He'll do anything for Rose.

Maybe it's a wind seraph thing. It's only natural for them to bend to the will of fire, after all, and she's nothing if not fiery. But Zaveid likes to think it's because he can't resist an opportunity to be chivalrous.

The mantle of the Shepherd gets heavier as the years flow by. Rose feels it more keenly than most, and sooner. More often than not, before she drifts off, Zaveid catches her just staring at the sky. She may be his vessel, but he still can't read her thoughts. Or even her face, these days. For all her openness, she's always been able to keep her secrets. Rose might've even gotten a little too good at it over the last while or so, shouldering a burden like hers.

All four of them can sense the tension building in her heart, and all four of them worry, because for any ordinary human, that way malevolence lies. Still, Lailah urges them all to let her be, since she prefers not to rock any boats. Mikleo's tried to get her to talk every way he knows how, but he's never had Sorey's way with people. Edna couldn't care less, or so she says, but anyone can see her concern a mile away, even if she doesn't admit it.

But Zaveid understands, in a way he can't explain. Maybe he's imagining things, but it feels like Rose is standing in his footsteps from a thousand years ago—at the start of a new journey, or soon afterward, scouring the world in search of herself. Still, her thoughts aren't obvious enough for him to offer any advice, and it's becoming more and more clear that they'll need to change that somehow.

Mikleo's repeated failures are proof that none of them can get up early enough to get Rose to reveal anything she doesn't want to say, so maybe it's best that they stopped being so aloof and just talked it out like normal humans. After all, Zaveid's always admired how quickly they mature, how easily they bare their hearts. He's taken plenty of leaves out of human books over the centuries, so there's no reason why candor can't be one of them.

But he keeps it to himself, because the others don't understand human processes. Edna still hasn't gotten over her disdain towards the race as a whole, and Mikleo has only ever been close to Sorey—who wasn't exactly typical of most mortals. Even Lailah, well-meaning as she is, spent more of her time in Ladylake asleep than studying her visitors.

That makes Zaveid the best-qualified to fix a human problem… but Rose is a complicated woman. (They all are, really, but even considering his extensive experience, she's one of the toughest to crack.) He'll have to wait for a time when they're not going to be interrupted, because if any of the others interfere, they'll probably just screw things up even worse. Zaveid is already out-of-practice enough without having to manage them too.

He gets his chance when they stop in Lastonbell on their way to the capital, seeking shelter from a thunderstorm. Rose is exhausted from the day's travels, and more than a little unfocused as seems to be usual, but she gave the seraphim free rein as long as they didn't stir up trouble. Thunderstorm aside, this is a city full of memories, and she knows they all have somewhere to go, something to do—people-watching, window shopping, daydreaming about the day Sorey comes home.

But somebody has to stay behind and protect their vessel in the meantime, and Zaveid is just the man for the job. As soon as Rose lies back on the bed, he emerges to sit beside her, but she barely reacts. She can tell he wants to talk, but she just keeps staring intently at the ceiling, like she's counting stars. Or like ignoring him will convince him to go away.

Still, there's a flicker across her face, so quick Zaveid only catches it because he knows what to look for. She's assessing their proximity, his intentions, her wishes. It's a split-second subconscious realization that he isn't Dezel, and it happens every time they sit this close. She and Dezel never got directly involved, from what Zaveid can tell, but he recognized his recklessness in the end for what it was: the madness of a man ready to die for love.

And judging by the way Rose looks at Zaveid at moments like these, she might even have loved Dezel too—given a little more time.

The bed definitely doesn't help. It's too much of a reminder, too symbolic of their solitude. Even with her liberal definition of love, Rose hasn't taken any lovers since she took up the Shepherd's duty. And even though Zaveid prefers to avoid the seraphic equivalent of workplace romances, he took up more than Dezel's hat the day he joined them.

Maybe it's pity, or maybe it's loneliness, or maybe it's just his age-old weakness for women who can kick his ass, but Zaveid doesn't mind the thought of Rose using him for more than just purification. The offer always stands, unarticulated and unaddressed, but he never makes it and she never takes it. It's enough for them to know it's there, an extra complication in case life ever gets too simple.

But Zaveid knows it's better not to go too far down that road, so—recognizing that Rose isn't going to break the silence—he finally speaks up. "Hey," he says, gazing down at her. "Can we talk?"

Rose's eyes remain fixed on the ceiling, unblinking. "Sure."

"I just want to know if you're okay," says Zaveid, choosing his words a lot more carefully than usual. Normally, he makes up his half of a conversation as he goes along, but this isn't something he can improvise. "And if you're not, I want to know what's wrong. So I can help fix it."

"This isn't something anyone can fix, Zaveid," says Rose matter-of-factly. Okay, so she's way too confident for good intentions alone to convince her to talk. "Don't get me wrong; I've actually wanted to say something about it for awhile now, since I know you guys are worried. And I'm grateful that you all care so much, but…" She purses her lips. "I haven't figured out how to tell you yet. It always sounds really bad in my head."

"Don't bother with little things like phrasing," says Zaveid. "Go ahead, hit me with your best shot. You know I don't judge."

Rose gives a small but weary smile, a shadow of her usual unabashed grin, and meets his eyes briefly. "All right, then. Here goes." She takes a deep breath, returning her stare to the rafters. "I… don't know if I want to be the Shepherd."

Zaveid blinks at her a few times, taken aback despite himself. Anyone could guess this had something to do with her duty, since it's still a relatively new position for her, but he didn't think it was as heavy as that. "Oh."

"See," says Rose, closing her eyes. "That's why I haven't said anything. And you know Edna," she adds, grimacing. "She'd get offended and think it's because I suddenly hate you guys, or something. But it's not. It's… more complicated than that." Rose sighs. "I know you want to help, but I don't have a choice here. I'll just have to get over it."

Zaveid moistens his lips in preparation for speech, but nothing comes out. He needs to get his bearings, because this is too sensitive a situation to play by ear. He never understood the appeal of being a Sub Lord, so he can understand why a human might not want to be a Shepherd. But this kind of doubt does take some getting used to, considering that Sorey threw himself into the role heart and soul.

"I know it's selfish," continues Rose. "I know Sorey gave me this job, and I have to do it. But I always liked the freedom of choosing what I did with my life." She sits up with an effort, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. "Now, it seems like everything's all planned out. I'll keep purifying the malevolence around Glenwood, and you'll all live inside me till I die." She leans forward, bowing her head. "That's the Shepherd's destiny. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like my destiny."

"I know the feeling," murmurs Zaveid. "That's why I don't believe in destiny."

Rose glances at him sideways. "What feeling do you know?"

"New beginnings," says Zaveid. "Bittersweet journeys and thankless jobs. And having the rug pulled out from under you, then lying flat on your back for so long you almost forget how to move." He doesn't make a habit of talking about his past, since a lot of the finer points aren't too relevant nowadays, but he can make an exception long enough to impart some wisdom.

At first, Rose only nods and looks down at her feet. But there is a frown on her face, and the air between them wavers like heat with the words she wants to say. After a long silence, they finally come tumbling out: "Zaveid," says Rose, looking over at him. "Before you started hunting hellions and all that, did you ever know what you wanted to do with your life? Like, really know?"

Zaveid exhales slowly. Rose always asks the hard questions, doesn't she? If she'd asked about the bittersweet journeys or thankless jobs, he might have a ready answer. Instead, he has to dig through the centuries in search of some real purpose, and that always takes him longer than he cares to admit. But the rain on the window reminds him sooner than he anticipates, and he closes his eyes. Theodora. Of course.

The grief has long since passed, but his first love is one thing he can never forget, for better or for worse. Beneath the sound of thunder and the beat of the rain on the roof, he can almost imagine a dragon's roar—Theodora's cry—from the peak of a nearby mountain that no longer exists. But he stirs himself out of his thoughts, taking off Dezel's hat and resting it on the nightstand. Somehow, it feels wrong to think too much about himself when he's supposed to be carrying on someone else's legacy.

"There was a time, way back when…" Zaveid hesitates, hazy recollections drifting through his mind. "I thought I had it all figured out. But I wonder, now, if that was the life I'd chosen… would it really have made me happy in the end?"

"What life?" Rose's question comes almost immediately after the last word leaves his mouth, and Zaveid looks her up and down suspiciously. She's genuinely interested, but he doesn't know whether that makes him feel better or worse. He doesn't like talking about matters of the heart more than he has to. Still, it might be helpful for her to know that he's been in roughly the same boat, so to speak.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you," says Zaveid resignedly. "But you better listen real close, because this is a one-time offer. Normally, I only tell the tear-jerkers if I'm looking to get some. Sympathy." The last word comes almost an afterthought; Rose catches it and rolls her eyes, but Zaveid can't suppress a lopsided smile. She may be exasperated, but she's engaging. That's a good sign.

"Once upon a time, a little over a thousand years ago, I had it all," continues Zaveid. "A home, a… family, I guess you'd call it, although it was just me and Theodora." And later, a few human kids, he adds to himself—but they'll just complicate the story. "Nice girl. Gorgeous water seraph. She had a temper like you wouldn't believe if you pushed her too far, but that took some doing, since she loved the world so much."

Zaveid's mouth wants to smile, but he can't follow through. Rose senses it, but says nothing. She just waits for him to gather his thoughts and continue. "She was a couple hundred years older than me, which was about what I needed at the time," says Zaveid. "Kept me grounded for awhile, but—well, the malevolence got to her before we'd had more than a few decades together. She'd had more time exposed to it all, and she always was… sensitive. Part of what made her so sweet."

Rose examines his expression closely. "How'd it end?"

Is she serious? Zaveid meets her eyes at first, incredulous, but then looks away. For one reason or another, she needs him to say it. "How it always ends," he tells her, but can't bring himself to tell the rest. He wasn't the one to put the poor thing out of her misery, but telling Rose that it was Eizen—or mentioning the cure for his curse—will open a whole nother can of wyrms. Better to let sleeping dragons lie.

But Rose doesn't ask any questions. In fact, she doesn't say anything at all. Eventually, Zaveid glances aside at her to find her contemplating the floor. "Come on, after a tale like that, I'm used to getting a few pitying looks or maybe a free drink," he says, reaching over to give her a gentle nudge. "Did I make things better, or worse?"

"Yeah," says Rose vaguely, not paying the slightest attention. Her eyes are focusing on nothing again, but it feels more temporary this time, like she's just trying to remember something. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"What about?"

Rose hesitates. "Dezel, actually," she confesses. "His friend turned into a hellion, so he must've felt like he lost everything, too. But then, his 'everything' became getting revenge, and…" She half-laughs, so bitterly Zaveid can practically taste it. "I think that was why he traded his life for mine. If he'd lived, he'd have had to find something else to live for, and that's a lot of work."

Zaveid gives her a measured glance. "If you're living for something, it gets a lot easier to die for it, and I should know," he says. He almost threw his life away for Theodora more times than he cares to count. "For Dezel, that wasn't revenge; that was you. If he was still along for the ride, do you really think that'd change?"

"I—I don't know," says Rose, lowering her gaze. "Never had the chance to get too close, if I'm being honest. Besides, I'm sure he's still looking out for me, wherever he is." She studies Dezel's hat, still resting on the table. "I'm sure we'll meet again someday, but that's not important right now. What's important is…" She looks over at him again. "You lost everything, too, but you moved on. How?"

Ordinarily, Zaveid would dodge the question for the sake of maintaining his mystique, but he can't say no to Rose. "Time," he says. "Works the same way for seraphim as humans, just more slowly. I took to traveling, and a few of my acquaintances took to beating some sense into me now and again." He shrugs. "Never did find another purpose like I thought I had with Theodora, but that's okay—and it'll be okay if that changes, too. But this is who I am now, and that's enough for the time being."

Rose blinks. "So you're saying…"

"Sure, we need you to be our Shepherd," says Zaveid. "That part's not really negotiable. But you don't have to compromise who you are by letting that title run your life." He smiles, hoping he looks reassuring. "Life directions are overrated, because there are no maps. You blaze your own trail, and it's easier to find your own way than try to parallel someone else."

"It's not like I've been trying to be Sorey, or anything," says Rose, scowling. "I just inherited his job, that's all."

"Yeah, you did," agrees Zaveid. "But that job's a lot more flexible than you think. The way I see it, all you have to do is not take sides, and purify whatever malevolence you run across." He shrugs. "In the meantime, you can do whatever the hell you want, just like you always have. If you don't live a life you can be proud of, you're gonna have way too many regrets in the end."

Rose's eyes turn steely. "Everyone has regrets."

"I know I've got plenty," says Zaveid, the Shenlong's shadowy wings flitting through his mind. "But even though I regret some things I did, or didn't do, I've never regretted who I am. That's what I'm saying." He looks her in the eye. "Rose is Rose, remember? Not just the Shepherd, but Rose. So I don't want to watch you try to live out your life as anyone else." Zaveid didn't renew his pact so she could save the world at her expense. Hell, Dezel didn't die so she could use the time he bought make herself miserable.

And Rose knows it. Zaveid sees her resolve, the recognition in her countenance. One way or another, she's found her answer. "If Dezel really was living for me… maybe I should live for him, too," she says slowly, and smiles a little sadly. "Not in the same way, maybe, but still. He was never really into the whole Sub Lord thing, either, so he'd want me to be who I am and do what I want." She sighs. "But it's funny. I can't imagine him ever talking me through this like you did."

"Kid was still young by seraph standards," says Zaveid, making an effort at a smile. "Couldn't have been older than a century, max, so he didn't exactly have a lot of experience to draw on." Zaveid stops himself before adding that Dezel was never too talkative, either. Rose already knows. More importantly, this is the most any of them have spoken aloud about Dezel since his passing, and he'll never be able to rest for as long as they're talking about him.

Rose seems to have come to the same conclusion, because she only lets out a long breath. To Zaveid, it seems like she's been holding it in for years. "Thanks, Zaveid," she says, looking at him out the corner of her eye. If he had to guess, she's embarrassed to show any kind of vulnerability. "Can I give you a hug, or would that be too weird?"

"Only if you make it weird," says Zaveid, opening his arms with no small amount of apprehension.

True to her nature, Rose immediately makes it weird, launching herself sideways to tackle him. She means it in the friendliest way—roughhousing is basically her mother tongue—but both of them freeze as soon as Zaveid's back hits the bed. Rose could have gotten away with it with Sorey, but Zaveid has been pinned to plenty of beds before, and Rose has done plenty of pinning with other, luckier people. Windriders and skirt-chasers should never get this close.

Thankfully, Rose lets up within the moment, rolling over onto her side to let Zaveid sit up again. "Sorry," she says, not looking at him. "I don't really care, but I forget it's awkward for some other people."

Zaveid knows that's only half the truth, especially since she's being so vague about her alleged apathy, but he's not about to force the issue. "I don't really care, either," he points out, braving a smile to ease the tension. "But if you do that too often, I feel like Dezel might come back from the dead just to strangle me in my sleep. Besides, I'm not as young as I used to be," he adds. "If you're not careful, you'll give this old man a heart attack."

"You don't look like an old man," retorts Rose, but shuts her mouth before she can say what he does look like. But Zaveid already knows. He looks just enough like Dezel to throw her off, tangling their relationship like pendulum strings. Maybe it's because of his nature as a wind seraph, but the ground beneath their feet doesn't feel as steady as it does for all the others. Even if they can ignore that subtle uncertainty in day-to-day life, the fact remains that they never quite know where they stand.

"Now what?" asks Rose, after a long and uncomfortable silence. "I know you're saying I should do whatever I want, but… I don't know what I want to do anymore." She disbanded the Scattered Bones as soon as she became the Shepherd, and she already bequeathed the Sparrowfeathers' leadership to Eguille. Rose can tell those chapters are over, but it seems nobody ever told her that she has to write the next one herself.

"So figure it out," says Zaveid. "There's a whole world out there, and it works pretty much the same way as Glenwood. I'm sure you'll find something Shepherdly to do with yourself." He flops onto his back again, turning his head to look over at her. "Rediscover sea travel. Explore the northern continent. Feel it out as you go. You know we'll follow wherever you lead, and you can always ask us for help if you need it."

Rose's only response is a genuine smile, and Zaveid can't help but return it. He didn't realize how much of a weight off his own chest it would be to see her eyes start to shine again, alight with new possibilities, and to see the glow of relief all around her. "Well, looks like my work is done here," he says, stretching out. "I don't know about you, but I'm tuckered out from all this reflection."

"Ditto," says Rose, yawning. "But before you disappear, I have one more question." She looks over at Zaveid, searching his eyes, and he has no time to brace himself before she continues: "Are you doing what you want to be doing?"

Zaveid blinks a few times. The answer is obvious enough to him, but it still takes a little while to figure out how to say it. "I'd never be doing it if I wasn't," he points out eventually. "You know me. I go wherever the wind takes me, but I only stay if I want to. And I don't know about you, but I wanna see how all this turns out."

Rose shakes her head. "But you don't have a choice, either."

"Yes and no," says Zaveid. "Sure, the world needs us both right where we are, but you inherited your job from Sorey, and I chose mine myself. That makes more of a difference than you might think." He hesitates. There's more to it, of course, but he doesn't know how helpful that will be. Still, Rose deserves an explanation. "Do you know what my true name means?"

"No."

"Oathkeeper," says Zaveid. "I made an oath to Dezel, after he passed. Not the Lailah kind; the human kind—just your standard vow. I swore I'd look after you in his stead." He lies back again, staring at the ceiling. "It started out as a side gig, just for as long as I had to work with the Shepherd, but after everything I've seen you do, I think I'd follow you even if I wasn't your Sub Lord. And that's something I decided for myself."

"Hey, cut out that sappy stuff," protests Rose, flopping her hand over to smack him as lightly as she knows how. Her tone is playful enough, but upon further examination, her expression is a little bit pained, or maybe sheepish. She's never done well with accepting ambiguous compliments, and these ones are closer to the heart than usual. "Who are you, and what have you done with Zaveid?"

"See, this is why I don't ever talk about myself," chuckles Zaveid. "I'm no liar, but every time I tell the truth straight up, everyone just looks at me funny. Someday, mark my words, you'll run into the exact same problem." Though he could not be more serious, he keeps his tone light and joking. Some things are easier to hear like that. He is rewarded with another of Rose's smiles; she's recovering.

His duty done, Zaveid lets himself dissolve, his essence flowing back into Rose's. It's quiet in her heart, but it feels warmer now, like a lover's embrace. She's a smart girl; she'll figure things out. And besides, it's good for a seraph like him to be around a human like her, so sharp and sensitive—someone with enough presence of mind to have misgivings in the first place. Yes, Rose is more than just a vessel, and Zaveid likes to think they need each other for more reasons than fulfilling their duty.

He only hopes he's doing Dezel proud.

I have no idea whether this story actually has a point. I started this ages ago, before Berseria even came out, but I elected to finish it only after I could connect it up to Zaveid's past. In any case, it started as a simple desire to write some interactions between Zaveid and Rose, since they don't get too many. Zaveid sort of took over Dezel's position in Rose's life, but are they colleagues? Superior and subordinate? Mentor and apprentice? Friends? More? I don't know, but this is what they came up with in my mind: all of the above. Hope you enjoyed!