Inferno's Embrace

Decided to write a bit about Covenant of the Plume.

Pairing is Wyl and Lieselotte. I'd say 'don't like, don't read', but I really don't think the VP fanbase is big enough for me to start alienating people like that. Heh.

I own nothing.

She was like the fire she loved to wield so much, Wyl reflected. She was wild and unpredictable, and more than a little dangerous. Even now, after having been through so much, even after having lost everything, a fire within her still burned – a stubborn refusal to succumb to despair, to pick up the ashes and continue down the road.

Not that it always manifested herself in entirely healthy actions – and not that Wyl himself was in any position to criticize her. The only reason he had not sunk into his own mire of depression and apathy was his burning drive to defeat the Valkyrie once and for all.

They were, as he had noted shortly before she had agreed to join him on this 'fool's errand' (her words, not his) not so very different from each other, after all.

Perhaps that was what had drawn them to each other. Two lost souls in a harsh an unyielding world, finding what measures of comfort and solace they could in the other's company.

As he lies still in the darkness of the room, in a messy tangle of cloaks and limbs, he listens to the sound of her steady, regular breathing. In the pale moonlight that filters in from the window, her face looks… peaceful. Serene. So different from the twisted rage she'd exploded into after confronting Rosea. So different from the empty sadness she'd revealed when he'd confronted her about it afterwards.

Silently, he reaches his arm across to her face lying nestled in the crook of his neck and his shoulder. Slowly, softly, so as not to disturb her, he traces a line across her delicate features, down her cheek and her jawline.

Their night sessions were usually short, wordless affairs, where actions took precedence over speech. Wyl had usually considered himself to be in pretty good shape, but whenever they met each other in the bedroom Liese could easily outlast him with minimal effort. She was pretty close-lipped about her past before being accepted as the Archmage's pupil, but Wyl knew enough to understand that cultivating these sort of skills had for her been a matter of simple survival, skills that she had always brought along with her, even to more comfortable lifestyles.

Sometimes, once in a while, he would see her wandering down silent roads or the quiet countryside, staring off into the distance, and he would go to her, always asking if there was anything on her mind. Most of the time, the answer would be 'no', along with maybe a teasing remark about what a worrywart he could be. Sometimes, however… sometimes she would gaze at him with pain-filled eyes, and then, always softly, always haltingly, she would recount another brief snippet of her past, another scar engraved upon her soul.

And in turn, she would sometimes endeavour to draw out details of his past, of his anger and shame and grief, of how it had all coalesced into a single burning point of vengeance against the Valkyrie. It was strange, really, how talking to her about it always made him feel just a little bit… lighter after it all. Like the simple act of speaking of it was allowing him to scatter his burden away, pebble by pebble. In his better moments, he hoped he could do the same for Liese.

Even now, lying in bed, he wonders about how they had grown so close to each other – how he had managed to fall in love almost without noticing. Liese had always been a bit of a flirt, all the way from the moment she'd first met him by handily frying several monsters that had been about to ambushed him, and he'd never really taken her come-ons very seriously.

No, it had been in the rarer moments of brutal honesty, both to herself and him, when, through tear-filled eyes, she admitted how much she hated herself for what she had become, and yet could see no path out. Wyl wished he could help her, grant her comfort – and yet, how could he, when his own hands were as bloodstained as hers, if not more? The only support he could give her was as one wounded soldier who offers his arm to another, and they both slowly limped off the battlefield.

And so it had been that as two broken souls collided with each other, they had slowly, slowly, began to knit together, drawing strength from each other to heal their hurts of their past.

As he lies in bed, holding her close to him, he can't help but wonder if one day she'll grow bored with him, that she might realize she's grown strong enough and that she no longer needs or wants him, and that he will wake up one morning to find her gone, along with anything she cared to pocket, and that he would never see her again.

He knows, in his heart of hearts, that he could not endure such pain, and that if she vanished, all that he is would crumble away into ashes.

But somehow… somehow, he doesn't think that very likely at all. And so he leans over, planting a brief kiss on her forehead, a smile playing across his face as he notes her wrinkle her nose and murmur softly in an unconscious response.

"I love you." He whispers before falling into peaceful slumber himself.

And slowly, the pain his heart fades.

"Hey, Wyl!" Liese's cheerful voice cut across the windswept plains. "What are you looking at?"

Wyl gazed down at the white feather in his hands, his face conflicted. If any of his companions had ever divined the true nature of the Plume, they would have all abandoned him in a heartbeat – if not killing him themselves to make sure. And so as Lieselotte approached he stoods and shook his head.

"I was just thinking… about the Valkyrie." He said softly as he held up the feather.

"Yeah, about that," she scratched her forehead. "I've been wondering, how do you plan on finding her. It's not like she'll just drop down from the sky to fight you or anything, will she?'

"Liese…" Wyl said softly. "What if I decided to quit this quest for vengeance?"

"Well, then we won't anger the gods and potentially throw the entire balance of Midgard out of whack." The sorceress said as she settled herself on the ground next to him. "Sounds win-win to me."

"No jokes, Liese." He said softly, twirling the white feather around in his hand. "More and more, I've been starting to wonder if this whole quest vengeance is really worth it in the first place." He could always talk to Liese about these things, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because she was the closest of all his companions to understanding his past – her life hadn't exactly been rosy, either.

"But…?" She prompted after a moment.

"But… whenever I think about it, I realize that vengeance is… is really all I have left. If I give up on my quest, I won't have anything at all. My mother is delusional. My sister died of starvation, and my father…" He shook his head. "I hate everything I've become and yet I can't turn away from it."

"Boy, that sounds familiar." She said sardonically. Reaching out to pluck the feather from his hand, she let out a slow sigh. "I told you before that hatred was all I had left, didn't I? Hatred for Artolia, for Rosea, for the gods who cursed me to this position… Without it, I'd just be empty."

"Yeah."

"Well, that hatred… it's not exactly gone, but it's diminished. A lot. And you know what? I don't feel empty either. And you know why, don't you?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Wyl, you're alone and you have no one." She said softly. "I, too, am alone, and have no one."

Another pause. One hand cupped his chin and slowly turned him to face her. She was smiling – not to cunning smile she flashed whenever she thought up a new scheme, or the smile of pleasure in the few moments where they had the opportunity to enjoy themselves. This smile was honest, open and trusting.

"Let's be alone together."

Silently, he reached down and grasped her other hand, so that both of them were holding the feather.

"Okay."

And then he found that he, too, was smiling.

Story End

Well, thanks for reading. Please tell me what you thought of it. Thanks in advance!