Author's Note: I couldn't let it stand, the lame way this unfolded in the game. I had to fix it - fix the fight with Zephirin to one of proper revenge! I realize that pieces of this story are slightly different than actual events, but it's my personal headcanon so...please enjoy. :P Also, in this story, the Warrior of Light is a female Seeker of the Sun Mi'quote with fair skin, black hair with red highlights, and gray eyes. I don't describe her so...yah. Her name, S'liya, is pronounced soo-LEE-yuh. Thank you for reading!
S'liya Lhea's footsteps echoed in the cathedral as she raced across the marble floor in pursuit of Ser Charibert. She took the stairs two by two and leapt up the last three when she neared the top. The two giant, wooden double doors were swinging freely. She slammed them open just in time to see the defeated knight falling in step with Archbishop Thordan VII, the pair making their way down the long boarding lane where an airship was just arriving to bear them away from the Vault.
"Stop!" she roared, and Charibert glanced back, anger spliced with fear flashing across his face. The Archbishop neither stopped nor looked back.
A chorus of footsteps rushing up behind her caused her ears to twitch—chainmail, plate armor, four pairs of feet but only one set limping. Then suddenly Haurchefant appeared at her side, Estinien and Lucia flanked her, and a wounded Ser Aymeric limped past.
"Father, please!" he cried. Her cat eyes quickly scanned him for any serious injury before she caught Haurchefant's gaze.
"We were not too late, my friend," he assured her with a small smile.
"Why must you do this, Father?" Aymeric shouted, hobbling a few paces down the walkway, clutching tightly to his arm. The Archbishop suddenly stopped, though he did not turn around. Seeing he had his attention, Aymeric continued to beseech his father. An opening, S'liya realized.
She and Haurchefant locked eyes, thoughts in sync, and nodded in unison. As the Archbishop's voice rose above the din of the wind to respond to his son's plea, they broke into a sprint down the lane. As her Elezen comrade locked his shield before him and drew his sword, she ripped one of her throwing daggers from her loaded belt, jumped into an aerial spin, and launched the kunai. It found purchase in the Archbishop's shoulder and he fell forward to one knee. Charibert lunged to aid him.
"Nice throw!" Haurchefant's praise came on the whipping wind. She grinned and prepared another dagger. Truthfully, she had been aiming for his spine, but calculating wind speed on the fly was never her strong point. The next one wouldn't miss, she would be sure of it. "Liya!" Haurchefant shrieked. "Look out!"
Before she could react, he slammed into her. She spun mid-slide on the marble, bringing her daggers defensively to bear, when she saw a bolt of light connect with Haurchefant's shield with a loud crack. Her eyes went wide, fear slamming into her chest and taking a sickening hold of her heart pulsating so quickly that she thought it might burst.
"Don't!" she screamed, propelling herself forward so suddenly that her feet slipped once on the marble. There was no way his shield would hold it. She ran two paces when she heard the snap. "No!"
The bolt of light broke through the shield and speared Haurchefant through his gut, sticking fast into the ground like a glittering pike. And then it dispersed in a sparkling flash. S'liya reached out and caught Haurchefant as he fell back and she collapsed onto her knees.
"No!" she cried. Her hands flew to his stomach to cover the wound but the gaping hole gushing blood was too large. Lucia crashed down on his opposite side and Estinien knelt beside her. "Help me get his armor off!" Her fingers slick with blood struggled with the buckles strapping his chainmail to his chest. Neither moved a muscle. "Help me!" she commanded them, and they quickly worked the heavy mail off as Aymeric hobbled up to them. "I need a healer!"
The airship mid-flight caught her eye and she glanced up in time to see Ser Zephirin leap from his lofty position onto the airship's main deck. He smiled at her and she knew, knew he had thrown it, that he had tried to kill her but failed and yet still was satisfied. Rage and hatred so raw boiled beneath her skin, distracted only by Haurchefant's cries of pain as they peeled the mail away from his wound and over his head.
"Healer!" she shouted. "Get a healer! Now!"
Beneath the armor, he wore a thin shift. S'liya immediately removed her coat and covered his chest then ripped off one of the scarves tied around her waist, bundled it, and pressed it into the wound. Within moments, it was sopped with blood. Lucia gingerly lifted Haurchefant's head so that he could breathe easier.
"You," Haurchefant rasped, blood smeared on his lips. He struggled to look at her, eyes lolling in his head. "You are unharmed…" The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he tried to smile. "I'm…glad…"
"Grey," she whispered, using the nickname she had given him when they had met; she'd told him his name was too hard to pronounce and used his last name, Greystone, as inspiration. "Did you forget what I told you?"
"I didn't…forget. Forgive me—" he coughed, blood spattering his chin "—but I could not bear the thought of…of…"
"Heal him! Someone!" Her gaze flew wildly from Lucia to Estinien to Aymeric. "Do something!"
"Could not…bear the thought…"
"Hydaelyn…" she whispered desperately. "I need you, Hydaelyn." She winced as she pressed the sopping scarf to his wound and blood gushed between her fingers. "Hydaelyn, help me!"
Haurchefant managed to lift his arm, trying to reach her. She grasped his hand in both of hers, drew it to her chest. She felt droplets spatter her fingers and realized her face was wet with tears.
"Oh, do not look at me so…" he mumbled, still trying to hold his smile. "A smile…better suits…a hero…"
A sob forced its way past the lump in her throat. "Is that why you're smiling, my friend?" Her voice was shaking. His brows lifted in surprise. She nodded in affirmation and forced herself to smile for him. "You saved me. Over and over again." She watched tears leak out of his eyes and mingle with the blood on his cheeks. "You're my hero, Grey." He smiled one last time, a peaceful smile, and the light left his eyes. His body slumped in Lucia's arms. "Grey?" she whimpered. "Grey!"
She squeezed the hand she held and leaned into him, looking desperately for some sign of life. Then someone was touching her, there were hands on her shoulders, trying to pull her away. She jerked her arm with such force that the person was thrown back.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed.
This was not how it was supposed to be. Not him. Not Haurchefant. When Limsa Lominsa and Gridania had turned their backs on her, he had welcomed her with open arms. When Ul'dah hunted her, he had sworn to protect her. When despair and hopelessness had knocked her into the snow, it was his words of hope that had pulled her back onto her feet. He had fought for her, fought with her, brave and strong and never false. He had never forsaken her, not once—not in his words, his actions, or his faith. Never!
Still holding his hand tightly to her chin, she folded over onto his chest, the cool leather of her coat pressed against her cheek. She stared up at his silver hair matted with blood, his porcelain pale skin, the smile frozen on his lips.
She was suddenly acutely aware of an agonizing pain in her chest so oppressive that she couldn't breathe. Her vision was instantly blurry, eyes burning. She might've been screaming.
They call you a hero, but the only saving you do is with steel. Teledji Adeledji's words had rung hollow back then, words spoken after watching what she believed was Nanamo ul Namo choke to death. She had been sorry, of course, had been horrified and sad, but the Sultana's life and death, her motivation and ambition—it was beyond S'liya's realm of operation. Her death was regrettable, but it was not S'liya's responsibility. Killing is your only talent, he had hissed. Moenbryda's sacrifice was noble and pure, given to defeat an Ascian. She had been at peace with her choice. It was a life given willingly, not taken forcibly. And even though she mourned her death, Moenbryda had been Minfillia's friend, Urianger's friend…not S'liya's. If you can't kill, what use are you?
What use was she?
S'liya wailed into his neck, clung to his head and silver hair, to his shift. She cursed Hydaelyn for abandoning her. She cursed the Scions who had called upon her countless times but could not be there in the one moment she had need of them. She cursed herself a murderer, because her only talent was killing. And Haurchefant was dead.