So let me get this straight. Naesela betrays the laguz alliance, resulting in the imminent collapse of the Gallian front and the wholesale slaughter of Tibarn's men. And we're supposed to believe that after he rejoins the good guys with Lil' Sanaki its just forgive and forget?
Bullshit! This (or something like it) is what should have happened. The fact that it didn't happen is proof that I don't own Fire Emblem.
Lynching Naesela
Naesela was just strolling along one day, minding his own business and reflecting upon how awesome his life was. Aside from being the strongest crow alive and the scoundrel King of Kilvas, he had to be the smoothest operator and all around best looking man-whore on the face of Tellius. At 200 years of age he was openly tapping the 13 year old empress of Bengion and the white-winged princess of Serenes, and not necessarily in that order. No one called him out on it. If anything, it had only enhanced his street-cred back in Kilvas. Yeah, occasionally he had to take shit for betraying the laguz alliance and going along with the slaughter of Tibarn's countrymen. Having that crushing burden on his conscience at all times sucked immensely, but he could live with it. It's not like he wasn't sorry. And besides, he didn't really have a choice at the time.
Bloodpact related grief aside, Naesela's life was good.
At the very least Naesela's life is good until Tibarn swoops in, snares the crow king in his mighty talons, and drags him off to a secluded forest where Ranulf, Mordecai, Lethe, Lyre, Kyza, Janaff, Ulki, and Reyson are all waiting to beat the shit out of him. And suffice it to say they're all equipped for the job. Normally laguz would be content to fight with fang and claw alone, but this isn't so much a fight as an execution so normal rules don't apply. The angry mob has assembled an impressive collection of brass knuckles, scourges, clubs, heavy irons, and rope. Lots and lots of rope.
"You're scum, black-wing." Tibarn screeches in hawk-speak. "You're a thief, a coward, a philanderer, and the worst kind of traitor. If they don't kill you, I will."
Tibarn releases the crow king from his talons and tosses him down to Skrimir. The lion pins Naesela up against a tree and smacks him around a bit while Ranulf binds him in place, rips his shirt off, and puts a black hood over his head. The Gallian officers step aside and toss an approving nod over to their subordinates. That's their cue to go to and to work on the crow king.
"You've been a very bad birdie," Lyre hisses. She grabs a pair of whips and tosses one over to Lethe. "Sister, what happens to bad birdies?"
"They get punished," Lethe grins wickedly and cracks her whip.
"Mordecai does not like fighting, but Lord Ranulf says you've done terrible, terrible things to your fellow laguz," the normally gentle tiger growls. He picks up a pair of hunting clubs, one for himself and one for Kyza. "Lethe is right. You must be punished for your crimes."
Naesela can't see anything with a hood over his head, but his ears are still working perfectly. And what he hears is enough to make his eyes bulge in terror. He struggles against his restraints and tries to fly away, earning him another smack from Skrimir.
Tibarn shifts out of his animal form and lands next to Reyson while the cat girls are whipping Naesela and the tiger warriors are bludgeoning him. For their part, Skrimir and Ranulf are having fun with the brass knuckles. Reyson is chanting just enough healing galdrar to keep Naesela alive and conscious while the Laguz Alliance extracts its revenge.
"Don't let that filthy crow die until we've payed our dues," Tibarn whispers to the white prince. "The Gallians can have their fun, but we of Phoenicis owe him the greatest reckoning of all."
"Relax Tibarn. Reyson knows what he's doing," Ulki assures his King. "We'll have our turn."
Indeed they shall. Once Naesela is sufficiently bloodied up, the cats clear out and the hawks go in for the kill. The sun is setting now, and as Tibarn removes Naesela's hood he can just barely make out the crow's bruised and swollen face in the waning light. Naesela is slumped forward and breathing heavy, too injured and too exhausted to hold himself in proper posture. "Take away his chains," Tibarn commands. "He won't need them where he's going."
"Can we break his wings, just in case?" Janaff asks hopefully.
"Do it," Tibarn gives his approval "Do it and make it hurt."
Janaff and Ulki release the bindings around Naesela's wings and snap them back at such an angle that he will never be able to fly again. Naesela screams, greatly irritating Tibarn and earning him a silencing punch to the throat. The Hawk King's attendants undo the remainder of Naesela's bindings, causing him to fall flat on his face. He can't stand on his broken legs. He can't even break his fall. All he can do is crawl on his belly and throw himself at Tibarn's feet in a pathetic appeal for mercy.
"Not this time Naesela. I've forgiven you one too many times, and I see now where it's gotten me. My countrymen are dead by your hand. I think it's only fair I return the favor."
Naesela groaned. What he was trying to say, Tibarn would never know. Perhaps it was an apology. Perhaps it was one last plea to spare his life. All that came of his efforts was a gargled gag, words so mangled by pain that not even Ulki's keen ears could discern any meaning from them. Not that it mattered, the time for pleas and apologies was over. Tibarn's verdict was final.
The Apostle's Army found him the next day, hanging from the flagpole with a noose around his neck in place of Sanaki's banner. The Apostle herself was the first one to notice he was not at his normal post by her bedside. After a brief search of the Crow King's known locales, it was Sothe who finally noticed him dangling overhead. Leanne fainted at the sight of him. Sanaki ran back to her carriage and spent the rest of the day sobbing into her pillow. The rest of the search party just stood gaping in disbelief.
Aside from being severely beaten by the Gallians and outright murdered by the hawks, Naesela's body had been crudely defaced post-mortem. Both his eyes were gouged out. His left ear was missing. There wasn't a hair left on his head; everything from the eyebrows up was completely scalped. A sizeable patch of wing-feathers had apparently been ripped out and forcefully shoved down his throat.
Worst of all was the haunting memory carved into his chest, engraved now and forevermore in Naesela's own flesh so that even in death he could never escape his crime. Three dread words, penned in both the old tongue and modern speech by Reyson's hand, a rallying cry turned epitaph to the late King of Kilvas.
REMEMBER THE ALLIANCE
Did that first paragraph throw you for a loop? Did you think this was going to be just another humor packed Naesela puff-piece? Don't get me wrong, I'm actually a Naesela fan. I like his Sanaki fluff and playboy-king antics as much as the next guy. But come on, at some point Karma has to come back and bite him in the ass.