And the Clock Struck Twelve
By seraphimstarlight
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Tales of the Abyss or any of its characters.
Author's Note: This takes place postgame so there are spoilers.
Princess Natalia Luzu Kimlasca Lanvaldear placed her quill back in the inkwell and, dropping her head into her hands, began to massage her temples. After a moment, she sat back in her chair and glanced down at the paper before before her. This was taking far longer than she had expected.
Reaching down, she picked up a small leather-bound book that sat beside her own book and began thumbing through the pages. Familiar words appeared on the pages: hyperresonance, Lorelei, Akzeriuth, Ion, the Sepiroth, Yulia, Qliphoth, miasma, Eldrant, Asch….
Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of that name, and she barely resisted the urge to trace the name with her fingertip as she so often had when she had been keeping her own diary of the events that led her and her five—no, six—companions to travel to the edges of Auldrant to protect their home from a madman's vision.
She snapped the book shut and tossed it onto the desk with a tired gesture. She turned her gaze out the window of her room. Her eyes scanned the sky until they came to rest on the Fon Belt.
Much had been sacrificed to achieve the peace which Auldrant now enjoyed; the basis of the whole world's faith had been overturned, the Planet Storm had been stopped, and Lorelei had been released into the Fon Belt. The world had been altered so drastically in just under a year that even now, only four years later, it already seemed difficult to believe that the world which they had known had once existed.
Already, and much too soon, most fonic artes had begun to lose strength and were threatening to disappear. When she had met with the others at Tataroo Valley on that same night a year ago when Luke had returned, Jade had mentioned offhand that there were no longer enough fonons in the atmosphere to support some of his higher level artes such as Absolute, Prism Sword and Meteor Storm.
She had not wished to admit then that her own healing powers had disappeared almost from the moment Lorelei had been released. The look on Jade's face told her that he expected something of the sort to happen, but then, why bother her about it? The loss of her powers was devastating enough—not as devastating as Asch's death, but still, devastating in its own way. She couldn't help but feel as though the Colonel had slapped her again.
She had wanted to ask Tear back then about her powers but had held back out of respect for the other woman. Tear had had enough on her mind back then to be bothered with such a personal question.
As her eyes fell back to the book on the table, she remembered the night in the flower field at Tataroo Valley. Back then, although she wished to believe as surely as Tear or Guy did that Luke would return, some small part of her had remained vengefully practical. That part of her, no matter how small, could not accept that Asch the original had died, and yet Luke the replica still lived. It was that same part of her that drove her to the Coming of Age ceremony when she knew full well that none of the others would be there. It had been her act of rebellion, as small, spiteful, and childish as it was. That part of her would not then accept.
It had been Tear who spotted him first, of course. When Natalia, who had turned away with Jade and the others, saw him, there had been a moment of uncertainty in her heart. For a moment, she had allowed herself to believe that the person standing at the other end of the flower field had not been Luke, but Asch.
But when he spoke of the promise that Luke had made with Tear before the destruction of Eldrant, she had known that it was not Asch, but Luke who had returned, Luke who had survived, not Asch. Not Asch…
It had almost been too much, though she dared not show it. She had not thought it possible, but now, Luke looked even more like Asch than before. That Asch was dead was terrible enough, but for there to be someone who wore the same face, who spoke in the same voice, but was not Asch was almost unbearable. Still, she had smiled and welcomed him back as the others did. It was, after all, the polite, if not difficult thing to do.
As usual, it had been Jade who had asked the question which she did not wish to hear. He had asked, in his usual cold-blooded way, how Luke had survived not only the destruction of Eldrant but also his impending death by the disappearance of his body. Luke had then recounted, as best he could, how Lorelei had reintegrated him with Asch to produce a complete being.
Natalia could not listen after that. Luke was explaining how Lorelei had saved him and what he had been doing for the past three years, but she could not listen. It was too much! It had to be! Why?! Why was it always Asch who had to sacrifice while Luke seemed to gain endlessly?!
She knew it was childish for her to think of it as unfair—unfair that Luke was alive, unfair that Tear…
She stopped. No. That was unfair of her. Tear had just as much right to be happy, if not more. Tear had suffered alone from the very beginning. It was Tear who had to bear the burden of killing her brother, the person she had been closest to in the world. Natalia knew that her own fight against Largo had been nothing compared to Tear's fight against Van. At least when all was said and done, Natalia had the luxury of returning to Baticul—to her waiting family. Tear had no such luxury. All she had left was her love for Luke. And now that he had finally returned, Tear could finally have the happiness that she deserved. Natalia knew she would not begrudge Tear that.
As the night in Tataroo Valley drew on, the group decided to head to the Keterburg Hotel to celebrate the reunion. It was in transit on the Albiore that Luke had pulled her aside and handed her his journal and a golden crest set with a small blue stone. He had told her that Asch had wanted him to give her the stone. When he had reintegrated with Asch, a small part of Asch's will had yet remained and had instructed him to give her the crest.
As much as she had wanted to, she could not bring herself to refuse the gift. He was simply doing what he believed was right, what he believed would bring her comfort. She could not fault him for that. Sadly, she realized she could not fault him for any of the things for which she had blamed him. He could not help that he had been born. He could not help that he looked like Asch. He could not help that he had survived. He was simply trying his hardest to live the life that had been granted to him through Lorelei's gift.
Yes, "gift" sounded much better than "sacrifice".
She thanked him, genuinely, for bringing the memento to her, and asked about the journal. He had said that he wanted her to record the events of their collective travels as a series of stories.
She had been surprised. What purpose would that serve.
He worried, even back then, that the world they had lived in—a world guided by the score and filled with the power of fonology—would eventually be forgotten. He had worried that eventually, what had been their reality would eventually sound as fantastical as the Dawn Age had originally sounded to them. He needed, he had said, the power of a princess' words to record the events truly. He had felt that people might give her words more credence than his, or any of the others' words.
She had not been certain whether his belief would prove true in the generations to come. People might just as easily doubt her words as they would anyone else's. But he had asked her, regardless. That look. He trusted her. If she did this, she could easily make future generations remember him as a villian who had killed thousands.
But no. She would not. He trusted her in this just as he had trusted her through all those battles. They had saved each other countless times. All that time, his true identity had bothered her little.
She stared at the Maestro Stone that she held in her hand. Asch was dead. She would have to accept that. She thought she had accepted it on that day in Eldrant. But now, she was determined to come to terms with her loss. She realized, with a start, that she had been avoiding it this whole time. The situation that day had not allowed her proper time to grieve, and since then, she had avoided grieving, hoping that, if she did not grieve for his death that it might restore his life. It had been a foolish notion, but it was all that had sustained her in the days since his death and Luke's disappearance.
She clutched the stone to her chest. As painful as it was to lose Asch, it would have been more painful to lose them both. It wasn't that she believed that Asch yet lived on in Luke's form, but that she would now see Asch's sacrifice—no, his gift—as that which gave Luke his life back.
Yes. Asch had wished for Luke to live. She would believe that. And there was no way she would deny Asch his wish. She would support Luke as best she could—not only for the sake of Asch's gift, but for Luke's sake as well.
She had told Luke then that she would do her best to recount the history of their group's struggle.
She would do the best she could—for her own sake as well.
But that was easier said than done, and brought her back to her current predicament.
She glanced back at the paper on her desk. Thus far, she had only chronicled up to the point where she had joined the group. It had been difficult to write as a narrative since she had not witnessed the events firsthand. She had wanted to write the history as a narrative, but it was difficult to fill in the details. She was forced to rely on whatever sparse details there were in Luke's diary as well as the answers she got in intermittent letters from the other group members—particularily Tear.
She pulled open one of the drawers in her desk and took out a stack of letters. She flipped through them.
Let's see. The first one was from Anise. She had sent that one when she had begun her reformation of the Order of Lorelei. Natalia glanced through the stack. At least eight of the…umm…twenty four letters were from Anise. Each letter was at least four full pages. My! Where on earth did she find the time to write so much. Well, Natalia supposed it must be easy for the girl, what with how much she ran her mouth anyway.
Since the stack was organized by sender—Natalia wondered when she had done that—it was easy to see that the next set of letters were from Luke and Tear. Since the group had seperated at Keterburg, the two of them had spent their time traveling between Yulia City and Daath. Luke had kept his word to Anise and had become her patron in her effort to reform the order. Tear meanwhile, coordinated the joint effort between Yulia City and Daath to establish a religion without the Score. It was difficult work trying to re-establish faith after the last system had failed so spectacularly. But if anyone could do it, they could. She was certain of that.
Oh, and surprise, surprise! There was even a letter from that aggravating Malkuth Colonel. She didn't remember this letter so she skimmed it quickly and immediately burst into laughter. That man! The nerve! Whereas the others had written simply to keep in contact, Jade had actually written to complain about some provision the current peace treaty and ask her if she would talk to the King about it.
She remembered now. She had indeed addressed the matter with her father and had written back to Jade about it. But instead of simply telling him what he needed to know, she had taken the time to write a long-winded letter, adding in only one sentence at the very end that told him her father's reply. He had not written to her since.
The last couple letters in the pile were from Guy. Mostly, they informed her of news of the others, the conditions in Malkuth, and most contained veiled complaints from the Colonel. She laughed to herself. Poor Guy, what he must have to deal with living in the same country as Jade.
She imagined the blond swordsman slaving over a letter while Jade dictated his complaints none too subtly in the background. And the poor Count was probably nice enough, or maybe frustrated enough, to pass along each of Jade's messages. Still, for a man who was likely being harangued each time he wrote a letter, Guy's letters were strangely polite, formal even. She supposed it was a habit he picked up while serving in the Fabre household.
Maybe he had just developed a habit of speaking to her politely. But really, she was getting sick of all the formality she had been buried in since her return to Baticul. How she missed the informal chats she had with her friends back during their travels. It was distressing that one of her friends had now reverted to such formal language just as he had used before their journey.
She momentarily considered writing him about that, but quickly decided that he didn't need to be nagged from her end as well.
As she put the letters back in the draw another thought struck her. Maybe he spoke that way now because he was actually being treated as nobility. She pushed the drawer closed. That's right. Guy, whom she had once thought of as her servant, was actually Count Gailardia Galan Gardios.
She frowned.
Even if she was royalty, it was unforgivable how she had treated him when she had been unaware of his true quality—especially considering the circumstances which had forced him to conceal his true identity. Especially considering how he had supported her when she had faced losing her status and her family. Regardless of how cruelly she had treated him in the past he had stood by her then and had said that if Kimlasca would not have her back that he would welcome her in Malkuth with open arms.
And she…never once had she apologized for anything. Never once had he asked her to. He had defended her when they were separated from the others in Absorption Gate. He had stood with her on the eve of the infiltration of Eldrant while she had waited for Asch whom she knew would not return to her. When Asch had died, he had offered his consolations as best he could. He had done all of this and never asked anything in return.
She owed him an apology. She did not doubt it, but she doubted whether it would ever be enough. Though he would not say it, there remained a debt to be paid. But how could she ever hope to repay it?
A sharp, staccatto rap on the door broke through the haze of her thoughts.
"Yes?", she called. "What is it?"
The door opened slightly revealing one of the White Knights.
He cleared his throat. "Your Highness, a messenger from Malkuth awaits you in the Audience Chamber."
She paused. A messenger from Malkuth? Why on earth…?
"Is my father not available to speak with him?" she asked.
The guard made an indeterminate sound. "Umm, well, Your Highness…yes, your father is there. But the messenger specifically requested to see you. He said that he had a personal letter to deliver to you."
She stood up suddenly. A letter? Well, this was interesting. She wondered, rather triumphantly, whether she'd be able to get a bit of her own back at Jade. It would be fun to say the least.
Composing her features into a mask of utter calm, she turned to the knight and said, "Please inform them that I will be right down."
"Yes, Your Highness," he said before pulling the door shut.
She gave herself a cursory glance in the full length mirror to make certain that her appearance was acceptable before she made her way down to the Audience Chamber.