Two long years had passed since Abel last stood in front of the gates that marked the entrance to the Altean castle. The green-haired knight lifted his chin, in awe of the castle just as much as he had been as a boy, seeing it for the first time. Even after a lifetime of coming home to these very gates every day, they seemed almost foreign to him now. He took a breath and began to walk, passing under the grand entranceway towards the steps that led up to the old building.

At the top, guarding the door, stood two familiar faces, and Abel's expression softened as he recognized them. "Rody, Cecille… You've grown to earn your places here, haven't you?" Dimples formed in his cheeks when he smiled, and he opened his arms as he saw Cecille coming for him.

"Abel!" The pink-haired guard cried out, throwing her arms around him. "You've come back…!" She'd dropped her lance, and Rody grabbed it before it fell on them; he set both their weapons on the ground before turning to give the knight a welcoming smile. He, too, had missed the one who had taught him so much. Abel, along with—

"Is Prince Marth well?" Abel could breathe again once Cecille released him.

Abel's question brought Rody out of his thoughts, and he looked up towards the knight. "Yes. However… His title is now King Marth. You've missed a great deal, Abel."

Abel hesitated, and then smiled. "So I have, it seems. I'm surprised Luke isn't with you."

Rody shook his head. "Luke retired early. I… haven't spoken to him in some time." Behind the guard's stoic expression was one of sadness; he and Luke had been very close, almost as close as Abel had been with—

"I'll inform King Marth you're here," Cecille volunteered. In truth, as happy as she was to see Abel, a much darker thought weighed on her, and the green-haired knight only brought it to the surface. She turned quickly to leave, leaving the two men alone.

"Thank you, Cecille," he said just before she disappeared. He turned to Rody, his expression calm. "There is someone I would like to see first. Rody, where—"

Rody knew the question was coming, and he didn't want to be the one to answer it. "Perhaps you should speak with King Marth," he said quietly before the knight finished his question. He had lowered his gaze, and instead looked out on the horizon, scanning it for intruders as per his station.

"I… I see." Abel tilted his head, suddenly worried that something had gone wrong with Marth while he was away. "I'll be on my way, then." He paused. "It's good to see you again, Rody."

"You as well, Abel." An air of tension had arisen where before there was none, and the brunette guard didn't look away from the field in front of the castle.

Abel walked slowly through the castle; the halls that once brought comfort and security to him now seemed large and intimidating, and he almost forgot his way to the throne room. Though, instead of heading straight there, he wandered the castle, searching for someone in particular. He saw quite a few familiar faces, though each gave him the same strange look, and none seemed to be able to answer his question. His search proved fruitless, and he decided to visit the throne room. As he approached it, however, he ran into another familiar face who was rushing through the halls just as fast as he. He halted, almost colliding into the one who wore mage's robes and carried an armful of books. "Merric!"

The messy-haired mage's eyes widened as he looked up, and he gasped. "Abel…!" He almost dropped his books in surprise.

"It's good to see you, friend." Abel smiled down at the young mage. He was glad to see that so many of his old comrades were doing well, but there was still one he hadn't yet seen, and couldn't seem to find. He asked Merric the same question, and received the same look.

Merric couldn't bring himself to look Abel in the eye, and he readjusted his grip on his books. "N-no, I'm sorry… I don't know where he is." It was a clear lie—the mage had never been one for fibbing—but Abel couldn't figure out what motive Merric would have to lie to him. "You should go see Pr—I mean, King Marth."

"… Very well." Abel bid goodbye to Merric, and then pushed open the door to the throne room, where Marth was waiting for him. He knelt down in front of the throne in a position that felt strange to his body now, despite having done it thousands of time before. "My lord…"

"You really have come back…" Marth's calm voice still held traces of disbelief. He rose from where he sat and descended the steps down towards Abel. "My dear friend… I've missed you so." He urged Abel to rise, and then hugged the knight, afraid that the other would disappear again if he let go.

Abel returned the embrace; despite their different standings, Marth had always treated him as an equal… as a friend. "I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else to say, what else he could say. He'd broken his oath, and now dared to show his face back in the place he'd left behind. As Marth whispered his forgiveness, kind as always, Abel felt shame, as though he didn't deserve it. Marth may be forgiving, but there was one other who might be less so. Perhaps the king could help him locate the one who was the true reason for his return. "Marth… Why is Cain not with you? None seem to know where he is."

Marth's expression fell, and he took a small breath before speaking in a soft voice. "Peace, Abel… I will take you to him."

The answer was a strange one, but Abel agreed, and he followed the king.

Out of the room.

Down the hall.

Through the entrance.

Past the grand gate.

Abel stayed silent as he walked next to Marth, paying more attention to the king's somber expression than to his surroundings. He stopped when Marth did, and only then did he look up and realize where his old friend had brought him.

They stood outside the gates of the graveyard.

"Marth…" Abel whispered, his green eyes surveying the area with disbelief. Marth raised a hand to quiet him, and then kept walking forward. The silence was deafening, and Abel felt numb as he continued to follow the king, until they stopped once more.

"There… Just ahead." Marth stopped, and his voice wavered as he spoke. His expression was firm, but his eyes were wet, and a tear slid down his cheek without a sob to accompany it.

Abel's heart was pounding in his chest, and he walked past the king towards the decorated headstone. On it, his dear friend's name was engraved.

Cain the Bull.

There could be no denying it, now—no amount of prayers, or cries, or screams, could change what he was looking at. Abel dropped to his knees in the dirt, his breath catching in his throat. Cain was invincible, unbeatable, unbreakable… Cain was what he always came back to. Cain was what never changed when so much else did. Cain was home. "H-how… How can this be?"

Marth stood back a few paces; he'd spent much time here, in the exact spot Abel know kneeled. The loss weighed heavy on his heart... The wound was still fresh. "Less than a month ago… There was a pirate attack. He died protecting the people in the Castletown."

"That's… That's impossible," Abel gasped, the tears flowing freely down his face. He knew Cain, and knew him well; it would take a thousand pirates to just make a dent in Cain's armor.

The king hesitated before answering. "He'd always been reckless, but after you left, he became… careless." He closed his eyes. "Like it didn't matter whether he lived or died."

Abel balled his hands into fists, clenching his jaw. "Cain… Gods… I deserve this. I deserve to feel this pain." He didn't bother to wipe away the salty streams of liquid that stained his cheeks, and he looked up at Marth. "You don't. I was the one who left. It's my fault."

Marth knelt down next to the knight, placing a hand on Abel's shoulder. Tears were on his own face; he'd cherished the two knights as his closest friends, and after the death of Cain, he'd felt so alone. "Don't blame yourself. Just… please… Don't leave again. I can't bear to lose both of you."

"I… I swear," Abel said, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I won't leave your side again. My place is here." He cried on Marth's shoulder as the other leaned against him as well, and they mourned the loss of the redhead who had been so bright and full of life. The world seemed empty without him.

"I think I know what he would say right now," Marth said quietly after a period of silence. Though his eyes were red and wet, he offered a smile towards Abel, who looked up to meet his gaze. "Something along the lines of asking if you wanted a drink?"

Abel couldn't help but smile through his tears. That's exactly what the redhead would say. "Yeah… I think I do."