Laslow slumped against a wall, breathing heavily as he clutched his seared midriff. Gingerly he reached up and yanked a shuriken out of his shoulder, gritting his teeth in pain as the metal barbs tore through his flesh anew. He took a moment to collect himself, his breathing heavy and strained. He considered attempting to remove the other numerous shuriken still stuck in his body, but dismissed the idea almost immediately as his eyes lingered on the hunks of his own skin caught in the teeth of the one he now held in his palm.

Inigo dropped the weapon with disdain, then solemnly surveyed the halls of Castle Krakenburg, the floors of which were littered with the dead. His men, his loyal comrades, were strewn about, all lying motionless in the still hold of death. Equal to their number were the slain Hoshidan ninja, no doubt loyal in their own right to have given their lives so far from home.

A guttural groan drew Laslow's attention, and with a struggle he dragged himself to a stand. He took a tentative step, and a wave of light-headedness overtook him. The usual grace of his movements, the flourish that so effortlessly permeated his every motion, was sullied by the sluggishness of his body, its refusal to respond. He nearly slipped, and it took him a moment to realize that what had upset his footing was his own blood. Laslow gave a humorless laugh; this really shouldn't have surprised him, given his injuries.

Inigo was dying, and he knew it.

Trying to put that unpleasant thought behind him, Laslow staggered to the source of the strange noise, struck with amazement. "You're incredibly resilient, do you know that?" he asked. "To still be alive after something such as that..."

Saizo, grim retainer to Ryoma, Crown Prince of Hoshido, cracked open his one eye. He lay prone on the floor, his entire body charred from his suicidal final attack. Or rather, only his upper torso remained; his lower half had been blown clean away by his self-sacrificing explosion.

"Bah... How pathetic," he muttered, his voice muffled not only by his cloth mask, but by the fading of his life. "I didn't even manage to kill you..."

"It was a spectacle, at the least, no one will argue that," Laslow assured him. "I honestly didn't expect you to blow yourself up. I hadn't even struck a fatal blow yet."

"It was inevitable that you would..." Saizo murmured. "Any fool could have seen that from the way our battle was going. Had to take you out before then..."

"Well, I'd say you achieved your goal," Inigo replied. He gestured to his bloodied, battered, and burned body. "Any fool can also see that I'm not long for this world, or any other for that matter."

Saizo narrowed his eye. His voice came in a rasp. "...A question, retainer of Prince Xander, before death takes me. You... You don't fight like a Nohrian..."

"That's more an observation than a question," Laslow noted wryly.

Saizo scowled. It was difficult to tell the difference from his regular expression, but he scowled nonetheless. "I wasn't finished!" he snapped. He sighed. "Clearly, you are an outlander. From where you came, I do not care, but I do wonder... Why do you serve the Nohrian Prince? Why give him your allegiance?"

Inigo was silent a moment. "...Not counting my parents, there were two people whom I held in the highest regard," he explained. "I suppose you could say Lord Xander reminded me of both of them. I... I lived my life a shameless flirt. I always believed my death was omnipresent, in every breath of air and around every corner. Hedonism was a decent way to stave off my fear, I felt. And then one day, that shadow of death was suddenly lifted by a very important man. For the first time, I had a future, and I didn't know what to do with it. But it felt like something that did not belong to me, for..." Inigo hesitated. "...For reasons I will not explain. I left my home because I did not wish to infringe upon a future that belonged to others. But in another land, perhaps I could find my own. And maybe I could find that man, and reunite him with the one he loved." Inigo smiled. "I owed those two that much at the least." He blinked. "Forgive me, I'm straying from the point. When I met Prince Xander, he awed me. His might, his resolve... He was radiant. I thought that by serving as his right hand, I might be able to do something worthwhile with the life I had been granted." Inigo chuckled. "I suppose I simply have a penchant for serving royalty." His expression became suddenly somber. "...You know, it's funny. For the first time, even though I'm standing at its door... Death does not frighten me."

"...You chatter... entirely too much," Saizo said coldly, but there was no bite to his words. Perhaps he simply no longer had the strength for it.

The ninja was fading rapidly, Laslow could see it clearly. "Do you bear any regrets, Saizo the Fifth?" the hero asked.

"Hrmm..."

Barely perceptible beneath his mask, Saizo's expression softened ever so slightly as he stared at the entrance to the opposite hallway. Laslow followed his gaze, but what Saizo's eye sought lay beyond the Ylissean's understanding.

"Only... That I never sired... Saizo the Sixth. I was always prepared... to die for Lord Ryoma. I simply did it... too soon."

Saizo's remaining eye slowly closed, never to open again. His final words were barely a whisper, unheard by Laslow.

"Stay well... Ka...ge..."

Laslow dragged himself through the hallway, occasionally stopping to lean against a wall and catch his breath. This had regrettably necessitated removing all of the shuriken embedded in his right arm and shoulder, an extremely unpleasant process.

He passed by the door to the chamber Prince Xander had gone into, still sealed shut. Something had gone amiss in that duel between Nohrian nobility, of that, Inigo was certain. Xander was the kind of man who could—who would—sacrifice his kin for the sake of his country. The fact that he hadn't emerged, hadn't set out to lead the rout of the Hoshidans, could only signify one thing to Laslow. And that there were no Hoshidan stragglers left suggested that they had all charged ahead to the throne room, something Xander would have never permitted were he still alive.

Garon would die. That was inevitable. Corrin, for all his failings, would kill his father, of this there was little doubt. The draconic prince was no Robin, that was for certain, but then, Garon was no Grima. Hell, Inigo wasn't even positive the Nohrian king would have been a match for Walhart.

Inigo didn't give a damn. Right now, there were only three people left in this world whose safety he cared for.

Laslow gave one last dejected look at the door, and idly considered trying to force his way in. But even if he had the strength to pry the doors open, he bore no desire to be the one to discover Xander's corpse. Inigo trudged onward. There was still someone he had to find.

Minutes passed as Laslow pushed onward into the next hall, his progress hampered by his faltering body, and by the bodies of others he was forced to step over. However, once he made it there, it didn't take long to spot the person he had been searching for. Her vibrantly-colored hair tended to make her stand out, after all.

Peri was sitting slumped against a wall. "Laslow!" she chirped upon spotting him, with a cheerfulness disproportionate to the severity of her wounds.

Inigo rushed over as quickly as circumstance permitted and knelt beside Peri, his heart breaking as his hands hovering the deep lacerations covering the knight's body. "Gods, no..." he whispered bleakly.

Peri smiled feebly. "Yeah... That ninja girl got Peri pretty good..." she murmured. "That's ok, though... Peri got her back..." She pointed toward a corner. Inigo's eyes followed the trail to find the body of Kagero slumped against a wall, a lance through the chest pinning the slain ninja in place.

Inigo stared pensively at the deceased woman, and Saizo's dying face flashed before his eyes.

Ah. I see now.

"Laslow?" Peri questioned quietly.

Inigo blinked, then looked back. His heart did that momentary palpitation that it always did whenever he looked into her hetero-chromatic eyes."Oh... I was simply thinking, Prince Ryoma's retainers... They were quite strong, weren't they?"

Peri nodded. "Yep! Peri didn't want to make their loved ones sad, but she had to protect Lord Xander. ...They were kind of like us, don't you think?"

Inigo grimanced. "I suppose so." A wave of fatigue washed over him, and he leaned back against the wall. In his distress over the grievousness of Peri's injuries, Inigo had forgotten that he hadn't fared much better. His strength rapidly fleeing him, he used what little of it he had left to drag Peri toward him, doing his best to be mindful of their respective wounds. Inigo sat back, Peri's head now resting against his shoulder as he cradled her in his arms. The two were quiet for some time.

"...Laslow? We're gonna die, huh?"

Inigo's eyes widened in shock, and he looked down at Peri, who was gazing up at him curiously.

"It's ok," Peri assured him. "Peri's not scared. She's not scared, because Laslow's here." She pouted a little. "Peri is a bit sad though... She doesn't want Laslow to die!"

Inigo smiled. "I'm glad to know that you hold me in such esteem."

"Of course Peri does. She likes Laslow more than anyone!"

He chuckled. "Even Lord Xander?"

"Yeah! Even more than him! Peri likes Lord Xander, and respects Lord Xander, but she doesn't love Lord Xander the way she loves Laslow!"

"Well, yo-" Inigo blinked. Then he blinked again. "...Come again?"

Peri looked him the eyes, her gaze bearing an unusual gravity. "Laslow... I know I usually don't speak seriously. But if I don't tell you this now, I never will be able to again. ...I love you."

For a few moments, Inigo forgot how to breathe. Then he suddenly laughed longly and forlornly. "It's like some sort of black comedy! A girl finally falls for me, and we're both dying!"

Peri pouted again. "Laslow, you meanie!" she said crossly. "You shouldn't keep Peri waiting like this!"

Inigo's chuckling subsided. "...Forgive me. Of course I love you, Peri. How could I not? I don't know how to describe it, but it's like all my wanderings were meant to lead me to you." Inigo frowned, pensive. "Peri... I'm afraid I haven't been entirely honest with you. What if I... What if I told you that I had been lying to you for a very long time? What if I told you... That I came from another world, and my true name... That my true name is Inigo?"

Peri stared at him, then smiled, completely unphased. "Peri would still love Laslow even if he was Inigo. And if Laslow went back to his world, then Peri would just go with him!"

Inigo stared at her awestruck for a moment, then leaned in kissed her deeply. Their mouths held together for a beat before they separated, each breathless, though their respective physical states played just as much a part in that as did their emotions.

"Heehee! You taste like blood!" Peri giggled.

Inigo simply laughed.

They sat together for some time, both content in a strange way. Eventually, Peri broke the silence, a brief interruption in what was soon to be eternal.

"Laslow...?" she asked, her voice now halting. "What do you think... Is going to happen to us...?"

Inigo leaned his head in against hers. "I don't know, love. But you can be sure... That I won't ever leave you... That we'll always be together..."

Peri beamed. "Yay... Together, forever and ever... That makes Peri... really happy... Say, Laslow... Do you think... I would have been... a good Mommy?"

Inigo smiled and held her tighter, raising a finger to brush her porcelain cheek. "You would have been a wonderful mother."

"How many kids do you think... we would have had? What would we have named... them?"

"As many as you wanted, love. But I was thinking... If I were to have a daughter... My firstborn daughter... I would have liked to name her... Soleil..."

Peri smiled broadly. "So...leil... That's... so pretty..."

"Yes... It's such a shame... That we'll never get to meet her... Sh-She... Would have been... strong and beautiful... like her mo-mother..."

"And... kind, and... a, a good dancer, l-like her Daddy..."

"Y-Yes... She would have... would have been... so perfect..."

"..."

"..."

It was Odin who found them.

It was Odin who found them, but it was Owain who sank to his knees, sobbing, striking the floor again and again until his fist was bloodied.