Disclaimer - I do not own any of the characters or themes from Tales of Berseria (obviously). All belongs to Bandai Namco Entertainment, and I make zero profit.


Shake and fold, his hands carried through the motions, even while his mind conjured images and thoughts, precious memorable moments that solidified for him just how much he would miss his Captain. He could still picture Van Aifread smiling as he stood in this very same spot countless times, wadding and shoving clothing into the chest without a second thought. He understood why Benwick had offered to clean out and pack Aifread's private items, but he had declined the blonde deckhand's help. The responsibility fell upon him as First Mate, but beyond duty, he owed this to his friend.

It was not the first time he had been in the Captain's quarters since his disappearance; both Benwick and he had searched the cabin when Aifread first vanished, hoping they might find a clue, but their search had turned up nothing. Eizen had left the personal effects right where he found them, hoping at the time that there would eventually be a reunion. Now, that would never be, and he had finally relented to the crew's insistence that he occupy the Captain's quarters. No matter the circumstances, it felt like a mutiny to inhabit the space that Aifread had owned, but at least his fellow pirates had not outright asked him to actually be Captain, though he knew that loomed on the horizon. They already followed his orders, and had been for months, so the request would be more a formality than anything else. But, he suspected they held their tongues now, simply because they all knew that the ship raced to Port Zekson to do battle with a god. They would not ask him to abandon that mission, nor would they ask him to accept another one, until they had seen this through.

He sighed, finishing the last of the clothes and placing them neatly into the chest. Pirates were a practical lot, and a dead crewman's items were cast into lots and split amongst the other crew, or sold, and the profits shared. A captain's things were treated no differently. Out of the corner of his eye, the whiskey decanter that he and Aifread had shared many a night called to him, and he gave in to the temptation. He hadn't indulged since that night at the tavern in Loegres, and that seemed like decades ago.

He walked to the inherited escritoire, pulling out the ornate chair that he had tormented Aifread over more than a few times. On a ship, space is a luxury, and even though the captain is given the largest cabin, it still could only hold a precious few pieces of furniture. The room had a decent bed, the desk—a necessity—and then an ostentatious, larger-than-life chair along with it that was far from practical. But, Aifread had enjoyed contradiction in all things, even himself and his quarters. One of the upper shelves of the desk was devoted to imbibing, and he poured himself a glass. The liquor slid along his tongue and flamed down his throat, warming him in body only, as he settled into the seat.

A wooden knock shattered the peace, and he called out, "Yes?"

The door swung open, and bandaged fingers grasped its edge as the Lord of Calamity walked into his space. Velvet's appearance was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, as he suspected that she had been avoiding being alone with him recently. Their interactions had always been strained to some extent—what had started out as mutual use had grown into begrudging respect, and eventually, he had come to care for her as much as he allowed himself to care about anyone. Initially, he thought her a stubborn fool, and while he still thought her to be so, he also knew her to be loyal to a fault and brutally honest. There was an unspoken, uneasy kinship between them, as both understood how pain and loss feed the darkness in a being's soul—human, daemon, and malak alike. Odd that, although he had befriended Rokurou and Laphicet, and even tolerated Magilou and admired Eleanor, it was Velvet's company that he often sought out, especially since the confrontation with Innominat in the earthpulse. He tried to tell himself that his obsession was a strategic maneuver, but deep down, he knew better.

She strolled across the cabin, stopping before the window and its view of the starry night, her profile lit half by candle and half by the moon. The door clicked shut behind her, and he waited patiently for her as she ground herself in the moment, not making a sound, the silence between them normal and unhurried. He had spent many quiet times with her on the deck of the ship, as she sat perched on the rail and he stood sentinel to the waves and her brooding. Both of them knew that words would come when they were ready, and not before.

She turned toward the desk, and golden irises fixed upon him, rooting him in place like a plank in the deck of the Van Eltia herself. Fierce determination shaped the facial features of the daemon before him, and he knew that whatever had brought her to him this night, it weighed heavily on the weary soul she still possessed.

"I believe that the therions will die along with Innominat."

A Reaper knows the signs of suffering after being exposed to them constantly, but he didn't need his powers to hear the telltale quiver in her voice that exposed all the fear and agony that she reined in. But, this resolute female neither needed nor wanted anyone's pity, especially his. Voice level, he locked eyes with her, "Why?"

She shrugged, nonchalance her trusty shield, "Nothing more than a gut feeling. But we're a part of him, and if he ceases to be…"

"You and the rest of the therions will as well?" he asked, and she nodded.

"It won't stop me though," she countered, continuing, "Innominat, Artorius, and the Abbey...all will perish, no matter the cost."

He nodded his head, while inside, he screamed from the top of his lungs at the ugly unfairness of it all. If anyone deserved to see the end, it was Velvet. Then, another sinister thought crept in, "What about Laphicet?"

"I hope I'm wrong for his sake. I asked Eleanor to take care of him if…"

He tried and failed to not take her choice of caretakers to heart; even a Reaper has his limits. He cut her off, grumbling, "We'll all keep an eye on the boy."

She nodded, a small grin lifting the corner of her mouth, and he realized that she was on to him. "Easy Eizen...I meant no offense. You two share a bond, and common ground as malakhim...I didn't need to ask if you would watch out for him…because I knew you would."

Even her half-smile warmed him, as bitter as he was, and he wondered how dazzling a full grin from her could be—used to be—when she was just a simple girl and hunter of prickleboars. Melchior's illusion had enabled them all to witness the beautiful and bright young woman that Velvet had been in Aball. Even after the tragedy of the Opening and the death of her sister and nephew, she had fought to make a family with Laphicet and Arthur, to claw and steal a life back from sadness and despair. The loss of another sibling at the hand of her brother-in-law was just too much for her heart to bear.

With all forgiven, she gestured towards the chest, "Finished?"

He nodded, taking another gulp of whiskey before speaking, "Aye."

"I won't ask you if you're 'okay,' or if you're 'holding up.' I know from my own experience that you don't want to hear lipservice right now, and I don't do sympathy."

He nearly choked, laughing at her boldness. "No...you don't."

She perched herself on the edge of his desk, her legs dangling as she chuckled wryly, "Shut it, pirate. Aifread didn't seem like the type to mope, and I expect you to follow suit."

He shook his head, "I'm not moping...I'm reminiscing. There's a distinct difference. I do this in memory of my friend, not to mourn his passing, but to celebrate his life."

She gestured at the gloomy space, "This doesn't look like a celebration to me...all I see is a malak getting drunk alone in a shrine. Shouldn't you be doing this with the rest of the crew? They must miss him too."

This annoying woman had a point, but damned if he would tell her so. He sighed, "It's hard to have a wake when we're sailing to avenge his death."

She paused, and he saw just a hint of guilt in her eyes, "Then, I should honor his memory now, as I may not be around later..."

He watched as she turned her upper body, reaching out to the decanter, and poured herself a glass. Never had he witnessed Velvet drink anything, and in fact, she often remarked how she was too young to do so. She lifted the glass to her nose, twisting her face at the smell, "This stuff is potable?"

"Small sips, Velvet. I'd take it easy...whiskey is not for beginners."

Before he could warn her further, she tossed her head back, the glass' contents disappearing down her throat. She gagged, choking and barely understandable, "Good thing I still can't really taste anything...because I'm sure by the stench and the burn that whiskey is horrible."

He laughed, and she joined him while managing, "Will you tell me about Aifread?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything...the best way to celebrate a person's life is to speak of it."

Ironic words coming from her, since she rarely spoke of her losses. It surprised him that he didn't mind the thought of commiserating with her, just that they had to do so equally. Curiosity would be the death of him. "Let's make a trade. I will tell you of Aifread...if you'll tell me of Celica and Laphicet."

"It's a deal, pirate."

Minutes or hours passed, he wasn't sure which, as they swapped stories, the whiskey bottle acting as a hourglass, with both himself and Velvet depleting its contents. He was about to suggest they both get some rest, when she stopped him with liquor-loosened words, "I loved my sister so much, but she and I were polar opposites. I was the rough and tumble tomboy who would hunt and train with swords, while she was the pretty, dainty girl who would pick flowers and weave them into her hair. She was a princess without a kingdom, and she found her white knight in Arthur. Seeing them together in the visions from the earthpulse, even knowing how tragically it turned out, I was still jealous. I've always envied what they had...I will never know love or devotion like that. I guess that is just more proof of how evil I truly am."

"Or how human you once were. And Laphicet absolutely adores you."

"I know," she nodded, "But it's not the same. What Celica and Arthur shared..."

"Everyone and everything longs to be loved, Velvet. And the love between a man and woman is a special and powerful thing."

She leapt off the desk, her clumsy landing proof that liquor had some effect on her. She laughed, but it sounded false in his ears, and he stood, crossing the small space to help steady her. He watched her eyes fall on his hand clasped around her forearm, and when her golden irises turned to him, he was shocked to see tears flooding them. The sight stole his voice, and he whispered, "Velvet..."

"This isn't me…" she started and stopped, shaking her head and wiping her face before taking a step back from him. She inhaled deeply before continuing, staring him down, "I'm a coward, Eizen. I came here to tell you goodbye...Port Zekson is the beginning of my end. But, I couldn't…"

"Save the goodbye...you're not getting rid of me that easily," he couldn't stop the impulse that he had to reach for her, to touch her, but instead, he curled his fingers into a fist. "I'm here and will be here, for as long as it takes. We can keep talking about whatever you want, until we dock or you fall asleep from hearing me drone on…"

His words seemed to comfort her, as a tiny smirk formed on her face, and his heart, as shrunken and dark as it was, soared like a sylphjay on the sea breeze. "You do love to hear yourself talk...so humor me. Do you really think I'm beautiful, after all that you have witnessed?

So, she had heard him teasing the boy. Not long after leaving Merichio, he and Rokurou had cornered the malak to ask him about his time with Velvet. Truth be told, he had been oddly envious, and more than a little curious. He had told Laphicet that he should have seized the chance, because once he was an adult, a bath with a beautiful woman never happened. It was a casual slip, and an honest one, but one he instantly regretted, since he figured she had heard. But, why was she bringing this up now? Warning bells chimed in his head as he teased, "Eavesdropping?"

"Hardly...you and Rokurou weren't exactly trying to be quiet. Quit deflecting..."

"Yes," he responded, and a smile spread on his lips as her cheeks flushed.

"Why?"

"Because, even at your lowest, you didn't quit. How many people can handle what you've been through, and still find the will to fight for what they believe, for what they want?"

She pushed him backwards, and he stumbled, landing in the chair. The attack caught him unawares, and before he realized, she was climbing into his lap. Suddenly, the massive chair seemed very small as her thighs slid along and between his, and her hands wound around his neck. He gasped, "Velvet…what are you… "

Her voice had the same steel as the sword she wielded, "Fighting for what I want. If I am to die, I want to do so knowing a lover's touch."

He tried one last desperate attempt to save them both, "You're drunk and too young to understand..."

Her lips collided into his, and he surrendered. His hands found her hips, and they snaked their way around her body, pulling her against him. She broke the kiss, breathless, "I'm well within my right mind, Eizen, and I've lived through enough pain to age a hundred lifetimes. Don't make excuses. If you don't want me..."

He put his index finger over her mouth, and she stilled while he spoke, "No more excuses, daemon. I plot my own course, and I've wanted this for far too long. But, I had to give you the chance to run."

Her soft lips moved, and he could feel the contact through his glove, "I don't run."