A/N: So, in the process of rewriting my chapter'ed Fire Emblem fic, I started thinking of other projects too. And who knew it would draw me backwards to FE 7. One night I had this idea. It started as Lyn getting ready for bed, and I started toying with it. Then I thought, hey I could actually make a story out of this. So, I started imagining what I could do. A few days of work, a few more days of trying to catch a lot of errors and reword things, and here I am. And my first published one-shot to boot. Clearly, I'm breaking into uncharted territory, at least for me. But hopefully this works.
A number of songs also inspired this little fic. One was Strip Me by Natasha Beddingfield. It's about looking at who you are or on a broader level, the truth of who you are, and that sort of fit the idea I wanted to put in. I don't know how well I did, but I tried. Another was Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon. I also drew some minor inspiration from the song Love the One You're With by Stephen Stills. Originally, I was going to work that into the title, but I had a better idea for it after I wrote it. And so without further ado, I give you the story.
EDIT: Fixed some errors. And some more.
Lyndis hurriedly threw open the door to her bedchamber and stepped quickly inside. With fretted gasps, she gave it a hard push, and it struck its holds with a loud thud. She was glad of that barrier separating her from the rest of the world, a world she cared little for. Taking the few strides towards her own chaise-lounge, Lyndis sank onto the plush seat with a light sigh filled with contentment and a mounting frustration. "I hate this place," she said, her words choked from a sob wishing to escape her throat. "I hate this place," she repeated, this time with a shout. She was glad that not a single person, invited guest or household servant, could hear that cry. Lyndis did not want to face another look of disgust or surprise from anyone else this night. The thought of having to explain herself in order to save only face made her all the more irritable. But for those who knew her, she was certain they would understand the ire in her words.
Somewhere below her tired soles, a great feast continued on in the castle of Pherae, and as the lady of the house, she knew she was expected to sit and greet the visiting nobles as they poured in like wine from a bottle to honor the first three years of the marriage between her and its new lord. It had gone well for the most part, but Lyndis knew she could not continue exchanging feeble pleasantries with her guests. For another reason, she found the affair rather uncomfortable, especially for a woman in her condition. After a number of hours of sitting in a hardened chair carved from some once-grand tree, Lyndis announced she would retire early that night and had left. Most of the guests, she gathered, did not blame her. She placed one gloved hand over her belly, swollen with child. She counted herself fortunate that not a one had objected to her abrupt announcement. But, though she was often tired, especially in her sixth month, only she and her husband knew the truth of her departure.
She knew of the whispers still uttered by many of the elite of Lycia. Each of them called her the 'savage from the plains,' often in her presence but in tones so subdued, they thought she would not hear. But she was certain she could surprise them with how much she truly did hear. She had always realized that her peers only smiled through their teeth at her, all the while thinking of how undeserving she was to stand in such a grand palace. She would not argue with them, although she would describe herself as unwilling, yet bound to do so. Every time she was forced to entertain her fellow nobles, she found herself wishing to flee however far from this life that fate had placed upon her; a life she would readily leave behind. And so she rose and left the great hall. When she was certain none would hear her, she ran as much as she was able. While she was normally a woman of strength, every day of late seemed to leave her sobbing, and as she ran, she had wept again until she came to her room.
Lyndis looked about her quarters, grand and ornate as befitting the man for whose house it was, and as his wife, it was befitting for her as well. Yet, she loathed the room and all within it. Every drape and tapestry, the blanket upon her bed, and even the very cushion she now rested on only served to remind the woman of how different her life was when she thought of all she had wanted it to be. She longed for the rolling grasses of her homeland and for a horizon that spanned on until both earth and sky met each other in a single line. She would have taken greater pleasure living in an unadorned house with what only was needed than have her every need catered to by maids forced by their station to do so. Also, Lyndis wished to discard her title as 'lady' and live as a common woman, unfettered by rank or protocol. Above all else, she longed to have a different man beside her, especially when she knew the day her of her child's birth was quickly nearing. These useless trappings around her and even on her person managed only to remind her of that one man, the man she had loved and the man who was now gone.
"Kent," her thoughts said for her. The very remembrance of his name brought fresh tears to her reddened eyes. She had thought of him many times since the Dragon's Gate, and each time, the pain seemed dulled to her. She had hated to let that pain lose its sting, but she would have likely driven herself to madness had she not. However, on this occasion the wounds of her heart felt fresh, as though they had torn themselves open as again her hand fell to her belly. Since her marriage, she had tried to disguise the woeful looks as his name often filled her thoughts, and his visage would quickly follow the mention of it. Yet, she doubted that her efforts had succeeded. She had tried to convince herself that all was well, and that every foul mood or shed tear came from her condition, yet she knew each word she spoke to herself held no truth. All was not well in this house, in her, or in the union she shared.
She wondered if her husband could peer into her mind. In the earliest days of their marriage, he had looked upon her with a face that lingered in her thoughts far more than the faces of concealed scorn from the courts of Pherae and the other territories: it was a face of doubt. In his eyes, Lyndis could see a single question behind them. Without ever speaking, Eliwood had challenged her love and devotion. She knew not how, but she had managed to silence his persistent and silent inquiring. For a time, he had ceased showing such faces, but now that she bore his seed, his child, within her, he had begun again. When she had learned she was expectant, she had again taken to thinking as she did now, with visions of the plains and her knight filling her head and spreading to her face. She had tried to hide her expressions of discontent, fearing he would see, though she was certain he had indeed seen them. A week and two days ago, when they were alone, he had asked her directly, and she knew not how to answer him. While she had given no answer, Lyndis was certain he had taken her silence as proof that she did not. She had never heard Eliwood raise his voice to anyone, save for those worthy of it, namely Nergal and his followers. Yet, that day, she recalled the harsh words he gave her; words that retained their bitter sting.
She wondered then if he might cast her out for what he considered unfaithfulness, as some of his advisers counseled him to do. She had known of such blatant statements towards her as well. At that time, she had tried to convince him that she did love him. She had tried to convince herself as well, if only for her own sake and the sake of the child within her. Lyndis did not wish to raise a young life in such a fragile home. Yet, she knew then as she knew now that her words carried no truth in them. She wondered how long she could long she could believe such a thing before the truth of where her heart rested would overpower her. She wondered what would happen when she would be forced to admit the truth after the years had buried it.
Lyndis shook her head at her worried notions and decided to make herself ready for bed. She began by peeling off the gloves from her hands, and letting them drop lifelessly to the floor. With her hands freed, she removed her shoes and stockings and cast them with abandon in front of her. She hated that pair of shoes, for they were so unlike her simple boots of leather. Instead, they forced her to walk on pointed heels. As of late, they brought her greater discomfort than she had previously recalled. She doubted she would ever grow accustomed to them. She let another slight sigh of gratitude escape her mouth as her feet sank deep into the rich carpet beneath them. While she was glad of the soft touch on her wearied soles and ankles, she thought the plains of Sacae would offer greater comfort to her bare feet, especially since it would soon be spring. The soil, warmed by the sun, and the grass, cooled by the morning dew, sounded better to her than even the man-made warmth of the rug that kept the biting chill of the floor at bay. As she thought happily of the land of her birth, she thought of her life and the man she had hoped to share it with. She thought of that first night shortly after the death of Lundgren; the first night she and Kent had spent in company, if only for a moment.
She recalled how sleep had escaped her in her new quarters, and she took to roaming the castle. To her, the house of Lord Hausen was as strange and foreign as the plains were to the people of Lycia. She mused at how similar that night was to her life as the Lady of Pherae, except that night was far different than the many nights spent in this place. She had come to Kent's quarters to share his company. It came as a surprise to her to see him barefoot and clad in a long nightshirt. He appeared so different than the man who had traveled with her, stood by her side, and raised his sword in her name. Lyndis thought of the look on his face as he saw her, similarly clad and unshod, standing before him. Beneath his honorable eyes, she remembered a certain gleam in them at the sight of her shoulders. And when she had expressed her doubts over how she could fulfill the role expected of her as Caelin's princess, he had reassured her and had hastily commented on her beauty in doing so. Lyndis thought of the good-natured teasing she had given him on letting his tongue slip in such a way, yet she could not help but feel flattered that he thought of her as beautiful. She had carried those thoughts back with her to her chambers.
Lyndis idly dug her feet into the carpet as she sat upon her couch. She had to laugh to herself at the memory of that night and how the marches of time had changed the man. She wished again for his presence. She wished it was he who would minister to the aches she felt during her time. Though the soft rug did help the pains that her pregnancy and those shoes laying before her brought to her, she had hoped for his hands easing her instead of this rug or even the hands of her husband, although Eliwood had not done anything of the sort. With another heavy sigh, she started on the golden pins that held up her hair. She threw them down with the same careless abandon as she freed her hair from them. She had thought to simply cut it so that she would not have to bother with her maids sticking such things into her tresses. She had always worn it in a simple ponytail, but the ministers who served her husband insisted on her looking as a 'proper lady of Pherae.' She would have enjoyed taking the sword to her hair if only to see their faces, no doubt a mix of shock and horror at the sight of a short-haired woman. At last, she pulled the last pin and looked about at the tiny specks of gold gleaming in the thick rug.
Kent had always liked her hair, she recalled. She could always spy him looking at it, flowing from her head as they walked near the camp. They were spending more time together, walking and talking, as they traveled with Eliwood and his army. He had insisted it was his duty to stand by her wherever she went, but Lyndis was certain there was more to it, and she found herself disappointed when he acted otherwise. He had once asked of the band that held it, and she had told him it was a gift from her parents. She had asked him of his own life, but he simply answered that there was hardly anything to tell. His parents had sent him as an apprentice to the knights of Caelin, and he had eventually obtained his own commission and knighthood. It was then that she had asked him if all he ever thought of was his duty, especially when he accompanied her. When he answered that her grandfather would never forgive him should he let harm come to her, she had stormed away. Later, he came to her tent saying that even if his lord would forgive him, he would not.
Lyndis sat for a moment deep in thought, much as she had in her tent after that night. She had wondered if he spoke of his heart when he came to her or merely of a deep bond. It had pleased her to learn the truth of it later. At present, Lyndis stood to undo her dress which she considered far too extravagant for a woman such as herself. It was quite long and, in her eyes, quite cumbersome to wear, especially for an expectant woman whose time was only months away. To some, it was a gown to admire, sewn of dark blue thread and laden with elaborate patterns of gold. But from the moment she had laid eyes on it, Lyndis despised it, and when she had clothed herself in it, she hated it all the more. She found the dress difficult to remove alone, and each moment she spent trying only made her all the more irritable. She wished she could simply tear it and leave it in ornate shreds all over the floor. When she had at last freed herself from it, she let the hated garment drop alongside her shoes. She cared not even to return it to its place in her wardrobe.
She recalled the battle of Nabata, when an arrow wounded her faithful knight. She had taken it upon herself to treat him, especially when Serra was needed elsewhere. The injured were great in number, some with graver wounds than Kent. Lyndis herself had taken a sword to her side, which was sure to leave a scar. She had instructed him to remove his shirt so she could better nurse him. She saw again the red tint in his cheeks at her instructions, but he had obeyed. When he sat bare-chested before her, Lyndis remembered how she had admired his toned arms and chest, no doubt gained through his daily training. She had smiled then, much as he had when he saw her in her nightdress that one occasion. The sight of red beneath his arm, however, reminded her of the task at hand. As she cleaned and wrapped his wound, she chastised him for the manner in which he had received it. He had witnessed the strike that had glanced her side and hurried to her. In his haste, he had not seen an archer take aim at him. It was also the first time he had called her by name instead of her title. As they argued over the wisdom of his action, both began to realize each cared for the other. It was also the first time he had placed his lips upon hers. When they had pulled away, neither expressed any sort of regret over that first kiss. She departed from his tent with a smile so wide her fellow women lingered about for three days asking of it.
Relieved of her outer garments, Lyndis went to her wardrobe and took her nightdress from its place before sitting back down on the couch. That first kiss lingered still upon her lips. Even now as a wife, she could still feel and taste his lips. She had come to him as his lady and left as his lover. But then she remembered what had followed, just as she remembered the gown resting in her tightened hands. She looked with some apprehension towards the door, but she knew none would disturb her. She then began removing her small-clothes, casting them onto the floor.
She thought of that last night as they prepared to return to the shores of Valor. A cloud of dread had descended over the army, and it was fitting that such a mood should do so. The last few days were sobering ones, with allies lost to the forces of Nergal and his Morphs. The stout-hearted Wallace had perished first, and then Matthew had followed him in the same day. The smile upon the face of the spy as he breathed his last still haunted Lyndis, for he had gone to his own lost love. It had made her think more and more of Kent. Then Florina fell from the skies to her death, and Lyndis had felt a greater loss than any she had felt before but surely not since. Even Sain, the capable fighter he was, met his end at the hands of those horrid shells of men, and the few men of Caelin that remained mourned for him, as did Kent. Each time, her knight could see the look in the eyes of Lyndis, for his own carried the same expression. They wondered if either of them would soon join their companions, and the thought frightened them. Before the army would set sail, they had quietly sneaked away to the house of a local clergyman. Kent had proclaimed his love for her and wished that if death should take them, it should take them as husband and wife. It had surprised Lyndis at his haste, but when she thought of her friends buried over the land, she knew well that a proper courtship could not be afforded. So, she agreed, and it was there in the port city that they were wed as her mother and father had been; in secret.
As they sailed towards the Dread Isle, he took her to the hold of the ship when the rest of their allies slept. Kent would have rather had a proper wedding and a proper wedding night, and this he told her, but Lyndis reminded him that their love had been anything but ordinary. The hard wooden planks with their garments spread beneath them hardly made a decent bed, but Lyndis cared not as long as Kent was with her. As they laid together, they spoke of what future they would have when the war would end. He had declared that if she wished to remain in Caelin, he would stay, or if she wished to return to the plains, he would follow. It was then that she asked him why it had taken so long to ask for her hand. He had admitted to her that he considered himself unworthy of it; he spoke of Eliwood and how he too gave her glances of affection. She had rewarded him with a light slap to his shoulder. Though it pained both to do so, they had returned to their separate quarters later even as they wished for the entire night together. He had left her with a kiss and a promise that he would shelter her, provide for her, tend to her, and most of all love her. Yet, he also asked her to keep their marriage a secret for the time being, and she understood well why he asked this. They had both known that few would approve of their union. And so she promised him this one thing.
And then came the battle at the Dragon's Gate. Line after line of Morphs came forth upon them, and as quickly as the army slew them, more and more appeared, and the gate seemed no closer for their efforts. Lyndis recalled clearly the ache in her arms from having swung her sword this way and that. Never did she let Kent leave her sight for long, and he did the same for her. As her blade felled Morph upon Morph, she would often glance at her husband as he handled his lance with the same skill as always. Yet neither of them saw a Morph, hooded and cloaked, standing a short distance from Kent. When she saw her husband's attacker, it was far too late to stop the spell of flame from striking his mount. Lyndis could see the scene replay again and again: the animal reared and threw Kent. One foot tangled in the reins, and the creature ran, dragging its master behind. She had stood watching in utter horror until she saw him no longer. She heard every scream echo through her mind as she cried for him and was nearly cut down by another Morph.
When at last the battle ended, Eliwood and several others hurried to put an end to Nergal, while Lyndis had hurried with equal fervor to find her husband. She had indeed found him lying alone in the grass, stained crimson from his blood. Lyndis had run to him, cradling his head in her lap, caring not for the wound upon him, staining her clothing, her hands, and her legs. When Kent had opened his eyes, she had let a heavy sigh of relief escape her lips. With great effort, Kent spoke to her. He spoke of the life they would live together; how he would come home to her. She told him she would give him the son she knew he wanted. She leaned down to kiss him, turning her lips the same shade of red. Even now, she could still taste the salt of his blood. Even now, she could still feel his hand weakly lifting itself to her face. Even now, she could still hear his final shuddering breath, and even now she could see his hand fall from her cheek. And when her companions returned in victory, she had counted it as a loss.
As she looked upon the pile of discarded garments, Lyndis hung her head. She would not forget that day when the battle had at last ended. They had buried Kent there upon Valor, and she grieved deeply for him, though she knew not what she could say to bid him farewell. She had wondered if she should speak of him as her husband, although for the sake of her promise, she had said nothing. When they had returned to Lycia, the task of telling Lord Hausen of Kent's death fell upon her shoulders. It was to her grandfather alone that she confessed her secret marriage, and he grieved with her for the loss. When he had died later, Lyndis knew she could not bear to live in Caelin, and she made preparations to return to Sacae after ensuring that her people would be provided for. It had taken time to make the arrangements; too much time for the lady.
Eliwood came to her as she made ready to leave. He had not known she was a widow to her knight, and she knew he also had feelings for her. As he spoke of his heart, she had resolved to refuse the lord and return to live a lonely life upon the plains of her birth, if there was yet any happiness she could find there. But by then, Lyndis had felt numb in the deepest places of her heart. Her once-strong resolve had wavered and weakened as the sting of her grief lingered still. She had not heard her own words as she gave her consent to be his wife.
Lyndis walked to her couch to retrieve her nightdress, but as she did, she saw the large mirror standing at the far end of the room out of the corner of her eye. She knew not why, but she felt drawn to it. She stood before it, carefully examining her exposed form. She took in the bulge that was her child. She noticed the scar on her side, the sole reminder of the battles of old and the sole reminder of Kent. Above all, she noticed the woman she was gazing back at her. She was not a noble, she was not a savage, and she was not even a wife. She was merely a woman with a heart lost to the past. As she stood there running her hands over her bare skin, she began to see a terrible truth beyond her reflection. It was a truth she could no longer hide or bury deep within the recesses of her heart and soul. When she had removed every heavy cloak she had placed over her life, she knew the answer to the question Eliwood had asked of her. She had always known it, but this day, it appeared to her as though she had just now discovered it.
She did not love him. She did not understand, even now, why she had agreed to wed him. Perhaps it was in part to the face of sorrow she had once seen in his eyes. She had known of Ninian and how she had held his heart for a time. The dragon girl had died, returned, and then left the young lord. Lyndis too could understand such feelings of loss, despite the differences between her and Eliwood. Perhaps it was the realization that nothing waited for her in Sacae, save for her grief and a life spent in sorrow. Kent was dead, her people were dead, and her ways of life were dead. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he could provide for her. She was not a farmer, and she doubted that she could live alone. She had known Kent would not want her to waste away alone. Perhaps it was also due to her teachings in Caelin. She had learned of the importance placed on a bloodline, and she had realized then that she wished not for the blood of her father, her mother, and her tribe to die with her.
But regardless of what her reasons were so long ago, whether they were pity, grief, or the preservation of her lineage, she recalled now that she wished she could undo her words. She thought of how she had dreaded the approaching wedding day. When they had given their vows and all of Pherae celebrated the wedding, she thought only of fleeing to Sacae or even some place beyond that to live with only the memory of her beloved. And when, after the feast, Eliwood took her into his bedchamber, she thought only of Kent as he laid her down upon his bed and then laid himself down upon her. She thought of how she could only look past his face at the ceiling above, imagining Kent looking down upon her. Under his gaze, Lyndis felt shame at her unfaithfulness to her beloved, even though he rested in a small grave away from her reach. When she later conceived, she wished she bore the child of another man instead of her husband's. She had even told herself during those first few months that the child was Kent's, yet she knew that this was, like the love she professed for Eliwood, untrue.
As all of it came to her again, Lyndis's eyes filled anew with hot tears. She knew she should not think of her husband in such a way. She had married him after all. She knew Kent would not wish her to think such thoughts. He would rather have her learn to love the man she was with rather than pine away for him. But Lyndis knew not how to love the man she shared her life, her chambers, and her bed with. A battle had long ago carried away her love to its death. All that remained was a pitiful shell that no man would want to take, if they had known the truth of it. She had often wondered if she should have told Eliwood of her short marriage, but time and time again, she could not bring herself to do it. She could not bear to tell him the truth, though she knew he deserved to know.
She now found the sight of her body too difficult to bear, for with it, she saw a reality too harsh to live with. And so she donned her nightdress, some cover that would keep herself veiled, at least to the man she had married. She knew she could not speak of this to him. She would have to bear this life as bravely as she could. The thought alone made Lyndis shiver, even though her room was quite warm. As she walked back towards the bed, Lyndis asked a new question of herself. Could she ever have loved Eliwood? Perhaps she could have had her life been of a different sort. He was a good man, and she knew it well. As she slipped beneath the bedcovers, Lyndis knew of only one answer however. Thought he may have loved her, she could not return even the slightest trace of love after all that had happened. From now until her death, she knew her heart would only belong to one man, and that man was dead. As she cried herself to sleep, she slowly looked up at the darkened heights of her room, and through her tears, she imagined Kent looking down upon her.
"I love you, Kent," she told the empty space above her. At least, she knew she could admit this one certainty to herself. Even when she could not speak of it to anyone else, she could tell the air around her, hoping that wherever he was, he would hear her. "I will always love you and only you."
A/N: That wasn't so bad was it? I know I may be off on a few things, but you can blame it on the fact that I haven't played the games in years. I hope you've enjoyed this, and now might be a good time to explain some of the moves I made, just in case you're wondering.
Firstly, I thought this would be an interesting take on the pairing. Since I paired Eliwood and Lyn the first time I played, I thought I'd do a one-sided pairing with them. But I knew on a whole, this would be a KentxLyn fic. I also knew, given the events, it would be necessary to write from Lyn's POV. Secondly, as for killing him and so many others off, I do remember that I almost lost some of the units I relied a lot on, and Kent was one of them. Plus, I wanted Lyn and Kent to think long and hard about their future, hence they eloped as a result. I had intended originally to kill Kent off, but at first I just planned on having them engaged. Then I thought, maybe I should get them married. Thirdly, I got the idea of Lyn staring at herself in a mirror from a review I once read on a movie. They drew the same idea I had that she's looking at herself stripped of everything else and simply as a person. I also figured after losing her husband, she might end up a little more jaded as a result. Finally, I figured in a Middle Age setting, people would marry just to continue their family line, and Lyn might want the same thing. If she can't have love, she could at least have that.
Anyway, I hope it wasn't too corny, cheesy, or what-have-you. I also hope it made sense. I had a hard time cramming a whole story into so short of a space.