All the King's Horses
Author's Note: 'Ello, poppet(s). I have finally returned, muahaha!! And on top of that, I finally (FINALLY!) got a Wii and Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn. I finished a playthrough already, and already new ideas are churning inside me ole' brain. So this is my new brainchild (a brainchild that took nearly five months to spit out, I might add)--an unrequited IkeElincia that sort-of-kind-of-but-not-really follows off of "The Angel Queen". If you haven't read it, I suggest that you go to my profile and read it, as this will make a little more sense if you do. However, if you choose not to, this story should still make some sense... Anyway.
Have a cookie, and don't forget to review!! R&R
Love, Ridell
Step out the door and it feels like rain
That's the sound (that's the sound) on your window pane
Take to the streets but you can't ignore
That's the sound (that's the sound) you're waiting for
If ever your world starts crashing down
Whenever your world starts crashing down
Whenever your world starts crashing down
That's where you'll find me
Yeah God love your soul and your aching bones
Take a breath, take a step, meet me down below
Everyone's the same
our fingers to our toes
We just can't get it right
But we're on the road
If ever your will starts crashing down
Whenever your will starts crashing down
Whenever your will starts crashing down
That's when you find me.
(Yeah) Lost till you're found
Swim till you drown
Know that we all fall down
Love till you hate
Strong till you break
Know that we all fall down
If ever your will starts crashing down
Whenever your will starts crashing down
If ever your will starts crashing down
That's when you'll find (find) me
Lost till you're found
Swim till you drown
Know that we all fall down
Love till you hate
Strong till you break
Know that we all fall down
All fall down, we all fall down, all fall down
We all fall down, all fall down, all fall down
Lost till you're found
Swim till you drown
Know that we all fall down
Love till you hate
Strong till you break
Know that we all fall down
"All Fall Down" -ONEREPUBLIC
All The King's Horses
Melior
Spring, Year 651
Had she been anything but a Queen, Ike knows he would have loved her.
Elincia was not astonishingly beautiful, but there was something perfect about her quiet dignity and humility that ensnared him four years ago in Capital Way, where the Greil Mercenaries had found her collapsed on the forest floor. The seven months of warfare that followed only solidified his first impression, and in the last few weeks before Ashnard's defeat, Ike found himself closer to her than he would have ever dared to dream. Ike blushed when he recalled those wonderful memories:
Sitting side-by-side around a campfire, intoxicated by the smell of her hair--
Stolen kisses in secluded forests and enemy camps--
Moans of sheer esctasy as they crescendoed in perfect harmony, blissfully unaware of anything and everything else as they made love--
Lying tangled in the bedsheets, fingers caught in her emerald hair, listening only to her soft breathing and heartbeat, completely and totally happy--
When Crimea was in the process of reconstruction, Elincia offered him a high position at court. Though he hated politics and courtier mannerisms, he was secretly elated to be working in close quarters with his Queen. The rebuilding of the nation was difficult; many nights she sought solace in his arms, and many nights in his bed, though Ike did not complain of those.
However, after two years, the Crimean nobility began to fall apart, blaming both Ike and Elincia for the country's shortcomings. Many theorized that Ike was corrupting the Queen (though none had any real solid evidence...both the Queen and her noble Hero were careful to cover their tracks, and Elincia was never pregnant), and he eventually left court despite Elincia's tears and pleas. Feeling immensely guilty, Ike returned to lead the Greil Mercenaries once again in the furthest corner of Crimea.
Not long after, Bastian summoned the Mercenaries to Melior to save Lucia from hanging, and he was reunited with Elincia. Aware that they were being constantly watched, both pretended that nothing had happened between them and treated each other with an aloof courtesy that made his stomach clench painfully every time she addressed him. Despite the lukewarm formalities, Ike was happy to be near her again. Much to Ike's displeasure, the Greil Mercenaries were soon dispatched to quell Begnion and Daein uprisings near the border, and hired by the Laguz Alliance, separating him from his Queen once more.
Though his meetings with Elincia grew less frequent during the Tellius War, he was comforted to know that Geoffrey, who also loved Elincia, would be staying behind in Melior to serve as a temporary leader. This was relatively short-lived, however, as the Silver Paladin trailed her entourage as Elincia's troops neared the Tower of Guidance. He spoke with her briefly after the defeat of Ashera, and was left watching her lead the Crimean Royal Army into the dense forest. He never saw her since.
It came as a surprise eight months later, when he visited Largo and Calill's tavern in Melior, to hear that Elincia had married. Ike had been at court for a little while, so he knew that the courtiers were a fickle bunch, but he had thought her to be an exception.
Married! Ike thought bitterly. And to Geoffrey!
It wasn't that Ike hated him; Geoffrey was noble and honest--qualities seldom seen in other courtiers--and his kindness and good judgement made him a suitable ruler. It was just that it was Geoffrey who now brought a smile to Elincia's face, Geoffrey who sat beside her and comforted her, Geoffrey who would bed her and love her, and not Ike.
Rage, pity, and self-loathing pooled in the Vanguard's stomach like poison, a type of sepsis that ran in his veins until he was overwhelmed. He heard her laughter ring in his ears, smelled the soft, sweet smell of her hair, saw her turn and step into Geoffrey's arms...
Ike had never been one to drink, but that night he ordered several pints of mead and sat alone in the darkest, smoggiest corner of a local pub, willing alcohol poisoning to whisk him away to infinity. Needless to say, it didn't happen; he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, slumped against the round table and surrounded by an army of empty bottles and an exceptionally full bladder. For one blessed moment, he had no recollection of the previous night, and the reason he had drunk himself sick: only a terrible dream that Elincia, garbed in a fantastic wedding gown, turned toward a faceless stranger...
Dreams solidified into fact, and Ike rushed outside and retched in the shrubbery.
...
Firelight danced across her lone hunched figure, small and delicate. The red light flickered across her dark eyes, green and glimmering like gems, cautious and raw both at once. Beautiful. He approached her, and she must've heard, because she turned to face him with a bittersweet smile on her lips.
"Oh, Ike," she whispered brokenly. "I'm so afraid. So many are already dead..."
Ike could no longer recall, with any clarity, what she had said to him next. He only remembered that it took every ounce of his self-control not to pull her into his arms, to smell the subtle fragrance of her emerald hair, the clean-linen scent of her clothes, to feel her soft skin against his own...
...
Melior, much to Ike's dismay, had not quite yet forgotten the tales of valor and knights in shining armour. Upon stepping into the City Square, he was bombarded by awestruck peasants, beorc and laguz, wishing to touch his cape and shake his hand, all with the same adoring eyes and grasping hands.
"General Ike, savior of Crimea!"
"A thousand huzzahs to you, General! Let me shake your hand!"
"Please, bless my baby--"
Ike had never been one for stories of gallant knights and tales of herocism (that sort of thing he left up to Mist); the cheering throng before him made him feel antsy. After endlessly shaking hands with grubby civilians and blessing quite a few babies, Ike was thankfully rescued by a retinue of knights bearing the Crimean Royal standard.
"Make way!" several halberdiers shouted over the noisy crowd and the clip-clop of horse hooves, nudging peasants out of the way with the end of their pikes. "Make way for Queen Crimea!"
Like parting the sea, the peasants shifted aside and fell to their knees in the dust for the oncoming parade of halberdiers and paladins. And amidst them...
Ike's heart beat a vicious tattoo against his ribcage as he, too, knelt in the dirt. He kept his gaze trained on the tips of his boots, caked with dried mud and droplets of vomit, wondering if he was going to retch again from nervousness. The sentinels created a half-circle around him, like an armoured barrier between the townsfolk and a white-gowned, green-haired Queen.
She dismounted her white mare, slipping lithely down like water in a gentle creek, her dark eyes soft and secretive. "Ike," she said softly, brushing her hand briefly against the side of his face before resting on his shoulder. A sharp tingle ran down his spine, and he sucked in his breath. Her voice was quiet and effortlessly seductive, so low that the guards could not hear, and Ike had to strain his ears to listen. "Ike, it's been forever."
He couldn't remember the last time he had felt quite so self-conscious. Ike sent up a silent thanks to Ashunera that no one could see him blush. "Yes."
For a moment, it seemed neither knew what to say; there was silence, besides the buzzing of the peasants, craning their necks for a better look at their Queen and her noble hero. He refused to look up from his shoes.
"Ike?" she asked timidly. "Will you stand for me? Please?"
"But you're the Queen." The obvious words tumbled from his mouth before he could bash himself over the head.
Elincia giggled. "Well, then," she said. "Your Queen commands you to stand, and never to bow to her again. It makes her antsy!"
"What?" he looked up, confused, into her laughing face, only to see that she was only teasing. He stood up and brushed the dust off his clothes. "Hey, that was my line! It was years ago--I'm surprised you remembered!"
"But of course!" she jokingly flashed a coy courtier smile. "Why would I forget?"
Without waiting for an answer, she smiled genuinely, and opened her arms for a hug. Ike, forgetting that the two were surrounded, nearly accepted the invitation, until a Marshall cleared his throat loudly and dropped his lance, surprising them.
"Oh. Right," said Ike after a brief pause. He held out his hand gravely, and she shook it, equally somber. "How is Geoffrey?"
Elincia didn't reply right away. When she did, her face was drawn and her voice cold. "He is fine," she said darkly. "Everything is perfectly fine." She opened her mouth to say more, but abruptly shut it, reconsidering her words. "I should be returning toward the castle now. Would you like to accompany me? I'm sure everyone would love to see you again."
Before he could respond, she turned and mounted her white mare, kicked into a run, and galloped through the city and out of sight, leaving Ike and her Royal retinue behind in the dust.
...
Sweet laughter echoed in Ike's ears as he ran with her in the revived Serenes Forest. Behind him was Elincia, in a white lace dress, one of the straps draped tantalizingly over her shoulder, exposing milky white flesh, cheeks flushed from excersize and laughing, pulled at the wrist into a sprint. Emerald strands sprayed across her smiling face, her bun in a tumbled mess around her shoulders. So delicious...
Agile as a cat, Ike ducked behind a large tree trunk, tugging the princess along with him. Clasped together, they laughed and wheezed until they caught their breath.
"I can't believe we almost got caught!" she gasped, her eyes bright and lusty with life.
"Almost." Ike grinned. "But not quite. What a devillish princess you are."
She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "Devillish? Me? What nonsense! I am the epitome of innocence and politeness!"
"Hm," said the Lord. "I suppose we rough-and-tumble mercenaries have corrupted you. You weren't quite so innocent a few moments ago..." he trailed off, raising his eyebrow suggestively.
"Oh?" Elincia replied demurely, "I wasn't aware that kisses weren't innocent."
"Not those kinds of kisses, no," he quirked his lips into a lopsided smirk.
"I can't seem to recall what you're talking about," she said, returning his mischevious glance. "Why don't you remind me?"
Caught off-guard, Ike blushed bright red, contrasting awfully with his dark-blue hair. "Well...uh...you know...it was..." He spluttered into silence, redness steadily spreading down the back of his neck.
Elincia giggled good-naturedly. "It seems my Lord Ike was bluffing!" she teased. "Suppose we both remind ourselves, then, of this not-so-innocent kiss?"
Ike was only too eager to comply.
...
Over the next few days, Ike saw very little of Queen Elincia. When he did, she was sitting listlessly in the Grand Hall, fingers making idle circles on the gold throne's armrest, half-heartedly listening to the griping of angry peasants and nobles; at the dinner table, picking at her food, answering the pointless questions of her subjects, all whom eagerly showered her with praise, hoping for some reward.
Two years ago, she would have smiled at him over her blueberry tart, her lips quirked in a mischevious smile, eager for the darkness to completely settle so that they could drown themselves in each other in the safety of the night. Now, it seemed that she determinedly averted her gaze from Ike's hungry eyes, a smile plastered on her face as she congratulated a young duke at the end of the table for his recent inheritances.
Ike frowned, apple strudel speared on a fork suspended halfway to his mouth. Didn't anyone else notice anything? The nobles were toasting the success of the latest harvest ("May we have another bountiful crop of corn next season! Huzzah!"), senselessly prattling on about the going-ons of the castle ("Did you see who Elian was with yesterday? Take a guess!"), and Geoffrey sat stonily beside his wife and Queen, stabbing at the hapless slice of cherry pie on his plate, discreetly studying his Queen's strange behavior. In the last week, Ike had never seen Geoffrey with Elincia, and secretly, he was glad. Yet at the same time, he couldn't help but wonder how much Geoffrey did know about everything.
Too slow to focus his attention on his apple strudel guiltlessly, Geoffrey's eyes slid from Elincia to Ike.
And Ike knew at once that he understood everything.
...
They stood staring at the rubble of Nados Castle with the stars twinkling down at them, waist-deep in grass. Ebony helmets were strewn across the field, spears and axes and swords lying unclaimed where their former owners had dropped them in their haste to escape the crumbling stone fortress. Bodies, too, dotted the wreckage casually; a bloodied arm sticking out from underneath a pile of stone, a crushed skull peeping out from a tower of rocks, eyes staring but unseeing.
Ike and Elincia stood in quiet awe of the complete destruction in front of them, knowing that behind them, Crimean soldiers were celebrating and toasting the success of the battle in their camps.
"Ike, is this what you have to deal with everyday as a mercenary? All this carnage, the blood?" Elincia's voice was feeble and pitiful, like she fighting a bout of nausea.
He shook his head. "Not to this degree."
"I want to save Crimea from Ashnard," she said weakly. "Believe me. But when I see this...All the blood and gore...and I know that their families--" she gestured toward a limp, limbless body armored in black, "--their families will never see them again. They will point to me and say 'That's the girl that murdered my son'." She drew a breath and shuddered.
"Elincia..." protested Ike.
They stood in silence for a few more moments, quietly observing their surroundings, and then retreated to the safety of General Ike's tent, which was set up on the outskirts of camp. Camp was quiet now, with the soldiers all in the seclusion of their respective quarters, resting for the march tomorrow.
Beyond them there was only a phantasmagoria of weaponry, Ashnard, and bloodshed as she sat quietly on his bed, massaging the kinks from his shoulders. This was routine, now, a firmly established tradition that she, as a healer, would tend to his scrapes and bruises, and massage his sore shoulders. Today as she rubbed the knots from his back, she saw that his eyes swam in his own darkness, a terrible and lonely blackness of a lost and tormented child. Secretly, she wondered if her eyes looked the same.
She rested her chin in the crook where his neck met his broad shoulders as he took her hand in his own and kissed it.
"Please," they said simultaneously. "I need you tonight."
...
It came as a surprise to Ike that Elincia was reclined in her favorite chaise in her chamber late into the night, staring out the open window into the inky black darkness. He hesitated in her open doorway for a moment, unsure whether to stay or leave, but she stood up to meet him, her white nightgown dipping over all the right places, her eyes locked on his. Ike swallowed.
Truthfully, Ike didn't know exactly why he had come to her. Unable to sleep, he wandered around the sleeping castle, retracing familiar steps, routes that he had taken in his two years of lordship, revisiting memories he'd so carefully tucked away into the back of his mind. Perhaps, he thought, it was because the particular room he was standing in now was the room where he had said his final goodbyes to Elincia, and, while roaming around, he had unconsciously strolled through her partially shut door and into her.
Now he stood, hands in his pockets, waiting for her to dismiss him.
She didn't.
Instead, she said: "Two years ago," she began without preamble, "I watched you leave from this window."
I don't love you anymore.
So cold... Ike's eyes flitted to the empty grate, wondering why she hadn't lit the fireplace. Or perhaps it was just his blood turning to ice in his veins, knowing and not knowing the words that would inevitably tumble from her lips.
"You're probably wondering why I've been avoiding you the past few days," she continued.
I don't love you!
Elincia drew a breath, and Ike tensed, waiting for the axe to fall. "I was scared. I wanted to come and find you, but I kept thinking that you would be angry with me for marrying Geoffrey." She shook her head, emerald tendrils framing her pale face, "I was angry, I was stupid...When you told me you were leaving, I thought the real reason was because you didn't care anymore. And maybe you don't," she added quickly, seeing the stunned expression on Ike's face. "But I always hoped..."
She lapsed into silence, waiting for Ike to say something. When he didn't, she sighed. Ike's groin coiled at the look in Elincia's eyes.
"I'm sorry. I was foolish to think you would forgive me for my mistakes," she said ruefully.
She loved him! Liquid fire flooded his veins, melting the ice that had made his blood run cold in a hot, red flame. A thousand words came to his lips, but none of them broke through--just hammered at his chest, uncertainly, like a child's first bumbling steps. Dipping his head, he dropped a quick, chaste kiss on her lips, testing the water before pulling back. When she did not run, he brushed his lips slowly across her cheekbone. Electricity trailed the current of contact, sharp and static, and she sucked in a breath. Reaching up, she wove her fingers deftly around his neck and brought his head down to hers. Never breaking contact, she pulled him back several steps into the bedroom, and dimly, he heard the door shut quietly behind them.
He drew back a fraction, his breath heavy, tightening his arms around her, lust hot and bright on his lips and pooling much, much lower. She traced her thumb across his cheek, searching his face. Cold. He was too cold...
"Elincia..." Ike murmured, closing his eyes against her caress. "We shouldn't."
"Pretend," whispered Elincia. "Just pretend..."
She trailed off, but they both knew her unspoken words.
Pretend there was no one else, no duty to their homeland, no restrictions.
The roaring lion in his chest broke free, and whatever caution he had, whatever morality he had excersized around a married woman, was purged from his soul in that instant.
Ike pulled her to him and jerked her neck back for a demanding kiss. Her elegant, emerald chignon had come loose, barely clinging on with the aid of several hairpins. Pulling the pins loose, he threw them in a corner of the room, hearing them clink dully against the wall with satisfaction. His fingers tangled greedily, painfully, in her hair, and she made a small, sweet noise in the back of her throat as she leaned her weight against him.
Her small, warm hands burned a searing path against his cold skin. Ike nearly lost his footing, but caught himself and took a step forward, crushing his weight against her into the closed door, kissing. He drew a slow, ragged breath as she dragged her fingers through his dark hair and he scattered her jaw and neck with tiny kisses. Soon he felt her hands on either side of his face, guiding his lips back to her own.
His calloused fingers worked desperately at the white silk robe, fumbling to untie the knot at her waist. The thin cloth fell in a pool at their feet, discarded, and he nudged it aside with the side of his foot and worked with equal fervor on her lacy underwear. He revelled in the smooth softness of her unmarked flesh, the gasp he ellicited when his skin contacted her's as softly as butterfly wings.
Ike watched her face studiously as his hands flitted across her body, his arms snaking around her slim waist and her breasts. Her eyes were closed in sweet rapture, and when she arched her back against him, he nearly lost control of his sanity.
He wanted her. He wanted her more than anything in the world, to feel her under him, to feel her everywhere at once. He wanted her to fall apart with him, splinter into a million pieces in his arms. But she was the Queen, and she was married--
Fragmented memories skittered across his mind, swirling, blending, dissolving, as she dug her hands deeper under his shirt, going down, down, down...
The hazed images dissapated, scattering to the far reaches of oblivion, replaced by her, only her, her cool, soft skin under his, her lips crushed against his own, her hands blazing a tantalizing path down to his...
A feral hiss escaped from his throat as he closed his fingers around her shoulders like a vice, forcing her backwards through the room and onto the bed, her breath hot and ragged against his neck as she lifted the shirt from his body. The cool night air raised goosebumps on his exposed skin.
She pressed her hand into the hollow of his hip, arching her back again against him, begging him for anything and everything. He did not refuse.
He entered her in a savage thrust, and she met him, hips grinding, bruising against each other, with each other. She stifled a gasp, clutching at his broad shoulders, eyes wide and swimming with wetness, gasping for breath as he rocked her to her core. Somehow, with Ike, she felt a completeness and happiness she had not ever felt with Geoffrey.
Four years of separation and loneliness melted away as he buried his face in her shoulder, the cold air against his back and her warm body pinned beneath him, as their bodies locked and she dragged her fingernails across his back. He was going to break, shatter in pieces above her. It had never been quite like this before.
It was always her.
He cried her name hoarsely as he came undone, hips sinking slowly into hers. Tangled in the bedsheets they caught their breath, his fingers curled in her soft hair, her's splayed on his back. As he lay in her arms, Ike realized, that he was happy.
"I waited for you," she whispered, her warm breath fanning across his neck. "Every night since you came back, I sat by the window, expecting you to leave, thinking maybe this time I could make you stay. And when you didn't, I hoped you would come find me."
I hoped you would come save me.
Ike tightened his hold against her; her body was lax in his arms, her breath steady and quiet as she stroked his hair. She was his...
But was she? Ike considered this when the pounding in his ears subsided and sanity returned to him. She was married, and the Queen no less. And who was he? Naught but a mercenary who had thrown away all his titles and estates.
If only she could dissolve her marriage with Geoffrey, he thought. He could take her and show her the world in a way no noble ever could. He would take her to Grann Desert and together they could watch the sunrise light up the barren land and make the sand come alive in orange shimmers. He wanted to show her the extensive alleyways of Melior, a winded and twisted maze of garbage and interesting people, wanted to take her to Phoenicis and have her taste the berry torte Tibarn was so proud of, and afterwards he could show her the delicious secrets of her body.
If only..!
Ike rolled onto his back. "Is there a way?"
He knew that Elincia would understand the question. For a moment, there was nothing but the ruffling of silk curtains in the breeze. "I wish there was," Elincia said at last. "Oh, Ike, if only I wasn't Queen!"
Somehow, Ike knew this was going to be the answer.
"I knew it." Ice pooled in his stomach, and he gave a sharp bark of laughter. His voice sounded detached, foreign, cold as frost. It wasn't his, it couldn't be. Whose voice was this, speaking through his mouth? More words tumbled unabashed through his lips like a whiplash: "If only we weren't who we were; if you weren't Queen, or if I wasn't only a mercenary! Just imagine--we could be married by now. You and I. We would've had babies by now. You like babies, don't you?"
And just as quickly as they had put themselves together, they ripped each other apart.
Tears were now brimming in her eyes. "Ike," she whispered, ghostly soft. "Will you stay?"
He considered her, laying on the bed, satin sheets dipping tantalizingly across her breasts and hips as she propped herself up on her elbow to face him, eyes pleading and desperate and dark. Beautiful.
Never his.
"Yes," he breathed. Lies. All lies...
Her distressed face broke into a sweet smile, and she laid back against her pillow, sighing contentedly. She draped her arm across his toned chest, tucked her legs around his. "It was you, all this time," she whispered into his shoulder. "Only you."
It was strange how he thought the same thing.
He laid entwined with her in silence for a long time, serenaded by their own soft breathing and the occasional rustling of fabric in the cool night breeze. Eventually, Ike noticed that her breathing had evened out into slow, steady intakes. She was asleep.
Never his.
Who was he kidding? She could not dissolve her marriage to Geoffrey--he was too perfect a courtier to have the Court understand exactly why Elincia would annul the union. He would stand by her side forever, comfortable with the leash around his neck to keep him from wandering and exploring the realms of Tellius that Ike would never quite be content with. He could stand idly by and take the courtly nonsense and mannerisms that Ike could never tolerate.
Never his.
Soon, Elincia would wake, and she would see that Ike, while she loved him, would never be the king Crimea truly wanted. As Queen, it was her duty to rule in her country's best interest. She would never take him. Never, never.
It crushed him. Crushed him like a ton of bricks, a python wrapped around his entire body, squeezing, destroying, and he, reeling, gasping for breath...
Carefully, he extricated himself from her entangled limbs and rolled out of the bed, his heart beating furiously, careful not to take the sheets with him. He dressed feverishly in the moonlight, not looking at her small sleeping form, wrapped gently in the flowing satin. He wouldn't look at her, he couldn't. Guilt bubbled up to his lips from the pit of his stomach, acrid and vile in the back of his throat.
The door shut quietly behind him.
Silently, Ike stole from the shut door along the stone corridor, moonlight steaming in from the open windows. Quietly, unseen, he slipped out of the tower to Elincia's open rooms, where to courtiers assembled in the afternoons for tea and nonsense. And there he sat, a flash of light blue and linen, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hands in the doorway.
"Ike."
Ike swore.
Blue eyes swept over the ex-General's ruined appearance, from his tousled hair to the rumpled clothes. "I don't believe it-- You're running away. General Ike, Hero of the Mad King's War, is running away like a dog with its tail between its legs!" slurred Geoffrey, pointing the neck of the bottle accusingly at Ike. "Of course, that's not the first time you've run away from her."
"Don't pretend like you care, Geoffrey," snarled Ike. "You're happy to see me go." He made to go around the knight's drunken form and out into the night, but Geoffrey seized Ike around the collar and shoved him backwards.
"Like hell I am!" Geoffrey spat viciously, trying hard not to jumble his words too much. "But who will be putting her back together again, I wonder? You didn't see her after you left the last time. She was in pieces. And she tried so hard to put up a brave face, almost no one knew anything was wrong."
Except me.
The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Neither man moved, glaring at one another, daring the other to back down.
"She made her choice," Ike said at last, struggling to find the right words and the breath the utter them with. "You won--that's why she married you."
Geoffrey's lip curled in a twisted sneer. "Do you really think so? She whispers in her sleep, your name, over and over again," he said harshly. "She chose you. It has always been you."
If possible, Ike felt someone had flayed him open and inserted massive needles into his vital organs. "Don't pretend like you don't have 'happily ever after' with her," he snarled. "You've got the rest of your life to spend with her, to love her--"
Geoffrey cut him off swiftly. "Like a cuckold! Who has 'happily ever after', Ike? Which one of us? Elincia, who desires you and not me, her husband? Me, who has to look the other way when my wife beds you? Or you, who chooses not to fight and runs away like a cowardly little dog? You look at me," he screamed, positively livid, eyes wild, teeth bared, "and tell me who has happily ever after!" He slammed his fist against the stone wall. Blood began to trickle down the side of the wall from his clenched hand.
Ike said nothing, his chest constricting painfully at the truth of the words. Crushing, destroying, killing...
"I don't understand," said Geoffrey quietly after a long moment of silence, at last beginning to relent. "She loves you. And you're going to walk away from it."
Ike's chest was going to collapse on itself, crushing his lungs, his heart, plunging him into a dangerous, black darkness that matched how he really felt. Like dying...
"It's too late," said Ike finally.
Going
Going
Gone...
Neither said anything else, glaring at each other, Ike with arms crossed across his chest as if trying in a last-ditch effort to hold the pieces of himself from splintering on the floor, and Geoffrey blocking the exit with his body, whiskey bottle in hand, ready to break the man across from him into a thousand shards. When Geoffrey spoke next, his voice was cold and deadly calm. "If you ever come back, I will kill you."
Ike believed it, felt it in the hatred in his voice, and his blood ran--if even possibly--colder in his veins. He nodded curtly, and ripping his eyes away from the frigid glare, brushed past Geoffrey as he made his way down the stone stairwell and into the starless night.
Laughing bitterly to himself, Geoffrey sat down on the top of the stairs, tipped the whiskey bottle back to his lips, and drained it.
And All The King's Horses, And All The King's Men, Couldn't Put Them Back Together Again.
All The King's Horses