The Blue Rider
"Have you given any more thought to my proposition?"
Seth's boots crunched as he approached. Cormag didn't turn to face the general, but he could imagine him standing erect and focused, hands clasped behind his back.
Cormag's fingers tore at the grass underneath them, his eyes roved the remains of Darkling Woods. He didn't answer Seth for a while.
Eventually the knight prompted: "Cormag?"
Cormag sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The battle had ended a couple hours ago, the sweat had dried. Everyone was still sort of wandering, adjusting to the sudden lightness in their heads and hearts. They'd been unaware of the heaviness of their burden until it was gone.
"I can't, Seth." He said; his voice cracked but he didn't mean it to. He cleared his throat and went on, "Renais isn't my home."
"I thought you would say that," Seth said and, though Cormag still didn't face him, he could imagine the general bowing his head. "My lord will make a fine king, should you change your mind he will always welcome you in our castle."
"I understand." Cormag said and Seth marched back down the hillock. Cormag couldn't see everything from here, the spindly trees blocked the view and the crumbling ruins interrupted the horizon. But he could see Ewan and Amelia laughing and embracing; he could see Joshua spinning Natasha around; he could see Colm and Neimi tucked in an alcove of branches, mouths and hands searching one another desperately; he could see Duessel and Knoll still examining the damages and trying to clean up.
He could see the twins still standing where the battle had raged, sacred weapons discarded on the ground. Ephraim's arms were wrapped fiercely around Eirika's back as they held one another.
Ephraim would make a fine king.
Cormag sighed and sat back on his palms, stretching his legs out, "I did it, Glen." He whispered toward the clouds, "The peace we wanted for our home, for our family. I think …" Cormag's voice died off in his throat and he rubbed furiously at the tears threatening to cut over his cheeks, "I think I made the right choices. I joined Eirika … I killed Valter … defeated the darkness corrupting Grado. I did everything right, except …" Cormag stood up and shook his head doggedly, trudging down the hill.
"I didn't go back for you."
"Cormag!" The grief crushing his chest lifted the slightest bit when Tana raced toward him. She tried to jump into his arms but Cormag fumbled and they both fell back in the grass. Tana's armour was discarded so she wore only soft clothes and he could feel every svelte curve of her body against his.
But when she tried to kiss him Cormag tugged away.
"Cormag?" She reached out and touched his cheek, eyes and smile sparkling. "Cormag we won," she whispered fervently, awed at the truth of it. "We did it. We won." And Cormag wished he could feel even a shred of that same satisfaction and hope.
"Our work is far from over," He said curtly and climbed to his feet. Tana's jaw parted and she scrambled to her feet,
"Wait, hang on, Cormag!" She grabbed his wrist and pulled him back, "what is wrong with you?" She laughed, "you don't want to celebrate at all? Cormag, you can take your armour off – dance, kiss me, do something!" Her grin was giddy.
Cormag swallowed and turned to face her fully.
"Princess Tana," He said her name slowly, conscious of the formality in his tone. "I must apologise, the night we shared in Rausten – however wonderful – was born of my own delusion. I do not belong with you or with the Knights of Frelia. Please, forgive my misjudgement." Cormag managed a stiff bow and turned away from her, walking briskly into the trees.
He didn't want to look back at her; the single choked sob he heard was enough.
Genarog was nosing at Vanessa's pegasus but when Cormag whistled, the wyvern bounded toward him, wings stretching in anticipation.
Cormag climbed into the saddle and adjusted his lances.
"Sir Cormag?"
Cormag tilted his head when Artur approached, gingerly holding his white robes from trailing in the dirt. Cormag didn't see the point, the bishop's clothes were singed, torn, and stained with blood. "Where are you and my friend Genarog off to?" Genarog nosed at his cheek, practically purring in Artur's presence.
"I'm gonna head out," Cormag sighed, "I'll tell Emperor Mansel to expect you all soon, then I'm going home."
Artur hummed on this, "and where is home to you now, Sir Cormag?"
"Grado, I suppose … somewhere in Grado." Cormag didn't want to think about that. More likely than not he wouldn't return to Grado any time soon, but he couldn't stay here where nothing fit. Where nothing felt right.
Here where Glen wasn't.
All of this for Glen and yet Glen would never come back.
"Some nondescript woodworking shop, I take it?" Artur smiled and Cormag didn't answer, just raised his eyes to the blue sky and closed his eyes to take in the direction of the wind.
"Before you leave, Sir Cormag. I think Princess Eirika deserves at least a goodbye."
Cormag shook his head and tapped Genarog's ribs, the wyvern straightened and cast his wings out, beating twice to catch a current of air.
"I've already broken a princess' heart today," Cormag answered, "and I've said enough goodbyes for a lifetime."
Genarog took to the air and Cormag and their army rustled and turned, shocked into life after the utter relief of the demon's defeat.
Genarog lifted clear of Darkling Woods, twisting ever higher. They soared southeast, toward the grand court of Rausten.
Cormag closed his eyes and took in the wind rushing past his ears; the crispness in his lungs; the smooth warmth of Genarog's scales beneath him.
Some nondescript woodworking shop.
Cormag liked the sound of that.
He imagined how calm it would be.
Enduring Vigarde's madness; avenging Glen's death; protecting the stones; besting the demon; his life had been too much noise for too much time. Now he could grieve. Now he could process. Now he could sleep. His life could finally ease into peace, into quiet, into tranquillity.
Magvel's skies were calm but for a single blue rider and his wyvern.
Author's Note: Hello! I was thinking about Sacred Stones the other day and in particular Cormag. I've always felt like a lot of the characters in FE8 got to go back to pretty normal, happy lives after the war. This is more absent in Cormag's story. Cormag completes his main motivation (revenge) several chapters before the end of the game after they kill Valter. But then he sticks with Eirika and Ephraim until the battling is done (to numb himself, I always thought.) But then they beat Fomortiis and there's nothing else to numb Cormag anymore. In the initial relief of a dead demon king, how does a lone man react? In game, Cormag's supports don't become overly-chummy or close, he is always aloof and reserved so there's no sibling or spouse or child to embrace and cheer with. Thus, this fic was born. It's short, it's finished, it's just a snapshot of what potentially might have happened right after the endgame.
I utilise events from a few of Cormag's support within the fic.
Best wishes,
Grace