Summary:
He leaves Serra's room musing upon her words. The more he thinks, the more he realizes that she has a point. Written for Nagamas 2017.
Author's Ideas: Written for Nagamas 2017.
Heya trololous! I was your gifter for Nagamas! You asked for some sibling-like bond development between Hector and Serra, and I was more than willing to write that. It turned out a lot more introspective than I wanted it to :/ Still, I hope you enjoy!
Glass Dreams
Hector frowns. "She's busy? Usually, she's more than willing to come running whether I ask for her or not."
"My apologies, my lord. That is what she told me when I told her you had need of her." Hector shakes his head.
"It's not your fault, Oswin. I'll just ask for her later. You're dismissed."
Oswin nods, bows, and leaves the throne room without another word. Hector holds his chin between his fingers, frowning.
"Still…" he murmurs, and then shakes his head. "I shouldn't be overthinking this."
Thinking isn't going to get him anywhere, and so he pushes his musings away. There's work to do.
So the thoughts stay away from sunrise to sunhigh, only bothering to show themselves when he runs into Serra during dinner.
To tell the blunt truth - she looks terrible. There are clear bags under her eyes - did she not get a good night's sleep? Her bloodshot eyes and tangle hair seem to agree.
"You look terrible," Hector comments as she sits down. He joins her.
"What are you doing here?" she questions.
It's true. Usually, Hector takes meals in his office, or the dining room. Not the mess hall. The mess hall is where soldiers, spies, and the like take meals. Like Serra, or Matthew, or Oswin. Not Hector.
Hector shrugs. "Old habits die hard."
Serra rolls her eyes. He grins.
"That was a lie," he replies. "I was wondering what had you so busy this morning."
Her shoulders tense up, and she stays silent. He watches her.
"I was just busy okay?" she snaps, and then pokes at her food with her fork.
Her answer confuses Hector. Normally, Serra's more than willing to share details, whether he asks for them or not. She's normally so talkative, so upbeat and full of energy in her step, and so damn annoying. She's supposed to be outspoken, brash, and almost always indignant. Not silent, snappy, and cross.
"Alright, what's wrong?" Hector presses, looking over at her. She frowns.
"I said, I was just busy. There's nothing else."
"Well, with what? Tell me, Serra. I'm your lord, and I'm ordering you to."
"It's about my family, okay!?" Serra barks. "It's none of your business, Hector!"
As she stands and leaves behind a tray of food, almost untouched, he wonders if it really has nothing to do with him, and so he knocks on her door in the lazy afternoon, when he's finished with his work.
She opens it, and her gaze hardens into a glare. Without even thinking about his words, he begins to talk.
"I was just worried, okay? I didn't mean to press you, but it's strange. I mean, isn't your family - "
"It's some family inheritance things," Serra interrupts, like she doesn't want to hear the continuation of that sentence. "My distant relatives. Although, I'm still no closer to finding my parents. But, it's hard to accept that I do have family. After all, I've been alone all my life."
"I…"
"It's fine," Serra murmurs, sounding so unlike herself. "Things change. Nothing can stay the same. I expected something like this."
He leaves Serra's room musing upon her words. The more he thinks, the more he realizes that she has a point. Nothing can stay the same, and nothing will ever remain the same. After all, he realizes, she herself is living proof of that.
In that moment, for some reason, he's reminded of a glass figurine. It was one that his parents used to keep in their room, sculpted to the guise of a child.
And for some reason, he realizes that he is that glass figurine, and Serra is a changed one.
~ / . / . / ~
The second year after the campaign starts with a sudden visit from a previous comrade, and a startling request.
"You want me to what?"
Hector can't stop his voice from peaking after hearing the almost-insane request.
"You heard what I said, Hector."
Lyn stands in front of him, with her hand on her hip and her expression grim. Her eyes hold a bit of trust in them, trust that he supposes is directed toward him, although it really shouldn't be.
"You're the only person who can do this."
"But - "
"Please, Hector," she cuts him off. "Please. I… after Grandfather's death, I… I don't think I have the courage to go on anymore… I can't rule Caelin. I belong in Sacae, not Lycia."
"I…" he glances away. "I'm sorry you lost him, Lyn."
"He was old. It was bound to happen. I'm just… too weak to accept it."
"You're not weak," Hector murmurs. "You're strong, Lyn. You'll get stronger. I believe in you."
Lyn doesn't say anything, simply clenching her arm with her hand and averting her gaze at the ground. Hector looks at her.
"I'll do it."
"Hector…"
"Now go," he urges. "You need to get out of here before someone sees you. Go to Tuscana, and then follow the path leading out of the red gate, with a wooden horse on top of it. That's the road to Bulgar. You should know the way after that."
"I… thank you, Hector. You've… changed, somehow."
"Don't say that," Hector mumbles and then pulls the hood of her cloak over her head and presses the reins of her horse into her hands. "Go."
"Thank you. If you ever need to… you'll always be welcome in Sacae."
"Well, here's hoping I don't find the wrong tribe then."
Lyn laughs softly, and then reaches over, taking his hand in hers. "I hope… I'll see you soon."
He squeezes her hand, and then lets go. "Yeah."
She tugs at her horse's reins, leading it out of the stables of Ostia castle and away, to Tuscana.
Hector learns that he truly was the last person to see Lyn. She'd said goodbye to Eliwood, but had disappeared after speaking with Hector.
"How irresponsible of her," the lord of Kathelet hisses. "Now what are we to do with Caelin?"
Hector slams his fist on the desk. "Like I've been saying, could you actually listen to what I have to say? It'll solve all our problems here!"
"And like I've been saying, you know nothing compared to your brother. At least Lord Uther helped us," the lord of Tuscana sneers. Hector curls his lip. To think he had sent Lyn to a district owned by such a horrid man.
"Please stop fighting," Eliwood chimes in, the look on his face making it clear that this was the last straw for him. "Hector, what is it you have to say?"
"Thank you, Eliwood," Hector breathes with relief. "Lyn talked to me before we parted ways two years ago. She said that if she ever disappeared, or went away, that I was to assume control of Caelin."
The meeting hall erupts into anger, screeches of disagreement, and the single sound of Eliwood trying to calm them down.
"That's enough!" the new lord of Santaruz yells angrily. Everyone falls silent. "If those are Lady Lyn's wishes, then we are to respect them."
"Are you serious?" Erik raises an angry objection. "Just think about how unfair that is to us. Ostia already has so much territory. Are you really suggesting we give it more?"
"Exactly. And why should we accept that savage's wishes? She went and left us with this problem," the lord of Araphen chimes in.
"If I may," Oswin speaks up then, and Hector doesn't think he's ever felt more relieved than this moment. "I suggest that my lord and the council take a break. We are clearly in a rather heated debate, and it would do us good to clear our minds."
There's reluctant mutters of agreement, and the meeting room full of lords begin to thin out. Hector buries his head in his hands. Someone lays a hand on his shoulder, and he already knows it's Eliwood.
"Come on, Hector," Eliwood coaxes gently. "Some fresh air will do you some good as well."
Sighing, Hector stands, and accompanies Eliwood out of the room. However, a seemingly unbelievable right outside stops him from taking one more step outside.
It's Serra, standing there with an indignant look on her face, and tears welling in her eyes.
"She left because of you!" she's in the middle of yelling - accusing, Hector realizes, when he realizes who's on the receiving end of her screams. "She left because you treated her like a savage! Like someone who didn't belong, when she belonged in Lycia more than any of you! She was hard-working, and earnest, and strong-headed, and I know that because I spent time with her! I spent so many moons with her, and I knew her! And you treated her so horridly, you made her leave! Are you proud of that!?"
"Serra!" Hector barks, and she turns her head pointedly. "That's enough." He beckons her closer.
"But - " she starts, and then sees the look on Hector's face - surely a reflection of the boiling emotions in him - and obeys, shooting group of lords a dirty look before approaching Hector.
"I'll go apologize to them," Eliwood murmurs, and pats Serra gently on the back before walking towards the group of lords. Hector watches him go before turning to Serra. Her head is tilted up, in defiance. Her eyes radiate the exact same aura.
"I know you're upset," Hector says, crossing his arms. "But you didn't have to go that far."
"They're the horrible ones," she retorts.
"Lyn left of her own accord, Serra. They didn't force her to go. It was simply a small factor in why she left."
"How do you know that, Hector?"
"Because," he lowers his voice, and when he speaks, it's almost a whisper. "I saw her."
"What?" Serra's eyes reflect the disbelief clearly.
"That night she disappeared, she came to Ostia. She came so that she could ask me to rule Ostia in her place."
"And you just let her go?"
"It's not like I wanted to!" he retorts, and then turns his head away. "It's just… something that happened, okay?"
"But - "
"You said so yourself," he replies. "Nothing can stay the same, and nothing will ever remain the same. Even if we knew Lyn as the next inheritor of Caelin's throne, she always knew, in her heart, that she belonged in Sacae. There's nothing we can do to change that, Serra. So I have to take care of Caelin to the best of my abilities now. No matter what."
Serra doesn't respond, and so he turns pointedly and returns to the council's meeting room, never once looking back at her.
As he does, he thinks that maybe a part of him is also growing up.
~ / . / . / ~
The words cling to him every night now - not even cling, they haunt. They haunt his dreams, his waking thoughts, his every action, like the eyes of bureaucrats who ask him the exact same thing.
"Wife".
"Heir".
"When will you take a wife, Lord Hector?"
"We await your heir, Lord Hector."
What they mean to say is that they hope his wife is a stronger a ruler than he is, that his heir will be a more rational leader than he is.
It's in their heads, he tells himself. It's all their thoughts, it's all their whispers and rumors. Besides, it's not like their thoughts matter much. He'll just tell them to lay off, and they do. He can't ignore the truth of their words, but he doesn't have to accept them so easily.
"What do they know about me?" he murmurs under his breath.
"Lord Hector? Is something wrong? Is the food not to your liking?"
Hector starts, looking up. One of the maids is looking at him, concerned. He shakes his head.
"It's nothing. Sorry. I was just thinking about something else." He picks up his fork and knife, and feeling the maid's eyes on him, cuts a portion of his supper and begins to eat.
That night, when the sun is starting to set, he runs into Serra. She looks at him, and then grins, but it's a forced grin. She hasn't quite forgive him about Lyn, he knows.
"Were you going somewhere?" he asks, steering them away from the elephant in the room.
"Yeah. The church." She pauses, and looks at him. "Do you want to come?"
He agrees without even thinking. They leave the castle, and arrive at the church when the sun is hidden behind the vast mountains of the Western Isles, and their shadows have blended in with the night.
Yet, the children of the clerics and bishops are still awake, and tackle Serra when she approaches the gate. Serra laughs, and for once Hector notices her gray hairs and tired eyes.
They sit in the pews, watching the children run about the church playing tag and yelling. Hector feels his heart warm, and then break.
"...The bureaucrats have been suggesting I have an heir," he reveals to Serra. "I think I'd like a child."
"A child is a lot of work," Serra warns, and Hector seems to smile.
"That's fine. I deal with you all the time, don't I?"
She sputters, and he stands and leaves.
"A child doesn't sound too bad," he admits begrudgingly under his breath. He feels his younger self cringe and squawk in anger. To actually listen to the bureaucrats that had put him to his wit's end might have sent him into a rage, at one point.
Perhaps that was a part of growing up.
~ / . / . / ~
The next time she brings up Lyn, and her wishes, is in the springtime, after Ostia has finally made peace with the Caelin people, and are living in harmony with them. They take a walk up a mountain, following the path now known as "Lyndis's Path".
"Why is it even called that, anyways?" he asks, brushing a low-hanging branch away. It bounces back and smacks Serra in the face. She shrieks, and he chortles. She makes a face at him.
"It's because she always used to come up here, apparently," Serra replies, and then groans. "Saint Elimine, this is so much tiring! Hector, carry me!"
"No!" he refuses loudly, making a face at her. She sticks her tongue back out at him. Hector knows he can't keep acting like a child, but it's such instinct, so he does anyways. Who cares what the bureaucrats say? "Besides, we're almost there!"
Serra groans loudly, trudging on. Hector leads them along the mountain path, and when light finally filters in from behind the leaves, Hector whoops with excitement and pushes them out of the way. Serra hurries after him.
"Hector, wait - "
They both pause as soon as they step out onto the cliff.
"...Wow," Serra breathes. Hector just walks to the edge of the cliff, looking over the province of Caelin. It's illuminated with the glow of the sunset, covered in yellow, orange, pink, and the smallest tint of evening purple.
"It's pretty," he murmurs. "Really pretty."
"...I was hoping for Lyn to be here," Serra confesses softly. "...Maybe I should just give up on that dream," she murmurs in a sudden, dark voice, in a voice that just doesn't have her excitement or her spring of energy in; a voice that she's more than often used.
Hector can't find the words to respond, and so he doesn't. It feels wrong to, when she's like glass, brittle and dangerous. He pats her shoulder gently. To his surprise, she smiles back.
They watch little children, just little specks from where they're standing, scamper around the town square, their laughter carried by the wind to Hector's ears. Somewhere in his heart, he wishes they could have been like that.
~ / . / . / ~
Hector sighs, drumming his fingers on the table. He stares at the papers in front of him, and then reaches for the quill, resting in a bottle of ink.
A boisterous laugh outside stops him. With a curious tilt of his head, he stands and opens the door.
Just as he expected, it's Serra. Her head is thrown back, laughing unabashedly at something Matthew said. The spy is grinning, but looks past her and at his lord, standing in the hallway with a curious face.
"My lord!" Matthew greets, waving him over. He scratches the back of his neck and joins them.
"What did you say that made her laugh this loud, Matthew?" Hector asks, raising his eyebrow.
"No, it's nothing! She just told me to try and make her laugh, so I guess I did."
"I bet you can't make me do that," Serra prompts, directing her words at Hector.
He meets her gaze. She meets his.
Hector knows she's fragile, like glass. She is glass, but she can be happy. She can laugh. He knows it.
"I just need to try," Hector grins, and without a warning, picks her up and throws her over his shoulder. She screams in terror and shock, he thinks. Maybe excitement. He never really knows with her.
"Put me down!"
"No way, sister!" he laughs.
"Hector!" she shrieks, flailing her arms around. "Put me down, you - !"
Hector laughs again, this time boisterously and loudly. "Come on, sister! We've got a League meeting to attend!"
"You do! I don't!" She strains against his arms, kicking and flailing. "Let me go!"
He ignores every single one of her screeches and yelps, carrying her down the hallway. Matthew laughs loudly as he follows. Several people stop and give him a strange look, while a few rambunctious knights cheer him on, until Oswin barks at them and they duck their heads.
"My lord." Oswin approaches him, a concerned look in his eyes. "May I ask exactly what you are doing?"
"Being mean!" Serra complains. "Tell him to let me go, Oswin!"
"My lord - "
"Not now, Oswin! I have things to attend to!"
Hector hurries down the hallway, and Serra's screeches grow more distant. Oswin stares after them, and then meets Matthew's eyes. Matthew doubles over, wipes tears of laughter away, and Oswin shakes his head, clicks his tongue, and laughs.
"Children… they truly are children…"
Hector just grins, and Serra rolls her eyes. They've both grown, but maybe being treated as children isn't so bad. At least they're not glass figurines, threatening to break at any moment. At least they're happy, with a sibling they never knew they needed by their side.