Head Over Heels, a fire emblem fanfic

Head Over Heels

The swordswoman took vicious swipes in the direction of the practice dummy set before her in her private training room on the castle's lower grounds. The only audible sounds that were perceivable to her ears were her heavy breathing and the collision of sword upon wood. The reason for this silence could be found in the fact that all of the queen's other troops were currently stationed outside, completing their annual training. Lucia herself was naturally supposed to be one of the monitors of the friendly battles being partaken in, but more pressing matters had reached her ears, so now she simply waited. She waited for the visitor that was yet to come - the man that held information about the fate of Crimea and the possible rebellion that was taking place within.

Minutes had passed, and still she waited. Hours flew by, and still she had no word from her informant. The mock duel she currently took part in was only a means to pass the time - a way to keep her mind busy so she would not worry about what was to come. As she ferociously stabbed and sliced the wooden mannequin, her mind was relieved from the current state of her country, the well-being of her soldiers, and the tactical plans she had yet to carry out. Now, her mind was free to concentrate solely on the 'enemy' before her eyes; her skills were used purely to better her sword arm and the techniques she used. It was in this way that the woman was able to increase her usefulness to the Crimean queen she served, for when it all came down to it, only the toughest warriors and their lieges would triumph in the game of life.

The woman's keen ears perked up at the sound of the door beyond her room opening and a person descending the stairs. She listened intently as they approached her room, the footsteps increasing in sound. She listened and shook her head. That is not him, she thought to herself solemnly. The footsteps are much too heavy. The footsteps passed her door, confirming her suspicions. This false hope had served as nothing more than a reminder of the lateness of her subordinate. With a case where time is of the essence, Lucia could not believe that her informant would take his time in getting his evidence to her. Yes, he must be taking his time, for he was too skilled to be caught by the guards in that palace. Anyone less experienced may have fallen into their trap, but she had no spies that could be trusted and depended upon more than he.

Rather reluctantly, the lady went back to attacking the powerless victim before her. Her short, azure hair swished back and forth as she repeatedly twirled, jumped, and dodged to mimic her usual fighting style. On the verge of collapse, the Trueblade finally decided to return her sword to its sheath and rest until her man arrived.

"Fabulous posture, though I must say your awareness of your surroundings was lacking a bit," a distinctly familiar voice sounded from behind the woman. Lucia turned around for her gaze to fall on a middle-aged man of moderate height, strands of grey hair speckling the natural light brown in places. A crimson cape adorned his shoulders, signifying his rank as a fire sage. Jet black boots were neatly polished, a vermillion book was stuffed under his arm, and in his right hand he held a glass of water. "You do look rather famished, my dear. Here, take this," he added, holding the glass of liquid out to the younger woman.

She took the glass reluctantly and placed it to her lips. A moment later, a list of questions had been fully prepared in her mind. "It seems I was a bit...preoccupied," she mused. "How long have you been there, Milord?"

The sage shrugged. "A matter of, ah, hours, I would say," he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I definitely arrived long before you did."

The woman paced the room in silence for a few moments, turning this fact over in her head. She walked a stone path up and down the length of the room, curiously pondering why the man would wait for such an extravagant amount of time to make his presence known to her. She walked past the single window in the room for the fourth time, carelessly setting her now-emptied glass on its sill. Slowly, she turned back to face her informant. "A matter of hours, you say? If that is the case, dear fellow, then why would you wait so long to speak? It isn't like you at all," the woman observed, walking back to the man's position.

"You see, my darling, I wished nothing more than to watch my daughter perfect her swordplay. You never did permit me to be present when you were still a small child..." he mentioned, trying to guilt her. "You have improved much since then, I must add."

Lucia laughed at the count of Delbray's remark. "I would thank you," she mused, "but you have lied to me. You arrived but a minute ago, when I stabbed the mannequin, did you not, Father? The door was open - you simply slipped in and pretended to have been here the whole time."

The man began to pace in a circle, leaning forward slightly, his hands resting behind his back. "You are quite perceptive, my dear," the woman's father commented thoughtfully. "I suppose that is why Count Bastian prides you as the cleverest woman in all of Tellius." The man continued with a chuckle, "He saw me on my way down here - I'm afraid that's the reason I was late to our appointment - and requested your hand in marriage. He is quite fond of you, dear."

"So he is," the sword wielder remarked harshly. "I shan't marry the man unless he outsmarts me in some way - which I fear he could easily do, if it weren't for all his noble loyalty."

"Noble loyalty? You make it sound as if there is a part of you that favors him as well," he father suggested, smirking. "To think that my eldest daughter would someday marry the richest, most ridiculed man in all of Crimea."

"I said nothing of the sort," Lucia interjected, struggling to keep the calm composure she was known for. "I merely said that I would only consider it if he tricked me into it."

"That isn't what you said at all," the count laughed. "Ah well, my dear. You'll soon see, so there is no point in elaborating further. I do believe we have a reason for this appointment, do we not?"

"Naturally, we do," his daughter replied, seeming quite relieved to be off the subject of the proposed marriage to Count Bastian. "Had you not been tardy for this, we would have likely been finished and the Lord Canteus arrested by now. You do have the proof I've requested, correct - a document with his signature, authorizing a rebellion?"

The old man sighed, "I can't say that I have any hardcopy proof for you. During my stay at his castle, I was never granted entrance to his study." Pausing for a moment before continuing, he added, "I did hear him conversing with his secretary, however, and he mentioned his plans to overthrow the queen. He is having a variety of social gatherings within the next few weeks; afterward, I fear that he and his troops will be marching on the capital. Unless you can secure a significant amount of proof by then, we'll likely being facing a civil war."

The woman shook her head, unable to register that this was happening. Her beloved country had already faced one uprising at the hands of Duke Ludveck, and she wasn't sure if her Queen Elincia would be able to handle another test to her throne. The emotional pressure placed upon the young ruler was far beyond that of her recent predecessors. The queen's milk sister was convinced that another rebellion was something that would shatter all confidence she had regained after Ludveck had been imprisoned. "If that is the case, then we must act quickly. I believe the lord's ball is to be held the evening after next - just enough time for you to return to Canteus and--"

"I'm afraid I can't return there so soon," her father interjected. "Canteus would be much too suspicious. You, on the other hand, would have every door open to you."

The young woman shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't have an invitation," she explained. "That is what would look suspicious."

"You'll have an invitation shortly, trust me," he remarked with a sly smile. "I wouldn't be surprised if you received one the very minute you departed this room."

The young lady gave her male parent a peculiar look. "Whatever do you mean by that, Father?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," he responded, walking over to the window and picking up the woman's glass. He held the goblet to the sun, letting its rays reflect off the material. With an amused smile, he set the object back down and once again turned to face his daughter. "Do be sure to speak with Count Bastian as soon as you are able," the man jested with a wink. "I've heard that he has a matter of grave importance to discuss with you."

The woman with cerulean eyes and the bold hair to match sat on the patio of the castle's grounds roughly twenty minutes after she had finished her conversation with her father. One of the servants had brought her a cup of tea some time ago, but she paid little attention to the drink. Presently, she absentmindedly swished the substance around in her cup, her mind drifting freely. A breeze blew over the land, light and airy, as she waited for the man she has requested. Yes, upon arriving outside, the woman had sent one of the castle's aides to fetch the count of Fayre for her. Though she found the idea of accompanying him to a noble's ball to be preposterous, the fate of Crimea and her queen came first in her thoughts.

She had rejected Bastian's attempts to woo her on every possible occasion up until this point, which she had figured to have shattered the man's confidence. It was true that as of late he was no longer fawning over her, worshipping the ground she walked upon. His formerly-relentless pursuits of her were nearly nonexistent by this point. He no longer asked her to formal events; he didn't compliment her whenever she walked into a room. He had even begun to associate with the other noble ladies when they came to the castle to visit - there was no certainty in the fact that he would ask her to the ball. Her father was inane, mad - something wasn't right with this situation.

"Milady," the count's voice sounded from behind her. She stood up instantly, curtsying to the man. "Quite lovely you do look, Lady Lucia," the blond man observed, causing her to blush. "Ah, certainly don't you care for my opinions of your dress. A reason you have for calling on your humble servant, yes?" He gestured towards the table she had just risen from, adjusting her seat ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Milord," she said, sitting down and smoothing out her pale blue skirt. The blouse she wore was a pure white, lined in lace. Her hair had been pinned back so as to keep it out of her face on the windy day. She observed her companion's appearance, noting the peculiarity of it all. The count's typical neat and tidy appearance had been replaced by a more disheveled one. His mass of blond hair was more unkempt than the court would have allowed, and his tunic and cape were caked in dirt. Though most nobles would have found this look to be unacceptable, the noble's daughter didn't mind in the slightest.

As if he had been reading her mind, the man spoke up. "Excuse this slovenly appearance I beg you, m'dear. The chance I did not have to clean up after mediating our little sporting event this morn. Afraid I am that quite ghastly I do look."

"You could never look ghastly, Bastian," the woman laughed, nearly choking over the words that had just left her lips.

"Glad I am that say that you do," the man said with a smile. "'Twas a grand contest, as well."

"I'm afraid I shrunk from my official judging duties," the woman confessed. "I hope you and my brother weren't left with too much work..."

"'Twas nothing, m'dear," the man lied, discreetly slipping his left arm under the table so she would not notice the long cut he had received when Kieran had gotten out of hand. To be honest, he was quite glad that the woman hadn't shown up to witness all the bloodshed. Though they were all knights in the ranks of the noble Crimea, many of the men had gotten too worked up and competitive, and the mediators were forced to step in. Both Bastian and the lady's brother had suffered slightly at the hands of these men, and neither would have stood for a single scratch on their beloved Lucia. "Ah, but sure I am that a reason you have for calling upon me, no?"

"Oh, yes, I'd nearly forgotten," the woman admitted, having already been drawn into the man's charm. "My father mentioned something about you wanting to speak with me about some matter or another."

"Of course, Milady," the count said, taking a deep breath. "Heard you have of the ball being thrown by his lordship, the Duke of Canteus, I presume?"

The woman nodded. "Most certainly, Milord," she replied, attempting to conceal her excitement over the mention of the ball. It seemed as if he would ask her after all, and she would be able to acquire the information she needed from Lord Canteus's study.

"As I figured," the man continued. "Afraid I am that I was not able to - Ah, never mind. Silly this is..." The man trailed off, preparing to stand up and push in his chair. Lucia grabbed his hand in hers.

"Bastian, please don't go," she pleaded, her blue orbs staring into his. "What is it that you wanted to ask?"

"I just...well, you see...I, ah, it really isn't that important," the count mused, his poetic speech disappearing in this moment of being tongue-tied. "You don't need to be bothered by me any further, Milady," he continued, standing up. "Have you a nice day, Lady Lucia."

She watched as the count began to walk away. As he moved farther and farther away from the woman, her heart broke more. After he had walked a mere few feet, the woman sprang from her seat and sprinted to catch up to him. "Bastian, wait!" she screamed, causing the man to stop and slowly turn around. His expression seemed expectant as she reached him, taking his hands in hers. "Milord, were you going to ask me to the ball?" She bluntly added, "If you were, I'd love to go with you."

"Ah, Milady, do not you need to humor me. Will not my spirit be crushed if you wish to not accompany me," he murmured, his tone a tinge sad. "Understand I will completely."

"Bastian, that isn't the case at all," she informed him. "I would honestly love to go with you - if you want me to, that is."

The count pulled the azure-haired swordswoman into a tight embrace. "Settled it shall be, then. We must depart within a matter of hours to arrive on time. You may have your dress sent to the residence of the duke."

"Thank you, Bastian," the woman beamed, reaching up to peck the man on the cheek. Being so wrapped up in her feeling of victory, the woman noticed neither the giant smile on the face of the count, nor the man that lurked in the shadows, intently watching the pair with a sly smile plastered on his face.

The rest of the morning and part of the afternoon was spent with her father, skimming through details of her ball attire and developing a plot to expose Duke Canteus's rebellion. She hadn't seen Bastian since their departure from the patio, though he had sent a young servant to check up on her hours ago. Though the woman would have preferred to dress in the simple white robes that were her signature, her father did not see this as suitable and decided to have a tailor design a completely new ball gown for her. She found his actions to be entirely impractical - if she was to be sneaking into the duke's study, doing so in an evening gown would only add to the level of difficulty.

"If you go to a fight, you dress in the attire of a swordswoman," she recalled her father reminding her. "In the same way, if you go to a ball, you wear a suitable gown. Otherwise, you'll only attract attention to yourself."

Though she found her father's choice to be preposterous, she knew that drawing attention to herself was not something she could afford under the circumstances. If they were to catch the duke, she would have to be as discreet as possible. Discreet with Bastian, she inwardly mused, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. No matter the circumstances, the count of Fayre seemed to attract followers wherever he went, and she feared that it would be no different at the upcoming social event. This challenge she was currently faced with would be a true test of her skills.

The lady awaited her escort to arrive at the front entrance of Crimea Castle, fully hoping that he would not be as tardy as her father had been earlier that day. With said escort being Bastian, she knew she could count on him arriving on time - though she couldn't be certain that their carriage would be there in a timely fashion.

As she thought of the task ahead of her, the woman sighed lightly. She knew very well how dangerous this little endeavor could become, especially with Bastian unaware of the supposed plot to overthrow their Queen Elincia. She knew that if she revealed this notion to him, he would be more than willing to expose that demon for who he truly was. However, she could not bear the fact of Bastian thinking that she had only agreed to attend this outing with him because of the queen. Though that was her overall reason for suggesting such an idea, she couldn't break Bastian's heart once again, for she had done it many a time before. She felt as if the poor man could not stand to hear her rejection of him one more time. She sighed yet again, louder this time.

"Sister, is something the matter?" she heard her younger sibling's voice call out to her from behind. The woman turned around, and upon sight of the Commander of the Royal Knights, she instantly broke down and wrapped her arms around his neck. The young man pulled his sister into a comforting embrace, kissing the top of her head. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he whispered in her ear as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I promise you that everything will be all right, no matter what this is you're faced with." Pulling away from her so that he could look in her eyes, he asked softly, "Is it Bastian? I've heard that you're leaving to attend Duke Canteus's ball with him."

"That is correct," his sister replied in a tone that he noted held a tinge of solemnity. He ruffled her hair once more, trying to be sympathetic towards her.

"If you do not wish to go with him, you should tell him," Geoffrey mentioned as she laid her head on his chest. "To be quite honest, I don't think I like the idea of you traveling alone with him. I went to his office to tell him that, but father was there - I suppose he had gotten to the task first."

The woman laughed. "Father is the one who arranged this whole thing," she mumbled. "He's likely encouraging Bastian."

"Our father actually arranged for his daughter to go to the ball with the man that adores her to a fault? That doesn't sound quite right," the young man commented. "I suppose that it is my duty as your brother to keep Bastian in line then, eh?"

"You will do no such thing," the regal voice of the count of Delbray interjected as its owner made his way down the stairs, the count of Fayre following close behind. "Your sister will be in wonderful care with Bastian. There will be no arguing about that," the man demanded sternly. "Lucia and Bastian must be off if they are to make it to Canteus in time."

"Of course, Father," Geoffrey mumbled before turning back to his sister. "Have a nice time." Turning to Bastian, he added, "You'd better take good care of her."

"With my life I shall protect your sister," the count commented sincerely. The woman smiled as he knelt before her, placing a kiss upon her hand. "Fear I that the time to depart has come, Milady. Prepared have been the faithful steeds to dance upon the beautiful countryside so that my lady shall arrive in the dukedom of Canteus."

"Thank you, Bastian," she spoke softly. "Brother, I trust that you will keep the queen safe while we are away?"

"Naturally," her sibling replied within the moment, smiling ever so slightly. "Her Highness will be protected at all costs."

The woman nodded, turning to her father. The old man smiled and pulled his daughter into a hug. "Be careful," he advised. With a wink in Lucia's direction he added, "Don't forget to pay the duke's study a visit. You'll find something very valuable there."

The carriage they rode in on their trip to Canteus was pulled by two elegant white stallions, hand-picked from the royal stables by Count Bastian himself. The man, unable to find a driver on such short notice, had taken the reins himself, his lady in the seat next to him. As they drove over the beautiful, serene Crimean landscape, Bastian kept his company well entertained with stories of the perilous battles he had fought in alongside some of the world's grandest heroes. The greatest foes to their beloved homeland had been slain by the hands of those who fought alongside him - some of the most brilliant generals in the history of the world. The woman laughed as he exaggerated these feats, knowing that he meant not to aggrandize himself or his own accomplishments but to make his allies seem more spectacular.

"Ah, yes, some fine allies we have had throughout the years, Milady Lucia," the man commented with a sigh. "Though say I must, I believe I shan't ever enjoy any of their company more than I enjoy yours."

Lucia grinned at his comment. "Is that so, Milord? I must say you do surprise me with your sweetness...especially considering the circumstances when we first met," she remarked, recalling that memorable day all those years ago.

"I had, ah, nearly forgotten about that," the man lied. "I do recall that Duke Renning was less than pleased..."

"That he was," Lucia replied with a laugh. "I can't say Geoffrey was very pleased with your behavior either."

The count sighed, "But how was I to know that you were so clever and fierce with a sword?"

"You should have listened to my brother," she answered, still smiling. "Surely he'd told you of my...temper."

"Geoffrey?" the man chuckled. "He wouldn't say such a thing about you. You are flawless in his eyes...and mine as well, M'dear."

"Flawless, Count Bastian? Surely you jest, especially considering my temperament of that day!" she exclaimed, giving him a disbelieving look.

He turned to face her for a moment, appearing to be in deep thought. "It was a mighty atrocious sight, wasn't it? With the, ah, blood and such all over the place. Surprised I am that Her Highness did not throw a fit over the wreckage of her beloved rose garden." He recalled, "'Twas a rather messy sight."

The young count raised his cup to his lips, sipping the contents with distaste. He rather disliked the taste of tea, but if that was what the wealthiest men of Crimea were meant to drink, then by all means he could drink it as well. At scarcely five-and-twenty, he had just inherited the large wealth that was the Fayre claim. His elder brother's death yielded a new life of luxury for the new count of Fayre.

There he sat on the patio of Castle Crimea, sipping his tea and taking in the aromatic fragrance of the flowers that surrounded him, when he heard the clashing of weapons from somewhere nearby. Loving to speculate a good duel, the man looked up, only for his eyes to see the most peculiar, and at the time frightening, sight. A young soldier in the Royal Knights, a boy by the name of Geoffrey - the son of Count Delbray, had his lance pointed towards a young lady that looked to be in her mid-teens. The boy thrust his lance at the girl, and in the count's eyes she was barely defending herself with the flimsy sword she held before her. As her brother pushed her farther and farther back - for the count did not see the retreats of her attacker, Bastian sprung to his feet, rushing the lawn between the patio and their position in the nearby grass.

"Geoffrey!" he screamed. "Drop your weapon this instant!" The boy complied, his lance falling to the lush grass below, as he stared at this strange man in shock. Bastian paid him no mind as he rushed to the side of the "damsel in distress," wrapping the girl into his arms. As she struggled against him, he kissed her forehead. "Everything is all right, my darling. I promise he won't hurt you again."

Lucia pushed him away fiercely, her eyes glowing with rage. "Hurt me? As if my brother could!" she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. "And who are you anyway to come rushing in here thinking I need to be saved?"

"I suppose you haven't heard," the man remarked, becoming more irate as she glared at him, "but I am the new count of Fayre, and you are to respect me and my wishes, as I am your superior."

"I will not respect your wishes unless you respect mine and leave my brother and me to our duel," she replied, picking her brother's lance up off the ground and handing it to the stunned teenager. "Geoffrey, ignore him so I can continue to annihilate you."

"Geoffrey, I forbid you from taking that lance," the count ordered, grabbing the weapon from his sister's hands. "You are quite selfish to use your sister as a sparring partner when you could easily injure her frail figure. She is so weak and fragile...just think how sad it will be for her future husband if he has to show off a wife with scars all over her face!"

"I am not weak," Lucia said defiantly, gripping the hilt of her sword tighter. "I can fight just as well as any man."

"Honey, that's cute an all, but you shouldn't brag about something you can't back up," the count said arrogantly. "If I wasn't so nice, I'd cut in on your little 'duel' myself. But you see, I'm the kind of person that--"

"If you're so high and mighty, why don't you fight me?" the girl interjected with a question. "If I win, you'll stop calling me weak and acting as if I'm not fit for a battlefield. If you win, I'll...give up my swordplay."

"Lucia!" her brother exclaimed. "How could you say such a thing? You know Duke Renning is depending on you to protect our sister."

"Geoffrey, I have no intent of losing," his elder sister informed him. "Now, fetch the count his weapon of choice - that is, if he accepts my challenge."

"The challenge is accepted," the blonde man said, stroking his chin. "Geoffrey, a sword, if you will."

"A sword?" the boy asked, stunned. "Can you actually...use one?"

"Certainly I can! If a little girl can fight with one, so can I," he remarked snidely, snatching the spare sword the young woman had handed him. "I hope you'll enjoy your last battle, girl."

"I hope you'll enjoy the last of your snide comments, Milord," she retorted, readying her sword. The girl's brother backed out of the way to avoid being caught in the middle of what he just knew would turn out to be a brutal clash. He held his breath as he prepared to watch his sister and the man he had grown close to during his stay at the castle face off.

The duel began just as the shining sun was sending its rays down the hardest, causing sweat to drip from both of the opponents' brows. Lucia readied herself for her foe to make the first move - a light swing in her direction. She easily dodged and jabbed her blade in the man's direction. Bastian jumped back just in time to avoid its collision. The man gritted his teeth together while the woman opposite him narrowed her eyes. He moved his sword swiftly, grazing her on the cheek. As blood slowly trickled down her face, she spun around and sent a hard blow toward the man. He parried, but the sheer force sent him a step backward, setting him off balance. She took advantage of this situation and sliced at his sword arm. He winced slightly from the pain before countering her attack, locking their blades.

As each warrior attempted to force the other into surrender, the royal family appeared from the castle, their expressions shocked. Crown Prince Renning rushed to stop the battle, but Geoffrey shook his head, knowing that nothing would deter his sister in proving her point. The family watched as Lucia forced the count back, becoming close to emerging the victor of the duel. He resisted as she forced him closer to the ground, exerting all the force a sage could muster to overpower her.

The attempt was futile, as he soon realized, and so the count developed a new plan. As she forced him into near-defeat, the man suddenly moved his blade. She fell forward, piercing his side with her blade. His own sword cut a sliver the length of her eyebrow and curving down near her left eye as she tumbled toward the ground. He heard a thud as her body hit the ground, hard; he heard her soft cry as hundreds of rose thorns punctured her skin; he heard the rushing feet come to her rescue.

Duke Renning carefully lifted her out of the queen's flower garden; the man gave the count a displeased glare as the king rushed off to find a healer. He stood motionless as her brother used his own shirt to stop the blood from gushing down the girl's face. He saw her eyes, welled up with tears that her pride would not permit her to release. She had been thoroughly humiliated by his actions, and that troubled stare haunted him to this day.

Bastian shuddered at the reminder of that event. He had allowed his own ignorance and pride to harm his beloved. As they followed the trail leading to Canteus, he leaned over and brushed the hair from in front of her eye. Softly, he kissed the scar she had received from his last attempt to save himself from losing that duel. She smiled, reminded of a sweeter time shared between them.

Three years after their humiliating duel, the Mad King's War had begun. Lucia had been home from Begnion at this time, and she and her mother and brother had brought Elincia to visit the palace. Count Bastian was also present on official business with Duke Renning. It was Geoffrey that had first heard of the attack; while he was training with a knight by the name of Kieran, a sentry had rushed to inform them of the troops already marching toward the gates. The young warrior sent the sentry off to give this news to the king while he and Kieran suited up for battle.

The sentry had burst into an official meeting of nobility a few moments later, shouting word of the attack. Those that could fight immediately took up arms and rushed to the battlefield. Lucia had been the first one out of the room, followed closely behind by Count Bastian and Duke Renning. "Lucia, I want you to help our forces at the east gate; Bastian, your services will be needed at the west," their commander yelled after them, grabbing the reins of his mare from an approaching stable hand. "I'll assist your brother at the main gate."

The majority of this battle was a blur as the Crimean army tried to push back the forces of Daein and defend their homeland. It was evident to the nobles that King Ashnard had no desire to surrender, made clear by the near-endless amount of soldiers that poured through the capital. Some of his finest generals - including the Alondite-wielding Black Knight; holder of the flame lance, Lady Petrine; and silent and solemn Bryce - had taken to the field, proving to be more than a match for dozens of Crimea's newer recruits.

Lucia watched as ally after ally fell around her. Very few of the veteran Royal Knights had been dispatched to her location, and so she soon found herself alone with only a handful of soldiers. Her blade clashed with that of an enemy myrmidon when she heard the dragon's screech. Effortlessly, she cut down her low-leveled opponent, eyes darting toward the sky. She was shocked by the sight. Flying overhead was a large, black wyvern - the mount of King Ashnard.

I'll kill whoever let him through our gates, she silently vowed to herself as she left her troops in the care of one of the Royal Knight's elder members. She and several others rushed toward where the man was descending the sky, floating toward the castle entrance. A gust of wind barely missed the figure as Count Bastian cursed under his breath. The sage hastened his speed as the wyvern rider entered the castle, the guards on duty unable to stop him.

The count rushed into the palace behind the crown prince and the count of Delbray's son. They followed the trail of King Ashnard's mount, tracing his steps to the throne room. The man's blade was pointed at the throat of the sobbing countess of Delbray. King Ramon's lifeless body laid on the ground, and his shaken wife knelt by his side. Geoffrey rushed past them to the other side of the room, catching Elincia just as she collapsed.

As he watched the king of Daein threatening King Ramon, Bastian felt a hand placed on his shoulder. Turning around, he met Lucia's saddened blue orbs, staring as the king prepared to sink his blade into her mother. The count quickly pulled her into his embrace, burying her head in his chest to shield her from the scene. The movement was swift, and though she could not see the result, the pain was evident. She clutched on to the man's shirt, unable to move. At the sound of Elincia's confirming scream, her foster sister fainted.

It wasn't until a day later that the woman awoke. Her body ached as she tried to open her eyes, a feat that she could not accomplish at the moment. Her head was foggy, so she could not make out the specific details of where she was or how she had gotten there. The last thing she remembered was collapsing into Bastian after... No, she thought to herself. That was just some awful dream. Your mother isn't...the king and queen are...

Soft whispers brought her to realization. Though she could see nothing around her, she could tell that her body was resting in someone's arms, and that that someone was running a hand through her hair soothingly. "I'm sorry," she heard the count of Fayre whisper as he held her, sobs racking his own body. "Missed with my spell I shan't have done...this pain should never have been yours to bear," he murmured, believing that she was still unconscious. "Never will your faithful servant allow another wretched soul to lay harm to you," he vowed. The man brushed her hair aside to reveal the scar she had been dealt after their duel three years in the past. Carefully, he placed his lips to her wound. Softly, he added, "Your Bastian shall from this day forward erase all of your fears. Your deepest troubles shall be mine to bear."

The woman sighed deeply as the carriage was pulled to the left by the horses. Her companion picked up on her distress and frowned. "Milady, does something happen to be the matter?" the count asked, glancing at her.

She thought for a moment, realizing that it would be best for her to tell the man about her true intentions for traveling to Canteus. She knew it may hurt him, but his help would be vital to her in exposing the duke. "Bastian, I haven't been completely honest with you," the swordswoman began. "My father has told me of a possible uprising by the duke of Canteus. I wished to investigate these findings further..."

The count seemed unfazed. "The glorious count informed me of the rebellion," he noted, his gaze averting her. "Figured I did that you knew of it as well. Ask I did not of you to accompany me to the ball as I knew I would be unfairly taking advantage of your desperateness - a thing you wished was not this."

"Count Bastian, don't say such a thing," she reprimanded firmly. "I did want to go to the ball with you, but the queen's safety is first and foremost to my own happiness."

"See I," the man muttered, "and we share that sentiment. Hope I do that my ignorance of you tomorrow's eve shan't be taken personally - know you that I would prefer nothing more than to spend the entire evening with you."

She smiled softly; the man noticed how positively radiant she looked when she did so. "I may count on you to assist me, then?"

"Naturally," he replied, a smile forming on his own lips. "Your deepest troubles are mine to bear."

Late in the afternoon of the next day, the count and his lady arrived at the home of the Duke Canteus. The former night the pair had stayed in an overcrowded hotel north of Arbor. Early in the morning, they were both more than eager to depart from the loud and chaotic city, traveling through the quiet countryside filled with exotic animals and flowers. Had she not had a purpose for traveling to Canteus, Lucia would have liked nothing more than to stay in the fields of daffodils in the untamed country.

Their carriage was met on the front lawn by the Dukes of Canteus and Arbor, two old friends of Lucia's father. The latter took the woman's hand and politely helped her down to the ground. The graying man clasped her firmly on the shoulders, a huge grin on his face. "If it isn't my little Lucia!" he exclaimed merrily. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"It has been a rather long time hasn't it, Milord?" she remarked with a laugh. "I can't say I'm the best person about keeping in touch."

"Ah, and your father is well, I take it?" he inquired casually, taking no notice that his friend has moved to greet the count.

"Yes, very well, thank you," she said with a smile. She was about to continue the conversation when she heard the boisterous voice of Duke Canteus conversing with Count Bastian.

"Well, Bastian, old chap, I must say that I was rather surprised when you told me that you were bringing a young lady with you to my social gathering, and now I'm doubly shocked," the duke remarked. "How ever did you manage to talk such a beautiful lady into accompanying you?"

"Ah, if that fact I actually knew in my simple mind, then I would repeat the action a thousand times over," he said with a sigh. "She is something, is she not?"

"She isn't," the woman cut in, excusing herself from the duke and walking over to the man from whose lips such flattering compliments left. "If I even knew how you talked me into this, I would be sure not to fall for such a trick again," she jested lovingly, pecking the man on the cheek. "Don't look so sad, Milord. I'm only joking - you know how mean I can be when I haven't had adequate rest."

"Oh, I had nearly forgotten your long drive, Milady," Duke Canteus commented, gesturing for a maid to come forth from the castle. "Anna, please show the lady to her room so that she may rest," he commanded.

The woman smiled, overjoyed that her excuse had been plausible enough for the duke to accept. "Thank you, Milord," she said gratefully, giving a polite curtsey. "Milord Bastian, I shall see you in only a matter of time."

"The time spent away from your glorious presence shall kill me, destroying my heart and soul slowly until you return," he crooned, kissing her gloved hand. She smiled before following the maid into the castle.

"You are one lucky man," Duke Canteus muttered as Bastian stared longingly at the retreating figure of his love.

"Think you that I am unaware of such a thing?" The count whispered, "If the lady would have me, I shall think that I would be the luckiest man in the history of Tellius."

After ascending a long stairway, the woman came to a spacious loft overlooking the dining room of the palace. The maid showed her to the door of her room leading off the loft, handing her the key. "Thank you," she mentioned as the woman turned to leave. Lucia unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal her quarters for the night.

Walking into her bedchambers, the swordswoman was met by overpowering light. Windows lined the walls, leaving hardly any space in between one another. The woman slowly walked past all the light sources, drawing the curtains closed so she could rest. Her dress had arrived and was resting on the figure of a mannequin in the corner. The woman walked past the ensemble to the bed in the center of the room, choosing to inspect the outfit after she had awoken. She slid her boots off; the sword that had previously been strapped to her side was laid on the floor to the left of her.

As the woman was prepared to lay down to rest, the glimmer from something on a table beside her dress caught her eye. Curious, the woman stood up and went over to inspect the tabletop, on which she found a necklace-earring set and a note. She glanced at the note, confirming her suspicions that Bastian had taken upon himself to purchase for her what he considered an "early birthday present." She smiled as she finished staring at his intricate handwriting - the gorgeous loops, perfectly straight lines, and beautiful curves that came so naturally to the man. The jewelry was picked up by her dainty fingers and admired by the young woman. The necklace consisted of hundreds of minute diamonds organized into leaf-like structures along the bottom part of the trinket, and the silver band had several other diamonds encrusted on it. The earrings were equally as stunning in her eyes. Each earring contained diamond leaves arranged into a simple clover shape with tiny diamonds dangling from it.

Still smiling, she set the presents back down carefully on the table. Once again, Bastian had been more than thoughtful to her, even making sure than his gift to her coordinated with her dress. In her own opinion, he treated her too well and thought too much of her.

The count awaited his lady to descend the stairs for the ball a mere few moments before the long-awaited social gathering was to begin. A pair of servants had been sent to help with the woman's preparations several hours ago, and Bastian expected her to be ready within the few minutes that were still available. As he stood at the bottom of the steps, the man heard the closing of a door and the soft clicks of a woman's heels.

She appeared before him a moment later, her elegance radiating upon the room. He took in her appearance as she walked toward him, a genuine smile on her lips. The dress she wore was a strapless, full-length ball gown; the satin fabric was champagne in color. Gold and silver beads adorned the dress in strands that ran two-thirds of the fabric. Though the man could not tell this at the moment, the back was laced in an intricate pattern with strands of material that fell into a bow at the woman's lower back; matching satin gloves had been fitted to her elbows. Her short cerulean hair had been fashioned into loose waves. The fringe had been swept off the face with a decorative comb, fully revealing her scar. He was delighted to note that she had used his gifts to complete her outfit.

"You look lovely, Milady," he mumbled, awestruck. She smiled, reaching the man and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"I must say that it is all your doing, Bastian," she commented, offering him her hand, on which he once again placed a kiss.

"Naturally you do look as radiant as the sun that shines down on the glorious countryside of our beloved homeland. Never in my life could I take credit for such beauty, such purity," he whispered to her. "You do happen to be fond of the jewels, Milady? Feared I had that 'twould not match the elegance of someone such as yourself."

"Nonsense, Bastian," she interjected, chuckling to herself. "I adore your gift - it's absolutely perfect."

"La! M'dear. You are far too radiant for anything so trivial to suit you well enough," the man exclaimed, a look of utter disbelief on his face. "Fear I do that my choice in costume has been far too humble to compete with such perfection."

"Humble, Bastian? I dare say that I have never known you to be humble," Lucia observed, shaking her head sadly. "Besides, I happen to think you look quite dashing."

"Dashing, Milady? I do believe that you have mistaken me for another," Bastian chuckled as he noticed his companion admiring the way he was presented. A navy blue double-breasted tail coat with a high collar of velvet covered his torso. The sleeves of said coat had been puffed at the shoulder, and underneath rested a white waistcoat leading to light-colored pantaloons. An ivory cravat had been tied firmly around his neck. "Have I your approval, Lady Lucia?" he inquired with a mischievous grin.

"Very much so," the lady admitted her approval. "You do look quite...alluring."

"Alluring? Now you honestly must have someone else on your mind, my fair lady." With a sigh, he added the reminder, "Ah, but I do fear that this isn't the time for such jesting. If we are to acquire the information which you seek, then we shall have to make our way downstairs. Fear I do that they have already begun the minuet."

"How unfortunate," the woman replied with a smirk. "I suppose you shall just have to be my dance partner until the chance arises for us to acquire entrance into Duke Canteus's study. ...I do hope that that is not too tedious an endeavor for you, Milord."

"Nonsense, dear Lucia!" he cried, offering her his arm, which she took. "'Tis preposterous to believe that I would find anything in your presence to be tedious."

The minuet was completed, followed by a formal waltz. Both nobles had their eyes fixed on certain members of Elincia's court as they danced, not allowing their suspicious persons out of their sight. While Lucia concentrated on the actions of the duke of Canteus and those that stopped to speak with him in private whispers, Bastian found it far more suitable to keep watch over more personal affairs. On the other side of the room, the count had spotted an older man leaning against the wall opposite them. This man who was dressed in all dark colors watched the azure-haired swordswoman intently, his eyes never leaving her or the man she danced with.

Bastian gave an annoyed look in the other man's direction before pulling Lucia to the side firmly. She had a puzzled expression on her features as she asked, "Count Bastian, is something the matter."

"Not quite, M'dear," he mumbled, glancing to where the man still stood. "However, I do believe that we should find documentation of the rebellion before the duke receives word of our intentions."

"Why so sudden, Milord?" she inquired. "Has something happened?" The woman attempted to glance over her shoulder to discover what or whom her count was staring at, but he forced her to look in his eyes.

With his hand holding the lady's chin, Bastian moved closer to her ear and whispered, "Do not look behind you, just follow me and be very quiet." She nodded and obeyed, allowing the count to lead her to the exit. Lucia made no attempt to look behind her during this time, nor did her curiosity get the better of her as she and Bastian exited the room.

Once they were in the safety of the castle's hallway, Bastian sighed deeply, pulling Lucia closer to him. "Milady, fear I do that best it would be to abandon this mission - it has become far too...perilous. It seems as if the best course of action would be to dispatch the Royal Knights and allow them to take care of the situation."

"Count, you know as well as I do that Duke Canteus would have the evidence destroyed well before my brother and his companions could even leave Melior. I don't care how dangerous you find this mission to be - if it is for the good of Crimea, then I am willing to sacrifice my own life," she explained, already heading down the hallway to the duke's study. Bastian ran to catch up with her.

"As would I, Milady!" he exclaimed, pulling her around to face him. "'Tis not worth it for your fair beauty to be surrendered to such a cruel man."

"Bastian," she nearly pleaded, her eyes showing the stress her body felt, "what did you see at the ball? There must have been something - someone - that has upset you and caused you such worry."

"A man leaning on the wall my keen eyes had spotted. Burning with such malicious intent his eyes did watch my fair maiden," the count recalled, a tinge of anger showing through to his eyes. "Fear I do that this beast shall wish to harm you."

"Bastian, if any man was to harm me, they would have to answer to my father and brother - both of whom know that I am here," she said exasperatedly. "Besides," she whispered sweetly, taking the man's hands in her own, "I have my faithful count to protect me - unless you would rather wait outside until I return."

"Never would I do such a thing to the fairest being in all of Tellius," he scoffed playfully, her acts of persuasion completely swaying his mind. "Forever shall I follow you."

"Good," she murmured in a soft voice. The count waited for a moment as she removed her shoes so that she would not make a noise as they searched the man's office. Bastian took the heels from her and followed as she used the moonlight to guide her to the study. The man breathlessly admired the way his lady looked in the pale, soft, natural lighting. He saw the look of determination on her face, her womanly charm. She was radiant even in her seriousness; to this man she had no flaws, no faults. She was the epitome of perfection in his eyes, and he instantly regretted that he was about to betray her as he had the day he had given her that beautiful mutilation 'round her eye. That scar was the representation of the rocky relationship the couple had had thus far, and as he led her into this humiliating situation, he only wished that she had never agreed to come with him.

The door to the study creaked open slowly after the woman had picked the lock. She soundlessly entered the room, her count following not far behind her. The man set her shoes on the floor by the desk and silently muttered a fire spell to light the lone candle on the windowsill directly in front of them. They nodded to each other, silently expressing their wishes for the other to hurry to find the information they sought. Bastian headed toward the desk and clumsily filed through the papers that were strewn about. Lucia silently scolded him, making her own way over to a bookcase beside the door. She picked up a large, leather-bound book and flipped through it. When the woman had reached the sixtieth page, an envelope fell to the ground. She set the book back on the shelf and bent down to pick up the object that had been dropped. Bastian gave her a curious look. "Has proof been found by my fair lady?" he inquired keenly, moving towards the swordswoman.

"This letter is in ancient tongue," she mumbled standing up to hand the note to her companion. "I haven't the slightest--"

Just then, the door to the chamber burst opened, and four men filed inside. The light from the candle was blown out as two of the larger men seized Bastian's wrists. Lucia felt an arm wrapped around her waist as the third man captured her, forcing her into a sitting position on the ground; she went to scream, but a hand was placed over her mouth. She struggled beneath the man's weight as she heard the fourth man fumbling about the room, waltzing over to her. The duke of Canteus knelt down in front of her, lifting her head with his powerful hand. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the Lady Lucia and her lovesick puppy," the man scoffed, standing back up and moving to the other side of the room where Bastian was being held. He shook his head sadly at his captive before relighting the candle in the window. Lucia shuddered as his mischievous face was illuminated in the candlelight. He smiled a wicked grin at her. "Now, whatever shall we do with the two of you?" he cackled.

"Unhand the lady and end this travesty at once," the count of Fayre demanded. "This scheme is no longer humorous."

"Silence, Bastian!" the duke ordered. "I have played by your rules, and now you must follow mine. Do exactly as I say or my men shall have a treat in watching your woman's body plummet down two stories after I push her from the balcony." Lucia's body stiffened as the man that held her attempted to comfort her in a most familiar way. His actions did nothing to reassure her as the duke moved closer to where she knelt. "Lady Lucia, you will do me a favor, won't you? I'm sure that you wouldn't do anything to endanger Bastian's life," he said in a tone that seemed forced to the woman. She nodded slowly. "Turn around and give me the name of your captor."

The azure-haired lady seemed puzzled, but one look in Bastian's direction forced her to comply. Her head slowly turned as the man released her body from his grasp. The combined light from the candle and moon shone brightly on his grey-brown hair. The man placed his frail hands on her shoulders firmly, a huge grin on his face. "Father...?" she mumbled, confusion in her formerly bright blue orbs.

"Remember what you said about marrying Bastian only if he was able to trick you?" the count of Delbray inquired, standing up and offering to help his daughter to her feet. She just sat there, bewilderment in her eyes. "Well, that time has come - there was no rebellion. This was all just an excuse for you to attend the ball with Bastian."

The four men that had burst into the room laughed heartily as Bastian broke free of their grip. He collapsed on the floor next to the woman and wrapped his arms around her. He noticed that she possessed that same look of confusion and humiliation that she had when he had unfairly defeated her in their duel all those years ago. "Milady, your servant is terribly sorry for this wrong he has committed. Never did I mean for this situation to get so out of hand," the man admitted softly. "Understand I do if never again can you bring those gorgeous eyes of yours to look upon my treacherous face. My sins are unforgiveable, I know, but I beg of you to give me another opportunity to prove my worth to you."

"Count Bastian," she sobbed, her face gleaming with fresh tears, "how can I possibly break my promise to you? I gave my word, and never would I break it, though I must admit that you have gravely wounded my pride..."

"Lucia, think nothing of your promise," he demanded, holding her firmly. "If having you as my bride would mean never seeing your radiant smile...if it means that you will always be pained by regret, then I would allow you to be free. Your happiness, seeing your face full of excitement...that is what I consider to be most important. I feel that there is no better way to express the depths of my heart than with this description," the man admitted in a whisper, daring not to look at the beautiful, caring, deeply hurt woman beside him.

"Bastian," the aide to queen Elincia said gently, "if you truly mean this, then I'm sure that you will fully understand my sentiments and the reasons behind my decision."

"Behind you I stand in all of your endeavors." Your deepest troubles are mine to bear.

The count of Fayre sat perched on the balcony of his castle three years later, holding a bundle in a fleece blanket. He cradled his new blonde baby girl in his arms as she slowly opened her bright blue eyes. "Madelynn," he crooned as her fingers reached for a strand of his hair. Nearby, the baby's mother watched with content as she observed her husband interacting with their daughter. Bastian looked up to see his wife smiling, her azure hair blowing in the light breeze.

A/N: Well, that was longer than I had originally planned. I'm not sure about the characterization - I'm not used to writing these two together, but please feel free to point out anything that doesn't seem right. Also, if you happen to find any grammar mistakes that you think are particularly annoying, feel free to bring those to my attention as well. Oh, as for the title, think Tears for Fears. Well, valete, everyone, and I hope you enjoyed this one-shot.