cecilia laughs as Perceval stands behind her, awkwardly holding his hands over hers. "This is really uncomfortable," he mumbles just loud enough for the people watching to hear, and Cecilia grins. "Come on." Slowly, they cut a slice through the cake, and he grins cheekily. Cecilia places the slice on the plate. "I guess we can serve the cake now." Except afterwards, Klein and Clarine give their speeches as the best man and bride of honor, and they apparently collaborated to make one huge, embarrassing speech about how the two of them are the biggest nerds ever - I mean, Perceval collects as many antique photos of them as he can, and Cecilia might have framed their prom photo, so I think we can all agree that they're huge nerds. After multiple threats from both the bride and groom, the siblings finish their speech and Mildain chuckles. "So, Perceval and Cecilia, are you two ready for your first dance together as a married couple?" Cecilia kicks off her high heels, smiling as she walks out onto the empty hallway between the tables. Perceval offers her his hand. "May I have this dance, my love?" Her smile widens. "Of course." The music they've practiced alongside starts up, and they fall into a familiar dance, something so dear to their hearts because it's just like the first time they danced at her aunt's wedding, when they were just small children, when Cecilia was a flower girl and Perceval was a ring bearer, and now they're both taking the place of the ones being married. Neither of them would have it any other way. The song fades away, and Cecilia just laughs as people flood the dance floor and her bridesmaids drag her away to dance with them. Perceval grins, and then almost doubles over as his groomsmen ambush him from behind. The hours fly by, and eventually the wedding comes to an end and then Cecilia and Perceval finally return home, almost collapsing into their bedroom. Cecilia lets out a tired breath as soon as she shuts the door behind her, and Perceval's too tired to even tease her. She falls onto the floor beside him, where he's sitting by the bed. "...Can we - " "Don't even finish that sentence," he groans. "I still can't believe we're actually…" "Well, it happened," Cecilia laughs breathily. "I'm your wife now." "Gods," he breathes, grabbing her by the cheeks and kissing her. "I love you." "I love you too," she murmurs against his lips, feeling his hands clumsily undoing the veil over her hair. She reaches up, untying the braid holding her hair together. His hands comb through her hair, and she smiles. "What were you saying?" Perceval mutters gently when his lips drift along her jawline, resting against her ear. "I was just wondering if you'd have the energy to do what most couples do on their wedding night," she whispers, and can't help but feel her face redden. Perceval smiles against her jaw, pressing a kiss against her neck, just under her jawline. "What do you think, dear?" "I think that's a yes," she murmurs, and squawks when he hoists her over his shoulder and dumps her onto the bed next to them. He runs his hands through her hair, pulls her closer, and she shivers, kissing him harder until all they know is each other.

Summary: "Maybe it is all for naught." Only Lyon, resting in the heavens, hears his words. Written for FE8 Week on Tumblr. Author's Ideas: *flashes a thumbs up* I love FE8 and Knoll The themes for this fic are "return/disappear", and why not do both? I will never stop making all the FE8 royals/the people who like them suffer, so yes, this is part of "Wishing Until My Heart Goes Cold" (my FE8 series find it on AO3) Well the AO3 link is up there-ish, the FF.net is right there, and here's the Tumblr version. Disclaimer: Man do I love FE8 and I love Knoll but no I don't own it ~ / . / . / ~ Maybe the Man Never Returned ~ / . / . / ~ He returns to Grado after the war, led by one man and riding with another. The wind batters at his face, knocking his hood off of his head for the millionth time. Knoll doesn't bother trying to put it up again. As they approach the ruined Grado Keep, the winds will only get stronger. "...Tired?" Duessel inquires. "No. Not quite," Knoll responds. "Good," Duessel says, and they fall into a terse silence again. Genarog growls softly from the sky, and Cormag reaches forward, scratching at his wyvern's neck mechanically. "Hush, Genarog," Cormag's voice drifts down from the sky, and the wyvern lets out a cry akin to a whimper. Knoll doesn't say anything, simply staring ahead. "How are you, Cormag?" Duessel calls from behind Knoll. "Well, I suppose," Cormag replies, dipping down from the sky. "I see. We'll stop for the night when the sun sets." "Will you be standing watch tonight, General Duessel?" Knoll asks. "Yes," Duessel responds. "You two seem rather tired. I would rather be tired than drag the two of you past the point of exhaustion." "Thank you, General," Knoll breathes, and he really means it. He knows that he does not have the best physical constitution, that he gets weared down easily. He cannot speak for Cormag, but judging by the wrinkles and the stress behind his brown eyes, the skies have worn the youthful wyvern rider down as well. Knoll clenches his fist, his hands hidden by his long robes. Neither of them speak again until the sun sets along the horizon, sending stripes of yellow, orange, pink and the tiniest hint of purple across the sky. The wearied warhorse Knoll and Duessel are riding on clops to a slow stop, and Genarog lands beside it. Duessel dismounts from the warhorse, and Knoll slips off of the mount. Cormag unsaddles Genarog, sighing as he dumps the leather saddle on the ground, tangled in straps of leather and buckles of metal. With an aggravated look on his face, Cormag opens one of his bags, pulling out a folded tent cloth. Knoll sighs, reaching for a bag along Duessel's horse. The purple-haired man pulls out the wooden stakes, and Cormag accepts them, along with the small hammer Knoll hands him. Slowly, the two men set up the large tent, and Duessel returns from the forest. Knoll starts a fire, and they roast the game the old general has hunted. Duessel takes the roasted deer and goes to stand guard, and Cormag and Knoll are left sitting around the fire. As though they share a mind, the two men stand. Knoll puts out the fire, and they slip into the tent. Knoll falls back onto his makeshift bed on the grassy floor, sighing as he holds his hand out in front of him. There's a gentle scraping sound on the other side of the tent, and Knoll forces himself to concentrate, slowly conjuring a wisp of dark magic from his hand. It flickers and wavers before settling against his palm. "...What will happen to Grado?" Cormag asks suddenly, setting down his knife and the wood figurine in his hands. "I don't know," Knoll murmurs, closing his hand to extinguish the dark flame in his palm. "I truly… don't know." He glances over, looking at the wood shavings scattering Cormag's blanket, and Knoll blinks. "I never knew you were skilled at wood carving." Cormag dusts the wood shavings onto the floor beside him, scooping them up and throwing them out of his tent. He sighs, pulling his blankets over himself and staring up at the ceiling of the tent. "Yes. Glen and I… we used to…" Knoll doesn't say anything when Cormag swears and turns on his side, his back facing Knoll, and chokes back a few sobs. "...Sorry," Cormag whispers. "I just… it's only now hit me." "What has?" Knoll asks cautiously. "I was so focused on revenge… I never even mourned my brother's death once." Cormag snorts, but there's a bitter tinge to the sound. Knoll just turns onto his side, staring at the other side of the tent. "Knoll." There's a voice echoing through the air. It's not Cormag's. "Knoll." It's something so familiar, so warm and comforting that it's disconcerting. The sky rumbles, the earth crumbles, the towns and cities collapse into the fields that open up to reveal the blood of the earth - lava that spills over the disintegrating earth, devouring crops and destroying the civilization that had once been called Grado and corroding away at the prince who disappears beneath the world Knoll had once known. Then he's staring at the ceiling of their tent, sweat drenching his face, his blankets twisted at the end of his makeshift bed, and he realizes it's all just a dream; a dream that seemed too real to not be true. Knoll rests the back of his hand against his forehead. Cormag snores away on the other side of the tent. His skin is sticky with sweat, and he closes his eyes. "Maybe it is all for naught." Only Lyon, resting in the heavens, hears his words. ~ / . / . / ~ He returns to his hometown when the Great Calamity strikes, sent off by Duessel and Cormag who go to their own homes. Knoll borrows a horse from the stables of Grado Keep and offers his companions a farewell, galloping away over the splintered earth and the crumbling ground until he breaks into the forest surrounding his village, and the woods begin to look familiar. He breathes heavily, sighing as he dismounts the horse and ties it to a nearby tree stump. Knoll runs a hand through his hair, staring at the destroyed village just feet away. "Knoll?" He glances to the side, his fingers tangled in his hair. A young lady stands beside him. "It's you, isn't it? Knoll…" "Elizabeth," he whispers. "You're still here?" "Of course," she replies softly. "Knoll-" "I'm sorry. I… I didn't come home to see you. I-" "You found someone else, didn't you?" The words make Knoll freeze, and he blinks slowly, looking at the ground beside Elizabeth's feet. "Yes. But… I don't think I will ever find anyone like them again. And so…" "Oh, Knoll… I don't blame you, Knoll… I… Won't you stop by? When you're free, of course." "I wouldn't want to impose on you, but I can come by to help you. It is times like these… that I came to help." Knoll shares a smile with his childhood friend, tugs on his hood, and then turns and walks down the dirt road that winds through the torn down village, along the stone roads that wind through the destroyed market, all the way up to a tiny house along the edge of the village that's been devastated. There are two people standing beside the rubble, surveying it with dismayed eyes, as if it were their first time viewing such wreckage. Knoll approaches them, gravel crunching loudly beneath his feet. They turn, and there's a moment of tense silence between all of them. "Knoll?" The woman inquires cautiously. The man shifts uncomfortably. "Mother. Father." "Knoll…" his mother says shakily, then wipes her eyes. "You're alive… my son is alive…" "I am," he croaks, then coughs. His mother walks forward with a sense of urgency in her steps, pulling him into a passionate hug. "Thank the gods… I was so worried. After everything that happened…" "I…" Knoll looks away ashamedly. "I'm sorry. I worried you." "It doesn't matter. You're here now." So he doesn't care about anything, just wrapping his arms around her mother and hugging her tight. "Knoll," his father murmurs when he lets go of his mother, and he glances at his father. "Father…" he curls his hand into a loose fist, glancing at his palm. "...What will we do now?" "We can only rebuild our village from the ground up," his father replies, scratching the back of his head. Knoll's mother purses her lips. "I'm sorry, Knoll. You come back to… this." "It's okay, Mother. I came to help you. If we need to rebuild this village from the ground up… then I will help." "Knoll…" his mother murmurs, and the dark mage turns to his father. "Father? What do you want me to do?" His father sighs, turning to face his son. In his right hand is a bottle of ale. "Right now… why don't we have a drink?" Knoll raises an eyebrow at his father. "Do we… truly have time for such an act?" "Please, Knoll. It is a time for drinking, either of celebration or loss." Knoll doesn't say anything, simply accepting the bottle from his father. Knoll just stares at the bottle of ale, his eyes on his reflection in the glass. "I've never been much of a drinker," Knoll remarks softly. "What was that, my boy?" "...Nothing," Knoll looks away. "How was your life at the castle?" Before Knoll can respond, his father jumps in with another question, a completely unashamed tone in his voice. "What of your friend, the prince?" "...He was a good friend," Knoll whispers, and then takes his first and last sip of ale. ~ / . / . / ~ He disappears from his home when his parents begin to skirt around him, when they stare at him strangely and don't come to his aid when he accidentally wounds himself. He knows why they do. There's a hidden fear they hold of their son. It might have always been there, it might not have, but he knows it appeared the day he told them of his work during the War of Stones. It's not a fear of his works. It's not a fear of his power. It's a fear of him. That he could snap his fingers and drain their life from them in an instance of seconds. That their son has become a monster - no longer the sweet boy they raised. So he leaves. There's news of King Joshua and Queen Natasha in eastern Grado, and he has nowhere else to go. Even from miles away, he can see the flames that rise over the horizon from the city that's being rebuilt from candles and torches. The light radiates from the ruins, and in response he cloaks himself in darkness, slipping past the drunken soldiers and cheering villagers until he stands at the doorway of Joshua and Natasha's house. Slowly, he raises a darkened fist and knocks gently. There's a gentle murmuring inside the house, and then the door opens. It's Natasha, with long golden hair and a veil on her head, and she seems like she hasn't aged a day. She blinks. "Is someone there?" Then Knoll remembers he's covered in darkness, and shakes off the shadows that cling to him. Natasha covers her mouth with her hand, a look of terror in her eyes that transforms into warmth, and then joy, overwhelming joy. "Master Knoll?" He nods slightly, looking into her eyes. She smiles widely, ushering him into the living room before rushing to her bedroom. "Joshua!" The red-haired man grumbles in the background, and Natasha scoffs. When he walks into the living room, a smile grows across his face. "Master Knoll?" Knoll shifts on his feet uncomfortably before murmuring, "I am just… Knoll now." The Jehannan king laughs before pulling him into an affectionate hug. "It's nice to see you again," Joshua remarks as he pulls away, and Knoll gives him a small smile. "Yes… It has been a while since we last saw each other." "I had been wondering how you were doing," Natasha murmurs, gently squeezing his hand as she presses her cheek against his. "It does me good to know that you are still well." "Thank you… how ought I address you, now that you are a queen?" Natasha smiles softly. "Sister Natasha is fine. You need not treat me differently simply because I have risen in status." She pauses, then speaks up again. "Would you like to speak with me? In private?" "If you could spare the time… yes," Knoll says hesitantly. Natasha nods. "Please, have a seat in the dining room. It's down the hall. Joshua…" Natasha glances over at her husband, and he takes a step closer. Knoll takes that as a sign to depart, and leaves the room. His ears catch their words slightly, a lover's quarrel, but he blocks them out as quickly as he can. Their voices echo through his ears, gentle words that hold no intonation of love in them. He wishes so badly that they didn't remind him of his own love, how it had ended in his world. "Knoll?" Natasha asks, and he starts, turning. There's a worried look in her eyes, and she tilts her head. "Are you alright?" "Yes. My apologies. I just… your lord husband and you…" "Joshua and I… yes." Natasha looks away with a despondent veil over her brown eyes, but shakes her head. "Perhaps not now. Would you like tea? I had been brewing tea when you came. I thought you might like some." Knoll nods, and Natasha takes a teapot from above the fire crackling in the fireplace, placing the teapot on the table. She sets out two teacups, pouring them both tea. "...Are you feeling alright?" Knoll questions. "I wish I could say yes," the queen of Jehanna mutters. "If… If I could tell you, I would." "I'm sorry," Knoll tightens his hands around his teacup. "...I wish I could have realized back then." "Realized?" "...Prince Lyon," Knoll murmurs, and something lights up in Natasha's eyes, something close to realization and awe. "I see. So you always-" "Yes," Knoll breathes. "And I wish I could have realized so much sooner. Perhaps… I would have believed in faith then." Natasha takes a small sip of her tea, sighing. "I wish I could have believed in that power of knowledge you hold." He blinks. "Sister Natasha?" "It's like you told me many years ago, Knoll. I believe in the power of faith. You believe in the power of knowledge. Light and dark magic are opposites. Perhaps we were both mistaken in our beliefs?" Knoll glances up at Natasha, a veiled but curious look in his eyes. "I used to think that faith was the most powerful weapon I had… yet now, I stand in doubt of that." "...I see." Knoll touches his hand to the strands of his hair falling in front of his face. "Thank you, Natasha," he whispers. The queen of Jehanna smiles. "Thank you, Knoll. For coming to see me. Would you care to join Joshua and I for dinner?" ~ / . / . / ~ He disappears from the records of history entirely, his soul unseen by any man ever again. He spends the rest of his years in an abandoned house along the edge of the great Grado River. It's a weary old house, but anything would work fine for a man who's lost his purpose in life. Knoll flips through the tome in front of him, nearly used up. Gleipnir, one of the Sacred Twins of Grado. He felt the tome was so old, it might dissolve at any touch. His fingers graze the parchment and his eyes follow the ancient language spilled across the pages. His heart throbs, and he sighs. It's been happening a lot, recently. His soul has begun to feel drained - has begun to feel sorrowful and strange. Knoll already knows what's happening. He's giving up his soul. To pursue the power of knowledge he had promised that he'd follow, he was giving up his soul. The one thing Knoll couldn't understand was why it was all happening so suddenly. He'd expected a slow burn, something different than what he was experiencing. He takes a deep breath, planting his hand on the cover of the book. He ignores the spine of the inside of the book where the remnants of multiple torn pages remain, simply gripping his fingers taut around the parchment. Then he realizes, in the foggiest depths of his cluttered mind. It was Gleipnir. It had always been Gleipnir. From the first spell to the nineteenth, it had always been there. And now he was going to pay for it. His heart beats rapidly, his blood pounds loudly in his ears. There's no turning back. He tears out the last page of Gleipnir, his hand trembling, and the world crushes him, slamming him to his table. He lets out a shaky breath, watching the parchment in his hand become consumed with the dark magic that blooms from his hands, his fingers, his own power. Knoll closes his eyes, and the last thing he feels is his hair brushing against the arch of his eyebrows and the gentle touch of Lyon's fingers against his forehead. ~ / . / . / ~ The knell rings for him, a fitting action for a man by the name of "Knoll". The former general ringing the knell stops pulling on the rope slowly when he sees the teal-haired man riding to the church in the distance. Eventually, the sound of horseshoes hitting the ground grows louder, and the old man can't help but flinch every time he hears them. The man inside the sanctuary doesn't react. "Duessel?" Ephraim's voice drifts inside the church's sanctuary from outside, and Duessel pushes the door open. The young king's face brightens, and he pulls Duessel into a hug. "It does me good to see you still alive, Duessel." "Thank you, King Ephraim." "I came as quickly as I could. What's happened?" Duessel blinks, and his face twists with pain. "It… It is Knoll. Come inside. I think you will understand the circumstances much better if you see…" Duessel cuts himself off and pulls open the door to the church. Ephraim steps into the sanctuary, looking around with awe. "How beautiful…" The stained glass windows paint the pictures of the Five Heroes, and picture the events of the recent War of Stones. Sunlight falls through the windows, filtered with color and the reflection of glass. "King Ephraim," Duessel calls from the altar. Ephraim turns his head, and his eyes grow wide. His feet take him closer to his former mentor, until he is standing right in front of him. Standing there beside Duessel is Knoll, and not a statue or a ghost. It's Knoll. Except it's not Knoll. His eyes are a shadowy black, his face covered with a dreary expression and his arms hanging limply by his side. Ephraim doesn't say anything. He knows the fate that has befallen Knoll all too well. "So he's finally gone," Ephraim whispers. "Yes," Duessel agrees softly. "When we found him, his house had been destroyed in a blaze of black magic. His soul has been corrupted in his quest for knowledge. There is no Knoll in this world anymore, save for the empty body beside me." "What will… he," Ephraim gestures vaguely at the sentient body of Knoll, "do?" "He will do nothing unless we force him to. He will stay here and wither away, until the body is ready to join the master." "I see." "I will leave him in the care of the clergy. They know of his situation, and have promised to take care of him." "That's… very kind of them," Ephraim comments, his gaze drifting over to Knoll's shell of a body. Knoll blinks rapidly for a second, and Ephraim opens his mouth, about to say something, before stopping himself. "King Ephraim?" Duessel questions. "I… Apologies. I have come to realize that Knoll often blinked rapidly whenever he wished to speak, and I was about to ask him what he wished to say." Duessel shakes his head, an understanding look on his face. "Do not worry, King Ephraim. I have found myself doing similar actions. I suppose… we will never realize how well we know someone until they are gone." "Yes…" Ephraim murmurs, his hand clenching into a fist. Duessel watches on sadly as the king walks forward, approaching the soulless body at the front of the altar of the church. "Knoll…" Ephraim whispers, laying a gentle hand on Knoll's shoulder. His skin is cold beneath his thin shaman's robes, and Ephraim's fingers tense up, tightening around Knoll's shoulder. His nails dig into the other man's skin. The sentient body doesn't react, simply staring ahead blankly. Ephraim lets his hand fall to his side, turning his head to look at Duessel. "Duessel… I'm sorry. I cannot stay here any longer." "No need to apologize, King Ephraim. Thank you… for coming to see Knoll. Or, what is left of him." Ephraim purses his lips, nodding. Slowly, he walks away, his footsteps echoing through the church sanctuary. He pushes open the doors with gentle hands, something so not… Ephraim. A soft wind blows through the church, kicking at Ephraim's cape and ruffling Knoll's robes. The king of Renais looks over his shoulder, a bitter look on his face. "My apologies, Duessel… Knoll…" "It was an honor to see you again," the elderly man bows, so very unlike the general he had once been. His graying hair slips from its combed back state, and he sighs. "I am getting old… Perhaps it is time I retired, eh, Knoll?" Silence greets his humorous words, and Duessel curses gently under his breath. "It's going to be hard… getting used to seeing someone as passionate as you… like this." Duessel's face falls, looking away. "I'm sorry, Knoll. I think… Prince Lyon will welcome your presence," Duessel murmurs, glancing at the body in shaman robes. For a moment, the soul of the man once named Knoll returns to his body, and his eyes brighten, his lips pulling up into a small smile. But as quick as it returned, it disappears, until all that's left is the shell of the man who once loved Lyon.

Author's Ideas: WOW THIS ONE ACTUALLY TOOK REALLY LONG I'M SORRY I WAS WORKING ON OTHER WIPs AND I DIDN'T REALIZE I HADN'T FINISHED THIS CHAPTER orz I need to get better at setting deadlines holy moly Also… is it just me or is it taking me a lot longer to write something these days? :thinking: Eh, probably just me Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem Brighter IV: Light ~ / . / . / ~ A year after Roy and Lilina's engagement, and a few weeks after their (in his opinion, somewhat extravagant) wedding, Perceval asks her to move in with him. He stumbles over his words a bit, and Cecilia has to stop him multiple times to chase off people trying to record them or snap pictures of them, but he gets his point across, and of course Cecilia agrees. "Why did you even bother asking her?" Mildain asks, pushing Perceval his wrapped sandwich over the café counter. "She basically lives with you anyways. And you know that her mother is supportive of you two no matter what. Well, unless you cheat on her." Perceval rolls his eyes, handing Mildain his work ID. "I just don't know if Miss Alessandra would have been okay with taking over Cecilia's house again. I know she almost went crazy last time because Cecilia's father did such a poor job of keeping Miss Alessandra's house clean." Mildain frowns, pausing his tapping on the cash register. "Wait, what?" "Miss Alessandra had to go live in Cecilia's house, so she got Cecilia's father to look over her house. When Miss Alessandra got back to her own house, it was in all sorts of disarray. The only people she trusts to look over the house now are Cecilia and I. And only if we're together." To that last statement, Mildain makes such a suggestive noise that Perceval wonders how he ever became friends with him (he knows how, though - but only because it was also the time he became friends with Cecilia). Perceval takes a few days to get a copy of his keys though, so they're constantly trading hands even before Cecilia officially moves in. At one point, Cath nabs them as a joke, but causes them so much stress that everyone learns never to mess with either of them when on a frantic search for something vital - or else they'll get threatened by both the Head of Economic Enterprises and the Head of Security. Or course, Miss Alessandra agrees to their moving in together, and she takes a good chunk of Perceval's time making him promise not to do anything Cecilia wouldn't want, or not to break any of her possessions on purpose, and especially to respect her boundaries. He vehemently agrees, and Miss Alessandra believes him when he says he'll uphold them. He hears that Cecilia gets the same treatment from his mother, but knowing how much Amber Eques absolutely dotes on her potential daughter-in-law, she's probably prepared a list of Perceval's weaknesses for her. (Unfortunately he's proven right when, while he has his back turned to Cecilia while unpacking her belongings, she drapes her arms around him and uses her foot to tickle the sole of his. What results is the worst tickle fight in the history of tickle fights.) Still, the moving in goes well, and the busy Saturday afternoon turns into a calm Saturday night, where Klein, Clarine, Lalum, and Mildain crash their house without announcement. After apologizing to Perceval and Cecilia for the heart attack, they promise to cook dinner. Cecilia quickly declines Clarine access to the kitchen, but lets the other three in. "Why won't you let me in the kitchen?" Clarine complains, pouting. "Because you almost set our house on fire last time you tried to bake a pizza," Klein yells from the kitchen. "But now I'm the third wheel," Clarine counters, staring with mock anger over at the other side of the couch, where Perceval and Cecilia are cuddled against each other. "You should have brought Rutger then," Perceval replies. "He's in Sacae!" "Oh well," Cecilia grins, and Clarine crosses her arms. "Meanies." "You're welcome, Clarine. I just don't want you burning down my house." "Who said that? You two moving in together is going to make it a lot harder for me to distinguish who's saying what while I'm trying to read everything I wrote down while eavesdropping." "Good gods, Klein. You can't even tell the difference between Perceval's voice and Cecilia's voice?" "Wait, what do you mean by eavesdropping!?" An indignant sputter from the living room sends Klein into hysterical laughter, and they end up losing their best chef from the laughing fit he's having. Eventually, they all settle down for a comfortable dinner, and spend the rest of the night flipping through old photo albums Cecilia and Perceval dug out that afternoon. At one point, Klein points out that Perceval was wearing nail polish all throughout his elementary school years, and all Perceval can do is point to Cecilia. Another time, they count all the times Mildain had actually smiled for a picture outside of class photos. The answer was, unsurprisingly, zero. Cecilia and Perceval chase them out of their house when it's close to midnight, laughing when Clarine makes a face and threatens Perceval loudly from the car about doing "unsavory things to Cecilia when they slept" as they drive away. Perceval rolls his eyes, but he obviously takes Clarine's words to heart because he doesn't do anything unless Cecilia agrees. He even asks if he can hug her, and Cecilia looks at him so incredulously that he just shrugs and says, "They're scary." "I don't care if they're scary," she smiles, patting Perceval's cheek. He squawks in protest, and Cecilia laughs. "Whoops. I forgot." "You know my skin doesn't react well to that lotion…" he mutters, wetting his hand towel and wiping off his cheek. Cecilia just flashes him her picture perfect smile, and it's hard to be mad at her after that. The night that follows doesn't seem like any other night since they've spent so much time together, except when Cecilia wins, she's struck with sunlight, and the other side of the bed is empty. She sits up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Perceval?" she calls. "In the office," his voice comes from a distant part of the house, and she slips out of bed, pulling on actual clothes and tossing her pajamas on the bed. She makes her way across the hallway to the propped open door of Perceval's office. "You're working this early? On a Sunday?" she frowns. He shrugs. "It's not really work. It's more legal paperwork about your move." "Oh. Do you need anything?" "I'm… actually pretty hungry," he admits, sifting through the piles of paperwork in his office. "Why didn't you say so?" she grins and skips downstairs, opening cabinets and pantries to collect the ingredients to prepare for breakfast. It's then that she finds a green box in his kitchen cabinets, tucked away under the boxes and bottles of spices and dried herbs. What's suspicious is that the box is the same shade of green as her hair, an iridescent green that would catch his eye from anywhere. She's still trying to figure out what could be inside it (ignoring the nagging thought in the back of her mind) when he walks into the kitchen, a wad of paperwork in his hand. "Cecilia-" he pauses, his eyes wide when he sees the box in her hand. "Oh, Perceval," Cecilia smiles, setting the box down. "Is that more legal paperwork?" "Yes," he croaks, his gaze not leaving the box on the counter. She takes the papers he's holding, and he snags the box, tucking it into his pocket. Cecilia gives him a strange look as he slips out of the kitchen, and he gives her a nervous smile over his shoulder. "So? What is that box all about?" Cecilia asks him eventually, when she goes into his study to return the bundle of papers. He's standing in front of his desk, and when she asks the question, he freezes up. With an annoyed pulse behind his movements, he takes the papers and sets them down on his desk, sighing as he turns and looks at her. "Cecilia… what do you think it is about?" "...I thought so." Cecilia closes her eyes. A smile spreads across her lips, and Perceval touches her shoulder. "Yes," Cecilia murmurs, breaking the silence. Perceval blinks, and it takes him a moment to realize what she's trying to say. "...Really?" Cecilia opens her eyes, staring at into his brown eyes. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I probably will keep loving you. Why wouldn't I marry you?" He runs his hands through his hair, a distant yet joyful look on his face. "I… to think, I had a whole speech written out." "Was that what you were annoyed about?" "Yes," he admits sheepishly. "I was annoyed I didn't get to say my speech. I had it all memorized too." Cecilia gives him a gentle shove. "I love you. Did you really think you needed a speech to convince me to marry you?" Perceval rolls his eyes, and she smiles. He leans his forehead against hers, and her smile grows wider. Cecilia's fingers find the edge of his shirt, and she clenches his sweater. He cups her cheeks, and she leans forward a little, their noses touching. "I love you too," he breathes, and Cecilia laughs at the smell of mint in his breath. "Can I have my ring now?" Cecilia questions, smiling. "I'm curious to see what you picked out." He kisses her gently, his lips lingering against hers. "As you say," he murmurs, his lips brushing against hers. Cecilia grins, detaching herself from Perceval when he pulls away and walks around his desk, pulling open a small drawer. He withdraws the bright green box, flicking open the box and taking the ring. He places the green box down on his desk and walks back to Cecilia. She folds her hands behind her back. Perceval opens his fist, revealing a thin silver ring decorated with one emerald. "Lalum and Lilina both agreed that getting something simple was better for you," he states, and Cecilia smiles. "I think it's perfect." She stretches out her hand, and Perceval takes it. He slips the thin ring onto her finger, and she grabs his cheeks, kissing him as hard as she can. His lips curve into a smile, and his hands rest against her waist. He pulls her closer, and she savors the gentle touch he has, the unspoken words behind his actions. Cecilia's eyes are bright and her cheeks are rosy, and Perceval can't help but let his smile grow bigger. "What is it?" she asks softly, brushing her fingers against his cheek. "Nothing. Just… thinking." "About what?" "About how I love you." Her only response is to pull him in and kiss him again.

More Inktober. Wheeeeeeee-

It's Inktober! But I'm a little shit and have no time, so I'm doing weekly Inktober! This was supposed to come out on Sunday, but I was busy so rest in pieces. Expect another one this coming Sunday.

Author's Ideas: Wow hi yeah sorry this took so long The first two chapters had been half-finished by the time I decided to publish this but this one I had to write from scratch, and I've had busy weeks lately. Yeah, I know it's a shitty excuse, but I got some work in on the next chapter, so that one should be published fairly soon. At least, I hope. Knowing me, probably not :p Also we're halfway through this disaster of a fic (read: just fluff about nerds I love too much) As always, readable on FanFiction, Tumblr, and AO3. Disclaimer: Ha ha ha ha ha yeah no I don't own Fire Emblem Brighter III: Sunset ~ / . / . / ~ He's somehow roped into helping Roy propose to Lilina, and she has to bite her lip through the entire meeting to make it out with a clean slate. Perceval is waiting for her by the meeting room's entrance, a bewildered look on his face as he stares at his phone. Cecilia walks up to him, leaning against his shoulder as she peeks at his screen. She breaks into a grin upon seeing the huge blocks of texts Roy has sent him. "Why me?" Perceval asks, lifting his head to look at Cecilia. She smiles. "Do you think I know?" Perceval opens his mouth to retort, but thinks better of it, and settles for shaking his head, chuckling as he slips his phone into his pocket and takes her hand. "Are you going to go?" Perceval gives her a strange look. "Why would I refuse? It wouldn't do me much good to refuse, and it clearly wouldn't benefit Roy in any ways either." Cecilia purses her lips, her face scrunched up in thought. Perceval kisses her cheek. "Don't do that. Your face will get stuck like that. Or you'll get a ton of wrinkles." Cecilia rolls her eyes. "Perceval 'Perfect Face' Eques to the rescue," she remarks sarcastically, using her hand to make air quotes. "I'm flattered," Perceval murmurs, and she nudges him. "Smart alec." "You know you love me," he teases. She rolls her eyes, but beams. "Yes, I do." Perceval opens the door to the cafeteria, holding it open for Cecilia. "So, do you mind helping me with this little predicament I've found myself in?" "Well, of course," she hums. "Why wouldn't I?" "He did ask me to go to Lycia," he raises an eyebrow at her as they both grab a tray. "So? I'd like to go there again. I'm sure Mordred will be fine with us taking a few days off, especially if he's planning for it to be on Saturday. It won't affect us that much." Perceval acquiesces at that point, just shaking his head and smiling. "You're too stubborn for your own good." "Says you." Cecilia just nudges him, grinning. Mordred excuses them for a week, and even when Perceval insists they just get Friday and Monday off, Mordred fixes him with a steely look, and Mildain hisses "just accept it" so worriedly that Perceval accepts Mordred's excuse without even thinking. They spend Thursday evening packing after they come back from work, and crash at Cecilia's place. "Why'd you pick a flight at 7 in the morning?" Cecilia complains, but Perceval kisses her on the forehead and Cecilia presses herself against her, her irritation forgotten. They hitch a ride with Douglas to the airport, and he ends up teasing both of them so often that they threaten to throw Lalum (who was going to a dance competition and was sitting in the back with Cecilia) out of the car. He shuts up afterwards, but from the coy look he and Lalum are both wearing, Cecilia has some idea of where her reputation is going to go while she's gone. They check their bags into the luggage, and Cecilia sighs as she plops her carry-on bag into the security check. "I hate this part," she mutters, and Perceval looks at her sympathetically. Thankfully, they make it out of security alive, and they make it to the gate as the airplane begins boarding. They slip into their seats and Cecilia runs a hand through her hair. "...I forgot how stress-inducing flying can be," she admits, and Perceval smiles. He lifts up the armrest between their seats, and Cecilia lays her head on his shoulder. "We should sleep when the plane takes off." "Yeah," Cecilia agrees, and the engines start after a long silence. The pilot begins to speak, and the plane jerks, rumbling down the runway. Cecilia laces her fingers with Perceval's, and he smiles, squeezing her hand reassuringly as they ascend into the sky. "Perceval?" "What is it?" "What's the basic schedule going to be this weekend?" "We're meeting Roy at the airport so we can surprise Lilina, and the proposal is going to be tomorrow," Perceval murmurs, and Cecilia nods. "Mm hm. And then… we're coming back on Monday? Yes…" "So…" he begins his sentence, but stops. "So?" she inquires, and Perceval laughs, shaking his head. "No, it's nothing," he whispers, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Cecilia makes a face at him, and he laughs again. She tilts her head up, and he smiles, tilting his head to kiss her on the lips. "Thanks for coming with me." Cecilia gives him a strange look. "It's not that big of a deal." "It is to me." "Well then, you're welcome," she beams, but when she yawns she presses herself against his side and rests her head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her, carefully setting his cheek on the top of her head. Slowly, with a few begrudging adjustments to their positions, they drift off into a deep sleep. The plane jolts, and the intercom buzzes to life, pulling Perceval out of his slumber. Cecilia doesn't stir, but when the pilot begins to speak, reporting their arrival at the Lycian International Airport, she groans. Perceval blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes, and Cecilia sits up, sighing. She stretches, grumbling about how her waist hurts. Slowly, they stand and file off of the airplane. Perceval's phone buzzes, and Cecilia pulls it from his jacket pocket, looking over the notification. "It's Roy. He's at the baggage claim, waiting for us." "Then we should hurry," Perceval smiles, and she tucks his phone into his pocket, taking his extended hand and shouldering her backpack. They exit through the gate and follow the signs leading them through the airport, though Cecilia doesn't even bother looking up at the large signs pointing them in the correct direction. He reminds himself that she's been here many times. Roy is waiting for them at the baggage claim, and a look of relief washes over his face as he spots the two of them. "Oh thank gods you're here," he breathes as Cecilia pulls him into a warm hug. "I feel like I'm hyperventilating every second, I've been so nervous." "You're just feeling jittery. You'll be fine," Cecilia reassures, leaning back to look him in the eyes. He flashes her a wavering smile and a weak thumbs up, and she laughs. Perceval pats Roy on the back, and starts when the young man hugs him. "Thanks," Roy smiles when he pulls away, and Perceval squeezes his shoulder. "Of course." "How's Lilina?" Cecilia asks when they've collected their luggage and have piled into Roy's car. Roy grins as he pulls out of the parking lot. "She's doing great. She thinks I'm going to a conference meeting, so she won't be expecting us at all." "What a great idea! Give your soon-to-be fiance a heart attack," Cecilia exclaims sarcastically, and Perceval coughs. Roy laughs, and soon they're driving down the highway, sharing stories and doubling over in laughter (except for Roy, who's forced to hold back his laughs so he doesn't jerk the car all the way over to the wrong lane). Carefully, Roy parks the car outside of their house, and they sneak up to the front door. Roy rings the doorbell, and bites back a laugh as they all hear Lilina scream and throw open the front door. "You idiot!" Lilina cries, kissing Roy. "Why didn't you tell me!?" "I wanted to surprise you," he grins. She pouts. "Well, clearly, it worked!" she scowls, and pushes past him. Perceval and Cecilia hug her, and they all laugh, awkwardly pressed together in a three-way hug. "I missed you," Cecilia grins, and Lilina smiles back. "I missed you too. It's nice to see you again too, Perceval!" Lilina looks over at the blonde, and he lets go of Cecilia to reach his hand over, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Hello again," he laughs gently. Lilina pulls away, gesturing at the house. "I was just about to make lunch. Why don't you come in?" "You two have to try Lilina's cooking. It's amazing," Roy says as the two of them step into their house. "And here I thought I'd have to make lunch and eat it alone while I talked to Roy through a screen," Lilina comments, casting a blaming look over at Roy. He smiles sheepishly, and she sighs, shaking her head. "Sorry?" Roy says questioningly. Cecilia laughs. "Here, I'll help you, Lilina," Cecilia says, and Lilina turns to look at her, eyes wide with shock as she shakes her head. "No, I couldn't possibly-" "It's okay. I like cooking. It's not a burden on me." Lilina gives her a dubious look, but nods tentatively. "If you insist." "I'm going to go put our stuff in our room," Perceval says, and Cecilia kisses his cheek. "Okay," she nods, then pauses. "We're sharing a room?" "Would you rather not?" Perceval asks, his eyes filled with worry. She shakes her head. "No, I was just surprised. I'm fine with it." When Perceval stares at her, she makes a shooing motion with her hands, and he gives her a small smile. He leans over, and Cecilia sighs, standing on the tips of her toes and kissing him gently. "There. Now go." Perceval leaves the kitchen with Roy, and Lilina lets out a soft laugh. "How sweet," she comments, and Cecilia snorts as she notices the red blush sneaking up along Perceval's ears. "He's a charmer," Cecilia replies, loud enough for Perceval to hear. He climbs the stairs, his face as red as Roy's hair. The green-haired woman smiles, turning to Lilina. "What would you like me to do?" "Hm…" The rest of their time in the kitchen flies by, and Cecilia is so preoccupied that when two people walk into the kitchen, she doesn't look up until one of them waves their hand in front of her face. Cecilia yelps when she looks up, and Lilina laughs. "Gale? Melady?" "Roy invited us here," Gale murmurs, and the glint in his eyes tells her the rest of the answer. Cecilia hides her smile, putting down her spatula and giving him a hug over the counter. "It's nice to see you again," Gale chuckles. "Yes, it is," Cecilia pulls away, then hugs Melady. "How have you two been? Is Bern treating you well?" "Thankfully, yes," Melady smiles, hugging Cecilia back. "That's nice to hear." "When did you guys get here?" Gale asks. Cecilia blinks. "How did you know I wasn't alone?" "If I remember correctly, Perceval is never more than forty miles from you." Cecilia laughs, and Melady snorts. The green-haired woman picks up her spatula, stirring the contents of the pan. "We just got here." "Oh, that makes sense. We were sleeping in the guest room downstairs," Melady smiles, "so we probably slept through all that." "I'm not sure how you slept through Lilina screaming, but I'll buy it." "That was a pretty tame scream compared to her other ones," Roy remarks as he descends the stairs. Perceval lets out a huffy laugh. "See? I was right," Gale grins, looking at Perceval. Cecilia rolls her eyes, but grins as she scrapes the contents of the pan into a bowl. "What's going on?" Perceval questions, offering the two of them a hug. "Nothing, nothing," Gale smiles. "It's nice to see you again though, Perceval." They set the table and spend the rest of the day eating and lounging around as they catch up with each other. Sometimes they watch cheesy movies from Bern that Melady and Gale brought over, and other times it's cards, where Cecilia wins every game and Perceval is this close to calling off their relationship (of course he wouldn't, everyone knows he'd never dare to do that). Roy throws down his cards, shaking his head. "I give up. There's no way I'm winning this." Cecilia laughs, fanning her deck out in front of her. "It's true. You couldn't have gotten out alive." Roy groans. "I was so close too!" "Wait," Perceval says, looking over Roy's cards. He glances over at Cecilia's cards, and then up at Roy. "You could have just played your spades. Spades are above everything else, and you have more spades than she has cards. You could have beaten her." There's a moment of silence, and then the room erupts into pandemonium. Roy buries his face in his hands and screams, and Lilina falls onto her side, face covered. "Roy…" Lilina groans. "Why!?" "I'm sorry!" he yells over Gale and Melady's laughter. Cecilia pouts at Perceval. "Why'd you point that out for him?" "That's enough cards!" Perceval says loudly, and Cecilia laughs. "We should get to bed." "Oh gods, when did it become midnight?" Gale asks, and he stands. "We're going to our room then." "We should too," Cecilia murmurs, reaching to collect the cards. Roy gets them first, and smiles. "You two retire for the night. We're going to clean up a bit, then go to sleep." "Well… okay." Cecilia nods, standing. Perceval stands with her, taking her hand. He takes the lead, taking her up the stairs and down the hallway. He opens a door on their left, revealing a large room. "This is our room," Perceval states, and Cecilia smiles tiredly. "It's better than staying at a hotel," Cecilia says truthfully. Perceval snorts. Cecilia opens their suitcase, pulling out one of Perceval's sweaters. He raises an eyebrow at her, but she shuts the door to the bathroom connected to their room, and comes out ten seconds later, wearing nothing but her underwear and his sweater. "I'm tired," she murmurs, falling onto the right side of the bed. Perceval sighs, shaking his head as a smile crawls over his face. "Yeesh…" "I see you smiling." They both end up falling asleep in each other's arms, and Cecilia only wakes up because Perceval pulls away as he sits up. She groans, rolling away from him and covering her face. "Come on," Perceval smiles, pulling her close to him again. "Today's the big day." "Yes, it is… Just let me…" she rubs her eyes and pulls her pillow over her head. Perceval laughs, pulling the pillow away and kissing her. "Come on." "Fine," she sighs, sitting up. Cecilia places her hand on his chest, leaning forward and kissing him again. "Good morning." "They're brewing coffee and tea. We should go downstairs." Cecilia sighs, swinging her legs to the side of the bed and standing. Perceval kisses her on the cheek and closes the door behind her, presumably to go downstairs. Cecilia sighs, sleepily getting dressed before washing her face. She walks down the stairs, and the five people crowded in the kitchen look up. "Good morning," Melady smiles, and Cecilia smiles back. "Good morning," she echoes. "So, we're going to the beach today, yeah?" Roy asks, grinning coyly. Perceval and Melady nod, and Gale grins. "Of course," Cecilia smiles, and Lilina sets down two last mugs on the table. The smell of coffee and tea wafts through the house, and Cecilia thanks her, ruffling Lilina's hair. Perceval and Roy echo her, and Gale hums. "It tastes much better than anything I could ever brew." Lilina laughs. "Thank you. I'm going to go get ready." Perceval looks at Cecilia, and she shrugs. "I suppose everything we have in our backpack works." He nods. "I think we have all our stuff in our backpack too?" Melady inquires, and Gale nods. "So once Lilina gets back and we finish all our drinks, we can get going." Roy smiles. They all end up having to cram into the minivan, but Perceval wasn't going to complain about Cecilia squished against him, especially not when she leans against him, so close that he can feel her every movement. They stop at a restaurant and take a quick brunch, where everyone but Roy and Lilina order all the seafood on the menu. Cecilia ends up with a lox sandwich which she ends up being unable to finish. "It's so good, but I'll probably just take it to go," she comments. Before she can stop him, Perceval takes her plate and finishes the rest of her sandwich. "Perceval!" she whines, and he smiles. She rolls her eyes, standing. Perceval snorts, and they walk out of the restaurant and through the parking lot. Roy unlocks the door to the car, and everyone clambers in. As Cecilia goes to step inside, he takes her by the hand, turning her to face him. "I love you. You know that, don't you?" he asks, resting a hand on her cheek. "Yes, I do," she murmurs, smiling as she holds his hand. "Just kiss and get in the car!" Gale yells from inside the car, and Perceval snorts, pulling the door to the minivan open. Cecilia tilts her head up, kissing him gently. He smiles, then pulls her into the car. They spend the rest of the afternoon driving down to the boardwalk, slamming buttons at arcade machines and screaming on roller coasters. Eventually, they pile into the car, all laughing as Roy drives them down to the beach. "We're here," Roy announces as he parks the car, and when Lilina pushes open the door and steps out, he glances at the four of them in the back of the car. "I… it's finally time," he whispers. Gale grins, zipping up his backpack. "Don't worry. I have the champagne." Cecilia snorts, pulling open the door to the minivan. She steps out, revelling in the way her flip flops sink into the sand. "It feels so nice…" Perceval steps out beside her, and Roy rounds the front of the car. Perceval shields his eyes, glancing at the ocean. "She's already got her feet in the water," he murmurs, smiling. "Though I think she's running back to get us." "Well… no time like the present," Roy grins. "Here I go," he whispers, looking back at the four of them. "You can do it," Perceval murmurs reassuringly, and Cecilia gives him a short hug. Gale and Melady each give him a squeeze on the shoulder and reassuring words. Roy smiles. "Thanks." He takes in a deep breath and smiles, walking up to meet Lilina. Cecilia squeezes Perceval's hand, and he holds her hand tighter. Melady inhales sharply, and Gale rubs her back gently. "Lilina," Roy smiles, and she takes his hand, pointing at the ocean. "Isn't it pretty, Roy?" "Yeah," he nods. "Hey, Lilina?" "Yes?" she questions, tilting her head. "Can I see your necklace? The one I made for you?" Lilina gives him a strange look, but doesn't object, unclipping the blue crystalline pendant from her neck. "Lilina…" Roy falls to one knee. "The moment I saw you, I fall in love with you. You were my angel. You had always been more than my friend." Gently, he pushes against the pendant. It slides into two, revealing a sparkling object inside the space. "You had always been my love, and you always will be." Lilina presses her hand over her mouth, and Roy holds up the ring that was inside the pendant. "So from now on… I want us to walk to the future together. Lilina Ostia, will you marry me?" "Yes…" she sobs, nodding. "Yes… of course!" He stands, taking Lilina's hand and sliding the ring onto her ring finger. "I love you," he murmurs, and Lilina stands on the tips of her toes, closing the distance between them. "How lovely…" Cecilia whispers. Perceval just kisses her softly in response. Their hearts are warm with the feeling of love, it seems like it's just the two of them, and they're reminded of how much they love their times together.

Story time: I was studying for math and then a Saint!Rinea idea popped into my head and rattled around there for a solid minute so I dropped everything and spent the rest of the night drawing it and I still got an A on the test the next day Ignore the splotch of white-out, some asshole thought it’d be a good idea to take my pen and scribble there.

Author's Ideas: The nerds are back and better than ever *flashes a V* End me now this ship is taking over my life Disclaimer: No, I don't own Fire Emblem, no, I am not Shouzou Kaga, and no, I am not rarepair trash. ...No. I'm definitely not. Totally not. I swear. Brighter II: Sparkle ~ / . / . / ~ Cecilia pulls open the drawer to her dresser, stacking two binders and folder into her bag. She shuts her laptop and tucks it under her arm as she stands, going to open the door. Perceval steps back as the door is pulled open, and Cecilia starts before smiling, letting go of the doorknob. "I wasn't expecting you here," she slips her computer into her bag. "Neither was I. I thought you'd be inside overworking yourself again," he teases, and when Cecilia scrunches up her face, he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek. "I got you dinner." "Mm hm," Cecilia hums in thanks as he hands her the bagged food. It's still warm. "You know, you should really let me go get my own dinner sometimes." "It's more convenient," Perceval smiles. "Besides, I get to see you." "You get to see me all the time," Cecilia points out, but stands on the tips of her toes and gives him a gentle kiss on the lips. "Would you rather I didn't come see you?" he raises an eyebrow. "No," she licks her lips, "but I'd rather you don't come see me right before I have a meeting." There's a moment of silence, and then Perceval grinds his teeth. "Shoot. That meeting is today, not tomorrow…" Cecilia blinks. "You know about my meetings?" "Of course," he replies incredulously as he takes her bag. "Why do you think I always visit you when you have free time?" "Oh…" Cecilia starts with realization, then shakes her head. "The meeting's in A45." "I know," he laces his fingers with hers, and Cecilia shuts the door to her office. They walk down the stairs to the first floor, and as they round the corner, Gale appears from a nearby door. "Cecilia, Perceval." Gale smiles as he notices them. "Did you just come from a meeting?" Cecilia frowns. Gale waves off her worry. "It's normal. Melady and I are trying to balance out our schedules, but for now, we're rather busy." "Gale…" "Don't worry, Cecilia. We should probably get going." Cecilia nods, letting go of Perceval's hand. He kisses her temple gently. "Come to my house afterwards, okay?" She blinks. "Why?" "Do I need a reason to invite my girlfriend over?" Cecilia shakes her head, smiling as she brushes his hair from his forehead. "No. I'll come over." "I'll see you, then." Perceval laces his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand. She gives him a squeeze back, smiling. "Yeah." Cecilia falls into step with Gale, and they enter the meeting room. The meeting passes, a boring matter that involves her a little too much than she wants it to. Eventually, she and Gale leave, and Gale gives her a sympathetic look. "I feel sorry for you. You have so much to do, even more than I do." Cecilia shakes her head, smiling. "I like my work. It's not gruesome or tiring, at least to me." Gale nods, pushing open the door to the parking lot. He holds it open for her, and she thanks him softly. "Where's your car?" Gale asks, and Cecilia points at the car a few spaces down the first row. Gale rolls his eyes. "I forgot, you get first priority with parking." "At least you get second priority," Cecilia jokes, making her way to her car. As she gets closer, she squints her eyes, making out a strange shape behind her car. She turns around the trunk of her car, and Gale's eyes widen. "Cecilia!" His warning comes too late, and Cecilia stumbles backwards, holding her cheek which stings from the slap that echoes through the parking lot. "I thought it'd be just you. That's fine, though. I can deal with Gale," Narcian sneers. "Narcian, what the-" Gale cuts himself off when Narcian brings up his hand, revealing a switchblade in his grip. Cecilia can feel her hands growing cold, and she shudders. "He's…" Narcian advances on them, and Gale curls his lip. "You prick!" Narcian slashes at Gale with his knife, and grins when Gale dodges right into his punch. Gale reels backwards, and Narcian is so caught up in his smugness that he doesn't notice Cecilia is behind him. Cecilia clamps her hand against the side of his neck, throwing a punch to the side of Narcian's head. Narcian screeches. "You bitch!" Narcian elbows at Cecilia, but she jumps back, dodging his strike. Narcian throws Gale to the ground, raising his knife as he rushes to attack Cecilia. Her hands dart upwards, clasping around Narcian's wrist. "Stop… it…!" she growls, as she presses herself against the trunk of her car, clenching her hands around Narcian's wrist. She's struggling to still his assault, and when Narcian knees her in the stomach she doubles over, leaning against the car. Narcian slashes the knife down, but as Cecilia crumples to the ground, the knife's edge cuts her right arm. Pain explodes in her arm, and she hisses. "Narcian! Stop it!" Gale yells angrily, hooking his arms under Narcian's armpits, hauling him away from Cecilia. "You vile piece of…!" Narcian spits, kicking violently, and Gale throws him to the ground behind him. "Get out of here, Narcian," Gale growls, his fist clenching together in rage. "Get out of here!" Narcian bares his teeth at Gale and Cecilia like a wild wolf. "You wenches… you-" "Go!" Gale bellows, and Narcian scrambles to his feet, stumbling away. Gale clenches his fist, watching the brown-haired man disappear into the darkness of the parking lot. He takes in a deep breath, and then turns to Cecilia, who's standing, her left hand clenching her right wrist. Her arm are flecked with blood that's still flowing. "Gods… I'm so sorry, Cecilia. This… it's all my fault… I'm so sorry…" Gale shudders, and Cecilia shakes her head. "No, it's not your fault…" "But Cecilia-" "Please, Gale, stop blaming yourself," Cecilia murmurs, smiling wearily at him. "I… I'm going to Perceval's. If you need anything, call me, okay?" "Take care of yourself," Gale mutters, and Cecilia turns, opening the door to the driver's seat. She collapses into it, sighing as she forces herself to shove the keys into the ignition and start up the car. Only when she pulls out of the parking lot and onto the roads can she let her guard down, let her fingers loosen around the steering wheel, let her eyes blur up with the pain and despondency she's bottled up. She wipes her eyes, gulping as she stares at the blood trickling along her arm. Slowly, her eyes drift to the rearview mirror, and Cecilia flinches at the sight of the large and ugly purple bruise on her cheek. "How am I going to explain this…?" she whispers, then shakes her head. Perceval will understand - as long as she tells him. She'll go to his house, take a shower, go to bed, and explain everything the next morning. That'll work. Slowly, she navigates the roads and highways, on her way to Chanchester, where Perceval's house is located. His house comes into view as she turns one more time, and she lets out a shaky breath. As she pulls up into his driveway, she reaches up and hits the control to the garage, given to her due to her frequent visits. The garage opens, and she pulls in on the left side of the garage beside Perceval's car. A jittery feeling sweeps over her as she closes the garage with the remote and removes her keys from the ignition. She takes a deep breath, and pushes open the door. Calico, Perceval's cat, meows as Cecilia steps into the kitchen, and Cecilia smiles as she spots the tortoiseshell cat padding through the kitchen to meet her. "Hi Calico," Cecilia coos, running her hands through her hair. She brings her bangs to cover her cheek, barely concealing the bruise on her face. Slowly, she kneels down, petting Calico. "Cecilia?" Perceval's bleary voice drifts from the kitchen doorway, and she looks over to see the blonde standing in the doorway. She stands, carefully folding her hands behind her back. "Did you fall asleep?" "I didn't, but I have to admit I'm drowsy," he grins and walks forward to meet her. "You're late." He tilts his head, and she smiles. "Sorry. The meeting went on longer than I thought it would," she replies, and Perceval smiles back, kissing her forehead and cupping her face. She freezes, realizing the dilemma she's gotten herself into. If she pulls away from his touch, he'll know something's wrong. Yet, if he keeps going- Too late. Perceval's fingers brush the hair away from her cheek, and his eyes grow dark as he sees the purple bruise blotching her pale cheek. She reaches up tentatively, touching his hands unsteadily. He cups her hands, examining the gashes on her arm. "Who did this to you?" Perceval finally asks, his voice harshly quiet. "...Narcian." He's halfway out the door before she can say another word, slamming the door behind him so angrily that the glasses in the sink rumble and clatter. She can hear him starting his car. Calico is startled so badly that she dashes into the basement and doesn't come back out. Cecilia waits for him throughout the night, smearing ointment on her wounds and bandaging them, scrunching up her nose at the bitter scent that ends up following her around. She ends up spending her time sifting through piles of paperwork from her bag on the couch. Eventually, she cocoons herself in his blankets that smell so strongly of his musky scent (mint masked with coffee, honey, and the faintest scent of peaches) and changes into a pair of loose sweatpants and a camisole, wiping off the makeup from her face. She can feel her eyelids growing heavier as the clock ticks away, but she shakes it off, forcing herself to pull open her laptop in an attempt to stay awake. At some point, Calico awakens from the slumber she had once been in and pads into the living room, jumping up onto the couch Cecilia is sitting on and curling up against the woman. "Do you think he's coming back soon?" Cecilia murmurs. The cat just meows, rubbing her cheek against Cecilia's hand which is stroking her fur. She brews herself tea stored in Perceval's cabinets, her favorite blend that always comforts her, but when Douglas calls her and asks why she's using her work laptop to watch cheesy movies from the '80s and '90s at 12 in the morning, she breaks down. "He what?" "He left. He hasn't come back yet…" "No, Narcian. He what? Drew a knife on you and Gale?" Cecilia swallows, remembering the terrifying expression in the man's eyes. "Yes." Her hands are trembling. Calico notices, and the cat curls up in Cecilia's lap, meowing reassuringly. Cecilia smiles. Douglas swears, and she can hear him flipping through papers with a violent urge in his actions. "I'm sorry, Cecilia. I didn't notice the tension between you two before it was too late." "It's okay, really," she promises. "I've already heard enough apologizing from Gale… since he thinks he's the main cause of this…" "Well, I'll bring this up tomorrow to Mordred." "Thank you, Douglas…" she grins, her eyes blurring again. She swallows, and Douglas shifts the phone, most likely holding it with his shoulder against his ear. "Are you sure you're alright, Cecilia?" "I…" she shakes her head mutely before realizing she's talking over the phone. "I'm just… worried…" "About Perceval?" "Yes…" she strokes Calico, her hands shaking. "I know you're worried, but trust in him," he reassures. "He's a smart young man. He wouldn't dare do anything that would upset you." Cecilia smiles, wiping her eyes. "He's… a little too compassionate for his own good, isn't he?" Douglas snorts. "That's certainly a way to put it. I can remember more than a few occasions where he got rather heated. Most of them involved you." Cecilia lets out a little laugh. "I can certainly think of some." Douglas lets out a low chuckle. "I'm sure he'll be just fine, Cecilia." "Thank you, Douglas." "Of course. Get some sleep, girlie. It's 1 AM." "You too." She hangs up and lets her eyelids fall down. She drifts asleep listening to soothing orchestral music, her hand curled on Calico's pelt. Cecilia wakes up when she gets a call from Pent an hour later, who exasperatingly tells her when she picks up, "Control your man, damn it." In her drowsy state, she can barely make out Narcian, who is shouting in the background. Pent gives the phone to someone because his yelling gets quieter and quieter, and then a guilty Perceval mutters into the line, "Sorry." "What were you thinking!?" she squawks, fully awake now, and Perceval coughs. "I wasn't thinking," he admits. "Reassuring," she mutters sarcastically, glancing at the clock in the corner of her laptop. "It's two in the morning. What in the world did you do to end up with my former boss this early?" "Drive to Aquelia to yell at and threaten Narcian," he replies. "Pent caught me and dragged me back to his house. I'm staying the night." "Did you do anything else?" "...I might've slapped him." "Narcian?" "And Pent," Perceval adds. He doesn't sound sorry at all. "What were you thinking!?" "I said I wasn't thinking!" "Well, think!" "I can't think when something's happened to you! That just makes me angry, and then I feel like shoving my foot down Narcian's throat." "Did you try that? Because that was oddly specific." "No! What do you take me for, Cecilia? A barbarian?" "A dork." "Stop derailing my argument with opinions," he grumbles. "I'm not. I'm stating facts," Cecilia smiles, and Perceval sighs. "Look… it's 2 AM, and I know you're really tired, so… I'm sorry." "What are you apologizing for?" Cecilia asks, confusion laced into her words. "For worrying you. Douglas told me you stayed up all night waiting for me to come back. I didn't mean to, but I just got so angry, I found myself on the road to Aquelia before I could stop myself. So, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I promise, I'm okay." She'd completely forgotten about the sensation of worry that had been haunting her just minutes ago. Tears blur her vision again. Cecilia sniffles, rubbing her eyes. "You should be sorry… you worried me so much… I didn't know if you were even alive…" "And I'm sorry for being an idiot." There's a pause, then he's sputtering. "Wait, don't cry! I promise I'm okay, Cecilia." "I know you're okay," Cecilia presses herself against the couch, pulling the blankets tighter around her as if they can replace Perceval's arms. "I worried you, didn't I?" "...Yeah," he murmurs, then laughs. "It's funny, how we're caught in a cycle of worry." Cecilia giggles along with him, and Calico meows loudly. "Calico, are you keeping Cecilia company?" Perceval questions teasingly. Calico meows again, and Cecilia smiles. "She's keeping me very happy, unlike you." Perceval sighs, and she can only imagine he's rolling his eyes. Cecilia laughs. "Perceval, can I have my phone back?" Pent yells, his voice distant. "Sure," he calls back, then brings the phone back to his ear. "I'm staying the night at Aquelia, in Pent's house. I'll be back tomorrow." "I'll see you tomorrow then," she murmurs. "Come home safely, okay?" "I will." He pauses, then whispers, "I love you. I'll see you tomorrow." "I love you too," she breathes, and the phone beeps, signalling the end of the call. She shuts down her laptop, closing it and standing. Calico hops off the couch and follows Cecilia as she makes for Perceval's bedroom. Sluggishly, she lays down on his bed, draping the blankets over herself. Calico hops up onto the bed and curls up next to Cecilia. She falls asleep breathing in the scent of coffee and honey, thinking of his lips which always taste like sweet mint, and the faint scent of his peach shampoo. Eventually, Cecilia wakes up to the angry buzzing of her phone against her cheek, shoved under her pillow in her sleepy state last night. She groans, reaching under pillow for her phone. Cecilia rolls her eyes upon noticing the source of the buzzing: her 7:15 alarm which usually wakes her up for work. She hits "snooze" on the alarm and sighs, but perks up as she sees the text on her screen. Douglas - 5:12 AM I've excused you for the day. Gale will be taking over your duties for today. Feel free to stay at home. Use your time wisely. Give Perceval a scolding for me when he gets back home. She's less worried about getting excused for the day and more worried about the time he sent the message. She frowns. "Goodness… did he stay up all night?" Calico purrs blearily, pushing her nose into her paw and curling up tighter. Her phone buzzes, and Cecilia blinks. Her home screen displays the caller ID, and she hurries to pick up, a big grin spreading across her face. "Good morning," Cecilia hums with a singsong tune in her voice. "Good morning," he reiterates, sounding as if he's smiling. "Did you sleep well?" "Mm… yes, even though I only had five hours of sleep." "That's nice to hear. I just finished up at Pent's house. I'm on my way back." "Do you want me to cook breakfast for you?" "That'd…" he hesitates, "That'd be nice." "Okay. When will you be back?" "Eight thirty, at the latest." "Okay. I'm waiting." she pauses. "Bye. Love you." Perceval chuckles. "Love you too." Cecilia ends the call before sitting up, bringing her arms over her head and stretching as she lets out a little sigh of happiness. Calico meows, and Cecilia smiles. "What is it, Calico? Are you hungry?" The tortoiseshell cat meows again, and Cecilia laughs. "Okay, you little rascal. Come on," the woman swings her legs over the side of the bed, standing. Calico hops off the bed, brushing against Cecilia's legs. She leans down, stroking the top of the cat's head before snatching up one of Perceval's folded sweatshirts in his dresser, throwing it over her head and pulling it on. She hurries down to the basement, picking up Calico's bowl at the bottom of the stairs and ducking into the closet to refill it. She sets it down by the stairs, and Calico ducks her nose into the bowl, crunching away. Cecilia leans down, a warm feeling in her heart as she scratches the cat behind her ears before walking back upstairs. Her eyes catch sight of the mess she left on the couch, and she collects the scattered paperwork on the floor and across the cushions, stacking them into a neat pile on top of her laptop and tucking both of them into her bag. She picks up the empty mug barely filled with cold tea and walks into the kitchen, dumping it out. Cecilia flicks the switch on the boiler and gets to work, completely forgetting about the anxiety and anticipation brewing in her stomach until her phone buzzes. She starts, looking over at the small mobile device. Perceval - 8:23 AM Almost home. The nervousness and apprehension she'd lost during cooking suddenly comes back, and she gulps, going to dry her hands on a towel. Calico dashes up out of the basement as soon as she hears Cecilia opens the garage, and Cecilia laughs as the cat dashes past her legs, looking around wildly as she skids to a stop by the edge of the garage. "Over here, Calico," Cecilia urges as she sits on the stairs from the door that leads between the kitchen and the garage. Calico jumps up into her lap, and Cecilia smiles, slowly petting the tortoiseshell she-cat's pelt. A sparkle of silver at the end of the road catches her eye, and she looks up. Her pulse gets quicker, and she can hear her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She stands unsteadily, and Calico jumps to the ground and sitting, looking up at the woman curiously. The sparkle of silver turns into a Porsche, a familiar car that pulls up onto the driveway and into the open garage, parking next to Cecilia's car. Calico perks up, and Cecilia steps forward as the engine stops, and the car stills. She's ready to scold and chide him, but when he comes out of that familiar silver Porsche of his and she sees that shyly proud, yet shit-eating grin of his, she settles for running forward and hugging him as tight as she can, and he hugs her back until Calico meows in protest, brushing against both of their legs. They spend the rest of the day binge watching old action movies and taking turns dozing off and petting Calico. Sometimes Cecilia will wake up, find Perceval's face centimeters away, and he'll smile, cheeks growing red when she leans in and kisses him while soaring music from the movie rises. Other times, she'll laugh softly when Perceval drifts asleep and his head ends up falling against her shoulder. Sometimes, they'll both fall asleep, and then Calico will meow loudly, batting at Perceval's hands until he groans and scratches her behind the ears as Cecilia wakes up blearily, smiling. "Perceval?" Cecilia murmurs after the fifth movie, pressing herself closer to him. He tightens his arms around her waist, leaning forward. "Yes?" he asks, resting his chin on her shoulder and kissing her cheek. "I should go back home." Perceval tenses up, and Cecilia squeezes his hand. "I'll be fine." "...If you really want to go," Perceval murmurs, and Cecilia looks at him. "I didn't mean it like that. I just… maybe I shouldn't spend another night at your house when all I have is a set of pajamas." Perceval laughs. "Maybe. For now, it's our day." Cecilia smiles. "Yeah." The next day, when people clamor over her absence yesterday and ask about the bandages over her arm and the bruise on her cheek, Perceval gets a dark look in his eyes, and Cecilia smiles, squeezing his hand before telling the painful story for the hundred and first time. Eventually, though, she stops explaining the faint scars on her arm to others, and Perceval just closes his fingers around it, wrapping his arms around her and smiling.

Summary: [Mod!AU] It's not the way he laughs, or the way she smiles, but it's the way they enjoy each other's company that makes the world seem a whole lot brighter. Author's Ideas: HOLLAH HOLLAH GUESS WHAT MY FIRST LEGIT (NOT A TWO-SHOT) MULTI-CHAPTER FIC IS IF YOU GUESSED PERCEVAL/CECILIA YOU'RE RIGHT Jokes aside this has been sitting in my WIPs since like… March? To be fair, there's another WIP that's been there since June last year, but we're going to ignore that ha ha ha ha ha *hint hint that might be my next one-shot hint hint* Also, I tried out a new style of writing with this chapter, and I like it a lot. It's a little more casual and a lot more playful, but since all my fics are so somber [as y'all know], I'll hardly get to use it. Ah well :p As always, readable on FanFiction, Tumblr, and AO3. Disclaimer: What's owning Fire Emblem? Obviously something I'm not a part of. Brighter ~ / . / . / ~ I: Sunrise ~ / . / . / ~ She shoots up like a sprout over the fifth Christmas break of work, and Perceval's genuinely shocked that she can't serve as his armrest anymore (yes, she used to be that short, and yes, she is a really late bloomer). He didn't know what to say when she appeared on that first day back at work and marched over to him, her nose touching his cheek as she grinned up at him, standing tall on her flat feet. Cecilia changes in more ways than her height, though. Perceval always knew her as Miss Alessandra's daughter, who was his father's friend. She was the girl who worked hard for everything she got, and loved nature more than anything. She was the girl who helped him on his literature homework when he'd almost flunked the class on accident, the girl who sat under or, Miss Alessandra forbid, in the tree, flipping the pages of books containing medieval stories. She was the girl who had that sort of natural hand in economics and business, she was the girl who had always had her sights set on the Elibean Leagues. Yet, when did she start to grow into a woman? Her voice gets deeper. What used to be a high and soft pitch turns into a sweet, slightly deeper tone. Her eyes grow wiser, more attentive. The curves in her body grow more obvious, and she looks much more feminine, like a real woman, and not like a short girl who tries her best to look like one. She can do makeup like a pro now, and often does it in his car on the way to work, although she's always done that. What's changed is how well she wears that coral-colored lipstick, how nice her eyes look under that thin eyeliner and mascara she's known for. Her taste in fashion doesn't change, but she wears her clothes more naturally. It takes more than a while for Perceval to register it: she's a woman. There's still downsides to her growing up, though. There always are. First and foremost, he doesn't get to tease her anymore. He used to grin and muss her hair, laugh whenever they went shopping together and she had to get the smallest things in the petite section, or buy larger clothes hopefully. He doesn't get to do that anymore, and scrunches up his face whenever she stands on the tips of her toes and ruffles his hair, or how comfy she looks in his sweaters whenever she comes over, instead of looking like a mess of cloth and limbs. Everyone takes her so seriously now. They look nervous when they approach her, and they stammer when they talk to her. She's expected to act mature, she's expected to present herself appropriately when Perceval knows that she's the same as before. He becomes worried for her, though. When they walk down the sidewalk, he can see men, staring at her ravenously from the corner of his eye. Their hands twitch, and he doesn't want to think about what would happen if he wasn't there. "It's ridiculous," Pent interrupts Perceval's aggressive train, or multiple trains, of thoughts. He nudges Cecilia, who's sitting beside him. "What were we talking about?" he whispers. "Promotions and business trips," she answers, glancing at him beneath long lashes lined with thin mascara. "Were you not paying attention?" "No," he mutters back, and she gives him a playful punch on his leg under the table. "Well, pay attention." "Actually…" his mother's voice interrupts their banter, and Perceval looks up. "There is one more thing I would like to bring up in the Security Department." "Go on," Douglas nods from his seat beside her. Amber Eques stands, a determined look in her eyes. "At the urging of my husband," she lifts her head courageously, "I wish to step down from my position as the Head of Security-" Perceval is on his feet at once, slamming his hands on the table in front of him. "Mother-" "-And pass my post on to Perceval." Amber interrupts him. He shakes his head as everyone's eyes swivel to him, pursing his lips together. "Amber is right in appointing Perceval." Cecilia speaks up then. "He's experienced in the field, and will serve well." Perceval looks at the green-haired woman, who stares at Douglas. Pent nods from his place next to the brunette. "I trust Perceval. I've known him long enough to know he'll do better than any other candidate." Louise smiles. "Pent is right, Perceval. I'm sure you're reluctant, but we all believe in you." Cecilia places a hand on his then, ignoring the blatant stares. He stares down at her pale hand, and glances over at her. Her face is glistening with a smile, and he bites his lip before nodding hesitantly. "Very well. If my mother believes me to be the one most capable for the job, I will accept it." He gets a round of standing ovation, and Perceval shoots Cecilia his best "please help me what have I gotten myself into" look. Amber Eques is waiting for her son outside of the meeting room, and she grins, snagging Perceval's elbow and reaching up, ruffling her son's hair. "Don't let me down, kiddo." "Thanks, Mom," Perceval rolls his eyes. "Way to put on the pressure." Cecilia jabs her elbow into his bicep, and he glares at her playfully, a smirk on his lips. Amber lets out a boisterous laugh, rubbing her son's back. "You can do it, Perceval. Your dad and I believe in you." Perceval groans. "Right. Dad persuaded you to do this." Cecilia grins. "Just shut up and be happy." He doesn't see her for the rest of the weekend, too busy to meet up with her because of his new responsibilities that warrant attention from the public media. She sends him paragraphs and broken messages between interviews, wishing him luck and reassuring him it'll be okay. The first day in Elibean Leagues on Monday is a circus. The minute Perceval pulls up in the parking lot, he's showered with "congratulations" and presents. He's pulled into a party, then piled up with work, and all this time, he's never seen Cecilia, only catching a glimpse of green behind Douglas's grinning face.. Eventually, he shows up in her office through the connecting door of their offices, and the reaction he gets from her is interesting, to say the least. "Cecilia? Douglas said something about needing documents in a red folder, I think. I'm here to get them." "Hold on, let me…" she spins around in her chair, then trails off. "...get through these…" She looks him over once, a grin on her face before turning her back to him, sorting through her cabinet of files and folders. "I didn't know the first day of being Head of Security required cufflinks and a suit," Cecilia teases. Perceval rolls his eyes. "I didn't either, so you're two for two for not knowing about how formal we have to be on the first day of work." "Hey, my first day was your fault and you know it." Perceval gives her a doubtful look that she knows he's giving her, and she sprays her bottle of perfume in his general direction. "Cecilia!" he scolds, scowling. She turns to look at him, a red folder in her grasp. "Great! Now I get to tell everyone how I made the Head of Security smell like peaches on his first day!" Cecilia beams, then pushes the spinning chair in front of Perceval, dropping the folder into his hands. "Now go on! You have work to do now, don't you?" "Shut it," Perceval brushes off his suit, but grins. She smiles back and stands, giving him a tight hug. "Congratulations," she murmurs. He rests his cheek on the top of her head and pulls her closer. "Thanks." When he goes to Douglas's office, the older man takes the folder from him and asks him, in an insinuating tone of voice, why he smells like the peach perfume that Cecilia uses so often. His only response is to flush as red as a ripe strawberry and swear incoherently under his breath. Douglas snorts and tells Perceval to scram and pick up the pieces of his scattered love life. Perceval glares at the older man before exiting his office, leaving Douglas hollering over how "young'uns these days don't seem to know what love is" and how "Perceval is the most oblivious bloke I've ever met". That little episode elicits a response in Pent and Louise, who pull the new Head of Security out of a meeting one day to give him The Talk. Cecilia's mother, Miss Alessandra, takes an hour off of work just to join them, and by the time the trio are finished with Perceval, he is an unimaginable shade of crimson, from his face to his neck, even to his hands and feet, and there's a mental image in his mind that doesn't go away for the rest of the two hour meeting he clambers back into clumsily, muttering "I'm fine" to anyone who asks questions as to why the Head of the Financial Resources department, his wife, and Miss Cecilia's mother were lecturing him in said Head of Financial Resources's office. "What were they talking to you about?" Cecilia raises an eyebrow over her lunch, and Perceval coughs, swallowing. "I'd rather not think about it right now." "What did they do now?" Cecilia rolls her eyes, standing. "I should go talk to them…" "No, wait, Cecilia, you don't have to-" She ignores his half-protests and stalks over to her boss, a fiery look in her eyes. There's a collective moment of silence, then Pent bursts into laughter. "Perceval, I thought you were tough!" he yells, and the Head of Security rolls his eyes, adjusting his tie. "Technically, this is all your fault!" Perceval calls back, cupping a hand around his mouth. Pent waves him off, covering his mouth with his hand. "Shut up and come get your girl!" That hits both of them, and Cecilia kicks Pent in the shin, making a face while Perceval covers his face with his hands. Louise laughs. The whole time, they're being recorded by Mildain, who's working the register at the Western Isles Café. The next day, when everyone gets the video in a company inclusive e-mail, Perceval feels like curling up under his desk and never coming back out. He knows he's never going to hear the end of it, but his co-workers drop the subject as soon as the Elibean Leagues announce their next project at the annual company wide meeting. "We're going to be starting a branch of Elibean Leagues in Lycia. They've agreed to send in candidates for employees and leadership positions, but for now, we're going to need some people to go over there and make sure the company can run itself while some people need to teach them," Pent clarifies. "Which brings us to our current situation," Mordred rasps. "I have a list of people who will be going to the new branch in Ostia. They have already been informed of their qualification, and have agreed to go along. They will be leaving one week from today, on May 4th." Some intern sitting behind him shouts out, "May the fourth be with you!" Perceval pins him with his best glare, and he quickly shuts up. Perceval sighs, turning around, and Cecilia stifles a giggle beside him. "Eliwood Pherae, Hector Ostia, Lyn Sacae. You have served us well, and I'm pleased to tell everyone that you three will be heading the development of the new branch of Elibean Leagues, and are thusly allowed to move from Etruria." There's a large round of applause for the three veterans of the company, who scuffle on stage looking a little more than intimidated by the task laid out in front of them. "At least you get to yell at your kids again," Pent murmurs offhandedly into the microphone, and everyone laughs. "You will not be alone in your efforts, I promise," Mordred chuckles reassuringly. "Guinivere Desmond, Melady Sarkan, Zealot Sniegs, and Cecilia Icae." Perceval's head shoots up at the mention of Cecilia's name, and he stares at her. "You're going?" he whispers. She nods, standing to take to the stage. The rest of the meeting is a blur for him. There's something pounding in his heart, growling at him whenever he sees Cecilia up on that stage. Pent and Louise jump at the chance of sending their pretty much second daughter off to a new branch of Elibean Leagues, and the last time Perceval sees her is when they're at her house, head-deep in her closet and her wardrobe. Cecilia disappears from his life for an hour, and then a day, and then a week, and that's exactly when Perceval realizes he has no clue how long she'll be gone. It's also while she's gone in Ostia that he realizes how boring his life is without her, and he tells Douglas, who just pats him on the back and says, "Congratulations, Perceval, my boy, you've discovered love." His workspace seems so lonely. The wooden door inside Perceval's office that connects to her office in Financial Resources gets rusty, and he can't help but want to clean away all the dust that's settling on her shelves, chairs, and books whenever he looks inside. He takes home the bomber jacket that she'd accidentally left on the coat hanger, and isn't surprised to discover that it smells like lavender and peach with a dash of vanilla, her favorite smells. His weekends are suddenly free. Every Saturday afternoon, he usually goes up into the mountains for a hike with her, they go out to dinner afterwards, and then head to the Reglay house for Movie Night. Instead, his mornings (which were already dull because he spends them in the café at the office) become even duller when he realizes that he has nothing to do during the afternoon. He finds himself staying at the Western Isles Café longer than he usually does, and Mildain grins at him. "You've been here for a while. Don't you usually do something with Cecilia in the afternoon?" "She's in Ostia. Business trip. She's teaching a class or something," he shrugs angrily. "I couldn't be bothered to listen in on what she was doing. Something about Roy and Lilina was all I caught." "Oh? Is Perceval being a lovesick boy?" Mildain asks, and Perceval reaches over the counter to swat him with his folder of paperwork. "Just get me my damn coffee," he grumbles, scrunching his face up as he looks down at the paper in front of him. "Echidna!" Mildain calls, and a few seconds later, a tall aqua-haired woman pokes her head out the backroom. "Get the grumpy Head of Security his coffee, please." "Aren't you nice?" "When did you rediscover your sassiness?" Echidna asks as she reaches for his mug. "I don't think it's him rediscovering his sass, but it's more so the fact that Cecilia isn't here to tell him to be nicer and not sass everyone." Perceval just sighs, and everyone's laughing when Geese walks in and promptly asks, "Did I miss something?" Cecilia stays in Ostia for three months, and Perceval thinks the three months she's gone are the worst thing he's ever been through, and it's like his cat Calico agrees because every morning when Perceval wakes up, Calico's always in the guest room because Cecilia always stays over during her late-night business trips to Chanchester even though her house is only an hour away in Valkin. Thankfully, she's called back to Aquelia before he loses his sanity, and he tells her over the phone that she's going to be taking Pent's place as the Head of the Financial Resources Department and that "Narcian looked like he had swallowed a live fish" when Galle was also to be promoted alongside her as the Vice Head of the Department. She tries not to laugh because she's stepped out of class to take his call, but he keeps jabbing at it and she ends up having to hang up on him mid-description because she can't teach class with the image of "just swallowed a live fish Narcian" in her head. He's assigned to go pick her up from the airport when she arrives, and for the rest of the day, every time he walks by his subordinates, they all whoop and cheer like he's trying out for the god damn Olympics, when all he's really going to do is pick up the girl he's loved for twenty two years from the airport. Sain tries to get him to write some fancy poem, and he vehemently denies it in favor of his wife's advice, who just looks at him and says, "Tell her, you prick." Turns out her advice was actually a message from Mildain. Douglas sees him off like he's going to college or something, and even insists that he come along (to which Perceval denies). Perceval honestly doesn't know how to feel about it the entire ride towards the airport until he pulls up and sees her, waiting under the shade of the airport, and then he's suddenly grateful that Douglas didn't come with him. She's beautiful, he thinks, and it's the only thought buzzing through his mind aside from the whole "I love you" thing. She's wearing the white trench coat they bought in Europe together, and underneath is the open-sleeved, shoulder-cut black silk shirt that he gave her for her birthday. She has on the white jeans they found while cleaning out her wardrobe, and the slip-on black heels he bought for her while they were finding outfits for the class reunion just months ago. Her green hair still looks the same, but it's grown longer, frames her face perfectly, and he loves it. She spots him and smiles, and he's suddenly seeing stars. She makes her way through the mass of cars towards his and slips her suitcase into the trunk of his car before getting into the car. He has to chide himself mentally that "you're not a kid, goddamnit, just tell her". He blurts out "I love you" when she shuts the passenger door, and she stops and looks at him, and he's so scared that he can't breathe until he sees that familiar look in her eyes, that look of "I know, damn it, why didn't you tell me earlier", and then she smiles and whispers "I love you too", so he kisses her and kisses her until the cars behind them honk, and he never lets go of her hand during the drive back to Valkin.

Summary: It fades away all too quickly, and then she is gone and taking her golden warmth with her, leaving into a winter wonderland that will soon become a winter nightmare. Written for the FE: Community Design challenge on Tumblr. Author's Ideas: NO I'M NOT DEAD I PROMISE I had a busier summer than I would think, so I wasn't able to write as much. Anyway, written for @fe-communitydesign on Tumblr. We got some Elibe up in here, my dudes. Lloyd/Ursula is like… wow. I don't know how I started shipping it, but I did, and whoo-boy. They are… interesting, to say the least. Lloyd despises Sonia, but Ursula practically worships her. They still manage to treat each other with respect, despite their differences, and there's something about that that makes me wonder about their relationship if you get down to the nitty gritty. It also doesn't help that the game developers don't tell us jackshit about Ursula and Lloyd's backstories, so I had to do a lot of speculation here. As always, readable on FanFiction and AO3. Disclaimer: No, I don't own Fire Emblem. A Golden Warmth When Ursula was young, she hated the crows. She would sit by her windowsill and watch the black birds soar, caw, screech and screech until she could hear them in her sleep and yell at them to shut up, shut up, shut up! She only hated them because they reminded her of herself. A bird that was caged, forced into the same actions every day, every hour, every minute. Ursula saw the crows as herself. A young girl, trapped in a noble household that refused to feed its citizens, instead choosing to hold extravagant feasts every night. She begged her parents to give them food, but they beat her instead. She wished she could help those citizens, who viewed her as a spoiled brat who knew nothing of their suffering. She despised her family. Her father drank every night, drank himself drunk until he was near dead. Her mother took those opportunities every day to bed other men. Any man who dare come to the castle never came out the same. Ursula makes to get away one night, when her father lays drunk and unconscious one day, and her mother bedded by another man, as they always are. She slips into a ragged cloak, pulls the hood over her head, and races down the stairs of the castle, out the garden door. A gentle glass lantern guides her through the night, and she finds herself on the market streets where the locals starve. She can not bring herself to refuse the cries of her people, and offers the rations that she had packed to all. Too late does she realize that she will be discovered, and next she knows, Ursula is on the cobblestone streets, pinned beneath castle soldiers, the bread and dried meats she is offering crushed underfoot. Her hood falls from her face, and the villagers shriek and cry aloud. She scowls at the soldiers, screaming for them to unhand her, for she is the daughter of their lords. Yet they do not, and beat her before throwing her into her room, promising that her parents will see her when dawn comes the next day, whether she was ready or not. The next morning, her parents are dead, laid in a bloody heap on the floor in front of her room, and a man with dirty blonde hair and a bloodied axe is extending his hand to her, a gently understanding look in his eyes. She takes his hand. She never once wonders why. ~ / . / . / ~ Lloyd first meets her when his father comes back from the castle of the lord, his axe on his shoulder. "There's Father!" Linus points, and the brothers dash forward to meet their father. Yet, as they draw closer, they notice a young girl by his side. "Father?" Lloyd asks once they stand in front of him, his eyes darting to the girl at his side. "Later," he murmurs, handing his axe off to another warrior and scooping up the little girl into his arms. The brothers watch their father walk away, a gentle look in his eyes. Their father approaches them later during dinnertime, and there's only one question on Lloyd's mind. "...Who is she?" he asks. "She's your age. The daughter of those lords. She was thrown in the dungeons, and was going to be executed because she was feeding her people food she snuck from the castle." "What a terrible set of circumstances," Lloyd murmurs under his breath, and Linus nods in agreement. It's only when they're passing by her room after they've been excused from the dinner table does Linus express his real feelings. "I've never seen her. Father said she was our age, right?" "Let me guess where this is going. You want me to go get her out of there?" Linus nods, and Lloyd rolls his eyes, sighing. "Fine." Slowly, he pulls open the door. The room is dark except for a little candlestick on the bedside table. There's a rustle, and a blue-haired girl with sharp eyes comes into view of the light. "Who are you? Are you going to hurt me? I can hurt you back," she snarls. "No. I'm Brendan Reed's son, Lloyd Reed." "Why should I believe in you?" "You're right, you don't have to. But you can try. Just trust me." Her face softens, and she looks away, an ashamed expression painting across her features. "You act just like Mr. Brendan… You really are his son, aren't you?" Lloyd smiles. "Why don't you come outside with us?" "Us?" "My brother and I." She hesitates, but nods. "Okay." Ursula follows after him, and Linus looks up as they exit the room. "You actually got her out?" his brother asks. "Linus!" he scolds. "I'm right here," Ursula deadpans. "Sorry," Linus mumbles. "Linus is… outspoken. He doesn't think before he speaks. At all." Lloyd glares at his sister. Ursula cracks a small smile, letting a gentle laugh slip from her mouth. "I can see that." "Wait, what's that supposed to mean!?" Linus cries indignantly, and Lloyd cackles as they hurry out of the Black Fang headquarters. "Where are you going?" Brendan calls. "Showing Ursula around!" Lloyd calls over the sound of Linus and Ursula's mock bickering. "Stay safe!" "We will!" Lloyd reassures, and then works on breaking up the playful punches they're hurling at each other. They laugh the whole time, joking until they all sprawl out on a hill, leaning back against the grass. "Hey, Ursula?" Linus asks suddenly. "What is it?" "Do you miss your parents?" Lloyd hisses in objection at his brother's question, but Ursula smiles. "No," she answers, "I'm glad Mr. Brendan killed them. I hated them." "Hated them?" Lloyd frowns. "Why?" "They weren't good," the young teenager looks at him, her blue eyes like chips of ice. "They never loved me." "That sounds terrible," Lloyd mutters, casting his eyes up at the starlit sky above them. "It was," Ursula agrees, "but it was for the best." Her words leave a tingling feeling in his heart. He comes to coin it a golden warmth. ~ / . / . / ~ One night, the leader of the Black Fang introduces them to Sonia. They have grown since their days as teenagers. Linus and Lloyd make up half of the Four Fangs, and Ursula is on the cusp of becoming one. Linus and Lloyd tower over her. They both hold immense power - Lloyd is a Swordmaster, and Linus a Hero. Ursula refuses to admit her improvement herself, but Lloyd praises her magic often. They've grown closer, the three of them, but Lloyd and Ursula especially. Linus smirks every time she sits beside his brother in the dining hall, laughs knowingly whenever Lloyd stares at her during sparring practice. He's always one step ahead of them when they're walking around the headquarters, always volunteers to ride with Uhai so Lloyd can ride with Ursula. She frowns at the thought of how silly the brothers are acting, considering they're hitting the end of twenty one years by the time the spring starts. "Lloyd and Linus?" Legault tilts his head, an expression of deep thought on his face. "I think they're just glad, or sharing a secret. That's what they always do. It's a brother thing, I think." "A secret about me, huh?" Ursula huffs, and Legault. "Seems so. I do think I already know what that secret is, though." "Really?" She raises an eyebrow at the thief. "Can't say I'm not intrigued…" "I think you'll know soon enough," Legault reassures. "If I told you, I think both of them would cleave my head clean off my shoulders." "Really?" Ursula raises her eyebrow at the thief, and he grins back. "Wait for it," he hums. The door to her room opens, and Lloyd glares at Legault. "Shut it, Hurricane." "Oh, don't mind me. I'll just be here," Legault whistles, sitting on the other side of Ursula's bed and mockingly covering his eyes. She blinks. "Am I missing some context?" "No, but…" he kneels down in front of her, pressing a box into her hands. "I got these for you." Ursula looks at him strangely. "Where is this coming from?" "I didn't get you anything for the holidays, did I?" "I already told you, you didn't have to…" she smiles, taking the box and opening it. A pair of shimmering golden ring-shaped earrings lay nestled among the small box, and her smile grow wider. "Aren't these…?" "You said you wanted them, didn't you? Why don't you try them on?" Slowly, she removes the diamond studs on her ears and putting in the golden rings. She smiles. "They're perfect." "You look like you're proposing to her!" Legault throws over his shoulder. Ursula flushes a crimson red, and Lloyd throws him a dirty look. "Lloyd! Linus! Ursula!" Brendan Reed's booming voice comes from the first floor of the headquarters. Legault waves them off. "Go on, lovebirds." "Shut it," Lloyd hisses, and Ursula stands, sighing. "Come on." Lloyd shoots one last angry look at Legault before following Ursula out of the room. Linus smirks as they fall into step beside him in the hallway, and he leans over to whisper something in Lloyd's ear, his eyes on the golden earrings dangling from Ursula's ears. Lloyd punches his brother on the arm. They descend down the stairs, and Brendan turns at the sound of their footsteps. He smiles. By his side is a woman with jet black hair, blood red lips and nails, eyes the color of pieces of gold. "This is Sonia," Brendan says, waving a hand at the woman beside him. Something in Lloyd changes, and Ursula casts him a quick glance. His eyes are dark with worry, and his right hand grips tight around the sword's hilt. His left hand twitches. She turns her eyes back to the two people in front of them, but reaches for Lloyd's hand. He tangles his fingers with hers, squeezing her hand gratefully. "Father, are you…" Linus starts, but trails off as Brendan mouths "later" at his son. "Ah, this is Linus, then?" Sonia asks, a smirk on her red lips. "Yes, this is Linus, that is Lloyd, and that is Ursula." Sonia sweeps her golden gaze over the young adults. Lloyd grips Ursula's hand tighter, his shoulders growing tense. "...I see. And those two are involved, are they?" Sonia gestures at Lloyd and Ursula. "No," Lloyd narrows his eyes at the woman. Ursula bites her lip. "Hmph. If you say so." "Let me show you around, Sonia. You three are dismissed." Brendan turns from the trio, gesturing to the first floor of the headquarters. Lloyd and Ursula hurry up the stairs, Linus following them. They pause in front of Ursula's room. "I'll see you later," Lloyd murmurs, and Ursula nods, letting go of his hand. "Okay." She gives the brothers a worried look. "Will you two be okay?" "Give us a bit of time," Linus hisses under his breath. She nods. "I will." The woman pushes the door to her room open. Legault looks over his shoulder from where he's spinning a dagger on his finger. "Back already?" "Let me guess this little secret you know," she states, and Legault raises an eyebrow. "He has feelings for me, doesn't he?" "It took you this long to figure it out?" Ursula groans. "Now I see why Lloyd finds you so annoying…" "Look, I'm pretty sure you already know your own feelings too." "Are you certain?" Her eyes are worried. "Think-" Legault freezes, and before she can ask, he dashes out the side door. Her other door opens at the same time, and she looks over. "Lloyd?" she tilts her head. "Is something wrong?" "Can we go on a walk?" he asks. There's an angry look in his eyes, and she stands, nodding. "Yes. Hold on, let me…" she rummages through her closet, frowning. "Where are my coats…?" Lloyd drapes his longcoat over her shoulders, and she smiles gratefully at him. "Ready to go?" he asks, a gentle smile mirrored on his face. "Yes," she breathes, and he leads her out of the headquarters and through the forest, taking her hand as they walk through the debris. They end up at the edge of the lake, on the edge of defrosting. Slowly, she sits. He sits beside her, and they stare at the horizon in the distance, a gentle silence settling around them. "I don't like her." Ursula bites her lip, her gaze glued to Lloyd whose hair is matted with the fog that slithers about the water's edge. "I don't trust her. There's something about her that just-" "Lloyd." He looks at her. "I'm sure she's fine. You're just worried. It is your father, after all." He sighs, lowering his gaze. "I guess so." Lloyd throws his head back, running a hand through his damp hair before offering Ursula a crooked smile as he stands. She stands with him, moving to give him his coat back. "Thanks. Keep the coat for now. I'll get it back in the morning." Her hand clenches against the coat around her shoulders as he brushes past her, moving past Ursula and towards their headquarters. She spins around, and the noise does not go unnoticed by Lloyd, as he stops pushing through branches of the forest, waiting for her to speak. "Lloyd." He turns to look at her, and she purses her lips, keeping her eyes on her feet. She's struggling to keep her composure, and she knows Lloyd can tell, but she continues to speak. "Lloyd, I-" "I know." Ursula glances up at him in surprise, and he smiles. "Trust me." She giggles. "Of course." The next day, she finds her coats in Linus's closet, and she refuses to speak to him for the rest of the moon. ~ / . / . / ~ Ursula spends less time with the staff, and more time with the tome, and with Sonia as a result. Whenever he comes to the training grounds, there they are, throwing magic spells across the snow-covered battlegrounds. Fire and thunder char the snow for all the hours he spends hacking at Linus and more. "You should talk to her," Linus urges one day as they retire to their rooms. Lloyd's hands clench around the cloth he's cleaning his sword with. "She's busy," he murmurs in response. "You love her," Linus retorts. "...She's probably forgotten her love for me by now," Lloyd runs his fingers along the flat of his blade. Linus stops removing his armor, looking over his shoulder at his brother. "You're a fucking wimp. You know that, right?" "Go put your gold in the swear jar," Lloyd jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "Why the hell do we have that anyways?" Linus yells as he leaves the room. "That's ten pieces!" Lloyd calls back. Linus's footsteps fade away, and Lloyd sheathes his sword, leaving it on the table beside his bed. Sluggishly, he walks down the hallways of the Black Fang headquarters, letting his feet follow the path he had once thought was instinct. Watching the path his legs lead him, he realizes he doesn't recognize those hallways anymore. Unfamiliar faces litter the hallways, members of the Black Fang he had never known existed, now salute him. All he can note is the striking golden eyes and jet black hair that some of the recruits have, features that look shockingly familiar to Sonia's. Black hair as dark as her soul, golden eyes to mimic the golden warmth she had stolen from him. He tells himself it's just his imagination, out of fear that Sonia has taken over his life. Lloyd stops himself in front of her room, taking in a deep breath before knocking confidently on her door. The door to her room opens, and Ursula starts upon seeing the man in her doorway. "Lloyd…" He cracks a smile. "Ursula." "What are you doing here?" she asks. "Am I not allowed to visit you anymore?" "No, but… you have duties, and I have mine. We're adults now, Lloyd. Not children, or teenagers." "Ursula," he grabs her by the shoulders as she attempts to turn and shut the door on him. She looks up at him, and he pulls her into a hug, his hands resting on the small of her back. "I missed you…" "Lloyd…" she presses a hand against his waist, leaning her forehead against his chest. "I didn't go anywhere…" "I know, but-" he cuts himself off, and Ursula glances at him. "Is something wrong?" she looks into his eyes, and her eyes darken. "Is this about Sonia?' His hands tense up against her back, and she pulls away from him. "I'm worried." "She's not that bad, Lloyd. She's… She's a good teacher." "I know, it's just… I don't trust her." "Lloyd, it's not about trust, it's about-" "Do you trust me?" He interrupts. "Of course," she responds, but he hears uncertainty and doubt in her voice, sees darkness in her eyes, feels the golden warmth in her heart seeping away, all because of that witch. He never sees her again until Sonia assembles the Four Fangs, one year later when the snow falls lightly on their headquarters in Bern. ~ / . / . / ~ He speaks to her one last time before she leaves for the Bern manse. He finds her in the stable, her hands clenched tightly around a Bolting tome as she saddles her white mare up. "Ursula," he calls out, and she freezes, turning to look at him. "The White Wolf." Her voice is hypnotically sweet, coated with honey and the tone she speaks in is hauntingly familiar to Sonia's. "I'm sure you know me by a better name, Blue Crow." "...Lloyd." Her voice is low and soft, and she avoids his eyes. "Ursula," he lets her name roll off his tongue pointedly. His tone softens. "How long as has it been since I last spoke with you?" "Two weeks," she responds, and her voice is cold and void, missing that seductive allure it had moments ago and the gentle, genuine sound from years ago, when he had loved her. She reaches for the Elfire tome on the ground by her steed. There's a glimmer of gold behind the bangs that cover her ears, but he doesn't want to dream, only for it to be crushed. "Since we last really spoke." She tenses up at that, pursing her thin lips. "I don't have time for your estranged sense of conversation." "Estranged?" Lloyd curls his lip. "I suppose it's ironic for someone who's become a puppet to say that." "Who is the true puppet, then? Me? Or you?" "Am I the one who followed that she-witch, the one who trails behind her like a mutt does its owner, the one who would do anything she ordered? No, I haven't changed. You have." "...You haven't changed. You really haven't." "What did you say?" "I have to go," she states, turning abruptly. The hair hanging in front of her ears flows in front of her face. His eyes widen when he sees the earrings on her ears, golden rings that glimmer under the setting sun. When he speaks up, his voice is half-caught in his throat, and Ursula barely catches his words. "Stay safe." "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself." "Come back alive," he urges, "we still have to talk." Ursula looks at him, a placid look on her face, yet the confusion imminent in her eyes. "Trust me." She smiles, and for a second, her smile brightens, and he can see the old Ursula. The Ursula that fretted over his injuries, that could barely pick up an Elfire tome without complaining. The blue-haired girl that pushed him into the lake during night hikes on the shoreside, the woman who blushed when he gave her the pair of golden earrings she wore. The Ursula that would never hesitate to stuff snow down his cloak at the first snow of winter, the Ursula that lay on the floor of her bedroom with him on late nights when they were but silly youths on the peak of adulthood, laughing at the stubble growing on his chin. It fades away all too quickly, and then she is gone and taking her golden warmth with her, leaving into a winter wonderland that will soon become a winter nightmare. Sometime at night, when Lloyd lays, restless, counting the raindrops that splash against his rooftop, he hears a crow caw, and the White Wolf can only curl into himself deeper, wishing desperately for the golden warmth of the crow that would never reach him through his fur. The next day, he picks up the Runesword and Iron Rune Sonia gifted him moons ago and makes for the Shrine of Seals, his golden warmth gone. ~ / . / . / ~ Props to you if you can figure out where I got Ursula's backstory from :p

School has slowly been taking over my life but I will not go down so easily On a side note: When you’re still pretty salty about your fave being turned into a staff loli but you’re 1,000,000,000 years late to the party @ IntSys please give us Sword Lachy even though she’s already a staffy I don’t understand why you would put me through this pain

Summary: “Yes.” And then she’d spoken - spoken of small white lilies that children had tucked behind her ear, of a handful of lilies pressed into her hands, of petals that trailed behind her in the wind. Author’s Ideas: YA GIRL AVIETTA HERE TO SUFFER IN HELL Why do I always come up with these sorts of things that make me die inside I’M SORRY OKAY but it’s not that much angst so??? This is??? Fine??? I guess??? Also, I’m sorry, but flower and season motifs are my j a m you will not stop me from using them As always, readable on FanFiction and Tumblr. Disclaimer: Obviously I don’t own Fire Emblem, or any of the canon content or dialogue that appears in this fic. Warning: THERE’S A LOT OF THAT. ~ / . / . / ~ Flower of Light ~ / . / . / ~ Ever since she’d taken the throne, Nyna had insisted on planting lilies in the royal garden. “Lilies?” Hardin had asked, and a bittersweet smile had flashed across Nyna’s face. “Yes.” And then she’d spoken - spoken of small white lilies that children had tucked behind her ear, of a handful of flowers pressed into her hands, of petals that trailed behind her in the wind. Hardin scoured the land for those flowers that Nyna had spoken so fondly of, and when the summer had ended, Nyna shook her head. “They bloom all summer long, and then no longer.” A year passed, and when the next summer came, a wistful look possessed Nyna for days on end, a look that had not gone unnoticed by Hardin, who continued to look frantically for those special lilies. In the last days of the eighth month, Hardin rushes into her room, a smile on his face. “Nyna!” He exclaims happily, and the empress turns around. “Did you-” Nyna cuts herself off, her eyes widening upon the sight of familiar flowers, grasped in Hardin’s hands. She stretches out her fingers, brushing her nails gently against the soft petals of the lilies. “...They’re wilting,” Nyna whispers. “Summer is ending,” Hardin counters, tucking a small flower behind her ear. “Nyna…” “What is it?” She murmurs, looking away. There’s a feeling in her gut that twists and pulls at her heart. Nyna knows what he’s going to ask. “These flowers… we found them in Grust.” She flinches visibly, and Hardin’s eyes grow cold. “Why do you know these flowers?” She stays silent and turns her back to her lord husband. “You love another, don’t you?” Nyna freezes, and there’s a tense silence between the two. “...I see.” Hardin’s voice is terse. “...I’m sorry.” The empress closes her eyes and hears Hardin turn and walk away. “Please, forgive me…” Nyna whispers. “Camus… I’m sorry.” She opens her eyes and turns around. Her eyes catch the bundle of flowers thrown to the ground. The princess kneels to pick it up, running her fingers along the wilting petals of the lilies. “Next summer,” she promises. The next summer never comes for her. ~ / . / . / ~ There is a gentle breeze, a warm wind that cascades over his face and ruffles his hair. He stares up at the moon, but shakes his head. “I must not be distracted tonight…” he murmurs under his breath, and hurries away from the village, running along the hill until he spots the port along the edge of Rigel Village. He hopes that there are sailors, true sailors who can take him where he wants. Zeke rushes into the harbor, spotting an old man tying ropes from the ship to kegs along the port. The old man looks up at the sound of footsteps, and his face brightens with a look of fright. “General Ezekiel…?” The gold knight skids to a stop before the him “Grust,” he breathes, “Do you know where Grust is?” The old man nods furiously, and he smiles. “Good. Take me there.” Zeke climbs onto the boat and drops two bags of silver marks into the old man’s open hands. “But General Ezekiel… we will have to-” “I don’t care how long it takes. Just get me there.” He makes for the stairs that lead below the deck, but turns back to the old sailor. “And not a word of this to Tatiana. From you or your crew.” He sweeps his gaze across the deck of the large boat, and the crew flinches under his harsh gaze. With a nod to the old man, he slips under the deck. Slowly, he makes his way down the small halls, peeking through the doors until he finds an empty room. He sheds his black longcoat and kicks off his boots, pulling the sheets off the bed and falling onto it. He lets his eyes close, but he knows the nightmares that will be waiting for him when he falls asleep. Ghastly nightmares that haunted him even before he remembered, dreams of the sea and before that, of something piercing his body, of a bright boy with blue hair, of a beautiful woman with long hair the color of summer in Grust. He jolts up as the ship begins to move, forehead drenched in sweat. He’d fallen asleep. “Nyna…” he whispers, a hand pressed against the side of his head. He curls into the wall beside his boat and lets the gentle rocking of the boat lull him to a dreamless, black sleep. ~ / . / . / ~ “Ahh… I’ve done something terrible. I was too foolish…” Nyna wraps her arms around herself, shivering. Her vision is dark and blank. “I hurt Hardin… I drove him to despair.” “My queen…” A gentle, yet familiar voice drifts through her contorted veil of thoughts, and reassuring hands were pressed on her shoulders. “Prince Marth has ended Hardin’s suffering. The emperor loved you till the very end. He was sorry for what he’d done to you. It’s alright now. You need not worry. It was all just a bad dream…” “...Who…?” The blackness ebbs away, and a blur of gold and black greets her. “Oh…! You’re…” Her vision sharpens, and the resulting figure with golden hair in a black coat confirms her thoughts. The strange white mask over his eyes does nothing to deter her suspicions. “Camus…!? Camus! Why… Why are you… This is a dream, isn’t it?” “Nngh!” He withdraws his hands, folding them together and looking away. “...My queen… You are mistaken… I am Sirius, a soldier of the allied forces. I know not of this Camus…” “Sirius…!? It can’t be…!” Nyna cries, grasping at his shoulders and arms desperately. “No! You’re wrong! You’re…” “Please, calm yourself.” Sirius insists, gently prying her fingers from his shoulders. “You must be exhausted. I must depart soon. Queen Nyna, listen to me… You should head to Prince Marth.” “You… Where are you going?” She asks quietly, gripping his hands tighter. He stands, pulling the princess to her feet. “I must go to my country. There’s…” his voice fades, and even though his eyes are hidden, she can see a glimmer in his eyes. Of what, she does not know. “...someone waiting for me.” “Is… Is that so…?” Her grip falters in his hands. “I see… Sirius… Thank you.” Despite the terror and the sickness clawing at her heart, yelling at her to say something, to do something, she smiles. “I am most grateful.” She hears Sirius’s breath catch in his throat, and he gulps. “...Forgive me…” He whispers under his breath, his eyes drilling into hers through the slits in his mask. “Pardon…!?” Nyna feels herself take in a sharp breath, hope and indescribable emotions sparking inside of her. “No… it is nothing…” He shakes his head, and lets his hands cup her cheeks, gently caressing her pale skin before jerking his hands away, pulling her hand into his. “Now, Queen Nyna, go!” He pushes her behind him and grips his other hand around Gradivus. Her fingers linger against his palm, and after a moment of silence, she withdraws her hand and dashes to the back of the battlefield, followed by Maria, Elice, and Lena. The bundles of fresh lilies in her dress pocket is missing by one. ~ / . / . / ~ The boat rocks gently under Sirius’s feet, soothing the sharp pounding in his heart. His hands itch for something to hold onto. He had abandoned the lances and swords at the port in Furia, intent on sailing home with no sign of where he’d been. He’d tell her. He didn’t need to show her. She’d believe him. He wouldn’t have to tell her about the empress, he wouldn’t have to break her heart. That was all he wanted. To keep his gruesome past away from her. The boat jolts to a stop, and his fingers tighten around the railing of the boat. Slowly, the plank touches the port. “We’re here,” the pirate captain says from his place behind his wheel, and he nods. “Thank you,” Sirius murmurs, smiling at the man before he clambers off the boat. His feet hit the stone port, and he slowly reaches upwards, slipping his mask off the face and tucking it into his coat pocket. There’s a strange feeling, blossoming in his chest. He knows it all too well. It’s the feeling that struck him when he touched down in Grust, that strange inexplicable feeling. He pushes it aside and walks into the the One Kingdom’s Harbor. The sun is well on its way to setting, and many people from the marketplace to their homes. Down dirt paths and farther into forests. There’s a collective moment of bustling activity, and then a calmly familiar voice rises above the soft din of the townspeople. “Welcome back, General Ezekiel,” Lukas pushes his way forward, smiling. The townsfolk within earshot turn immediately, their eyes lighting up as they see the man. “Lukas, what are you doing here?” Zeke blinks. “Weren’t you assigned to Tatiana’s side in my place?” “Yes. It just so happens, she came here today to help with injuries. There was a skirmish with Terrors earlier.” “Tatiana is here?” His head shoots up, looking around wildly. “General Ezekiel, this way!” A young lady waves him over to a large house in the courtyard with doors wide open. He ducks through the doorway even though it is tall enough for him to run through it without hitting his head, and comes face to face with Tatiana. Her staff clatters to the ground, and her mouth hangs open. “Zeke?” Tatiana whimpers. “Zeke… Zeke, that’s really you, isn’t it…? Oh, Zeke!” She sobs, flinging her arms around the man in front of her. “You’re here… you’re really here, it’s really you…” “My love… Tatiana, my love, I’m so sorry… I’m so very sorry…” He whispers into her hair, burying his face against the top of her head. She presses her cheek against his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You… jerk!” Tatiana squeezes her arms tighter around his waist. “You leave me in the middle of the night, and don’t tell me! I… I was so worried…” she breaks down again, whimpering. “Tatiana…” he lets go of her, brushing her hair from her forehead and pressing a kiss against it. “I…” she scrunches her eyes shut and looks up at him. “Please, let’s go home.” “Of course, my love…” he runs his fingers through her green hair, and she smiles up at him, pulling him out of the house. The sunset’s pink light floods his eyes, and he stops for a moment, letting go of her hand to stare out at the glittering sea, out at the land where he’d spent most of his life on with a girl the hair color of a morning summer sun. Those summer days with Nyna are over, and when he dares to look over his shoulder, he does not see the face that has haunted him, nor does he hear the tormented screams that used to call for him. “Zeke!” Tatiana is already skipping down the port, her eyes twinkling with happiness. Zeke smiles, pinching his fingers around the petals of the small summer flower in his pocket. Withdrawing his hand from his coat, he follows after Tatiana, catching her hand. She giggles, practically dragging him down the harbor. The wind kicks at his black coat, and he hurries after her. The white petals of a small summer flower float after him, swept away with the breeze, drifting away in the sea. ~ / . / . / ~ There they were. Wilted, dried, and shriveled, but they were there. Nyna bundled her skirts in her arms, slowly wading out into the glittering sea that held the flowers she so very loved. She bends down, gently fishing them from the water. They’re wilted and crushed, all separated into singular petals. Understanding and anger clocks her, and she scoffs. “I see… Very well then, Camus… Sirius…” Footsteps sound from above her, and she clenches her fist. “Sister Neina!” A young girl calls from the top of the oceanside cliff. “It’s mealtime!” She turns, smiling. “I’ll be right there.” Nyna lets the footsteps fade away, her fingers clasped tightly around the wilted lily petals she had fished from the ocean. Slowly, she uncurls her fist, looking at the small flower bits in her palm. There’s a fond feeling in her heart, a happiness and a joyfulness remembering those days with him, but the rage builds up in her, the rage and understanding of his actions. She tosses them back into the ocean and leaves the beach, her feet leaving footprints in the white sands. ~ / . / . / ~ Zeke wakes to the sound of Celica screaming and someone else pounding on his door. “Sir Zeke! Lady Tatiana! Get up!” It’s Leon, a man from Queen Celica’s army in the days of Zofia and Rigel. “The king and queen are being attacked!” “What!?” He’s up in a flash. Tatiana is already wrapping a cloak around her nightdress and grabbing her staff. “Come quickly! There are too many enemies! We’re being overwhelmed!” Leon’s voice gradually gets softer, and Zeke can tell by the pitter patter of footsteps that he’s running away - likely to get more allies or join in the fray. “Your coat…” Tatiana murmurs, draping the black longcoat onto his shoulders. “...and Gradivus.” Zeke pulls his hands through the sleeves of his coat, and Tatiana pushes Gradivus into his open palms. He smiles, kissing her forehead. “Thank you, love.” Tatiana smiles back before taking him by the hand. “Come on, now! We’ve got some saving to do!” “Right behind you,” Zeke reassures as they sprint out of their room. They burst into the hallway, and Tatiana pulls him towards the throne room. “There’s fighting coming from there, not their bedroom!” she explains when seeing the confused look on Zeke’s face. “Lead on, my love,” he nudges gently, and she continues to drag him down the large castle hall. Leon, Gray, and Clair fall into step beside them. As they approach the throne room, the door blows open. Instantly, Leon has an arrow nocked in his bow, and Gray is drawing his Brave Sword. Zeke steps in front of Tatiana, but they both jump back as the body of a sniper blasts through the doors. All of them ignore the corpse, rushing into the throne room. It’s pandemonium. Terrors fill the room, gargoyles swooping down to attack any unsuspecting victims. The Falchion, gleaming from its place in King Alm’s hand, is coated in blood. The Beloved Zofia tears its way out of an enemy sage. Lukas blocks a swing from an enemy myrmidon, and Leon lets the arrow fly loose, killing the myrmidon in one hit. “Zeke!” Alm sighs with relief. “Thank goodness you’re here. I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I think these are…” “Lord Alm!” Tatiana cries, Seraphim bubbling from her hands as she blasts the spell. It barely harms the opponent, but Alm turns, his sword raised. “What the!?” Alm grunts, blocking the Dread Fighter’s blow with the Falchion. “They’re Duma Faithful!” Celica yells, Ragnarok swelling in her hand. “I thought we were done with those guys!” Leon groans. “I suppose not…” Sonya grits her teeth from her place in front of the throne. Fire swirls around the Ladyblade in her hands, and she swings twice at a nearby Mummy, who has emerged from the ground. “Find the enemy cantor!” “Easier said than done!” Gray yells, barely dodging the scythe of a gargoyle. It hits Clair instead, and she collapses. Tatiana rushes to her side. An arrow takes down the gargoyle, and Gray dashes out of the throne room and down the hallway. “Zeke, follow him!” Alm orders. “Take Tatiana as well!” The gold knight looks over his shoulder at his lover, who smiles at him from her place next to Clair. “You go first, Zeke! I'm almost done here!” He nods, turns his head forward and spurns himself forward after Gray. “Up here!” Gray yells, and Zeke directs his gaze up. Gray’s voice comes from the large balcony above, and Zeke dashes up the stairs. “Agh!” Gray’s scream is the only alert Zeke has before he makes it through the door and is greeted by Gray flailing through the air towards him. Zeke reaches out his arms, grunting as Gray falls into his arms. “Ow… thanks,” Gray chuckles, and Zeke lets the man slip out of his arms and stand on his feet. “Don't get complacent,” Zeke warns, his eyes spotting the enemies that sent Gray flying. “Mogals aren't easy to defeat. Remember their weaknesses and strike where it matters.” “Right!” Gray agrees, grabbing his dropped Brave Sword as one Mogal comes flying towards him. He holds his hand above his head, eyes closed, and the sword begins to glow. In a flash, Gray slashes through the Mogal and it falls to the ground, limp. “Whew. I thought I'd forgotten that. I’ll take care of the Mogals! You take care of the cantor, wherever he is!” “Very well!” Zeke looks around frantically. The glistening crown of the Cantor catches his eyes from the cluster of columns nearby. He lifts Gradivus above his head, grunting as he tosses it across the balcony. The spear sails through the air and slams itself perfectly into the enemy cantor’s chest. Zeke doesn't notice the ball of Miasma hurtling towards him from the sky as the cantor falls to the ground, nor does he notice the Mogal sneaking up behind him. Black magic burns his heart, and with razor sharp tentacles, the Mogal rips multiple holes through his chest. Pain explodes through him, and a cry of pain slips from his mouth. Blood spurts across the ground as he falls on his side. “No!” Gray yells, slashing through the Mogal. His blade flies through the Terror as it disappears. Gray stares at the empty area for a moment before dropping his sword and crouching beside Zeke. “Zeke? Zeke, no… you can't…” He stumbles backwards, running into the castle. “Tatiana? Tatiana, please! You have to… Zeke’s…” His voice is shaking, his hands trembling. “Zeke?” Tatiana asks from the stairs. Through the dark pain, he can barely see her. She gasps as she approaches the top, and dashes forward. “Zeke! How…!” “There was a cantor and a Mogal, I wasn't watching him, and I’m- I'm sorry!” Gray blurts. Tatiana shakes her head, raising her staff. “It wasn't your fault. Let me…” She trails off, holding her staff over her head as she mouths staff incantations. The blood doesn't stop flowing. The staff doesn't light up. Tatiana speaks much more frantically, her foreign words slamming together into one incoherent blurb of words. Nothing happens, and Zeke’s breath grows more ragged. “Tatiana, stop…” Zeke rasps. “Don't say that, Zeke!” Tatiana cries. Tears are welling along her eyes, threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Set down your staff… my love…” Zeke whispers. “Let me see… your smile… one last time…” Tatiana pulls the corners of her lips up, a shaky smile crawling across her face. He smiles, then closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side. “Forgive me, Tatiana…” “Zeke…! Zeke! No, you can’t leave me now!” Tatiana cries, propping him up against her and hugging him tight, pressing her face against his neck. Tears slip down her cheeks, his blood smeared across her chest and cheeks. “Zeke! Zeke, answer me! Please, my love…” His eyes flutter open, staring blankly at the sky behind Tatiana’s face. He smiles, a wheezy laugh escaping his lips. “Nyna… Fare… well…” His head lolls back, his chest stops moving, and Tatiana screams. His blood drips from the wound on his chest, staining the flower as white as light in his coat pocket. ~ / . / . / ~ Nyna wipes the blood from the corner of her lips, gritting her teeth as she glares up at the armed group standing in front of her. “Still won’t go down, will you, you wench?” One of the men growls, flicking his blade in front of her. Drops of her blood splatter across the ground in front of her, and she winces as it sprays onto her forehead and seeps into her hair. “What do you want?” She whispers, her fingers gripping around the light tome under her stomach. “Why have you attacked the village?” “Oh, the village is just extra rewards. The real prize here is you, Sister Neina. Or, should I say, Empress Nyna?” Nyna flinches, crawling backwards and sitting up, hugging her tome to her chest. “How do you…” Two of the men make a threatening step forward, and in an instant, she’s pointing her finger, mouthing incantations of light magic. Bursts of yellow glow explodes by their feet, and the men yelp, jumping away. “Answer me,” she hisses, her voice soft. “I think that answers our question,” one of the swordsmen sneers to his teammates as she forces herself up against the wall. “Who told you!?” Nyna spits. “Sorry, but boss’s orders. No can tell, and you gotta go. Now.” In a flash, the man in the back of the group who has been quiet is in front of her. His sword is raised already, and before Nyna can stop him, it’s stabbed into her. Agony tears through her chest alongside the sword, pain swelling until it bursts out of her when the man withdraws his sword, the pain dripping out of her alongside her blood. She falls to the ground, the battle lost. Her lips open to cry for help, cast a spell, something. The words that slip from her mouth are something else. “Help me… Camus…” “I am here…” His voice echoes through her ears, buzzing in the darkness of her mind. “Camus…?” she breathes. “I am here. My queen… my beloved… I am here…” he whispers, and Nyna smiles, letting the bright light in her eyes wash over her as she reaches out her hand. Camus takes her hand, grasping her fingers tighter, and flowers bloom as he flashes with light. Nyna’s hands go limp, and her dull eyes flutter shut. A wilted petal falls from her clasped fingers.