Eden
by Cryptographic DeLurk
..
AN: Warnings for non-graphic depiction of rape, somewhat graphic depiction of sex involving other consent issues. Includes some light Julian/Rickard content. This fic plays a rather fast and loose game with the various versions of this canon. It was largely inspired by the Fire Emblem OVA, but takes place more firmly in game canon, includes a multitude of references to the third episode of Archanea Saga, zigzags between the various official and unofficial translations of FE1-FE3-FE11-FE12, accepts and rejects the character ages given in the novelisation at will, etc.
If that suits, please Read & Relax.
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She did break her hunger strike for his sake.
Not that the reasons would matter to the divine deities, when Lena had made a promise to fast only to break it. But it mattered to her, somehow, that it wasn't for just anyone. He'd gone out of his way to sneak her food, and when she pleaded with him and explained that she could not accept food stolen from the hungry, he'd looked at her with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes.
"But what about your health? You won't be saving anyone by not taking care of yourself. The food will only go to waste, or be eaten by the rest of us. Please, Miss Lena…"
And somehow she couldn't bear to see him whimper. Or maybe she was touched by his concern? She was very hungry. And when was the last time anyone had talked of her health and wellbeing? She was always surrounded by people more sick and ailing and hungry than she was- where there was no concern to spare for her. And her family… and Michalis… It wasn't that they didn't care but… not in a way that suited her.
"I understand," Lena nodded. And Julian's face bloomed into a smile when she lifted the bread to her mouth and chewed its tough rind. She imagined her words and promises and prayers being crushed beneath her teeth, and it felt draining, even as the strength returned to her body through the nourishment of the bread. Julian reached out to hold her arm, and leaned his head down against the prison bars. His hair was red like hers, but a different texture – more wavy than curly. And she felt moved by his conflict, and the way she encouraged it by accepting these alms from him, after all the risk he'd gone through to sneak them to her. She felt convinced his soul wanted to be good and just and do the right thing, even if his thieving ways meant he didn't quite know how.
And she thought she would have broken a lot of promises for him, promises to the deities and everyone else, if it meant guiding him in the right direction. Or maybe it was her that wanted to be guided and led astray? Maybe there was something she wanted more than the favour of the deities, something that he drew out of her?
She didn't get to choose the next time she broke her promises. Hyman, leader of the Soothsires, fetched her from her cell and ripped her coif off her head in the middle of the meeting hall. The red curls cascaded down her shoulders.
Lena promised, when she was ordained, that she would let no man but her husband and the deities see her uncovered head, but she wished now she hadn't made such a promise. And not only for the fact that it was a covenant broken. Julian was in the crowd, and it was the first time he'd known they had the same red hair. She wished he could have known before this moment, when she was exposed for everyone to see. She wished she had removed her coif for him in private, and chosen the terms of this apostasy herself.
She didn't get to reel in this first transgression for long. Hyman had found a buyer.
"A real Macedonian nun?" the young lord buyer marvelled. "How much?" Hyman rejects several offers, until the young lord becomes irate. "Name your price then! How much do you want?!"
And Lena was close to tears at this point, and there was nothing she could do. Her blurry eyes scanned the crowd. Navarre was there, watching coldly, which didn't make it better. But Julian-! She thought she had missed him for a second, before she noticed his retreating back, as he ran from the hall.
Coward! Craven thief! she thought. And, suddenly, she couldn't overlook the fact that he was just as much one of her captors as the rest of them. He was part of this gang of bandits that terrorised her, and the travellers moving through the Samsooth Mountain Range, and the people of the surrounding villages, and everyone in Archanea, and the whole world!
She wanted someone to drag Julian back out into the meeting room. She wanted the young lord buyer to violate her right there, in front of Julian and everyone, and she wanted Julian to witness the depths and horror she and others were being forced to, because of him.
But of course she could make this happen no more than she could stop any of the rest of it. The young lord buyer was a man of traditional tastes, and did not want an audience for his dalliances. So he took Lena to a room in the caverns that Hyman had given him. It had a real bed with a plush mattress, and a nightstand with a dyed and woven runner. And there Lena broke another one of her monastic promises, when he pushed into her and she bled for him. She held her face as firm as she could, prayed silently for forgiveness, and tried her best not to cry, not to squeak with pleasure, and not to wish it was Julian on top of her.
For a few days this was the general pattern. The young lord buyer had on-going business with Hyman and his Soothsires, and Lena would heal on command, share his bed on command, and sit at meals with him and Hyman on command. She toned out their bickering over prices and services, her own included, and refused to eat from their table. They laughed and said she would cave, once she was hungry enough. And when she was not wanted she would return to her cell, where Julian would bring her bread. She ate it, but in protest this time. She would not speak to Julian who, after a few floundering attempts, made no further motions to talk to her anyhow.
And then, on the sixth day, Julian swung a pick deftly in his hands and picked the lock on her cell.
"The knights of Altea are at the bottom of the mountain. They're ready to raid the stronghold. Miss Lena..." The pack he was carrying had fallen off his shoulder, and he pressed it back up with his forearm. She could see him fight off a blush and steel his face. "We won't get a better chance than this."
And that was all the warning she got before he seized her.
.
.
She remembered him from before – from when they first met – but it seemed like it might have happened in a different life by now.
She had decided to stay with Rickard, because he had a room to stay in. And because she had left Macedon under protest and had no place else to stay. And also because she trusted Rickard with herself and her safety, and didn't trust Rickard with himself or to not stray from the path of righteousness without her guidance.
It really was only a room, though. A single white room, with white plaster walls. One white cupboard which stored candles, a pitcher and water basin, and whatever goods Rickard was holding to barter. There was a small stone stove in the corner that burned on firewood and magic that they had all to themselves, and there was a water room and a plumbing room they shared with the neighbours. Lena slept on the only mat they had, and Rickard slept on the floor.
This was vastly different from the great cathedrals of Gurst and Macedon, where Lena had studied throughout her youth. They had all had lavish gilded hallways and altars, and royal purple rugs and silks, and water that was hot straight out of the tap. And for all they had talked of humility and philanthropy, Lena had found them more vacant and lacking than Rickard's empty room.
Rickard often ran odd hours, and Lena found herself roused one day, in the early hours. She felt for the hood of her nightgown, and relaxed at its black and yellow patterned trim.
She saw the two of them talking in whispers, just inside the doorway. A back and forth of secret plans she wasn't sure she wanted to know the details of. She blinked heavily through her sleep, and sat up on the mat.
Rickard's visitor was wearing a tattered cloak, which could only just be seen in the shadow of the dim moonlight. He and Rickard had finished the more fervent parts of their conversation and, as Lena's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the visitor cross his arms and sulk.
Rickard hovered close, and hesitated only a second before pressing himself up on his toes, to softly kiss the other man's cheek, and then pull back just as gently.
The visitor pouted for another long moment, before seizing Rickard's face and pressing their mouths together more passionately.
And then Lena must have made a sound, because they pulled apart, startled, and their eyes peered into the darkness of the room to find her.
Rickard ended up leaving, under the cover of night, to retrieve some manner of travel supplies for his visitor. And somehow Lena ended up boiling hot water. She had no tea to offer their guest, whose name was Julian.
Julian had a winning smile, and they chatted softly in the candle light, with Rickard as their only point of reference.
"He's helping me," Lena explained. "The nobles of Dolhr don't care about the struggles of the impoverished and hungry. With the treasures and supplies that Rickard steals from them, we are able to give a fraction of what was taken back to the people. I can only hope it is enough for the will of the divine."
Julian snorted derisively.
"What?" Lena challenged.
Julian seemed surprised to be called out on his display. Like he did not expect anyone else to be troubled by his lack of faith.
"What?" he repeated back at her.
"You laughed," she said calmly, but firmly. There was no room for doubt. "Why?" she inquired.
Julian shrugged. "In all the time I have known Rickard, I've never known him to be altruistic." He flipped his head to the side, and gave Lena a knowing smile. It was clear he didn't believe Rickard had turned over a new leaf.
Lena was not above her own suspicions. It wasn't as if some high profile treasures hadn't disappeared, seemingly right out from under them. She wasn't sure how much Rickard was skimming off the top of their raids, how much she was turning a blind eye.
But he was a sweet child, if a little lost.
"Then perhaps you don't know him as well as you think," Lena said, before she felt herself colour from her own presumptuousness. She clutched her cup of hot water in her hand. "Although you undoubtedly know him in many ways I couldn't dream of… I don't disapprove of your greeting at the door, although you should be careful with him. He is only a child."
Julian blew the steam away from his cup. "That little fink? Ha! He's already in his twenties. You're letting his pretty, smooth face fool you."
"Aren't you the one letting his pretty face fool you?" she asked.
"Mmm, maybe," Julian smiled kind of sadly. "I think it's sweet, how he calls me Chief. And I always did love a pretty face." He ducked his head down to peer under Lena's hood. His face seemed to hover a bit too close when he peered into her eyes.
Lena felt herself pull back from him, almost instinctively. And Julian seemed to sense her discomfort, because he pulled back as well to give her space.
Julian sighed, and then the smile returned. "Who am I to say, though?" he asked. "I can't say what kind of impression you got from all this, but Rickard and I aren't that close. Yeah, we went into business together for a time, and now he's gone into business together with you and I'll be leaving, since I've gotten myself a gig up north near Aurelis. And I can't say who we are and who we become, once we are outside of each other's presence."
Lena was startled by the switch in the conversation. She wasn't sure she understood where he was going with this, but she was definitely sure she disagreed. She believed – she needed to – that there were some good people in the world. Not just good people the way Rickard was good, but good so that you could trust them to do the right thing even when they left your sight, when even the divine deities turned their eyes away.
"So who am I to say Rickard hasn't taken an interest in the injustices of the world and the poor and the needy?" Julian continued. "Maybe you have been a good influence on him, Miss Lena." The formal title he gave her dripped with a sickly sweet, condescending sarcasm.
Lena felt herself wilt.
"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart," Julian said. "You can't have expected me not to notice? Anyone can tell from your accent you're noble-born, and foreign at that. So, c'mon~" He lifted his cup to her. "I don't have to leave until morning, and maybe I'm the one that's taken an 'interest' in your fight for justice. So tell me about yourself, Miss Lena, and about a noblewoman's work to help the ailing of the world."
There was an edge of sincere curiosity to his voice though and, even if there hadn't been, it was Lena's job as a servant of the divine to search that out the curiosity in the wayward.
So Lena told him about her training in Gurst and Macedon, and her self-imposed exile. How she would spend the days visiting the ill or feeding orphans at the local convent, and how people would sometimes come in the middle of the night to request emergency healing services. She spoke of the terrible illness and suffering she saw when she visited the homes of the poor and sat beside the beds of their dying. And she spoke of how scary it was that she trusted Rickard – a common thief – more than many of her brothers and sisters in the church, including those at the convent in town where she volunteered her time. She spoke of the heists and how, when Rickard raided the lords' quarters, she would watch at the doors and pray that they would be able to get away before things erupted into confrontation and violence. And she told him how, more than anything, she thought it a person's sacred duty to do all they possibly could to make the world more kind and gentle and just.
And as she told Julian these things, his careless façade began to drop and he listened with rapt attention. Like a part of him wanted, very much, to see the world through her eyes.
But it lasted only until sunrise, when Rickard returned with dry rations and mountaineer supplies – a parting gift, or final favour repaid, to Julian. And Lena didn't get to hear of Julian's life and world for months and months until, against the warnings of everyone she knew, she travelled north to the foot of the Samsooth Mountains to aid those wounded by the raiding bandits that swarmed out from the Teeth.
.
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The soles on her slip-ons weren't thick enough for the way her feet pounded on the rock as they ran downhill, and they provided far too little traction. It felt more like endlessly tripping than running – the way she slipped against the ground and her legs reeled to catch the perpetually falling ground. Julian was holding her arm, but not gently the way he had when she sat in her cell. He pulled her forward roughly and, when her knees buckled, he forcibly lifted her up, without ever letting their forward momentum lapse.
And she had kept track of the days she was held captive by Hyman and his Soothsires, but it was always through the dim filter of darkness and shade of the cavernous stronghold. The sun beat so brightly out here, it was overpowering. It sparkled diamonds off the matted red curls that fell to the sides of her face. She couldn't cover them up anymore – there was no time, and what would even be the point? Maybe if she had composed herself before she left the stronghold's darkness, but Julian had dragged her out into this open world of bright sounds, loud colours, and sharp edges. How could she pretend to shield herself from what had already pervaded her completely? She felt herself begin to halt.
"C'mon! Keep running!" Julian heaved the words out between ragged breaths. "It's just a little further, and then we'll be at the base of the mountain. Stick with me! Hurry, Miss Lena!"
Oh, she hated how he said her name. She never thought she might come to miss the way he lingered on the words, teasing and condescending, when he first called her Miss. She hated how the title had turned into a sincere expression of esteem and reverence and all the distance between them.
She swung her weight backwards, pulling his hand back at her arm.
Julian startled and moved to face her. He turned the side of his foot to catch against the gravel, and skidded to a stop. Lena almost tumbled straight forward into where his chest was heaving.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Lena," he said, "but you need to shake a leg here. They're gonna catch up to us sooner rather than later if we don't get a move on."
"Julian… I'm sorry…" she said, beating the fear in her throat into a softness. "I left my Mend staff back there. And it really is very precious to me. I have to go back for it. You go on ahead."
The progress Julian was making retrieving his breath was lost when he heaved a sigh. "You gotta be kidding me," he muttered. "Forget the staff. I'll return and get it back for you later, alright?!"
"I really have to go back for it," Lena insisted. She lifted a hand to indicate the head of the Warp staff she had strapped to her back. "I could use this to get you out of here," she begged. "I can send you someplace safe. Please, Julian. Save yourself!" But she could see Julian wasn't moved by her pleas. Tears were starting to pulse behind her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to shroud herself back away. She turned, so he couldn't see her face, and then made to break out of his grip and run back up the hill. But he caught her by the waist and lifted her up off the ground before she could escape.
She bit back a scream, and struggled. She kicked back at his shins, and tried to elbow him in the face and break away. And it felt mortifying. She had remained calm and held herself together for seven days and six days, all the time she'd been held captive by the Soothsires. And now, the second she was free of them, here she was throwing a tantrum, like a spoiled brat, at perhaps the only person that cared about her.
Julian grunted in pain, from where her arms and legs struck as she flailed against him, but only held her tighter. "Nuh-uh. No way. No can do, Miss Lena," he chuckled weakly. "I didn't betray my boys back there so you could zap me out of here alone… You realise if you go back, they'll only take you captive again. If Navarre and the others don't cut you down first…"
Lena gave a few last feeble attempts to escape, and wailed. She hadn't even realised she had begun crying in earnest. She hiccupped a few sobs, before managing to swallow the rest of them. Julian had set her feet back down to the ground, and she leaned listlessly against him. She pulled her Warp staff off her back, hugged it to her chest like a lifeline.
Julian hovered around her. He couldn't seem to decide what to do with his hands and, after a moment, delicately encircled them around her back, only without touching her. Like a cage. "It's okay, Miss Lena. It'll be okay. But right now, though, I need you to run! Can you do that, Miss Lena?"
Lena didn't want to hear him. She leaned more heavily into him. Her knuckles hurt where they were smashed between the Warp staff and his chest.
"Why is it that you broke me out of there?" Lena asked. "Is it that you wanted me to be your woman, instead of his?"
Julian seemed to realise there was not good way to answer this question. So, for a moment, he only held Lena silently.
With her right hand, Lena hiked her frock up on one side, past her knees. Using the tactical advantage of the higher ground, she pushed herself up to straddle Julian's left thigh, which was braced against the mountainside. She tucked her head near the crook between his bicep and chest before, very slowly, she began to rub her sex against him.
This seemed to startle Julian into giving an answer. His breath hitched slightly, before he began.
"Well- I guess I already told you I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Miss Lena." He laughed somewhat nervously. "But- Don't you remember, Miss Lena? …You told me that you wanted to open your own convent and orphanage, and look after those who no one else would. And I felt more and more like I wanted to be the kind of person that would protect that dream, instead of the kind that would tear it down."
Lena breathed out a fluttering moan, and blinked her eyes rapidly against Julian's arm, like butterfly kisses. This really was just about the best thing Julian could have said. She ground against him a little bit quicker – bounced up and down against his thigh in short jerks. She was wet – really wet. But then she had been for the young lord buyer too. And- no- she didn't want to think of him. And about how she'd been impure and wanton and gushing from the start. But maybe it was better that she had been. It was her body's way of protecting her, after all. She was already sore and achy from the last week. Imagine how much worse it could have been-
"Y'know, I am really very flattered, Miss Lena," Julian said. "But we have to get out of here before we get trapped between my old buddies and the Altean forces. Do we really have to do this right now?"
Lena breathed deeply through the next couple of thrusts against his thigh, before she paused to open her eyes and look at him. She was still holding the Warp staff in her left hand. It extended back under her arm, pressed sideways against her abdomen, jutted out behind her back. And, when Lena clutched it more tightly, its magic glowed. "If you don't want me to warp you to safety alone-"
Julian didn't let her finish her sentence before he ducked his head down and pressed his lips to hers. She closed her eyes immediately but, even with how she pared her senses down to the texture and motion of his mouth, there hardly seemed time to take any of it in and respond, with the way Julian frantically licked at her lips and sucked at her tongue.
He grabbed her right leg and, combined with the arm swung behind her back, lifted her the rest of the way off the ground. The extra weight made his feet lose their grip on the mountainous slope and they slid downwards for a moment, before Julian crouched down and laid her down in the dirt and gravel.
It was uncomfortable lying on a bunch of jagged pebbles, and the back of her frock would get all dusty. But Julian was still sucking hard on her tongue, like he meant to suction out her soul. He broke free every so often with a crackled smacking sound, to pant hot air in her face. His hand had wiggled between her legs, and he rubbed her labia, pressed the blunt tips of his fingers inside her, and explored every nook and cranny and nub until he found the spot that made her squirm most and breathe deepest. And then he rubbed against it again – once, twice, thrice – until she felt her body seize, and she moaned into his mouth.
She realised, coming off her high, that he was hard – grinding against her thigh this time. He pulled away from their kiss for a moment, and his hand pulled against the drawstring tie that held his trousers up. He was kissing her again, so she didn't get to see him, or get any further warning before he pushed into her and – ah, for all that it was a slick and easy entry, what had been a dull throb before now ached terribly, and she was reminded how sore she was from the young lord buyer. She winced a little, from the remembrance and pain, but she was glad she managed to suppress it before it caused her to emote more. Julian, thankfully, didn't seem to notice. He ducked down to steal her lips again.
"Mmm, you're so- beautiful," Julian breathed between their kisses and the little moans and hums that escaped him.
Lena's eyes were opened now, and she reached up to brush the hair out of her face so she could see him. He was so endearing.
"You're so beautiful- 'n kind. So kind. And stubborn. So stubborn…" Julian breathed. "But- mmm- Don't forget. You're way too good for that guy the boss found to buy you." Lena did flinch then, but Julian's eyes were closed and he was pressing a kiss to her chin, so he couldn't see. "Mmm. And me," he continued. "You're way too good for me too. Don't forget, Miss Lena."
He pushed in and out of her again, and she felt vaguely that he was wrong. She wanted to tell him: Not at all. Julian – he was thoughtful and kind and just, even when she could do nothing. It was definitely him that was too good for her.
But her self-consciousness was starting to catch up with her. She had already been so selfish and petulant and argumentative this morning. The thought of contradicting him once again, of forcing him to accommodate her once more – it seemed like a task too herculean and cruel to even consider.
She breathed out a ragged sigh, and pressed her hips up against him. For a moment it was just them- And then Julian went completely still. He hadn't finished, but he was looking up the slope at the rest of the mountain path. She could see his eyebrows crease with worry.
"Shit… Shit, shit, shit," he stammered frantically. He pulled out of her, pressed a kiss to her forehead and fumbled with the drawstring trousers. "They're going to see us and break into a full run, as soon as we stand up," he whispered. "So we gotta keep one step ahead of them. Let's cross our fingers, hoping we don't run into any of those Alteans on the way down, huh, Miss Lena?"
Lena wasn't sure what her expression showed, but Julian seemed satisfied she'd understood. Hovering over her, he pulled her frock back down over her legs and smoothed it absently, then reached very quietly for the Warp staff, which had fallen to the side, and pressed it into her hand. When the head of the staff glowed, he closed a gloved hand around it. "Don't you dare," he said, although his eyes were still fixed on what he could see behind her, up the mountainside.
And then he was on his feet, pulling her up. He pushed her ahead of himself, and she stumbled. She looked back for a second. She could see them – the rest of the bandits. They were about three hundred metres away, on a curved path around the side of the mountain. And she could guarantee every single one of them was a better runner than her. Julian certainly was.
And then the bandits yelled, and she didn't look back anymore. She barrelled forward, ignoring the switchbacks and briar and rock that scratched into her legs. Lena ran as if- well, her life did depend on it. And she was an idiot for not running like this sooner, like Julian had told her to. Such an idiot. Deities help her.
But Julian held her pace and held her hand, and she wasn't the only one that stumbled, and had to be dragged back up mid-fall. She didn't need to look back to know the bandits were gaining on them, when their footsteps clattered louder and louder. But every so often she looked to the side at Julian.
Tears were running from his eyes, but not really in a way that seemed sad as much as overflowing. And, when he noticed her looking, he smiled in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but instead just looked terrified.
She felt her own eyes leaking. She must have smiled back at him much in the same manner.
They held on for two kilometres, when they finally barrelled straight into Altea's Army. The forces were spread out wide across the mountain pass and, with no way to avoid them, Julian tensed badly, unsure of whether or not to proceed. But Lena squeezed his hand, pulled him forward, and took a leap of faith. One that was rewarded when the cavaliers parted to let them by, and then closed in behind them to shield them from their pursuers.
.
.
The Altean forces had already been warned to keep an eye out for her, after visiting one of the villages surrounding the mountain pass. They had orders to recapture her from the bandits from the start, along with the manpower to see it through. She ignored the implications this had, on the necessity of Julian's defection and their escape from the Soothsires.
Lena met Prince Marth with her hair down and uncovered. He had called her Sister without any prompting. She supposed she still was a sister. There was nothing that had undone her training with the church, she could still heal, and there was no indication she had done anything so blasphemous that she'd be excommunicated. And there was nothing in the scripture at large that said she must keep her hair covered, not even within her own sect. It was simply one of many ways that a nun could show her devotion to the deities – not a tell. Nobody except herself, the holy father in Gurst who had overseen her training, and the divine beings themselves, would know she had broken any promises.
Julian had babbled like a fool – unsure himself if he could be counted as one of the 'good guys' – but Prince Marth had been receptive to it. Prince Marth seemed like a good sort, and he was working against the Dohlr Empire and its proponents in Gurst and Macedon. This suited Lena's sense of the best way to approach this volatile political climate, so she let Julian sign himself up for service in Altea's cause. Prince Marth seemed hesitant when she, herself, decided she wanted to help with the war efforts. But, after a moment's consideration, he had a Heal staff brought to her and instructed her to be on standby to nurse the wounded.
The Mend staff followed, when Navarre entered the healing tent and thrust it at her. She thought him part of the enemy ranks for a moment. But the guards didn't move to stop him, and Navarre waited, frowning, until Lena deigned to take the staff from him. And then he left without a word. Later she learned he had wrested it from the grasp of the now-deceased Hyman. She remembered Julian's empty promises to go back to retrieve it later, and breathed a little easier knowing he never got the opportunity to follow through.
And it pleased her that she had not judged Navarre's character so far off the mark the first time she had recruited his help in Archanea's capital. Although she didn't think she could forget what she had seen of him with the Soothsires either.
Talys's princess, who was perhaps the only other woman in Marth's service, offered to help her wash up after the battle at the Teeth. And Julian helped her comb her hair and braid it for bed. Because of this, her uncovered hair was a little less of a mess next time, when Lena met with Matthis upon arriving in Aurelis. But Lena supposed it hardly mattered since, no matter how kempt or unkempt, there was nothing about her hair that was going to surprise the brother she grew up with.
Quite the contrary, he managed to surprise her.
She had been harsh with him, she knew. But only because he was not behaving bravely and justly and within the will of the deities, she told herself. She tried not to think about how, when she sat imprisoned in the Soothsires's cell, her brother had been stationed only thirty kilometres north of her as part of the Macedonian army's occupation of Aurelis, playing cards in a barrack.
"You know, Lena, you always were the reliable one," he sighed, after she was done scolding him. "And now you're fully grown… I thought for sure you'd have settled down with your one true love already."
"T-true love?" she stammered. "I've- I've met not such man, Matthis." She wondered if her brother was tacitly referring to her rejection of Michalis. And true love? She refused to put that burden on Julian.
Julian and her had fallen asleep in the same tent yesterday – warm, exhausted, and chaste. She had a dream she was sharing with him, and she didn't want to undermine that relationship by demanding again that it be more. And now that her brother was here to misunderstand, she decided to take up Caeda's offer to share her sleeping quarters.
When she told Julian this, he'd been carefully unemotive.
And then she met Rickard again, as Julian dragged him out of a cell in Aurelis's Castle. He was whining and crying (My foot! Chief! My foot, it huuurts!) and Julian was complaining (Can it, you little-! It doesn't even look swollen! Aren't you just reaping what you sow, comin' in here to line your pockets~). But Julian caved and dragged Rickard up to sit on his back. Rickard didn't look twice at Lena's hair but, when he was sure Julian was not looking, he wiggled the ankle he was meant to have sprained and stuck his tongue out at her.
Lena giggled and, when Julian began to complain again, she cut in. "Julian, please take this seriously. Your friend is hurt, and there's nothing magic can do to fix a sprained ankle. Won't you please be careful with him until we arrive at the rendezvous point?"
"Yes, of course, Miss Lena." Julian looked chastened.
Rickard pouted. After another moment of walking, he waved Lena over and Julian pretended not to notice as she approached and pressed herself up on her tiptoes, so that Rickard could lean down and whisper into her ear:
"You sure know how to suck the fun out of everything, don't ya, Lena?"
…
And then, sometime much later, Lena was in Dohlr's keep, trapped between doors that refused to open, holding the Mend staff that was now, for the second time, close to breaking.
Someone needed healing. It hadn't been Julian, although she thought it would have been more poetic if it were. It was actually Tiki, who somehow embodied the most delicate and feeble form of a child, and the most fierce of them all as the Manakete heiress. Tiki was struggling to breathe, with the slashing wounds over her neck. And Lena thought about how much she had treasured this Mend staff that she had almost lost to the Soothsires, how at one point it seemed to be all that was left of her tattered devotion. Since she had the Hammerne, she could salvage the Mend staff if she traded it over to one of her allies, and then back once it was repaired. But there wasn't time for that, not without risking Tiki's life.
It wasn't really a question – the Mend staff didn't have any value to her anymore, apart from the people it could save. She forced her magic through its cracking veins, until Tiki was well and the staff ripped itself apart.
She studied the frayed pieces of wood that had once made up the handle, and the dulled crystal that once sat at the top. She thought about how she, herself, was just a servant of the divine, who could only do right by saving others. She thought of Julian again, and how certain he had been of the staff's value and purpose, and of his own, when they had been running down the mountain. And, for the first time, she worried about what she might have taught him. To only find value in oneself, insofar as you could save others? But she thought she would have loved him even if-
She swallowed hard.
Even though he hadn't saved her.
.
.
AN: Hope you enjoyed~
Originally the section with Rickard that preceded the ending was longer, but I cut it down to better preserve tone and pacing. I liked the details in spite of its rough edges so, if you're interested, you can read the extended version on my tumblr account, the-crpytographer, post number 179907486394.
Thanks to rainstormcolors for proofreading, despite not being overly familiar with Fire Emblem canon.
bgm: Clouds by New Politics.