Everything Under Heaven
I wanted to write more Faye/Celica stuff. Only dripping with angst and pain and grief because reasons.
I hope you all enjoy reading this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It is over.
Duma's corpse lies, silent and unmoving, on the floor of the grand chamber. A stunned silence falls everyone present scarcely able to believe their success.
Gasping for breath, Celica lowers her sword, and scans the room. Around her are her friends and allies, all wounded, all weary.
And Alm stands in front of her, staring at Duma's corpse. At the god he has slain.
Well, 'stands' might be a bit strong a word. He leans heavily on the Falchion, his armour rent, and wounds covering his body. Blood coats the ground all around him, mute testimony to the titanic clash between man and god.
And as Celica stares at Alm, slumped over, fighting for breath, she cannot help the creeping feeling of dread that wells up within her. Even as she watches, he falls to one knee, his head hanging low.
She rushes over to him, hands already glowing with light, preparing to heal him. As she nears, he raises his head to look at her.
He smiles at her, and for that one moment, everything is all right. Everything will be fine. All of Celica's fear are allayed, and her worries seem simple and childish.
"Celica..." he speaks, his voice soft, and suddenly reality and his wounds and his battered, broken body crash down on her again.
"Alm...?" It's all she can say, as the cold knot in her belly clenches and she finds herself short of breath.
"Please..." a gasp, and then a cough – flecks of blood spatter on the floor, "look after... everyone... for me."
And before she can respond, or even fully comprehend what she is seeing, Alm's grip on Falchion fails him, and he falls in a shapeless heap onto the cold earth.
(X)
Unifying the continent is impossible now. Alm, born in Rigel but raised in Zofia, the hero who had defeated Rudolf and Duma both, was the only one who could have laid claim to ruling both realms. With his passing, so too passes the dream of the One Kingdom.
The loss of Rigel's entire royal family sends shockwaves through the battered nation. Negotiations and backdoor deals are hastily concluded, and Halcyon is made head of a provisional council, his sole task to focus on getting Rigel back on its feet before they look to the future and worry about what it will hold for them.
In fact, both nations now turn inward, resources and energy now devoted to pulling themselves together and recovering from the ravages of the war.
Celica is made queen in a quiet ceremony, without pomp or splendour. The task of leading Zofia – of guiding the nation forward to a future without gods – now rests upon her shoulders.
That first night, long after the dignitaries, bureaucrats and officials have departed, she sits on the throne, staring at nothing with empty, haggard eyes. She remembers the promise she'd shared with Alm in the depths of Rigel's royal vault. Their promise to lead the people towards a bright, prosperous future.
They seem merely so much empty words now.
Nevertheless, she works. She works because she must. For the sake of Alm's memory. For the sake of her friends and family who believe in her. For the sake of the people of Zofia, so that they can look to tomorrow with hope.
She attends meetings and discussions how to improve crop yields. She entertains diplomats from Rigel, seeking to repair the wounds of war and to discuss trade and cooperation. She tries to hush the voices that demand crippling reparations from Rigel.
She works, and works, and works, and tries to ignore the pain in her heart.
She is so busy that she almost misses Faye as she prepares to leave.
Faye, pale and silent in the aftermath of the war. More than once Celica had seen her, simply sitting quietly, eyes staring off into empty nothing. She doesn't know the details – but she knows of Faye's deep devotion towards Alm. More than once, Celica had resolved to go talk to her, only to be dragged away by the ceaseless demands of restoration and rebuilding.
She sees Faye less and less over the first few weeks. Had she been paying attention, it would have seemed to her that Faye was struggling to find energy merely to get out of bed, to emerge from the room given to her upon the Deliverance's return to Zofia Castle. Celica keeps her head low, focuses on the endless reports and meetings and demands, and yet the thought that she should at least check up on Faye, offer her comfort and support, keeps creeping up.
Later, she tells herself.
Later. The word is sweet, numbing poison.
Later almost becomes never when Celica prepares to enter yet another meeting regarding assets seized from Desaix and the other rebels. She glances over her shoulder for no particular reason – and sees Faye turning the corner, shoulders bent over under the weight of a heavy pack.
It takes her a moment to realize that she's started running after Faye, but even when she does, she doesn't stop. Instead she increases her pace, trying to catch her before she steps outside castle walls.
She catches up to her in the royal gardens, under the shadows of an old oak tree. A few orange and red leaves still cling on defiantly to the branches, but it's mostly bare.
"Faye!" she blurts out.
Faye turns and looks at her. And for the first time, Celica realizes just how pale Faye now looks. She looks small and frail, as if she could be swallowed up by the heavy sack she lugs behind her.
"Your Majesty," she says. Her tone is polite, without warmth.
"Celica is fine," she says automatically. And then, "Are you leaving?"
A moment's pause. "Yes," she does not meet Celica's gaze, "I'm heading back to Ram. I... there's nothing for me here."
And Celica opens her mouth, ready to deny it. But she knows she can't. Not truthfully.
And she knows giving Faye a comforting lie will just be doing her a disservice.
A silence, heavy and awkward, falls on the two of them.
"It'll be winter soon," Celica finally ventures. "You won't... it won't be safe to travel by yourself once the first snows fall."
"I'll be fine." A deep breath. "I know how long it takes to travel south."
And Celica has to admit that's probably true. Faye will probably be able to make it back home before winter. And maybe... just maybe, returning to the familiarity of her old village will be good for her. Maybe it will help her heal.
But still. Celica can't help the uneasiness that settles in, nor the tightness in her chest. Faye's – all their friends from the village are remaining here. Sending Faye back, alone... No. There's no way that would help her.
"Please, I..." She doesn't even know why, but suddenly it's vitally, vitally important to her that she gets Faye to stay here. That she doesn't pass through the gates, and doesn't slip back into memory. "Please, stay."
This time Faye does look up, and something like emotion flashes across her face. "... Why?" she asks after a long moment.
And Celica doesn't have an answer. Or at least nothing specific, nothing more concrete than a simple statement of, "I'm... worried about you."
Such trite, tired words. Yet they are also, undeniably true. As Celica looks at Faye, at the quiet desperation written across the girl's face, she realizes that she can't bear leaving Faye to suffer alone.
For her part, Faye doesn't respond immediately. Her gaze lowers again.
On an impulse, Celica reaches out and touches Faye's hand. She doesn't pull away, and after another moment of hesitation, Celica curls her fingers around it, latching on her. "Just for a little while. Please."
Another long moment. Finally, almost imperceptibly, Faye nods.
And Celica releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A smile doesn't seem at all appropriate in this situation, but nevertheless her heart feels ever so slightly lighter.
"Thank you." The whisper is so soft Celica almost misses it.
Slowly, Faye allows herself to be led back to her room. Celica takes the time to make sure she is comfortable before leaving, with a promise to return and check on her soon.
Later, she learns that the meeting she'd run out on had proceeded fine even without her presence.
(X)
Celica makes it a point to visit Faye's room regularly from then on. Usually she'll bring her meals (and she ignores the uneasy look from the castle staff when she insists on doing so) or snacks to share during teatime.
Usually when she opens the door she'll see Faye staring listlessly out the window. She has a wonderful view of the royal gardens from her vantage point, but Celica can only wonder if she actually sees it – or anything else, really.
It's still an improvement from the first few days, where she would enter to see Faye lying in bed, almost unresponsive as she stared up at the ceiling.
Sometimes, Celica will sit and talk to Faye, telling her about issues with the reconstruction, about how their friends have been making quick progress through the ranks of Zofia's knights (she knows that they've been visiting her too, but of late their work has called them away, all across the country, and if the reports are accurate they'll be spending the winter assigned to the coast).
Faye listens, and does her best to hold up her end of the conversation, but it's obvious that she's still driven to distraction and has trouble focusing. Sometimes she'll break off in the middle of a sentence, her eyes haunted and staring, before she shakes her head and mumbles a hasty apology.
And Celica can only hope that she is helping. She presses on, driven by the quiet conviction that she is right, that Faye would be faring even worse on her own, without anyone to be with her.
Meanwhile, the duties of royalty continue to press down on her, and she throws herself into tackling the demands of her position as they crop up. Meetings that end in deadlocks between intractable parties, reports of poor harvests, clashes along the border by hotheads who don't want to accept the war is over, bandits who continue to take advantage of the chaos – at times Celica feels she is facing down a hydra, two more problems sprouting up for every one she resolves.
Everyone helps, as much as they can. Sir Clive and Dame Mathilda lead the knights to defend the populace from bandit raids. Saber and Jesse put their plans for the Mercenary Kingdom on hold, lending their swords to the defence of Zofia instead ('Just until everything's settled down, lass.') Conrad, son of Rigel and Zofia both, serves as the country's best diplomat, working tirelessly to resolve disputes between the two wounded nations. Sonya enlists Luthier's help, and the two of them spend long hours of research and experiments on crafting new spells to coax greater harvests from Zofia's soil.
"You sure you'll be okay?" Mae asks her as she looks up from throwing her clothes into her pack.
"Yes," Celica nods and keeps a firm expression on her face. "I'll be just fine, Mae. And I know you and Boey miss the island. I don't want you to remain here, just for my sake."
"But it feels weird!" Mae huffs and complains as she folds her arms – but Celica still catches her quick glance eastward, towards the open seas. "I mean, I'm not gonna say I don't miss the ocean and Novis, but at the same time... You're going to be all alone here, you know?"
That word cuts Celica deeper than she'd anticipated, but she manages to keep any of it from showing on her face even as her thoughts flash back to him. Instead she walks over and places a hand on Mae's shoulder.
"The last thing I want is for my friends to tie themselves down here on my account. I'll be fine. I promise. And if anything does go awry, you'll be the first to know."
"Okay, okay." Mae sighs and manages a rueful smile as she hefts her bag on her shoulder. "Guess I always knew this day would come. Just... not quite so soon. Take care of yourself, Celica. And see you soon."
A long, lingering embrace, and when Mae waves one final time before leaving, Celica keeps the smile on her face until she is sure Mae is well and truly gone.
Alone, she wipes away the tears that brim in her eyes, and prepares to face the next day.
(X)
The snow comes earlier than predicted that year, and soon the world outside the castle is blanketed in a thick layer of pure white.
Faye seems to be improving, at least as far as Celica can tell. She can now focus well enough to hold conversations, and though she still rarely leaves the room, at least Celica can see signs of activity within it – scattered sewing projects adorn the tables, and more than once, when she opens the door she sees her on the couch, head bowed over a thick book.
Now, too, when Celica opens the door and Faye catches sight of her, she smiles. And Celica smiles back, although she can never shake the feeling that something still lurks deep inside Faye. There's always the slightest moment of hesitation there, like she's unsure of something.
The work of ruling continues to bear down on Celica. It's exhausting. The monotonous grind of chronic issues that must be resolved almost daily. The sharp panic of crises that come out of nowhere. More draining than the effort needed to solve each problem is how endless it all seems.
More than once Celica finds herself sitting at her desk, head in her hands. For all her work, the land prospering under the hands of man seems further away than ever.
Gradually, Celica finds herself looking forward to her daily visits to Faye more and more.
It only makes sense, after all.
Faye does not need her to be the queen.
Faye just needs her to be Celica.
There, she can cast aside her worries, sit down with a cup of steaming tea, and while away the hours with a friend. Sometimes they speak of mundane, everyday matters, such as planting new flowers in the castle gardens when the thaw comes or perhaps her practice with the lyre. Sometimes they simply remain silent, reading books or working on hobbies, Celica painting while Faye sews.
It's comforting. Familiar.
She loves being with Faye, in their tiny refuge from the harshness of her duty and the world.
And if that's that case, Celica wonders, why the heaviness in her stomach of late? Why the dull, throbbing pain in her heart?
And then one day, she pushes open the door to Faye's room, and finds it unoccupied.
Celica frowns. Faye almost never left the room, so if she was doing so now, that was probably a good thing.
And yet, as she scans the place, she can't help but feel that something was – well, not wrong, exactly. But not right either.
As she glances about, she happens to look out the window, and her eyes widen. There, amongst the snow, in the royal gardens, she sees a small dark shape.
Faye!
She dashes out, down the stairs, into the gardens. Faye is huddled up in a thin cloak that provides little protection from the cold, sitting slumped against the tree she and Celica had spoken under months ago.
"Faye!" she blurts out as she nears. "What happened? Why are you-?" Her voice fades into silence as she gets a good look at her.
Faye is crying. Her face is a mask of sorrow and pain, and tears stream down her cheeks as she leans against the rough wood of the tree. She doesn't look up at Celica, but shakes her head once.
"It hurts..." her voice is a soft whimper. "It hurts so much."
And Celica knows – instinctively? – what she's talking about.
Who she's talking about.
She dives down, heedless of the snow piling up around them, and she pulls Faye in, hugging her close, her embrace tight.
"I know." She says. She does. She knows, all too well.
"It-" Faye takes a sputtering gasp of air and shakes her head again, her face rubbing against the fabric of Celica's cloak. "It's not fair."
"I know..." Celica swallows, and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Alm... he shouldn't have had to die."
A snort, and Celica feels an exhalation against her shoulder. "No... not what I meant."
She blinks in surprise but doesn't say anything else. After a moment, Faye speaks again.
"You're hurting too, aren't you, Celica?" A pause as Faye sniffles. "You loved Alm too. I can tell. But you... you don't show it. You don't let anyone comfort you. You come to take care of me. Look after me."
Faye swallows hard, and her hands scrabble weakly against Celica, clutching onto her cape. "You have a kingdom to run. But you still need to come watch over me. And I can't – I can't do anything. I can't move on. I just drag you down. I'm pathetic." Her final line is a soft whisper that is almost lost to the white silence all around them.
For a long moment, neither moves. Faye doesn't raise her head to meet Celica's gaze, but she doesn't pull away either.
Finally Celica sighs. One hand reaches up, and silently she creates a spell, a tiny ball of warmth that centres around her thumb. Slowly, with deliberate movements, she wipes at the frozen tears that cover Faye's cheeks.
"I hurt too, Faye. All the time. But... you're right. I don't show it. I can't – not as a Queen. Everyone else is counting on me to lead the kingdom now."
She remembers the first few days, just after the dream of a life with Alm had turned into a nightmare. How she had alternated between a dazed stupor, furious rage, and cold apathy. How many silent nights had she stained the pillow with her tears?
But she had forced herself to move on, because too many people were counting on her, because there was too much to do, and she did not have the time or the privacy to indulge her grief.
"But you know? Being with you... spending time with you..." Celica smiles. "It made me happy. I like being with you. I like being just Celica there, in the room. Not her royal majesty."
Faye is silent, and Celica wonders what she is thinking right now.
"Don't ever say you're dragging me down. Don't even think that. You could never be a burden to me, Faye." Her voice is soft, spoken with all the sincerity she can muster. "Never."
"... I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Celica glances up at the withered tree and its bare branches. "Don't ever apologize for being hurt. It can take a long while to heal, but you are healing. And I promise I'll help you through it, as much as I can. As long as it takes."
Faye silently allows herself to be pulled to her feet. A corner of her mind notes that her cloak is soaked through – she'll need to order extra firewood for Faye's room later.
The two of them walk slowly back towards the castle. They're about halfway back when Faye speaks up again.
"Celica?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"It's okay if you need to be hurt. You can show it to me."
The murmured words aren't exactly coherent – Faye is exhausted and will probably collapse onto her bed once she changes into something warm, but the sentiment in those words are still carried through, and they make her smile.
"Thank you," she says as she stares up at the castle. Her home, and yet not. The arm holding on to Faye tightens its grip. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."
Chapter End
Author Notes: So I have a bunch of Faye/Celica stuff I want to do and sifting through my ideas they all have a heavy sense of melancholy about them.
Also my stories seem to tend to involve getting someone killed. Why? Who knows.
Thanks for reading! Comments and criticisms are very welcome!